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Pacifying the Provinces [MT-Cornellia-TG for entry-Mature]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Vionna-Frankenlisch
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Pacifying the Provinces [MT-Cornellia-TG for entry-Mature]

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Sun Jun 02, 2019 9:23 am

Ja'aek'ro, New Oakcliffe Province
B Company, 8th Infantry Battalion
D-Day + 2, Operation Veritable


This was not how things were supposed to go... The sandy village of Ja'aek'ro (supposedly meaning 'Desert Village of Ro') was an objective for D-Day itself, and it had only been secured on the third day of Operation Veritable. Once again, the government or those pricks in GHQ had fucked up. With a minimum of support, not even trucks to take them to the next dying-place, the Third Infantry Brigade had been sent out to be killed in the sunken streets of a village which they couldn't even pronounce. A flanking attack promised by the Imperial Native Federation, comprising of riders from the Haeki Tribe, never came. Air power, a rarity in New Columbia, had too been promised by some fat Ceasian who had brought his way to the generalship and, inevitably, could not deliver.

Captain Edward Saunders MC, for one, was a trifle miffed. Luckily for him, and the other soldiers of B Company - the Eighth Infantry Battalion, most of the fighting had been done by the Seventh Battalion. As had most of the dying... Edward and his company had seen some limited action in the final attack, a glorified human wave which had finally broken the rebel defences. They had, admittedly, been bringing up the rear; Edward was not complaining, though, and nor were his mostly unharmed men. Saunders, of Oxbridge, Vionna, was currently staring down his fortieth birthday and he was dreading it. His fair hair was already greying at the edges, presumably from the stress of running a company such as his, and lines bedecked his gaunt face. There was a hint of attractiveness left to him, but it was no longer the aristocratic handsomeness that he left Fredericksland with. His charm was now from the grizzled look of a career soldier, aided by the heroic-looking scars he carried. Sergeant Taylor, who sat next to him in the sandy slit-trench that they called a Battalion HQ, had fared much worse. Taylor was younger by at least a decade, but it mattered not, his right ear was gone entirely, his nose was essentially in two and he was missing two fingers. One might be mistaken by believing that these wounds were incurred by a single explosion. This would have been less cruel than the truth. Five years fighting against the vicious rebels and enemy tribes had done this to Taylor over time. The ear had been burned away by a flamethrower, the nose by the scimitar of a mounted young warrior and the two fingers to a land mine. He scratched, absent-mindedly, at the burned flesh on the right side of his head.

"Saunders!" A call came from along the trench, which curved at the centre for defensive reasons. Edward, who had been studying a supply list, jolted his head up and the call came again. He came to his feet and wandered around the bend in the trench to find himself face to face with Colonel Elizabeth Foster. Of course, Saunders had known it would be her the second he heard her soft aristocratic tone in the call and he came sharply to attention and saluted. Foster returned the salute dutifully and came closer, speaking in her usual quiet voice. "How is your company, Edward?"

"Well, thank you, Maam," Saunders replied, his face as emotionless as his booming, authoritarian voice, "We lost one man, Private Hardyng, in the assault to a sniper but nothing besides him." Saunders did not know Hardyng very well, besides the fact that he was a farmhand before joining the army. The young private was a replacement fresh out of basic and Saunders thought he might have made a good soldier in time. He'd never find out now, a tribal marksman had put an arrow through the lad's throat and killed him.

"Sometimes it's tougher losing just one or two, especially if you know the faces," Foster admitted, nodding. "Did you know him?" She asked. Saunders shook his head and Foster nodded again. She continued, "Anyway, the seventh is going to rest up here for the night while the ninth goes north-east. So we're headed north-west, to strike out towards..." Foster checked a handwritten note, presumably from the staff, "Cha'aek'rol." She finally struggled out. "Your company is taking point, I want you ahead. Gather your guys and gals and head out along the high road, combat patrol, we expect enemy along the road. I'll be following up with the rest of the battalion in two hours. You've got a quarter of that to get out of town."

Saunders nodded in response, "Maam." He affirmed, dutifully, with a salute. There was nothing else to be discussed, he turned back and gave the news to Sergeant Taylor who just sighed and left to round up the rest of B Company. By the time they trailed out of Ja'aek'ro, the sun was beginning to waver and the sentries were being changed, out they went. To do or die...
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Sat Jun 08, 2019 9:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


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Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Mon Jun 03, 2019 3:26 pm

New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia
Imperial War Department


Within the white brick walls of 6 Government Row, New Adeleux, the fates of thousands of soldiers were decided every week. Should an attack be made here? Shouldn't the Sixth Brigade have some rest? How did the rebels flank the Fourth like that? These were the questions that reverberated through the marble halls and stuffy offices of the Imperial War Department. From its great dome, in which resided the office of Arthur Sakharine, Chief of the Defense Staff, the Imperial War Department surveyed the sprawling colonial city of New Adeleux, the official capital of New Columbia. Although it was not the largest city in terms of size or even population, those honours going to Brimmouth in the east, New Adeleux had a certain charm and grandeur that made it seem more appropriate as a capital city.

Within that dome office, Sakharine sat at his huge oak desk, supposedly made from the mainmast of the Saint Leo, the ship which had taken the first Vionnan settlers to Ayaca. His beady amber eyes, almost hidden in sunken sockets behind wrinkled eyelids, focused on his direct subordinates. Mary Webley, the Viscountess of Hamilar, was busty and beautiful with raven hair and pale skin. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff was a notorious womaniser and she was the focus of much masculine attention which she usually rebuked. Webley took the aristocratic tradition of bisexuality to almost promiscuous extremes and Sakharine watched, disgusted, as the Chief of the Air Service, a fat, bespectacled man called Harry Oakfield, shifted himself in his chair to hide an erection. The last member of the Joint Defence Chiefs, who remained stoically uninterested in his female colleague, was Sir Archibald Acton, an ageing old admiral from the Vionna-Frankenlischian homeland. His expertise had secured him his position as Chief of the Naval Staff for his personality certainly hadn't. If you got to know him, Acton wasn't so bad, he was actually a very affectionate man to his friends and family. But God help you if you got his temper up, and Acton's temper was often on a short fuse.

"Things aren't all that bad, really..." Oakfield was explaining, buttoning up his purple cardigan and resting one leg over the other. "The offensive, though it started with a certain... Lack of momentum." He admitted, tactfully. "It has broken through and reports from the Northern Deserts are promising. Our forces are moving forward steadily with great regard for logistics and casualties."

"No thanks to your planes..." Webley grumbled, her business suit hugging her generous figure. "Why are our troops left without air support and without even their artillery?"

Sakharine sighed and exclaimed, "Surely that falls under your purview, Lady Webley, these are the army logistics you are criticising?"

"No, sir, I'm not criticising my logistics," she corrected with a degree of aristocratic hauteur, "I'm criticising the support we are receiving from other branches. The Air Service is providing no meaningful support, no supplies or equipment are being moved to the front by aircraft and no aerial attacks have taken place to support our attacks. And we receive less and less logistical support from the very top every day. We have no fuel to move guns to the front by motor and not enough fodder for the animals to take such a strain. Quite frankly, sir, I feel like we've been left out on our ears."

There came a nod in reply from Sakharine. It wasn't entirely his fault. New Columbia's domestic oil production had a huge deal of potential, but the largest deposits were in rebel-held territory with poor infrastructure. It would take time to expand the Columbian oil production in any meaningful way and the nation had remained isolationist within Cornellia, at least until the recent election of the Federal Party and appointment of Governor-General Laurenstowe. Perhaps Sakharine could expect foreign support now, he certainly hoped so. "Err, yes..." Was all he could think to reply.

Rescue came, as if on cue, and there came a knocking from the door. It was opened seconds later and Morgan, Sakharine's young aide, in fact, a college student on a work experience course, entered the room. "Mister Sakharine, sir," she said, "There's a man from Chaco here, sir, say's that he is expected."

Sakharine checked his watch, "Oh, right, yes..." He murmured, remembering his arrangements with a Chacoan observer. "Send them in." He ordered, straightening himself out. The others began moving to leave but Sakharine waved them down with a right hand which was missing its pinky, "I think its best if you three stay, actually," he said, "Perhaps you might be useful here."

Morgan held the door open and waved the observer in.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


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Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Wed Jun 05, 2019 9:29 am

New Adeleux

Colonel Julio Quispe had an easy flight from Chaco. He had business class on a small commercial plane and slept most of the way. When he arrived, he checked in at the embassy and met with the military attaché who wished him luck.

“I hope your report gets read. For these people to still be stuck in a conventional war against Indys is a bit fantastic, if you know what I mean sir.” The Attaché had told him.

Julio had agreed and then went to go and freshen up before heading over to meet at the war department. When he arrived, he informed them who he was and presented his credentials. Julio was brought to a waiting room and then when summoned entered the room in his green service dress uniform with his cover held under his arm. He nodded to the men in the room and introduced himself, “Hello gentlemen, I am Colonel Julio Quispe. I was sent to observe the fighting, as I am sure you all know. It is a pleasure to be here with all of you. Please first before we start if you could let me know your expectations of me, I would greatly appreciate it. I would like to discover all I can, but I should know my boundaries first.
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Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Wed Jun 05, 2019 11:13 am

New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia
Imperial War Department


Arthur Sakharine came to his feet, pushing up off of his desk. "A pleasure, Colonel, an absolute pleasure, I'm sure..." He introduced, looking at Colonel Quispe down a thin nose, "I am General Arthur Sakharine, Chief of the Defence Staff." He held his right hand forward to introduce each of his colleagues in turn, "Her Ladyship, General Mary Webley, Viscountess of Hamilcar. Chief of the Imperial General Staff" Webley nodded at Quispe as if they were equals, her red-lipped smile faint. "Air Chief Marshal Harry Oakfield, Chief of the Air Service." Oakfield grinned amicably, the edges of his smile pushing chubby red cheeks apart. "And Admiral Sir Archibald Acton, Chief of the Naval Staff and Knight-Commander of the Maritime Order of Valksland." Sir Acton bowed his head, revealing a pink bald spot at the top of his head, previously hidden by his thin white hair which curled down to his shoulders.

Sakharine looked to Morgan and ordered, "Chairs, if you please, Morgan. Four of them. We may be here some time." The girl curtsied and rushed away on dainty, bare feet to carry out the order. Lady Webley looked back at Sakharine curiously and he explained poker-faced, "If you think I'd let her stomp all over the Axminster in those boots of hers, you're very much mistaken." Webley shrugged with a grin as Morgan dragged a pair of chairs into the room, yelping as a wooden chairleg bounced off of her foot. Oakfield slumped into one of the chairs and Sakharine held out his hand, indicating that Quispe should take the other while Webley and Acton took the other two as they came.

"Now then, Colonel." Sakharine leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, insulated by his thick, navy blue jumper. "Let's get to business. You are basically at liberty to carry out your duty as you wish. I will have a pass sent up, granting you access to all levels of conventional military command, with some sections withheld as you are not a national, I hope you understand." He waved Morgan over and handed her a signed note, it carried Quispe's details and the instruction to prepare him the pass, she carried it away swiftly. "I can have transport arranged practically anywhere in the country so long as you ask. I'll try to keep you off of the back of a horse and in trucks or planes but I can't promise anything. I've had orders passed around the forces that all foreign observers are to be treated with respect and catered to as much as possible."

Sakharine came to his feet and pulled a map down behind him. It showed New Columbia in terrific detail and was approximately 6ftx3ft. "Now then," he explained, "I think I'd ought to go over the basic situation before we let you go." He gestured towards the map wildly as he spoke, "The Majave Offensive is not going too well. No matter what Laurenstowe says publically, it was a very bad showing for the first three days of the offensive. While our casualties were not too high, some three hundred killed and wounded, we were bogged down quickly and we only took Ja'aek'ro with a general attack by the whole of the Third Brigade. The Second Brigade hasn't even stepped off yet, General Chao is citing poor supplies. And the First Brigade is in the air, supposedly attacking a large encampment but we can't place them exactly. Quite frankly, Operation Veritable has been a fucking disaster so far. Our native allies have given negligible support and Oakfield can't provide much air support. And that fat twat, General Ictivius, won't use what planes he does have." Sakharine's face was red, he did not usually swear but was like a sailor when his blood was up.

"Anyway," Sakharine said, sinking back into his leather office chair, "That is the situation as we know it. I'd like to hear what you have to say. I'll answer any questions and put you on track to where you'd like to go first."
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


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Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Wed Jun 05, 2019 6:01 pm

New Adeleux

"Now then, Colonel." Sakharine leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, insulated by his thick, navy blue jumper. "Let's get to business. You are basically at liberty to carry out your duty as you wish. I will have a pass sent up, granting you access to all levels of conventional military command, with some sections withheld as you are not a national, I hope you understand." He waved Morgan over and handed her a signed note, it carried Quispe's details and the instruction to prepare him the pass, she carried it away swiftly. "I can have transport arranged practically anywhere in the country so long as you ask. I'll try to keep you off of the back of a horse and in trucks or planes but I can't promise anything. I've had orders passed around the forces that all foreign observers are to be treated with respect and catered to as much as possible."

“I thank you for that sir. I will do my best to stay out of the way of all operations that are being carried out. I want to observe everything as it is taking place as naturally as possible.” Colonel Quispe said.

Sakharine came to his feet and pulled a map down behind him. It showed New Columbia in terrific detail and was approximately 6ftx3ft. "Now then," he explained, "I think I'd ought to go over the basic situation before we let you go." He gestured towards the map wildly as he spoke, "The Majave Offensive is not going too well. No matter what Laurenstowe says publically, it was a very bad showing for the first three days of the offensive. While our casualties were not too high, some three hundred killed and wounded, we were bogged down quickly and we only took Ja'aek'ro with a general attack by the whole of the Third Brigade. The Second Brigade hasn't even stepped off yet, General Chao is citing poor supplies. And the First Brigade is in the air, supposedly attacking a large encampment but we can't place them exactly. Quite frankly, Operation Veritable has been a fucking disaster so far. Our native allies have given negligible support and Oakfield can't provide much air support. And that fat twat, General Ictivius, won't use what planes he does have." Sakharine's face was red, he did not usually swear but was like a sailor when his blood was up.

“Well the first thing that I would recommend sir, is to continue to keep this information absolutely quiet. The last thing you need are foreign jackals looking to take advantage of your situation here. We only just managed to get the last Edomites to leave Ashab. Be very wary of who gets the information about your situation.” Quispe said.

He changed the subject, “Now if there are some initial questions I may ask sir. Firstly, three hundred casualties are concerning to say the least about an enemy that should rightly have no power against an organized force. How are the enemy Indys getting their supplies? Who is shipping that into the country, and how are they being supplied more efficiently then your own forces? If they are living off of current stores, then do we have any ideas where they are? Secondly about your Indy ‘allies’ as you call them. Are you supplying them as well? Next, why is the Air Force coordinating so poorly with the army? Are you short of fuel or munitions? As far as the supply lines, I would like to ride up to the front with the logistics boys, so I can see for myself if that can be arranged.”
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Neue Regensburg
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Postby Neue Regensburg » Sat Jun 08, 2019 7:27 am

Colonel Nathaniel Pierre was a veteran of the civil war, and it had come at a heavier price for him than most. When the war broke out, his Karen of a wife took his kids and left him when he wouldn't take the side of the Reds. They were later killed in an air raid on a Red fort where they'd taken up. He fought diligently, advancing from the 2nd Infantry Division to the 1st Elite Panzergrenadiers, to the 1st Infantry Jägerkommando Group. He was promoted to Lt. Colonel, then to full Colonel. Now, the 55 year old was to observe a different kind of counter-insurgency, against native populations resisting colonial rule, rather than reds revolting against the King.

Regensburg's interest in New Columbia is selfish. Vionna-Frankenlisch was a relatively powerful nation, and developing ties could result in war recovery aid or even a trade partnership, both things the nation desperately needs.
The flight was rough, on a C130 Transporter from Air Statiom Kronstadt to New Adeleux. There was plenty of turbulence and the likes, but compared to a snowy winter's night in Gallia or a sticky hot day of jungle warfare, this was nothing.
He wore his crimson and gold lined black dress uniform, with brass buttons running down the middle. If need be, he could change into a combat uniform, but for now he was fine.

He checked in at the embassy, where the Sovereign Guard troops saluted him as he walked in. "At ease," he said, then following into a room with the Ambassador and Military Attache. "Colonel, you have an extremely important job. New Columbia is an extremely useful potential partner, and we cannot afford to botch relations with another Ayacan country. I'm not implying you'd do that, only underscoring why your job is so important... though from reading what is declassified about you, you are the man for the job." The Ambassador kept his speech short, not wanting to condescend to a man such as Pierre. "I understand, Ambassador. I've had to grow more... attuned... to the political situation since my promotion. I'll be on my best behavior." The Attache simply gave him the necessary files and exchanged pleasantries, and then the Ambassador exchanged farewells too.

Having taken a shower at a guest room in the embassy, he then went to the War Department. He went through the necessary security checks and then waited for his summons. When it was his turn, he went inside, and he spoke in Latin. "Good day, sirs. My name is Colonel Nathaniel Pierre of Regensburg. I have been sent to observe the counter-insurgency efforts of New Columbia against hostile native populations. If its ok, I would like to know what the customs are for military observers in your nation. I would hate to offend anybody or interfere in any operations."

OOC: I'm new at this kind of stuff, so I used previous posts in the thread as a guideline.
Last edited by Neue Regensburg on Sat Jun 08, 2019 7:32 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Sat Jun 08, 2019 12:08 pm

New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia


Colonel Pierre's choice of transport, a C130 aircraft, was looked on with some confusion by the personnel at New Adeleux Military Airbase. The huge transport plane swooped over, awaiting approval to land and, unaware of its affiliation, there was much confusion on the ground. Major Ferdinand Haffen, who commanded the New Adeleux Air Defence Battalion, almost had the aircraft shot down in panic but a runner arrived from the War Department to secure its approval to land. It was a mild day in New Columbia and the Colonel's decision to wear his dress uniform was not quite so laughable as it would have seemed on a hotter day. He was driven to the Regensburger embassy on Diplomat's Row and, from there, was transported to the Imperial War Department.


Imperial War Department


Nathaniel Pierre was received with some suspicion at the War Department but, following some checks and the last minute intervention of an aging General of Engineers, he was allowed in and his visit was confirmed with the Ministry of Defence and the Regensburger government. He was asked, rather stiffly, in Latin to fill out a form of his details and then told to wait for General Sakharine to receive him.

Sakharine himself was in his office, speaking to the Chacoan Colonel Quispe. He nodded, his mouth curved in a diminutive frown, "That is a good point," he replied to Quispe's security concerns, "We are trying to keep all this on the down-low but it's best that you and any other observers are aware. We don't want you getting killed because we tell you that everything's going perfectly."

There came a knocking from the door just as Quispe opened his mouth to speak. "Sorry, Colonel," Morgan apologised as she came through the door. She placed his pass down on the desk, carefully, "Your pass, sir." The pass itself consisted of Quispe's personal and military details along with his security clearances printed on an A4 sheet of polymer and fastened in a folding case made of polished leather. "Sir," Morgan spoke to General Sakharine, "A Colonel Pierre of the Regensburger Ja- Ya-"

"Jägerkommando." Lady Webley pronounced the word for Morgan, impatiently.

"That." Morgan said, her face red, "He's waiting outside, sir. Another observer, apparently."

"Yes, thank you, Morgan." Sakharine replied, waving her away, "Let him wait a while longer, I'm just going to clear things up with Colonel Quispe."

The General turned back to Quispe. "Colonel Quispe, please continue."

“Now if there are some initial questions I may ask sir. Firstly, three hundred casualties are concerning to say the least about an enemy that should rightly have no power against an organized force. How are the enemy Indys getting their supplies? Who is shipping that into the country, and how are they being supplied more efficiently then your own forces? If they are living off of current stores, then do we have any ideas where they are? Secondly about your Indy ‘allies’ as you call them. Are you supplying them as well? Next, why is the Air Force coordinating so poorly with the army? Are you short of fuel or munitions? As far as the supply lines, I would like to ride up to the front with the logistics boys, so I can see for myself if that can be arranged.”

"The rebels produce most of their supplies domestically, although we haven't ruled out the possibility of foreign support. Their supply lines are shorter and under less demand and stress than ours, allowing them to be more efficiently supplied." Sakharine explained and came to his feet to stand by his map. He gestured, seemingly at random, at the map as he spoke. Perhaps the General did not get much chance to make briefings anymore. "Our domestic oil production is zero. We receive some fuel for military purposes from Vionna-Frankenlisch but most of our imports go to civilian consumption. Any suggestion of domestic fuel production is impossible at this time. The rebels occupy all the areas of New Columbia that might have oil. Munitions, thanks to the Fawkesport Arms Factory, are one of the few things we have no shortage of. It's just the process of getting things to the front that is the issue. As Lady Webley was telling me, there is not enough fuel for motorised transport and not enough fodder for animal transport."

"Right, Morgan, send Colonel Pierre in." Sakharine ordered.

Pierre introduced himself in Latin, Sakharine frowned. He spoke Latin perfectly but had expected him to speak the Common Language which was still the lexicon of choice in New Columbia. Sakharine nodded disinterestedly through his introduction and replied, "Thank you, Colonel, please sit." Morgan came up behind the Regensburger with a wooden chair and placed it down for him, the large office had space for another dozen but the cluster around Sakharine's desk made the room look cluttered. Sakharine hated clutter. "I am setting all observers at liberty to carry out their duty as they desire. I'll try and have you transported where you want to go but, naturally, I can't promise anything with the situation as it is. Your pass should be being made now and it gives quite generous clearance."

Sakharine addressed the Colonel, pointed between people as he spoke, "Allow me to introduce everyone. Colonel Pierre, this is Colonel Quispe from Chaco. I am, as you may know, General Arthur Sakharine, Chief of the Defence Staff. I have the honour to introduce Her Ladyship, General Mary Webley, Viscountess of Hamilcar and Chief of the Imperial General Staff." Webley gave Pierre a curt once-over but did not speak. "This is Air Chief Marshal Harry Oakfield, Chief of the Air Service." Oakfield nodded to Pierre, his ample cheeks and double chin jiggling lightly. "And last, but certainly not least, Admiral Sir Archibald Acton, Chief of the Naval Staff and Knight-Commander of the Maritime Order of Valksland." Acton bowed his head, respectfully, much as he had done to Quispe. "Thank you, Morgan." Sakharine acknowledged, as his aide placed Colonel Pierre's pass down on the desk in front of him.
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Sat Jun 08, 2019 12:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
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Neue Regensburg
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Postby Neue Regensburg » Sat Jun 08, 2019 2:47 pm

Nathaniel Pierre was received with some suspicion at the War Department but, following some checks and the last minute intervention of an aging General of Engineers, he was allowed in and his visit was confirmed with the Ministry of Defence and the Regensburger government. He was asked, rather stiffly, in Latin to fill out a form of his details and then told to wait for General Sakharine to receive him.

Pierre was used to getting into fights with those that didn't show him the respect he believed that courtesy demanded, and internally he was pissed that he had to jump through all these hoops. However, he forced himself to calm down and fill out the form.

Pierre introduced himself in Latin, Sakharine frowned. He spoke Latin perfectly but had expected him to speak the Common Language which was still the lexicon of choice in New Columbia. Sakharine nodded disinterestedly through his introduction and replied, "Thank you, Colonel, please sit." Morgan came up behind the Regensburger with a wooden chair and placed it down for him, the large office had space for another dozen but the cluster around Sakharine's desk made the room look cluttered. Sakharine hated clutter. "I am setting all observers at liberty to carry out their duty as they desire. I'll try and have you transported where you want to go but, naturally, I can't promise anything with the situation as it is. Your pass should be being made now and it gives quite generous clearance."

Sakharine addressed the Colonel, pointed between people as he spoke, "Allow me to introduce everyone. Colonel Pierre, this is Colonel Quispe from Chaco. I am, as you may know, General Arthur Sakharine, Chief of the Defence Staff. I have the honour to introduce Her Ladyship, General Mary Webley, Viscountess of Hamilcar and Chief of the Imperial General Staff." Webley gave Pierre a curt once-over but did not speak. "This is Air Chief Marshal Harry Oakfield, Chief of the Air Service." Oakfield nodded to Pierre, his ample cheeks and double chin jiggling lightly. "And last, but certainly not least, Admiral Sir Archibald Acton, Chief of the Naval Staff and Knight-Commander of the Maritime Order of Valksland." Acton bowed his head, respectfully, much as he had done to Quispe. "Thank you, Morgan." Sakharine acknowledged, as his aide placed Colonel Pierre's pass down on the desk in front of him.

Pierre wasn't much for pleasantries, but he suffered through them with dignity. "It is an honor to meet you, Colonel Quipse." An honor, that taking a brief look at Chacoan foreign policy, most likely wouldn't be mutual. Regensburgers saw Chaco as overly protective of their strangle grip over Ayaca, which Regensburg has some interest in due to its relative proximity. "General, many thanks for your hospitality.," he said next, to Sakharine, noting internally that the man seemingly distrusted the Regensburger more than the Chacoan... was Pierre really welcome, he started to wonder. "General, I am graced with your presence," he said to Webley in a very professional voice... Oakfield's schoolboy's crush hadn't gone unnoticed and Pierre hadn't taken on any lovers since his wife died. He wouldn't risk relations with New Columbia over a childish lust he didn't even possess. "Marshal, it is a pleasure." Pierre immediately disliked the air marshal, but he kept that in a box deep down. "Admiral Sir Acton, I am privileged to meet you."

Having finished returning the dreaded pleasantries, he waited to see if anyone else had anything to say. If not, he continued.

"I understand that the situation is fluid and ever-changing, if there is anything I would like to do but can't, I fully understand. I would like to have a better understanding of the situation before I make any decisions on what I want to see. The biggest problem in my experience with counter-insurgency is that the insurgents need far less equipment to make the lives of the counter-insurgent forces difficult, and if they are well equipped, the situation tends to go even further south." He paused for a moment, thinking about the numerous house by house battles he took place in, and the sheer number of forest/jungle ambushes he withstood in order to liberate his home region of Gallia. The rebel industry had made weapons that claimed many friends' lives. "How much land do the rebels control? How reliant are they on guerrilla tactics and are they predictable in their actions?"

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Republica De Gran Chaco
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 464
Founded: Jun 29, 2015
Right-wing Utopia

Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Sat Jun 08, 2019 4:23 pm

New Adeleux

Colonel Quispe took some notes on what they were telling him. It all seemed so absurd, he was about to ask how a single factory could possibly supply all the ammunition in sufficient numbers, why they weren’t making trade deals with anyone else for oil, and how on earth an underdeveloped population of savages had been able to set up their own arms manufacturing. It was impossible for them to possess the technology let alone get the resources. It seemed this conflict was being terribly mismanaged. As Quispe was about to ask the door was opened and a Regensburger officer was allowed in. What was this insult? Had they not made an agreement at the highest levels for this meetine?

The Regensburger rambling on and on taking over the meeting. Quispe stood, “Gentlemen I was under the impression that this meeting and me being here was set up by my Minister of Defense and your governor. If you wish to make this some kind of party and bring in officers from nations that have no business being here, then I shall have to return to my embassy. It is a shame that an agreement apparently means nothing to you. Good day.”

Quispe walked out of the room and out of the building. He got into his car that was waiting and drove back to the embassy. On his way he called the military attaché and asked if he could set up a meeting with the ambassador when he got back. He couldn’t believe the laxness that they ran their country with. Quispe had often wondered how in the hell had they been there for so long and not gotten the Indy population under control. He now thought he understood. The men of New Columbia must have always kept it out of site out of mind.

He arrived at the embassy and went into a conference room with the ambassador and the military attache. He sat down and started, “Are these people here always so rude?”

“How do you mean?” The ambassador asked.

“I went in for our scheduled meeting and part way through they just let in some Regensburg officer. I can’t do my job creating a report with outsiders around. The fool also began just asking questions and rambling about his stupid civil war.” Quispe said.

The ambassador smiled, “They are an upper crust bunch here, they have been protected by daddy so long, that they don’t really understand how to run themselves. You see the infrastructure is undeveloped, they have wild Indys both as hirelings and as enemies. Its how Chaco was 150 years ago. They remain comfortable, and don’t actually worry about the state of their country. By the way, that fool of a Regensburger arrived at the airport unannounced in a C-130. Almost got his plane shot down. He ought to have been arrested really.”

“Good God.” Quispe muttered, “What an imbecil. Do the Carlanos know?”

“Oh yes.” The ambassador said, “I just got off the phone with their embassy here. They are quite upset. Anyways, I can submit a diplomatic protest as to your treatment if you wish.”

“No, I don’t think we need to do that. I have my pass, I think I can carry on, but do pass this up to the Foreign Ministry please, and I’ll do the same to my bosses.” Quispe said
كان التيز سمين

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1633
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Tue Jun 11, 2019 2:45 pm

New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia
Imperial War Department


General Sakharine sighed. He knew that allowing the Regensburger in would be uncomfortable but didn't expect such an unprofessional reaction from Colonel Quispe. And to think, all this fuss because he hoped to deal with the pair of them at one time. When had efficiency ever been so offensive? He wondered. ACM Oakfield sat in his chair, a surprisingly calm expression on his pudgy face as if he expected this from the start. Sakharine wondered if perhaps he had. Lady Webley's serene face was marked by her gaping mouth as she stared, incredulously at the slammed door. She did not speak.

Sir Archibald Acton appeared to be glowing a pinkish shade of red. His knuckles were white as he was clenching his fists and his hands appeared to be shaking. Sakharine looked at the Knight-Commander and sighed again, he knew where this was going. "Damn devil-dog upstart!" Acton exploded, jumping to his feet and slamming his fists down on Sakharine's desk, the chair rocketing backwards with a sharp kick. "Filthy dago swine! Ungrateful little backwards no-good thieving hellhound!" The Admiral paced as he cursed and came to a halt behind Oakfield. Oakfield bore a face of supreme terror, Webley was suppressing laughter. "I knew when I saw his damn silly dago face come through those doors that there'd be trouble. Nothing but trouble where these Ayacans are concerned. Damned trouble makers and horse thieves."

"Admiral!" Sakharine put his foot down. "Need I remind you that we are all Ayacans now, with the exception of the good Colonel. You must control your temper, sir. Or I shall have to ask you to stand outside."

Acton's head was practically vibrating and Sakharine was concerned that the old officer might burst one of the pulsating blood vessels on his head and neck. "Damn it all, sir, we invited that damn fool in. We let him sit at your desk and he speaks to us like that. Nations that have no business being here?" Acton was calming down but wasn't done yet, his trembling, hairy fists showed that. "What damn business does Chaco have here? All the damn dagos want is to drug themselves into a stupor and control other people's countries. I will be making a formal complaint!"

"You will be doing no such thing! Like it or not, Colonel Quispe is here and all that has happened is a misunderstanding. He wasn't to know that Colonel Pierre was coming along and what less did we expect, seeing that relations between Chaco and Regensburg aren't exactly all that right now." Sakharine lectured, Acton's face turning back to its normal colour. "Are we in understanding?"

"Fine." Acton snarled, curtly.

"Good." General Sakharine turned to Pierre and normalised his tone, "Please accept my apologies, Colonel. What were we saying? Ah yes- The rebels control most of the inner territories, we control the coastal regions and a few of the native tribes which are organised into the Imperial Native Federation. They fight on our side and we do our best to support them. In all honesty, the enemy does not so much need to use guerrilla tactics as they are often on near equal footing with us. We do not have the privilege of moving heavy equipment up to face them and they are fighting a defensive campaign, usually entrenching their positions and waiting for us to come to them."
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

Embassy Service - iiWiki

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Neue Regensburg
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 162
Founded: Jan 19, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Neue Regensburg » Wed Jun 12, 2019 6:24 am

New Adeleux

Pierre was horrified at the display. Regensburg wasn't necessarily angry at Chaco, but the inverse was obviously a different story. He started with an apology of his own. "My most sincere apologies that my entrance has caused such distress." After the San Carlo fiasco, Regensburg and Chaco weren't exactly on talking terms. If they had known, efforts would have been made to smooth things over enough to where a high ranking military officer wouldn't storm out of the room. He had simply introduced himself and offered a short bit of insight, but for people who want a problem, they can always find one.

He began, "So the rebels control the interior of the island, but not the coastal regions... hmm. Entrenched foes are always a pain in the neck to deal with, especially when they know the terrain. I should know..."
He trailed off, not wanting to ramble. He remembered the sheer human cost needed to take back Küststadt, wave after wave of infantrymen pouring out from hastily erected foxholes into battle against foes hiding in the jungle trees. He had insisted, a mere Captain in the infantry at the time, to lead his men into the fire.

He brought himself back, "What is the issue with heavy equipment? Is it simply the jungle terrain, or is fuel a factor as well? Shortages of fuel had stopped many of our early campaigns in Regensburg's recent war several times, but it was no easy feat moving tanks and heavy artillery into the wild either." He spoke in a gruff but deferential voice, respectful of his hosts but a typically blunt person. Going on like this made him feel like he was giving a speech in front of the entire 2nd Infantry Division... a task he didn't envy the Generalleutnant in charge there.

"As for the allied Natives, may I ask how effective they are in battle? And for the rebel natives, are there any weaknesses in their alliance that have been exploited? I guess my final question is whether your air support has been able to operate effectively, and what armament the rebels have to counter it... and actually, how the rebels are armed in general. I apologize if I spoke too much." He took a sigh of relief, having finished his questions. He sat confidently, but not as confident as usual. Showing up in a C130 was the government's idea of a luxury flight, not wanting to pay for a plane ticket... even though the fuel probably cost as much if not more. Either way, it made him fear that he may not be welcome.

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22777
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Wed Jun 12, 2019 9:37 am

In 2019, The New Edomite government and its financial backers had become determined to limit competition for the vast resources of Arcologia. They were also very keen to gain access to development in Ayaca. Sensing an opportunity, the National Petroleum Corporation had assessed the market potential of New Columbia for oil refining and development. Caleb Ahitophel, Director of Trade Relations, pointed out that the rebellion was being slowly responded to due to lack of fuel principally. It might be possible to gain market control at this vulnerable time.

One obstacle for the National Petroleum Corporation was Count Thomas Lalery, the Minister of Finance, who was trying to keep the country away from resource draining large conflicts, and who pointed out that if the chief concern was Arcologia, they needed to be cautious in case war broke out between Arbites and Adiron. In this case, his caution reached the President of the Council of Ministers, Count Sharra, as well as the Foreign Minister, Hosidius Geta, and with none of the other ministers objecting too strenuously, official policy was to avoid Ayacan entanglements. Let sleeping dogs lie, in this case, Lalery had advised them.

The National Petroleum Corporation was not done yet. Through it, New Edom led FODE, or the Federation of Oil Developing Economies, which was one of the most powerful economic blocs in the Region. It was, however, a fragile organization at the same time, consisting of nations that were often autocratic (such as Urdnotia and Deadora) at odds with one another ideologically, and even at times disunited (such as when the Shrailleeni Empire gave fuel to the Republic of Adiron during an oil crisis to support them during a time of heightened conflict with the Imperium of Arbites--against Edomite interests at the time). Its position was clear: the NPC had to keep themselves at the head of the pack.

Jacob Naioth, a Trade Agent for Director Ahitophel, was asked by him to find someone ‘unattatched” who could scout out the situation in New Columbia. Ahitophel, gorging himself on shellfish and pastries, wanted Naioth to find out if the security situation was really as dismal as Ayacan papers were starting to say, or if it was al hyperbole.

“I think I have just the man, sir,” said Naioth, amazed at how Ahitophel, who was vastly fat, nevertheless never spilled a drop and ate like a gentleman, his great hands handling scallop shells with ease and exterity, a tiny fork deftly raising the tender morsel to his lips.




Ex-Army Major Cyril Baruch had served in the 18th Mounted Light Infantry, where he had earned the nickname Iceman because of his great calm in action. But failed accusations of human trafficking and crimes against Christendom had driven him out, even though he felt his actions had contributed to success in the 3rd Elwe Uprising and the Anarchist Troubles. Following his ‘resignation’ (which was an unofficial cashiering) he ran several businesses in succession, including a safari operation, gun running and ‘troubleshooting’ which involved shooting Hostillians for the railroad companies in Treaty Hostillia.

Naioth was surprised to find him in his home in Delvian States. There were still pitted roads, buildings with bullet holes and sites of demolished buildings, but much had changed. It was elegant, in a Muslim quarter of the city of Brod, and was peaceful looking, attached as part of the block to a cafe and a men’s hairdresser’s. People sat waiting for their turning reading newspapers or sat in the cafe eating baklava and drinking thick black coffee. The house had a roof garden where the two men met and were served by a demure, short woman with black hair in a veil.

Baruch was surprisingly young, only in his thirties, and he lounged on a deck chair in white pants and shirt, barefoot, smoking a cigarillo and drinking iced coffee, looking out over the city and the harbour beyond.

“You own all this?” asked Naioth, nodding his thanks for his own coffee.

“Yes. Don’t be too impressed though, it’s easy to buy property when everyone’s eating cockroaches and picking their ancestors out of rubble,” Baruch said with a boyish smile, referring to the city’s brutal capture by the Edomite, Ghantish, and Hydrenian armies 3 year before.

“This wasn’t what I expected. Have you settled down?” asked Naioth.

“Hardly. It’s more that I’m taking a little break,” explained Baruch. “Life got a little too hot after some of my last ventures.” He did not add that he had nearly gotten castrated running guns in Dengali. He patted the woman’s bottom and jerked his chin towards the door to downstairs, and she silently went down.

He winked at Naioth. “Whore is probably listening at the door. Let’s talk in Baran. I’ve tested her with that, she doesn’t understand anything but shit Latin.”

“Are you sure?” Naioth said nervously.

Baruch blew smoke at him. “What are you, a Ghantish faggot? Yes I’m sure. Talk.”

“I have a commission for you, to assess the security situation in New Columbia to see if the market is worth investing in.” Naioth handed him a folder.

Baruch opened it lazily to disguise his interest. “Why do you need me? I bet foreign affairs publications will have something like this up in days.”

“Because we need a man on the ground to help us figure out the lay of the land and answer a few questions. First, how long will this conflict go on? Second, does the New Columbian government have a chance of victory? Third, do the rebels?” Naioth explained.

“So I go to New Columbia, give you a recon report, then what?” Baruch asked him.

“If we need to help them to our advantage, then we may require a military advisor that does not implicate us to move the situation to that advantage,” explained Naioth.

Baruch smiled. Naioth looked at him and could not understand it. Baruch didn’t look like a successful mercenary. He looked like a cheerful normal fellow, a teacher, perhaps, or even a maitre’d. Not a handsome man, with his slightly crooked teeth, blunt nose and round face. Apparently he was somehow attractive to women. He didn’t even look particularly dangerous.

“Sixty thousand for the recon, half now, half on completion, into an account of your choice, and then 650,000 for the commission to ‘advise’ New Columbia,” Naioth continued. “Coppers.”

“That’s a great number. But I’ll take that number in United Federation Dollars.” Baruch replied, looking at him.

Naioth considered. “How about 500,000 in United Federation Dollars?”

Baruch puffed on his cigarillo. “550,000.”

“Done.” Naioth and he dickered a bit about the commission to do the recon mission, but with this rooftop conversation, it had been decided: Cyril “The Iceman” Baruch was going to New Columbia.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Republica de San Carlo
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 51
Founded: Mar 10, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Wed Jun 12, 2019 11:04 am

San Carlo-New Columbia Border region

The small column of military jeeps stopped at the top of the low rise. Before them lay the grasslands of what the Carlanos called the Pampa Grande. The lands stretched out before the soldiers and the three civilians that were riding in the vehicles.

“This is it.” Said Captain Juan Sebastián Graciani, the leader of the group to a civilian sitting next to him, as he lit a cigarette and pulled off his aviator sunglasses, “That is the land where you can begin surveying.”

“Interesting. Who lives out here?” Cristóbal Bienvenida, the surveyor from San Carlo Petroleum asked.

“Oh, it’s mostly wild land. Our ranchers are around here, they have herds grazing and some have set up homes and barns. Those stupid Indian tribes that the New Columbians have let survive are here in number too. They get into tiffs with ranchers from time to time, but they also do their share of trade and such as well. Those Indians love liquor and tools.” The Captain said, “I’m actually supposed to seek them out pretty soon, to make sure they don’t come whooping and hollering trying to scalp your workers.”

“What is the official political situation?” the surveyer asked.

“Its ours. Our ranchers graze here. New Columbia thinks it’s theirs, but we patrol here semi-frequently as no border was ever established. It’s just going to be sort of risky. We have a couple firebases spread out on the ridge back there that patrol, but it is mostly quiet here. Move in a couple miles and it can be deadly though.” The Captain explained.

Cristóbal nodded, “I see, well I’m sure we can hire security. I have some contacts in a Noviteran company and I have worked out approval to bring in their surveyors as well. I’m going to shoot them an email when we get back. Is it possible for you to take me around the Pampa a bit longer?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Juan said, and gave the order for the driver to continue on.”

To: Tim Yamamoto, Noviteran Oil Well Varco
From: Cristóbal Bienvenida, San Carlo Petroleum
Subject: Oil Prospects in Southern San Carlo
Security: Highest



Tim,

The land I was telling you about looks good. Maybe a little dangerous, but the Army is going to try and cut a deal, and I think we can stay safe with some hired security for the time being though. I think you should send surveyors out with me so we can get the ball rolling on this oil field.

Regards,
Cris

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Novitera
Diplomat
 
Posts: 797
Founded: Jul 14, 2014
Anarchy

Postby Novitera » Wed Jun 12, 2019 1:20 pm

Safizon, State of Ahkour, Novitera

Two men in blue and red shorts circled around each other on a square ring. The only lights were artificial. A crowd cheered on their chosen fighter. Red shorts bounded forward with a front kick. Blue managed to dodge then land a 1-2 jab cross to his face. A roar went up but red did not seem bothered. His roundhouse connected to the Blue's abdomen in the next clash.

"Cormick's counters are good but that's all he's doing." Tim Yamamoto said to the executive next to him referring to the fighter in Blue shorts.

Jaxon McGuire languidly took a drag from his cigarette. "Cormick waits for opportunities. He does not make them. Speaking of, you may tell me about that letter you got from...who?" He asked.

"Cristobal Bienvenida." Yamamoto answered for him while still watching the fight. "Oil wells in the border of Vionna and San Carlo. They'd like us to send surveyors, see if we're interested."

Red was coming forward, using his long powerful legs to throw roundhouse and front kicks at Blue who was expertly able to evade. Blue's counters were now being anticipated and Red kept his guard up then retreated quickly after attacks. All of a sudden there was a bell and the round was over. A cheer sounded as both fighters went to their corners to be given water and quick treatment. The floors around were littered with split popcorn, soda and beer. Peddlers walked up and down the rows selling drinks, tobacco products and snacks.

"There is...war?" Asked McGuire.

Yamamoto was lifting the draft beer in a plastic cup to his lips. "Yes. We'll hire our own security. They'll investigate, see if its safe and guard our people while there." He sipped then set it down in the cup holder. "I'll arrange for the travel with the Carlano government. Papers, all that. Shouldn't be a problem. I think though we should start setting aside a slush fund for bribes and what not. If this is a real opportunity we're going to need it."

McGuire nodded. "I'll move two sticks to a Queimadan account." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"So I got the green light?" Asked Yamamoto.

"To look into it. I'm skeptical about this...political situation in Vionna. As well as working with the Carlanos. They aren't as organized." He replied.

"But more easily paid off." Said Yamamoto.

A bell sounded. The fighters moved from their corners to touch gloves. A referee raised his hand and dropped it. They were at it again. This time, Blue opened up furiously with a flurry of punches that drove Red back. Clearly Red had been taken by surprise this aggression he had not seen before. The crowd roared.

"Get your opponent into a pattern then switch it up on him. Clever." McGuire said approvingly and clapped. "Well...we won't be scared by some less than ideal circumstances. That's just the game." He said to Yamamoto.

They both stood up and shouted as Blue caught Red with a heavy hitting hook. Red went down and the count started. Supporters were screaming at Red to stand up which he slowly did. The referee checked him over quickly to make sure he was good to go then started the fight back up. A combination of groans and cheers followed.

"I'm going to call our firm. Have them reach out to all their contacts in Ayaca." Said Yamamoto.

He was referring to their lobbying and foreign intelligence firm. Every Noviteran multinational had one on retainer that pushed the firm's interests abroad or just helped with navigating bureaucracy. In some places this was especially difficult given strict laws so meetings with important people had to be done outside the country in places like Tericio. In others, they virtually had free reign to bribe as they wanted.

The fight ended with no knockout and went to a decision. It came rather close, with both fighters earning the respect and admiration of the crowd. Red, having landed more blow was declared the winner.

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1633
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Wed Jun 12, 2019 3:14 pm

Frankenlisch, Kingdom of Frankenlisch
6 Parliament Square, Colonial and Commonwealth Office


Lord Dominic Halstone’s office as Minister for Imperial Affairs was very nice. It was adorned with the legacy of centuries of colonial conquests. Atop the door was the round wooden shield of Sir Henry Barfleur, the great explorer, merchant and naval captain (considered by many to be one of the greatest pirates of the 17th century, although Frankenlischians were often touchy on that subject). The walls were lined with paintings of great battles and mementoes of conquered cultures - a hide shield here, a bone club there, atop the hatstand, the feathered crown of a once-proud tribal king. Halstone even used a golden stool, the last remnant of a Zianian throne, as a footrest. All of 6 Parliament Square seemed like a monument to Imperialism and Lord Halstone could not really deny it. Though past Labour governments expressed a wish to return these artifacts to their rightful homes, many of these homes and even cultures no longer existed, and the building remained a museum to conquest and oppression.

Despite the dark and dreary connotations of the artifacts that littered it, Dominic Halstone had always liked his office and he was hardly looking forward to the day that he would have to give his position up. His huge oak desk, once belonging to the King of Grythshead and Saxondale, was littered with papers and he leafed through some documents concerning the fighting in New Columbia. Across the desk, Romulus General Richard Smith, an old officer with plenty of experience, was lecturing him on the situation.

“Things are not so good over there, then…” Dominic agreed with Smith’s summary, in characteristic understatement.

“No, my Lord,” Smith replied, “But surely we can help them somehow? With naval force perhaps?”

“No. They don’t need ships, they don’t have the fuel anyway. I will ask His Imperial Majesty increase his stipend to New Columbia. Do we still hold Port Barfleur, General?”

“We do, my Lord.” Smith dutifully responded, “With a naval station of three ships and a garrison of six thousand men. There is an Order of Battle here, sir.” He pushed some papers aside to uncover the document. Dominic read it with questionable interest.

“Surely,” the Baron suggested, “We could let them use some of those forces.”

Smith cleared his throat and fiddled awkwardly with his hands. “Well… It would be most unorthodox.” Smith seemed to make many of his decisions based on tradition. He had lost the experimental, aggressive qualities that had won the Battle of Hill 451 all those years ago. “For over a hundred years we have let New Columbia alone, it is outside of the Imperial Government’s purview, after all. Only the King can order to do things, and their own government, of course.”

“But we wouldn’t be ordering anything. We would, as His Imperial Majesty’s own government, be offering the support of the King’s troops.”

“It could work…” Smith filed a hand through his hair, a well-groomed swathe of grey and black. “We have on strength… Three battalions of rifles, a regiment of cavalry and a battalion of marines. Along with about a thousand support troops, mostly engineers and logistics units and all that sort of thing.”

“Without fuel, there’s little we can do when it comes to logistics and those marines with their fuel-guzzling vehicles.” Dominic, who had seen multiple colonial conflicts in his two years as minister and five years in the Colonial and Commonwealth Office. “What about the rifles and cavalry?”

“The cavalry are the King’s Own Breem Lancers. Led by a Colonel Ignacy Sosabowski. The three rifle battalions are all from Fredericksland.”

“I think we’ll give them those Lancers. Are they mounted, what manner of men are they?”

“Mounted, yes, though they are trained for armoured vehicles. Not that they’ll get any. By all reports they are a fine bunch of chaps but rough around the edges.”

“Perfect.” Lord Halstone summarised, to Smith’s nodding agreement. “Make the offer immediately. And make sure word gets to the King. He won’t disagree but its best he’s told.


New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia
Imperial War Department


"You'll be surprised to hear, Colonel," Oakfield piped up, clearly a geographical enthusiast, "That New Columbia is actually almost devoid of jungle. There's a tiny region of jungle terrain in the east of the country but nothing much happens there. Most of the interior of the country, both rebel and allied held, is desert or steppe terrain with the mountains to the north forming a natural border with San Carlo. The coastal areas, as you may have seen, is fertile plains and forests, which is particularly fortunate for us. Without it, all the arable farmland would be in pockets in rebel-held territory.”

Sakharine was nodding, “Marshal Oakfield is correct. As are you, Colonel, the entrenched enemy is tenacious with their defence. It took us three days and a human wave charge to break the rebel defences at a location we were meant to take on the first day of Operation Veritable.” He sighed and grunted, “And Laurenstowe and the press are presenting it as a hard fought triumph. Sometimes I feel that we’re the only competent people left in this country…”

“Fuel shortages are our main issue with heavy equipment but the poor state of infrastructure makes things even worse.” Sakharine explained, “Our allies, when they turn up, are good warriors. Good fellows. But it can’t be denied that punctuality is not their strong suit. Honestly, most of us agree that if Laurenstowe wasn’t so enthusiastic about the INF, we would have annexed them by now.” He moved his hand over the map in a broad sweep of the enemy territory, “The rebels are both hostile tribes and disloyal settlers, most of them of… Non Vionna-Frankenlischian heritage.” He said, trying to be tactful. “Their weaponry is pretty conventional but the natives have a somewhat stereotypical love for bows and they’re very proficient at using them.”

“Air power…” Admitted Marshal Oakfield, “Is not quite something we can throw about. With fuel shortages as they are, and the INCAS not being all that on a good day, the Air Service is in dire straits. We can at least be grateful that the rebels have no airpower of their own. Otherwise we’d be down the creek without a paddle.”

Sakharine nodded in agreement and eased back down into his chair. He jumped as the phone started ringing on his desk. “Excuse me, please, Colonel. It’s best I take this.” He took up the handset and replied, informally, “General Sakharine speaking.”

“Sakharine?” A confused-sounding, aging voice spoke through the phone, “It’s Grier.” Harald Grier, the Minister of Defence, needed not bother but he liked to say his name. It was as if he had to remind himself what it was. Sakharine sometimes believed that the old codger did. “I’ve just got a rather stout offer from the motherland and I’ve had to say yes.”

“Oh yes?” Sakharine was intrigued, it was rare that offers came from Vionna-Frankenlisch, even from His Imperial Majesty, the King - who was the official ruler of New Columbia.

“They’ve offered us a unit from their base at Port Barfleur. It’s about two miles away from the main naval base at New Adeleux.” General Sakharine was rather insulted by the assumption that he was unaware of Port Barfluer’s location. He decided, tactfully, not to respond with anger. “They’re a mounted cavalry unit. The King’s Own Breem Lancers. I’ve arranged for them to go forward with the next supply column.”

“Very good, sir. Who commands them?”

“A firebrand polack called Ignacy Sosabowski. He’s got a big black beard and long hair, going right down to his shoulders. Seems good for the job, if you ask me.”

Sakharine rarely asked the bumbling fool Grier anything. Even if the old man was sincerely trying his best, his best was usually not enough. “Alright then, sir.” Sakharine hid his true thoughts, “I shall speak to you later.”

“Alright. Farewell, Arthur.” The handset went down again and Sakharine called Morgan in.

“Sir?” She stood rather awkwardly in a lazy form of attention, awaiting his charge.

Sakharine told her, “Make a call to the Chacoan embassy. Offer Colonel Quispe a place in the next supply convoy going to the front. Tell him that it can drop him off at the front or at a headquarters. Or he can remain with the logistics troops.”

“Very good, sir.”

General Sakharine turned to Colonel Pierre again and made him a similar offer, explaining the situation. “That call was from my counterpart in the MoD. Minister Grier tells me that the Vionna-Frankenlischians have just given us a regiment of cavalry to use. The King’s Own Breem Lancers. It’s heading to the front soon. You may go with it, if you wish?”


Morgan sat at her far less impressive desk outside General Sakharine's office. She held the plastic handset of a telephone to her ear patiently and smoothed down her skirt with her free hand. She thought idly about why she asked for such a position as her work experience and jumped back into the present day when Colonel Quispe came on the line.

"Hello, Colonel," she spoke the words she had been rehearsing in her head for five minutes in the sweetest professional voice she could muster. "General Sakharine sends his apologies for the slight earlier. He explains that he is very tired and hoped to brief both officers to save time and asks that you forgive him." She had made it all up, of course, Sakharine wasn't even sorry but it had to be said. "He has asked me to offer you a place with the next supply convoy headed for the front. It's heading out from New Adeleux tonight with a contingent of cavalry. He explains that you'll be able to leave the convoy at any headquarters along the way or go all the way to the front. You may even stay with the logistics corps if you wanted."
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Wed Jun 12, 2019 4:21 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
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Novitera
Diplomat
 
Posts: 797
Founded: Jul 14, 2014
Anarchy

Postby Novitera » Wed Jun 12, 2019 3:43 pm

Avantine, State of Soletrek, Novitera

Recovering from debauchery was now a very efficient and well thought out routine for Director Wade Setsuko. He had spent the entire plane ride home after the Gala in Arcologia passed out. As soon as the plane touched down, a car took him to bathhouse where he enjoyed the steam room to sweat out the alcohol and drugs in his system. Following that, was hydration. At his fancy suite in a high rise, a company that specialized in this sent over a nurse who gave him an IV drip. He had made sure Millie accompanied him throughout all this because he wanted to screw her once he was back to normal. Fresher but still tired, they had themselves a languid lovemaking session and spent the night together.

It was during that night after their session of passion that Setsuko received the call from McGuire, telling him what Noviteran Oilwell Varco was up to. He made one more phone call before passing out for the night. Everything else he let go to his answering machine.

On the following day he left Millie laying the bed with her drool stains on his pillow. Setsuko put on a suit and his driver along with two private security picked him up to take him to a studio. He and his protection were let in by a tough looking bouncer. Moving down the halls they finally made their way to a set. It was set up to look like an interrogation room. Lights beamed down, several cameras set up and men holding microphones. At pretty dark haired girl was there naked bent over a table while a muscled man thrusted into her.

"Slow it down and grab her hair." A director said. Their actor did so while she panted and moaned. "Line 22."

"That's it. You wanna stay out of prison, you take it!" The actor said.

Setsuko watched for a few moments, amused. That was when he received a pat on the shoulder. Clarence Tadashi was there. He was a short man with well combed black hair and horn rimmed glasses. Tadashi, like Setsuko, sat on the National Directorate occupying the Intelligence seat.

"Wade! How was Arcologia?" Asked Tadashi.

"Fine. Still reeling a bit but you know how fast I can get back on my feet." Setsuko replied.

Tadashi nodded, put his arm around Setsuko's shoulders and walked him over to the table on the side. They sat down. Coffee was brought for the both of them.

"Oh! Ah! Ooo! I swear mister, I'll never steal money from the company again!" The actress cried out.

"So this is your production company? Since when did you get into the porno business?" Asked Setsuko.

Tadashi shook his head. "Nah. You could say I'm here to keep an eye on my investment. I'm a partner. Buddy from college started it and runs it. Asked me to invest. I said, 'Why the hell not?'" He shrugged. "Maybe I should have just dumped it in my stock portfolio but we're doing well. One of our vids made it to the front page of SpunkTube."

"SpunkTube?!" Setsuko raised an eyebrow and looked impressed.

"Oh yeah. You know, they wanted to film at that Queen Adah Hotel but Edomite morality and all." Tadashi explained.

Setsuko nodded sympathetically. "Anyways, I wanted to ask about your priorities in Ayaca. Specifically, San Carlo and New Columbia."

"You know I can't get into specifics." Tadashi replied and took a sip of his coffee. "But generally I can tell you that Ayaca is not really an Outfit priority." He said, referring to the colloquial name of the United Federation Intelligence Service. "The Outfit Director and I got requests coming out of the woodwork for Ceti, Valik, Fineberg, Hostillia. We don't got time for Ayaca. Let Yanque handle that shithole."

"I see, but I just came across something interesting I wanted to talk to you about." Setsuko paused. The sounds of grunting and moaning were in the background once in a while interrupted by the Director's instructions. Tadashi nodded. "Looks like there are oil wells on the border. San Carlo Petroleum just contacted NOV. Invited them to send out surveyors. Only problem is, its in...contested territory."

Tadashi raised an eyebrow. "NOV doesn't even have any land based drilling operations and their offshore sites are paltry at best."

"Whatever. We'll figure out a way. But think of this, New Edom just entered the CTO. We get those wells we can deal another blow to FODE." Setsuko said.

"That's dangerous. Many in the Directorate would say we might be pushing too far. Better to cash out our chips for now. Get them integrated. Make it so they can't live without the CTO's delicious teat. Then we'll take more liberties." Tadashi responded looking dubious at this.

Setsuko waved a hand. "Well, that's a conversation for another time."

"CUT!" The Director yelled. "Jenn, its too fake. There needs to be more conflict in your demeanor. On one hand you're enjoying it because you're a super slut. On the other, you're under duress. Let me see the duress girl! Try again!"

"Anyways, all I we need right now is more information. Who are these insurgents? Details on the war? What are all the players planning? San Carlo, Ashab, Chaco, New Columbia, the OAS..." Setsuko said.

"What do I care about some bush war in Ayaca? This isn't exactly a state interest." Tadashi spread his palms.

"Sticking it to FODE is a state interest and you can be damn sure they're cooking something up in Fineberg." Setusko exclaimed.

"Weren't you just over there in Arco greasing their balls?" Asked Tadashi with a chuckle.

Setsuko frowned at that. "I was cutting deals. Big deals that'll get the cash flowing for the next generation. Look, all I'm asking for is for information. We just need to know what the opportunity is. I'm not saying make a move. Just watch."

Tadashi leaned back in his chair to take a sip of coffee. "Hold on, I want to see the money shot." He said then turned towards the set.

The actor groaned loudly then splattered her face. Tadashi and Setsuko clapped. "We got ourselves a stud!" Tadashi praised the actor.

"Half a million views on SpunkTube, at least." Setsuko said.

Tadashi nodded clapped a few more times. "Ad revenue bitches." He said happily then turned to Setsuko. "Alright. I'll talk to Dalach. See what can be done. But no promises."
Last edited by Novitera on Wed Jun 12, 2019 3:46 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Republica de San Carlo
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 51
Founded: Mar 10, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Wed Jun 12, 2019 4:29 pm

San Carlo-New Columbia Border region

Captain Juan Sebastián Graciani smoked a cigarette and hung his foot out of the side of the jeep as they cruised along the beat-up dirt road. He slouched back and stared up at the barrel of the M-60 machine gun that was mounted on the jeep. Above it flew a white flag of parley. Behind him drove two 5 Ton trucks and two more jeeps. The troops from G Company, 6th Infantry were on the move towards a settlement that contained one of the “wild” tribes of Indians that inhabited this area.

Most of Ayaca saw it as an act of gross negligence that these peoples had not been taught their lesson and brought into civilized society. Every nation in Ayaca had done this, Chaco and Ashab kept their segregation, while San Carlo, and Queimada had more of a mix. All of them had clearly established the government control over their whole countryside. San Carlo, had over a score of Civil Guard regiments ensuring that control.

The void of New Columbia had left years of negligence on the southern border, and the San Carlo government was going to do their best to try and do something about that now. They didn’t really care about the tribes of wild men that lived there. They could win or lose and it didn’t matter. It was about their right to use the land for grazing and oil development now. The new offensive against the tribes had finally motivated the San Carlo government to do something.

Juan now was sent to go and try and begin a deal with the Indians in the area. San Carlo had things they needed, and they didn’t want wild terror attacks on their people or anymore bickering with ranchers. Everyone just wanted a secure situation. Juan flicked his cigarette butt and took out a flask from his cargo pocket. He took a sip and then replaced it. They were finally getting close. He spat out of the jeep and then took a piece of chewing gum and stuck it in his mouth. He flicked the wrapper into the road.

The vehicles finally got close enough to the town where Juan ordered a stop. He got out of his seat and climbed up on the good of his jeep and waived. He shouted at whoever was there, “Don’t shoot! I’m coming to talk with the chief! Send word for him to come out or else let me come in!”

Juan got down and got on the radio. He called back to base and reported that he had arrived and had requested a meeting.

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Republica De Gran Chaco
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 464
Founded: Jun 29, 2015
Right-wing Utopia

Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Wed Jun 12, 2019 4:35 pm

New Adeleux

"Hello, Colonel," she spoke the words she had been rehearsing in her head for five minutes in the sweetest professional voice she could muster. "General Sakharine sends his apologies for the slight earlier. He explains that he is very tired and hoped to brief both officers to save time and asks that you forgive him." She had made it all up, of course, Sakharine wasn't even sorry but it had to be said. "He has asked me to offer you a place with the next supply convoy headed for the front. It's heading out from New Adeleux tonight with a contingent of cavalry. He explains that you'll be able to leave the convoy at any headquarters along the way or go all the way to the front. You may even stay with the logistics corps if you wanted."

“Thank you, ma’am. Please send my apologies to the good General. It is important to maintain operational security. People at the highest levels arranged me to make a report for the eyes of only your government. My orders are very strict not to let third parties see anything that may put the safety of your boys at risk. How often do the supply convoys go out if I may ask? I would like to try to arrange another meeting with the General to inform him of my plan and to make sure things are cleaned up. There are also some more questions at headquarters that I would like to ask. If he is too busy, I would like to get his blessing and meet with a member of his staff if possible.” Colonel Quispe explained.
كان التيز سمين

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22777
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Wed Jun 12, 2019 7:27 pm

Tsar Boris AFB
Flight to New Columbia


Cyril Baruch got on to the 777 on Gran Chaco Airlines sliding past the first- and business-class folks looking quite comfortable in their pod seating as he eyeballed the crushing throng of overhead luggage and babies being fitted in the economy seating. Apparently it was a tourist tour group heading for beautiful Ayaca from various parts of Belisaria. He heard a lot of French and German. Perfect. He would have a chance to get caught up on reading in the meantime.

The flight attendant at the door was turned slightly away, just finishing a conversation with someone else. She turned to face him, about to say her usual greeting, when her eyes locked onto his. Her mouth opened and for a moment no sound came out. Her pupils dilated just a bit as she said directly to me, “welcome aboard, I hope you enjoy your flight tonight.”

“Thank you, Senorita,” he said with his boyish grin, and headed in.

He didn’t really want to interact much, but he was amused. It was going to be a very long flight. Shortly after they gained cruising altitude the attendants served a decent enough meal for business class.

After the meal the plane became very quiet and dark as the lights were turned down and the passengers either fell asleep or became engrossed in their books or computers. The flight was not crowded and he had nobody sitting next to him in the two-seat section next to the window.

The in-flight movie was “Sons of the Dragon”. When Baroness Lavinia de Hamilcar's property goes missing as the result of a train robbery by the mysterious Sons of the Dragon, she stubbornly goes to recover it from the desert brigands, little realizing that it is her heart that may ultimately be stolen by the powerful warlord who commands them...and that his heart will be stolen in turn, forcing both the lovers to make desperate choices in the adventure to come. Stolen treasure, beautiful damsel in distress, dashing warlord collide in an explosive tale of passion and daring do in early 20th Century New Edom!

He was amused by the subject matter, but fell asleep to it and took opportunity to relax a bit before he would read up further on the country he was heading to.

“Hey…” the pretty flight attendant said to him.

“Save your hay for the horses,” he replied, winked, and put a newspaper over his face and went to sleep.
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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Neue Regensburg
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 162
Founded: Jan 19, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Neue Regensburg » Thu Jun 13, 2019 1:19 pm

"You'll be surprised to hear, Colonel," Oakfield piped up, clearly a geographical enthusiast, "That New Columbia is actually almost devoid of jungle. There's a tiny region of jungle terrain in the east of the country but nothing much happens there. Most of the interior of the country, both rebel and allied held, is desert or steppe terrain with the mountains to the north forming a natural border with San Carlo. The coastal areas, as you may have seen, is fertile plains and forests, which is particularly fortunate for us. Without it, all the arable farmland would be in pockets in rebel-held territory.”

Pierre was impressed with Oakfield, despite the first impression Pierre had of him. Geography was a bit of an acquired taste for the good Colonel, but it proved invaluable in planning operations. He smiled and nodded, clearly intent on soaking up all the information he could before he left. At the mention of the vultures in San Carlo, however, his face soured... however short, it was still noticeable, then he returned to a stony smile. "I'm glad that there is enough farmland to supply New Columbia's loyalists. Would I be going too far to ask if there are plans to seize the enemy-controlled farmland?"

Sakharine was nodding, “Marshal Oakfield is correct. As are you, Colonel, the entrenched enemy is tenacious with their defence. It took us three days and a human wave charge to break the rebel defences at a location we were meant to take on the first day of Operation Veritable.” He sighed and grunted, “And Laurenstowe and the press are presenting it as a hard fought triumph. Sometimes I feel that we’re the only competent people left in this country…”

Pierre nodded. He knew what it was like to have commanders with their heads up their asses, and he didn't envy Sakharine's job. The situation seemed to be dire, but Sakharine kept his head cool through it all. "I'm sorry to hear that the campaign has hit a snag. I've found that often, politics plays a bigger role in leaders' decision-making than the situation on the ground."

“Fuel shortages are our main issue with heavy equipment but the poor state of infrastructure makes things even worse.” Sakharine explained, “Our allies, when they turn up, are good warriors. Good fellows. But it can’t be denied that punctuality is not their strong suit. Honestly, most of us agree that if Laurenstowe wasn’t so enthusiastic about the INF, we would have annexed them by now.” He moved his hand over the map in a broad sweep of the enemy territory, “The rebels are both hostile tribes and disloyal settlers, most of them of… Non Vionna-Frankenlischian heritage.” He said, trying to be tactful. “Their weaponry is pretty conventional but the natives have a somewhat stereotypical love for bows and they’re very proficient at using them.”

"May I ask if there are any plans to rectify the fuel shortages? It seems that this is the biggest issue facing this situation. Also, how do the rebels get their weaponry?"

“Air power…” Admitted Marshal Oakfield, “Is not quite something we can throw about. With fuel shortages as they are, and the INCAS not being all that on a good day, the Air Service is in dire straits. We can at least be grateful that the rebels have no airpower of their own. Otherwise we’d be down the creek without a paddle.”

Pierre gave a sympathetic smile. "Hopefully the situation is fixed soon," he offered, empathizing with the man. It had to be hard, commanding an air force with no fuel. "I am glad the rebels have no air power of their own."

General Sakharine turned to Colonel Pierre again and made him a similar offer, explaining the situation. “That call was from my counterpart in the MoD. Minister Grier tells me that the Vionna-Frankenlischians have just given us a regiment of cavalry to use. The King’s Own Breem Lancers. It’s heading to the front soon. You may go with it, if you wish?”

"I would very much like that. I'd be honored to ride with them."

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Vionna-Frankenlisch
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1633
Founded: Jun 21, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vionna-Frankenlisch » Fri Jun 14, 2019 10:58 am

New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia
Imperial War Department


"Would I be going too far to ask if there are plans to seize the enemy-controlled farmland?" Colonel Pierre had asked.

"Not at all, Colonel." Sakharine replied, judging the Regensburger to be a most anxious man for he was most worried about how much he talked or whether his questions might be considered too far. "A small area of farmland is hoped to be seized by the end of Operation Veritable, but it is not the plan of the operation. The basic brief which, might I add, I had little to do with." He explained the last point with some scorn, "Governor-General Laurenstowe and Harald Grier, our defence minister, judged it best that my plans go through them, rather than the other way around. Therefore, my suggestion of a two-pronged attack to seize certain major rebel bases was instead turned to a general offensive with little real ambition other than recapturing the rebel-held regions of New Oakcliffe Province."

Sakharine laughed at Pierre's political comment. "I see we are of one mind, Colonel." The others, even Oakfield, were nodding too. "My goodness, sir, if the four of us together controlled this country then there would be no need for that damned Chamber of Councillors."

"May I ask if there are any plans to rectify the fuel shortages? It seems that this is the biggest issue facing this situation. Also, how do the rebels get their weaponry?"

"There is much ambition to rectify the shortages, little plans. Our potential for oil production is grand, the issue is that most of the oil is in rebel-held territory and poorly built-up areas too. We will need to recapture them first and then build up infrastructure. My suggestion to Governor-General Laurenstowe was to purchase a bulk order of crude oil and fuel from Terrifica Standard Oil and Malducian Seashell on credit, which would then be paid off over time and the excess fuel and crude sold off." Sakharine explained, patiently. "Did he listen for even a moment?" Sakharine asked. "Did he fuck? Laurenstowe outright said that New Columbia, a country which has never run up a debt since it was a colony, could not afford to buy on credit. You know what I think the trouble with that man is? Pride."

There was a knocking at the door and Morgan entered, holding the handset of her desk telephone, a long white wire trailing back to its cradle. "Sir," she asked, "What should I tell Colonel Quispe? He says he'd like another meeting."

"Oh hell..." Sakharine gave Admiral Sir Acton a serious look, almost daring the old man to start ranting. Acton kept his mouth shut. "Tell Quispe I can fit him in after Pierre if he comes now. Then he'll still be able to go along with the convoy."

"I'm not sure he'll like that sir..."

"Then pretty it up, for heaven's sake!" General Sakharine snapped and turned back to Pierre. "Now, is everything settled?" He asked.


Morgan slumped into her office chair and put the handset of her telephone back to the side of her head. The girl, barely sixteen, nodded to a Major General as the decorated officer placed a manilla folder into an ingoing tray. "Colonel Quispe, General Sakharine says he'd be most eager to interview you as soon as you are able to come back here. As this is the first supply convoy and we're not sure when the next will be-" The document on Morgan's desk suggested a full week, "I would suggest you come now and take the chance later. With all due respect, that is."


Te'vol'Hake, Castermaine Province
Outside the town walls


Nestled at the foot of the mountains which divided the Imperial Dominion of New Columbia from San Carlo could be found the impressive walled town of Te'vol'Hake. A native settlement established two centuries prior which had grown from a basic war camp to the town of 40,000 people that it was today. One would be surprised by the civilisation to be found amongst the natives of Castermaine Province, the northernmost region of New Columbia, named after General Lord Barnaby Castermaine who led the great Castermaine Expedition across the deserts, steppes and oases of New Columbia in the late 1850s. Within the walls was mostly residential buildings, a testament to the poor recreational instincts of the Hakemaebo Tribe, however, entertainment could still be found in the form of scattered bars, brothels and theatres which were all organised in the ramshackle way of a half-civilised people.

Captain Graciani had just halted his company when the guards at the East Gate manned the walls. The San Carloan seemed only a little troubled by the thirty men, ageing from teenagers to middle age, who arrayed themselves behind the makeshift stone battlements of the curtain wall, which seemed to rise to about ten feet at the highest. The older ones bore bows as these were the ones who had most experience with the tricky weapons, having trained since childhood as hunters and now as warriors. The younger tribesmen held a mixture of firearms. A deeply-tanned teen with no shirt held, in thin hands, a prettily painted musket with a dull bayonet. Another, this one in his twenties, wore a naval flak jacket which barely covered his swinging genitals and carried a modern assault rifle with worrying familiarity.

“Don’t shoot! I’m coming to talk with the chief! Send word for him to come out or else let me come in!” The foreign soldier called.

Hake'Taw'Juno, who had expected this for a long time now, nodded at the foreigner and called out in the Common Language, "I will open the gates. You come in only!" He pointed to Graciani in particular to push the point and began cranking the pulley system which operated the heavy wooden, leather-covered gates. When the gates were open he left them in the charge of his kinsman, Yasun, and descended the mud stairs to meet the San Carloan officer. Taw brandished a handaxe in his left hand and a Webley revolver in the other, the pistol had been in his family since the War of 1908 and he was proud to carry it. He placed the weapons on the ground, faced the officer and brought him into a deep embrace then slapped Graciani hard across the right cheek with a strong swing. He presented his own cheek to be slapped, a ritual going back generations. "All of our insults are avenged and we are at peace," Taw explained, "because of the hit."

"Follow me, I will take you to the Chief. I have been expecting this for a long time."
Last edited by Vionna-Frankenlisch on Fri Jun 14, 2019 11:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
"All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." Jesus Christ

"In this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put an admiral to death, in order to encourage the others." Voltaire, in Candide


Domestic Marshal of the ♔♚IMPERION COALITION♚♔
Commissar of Revolutionary Action of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS

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Neue Regensburg
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 162
Founded: Jan 19, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Neue Regensburg » Fri Jun 14, 2019 12:00 pm

Imperial War Department

"Not at all, Colonel." Sakharine replied, judging the Regensburger to be a most anxious man for he was most worried about how much he talked or whether his questions might be considered too far. "A small area of farmland is hoped to be seized by the end of Operation Veritable, but it is not the plan of the operation. The basic brief which, might I add, I had little to do with." He explained the last point with some scorn, "Governor-General Laurenstowe and Harald Grier, our defence minister, judged it best that my plans go through them, rather than the other way around. Therefore, my suggestion of a two-pronged attack to seize certain major rebel bases was instead turned to a general offensive with little real ambition other than recapturing the rebel-held regions of New Oakcliffe Province."

"I see my comment about politicians stands, in that case," he said, in a solemn tone.

Sakharine laughed at Pierre's political comment. "I see we are of one mind, Colonel." The others, even Oakfield, were nodding too. "My goodness, sir, if the four of us together controlled this country then there would be no need for that damned Chamber of Councillors."

He laughed along with Sakharine, relieved that the man didn't take things too seriously.

"There is much ambition to rectify the shortages, little plans. Our potential for oil production is grand, the issue is that most of the oil is in rebel-held territory and poorly built-up areas too. We will need to recapture them first and then build up infrastructure. My suggestion to Governor-General Laurenstowe was to purchase a bulk order of crude oil and fuel from Terrifica Standard Oil and Malducian Seashell on credit, which would then be paid off over time and the excess fuel and crude sold off." Sakharine explained, patiently. "Did he listen for even a moment?" Sakharine asked. "Did he fuck? Laurenstowe outright said that New Columbia, a country which has never run up a debt since it was a colony, could not afford to buy on credit. You know what I think the trouble with that man is? Pride."

"Pride is considered one of the deadliest sins by my countrymen for a reason. In this case, perhaps it is meant literally."

General Sakharine [...] turned back to Pierre. "Now, is everything settled?" He asked.

"Yes, quite. I will be on my way to meet the unit you have attached me to, and head off. Thank you, sirs, lords and lady, for your kindness and hospitality."

8 Legation Street, Frankenlisch, Vionna-Frankenlisch

Ambassador Count Joshua von Westhaven had a smooth, if long flight to the City of Frankenlisch. He spent most of the time brushing up on Vionna-Frankenlischen culture and politics, a necessity for his new job. He was a pillar of society in Westhaven, Engelstaat, a philanthropist and local politician who rose to fame after providing relief in the wake of a hurricane that hit the town. He went into the Foreign Service soon after, and found himself holding a variety of posts before being honored with an appointment to the first Regensburger embassy outside of Cornellia, in Magna Europa. He entered the building with his wife and son at his side, followed by the diplomatic staff, flanked by the 6 DW forces. He saw the service staff hard at work already, hanging paintings, connecting phones and setting up offices throughout. He took his wife and son to their rooms and then proceeded to the office, where he made a call to the Ambassador to new Columbia.

Neue Regensburg Embassy to New Columbia

Ambassador Count Roman von Fürstendeck was sitting at his desk when his phone rang.
Who in the bloody hell could this be, he thought.
He picked up the phone, and said blandly, "von Fürstendeck."
Westhaven replied, "This is Ambassador Joshua von Westhaven, to Vionna-Frankenlisch. How do you do?"
von Fürstendeck popped up in his seat. He hadn't expected them to get the embassy there set up so fast, but he guessed it was how it was. "It's a pleasure to hear from you again, Joshua. How are you?"

J: "I'm good Roman, thanks. We just settled into the new embassy."

R: "Did they charge extra for the electric car charging port?"

J: "Oh yeah. State was not happy, but what can they do?"

Roman laughed. "So, I guess we'll be working closely to improve our relations with New Columbia and Vionna-Frankenlisch."

J: "Quite. I look forward to it."

R: "As do I.... I'm getting a call on the other line, I have to let you go. Good day.

J: "Good day."

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Republica De Gran Chaco
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 464
Founded: Jun 29, 2015
Right-wing Utopia

Postby Republica De Gran Chaco » Fri Jun 14, 2019 4:38 pm

New Adeleux

“I’m sorry Ma’am but I said nothing of being interviewed. Has the agreement even been sent to the general? I’m here on assignment directly at the request of my Minister of Defense and the Governor. If as you suggest this is the only time to ride with a logistics train then I shall, but please be prepared for my ongoing research to return to the capital.” Colonel Quispe said.

After he finished the call, he had to check with the military attache to find where the supply convoys even left from. No one told him, and he privately wondered if anyone even knew. He was given the location and offered an embassy car to take him there. He gladly accepted. Julio put on his combat fatiges and grabbed his helmet and gear and loaded them into the car. He worked on his notes as the car moved through the evening traffic to the base where the logistics units were operating out of. He has learned a lot of information just from one meeting, but he wanted the whole picture. He wondered if his report would cause a bit of an uproar, he didn’t have much positive to say about the way that they seemed to be running their operations. Looked like a recipe for a lot of dead boys. He just hoped that the enemy didn’t worship any kind of Goddess, or New Columbia may not even exist on the map if the Shrai found out.

Julio closed his notes and stowed them away. He made sure he had everything. He was so short on assistance, and had been given so very much authorization. It was good in way, he could move about as he pleased, but it all seemed so absolutely unorganized. He shook his head and said a short prayer. The embassy car approached the gates and Julio got out. He walked up to the guard shack and showed his pass to the man on duty, “Hello, I’m Colonel Quispe, Army of Gran Chaco. I’m supposed to be hitching a ride with a logistics train tonight. Could you get me in touch with the commander of the column?”
كان التيز سمين

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Republica de San Carlo
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 51
Founded: Mar 10, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republica de San Carlo » Fri Jun 14, 2019 5:26 pm

Te'vol'Hake

Juan Graciani got out of the jeep and told the boys to wait a spell, he’d be back. He strolled to gated of the town and met Hake'Taw'Juno. The town was so big for an undeveloped people, too big in fact. Graciani made a note to be careful what he touched as the place must be packed due to the war and probably was full of famine and pestilence. Juan was caught off guard at the embrace and then stunned and shocked by the slap. He hauled off and slapped the Indian as hard as he could, and then was again surprised to find that it was some kind of ritual. He managed to bottle his temper and tried awkwardly to play it off.

“Uh… Ah…yes, the chief. Right I am here to see the chief.” He stumbled out trying to grab on to the focus of his mission.

"Follow me, I will take you to the Chief. I have been expecting this for a long time."

“Huh?” Juan said confused wondering why they would be expecting him. Were they expecting San Carlo or him personally as local commander? These people could not have acted stranger if they wore pants on their heads, “Oh right, I’m sure you have been. Well, I am here on behalf of my government. Official business and all.”

Juan followed Hake'Taw'Juno to where ever he was taking him.

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New Edom
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22777
Founded: Mar 14, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby New Edom » Fri Jun 14, 2019 5:45 pm

New Adeleux, Capital of New Columbia

After a stopover in Chaco, Baruch eventually got off his plane in New Columbia. There was a moderate sized airport, nothing fancy, and he had nothing to declare. He was dressed like a normal commercial traveler: a decent light grey suit, linen shirt and trousers, dress style walking shoes, a nice set of luggage that was a decoy (the luggage would fetch a decent price for thieves, had a Youpad from LaiDai that had some fake business and baking info on it as well as a few games and downloaded books, some decent clothes). He carried his passport and some money with him, but deposited some traveler’s checks at a hotel he had made reservations for.

To some extent he did not disguise his purpose, for he did not believe in such things. He wanted to ring the dinner bell just a little and then slip away. Accordingly, his stated purpose was to suss out the market for the NPC. On his stated purpose, was ‘business, petroleum.’ There were many such people working for NPC scouting whether or not the target nation needed filling stations, garages, factories, refineries.

He did want to get a general impression of the capital, how people were behaving, get a sense of how well employed the average person appeared to be, whether there were any obvious shortages of fuel, food, new clothing, how well the local infrastructure worked, what businesses appeared to dominate. He wanted to get a gauge of the military presence as well. One thing he would ask a taxi driver (if there was one) taking him to his hotel was where a good place to meet up with military officers out dining or drinking might be. “I’m meeting up with an old friend I met with while I was serving as an Imperion Legionnaire,” he explained, “But I never got an address for him. I owe him a drink.”
"The three articles of Civil Service faith: it takes longer to do things quickly, it's far more expensive to do things cheaply, and it's more democratic to do things in secret." - Jim Hacker "Yes Minister"

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