Uncivil War (Closed, Regional RP)

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Lowell City, Earlier

To Tallera, the sight of Lowell City burning was the first of its kind that she had ever seen. Growing up on the islands she had known nothing but peace, wars were distant memories or things fought by brave soldiers in distant lands. Her curiosity for the outside world had driven her to take up a position in Foreign Affairs, but it had largely been naiveté that had taken her to the shores of Azurlavai. The old Republic of Azurlavai had been warlike, hostile to its neighbors, patriarchal, in short everything exotic and foreign to Shrailleeni. She had been here for several tumultuous years now, through an entirely new government, and during that time had seen a lot of new and fearful things. But she had never seen war like this up close. Not until now. Her heart moved for the people living here, and she imagined this being the Imperial City, or her hometown. The flame and smoke would haunt her, she knew.

"You are a ghost, Field Marshal," she said, her face profiled by the soft light of the burning city as she looked over it. "Remember, I have been a diplomat to this nation for many years. I am one of the people who tells others about you."

She turned to look at him, her expression unreadable.

"You are the ghost of the Republic, risen anew. And the Shrailleeni Empire and the Republic did not get along well, as you recall. It was violent, expansionist, preferred the diplomacy of the sword to that of the quill. When the Revenant announced its birth, we saw you as the promise that the old nation would rise again, and spill yet more blood over its borders. That is why we continued to support the Commonwealth, for despite its failings it did not promise such bloodshed to others. Who you were, who you are as a person, was and is less relevant than the movement that you have created."

She turned back to the city.

"We are not a people accustomed to naming monsters without seeing monstrous actions for ourselves. That, Field Marshal, is why I volunteered for this position. I know your ghost. Now it is my mission to know you."

Rottereir (Rat’s Nest) Bunker Complex
Krakarov Mountains, Northeastern Julianica

Tallera had congratulated the Field Marshal on his speech. Such sentiments, she assured him, were things that the Mother Empress could work with. So long as he continued to show a willingness to find a diplomatic solution and defended the welfare of his people, indeed, all of the people of Azurlavai, the Mother Empress would consider him in her good graces. He was saying the right things.

Then, things got much more intense.

She was told that they were now to head to the center of Revenant operations, or perhaps what should now be called Nationalist operations. To her surprise, that base was not located in Azurlavai at all, but in nearby Julianica. This was somewhat distressing for her, although she hid it well. Perhaps she had hoped that the most suspicious and problematic aspects of the Revenant would fade away in the wake of recent events. This she knew to be naive as their plane made of the unobtrusive landing area, and they made their secretive way up the mountain to the operational center of the movement that toppled a government.

The reality of her duty set in on her as they made their journey. Svakke impressing upon her the need for utmost secrecy. She vowed to silence, but she knew already that this vow would not extent to the Mother Empress. What sorts of things would she see now? Military operations, or something more? She could not tell, and the anticipation wreathed her like a feather cloak. She made herself into Svakke's shadow, not meeting the eyes of the guards and personnel who cast quizzing looks in the direction of the small dark foreign woman. She prayed to the Mother Goddess for strength once again, and vowed on the life of her matriach's House that she would do her duty.

The base seemed half-empty to her eyes, which made sense given the recent offensive. The Revenant's victory had cost them souls and silver. She could read the German on the walls enough to glean some of the complex's branches, including its power sources, information that she filed away. But it was to the stockade that they seemed to be headed, a fact which filled her heart with some nervousness. Why were they headed to a place for prisoners? Her imagination filled in the gaps, for she did not wish to break the sacred silence that followed them down the halls of the secret base.

They stood waiting in the reception area of the Stockade when a door opened on the far side, and a visibly pregnant woman with a bag over her head was half-walked, half-dragged into the room. She was in chains, obviously not bathed, and quickly set into a chair fitted with heavy iron restraints. Her eyes widened, but she continued to say nothing as the woman's bag was removed. Then she gasped, a small sound that filled the room with its suddenness and departure from quiet. This was not only a pregnant woman, but none other than Frieda Trotsbeck, leader of the Commonwealth of Azurlavai! She had known this woman on several occasions, met with her. The Shrailleeni had long considered her influence on the country to be a positive one. Suddenly she was gripped by several new fears. What was going to happen to her? And what would the Mother Empress say when she was informed of this development?

Every instinct she had as a Shrailleeni woman ordered her to draw her sword and come to this woman's defense. It looked as if they were going to interrogate her, a pregnant woman! Her compassion screamed at her for justice, but she new that her effort would fail. And worse, the Mother Empress and the outside world would never know about this. So she held her tongue, and tried to hid her trembling, as the conversation unfolded.

It was difficult to do, as she stood in shocked silence and secrets were unfolded before her. Jotnar. Xavier Gentry. Ghant. Mad Emperors. Exiled Royals. New empires. She tried to remember as many details as she could, she realized that she would be the Mother Empress's only source on this information. There was so much more to this than anyone had assumed. Could the Revenant still be trusted?

She felt nausea rise in her throat as the conversation turned for the worse, and the Field Marshal turned away. She knew that she had to follow, but every muscle screamed to intervene, to raise her sword, to do anything or everything to free that poor woman. It killed her now to choose duty before her conscience, something that no Shrailleeni should ever have to do. She turned, and followed Svakke out of the room, and as she did she felt a tear in her soul and the disapproving look of the Mother Goddess from the infinite heavens boring holes in her heart.

She blinked back tears as she exited the room. Trying to regain her composure, she looked to the Field Marshal with what she hoped was an inquiring stare.

"Empire of Azurlavai?" was her first question. "Field Marshal, you know that Frieda Trotsbeck was until recently the recognized leader of the Commonwealth. Her authority could have prevented the unfortunate incidents that are now occurring in your nation. You, that is, you cannot..."

She found herself reaching for the proper words.

"She is pregnant, Field Marshal," she finished, struggling to regain her composure.

---

Tritonsberg, Present

All hell was breaking loose in Tritonsberg.

The fighting spread through the city extremely rapidly, spreading from street to street. Although the protests, riots, and troop movements had given the city the shadow of violence, few could be prepared for its actual eruption.

Fortunately, the Shrailleeni CPO contingent was prepared for exactly this. No sooner had reports of heavier fighting started than Varus Tillten had ordered his own helicopters grounded, worried that Shrailleeni gunships would be mistaken by either side within the fog of war. The Shrailleeni flights halted, and all patrols across the city hunkered down into defensive positions and prepared for the worst. APCs and IFVs formed defensive circles, their crew alert at their guns while foot soldiers took up positions around and behind them. At the designated hard points, tense Kurungarran faces watched the battle with a sense of dread. For most of them, this was their first taste of battle.

The primary objectives were to defend the Shrailleeni Aid Camps, and to protect civilians. The former objective was relatively simple. All of the relief camps were surrounded by Black Wing armored vehicles, as well as sandbagged defensive positions. The soldiers formed a perimeter around the camps, ushering civilians caught in the open into the protection of Shrailleeni guns and pointing those guns threateningly at any soldiers or combatants that came near them. If civilian combatants threw down their weapons and ran for the protection of Shrailleen defenses, the soldiers pursuing them would receive both warning shots and an auditory warning via loudspeaker: The CPO was protecting unarmed civilians, desist or be fired upon.

Outside of the aid camps, Shrailleeni soldiers within defensive positions followed similar procedures. So far, no open conflict had yet been provoked, and many civilians were hunkered down behind the relative safety of Black Wing vehicles. Their biggest worry were artillery and mortar shells, some of which came dangerously close to their positions. They also could not restrain Battle Medics from rushing out of safety to tend to the wounded, or escort them back behind CPO lines. It was a dangerous situation, but the Shrailleeni held firm, and waited for the battle to end.

[New Edom]

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR OF PEACEKEEPING

To: the Departments of Defense of Adiron and the Shrailleeni Empire

From: Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab, Director of CPO Peacekeeping

I have in light of recent events decided to move the New Edomite peacekeeping force from Schmeidesse Industrial Port to Tritonsberg. I will be replacing the 14th Armoured Cavalry and 21st Air Cavalry with the 9th Marine Infantry Regiment which is to be moved from Peregrino in the next few days. The 31st and 32nd Damolcean Mechanized Infantry Regiments will be placed under Adiran command for the time being once they have moved from Tritonsberg to the Adiran FOB along with the assigned support units.

I am also placing the CPO mission under the command of the Adiran senior command for the forseeable future. I wish General Welch every success.

[Shalum]

Special Tasks Group Headquarters
Aragon, Shalum

Special Tasks Group Director Patricia Beckman of was not having a good week to say the least, her office at the STG headquarters in western Aragon her new home as it turned out. The rather abrupt planning and launching of Open Season had drawn her into her office to begin with. She had been forced to consult and advise a number of military planners and various officers during that time, assisting them as they combed over the data that her agency had gathered in preparation for the invasion and liberation of the Azurlav state of Thracia. The one thing that many of the officers present didn't know, that she did, was that there were plans in the works to turn this invasion into an occupation due to how weak and corrupted the Commonwealth become under the new leader's rule.

As it turned out, the agents under her and the deputy director's command had gathered a sizable chunk of information about military (primarily airbases) and government targets in the enemy controlled state over the years through satellites and limited HUMINT forces. Not long into the data analysis, however, she and the assembled military planners had agreed to interpret the information they had at hand with a grain of salt; since they had -no- idea how many changes had been made under the new ownership of the National Republic of Azurlavai.

What was keeping her in-office now was a multitude of things, as it turned out. At the moment she had one of her best SIU teams tied up in Novitera, chasing down what few leads they had on Annabelle Holland. The leads that they had gotten from the FIS were by no means the greatest or the most credible, but sadly were the most they had to go one at the moment. The investigation of the villa that the Princess Anna been staying at had given them little more than spent shell casings and blood samples that were too corrupted to be of any use.

The other, more pressing matter, was the fact that she had lost contact with the majority of her intelligence assets in the Commonwealth of Azurlavai, including her most decorated operative, Johnathan Clarke. She knew that her chances of hearing from him any time soon were slim, with Lowell under enemy control from what she knew. It wasn't his absence that worried her, since he was expendable, as emotionless as that may have sounded. It was the fact that Frieda Trotsbeck had dropped off the radar as well that worried her.

The Imperator had made it clear that regardless of the expense in terms of both cost and manpower, that he wanted to see the woman who was carrying his child protected. If they lost her and the kid, she knew for a fact that the Imperator would be devastated. At first, Director Beckman had assumed that Frieda was little more than Tyler's lover who had happened to choose the wrong day to be stupid and not use protection, but as time went on; she had come to realize that there was a lot more to their relationship than that, something a lot more Draconian in nature. This was why Director Beckman cared as much as she did. Frieda was practically a Shalumite royal at this point, minus the Holland name.

With a small sigh, Patricia slid out of her chair, slipping her small fingers into the handle of her coffee cup as she headed toward her office door. She was bound for a hot drink machine not far away from her office. While she could have just as easily had one installed in her own office, by doing it this way, she had to force herself to leave her office; if only every once and a while.

The clicking of heels could be heard as she stepped out into the hallway, which was surprisingly for this time of day, devoid of people. The red head glanced around for a moment, wondering why the normal hustle and bustle of agents was missing, before shrugging it off. After a short trek through the halls, she came into a large room that was filled with rows of cubicles. Here was where the detectives and upper ranking officers of the STG's paramilitary wing could often be found, working on cases revolving domestic problems. Today however, things were oddly quiet as she entered. Much like the hallway, the place seemed empty, the agents who were normally manning their desks nowhere to be found.

As she titled her head to the side, her eyebrows rose. Congregated in the middle of the room were a number of men and women, all of whom were looking up toward a pair of TVs that hung from the ceiling. From where she stood, she spied the Deputy Director among the group as well, his back turned toward her as he stood still.

Without a second thought, she moved toward the group, curious as to what was going on. From her angle of approach, she could see the TVs yet barely hear them. As she got closer, it became easier to hear the apparent news program that was on. The newscaster looked...harried as she looked at the screen, her appearance still well kept, but surprise was clear to see on her features. As the female STG director came to a stop, the newswoman began to speak.

"If you're just joining us, there have been a number of recent developments within this hour, both of which coming out of Azurlavai. We have recently received two videos through the news grapevine. At this hour, we are sad to report the death of Mavarian Princess Kajira, who was sadistically raped and beheaded as an apparent statement by the terrorist group know as the Lost Legion. We will be speaking more on that issue later" she began. "We also have some rather...surprising news regarding the Chairman of the Commonwealth of Azurlavai. We have been informed, by her through video, that the father of her child is Imperator Tyler Holland himself. Here's is the video clip that has been provided to us."

The screen flicked for a moment as a video appeared. It was Frieda, surrounded by a number of people who caused the surrounding agents to murmur quietly among themselves. This lasted only a moment though, before it the camera zoomed in closer so emphasize her face as she spoke. "“I’m Frieda Trotsbeck. Soon-to-be former Supreme Chairman of the United Commonwealth, if I’m right. First of all, no one send forces here. Anton, you need to focus on the war, keep fighting for as long as you can manage. And I...need to take responsibility for what I’ve done. Tyler Holland is the father of my child. I’m not hiding it anymore.”

The director's face paled at the words, her jaw seeming to come unhinged as she felt it fall in shock. They...the enemy had her. For a long time, no one spoke, all of the agents staring in surprise at the televisions as the clip was played a few more times over. Finally, the Director cleared her throat and looked over the the Deputy Director, an imposing dark skinned man. He was, more or less, in charge of the SIU's combat and intelligence gathering operations due to his extensive service in that department. "Tell -all- of your men to cowboy up and remain on standby. Only the Lord knows what's going to come of this" she said quietly.

Imperatorial Palace

Shalumite Military Maxim 7: If you're brave and honorable, then your enemies will seek your defeat by destroying whatever you love best.

Tyler Holland stared blankly at the TV screen before him for a moment as he tried to process what he had just seen. The Revenant, a group that was practically his sworn enemy, had both his wife (not legally though he hoped to change that one day if the opportunity arose and she agreed to it) and unborn child in their custody. He was practically shaking in anger at the thought, his fist clenched and knuckles white as anger flowed through him with sorrow mixed in.

"Tyler?" a small voice questioned beside him. It was Allison, his beloved wife, who the voice belonged to. Her normally tan skin was a few shades lighter as she looked worriedly at her husband, and then at the TV screen which showed the video paused a moment before it cut out all together. "Tyler...what are we going to do about this? More importantly, what are -you- going to do? We can't let them kill her, we just can't. But we can't hand you over to them either. Imagine the leverage they would have over us" she replied after a long moment.

"I know. If I turned myself over to them...only the Lord knows what would happen to me, what they would try and get me to do" he responded. His mind was racing, trying to determine what to do. What could he do? If he didn't turn himself over, they would kill her and the kid in her belly, or so they said. But wait! If they killed her, they lost their leverage, the one thing that they had over him...didn't they? The thought gave him hope, confidence, and an idea.

Abruptly, Tyler stood up, a fire in his eyes. "Allison, get this tape and prepare to send it to the media. If the Revies wanna play ball, by George I'll play damn ball. The world isn't going to take this lightly, regardless of me being the father, that's for sure. I mean...killing an innocent unborn child, they'd be crazy to do that." he began. "And call for a camera, I need to send my own message" he finished as he looked over at his wife. The blonde nodded in acknowledgement and stood up quickly, plucking the tape from the player as she moved to leave the room and do as he said.

Ten minutes later, two staff members were setting up a camera in-front of Tyler's desk under the watchful eye of two more royal guardsmen. The video had been delivered by a courier to begin with, so there was suspicion of how close the enemy was to them. Finally, they nodded at the Shalumite leader, quietly telling him that they were ready to record. With a sigh, the Imperator fixed his suit and smoothed down his hair before they began to record. The camera focused on him as he stood at a parade rest like a solder.

"Hello...I'm afraid you didn't leave your name, so I can't properly address you. I've seen your video, and the whole world has seen Frieda's admission that I'm the father. I must say, I never thought I would see this from the...National Republic. Kidnapping a pregnant woman and threatening to kill her child? I thought the only ones that would stoop that low were the Lost Legion."

"Let me sum it up to you, I think you're bluffing. You kill Frieda or my child and you lose any bargaining power that you may have. You realize that, right? And if you do that, then there's nothing stopping me from calling up the rest of the Shalumite military to finish the Republic off. I don't think you understand how much I've done to keep my people on a leash. Sure, up until recently the Conclave hasn't wanted anything to do with you, but not the boys on the ground. A lot of Shalumites have died at Auzrlav hands over the decades, my people want payback for that I'm sure. I've got a -lot- of weapons stored up, missiles and bombs, and I'm not afraid to use them; especially if you kill Frieda. You can run, you can try and hide, but there's no place on earth that I won't find you if you do this."

"So...I'm going to make you a counter offer. Hand her over, peacefully, and there won't be any problems. I'd even be willing to negotiate with you if it would help. Consider this my reply"

The Imperator finished with narrowed, angry brown eyes. With that, the cameramen stopped recording and removed the recording. They sealed it up and had it sent back. Meanwhile, Allison made the arrangements to have the tape that Tyler was sent 'accidentally' fall into the hands of the media. She was sure that it would spread like wildfire.

[Novitera]

Lowell City
Seymour Fulk - FIS Special Operations Group, Task Force 3


Seymour Fulk peeked out the window to see squads of Revenant moving about. He casually puffed on a cigar as he did, confident that their little safehouse within the city was indeed safe. The other two members of his task force milled about doing their own things to pass the time. Jerry was doing his yoga routines with an AK-74u laying next to his mat. Marcus was making a sketch of Revenant tanks that he saw. Thing had gone quiet since the Revenant had taken Lowell City. This was not their fight after all. They were here to gather intelligence. He looked around at their poor accommodations. Paint was chipped off the holed walls. The one luxury of this place was a working toilet and sink but that ended with the Imperium missile strike along with the power. They had to be careful when it came to throwing around operational funds to buy food. Having that kind of money would be suspicious. Gasoline was not a problem as FIS was able to anticipate Operation Vraskyl. Seymour had his team stock up on plenty before.

A few more puffs and the cigar was beginning to get too hot. Seymour put it out on the ash tray then moved to pick up some binoculars. Once the Revenant took Lowell, their only orders were to walk the city everyday and report. He would go out blending in with the Azurlavaians trying to find food. First and most importantly to report back to the Southern Belisaria Division (SBD) were the things he saw. Tanks, soldiers, equipment, troops strength, that sort. What the Revenant made things look grim for the Commonwealth forces. Next were what Seymour heard. That came through chatting up Revenant soldiers at local watering holes. There was not much to report on save for the morale of the soldiers and whatever rumors they passed along. Of course the latter was not actionable intelligence. Seymour figured every little bit helped. There was no attempt to acquire human intelligence however. Case officers were doing that and while Seymour had the qualifications of one, SBD had ordered he refrain from it. From what Willis had personally explained to him, SBD was reducing its focus on collecting military intelligence.

He picked up the satellite phone to make the routine check in with the station in Shalum, recently moved there after the UF had abandoned their embassy.

"Sierra-1, Yankee 243 Oscar reporting in." He stated after a female voice greeted him with something obscure. The voice on the other end always at first pretended to be a magazine or journal. The numbers and calls were designed to identify his team and their situation. Seymour in that one phrase had communicated the identity of himself, his team and their uncompromising situation.

"243 Oscar, you have new orders. Initiate protocol black and proceed to safe house at designated coordinates..." She listed them off while Seymour wrote them down on a paper. "...Acknowledge."

"Affirmative Sierra 1." Seymour replied. The line went dead immediately after.

Task Force 3 was to be relocated to Schmeidesse. They were to wipe the hard drives of their computers here and destroy them. As well as get rid of any trace they were here before leaving. That meant burning the ropes and masks used to interrogate the men they captured in the basement. As well as scrubbing the floor of blood, urine and fecal matter. Seymour never bothered to clean up after his prisoners. It helped create a sense of desperation to let them fester in their own bodily wastes. At least they did not have to dispose of any dead bodies having done that after every prisoner. The team would drive them out into the outskirts of the city during the night and fill a hole dug in advance the night before. Finally, they would have to dump their guns some where. He shuddered to think what the Revenant would do if they were caught with automatic weapons.

"Boys. We leave Lowell City tonight. Marcus, make sure the car is ready to go. Jerry, let's cleanse the place." Seymour ordered.

Avantine, State of Soletrek, Novitera
FIS Domestic Division


In west Avantine, the living was upper middle class. Small apartments, given the the property prices in the major city. It was also only a five subway stops from Gallows Street. Many said Avantine was the beating heart of Novitera but without Gallows Street, it would be just another city. Johan Torvald entered his home after having spent ten hours at the office today. North World Trading's (NWT) subsidiary in Novitera was doing well for itself and he was here on a work visa. His one bedroom apartment was bare anticipating that he would not stay here long. Although Johan would have preferred it at this point given the state of his home country, Azurlavai. At least he would be able to get away from the Noviterans of Avantine who seemed to have perfected rudeness on the streets.

Boxes of his things were already packed up to be shipped out. He only had another week in this country and the shipping company would be here tomorrow to transport his things back to Schmeidesse. Johan turned on the lights and entered his small living room. The place had come furnished and so the furniture was not his. That would be less of a hassle to deal with. Except one thing was out of place. On his couch sat a stranger. A man Johan had never seen before. He was a bit pudgy, clean shaven and sported a parted hairstyle all too common in this country. The man wore a charcoal black suit that was well tailored but missing a tie. At first Johan was alarmed. Clearly this man was an intruder. But instead of feeling frightened, Johan was annoyed when he noticed the individual sipping coffee from one of his own mugs.

"It's alright Johan. You've got nothing to fear. My name is Rich. Why don't you have a seat?" Said Rich.

[Azurlavai]

Rat’s Nest

It occurred to Svakke that he had done many despicable things in his time as the leader of this revolution. Consorted with criminal elements. Used guerilla tactics and persuasion to turn his country on itself. Authorized assassinations and attacks on vital infrastructure. Recruited and supplied a pirate gang to act as his navy. Supplied explosives and war material to the Syndikat so they could dominate the criminal realm.

And now, it seemed, he kidnapped a pregnant woman and threatened to carve her unborn child from her stomach. Xavier may have been the one doing the talking right now, but Johann Svakke knew his hands were drenched in blood, and no one would look past him to try and see who else might be responsible.

As he was forced to walk away from even the observation chamber, Talleria followed him, and it was only his own barely together discipline that kept him from going off on her as they walked and she called him out on exactly the same things his conscience kept saying.

Finally, however, he halted on a mesh bridge over a roadway below. This kind of tunnel was used to transfer supplies and vehicles through the base quickly without clogging up personnel walkways or causing pileups. Right now, as he leaned against the guard railing to stare out into the depths of the mountain, a trio of trucks ran underneath them, supplies stacked up in the back to be sent out to the troops fighting in the southwest. Paratroopers were solidifying their holdings, but it would be the NRA mechanized forces that truly made a link here on the second front.

Or was it third, with the Shalumites? Maybe even fourth if the Imperium made good on their promise of invasion.

“I like to think back to the days of the old Republic,” he finally said out loud to her, his voice quiet as he couldn’t bring himself to look Talleria in the eye. “It was a dark time. Chairman Cohn had started to get desperate to win back some of our conquered territory. That was when things were beginning to slide downhill, especially after we lost the campaign for Julianica. The army was preparing another invasion of Shalum, take back our turf there. It was straightforward, simple…I felt like a soldier. I commanded a regiment of men and I had few things to question myself over. Nothing like this war. That was so cut and dry, straightforward. Now, nothing makes sense to me.” He glanced over at Talleria now, suddenly feeling all of his fifty-one years. “Were it my choice, she would be in the stockade while we negotiated with the Commonwealth for a ceasefire. Something to end this slaughter at last. Instead we make threats and lay the groundwork for fake empires. I’m not a soldier anymore. Not so long as I’m a puppet.”

He chuckled. “But at least I have no children to be ashamed of me. Small mercies of never marrying.”


Schmeidesse, Guttering Square

As Tenya’s group approached, Raghnild strode up, allowing the two parties to merge.

“We don’t want the Steel Legion getting tipped. They’ll get even worse about security, if that were possible.” She glanced over at the soldiers before turning, heading into the alley. “The state government wants to mean well, but with the Commonwealth falling apart and terrorists across the country, their paranoia has gotten out of control. Imagine their reaction when they get wind of what we’re about to do.”

Indeed, as the group headed down the alley, is to come across several men in expensive looking suits standing there next to a truck, offloading crates. A few men, easily identifiable as others of Raghnild’s fold, were opening the sturdy crates to reveal the weapons inside, StG-44s, older wood-gripped MP61s and AKs, as well as a number of handguns that certainly hadn’t been made in Azurlavai.

“The military’s keeping track of everyone with firearms,” Raghnild explained. “Anything larger but a self-defense handgun or hunting weapon has been confiscated. So, detestable as it is, I went through the Syndikat to get what we need.”

She gestured to the suited men, who gave her no mind as they went over the crates and handed out ammunition as well. The weapons were in good condition, and none of them had serial numbers to link them back to an owner. Raghnild’s followers all wore gloves of some kind, and the weapon dealers did the same. Perfect throwaway guns.

“I should probably be honest with you…we’re not going after Lokists. Not really. The Lost Legion found a way to get a cell inside the city. They’re posing as worshippers while they get situated. If we alert the military, they’ll go ballistic. Might even turn into Tritonsberg. So we need to take care of this ourselves.” Raghnild picked up a Makarov pistol, sliding a clip full of 9mm ammunition into it before turning it around and holding it out grip first to Tenya. “-That- is why I had to lie to you. Because this is much bigger than just religious tensions. –So- much bigger. Last chance to pull out, if you have changed your mind.”



Tritonsberg, Imperial Aide Camp

Most interestingly, as the city began to tear itself apart in the midst of combat, a firefight suddenly popped up outside the Shraileeni camp. Though not unique in the fact that it was a shootout, attention was definitely drawn as several blank-painted trucks suddenly rounded the corner ahead, stylized with skulls, flames and wing designs. Riding around these trucks were at least two dozen motorcycles, carrying men and women wielding firearms. Behind the ‘convoy’ of trucks a handful of bikers halted, leaning around and firing back down the street behind them. An explosion went off, sending two bikes and their riders flying as little more than flaming shrapnel, and the others started falling back even further.

The forward portion of the column, a trio of bikers, pulled up to the gates, their leader bringing them to a halt as the writing on their vests suddenly became a lot easier to read. These were members of Hel’s Engler, a biker gang known to sell bootleg fuel and run assault weapons out to criminal elements and militia groups. However, they were also extremely community minded, and it seemed the local charter house had brought all of their members together for this one operation.

“Hey!” called out the leader as he waved in the air. “We’ve got civilians coming in! Wounded too, they’re in the trucks! Let us in!”


Avantine, State of Soletrek, Novitera

In Azurlavai, if a man is sitting in your home when you arrived he was either a burgler or a good friend. The first one you shot, and the second you greeted. But this was Novitera. Nothing was ever as it seemed, especially in his line of work. Johan grunted, placing his briefcase down and moving to the small kitchenette, grabbing another mug and pouring himself a drink. The coffee maker, of course, was still unpacked. It was much more sensible to brew his own than grab a drink from one of the overpriced barista cafes near his office.

He stepped back towards the stranger, tugging off his jacket before sitting down, drink in hand. He reached back, extracting the tiny Maus pocket pistol in his back holster, a gift from his sister. Though firearms were not nearly as accepted in this country as back where he'd been born, one could hardly deny that there was danger all around, and he knew how to use the thing, had done so plenty to scare off looters and bandits. He'd never actually shot someone, but generally the danger of attracting the police with a firefight was enough to get the goons to duck out quickly, even if they had much better firepower.

"Nice to meet you, Rich. To what do I owe this...courtesy?" Johan said levelly as he sipped his coffee, placing the pistol on the coffee table, ensuring he could see that the safety was on. He didn't want to trigger a hostile response, but he needed to make sure this man knew he was ready to protect himself. Especially if he was who Johan suspected he might be.

[Hittanryan]

Tritonsberg

Owing to the crisis in Dengali, Welch abruptly found herself in overall command of the CPO Mission to Azurlavai. Another commander might have begrudged Shalmaneser for leaving her ass hanging out in the breeze, but Welch simply dispassionately began the process of transferring the Edomites under her command, reestablishing communication protocols, and adjusting timetables to accommodate the Edomites' supplies. Some of her staff wasn't thrilled with it, but she rather bluntly reminded them that this was part of the job.

Unfortunately, no sooner had a sizable portion of the Adiran Contingent arrived at Djialeau than Tritonsberg went to shit. A series of explosions could be both seen and heard directly from the Adiran beachhead on the outskirts of the city. The base immediately went onto high alert, troops moving to the perimeter, Buzzards from the carrier being diverted over the city, gunships firing up their rotors preparing to defend the beachhead, and counter-battery radar trying to determine if the explosions had come from artillery.

Before the rest of the recon started filtering in, CPO military personnel defending various checkpoints and aid facilities reported the ensuing mayhem. Multiple armed groups were now clashing throughout the city, including Commonwealth military, DUP, and apparently Ossorian marines. The aid camps and checkpoints were locked down, with IFVs and APCs arriving on scene to defend entry points. Any combatants approaching the camps were given warnings to stand down or be fired upon, via loudspeaker or established radio frequencies.

Buzzards worked to direct CPO patrols caught in the city away from the fighting wherever possible. Staff Sergeant Toscani was head of one such armored convoy, escorting a truck carrying a reverse-osmosis water purification system slated for an aid camp. The Isidium aid workers responsible for its installation had arrived at the camp separately. Things went to shit while he was in transit, however, with several loud blasts echoing throughout the streets. Toscani immediately ordered that his convoy of Puma IFVs form a defensive ring around the truck, though if things really got bad he was prepared to abandon it.

Urban warfare was always rough, and Toscani knew it. Too many ways for ambushers to break lines of sight, too few ways for him to maneuver. However, unlike in Aldrich, the enemy wasn't swatting down UAVs left and right, so the Buzzards' surveillance was uninterrupted. That meant if somebody popped up on a nearby roof, he might get a few seconds of notice before an RPG came roaring his way. That was comforting, surely.

One of the soldiers, Tsao, yelled out "Contact! Civilians, half a klick!" The rest of the convoy saw them as well, an angry crowd converging from the streets to either side, marching away from the convoy's position. Toscani dutifully reported it in, when the air controller's voice then buzzed in his ear that vehicles were inbound on the civilians' position. Not long after, two APCs with a black and white color scheme pulled out in front of the crowd. Commonwealth.

Instead of riot control, Toscani's patrol witnessed something far worse. The soldiers in the DUP APCs poured out the back, took up defensive positions, and then the machine guns on the vehicles tore through the crowd.

"Fuck!" Toscani cursed. The CPO were neutral, that meant they protected civilians from anybody. After all, given the Commonwealth's problem with infiltrators, these bastards could be Legion for all they knew. Getting on the loudspeaker, he got as far as "Attention unidentified vehicles, this is the C--"

PING.

A litany of curses was heard as the first few rounds impacted on the Pumas' armor and the IFVs immediately buttoned up. No time for talk now. ROE stated the CPO could fire in self-defense. Toscani cleared the whole convoy to open fire. Two of the Pumas' autocannon turrets whipped around, the gunners carefully scanning for civilians near the DUP troops. Just a lot of bodies, as it turned out. Gunners from two of the vehicles then quickly pumped a number of rounds into the DUP vehicles until they looked to be properly ablaze.

Trouble was that any number of panicked rioters were now heading straight for them, spurred on by the occasional bullet from the DUP soldiers snuffing one of them out. "This is Urdnot-level shit right here," Toscani remarked to no one in particular. Getting back on the vehicle's loudspeaker, he announced to the crowd "This is the CPO, we are currently acting under our mandate to protect civilians. All armed personnel, cease fire or withdraw from this area immediately. All civilians, please stay at least ten meters away from the vehicles at all times. This is for your safety. We will work to stabilize the wounded when the immediate threat has subsided."

As similar scenarios played out across the city, Welch cleared all CPOMA units to act in the defense of civilians from all combatants in Tritonsberg. She had to hope that Gauring didn't snap entirely from the CPO acting in accordance with its mandate.

Meanwhile, at their destination, all of the relief workers were bunkered up in the basement of a school. The school's cafeteria was serving as a soup kitchen for the Silva Trust, while the rest of the grounds were dedicated to things like clothing and potable water. The classrooms would eventually be put to use as well. The soldiers at the checkpoint ordered anyone who looked like armed rioters to put down their weapons, and a line was formed behind the vehicle perimeter.

Djialeau

"Hey, unless you count Altinum, our fight is about ten thousand miles away. How do you think we feel?" the vehicle commander quipped sardonically. There were a few more sarcastic exchanges between C Platoon and the 5th Scout as the engineers started setting up the FOB. Generally it was commiserating getting sent to some blasted ruin of a town while shit happened elsewhere. In particular, the Adirans learned upon reporting in that Tritonsberg, their only route out of this post-apocalyptic nightmare, was now experiencing infighting between squabbling Commonwealth elements. Perfect. Of course, they made sure not to tell the Revenant that.

The armored recon conducted a sweep of the surrounding area, while mine clearance teams set to work on the base's footprint. A Centipede armored bulldozer was brought in on one of the trucks, which in the process of demining the footprint for the base flattened it out as well. As the Centipede progressed, the Engineers also started planning out and clearing fields of fire, preparing range cards, and unfolding the Meshwalls that would surround the base's perimeter. Front-end loaders quickly began filling up the large gabions until within a matter of hours the entire FOB had a perimeter. Entry points had T-walls staggered in front of them, and sported elevated positions (also made out of MeshWalls) overlooking them. While this was going on, some of the helos circled the area, keeping watch over the surrounding area. The rest touched down as soon as a tarmac was flattened out, and they rotated to conserve fuel.

Inside the perimeter, the engineers started pitching tents, setting up a series of temporary portable toilets, beginning work on the mess tent, smoothing out land for the roads and tarmac, putting together the FOB's initial communications systems, and getting the base's multifuel generator up and running. Several hundred yards around the perimeter walls, any concealment offered was cleared away. Rows of smaller MeshWalls would be set up within the base itself to offer additional protection to the rigid tents inside as well as, in a pinch, a secondary defensive position.

[Shalum]

Lowell City

Thomas' face showed no change of emotion as he fired, the captain simply stepping forward as he prepared to fire off another burst, this time intending to put a couple of rounds in the bitch's head and be done with it. As his gloved finger moved from the trigger guard toward the trigger itself, he could only blink in surprise as the Revenant commando rushed forward from her kneeling position, his MP61 being pushed away from his target (her neck at that particular moment) and to the side before the SMG was stripped from his hands altogether.

He grunted out in surprise as momentum wanted to carry him forward, right as a punch sunk into his stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him. He didn't have time to grunt again in pain, as the next shot struck him in the side of the head. His mind seemed to go blank for a moment at the blow, however that blank feeling didn't have time to spread as a jolt of pain shot through his leg bringing him to the ground, her elbow knocking him flat onto his ass before. As more punches began to strike him, he fell onto his back, opting to yield to gravity, rather than attempt to be tough and hold out.

Surprisingly, even though he was on the ground, did not mean that he was out of the fight, or even at the disadvantage for that matter; though things could have certainly been better for him. Instinctively he put up his hands, doing his best to absorb her strikes with his forearms with limited success at best. When the opportunity came however, he struck back to the best of his abilities. Because of his training in the martial art of Wing Chun, ground fighting came easily to him, especially when he was on the ground. He formed a 'wedge' with his hands, going his best to block face and chest shots. His punches came wrist-over-wrist at a fast speed, each punch coming from his center line, thus requiring not momentum from twisting hips to generate the needed power for a fight.

The gunshots that rung through the air barely registered with Thomas' ears, his mind too focused on keeping him from getting hit and counterattack at the same time to care. He did, however, notice when the attack suddenly stopped altogether. As Jentye was knocked off him, and a third figure which he couldn't identify joined the fray, the captain did his best to get to his feet; ignoring the pain like his instructors at the SIA farm and boot camp had taught him to do. It was a lot harder to do, but he'd been beaten a lot worse, albeit not much worse.

Thomas managed to stand up as Jentye spun and kicked the Kilo commando that he recognized, but couldn't put a name to. His face showed the signs of combat, scratches and spots of red here and there. His brown eyes were intense and angry and he dropped into a defensive stance, his hands up and ready to attack or defend. On the other side of the Revie assassin was the Kilo medic, though he couldn't discern her status at the moment.

The captain didn't hesitate, moving in to strike with his customary chain punches that were incredibly fast and hard hard to block for extended periods of time; not to mention powerful. When he saw the opportunity, he kicked at her knee with his front leg. Wing Chun didn't aim for targets above the waist, meaning that the risk of having his leg caught by his opponent and broken was a lot lower. Any pain he may have felt was blocked out by potent painkillers, anger and rage. The assassin hurting Astrid...had sparked something in him.

---

John's eyes flickered toward the combat axe as it was drawn. He wasn't surprised to see the weapon, and in fact, he had his own Gerber combat axe back at the STG headquarters in Shalum--which he had forgotten to grab before he shipped down to Lowell. It was a fearsome weapon, and was not one that you wanted to be on the receiving end of.

The STG agent suddenly wished that he had brought his own, if only for a bit more reach. In hand, he had a custom made KM2000 Infantry Tanto Combat Tactical Knife made of 440A stainless steel. It was originally of Ossorian make, but he had swapped the blades for more reliable German steel. He kept it sharp as a razor with a diamond sharpener at all times, and could inflict some serious damage with it.

"Bring it bitch" John grunted simply in reply as he moved forward to attack. In his experience, the man who attacked first often had a better chance of coming out alive. He was not only strong, but fast as well, capable of moving at a dizzying speed when he wanted to. As the axe blade went for his gut, he sidestepped quickly, knowing that that wasn't a vest there to protect him. At the same time, he saw that his knife strike would be intercepted, and that there was nothing to do as his knife hand made contact with the Zeta's arm.

Compensating, John refereed back to his hand-to-hand training. On instinct, he went with 'lap sau' or 'pulling hand' and grabbed Zeta leader's arm and pulled down and to the side with his free hand. He went in for another strike, this one aimed at Zeta leader's side where there wasn't armor to protect him.

[Ossoria]

2nd Platoon, Alder Company, 1st Battalion, 5th Infantry Regiment "Warwolves"
Royal Ossorian Marine Corps, Tritonsberg Expeditionary Force

Lieutenant Kelly O'Hara scanned the area from inside her IFV for additional targets. Finding none, she keyed her radio and reported in to her company commander on their dedicated netowrk.

"Alder-2A to Alder-6: Hostiles eliminated. Area secure."

"Alder-6 copies all, Alder-2A. Hold position and await further instructions."

"Understood. Alder-2A clear."

At this point there was a knock on the door. Arching her eyebrow, O'Hara picked up one of the three Stinger SMGs and handed it to Sgt Drohan, her gunner, who covered the lieutenant as she opened the door. Even though the area seemed secure, it would have been stupid for them to take chances of a false-flag operation executed by a die-hard believer in Gauring’s madness.

Fortunately, it wasn't a fanatic. "I need to kick that up the chain before i can promise anything, wait a moment, please," O'Hara replied to the foot solider. "Alder-6, this is Alder-2A; I've gotten a request from the Stormtroopers requesting help with the advance up 51st. Requesting permission to take my platoon to recon and provide assistance."

"Wait one, Alder-2A," was the response. A full minute ticked by as the higher-ups doubtlessly debated the efficacy of sending four armored vehicles and 36 Royal Marines five miles down the road to see what the hell was going on in this utter shitstorm. Finally, the radio spat out a response.

"Alder-2A, Linchpin-Actual authorizes and directs you and your platoon to carry out active reconnaissance of 51st Avenue. Provide any support you deem prudent to allied forces in the area, but your primary objective is to report back on conditions in the area."

"Understood, Alder-2A clear." O'Hara replied before switching over to her platoon net. "2A to 2nd Platoon: mount up and prepare to move out. We're heading to 51st Avenue to try and figure out what the blazes is going on, and if Gauring’s butchers are Up To No Good, then we're going to report back and see if we can do anything about it. Everyone get that?" A chorus of acknowledgements was her answer. "Good, we move out in five, get the grunts aboard and form up behind me," she said as she consulted her map of the city and plotted out her course. Five minutes later, Alder Company's Second Platoon, which consisted of two Infantry Fighting Vehicles, an Armored Personnel Carrier, an Armored Tank Destroyer and two squads of infantry, left the command post and moved towards 51st Avenue.

[Late Roman Empire]

"Ratatoskr, this is control tower at Caecilius Antonius Sebastianus International Airport. You are cleared to land at location Prima due west. Vigiles will provide security in plainclothes. This session will be low-profile, but expect top-tier authority," the voice came over the radio.

Sure enough, some fourteen vigiles in plainclothes surrounded Titus Clemens, the Caesar, who had been forced to take over this summit due to the necessity of Valerian Augustus being in Kenlis. Still, this was not only the second man in the entire Empire, but also the man who, at any second, unknowingly, would become Emperor if anything happened to Valerian. If he wasn't important enough for the Azzies, that would just be too bad.

"These must be Commonwealth, from the sound of it. Are the Revenant actually going to show up?" Titus asked Junius Ausonius, who was with him.

"Probably, which means that Gauring should not be with the UCA. If Gauring is there, the Revenant will never sit down with him now. This whole clusterfuck started with Trotsbeck was taken, you know, Caesar," Ausonius remarked coolly and analytically, in his rather reptilian manner.

"I am well aware. Are the rumors true? Was she Tyler Holland's mistress?" Titus wondered, "I do not care in principle, but it could possibly affect his actions in Azurlavai, you know."

"I do not personally give a fig for Imperator Tyler Holland of Shalum. The man denounced our actions toward Hostillia and then engaged in a reckless border war with Azurlavai that probably made this worse. He's a hypocrite, if you ask me. Him having a mistress is the least of our problems with him, even with its influence over his conduct here. Besides, from what I hear, you're known to take lovers yourself, as am I."

"Point taken, Junius. Very germane in this case," Titus acknowledged the fact..... Shalum's behavior in Hostillia hinted strongly of a corrupt bargain to him.

"As I said, I do not mind in principle....still, the man's judgment is probably unbalanced if it is true, since he lets women govern and dictate his policies. If he has two women, he has two people telling him what to do and that could well affect his decision to go deeper inside Azurlavai. Especially as these are both Azzie ladies," Titus added after further thought.

"Well, in the meantime, speaking of Azzies, here they come," Junius pointed upward as they waited on the tarmac for the UCA aircraft.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Rat’s Nest

Tallera's eyes roamed over the face of the man next to her, as perceptive as any of her people to the ways which inner feeling played upon features. She could tell that he was tired, guilty, truly uncomfortable with what he had just seen. But he continued to be complicit with this monstrous plan, and Tallera knew that the Mother Empress would never go along with such madness. So far as she could see, evil had reached into the constant warfare of Azurlavai and planted its seeds in the fertile ground of conflict and blood. If the Commonwealth could not be trusted, and the Revenant was tied to such evil, as state fought state and terrorism and piracy grew rampant, what hope was there for the future of this land?

"In my country, Field Marshal, we do not have a word for citizen."

She spoke slowly, her mind cluttered by the sense of new dread that surrounded her, but her voice was clear as her eyes sought those of the Field Marshal, willing him to meet her and feel her emotion.

"When we speak of our people, we say shrai'i, 'Children.' We say this because to my people, every child is our Child, every woman our Sister, every man our Brother. Every leader, our Mother, our Father. Because we are all connected."

She blinked back the tears that began to rise, pointing back behind them, to the room that they had left where a woman was even now being threatened and intimidated, or worse.

"You may not have progeny to feel shame at what is happening in that room, but you do have Children, Field Marshal. The people of Azurlavai, those alive and those not yet born, will look to you and this moment to help them understand their nation and their lives. Even if you are not victorious, they will say 'these actions were done by a son of Azurlavai.'"

Perhaps it was her own failure to act that drove her, but Tallera found herself being far more forward than she would ever normally have been. She was supposed to observe and report, but now she found herself moved to make an appeal against the evil that she had witnessed, whatever the consequences.

"You want peace, an end to the slaughter, a ceasefire, and with Lowell fallen and the Commonwealth collapsing you have the opportunity to achieve those things, and on your own terms! Are you truly instead going to play the puppet of that mad Ghantar, and spill even more Azurlav blood to raise the shadow of a dead empire for that man, that foreign barbarian's twisted personal ambition? I do not know what he has promised you but Field Marshal, it cannot be worth this cost!"

She clenched her fists, her emotions twisting inside.

"I do not know what that man has promised you, or what he has given you already. But I think you know that winning this war for that man will lose everything for Azurlavai."

Schmeidesse, Guttering Square

Tenya looked at the offered weapon with sadness in her heart. The Lost Legion. It made sense, in its own twisted way, that Raghnild would come to her for help in dealing with them. The government and the Steel Legion had well proven themselves incapable of showing leniency or compassion to their citizens, and had Raghnild come to them with this information the result would have undoubtably have been a crackdown and a slaughter of both Legion and innocent alike. And she supposed that it was well enough known that her people were not above fighting when necessary. But she had not come here to pick sides in a war.

"I...will accompany you," she said, making no move to take the offered weapon. "But I will not be the cause of more death and suffering for your people. It is my duty to heal and to help, not to kill."

She looked Raghnild in the eye with mournful expression.

"The Lost Legion are a symptom of your nation's pain. They are truly lost, hopeless and desperate to bring meaning and control back into their lives. Their methods are terrible, but they are to be pitied. I imagine that many of them have lost loved ones, family, everything in this world to call their own. I understand that we cannot allow them to carry out their misguided deeds, but I refuse to end their lives without giving them a chance to return to a righteous path."

She put a hand on Raghnild's opposite shoulder, and felt that those she had brought were steadying their hearts behind her.

"Nothing can be solved through shedding more blood. Bring your weapons, but you must promise me that you will allow me to speak with these people first. If I can show them the light of the Goddess and convince them to abandon their destructive path without fighting, then all will be well. Should I fail, then I will trust you to the task of ensuring that they hurt no one else. Do you agree?"

Tritonsberg, Imperial Aide Camp

The fighting continued in Tritonsberg, with no indications of getting any better. Indeed, conditions seemed to be getting far worse with time. Varus Tillten had made contact with the Adirans, who were now directly in command of the peacekeeping operation. Various of their units were re-entering the city, coordinating with their Shrailleeni counterparts to set up more checkpoints and re-enforce refugee and aid areas. He even had some reports that Adiran units were engaging Azurlav forces in select incidents throughout the city. How the Shrailleeni had avoided this until this point was something of a mystery to him, and he imagined that with CPO forces already exchanging fire in the line of duty that his own forces could not evade combat for much longer.

Added to this was eye witness information putting Ossorian forces on the offensive within the city. Given recent Shrailleeni-Ossorian tensions, and the Ossorians' decidedly less than neutral stance, that information made him feel no more comfortable.

In front of one of the Shrailleeni aid camps in the city, a convoy of unmarked trucks and bikers suddenly came roaring around the corner, the sounds and sights of battle hounding them as they arrived. The Kurungarrans who were manning the APCs and IFVs that surrounded the camp had no idea who the Hel's Engler were, but they understood their English well enough. Nervous looking soldiers, weapons in their hands but not yet raised, ran out from their positions along the defensive line.

"We don't have room for the trucks!" one man was shouting with a heavy Kurungo accent. "Pull them up and we will help the civilians in!"

"But you cannot come in unless you abandon your weapons!" another a Sergeant advised as she ran up. "Only them."

[Azurlavai]

Southern Passage
It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that the first ranks were taken by surprise. The sight of several ships rolling into radar contact across the entire line was shocking in and of itself. Each cutter had its own small squadron of outdated attack boats surrounding it, and this picket preceded the main bulk of the corvettes and the other large ships, the Belsingr, Raseri and Jormungandr. Understandably, with the vessels out of visual range but still directly ahead, action would need to be taken.

Onboard the junk-covered command ship, Kaptein Havsson watched with narrowed eyes as his crew deployed boat after boat into the icy seas below. The radio reports from his scout boats were certainly confusing, given the spread of the reports. How could there be such a cluster of ships found in place after place along the line, especially when each corvette was so far away from each other? Radar was picking up numerous unknown contacts, and without sending in his own ships to figure it out, they were sailing blind.

So, he pulled a new card out of his hat. Turning on one heel, he turned to his first mate, Preacher.

“Send up a Sjohauk,” he said, grinding the words out from behind his cigar. The ex-sailor ex-pirate had gotten much saltier since the bombing of the east, a cold side that had suddenly edge him into a new kind of man, residing above his crew.

True to his words, one of the seaplane gunships, anchored to the side of the mighty converted freighter, took to the sky, its own radar and radio arrays slaved to the cutters. Often, these planes had been used for (ironically) hunting pirates in the Passage, as well as Force Recon, stirring up enough shit that the foe would eventually –have- to respond.

The plane soared over the front ranks of the picket, the Sjohauk’s crew turning to their instruments. Rather than trust in their radar, they would soar over one of the ships, looking to see the true nature of these mystery contacts for themselves.

“Jormungandr, this is Banshee-4…we’re coming in over the target now. Tilting for recon. What have you got, Ersnt?”

“One cargo ship, unknown class. That’s a model I don’t recognize. Can’t tell what it’s supposed to be carrying. Hang on, binoculars are misting up…uh, I don’t know, she doesn’t seem to be moving.”

“Jormungandr, you read? One civilian cargo ship here, unknown model and cargo. Not moving.”

”I read…fire a warning shot. Let’s get them to move. We’re trying to draw the Imps out anyway, let’s do it right.”

With that, the Sjohauk swerved, coming back around on an approach vector, the dual turbo-prop engines roaring. It tilted, exposing the right side towards the ship, and the cannon in the side boomed, sending a shell soaring away. It passed over the cargo ship, extremely high up over the gunwhales as it splashed into the ocean and detonated.

If that wasn’t a call to ‘get moving’, it would be pretty clear when the flotilla slammed into the ship.

===========================

370 km west

Rheinmetall state had, rather than become safer, gotten even more dangerous since the state military and Commonwealth troops had imposed the order to abandon everything outside of Schmeidesse. Communities that couldn’t travel were forced to bunker down, roving bands of raiders and outlaws ruled the roads, and Revenant paratroopers were even now preparing to meet the mechanized convoys rolling steadily east from Rat’s Nest. From there, they would press Schmeidesse.

But down south, from an industrial port long abandoned, the second phase of the assault went off.

The landing ships, the freighters, all the transports shipped off from their hidden berths, an armada secretly awaiting the call to move out. With no undue haste, they quietly and cautiously made their way south, towards Altinum, coming from the western approach to hit the other shore. To anyone else, they simply appeared to be a small grouping of cargo vessels, heading off to open waters to escape the chaos of the mainland.

But inside the hulls of those ships, the Lost Legion fighters prepared to attack. Small arms were loaded, vehicles had been fuelled up and the few helicopters they possessed had been disguised as strapped down cargo. While the warships drew the Imperium’s attention to the east, the landing parties would come in from the opposite direction, and the flotilla had a few hours head start on the landers.

Hopefully, the ruse would work, and those poor souls about to engage would give their lives to allow their brothers the chance to storm Altinum’s beaches.

[Arbites]

Southern Passage

"All elements this is Data Four. Unidentified aircraft, north by northwest, closing at 100 knots. Additional radar signatures, likely fleet movement, Vanguard stand by," the AWACS announced impersonally. SATCOM still no good, had to make do with SIGINT for now. They had planes? It was rather slow, maybe even a floatplane, but naval aviation was not something that was supposed to be in the Legion's arsenal. Imperial fighters would make short work of aircraft like this, but what else did they have? A running theme seemed to be deserters using stolen military hardware.

The ship the plane came across were shaken from their prayers first by the sound of a propeller. This was what Data Four had detected. However, they had been ordered to stand by for further orders. No attacks just yet. The crew were not shaken by the sight of the lumbering plane. They did, however, instinctively recoil from the column of water erupting from the waters just off their gunwhale. Some ran for their weapons, including MANPADS, before concealing themselves within the ship. Others simply said a final prayer, expecting the plane to finish them off immediately.

When the aircraft didn't simply kill them, the "captain" of the ship realized he was still supposed to be playing his part. No order to fire had come yet, which meant he was still a "merchant vessel." Getting on the radio, in a panicked tone he broadcast a general distress "Mayday mayday mayday! This is MV Dorn's End! We are a Schottian merchant vessel told to weigh anchor during the fighting! We are under attack by an unknown aircraft! A warning shot was fired across our bow!"

'Dorn's End...' Both Captain Rice on board the destroyer HHV Williams and the AWACS crew started directing things their way. "Vanguard, Peter Tango begin your attack. Data Four, begin ECM. Fighter elements decrease altitude and prepare to attack. Surface elements...begin ASW procedures, Wolf Pack, good hunting." With those brief words, the Imperial attack was effectively underway, starting with the RHIBs that streaked towards the Legion flotilla in a very wide net, pointed only vaguely towards the radar signatures in the hopes of finding larger targets. They were designated as "PT," torpedo boats, only because "suicide bomber" had some ugly connotations.

The AWACS and fighters had a different role. Having collected limited SIGINT already, Data Four fed some of the information to the MiGs fitted with electronic attack pods. Next, it threw up a wall of barrage jamming on the Legion's known radar frequencies, trying to disrupt their attempts at reconnaissance and hopefully suppress any of their more formidable air defenses. The electronic attack planes, on the other hand, worked to shut down the Legion's radios, starting barrage jamming of their own on the frequencies picked up by the AWACS.

Soon, radios throughout the Legion force could only hear the message broadcast by the jammers on repeat. It was relatively straightforward:

Enemies of the Imperium hear me, you have come here to die. The Immortal Emperor is with us and we are invincible. His soldiers will strike you down, His war machines will crush you under their treads, His mighty guns will bring the very sky crashing down upon you. You cannot win.