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The Esto-Alisonian War of 1940 [Rostil - Closed]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Alisonia-
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

The Esto-Alisonian War of 1940 [Rostil - Closed]

Postby Alisonia- » Mon May 06, 2019 11:12 pm

Impero-Alisonian Border
155km from the Vaeborian city of Sicasus
305km from the Alisonian city of Nevirnum
2nd Lieutenant Vittore Gabrielli – Alisonian People’s Army
January 22nd, 1935


Vittore Gabrielli stood atop a hill with a pair of binoculars overlooking the uncharacteristic hilly brush and forestry of southern Imperium. Further south the hills turned into the silver mountains along the border with Usea, a veritable fortress reinforced with literal fortresses along the passes on both sides, a sad fact of life in the post-revolutionary world. The line across in the distance wasn’t much different, though it was an artificial wall that contrasted the natural one sharply. Low rising, bristling with heavy gun turrets and carved out, reinforced trench lines that would be neigh impossible to surpass; which he supposed, was the point. By contrast the only defenses along the Alisonian half of the border were the trees themselves. “Sergeant.” Gabrielli turned to his senior NCO, Amerigo Alinari and handed him the binoculars. “Right over there, by that tree line. Is that fellow… coming toward us?”

Sergeant Alinari hefted the binoculars to his eyes and looked to his four o’clock where a figure was indeed moving just beyond the treeline. “Bit far from the gates.” Alinari ruminated as he examined the treeline itself. “He’s not the only one, either.” The sergeant handed the binoculars back, pointing to just within the trees.

“That’s unfortunate, I was hoping today would be quiet.” Lieutenant Gabrielli lamented as he called for a runner and started relaying orders to the man in order to gather his forces. “Probing force, you think?” The officer wasn’t a veteran of many battles and leaned on his NCO more than his men would ever know.

“That seems likely.” Sergeant Alinari agreed as he laid down on the rigid of the hill they were atop. Alisonia and the Empire had been prodding one another for over a year now in quiet instances of naked violence that both governments officially denied as border patrols clashed with often lethal results; both of them were none the too quietly gathering armaments and increasing the size and training of their armed forces for what men on the ground and in the towers rightly perceived as a coming war.

The sergeant levied his rifle, setting his gaze down the telescopic sight on it to make sure he wasn’t shooting at fleeing civilians as the lieutenant took a knee beside him, still observing as well. “I count eighteen.” Alinari said after a second of quick head counting that Gabrielli confirmed. “Definitely Imperial Army, as well.”

“So it seems.” The sergeant went quiet as he sucked in a breath to steady his aim, around them the remainder of the lieutenant’s men set up from vantage points along the hilltops. The crack of the sergeant’s rifle broke an uneasy, partial silence of rustling leaves, moving men and heralded all hell breaking loose. Rifle fire erupted along the Alisonian line and after the first volley the Imperial party’s advance answered in a more broken manner as they sought cover and concealment from their counterparts. “Left, fifty meters.” Lieutenant Gabirelli very calmly called out targets for his sergeant, who acknowledged with sharp rifle fire. The skirmish lasted under ten minutes, with what was left of the Imperials retreating in good order, leaving their dead for the time being; Gabrielli didn’t dare to send anyone after the wounded, God only knew if there were more of the innumerable Imperial horde hiding nearby, though he doubted it. “That’s done, let’s go do the paperwork for it.”

“Sir.”



Impero-Alisonian Border
245km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
300km from the Alisonian city of Regium Lepidi
Lieutenant Luciano Cremonesi – Alisonian People’s Army
June 11, 1940


“That is one hell of a wall.” The observation of the obvious was given by Sergeant Tommaso Salvi as he stepped up beside Lieutenant Cremonesi who was overlooking the so called Iron Wall, a whimsical boast by the former Empress of the Empire, Zoi the Minstrel, who was too busy patronizing the arts and musicians to bother with things like war or statecraft. The so called wall stretched from Vaeboria’s border with the Aegean Sea down to Thracia’s border with the Kemetic Sea.

“Never let it be said they don’t know how to hide.” Lieutenant Cremonesi replied simply as he scanned the horizon. Behind the two men were the assembled forms of nearly ten thousand ironclads ranging from smaller models to the ponderous bodies of imposing man-made mountains that were heavy land ironclads, the forces were the uniformed rank and file of the Alisonian People’s Army, the tip of a proverbial and very literal spear that would soon be pounding away at the vaunted Iron Wall when their units received the order to begin the advance against the vaunted defenses of the Iron Wall, which had not been idle over the last months and weeks; spies embedded in the governments of the Empire had reported a steady stream of Imperial soldiers that had been funneled into the kingdoms of Thracia and Vaeboria to augment the small royal militias that the richer kingdoms could afford to maintain. Along the Imperial border were innumerable machine gun emplacements, howitzer and mortar pits and of course, the battleship grade guns that sat atop heavily reinforced concrete towers. It was an infantryman’s nightmare made flesh from powdered rock and water.

“So-”

“No, we’re not charging across the distance while they lay into us.” The Lieutenant cut off his sergeant before he got a chance to finish the thought with a knowing smile. “The battlemagi of the 12th Magic Corps and the 33rd Artillery are going to roll up and give them a taste of blasting fire and the national animal of Lian.” The LT chuckled and waved a hand behind them towards bulbous racks of metal filled to the brim with rockets mounted in the beds of lorries.

“They the signal, then?” Sergeant Salvi questioned, his lieutenant shrugging in response.

“Central’s keeping ‘sensitive information’ close to the chest, afraid of Imperialist infiltrators.” Both men snorted at the thought of an Imperial spy, they outright didn’t exist.

A figure moving behind them caused the two men to turn towards the source, a young woman with the chevron of a private on her shoulder who saluted sharply, which caused both the lieutenant and his sergeant to wince sharply.

“Get out of that habit, I’m fond of my head.” Cremonesi said sharply. “Report.”

“Colonel Bello sends word that the assaults are to begin within the hour, sir. In addition, Captain Amadei is looking for you; your unit is in the vanguard.” The corporal spoke clearly, concisely and quickly; most if not all the traits necessary in a message runner.

“Thank you for the information, Corporal.” The lieutenant rambled off his own set of instructions to be given in countenance for a reply that he’d heard before he dismissed the girl. The junior officer and his NCO walked down the low rise of the hill they were standing on and began meandering through the forward positions of the 3rd Army Corps; their formations were due to strike at the northern ‘half’ of the wall, while elements of the 5th and 7th Army Corps hit the southern half on the border with Thracia.

They passed through rows of tents, loosely arranged material; anti-air batteries pointed skyward and other things before the two men split off in opposite directions; the lieutenant headed towards the officer’s tents, his sergeant heading towards where the enlisted men were encamped to get them in motion. There wasn’t a great degree of separation such as in more traditional military bodies; Alisonian officers were within a stone’s throw of their men, and were not kept separate from them, at all. They were often literally neighbors and friends, much to the chagrin of more traditional military theorists who held steadfast belief that even if the enlisted men weren’t scum, their betters should almost never associate with them; something that as with most things, the fiercely communal Alisonians took personal issue with. You didn’t send men to die unless you went with and in front of them, it was that simple. Hell, even the Imperials understood that, the godless heathens…

Impero-Alisonian Border
245km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
300km from the Alisonian city of Regium Lepidi
Alisonian People’s Army
June 11, 1940


According to a watch it was noon in southern Alisonia when it happened; the first shot of the war. The Sun was high, insurmountable, the fierce burning of the light a testament to the strength of a god herself; and then she was gone. Much like those uncounted years before, but also worse, for she could with great effort, pierce the fog that Anemoi had set upon the world long ago. This was not such a case. The combination of more than a thousand muttering voices hearkening to power unfathomable to the likes of modern men was unleashed in the most subtle of ways; as in the next second, before anyone who had not been paying the closest of attention to the sky, the sun was back, bright and guarding, an illusion.

A beam of light the color of straw shot down from the sky in the distance before it faded swiftly losing all trace of color. Only the gods could deduce from where it had come…

In the distance the sound of thunder struck across the air many times louder and longer than the greatest natural lightning bolt in history. The sound was that of the audible groaning of a hundred million tons of stone, iron, sweat and blood of the iron wall as it began to melt, collapsing in on itself under its own weight without apparent provocation. Which was not the worst of things. As the concrete disintegrated there were no words in the languages of man or flen that could describe what was happening to the garrison. Some had the decent luck to simply drop and die; others appeared to sicken rapidly from causes as common as exsanguination and as exotic as advanced stages of red plague in a matter of seconds at the longest as reality itself struggled to comprehend exactly what it was that was unfolding within its grasp as the consensus was overridden with both ease and horrifying execution. Others still, there really were no words for what happened to them. The spell, the ritual really, and it was evident after the first few horrifying seconds, it was indeed a spell, an incredibly complex one at that, lasted for minutes, and the minutes gave way to an hour before the storm clouds parted and left naught but a clear blue sky and in its wake, what had formerly been a series of proud, indomitable structures were left as little more than piles of literal sickly colored gray ash.

The symphony of noise that followed was in comparison, trite and inconsequential as thousands upon thousands of rockets screeched through the sky like a macabre organ playing the funerary dirge of its predecessor; in concert with the secondary bombardment units lurched forward from their resting positions, engines spooling up and the stamp of boots echoing through what was now an eerily silent place compared to not a half a day before…


Impero-Alisonian Border
175km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
Private Lucia de Palma – Alisonian People’s Army
June 11, 1940


It felt wrong. Her boots crushed more prints into the finely ground ash that had been stone, iron or man and it felt wrong, not just morally, but somewhere deeper, much deeper, that normal people couldn’t see or touch. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the Flendrehel not a few feet from her, doubled over vomiting, was feeling. They were so much closer to God than she was… It was wider than she expected, too, a field of indescribable gray nothing that extended out from an epicenter for what looked like miles, though at the barely perceptible edges, hues of green and brown could be seen on the near horizon. More than a few had deigned to equip their gas masks in an effort to keep the smell of ash out of their nostrils, and God knew what sort of magical ailments borne of the unnatural ash itself; it didn’t take her much thinking to do the same, her vision of the world constricting rapidly once the protective mask was secured. Both isolating and intelligently, no one spoke, leading to a pseudo-silence interrupted by the churning of engines that disturbed the ash fields, flurrying the material into the air in the form of gray clouds that settled back down on absolutely everything.

This continued for several minutes, silent marching interspersed by being covered in snowing ash before the ash field ended abruptly with the reemergence of emerald fields of grasses. The flurrying died down more slowly as the vehicles trawled through; sprinkling the healthier ground with the destitute remnants of what had preceded the advance. The gas masks came off almost immediately, desperate breaths for fresher air becoming the predominate sound among the infantrymen advancing whilst vehicles and their attached infantry elements began to split off into convoys and formations down the roads. Lucia turned back the way they’d come where the cavalry detachments had dismounted and were coaxing their horses over the ashen field with the assistance of several very uncomfortable looking Flens who were speaking in soft tones to the clearly frightened beasts that shined with sweat.
Lucia muttered passages from the Litany as she turned back towards her unit, falling into formation in a skirmish line as much of the advancing cohorts had done, God did not allow such things, yet her eyes and burning nostrils certainly disagreed, whether God allowed it or not, did not seem to stop men from doing it. The fields and roads they advanced along were empty of soldiers not their own. Hours passed as they marched, the Sun shifting position in the sky from high to low. Those walking had nearly reached the point of exhaustion before they were exchanged with fresh troops from the rear and loaded onto lorries for some form of rest. Lucia’s legs screamed in objection as she sat ragged for the first time in nearly a day.

“Where the hell are they?” Someone, she looked over to see a friend of hers from childhood and fellow Private Casimir Fortunato speaking, the others of their squad, Private. Roberta Amatore, Rossa Alamanni and Corporal Ines Bagni shrugged, no one was above the pay grade necessary to have half an inkling of such things, a minute or two passed before Cpl. Bagni gave his thoughts very plainly. “They were all back there, we walked over them.” The young man, only 25 and freshly a man, shuddered at the thought.

“That wasn’t the entire Imperial Army, surely.” Amatore suggested as she sucked a lengthy puff off of a lit cigarette. These sorts of informal conversations happened a lot at the smallest level of the army, five or six people gathered around proverbial or literal campfires exchanging ideas and thoughts on the situation they were in.

“I doubt it.” Lucia said, her tone softer and understandably glum. “The Empress’s legions are almost innumerable. We got less than a fraction, probably.”

“They’re not innumerable, they’re just unlucky enough to be forced to fight for their overlords.” Private Alamanni spoke up a certain venom in their voice, everyone shrugged again as they opened a few tins of assorted foodstuffs and ate it cold. The tinned meat spread well over exceptionally dry crackers was likely going to be the best meal they had for a few days until the logistical corps caught up with the advance. “Sleep, God knows when we’ start getting shot at.” Corporal Bagni said as they approached the end of their impromptu meal, Lucia leaned back as much as she could and shut her eyes, maybe that was a nightmare, maybe…


Impero-Alisonian Border
100km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
Private Lucia de Palma – Alisonian People’s Army
June 12, 1940


When Lucia was jostled awake it was at least several hours later. A feeling confirmed when she checked her watch a few seconds later. The sky was pitch black, and there were a combination of torches, flashlights and mage-lights floating among the columns when she poked her head out of the back of the canvas covered truck bed. The immediate area was relatively well lit, with outlaying areas beyond a circumference of about fifty yards once more yielding to darkness. “Come on, out of the lorry.” Corporal Bagni was the first one on the ground, followed by the others before Lucia piled out last. “Weapons check.” A quick once-over of their rifles, yet to be fired, and ammunition. “Fan out and stay in the light.” The Corporal hissed in no uncertain argumentative terms. God only knew what dwelt out there in the shadow, be it man or something else entirely. Lucia nodded and took up a position on the squad’s far western flank, near to the outer edge of the ring of torches etc, peering into the murky night beyond on the look out for Imperial scouts, in reality the attention was more for wolves and similar predators; night advances seldom saw open battle, least of all against Imperials, her father had told her that much from his service in the Revolution. Alisonians were Imperials as well and fighting at night didn’t sit with them, advancing though? They could do that…

The first shot rang through the vanguard five minutes after Lucia started her screening advance. A single shot that caught the point man of the platoon that was fanned out over about half a mile in diameter in the throat, that fellow fell without a shout and died choking in short order. The machine gun fire rattled after that, the open field provided little in defense, and curses be unto the fucking gunner who had a night-eye spell. “Drop!” The word didn’t need saying, but said it was, muscle memory and training kicked in and Lucia, among others, dropped to the grass covered floor. “Where the fuck are they!?” Someone shouted, then the tracer fire screamed in, catching one of the soft-bellied trucks in the cabin, a spray of red covering the shattered windshield as it ground to a halt. Vehicle crews dismounted haphazardly, clutching carbines and sidearms as they joined the riflemen on the ground.

A bright light erupted over the heads of the soldiers a second later, much brighter than a normal flare could have been it was most certainly the result of magic that produced a soft off-white with the intense regularity of moonlight, not quite bright enough to see for miles; but enough to illuminate their counterparts. Some hundred yards to their direct north, as well as on their flanks was a line of machine gun nests, as well as riflemen who were dug in, though not entrenched, defensively. Several of the Imperials had reeled back away from their stations, blinded by the sudden change in luminosity. Those not blinded did not cease their fire, also finding it easier to locate targets in the saturated environment of the Alisonians’ formations.

“Silence those guns!” That roar came from Sergeant Loris Grosso, a salted man in his mid-thirties who’d fought the Imperials in the revolution and was the leader of Lucia’s section. Lucia herself was busy acquiring and firing on targets along the Imperial line, the recoil in her semiautomatic rifle an odd sort of therapy to the fight-or-flight response in her genes. A mage a few yards a way threw some God forbidden sphere at one of the machine guns which caused it to erupt in a column of flame, fireballs were as basic as magic got as Lucia understood it and God forbidden or not, she couldn’t deny their effectiveness as the men manning the gun were reduced to screaming immolates. Further down the line, a more mundane approach of shooting the machine gunner solved the problem long enough for another man to throw a few grenades; while on the flanks a combination of magic and bullets was used to deal with it. The skirmish lasted less than five minutes, but left several dozen, if not more, wounded, and God knew how many dead. When the shooting died down, medics and healers got to work as Lucia reloaded her rifle for the third time.

In addition to the spread out shapes of bodies that became more indistinguishable from the ground as the flare spell faded, several lorries lay disabled, either through the elimination of their crews or 7mm machine gun fire through their engine blocs. The whinnies of horses made it known what had happened to a few of the equine beasts. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, offering prayers to the Lady for her comrades and her enemies; “May they find themselves in your court, Highest, guard them from the Enemy… Praise, praise.”

The Private shook again, adrenaline coursing through her as she tentatively stood from her position as others around her did the same, moving to collect and comfort the wounded. She counted off those nearest to her and thanked God again that no one she knew had been among those more unlucky than they had been. A frown formed at the corners of her mouth as she thought on it, yet. The small nature of the unit they’d encountered made her think of delaying tactics, and larger battles were certainly in the future, for now though, they were mostly alive...


Athenian Sea – AS San Marco
Admiral Alessandro Montanari – Alisonian People’s Navy
48 nautical miles from shore, nearest Alisonian city – Roma
June 12, 1940


Thousands of miles away from the trials of Lucia de Palma, sixty-seven year old Alessandro Montanari quaffed a cup of tea while it was still piping hot in an effort to wake himself more quickly. At his age, ideally he would’ve been retired; and prior to two weeks ago he was retired, living out his days in the idyllic coastal town of Pisa. He’d been recalled by the General Staff Office of the Navy to serve as the flag officer of the 3rd Fleet, a position he’d previously held from 1924 – 1930 when he was a slightly younger man. Apparently they were unwilling to accept that his successor was a competent, if not younger, officer. The Admiral made his way from his quarters to the bridge of the ship with a practiced ease of someone who had the footfalls and niches of the ship memorized. Over the years a lot of blood of his had gone into the beams and bulkheads, both proverbial and literal.

He’d fought in the Imperial Navy as a young man, and had found himself in the Alisonian People’s Navy in the aftermath of the revolution in which he, like many of his generation, had taken part. Back then, the new Alisonian Navy was a motley collection of ships taken from the Imperials at gun point, and what ever had been seized in harbor. A collection of cruisers, often protected or light, as well as destroyers. The San Marco was one of three exceptions, an honest to the Gods battleship, albeit, an old one. First laid down as the Imperio in 1903 the San Marco was one of the Artemis style battleships, center-firing etc. The ship had been refit twice, once in 1918, and again in 1929 which increased her battery from 12” to “16, though her armor remained that of a pre-1920 battleship.

The Admiral arrived at the bridge of his ship finding it in working order, no orders were needed to be given, he checked quickly with the night watchman and after ascertaining that everything was as in order as obviousness pointed to, took up his station silently. The San Marco, along with its task force of three cruisers, the Varese, the Vittoria and the Juliana along with six destroyers, the Austro, Strale, Dido, Dardo/i], [i]Nembo and Espero were a small vanguard for a much larger force to follow them headed by the aircraft carrier Aquila.
The task force’s primary mission was to act as forward scouts for the larger force, providing early screening against possible Estainian fleet movements as they went further out to sea. In addition they would, once they arrived off of Estainia’s coast, attempt to engage the coastal defenses there in an effort to open up the Aegean Sea to external fleet actions by the APN while the Aquila and its contingent engaged further out along the Estainian-Phearaean coast, though they had to be careful not to cross into Nordleng waters or airspace but that could be dealt with when the time came. It was not an especially good plan, and Admiral Montanari did not sign off on it. While he was not afraid of the Imperial Navy, he was the Imperial Navy once, he knew them, how they fought, thought and broke. The matter was simple; Imperials did not break, a stereotype among Imperials, their foolhardy stubbornness, was a true fact in the Imperial Navy. Famously disciplined and rigidly adherent to their protocols and guns he was not shamed to say they were the finest navy on the planet. Of course, the Admiral smiled ruefully as he stirred in his thoughts; the Alisonian Navy read the same manuals, trained along the same lines, mostly, conflicts between them were going to be… amusing at best.

The Imperial Fourth Fleet, stationed at Larissa, would probably be their most likely opponents, and the office of maritime intelligence hadn’t reported any fleet changes at Larissa’s naval base in over three years when the fourth fleet was exchanged with the seventh. Montanari vaguely recalled from reports that the fourth fleet was primarily cruiser based, a claim he heavily doubted, as they were charged with the defense of Estainia itself, whatever the Empire might call itself, whatever they might speak in Lianese, Estainia was the heart of the Empire; it would not be lightly defended by mere cruisers.

“Unknown vessels, this is the Imperial Navy, you are intruding on Imperial territorial waters, heave to by thirty degrees, we will escort you to international waters.”

Fuck.

“GENERAL QUARTERS, ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!” Alarms were blaring as the Admiral bellowed, the ships erupting in life as the main guns of the San Marco began moving towards the horizon, whilst the cruiser Vittoria outright opened fire on the Imperial ship from the head of the formation, a distance between them of roughly eleven kilometers. The Imperial ship did not flinch, as expected; instead they themselves heaved to engage the Vittoria while their radio started squawking for aid.

Admiral Montanari sighed as his ship swung in the water, the forward turret opening fire with a deafening symphony that muted the raging guns of the smaller ships, the 16” shells slamming through the Imperial vessel, exploding well on the other side, the damage done by sheer inertia.

So much for doing it quietly…
The Social Republic of Alisonia


Yes, it does. If you were wondering.

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Mackjaracotavon
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Founded: Jun 23, 2018
Father Knows Best State

Postby Mackjaracotavon » Tue May 07, 2019 9:58 pm

Somewhere 40 miles off the coast Imperial Coast, outside the city of Roma
June 12, 1940


"Hey, Henry! Get a shot of those!" a Marine Zoologist shouted towards a man in the back of her small sailboat, carrying the Cretian flag and some civilian markings, as she pointed over the side at local species of shark that briefly broke the surface with their fins. The man was equipped with an expensive, professional camera, with an aid manning a spotlight out of view, as they recorded everything. He was unaware that the footage he was taking to document the occasion, a motion photography expedition on Imperial Marine Wildlife for a Cretian newsreel, would shake the Imperium continent immensely.

"Hold on, Maxine! Give me a-" the man with the camera replied. He'd be interrupted as a loud, thunderous boom echoed from across the sea, almost knocking the expensive equipment over, and everyone turned to see what sounded like a battleship firing it's guns in the direction of the Imperial mainland. A symphony of gunfire responded in kind from the other side, and the camera crew changed their focus to what was going on, maintaining a safe distance from the battle.

"Am I seeing this, right? Is there an attack going on?" Maxine, the Marine Zoologist, shouted as she held onto her bowler hat in the trade winds that carried the smell of cordite smoke towards them.

"This isn't the Marine Wildlife thing, but this'll be some good footage!" the aid shouted as he peered at the chaos.

"Maxine, can you determine who's attacking who?" Henry, the cameraman, asked as he kept the camera rolling, capturing everything on film. Maxine raised an 18th Century monocular and peered through it.

"I cannot tell... It's too dark..." Maxine responded.

"Can we use the compass to determine the origin of both fleets?" the aid suggested. Maxine retracted her monocular and pulled a compass out in its place, reading it for a moment. The attacking fleet, she guessed, was North, while the defenders were basically in the southern quadrant of the battle.

"The two fleets met with each in battle facing North and South. If I remember my geography, the only north and south points of origin in this local area are Estainia and Alisonia." Maxine told Henry as she closed the compass. Henry was doubting the already shifty claim, due to the lack of evidence and poor lighting to get any sort of indication on who the two fleets belong to, but even then, he had bad feelings about what was going on.

"Are you certain that it's the Empire and Alisonia? What if it's some pirate raid?" the aid asked.

"Only one way to find out..." Maxine asked as she went into the wheelhouse and attempted to hail one of the Imperial ships to find out what's going on and secure a safe path back to Cretia and away from danger. She'd go through her codebook and tune the radio to the proper channel. "This is the civilian schooner Starlight to any Imperial vessels in a 40 mile radius. We are currently sitting outside an active naval battle on a paid job documenting the local marine wildlife. We want to know what's going on, and if possible, find safe passage back to Cretian waters. Please respond, over..." she called out, hoping to reach someone over the civillian radio across the great black void of an ocean in the dead of night.
Last edited by Mackjaracotavon on Tue May 07, 2019 10:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
What is on my nation's front page does not reflect my nation in rp. It follows its own distinct lore that is separate from what is defined by the "issues" choices.

Kingom of Cretia, total monarchy founded in the Middle Ages and remains unchanged to this day.
All factbooks (https://www.nationstates.net/nation=mac ... l=factbook) are works in progress and subject to changes or retcons.

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Alisonia-
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Founded: Jul 06, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Alisonia- » Fri May 10, 2019 4:08 pm

Athenian Sea – AS Rosolino Pilo
Alisonian People’s Navy
34 nautical miles from shore, nearest Alisonian city – Pisa
June 12, 1940


Patrol was a dull and boring affair for the crew of the seventy-nine meter long Rosolino Pilo, one of the more ‘modern’ ships in the Alisonian navy. It was not part of the fleet action taking place scant miles from it, though before the sun was up it was capable of seeing, through telescopes, the muzzle flash of the larger ship in the formation, the San Marco. The radio squawking of the MS Starlight was heard by the Rosolino mere minutes after it began. “They’re in the wrong part of the ocean.” was the general consensus among the radio operators, Seaman First Class Emilio Bartalotti and Seaman First Class Annamaria Ferraro as they took down the repeat calls for inquiry and assistance on scraps of paper swiftly in decent calligraphy. “I wonder if they realise you’re not supposed to say that unless you don’t want a response?” Ferraro wondered as the twenty-two year old rose form her station, exited the small radio room and went to find an officer of rank.

It took only a moment to do so, as she nearly collided with First Lieutenant Nicodemo Silvestri, one of the sparse officers among the sixty-nine man crew. “Civilian schooner, sir, they’re pretty adamantly trying to get the attention of the Imperial Navy.” Ferraro handed over the transcriptions that the radio operator had taken down thus far, the Lieutenant reading over them quickly before he walked passed her at an accelerated rate with not so much as a thanks on his way to the bridge, Seaman Ferraro shrugged and went back to her station.

First Lieutenant Silvestri in the meanwhile jogged onto the small bridge of the Rosolino and pulled its commanding officer, Commander Lotario Ermacora, to the side rapidly informing him of the situation.

Commander Ermacora nodded before directing his ship to change heading, sending Silvestri back to the radio room with explicit instructions on what to say in return.

Starlight, this is the Alisonian Navy’s Rosolino Pilo, what is your heading? Our vessel, along with-” Ferraro checked, “twelve land-based magoradio stations have picked up your signal; what naval battle?” That much was a legitimate question, after all while the Rosolino could barely make out the flashes of the San Marco, they had no idea that the San Marco had just disintegrated an Imperial cruiser.

While Annamaria Ferraro was transmitting to the Starlight in short bursts, the Rosolino’s mage, Tatiana Ungaro; was scrying for the civilian boat in an effort to see the Rosolino Pilo intercept and escort them back to shore, albeit for detainment until the situation of their violating Alisonian waters could be resolved. Not to mention if there was a naval battle ongoing it was best to get the civilians out of the way.


Impero-Alisonian Border
75km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
Village of Ariminum
Private Lucia de Palma – Alisonian People’s Army
June 12, 1940


Her feet hurt. A lot. If she’d known that the army would’ve meant this much double-time overland “walking” she’d have joined the nurse’s corps for sure. Lucia had been on her feet for hours, the advance was going well as far as she could tell; they hadn’t been stopped by any major Imperial force and the few units they had caught in the open had been dealt with… If hadn’t been for the speed of the advance and the occasional bout of naked force, she could’ve mistaken it for maneuvers back in Alisonia; and that was her only real complaint, the speed at which they were going. She vaguely understood why they had to be quick, the Imperials were weak right now because their concentration of force had been broken and the Vaeborians didn’t have enough men to concentrate force of their own in any one area when they were being assaulted across the breadth of their entire country; and more importantly; the Imperials wouldn’t be weak forever.

“Oy, Lucy!” Lucia turned her head to see Pvt. Fortunato closing the distance between herself and his position on the line which had been filled by someone she didn’t recognize. “Corporal wants us on this place.” He pointed to the near distance where the low rising shape of buildings, houses most likely, broke up the horizon pretty well. The rest of their troop was forming up near by as the division continued advancing, they wouldn’t outrun them outright she hoped.

The two soldiers their fellows, Amatore, Alamanni and Bagni at the back of a truck that had stopped. “Simple policing, no body shoot anyone without a damn good reason. These people are probably fucking terrified of us thanks to ceaseless propaganda, let’s not give them reasons.” Corporal Bagni said very plainly as they clambered into the back of the truck, one of the armored ones Lucia noticed; alongside a squad she didn’t know, though her attention span decreased to that of a gnat when she noticed the Flen across from her. “Are you an angel?” There was a resounding set of chuckles from everyone else in the truck, whereas the elf just smiled. Lucia noted it didn’t reach their eyes, it seldom did on such old peoples.


Athenian Sea – AS San Marco
Admiral Alessandro Montanari – Alisonian People’s Navy
48 nautical miles from shore, nearest Alisonian city – Roma
June 12, 1940


Admiral Montanari sighed as the San Marco’s taskforce sailed passed the rapidly sinking remains of what had been Her Majesty’s Ship Fei Hung; the smaller cruiser Vittoria at the lead of the formation stopping off to assist the survivors as was proper, the cruiser Juliana moving to replace the Vittoria in formation in the meantime.

“Bella fortuna, it’s always black.” The Admiral spoke primarily to himself, in a few more miles they would definitively be within the waters of the Empire, moreso than they were at present time, this sort of thing happened with some regularity, an Imperial ship or an Alisonian ship would blunder across the border, which the Empire didn’t recognize to begin with, and shooting would start. Normally it didn’t end in either vessel sinking so much as it ended in warning shots or the occasional aggressive shell damage, but then again most of the ships didn’t have the misfortune of running across a dreadnought, either.

Ideally, by the time they were deeper into Imperial waters, the remainder of the Alisonian fleet would catch up with them, at least in aerial presence if not in physical presence. Unideally, in addition to dealing with Estainia’s famous coastal batteries that included guns up to 510 to 600mm diameter cannons, they would be dealing unequivocally with the Imperial Air Force, not something the Admiral desired; though he knew either way the Imperials beyond a shadow of a doubt knew they were coming, now it was just a matter of what sort of response they would send out to greet them.
Last edited by Alisonia- on Fri May 10, 2019 4:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Social Republic of Alisonia


Yes, it does. If you were wondering.

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-Ormest-
Civilian
 
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Founded: Jun 21, 2018
Compulsory Consumerist State

Postby -Ormest- » Fri May 17, 2019 4:16 pm

Impero-Alisonian Border
75km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
Village of Ariminum
Corporal Veraith Evharti
June 12, 1940


Veraith tried to concentrate hard on the simple incantation that was giving her the ability to see as clearly as if it was day, though as she briefly looked up to the moon amidst her brief jog she could tell that it would not be too much longer before sunrise, perhaps two, three hours at most. She looked back down on the earth, observing the loose formations of Alisonian soldiers and reached into her mind and loosing trying to feel; using her magic to feel the essence of those around her; she could feel the presence of her squad running into a double column behind her, Sarno doing his best at pacing, and Nicodemo, Albanesi, and Bosco were all struggling to keep their stamina at something above “about to drop”. She held up her hand in a clenched fist to signal the squad to stop and they all slowly lowered their pace until they came to a stop and huddled around in a small circle, all panting trying to get oxygen for their sore, straining muscles. She looked over at Bosco, who was crouched down and resting his torso on his knees and beckoned with her hand “Here, all of you give me your canteens, quickly.”

They all handed her their canteens one-by-one and as they handed them to her, she grabbed it tightly with her hand for just a moment and then handed it back to them. Once she had finished, she ordered them all to drink a good portion “It’ll help give you strength and replenish your stamina.”

Indeed, as the squad downed some of the apparently altered water a look of relief came over most, except for maybe Sarno but Veraith wagered that had more to do with him trying to be noble and impressive, to never show weakness; she learned long ago that mortals, particularly certain men loved to try that act. Before they could resume formation, a runner came off the road, weaving his way through the passing vehicles and trucks, and stopping in front of Veraith “Corporal Evharti?”

“Whatever it was, I didn’t do it.”

The runner looked confused, but the members of her squad started chuckling and the runner caught on after a moment’s delay and nodded “A message for you Corporal, the Sergeant wants you to get on the next truck to pass by, you’re going to link up with Corporal Bagni’s unit and help secure a local settlement.”

Veraith nodded and thanked the runner, who then promptly took off presumably with a thousand other messages. It only took a few moments for their truck to arrive, it briefly pulled off of the road and out of the column and stopped on the grass, Veraith beckoning her men on board once it came to a complete stop. She could see the truck was empty, which must mean Bagni’s unit was meeting them here so she took a seat up against the back of the cab, and rested her back against the cold metal. She waited for a moment before she pulled a small vial out of her belt, downed the contents entirely and then crushed the vial in her palm, the glass turning to ash and then being scattered amongst the idle wind that floated around them. She looked at the moon and muttered a few words and then let out a small smile before looking at Sarno, who was sitting across from her with an inquisitive look. “What was that for?”

She shrugged “A short prayer to Alcarërána, thanking her for a beautiful night and for many more to come.”

He chuckled “Somehow, I don’t think the Imperials will be so amicable about that.”

She shrugged back “Then I guess we will have to make them.”

After a few seconds, she saw two soldiers run up to the gate of the truck and noting the emblems on their uniform she inferred they were from Bagni’s unit. Her presumption was confirmed a few moments later when five other soldiers began climbing into the bed of the truck with them, Bagni taking a seat on the benches close to Veraith and nodded his head in a short greeting, which Veraith returned. Once she noticed all of his soldiers onboard she banged her fist on the cab’s wall a few times, and within moments the sound of the diesel engine being reactivated filled the air as the roar was loud, and it’s tailpipe spit out exhaust. The driver veered off, towards the settlement they had been sent to secure, Veraith idly looking upon the small collection of houses and wondering how many of them were filled with Imperials ready to blow her, or any of their heads off.

“Are you an angel?”

Veraith heard the question come from the young woman towards the end of the benches, near the tailgate, and she smiled as best as she could manage “Depends on the priest you talked to, but that’s a complicated yes and no. Corporal Evharti ma’am, and don’t mind the laughter, they all used to be just as awestruck or fearful. It’s something we got used to, a long, long time ago.”






Impero-Alisonian Border
75km from the Vaeborian city of Kydamis
Village of Ariminum
Private Lucia de Palma
July 12, 1940


Lucia turned scarlet the moment the laughter started but remained attentive despite, or perhaps in spite of it as humans were wont to do in such circumstances. “Ah, uh, hi. Lucia, ma’am.” She would’ve saluted but when her hand started moving to that instinctual motion a stare from her own corporal stopped that cold. She didn’t bother to question on the yes or no from Veraith, discounting it as the eccentricities of elves and their ways. “Pleased to meet you.” She fell quiet quickly after that, trying to decide whether or not she was intimidated or embarrassed by the encounter; the not so quiet rumble of the vehicle coming to a stop a minute or two later brought her back to reality. Lucia pried open the lightly armored door since she was the last one in, which made her the first one out, first to look which she did so awkwardly half-hanging from the bed of the truck before reaching over for the lever that dropped the tailgate.

The Alisonians piled out in a semi-ordered fashion, taking up positions around their vehicle in the immediacy after dismounting before Lucia started looking around closely. It was a collection of houses and a general store, some were built of wood and were newer in construction, most were old stone with genuine thatch for roofing. “… Like a goddamned time machine.” Sergeant Grosso muttered off to her left. “Spread out, don’t startle anyone anymore than necessary.”

Expectantly that would be harder said than done, the villagers were awake and staring at their uninvited guests with a combination of stark terror and trepidation at best. “Who speaks Estainian?” “Oy.” Fortuno spoke up to clarify he did. “and Lianese?” One of the ones from Cpl. Evharti’s squad said ‘yes’, the only word Lucia knew in Lianese to confirm they did. “Who speaks Taenic?”

“Me.” Lucia herself said finally, Sergeant Grosso gathered the impromptu interpreters. “Repeat after me, one at a time, in each language.”
It was a basic set of instructions, a promissory note that they weren’t bandits there to rob or rape them, and a very general statement of whose authority they were, for the moment at least, under. Of the villagers only one of them actually responded when Lucia said her piece, and their response was to yell profanities she didn’t feel like repeating into the early morning air.

“What did he say?” Pvt. Amatore asked as the small units spread out to search for Imperial or Vaeborian soldiery.

“He was just cursing.” Lucia responded. Sergeant Grosso had them go over another set of instructions and information in each of the Imperial languages to explain what they were looking for, surprisingly the villagers were rather forthcoming, or at least they weren’t shooting at them at the moment…

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Adiya
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Posts: 33
Founded: Sep 15, 2014
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Adiya » Fri May 17, 2019 9:51 pm

January 5, 1931
The Gilded Parliament, Silver Bunkers.


The Eclipse Contingency was on the table again. Several Ministers of the Gilded Parliament, Priests of the Celestial Deliberative and Enforcers of the Highest Laws were present to supervise; mainly to ensure that High Command would not include a coup on the list of preparations for war against the Empire. Half-lidded eyes looked over maps and reports and graphs and pie charts that covered the war room table. It was the usual, more ships must be built, more ships must be refitted, the army must be expanded, total war mobilization must begin immediately and in advance if the war is initiated by Adiya and allies. Yet, as usual, the admiralty wanted to deviate from the obvious.

Ever since the Great War began with the Imperial Navy sinking a ship of the Silver Fleet, ever since the Silver Fleet met a foe it could not engage in an open battle, the Adiyan admiralty always wanted to deviate from the strategy of raiding Imperial shipping. Mainly to show the world that Adiya was a naval power to be respect and feared by the world over, and significantly influenced by the fact that raiding naval trade was made problematic by the restrictions put upon the Moon Caste in regards to engaging unarmed targets. The result was Adiya’s most effective method of fighting the Empire was also the most embarrassing. So, every time the Eclipse Contingency was put up for review, someone always proposed a crackpot theory and everyone entertained it as long as they could.

“We smash the entire coastline of Lian, the fleets of the Imperial’s northern coast will be stunted without immediate access to the manpower of Lianese ports and harbours.” Admiral Hrida proudly concluded her edit to the usual strategy of raiding Imperial trade. “If successful, we might be able to produce more ships than they can reinforce in the north, exposing the Empire to raids and perhaps an invasion of we are lucky.”

Admirals and generals discussed the merits of the plan for a good hour, pretended like it was a good idea, that the Silver Fleet could accomplish anything if it really wanted to. Then it took a few minutes to tear the idea down.

“Our ships could be bottlenecked where the coasts of Ormest and the Empire almost meet if we send our ships into Lian.” Vice Admiral Biorne said. “Combined with the fact that Ormest is more favourable toward the Empire than us, given how it played out in the Great War, it is almost guaranteed that our ships will be cut off and trapped in a hostile gulf and picked apart by the Imperial Navy.”

So the strategy was concluded that Adiya would raid northern shipping routes with an emphasis on weakening the economies of the populous kingdom of Lian and wealthy kingdom of Amber and hopefully the Alisonians could find an opportunity to take the advantage.

January 6, 1932
The Gilded Parliament, Silver Bunkers.


The Eclipse Contingency was on the table again. Several Ministers of the Gilded Parliament, Priests of the Celestial Deliberative and Enforcers of the Highest Laws were present to supervise; mainly to ensure that High Command would not include a coup on the list of preparations for war against the Empire. Half-lidded eyes looked over maps and reports and graphs and pie charts that covered the war room table. It was the usual, more ships must be built, more ships must be refitted, the army must be expanded, total war mobilization must begin immediately and in advance if the war is initiated by Adiya and allies. Yet, as usual, the admiralty wanted to deviate from the obvious.

“We invade the kingdom of Amber.” Admiral Asfrid said. “Taking the kingdom would solve the possibility of being bottlenecked raiding its coastline like in Lian, and the kingdom is much more smaller geographically and demographically compared to the rest of the Empire, making occupation of it a practical possibility. Then we simply dig in and let the Imperial Army and Navy exhaust themselves against our lines.”

The deliberation lasted two hours this time, a ground invasion let the generals fantasize as much as the admirals about set piece battles and vaunted glory. Then the voice of reality set in.

“Unfortunately, there’s a bit of a snag here.” General Ondeff grumbled. “Amber is also one of the furthest locations away from Adiya that we can hit. The supply convoy would need to be massive, and it would be too vulnerable to the Imperial Navy. Moreover, in the last war Adelsmaerke also allied with the Empire, they cannot be trusted anymore than Ormest; meaning the border the Kingdom of Amber has with them makes the invasion all the more difficult, both on land and at sea.”

Again, the desire for climatic battle floundered all over again.

So the strategy was concluded that Adiya would raid northern shipping routes with an emphasis on weakening the economies of the populous kingdom of Lian and wealthy kingdom of Amber and hopefully the Alisonians could find an opportunity to take the advantage.

January 14, 1933
The Gilded Parliament, Silver Bunkers.


The Eclipse Contingency was on the table again. Several Ministers of the Gilded Parliament, Priests of the Celestial Deliberative and Enforcers of the Highest Laws were present to supervise; mainly to ensure that High Command would not include a coup on the list of preparations for war against the Empire. Half-lidded eyes looked over maps and reports and graphs and pie charts that covered the war room table. It was the usual, more ships must be built, more ships must be refitted, the army must be expanded, total war mobilization must begin immediately and in advance if the war is initiated by Adiya and allies. Yet, as usual, the admiralty wanted to deviate from the obvious.

“We invade Daryush, closer for our supply fleet and it will cut what is left of the Empire in half.” Admiral Gena circled the target kingdom on the maps.

No one even entertained that one.

“When the Moon ass-fucks the Sun!” Colonel Iglundr burst up from their seat. “This is the worst idea yet! Ormest is still too close if they go hostile, our supplies would be even more vulnerable because of the required manpower and supply needed to secure the massive borders of Daryush, and this massive invasion force would be caught between a strategic pincer attack from east and west!”

So the strategy was concluded that Adiya would raid northern shipping routes with an emphasis on weakening the economies of the populous kingdom of Lian and wealthy kingdom of Amber and hopefully the Alisonians could find an opportunity to take the advantage.

January 9, 1934
The Gilded Parliament, Silver Bunkers.


The Eclipse Contingency was on the table again. Several Ministers of the Gilded Parliament, Priests of the Celestial Deliberative and Enforcers of the Highest Laws were present to supervise; mainly to ensure that High Command would not include a coup on the list of preparations for war against the Empire. Half-lidded eyes looked over maps and reports and graphs and pie charts that covered the war room table. It was the usual, more ships must be built, more ships must be refitted, the army must be expanded, total war mobilization must begin immediately and in advance if the war is initiated by Adiya and allies. Yet, as usual, the admiralty wanted to deviate from the obvious.

“Hm.” Admiral Thilda simply had a thought. “Akrosea has a nice little island to the northwest of it right there. It is the closest Imperial territory to Adiya and farthest territory we can hit from the Empire evening the logistics issue, and if taken could be fortified enough to assist the Silver Fleet against the Imperial Navy and launch bombing runs against Imperial naval and ground assets in Akrosea.”

Silence.

Military commanders, politicians, priests, and zealots (some of which overlapped with each other depending on the person) leaned over the maps of Estainia. They realized that for all of these years, there was a piece of the Empire that was within reach of Adiya. Close enough to Adiya and far away enough from the rest of the Empire that it effective invasion and occupation was feasible. No one entertained it, they seriously discussed the matter.

So the strategy was concluded that Adiya would raid northern shipping routes with an emphasis on weakening the economies of the populous kingdom of Lian and wealthy kingdom of Amber and a massive naval and ground assault would be launched with the objective to capture the northwestern island of Akrosea for it to serve as a base for naval and air assets to support raids and attacks on the Imperial economy and battles against the Imperial Navy while similar raids would be launched against peninsulas alone the Akrosean coast to draw away Imperial military assets and resources from the island.

June 12, 1940.
Arinbyr Military Docks, Dock 7A.


A day had passed since the borders of Alisonia and the Empire roared with the wrath of heaven. Yet still there was no silence in the world. War was a noisy affair. The boots of marine contingents stomped in coordinated steps as they prepared to board warships, troop carriers, and supply vessels. Priests chanted litanies of war and conflict and faith, with passages and phrases that had bolstered the spirits of Moon Caste soldiers from the founding of the Celestial Order thousands of years ago to now. Then there were the ships, their engines roaring and pouring smoke out of the funnels and turbines chopping up the water, crews barking orders that echoed in the metal corridors and were faintly heard on the busy decks. War was a noisy affair indeed.

Vice-Admiral Guara Iodfolfdotr was isolated from most of the noise within the bridge of her cruiser. The most vivid sensation for her at the moment was the lack of weight on her face, lack of identity and security as a Moon Caste. As was tradition, when war is declared all Moon Caste must have their masks removed and stored in the tombs to be later reclaimed by survivors to prevent them from being lost to looters or destruction. Suddenly she understood why the old photos had so many Moon Caste cover their heads with cloth or paint, she felt like she had lost a part of her face without her own. Of course, right next to losing a part of her identity was the anxieties of facing a foe that had bested her forefathers and the vengeance due to them that was now her responsibility to extract. Iodfolfdotr inhaled and exhaled as deeply as she could through her nose in a slow and steady pace to not alarm anyone else on her bridge, it would not do to have the commanding officer of ship visibly panicking while the war had just begun. She straightened her posture a bit more and continued walking around the bridge. Iodfolfdotr almost cursed her crew’s competence, the loading of troops and supplies continued at an agreeable rate and communication channels had nothing of note to report, nothing to carry her mind away from the future.

Any hour now the ships would be ready and the Admiral would give the order to set sail. Then every seaworthy ship under Eastern Fleet Command would set sail across the east coast and rally for the largest operation of Adiyan history. Then the Northern Fleet Command’s ships would follow them, and the Western Fleet Command after that. A fast offensive to raid Imperial assets and seize Imperial territory to keep the war focussed away from Adiya and ground where the Silver Fleet could actually combat the Imperial Armada. Having learned from wars past, and with a weakened foe, victory was most certainly assured. Iodfolfdotr inhaled and exhaled through her nose.
Theocratic Republic with a religion-based caste system. Religion in question worships celestial objects.



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