WFF Series 2: Mederune Sunrise [IC, CLOSED]

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WFF Series 2: Mederune Sunrise [IC, CLOSED]

Postby Turmenista » Mon Jul 01, 2019 6:21 pm



CO-OP(s): Valefontaine


"Fire is Coming"

In the ancient city of Yevosh, the beating heart of the Akhmanar Empire and the Sebhet Delta region...a cryptic omen circles around by word of tongue in the more secretive societies of Yevosh and Akhmanar as a whole: "Fire is coming." Many believe the fire to be an allegory for the inevitable victory of the Black Sphinx against Akhen-re, and the ultimate annihilation of the secular and distorted reign of what was once Akhen-re's FOURA. They believe this to omen to be foreshadowing a future of rebirth, and the arrival of a familiar face in Yevosh may confirm the Black Sphinx's theory...


DATE: 1500 hrs. - March 1, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: Tabuu ankh-ka of Sebek | LOCATION: City of Yevosh, Sebhet Delta Region | Akhmanar Empire

In the history books, they called the Sebhet the "blood of empires." No truer was that name embodied here, in the heart of Akhmanar. Along with being one of the longest in the world, behind the Xapacó river in south Ophir, it served as a lifeline to ancient civilizations in Akhmanar and Manae, who have depended upon the mighty river and its tributaries. To this day, most of Akhmanar's largest cities stand along the Sebhet, along with countless historical and cultural sites.

To this end, the Sebhet was almost like a symbol of Akhmanar, like the pyramids which the Ophirics bastardized and fetishized over for much of their existence.

But what happens if it were to stop flowing?

Tabuu-ankh-ka of Sebek often asked himself these deep questions on days like these—days when matters of the Akhmanari state or LPST were better off handled by trusted advisors rather than himself. In the past couple of days, he—and several others of the Black Sphinx—had experienced strange visions, hearing that same cryptic phrase over and over again: "Fire is coming."

It had little to do with the increasingly warmongering attitude of Akhmanar's Ophiric rivals and their paranoia over Manae (which Tabuu decided should just be left alone), but had more to do with the Akhmanari state, instead. How long could their new empire really last? How could they expect to survive when backwards nations like Euphemie and North Ophir dictated whatever they so pleased in Ophir and Mederum? As seen with Utsan and Tangaliro, the Ophirics had the ability to utterly devastate states that would otherwise amount to superpowers. They brought Utsan to her knees and brought about the end of Tangaliro, freeing dozens of states from the Mederune hegemony...including Akhmanar.

With this in mind, Tabuu knew he had to choose his words carefully with negotiating with the Ophirics and their Velezian allies. Their so-called plan for "Ophiric Security" was a coverup for their plans for Mederune and Ophiric domination...but at least he wasn't helpless. At least he had a chance to negotiate...

...or no chance at all.

I've time to worry about this later. He stared out to the city for a moment, the sun painting Yevosh and the Sebhet a beautiful orange as it rose over the horizon. He turned away from the balcony upon hearing a ping behind him, stepping out of the terrace and into his office.

"Zephyr, a word."

Instantly, the computer screen on his desk showed an animation of a white digitalized jackal made up of running white lines of binary, text, and hieroglyphs stepping out from the background, before sitting down and materializing into a full figure: a black jackal, decorated in traditional regalia.

"I presume this message is from the others?"

The jackal nodded. "I shall play it for you."




A smile formed on Tabuu's face. He didn't have to worry about the Euphemians or Aenarans for now—something much bigger was bound for Akhmanar in the next couple of days, and he would be at the front seat of it.

Life in one of Mederune's busiest airports was as lively and as busy as one could expect. The sun was shining, flights coming in from as far as Euphemie and out to places like the Jade Sea isles and Manae. For Horus, it was a breath of fresh air. The bustling, cramped atmosphere of Torch City was gone now, replaced by Yevosh’s laid back aura and the sense of safety in his hometown. Now that he was finally out of that concrete jungle, he could finally focus on matters related to his home..including getting through customs.

The customs agent ahead of him called for the next person to step up to the gate, and Horus dutifully did so, marching over to the gate. Before he could advance, however, he was stopped by a screen prompting him to look into a camera-like device for a moment, briefly shining a light in his eye. Two automated gate doors opened, allowing him to finally step up to the desk and present his passport. “Hello.”

The agent, a young-ish woman who wore a headdress over her head typical of most hardcore Pharaists, raised her head up and took the passport. “Good morning, sir.” Her voice was squeaky and somewhat nasally, much like her demeanor—laid back and relaxed.

“I take it that...uh..thing I passed through, it’s a new addition?” Horus inquired, which elicited a nod from the agent. “Yes, Mister..Horet. It’s some new facial recognition and biometrics technology from CYBIT Robotics. Mainly for travel to and from the Jade Sea region, but it’s being used for international, too.”

“I see.” Horus nodded. “Also, it’s Horus. Horet would be the god.”

“Oh, I accidentally called you Horet?” The agent froze up for a moment, and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah.. I’m kind of a big fan of him as a god—which may seem weird. You look a little like him, at least, what the Solaran statues in some of the ruins depicted him like. I haven’t been to one of those museums in awhile..”

“I get that a lot.” Horus smirked. “Anyways, if you ever wanted a call, by the way, here’s my number. I work for the Historical Records Office...I could even get you a tour of one of the Solaran ruins near Manae and Karena’s Ocean, if you’d like.” Upon saying this, he revealed a business card and slid it under the protective glass screening. “Just let me know...miss…”

“Nefertiti.” The agent smiled. “I know, it sounds like Nefertet, but I’m not related to the Oligarch. He’s busy being old and wrinkly somewhere.”

Before he could go on, she suddenly jolted up. “Oh, how long have we been talking here—sorry! Okay.. where are you coming from, Mister Horus?”

“Torch City, Euphemie.”

“For what reason?” She quickly logged the answers down into a computer.

“Did some work with one of the museums in Torch City,” Horus fibbed, though she was oblivious to his official reasons for being in Euphemie.

“And what is the business of..returning back to Akhmanar?” She seemed to be reading a list of instructions out. “Vacation? Coming home to family? Business? Etc.”

Horus gave a pause. “Family reunion.”

She seemed… unsurprised, or perhaps even doubtful, but logged the answer in anyways. “Any items to declare?”

“Do archaeological tools count? Also, I don’t carry guns.”

More clicking on her keyboard. Nefertiti nodded, stamping his passport, and returning it to him. “Okay, sir. You should be all set.” She have a smile. “Welcome back to Akhmanar.”

He took his passport and bags, giving a charismatic wave and wink to the customs agent as he left. “Thank you. Remember, if you ever wanted a tour… just let me know.”

“Oh.. okay. I will.” Nefertiti unceremoniously turned back to her computer as the man stepped away. Something about his attitude, occupation, and—dare she say it, his appearance—made things seem a little… off. She’d been trained in the past to learn how to detect if someone was lying based upon their body language and even their voice, and had caught a few lies in the past from suspicious tourists from Ophir, but this was something entirely new to her. Someone who could answer all her questions so calmly—and be nice enough to offer her an opportunity to go on an HRO sanctioned tour of her favorite historical sites—was unheard of. Name aside, based upon his appearance… was he-

No. I’m just thinking too hard about him. she dismissed the thoughts and prepared to call for the next person in line, but subconsciously found herself moving over to the business card on her desk.

“Clio, a word.”

Instantly, Nefertiti’s own personalized Ancilla appeared on the small screen by computer, appearing as a digitalized cat sitting on a couch much like her own cat at home. Normally used for assisting with government employees, training new customs agents, or offering an extra hand, she rarely went back to the personalized AI except in dire emergencies, or if she needed to report potential suspects to the proper authorities. Neither was the case now, however..

“Clio, I want you to run this card,” she placed it into a device by the small screen. “And get me information on Horus ankh-kheper of Yevosh, if possible with my clearance level. I don’t want to report him to the authorities...but I want to learn more. Also... bring up a picture of the god Horet. One of the Solaran busts.”

“Wait one.” Clio brought up the image in question onto the computer screen after about two seconds.

She compared the picture of the man in the passport with the bust. Either she was crazy, or it was an almost 1:1 match... as a Pharaist she didn’t believe so much in superstitions as she did in miracles, but this couldn’t have been a coincidence. The resemblance between them was almost too uncanny.

Or, maybe, I am crazy.

“Ma’am, this next action may perhaps result in a breach in privacy, which is prohibited, but I shall make an attempt to request and find this information without this outcome,” Clio nodded. Realizing she had spent enough time already, Nefertiti called out for the next person in line, lest she create a hold up in the line. “Next!"
Last edited by Turmenista on Fri Aug 09, 2019 6:06 pm, edited 7 times in total.

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New York Times Democracy

Postby Tangaliro » Fri Jul 19, 2019 11:19 pm

This is a collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories and Da Liang

    CHAPTER 1 – ACT 1: “P A C T
    Linkovgrad, Velikossiyan Nation
    August 5th, 423
In usual circumstances, everyone knows that water overwhelms fire. However, when there is a kettle between them, water will get bubbly and will boil itself away on the top, while fire will endure underneath.

—Wang Shouyi, Sinican Philosopher

Stas Ivanovich Krutoy led the procession of Velikossiyan bureaucrats, diplomatic officials, staff and other no-names into the summit being held at the ‘Chupov Hall’, an old Union State-era building designed in brutalist style now repurposed mostly for the purposes of the Diplomatic Service. Here, he would be meeting with his counterpart, Ruan Dezhi, to hold negotiations pertaining to a topic that both Velikossiya and the People’s Republic of Sinica held a vested interest in: the problem of the Hesslerists in Teutonia. The extremists had consolidated control in the time following the collapse of the Union State, and now armed with Siedunlander missiles and Teutonian rifles recklessly infringed on the sovereignty of nations such as Byelokossia.

Krutoy’s interests were mainly in getting across the viewpoints of Velikossiyan President Konstantin Ustinov - that the Hesslerists were a threat to all they neighbored, and that he would be interested in tackling the threat, either through Velikossiyan means exclusively, or with the assistance of the People’s Republic. It was made clear that the assistance of the Sinicans was highly desired, given the low amount of military troops available in southeastern Velikossiya. The intent wasn’t exactly to form a military alliance, though. It was meant to be a common consensus on the status of the ‘lawless’ territories of Teutonia and that it needed to be dealt with using military means.

All around the entrance of Chupov Hall, he’d been hounded by various press agencies from Velikossiya, Sinica and the Ophiric world along with the rest of the post-Tangaliroan states. Krutoy was only an early middle-aged man, the violent purges of the Claytonist bureaucracy and the young age of the Velikossiyan nation had not yet allowed for old men to entrench themselves at the top. However, given the probable panic that could perhaps be aroused over a ‘Velikossiya-Sinica’ alliance or some other stupid fearmongering, they seemed determined to get in questions before the meeting began.

“Comrade Ambassador- Ambassador, what do you expect the outcome to be-” one reporter started, being cut off by Krutov’s wholely cynical figure raising his hand to a camera’s lens. “Direct questions to press office.” he responded, giving one of many force-fed official responses. He knew what to expect, but he wasn’t exactly allowed to tell the press before the summit had concluded. Continuing forward with his metaphorical posse of followers, they continued down a long hallway, the sides covered by more press and the occasional guard, mostly Velikossiyan whole and whole but with a few ‘Velikoicans’ mixed in. It was a common trope over in Ophir that Velikossiyans and Sinicans were drawn towards one-another, though in reality that wasn’t as much the case as one could conclude.

Two large doors opened ahead of Krutov, revealing a Sinican delegation party arriving to a long table around the same time as he was. Both parties raced to grab their seats, the doors shutting behind both parties as they walked in. Diplomatic summits like this weren’t exactly open in nature.

“Pleased to meet you today, Mr. Krutoy.” Ruan Dezhi, the Sinican Foreign Minister, rose up and extended his hand. Perhaps by the ideological similarity between the two countries, Ruan could have used the term “Comrade” instead when referring to his Velikossiyan counterpart, but knowing that Velikossiya would like to keep a safe distance under current circumstances, Ruan respected their will by avoiding phrases and terms that would draw unnecessary speculations. Ruan talked in Sinican, but since there were translators present at the scene, the language barrier should not be an issue between the two. “The people of Sinica and Velikossiya holds a common view towards the Hesslerist threat, I am confident that this meeting between us today will come out as a fruitful milestone in constructive cooperation between our two countries.”

“I can only hope so as well, Mr. Ruan.” Krutov responded, returning the handshake. “I am, indeed, hopeful that our countries may find a mutually beneficial means of protecting the interests of ourselves, and the other neighboring countries negatively impacted by the influence of the Hesslerist in Teutonia.”

“We all look forward to a productive discussion, Mr. Krutoy.” Chen Qingsong, an attaché of the foreign minister, extended his hand. Likewise to Ruan, Chen spoke in Sinican and relied on translators to counteract the language barrier issue. “We are likewise hopeful that this discussion will result to the mutual benefit of all the sovereign nations who feel pressure due to the Hesslerist threat.”

“Indeed.” Krutoy rather plainly responded, sitting back down. Greetings out of the way, he was a person that tended to be rather straight to the point, and that brought them to the first topic of the meeting.

“Now, shall we get started on the matters we are here today for?” Ruan sat back down. “As we all would agree, the Hesslerists plaguing Teutonia is a huge threat to the general stability and wellbeing of Central Mederum. With nuclear weapons in their possession, they are a menace we must take care of before they could develop the capacity to launch these things and cause another potential calamity. The People’s Republic of Sinica believes that the earlier we start working towards disarming them and perhaps removing the Hesslerist influence in Teutonia for once and for all, the less risk we, not as in Sinica alone, but the entirety of Central Mederum, will have to take. We must disarm them before they could arm themselves against all of us. By the records of history, the Hesslerists had long been a force of evil that even an oppression state machine like the Sacred Union State had to be wary of. If we leave them alone right now, eventually they would come for us, and by us, we mean both Sinica and Velikossiya. Therefore, Sinica believes that we must act at haste.”

Krutov nodded in agreeance with the Sinican minister’s words. “Hesslerism is a threat to all of its neighbors, and we should not discount the fact that it is also perhaps finding adherents in other Teutonic nations, outside of our region of Mederum entirely. Representing the Velikossiyan Nation here today, I say that the most urgent of responses must be taken to neutralize the threat they pose to their neighbors. Even know, Hesslerist missiles fall in Byelokossian fields, while their troops harass, ransack and massacre the border villages there. I must ask, though - when you speak of disarming the Hesslerists, do you speak of an actual disarmament plan, like the one the Euphemians pursued in Canguari at the beginning of this year?”

“While Sinica believes that peaceful solution should be explored whenever available in most cases. We believe that simply asking the Hesslerists to disarm their nuclear arsenal is not sufficient. The Euphemians have confronted them for a long time over their arsenal, yet the Hesslerists had not been stopped. We may be able to convince them with threats or benefits for them to disarm on the table, but no one can make sure that the rogue state would not be keeping their arsenal in secret behind our backs. Besides, the Hesslerist regime has posed much more threats to its neighbours than simply their nuclear arsenal. Therefore, we believe that a full removal of the current Hesslerist regime in Teutonia in replacement with a more moderate and civilized regime that we can reason with may be a safer choice.”

“I’m glad we can agree that a disarmament process is… folly.” Krutov responded. “The Euphemians attempted it on a state that nuked one city and attempted to nuke another. Now they fight a full-out war there. It would be a much more agreeable usage of the Sinican and Velikossiyan peoples resources if we were to commit to war from the beginning. The great powers of the Ophiric continent, much as they try to project influence into the heart of Meduropa, appear to lack the courage to tackle the Hesslerist threat. The Velikossiyan position is that a joint intervention in Teutonia is necessitated by the security threats they pose. It is, of course, important to emphasize the jointness of this intervention. The Velikossiyan military, great as it may be, is hampered by economic factors beyond its control. As a result of this, there is not enough soldiers in eastern Velikossiya, immediately able to protest it from Hesslerist attack as we would desire. This is why we seek a mutual plan for combating and destroying the Hesslerists. It is only a matter of time until they build a silo, or some vehicular-mounted launcher and choose to obliterate Moulins, or Linkovgrad, or Mezovia, Tochka, Tianyang… I could go on.”

“Indeed. At first it would be one city, if we don’t stop them in time, it would become two, three, or even tens and thousands. However, we can stop them before they can lay their hands on even the first, and we must.”

“Perhaps we ought to proceed in the discussion of the more concrete plans between our respective nations on how to combat the Hesslerist threat.” Chen interjected.

“Agreed.” Turning his head, Krutov looked to another Velikossiyan in the room - Colonel Urvan Svalov, the military attache to the Velikossiyan delegation present. If anyone knew the strategic situation in Eastern Velikossiya, he would be a good candidate, though the generals actually in charge of administering the theatre might have been a little bit more informed.

“I am Colonel Urvan Svalov.” He plainly said, introducing himself. “We would like to begin discussing more concrete plans by introducing the Sinican delegates to the military situation of Velikossiya in Kholodinsk Province, the country’s “eastern state” as it is termed in Euphemian media. Although I am not allowed to inform you of exactly where these units are based for security reasons, I can give regions. Next to and in Kholodinsk Province, we have in terms of ground units the 13th Armored Division, currently at roughly 70% strength. It is situated near Michurnisk, outside Kholodinsk. The 100th Malinovy Guards Infantry Division, a unit personally commanded by our President Ustinov, is based around the city of Ulyanovsk. It is at full strength, as Guards units in our military are prioritized for funding. Around the famous railway city of Konetstantsiya are the 73rd Infantry Division, responsible for security of the border with the Hesslerists, and the paramilitary ‘Osip Brigade’, numbering around five thousand men. It’s administrative headquarters is in downtown Konetstantsiya, but it patrols all major railways in Kholodinsk. In the event of a declaration of war with the Hesslerists, the 73rd Infantry Division would be first to be engaged and would primarily be tasked with assuming a stationary position and securing the border. Following this, the 100th Guards would be rushed to Konetstantsiya, and then deployed for combat, followed by some though not all of the 13th Armored Division. Other units in the heartland of Velikossiya would become available a few days later.”

“Thank you for your speech, Colonel.” Krutov replied. “Though, I believe we’ve yet to cover the air force?”

“Right.” the military attache replied. “The 31st, 36th and 48th Strategic Bombing Squadrons, totalling 24 S-O-C-60 bombers would be available, along with the 3rd and 19th Fighter Squadrons making up 21 multi-role fighters. No further reinforcements could be provided from the rest of our Air Force except for temporary periods in a dire situation, which we do not foresee. The rest of the work can be done by the Sinican Air Force. We don’t possess a Navy, nor would it be relevant, so that concludes my piece.”

“Alright.” Chen turned his gaze on the Sinican Republican Army’s military attaché for the diplomatic mission - Colonel Yao Xinzheng. Likewise to his counterpart, he had a good understanding of Sinica’s military position in the theatre. While the overall information he possessed may be less than that of a higher up, he was more acknowledged in how things run around here than those commanding from a theatre headquarters from afar, and that was why he was here instead of someone else. The two countries needed someone who knew clearly what was going on around the Vajrayan Sea than someone who knew about the whole Central Mederum vaguely.

“Colonel Yao.” He informally introduced himself. “Likewise, we cannot provide the exact coordinates of our units, but I tell ye, you are in for a great partner in this joint effort to kick some Hesslerists’ whore-raised asses and liberate the people of Teutonia.”

The Sinican translator stopped for a second, dumbfoundedly looking at the Colonel whose manner was certainly different from the usual type, he quickly recovered and resumed, but carefully adjusting the wording and tone in his translation of Chen’s words, making sure that not a single vulgar and unprofessional word would be slipping into the ears of the Velikossiyans today.

“(Velikossiyan)...My name is Colonel Yao. Likewise, we are unable to provide the exact coordinates of our units in this briefing, but I hold confidence that the aid we are able to offer in this joint effort to liberate the Teutonian people would prove a significant help in the cause.”

“In dealing with these Hesslerists sonuvabitch, we have two combined arms brigades in the theatre locked and loaded near the border at Baijin ready to move in and kick asses any moment we pronounce the end of those unlucky Hesslerist bastards.”

“(Velikossiyan)...In assessment of the Hesslerist threat, we have two combined arms brigades in Baijin ready to be mobilized and deployed at any time against the Hesslerists.”

“The Rapid Reaction Force of our marines on the northern shores of the Vajrayan Sea is also ready to give these sonuvabitch some hard railing in the rear once they are preoccupied fighting our main forces in the north, we are gonna have some great laughs watching these Hessler’s little fanboys cry like bitches as they get surrounded by our coalition forces like the filling in a dumpling. The Vajrayan Sea Fleet may not be as impressive as our fleets in an actual sea, but hell they are good enough to make the fucking sissies on these old Tangoid floating scraps wet like a bitch pissing their pants and regretful that they ever existed.”

The translator and the Sinican delegates gazed at Chen with a subtle funny face for a brief moment, but soon returned to normal.

“(Velikossiyan)...The Rapid Reaction Force of the Sinican Republic Marine Corps stationed on the northern shores of the Vajrayan Sea will be ready to hit the rear of our enemy lines once they are preoccupied engaging us at the northern front, we may be able to surround them and gain a decisive strategic victory through eliminating their main fighting forces in the north at once. They will be escorted and assisted by our fleet in the Vajrayan Sea. While they are not comparable to our fleets in the open seas, they are capable enough to render the obsolete fleets of the Hesslerists ineffective and inoperable.”

Ruan gently tapped on the table once with his pen, then gave a cough. Chen stopped for a second, seemingly realized something, then resumed talking.

“...but most importantly, our air force stationed in the region would be ready to assist our Velikossiyan comrades in air campaigns against the Hesslerists. By eliminating the bulk of their fighting force in the rural regions of northern Teutonia, we can minimize unwanted civilian casualties in the campaign while to the largest extent convince them to comply with our demand - The irreversible removal of the Teutonian Hesslerist regime. After all, we are here to overthrow the Hesslerist regime, not instigating racial genocides like they do. It is for the best that we abide by the principle of minimizing civilian casualties. Failure to comply with such may undermine our just cause and deliver the wrong message to the generic Teutonian people that the Hesslerists are protecting them from us.”

The translator took a silent sigh of relief to himself, then translated everything as the attache said.

“I would also like to propose an effort in negotiating with Pashkorta of Vytrwałoŝć for access through his territories and perhaps even his support. If we are able to get him to side with us, we would effectively gain a bridgehead on our enemy’s flank, and that would be a much faster alternative to move our troops into the warzone than seizing a beachhead from the Hesslerists or moving our troops through mountains.”

Ruan nodded to his colleague, then turned back to his Velikossiyan counterparts. “Would you like to ask any question regarding our situation before we move on to the other matters?”

“Right, with… Vytrwałoŝć. Pashkorta Chernobersk, he’s certainly an interesting figure. The last of the train lords…” Krutov began. “He’s also, like the vast majority of the other train lords of old, Velikossi. From what little I’m aware of regarding him, he seems to hold similar viewpoints to many Velikossiyans in the eastern region of the country. That is, a strong emphasis on family. The land that Vytrwałoŝć now sits upon, although it may have been under his de-facto ownership for thirty years now, was once Teuton and I can only express surprise that the Hesslerists have not already targeted him. Convincing him to ally with us would come at the cost of putting his home and his comrades under threat… I know enough about how he wrought havoc back in the days of accursed Tangaliro, but if he was around back then, he must be old now. I think negotiations with him might prove… challenging. I’m in favor of the idea, seeing as the alternative to passing through his territory is narrow mountain passes and an amphibious invasion via the Vajrayan Sea.”

He paused for a moment, almost as if to cheaply add dramatic effect to a portion of the conversation that didn’t warrant it. Or perhaps his throat simply hurt. “But, if we are going to negotiate, I think it should be our responsibility. I hope you may understand that… a remnant of a time long past like himself, might hold prejudices.” The last portion of his input certainly felt a little uncomfortable to mention, but although Krutov didn’t know the Lord Chernobersk’s views, he knew well the fervent anti-Sinicanism that had taken root in all parts of former Tangaliro, like Zachodumlowianka and Gallia. Especially Gallia.

Ruan thought quietly for a moment, then turned to his attaches, asking for their opinion.

“I thank you for your consideration, Mr. Krutov. However, I think that the Sinican people may not be able to clear off age-long prejudices against us if we resort to hiding behind representatives in contrast to ameliorating negative opinions by ourselves. With this being said, I believe that it is our responsibility to negotiate with Mr. Chernobersk in order to proceed with the plan…and to improve the relationship between our respective governments.” Chen replied after a brief moment of silence.

Ruan nodded in approval, then turned back to face Krutov.

“I think our Colonel has a point here. During our campaign, both Velikossiyan and Sinican troops would be passing through the land of Pashkorta and his family, it would be vital for us to be able to build up a direct and concrete trust with the old train lord if we are to guarantee the safety and wellbeing of both parties in such a deal.”

“While we do agree that handing the job of negotiating with him to you would be a good way to avoid the difficulties caused by the anti-Sinican sentiment spanning former Tangaliroan territories and appreciates the offer, we are afraid that a negotiation with our total absence would be bound to fail eventually. It matters not whether one is leading a country or a family, allowing armed foreign men to cross one’s land requires mutual trust, a strong and direct one, between the land’s owner and passing men. If we choose to exclude ourselves from the necessary communication fearful of prejudice, we would never be able to truly sort out the difference and build up the trust we need. Maybe the negotiation would still come out successful on the table, but then the trust built would then be one exclusive between Pashkorta and Velikossiya instead of us as a whole. The old train lord may be content with our Velikossiyan brethrens crossing the land of Vytrwałoŝć, but would remain wary of Sinican troops passing through his long-time home. When there is a failure of trust between any involved parties, misunderstanding and accidents are more likely to happen. For the good of our cause and for the old man and his family, this is a miserable end that we want to avoid.”

“Sinica was as much a victim as everyone else on this continent to the Tangaliroan hegemony. On this regard, we are on equal grounds with Pashkorta, there is nothing to hide and nothing to fear on our end, and it would only send the opposite message if we are to hide behind representatives. The Sinican people share the same emphasis on family with the people of eastern Velikossiya, so we well understand how Pashkorta would feel in this scenario. However, it is exactly because of such that we need to personally prove to him with action that, in our just cause to fight the Hesslerist menace, we are as determined to protect and defend his sacred right to his home, way of life and his family as we are to free Teutonia from the evils of Hessler’s followers. The Hesslerists, if left alone, would eventually extend their claws to him and his family like they did against the countless innocent and helpless lives lost to their atrocities. By joining forces with him, we will together provide him the backing and power he needs to protect his home and family, just as we would protect our own.”
Ruan paused for a moment, allowing his throat to take a short rest, then resumed.

“Therefore, I believe that, negotiating with Pashkorta should be a shared responsibility among both of us. The absence of either Velikossiya or Sinica in the negotiation process could skyrocket our stakes. The only difference is that the stakes in Sinica’s absence would be more...long-term, which can be equally problematic to an immediate failure of negotiation knowing that things could very possibly break loose during a vital stage of the military operation and jeopardize our plans.”

The Sinican response to Krutov’s proposal was, he realized, rather strong in its objection. And hearing their points now, he couldn’t help but sense that cooperation in negotiations was a hard-point that they weren’t interested in conceding to anyone. It was, perhaps, best to move onto different subjects whilst accepting the final proposal - a mixed diplomatic party.

“I can understand your point of view on things. I suppose, then, that we will not object to your proposal. In which case, are there any matters you wish to raise?”

“Indeed. While removing the Hesslerists in Teutonia is our primary objective right now, we must not ignore the matters that comes in the aftermath. We may oust the Hesslerists from power, but who would replace them after that? Would there be a transition period to cleanse Teutonia of Hesslerist influence? If so, how long would it last and how should it be arranged? I think it is safe to say that it is agreeable that the matter is an important one, both out of responsibility and practical interests. If we just leave Teutonia on its own after we removed the Hesslerists, it may very possibly fall into Hesslerist control or chaos again.”

The matter of what would actually happen with Teutonia after the removal of the Hesslerists as any sort of government was one that Krutov gave important consideration towards - it would be foolish to act without foresight. “Leaving Teutonia right after the Hesslerists are military defeated would just result in them immediately taking back government control. I do not think either country represented here today is seriously considering doing such a thing. The Velikossiyan viewpoint here is this. Once the Hesslerists have been totally defeated militarily, we would push for a brief transitional period. Perhaps one, or two years in duration. We don’t think it will be necessary to, one could say, ‘deprogram’ the Teutonic people of their populist ideology for a significant period of time. Restoring order to the even now still currently lawless, chaotic regions of their country should prove sufficient enough to convince them of the inherent superiority of non-Hesslerist control - nevermind access to most of the world’s economy. Once this transitional period, where Velikossiyan and Sinican troops would jointly administer Teutonia and provide security under a provisional law code, efforts should be made to allow for the election of a popular Teutonic government put in power by a legitimate vote. One that is not Hesslerist, of course.”

Ruan nodded in agreement. “Indeed, around one or two years should be sufficient to restore a healthy post-Hesslerist order in Teutonia. I do not find anything objectionable in your proposal.”

“I think that it is also possible to invite the Teutonic People’s Republic to assist in administering some parts of the post-Hesslerist territories. Considering their economic capabilities alongside a post-populist government - their system of statehood would be a great example to set for their Teutonic brethren. Their experiences could also help out, considering the similarities between their nations’ historical conditions - only if they decide to help, that is.” Chen suggested.

“I suppose it wouldn’t exactly hurt. It would also be advantageous to us morally, other Teutons working to defeat the Hesslerists... We would consent to you negotiating with the T-P-R to secure from them promises of involvement in the coming conflict. And, I also suppose, you raise a good point in pointing out that the T-P-R is also a post-populist government, though it’s had thirty years to get things in order.”

“Indeed, and there is also one another factor that we may consider as an advantage. Under long time Hesslerist influence, the Teutonians may find themselves more acceptive of fellow Teutonians than foreign people like us. Being able to secure the help of the T-P-R may help us in the long term gaining acceptance among the local population, that would be a great help in pushing our Dehesslerization programs for Teutonia forward. We will arrange a summit with the TPR soon to negotiate with them over the matter and inform you about the results when we are done.” Ruan added.

“I hope that we’ll be pleased to hear the results.” Krutov confidently remarked. “That being said… do you have any further concerns to raise on your end? I think we’ve covered all the general points nicely.”

“Not really. The meeting has been a pleasant one. Please send President Ustinov our kind regards. I am looking forward to see more future cooperation between our two countries, the people of Sinica and Velikossiya will be able to achieve a lot through a mutually-beneficial partnership.”

“Agreed. Send President Feng’s ours as well.” Krutov replied. This seemed to be the signal for a few of the Velikossiyans, himself included to stand up. The whole room promptly followed suit. Krutov offered Ruan one concluding handshake in turn. After Ruan accepted it, the delegates from the Velikossiyan party were quick to take their leave back to whatever posts they normally would be assigned to - mostly busywork in some diplomatic facility for the majority of them, though the military people present would be heading off to bases. As Krutov left the room, the press were eager as ever, pouncing to try and get soundbytes almost as soon as the thick doors had opened. Being experienced in these matters, however, he offered no bait for them to take.
Last edited by Tangaliro on Fri Jul 26, 2019 8:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Sun Jul 21, 2019 10:00 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Behind Enemy Lines - Sabotage"

Operation Lech 423

For uncounted centuries, the plains and hills of the Borderlands have been contested between the Velikossi and Teutonic peoples. As such, the Teutonische Volkstaat keeps the area heavily guarded at all times. A foreign diplomat has given the Zachodu Ministerstwo Bezpieczeństwa Wewnętrznego (MBW) vital intel regarding Hesslerist-controlled positions, to which he has promptly given this information to 1. Tajna Grupa at the Commonwealth's Embassy.

The mission is about as simple as it sounds — go behind enemy lines and sabotage a Hesslerist comm system near the Velikossian border. All successful intelligence-gathering requires a bit of 'getting one's hands dirty', so to speak. Field work is vital to the MBW's clandestine intelligence operations, and this operation is no exception.

The officer responsible for enemy logistical assets on the border is a certain Oberst Hans Dietrich, an officer of the Teutonische Volkswehr. Hans Dietritch is a fairly unknown officer, relocated to a Volkswehr logistical unit due to his refusal to ethnically cleanse Belikossian civilians. Despite his sense of morals, however, his loyalty to the state seems unrelenting, and he is to be regarded as a threat accordingly.

The situation is fairly obvious — a war is about to erupt in Mederum and Zachod's intelligence apparatus will be pivotal in weakening Teutonic defenses in anticipation of the Velikossi intervention. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 0400 hrs. - August 21, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Teutonian Borderlands

Through the pitch blackness of the frigid, snowy night, a lone truck ventured onward, occasionally shaking as it crossed over potholes — all the typical infrastructural collapse of a post-Tangaliroan backwater. Any semblance of hope had been lost for the Teutonic people thirty years prior when the nukes flew again. Like a wildfire, death and destruction spread across Medeuropa as mushroom clouds rose and engulfed the continent in a bleak darkness not solely of ash, but of doomed fatalistic spirit.

Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković.

Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković had been born after the terrors of the Transatlantic War — but that wasn't to say her spirit was naive. She had been raised strictly and taught the essentials to become a leader fervently dedicated to the defense of the State and, with the current political reality in Zachod, the Party. The Front Narodowy had effectively replaced the Ziekowski Clique after Bianka had resigned only three years prior, and a Presidential system partly emulating the Euphemians in the west had been instated. Anastazija had nothing but the utmost loyalty to the State and the Party, which to her was but a mere extension of the State. After all, how could those who had liberated their nation and ultimately paved the way for this prosperity... be wrong?

It'd been to nobody's surprise that she'd been chosen for the Ministry of Homeland Security so soon after she'd graduated college, soon rising the ranks to become a porucznik. As such, she commanded a fair amount of authority and respect as far as her own tasks and peers were concerned. In particular, she held command over 1. Grupa Rozpoznawcza, better known as the Eyes of Saint Stanisław. This intelligence unit operated two combat teams, along with two intelligence cells — one in Teutonia and one at the Zachodu embassy in Velikossiya.

That'd was the past, however. The present carried a very real curiosity to the 'Eyes of Saint Stanisław', that being the operation they'd been tasked with. War was brewing in Teutonia, and it'd be a race against the clock to destabilize and weaken Teutonian defenses in anticipation for the Velikossiyan intervention. Velikossiya was, for the most part, an ally of the Commonwealth, and was being assisted accordingly — even if subtly so.

Teutonia's dark backroads...

Leaning back from the benches of the truck's flatbed, Anastazija could find little comfort. Those in the vehicle with her were largely nondescript members of the combat team, their records largely concealed by secrecy and classified operations. They didn't talk much, but they did their job — that was all she could really ask for. Opposite to her was the 'unit political officer', Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević. Contrary to the name, political officers weren't really much of a thing in the Commonwealth anymore — the Commissariat had been disbanded not long after it'd been formed, the end of the 'emergency' demanding the more unregulated, authoritarian organizations within government be terminated. All of them were clad in unassuming outfits, civilian winter coats and no form of identification on themselves.

Zdravko, on the other hand, came from at least a slightly different background than Anastazija’s. He was the son of a well-off scientist working off in a distant office, and the main concerns of his life prior to joining the Ministry largely revolved around socializing, partying and spending money like a well-off Torch City magnate’s son would. That didn’t mean, however, that he was perhaps detached in his love for his country. Rather, it had been instilled into him. He was a genuine, warm-blooded patriot, and felt he would best be able to serve it in a clandestine role.

The radio, audible from the cabin of the truck, was playing an older Velikossi pop hit, serving as mild background music to their drive through the Teutonian hinterland. The Teutonisches Volksordnungspolizei (VordPo) checkpoints had all been mapped out by their intel-gathering cell in Teutonia, 2. Tajna Grupa. It was colloquially referred to as the 'Dead Man's Party', which played part of Zachodu commspeak to dissuade any foreign intelligence agencies listening in. There'd be a checkpoint ahead, and avoiding it would draw suspicion — to which they knew well there would be an issue ahead of them.

In perhaps fairly uncommon occasion, Anastazija took initiative to strike conversation with her effective second-in-command — although it wasn't for mere chit-chat. As was custom, most of his record was veiled in about the same amount of secrecy that the others carried, and she needed some form of testament to his professionalism. After all, this would effectively be the first time the two intelligence officers would be working together... "This your first operation?"

“This isn’t, actually.” he plainly replied. MBW agents weren’t known for being particularly chatty.

"Then we should get along well." Anastazija replied. She'd done a few gun-runs into Akhmanari-occupied Lyzentos here and there and caught a few foreign intelligence types red-handed on occasion, so it went without saying that she carried some degree of experience to her.

Slowly the truck came to a stop, the distinct Teuton voices outside serving as sufficient indication they'd reached the checkpoint. What'd happen next would be almost textbook. The footsteps gradually approached, until the figure of a VordPo officer, flashlight in hand, revealed himself just behind the truck.

"Was zum Teufe—" Before he could even finish swearing under his breath, Anastazija had already put a bullet through his head, the officer clumsily tumbling back as the entire flatbed of the vehicle cleared out, both teams dismounting and opening fire on the guard post with their suppressed weapons. By the time both MBW officers had stepped out, the checkpoint had already been reduced to a massacre.

Laying limp, bloodied hand outstretched to the telephone, it became apparent one of the guards had attempted to call for help — but had failed.

"Jammer going up," one of the men from 1. Załoga, a certain Łukasz Sienko, notified the rest as he set a jamming device not far from the derelict security kiosk. It'd be found eventually, but the advantages of market-grade electronics were many — for one, it'd be difficult, if not impossible, to trace it to any particular country.

And with that, any automated signal that'd be raised by the continued inactivity of the checkpoint would be suppressed. Anastazija nodded at the cold yet efficient simplicity of the operation as she watched the fireteam's men carry the bodies out into the tall grass, careful manipulation of the ankle-depth snow ensuring no indents of fallen bodies remained.

"We're done here. Begin north." Anastazija ordered, being met with nods from the fireteams' troops as they began north. The communications facility was, for the most part, surrounded by woodland, which made their preferred method of entry much more viable, the plants and underbrush serving as fair concealment.

The silent advance through the forest was brought to a halt as the leader of the first fireteam, Veselin Vladić, raise his hand in gesture to bring the unit to a stop. Amidst the trees, the silhouettes of eight men, flashlights aiming about, seemed to patrol the perimeter of the facility. They'd obviously not been spotted by the Hesslerists, which allowed some time to plan an ambush.

Zdravko took a knee in response, making his figure just ever so slightly less visible to the patrol ahead. “Eight guys, about the same amount as us…” he remarked, removing a flashlight from one of his uniform pockets. It’s use wasn’t just for illumination - it had a strobe option that, when used, could easily blind anyone. “We’ll deal with this, then.” Zdravko raised his flashlight, two clicks causing it rapidly flash light in the direction of the patrol. It would certainly get all the Hesslerist’s attentions.

The reaction came quick enough with a confused scream from the apparent officer of the Hesslerist patrol, the operators of both fireteams engaging the Hesslerists in quick succession. One by one they dropped dead, ridden with bullets — leaving just one unlucky straggler screaming and fleeing, hand reaching for his handheld radio. Anastazija raised her KbK[1] carbine, her potshots narrowly missing the fleeing Hesslerist soldier.

Zdravko finished the man off, though, and just in time. A single crack was all it took, simply. “There goes that patrol.”

Anastazija only briefly gave pause to look down upon the corpses. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the facility's garrison caught on to the lack of response from the patrol. "We're running on limited time now," she noted, looking away from the limp corpse of the guard as they continued onward.

A road cut through the forest, the sound of engines closing in bringing the unit to cover amidst the bushes. Becoming visible through the blur of headlights, a technical approached. Vehicles like these had become increasingly common among the less fortunate post-Tangaliroan states, Teutonia being no exception.

"Should we let it pass?" she questioned, looking over to her second-in-command.

“They’ll find the bodies.” Zdravko plainly remarked. Raising his KbK, he lined up his sights with the Teuton manning the technical’s gun. With the sharp roar of a gunshot, the gunner collapsed into the truckbed as the vehicle screeched to a halt. The well-placed shot was followed by a cacophony of shots from the rest of the unit, bringing the bullet-ridden vehicle to a halt just roadside, Anastazija stopping beside the driver's body to shut off the engines — the less light, the better.

"Easier than I'd expected," Anastazija quietly noted, continuing on into the other side of the treeline. There'd be nothing else really blocking their way to the main part of the facility, which meant — provided the enemy didn't catch on to what'd happened to the patrols — it'd be smooth sailing until it was time to begin taking out any security by the communications systems.

Trudging through the snow in the forest, a silence once again hung over the unit, Anastazija briefly noting just how peaceful it could be, white snow and moonlight giving an eerily beautiful appeal to the frigid woods.

Soon enough, they'd reach the edge of the trees once again, dimly-lit administrative office and multiple comms installations within view. There were seven soldiers present in the vicinity of the administrative office, one of them notably being the leader of the unit present, Oberst Hans Dietrich. There were several ways through which Anastazija could deal with the enemy...

"Second fireteam, relocate about fifty metres further up the treeline's edge. The open lot will act as a killzone." She ordered, her order being met with a nod from her subordinates as they moved just a bit further east. Designating killzones was vital to an ambush, of course, and she had studied extensively on the Euphemians and the old Red Pine Free State Army's execution of 'Rawlins Thought', the strange doctrine upon which the Federal military's tactics were based upon. Yet they were entrenched in their own technological advancement, something Zachod did not share — to which many unconventional methods were a lot more useful to them than the doctrine's originators.

Silently she gave the gesture to fire, the squad abruptly opening up on the unsuspecting guards. One by one they dropped dead as the killzone came to life, the MBW intelligence team firing away at the Hesslerists. In practically one fell swoop, they'd wiped out all but two of the men — one being the officer and the other seemingly about ready to flee.

Only briefly hesitating, the officer raised his MP-324/8AR[2] assault rifle, as if ready to fire. Zdravko fired a burst of bullets in turn, filling the officer’s chest with bullet holes, bringing him to collapse onto the ground. The MBW’s field personnel had their records kept secret for good reason, but it was surely apparent that it wasn’t the Podporucznik’s first operation.

The last man had turned to flee, and with it Anastazija had riddled his back with rounds, sending his lifeless form tumbling face-first into the asphalt. The enemy had been eliminated in a matter of seconds, which would give them some time to set explosives on the communications towers and radar systems before the next unwitting patrol came along. "Alright, gentlemen. Set explosives on the comms towers — don't detonate until we're out of here."

Watching the tactical teams disperse to set explosives, Anastazija leaned back amidst the bushes, relaxing briefly — but not keeping her mind off the task at hand. Utilizing her comms device to listen in on enemy comms, it became quickly apparent to her that remaining security had just barely decided to check in on the irresponsive technical. They'd have a fair amount of time to set the explosives and make their exit, especially with the enemy distracted. "This has perhaps been one of the more efficient and clean operations I've witnessed yet," She noted, looking over to Zdravko. "I must say, I'm rather impressed." Of course, she wasn't about to ask about her second-in-command's record, as that was to some degree anathema in the MBW.

“I suppose these Hesslerists aren’t ready for the war…” Zdravko half-questioned. Given the ease with which they had cut down the guards, and the slow response time, one could draw the conclusion that the Teutons were more bark than bite militarily.

"Few nations in Medeuropa share the professionalism of the Fatherland's military," Anastazija noted, watching as the tactical teams gradually assessed each of the communications towers. "I doubt they'll be too much trouble for our Velikossian friends."

“I think we’ll see soon. The Velikossiyans won’t give these Teutons the chance to fix their equipment, I hope.” Zdravko replied. “When we blow everything up, they’re going to rush right back here.”

With a distant call, it became apparent to both officers that the tactical teams were finished. "Looks like we're done here," Briefly checking the compass, Anastazija took a moment to confirm what she'd already had on her mind. "Exfil is a few klicks north. It'll be a smooth ride from here."


1 - KbK - The Karabin 93 Kompakt is a 5.56x45mm carbine variant of the Kb-93 produced by Zakłady Mechaniczne Mieszko developed from preexisting Tangaliroan rifle variants immediately following Liberation Day. Despite this, it is known as an immensely reliable, not to mention compact weapon. As such, it is operated by most of the Commonwealth's intelligence agencies and internal security troops.

2 - MP-324/8AR - The Mederune Marnane & Kurz Industries MP-324/8AR produced by Teutonia and formerly operated by the former Sacred Union State of Tangaliro. It fires MKu 6.8mm (43) rounds, and was formerly known as the MPBu-324/8 preceding Teutonic independence.
Last edited by Valefontaine on Mon Jul 22, 2019 1:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
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Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Mon Jul 22, 2019 1:07 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 1"

Looks like your performance in the previous operation has been noted. The Party has granted a single high-class apartment in Mieszko for the both of you. From acquaintances to roommates in a matter of days, it seems.

DATE: 0800 hrs. - August 24, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: ppor. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Mieszko, Zachódumłowianka

Mieszko — heart of the Commonwealth, proud capital of the country and all it could stand for. The towers of cathedrals and administrative buildings served as fair indication to Zachod's two great traditions — God and the Party. Given the both of them had been born after the horrors of the Transatlantic War, the cold was something they were used to. Those who'd been born before Liberation Day, before the war, however... they knew a time when this place wasn't frigid cold. There was no way of grasping the exact scale of the 'nuclear winter' that had come to envelop much of the continent in the aftermath of the conflict thirty years ago.

The capital of the Commonwealth, Mieszko.

The beauty of the Zachodu capital compensated more than sufficiently, however. By the time they'd arrived at the airport after their brief time in Velikossiya, they were already greeted by a litany of propaganda, advertisements and a clear view of the bustling metropolis. Mieszko was perhaps the most multicultural city in the Commonwealth, ethnically shared between the Mławians and the Zigechs. In this sense, it was a symbol of unity between the Zachodu peoples, and it was to nobody's surprise that Roki Ziekowski, founding father of the Commonwealth, had chosen Mieszko as the capital.

Rather than a simple taxi or tour bus — which some Euphemian tourists were lining up for — their attention was to a black limousine of the Party. Said vehicle would take them rather quickly through the ornate streets of Mieszko, past apartment blocks, malls and business centers until they approached the twin-towered Palace of the Commonwealth.

The man whom they would be meeting today was Saulė A. Kalnietis, the General-Secretary of the Commonwealth. Kalnietis had been among the politicians who'd risen in the aftermath of Secretary Bianka Ziekowski’s abdication, and he inherited much of the roles and responsibilities in government that she had carried. He was certainly one of the most important people in the Commonwealth’s government, also presiding over the People’s Chamber in addition to his domestically-oriented job position. Meeting him would certainly be a high honor indeed.

Departing from the vehicle and walking into the palace itself would be a quiet affair, and there was perhaps the slightest hint of anxiety about Anastazija's features as she approached the grand ornate doors of the palace and was promptly let in by one of the guards.

Inside was a masterpiece blending tradition with avant-garde modernism, red carpet corridors leading them on to an office that was rather obviously the General Secretary's, given how intricately detailed it was. At both sides its doors were marble busts of Ferdynand "Roki" Ziekowski and his successor-daughter, Bianka, the two founders and liberators of the nation.

One of the guards promptly opened the door in question, wordlessly acknowledging the purpose of their visit. And standing ahead of them, the General Secretary himself. He was approaching fifty years of age, being an almost average looking person. That wasn’t to say that anyone in the Commonwealth wouldn’t recognize him, though. “Welcome to the Palace of the Commonwealth.” he eloquently, though a bit simply began.

The second most powerful man in the Commonwealth.

"We are honored to be in your presence, sir." Anastazija was quick to salute, evidently holding the leadership of the Commonwealth in high regard.

“Indeed, we are.” Zdravko continued, also saluting.

Kalnietis was quick to signal the two to put themselves at ease. “I have heard that you two have worked diligently, and successfully in the name of our nation…” He began walking towards the pair. “So those who perform their patriotic duties, and to exceeding excellence… should be rewarded.” He continued, extending his hand out to them. “A hand-shake, if you will.”

Zdravko was first to extend out his hand, giving a respectfully brief handshake with the General Secretary. “It is a honor.”

"I am honored, sir." Anastazija returned the handshake second, trying to maintain her composure in the presence of such an esteemed superior.

“The MBW has also allocated an apartment in the center of Mieszko here for the both of you. I’ve heard that it’s high class.” Kalnietis continued.

That'd been enough to give her a surprised pause. "An apartment for us both, sir?"

“Yes, for the both of you. A communal apartment, if you will.” Kalnietis replied. Zdravko couldn’t help but feel equally surprised, to a degree.

"I.. see. Thank you for all of this, sir." Anastazija replied, mildly taken aback by the definite change of situation. They'd been, for the most part, coworkers until now — and it seemed the Party had seen enough in their teamwork to come to such a conclusion. Roommates now, she supposed...

“I hope the both of you enjoy the arrangements.” the General Secretary replied. His eyes were turning towards a watch on his wrist, however. “The limousine outside will bring you to your apartment. I, of course, am a rather busy man… so this is where our paths will diverge.”

With a final salute, Anastazija took her leave first, waiting for her second-in-command just outside of the General Secretary's office. Still, she was mildly surprised... payment aside, they now both had a seemingly 'high-class' apartment in the capital. Most in Zachod — no, Medeuropa — would envy such a thing.

Zdravko was quick to take his leave after Anastazija, also finding himself outside the General Secretary’s office door. “So I suppose we are ‘roommates’ now, then?”

"That seems to be the case.." Anastazija nodded, perhaps a bit anxious. "We should.. take a look at the place and see how this'll work out. I've never really had a living arrangement like this before."

“Let’s check it out, then.” He replied, walking off towards the main entrance into the building.

Greeted by the icy cold once again, Anastazija was quick to fasten a few buttons on her coat, quietly making her way to the limousine. Awaiting the both of them atop the fancy leather seating were a pair of keys, presumably to the apartment.

The drive through the Zachodu capital was, once again, a quiet one, though perhaps more awkwardly than before. Soon enough they were passing through the more high-end part of the city, largely comprised of Party elites and esteemed members of the armed services. There it stood, towering above the adjacent apartment blocks and decorated with a beautiful mural just by the parking lot, artfully portraying Liberation Day in a socialist realist style.

"Room 450," Anastazija read aloud from the key she held as they began towards the apartment. "I'm certain a place like this will have everything we need. It almost feels contrary to the Party's teachings to live in this much luxury.. but I can't thank them enough for this."

“I’ve never lived in Mieszko before…” Zdravko remarked. If one were to take a look at his record, it would probably have an anecdote or two about the wealth of his family. That was probably why getting this apartment wasn’t as much of a shock for him, as it was for Anastazija.

"Me neither. I'm from Skoyrnisči, Trpmir specifically. It's.. nowhere near as nice as here." She noted. The apartment lobby gave fair indication this building was intended towards members of the Party, given the murals and the marble Bianka statue inside.

This soon became a walk through red-carpeted corridors, Anastazija quietly counting room numbers as they continued to explore the place. As it would turn out, the room was on the fourth floor — and it didn't take long to find it once they'd reached the floor in question. "Well, let's see for ourselves.." Anastazija said, turning the key and opening the door.

Only the most elite types in Zachod could live someplace like this.

The sight of the beautiful interior had left her in awe, looking around in pure amazement in realization of just how they'd be living. "I, uh, never expected this ..." Anastazija's awestricken tour of the place soon led her to the sofa, as she leaned back and tried to process their new living conditions. "My God.. I've never even seen a place this nice in my life. I almost don't deserve this.."

“I was born into money but not… this much.” Zdravko said. “They’re... spoiling us, almost.”

Hesitantly, she reached for the remote at the center of the living room. With a click, the television came to life — the quality was baffling, not to mention the size of the screen. The typical state media was airing, bringing with it news of the current situation in Teutonia. Most would deem such background noise unimportant, but Anastazija was mindful to note the mention of 'guerrilla attacks' in the north of the Hesslerist regime before turning the TV back off. "We should check out our rooms, perhaps.." She suggested, the question of their personal amenities coming to mind.

“Let’s go see.” Zdravko replied.

Two identical bedrooms.

Exploring the lavish space, Anastazija noted the two bedrooms adjacent to one another, entirely identical to one another. Equality, she supposed. Yet she couldn't help but be shocked at how wonderful it was — she'd never enjoyed such luxuries in life before. Removing her coat and boots, she practically leapt onto the mattress to test just how comfortable it was — and by Ouriel she hadn't ever slept on a bed this nice. "My God this is great.. the State is truly generous. I'm, uh, taking this bedroom..." The change in living standards had left her with almost childlike wonder, a stark contrast to her typical behavior on duty.

“You take that!” Zdravko shouted. “Mine’s just as good!” Truly, this apartment was a generous gift from the state. Even he was beginning to wonder, though. What had the two of them in particular done to earn this? What made them stand out from everyone else? Or did all agents as professional as them get treated like this?
Last edited by Western Pacific Territories on Mon Jul 22, 2019 1:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Mon Jul 22, 2019 2:33 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Behind Enemy Lines - Clandestine Assistance"

Operation Krak 423

Tukkhum is an ancient word for 'alliance', which aptly describes the pseudo-tribal clans that live in the furthest reaches of the Velikossian-Teutonic border. Their commitment to tradition is rivaled only by their fighting ability. Our cell in Teutonia, 2. Tajna Grupa, reports a spree of incidents between the Teutonic government and Tukkhum locals. Helping them should destabilize the enemy, to which the MBW has developed a plan...

Leading the Tukkhum tribes on the Teutonic side of the border is Dukuvakha Axmadov, a man who commands the utmost respect from those who know him. Axmadov's reputation precedes him by great lengths, as his name is regarded with either fear, respect or both in the northern hinterlands of Teutonia. Hesslerist Sturmtruppen scour the backwater of the country in pursuit of the enigmatic man... it is without doubt that they want him dead.

Your task is simple — deliver arms on horseback to Axmadov's village, and negotiate with him to ensure he will fight on our ally's side when the war comes. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 1800 hrs. - September 1, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Northern Teutonia

Once again, Anastazija had found herself in the Teutonian wasteland, far beyond the reaches of any urban centers. It was in places like these that nothing mattered more than tradition, family and religion — and the Tukkhum symbolized this. Few knew where they'd come from, just that they'd lived in these mountainous reaches as long as any history books could recall. Religiously they carried about strange customs as well — from the worship of forest spirits to the veneration of the dead, their obscure, mysterious faith was largely unknown to outsiders.

Dukuvakha Axmadov, the legend of the north.

When undisturbed, the Tukkhum kept to themselves — but it was clear the Teutonians wanted more than just control, they sought racial purity. Yet their attempt at a genocide campaign in the north had failed miserably, because they had grossly underestimated the people of the north. They were fierce fighters — regarded with caution even by the Velikossiyans — and had driven back Teuton expedition after Teuton expedition with unmatched success. They had perfected guerrilla warfare perfectly suited for their land, and knew well how to fight tooth and nail for every square mile of it. After all, they knew these mountains and forests like the back of their hand.

The MBW unit was mindful of local customs, of course, coming modestly dressed and lightly armed so that the Tukkhum would regard them as guests. The Tukkhum were known for their hospitality above all else, showing great respect for any visitor that came in peace, regardless of race, religion, national affiliation or economic status.

Arms delivery on horseback.

The horses they'd selected for the mission were valiant steeds, Anastazija keeping herself steady atop her stallion as they ventured on through the mountain trail. This trail would eventually lead on into Ulash-Kert, the village from where Axmadov commanded his tribesmen — no, his people. On one side they were flanked by steep cliffsides, and on the other they were surrounded by mountainous forests that seemed to stretch infinitely on.

"Are you sure this Axmadov can speak Velikossi?" questioned Anastazija to her second-in-command. Given she was the only one of the two who could speak the foreign language — a trade language of sorts in the area — it was an incredibly relevant question. She was, perhaps, slightly more talkative now that she knew Zdravko just a bit better than before.

“I hope so. I don’t think he speaks Teuton, and neither of us know his native language.” He replied.

"The gift of arms should be enough to make them amenable to our offer, I suppose." Anastazija shrugged, keeping mindful of the horse as it slowly made its way through the mountain trail. A few minutes of silence would pass before the village came into view, armed men granting them passage as it became apparent they weren't Teuton soldiers.

Situated at the center of the village was a temple built around a tree, glyphs in their unfathomable ancient language presumably carrying some form of religious significance. Adjacent to said temple, something tantamount to an old — no, ancientsoviet awaited them, a man visibly distinguishable from the others by his vastly more ornate ҫoqib standing outside with four guards at his side. He gestured them off their horses, crossing his arms in anticipation.

Anastazija, of course, complied, stepping off and gesturing her second-in-command to follow.

“Honored guests! I see you have brought welcoming gifts to our humble village.” The man began. “Have you been accosted by those marauding pigs as of yet?” It was a legitimate question on the man’s part. If the Hesslerists had attacked the group, they could have followed them to his village.

"We came on horseback to avoid such a situation," replied Anastazija in rather fluent Velikossi. "They expect helicopters and uniformed special forces. We are neither."

“They are as stupid as they think us Tukkhum to be.” the man replied. “I am Dukuvakha Axmadov. My people in Teutonia look to me as their leader, and I honor their respect by earning it.”

Nodding, Anastazija was quick to get to the point. "I am sure you have heard of the rumors... that a war is brewing in Teutonia, to erupt any day now. We come bearing gifts as a show of trust... that Zachódumłowianka and Velikossiya will arm your soldiers against the Hesslerist threat if you choose to join our struggle against the Teutonic regime." She gestured to the horses they'd brought along, numbering twenty in total. Some visibly carried kitbags of weapons and ammunition on their backs, the physical strength of the steeds more than apparent in the payloads they carried.

“If there is one struggle against the Teutons, then we must have already joined it. They send men after men to die in our valleys, almost like offerings to our gods. As little as they achieve, however, it is hard to arm every man willing to fight for his tribe. They will keep sending men to kill us until the end of time, or until they are put down. But I have heard stories about a coming war, yes, so I feel the latter will come for them. I, and my people, can put trust in those who would serve to help us in our struggle. These gifts are a reassurance of the trust to be had in our relationship, I suppose.” Axmadov replied. He, luckily, was rather obviously good in speaking Velikossiyan.

"When the frontline of the Teutons is driven back, I'm sure the Velikossiyans will be able to render their own aid," Anastazija reassured. "The Velikossiyans will not come to oppress, rather... their campaign is one of saving as many people as possible from the Sinican boot. To be expected of a nation that looks with nostalgic eyes upon the Tangaliroan regime..." She explained, giving only slight indication to her own political biases. Glancing over to Zdravko, she spoke in Mławian. "Axmadov seems agreeable to our offer, Podporucznik."

“I was about to ask what you were saying with him.” Zdravko replied.

"Offload the guns!" She ordered the tactical teams, who promptly complied. One by one, the kitbags were set down at the steps of the old soviet, Anastazija briefly looking up at the ancient symbol on the aged building's facade to note it was, indeed, an ancient place — still bearing the marks of the Union of Mederune Soviets of over four centuries' past. Speaking again in Velikossi, she returned her attention to Axmadov. "All of these are yours. Perhaps in the future the Velikossiyans will come and deliver heavier weapons to aid your people."

“They might have a hard time with that,” Axmadov quipped. “But I will look forward to the help. We do well at keeping the Teutons out of our valleys and forests, but when they try to force themselves, too many of my people die. These weapons will certainly help to try resolving that.”

Something abruptly occurred to Anastazija, to which she immediately posed the question. "If I might ask a favor.. do you have intel on Hesslerist positions in the region? It is said your people know every inch of this land... asking this seems of tactical and strategic necessity."

“I suppose I know something. The Teutons do, actually, man a few small outposts near the border inside of our territory. I suppose they are afraid of the Velikossiyans coming in, or that our friends across their little border might surge in and wash them out for good. They’re supplied entirely by helicopters and the occasional plane. They mainly guard the small mountain passes in our area, but just because we live here doesn’t mean it’s easy for us to move around. I think that if these outposts were to be… eliminated, the Velikossi would have a way of getting into their country without them even knowing.” Axmadov replied.

"I see... I'll get that intel back to headquarters, we might just be able to do something about it." Anastazija replied. Offering a handshake, she figured sealing the deal would be best. "It's been a pleasure, Axmadov. I wish you luck in your struggle against the Hesslerists."

He returned the handshake. “I wish you and your Velikossi friends the same as well. Soon, peace will return to my homeland.”

Anastazija's attention turned to Zdravko as she gave him a thumbs-up, speaking in Mławian once more. "Deal's sealed, he's happy. I figure we'll bring our horses a few miles north, cross the border in to Velikossia, and call for exfil.." Trailing off, she was reminded of something. "And hey, maybe you'll learn a trick or two working with me..."

“A trick or two, huh?” he responded. “Well, that was easy, I suppose.”

"You say that like it's a bad thing!" She quipped, chuckling to herself. Climbing back atop her horse, Anastazija gestured the rest of the unit back to their own. It'd gone relatively smoothly, uneventfully even — but she wasn't about to complain about something being particularly easy.
Last edited by Valefontaine on Mon Jul 22, 2019 2:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Western Pacific Territories
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Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Mon Jul 22, 2019 4:25 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 2"

With war with the Hesslerists on the horizon, it's of no surprise the diplomats of Zachod and Velikossiya are due to meet. You two will act as part-bodyguard, part-honored guests during this event as the Pretor visits along with the President to meet their Velikossi counterparts.

DATE: 0800 hrs. - September 9, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: ppor. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Nevsnovinisky, Narod Velikossiya

The sun was still young on the eastern horizon, the skies of the Velikossiyan capital decorated with vivid, beautiful shades of tangerine, lilac and indigo. Nevsnovinisky was a young city, being created after the rather ignorantly named city of Rimsgrad-2, assigned the name by some nameless Tangaliroan bureaucrat centuries ago, was engulfed in nuclear hellfire. Rimsgrad was only a short distance from the capital, in fact, the presence of liquidation parties sent in to clean up the waste were still a semi-regular sight decades after the Transatlantic War. Construction was another fairly common sight, the lineage of Velikossiyan Presidents having sought to “remember Rimsgrad” by building a greater version of itself in Nevsnovinisky. The capital was much smaller than the distant metropolis of Linkovgrad, though.

The Pretor of the Commonwealth.

The limousine taking them through the streets of the capital was rather well-guarded, black SUVs protecting the vehicle that carried the President of the Commonwealth and his third-in-line, the Pretor of the Commonwealth. The Pretor's role was something unique to the Commonwealth, of course, inheriting much of the defunct Interim Emergency Secretary's foreign mediation and PR roles, while also establishing a 'national icon' to be hailed by the people. It was comparable to a Euphemian Secretary of State, somewhat. Similarly following the Interim Emergency Secretary's tradition, the Pretor's roles carried to them legally vague limits and granted a fair amount of extraconstitutional power.

President Sylwester Kazimierz-Kwiecinski "Kazan" V. Wartanowicz was the face of the nation, with the Pretor, Hana Andreja V. Papratović, quietly seated beside him in anticipation towards the event. The President of the Commonwealth was modeled after the President of the Federal States, emulating socialist-era cult of personality to establish an empowered central figurehead of the state. After the death of Roki Ziekowski in 401, Bianka had assumed leadership of the country, but by 420 stepped down to embrace democracy. The first elections were held shortly before her resignation, with Sylwester Kazimierz-Kwiecinski "Kazan" V. Wartanowicz becoming 1st President of the Commonwealth... and he had quite the reputation to speak of his truly groundbreaking role in Zachod's history.

President Wartanowicz.

It was largely formalities, and so both the VIPs and their two MBW guards were dressed accordingly.

Despite the calm nature of the event, Anastazija was uncharacteristically stressed out — maybe it had to do with being in the presence of so many foreign elites. "This dress probably costs more than my old apartment.." She noted to no one in particular — perhaps her subordinate — as she looked down at her rather sleek red dress. She couldn't help but feel it was the opposite of fitting towards her modest personality.

Zdravko couldn’t help but feel similarly stressed. He’d been in the Ministry for a fair amount of time, but being suddenly thrust into all these encounters and events was a rather drastic diversion from the normal pace of things. “Just think of what the President is wearing.” He said, in reply to his superior.

"Right, we'll.. uh, blend in, I guess." She replied, nervously looking to the VIPs a few seats ahead. The limousine was approaching the Presidential Palace, slowly coming to a halt before the steps of the grand complex.

The Presidential Palace.

President Wartanowicz abruptly spoke up, which brought both MBW officers to attention. "Ease up, we're in good company. No need to be on edge."

"I see..." Anastazija quietly replied, looking on at the palace in its full glory. Already adjacent guards had gotten to opening the doors of the vehicle, the four passengers stepping out. Anastazija could already see more limousines, political elites and military officers of both countries seemingly present. The thought of one of her faceless MBW superiors recognizing her was scary enough, Anastazija shyly waiting for her second-in-command. "I've never really been to events like these," She explained. "Don't want one of my bosses seeing me like this."

“They’ll be too busy worrying about themselves.” Zdravko replied. “I’ve been to a couple of events like this. Just… there weren’t any Presidents.”

"Alright. Uh, lead the way.." Anastazija gestured ahead, allowing her subordinate to take the lead this once. The front of the Presidential Palace was quite large, all the conventional entrances being a fair distance away from the actual building. The main centerpiece of the exterior was a massive reflecting pool, various green spaces and gardens of sorts adjacent to it. The pool was flanked on both sides by sizable walking paths, allowing any visitors to it the opportunity to relax in an almost forest-like setting, in the middle of the capital. Walking up to the front of the Palace, it’s entrance seemed to be gigantic in scale. Ten massive pillars, made out of marble and carved in the Lyzentine style guarded a massive stairwell up to the actual point of entry, a line of massive wooden doors. One couldn’t help but wonder just what sort of people would use this on a daily basis.

Once within the palace, they were greeted by the typical sights — countless suits and dresses, the elite of the Medeuropean continent mingling amongst themselves over expensive drinks and classical music. "So you've been to events like these before?" Anastazija curiously asked, hearkening back to an earlier comment.

“A couple of times. Not too often…” Zdravko replied. He was trying to immerse himself into the atmosphere of things, mostly trying to not come off as nervous. “You wear braces?” Zdravko suddenly asked.

"Huh?" The question had taken Anastazija aback, to which she blushed slightly. "You, uh, noticed.. yeah I do." She offered a slight smile, just enough to confirm his question.

In the background, Zdravko noticed the presence of an anonymous Velikossiyan guard. Obviously, they were the main providers of security at this event. He was raising a radio up to his mouth, observing their presence. “Zako President’s here.” And like that, the man walked off, presumably to patrol another area of the building. It seemed they were keeping track of who was supposed to be attending, and who wasn’t.

"Somehow I think the President's going to discuss things far above our paygrade with the Velikossiyans. We should just hang around here." Anastazija suggested.

“Let’s see what’s up, I suppose.” Zdravko agreed.

Eyes scouring the room, Anastazija was taken aback again at the sight of a few coworkers — it seemed they weren't the only agents of the MBW present. Walking among the crowd, the waiters were busy distributing drinks among the attendees. One of the waiters in question soon approached them, offering sparkling wine from his silver platter. The glass in question contained signature Lacaune wine, a signature variety from the Cresonnier region of Gallia.

Hesitantly, Anastazija accepted the offer, checking for poison as soon as the man was out of sight. "It's safe.." Clearly she still wasn't the most relaxed at this event.

Zdravko had also accepted a drink, taking a rather quick sip out of the glass. “I’d prefer Lasalle. I guess this works well enough, though.”

Taking a sip, her thoughts turned to his earlier mention that he'd been accustomed to events like these — perhaps giving vague hints to his past. "You, uh, said you're used to stuff like this. It's unprofessional, but I suppose I have to ask... what were you doing before you ended up in the same unit with me?"

“I wasn’t exactly going to parties as part of my career. It’s just what I did, growing up…” Zdravko mulled whether he should divulge anything about his past in the Ministry.

"I see... I didn't really get to do much of that. My parents weren't exactly the easiest kind, but I suppose they raised me well... in the footsteps of Secretary Ziekowski, as my father would put it. I guess it's why I ended up qualified for this work so early on. They tried to raise me to be a leader, but I didn't really have time for much else beyond studying." She reminisced on her past, slightly disappointed by her comparatively boring childhood and divulging the rather 'Biankist' nature of her upbringing, modeled after the rigorous process by which Bianka had been raised to become a leader. "Anyways, I joined the Ministry three years ago and that's been my job ever since." Sipping from the wineglass again, her eyes turned to her comrade for a continuation of his story.

“It’s been my only job also.” he replied. “But my parents raised a good patriot, I suppose. My father was.. a scientist. Fairly successful, given the amount of money he had. I know he’s gotten a few awards.”

"A scientist? What kind?" Anastazija curiously asked. It was to the surprise of few that Zachod wasn't exactly a bustling center of scientific innovation — mostly medical developments, aerospace innovation and nuclear innovation came of the Fatherland.

“Nuclear. He works at this reactor… I forgot the name, but it’s near Mezovia.”

"Oh!" She'd regarded this with mild surprise. "I see... the reactors are the pride of the Fatherland, after all. Mine were just political types, friends of the Ziekowskis... of course they wanted me to follow in the Secretary's footsteps." Anastazija replied.

“Noble goal, of course.” Zdravko replied. “I’m sure most parents would want their children to be Presidents or General Secretaries.”

"Right.." Trailing off, Anastazija noted a rather suspicious figure among the crowd pass them by, and looking down it occurred to her that a note had been left in her hand. "I suppose we've caught someone's eye," she noted, carefully opening the note.


“That’s… Sinican.” Zdravko remarked, skimming through the note.

"The Lilac Tiger," Anastazija noted. "Nobody knows who, or what she works for... some think she's an RoS agent, others think she's a Euphski super-spy. Whatever the case, she does help us on occasion. If this is the real deal, we should expect something interesting."

“Well, my first thought was PRS…” Zdravko trailed off. “I wonder what the Tiger wants.”

Silently, Anastazija led the way, eventually finding a stairwell that slowly but surely brought them up to the rooftop. Atop the roof a frigid northern wind blew, which wasn't exactly convenient for her given her choice in dress. Waiting for them, the enigmatic figure stood alone, looking on listlessly at the Velikossiyan capital's horizon.

The Lilac Tiger.

"I see my reputation precedes me," The woman plainly said, turning around. She seemed the typical Sinican — if not for the fact she was exceptionally attractive. "I am the Lilac Tiger... but the fact you are here shows you already know this. A Hesslerist plot is at play, and I am aware of it a month in advance."

"A... Hesslerist plot?" Anastazija questioned, silently pressing for more. "Go on."

Reaching into her black fur coat, which seemed more valuable than Anastazija's entire wardrobe combined, Lilac Tiger offered an avila folder. "The Hesslerists are planning to distribute cruise missiles to their various terror cells and affiliates across Medeuropa. The old kind — the ones they made with the help of the Siedunlander. The V1, the V2, the V3... all children of the Tradewinds missile. Where, you might ask..." She trailed off. "Walk in the footsteps of the Liberator of Hoffnungbach, the Savior of Elizium. The war hero's tale is one you know, of course... in the land of hunger you will find the warehouse."

With the cryptic message, the enigmatic agent took her leave, leaving the two on the roof. "The footsteps of the Liberator of Hoffnungbach..." She muttered, carefully looking at the avila folder in her hands.

“Old name of Naděješov.” Zdravko observed. “So it’ll be somewhere around there.”

" the land of hunger we will find the warehouse..." Anastazija continued, trying to study the rather cryptic riddle they'd been left with. The intel had been deliberately left with plenty of blanks — to which solving the riddle would prove necessary to finding out where this plot was unfolding.

“Land of hunger…” Zdravko mulled. Suddenly, a metaphorical light bulb lit up in his head. “Navenland. There’s a city there, Zending. Euphemians called it the ‘land of hunger’ when they saw the Tangaliroan slave laborers there. It’s a uh, long story how I knew that.”

"Zending... so that's what she meant by following in the Savior of Elizium's footsteps. I studied a bit about her, and her unit, when I first joined..." Reading through the document again, she quickly connected everything. "Definitely Zending. I guess we'll have an interesting word with the higher-ups when we get back. Another case closed... we really do make a pretty good team. I'm glad to have you around." Anastazija smiled, fairly pleased with how things had turned out thus far. If the report was as credible as the mysterious Lilac Tiger was known to be, then they'd definitely end up in Zending.

“I suppose we do.” He couldn’t help but resist the urge to smile a bit, though he quickly decided to give up on resisting.

Whatever the next few weeks had in store for the two MBW agents, they'd probably be seeing a trip to Zending soon enough — 'following in the steps of the Liberator of Hoffnungbach', as the mysterious foreign agent had put it.

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Mon Jul 22, 2019 9:05 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Counterterrorism - Attack Prevention"

Operation Wąda 423

Preventing the shipment of Tangaliroan cruise missiles to Hesslerist-affiliated terror cells across Mederum has become the primary objective of the MBW. The secret Hesslerist area of operations: Zending, Navenland. A border city that once served as the gateway to Teutonia, it now borders Zachod following the redistribution of Teutonic territories in the aftermath of the Transatlantic War. It was called the 'Land of Hunger' by Euphemian troops due to the emaciated state of Tangaliroan slave laborers there during the Transatlantic War. That aside, much has changed in thirty years — and where a mega-factory once stood now exists a grand complex of warehouses. It is here that 1. Grupa Rozpoznawcza must prevent the Hesslerists from succeeding in their weapons transfer.

Overseeing the illicit Hesslerist shipment is Viktor Reider. It is the goal of the unit to eliminate him with extreme prejudice. Oberstleutnant Viktor Reider carries a reputation of utter terror and fear to his name. Being the man responsible for the Atrocity of Krasnoyiv, it is more than common knowledge that he has little empathy or regard for human life. Whether he is avoiding the impending conflict back home or genuinely operating abroad to oversee the distribution of cruise missiles is unknown, but he must be eliminated.

Eliminating this war criminal and preventing the Hesslerists from distributing their weapons is the immediate goal of the unit. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 2030 hrs. - September 13, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Zending, Navenland Socialist Republic

As it'd turned out, the cryptic riddle had been entirely true. The goal of the MBW had quickly become stopping the arms shipment as soon as possible — preventing any missiles from leaving Zending. The border town was known for several things, aside from being a highway hub in the Tangaliroan era. For one, it was host to a large Sermonist temple, dedicated to a Euphemian named Gregory Pecks — perhaps the same man who was the 'shadow hand' behind the Duchy of Canguari. Either way, it was certainly a curious place... not to mention it'd been one of the cities crossed by a certain war hero thirty years prior.

The drive through Zending was a rather peaceful one, each truck carrying a single MBW fireteam. The second truck, of course, had broken off to begin their end of the operation — 2. Załoga was to come in from the north and disable the warehouse complex's power substation, while 1. Załoga was to assess the warehouse itself, Warehouse 14-8.

For Anastazija, it was a noble task — they'd be saving plenty of lives by confiscating these weapons. Yet she couldn't help but feel as if something were off — not in the mission they were given, but her own feelings. She'd pin it on the stress of the past month, but she felt there was a bit more to it. "Ready for the operation?" She spoke up, making small talk with her second-in-command to take her mind off the rather stressful recent weeks.

“Ready as one can be, I suppose…” Zdravko replied.

"Right." Nodding uneasily, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, listening to the music playing on the radio, audible from the cabin of the truck. Maybe it'd ease her mind...

The vehicle shook slightly as they approached a clearing just off the highway, the truck beginning for an exit as an awkward silence lingered between both officers. Even as the truck came to a halt on the lot, soldiers dismounting in anticipation for further orders, Anastazija took pause to try and plan things out. "Just, uh, need to breathe a bit, I guess. I've just been stressed lately." She tried explaining it away to her second-in-command, sighing to herself.

“Alright, then…” the Podporucznik replied, stepping out of the vehicle.

It'd taken a good minute for her to calm herself down, climbing off the vehicle and joining the rest of the unit. They'd formed up on a line of bushes in the lot, which allowed a direct view of the warehouse complex's perimeter. Rather than security guards, it was quite evident that Hesslerists were personally patrolling this part of the facility. Cautiously, she watched the situation far ahead, counting them up. "Fifteen of them... if the other fireteam was with us, our odds would be far more assured."

“That’s a load of them. Maybe if we wait…” Zdravko proposed.

"They're headed for the security post over there, it seems." replied Anastazija, pointing to a two-story building within the complex. "They won't get in the way."

Carefully the group moved forward, their nondescript coats serving not only to conceal national affiliation but make them blend in rather well with the darkening sky. Passing the perimeter was incredibly easy, the group coming to a halt by another cluster of bushes overlooking a small pond of industrial waste.

"How many of them?" She whispered to her subordinate, watching the distant silhouettes in the distance — though she couldn't exactly get a count.

“Just over a dozen. There’s so many of them… at least we’re in the right place.” He whispered.

"Guess it confirms everything we've been led to believe up to now." Anastazija agreed. Looking on at the group of Hesslerist guards, her eyes abruptly widened with surprise. "..shit, they're headed our way. Down!"

With that, the group was quick to assume prone positions in the bushes, weapons at the ready as the Hesslerist guards slowly approached. Unfortunately for Anastazija, she'd ended up in a rather awkward position, the Podporucznik pressed just above her. Moving again would surely bring the Hesslerists to attention, which didn't exactly help. "Well, uh.." She nervously whispered, looking away in embarrassment. "..this is awkward."

“They’ll be gone in a second.” He reassured. Indeed, the Hesslerists were only getting closer.

Silently nodding, Anastazija couldn't help but feel oddly safe under him. Trying not to overthink things, she quietly waited for the footsteps to pass, the casual chatter in Teutonic giving fair indication that the Hesslerist patrol were rather distracted, all things considered. The footsteps soon grew distant, to which she finally sighed in relief. It occurred to her that she'd incidentally put her arm around Zdravko at some point in the ordeal, which had made for a rather awkward embrace.

Quickly pulling her arm away, she silently got up with the rest of the unit and dusted off leaves from her uniform. "We're in the clear," She announced, hiding her embarrassment by simply not assessing the topic at all.

“Where’s the second fireteam?” Zdravko asked, seeming to be similarly intent on not discussing the events of a few moments prior. “I haven’t heard any gunfire.”

"Hm.." Looking down to her wristwatch, she considered reaching for her radio before—


The glow of a power surge briefly flashed a few warehouses away, followed by a bleak darkness that quickly enveloped the facility. Evidently, the second fireteam had done their job. Anastazija looked back to Zdravko in the darkness, shrugging. "Guess they were taking their time. Let's deal with this warehouse."

Carefully, they approached Warehouse 14-8, forming up along one of the entrances. There was no way of telling exactly what'd be inside the building, to which the standard procedure of breaching would be followed. While the officers themselves could probably be left wanting for a bit more in the field of explosives, the tactical teams themselves carried two grenades per soldier, to which they'd have a fair amount of leverage in the breach.

"Breaching." The squad leader, Vladić, announced in a low whisper as the charge was set on the door and the unit took cover.


Almost as soon as the metal door was ripped apart, grenades were thrown in, explosions echoing through the warehouse as gunfire erupted between the MBW agents and their Hesslerist opponents. Quickly they hurried in, five of the enemy combatants being dropped almost immediately in the process.

"Eleven to g—" Much to the horror of the MBW agents, one of them was abruptly cut down by the panicked Hesslerist soldiers, his body falling limp on the floor with little more than a morbid death spasm.

"IZ-2 IS DOWN!" One of the squad members, kapral Kaja Jagiello, was quick to lose her cool, screaming at the morbid realization. It was evident a few of them had been narrowly grazed thus far, while Anastazija and Zdravko had, by sheer luck, managed to end up unscathed.

The firefight that'd erupted was a brutally violent one, the fireteam down one man and fighting tooth and nail to fend off the Hesslerists they'd evidently provoked. Even as the bullets whizzed past them, Anastazija tried to maintain her composure, returning fire with her KbK to little effect.

Meanwhile, Zdravko was managing a bit better, downing another Hesslerist with a few shots from his KbK, but the loss of a fireteam member had admittedly shaken him up.

The enemy was down to seven men, who were, thankfully, experiencing casualties at a quicker rate than the MBW agents, and were demoralized accordingly. Yet that'd quickly change as two of the squad members abruptly fell over dead — Vladić and Jagiello, their bodies ridden with bullets. One member of 1. Załoga remained, a certain kapral Milomir Brđanin who'd certainly find himself promoted if he made it out alive.

"They aren't getting me! I've seen enough Euphemian action films to know my shit!" Brđanin boldly declared, reaching into his bandolier to throw a grenade over — throwing three Hesslerists aside, reduced to little more than bloodied gory ragdolls.

It was growing desperate for Anastazija as she tried to return fire, yelping in pain as she found herself grazed by the bullets, devolving into a litany of swearing and expletives as she clutched her right leg, which had been narrowly grazed by a shot.

"Use your flashlight or something!" Anastazija ordered Zdravko between pained breaths as she struggled back to her feet, hand on his shoulder for support.

Zdravko rather hurriedly reached into his pockets, pulling out said flashlight. With two clicks of a button on the bottom of it, it was now strobing. He lifted his hand up with a certain degree of anxiousness out of cover, hoping it wouldn’t get shot.

"Verdammter Zakod Affe!—" The voice of the man screaming in confusion at the flashing lights just so happened to be the man they were after — and it quickly occurred to Anastazija that they'd effectively blinded all four of the remaining Hesslerist fighters.

Rolling out of cover and spraying madly into the enemy with her KbK, she nervously sighed in relief at the realization they'd managed to wipe out all sixteen of the Hesslerists — albeit at the cost of three lives. Despite this, it was obvious more would come... anyone could've heard the explosions in the dark, even if the substation had distracted them long enough.

"Brđanin, set the explosives! We don't have much time." She ordered her subordinate, the man promptly rushing over to the side of one of the cruise missile containers and setting the explosive charge.

"One minute!" He replied. The goal now would be getting the hell out of the place — it was disheartening that three of them would receive closed-casket funerals, but there would be no taking risks in a foreign country. The maddened charge out of the building had its distant echoes of orders being uttered in Teutonian, the enemy seemingly giving chase to desperately secure the warehouse. It felt as if five minutes passed in the span of one, and by the time they passed the complex's perimeter and made it to an empty lot, the thunderous cacophony that was the entire warehouse exploding, payloads included, practically knocked the three survivors off their feet, sending them landing a few feet away as the fireball rocketed upward from the obliterated warehouse, the entire Hesslerist cache gone with it.

"God damn!" Brđanin exclaimed, still awe-stricken at the events that'd unfolded.

That wasn't exactly what occupied Anastazija's mind, though. Crawling over, rightfully exhausted, she figured she'd share a word with her second-in-command. "You can call exfil. I... can't think straight.." She trailed off, rolling back over to look up at the darkening twilight sky. "You saved us back there... Ouriel save our souls.."

Zdravko’s attention had turned towards his radio, the Podporucznik focus his attention on calling in exfil for the now severely reduced team. After he was done, his focus turned back to Anastazija’s comment. “Who knows what they’d do with those…”

The cruise missile arsenal detonating.

"Couldn't have pulled it off without you, I.. really don't know how we made it out alive—..." Trailing off again, her mind had clearly gone to a different matter. "Ah, fuck it." Leaning in, she'd found her lips meeting her subordinate's, though the pain of her earlier injury had taken hold by now. Slowly it'd all faded to black as her consciousness gave way, the adrenaline of the mission causing her to pass out.

That'd been one way to finish a mission off, one could suppose.
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Western Pacific Territories
Posts: 13949
Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Mon Jul 22, 2019 10:49 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 3"

Your valiant feats and sacrifices have been noted by the Party. You have been promoted and given authority over two cells in Akhmanar. Excellent work!

DATE: 0800 hrs. - September 28, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: ppor. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Mieszko, Zachódumłowianka

It'd been rather awkward since the last mission — even if Anastazija seemingly didn't remember what had taken place after the explosion. Zdravko did, however, and this made things very… awkward. It didn’t seem to him, though, that she had remembered what’d taken place - and so he decided the best course of action was to not mention it.

The limousine was taking them to the Palace of the Commonwealth, a rather discreet promotion ceremony and bestowing of medals awaiting the both of them. The MBW was much more reserved in this regard than actual branches of the military, acting much more akin to a fraternal order in terms of secrecy than a military organization. After all, the MBW did inspire camraderie — Anastazija had already gotten comfortable in her second-in-command's presence, striking up casual conversation where appropriate.

"I've heard this promotion will give us responsibility over more cells," She noted, casually leaning back in her seat beside Zdravko. "You up to the task? I've been waiting quite a long time for this..." Indeed, it seemed she was entirely oblivious to what'd happened — either she'd forgotten or simply wouldn't mention it.

“I’m up for it.” He casually replied. “More work, I suppose, but... we’re moving up.”

"Couldn't have pulled it off without you..." She replied, unwittingly repeating her words from before. "We're doing great as a team. I'm sure the Party's realized this somehow, too."

“I wonder how they’d know...” Zdravko replied. “I suppose it was just pure luck.”

"Not to be immodest, but perhaps we've simply been doing this well. Or Ouriel is helping us..." She added, the usual indication of her rather traditionalist views on religion ever apparent.

“Maybe.” He replied. He wasn’t quite as devout an Ourielist as Anastazija was, though he wouldn’t want to admit that around her.

The limousine soon came to a halt before the steps of the Palace, guards opening the doors for them as Anastazija excitedly stepped out first — it was rare to see her this excited over something, but it was rather understandable — she'd been working pretty hard to get this promotion, after all. "Another step up the ladder..." She noted to herself, hardly able to contain her own giddy anticipation.

The palace was its usual, ornate red-carpeted corridors guiding them to the General Secretary's office, a guard promptly opening it for them and allowing them in. Immediately Anastazija saluted the man as they entered, standing at attention. Zdravko entered next, following suit as the General Secretary motioned them to be at ease.

“It is, to say the least, a surprise to see you two agents already back in the Palace of the Commonwealth. Your performance records have undoubtedly attracted attention. This is not a bad thing, of course. As a reward for your heroic action in Operation Wąda 423, which saved any number of Mederune cities from harm, not least to say the Fatherland, you are both to be awarded the Military Cross of the Commonwealth for your service to our country. The sacrifices made by your comrades, was not made in vain.”

"T—thank you, sir. It is the utmost honor to receive this." Anastazija replied, lightly bowing her head out of respectful humility.

The General Secretary approached the two, both medals in his hand. With a suitable degree of solemnity, and respect, he applied both medals to the uniforms of the agents. “In addition, both of you have received promotions. Kapitan Janković… you are, well, now Kapitan. Urošević, you are now a Porucznik. Of course, no changes will be made administratively, and you two will continue to serve together as partners.”

This had been rather emotional for Anastazija, who lightly nodded in assent — holding back a few tears.

“I’m honored, sir.” Zdravko replied.

“There is one more thing in store for the pair of you… but, that matter has been assigned for the Pretor. You’ll receive a briefing from her at her office.” The General Secretary continued. “I’m sure that this won’t be the last time we meet.”

"Thank you, General Secretary." Anastazija modestly took her leave, sighing with relief the moment the door closed behind them as they'd left. This was cause for celebration — and that would surely come in time. "This is.. well, I can barely believe it! This is great! We're really making a great team. What do you say we, I don't know, share a few drinks back home when this is all through with?" Per usual, she had about her an excited cheer that was rare for her typical attitude.

“Uhh.. drinks, sure.” Zdravko replied. “I haven’t been drinking in months, if I’m going to be honest.”

"Well, uh— I guess we'll figure out how to celebrate things when we get back." She shrugged, still happy as could be. Beginning down the corridor, it seemed she'd be making no delay to getting to the Pretor's office. It was perhaps slightly ironic the title was based on a Solaran title, given that just three decades ago the Commonwealth was entirely dedicated to exterminating cultural influences of the Novus Concordia-centric loyalists to the Sacred Union State.

Reaching the door to the office, flanked at both sides by statues of soldiers standing triumphant above crushed Tangaliroan symbols, the guards standing at attention were quick to open the ornate mahogany doors for them as they walked in, being greeted by the similarly beautiful office pertaining to the Pretor, Hana Andreja V. Papratović. Immediately, Anastazija saluted, the Pretor gesturing them at ease as she stood up to welcome them.

"I suppose this means the General Secretary has given you your promotions," She began, studying the two. "Ah, yes. I see those medals... welcome to my office — I've been given the responsibility of briefing you on an operation in Akhmanar you've been selected to conduct."

"Firstly, the Akhmanari Empire is a clear danger to the Fatherland. I need not cite national security concerns or Akhmanar's behavior in the Occident. The only reason they do not burn through Medeuropa like the reactionary cancer they are... is because we defiantly stand in the way. For the past three decades, we have been on the defensive against the reprobate slavers. With their eyes set on Ophir, the Party has decided that now is a good time that we take definitive action in liberating the oppressed Medeuropean peoples from the chains of Akhmanari slavery. For one, the Lyzentines — heathens they may be — seek self-determination and freedom. Like the Zaratians, they have been occupied by the mummies. You will be granted administrative authority over two cells in western Mederum: Desert Shield, headquartered in the Commonwealth's embassy in Manae; and Desert Storm, headquartered in Kithum, Akhmanar. You'll be put in contact with them, Kapitan, and I'll forward the documents regarding your next operation in the next few weeks."

"You personally entrust us with this next operation, ma'am?" Anastazija questioned.

"I see great potential in both of you." Hana replied, offering a smile and a reassuring nod. "This won't be the last time we meet... dismissed!"

With that, the two took their leave from the Pretor's office, soon finding them in the bureaucratic maze of corridors that led out of the Palace of the Commonwealth. Today was looking to be a good day for the both of them...

“Guess we’re celebrating our medals with drinks, huh?” Zdravko asked, raising back up the plans they’d made for after this particular visit to the Palace.

"You know it!" She happily answered, continuing down the corridor. "Guess this 'Akhmanar job' asks for a bit of early summer shopping..." Anastazija added. The next few missions ahead of them surely presented a few interesting situations, and with it a chance to rise further up the ladder...

“You ought to get something nice…” The now-Porucznik remarked. “Though it’s gonna be some real early summer shopping.” he quipped.

"Maybe you can help me pick a few things out.." Anastazija suggested. "You probably know fancy stuff better than me..."

“I’m sure I could get you something nice...”

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Chargé d'Affaires
Posts: 357
Founded: Dec 18, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Tue Jul 23, 2019 5:10 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories featuring Turmenista


"Behind Enemy Lines - Surprise Attack"

Operation Ziemowit 423

Once one of the prouder and more prosperous states of the Sacred Union State, Lyzentos was among those annihilated during the hellish tribulations of UV Day. They were subsequently annexed into Akhmanar. With an inefficient bureaucracy unable to clean up the radioactive aftermath that has devastated the heart of Lyzentos and an angry populace seeking self-determination, a situation is surely waiting to be stirred on the Akhmanari border.

Your objective today is to assault an Akhmanari convoy carrying a high-ranking Akhmanari officer. Due to his controversial reputation in the area, tensions between the Lyzentines and their Akhmanari occupiers will surely flare up. Commandant Karim Get-thoth of Akrum is one of the top Akhmanari officers in the region. Removing him from the picture will disrupt Akhmanari activity in the former Lyzentos region...but, ironically enough, it may be doing the mummies a favor if he is killed...

Even among the elite military command, Commandant Karim isn't the most popular—after all, he retained his position as a top officer simply due to the fact that he served the same role during the FOURA. While Akhen-re's inefficient cabinet squandered precious time into the recovery of areas like Lyzentos, men like Karim served as enforcers, often brutally suppressing dissent in the region, leading to his unpopularity among the Lyzentines.

Regardless of his status, he is to be taken care of. How that's done is up to you. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 0630 hrs. - October 5, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: kpt. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Lyzentos, Akhmanari Empire

It was a long way out their frigid home, Mieszko a distant memory. The mountainous ridges surrounding Lyzentos — once a natural boundary shielding Medeuropa from the Akhmanari menace, had been in the control of the Akhmanaris for thirty years now. Amidst ancient ruins, 1. Grupa Rozpoznawcza had situated itself, few words said as an eerie wind blew through the dusty pass.

Anastazija, now possessing the rank of kapitan, was mildly excited for this mission. Watching the scene below with a pair of binoculars, she couldn't help but admire the natural beauty of the place a little. Operating the Euphemian FGM-97 TORA-W, or 'Tube-Operated RAnged-Weapon' was her second-in-command, Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević. They'd gotten to know each other quite well since they'd become partners, and Anastazija had a fair degree of trust in his professionalism and skill.

The TORA-W was a fairly decent, albeit immensely bulky weapon, although it'd gained a needlessly ill repute among poorer Medeuropan militaries as the 'throat-slasher', due to misuse causing the wires that guided the missile to break, flail, and in rare cases, slit the throats of its operators.

Following tradition, they weren't wearing identifiable uniforms, instead clad in rather unassuming beige-khaki coats and cargo pants, their weapons Euphemian. There was a bit more caution at play here than in Teutonia, given the threat Akhmanar posed not only to the Commonwealth, but to Medeuropa as a whole.

"I see nothing yet," She announced to her peer, lowering her binoculars. The two tactical teams were waiting on the other side of the pass, each team carrying two anti-tank infantry to suppress the ambushed enemy once the missile fired. Their goal was to kill the officer and get out — suppressing the convoy came secondary and depended exactly on what escorts the enemy would be bringing along. Indeed, they'd even prepared for the hypothetical possibility of an enemy helicopter — to which one man in each of the two fireteams carried a FIM-M79 Pincer, another Euphemian-made wonder that, despite its age, had a design that simply demanded little to be changed.

The FIM-M79 Pincer has been the bane of helicopters for the better part of a century.

“Mummies show up at night, not dawn…” Zdravko quipped to himself. It was, of course, early morning in this part of Mederum.

Chuckling, she kept her watch over the narrow road at the centre of the pass, staying vigilant. "We'll probably be in Manae a bit after this... I've always wanted to visit those warm beaches." Zachod was a landlocked nation, and prone to much of the cold aftermath of the nuclear war thirty years prior — to which Anastazija had never really been to a warm, sandy beach — the closest thing to a 'beach' in Zachod was Binghemorze, the quad-national glacial lake that was known for its seals and freshwater surfing. Given that she'd expected a visit to Manae at some point, she'd already bought a few swimsuits in anticipation.

“It’d be a nice change in weather…” he replied. “Winter’s gonna be coming soon, too.”

"We'll probably be on leave for Solstice," Anastazija thought aloud. "Anyone special to spend the holiday season with?" She questioned, perhaps a little curious to her coworker's life.

“I’m married to the State.” He quipped. It was a fairly common joke among the Ministry.

"I suppose I could say the same..." She agreed, keeping watch over the pass. "Guess I'll be looking forward to that vacation... we've earned it, after all."

“I’m looking forward to it too.” Zdravko replied.

Protests in Euthymius and Agios Lucas were as frequent as they got, but, unlike other Akhmanari cities, they had a tendency to get...volatile. News of the harrowing series events that had transpired in the early morning of October 4th had spread like wildfire throughout Akhmanar, and, for better or worse, the rest of Mederum. Commandant Karim never thought the day would come, never in a million years, but, as it would turn out, he’d been proven wrong in just a couple of hours.

Commandant Karim Get-thoth of Akrum.

“I still can’t believe it.” He stared blankly at the floor of the truck he was being transported in—his own personal vehicle he had requisitioned solely for excursions into and out of Lyzentos. Never in his life had he thought someone so...invulnerable, so powerful, so enigmatic, like Akhen-re, the self-proclaimed “immortal” that led the FOURA, would just...die.

He figured if someone as invulnerable as the Triarch could die from such mysterious circumstances, it had to be the work of an elusive enemy, one that people like him had learned to fear in their career. He knew the Black Sphinx were after him next—most of the other inept bureaucrats and career generals that gave thanks to their positions from the FOURA already were disappearing, speedily replaced as they fell. The best plan of action for him now was to just take a contingent of his loyal men with him and go off the grid to Lyzentos. As dangerous as it was, the region lacked any sort of formal, armed resistance as seen with the Zaratians in the east.

I’ll be fine.. At least.. I hope I will. He’d made certain that he was as safe as he could possibly be, but, even then, two V-390 Tigers weren’t enough, not by his standards. That was where the VP-13 Elephant acting as his personal vehicle came into play. A behemoth of a truck, the multipurpose 6x6 truck was practically bulletproof against most small arms, and could withstand undermining from some improvised high explosive devices. Essentially, its sole purpose was to get from point A to point B, while ensuring that the 16 occupants were as safe as possible.

Still, though, was it enough? He cautiously eyed some of his men who were either asleep, sitting idly, or talking amongst one another beside him, as well as one of his trusted Lieutenants. If his gut was correct, any one of them could’ve been an agent sent to kill him, which was why he, too, made as many necessary preparations as humanly possible. A bulletproof vest under his uniform and Magnus .45 pistol weren’t much, but when it came down to defending oneself in a tight environment against an assassin, it was better than nothing.

Maybe I’m just paranoid about all this. Besides..we shouldn’t be that far from Euthymius anyways. Once they got to the city, for all he cared, he was the safest man in the world.

“How much longer do we have?” He asked one of the drivers out loud.

“Not much longer, sir.” Around them, he could see the early light of dawn illuminating the mountains around them. Unlike the other parts of the road, this was ambush country—every officer that knew their stuff knew this to be true. Mountains on both side on a road like this were bad luck, but, if it was the fastest way to get to Euthymius, it was better than nothing.

“Make sure you’re watching these hills.” He leaned back into his seat. “Once we get out of this pass and link up with the escorts I had ready, we should be clear to the city.”

He gave a sigh as they acknowledged his request. It wasn’t really a sigh of exhaustion or frustration, or even really relief..but just a sigh. All he hoped was that the ride through this godforsaken pass was as smooth as the rest of his journey to Euthymius.

"Targets in sight!" Anastazija announced, getting into cover behind the ruins, beside her subordinate. She didn't exactly carry any anti-tank weapons, rather acting as spotter in the current situation.

“One shot, one kill, hopefully!” Zdravko shouted, taking a brief moment to aim for his target - and allow the weapon to lock on, of course. “FIRING!”

The ATGM launcher in his hands fired off, skyrocketing down towards the road, and his target. A few seconds of silence passed, tension rather quite visibly in the air, until a small mushroom cloud of fire and debris confirmed that the target had been hit with rather devastating result.

Almost immediately, both teams chimed in by firing in unison, rockets trailing off into the pass with explosive result as suppressive fire rained down on the pass, Anastazija herself peering from cover to rain some fire down on the enemy. As soon as the dust had settled, it became apparent both escort vehicles had been obliterated in the ambush, their burning husks desperately defended by the few stragglers that'd narrowly escaped death.

The Lyzentine mountains are a deathtrap for convoys.

Their fight didn't last long, the surprise attack soon cutting down the few Akhmanari survivors. The fight hadn't even lasted a full minute, but it'd certainly done its job — as Anastazija had expected, for the most part. Giving the order for the fireteams to cease fire, her attention turned to her second-in-command. "I suppose checking if the man's dead wouldn't hurt?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d try to get in the mindset of a real Lyzentine insurgent…” Zdravko advised, taking a moment to ponder the question. “Let’s go down there and make sure he’s dead.”

Nodding, she carefully began down the steep ridge, Euphemian AR-M64A4 slung over her shoulder. It was often said that there were more guns in Euphemie than people, and the same could be said about Mederum given the Euphemian deployment to the continent following the Transatlantic War. They had brought their weapons and left an unfathomable amount behind — to which it'd be easy to disguise the attack as the simple actions of insurgents... after all, that's why they'd elected to utilize purely Euphemian weapons.

A trail of blood on the ground confirmed that, much to their disappointment, not everyone was dead. Unslinging her assault rifle, Anastazija gestured her second-in-command to be cautious. Tracking down the trail, their weapons up, they eventually found themselves face to face with the very man they were here to kill, who had evidently survived the ambush...somehow. Much of what remained of him was scarred and covered in blood, his uniform torn, and one of his legs limp to the side, but he was very much alive, resting against a tree adjacent to the trail. Once the sun properly began to come up over the mountains, it became clear to the Commandant that he wasn’t dealing with any regular Lyzentine insurgents..or even Lyzentines at all.

Rather than give a defiant last stand with the pistol he held in his hand, he dropped it to the side and sort of just sat there, looking up at the faces of his ambushers. “You are here to kill me? You aren’t Lyzentine..” he spoke in broken Euphemian.

Gesturing Zdravko to keep aiming at the man, she figured getting a bit out of him would work. "Your death will stoke the flames of liberation in Lyzentos." She replied in much more fluent Euphemian, looking down to the rather unfortunate Akhmanari officer.

“Whatever you say...” His breaths were becoming more and more laborious as he put a hand over his chest. “I’m no martyr—killing me? It’s only doing them a favor. They already wanted me dead, so just get on with it.”

"Them?" questioned Anastazija.

“The Black Sphinx.” He uttered the words with a hint of disgust in his voice. “They’re planning on erasing Tangaliro from Akhmanar for good—they already..” He paused, as if lingering on something. “They already killed the officers from the old FOURA, and Akhen-re too. Once they’re done with me, they’re going to make short work of the Zaratian rebels..unless they put down their arms. That’s all I know.”

"We aren't with the Black Sphinx. That's all I'll let you know." She added, this time in a lower, almost hushed afterthought.

“I know you aren’t.” He gave another sigh. “Just get on with it.”

"Your road ends here all the same, regardless of who we are," Anastazija nodded, lightly raising her assault rifle and promptly putting the Akhmanari general out of his misery. The act was done, and he'd left the two MBW agents with some rather interesting parting information. Looking to Zdravko, it was as if there was a common understanding between them regarding what'd just happened. "..the Black Sphinx.." She noted curiously.

“I think somebody higher up would want to know about that…” He responded, mulling the words of the Akhmanari.

"That's for certain..." Turning back around and beginning back up the pass, she noted it'd be a bit of trekking until they reached their exfil point. "So, about that Manaean vacation..." Anastazija began, looking back to Zdravko as she began up the steep climb.

“I hear ‘bout this one nice place, just outside of... Ileiad. I did some looking around.” Zdravko admitted.

"Oh?" She smirked. "I'll be looking forward to it..."

Whatever the Black Sphinx was, Anastazija felt they'd be finding out a bit more about it in due time. That was for another time, though — they'd be getting a well-earned rest now.
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Forest State
Posts: 4017
Founded: Aug 23, 2016
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Forest State » Tue Jul 23, 2019 8:38 pm




The Ennis Technology company is one of the largest in its field in the Federation of Kael, and has recently expanded to the defense industry - not through producing weapons but through having soldiers for hire. The Green Devils squadron was created during that initiative with an inventive recruiting strategy quickly getting the squadron running and ready to operate in the field. Leading up to their first deployment, some of the final trainees are moving up the ranks to the squadron itself.

DATE: 1600 hrs. - October 5th, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: CPT. Maire Hallissey, Green Devils Squadron | LOCATION: Northgrove, Federation of Kael

Inner Thoughts Of Maire Hallissey

Ennis Technology… A company well known for a few different things. For being one of the largest corporations in the Lowlands region of Kael, based out of the city of Northgrove, and for being something of a rival to its southern arms company neighbor Gnothas Mearn, who had largely been responsible for keeping Ennis out of the weapons industry in the modern era. The battle for the Lowlands was a fiercer one that anyone outside of the area could imagine and it was as usual fought between the two major cities in the region, Mearn and Northgrove, but at the same time, there was a certain feeling that both sides had something in common because of their shared ties to a region that was considered a minority in this country. Wasn’t that often to find a big company in Kael after all that published statements and marketing in Lowlander and not just Kaelic.

You could also say that this company has a place in my heart because it’s the only one that would give someone like me a chance. I’m not some pilot from Daernel that was able to afford private lessons and enter the ranks of corporate flying with some fancy certificate behind my name explaining how many hours I’ve had in some advanced jet trainer. I’m also not a former military pilot with a bunch of hours in the latest IAAF models, ready to make the jump to the world of corporate because it offers more money. Considering my status as the sickly person that’s often missing from day to day things, it’s a fucking wonder that I’m able to fly in the first place, and even more of one that anyone actually wanted to take a chance on me.

But through vague family connections, some social finesse, and the fact that Ennis practically needs everyone they can get at the moment, I of all people somehow ended up being one of the ones that the company took on to train in house. Wasn’t like the military was going to let me in and make themselves liable if I died in one of their planes or something because of my blood, and most of the other private factions in Kael that are worth being taken seriously - and that have enough cash to field planes - are looking for more, well, experienced pilots. My experience? Largest thing I’d flown before getting pulled on by Ennis was a two engine turboprop from Northgrove up to the mountains of Galnoy, doing delivery runs for my family company to save money… As I said. We aren’t rich. We might have a company, but doesn’t mean we can afford to pay extra pilots.

I can’t blame them, however. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had me fly for little profit in that turboprop, I probably never would have convinced Ennis to let me enter their training program… The one that’s led me to the F/A-08 Imp fighter that’s resting in front of me in one of the hangars at their central complex in Northgrove, the place where I’m supposedly going to be living and working for the foreseeable future. At least until some job comes in and we get sent away.

“Anyway, this is the hangar,” says Riley Saidhail, the one that’s been told to show me around the place now that I’m stepping foot here for the first time and not just in the smaller complex to the east of the city that was used for training purposes. “I’m sure you already know what goes on around here, but now you know where it is. Our flight’s planes are in this one and the next one over has the planes for the other flight. Right now all of them are Imps, but we might get more variety when the program is further down the line.”

By that, Riley was referring to the fact that Ennis had only recently entered the game and was catching up to other companies in the same field that were more experienced. What they had that other companies didn’t, however, was success in other fields which would give them a leg up on the competition early on. “I can see mine,” I remark, walking over to the one plane that’s marked with my callsign, ‘Nightmare’. It also has the design that I requested, the nose of the plane painted like it was part of the gaping jaws of a beast, the design stretching back to behind the cockpit and displaying rows of teeth as part of that mouth, and a pair of eyes located just behind it. It was a variant of the classic shark mouth design, except the design on my plane is… Sharper and more aggressive, almost overbearing in appearance when combined with the darker grey of the main fuselage, something that I specifically requested.

“Hell of a design,” Riley said, stepping up behind me to take a look at what I was admiring.

“I made it here, of course I’m going to go a little over the top,” I shrug. It’s a miracle that I’m here right now, I might as well have some fun with it and go with something out of the ordinary now that I have a choice of liveries. “Damn near didn’t make it in the first place…”

That causes Riley to raise an eyebrow. “Where are you from, anyway? Former military or something?”

“Never had a shot at going military,” I admit as I turn away and we walk out of the hangar to continue the trip through the facilities. “Most of what I did was flying turboprops up to Galnoy and a couple other places. Mainly got into the training program… Well, through a family connection I happened to have. Didn’t get into this squadron because of that, though, that was only because of the hard work in training.”

“Big jump from turboprops to Imps. Can’t knock it, though, it’s pretty impressive,” said Riley, as we start approaching one of the administrative buildings off in the distance. “Anyway, now that you’ve seen most of the facilities where the actual work is happening, let me show you the place where most of the planning is done and where we get briefings and such… It’s rather fitting for a tech company.”

The main building of the central complex towers into the sky, not quite a skyscraper but definitely taller than everything else in the surrounding area. Except, according to Riley, our department isn’t staffed by all that many people - there’s a skeleton crew here but for the most part the place is managed by AI, in an inventive use of the technology by one of the companies which was the first to bring the tech to Kael in the first place. “You say that’s the AI that just unlocked the door?” I ask as we walk inside, into a dimly lit interior which… Feels a little bit lonely, with no one behind the front desk.

“Yeah,” replied Riley, as we head to an eleveator and step inside, Riley pressing a button to go to one of the higher floors. “Higher ups around here are into integrating new tech into whatever we’re doing. I expect we’re going to end up with more advanced planes soon because of that, but one of the things we’ve already ended up with is AI. Replaces the ATC for the most part, actually.”

“Huh,” I muttered, not being too familiar with such a thing. It’s not something that I learned about while flying advanced trainers for the past months either. “Strange world these days.”

“You’re at a tech company with an armed wing, it’s about expected,” Riley stated as the doors open, and we step out to find ourselves facing a burly looking young woman who wears her hair in braids and has the sides shaved off. Just from first glance, I’d say she looks like someone who would work security at some semi shady club in one of the cities, or maybe like some kind of martial artist. It’s to my surprise when Riley says that she’s one of the pilots here. “Oh, another person I wanted you to meet. This is Daireann, one of the other pilots… I know she doesn’t look it, but she’s one of the brighter pilots ‘round here. Can knock most people out in a fight, too.”

“Gods, you’re a small one,” is the first thing that Daireann says upon seeing me, before reaching out and placing a hand on the top of my head as if she’s doing it just because she can. “You sure the Gs aren’t going to break you in half? …. I don’t mean to be rude, just saying.”

My face turns slightly red from the fact that one of my squadronmates dwarfs me like this, and I push away from her hand and take a step forward and around her. “Hasn’t hurt me too much in training,” I say, leaving out the illness. Last thing I need to tell her is that there’s more to my… Weakness than just small size. Doesn’t seem like she has much confidence in me already, even without finding out about that little fact. Or more accurately, that not so little fact.

“Headed out for the day, I’ll see ya’ll later,” Daireann said, stepping into the elevator, the doors closing behind her a few moments later. After that first interaction, I’m not upset to see her go.

“She just speaks her mind, really. You know how northerners can be. Honest people,” Riley said, leading me deeper into the building, through another rather plain corridor with the same dim lighting that indicates the place is hardly used by actual humans. At least, this part of the facility anyway. “Me, I’m from the north, but not as far north as her. I’m from Cleggan, she’s from… Galnoy, I think.”

“Used to fly to Galnoy to do deliveries,” I state. “Rough people. Only place where I’ve felt like I gotta keep a gun on me or I’m going to get robbed.”

“Why do you think Daireann makes herself look tough?”

On that statement, we head through another glass sliding door and end up in what might be the central command room, computer screens lining each wall and showing a variety of different things on each one, most of them related to the day to day operations of the squadron. Not that we’re doing much now. Basically all of the planes are sitting around and waiting for assignment. Within this room, both of us can see the leader of the squadron, the one that I met earlier… Quinn McBride is the most experienced one and therefore the squadron leader, and one of the ones that actually has military experience in the past rather than being trained in house.

As we walk in, McBride is conversing with a figure that can be seen on one of the screens - blonde, blue eyes, but an appearance that on second glance looks 3D rather than human. This must be the AI that we were told about. And it seems that both the AI and McBride are in the middle of some kind of conversation about planning and the next contract that we’re going to take. The first one that I’m going to be a part of, actually.

“Major,” said Riley, interrupting the back and forth. “I’ve brought by the recruit, not sure if you’ve met her or not. Concordia, same goes for you. But I’m pretty sure she hasn’t seen you yet.”

“I’m aware,” said the AI - Concordia, apparently. “This was a good time to bring around the new Captain, yes, as we were about to call a meeting for all pilots in the Green Devils squadron. After much back and forth about whether or not such a move would be a good option, the company has decided that the unit will be deployed to Velikossiya on what should be a profitable contract. Now that all of the members of the squadron are assembled… We can begin moving out of the planning stage and into the action phase. I suppose, in simpler terms, I could tell you to begin packing and preparing.”

There was a pause that hung over the room as the face on the screen shifted to face me and Riley.

“You are, after all, headed to the far east.”
i'm the bad guy... duh.

for: the anime right
anti: catgirls & people who step on snek

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Western Pacific Territories
Posts: 13949
Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Tue Jul 23, 2019 10:20 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 4"

It'll be a bit before you return to the Fatherland. There's always the beaches of Manae to enjoy the heat, though...

DATE: 1750 hrs. - October 15, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Ileiad, Republic of Manae

The warm beaches and scenic villas of Manae were a far cry from the frigid boreal forests of Medeuropa, the sun glimmering from the western horizon. Aside from visiting the Commonwealth's embassy in Manae briefly, they'd be spending a few more days in the Atlantic nation with no orders to tend to — which was a vacation given to Zdravko in all but name. Of course, his superior already had a few ideas of just how to spend this brief off-time: the beach.

Zdravko had been, of course, enjoying the brief period of time they would have to themselves before duty called them back. This involved the consumption of a fair amount of alcohol, and some sightseeing as well, given they were in a major Manaean city, but the beach was the main attraction of the whole vacation in question. He had, as of yet, been using it to work on his tan. Zachods were, of course, normally pale in complexion.

Ileiad, Manae.

"I don't think it's ever been this hot back home.. I hope I don't get too much of a tan." Anastazija in particular had been enjoying the beach quite a bit, usually just tagging along with her coworker for sightseeing the various scenic and historical sights across Manae, or touring the beaches. She'd brought along a two-piece red swimsuit for the occasion, to which she was practically indistinguishable from most other tourists present on the beaches, except for her rather pale complexion being a dead giveaway to where she was from. It was a popular tourist destination, to say the least — for both history enthusiasts and summer partygoers alike.

“What’s wrong with a tan?” Zdravko asked. “It’s fine… so long as I don’t forget the sunscreen. Then it’ll be painful.”

"I just don't want it to be obvious, I mean... anyone who goes on vacation here comes back with the most obvious tan." They were approaching a cluster of rocks extending off into the sea — it went without saying it'd be a pretty scenic view of the descending sun, along with Ileiad as a whole. Despite the fact it was, at this time of year, evening, it still had the warmth of an afternoon. This had garnered her attention, of course, to which she pointed at the sight in question. "You, uh.. bring a camera?" She asked. "This'd be great for a picture of us— if you're okay with that. I like to keep some memories."

“Uhhh…” he began, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “I, well, didn’t. I’m guessing you didn’t either?”

"I don't exactly have anywhere to carry one with me..." She trailed off, mildly disappointed. "Uhhh... you wanna watch the sunset, maybe? I've never really, well.. seen the sun set over the ocean horizon before. Never been this far west in my life. I guess we can just enjoy the moment, if you want."

“If you want, I suppose.” Zdravko replied. “It’s nice.”

Quietly she walked over to the rocks, reaching the edge — and with it, an unmatched view of the setting sun on the western horizon. Sitting down, Anastazija couldn't help but be taken aback by the beauty of the sun setting over the ocean, pearlescent orange reflecting upon the sea. "I've been informed we've both been rewarded new automobiles as reward for our service to the State. It'll be waiting for us back home... we're really getting places, I feel. Me, well... I want to earn a few more medals, and, well.. maybe get to know you a bit better. I mean, we're comrades, yes?" Anastazija said, looking on at the sunset.

“Of course we’re comrades, Kapitan.” Zdravko replied. “I’m starting to feel that we’re getting a bit spoiled too, honestly.” he continued. It seemed that they might have been reaching a point where even his past of a wealthy family was starting to pale in comparison to how the Ministry treated him.

"I couldn't even dream of having my own car five years ago. Now we have a nice apartment and our own automobiles... maybe we could drive around a bit when we get home." After all, they lived in the same apartment in the capital. "Perhaps the Party is simply testing us?" She proposed, curiously thinking aloud.

“Why test us, though?” He asked in turn. “I think there’s something else to this. Something along the lines of... you can’t bribe somebody who doesn’t need a bribe. You know? I think the Ministry’s trying to make agents like us corruption-proof. That’s just my theory.”

"Maybe. I don't see why they'd suspect us of anything. I am loyal to the State and the Party first and foremost.." Anastazija shrugged, thinking to their performance thus far. "I suppose I know you well enough to assume the same of you, of course."

“Of course.” he replied. Surely, one wouldn’t willingly have joined an intelligence agency if they didn’t want to serve their country and be a patriot. “I don’t think we’ll know for sure, though. About how we’re being rewarded, that is.”

An Atlantic sunset.

"Perhaps we should just go with the flow," Shrugging, she paused to look on at the horizon. Cresting over the sea, it was a rather beautiful sight — to which Anastazija was practically at a loss for words. "Beautiful, isn't it? I've never gotten to see it like this... it's a little romantic, even. When you find that special someone, perhaps you should take her here... most of our fellow countrymen couldn't dream of witnessing such a thing." Indeed, Zachod was a landlocked nation, any notions of seeing the setting sun over the sea distant ultranationalistic aspirations.

“I’ll have to do that, you’re right...” he responded, taking a moment to similarly enjoy the sun.

A silence followed as slowly the sun descended, beautiful shades of indigo filling the horizon. "You know, I don't remember anything that happened after that explosion back in Zending. When I came to, I was, well... back in the capital, safe. What happened.. how'd we make it out alive?"

It seemed the conversation was about to take a rather awkward turn, from Zdravko’s point of view. “Well, you told me that I’d have to call in exfil because you couldn’t think straight… started talking about how I saved your life, everyone’s life.” he replied. He wondered if he should have continued.

"Well, I guess you did do that..." She nodded, looking back up to her subordinate. "Sooner or later we'll be fighting Hesslerists again, I suppose. I thought there'd be more to the whole.. memory blank or something."

“Well, there was…” he continued. “I know it might sound a little… cliche, but after that you said ‘fuck it’ and decided to kiss me. You should have seen Brđanin's face…” he replied. He couldn’t help but at least chuckle mildly.

This'd left her flushed red in an instant. "I... did what? Y—you're joking, right?"

“You can ask Brđanin.” Zdravko replied. “I’m not joking.”

Muttering to herself, Anastazija composed herself. "Well, uh, if I did do that, I'm... uh, sorry. That's why you were rather quiet after that mission, wasn't it? Ouriel forgive me..."

This had left him a bit confused on how to proceed. “Well, I suppose I can. But… do you still feel that way about me?”

"I suppose it's unprofessional of me, but I do occasionally think about it. I—it's only natural, even if it's sinful... I just hope you don't think less of me." She replied, looking away in embarrassment.

“Well…” he trailed off. He couldn’t really think this was surprising, for obvious reasons, but it was still odd to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “I don’t, really.”

"That's, uh.. good I guess?" She trailed off, moderately unsure of how to reply. "I wouldn't want you to feel like I exploited you or something."

“I don’t feel exploited.” Zdravko replied. “But that was… odd, what happened in Zending. I suppose that’s the best term.”

"Well, I'm sorry!" Anastazija replied, embarrassed. "I don't know why I did it, and I sure don't remember... I guess I understand why you didn't tell me until now, it's— well, I don't really know what to do, how to process all this... that was, well.." She trailed off. "That was probably my first kiss. I know it sounds stupid, but I come from a pretty religious background, and I guess I was just saving a moment like that for someone..."

“I discerned you’re religious…” he replied. “Partly right before what happened. But I think it’s kind of - well - a good to admit that we hold similar views on each other, if you will.”

"I don't understand..." Anastazija said, confused. "H—how exactly do you think of me?"

“I guess the same way you think of me.” It was a rather simple reply, but it was a correct answer.

It'd taken a moment for her to process it all, looking back to the sun — it was slowly reaching its nadir, the afterglow gradually filling its place. "I suppose nobody has to know about this, but... maybe, if you want me to make up for last time.. it'd be really nice to have a moment like this with the sunset out there." Offering a nervous smile, she'd seemingly left it up to Zdravko's choice what'd happen next.

A moment...

“Well, if that’s what you want…” Silently leaning in, Anastazija shared a brief embrace with him, a fair amount of time passing by the time their lips had parted. By then, the sun had set, the bright orange afterglow on the horizon slowly dimming. Even if there were no photos to take, it'd certainly been a moment to share.

"Don't tell anyone about this, of course." She nervously laughed, looking back to Zdravko.

“Of course not. Ministry doesn’t need to know about that.” Zdravko confidently assured.

Getting up again, Anastazija looked back to the city of Ileiad, the distant hum of the tourist hotspot's everyday bustle serving as background noise to the calling of the gulls and beachside chatter of tourists. "I guess there's a few other ways to spend the evening. Drinks?" She proposed, lightening up a bit — they could trust each other, she'd supposed... even if she wasn't sure how to feel about what'd just taken place.

“Sure.” Zdravko said. “...then maybe back to the hotel?”

Growing rather flushed at the suggestion, she looked away. "I, uh... alright." She awkwardly replied — clearly she wasn't exactly the most experienced at these notions.

With twilight setting in over Ileiad, the first warm breezes of the night blowing in from the sea, it was without doubt that the night would be a curious one. What exactly it meant for the two MBW agents was something particularly up to interpretation...

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Western Pacific Territories
Posts: 13949
Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Tue Jul 23, 2019 11:43 pm


"Pervyy Den"

Exercise Bdeniye '23

War with the Hesslerists in Teutonia has finally moved beyond the inevitable. Now, it is actually beginning. With the Velikossiyan military having had just over two weeks to prepare for war, they're far from ill-prepared to face their foe head-on in the borderlands between Velikossiya and Teutonia. The 13th Armored Division, nominally based in the city of Michurnisk has been urgently redeployed to the border in anticipation for a radio signal, which will announce the beginning of "Exercise Bdeniye '23". It is not, in fact, an exercise - it is the Velikossiyan operation name for what will take place in the first three days of the war. The Velikossiyan Army hopes to break the Hesslerist frontline units, with some tactical advantages provided to them by their Zachod friends.

DATE: 0650 hrs. - October 17, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: PVT. Kostya Kirillovich Lyubimtsev | LOCATION: Kulytevo (Teuton Name: Lohsa), Velikossiya-Teutonia Border

The nearby hamlets south of Kulytevo have been put
to the torch by the fanatical Hesslerist paramilitaries.
The scene was chaotic. Just two long hours prior to the rise of the eastern sun, signalling the beginning of October 17 in Meduropa, the Velikossiyan Army had kickstarted "Exercise Bdeniye '23". Ryadovoy, or Private Kostya Lyubimtsev had a few moments of spare time, and he couldn't help but think that this day wouldn't be referred to in the history books as an 'Exercise'. There would be some different, probably cooler name for it later on. Now was not the time for these thoughts, however. He was more interested in taking in the scene around him. One of the main thoroughfares which the 13th Armored Division, Kostya's division was taking across the border was some old Tangaliro-era highway. It was certainly not in the best state, the innumerable amount of potholes attesting to this. The sound of convoys of trucks, carrying supplies, soldiers like himself or whatever else roared on indefinitely as the typical, random assortment of soldiers ran about. They were definitely engineers of some sort, seeing as they were setting up tents and running electrical lines around. He and his squad, along with their AL-86 transport were now stuck sitting around at was soon going to be a former gas station now, awaiting briefing from their company commander before being sent to combat. He personally didn't know whether to be excited, or anxious, or terrified. More than anything else, he was... curious.

Off in the distance, ahead of the now deserted village of Kulytevo, pillars of smoke and flame were rising behind the hills which defined the scenery of this part of Meduropa. His best guess was that Velikossiyan artillery - firing off in the distance - were the main cause, command ordering the preemptive shelling of nearby towns to prevent the Hesslerists from digging in and becoming roadblocks. This guess would, in fact, be inaccurate however. Though the sun now rose from the east, to Kostya's left, a dark curtain still hung over the area, accompanied by a light layer of fog that was being created more likely than not by the burning villages. All in all, it felt very atmospheric, to say the least. He'd heard another, more religiously devout Ourielist in another platoon mention that he felt like they were descending into the depths of the Abyss. Kostya wondered if in a few hours if he would agree with the man. Or, if he could.

"Comrades!" Kostya's head turned, the company commanders showing himself in an empty section of the gas station's parking lot. "Soldiers of the Velikossi Nation! Today you embark on a journey, of more significance than simply killing our enemy or defending your fatherland. We fight, beginning today, for the liberation of the last nation trapped under the claws of the Union State's specter! Teutonia has not seen true freedom in hundreds of years, it has been passed around from dictator regime to dictator regime! We fight for the liberties of those who do not have them, and we will fight bravely for them!"

The aged Tangaliroan AL-86, or Azhikelyamov-Lomtev
86. Known jokingly as the 'Kotovsk Killer' by it's crews.

"Our 283rd Mechanized Battalion has been assigned to help lead the push down National Highway 53, a former Union State-era highway spanning the majority of northern Teutonia. We know the Hesslerists have set up a major roadblock for us at the town of Macha - known as Heimbuchenthal on the Teuton road signs there... interception of communications tells us that we can expect approximately one hundred Hesslerists to be present there. Their Volkswehr have mobilized engineers who are trying to hurriedly place mines, generally do everything they can to slow us down. We believe they have also conscripted some VordPo policemen to scout the nearby woods. Sadly, I have been unable to obtain maps of the town, but we know it's flanked in pretty much all directions by forests of varying size. There is a small hill ridge to it's north. We will be coming in from the west-northwest along the Highway, and will almost certainly encounter an ambush. Remember your training, comrades. If we are caught in an ambush that we cannot win, ram any destroyed vehicle blocking your path and haul ass back to our lines. If and when any additional relevant intel is brought to my intention, the company will be informed suitably. Mount up!"

PerUst KANAL No. #3914

/// [VELFOR] [283rd Mechanized Company | 13th Arm. Division | SGT. Feydor N. Uralets] /// NOW PLAYING: Lidka Beskryostnova - S toboy

/// [VELFOR] [283rd Mechanized Company | 13th Arm. Division | SGT. Feydor N. Uralets] /// "I figured I would put on some music."


/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2391] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | SGT. Feydor N. Uralets] /// "Where's that smoke coming from?"

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "Village of Weinheim. It's a colony."

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2391] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | SGT. Feydor N. Uralets] /// "Let it burn, let it burn..."

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "That's the spirit."

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

The interior of the AL-86 was a rather cramped space, all of it's six occupants being forced by the monolith design bureaus of a nation long since passed to stare at the white-painted walls of steel. At the very least, it wasn't quite maximum capacity. Currently it only held six men, though it was designed for seven. Even the wall didn't offer much, being crammed with firing ports and various other tubes and random bullshit Kostya could only assume was somehow important to the vehicle. Being a Velikossiyan soldier, though, he had learned to just deal with it. Sometimes, life really wasn't fair for grunts.


/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "Update, gentlemen. I've been informed that, uh, somebody just took down communications for most of the Hesslerists in our area. They probably won't be getting reinforcements now."

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2870] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | SSGT. Kondrati D. Glebov] /// "Who did it?"

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "That's classified."

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | PVT. Vitya L. Kadrov] /// "I hear that President Ustinov's pledged that the Tukkhum in Teutonia'll be incorporated into the Respublika. News says they've been fucking up those Teutons for months now."

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "I'm sure they'll be rewarded for their help."

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

Looking out ahead through his viewing port, it appeared that the convoy was approaching some woods - that probably meant they were nearing Macha.


/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "Disable lights, turn on your vehicle NVG's."

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

Kostya's platoon commander was, of course, referring to a rather common-sense procedure for making attacks at dawn. The skies were beginning to become overcast, which was only serving to keep things dark. The sun would probably be rising about now, if his watch was truthful to him. Peering through the rear periscope, installed into the door on Kostya's left allowed him to observe the convoy of dimly lit vehicles, whirring their way down a clearly derelict road. This was how it was in the Borderlands with Velikossiya and Teutonia. At least he wouldn't be working with those fucking Sinicans, he thought to himself. It was well known to all Meduropans, of course, that they were the one ethnicity that really benefited from Tangaliro's existence. In Velikossiya, it wasn't so much hatred that prevailed, like in Zachod and Gallia. It was an uncertainty and fear, rather, that Sinica would try to reassert itself in it's neighboring country. After all, it was clearly doing so in Teutonia. President Ustinov, fearful of the PRS as he may have been, at least was working to try and foster a less paranoid relationship with it's massive neighbor. Many Velikossiyans weren't the most supportive of this policy, however. Kostya wasn't the biggest fan of it.

But even as massive flights of Sinican and Velikossiyan planes rushed off across the skies, to do battle with the Hesslerists and wreck havoc upon the enemy's more vulnerable units and targets, the ground infantry were the ones doing the real work of taking territory and killing soldiers. And as fate would have it, Kostya would get to kill some in a second. Because at that moment, a patrol line of policemen, random civilian militia and soldiers was forming...


/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "Ambush force ahead! Lead platoon engage!"

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

And in a matter of seconds, everything had gone to utter shit, the autocannons and machine guns of multiple vehicles lighting up the pathetic Teutonic group of fighters attempting to stop them. Pathetic was an appropriate phrase, given that none of these men were armed with any real AT weapons. Sinican airpower, Kostya had to admit, was actually being quite effective at fucking shit up from what he'd overheard. Hesslerist logistics weren't doing too good, although he suspected that the signs of heavy Hesslerist military buildup on the border had to be somewhere. Or maybe it was all in Byelokossia...

Regardless, whatever was going on just outside, nothing was getting blown up, and Teutons were being killed. A good start to the day, Kostya figured.


/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "About like, five of them are down, yeah!"

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2870] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | SSGT. Kondrati D. Glebov] /// "They're running away!"

/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "Kill them! Remember Krasnoyiv!"

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

Kostya was sure that whatever was going on outside was turning into a literal massacre, much like the ones the Hesslerists had committed in multiple Byelokossian villages along the border with the Hesslerist state. They weren't throwing their hands up, though, so it didn't really trouble him. "You think they'll run from the town?" Someone suddenly asked. It was a squad-mate of his, Pvt. Urvan Rytin. Squad grenadier. "Eh... I don't fuckin' know. They're in for a hell of a time if they don't, though." Kostya supposed. The current air war going on above was evidence that yes, they would be 'in for a time' if they held.

All in all, the atmosphere of things was unusually relaxed to him. Kostya wondered - was this how war felt? You just sat in the back while the guy in the turret does the dirty work, then you walk out and win the day? It couldn't be that simple, surely? The convoy continued forward, lead and middle vehicles mopping up the enemy that still remained. Sure, they were going to be liberating the Teuton peoples who weren't taken by Hesslerism, and would vanquish the ones that were, but this was a dehumanizing affair. Maybe, when they got to Macha, real combat would ensue. He could fire his weapon, then, at least.

His AL-86 moved on, the monotony of things returning to him. Not that it had really left, given how quick the engagement was.


/// [VELFOR] [AL-86 Serial No. #2712] - [283rd Mech. Company | 13th Arm. Division | LT. Yakov S. Asonov] /// "Macha is just up ahead. We're probably close enough that it's defenders heard us shoot at their friends, so they're going to be alert. Battalion infantry will dismount in a moment, spread out into the trees and push forwards. We've heard rumors, though, that the Teutons might be dialing in some of their artillery. If that happens we'll smoke 'em real quick."

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

A few moments later, the lead elements of the convoy - which Kostya was among - came to a halt.

PerUst KANAL No. #3914
/// [VELFOR] [283rd Mechanized Company | 13th Arm. Division | SGT. Feydor N. Uralets] /// "The ride ends here, I'm afraid. Dismount!"

©383 Юнион Стал и Машиностроение Корпорация (ЮСМК)

Being hasty in opening up the rear door of the vehicle, Kostya quickly exited out. At this point, he was reminded of one flaw in the AL-86. It's troop compartment was so cramped that soldiers had to stow their backpacks on the side of the vehicle, so he made sure to hastily grab it off a rather high up rack on the vehicle, running into the relative cover of the woods after which. There was no immediate rush, so to say, because they weren't under fire - but it was better to be safe. The rest of the squad followed him, of course, the platoon's men quickly swarming in towards Macha. It really was beginning to feel like something out of a moderately decent action flick: a group of soldiers descending into an almost stereotypical, foggy forest with no idea exactly of the enemy's positions. He was trying to place himself in a different, less dark mindset, though. Mostly trying to think of how badass this whole mission was.

"Fuck, can anyone see shit!" Someone shouted, off in the distance. They were probably referring to the fog, which Kostya did admit was making vision hard. "They're in the town!" Another man shouted. An awkward silence followed that, occasionally interrupted by a few moments of chatter. Now, his thoughts were beginning to drift towards how things were now beginning to feel akin to a horror movie. His cinema enthusiast side was beginning to come out.


A distant firing of the bullet brought down a soldier, not of Kostya's squad, but in his platoon. The shot had instantly sent dozens of men scrambling for cover. "Sniper!" one man shouted. It probably wasn't a sniper, though. The fog was too thick for engagement at any ranges where the man firing the rifle could be called such a thing. Off ahead, men were beginning to shout. "Voraus!" Hesslerists, of course. It seemed that the defenders had sought to meet the Velikossiyan Army head-on. "Lass sie uns holen! Vorwärts!" Instinctively, Kostya raised his machine gun. It'd be the first time he used it on other people.

In a rather surprising twist, however, his machine-gun was not going to be the first one used in this engagement. Two Hesslerist machine guns opened fire in front of the path of the Velikossiyan advance, firing in a rather sporadic pattern as to minimize friendly fire. "Fuck!" he muttered, raising his own weapon up and firing towards the flashes in the mist. Figures moved around in the mist, clearly enemy, to which the Velikossiyans replied with offensive fire using their Varennikovs. The newest variation of the Varennikov - a gun so good it existed before the Calamity and was being made 400 years later - their VK-87 was going to work on the sporadic pushes made by the enemy, each resulting in a few men either dead or wounded on the Hesslerist's side of the forest.

That wasn't to say, however, that the Velikossiyans were just doing grand. The machine gun fire had caught a few victims, just over half a dozen, which were being hurriedly carried off towards a vehicle in their motorized convoy on the basis that they weren't dead. A few of them were dead however, though this was rather expected. There would be, to quote the first Velikossiyan President, Untilov, "a price to pay for salvation". In this case, though, they were paying to further the beginning of the liberation of the Teutonic peoples and liberate an ethnically Velikossi village. Kostya didn't want to think much of it.

"Teuton, aufhören zu kämpfen!" Somebody shouted. It wasn't any of the Hesslerists, though. It was one of Kostya's comrades, probably assigned here just on the basis that the man could speak Teuton. "Geben sie auf, und sie werden mit gebührendem respekt und ehre behandelt!" Was what the man was saying going to make any sense from the Hesslerists perspective? Maybe it wouldn't. Even if it did, it was rather unlikely they would listen. "Fucking waste of time!" Kostya's squad commander shouted. "Just shoot them!" And so the firefight continued. It was beginning to mostly just turn into an indiscriminate volley of bullets. He wondered just how many Hesslerists they were even killing, aside from the ones that'd stepped close enough to get sprayed with the 7.62mm.

A few minutes later of more of the same, and things did seem to be dying down. The number of Hesslerists shouting various, presumably offensive phrases and giving orders was decreasing, and so was their gunfire. One could chalk this down to ammunition woes, though. As it would turn out, however, this was not the case. "Convoy just told us they pushed into Macha!" An officer shouted. "They've fucked the Hesslerites hard! They're pulling back to save the town!"

The orders, from this point on, would be obvious of course. "Advance! Let's take this town!" Rushing to surge forward, a line of Velikossiyan infantry quickly swept through the now abandoned Hesslerist positions, mostly just a bunch of fallen logs and ditches, a fair few bodies laying around. Somebody would collect them after this battle was said and done. A moment later, they had found themselves running out of the forest and into the backyards of a few lonely houses, most likely unchanged from Tangaliroan times. The gunfire was getting louder than ever, mixed in with the sound of vehicle autocannons firing. But Kostya, through the racket, could pretty easily guess that his side was winning the fight. Perhaps he was beginning to develop battle intuition?

"Sir! One of 'em threw their hands up!" Somebody shouted. This promptly got the attention of Kostya, and certainly a few others. They knew to expect a mixture of actual troops and poorly equipped policemen, along with maybe combat engineers, but this was sudden. The gunfire continued just around the corner, though, so they couldn't let up - or relax quite yet. The infantry poured into town, going from room to room, building to building. Kostya could see with his own eyes that much of the people here were civilians, more of a mixture of Velikossi-speakers and Teutons than the population of Velikossi under a Teuton boot that he'd expected to encounter. Of course, encouragements of settling northwards were made by the Hesslerists, and they were attractive.

The tide had clearly swung in favor of the 13th Armored Division here, though, and within minutes the shooting had ceased. The presence of a dozen armored vehicles, and almost no AT weapons to counter had doomed the Hesslerists. Shortly afterwards, Kostya's platoon had begun to regroup with the 'town square', if it could be called that. Assembling them was Lieutenant Yakov Asonov, platoon commander. "Guys, guys! Macha, is ours!" A few jeers arose of celebration, one or two men raising their rifles to the air. "Great start to the fucking day, as far as I'm concerned. This is the first day, though, so we aint getting a damn minute of rest. We've been told to prepare to move out to the next town, Kutoshy. Briefing's going to come on intercom while we drive..."

A great start to the day, indeed.

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Wed Jul 24, 2019 1:44 am

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Behind Enemy Lines - Outpost Destruction"

Operation Leszek 423

The war has now begun for the Hesslerists, but the Tukkhum front remains quiet thanks to the partisans of the region. The Velikossiyan Army wants a way to infiltrate enemy lines and attempt an early encirclement, with our help in the form of the Tukkhum mountain passes.

Your mission is simple: Destroy two Hesslerist military outposts in the heart of Tukkhum territory to allow the Velikossiyan Army to deploy troops through a narrow mountain pass.

There is more, however. ST-Obersturmführer Karl S. Hopfner is a member of the Volkstaat's Sturmtruppen, and as such is well-known for his reputation as a cold-hearted killer, indiscriminately murdering the local Tukkhum population. He oversees local forces from Outpost 22-13, the old Tangaliroan radar station serving as apt protection from Velikossi aerial threats when paired with Hesslerist air defense. From his Outpost, Karl S. Hopfner maintains his adamant campaign of maintaining Teutonian control over the Tukkhum lands. Killing him will earn us a great deal of respect from the Tukkhum people.

Destroy these outposts and eliminate Hopfner, and our allies should make significant gains in the area. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 0400 hrs. - October 27, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: kpt. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Tukkhum, Teutonian Borderlands

The first ten days of the newest Meduropan War had been a rather good one for the Velikossiyan military, troops streaming in from the border to overrun Teutonic villages and destroy group after group of Hesslerist Volkswehr units, though in most parts of the front, these were accompanied by civilian militias, police and paramilitaries. It was relatively the same on the Sinican side of things, and overall, predictions were optimistic for those who weren’t Teutons.

Nations come and go, but war is eternal.

The forests of Tukkhum were decorated with a fresh layer of snow, 1. Grupa Rozpoznawcza quietly making their way through the woods. Leading them as always was kapitan Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković, trudging through the snow as she led the way. There was no longer a need for plainclothes operations and foreign rifles, as the war had begun — and the last thing Anastazija wanted was to be mistaken for Hesslerist paramilitaries by their Velikossiyan allies.

Close behind her was her second-in-command, Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević. It went without saying the two were rather close — though there was a certain doubt in her regarding what'd happened between them — and whether it was the right thing. Perhaps her faith was being tested, or, she thought, maybe she could find a bit of happiness without worrying about her faith.

The frigid forests of Medeuropa are kind to no man.

"Approaching the AO," She announced in a hushed tone as the unit traversed the snow, continuing on through the maze of trees and dense bushes that comprised the forest. They were traveling just by a small dirt road, which of course led further up the mountain — specifically to the radar facility at its peak, Outpost 22-13. If Velikossiyan aircraft were to reign unmolested in the area, the radar facility had to be destroyed — which was their objective, after all.

“All clear so far…” Zdravko observed. “It is a bit chilly, gotta say.”

"Winter hasn't even begun!" Anastazija quietly joked. "Perhaps you got too comfortable with Manaean weather..."

“Perhaps...” he replied. “It’s the first time I’ve ever worked with the Velikossi.”

"I see," She noted, raising an eyebrow with the slightest bit of curiosity. "What do you think of them?"

“I think they’re alot like us.” Zdravko replied. “I’d rather work with them than the Sinicans.”

"Likewise..." It was of little surprise that neither of them held the Sinicans in high regard — they were sympathizers to the old Tangaliro who looked upon the notion of subjugating the Medeuropan people with nostalgia, and were to be naturally distrusted due to their self-centric playing book.

Soon enough the road adjacent to the unit's silent journey forked in two separate directions, which were well-known to both MBW agents due to the briefing. The road on the right led to the communications outpost, effectively the nerve center of all Hesslerist comms in the AO. The road on the left led to Outpost 22-13, where their objective lay. 2. Załoga, however, was to continue on traveling through the forest adjacent to the road on the right, to ensure the communications of the Hesslerists were aptly dealt with.

"Heading to the comms post," Sierżant Berzant Marishta was responsible for 2. Załoga, and as was expected of Zachod special forces operators, was fairly quiet, composed and professional. The fireteam broke off, venturing on to the forest on the right while Anastazija and Zdravko continued on with 1. Załoga.

Continuing up the woods, the distant sound of gunfire briefly gave Anastazija pause, checking her radio. The answer would come a good minute later...

"Second team had a run-in with some Hessies. They're fine. We should be careful, though... might attract some attention from the Outpost." Anastazija announced. Continuing on up the forest, they reached a small clearing, stopping at the edge. Two silhouettes were on their way down, assault rifles in hand. Perhaps the nearest patrol had been called in to assess the source of the sound. "Halt," She quietly ordered, the unit taking positions amidst the bushes.

“More of us than them. Let’s just drop them.” Zdravko advised, raising up his rifle.

Silently, she gestured the unit to fire, shots catching the two soldiers by surprise, their bodies falling limp on the dirt road as they were riddled with bullets. Quickly, they crossed the road, dragging the bodies discreetly into the bush to conceal the act. Surely, however, the Outpost would soon note the lack of a response from the patrol — to which they were now in a race against time.

"Move up." Anastazija ordered in a hushed whisper, the unit continuing up the mountainside. Trudging through the snowy forest, she stopped only as her radio lightly crackled, the kapitan listening in on the other end.

"They've got an IFV headed down the road," it was Marishta's voice on the other end. "Hasn't seen us. Just... keep your eyes open."

"Second fireteam's doing well. They've spotted an IFV going down the comm outpost's road. Just be careful in case it comes this way." Anastazija announced to her subordinates, the journey up the mountain continuing smoothly.

“I didn’t know they were smart enough for IFVs…” Zdravko quipped. “We’ll need to be careful.”

"They're probably still operating those centuries-old Tangski IFVs." Anastazija noted. "Surprised those things even run at all... you've got to give the enemy some credit."

The road up the mountain was relatively clear, the unit running into no other patrols on the way. They were now at the edge of the treeline, the base's entrance within view. Now they were to wait — as soon as the comm facility went down, it'd be showtime. Thus it'd quickly become a waiting game as they lingered by the edge of the woods, waiting for the greenlight from the second team.

“You think the Ministry’ll ever let us go on vacation to Torch City?” Zdravko suddenly asked.

"I hear there are more automobiles than people in Euphemie. I wonder why the Euphski need so many cars... we do just fine with one!" Anastazija noted. "Perhaps, perhaps... but I simply wouldn't know what to do in such a big place. I assume you have ideas..?"

“See Morhatten? I don’t know myself, being honest…” He replied.

"Perhaps a picture atop the Atlantic Economic Center..." She proposed, smirking. "I've never seen buildings that tall in my life, it'd certainly be a fun experience.." Interrupting their lighthearted conversation was the crackle of the radio and the sound of a distant explosion — the Hesslerist communications outpost had been eliminated. Slightly frowning, her attention returned to her second-in-command. "Comms are down. We're clear to attack."

Up ahead, the figures of the Outpost’s guards were coming into view - about one dozen soldiers, guarding the installation. Noting the presence of the enemy, Anastazija evaluated just how they could handle this situation. "Any ideas, my Porucznik?" Perhaps a slip of the tongue, perhaps intentional...

“Uh-” The ‘slip of the tongue’ had caught Zdravko slightly off guard. “Well... there’s more of them than us. Let me-” He interrupted himself again, coming up with a plan. “I speak Teuton well. Well enough that I can impersonate one of them…”

Zdravko cupped both of his hands to his mouth, shouting out some Teuton phrase in the loudest voice he could make. He went to his knees right after. “I just shouted to the guards that the comms place was blown up! Let’s hide and see if any of them run down.”

"Right. Down!" Anastazija ordered, their attached four-man team quickly ducking into the underbrush and snow. Already orders were being distantly barked in Teutonian by irate officers, the sounds of boots trudging through snow drawing near as ten of the guards hurried past the entrance, looking off into the distance to get a view of the fiery glow of the smoldering communications facility at night. "That's... most of them..." Anastazija noted in a hushed whisper, slowly getting up. "We should just go in, finish the job and get out. An explosive charge should be enough for the radome."

“Let’s hurry, then!” Zdravko urged.

With that, the unit was quick to get to its feet, hurrying in once the unwitting Hesslerist soldiers were out of earshot. Suppressed shots were fired, the two soldiers unfortunate enough to remain on guard quickly dropping to the ground as they overran the perimeter. Reaching the small administrative post, they were greeted by their target: ST-Obersturmführer Karl S. Hopfner.

"was zur Hölle?!" He'd screamed in confusion as he looked through the window. Quickly he hurried for a phone, the realization dawning on him too late as Anastazija shot him through the window, his body falling lifelessly to the floor with a loud thud as 1. Załoga got to planting explosives at the base of the radome.

"I'm sure the Velikossi will thank us," Anastazija noted, keeping watch for any returning Hesslerist soldiers.

“As they should, I suppose.” Zdravko replied.

As soon as the charge was set, the next concern of the unit immediately became getting the hell out — which they promptly did, making down the mountain and stopping amidst the bushes once they were out and away from the compound. The explosion that overtook the outpost was enough to kick up a fair amount of snow and dust in the process, the distant glow of the blast visible from further down the mountain pass.

"Guess it's time to call it in..." Reaching for her radio, Anastazija took no time to contact their Velikossi 'friends'. "Comms station is down," She announced in rather fluent Velikossi. "You are clear to commence your operations."

“Group Six, going dark.” A man on the other end of the radio replied.

The roar of jet engines followed as it seemed the Velikossi Air Force now had free reign to operate in the area, the distant thunder of explosions serving as testament to the fact their allies had begun their 'thunder run'.

"I suppose that wasn't too difficult..." Anastazija thought aloud. "Exfil will be waiting for us... that was a good call, Zdravko. Saved us a lot of work. Makes me worry if the men we lost in Zending were needless deaths..." She trailed off, mildly apprehensive about the one operation that'd seriously proven costly for their team.

Zdravko sighed deeply at the reminder of what'd happened in Zending. “There wasn’t going to be any way around that. So fucking many of them… at least we didn’t all get killed.”

Quietly nodding, she figured lightening the mood up a bit was in order. "Drinks after? It'll be on me this time."

"Come on, you two!" Brđanin, 1. Załoga's fireteam leader, called to the two MBW agents. He was probably the only person in the unit that had half a clue of the odd chemistry between the two officers.

“I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’ll take a beer or two for free…” Zdravko cheekily responded.

"I'll be looking forward to it, my Porucznik ..." She quipped. Beginning once more down the mountainside, she'd made it rather apparent her earlier 'slip of the tongue' was hardly an accident.

With this vital bottleneck in the Tukkhum range effectively eliminated, the Velikossi held free reign in the northern strategic region... and with it, they could press the Hesslerists on yet another front. The struggle against the Hesslerists in Teutonia had only begun, however, and by the look of things, a nation as desperately armed against threats on all fronts would prove to be an uphill battle to defeat. The Hesslerist regime endangered not only its own citizens, but its neighbors — and it was the moral responsibility of the Commonwealth to see to the regime's undoing.
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Western Pacific Territories
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Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Wed Jul 24, 2019 3:32 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 5"

In preparation towards our struggle against the Hesslerists, the Pretor has entrusted you with her security in visiting the capital of Gallia, Frenis. While the reactionary, imperialist Gallians have strayed far from the liberationist notions that forged this continent thirty years ago, their old brotherhood with us must be honored in this time of need.

DATE: 0800 hrs. - November 3, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Frenis, Empire of Gallia

Frenis, the so-called ‘City of Lights’. That’s the name the Gallians had for it, and the name was apt. It’s streets were, one could argue, a good competitor for being the most aesthetically-minded in the world. Legend had it that the Emperor of the Gallians, Eric Lecanuet personally designed many of it’s largest boulevards and avenues, and took special notice towards it’s largest buildings. It was probably false, as Gallians seemed to have a way with playing up the achievements of their beloved liberator, but Zdravko personally pondered the two-facedness of a capital city like this, and that of Gallia as a whole.

The heart of the Gallian Empire.

Everyone knew, of course, that the Gallians were imperialists, their military was hard at work plundering the lands of distant countries like Kassalo and the Gonko that most only heard of in negative news reports. Millions of Euphemians, for example, expressed their distaste for the Gallian Emperor by boycotting products from his country. And yet that was contrasted by life in Gallia itself, which, if the capital of Frenis was anything to judge it by, was quite nice compared to a place like Teutonia, or Kezijce. It was also a fair bit warmer than their frigid home, thanks to its location near the Jade Sea.

His thoughts drifted back also to the events of only a few days prior. More specifically, towards his relationship of sorts with his superior. It certainly did feel a little unsettling, given these sort of things weren’t exactly encouraged by their superiors. But, then again, it wasn’t exactly influencing things that much in the field...

The Frenis Pyramid.

Off in the distance, both himself and Anastazija could begin to see the sleek, black peak of the ‘Frenis Pyramid’. It was certainly the most famous example in Mederum of Akhmanari architecture influencing any building design outside of the country itself, Emperor Lecanuet having taken it upon himself to build a massive black pyramid in the center of the city. It raised the temperature of anything immediately surrounding it by more than a few degrees also, which earned it one of it’s many nicknames - Eric’s Stove.

"Can't say I've ever seen a pyramid like this before. Maybe Emperor Lecanuet fancies himself a Pharaoh..." Anastazija joked, looking on at the dark, black structure in the middle of the otherwise traditional rows of housing and quaint cafes and shops. The limousine was slowly but surely making its way through the capital after Lecanuet's palace, and Anastazija herself had the slightest apprehensions about being in the presence of a man who carried such a reputation — both of heroism and atrocious reactionary imperialism. While he had saved the Gallians from Tangaliro, it was cruelly ironic that he had come to oppress Kirian people just the same. Perhaps he'd lived long enough to see himself become the villain...

“If he fancies himself a pharaoh, he’s doing a better job at being one than the Akhmanaris…” Zdravko replied. “I hear this pyramid’s based off one in Florale. Well, what used to be Florale.”

Another city lost to the nuclear atrocities, Anastazija thought to herself. "I see. Wonder what Eric's palace will be like..." She curiously mused, thinking to the mission — it was simple, for the most part. They'd be escorting the Pretor of the Commonwealth, who quietly sat opposite to them in the limousine, ensuring her security during negotiations with Eric Lecanuet.

“I’m more worried about the man himself. He seems almost… scary.” He said. “There’s alot said about him.”

"It's been said that he was once with Tangaliroan special forces.." Anastazija noted. "He doesn't really make that very public about him, though. Makes sense, I guess."

“Obeying a vow of silence for the country he hated the most.” Zdravko replied, chuckling almost. “Ironic.”

Soon enough, the almost ironically grandiose exterior of Eric’s Palace came into view. Like all buildings in Frenis, it had been built within the last thirty years - the city had been entombed by radioactivity in the First Calamity, and was only cleaned up once and for all with significant Euphemian monetary aid. It’s exterior was flanked on all sides by an imposing fence, bars coated with gold paint - they weren’t made out of gold, of course, but the idea was to appear as if they were. Oppressively bright white walls defined the entire palace exterior, shining light into the faces of tourists and visitors at most times of day.

Coming to a halt before the grand palace, their doors were opened by the guards as they began on into the building, keeping close behind the Pretor, Hana Andreja V. Papratović. The large, fearsome hallways of the palace made it’s exterior appearance look simplistic in appearance, though. They were drowned in all sorts of colors, various paintings fixed onto the walls, accompanied by the occasional marble bust of some ancient Gallian hero, or one of the Ourielist Archangels. It was a reminder that religiously, the Gallians were actually fairly different from the rest of their Mederune cousins, following the Vereningeian sect which held some varying opinions on theological manners that differed from the Stigmatic and Charismatic branches of the religion.

“This definitely beats the Velikossi Presidential Palace…” Zdravko remarked, staring almost with awe around the hall.

"Without a doubt.." Anastazija muttered, studying the various paintings situated about the rather ornate corridor. Soon enough they found themselves before an equally ornate grand door, manned by two guards at either side. It took no genius to realize this was the throne room of the man himself, Eric Lecanuet.

The throne room itself was rather… dark. There was rather little lighting in the place, to which one could speculate this was intention on Eric’s part: he wanted people to dread him, and regard a man such as himself with caution. Of course, the main fixture of the room was the throne - raised on a platform, accompanied with a small staircase to ascend up to it. Then there was the main himself, Eric Lecanuet.

For a man who was probably in his sixties, Eric was surprisingly youthful in appearance. Many a joke was made that this was due to him possessing the Ultima Balls - a fictional item, used to explain any act committed by Lecanuet which could be considered “epic”. Of course, he was expecting the three of them.

“Welcome, Mlawians.” His voice was incredibly imposing, a deep tone to it. It was clearly the voice of a powerful man.

It'd only lightly slighted Anastazija, as she was Skoyrnisči.

"I suppose it is long overdue that we discuss the sickness in Medeuropa," Hana began, standing before the Emperor's throne. There were a few rumors that existed regarding Bianka and Lecanuet, and given Papratović was effectively the successor to the role of 'Interim Emergency Secretary', it made things only the slightest bit more awkward in Anastazija's eyes — even if talk of the old 'rumor' was strongly condemned by the Party.

“There are many sicknesses in Medeuropa. Which do you speak of?” Eric replied, in a fairly confident tone.

"The one in Oeslau." replied Hana, giving rather obvious implication to just what the matter of discussion was about.

“Oh. The Teutons, then. It’s unfortunate - they’ve been misguided for so long.” The Emperor replied. “I suppose the fate they currently face was an... expected one.”

"The ashen wastelands of southern Teutonia lie open to attack... I come on the premise that both our nations may strive towards the greater good together, one more time." The Pretor said, hearkening back to the days of old.

“The greater good... back to the Transatlantic War. Those were good days, indeed. The spirit of change was in the air... sorry, I’m nothing if not a little nostalgic. I suppose you mean that the desire of Zachódumłowianka is for itself and my country to both participate in this war ongoing in Teutonia?”

"We must uphold our moral obligations as the great powers of Medeuropa. An old enemy, yes... but worse yet is allowing Teutonia to fall to the interests of the Sinicans," Hana continued, perhaps playing on Lecanuet's Sinophobia. "What regime would pardon Tangaliroan soldiers and race-traitors, if not one nostalgic to the Tangaliroan abomination? And now they seek to dominate Teutonia..."

This had given the Gallian what seemed to be a reinvigorated interest in the conversation. “I have never considered the idea of letting the foot of a single roach enter any nation bordering Gallia. That has always been my policy, and the Gallian people, as it were, support me on the Teutonic matter. It is merely coincidental, and beneficial then, that your nation seeks our support on this matter. I plan to act soon enough, regardless of what any Ophiric would think of it.”

"The Euphemians intend to withdraw from your nation by New Year's," Hana nodded, recalling earlier news headlines.

“The Euphemians are fools.” Eric arrogantly declared. “They’ve not had a single bone of smart in them since Neworder tore the Tangaliroan dream to shreds... with assistance from myself, and many others, of course. I do not plan to let them influence me on military matters like they may have in 419, or earlier.”

"Could you, perhaps.. elaborate on what you mean by acting upon Teutonia?" questioned the Pretor.

“Military intervention has been discussed on and off in the Gallian political circle for years,” Eric replied. “But, they’re too resilient for any one nation to single-handedly defeat. The Velikossiyans are going to struggle to accomplish anything if they keep working with the insectoids - noble as their efforts are. With the assistance of your nation, in addition to the effort ongoing up north, I think the combined efforts of three nations will be able to defeat them.” Eric was, rather obviously, leaving the PRS out of his list of nations.

"Some would liken it to a race against time — there is always the fear of the Sinicans gaining foothold in Medeuropa." She noted.

“It is a very real fear, yes.” Eric replied. “Would you be able to say when your country’s military is ready to enter Teutonia?”

"If I were to speak the truth, our country is already in Teutonia." replied the Pretor. "We have been conducting clandestine operations extensively to undermine the foothold of the regime in places like the Tukkhum lands."

He nodded in understanding. “I see. But what of your conventional military units? Will it be a day? Two?”

"As it stands, an armored and two airborne divisions are relocating to the east in anticipation of a fight with the Hesslerists." she stated, noting the Commonwealth's recent military movements.

“At this very moment, I could order a mechanized division stationed along the border to move in, and they would do so. A day after that, a motorized division. Three days in, another infantry division. If any more forces are needed, they could be appropriated from the rest of Gallia as needed.” Eric said.

"However, our special forces are already present in Teutonia, working to destabilize the Hesslerist regime.." She returned to the earlier subject matter. "We've seen a fair amount of success in doing so. There are a few clandestine cells in the country that feed the Commonwealth information regarding the Hesslerist threat, and we use it to weaken the regime's grip on power in territories they struggle to maintain. The Commonwealth's focus in warfare is not entirely rooted in ground troops and open invasions, but also in the clandestine and asymmetrical. Know well that the mettle of our special forces are to be regarded with the same respect as any conventional force." The lack of subtlety in Hana's praise was enough to make Anastazija grow slightly red with embarrassment, looking away.

“You know, I’ve heard often that for special occasions, your country’s special forces often act in a bodyguard role…” Eric’s attention had clearly turned towards Anastazija and Zdravko. “Would this happen to be true?”

"I can't confirm or deny that." Hana seemed intent on maintaining the rather secretive nature of some government branches.

“Some questions are doomed to be left unanswered.” Eric nonchalantly replied. “Though... I am sure of the prowess of your country’s non-conventional actors. There exists one particular headache in southern Teutonia, though, which I see fit to ask your country’s assistance for. Namely, Zeltkirch.”

"Surely we can do something about it. The city of slaves... the Vajrayan colony. What of it?" Hana questioned, giving a brief glance to the two before returning her attention to Eric.

“It’s Vajrayoid rulers and their shadow paramilitaries would cause significant headaches for my military. It exists only on the basis that its tiny colony of princes rules over the Teutons as slaveowners. If that tiny colony were to be ‘disabled’ - their forces would evaporate overnight. I speak, of course, of assassination.”

Looking back to the two, the Pretor returned her attention to Eric again. "Go on.." Of course, the Gallian Emperor had himself been in a position like this decades ago — he knew fairly well how intelligence assets were to be operated.

“Their fantasy-land of a city is ruled by Dasra the Third. He has, of course, a wife - Shanti - and currently an heir to the throne, Princess Anya. His brother, Sooraj, controls the treasury and the mercenaries. All four of them need to be killed off.” Eric was being rather blunt, it seemed, but they were in a private enough setting for this sort of casualness.

"I believe you are well aware of how difficult it'd be sending a team in. I assume you pose another idea..." The Pretor trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not suggesting you send in a team and shoot up the place,” Eric continued. “Thirty-two years I did that with a few former comrades from the USS. We killed the man, but one of my co-workers died in the process. We had to throw him in an unmarked grave. Your people will need to be more discreet about it. I understand that Zeltkirch, rather obviously, is a hedonistic den. I’m sure they will soon hold some sort of party, or events, which would provide an opportunity for lots of people to come to their Palace.”

"You ask of us an infiltration?" Hana questioned. "I believe I know two people capable of such a task..." It was rather obvious who she was referring to, though such subtlety was practically mandatory.

“An infiltration would suffice, yes. If Zeltkirch can be liberated without a military struggle, that would be most optimal.”

"Then I believe we can reach a deal on such a matter." She said, getting to the point. "If you wish to share a word with them..." The Pretor backed away, giving rather fair indication that Anastazija and Zdravko were the 'two people' in question. "You're more than free to."

Eric nodded, seemingly as if in approval as the Pretor brought herself away. “I must say that I am much more… ‘in tune’ with how a member of a country’s special forces works than most people. And with that, comes a certain degree of mutual respect. There is a new generation beginning to enter the lowest echelons of power, one that has not lived under the iron boot of Shen, suffered the megalomaniacal dictatorship of Clayton... I wouldn’t know precisely if either of you would be a part of that generation, but I can make a good guess. There comes along, every now and then, a figure or two that just reminds myself of some other equivalent from my time. I’ve gotten good at deducing who bears a resemblance with whom... and I can tell, no words needed, that there is - if you will - a bit of myself in the both of you. We both walk similar paths…”

The words had certainly taken Anastazija aback. How were they, in any way, similar to the megalomaniacal reactionary dictator, imperialist oppressor of Kir... Eric Lecanuet? She mildly hesitated, keeping her composure. "I'm not sure what you see in us, Lecanuet." Even so, his presence was an intimidating one, and she couldn't help but subtly quiver with the slightest hint of fear.

“I am where I am now, and not some skeleton in the graveyard of a Tangaliroan black-site because I learned a thing or two as a member of the USS. It’s a powerful background to have... a bit of intelligence, combined with the opportunities I was afforded have completely changed Medeuropa’s fate. I think people like yourselves are similarly capable of that. Though, I don’t expect that you’ll betray your country like I did.”

"I do not believe fighting the Sacred Union State constitutes 'betrayal' ... doing the right thing, rather." Anastazija noted, giving hint to her own opinion of the defunct regime. Even if she'd been born after the end of Tangaliro, living in its shadow had certainly left her with a hatred for the centuries of Sinican subjugation that'd been.

“Destroying Tangaliro was the right thing to do, of course, but by definition I did betray Tangaliro. Not that that was a bad thing, obviously.” Eric replied, gazing upwards. “I believe some people are destined to be… more accomplished than others. Ouriel’s plan. I think both of you are perhaps destined... am I right? Maybe I’m not. Or maybe I am. I think I’ll probably live long enough to see.”

"To believe such a thing would be immodest of us, I'm afraid..." She awkwardly responded, rather embarrassed by the litany of compliments he'd given them.

“I wouldn’t think so. I say what’s on my mind… I earned the right to do that thirty years ago.” Eric proclaimed. “I shouldn’t waste the Pretor’s time forever. Being Emperor of the Gallian People is a demanding job. That, and this was nothing but an afterword. I suppose the three of you can depart, then.”

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance.." It really wasn't for Anastazija, though. As she turned around, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable about the notion of following in such a reactionary imperialist's footsteps. Were they, really? Or was he merely manipulating them with honeyed words?

Once they'd left the palace grounds, she finally spoke up again. "Do you think us to be 'following in his footsteps', Comrade?" She quietly asked Zdravko, mildly unsettled by the whole affair.

“I think he’s making wild speculations.” Zdravko replied. It seemed he was pretty strongly in the camp of not believing the Gallian hero’s words.

"Of course, of course... we have nothing in common with him." She seemed to be reassuring herself more than anyone else, though..

“What does he know of us?” the Porucznik questioned. “Nothing. I’d shudder to think of what following in his footsteps would entail, though...” Zdravko continued.

"Right, he knows nothing of who we are... I'm just getting too worked up over this." Still, she couldn't help but wonder if he did perchance know more than he let on. Entering the limousine as their journey back to the airport began, there was a slight unease to the two agents as the imperial palace became distant...

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Postby Turmenista » Wed Jul 24, 2019 5:03 pm


"Fire is Coming"

The Silver Night

They always said that Yevosh is a haunted city. Some believe it to be home to the souls of fallen Black Sphinx. Now, however, it shall serve a new purpose: Today marks a very special occasion—unbeknownst to everyone, the Black Sphinx will emerge once more to make their move and bring about the dawn of a new age in Akhmanar.


DATE: 0100 hrs. - October 1, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: Horus ankh-kheper of Yevosh | LOCATION: Temple of the Sun, Yevosh, Sebhet Delta Region | Akhmanar Empire

In a single bound, Horus was off the roof. He was airborne for only a few seconds before coming down silently on the roof in front of him, rolling for a moment to break his fall, but went right back onto his feet in a sprint. The darkness of the night provided the perfect cover for their advance, if the special full-body suits they wore didn't assist them at all. The aptly-named "stealth suits"—as they were called in the B.S., were made with electronic weaving technology and optical fibers that few other military wear possessed, and clung tight to the wearer's body while also implementing sound-dampening technology, especially in the boots. This meant movements were frictionless, fluid, and silent, without sacrificing protection, as the suits could also, in a last-ditch effort, serve as body armor, albeit not impenetrable body armor. They also masked one's thermal signature quite well, and there were rumors that some variants of the suit had even been fitted with heavy ceramic plates and other futuristic systems, but these were well out of his interest and clearance. For now, what he had on was what he had to work with, and he had no interests in swapping out for an upgrade anytime soon.

The streets below him, Horus bounded across another roof, the monolithic Temple of the Sun eclipsing all of the others under the massive shadow of its east side. Horus used the side of one of the other buildings as a springboard to bound onto another, adjacent building, sliding down it for a moment as the assassin to his right did the same...well...sort of. She landed with a powerful crash beside him but seemingly sustained no damage despite the great fall, the area beneath her partially cracked as she lifted herself up from the ground, totally unfazed. "Well, they said it was true—you are fast."

"Torch City is much more dense than Yevosh," Horus explained, getting down low and moving to the side of the building, where he pulled out a pair of rangefinders. "Gives you more time to learn your way around, you see."

"Kid, I've been in this city longer than you've been alive." After her snarky remark, the female assassin similarly crouched down to roughly the same height as Horus. Although her figure was generally much slimmer than his own, she still had the height, strength, and beauty advantage—overall, she was much taller and had a generally more fit yet attractive build, which he likened to that of a supermodel..that also was a professional athlete. While he didn't mean to stare at her for long, this did cause a sense of competition to develop between them, more so on his end than her end...

"Ironic." Horus smirked, then lowered his voice. "If only you knew."


"Nothing." He looked over the temple with the binoculars, the world flushed a black and white color as he scoped out the east side of the temple. The west, north, and south sides were similarly being infiltrated as they scouted out the area, but the temple itself was, as typical with most Pharaist temples, relatively guarded, with an ample security presence on guard at all times. However, they weren't here to simply sightsee, or conduct a terrorist attack—no, that went against their modus operandi. Their target was inside of the gargantuan structure...only, they had to find a way inside.

COMMLINK v. 2.3.1α

[- [ANCILLA][ZEPHYR] -] - "A word: I have been asked to assist. Lights out in two minutes."

MAAT Conglomerate ©423 All Rights Reserved

"I take it that handles actually getting in the place." Horus shrugged to his partner, who unholstered her own Mk. 3 "Stinger" Tranquilizer Pistol, motioning for her partner to do the same. "You won't be needing that KT-91, I'm afraid. We're not here to slaughter everyone—some of these people here, after all, are innocent. The ones in the meeting room? Not so much."

"I've got it. The outside are going down quietly anyways, that's why we have those stingers." Horus nodded, checking his watch. As if right on cue, the portion of Yevosh that they were in abruptly went dark as Horus pulled his balaclava over his head, reaching for his thermal optics as well. His world was flushed green as he and his colleague silently descended to street level, using the darkness as cover as they bounded over to the eastern gate of the temple. From there, it was only a matter of how well they could shoot and how well their Sefkh-kar[1] was. While his partner cleared out the guard houses, Horus scaled the fence with ease and drew his Stinger, aiming towards another guard opposite of the guardhouse. One shot to the head quickly took him down, leaving their path through the temple's eastern garden and up the steps relatively clear. When one of the AAF soldiers standing guard noticed them, he raised his weapon, but it was quickly wrung from him by Horus's partner, who manhandled him with the ease of a professional, quickly placing him into a sleeper hold despite his frantic scrambling and choking. A few seconds later, he went limp, allowing them to hide his body to the side as they entered.

She and Horus stuck to the shadows to avoid detection, but, with careful movements, they stealthily made their way inside, practically in the open during a few points as they bounded across mindbogglingly large pillars and statues of the various gods and goddesses of the Pharaistic pantheon. Adjacent to a large altar dedicated to the sun god, Atum, their way into the inner sanctums of the temple was lit up by the full moon, which let a ray of silver light fall through hole in the large dome-shaped structure above the altar. Unknown to the monks and guards that walked idly around the lower floor, Horus and his partner entered through the door, checking their corners as they ascended the titanic temple.

As they turned on one of the labyrinthine, hieroglyph-covered hallways, Horus fired a single shot of the tranquilizer pistol downrange, quietly downing an already drowsy monk that approached them. Before he fell to the ground and dropped what he was holding, he sprinted over and caught him, resting him against the wall. "Next time, I don't think it's going to be a monk."

"You're right." Horus's partner motioned for them to keep moving deeper into the temple. After passing through an incalculable number of stairs and maze-like hallways, it seemed as if they had finally made it...the administrative sector of the temple, a large conference room in the center of the upper floor. Of course, this section of the temple was much more modern than the rest, moreso occupied by religious bureaucrats than monks..but, in their folly, some of these bureaucrats and former FOURA heads had all convened here at the behest of Tabuu ankh-ka of Sebek. Horus and his partner stacked up by the door, both holstering their tranquilizer pistols and drawing some larger weapons. Both of them carried KT-91s, the bullpup rifles fitted with close quarters red dot sights and sound suppressors. Checking his watch to see if their timing was right—and then confirming it—Horus raised three fingers up, then began counting down with each finger.

Once he reached "zero," his partner raised her leg and simply kicked the door down with unrealistic strength, moving in alongside the other three teams moved in as well Tabuu ankh-ka sat calmly at the head of the table, in view of all of them, but the same could not be said for the bureaucrats and generals in the room, most of whom looked at the assassins in sheer horror as they raised their weapons, and fired in unison.

After about ten seconds of carnage, the bodies of the former FOURA bureaucrats, generals, and oligarchs lay in random positions on the floor, riddled with multiple rounds from the Black Sphinx. Upon seeing this, Tabuu sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood up from his table, gingerly stepping over one of the bodies. "About time. Did you know how difficult it was to listen to them ramble on about Lyzentos and Zaratia? Lyzentos this, Zaratia that, it's all the same. Relics from Tangaliro that apparently don't know how to negotiate. I tell you, I'll give them a month, and if there are no changes...even I won't be able to stop myself."

"We're missing one." Horus's partner, her face still concealed by the Balaclavas that the other Black Sphinx assassins had begun to take off, pointed to an empty seat on the table.

"Ah... Commandant Karim Get-thoth of Akrum. Last I heard, he was going back to Euthymius to deal with some pesky partisan he was tracking...or, maybe, he intends to to hold himself up inside the city. He won't last long anyways." Gesturing for the Black Sphinx to follow him, Tabuu led them down another less ancient and more modern hallway, turning to the left to enter a relatively room with a view of the city, but did not sacrifice historical value for the sake of modernity. In other words, it was a homogeneous blend between the ancient architecture of the temple and the more futurist aspects of it, such as the offices. In the center of the room, however, was a large bed, a frail vegetable of a man laying on it.

Without a doubt, it was the so-called "pharaoh", Akhen-re Nemesek, the former head of the FOURA. He had to have been more than 100 years old, his skin pale and rubbery to touch, his limbs shriveled up things in comparison to what they once were, the only thing keeping him alive being a mangled mess of wires and sophisticated life support equipment. Despite being dressed in regal regalia and seeming much like an Akhmanari pharaoh, he didn't seem to be that bit Akhmanari visually...but, rather...Sinican. Every man and woman in the room knew him well by his real name: General Chang Wen, the Tangaliroan top general that served as the unopposed head of the FOURA, and as Triarch alongside the since-deceased the Lord-Vizier of Federal Ordained Military Council of Akhmanar, and the Grand Vizier of the Tenth Sun occult, some bastardized excuse of a puppet government Tangaliro had imposed in Akhmanar during their clash during the Transatlantic war.

"In his own words, when he exiled our religious leaders and bastardized our nation, he said he'd adopted an identity that would 'resonate with not just the Akhmanari race, but the Akhmanari nation.' Or so we thought." Tabuu scoffed, reaching to one of the desks adjacent to the bed and pulling on some gloves, which he used to turn off a few of the sophisticated pieces of equipment that had put Akhen-re in the medically-induced coma. As the old, wrinkly man in the bed began to stir, he continued speaking. "I know you could hear us, so I'll continue, General Chang Wen. We all know you're just an extension of the tumor that once was Tangaliro, that hegemonic mess of a state that wanted to erase us as a people. For a time, Akhmanar was regarded as an icon of civilization in Mederum and the Atlantic, a bastion against the aggressive actors of Tangaliro and Sanjar. Once, our two nations marched in lockste under the NCA—a mistake we shall never make again—and, once, we were regarded as not just a friend, but an ally, to Euphemie. If only for the briefest moment.."

Akhen-re's eyes fluttered open as the Black Sphinx loomed around him, two of them gingerly helping him out of the bed and into a nearby chair. "Wh-"

"Then, you took it all away." Tabuu continued."You had to take it all away, didn't you, General Chang? While we could've rebuilt Lyzentos, you squandered over the recovery efforts and sponsored the creation of a vile insurgency. While the situation in Zaratia deteriorated, you and your officers indulged in hedonism. While the more religious of our society went into diaspora around the served as the figurehead of a false religion, a false god..yourself. All of this changes today, the dawn of a new Akhmanar, a better Akhmanar, and a divined Akhmanar."

Akhen-re's grayed eyes passed over the assassins...then landed on Horus. The heart rate monitor, previously beeping at regular intervals, suddenly went wild as he raised a weak finger to him. "You.. I saw you.. during the eclipse..."

"And you saw the truth." Horus elaborated no more, garnering a few looks from the other assassins. "You saw the truth of what your "Tenth Sun Occult" was: absolutely nothing. You saw the the truth of what Pharaism is, who I am.."

"And now, you shall see the truth of what Akhmanar will become." A voice behind Horus caused the crowd to part his partner. The woman reached to the balaclava she wore and pulled it down, revealing a stunningly youthful face and flowing silvery-white hair that came down to her shoulders, as well as attentive gray eyes. The mere presence of this woman was enough to cause Akhen-re to start to shake in his seat—despite his age, it seemed he still had some spunk in him. "You should be do not age.."

"Grandmaster Ramun...if you will do the honors." Tabuu gestured with his hand, partly dipping his head. She nodded in acknowledgement, moving to the back of the chair, much to his dismay. "No... no.. NO! My resolve is clear, and I am the truth! I... am... Triarch Tomb-Regent Akhen-re I, the Visionary of the Tenth Sun! The savior of Akhmanar, liberator of Lyzentos...!"

Ramun placed her left hand over his mouth, flicking her right wrist to reveal the hidden blade. "Therefore, you must be silenced. It's time for you to take your special place in hell."

She plunged the blade into his back, her hand muffling his last screams of agony and pain as the life seemingly was drained out of him. Before he went limp, she leaned into his ear, muttering something that, amid all the squealing and groaning, everyone could hear loud and clear:

"Thus always to tyrants."


1- Sefkh-kar - Sefkh-kar, translated literally to "constant-combat," is a close-quarter military martial art and self-defense fighting system developed by the Akhmanar Armed Forces' Special Operations Division in 340 for its operators, before later being introduced as a staple of the the training doctrine of the AAF as a whole in the late 350s. It then became mandatory for all AAF personnel to learn Sefkh-kar alongside their regular training until it became second nature to them. It is derived from a combination of martial arts and CQC techniques sourced from kickboxing, wrestling, Jianghu (or the Shannan Death-point striking technique), and Utsanji martial arts. Sefkh-kar is known for its focus on real-world situations and extreme efficiency. It is even rumored to trace some of its origins to the assassins of the Black Sphinx, who combined such a simplistic and practical fighting style with their hidden weapons and balance of mind and body to increase their lethality. At its core, Sefkh-kar is meant to be quick, deadly, and useful for both offense and defense, while also being easily and rapidly teachable to new recruits due to its similarity to general street fighting, wrestling, and boxing, which many Akhmanari soldiers already are knowledgeable or already have experience in. It has a focus on aggression and simultaneous offensive and defensive maneuvers, such as disarmings, quick takedowns, counters, and powerful blows.

Unlike the use of 气 and targeting pressure points as seen in the mythical Jianghu, the advanced form of Sefkh-kar (the Azazakhin method), almost directly adapted from the Black Sphinx's mythical fighting style, instead focuses on the development of one's "inner instinct" through meditation and training, to achieve a total balance of mind and body, at which point, "the full potential of mind and spirit" can be used. MILINT Acquisitions, the Providence Office, and some Pharaist monks associated with the sun god Atum are the only known organizations that have adopted Sefkh-kar's advanced methods for military or spiritual purposes. This method is physically intensive and is not for everyone, but those who are able to pass its trials will be able to unlock their “inner instinct” to achieve a total balance in their minds and bodies or even anticipate some moves.
Last edited by Turmenista on Sat Jul 27, 2019 3:39 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Wed Jul 24, 2019 6:43 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Following in Eric's Footsteps - Overthrow Vajrayan Prince"

Operation Ziemomysł 423

Thirty years ago, Zeltkirch was one of the more proud cities in Teutonia. Following the bleak misery that ensued following UV Day, Vajrayan princes seeking profit and power ravaged the former Teutonia in search of plunder and new titles. While most Princely expeditions were violently crushed by the Hesslerists, one has not: Zeltkirch. Due to its strategic position along the Verson River, it has carried a form of leverage. Zeltkirch was conquered in 393 by ousted Vajrayan prince Dasra XI Kumbalpur, who promptly refashioned himself Dasra I von Kumbalpur after conquering the city and enslaving its population as a 'lower caste' beneath his private military castes.

The Teutonic people will not know freedom if we do not eliminate this Prince. Once he is out of power, surely the subjugated Teutonic people there will revolt and decide their future.

Your mission here is simple on paper — Infiltrate Zeltkirch Palace and eliminate Prince Dasra III and his family.

Perhaps one of the more fearsome men to come from the 'dark subcontinent' that is Vajraya is Dasra III of Kumbalpur, grandson of Dasra I von Kumbalpur. A ruthless leader, he has capitalized on suppressing the Teutonic people and empowering his loyal Vajrayan castes.

The ideal MBW agent knows well how to conceal himself — or herself — among the venemous bourgeoisie. You are no different, of course, but it means you will find yourself without tactical teams at your disposal, save for exfil. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 1700 hrs. - November 13, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: kpt. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Zeltkirch

"This dress is so tastelessly bourgeois..." Anastazija had more than a few complaints about her silken black dress as they stepped off a limousine and approached the entrance to Zeltkirch Palace. Matched by few in opulence and excess, the palace was a testament to the Kumbalpur Dynasty's ego. They were among other partygoing elites, chatter of arrogant elites from practically every corner of Mederum chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

“I think we’re just going to need to get used to this.” Zdravko commented.

Zeltkirch palace. A testament to excess and the ego of man.

Zeltkirch Palace was impressively grand, and as they approached the entrance, the both of them could see the rather long rows of grand windows, modeled in a strange fusion of Gallian royal architecture, Teutonic architecture and Vajrayan aesthetics. It certainly wasn't pleasing to be around for Anastazija though, given how it'd undoubtedly been built on the slave labor and suffering of countless innocents.

"I'm getting out of this as soon as I can." She noted, rather displeased with their similarly opulent, bourgeois clothing. There was a bit of a line into the palace, but soon their turn to enter would come.

"Ihre Papiere, bitte," The man uttered in Teutonic. Obviously, Anastazija could neither speak nor understand the foreign language, which left this process to her partner.

Genau hier,” Zdravko replied, pulling out the relevant documents.

"Warte, es gibt ein Problem..." The Vajrayan guard carefully studied the documents, handheld scanner in one hand as he carefully evaluated their IDs.

A handheld document scanner. Common at many a private event in Tsion.

There was chatter among the guard in question and another guard now, Anastazija giving her second-in-command a rather concerned look. "What're they saying?" She quietly asked, arms crossed in anticipation.

“This guard’s a dumbass and thinks our papers aren’t right. The other guard says they are. Neither of them are agreeing.” Zdravko quietly whispered.

The guard abruptly returned both their papers, nodding. "Willkommen im palast, Amilessi II von Etoile-Marin und herzog Pierre von Etoile-Marin." This seemed to give fair implication to their false identities, Anastazija stifling a chuckle as they entered the foyer of the palace, crowded with well-dressed elites talking among themselves over expensive wineglasses.

"I didn't think I looked like Marinian royalty.." Anastazija quietly joked, having partly understood what the guard had said. "Lead the way, my Duke..." She added, evidently having a good sense of humor despite the rather disgusting bourgeois surroundings.

“Ladies first, Princess.” Zdravko replied.

Lightly blushing, she continued through the foyer — an adjacent room had a table lined with unfathomably expensive wines and alcoholic drinks. It was available for any and all attendees to pick from, though Anastazija herself wasn't exactly the most fanatical about drinking, though her upbringing had certainly given her a degree of elegance in a few regards. "Your pick," She suggested, gesturing to the glasses lined upon the table.

“Uh…” Zdravko mulled. It probably wouldn’t matter which drink they took. “I’ll go for…” He began, reaching out for a glass of some red wine.

"I suppose I'll have the same." Anastazija reached for a glass, beginning out of the room to make her way to the grand ballroom of the palace with her subordinate in tow.

It was an impressive sight, to say the least, certainly bearing a great amount of baroque influences in the design of the grand chamber. Classical music resonated through the grand chamber, more Vajrayan elites chatting amongst themselves as they carefully weaved through the crowd. "You know where to go," She said, alluding to the plan they'd been briefed on.

Next they proceeded to the Palace’s art gallery, a room relatively small in comparison to the main ballroom, though it was adequate enough for holding paintings and various small statues - including a centerpiece of Darsa I himself.

Standing by the gallery were two security guards, chatting idly as they stood by the gallery. These were speaking in Gadcharkh, which made it incomprehensible to discern what they were saying.

"Guess we'll have to wait," Anastazija whispered, pretending to admire the art on display as they waited for the two gentlemen to pass. Guards aside, the gallery was clear of any attendees.

Quickly though, something had seemingly garnered their attention as one of them reached for their radio, walking off presumably to respond to something. A sigh of relief escaped her as she watched them disappear from sight, slowly beginning towards a certain door in the gallery. It was labeled in both Teuton and Vajrayan, presumably warning that it was off-limits.

Zdravko placed his ear up to the door, evidently trying to see if anyone was on its other side before they would attempt entry. As it where, there were indeed more guards talking in Teuton, loudly enough that even Anastazija could hear when the room was quiet enough.

The chatter slowly grew faint, the distant sound of a door closing as silence befell the corridor — they'd seemingly gone elsewhere on the other side. "Your call." Anastazija suggested, waiting by the door.

“Let’s go for it.” Zdravko quietly responded, moving to open up the door.

The corridor was, unsurprisingly, empty. White marble flooring led further down... to where they would find the cache that'd been set in anticipation of their arrival. Opening the second door to the left, Anastazija led her partner towards a room that seemed to be rather unassuming... until she opened an otherwise uninteresting closet door. Inside were suitcases and stacked vials, and as Anastazija closed the closet door behind them, it became apparent just what this cache was...

"Guns and poisons.. I suppose so we can get a little creative, if we wish." Anastazija said, approaching the various vials that had been organized in the tight space.

“I don’t fancy our chances of surviving a gunfight…” Zdravko muttered. “Let’s see what this poison can do. But… just in case.” He reached towards a loaded pistol in one of the suitcases.

Setting her empty wineglass down and studying the vial, Anastazija was moderately taken aback. "..this seems to be a derivative of NERVEN. Few drops of this should be enough to kill twenty men. I suppose it's a good thing we're wearing these stupid gloves..."

“Good thing indeed…” Her partner replied. He placed his ear back up to the closet door, instinctively checking to see if the guards were returning to the corridors.

Carefully she concealed the vial in a hidden pocket within her dress, taking one of the weapon briefcases and waiting besides Zdravko. "All clear?" She asked, looking up to her partner in the dimly-lit confines of the closet.

“Don’t hear anything.” he replied, opening the closet door.

"The party's waiting for us." Anastazija quipped, leading the way out through the corridor and back into another one of the palace's ballrooms. Carefully making their way to the next room, they were greeted by the sight of the man himself — Dasra III.

Obnoxiously laughing, wineglass at his side as he sat by a table, he seemed to be in the midst of talking to a few fellow Vajrayan princes. There was a chance to poison his wineglass — but there was always the chance he'd see it... or perhaps even poison the wrong person.

"You've only got one chance at this," Anastazija reminded Zdravko, handing him the vial.

“Right…” He muttered. The prospect of actually going up to a man as powerful as Darsa, almost right next to him to poison a glass of wine was nerve wracking. He walked forward, shakily unscrewing the vial’s seal in his pocket. At the very least, everyone in the room was currently facing away from the glass. Darsa and all of his entourage seemed to be more interested in heading off to a different section of the room, leaving his glass and the table unoccupied.

Put in in! he thought to himself, hastily grabbing the vial out of his pocket and squirting a fair few drops of whatever the poison was. As quickly as he approached, Zdravko turned straight back to Anastazija, trying his damnedest to avoid spilling any of the poison on himself.

Keeping her cool, she silently nodded, making her way to the next room with her fellow agent in tow. Stopping, she looked on to watch the Vajrayan prince in question, noting to herself as he raised the drink to his lips and took another sip. "He's a dead man. It'll be taking effect within minutes.. good job."

The concern now shifted to the rest of the royal family. Waiting by the door, she waited for the inevitable shitstorm to arise as loud coughing was heard from the adjacent room, confused murmurs quickly devolving into panicked screams.

Quickly guards hurried out of the royal section of the palace, presumably to tend to their dying prince... and so everything fell into place.

"Now!" Anastazija instructed, hurrying in amidst the chaos, allowing them access to the rest of the royal family. Their mission here was simple: kill them all.

The throne room would be the first stop, evidently emptied of security due to the distraction the dying prince had created. Without hesitation, Anastazija set the briefcase down, slinging her KbK over her shoulder before kicking the ornate door in, being greeted by... Shanti von Kumbalpur, wife of Dasra III. Her screams were cut short as the MBW agent didn't hesitate to put a bullet through the middle-aged woman's skull, her lifeless body tumbling back and falling lifelessly at the steps of the empty throne. It was symbolic for more than a few reasons. Their work here was far from done, though — two more to go.

The next room was the 'Hall of Mirrors' — rather aptly named, given the mirrors that almost gave the room a maze-like semblance. The room reeked of aphrodisiac incense, rather immoral sounds giving fair implication to what exactly happened within. There stood Sooraj, not noticing the two MBW agents — he seemed too busy, given there were twenty Teuton prostitutes in the room with him, seventeen of them groveling at the steps of the grand bed inside the room.

The hedonism was enough to bring Anastazija to disgust, looking away from the disgusting sight. She didn't want to rest her mind on any of the unspeakable acts taking place before them.

Zdravko wasn’t willing to let this get in the way of the mission however, quickly raising his pistol and putting a few holes into Sooraj. He proceeded to grab Anastazija, bolting out of the room as the screams of the Teutons filled the air.

Quickly the next priority became the last member of the 'royal family' of Zeltkirch, Anya von Kumbalpur. Kicking down the door to the teenager's room, it briefly took Anastazija aback just how much it looked like the average bedroom of any teen, posters of Euphemian musicians on the walls... she'd hesitated.

"Who are y—" Zdravko, however, seemed to have nerves of steel, putting an end to the princess’s life with his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, bringing his attention back to escaping from the Palace.

Anastazija briefly paused, looking on at the dead girl. It was shocking, even for a killer like her, but she quickly took her mind off it — there were more important things to tend to. "L—let's get out of here!" She ordered, quickly hurrying out for the next door — leading them on into the royal dining room.

A single guard had been unfortunate enough to be standing guard at the dining room, presumably confused from the confused screaming thus far — and without hesitation Anastazija had put a bullet through his skull, the suppressed KbK being discreet enough amidst the chaos.

The dining room led on into an intermediate space, which the briefing had informed them of a 'hidden corridor' leading to one of the main rooms, where exfil would apparently await them. Thankfully, the small room was clear of any guards. Pushing a shelf aside, she would be first to hurry into the secret corridor, KbK in hand.

The hidden corridor led where they'd expected — and kicking open the door to what was seemingly an assembly hall. Standing, armed, were four more security guards. The KbK in Anastazija's hand didn't exactly help her case.

"Ghatiya insaan—" The guard's words were cut short as the two MBW agents opened fire, shots quickly being exchanged between the two groups.

Two of the four guards present dropped fairly quickly, though the remaining pair were quick to raise their guns and return fire. Bullets flew towards Zdravko and Anastazija, just grazing the both of them.

"F—FUCK!" This'd been enough to send the both of them to cover, Anastazija noting the source of the injury. Clearly her partner was worse off, though — to which she peered from cover again to fend off the last two Vajrayans, protectively standing by Zdravko's side as the bullets whizzed past.

Adrenaline coursed through her as the enemies dropped to the floor, dead, the sound of rotors quickly drowning out the cries of the panicked attendees — a Hu-96 helicopter was bringing itself level to the the windows, 1. Załoga manning the guns on the side in anticipation of their escape.

Reaching for the nearest object, in this case an ornate wooden chair, Anastazija threw the chair to the window, glass shattering as they hurried over. Already the distant sound of approaching boots, presumably royal guards, was approaching, further adding to the intensity as the rope dangled just before them, outside of the palace. Leaping through the breach, Anastazija silently prayed to Ouriel she'd manage to pull it off somehow...

...And she did, just barely grabbing on to the rope as the helicopter began a slow ascent.

Zdravko quickly ran up to the window after Anastazija, also managing to grab hold to the rope, and hold on he did. The helicopter was well on its way out of Zeltkirch by now, making southwest to escape the hectic chaos that had by now already spread past the palace's confines...

"I can't believe we pulled it off..." Anastazija sighed in relief, making further up the rope to climb aboard the helicopter. Glancing down gave her reason enough to get rather embarrassed, however. " don't need to stare up my skirt, Porucznik..."

“I’m not!” He was quick to protest. Soon enough, they'd climbed aboard the helicopter, Zeltkirch growing distant on the horizon as they made their escape southwest into Gallia. It'd probably been one of the more interesting missions thus far, Anastazija figured... but she couldn't help but feel a little bit wrong. Did the daughter really deserve to die? She was quick to take her mind off these unpatriotic notions, though, turning to more lighthearted things.

"We'll need to get some Solstice shopping done soon..." She noted aloud. "Maybe you'll help me set up the tree?"
Last edited by Valefontaine on Thu Jul 25, 2019 12:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Western Pacific Territories
Posts: 13949
Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Wed Jul 24, 2019 8:48 pm


"Opasnyye Vremena"

Operation Utesheniye

As the Hesslerists mobilize the combined force of their entire population, trying to muster hundreds of thousands of civilian-soldiers against the nations swarming against them, the Velikossiyans seek to begin encircling some of the swarms of Hesslerists rushing to defend their border. To do so, they plan on weaponizing the Tukkhum mountain passes to move troops behind Hesslerist lines. The Velikossiyan 'Elitnesily' special forces will help perform this mission.

DATE: 0415 hrs. - October 27, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: Operator Ilarion Aleksandrovich Ilyukhin | LOCATION: Tukkhum, Teutonian Borderlands

The Elitnesily go to work in the black Mederune night.
"Comms station is down. You are clear to commence your operations."

"There we go..." One of Ilyukhin's comrades, a man identified only as 'Gromov' muttered. "Group six, going dark." Ilyukhin said, briefly raising the walkie-talkie up to his head. He was the leader of Group Six of the Velikossiyan Army's 'Elitnesily' special forces branch, and had been in the military since the mid-390s - almost right after Velikossi independence had begun. In that time, he had certainly seen and done some things, becoming known as the 'Whirlwind of Kulo' for single-handedly taking the town with only three special forces operators at his side. Today, he found himself working with some Zachod special forces in an effort to drive a small Teutonic garrison out of what had been dubbed 'Valley 018'. It either had no name, or they didn't know what the Tukkhum called it, but 18 was the name Ilyukhin was using. All he knew about the Zachods were that they'd just blown up the garrison's comms center and a radar outpost, and that he and his men would now be fit to set themselves upon the garrison. Aside from that, he knew nothing of the Zachods, and didn't desire to know more for security's sake.

"No Teuton man leaves this valley alive. The Tukkhum wouldn't have it any other way." Ilyukhin said, revealing what their ROE would be for this mission. The official orders were to leave the Hesslerists completely clueless about what had happened to the valley's garrison - they would possibly presume the garrison dead on account of Tukkhum guerrillas, and send a punishment expedition to get massacred by the Velikossiyan army. Better yet, they could perhaps just presume the garrison to have suffered an avalanche, and not immediately try to send a force to attack. "What's the extraction plan for those Za-Kos?" The squad's machine-gunner, 'Zlobin' asked. Everyone used assumed last names, their real identities only known to some bureaucrats at home. "They'll come back to Firebase Serov and take a helicopter home." Ilyukhin responded. His fake surname was 'Kuklachyov'. "There's an outpost just ahead. Three total, Za-Kos just took out the first two. They have a bunch of tents and some riverboats there. We're on the other side of the stream from them, but it's not deep from what we know. We're going to get up in the opposing treeline and just start picking them off. We're going to need to be real quick."

Overhead, the sound of jet engines was making itself more than loud. The Velikossiyan Air Force's 3rd Squadron was soaring overhead, MuK-15s coming in to blow up Teuton positions at the entrance of the valley. The sound of bombs and explosions pierced the ears of the squad as they jogged through the back-trails of the woods, a thin layer of snow leaving evidence of their presence behind. Matters would be made slightly easier for them, however, by Fate. The moon shone rather brightly, the skies being utterly clear. The outpost would, of course, also be illuminated - something that would make navigation easy.

A few minutes of jogging later, the men had happened upon the edge of the woods - and the banks of the stream. Just up ahead, Outpost 23-77. Outside, there were two guards, panickedly pointing around their guns. Ilyukhin motioned the squad to take cover among the trees, and to prepare to drop the pair. "Only two guys?" A rifleman in the squad, 'Sobolev' hushedly remarked. "3.. 2.. 1.. drop!" Ilyukhin ordered, his command being carried out with three suppressed rifle bursts. Both men dropped to the ground effortlessly, leaving the Outpost open. Wordlessly descending down to the banks, then hurrying across a very cold stream of water that left the waists of the men under great duress, they fanned out into the outpost. Suddenly, Ilyukhin's radio crackled.

"Hey, guys! There's an IFV coming back towards you, with infantry escort! I'm bringing bombs in danger close! Danger close!"

The radio callout had brought most of the squad to freeze in place, heads looking up as the sound of a particular jet approaching. With the help of the moonlight, Ilyukhin could just barely see the silhouette - it had gone into a steep dive and then suddenly pulled up out of it. A moment later, a massive explosion shook the ground which the squad stood on. "Holy fucking shit!" 'Zlobin' exclaimed. "That's short notice for you..." 'Gromov' remarked.

"Right, uh... that was an effective hit alright. IFV's toast, so are it's escorts. Perform your objectives as ordered."

"Objectives as ordered," Ilyukhin repeated. "There's some inflatable riverboats here. Just shoot a couple of holes into them, tip them over or something. We'll plant charges to dispose of the tents, and that'll be that." The squad went about to their respective duties. Dropping a thousand-pound bomb onto the Outpost would've easily done the trick, but that would have been a waste of money. Using some Tangaliro-era explosive charges was, really, the most preferable option. Minutes passed, the occasional explosion in the distance proving testament to the world of pain the Hesslerists were experiencing at that moment. The various squad members rallied together shortly afterwards, their deed having been done with the Outpost. As they went back the way they came, explosions shook the outpost as their explosives went off. The hike back to nearby Firebase Serov would be hard, but it would be rewarding...

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Western Pacific Territories
Posts: 13949
Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Thu Jul 25, 2019 1:23 am

Collaborative post with Valefontaine featuring The Enclave Government


"Intermission 6"

The 'Pearl of the Occident', the brightest of many — Datong, the only city on Tsion more crowded than Torch City. The Republic of Sinica remains wary of the Akhmanaris, to which negotiating with the RoS's own intelligence agencies has become a new priority for the Commonwealth. The Lyzentine peoples' pleas for liberation will be answered in due time.

DATE: 2130 hrs. - November 21, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Datong, Republic of Sinica

As smothering and an oppressive urban agglomeration existed no-where else on Tsion, in the annals of recorded pre-Calamity history or elsewhere on the globe today. Where Torch City raised a veneer of consumerist paradise to disguise the inherent rot of an economic hypertension, Datong relished and embraced the endless hustle and bustle of an economy held upon broken backs serving the monetary ends of those with hands lacking a day’s labor.

Datong, the Pearl of the Occident.

To walk through the streets of Datong - if they can be called streets, and not the arteries of a beating heart of capitalist endeavour - is to engage in a graduate study of the unparalleled capability of the human race for productivity. A taxi service doubling as a food-runner proudly offers in-cab advertisements to the clientele of both services, racing along a street paved by Lexicon Heavy Industries. Stewards of corporate profit line the city blocks, maintaining law and order to create an endless bazaar a nation across.

The corporations had come in the aftermath of the war, seeking to rebuild what the bombs destroyed and return what Clayton took away. They were welcomed, as the Ophirics were, as saviors. That relationship and dynamic was not long for the reality of post-Tangaliran affairs. The Federal Republic of North Ophir, shattered by a total commitment to the war against Clayton, could not interminably manage the affairs of state for the Republic of Sinica. Neither was conceding it to the People’s Republic, formed in the chaos following Utsanji retreat.

Thus, the Atlantic Accords were struck between the chartered corporations of the Corporate Council of the Republic of Sinica, the provisional Sinican Government, and the Federal Republic of North Ophir. In an effort to maintain sovereignty in the shattered state, the corporations were granted large rights of autonomy and pseudo-sovereignty within the Republic.

Relegated to the regulation of interactions between the corporations, the Republic of Sinica retained ultimate and exclusive responsibility for arbitration of legal disputes and of foreign policy and defense. The Republic, however, was governed through mechanisms of election contained within the corporations. Granted voted power proportional to the size of their employment, the Corporations largely determined the makeup of the government through acting as expressions of the popular will.

This system has lead to unparalleled economic growth for the Republic, racing to eclipse the two-trillion dollar mark of gross domestic product in 422 A.C. Vast concessions of material comfort have been made to the populace of the Republic, to somewhat sweeten the bitter pill of their economic condition. Education and welfare were well funded, and infrastructure provided for by Sinican subsidiaries of major multinational corporations. Through balancing productivity, bread, and circuses, the masters of the Republic of Sinica have coaxed many large manufacturing projects away from developed Ophiric economies. Many warships now flying the Ophiric flag were constructed in whole or in part by Sinicans.

To live and die in a concrete jungle is a Sinican's due.

It is through this political system that fifty-seven million people came to inhabit a mega-city of global proportions. The presence of all fifty seven million are felt throughout the nation, as there are no meaningful stretches of economically active territory without the widest of four-lane highways. Skyscrapers are the norm, and to see the stars at night would require an excursion into the Dark Zone. To live and die in a concrete jungle is a Sinican’s due.

“So this is Datong…” Zdravko remarked. He and his partner, Anastazija had arrived here by means of a high-speed rail line directly from Mieszko, finding themselves in the mega-city in a matter of mere hours.

"The decadent endgame of capitalism, of course." Anastazija was just a bit more cynical in the minor assignment they'd been given in visiting Datong, stepping off the high-speed train as she looked about the smoggy urban jungle that was Datong, capital of the Republic of Sinica — there was little distinction between the city and the country, given the country was entirely comprised of the city.

“I’d prefer Tukkhum to this, but… duty calls.” Zdravko replied.

"I'd prefer anywhere else. Hell if half these people don't die of lung cancer by the time they're forty.." The walk to the thoroughfare below was a quiet one between them, though the bustle of the hyperpopulated urban center was ever-pervasive. The meeting spot was by one of many artificial canals that ran through the dense megacity. The streets were far from clean, the two MBW agents walking past grafitti-ridden walls as Zdravko's superior did little to hide her disgust at their surroundings.

The corporations did the best they could, and a few of the larger retail conglomerates had banded together about a decade back to fund a national anti-graffiti program. Problem was, the more white-shirts and four-eyed bureaucrats with clipboards were dedicated to solve the problem, the bigger the discontent grew. And at the end of the day, there were more spray cans than clipboards. But beyond the aesthetic decay, a smell permeated the streets of Datong.

It was not quite the smell of human misery. That was relegated to the dark corners of unspoken-of districts inhabited by men existing in one sense and having long departed reality in other. The smell of the streets was an intermingling of the artificial solvents used to break down the bones in the throat of capitalism, to regurgitate the feathers of profit’s prey. In high enough concentration, ammonia can be as oppressive a smell as the innards they were meant to mask. Probably more sanitary though.

Sanitation was, funnily enough, not really a problem for the Sinicans. Animals had evolved through millennia to assume almost anything edible was safely edible. The concrete jungle did not follow the rules of the jungle, and as such, any rodent or critter unfortunate enough to poke about the centralized waste dumps stumbled home a confused daze simultaneously high, poisoned, and stimulated. No studies have been conducted, but it is believed that Datong is the least ecologically diverse region in the world unaffected by critical radiation levels.

The distant echo of advertisements proved background noise to their quiet walk through the polluted streets of Datong. The rains that fell over this place had become acidic long before Tangaliro had collapsed, and the unchecked capitalism that was prevalent in the Republic of Sinica had perhaps served only to further this. It was certainly a far cry from home — from the rest of Medeuropa for that matter. Where Anastazija had grown up around repetitive apartment blocks, socialist realist architecture and almost meticulously maintained, streamlined streets, they now walked among the battlegrounds of a war of corporate aesthetics.

The Union State had, as the MBW agents were accustomed to, promoted uniformity in design and practicality in function. The medley of corporate interlopers within the megacity had, to put it mildly, other ideas. Art deco and avant garde clashed to vie for the consumer’s choice of phone, while imposing neoclassical financial firms housed the cavernous gears of the machine of capital. Bombed-out pre-war buildings were rebuilt or destroyed as was profitable, ending with city blocks with an aesthetic not dissimilar to an architectural Frankenstein’s monster. Corporate Associations had attempted to, in recent years, beautify the blocks and introduce a national ‘Sinican’ aesthetic of architecture, but this effort was mostly limited to the most damaged areas still undergoing reconstruction. For Datong’s beating heart, asymmetry had a symmetry all it’s own.

Turning a corner they'd been greeted by the canal in question, colorful but rusted riverboats idly rocking in the trash-ridden mix of canal water and perhaps an unfathomable plethora of industrial chemicals and sewage. '地沟油' was a word that got thrown around plenty in regards to the ethic of Datong. Gutter oil, to westerners. It wasn't all too surprising that occasionally excess of the stuff ended up in the labyrinth of canals that sprawled across the Sinican megacity.

It was by one of these riverboats that they'd be meeting their Sinican contact — the subject was a broad one, but there was much to be 'dealt with' in the regard of common enemies. Even if the Republic of Sinica was a neo-reactionary, capitalist bastion of hedonism, it was the safeguard against the greater threat — the People's Republic of Sinica. Where the PRS was a geopolitical threat to the Commonwealth, the PRS was an existential danger to the very survival of the Republic.

This was reflected in many facets of the Republic’s society. All citizens were required, at age of majority, to enlist in either an active-duty commitment to the Armed Forces of four years, or a reserve commitment for twelve. Corporations did not escape the government’s eye on this matter, and were ‘requested’ to submit ‘charitable contributions’ to the nation’s armed forces. Through this system, the Republic of Sinica’s Armed Forces wanted for neither men nor money.

Socially, however, the constant threat of annihilation seemed to add an air of contentedness with the state of Sinican affairs. When there are hundreds of thousands of rabid dogs prepared to be set upon you at a moment’s notice, the cleanliness of public facilities becomes much less pertinent to one’s daily affairs. In the younger generation, brought up during and after the war, this bred a degree of nihilism. Snort cocaine, fuck around - we’re all gonna die anyway, who cares?

There were more nations in the common backlog of foreign affairs that existed between the two nations, of course — matters to be dealt with in the clandestine meeting to come. The oppressive megacity was an environment in of itself, serving to give just the right atmosphere to a meeting of this nature. Walking by the river, back-alley industrial fumes paired with glowing neon to give an almost surrealistic aura to the encounter.

“It smells like… shit.” Zdravko observed.

"I'd rather not think about what's in that water.." Anastazija, similarly, couldn't help but cringe at their decadent surroundings.

“I bet the people here drink it...” Zdravko continued, a bit of distaste in his voice.

Emerging from out underneath a shadow, the man known to the intrepid agents only as ‘Tudor’ made his presence known.

“We do not, my dear friend. However, as a man with connections with the now-senior citizens who built your public utilities, I choose to exercise a great deal amount of humility and restrain comment.”

His voice was remarkably cosmopolitan, betraying no accent. With a wide-brimmed hat and a deceptive mix of sheets of rain in tandem with notoriously poor night visibility, he could’ve been from anywhere.

"I suppose the riverboat would be more discreet," Anastazija posed a rather rhetorical question, noting the occasional lower-city fellah that walked these riverside walkways and ignoring the quip targeted at her partner. This discretionary precaution regarding the occasional bystanders would perhaps double as a decent means for a tour of the urban sprawl that was Datong's Financial District would be in order.

Datong canal ferries... among the more interesting means of navigating the concrete megalopolis of Datong.

Lighting a cigar that only lightly illuminated his face, Tudor gave but a single chuckle. “Perhaps. But only to soothe your conscience. The lovely denizens of Datong have learned long ago to keep their eyes low, ears shut, and to be mindful of their pockets. There are enough things to worry about without making trouble of people who do not wish to be seen nor heard.”

Boarding the vacant riverboat, Anastazija situated herself adjacent to Zdravko, the two MBW agents presumably due to experience a rather bizarre smorgasbord of neon, decrepit overcrowded apartment buildings and painfully invasive advertisements, electronic billboards glowing into the night. "I suppose you're aware enough of why we're here," She began, getting to the point. Euphemian was the common tongue in these corners of the Atlantic, of course, and most Zachodu could speak it fluently.

Offering a cigar wordlessly, Tudor nodded his assent. “Yes. Da. Ja. I repeat myself because I don’t intend to have another such meaningless phrase exchanged. I know what you know, and you know what I know. We’re here to talk about what we don’t know, and there’s a precious few things I don’t know, so I’ll start first. How far have your superiors authorized you to go in these… negotiations?”

"Within the confines of the State's interests." She replied. This was the first time they'd really been sent for a job like this — but one could imagine they'd gained enough favor from the Party for such a notion to be favorable in the first place.

“The state’s interests are a nebulous affair. If we are speaking of the interests of your state, we could very well be discussing the tariff rate on semiconductors or environmental policy. But we’re not. How committed is your government to ridding Mederum of the specter of the last war?”

"There are many.. some more obvious than others. At both sides our nations are beset by common threats, and with the Euphski turning away from this continent, the responsibility falls on people like us..." She continued, taking a moment to note the neon-lit bars and restaurants that lined the riverside. "It's been thirty years since the tribulations of the Transatlantic War, and most of our people have lived their lives never having to suffer the horrors of war. Crime, yes — but not in three decades have either of our nations been entirely mobilized towards the execution of legalized, state-sanctioned violence. The 'State' — that is to say my Fatherland's — knows there will be those who seek to undermine peace. In Akhmanar, in Sinica, in Teutonia... the tight peace Medeuropa was built upon was forged in blood by the Euphemian armies, the freedom fighters in our own nations who fought to vanquish the spectre of the Tangaliroan delusion aside."

"We protect this peace, all without a single boot officially on enemy soil. The peace both our nations and their citizens enjoy is fought tooth and nail behind the scenes; against terrorism, against rogue nations, and ultimately against the imperialists that beset us from both sides and seek to stifle the bastion — no, the birthplace of modern civilization. Where Akhmanar subjugates and where Sinica interferes, where the Hesslerists point their missiles — the peace that exists today must ultimately be built and maintained by the blood of those who seek to endanger it."

"Lyzentos — once one of Medeuropa's breadbaskets, now little more than an irradiated backwater under the Akhmanari boot. It is no doubt that the Akhmanaris endanger us just as much as they do the Republic of Sinica, or your brethren in Fuxia." She'd clearly had something in mind regarding the matter of discussion — Akhmanar was a common geopolitical 'problem' for both the Republic of Sinica and Zachódumłowianka, and their interventions in Ophir and what that posed for the great powers of the west went without saying.

Coughing to interrupt the monologue, Tudor seemed mildly intrigued. “That may be so. And the narrative you spun, I find no fault with. What do you propose be done regarding it?”

"It is perhaps of no surprise to those attent on Akhmanari affairs that one of their generals happened to perish, his convoy ambushed by Lyzentine rebels..." There was just the slightest hint of cynicism as she recounted the operation she herself had been involved in — of course, there were no Lyzentine rebels present, even if Euphemian-made guns told such a story. "There is no shortage of freedom fighters in the occupied nation intent on setting themselves free... and I suppose it goes without saying that such a thing would be in the best interest of both our peoples. I need not mention the Fuxians, or the Zaratians, or any other of the multitude of people living under Akhmanari rule, their free spirits suppressed by an uncaring regime that seeks only profit from the wars in Ophir. You can discern our intentions fairly easily, of course."

“Perhaps so. Funneling arms, munitions, and funds to these rabble-rousers advances our means quite neatly. My government has no qualms with enacting such measures.”

"And no better time to do such a thing when they focus on aimless proxy wars in Velezia, projecting against equally immoral regimes as Kael... all in the name of blood money. Only through driving those who would seek to undo this peace away from Medeuropa can we uphold it. I do not solely speak of Akhmanar, of course. There are those who would seek to punish us for our defiant spirit triumphing over the Tangaliroan regime they so nostalgically look upon. Punished — they fancy themselves in the image of God, the final judge of right or wrong. Anyone can try to be like God, all-powerful and omnipresent... but ultimately impotent beyond the confines and limitations of their influence. What God cannot do, some men seek to attempt against us, or quietly aspire towards it. I speak of the one nation that poses an existential danger to the one you loyally serve..." She paused briefly. "I certainly don't regard this city as the most... 'appealing' to the eyes, but it is your eastern neighbors who would seek to have it all destroyed."

Nodding solemnly, Tudor grunted. “Quite. I have no quarry with your proposal.”

"Where the PRS manipulates and utters hollow words to disposable allies, the Zachodu act. It is known we are a people to hold our word to the last... and through our cooperation we can protect this fragile Mederune peace, if only for a bit longer." Anastazija quietly stood up as the riverboat neared its next stop, the exchange presumably nearing its conclusion.

“Indeed so. You know how to contact me and my associates - we shall consider your offer and may well formulate one of our own. It is in my estimation we shall speak again, sooner than each of us may like.” With that curt farewell, Tudor hopped off of the slowly-stopping riverboat and vanished into a dark alley.

The automated computer manning the river vessel slowly brought the boat to a halt, Anastazija looking on at the seemingly unending alley where their eastern counterpart had disappeared into. Quickly her attention returned to her fellow agent, though. "..and that's a lesson in diplomacy, I suppose. I told you there'd be a few tricks to learn with me..."

“And when we get back to Mieszko I’ll show you a few tricks too…” Zdravko replied. “Where’s the train station?”

"I guess we'll find it soon enough, we haven't strayed far. I long for Mieszko's clean air as much as you do right now... and a few other things of home too, I suppose.."

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Postby Valefontaine » Thu Jul 25, 2019 6:31 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Behind Enemy Lines - Clandestine Assistance"

Operation Bezprym 423

Once the border town separating Tangaliroan Lyzentos from Akhmanar, Agios Lucas is now a symbolic gateway into Meduropa, also serving as a rather busy hub for Akhmanari truckers. By seizing Agios Lucas, Akhmanari forces will be trapped in Lyzentos, giving Lyzentine freedom fighters free reign against their enemy, and perhaps a better chance for our military to secure the occupied land in the future.

"Snow White", leader of 4. Tajna Grupa 'Desert Storm', has given us intel regarding Akhmanari troop positions in Lyzentos. We intend to exploit the weaknesses he has pointed out to our advantage.

Your mission is simple: help a Lyzentine rebel leader take over Agios Lucas, entrapping all Akhmanari forces in Lyzentos east of the Akhmanari alps.

Leading the cell of Lyzentine rebels in Agios Lucas is Tasos Elitzis, enigmatic masked leader of anti-Akhmanari partisans in the region. Ideologically he aligns with us, and his cause is a noble one... helping him will give the Lyzentine people hope. Tasos Elitzis, also known as Comrade One, is the face of the Lyzentine resistance movement in Akhmanar. A former college professor turned leftist revolutionary warrior, the Lyzentine guerrilla fights for the liberation of his people — no matter the cost. Where some condemn some of his methods against Akhmanari settlers and soldiers to be morally reprehensible, he regards any atrocity and violence — which he calls 'direct action' — to be justified in the face of militarily superior aggressors.

By fulfilling your mission, you will help defang a major geopolitical threat to the Commonwealth and liberate millions living under the Akhmanari regime's boot. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 0630 hrs. - November 29, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: kpt. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Mieszko,

The mountainous dustbowl was all that separated Medeuropa from the Akhmanaris, the ancient snow-capped glacial ridges the ancient protector of a subcontinent. There was little in the way of them now, though. Where once the shield of Medeuropa lay strong, these mountains had quickly become an afterthought with the Akhmanari subjugation. Thirty years ago, troops of the Federated Order of the United Republic of Akhmanar, the terrible Tangaliroan occupation-regime, had crossed into the post-nuclear ruins of Lyzentos and subjugated the people with little fight. Those soldiers of the first wave, crude mixes of Sinican and Akhmanari soldiers haphazardly restructured into the new regime's military, had shown little mercy to the Lyzentine people.

Heathenous was the voice that uttered words like 'self-determination' and 'independence' in these bleak backwaters. With every year, it seemed the hope towards a free and independent Lyzentos grew fainter, its hopelessness assured by the government in Yevosh that seemed intent on oppressing Medeuropans while the Akhmanari elite grew fat on the profits built upon Ophiric blood money.

Yet that would surely change.

The Lyzentine mountains tell of tales long past.

Past dusty peaks and unfathomably ancient ruins telling stories long-past, the MBW agents made their slow journey to the rebel camp on horseback. The threat of the Akhmanari military meant inserts had to be especially covert. The MBW, of course, specialized in subtlety. Traversing chalky cliffsides and decayed remains of antique stone columns, Anastazija led the two tactical teams down the old path, her eyes studying the passes and cliffsides for unwelcome silhouettes. They were in the clear, of course, as high-tech militaries like Akhmanar's were bound to the fallacy of sunk cost. Akhmanari troops in the mountains were easy prey to Lyzentine partisans, and their overengineered, expensive rifles inevitably falling in the hands of the fighters the Yevosh regime seeked to stop.

“I gotta say,” Zdravko muttered. “This is good exercise...”

"Camp should be right ahead," Anastazija announced, lowering the shemagh concealing her mouth and nose. Occasionally sand and dust would blow through the arid peaks, which wasn't exactly the most comfortable. As was the usual, they avoided the use of uniforms, plain khaki tactical clothes sufficing as a sufficient means of masking their nationalities.

Upon the path's ledge, the camp came into view, an agglomeration of tents and stacked weapons caches, largely a mix of Euphemian, Zachodu and West Sinican firearms. " we are." She noted, keeping the steed steady as their descent down the trail led them to the tents. Their arrival had been expected, Lyzentine partisans standing guard by their tents though not paying them too much attention. They were here to speak with the leader of these fighters, after all.

Comrade One.

At the sound of the horses slowly making their way through the camp a man emerged, black balaclava obscuring his features. A bandolier was slung over his shoulder, stocked with red twelve-gauge buckshot. The red scarf paired with his balaclava gave fair indication to the ideology of the rebel lieutenant and his men, of course. Waving, he seemed intent on meeting his new allies.

Bringing her horse to a halt, Anastazija was quick to hop off the steed, approaching the rebel leader as she waited for her subordinate to come over. If anyone knew anything about this land, it would be this man — and so the both of them getting a 'quick rundown' on the area would be pertinent to the mission.

"Comrades! You've finally come..." He turned his attention to Zdravko, crossing his arms and nodding. "I suppose you're the one in charge here, yes?" The rather sexist assumption only mildly slighted Anastazija...

“My partner is, actually.” Zdravko corrected.

"A— I see," Awkwardly he turned his attention to Anastazija, offering a handshake. "Tasos Elitzis. The Lyzentine people call me Comrade One."

Nodding, she returned the handshake, still only slightly feeling insulted by the last remark. "I assume you have a particular plan of action, Comrade One."

"Certainly I do!" He exclaimed, briefly disappearing into his tent to bring out a folding table and map. "This... is where we are now, yes — the intent of our operation, built on the tenets of people's warfare and Rawlins Thought, is to secure this vital highway town, cutting off the Akhmanaris east of the mountain range. That should make them easy pickings for your nation's armed forces and my people's partisans fighting in unison. I will leave eliminating the garrison headquarters — here.." His gloved finger slid across the paper map of Agios Lucas, resting atop a small compound amidst the rows of housing. " you, of course. You are professionals, the proletariat's special forces. My men and I will focus on cutting off both major highways into the city. Surely you have no issue with this, yes?"

Studying the plan, Anastazija slowly nodded. The man's grasp of Euphemian wasn't the best, but she certainly got the idea. "I think we can work with this.. right?" She looked over to Zdravko, curious as to his input.

“Sure.” He plainly replied.

Nodding, the rebel leader seemed content with the response. "Right. With you present, I believe I need no further delay to begin this operation. There are about thirty-seven men in this camp total. In the city, however, I have about nine-hundred men loyal to the cause who will mobilize as soon as the first shots are fired. I have heard... stories of the efficiency of your nation's special forces. I am more than confident you can help us turn the tide in this operation. We shall commence as soon as you set off," He gestured to a narrow pass between the peaks. "That way to town. You'll rendezvous with us briefly at the river."

"I suppose I don't see anything wrong with that." Anastazija nodded, looking over to the eight operators of the tactical teams. "Dismount!"

So began the slow trek through the peaks once more, Anastazija quietly leading the way with KbK in hand. One advantage these mountains gave them was an almost omnipresent bird's-eye view of the transport hub of a city below, its two main highways effectively leading in and out of Lyzentos. One could see the crumbling remains of Tangaliroan monuments built into the mountainous facade opposite to them in the grand pass upon which the city lay, decayed and defaced bust of Shen Xuewen carved into the granite face of the mountain peaks. The sight of the fascist dictator alone warranted a slight look of disgust from the kapitan, silently continuing on through the mountain pass.

Far in the distance the rising sun crested the horizon, narrow slivers of light penetrating the mountain ranges' snow-capped peaks as the canvas of the sky was soon decorated with diverse hues of indigo, orange and lilac.

"If only you'd brought a camera this time.." Anastazija quietly noted, taking a moment to admire the beautiful Mederune sunrise.

“Solstice is coming up,” He replied. “Remind me to bring a camera for vacation.”

"Right.." She was quick to hide her smile with her shemagh, raising it just high enough to conceal her mouth and nose. The careful descent proved sufficient in regard to their own discreet approach, the group encountering no patrols on the way down. In the distance one could see the occasional Akhmanari helicopter, their patrols presumedly routine in nature.

Soon enough they'd reached the ground, the unit silently continuing onward through the fields. A road lay ahead, though the distant sound of engines approaching was enough to give her pause. "Down!" Her intuition had been wise — as it became fairly apparent that the four vehicles slowly passing them by were MP-403 IFVs. A shot from the 30mm autocannons the Akhmanari killing machines possessed would be enough to shred a man to pieces, and Anastazija sure wasn't intent on dying yet. She still had plenty to live for, after all...

“God damn they are close…” Her second-in-command muttered, pressing himself just a little bit harder against the ground.

"We'll get past this... Ouriel is with us..." Anastazija assured, quietly watching the passing convoy through the tall grass.

“Y’know, I hear we might be getting vacation tickets to Euphemie for Solstice…” Zdravko muttered, clearly trying to pass the moment with light small-talk.

"I'd love to spend it with you.." She quietly replied, briefly turning her attention away from the passing Akhmanari vehicles.

“Likewise.” Fortunately for the two, however, the Akhmanari vehicles appeared to be gone now, blowing more dust into the distance.

"We're clear!" She ordered, slowly rising back to her feet. The group proceeded to cross the rural backroad with relative ease, making to the other side. The sunrise had made things fairly pleasant as they traversed the fields unobstructed, the patrol they encountered seemingly being the only one thus far.

Where the high-tech enemy could not observe was where the ideal MBW agent thrived, and this case was no exception. The distant song of birds was soon joined by the sound of flowing water — they'd reached the river. Across from them were the silhouetted figures of the rebel fighters, waiting for rendezvous by the stream. Among them was Tasos, who lightly gestured the group over.

"I hope the mummies did not give you much trouble," He began, looking across the flowing stream. "It's fairly shallow. We can cross it on foot," Tasos noted, looking across the river. Slowly the group trudged into the flowing water, weapons at the ready as they carefully navigated the water.

Yet luck hadn't been on Anastazija's side as they traversed the stream, a yelp briefly escaping the MBW agent as she slipped, comically tripping into the water. "—ahh!"

Zdravko, who meanwhile had been a bit behind trying to keep himself standing against the current of the river, was feeling inclined to help out his partner today. “Here,” he said, extending an arm out. Quietly she held on, steadying herself and hiding her embarrassment. The occasional chuckle from their Lyzentine peers didn't exactly help.

Reaching the other end of the river, it became further apparent they were nearing the checkpoint. Already the roar of automobiles passing the highway was audible, the unit carefully maneuvering through the morning light as they approached. Fields and shrubbery became decrepit alleyways, rusted signs in Lyzentine and poorly-translated Akhmanari hanging above back-alley shops.

"We'll attack the other end of the checkpoint," Tasos announced, giving the MBW agents a thumbs-up before abruptly taking a different path along the labyrinth of alleyways, thirty masked men in tow.

The locals they passed in the alleyway seemed to pay little mind, accustomed to the conflict on the streets that came with day-to-day life in occupied Lyzentos. It was about to get a lot more intense, though..

At the end of the alleyway, concrete barriers by the checkpoint proved sufficient cover as the ten MBW agents took position.

"Ready," Anastazija said, looking to her second-in-command.

“Ready.” Her second-in-command replied.

Counting down to one, Anastazija abruptly peered out of cover, opening fire on the Akhmanari soldiers standing guard by the border checkpoint, the rest of the unit quickly following suit. Almost immediately four of the Akhmanari border guards fell limp riddled with gunshots, the remaining five hurrying to cover to respond.

Loudly orders were given in that terrible dog-language, the enemy returning fire as bullets whizzed past. Shots were fired, grenades thrown, and by the time the ringing had stopped Anastazija had found she'd gotten grazed in the arm. "A—ah FUCK!" It wasn't often she found herself swearing, but the throbbing pain in her shoulder had been enough to unsettle her.

As the shots continued to fly, Anastazija bit her lip and tried to ignore the pain as she left cover again, her KbK's 5.56mm rounds sending one of the border guards tumbling backwards. Already gunfire was audible at the other end of the checkpoint, Lyzentine rebels presumably attacking the rest of the security contingent.

"Tough bastard!" From the second fireteam, a certain plutonowy Bogusława Morga had found himself similarly injured, noting the presence of one last Akhmanari soldier that seemed intent on making a last stand.

"To the Abyss with you, REPROBATE!" Anastazija yelled, emptying the last of her magazine into the sole survivor, who promptly stepped back for a moment before tumbling back, dead. Similarly, the gunfire at the other end of the checkpoint was dying down, though elsewhere it seemed the rest of the rebel cells in the city had gotten the message — audible gunfire was apparent from practically every corner of Agios Lucas, Lyzentine rebels presumedly taking action against their occupiers through 'direct action'.

Already Tasos' group was hurrying east to attack the second highway's checkpoint, to which their mission now was simple — deal with the military garrison headquarters.

"We should... take the alleyways." Anastazija said, struggling to catch her breath. She hadn't gotten hurt too bad, but it was rather obvious she was in pain.

“Right, right!” Zdravko shouted. “-you alright?”

"..I'm fine.. just hurts is all— fuck..." Steadying herself, she kept her composure as the unit began back into the alleyways, gunfire the backing chorus to their advance through Agios Lucas. If all went to plan, the Akhmanari military would be cut off from Yevosh, trapped in hostile occupied land... the uprising that would follow would only be natural.

Stopping at the edge of one of the alleyways, Anastazija stopped, vantage point giving fair view of the military garrison's headquarters. It was, to say the least, crawling with Akhmanari soldiers on high alert. There'd be no way they'd be able to storm the compound with so many enemies. "Your call, Zd— Porucznik," Anastazija said, reminding herself they were on the field and had to address one another accordingly.

“We have AT, might as well put it to use…” The Porucznik mulled. “Let’s fire it at the building, see if we can kill some of the guards!”

The men nodded, Euphemian-made AT-M88 launchers aimed to the building. They were carrying a few Zachodu-made weapons here and there, but the mix of armaments served to best symbolize the typical armament of Lyzentine rebels.


Two explosions illuminated the side of the building, thermobaric ammunition turning the building into a blazing inferno. The screams of the Akhmanari soldiers within was quickly drowned out by gunfire as the Zachodu team opened fire. Quickly the enemy numbers were narrowed to one man, the ill-fated Akhmanari soldier dropping his firearm and fleeing the doomed compound. With this, they had effectively severed the head of the Akhmanari military apparatus on the Lyzentine border, giving the rebels a fighting chance against their oppressors.

" about that Torch City vacation?" Anastazija asked, tiredly panting as she grasped her bloodied shoulder.

“Solstice is soon…” Zdravko reassured her.

"Right.. call the exfil and get us out of here." As the city burned amidst the chaos of the fight, the exfil method naturally became tenfold easier — few would bat an eye to an H-68 Typhon flying out of the town amidst the chaos. Anastazija's mind already was wild with thoughts of what'd come next — a vacation, and plenty of money to be spent in Torch City did sound very appealing...
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Thu Jul 25, 2019 9:44 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 7"

Two week-long Solstice vacation. Perhaps a visit to Torch City is in order, as promised..

DATE: 1900 hrs. - December 16, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Morhatten, Torch City

The glimmering crowl jewel of Ophir was, of course, Torch City. The largest city in the western hemisphere, it was the beating heart of the Federal States of Euphemie. The ancient city's bustling, advertisement-covered skyline served as testament to the consumerism inherently imbued in Euphemian culture, practically a cornerstone of one of the society that had so often come to symbolize Ophir in foreign eyes.

Where Datong had become a graffiti-covered, rancid dystopia that served as testament to the excess of unrestrained capitalism, Torch City was moreso a sacred monument to consumerism, the city where the almighty Dollar reigned supreme. It was Solstice time, and where that meant wholesome presents under a spruce tree in the traditionally Ourielist nations of Medeuropa, in Euphemie it was nothing short of the worship of the President, the Dollar and commodities. Shopping was practically pilgrimage in the Federal States, regardless of faith.

It was a culture that was so bizarrely foreign to either of the two MBW agents. Where they put their faith in God, the Euphemians placed their faith in money, the Atom or the President. It was, perhaps, mildly unsettling, from a foreigner's perspective. What confused the most, however, was the subway system. An unfathomably vast maze of lines, sub-lines and differing routes, the both of them had accidentally ended up in the wrong station more than a few times by now.

The Atlantic Economic Center has come to symbolize Euphemian victory due it opening on OV Day.

Morhatten was the bustling heart of Torch City, the Atlantic Economic Center towering high above all other buildings in the city. It was two-parts shopping megacenter, two-parts office complex hosting everything from a plethora of corporate entities to the Port Authority of Morhatten and Ironport. Built in 393, the Atlantic Economic Center truly was the most symbolic structure in the entire Torch City skyline, the beating consumerist heart of the city resonating through the four towers that stood proudly above all others. Below the AEC was the Northbridge Mall, a multi-storied shopping mall that extended fifty stories underground, filled to the brim with busy Solstice shoppers. Connected to the shopping mall were eight subway stations, each on different routes and lines — the AEC sufficed as a transit hub as well as a shopping centre.

It would be this shrine to consumerist society that they'd be visiting today, the 'Four Towers' as they were often called. They'd earned plenty of money in the past half-year or so they'd been working together, and now would be the ideal time to spend it — even if his partner did have a few objections to their rather immodest consumerist excess.

What was 'cold' for these Euphemians was summer weather to them, to which Zdravko's partner, Anastazija, was rather casually dressed. After all, for the most part, the Euphemians had never really suffered the plight of the nuclear winter that'd plagued Medeuropa in the aftermath of the Transatlantic War's nuclear horrors. Yellow metaplastic shopping bag filled to the brim with new clothes in one hand and camera in the other, she'd already voiced more than a few objections to how painfully 'capitalist' they looked.

Zdravko, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as objecting towards the consumer-friendly paradise of Morhatten, having donned a pair of cheap sunglasses to accompany his camera - making him look like a rather stereotypical tourist. It wasn’t exactly the most Party-friendly style, carrying around shopping bags in downtown Torch City, but he’d always wanted to visit Torch City, and the ethics and teachings of the Party wouldn’t prevent him from spending his mission cash earnings.

"I think we've spent enough for one day," She seemed a bit overwhelmed by their spree of purchases thus far, hardly able to cope with the filled shopping bags. "..a picture up the AEC, maybe?" The four towers loomed above them, the bustle of the city complemented by the distant echo of electronic billboards promoting products, drugs, and brief newsreels of global happenings and matters regarding the Presidential inauguration. Anastazija herself could hardly understand the obsession with the President that seemed to be apparent in Euphemians, but the patriotism was quite admirable.

“If we can figure our way up there, sure.” Since he’d actually remembered to bring a camera, he was of course eager to use it.

The sun upon which civilization gyrates.

The walk past the plaza of the Atlantic Economic Center gave them a brief view of its centerpiece, a depiction of Euphemie on a globe, metaphorical rays of civilization extending outward to 'grace' the rest of the world. The Euphemianist faith regarded the Federal States as the sun upon which all civilization gyrated, a perspective only further enforced by Euphemie's triumph over the similarly arrogant Sacred Union State thirty years ago.

"It's so pretty.." Anastazija noted, looking on at the plaza's globe. Patriotic as she might've been, she knew well that the Commonwealth simply couldn't aspire towards such greatness, not within her lifetime.

“Yeah, this is going in the compilation…” Zdravko said, raising up his camera. A few flashes resounded, and with it a few new additions to the photo album.

Lobby of 2 AEC.

The walk continued on, leading them into the lobby of the Atlantic Economic Center. Like the palace to the Euphemian dream it was, the interior had a grand Euphemian flag — flanked by two graphite statues of President Neworder on both sides — with dozens of other national flags opposite to the patriotic display. Perhaps it intended to symbolize the peoples of every corner of the globe who'd come to Euphemie in common pursuit of faith, freedom and peace. Among those banners was the Mławian flag, which wasn't exactly difficult to spot among so many others. It'd left his superior awestruck at just how much attention to detail had been put into practically every corner of the place.

"I'm not sure if a picture in front of this flag would be the most patriotic of me..." Anastazija joked, looking back to Zdravko.

“Under our flag, then?” He politely suggested. With a quiet nod, she situated herself just before one of the waving flags, the banner of the Commonwealth and its symbolic swastyka just behind her. Giving a pose to the camera, she awaited the flash...


"..there we go." Hands tucked back into the rather modest grey coat she'd brought along from home, her attention turned to the elevators. "Up we go, then? Or perhaps a picture together.."

“Eh… let’s take a pic.” He replied, only needing a split second to make up his mind. Smiling and offering another pose beside him, she anticipated the flash once more...


"Can't wait to take a picture at the top.." Uncharacteristic for her typically duty-oriented, serious attitude, she seemed almost childishly excited at the notion of visiting the AEC rooftop, the metaphorical 'top of the world'...

“I’m sure there’s going to be all sorts of other people trying to get up top... let’s be quick!” And like that, Zdravko was off for the elevator.

On all three sides opposite the door were LED screens, and as soon as their ascent commenced a digitalized reconstruction of Torch City's history unfolded in the virtual display of what was 'outside'. From primordial forests came colonial settlements, industrial spires emerging and soon evolving into art deco masterpieces. Anastazija was practically glued to the screen with awe, watching as the virtual display depicted history from colonization, to the Calamity, to the present day as they continued further up the grand tower.

"..I've never seen something like this back home. This is awesome!" As had become commonplace since their visit to Torch, she had trouble holding back her glee.

“It’s just a shame we’ll be gone from here so soon… but let’s not think about that.”

"I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about after this... besides—"


The elevators of the AEC had much renown for their efficiency and speed, their journey to the top unperturbed by any other commuters heading up or down the massive tower. Door opening, they found themselves in a lobby leading to the roof of the AEC itself... and it was beautiful. As soon as the night sky came into view, it became apparent it was lit with the exploding fireworks of Solstice holiday spirit. Below, as far as the eye could see, the city's lights extended endlessly on to the north. The scale of Torch City was baffling, even though they'd seen Datong before.

A monument to human achievement.

Rather than a dystopian hell built on near-nonexistant labor laws and the suffering of the worker, Torch City was the opposite: a monument to human achievement. Even if Anastazija didn't take much a liking to the excess consumerism that ran rampant in practically every echelon of Euphemian society, the beauty of the nation had certainly captivated Zdravko's superior.

"A picture?" She excitedly suggested, standing by one of the observation points along the rooftop.

“Of course!” It almost went without saying. Posing beside him, she waited once more for the bright flash, multicolored fireworks exploding in the sky with practically no relent.


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Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Fri Jul 26, 2019 2:11 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Behind Enemy Lines - Assassinate General"

Operation Dytryk 424


The town of Immenhausen is near the border, and as such, is fortified and secured accordingly. 175,000 Teutonic soldiers are commanded from the Teuton border city. Getting in and out of the 'fortress city' so signature of the Hesslerist dystopia will be a challenge, but one you are certainly up to the task of handling.

Your goal in Immenhausen is a simple one — Assassinate a Teutonic general as he inspects troop formations in Immenhausen. General Hans Jeschonnek, commander of the 39. Infanteriedivision is a notable participant of the Tukkhum extermination campaigns, and is plotting to venture into the PR Sinica. Carrying the nickname 'the Saber of Lvevashy', he is a notorious war-criminal who since the start of the war has found himself assisting in the mobilization of recruits from "Fortress Immenhausen". As commander of the 39. Infanteriedivision, he has been secretly planning to "deter" the Sinicans from launching ground attacks by ravaging their border.

Entering the city is a difficult conundrum — especially given the nature of Teutonia's closed society. Your method of insert and exfil to the city is one and the same — the city's old, crumbling labyrinth of maintenance tunnels that were once used in the Tangaliroan era.

Due to the nature of this operation, you are going in alone. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 0100 hrs. - January 6, A.C. 424 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: kpt. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Immenhausen, Teutonische Volkstaat

Far beneath the surface, the old, crumbling maintenance tunnels of the Sacred Union State's design had proven a blessing to the MBW. These metaphorical catacombs were common in many ancient cities across Medeuropa, built under the Sacred Union State to serve as a common infrastructural system shared between its urban centers, doubling additionally as a shelter in the event of enemy attacks. By the time of the Transatlantic War, however, they had long fallen into disuse, and never truly saw purpose in the conflict.

The old tunnels...

Knowledge of such tunnels has fallen into the hands of few, the obscure infrastructural loophole in the otherwise impenetrable security of the Hesslerist fortress that was Immenhausen entirely unknown to the Hesslerists who bothered little beyond the surface. In a nation built to be a streamlined, efficient death trap for foreign invaders, it was perhaps unsurprising that the Hesslerists occasionally forgot a few older machinations preceding their time.

Given the stakes of the mission, they were on their own. They carried a lot more gadgets than usual — EM jammers, small cameras and sound decoys among them. It would be important in a city that was more fortress than urban center, especially at night. Yet it was only in the cover of night that they could conduct such an operation...

"This should be it," Anastazija said, looking to her map. Both of them had been granted wrist computers for the operation, allowing access to Sacred Union State-era maps along with aboveground city maps for ease of movement. Above them lay a manhole, no doubt leading to the surface. The cameras they'd been given were fitted to such a purpose — so that they could be raised through the small grates of manholes to grant visual aboveground. It was all uncharacteristically high tech compared to the average simple MBW in-and-out operation, but they were no strangers to technology when the need arose. The two of them were alone here, however, and both knew quite well the stakes — both their lives were on the line, and a mistake could be fatal this deep into one of many beating hearts of the military-sociopolitical-religious abomination that was Hesslerism, all-encompassing upon every echelon of society in Teutonia.

“Let’s see…” The atmosphere between the two was certainly one of uncertainty, given the context of the mission. That was reflected well enough in the preparations they’d went through before being deployed into the field, one of their items for this mission would be a cyanide pill - in case of capture.

"Camera out of the manhole, get a look of our surroundings... then I guess we get to the surface." Anastazija similarly felt concern over their prospects here. Nervous, she hesitated for a moment, pondering what to say. "Before we go up there, just know that I love you." She confessed, looking away in embarrassment. The word certainly hadn't been thrown around explicitly before.

“Right. Well... I do too.” This certainly wasn’t helping the sense of dread and unease about this that Zdravko felt.

"Just pretend I didn't say that if we get through all this," She turned her attention to the manhole once more, looming up with two narrow holes casting light in. The camera would need to be raised by the thin cable that held it, and brought through the hole. "..unless?" She jokingly added, trying to lighten the mood.

“I might remember anyways…” He cautiously joked, waiting around anxiously to hear from his partner what was above the surface.

"Three IFVs on patrol... I think they'll pass the nearby road soon," Anastazija noted, carefully lowering the cable. They'd have to wait a bit, though that went without saying. "So.." She awkwardly began, trying to strike up small-talk in the absence of anything better to do.

“Uh... wanna talk news or something?” It seemed that the two were both drawing blanks on points of discussion.

"I suppose there is something I've been wanting to talk about, but I'm not sure if it should wait until after..." She thought aloud, her mind set on the past few months. Now was a good time to not just reminisce, but prepare mentally. The Teutons were simple — if they were caught, they would be killed. Simple as that.

“Well, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to tell me...” Zdravko replied, trailing off.

Muttering to herself, it took Anastazija a moment to speak up. "..what exactly is this between us, porucznik? I've never gotten as intimate with a person as I have with you. And I've been asking myself this after we went to Torch City... what are we?"

“Well...” It seemed this question wasn’t the most comfortable one she could’ve asked. “I... suppose that we do - well, like each other. Right?”

"I guess we don't need to think too much on it, but— whatever, I'll take another look at the situation on the surface." Once again raising the cable and bringing it through the manhole grates, she studied the situation outside. Much to her dismay, the patrol had not desisted, still present outside. Sighing in frustration, she lowered the cable again. "...patrol still outside. Anyways, what I was saying.. I just wanted to know what this is. This one's going to be unlike any other operation we've done, and I just want to have some peace of mind."

“Honestly? Well...” Zdravko paused, choosing his next words with caution. “I think we are in a relationship.”

A sigh of relief escaped her. "I guess we are... nothing wrong with that. I guess there are a few things the State doesn't need to know about. I'm just relieved you could tell me this now, because, well... I'm just happy to have someone— to share all these moments with you, I mean. Ouriel is with us — we'll get through all this just fine, I hope... I'm just glad I could make it this far with you." Rather emotional, she leaned in for a brief hug. It wasn't entirely awkward, and they were deep enough in the tunnels that little mattered. Still, though, she couldn't help but weakly smile as she pulled away, relieved by the emotional reassurance. "..anyways.."

Reaching for the camera once again, she raised it once more, carefully checking the outside. She studied the area a bit more carefully than before, and for good reason. "Clear!" She exclaimed, albeit mindful of keeping a hushed tone as she lowered the cable and prepared to climb.

“At last!” Zdravko exclaimed, following behind.

Slowly she began up the decayed, corroded metal of the ladder, soon reaching the manhole. With a slight nudge she pushed the ancient cylindrical manhole cover aside, mindful of not making too much noise as she quickly exited the hole and made for the bushes.

Silently they weaved through the dark corridors of the city's vacant streets, avoiding the light where possible. Anastazija kept her sidearm drawn and her listening attent as she led the way. While her partner probably didn't notice, she was protectively keeping just a bit ahead, intending to shield her comrade's life with her own.

Apprehensively she held her breath as they crossed a corner, a sigh of relief escaping her as it occurred to them that all was clear, her breath visible in the cold. This cold was common in post-nuclear Teutonia, though it went without saying.

It's a dead city.

“This place gives me the creeps...” Zdravko whispered, trying to not alert anyone nearby other than his partner.

"It's a dead city," She agreed in a hushed whisper. "Most civilians here are probably with the state... although we won't have to be worrying about anyone besides soldiers. Thank the curfew, I suppose."

Quietly leading the way, she abruptly stopped at the distant sound of engines. "One of those IFVs again.." Quickly she found cover amidst streetside bushes, gesturing her partner over.

“One of those rusty Tangski tin cans. We’d probably be able to knock it out by shaking our fists at it..”

Silently she watched the vehicle pass by, not noticing their presence. The A132 Dragoner was among the less awful Tangaliroan-made IFVs that saw itself so commonly proliferated among the post-Tangaliroan states, though it carried about it a poor reputation of carbon monoxide poisoning among its operators due to the poor design of the exhaust.

"It's gone.." Anastazija noted, noticeably calmer with the killing machine of a vehicle crossing into another equally grim-looking city block.

“Let’s move along.” Zdravko suggested.

Silently they continued on, Anastazija keeping caution as they reached another road crossing, idle city streets silent save for the occasional loudspeaker echoing propaganda, the Teuton anthem or curfew warnings. It was eerily quiet, the street ahead corresponding with the estimated position of the general in question.

"Maybe we're just lucky..." She whispered, leading the way through the desolate streets. "...or maybe they're just dumb. I don't want to find out."

“Never underestimate your enemy.” Zdravko advised.

"Of course.." Yet as they turned another corner they were greeted by another chillingly empty city block, streetlights weakly flickering here and there.

Yet as they crossed the next corner they could see the distant silhouette of two uniformed men in feldgrau and jackboots approaching, the typical uniform of the average Hesslerist soldier almost instantly recognizeable from afar. Anastazija found cover behind a parked automobile, looking to her partner for input regarding what they'd do next.

Zdravko, who was hiding behind a nearby vehicle as well, gave a fairly obvious indication of his idea: he made a slicing motion across his throat with his finger.

Slowly the guards approached, clueless to what lurked behind the two unassumingly-parked cars. As soon as they passed them, Anastazija lunged into action, her knife embedding itself in the soldier's back, the audible severing of his spine sending adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pulled back the blade and sent a final stab into the side of his throat. Arterial spray doused the adjacent Hesslerist soldier in blood as he turned around, Zdravko leaping up and covering the remaining man’s mouth. A loud, bone-chilling crunch was emitted as he severed the man’s neck with the usage of a certain tactic learned during training as an Agent.

"Not bad I suppose," Anastazija had taken to dragging the corpse and stifling with her boot what blood had permeated into the light snow covering the traditionalist stone brick streets. The only place to conceal the body was seemingly the two automobiles parked in the street, Anastazija carefully pushing the corpse under. Needless to say, the mess of tracks that'd been made along the light veneer snow was odd, but perhaps not too visually distinctive from the countless trails of footsteps made by patrolling soldiers.

In the same timespan, Zdravko had also chosen to hide his soldier under a car, although he didn’t have any blood splatter to clean up at least.

"Let's keep moving." She instructed, giving one last push to the corpse to conceal it under the vehicle.

Up ahead was only more dimly lit rows of bleak, grayish apartment complexes, definitely either Tangaliroan in origin or modelled right off the Union State’s architectural design plans. “Looks clear up ahead...” Zdravko called out, looking every now and then into the nearby windows - just in case.

Navigating the eerily silent streets of Immenhausen, Anastazija heard a distant sound drawing nearer... the roaring engines of mechanized vehicles. "More IFVs... sounds like a lot." The nearest concealment came in the form of another parked automobile, which both MBW agents found themselves awkwardly hiding beneath together within seconds as the sound of engines grew close.

A quick peek told Zdravko pretty much all that needed to be said about the danger of the patrol coming right by them - five PA320 Lancers, to be specific. “Lotta fucking APCs out there...”

"At least it'll be quick," noted Anastazija, carefully watching the exterior. Soon enough the tracks passed them by, the roaring sound of engines growing fainter until she could hear little more than her partner's rythmic breathing. "Clear." She announced, slightly peering out from under the car.

Climbing out from under the car, there was a rather distinctive sense of hurriedness from her partner, who perhaps was growing anxious about whether or not they’d end up in a fight before their target.

"We've gotten pretty far," She quietly noted, carefully keeping just a bit ahead of Zdravko. Greeting them for the next few blocks were empty city streets, automobiles vacantly parked roadside. Even if some sections of Immenhausen still carried the scars of wartime miseria, the streets were meticulously organized, oddly quaint with their faintly glowing streetlights.

“Still clear. Maybe this place ain’t the fortress we think it is...” Perhaps they’d been lucky, or internal security in the secretive interior of Hesslerist Teutonia was more focused on the Sinican border, only a couple dozen miles away.

"Don't let your guard down," Anastazija advised. "We're nearing the target AO. We'll have to find a vantage point..." A few of the nearby buildings had fire escape stairways, which made rooftop access a possibility in their plan.

“Let’s, uh, try prioritizing speed in getting the fuck out once we shoot this guy.” Zdravko recommended. A small bit of scouting work would be helpful for this scenario, but given the circumstances, they’d just have to figure it out themselves.

"Hm.." Carefully, she began towards one of the buildings, entirely dark under the present curfew. An alleyway would lead them to the fire escape stairways, the two agents slowly ascending to the top. One of them was much taller than the other — someone would need a boost to reach the rooftop for the shot.

“Alright, I’ve got the DMR but... I don’t think you’re about to boost me up.” Zdravko said, giving a reminder of the height disparity.

"I, uh, might need some help.." She admitted.

“Guess you’re taking the shot, then?” He asked.

"I suppose." Taking her partner's slung marksman rifle, she gestured for a bit of help onto the rooftop.

“Alright then...” Getting down onto his knee, Zdravko offered up both his hands - it would be a simple boost, both of them having learned how to do something like this in training.

Steadying herself onto her partner, she gestured Zdravko a thumbs-up to raise her to the roof.

With a quick thrust up, Anastazija received a rather comical lift-up into the air. Rolling over as she made onto the roof, Anastazija quickly checked her WSW-94 DMR, readying it before taking aim...

Just a few blocks away, the barracks was in view, rather heavily guarded by the general's security contingent. Steadying her aim, she studied the various figures at the base. Among them she could see Hans Jeschonnek, rather obvious by his youthful features. The famed 'Saber of Lvevashy' was in the midst of discussion with another officer, their inaudible chatter unimportant to what Anastazija was about to do. "Ouriel bless this shot, and forgive me for what I may commit."


The shot sent a resounding echo through the desolate city, Anastazija watching as the well-placed shot practically stripped the Teuton general of his jaw — no, the lower half of his head. Lifelessly he tumbled backwards, the officer he'd been speaking to momentarily stricken with awe before quickly fleeing. "Let's move!" Anastazija called to her subordinate, running across the roof top and leaping back down to the fire escape. Handing Zdravko his DMR, she was clearly in a rush to get the hell out.

“Down the escape!” He shouted, beginning to take flight down the staircase.

Checking her map as they hurried down, she noted the path to the nearest maintenance tunnel, leading the way as they fled. The silence in the street was quickly replaced by alarms, the loudspeakers situated at practically every building loudly blaring and announcing the attack. While it did make it harder to hear enemies amidst the chaos, it also meant they could perhaps use the general disorder that'd arisen within minutes as smoke and mirrors for their escape.

They were so close...

"We're almost there!" Anastazija exclaimed as they continued on, the distant sound of jackboots hardly audible over the almost ear-piercingly loud alarms. Turning a corner, they were greeted by a single Teuton soldier, the man's expression quickly growing into one of fear. He couldn't have been older than twenty, perhaps one of the younger conscripts that'd inevitably be churned into a Teuton soldier over time.

"warte, bitte—"

Zdravko was going to be the one who killed this man, instinctively raising his P78 Sędzia pistol and emptying three shots into the man's chest. The man dropped his weapon, grasping his chest with both hands as he collapsed onto the ground. “Let’s get outta here!” Zdravko shouted.

The desperate escape soon brought them to another unassuming manhole, faded icon of the Sacred Union State scratched away. Hurriedly she got it open, holding it for her partner— clearly she wanted him to make it out of this first. "Go!"

In the distance, the sound of boots were faintly audible, Teutonic soldiers presumably scouring the city for the culprit.

Unquestionably hoping in through the manhole, Zdravko found himself having made a fairly big drop - at the very least, he’d stuck the landing. “Get down here before you get shot!”

Leaping down into the hatch, she steadied herself along the corroded ladder to steady the manhole cover back on before making the jump. There was much more to be desired in the landing, a weak "..ow.." escaping her as she hit the concrete.

“Do I gotta carry you into the sunset or something?” Now was most certainly not the time for comic relief, but Zdravko had some wit in him.

Chuckling as she got back on her feet, it slowly dawned on them that they'd made it. "..we actually did it.." Anastazija muttered, half awestruck.

“Yeah, we did it... as a team.” Zdravko reminded her.

Going in for another short embrace, she sighed in relief. "We're both out of our minds, that's for sure..." Already her mind was turning to what they'd do when they got back. "I was thinking about watching a movie when we got home.." Anastazija began, changing the subject to a much more light-hearted one as they began down the labyrinthian maintenance tunnel that would surely lead them out of Immenhausen.
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"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
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Western Pacific Territories
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Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Western Pacific Territories » Fri Jul 26, 2019 7:15 pm

Collaborative post with Valefontaine


"Intermission 8"

Meeting with the General Secretary once more, you are to be rewarded medals for your service. Additionally, he will brief you on the mission to come.

DATE: 0800 hrs. - January 14, A.C. 423 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: por. Zdravko Kosta M. Urošević | LOCATION: Mieszko, Zachódumłowianka

Another day, another visit to the Palace of the Commonwealth. It would be the third visit for Zdravko and Anastazija, and he was personally starting to lose the usual feeling of edge he got on the way there. It was - dare he say it - become routine. They’d be meeting the General Secretary yet again, this time for the awarding of a medal in recognition of their assassination of General Jeschonnek. As well, the two of them had also heard that he might have wanted a word with them for something unrelated to the medal ceremony.

And this time, they'd be driving themselves to the palace. A Velikossi pop song was audible on the radio as Zdravko drove on through the meticulously organized, methodically-designed streets of Mieszko.

"I've been looking forward to this, to say the least.." Anastazija noted, watching the Mieszko scenery from the right-side passenger window. It went without saying that the both of them had been looking forward to getting medals for their feats in the past year.

“I’ve been looking forward to it also...”

Past a few overhead highways, they finally approached the Palace of the Commonwealth, its twin towers looming authoritatively over the Mieszko skyline. The police presence in the capital was a bit higher than usual, due to the recent spree of protests against Euphemian military deployments in the country. Anastazija herself didn't have the highest opinion of the foreign presence in their country, even if it was a protective one. The Fatherland could protect itself, after all.

“I wonder if we’ll see any protests on the way back from here.” Zdravko said. “Actually, I wonder when they’ll leave here like they left in Gallia a few weeks ago..”

"Hopefully soon enough." Anastazija said. "Don't you agree that the Fatherland can defend itself without some sex-crazed, drug-addicted Euphemians running around like they own the place?"

“Of course it can. I think the Euphemians were in a little more hurry to get out of Gallia, though... Things between Eric and Camden were a little icy.”

"For certain. Worse with the North Ophirics, though..." She noted. "Perhaps it has to do with his rather careless sales of strategic bombers to the highest bidder.."

“What’re they going to do about it, though?” He replied. “Outside of the ROS and like, maybe Fuxia they don’t have much interests involved.”

"Unlike us, they fight little to preserve the peace they thrive and prosper from..." Anastazija mused, making it rather well-known what her political stance on their Atlantic 'friends'. It didn't take long for them to come to a halt in the parking lot of the grand Palace of the Commonwealth.

“Let’s do this.” Zdravko said, a bit of enthusiasm added to what he said as he exited their sedan.

Passing by the typical row of formally-dressed guards, they soon reached the grand ornate doors of the palace, the usual route through the ornate red-carpeted corridors of the palace soon leading them before the General Secretary's office.

The guard posted outside the General Secretary’s office was prompt to let them in, opening the door for them as the two stepped inside, met by the General Secretary. Few men in the Commonwealth merited such respect as the General Secretary, and as such Anastazija saluted almost immediately upon entering his presence. "It is an honor, sir!" Zdravko promptly did the same.

“Welcome, honored Agents of the Commonwealth. I believe the both of you are aware of the circumstances under which you are here today…” The General Secretary didn’t give them time to answer that, however, promptly moving on. “Managing to infiltrate a Hesslerist city, evade who knows how many soldiers, assassinate a general and them escape from the country... those are the circumstances under which the two of you are to be awarded two medals today. A clasp onto your Military Cross of the Commonwealth, and a Cross of Valour specifically for the assassination. These feats that you accomplish together, although they are most certainly dangerous - one might say reckless - are most impressive, and reflect well upon the entire Commonwealth.”

Nervously, Anastazija slightly nodded. The fact either of them had come to merit this much attention was enough to leave her rather anxious in the presence of the General Secretary. "Thank you, Comrade General Secretary."

General Secretary Kalnietis stepped forward from his desk, the appropriate medals and clasps in his right hand. Anastazija was having them applied first, a bronze and black clasp being attacked in the center of the ribbon adorning her uniform. After that came the Cross of Valour, a new and unique addition to her collection. Zdravko received the same just as quickly. “Alright. You’re not done here yet, though..”

"Sir?" Anastazija questioned, still standing at attention.

“Not more medals, I’m afraid.” The General Secretary replied. “You aren’t about to receive the Marital Medal or anything...” Kalnietis was, of course, referring to the Marital Medal - an award for any couple which had been married for over fifty years and still had the Tangaliroan documents to prove it.

This'd brought Zdravko's superior to awkwardly laugh, if not a little embarrassed at just how close the General Secretary had been in his joke. "O—of course not, sir, that wouldn't be very professional of us..."

“Nevermind that,” Kalnietis replied, taking a seat back in his office chair. “A certain Eric Lecanuet decided to contact our government through diplomatic channels a few days ago, and for some reason he still remembers who you are. He wants a favor from the whole Ministry, not you two, at least. There is a certain bridge in southern Teutonia which he’s earmarked as being a major route of reinforcement for all the Hesslerists west of Zeltkirch and south of the Selm River. Intelligence from our end and his has revealed that Eric just sending bombers to blow it up won’t end well for him, so he wants us to take care of this bridge. If we destroy the bridge, it’ll make it a lot harder for the Hesslerists to reinforce their border garrisons and Eric will have an easier time securing his end of Teutonia. He’s promised that he’ll scratch our backs if we scratch his, so handling these kind of favors would be a good way to foster cooperation with Gallia.”

Anastazija did little to hide her disgust towards the Gallian Emperor. "..anything for the State, sir."

“The preparations have all been made. You two’ll infiltrate country with a team of four other Agents, plant some charges on the bridge, and then leave and exfiltrate to Gallia. You’ll get a ride back home from there.”

"Understood, sir." Anastazija dutifully noted, saluting the General Secretary. "We will not fail the Commonwealth."
Last edited by Western Pacific Territories on Fri Jul 26, 2019 7:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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The Enclave Government
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby The Enclave Government » Fri Jul 26, 2019 9:12 pm


"Forward, Advance!"

Operation Return from Exodus

Following the untimely death of Prince Dasra III of Zeltkirch, the occupation efforts of Vajrayan interlopers in the honorable Teuton territory of Zeltkirch have fallen to tatters. Forces of the Volkstaat, Volksrepublik, and yet more Vajrayan undesirables remain in striking distance of this integral territory of the Greater Teutonische Reich.

The Fuhrer has demanded that the Volksheer return this province to the fold of the Volkstaat. Your mission, General Braemer, is to assert control over the Zeltkirch area. The General Staff estimate a dearth of armed resistance due to the rapidity of recent events. As is well known, the Volksrepublic’s bureaucracy does not accomodate fluidity.

All means required for the assault and recapture of Zeltkirch are to be afforded.

There is to be no tolerance for failure. Good luck, General.

General Braemer read the read-out from the Reich Chancellery with a mixture of patriotic, nationalist elation and military concern. The assassination of Prince Dasra meant that a rather powerful force was at play in the region - or that the Hand of Fate had deigned to intervene in the affairs of Central Mederum. Irregardless, as the memorandum indicated, the return of Teuton land to the rightful Teuton state was paramount. The only goal eclipsing that of reuniting the millions of Teutons under the Volkstaat and it's Fuhrer was the simple matter of national survival.

As the General taking point on this matter, General Braemer had at his disposal seven Infantry Divisions, two Panzer Divisions, and 157,000 men with which to speedily recapture Zeltkirch. Through a prodigious and methodical advance, Braemer formulated the route by which Operation Return from Exodus was to come about.

The Volksheer had, since its formulation, been focused almost to the exclusion of all other methods of warfare upon simple elastic defense. Until the present circumstances, Fate had not ordained the Hesslerists a viable opportunity to expand their horizons outside of their borders. With that change, so too did the doctrine of the Volksheer. Lacking in a great deal of offensively mobile forces, Braemer opted instead for tactics reminiscent of wars much older than many contemporary militaries even bothered to study.

Dropping the combined-arms tactics of Ophiric militaries, relying on prodigious use of airborne assets, the advance into Zeltkirch was to rely upon heavy artillery strikes to neutralize opposition in the plains. By allowing a safe avenue of entry for crack Hesslerists stormtroopers into the urban area, Hesslerist focus on the rifleman and local Teuton sympathizers would be leveraged in a bid to attain control over strategic locations. By cutting off avenues of transit and taking control of local infrastrture, Operation Return from Exodus aimed to make a Volksrepublikan advance into Zeltkirch foolhardy.

The plan, as executed, largely followed the initial design. Once Hesslerist forces crossed into 'international territory,' they met little to no organized resistance in their race to the outskirts of Zeltkirch. Either through their emphasis upon artillery - or a simple lack of forces to withstand their advance - the goal had been achieved. Once out of the plains, the Volksheer would be at parity if not a slight advance per any enemy they would run into.

Their advance through the urban limits met similar success. With a lack of Volksrepublikan forces in any concentration, control was asserted over civil locations and the message disseminated to errant servants of the late Prince. The forces of the Fuhrer had established his rule within the city, and patronage was now derived from his good grace. Through securing the many vaults, depositories, and banks of the city, the Volksheer reduced civil disobedience by a great amount. Mercenaries either went back home to Vajraya or traded in their cloth of terrorists and were induced into new, foreigner-comprised units of the Sturmtruppen.

By the time the 8-hour mark had passed, all of Zeltkirch north of the river had fallen to the forces of the Volksheer. It was estimated not to be in the national interest to push over the river and spark full conflict with the Volksrepublik, which had devotedly rushed forces to the river almost as if to watch the fall of Zeltkirch. At the end of the day, with five hundred and sixty-three casualties, the Volksheer had raised the banner of the Reich upon the cityscape.
Last edited by The Enclave Government on Fri Jul 26, 2019 9:21 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Founded: Dec 18, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Valefontaine » Fri Jul 26, 2019 10:21 pm

Collaborative post with Western Pacific Territories


"Behind Enemy Lines - Infrastructure Sabotage"

Operation Zapomniany 424

Southwest of the Verson River is the Sudbach Gap, a relatively flat area that has been reduced to a hellish ashen backwater since the Transatlantic War. It is here that the Hesslerists' power is the weakest, of course, and is thus a vulnerable place to strike.

Your mission is as it sounds — Destroy a Teutonic military bridge supplying Hesslerist forces in the Sudbach Gap.

The General Secretary of the Commonwealth has given us this particular task to assist the coming Gallian operation in the south. With the enemy cut off, it will be increasingly difficult for any forces south of the gap to be reinforced. Our people are not yet lost, God Save Zachódumłowianka!

DATE: 0200 hrs. - January 29, A.C. 424 | INDIVIDUAL REPORT: kpt. Anastazija Ružena Haluzan V. Janković | LOCATION: Sudbach Gap, Teutonische Volkstaat

It was in these dreary backwaters of Teutonia that nothing seemed right. The locals had gotten used to the faintly otherworldly atmosphere of these wastelands, but foreigners were a different case. They'd arrived at the mysterious blacksite that was DauCoin National Laboratory — thirty years ago the Euphemians had taken over the guard duty around the ruins of Verson, silently studying what lay within. Judging by the secrecy and security that veiled the massive laboratory complex, it seemed they were intent on nothing getting out.

Many a legend surrounded the ruined pre-Calamity city of Verson. It was much akin to a childhood bogeyman story at this point, a cursed ruined city that spawned unfathomable horrors beyond the mind's understanding.

They'd only arrived at the Euphemian laboratory to gain easy access to the river, which they now quietly navigated. Nothing unusual seemed to be going on there, from what they'd seen — which only added to the mystery for the two MBW agents.

"That place sure gave me the creeps..." Anastazija spoke up, breaking the silence between them as she otherwise quietly navigated their RHIB. They'd be stopping a bit before the bridge, as to avoid the sound of their boat's engine being heard. "What do you think happens in there?"

“Some weird shit... probably conspiracy theorist stuff.” Zdravko replied. “I don’t like it.”

"I've heard enough stories in my childhood to know to avoid that place." Anastazija added. "Some things are just better not known.." Looking ahead in the darkness, she adjusted her night-vision goggles, taking note of the silhouette of the bridge in the night. It wasn't often that they used such equipment, but it did come handy while maneuvering their boat through the nightly abyss without the use of lights.

“Oh? What’s this?” It seemed that Zdravko’s handheld radio was buzzing. Lifting it up to his ear, he sighed deeply. “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me...”

"What is it?" Anastazija questioned.

“This is gotta be a fucking joke... it’s the god-damn Gallian Emperor.” He replied. Zdravko was evidently not amused. “At least, I think it’s him.”

"If this is a prank, Zdravko... I'm not laughing this time." She cautioned.

“Here.” He rather curtly handed over the radio to Anastazija. “I don’t joke on the job.”

In defiance of any semblance of operational security - or realism, for that manner - someone was speaking on the end, a certain somebody from Gallia who had taken an interest in the pair. "Who is this?" She questioned, slowing the boat as they approached the coastline.

“Emperor of the Gallian Nation and People. Your superiors will attest for me. There is a massive convoy of Hesslerist military vehicles destined for the Arzburg Bridge in about twenty minutes. If you’re not already on scene, I suggest you get there soon. It’s a shipment of tanks, your speedy arrival could save the lives of hundreds of Gallian troops. Don’t ask how I got your frequency, this will be the only time I badger you like this. Out.”

"Oh— uh, thanks.." Silently she lowered the radio, returning it to Zdravko. "Massive Hesslerist convoy en route to the bridge in twenty minutes, he says. I believe we should ask our superiors how he even knows how to contact us..."

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucking shady. I’m contacting command...” He replied, fiddling with a few dials on the radio. “Command, this is 1. Grupa. We’ve just been...” Zdravko suddenly paused. “...contacted by someone claiming to be Emperor Lecanuet. He tells us there’s a large shipment of tanks about to cross right over our target, over.”

"That would be him," A voice — unmistakeably the President's — responded on the other end. "One of our state mining corporations was given mining rights to the Pic de Rochebrone in return for your frequency. Seems the DRN[1] know a few thing about Hesslerist military positions in the region. Consider it a favor.."

"—I see..." Anastazija nervously replied. "Out." They were drawing nearer to the river's edge, Anastazija finally bringing the engine to a halt as she set her radio aside. "We'll have to get this done in a short amount of time — unlike you in the bedroom." She joked, doubly reminding him of the time constraint of this operation.

Fuck off.” He rather rudely replied, disembarking from the RHIB.

"Oh, you just know it's true..." Hopping off the RHIB and removing her NVG, Anastazija followed behind her subordinate, suppressed KbK in hand. For this one, she'd be carrying the satchel charges, while her partner would largely serve a protecting role.

The bridge.

“If we just cut through this patch of forest up ahead, it should bring us right to the bridge.” Zdravko advised, sneaking a peek at the map. It wouldn’t tell him much of anything, though, as it was pitch black out.

"Sounds like a plan." Anastazija agreed.

Moving into the cluster of trees, situated alongside an old town road that led to an intersection at the bridge, the two found themselves struggling with the low-hanging branches and bushes. “Fuck!” Zdravko muttered. “It’s as hairy here as a Gallian woman’s pits!”

Gagging at the crude joke, Anastazija couldn't help but stifle a laugh. "..okay, I think we're about even now."

“I hear we’ve got a side objective just nearby. There’s this guy, a Klemens Sacher... he commands everybody guarding this bridge, and we’ve heard he loves to go drinking with his pals right over there,” He gestured, pointing his arm south to a farm. “We might get a bit more of a reward if we take him out.”

"If you think we can pull it off in time.." Anastazija proposed, holding back the urge to make a similar joke as before...

“I’d rather wait until after we set the charges. There’ll be less time to tell that Hesslerist tank convoy that their guys were lit up, also.” He advised, trudging on.

"Don't see an issue with what you're suggesting. Lead the way, Comrade." Anastazija nodded, allowing her subordinate to continue to take the lead. Given it was her who carried the charges, there was perhaps a bit of priority towards her going behind him rather than typically leading the way.

They were nearing the opposite end now of the tree patch, and the steel trusses of the bridge were coming into view. However, they could also see some activity - on the side of the road, a couple of Hesslerist soldiers were conversing in front of the lights of a large tractor-trailer, while one man was standing outright in the middle of the road, loudly conversing with someone else on a radio.

“If we pause right here for a second, I can hear what he’s saying…” Zdravko advised. “Unless you wanna keep going?”

"Any information is relevant information when it comes to our work for the State," Anastazija said, reciting verbatim one of many phrases from training.

“Let’s see...” For the next couple seconds, a tense silence filled the air. Anastazija couldn’t understand whatever the Teutons were saying, and Zdravko was too busy listening in...

“Alright, so that guy on the radio - he’s getting cussed out or some shit, I think. Something about that convoy, I guess. Let’s get onto the bridge.”

"Got it," Nodding, Anastazija kept behind her subordinate as they slowly approached the bridge through the overgrowth. "You know, I hear they're making a movie about those two war heroes..." She thought aloud, perhaps suggesting they'd see it in the future.

“Yeah, I heard too…” Zdravko said, approaching up to the side of the bridge itself. “Oh, good, they’ve left a ladder... we’re planting all these charges on a maintenance platform that’s under the bridge.” He advised, taking hold of the bars and trying his best to discreetly ascend upwards.

Silently she followed up the ladder, mindful of whatever else could be nearby. The light was an MBW agent's enemy more often than not, especially in the night. Concealment was vital, and she attempted to maintain her ascent a subtle one as she climbed close behind Zdravko.

They did not seem to be very lucky, however, as the 18-wheeler from earlier loudly started on it’s way over the bridge. In the process, it seemed to have lit the two of them both up in it’s headlights for a brief moment. The truck seemed to continue unawares, but then came to a slow stop.

"No. NO!" Anastazija held herself back from swearing, quickening her pace up the ladder in frustration at the realization they'd seemingly been spotted.

“We can’t get in a gunfight this early...” Zdravko noted with worry, though in a rather hushed voice. Climbing up to the platform, he extended his hand out to Anastazija, giving her a quick boost up. “I think that driver’s saying something…”

Hallo, leute!?” It seemed the driver was definitely trying to get a guards attention. “Machst du Wartungsarbeiten?

“He’s getting the guards,” Zdravko whispered, pulling out his pistol.

Nein. Warum fragst du?” Someone else’s voice had appeared - it seemed there was now a guard just overhead. “Ich sah zwei verdächtige personen die leiter hinaufsteigen...

“Yeah, he saw us. Shit...”

Danke für ihre dienstleistung, kameraden.” The sound of boots on pavement was just faintly audible up overhead. “Yeah, he’s getting his friends. We’re going hot.” Zdravko replied. “Wait...”

Ich bin jetzt der einzige auf dem posten,” The voice of the guard suddenly said. “[i]Ich kümmere mich darum. Mach weiter!” The exchange continued overhead.

“Ouriel’s watching over us, Anastazija... the Hesslerists just had a shift change. That guard above’s the only one around.”

"Then we should hesitate little in eliminating either of them," Anastazija said, raising her suppressed KbK. These men had families, lives of their own — all was insignificant in the merciless, uncaring face of war. With the press of the trigger, she'd cut the Teuton soldier's life short, stahlhelm banging against the trucker's door with a CLANG as he lifelessly tumbled to the floor.

Following suit, Zdravko also raised his KbK. With a relatively quiet BANG, the trucker’s head gave forth a spray of blood as he collapsed adjacent to the soldier. “We need to fucking hurry, now!” He shouted, feeling free reign in using his voice now that nobody else was around.

Without hesitation, she hurried along the haphazard mix of scaffolding and walkways along the bridge to reach the first of two pillars, planting a satchel charge by the decayed concrete. It was rather obvious from the antiquated aesthetic of the bridge that it dated back to the Union State. Like many other things in Teutonia, it felt akin to a time capsule, even if the symbols engraved on the facades had changed.

"First charge planted!" She announced.

Moving along the catwalks under the bridge, Zdravko still had his mind on what’d just went down. “Hope to God that shift takes their time moving back!”

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Anastazija called back, hurrying over to the second pillar. Planting another satchel, her focus was now on the struts flanking the sides of the bridge. If she could just plant one, it would probably be sufficient to topple the bridge.

“Worst case, we’re taking a swim!” Zdravko replied, making known his alternative plan of escape.

Setting the charge on the struts of the bridge, Anastazija could only offer a nod to her subordinate as she ensured all was set.

In the distance, however, the sound of a few jeeps driving up to the checkpoint indicated that things were just not going to the favor of the agents tonight. “You hear that?” Zdravko asked. A few distant shouts began to ring out, the returning guards having quickly caught on to an abandoned truck and two dead men at the entrance of the bridge. “You wanna fight through them or get a little cold?”

"We can keep each other warm after..." Anastazija crudely joked, activating the two-minute countdown on the charges as she gained the courage to jump. "Three, two..."

“One!” He shouted. Perhaps instinctively thinking her to be hesitating, Zdravko grabbed ahold of her right arm as he jumped in. If there had been hesitation, it hadn’t mattered. The plunge into the frigid waters felt like minutes in what'd been seconds, Anastazija swimming through the freezing waters as gunfire distantly echoed. By the time she'd raised her head from under the water, an earthshattering BOOM erupted off the side of the bridge just as the first armored vehicles seemed to have arrived, the situation at the bridge devolving into utter chaos as everything plunged into the water below.

The bridge destroyed.

Climbing aboard the RHIB, Anastazija inhaled deeply, catching her breath as she silently waited for her subordinate, shivering from the cold of the water she'd been immersed in.

Being quick to climb in after, Zdravko was happy to take off. “There’s gonna be some... very pissed Hesslerists after this!” He said, taking in ragged breath after breath. The cold hadn’t treated him well.

"We've sure pissed 'em off..." She trailed off, weakly getting up to get them out of the AO. The boat's engine soon started, the RHIB jetting off through the water as they made their way upstream.

Soon enough the blazing flames of the collapsed bridge were distant, the mission drastically cut short by them getting compromised. Still, she couldn't help but smile. "Hey, Zdravko..." Anastazija began.

“What?” He replied.

"You can keep me warm.." She joked, keeping their RHIB's course steady as they weaved onward through the bleak abyss that was the river.

“Happy to oblige..” It seemed the veneer of seriousness had, for just this one time, worn off.

Boat cruising into the night, it seemed mostly everything had gone according to plan. It went without saying that their feat would surely gain a bit more attention from the elusive Gallian Emperor that had so taken interest in the two of them.


1 - DRN - The Département de Renseignement National is Gallia’s national intelligence agency, being one of the more ‘dominant’ intelligence groups in Southern Mederum. The DRN has been accused of participating in several controversial operations, including a botched one code-named ‘Operation Adversaire’ that resulted in the death of an anti-Gallian environmentalist protester. Despite allocating a submarine to exfiltrate the agents involved afterwards, the Gallian government strongly denies any involvement, while some joke Eric Lecanuet singlehandedly committed the atrocity.
Too many old nations to count. NS user since 2013.
"War is the continuation of politics by other means."

only difference between a negotiation and a battle are the rules of engagement
both are fundamentally based on maneuver
put that in your quote book
-The Enclave Government
-Carl von Clausewitz

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Posts: 1814
Founded: Jun 07, 2015
New York Times Democracy

Postby Tangaliro » Sat Jul 27, 2019 2:20 am

    CHAPTER 1 – ACT 2: “R A I L W A Y H O M E
    February 9th, 424
It’s not easy living out here these days. Only thing you can trust is your train and the guns on it.

—‘Lord’ Pashkorta Chernobersk

So what do you propose then?” This was the premier question for Pashkorta Chernobersk. He was certainly one of the most interesting figures of the era of the Transatlantic War. One could also consider him a relic of it as well, if figures like Eric Lecanuet could also be considered similarly. He was, without a doubt, the last train-lord - and one could mainly chalk that up to him choosing to settle down permanently in a desolate corner of northern Teutonia after the nuclear winter following OV Day had begun. Chernobersk was a man with principles, that being the utmost valuation of his tribe and his locomotive above anything else - and his family, too.

Given his background, the way this meeting would go would be... interesting. Chernobersk was no fan of Tangaliroans - he’d been forced to serve with their military, and hated every second of it. Not to mention his leanings - Chernobersk was best classified as an anarchist, loyal only to his tribe, his train, and his family. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t friendly, though. Quite the opposite, much like the nearby Tukkhum peoples, he was willing to give hospitality to just about anyone. Even if it was a party of Sinicans.

“As you may have heard, there is an ongoing war against the Hesslerist regime in Teutonia. We believe that, through working together with you, we can more successfully drive the Hesslerists out from Teutonia, not only to liberate the Teutonian people from the dictators stepping on them, but also to offer you and your family a more peaceful surrounding free of genocidal dictators at the doorstep of your home. Therefore, I come here to visit, not only as a foreign official here to negotiate in request of favour, but also as a person with a family of his own, hoping to establish friendship with you and your family on behalf of our people.” Ruan Dezhi answered politely. Unconventional to usual diplomatic scenarios, he didn’t wear his formal attire to the meeting, but rather, clothing that people would wear around here. In the meeting with the train lord, he hopes to send the message that he comes not just as a minister of a foreign government, but also as a visitor who wishes to establish friendship with the settlers of Vytrwałoŝć.

“Heard? We hear the planes and bombs every day. This war has brought hardship to everyone.. I am willing to do much for peace, but go to war with you? If that is what you ask, you ask too much, I am afraid...”

“War indeed brings hardship to everyone. If a war could be avoidable, we would be willing to stay back as well, but Mr. Chernobersk, can we really avoid war by leaving them alone knowing what the Hesslerists have done, and what they aspire to do? The Hesslerists have long been known to be genocidal of people different from them. They have killed countless people just on the basis of skin colour and how one was born, they occupied the lands of the Tukkum tribes to the north of here, soughting not only to control but also the complete eradication of the people who called these lands home. All of those people, just like you and us, had families which we value more than we would any monetary wealth or power.”

Ruan stopped for a moment, as if to mourn for the victims of the Hesslerist regime’s atrocities with a moment of silence.

“First it was the people inside Teutonia, then it became the Tukkum people. It was utmost fortunate that you and your family remained untouched for the past 30 years, but once they are done with the others, who would be their next target? The Hesslerists are people with little empathy and regards to anyone that is not their own. Your home is, unfortunately, among lands to which they claimed as rightfully Teutonian. Maybe they are willing to leave you alone for now, but once they have steadied their foothold, would they really be willing to remain so? Mr. Chernobersk, I ask you not to risk you and your family’s well-being to fight alongside us at the frontline, nor would I ask you to provide us any possession of yours. I would like to ask solely you and your people’s permission to allow our warriors and those of Velikosssiya to temporarily stay in and pass through your lands for the duration of the war, to punish these people who would destroy families at the blink of an eye with no remorse, and to free countless families from the control of these terrible killing machines. The Hesslerists were known to possess the weapons that ravaged Mederum twice in the past 400 years, and they were, by record, not shying away from attempts to use them if given the material circumstances. In removing the Hesslerists from Teutonia, we are also trying to prevent the horror of the atom from ravaging this continent which we call home a third time.”

“We understand that there are many difficulties on your end, and we do not want to force you to accept anything. Regardless of your response, we will respect your will.” Ruan bowed. “However, please do consider, for these people who suffered under the Hesslerists, for these people that would suffer under them if they remain unchecked, and ultimately, for your people and their freedom, who could very well be harmed by these people of evil if they eventually turned their attention towards this home of yours.”

“Your words sound like those of someone who believes in their cause…” Chernobersk noted. “Those Teutons have ignored me for thirty years, but I am old, and my train has not travelled in a very long time… you have valid points. I fear that my home will become a target should I agree to this... but it will definitely regardless. The lands of my dom, I think, can be opened for you. But I still want something…”

“I cannot thank you enough for your answer. Please do tell if there is anything specific that you want. As long as it is possible for us to offer, I would try my best to provide it for you as a gift of appreciation from our people.” Ruan said, with a hint of excitement in his tone.

“There are not many people who earn my respect... but Bianka Ziekowski, she is one of them. News travels here... well, I hear nothing outside my humble abode. Do you know anything of her?”

”Yes, the Mrs. Bianka Ziekowski you speak of had survived the chaos of the War and the nuclear disaster that followed. Afterwards, she and her father continued to lead and guide the Zachodu people through the aftermath of the War until she resigned peacefully in the year 420 to return the choice of leadership to her people. While it was unfortunate that her father has already passed away, as far as I know, Mrs. Ziekowski herself remains alive and well to this day. Unfortunately, some misunderstanding exists between our country and hers, with them believing that we were benefactors and apologists to the Tangaliroan tyranny, but I am sure with time and effort, we would ultimately be able to sort out this mistake in peace.”

Ruan paused for a moment, then added.

“I long to see the day when the people of Mederum can put down their weapons and coexist with each other in peace once again, not under the state-enforced integration of the Union State, but under genuine friendship. There were also many Sinican families that lost their lives in the chaos, but one who cannot overcome the wounds of the past would have no future. Life has been hard for all of us, but only through striving for the future can we secure a better tomorrow for our children. It is an honour to meet you, Mr. Chernobersk.” Ruan extended his hand.

“It is good to hear Ziekowski is still alive.” Chernobersk replied, extending out his hand. “As long as I keep my dom, and my train, then I will be happy.”

“These are simple wishes, but nonetheless respectable ones.” Ruan nodded. “In a world with so many things to desire for, you would still rather choose your dom and train over anything else, not everyone would understand, but I see noble characters behind it, you have my respect, my friend.”
A several year old NS user, though always Tangaliro.
You may know me or you may not.
Whatever. :3



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