Whispers of the Wasteland (Badlands News/Lore Thread)

[Arakhkhar]

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Whispers of the Wasteland

•Badlands Frontier news and lore•

by Arakhkhar

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Background

Across the desert wastes, across sun-baked sands where the bones of past civilizations lie, there exists scattered civilization. And yet, in savagery, through the worst excesses of banditry, of the rule of the insane, the zealous, or perhaps, just the unlucky.

Such is the Badlands Frontier. And perhaps, in the howling of the desert winds, blowing from the Krayn mountains, you might hear the whispers of the wasteland.

Whether from the desert raiders of Jundland, the feuding Nixian states, from the silence of the north… or perhaps, a colonist from afar - or perhaps, of a state, an Empire inhuman in practice and in conception - the shadow state of Arakhkhar.
Or perhaps you are interested in the often strange dealings of Vastrata, or in those biomechanical subjects of a civilization far from its home in the Eusan Federation.

Or perhaps you’re a colonialist from afar, come to set a dagger into the already sun-burnt, scorched Earth.

Whatever it is - step aside. Maybe sit at a campfire at night, roasting a nice stick of desert-snake. Play the guitar a little - or just listen to the whispers of the wasteland.

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Overview

This thread is for members of the Badlands Frontier region. It concerns the happenings, events, wars, lore, and anything else relating to the Badlands - and can act as sort of a regional factbook, as well as a place to put Badlands-related news.

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Rules

1. Badlands Frontier residents only, except by invitation by a Governate.
2. Minimum of 5 sentences for post.
3. No OOC chat should be done here. This should be done on the Discord, or in a prospective separate thread. All posts should be IC.
4. Use proper grammar and spelling.

[Gonswanza]

Mictlán.

A lowly colony set up earlier in late 2022, expanding rapidly thanks to the sheer speed of Gonswanzan colonists willing to excitedly settle in the jungle tropics, while the military followed close behind.

It was to be a prosperous, militarized, polite society and an extension of Gonswanza itself, even cekebrating the completion of various defense complexes and a protected port area for the navy... Which did not at all attract hostile attention from other parties.

Totally.

Certainly.

Truly.

Yet even with rapid expansion as a primary goal, the true goal was to conquer the little corner of the map abd turn it into the largest military base known to man with underground cities to shrug off attacks from willing raiders dumb enough to try, assuming the navy doesn't flatten them first.

Yet, it was also a chance to explore, to discover new life, to reconnect with nature... Before digging under it to embrace life under excessive defense.

Mictlán. Nahuatl for the underworld. How hilariously fitting.

[Fleur-de-Lavienne]

Silence. Not something too expectant amidst the Reach, despite any local hustle and bustle between natives. The waters of the lakes were quaint and still, the fish and bigger, more monstrous fish beneath the water undisturbed and comfortable now that so much of the busier water traffic had died down recently, all but the inevitable fishing boat of varying hull shape and size would come about to do their usual trips to feed themselves and their families.

Ever since the women clad in suits rode into the waters and settled amidst the shore, things had been busier on land now, with those living amidst the area being administered a peace dealing of sort: fall in line and stay under their banner of the rose, and they shall be cared for as one people: equal to one another. The sweetening of the deal came with the showing of sustenance from almost another world, more tropical fruits and plants, as well as proper electrical and plumbing, allowing for the people to live properly and safely amidst the area which was claimant under the women’s order.

---

But of course, not everything always can go as smoothly: dissenters to misasses the strength of the new leadership, moving to take up and steal away some loose goods meant for others as a way to rile the populace and make things sour on both ends of the new order. A few crates of goodwill cargo was taken off from the midst of the storage area kept within the square of a town newly put together with collaborative effort, and would be taken deeper amidst the woods to be shared within the midst of a gang of hunters and mercenaries: the cargo seems to be, besides perishables, handfuls of ammo and small arms meant to help with the establishment of a proper security force, albeit not a lot to put up a full rebellion. But mistakes can add up, of course.

That is, until the twilight hours before sunrise, as things are settled down minus a guard or so keeping watch: the last nightly changing of the guard shift is to begin, as one man walks out to assign himself the place of the man that was currently situated out here: a rifle and a hound should be well enough for alerting the rest of the camp to any further action. Stepping out from the midst of the tents and coming around the side, the silence would be broken with shock, and the sound of a whine. Two men, missing, and one dog, dead. The murder weapon well and stuck out the side of the hound: a large spike, almost similar to a large security baton, pierced into its hide. The man was nowhere in sight, and— *thunk!*

Out like a light went the new guard. The force of what hit him dislocated his jaw and crumpled in a cheekbone, and the concussive hit led to his brain effectively going back to sleep: the impact mark matched like a large fist, and it was precisely that which collided with him. The hand recoiled back, and as the body dropped, it was grabbed by the sling of a rifle and pulled up. Hefted easily over the shoulder, the suspect wandered on off to the brush some couple dozen meters nearby, and soon dropped the body of the unconscious guard within it. As the noise of the brush rustles, three more men of equal size step on out, and one man of a smaller height, as they wandered towards the entrance of the camp. The gear they had on was mottled with camouflage that they had to blend in: tall overcoats and tight jumpsuits, with their faces covered in full masks, hiding their identity. With the looks on their tall and broad bodies, they look more similar to golems than men.

---

On the other end, the same results were coming about: guards dealt with and eventually would come to make their way in the other end: four men, three tall and broad men, but one a couple heads taller than the others, trundling into the midst of the area and unslinging their own defensive measures: weapons that for a normal man would be more comfortably served by crews, such as heavy machine guns and grenade launchers, composed to be used as two handed weapons which the men hold with comfort, moving to take their positions. The tallest of the men follows the shortest to go on and assess the cargo: taking only what’s there for the moment, the larger of the bunch would wait as the smaller of the two goes ahead to undo a tripwire trap nearby, unloading a shotgun set nearby and tossing it aside, as the crates were ready to do. Unfortunately, at the same time, someone woke up in the middle of the night to take a piss, and as they did, bumped into the side of one of the men. This didn’t bode well for either side.

Soon, as the man made a commotion and swore towards the man, the order being transmitted to them was to deal with them: no need for stealth, but for now, it was time to simply end this mess and move on out. Aiming their weapon down at him, a single shot blew the man back into his temporary home, leaving the rest of the camp to begin stirring awake: this wouldn’t be for too long, as in a moment’s notice, heavy loads of buckshot and magazine loads are spent across the area, peppering across the camp in every corner that may have living people in here, dumping rounds into wherever they see a tent, circling around and dosing out whatever is needed to quell them. At one moment, a man charged in with a bayonet mounted amidst a rifle, having dumped the rounds into the center of mass of one of the men. Despite the ten rounds, the armor he wore held up well, and would soon be capable in taking the stab into the midsection, wherein the rest of the rifle was used to bludgeon the assailant. The plating on their gear seemed to take up the wear of the small arms fire, especially the ballistic composite additions amidst their armor, looking similarly to a modern-day suit of plate armor. Bursts of the gunfire would cause one of them to simple bend over to soak in the hits and brace themselves, and when the ammo was expended, they’d simply lurch back and open fire with their own burst of automatic fire.

Soon enough, after a few minutes of the continued onslaught, the tallest of the men would throw one final man down, and with a few successive stomps to the head, things were back to quiet within the area. The fire put out, it looked as if things were simply just a conflict amidst the area that left them killed. Magazines collected for concealment of evidence, the brutes would wander on off to lead the way out of the camp, while a couple of them hauled their goods away in their arms, bringing them back as day broke towards the town’s cache, along with most of what was within the dissenter’s camp, making it look as if the people of the new colony had even more bounty to spoil them with.

---

As dawn strikes and the sun begins to arise, a flag raises high over the new town as people are moved within temporary homes either set down and packed out for them, the white rose in the sky marked under a red brooch marked the sign of prosperity: and with it, agriculture was already next on the docket to begin settling up, to feed the locals food that they can produce for themselves. While their methods aren’t too different, the Gremory operating Fleur-de-Lavienne at least opt to let their extremism aside to allow their tenets to take hand firstly in this foreign land: to prosper rather than destroy, firstly.

[Gonswanza]

Mictlán was split into 9 defense districts, yet, the territiry expanded slowly to the northwest, further inland, and along the coast. Carriers and landingcraft helped move things along as the colony sought to expand, with an influx of willing settlers and engineers, setting up infastructure ahead of the new settlements, though it will still take a while fir things to settle. Light tanks of the ELT-105 variety rolled in to provide security, as well as infsntry in RATNIK gear, keen on keeping feral animals at bay along with pirates, if any. Yet the monsterous presence of an ever expanding fleet for an ever expanding empire was likely enough to scare off any attempts at disturbing the peace.

Yet as the colonists marched to new land, they quickly came upon the natives, offering gifts and protection, seeing them as valuable assets... Rather than fodder. Again, in due time, the settlers of Mictlán will know theor name. And in due time they will lay claim to the entire region itself. All the shores, all the crystal waters, from coast to coast, islamd to island. Nothing was safe from their crazed mission for total control and absolute domination.

[Arakhkhar]

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Official Message of the Imperial Principality of Arakhkhar Department of International Affairs - External Outreach Division

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Following the arbitrary restrictions of the ordinance PR.571, a measure taken with direct opposition to the international aims of the Imperial Principality and her people, a decision has been reached following deliberations of the Vicereine and her staff, most prominently, the Intendant of International Affairs, Karina. The Imperial Principality of Arakhkhar henceforth considers the Commonwealth of Saint Hayes an unfriendly state. All citizens of the Commonwealth currently on the premises of the Imperial Principality or its Intendancies are to be expelled immediately. Diplomatic personnel are not to be exempted from this state of affairs, considering the fact that this action of the state seems to be drawn from the actions of its Prime Minister. All such citizens not having left after a 48 hour grace period will be assumed to be foreign intelligence assets and tried on charges of espionage. All imports from the Commonwealth have been banned by the state. Si vila vaykrayn, si desin Imperarkvit. By the Vicereine's Will, by the Empress's Design.

[Saint Hayes]

PBN2.com/news/politics/prime-minister-we-wont-back-down-arakhkhar
5/24/2024

"We won't back down" Prime Minister Claims

---

Arakhkhar and Saint Hayes relations have significantly degraded in the last week, with tensions running extremely high due to PR.571, or more colloquially known as the Arakhkhar ban. The policy has come due to the occupation of North Sylvaria by Arakhkhar forces, with the government worried due to the allegations of human rights abuses being carried out by the Government in Novalira.

While the policy banned Arakhkhar imports and led to Arakhkhar citizens being returned to Arakhkhar from the nation under a two weeks notice, the policy did not target diplomatic agents nor removing diplomatic immunity from them. Obviously, the response from Arakhkhar has been labeled as significantly overreactive, retracting diplomatic immunity from citizens of the Commonwealth and leaving Commonwealth citizens with only 48 hours to leave the country.

While the Commonwealth has not stated any plans to remove any diplomats that may be present, there have been speculations that the SHSDF has been placed on a ready status due to the escalation of tensions.

While many have been concerned over the possibility of a conflict or crisis with the government of Arakhkhar, the government has assured the public that there will be no such thing, with Prime Minister Oscar Hammond spending multiple days running "damage control" on the policy, ensuring the public that the government will find a solution to this situation, and that everything is fine.

PBN2: Prime Minister, is there anything you can say on the statement from Arakhkhar?

OH: I think there is an underlying cause to this, and it is the aggression that they hold towards those who respect human rights. We have worked tirelessly to uhh, to uphold the rights that the people uhh, that the people are entitled to.

PBN2: There have been multiple questions over whether this will result in PR.571 expanding to emcompass far more "Arakhkhar State Associated Activities" as you proclaimed in the statement before Parliament last Tuesday.

OH: Yes that has been something that we at the Conservative Party have been pushing for since the allegations of human rights abuses came to fruition. We are talking complete bans, no citizens of Arakhkhar allowed in any form within the Commonwealth, no television broadcasts, nothing that can risk our national security.

PBN2: Do you have anything you want to say to the government in Novalira? Or to address to the people?

OH: Yes, I think we need to understand the larger threats to Democracy, to our way of life. I think Novalira needs to understand that we will not recognize their claims in Sylvaria as long as they remain hostile to us. I am very concerned by the hostility they have shown to "the old order", but I think they need to recognize that we do not want aggression. We want them to recognize that we want to live our way of life uninterrupted, that is all I can say.

PBN2: Thank you for your time Prime Minister, if we can move on to other questions now...

Statements within our content do not reflect the views or beliefs of PBN2 or our staff.

[The Sarda Citizenry]

The Malenkov Herald- The First Free Paper! Since 1712!

3RD FLEET REACHES FULL OPERATIONAL STRENGTH
LIBERTY NEVER SLEEPS!

Malenkov, Plavinsk- The Department of Defense confirmed that the ARN’s 3rd Fleet has finished deploying its latest ship, the the Lacto-class guided missile cruiser ARN No Sleep ‘Till Petrodorf. With the cruiser’s deployment, Admiral Remilov believes, “we’re ready to send any fucker and his drug-induced fantasies of ending our freedom to the bottom of the deep, cold northern seas.”

As part of the ceremony, Assemblyman Jayov Slervernkoski was allowed to ‘fire’ the Otobreda 127/64 Lightweight Gun at the ship that was being removed from the register to make room, an old Calkov class destroyer that was loaded with fireworks. The ensuing detonation and party on shore lasted well into the night, and Assemblyman Slervernkoski was returned early next morning on a helicopter, passed out and making a fine scene for all involved.

While the mood was light and joyous, the regional situation has grown bleaker for lovers and liberty and freedom everywhere. With tensions rising, the 1st fleet has been organized and is currently keeping the sea zones to the north and to those damn friendly elves open and clear. 5th CCG is currently out east on an undisclosed mission. While there is no direct and immediate threat to the Armed Republic just yet, a state of relative caution has pervaded the nation for some time. Many feel that a shoe is about to drop and while there is no doubt freedom and liberty will triumph, most are anxious to get it started.

[Kva Norale]

Article #1 By: Lyla Dinerov Borgisk Naval Station Receives RME Updates June 12, 2024 Shen Borgisk, Kva Norale- Borgisk Naval Station located just outside Shen Borgisk, the second largest city on the island of Syenbel, has finished received significant infrastructure redevelopments to accommodate additional naval assets. Current accommodations were deemed inadequate in 2018 following a review by the Department of Local Defense in conjunction the Imperium governance. The expansion was deemed paramount to territorial sovereignty with Kolthor lurking to the west. Additional docking berths, dockyards, and numerous upgrades were completed as well, allowing for further naval construction capacity. A Factory Whaling Ship The Imperium itself has seen to substantial increases in the presence of homebound vessels in Kva Nalore following the rising tensions of the regions. In an effort to protect critical trade routes from the Imperium to Kva Nalore, fleet protections have been given a substantial increase. The trade route, dubbed "the line" is a lengthy naval route that supplies foodstuffs and other consumable materials to the citizens of Kva Nalore. As the island is largely frozen, substantial agriculture is exceedingly difficult to maintain. The naval station also received an additional berth for the Nalorian Whaling Fleet, which has seen remarkable growth in recent years. Minsk whales in particular, are in high demand, though there have been environmental concerns in recent years. The fishing industry as a whole is growing and Nalorian naval vessels are ever prudent in protecting fishing interests, as the industry accounts for a substantial source of not only revenue, but to feed the frozen country. Royal Marquesan Exports - Amador Branch, has also finished its upgrades at the station, opening up several new factories for munitions production to its allies and for local purposes. The factories, expected to employ several hundred civilians, will be a substantial boon to the economy of Shen Borgisk, which has seen struggles in recent months following severe blizzards that have shut down much of the the province itself. . .Imperium News Network. MORE IN AMADOR Grand Azura Honors Melody [ 1029355 ] The Governor [ 932742 ] Comments [ 930729 ] | E-mail this article © ANI 2024

[Badassistanian]

Red Dawn

Not much is known about the old history of this shattered continent but over time its peoples have coalesced into empires, republics, and zealous bandits. For some, this cruel and hellish state of affairs was tolerable if not welcomed. For others, it was an intolerable blight. This was true of the plucky peasants, workers, and poor who established The E.C.O. on a small island in the Estrella Bay some 20 years prior. The system that this new collective designed was built on the principle that the workers, who render their valuable labor to the benefit of all peoples, are to be the supreme decision makers in all things government, society, and economics. Three workers councils (agriculture, industrial production, services) of 8 individuals, elected through local state unions covering specific geographic areas, make up the legislative body of the collective. This legislative body then selects a presiding Secretary (elected every 2 years) who serves as an administrative clerk for the legislative process and an executor of the law. Decisions of national and mutual importance, as determined by the secretary, are voted on by simple majority among all members of the legislative body. The economy is structured in a way in which the three workers councils individual determine necessary production to provide for the needs of every worker that rends useful labor and their dependents as well as for general government function which is then accepted and approved by the Secretary. The councils will then distribute produced goods as is determined necessary. In the last few years of the great workers experiment, this has led to intense conflicts of interest between the councils as well as intense shortages and overproduction of various goods/services which has caused economic hardships to become prevalent throughout the once thriving collective. In particular, the agricultural workers council has gained significant influence over the collective due to its essential role in providing the necessities of life and as such has a strong alliance with members in the industrial production workers council as a means of procuring/remanufacturing necessary equipment for mass farming. The current secretary, Oscar Padron, himself hails from the agricultural workers council. This year, he is up for re-election and there are rumors that a popular challenger from the services council may try to weaken his position. This has created significant anxiety through the collective, however to most inhabits of the continent, a change in leadership does not matter. Red is red and sometimes its better to be dead than red.

[Arakhkhar]

(Follow up to this post)

Detection

•Namenos Island, Arakhkhar, Badlands Frontier•

05:31, June 14th, 2024•

---

To glide - to scan, to make every little inscrutable detail scrutable.

To make the designs of your enemies known, and to keep those of your allies concealed - such was the charge of the Imperial Service of Intelligence.
Every day, like blood in the vein, intelligence from hundreds of places coursed through here. Some too far even to consider, naturally, for the average military operation. However, within that labyrinthine network of tunnels, sensors, communications equipment, and surface-to-air missiles twirling and dancing about - there was a substantial devotion to studying the Badlands itself, and the happenings within it.


After all, such were matters of immediate concern - most commonly, of course, the Armed Republic of the Sardan Citizenry formed a matter of some scrutiny. Thus far, they had not directly threatened Arakhkhari operations, save for some minor incidents in the past.

Yet, their object tone of abolitionist drivel seemed to warrant a devotion of resources. Numbers sang across the airwaves, coordinating dolls and assets across the world - and satellites flew overhead, making their passes over the little republic, their sensors penetrating deep, taking note of the movement of the country of escaped slaves, terrorists, and anarchists. Ships in their ports, maneuvering around.
Every movement they could find was scrutinized - catalogued - holographic projections upon transparent glass, letting the coordinates be watched in real time.

Eyes inhuman gazed upon them - possible vectors calculated, possible tasks corroborated with signals intelligence assets. And soon enough, an OTH radar in Volkovograd would be able to identify such assets once more in motion - the Western Sea.

A Cipher agent walked briskly through the halls - the heel of her boots clicking against the steel floor incessantly. A light purple light illuminated the halls, which left them still utterly dim. The steel underneath clicked, rang out just a little - and she followed along through the winding corridors, eyes ahead, hands kept at her side.
She made a 90 degree turn, sharp on her heels - and entered her office, waiting for the gentle hiss of hydraulics to bid her entry through the great steel door.

It was dark inside the great spherical room - and as she walked up the steel catwalk, up a set of stairs, she watched as the room’s floor lit to life with a large map - a purple grid first making itself evident, before lines began to twist and squiggle across the screen - making the outlines of a great world map.
Underneath her mask, she smiled, as the outline of the Imperial Principality became evident - lighting aglow with its poisonous purple hue, watching as a few of the states around it were infected by it.

Taking a moment to watch the beautiful moment, she then promptly found her seat - black leather, finely made, sitting within the bounds of a circular desk, from which a small empty spot remained for her to find her seating. She reclined back, taking stock of the situation.

Satellite imagery had detected activity at the Estates. There had long been designs for the strategic point - a weak microstate at the maw of the most strategically vital waterway in the Badlands, and one that already made employ of slavery - moreover, it wasn’t a state that collaborated extensively with the slaver guild, making it rather tantalizing.
However, it seemed as though the abolitionists had acted first.

Smoking ruins had been found in the daytime - it appeared as though the sign of an antislavery operation.
Cipher-Six sighed, if only somewhat irritated at the fact that they would have some slight more work to do - but at least, they wouldn’t be facing any large scale enemy resistance. Crippled, battered people, having been burnt in their homes - begging and pleading for aid, having been wrought asunder. They could hardly pose a threat.

She shifted to her side, and gently let her fingers grace a black keyboard.
“Recommend military action to secure post-operation zone.”
With deft hand and gentle grace, with a little press of a button - she condemned thousands to slavery or death.

---

The Black Fleet

•Cobernstratitgrüp Vesokiyan, Western Sea, Badlands Frontier•

02:21, June 15th, 2024•

---

The bow broke a great wave. Sea-water sprayed onto the deck, white foam lit under the watch of the deck. Rain pattered furiously at the windows, and the ship remained undeterred.

It was early in the morning, if it could be called so - in so pitch black and violent of a sea, one could find no makings of a morning anywhere near. In fact, for the estates, the coming of the light would not bear any respite for the beleaguered residents of the little town.

The ship rose with the waves - a great feeling, almost like flight, bore with Commander Vinala, and she looked out at the furious sea that seemed to break before her as the ship fell once more, tall waves crashing around and splashing once more unto the hull, battering against the deck and the windows. The howling of the rain and the wind, left dulled inside the cabin by its callous steel construction that could resist nature’s torment and vehement rejection of them with ease.

The Commander turned to her right - a Subcommander sitting at her desk, gripping her seat a little. Black leather had covered her form, marked with silver at the edges to form decorative markings and commendations that had distinguished her from the rest. Her pale face was left darkened, with only the dim lights of the bridge’s monitors to keep them company. Their violetish hue had somewhat filled the bridge, yet letting shadows dance about and linger within it.
Maps flashed on screen, as did indicators of the ship’s various systems. Radar, Sonar - obviously, both diminished by the foul weather - but it was necessary to track the storm.

And then came the flash of lightning - the dark silhouette of 4 other warships with her own, their forms also backlit by the crackle of lighting, which snaked across the sky, twisted, contorted, and finally met the violent sea.
“The eye is ahead of us.”
The Subcommander spoke briefly - and of course, her words were mirrored with the revelation that there was indeed a break in the storm not far ahead.
The Commander spoke in her commanding voice, one that was heavy - ungentle, yet still not quite brutish. It was like a velveted fist in its onset.
“Proceed to it. Flank-ahead. Inform the detachment.”
The Subcommander gave a curt nod - speaking without fear or fervor.
“It will be done.”
The Subcommander shifted, turning to the controls - reaching for them, and letting her gloved hands cross the violet glow, interrupting it, as they gently glided across it. All within could feel the ship begin to turn, the little lurch causing the Commander to grip a rail nearby, before the ship’s stabilization systems kicked into overdrive, making the turn just a little more pleasant for the crew within.
A communications officer leaned in, having heard the order - as she gently plucked her headset, and placed it over her pale ears - face basked in violet light, as a signal rang out into the stormy night.
“Proceed units 79 1-5 to 8-26 2-23. Stand by to renew vector.”
The Commander spoke in turn, giving an order.
“8-26 2-23 - V1, 9-29, V2, 13-29 15-20. Execute.”
The order was parroted, then encrypted, through countless ciphers, and promptly received by the corresponding operators.
It would not be long before they would arrive.

Anticipation... anxiety - such could not quite characterize what was felt between the scattered thousand or so individuals who had taken to sea. Not quite individuals, perhaps - each a mere extension of the Empress in their own way, and their emotions reflected that. For there was no storm they could not surmount, no obstacle too great to prevent the accomplishment of the Empress's design for the world. There was the sea before them - the sea in front of them - and their objective in front of that.

And their objective was surely ready for someone to seize it.
And like sharks to the first scent of blood - they made their act.

Behold the coming of the Sun

•The Estates, The Maw, Badlands Frontier•

06:21, June 15th, 2024•

---

The sun rose over a smoke-filled land.

And behold, for it bore with it five dark horses.
And with them - came subjugation.

Their black forms basked in the orange glow of the light of the rising sun of the east. Having cast off the shroud of the storm’s billowing grey veil which rushed and crashed over the sea - a sea which, at their approach, seemed to slowly grow calmer, less violent.
To those who had taken respite in watching the sea - there was no site more troubling, none more terrible to their already bedraggled imaginations after having buried or burnt so many - friends, loved ones.
And it became clear, from then on - each of them wished they had been a crueler person. That they may have had the mercy of a bullet, or the liberating embrace of fire, that they might exist no longer in the onset of a degradation that they had never felt before.

An old man sat on a broken pier. He glared into that choppy sea - watching the waves lap and cross over, to splash below him. His tired legs dangled from the half-rotten wood, perilously over the sea below. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of it - not since he, with his tired body and his broken heart, heaved, and let his son go into the ocean not so long ago. He had been sitting there for hours - not quite able to come to terms with it.
A father bereaved - a son in his watery grave.
Was his son a monster?
He couldn’t quite see him as such, no matter what those who had set upon them had said. He had remembered watching hatefully, silently.
But there was nothing he could do, now, nor then. With struggle in his old bones, he had held his son with the same care as he did when he had first beheld him when he was born - and let him go into the sea, to find some peace.

But there was no peace in the sea. The old man looked up, and watched the forms on the horizon. His heart, already at its bottom - could not possibly sink lower. But now, there was no question in his course of action.


Yet, for all those dark shapes slowly approaching from the horizon - new ones would soon join them.
Engines whirred, roared to life - as more silhouettes set upon inside them. They had blackened armored forms, face plates aglow with the corrupted hue of their goggles - filters affixed to their inhuman visages. They clambered into helicopters, whose blades spun faster and faster, roaring to life. They rose from the blackened forms, taking shape over the horizon - rising to meet the sun’s gaze.
Without defenses, those who survived were helpless to watch them approach.

Aboard, they watched - slowly banking with the turn, as to circle around the destroyed settlement.
The cold, cruel voice of dispatch sounded within their ears - across all the radios of all the units.

Task Force Units - Operation Code 613 is in effect. Ascertain. Descend. Liquidate.

The Shock Trooper raised her RAK-74 rifle - she gripped the charging handle with a tentative gloved hand, pulling it back, and watching with passive interest as a cartridge revealed itself - before she let the bolt slide back into place.
She spoke softly into her radio - her voice distorted by the vocoder embedded in her helmet, robbing her voice of any of its humanity. Even without it, though, she didn't dare to speak with any emotion in her voice. Such was not tolerated.
"Ordinal Web-71 understands and obeys."
She took a moment to stare out through the window - smoke rose from the charred, burnt land. Corpse piles, only half-destroyed by fire. They'd done a number on this place.

The Old man had already chosen his course of action - he gazed out at the sea, glaring for all but a moment at the interlopers - and then at the waters lapping below him, his son’s grave.
He rolled forward, and found his son once more.

The helicopter, however, picked something up with its onboard Geiger counter, as it drew nearer to the dock - it was radioactive.
The pilot spoke into her radio, her featureless face-place displaying a host of information directly for her.
"Detecting increased ionizing hazards. Reporting to Tsentralkommant."

It took only a minute for a new order to be received.

Task Force Units - Be advised. Ionizing hazard in vicinity of Primary target. Shift mission parameters at discretion. Amend Operational parameters - Liquidate malignants.

With that, the helicopters ceased circling in the air like sharks - pulling in low, but keeping a safe distance from the dock. They'd have to send a cleanup team later. Luckily, they had... things that weren't quite people anymore to do that, so nothing valuable would be wasted.

Black cords shot out, as the doors opened from the helicopters - and soon enough, like spiders delicately descending from a web of their own design, the Shock Troopers mounted - one after another, and landed onto the ground, letting the sights of the broken land be taken in. The wails of the dead and dying could still be heard, from some places - some pleading - and others begging not to be let near the Shock Troopers.
Their black silhouettes having set upon the land, their purple goggles aglow - they took defensive positions, as more and more were landed at positions around the town.
It wouldn't take long for the first survivors to meander over to them.

A mistake, for some.
For those that had been severely irradiated, as they slowly approached, with tentative caution - there was little in the way of help for their beleaguered, beaten bodies, as they meandered towards the little collection of Troopers.
The Troopers, of course, had received their orders - with rifle in hand, Web-71 shouted at them.
"Move!"
The order was clear, although distorted by her voice - as the Shock Troopers beside her wielded a mix of RAK-74 rifles and Stun batons, for ease of crowd control - the survivors were corralled, brought to wherever they could be brought en-masse. They treated the inhabitants not as much of aligned unfortunates, but as additional elements of the dissolute - the same as any other.
Mandatory radiation screening, of course, had to take place - as each shaking, nervous individual - some who were still hopeful that the Troopers were here to help.

They were. In a way.
Twelve individuals were found to have been contaminated - each, upon being detected, was dragged off by a pair of Shock Troopers. Those who attempted to fight, naturally, received a swift strike from a baton. They were dragged into the ruined remnants of a basement - thrown in, forced to face the wall - some of them crying, pleading, saying that they had never been contaminated, that the counter had somehow lied, or detected some background radiation.
Their pleading went silent soon enough. A bullet for each quieted them. From there, the future was relatively simple - cordon off the docks, pending the arrival of proper liquidators. Identify suitable collaborators who would willingly accept the Empress - and enslave the rest.
Of the roughly 12,000 who remained, 5,731 accepted the new order. With bowed heads and terror in their eyes, they did so - they swore fealty to the Empress, to Arakhkhar - and in doing so, accepted their status as lower beings - as pawns of the Empress. The remainder was brought to that state by force, as rapid-response units descended from positions in Volkovograd and elsewhere in the western sea region. Some refused to obey, some refused wholly to submit - and in such cases, those met the same fate as the contaminated - liquidation en-masse.

Either on the spot, or in lines - watching with bated breath, one after another, in short order. Those that were due for enslavement were taken to the ruins of buildings, merely to be held, until a proper team could arrive in force. They huddled together, praying that the Sardan liberators might return - some having found far more than what they bargained for.

By 0921 hours, the Estates were declared secured - as the Western-Sea task force now took a stop to patrol around, ensuring it would not be assailed.
And by 1030 hours - the purple flag was brought to the tallest standing building in the small town - and raised tall, and proud.
The Shock Troopers, each prepared - raised their arms, and with closed fist, they struck their own chests - holding their fists there in the Arakhkhari salute.
The flag slowly raised, unfurled above a place of ashes - inching ever upwards, the golden eagle fluttering in the breeze, displayed proudly despite the decay and death around them.

---

The Cost of Liberation

•The Estates, The Maw, Badlands Frontier•

18:05, June 15th, 2024•

---

Rejoice, people of the Estates.

For your salvation is now at hand.
The expedient arrival of units from the fleet would have to contend with the increasingly radioactive docks - that which was rather important for maintaining the entire affair.

For such a task, machines would have to be brought. Some of them were, of course, typical machines. Sprayers for washing away radioactive material, but, of course - necessary heavy equipment could not be brought on such short notice from the fleet. But, of course - there were other machines. Those of a different nature. Within one of the ships, a set of smooth black pods sat - like the cocoons of a spider, though mechanical and distinctly technological in nature. Five, on each wall. A Shock Trooper entered the room tentatively, her hand cautiously gripping the shock baton at her waist - her goggles illuminating the dark room.
She looked to her right, and pressed a small button.

Light filled the dark corridor, and the pods became more visible with it. Light gently reflected off them, allowing her to see her own reflected, masked visage within them. She took but a moment to examine each, before returning to the corridor's entrance - and pressing yet another button. It was concealed within a little plastic case - with a simple motion, grip upon it, it was accessible.[
A soft press onto the grey button - and soon enough, the lights began to pulse, flashing red slowly, in and out, in a sort of hypnotic fashion.

One after another, each pod had a little hatch that slid open - that soon came to encompass the entire pod front. And from each, a hydraulic hiss emerged - filling the air. If she had not been wearing a gas mask, she would have smelled the strong odor of cold clinical disinfectants that filled the room for all but a moment, before it was quickly whisked away by the filtration system within. And one after another - they climbed out. She hated them, in truth. They weren't... human, anymore.
Their skin was pale - stretched over their bones, and quite leathery. Practically translucent. With little metal clicks, their... hooks reached the ground. They didn't have feet anymore. They were removed, in favor of simple metal parts meant to inhibit their mobility. A black metallic tube remained lodged in their throats, and like the limbs of a spider, a series of metal pins held it into place around their mouth - locking around it, and secured by a series of bolts made directly into the skin.

The Shock Trooper watched with some degree of sickness in her stomach, but she had her orders.
"Equip for activities in contaminated region."

In unison, they spoke.
"Affirmative."
The voice was cold, mechanical in a way even the vocoder of the trooper failed to convey. They were machines, in a form that wasn't human anymore.
The Shock Trooper stood aside, as the units began to march - at equal distance and speed from each other, marching in unison as machines should.
She hated them. She hated how they move, the way in which the so-called Althumans maneuvered and whirred about as if they had never been humans with lives and families behind them. But they had their uses.

They would be brought to the site via helicopter - which would land in a place quickly cleared out. Adorned with thick rubber, coated with lead shielding to try in vain to extend the lifespan of these machines, they would begin to shovel in. With the rubber coatings and thick, heavy gas masks they wore, they may have been mistaken for ordinary humans with a great deal of protection.
They began to shift through the cordon at the behest of the purple-goggled guards - sifting through the remnants of the dockyard, hosing it down to wash away radioactive material. The cleanup would take a great deal of time - but ultimately, it was worth it. It was worth it to gain a foothold to the north, and with it, a means of choking the river for thousands of kilometers.

[Kva Norale]

Article #2 By: Lyla Dinerov Nalorian Naval Updates: Purchase, Trade Routes June 17, 2024 Ifa Serine, Amador- Activity is buzzing along at an insane pace at the Shen Borgisk Naval Station. Following the contractual negotiations with the Imperial Principality, the Noralian Department of Defense has authorized the departure of five military vessels: One "Naga" Nuclear Testudo Strike Cruiser, three "Damballa" 1st-class Testudo Frigate, and two "Prosperine" Replenishment Ships to be delivered to the Principality over the coming months. Assets are currently being given general maintenance following their journey from mainland Amador in Gholgoth. Kva Norale's Fifth Fleet "Amadorious" took over protective custody of the vessels following their entry into the Badlands. With the request for additional support towards the naval arm of the Principality, the fifth fleet will accompany the the naval assets of the Principality to the port city of Solkhar. Kva Norale is also offloading and requisitioning the required equipment for a series of accepted domestic production rights to produce RME techs in the Principality. It is assumed the material route will open up a series of protected trade routes between the two nations, ensuring an improvement of economic wellbeing. All this follows the extensive build up of military forces in Kva Norale, especially naval assets. Pundits and government officials alike believe the Imperium territory, an essentially independent country in its own right, to be gearing up for war with Kolthor. Tensions have always been high, but the tensions are starting to boil over. Shen Borgisk Naval Station recently completed a series of expansions suggesting that forces will begin massing soon enough. It is known that the Noralian Home Fleet recently commissioned a series of indigenously built destroyers, of the Type-982 "Acre" Class Guided-Missile Destroyer - they are expected to form the backbone of Noralian naval power in the Silent Seas, otherwise known as the Noralian Seas to Kva Norale. The increase in forces also coincides with with the Department of Defense's goal of protecting and securing the Silent Sea, as it is considered a vital trade link between mainland Amador and the frozen country. the sea is regularly patrolled by elements of the Noralian and Fifth fleet forces. Primarily used for shipments of grain and other foodstuffs, convoys of Imperium ships are often under intense protections guaranteed by Amadorian and Nalorian naval assets. In the even of war, Kva Norale has identified the sea, in particular the trade route, as an integral assets to protect and keep secure for the safety of the country. .Imperium News Network. MORE IN AMADOR Shen Borgisk Receives Updates [ 1029355 ] Azuran Strait: Safe or Not? [ 932742 ] Comments [ 930729 ] | E-mail this article © ANI 2024

[Sierra Palacios]

Texotlalpan, An Introduction

•GRAND TEXOTLI EMPIRE, THE BADLANDS•

The thunder of the engines was the first sign of danger that echoed through the night. Don Secada’s band of mercenaries liked to attack under full moons, and tonight was no exception. The strange mixture of technicals, trucks, and dirt bikes set starkly against the full moon in the crooked sky signaled death as surely as the reaper’s scythe. Their victims were remnants of a recently conquered portion of territory. The crime these victims would pay for was that of being born not of the Texotli people. The convoy descended upon the small ranch set on a shallow bluff, surrounded by nought but cactuses and low shrubs. The group of refugees, 80 strong, watched in fear as the convoy descended upon them. They huddled within the adobe structure as the men grabbed their rifles and set themselves behind the low wall surrounding the ranch or parapets so common of isolated structures in this part of the world because of situations like this.

The vehicles arrived around the base of the shallow bluff. The autocannons on the technicals swung their guns around. These would be hell to fight due to their capabilities to whittle away at cover. Don Secada arrived last in his armored truck. This machine was the Don’s personal command vehicle, and what a sight it was. It was a small MRAP with electronics strewn about the outside. The whole vehicle was painted in crude tiger stripes colored like the desert. Don Secada was not a flashy man like other mercenario chiefs. The Don stuck his head out of the top of the vehicle to deliver his ultimatum. Among the Texotli, Secada was as fair skinned as they got, with a long face, neat but longer black hair, and a heavy brow. Many said he looked like a brute, and that assessment would not be too far off. “Hola zanhuitz, I am giving you this opportunity to drop your rifles and come out. This will make your deaths quicker. There may only be 50 of us, but I don’t see your cannons compadres.” This last remark drew snorts from his men. “Either way, you, your women, and your children” there was a brief pause, “we are going to kill all of you.” The Don was met with a rifle shot and he ducked his head back in. The order was given to open fire and aim for the center of mass.

The autocannons barked to life aiming towards the lower parts of the wall. The refugees only had a mixture of pistols, revolvers, and manually-repeating rifles, no match for the automatic weapons of the mercenarios. To make up for the lack of cover, the autocannons focus-fired to cut a path straight for a flanking maneuver while other machine guns suppressed their enemies. Over the span of the next 20 minutes, the mercenario infantry went from cover to cover. Some of them were cut down, but they were acceptable losses. This stagnant frontal assault was perfect since it drew the refugees away from the flank, one with a path being cut by the autocannons. Eventually, the mercenarios broke into the complex on two sides. The refugees tried to break and run. But there was no way out as everyone not inside the buildings were mowed down with superior firepower. There were very few men left with rifles alive.

He waited on the inside of one of the buildings with a shotgun. The women and children were crying, and he was about to break. There was no way out. His friends, his brothers, and even his father, had been slaughtered by the government approved barbarians. He had told them they needed to run when the Texotli first came to their gates. Nobody had listened. Now, he was left, knowing everyone he loved was going to die. Adrenaline was pumping through him, he wanted to vomit. Only one other man with a gun was inside the small building with him. This man’s face was as pale as bone. Unlike some of his compatriots, Don Secada was known for ensuring the deaths of any women and children would be painless. Or so the rumors said. He nodded at the priest, who began to give last rites for everyone present. The last of the Hail Mary’s were said, and the men with the guns burst out the door opening fire.

Don Secada had ensured everyone had been gathered up. The only grown man to have been spared was the priest, such that he could administer more last rights. Secada never cared much for the dogma of the Spirit Cult and their child sacrifice. While they had to die, killing them ritually was for creeps and decadent patrons. Slowly, the women and children were rounded up, and shot surgically to ensure their death was painless. “Such is blood money, amigo.” was what Don Secada always said at the end of the day. While other gangs loved to relish in pain, or howled like wolves during the dirty work. Secada cut anyone out of a paycheck who acted like that. In total, 68 intact bounties were taken, a hefty paycheck from the Texotli government, considering the contract for this mission had a bonus.

---

Presidente Severino Castello’s study was typical of Texotli studies. Tan adobe walls, dark wood bookshelves, a fireplace, a set of armor in one corner, and a cabinet full of tequilas of el Presidente’s choice, all giving the room a darker appearance than it should have. Castello, also known as El Caudillo due to his heavy-handed (even by Texotli standards) way of handling internal problems and his aggressive foreign policy, was a man with sunken eyes, a hollow face, and a mustache that spanned the width of his face. Castello was a scary man to be around, he would happily execute someone who didn’t fit into his views of the world. But at the same time, he could be jovial, had a solid grasp of “don’t shoot the messenger,” and an anger colder than a tundra night. While certain patron families wore clothes styled like those of their conquistador ancestors, the Castellos always favored the military garb of the early to mid 19th century, and Severino was no exception. However, his interpretation of the traditional Castello uniform was more baroque. Contrasting this was the man sitting across from him. Inteligencia Coronel Flaco Huerta dressed in the splotchy and dark camo fatigues worn by the military and a chunky gold trimmed greatcoat that was a green so dark it was nearly black. Usually, it was considered unwise to dress in camo when visiting El Caudillo, but Huerta was fearless, and wore them everywhere. He saw camouflage as a mark of pride, much in the same way Patron families saw fancy clothes. Flaco was a fairly large man, with a build that his men called that of a concrete bunker. His face was fairly plain, bar the small black mustache that reminded many of Texotli musicians from the 1950s. While El Caudillo was confident like a smug bullfighter, Inteligencia Huerta’s confidence was contained behind a figurative stone mask.

Huerta was finishing his report: “...there are less than 5,000 surviving Aronkanyites and Neo-Moabites left in our territory and the mercenarios are actively hunting them down. Black Brigades are keeping law and order within the conquered and settled areas. Everything is on track for a rapid compliance. There are concerns among the battlemages as they have detected strange energies, el Presidente.” El Caudillo took a moment to contemplate and then responded, “Flaco, mi amigo, you know what I told you when I assigned you, yes?” Huerta’s posture was unflinching and formal, he knew how El Caudillo worked, neither man at this table was a fool. “That I had free reign to do what I saw fit, el Presidente.” El Caudillo nodded, took a sip of water and paused further, he was clearly contemplating something but refused to break the eye contact between him and Huerta, and then continued, “This is probably nothing anyways, battlemages see all sorts of ‘energies’.” El Caudillo gave air quotation marks with his fingers on that last word, ending the sentence with a chuckle. “But, Flaco, make sure you keep an eye on it, si? If this is an actual threat, deal with it. Also, make sure Patron Escribano is not involved. He can be a bit too… recalcitrant. If he is trying to teach himself the arts of the esoteric. Well, I don’t think I need to tell you what to do mi amigo.” El Caudillo chuckled to himself. Huerta, unphased by the idea of having to decimate a patron house, responded, “Thank you for your time el Presidente. However, there is much work to be done if we wish to keep the pace of compliance we have. If you will now excu-” El Caudillo interrupted him, “Sit back down Huerta.” His tone was sharper than it was before. Huerta already knew what was coming and was not afraid. “How could you leave at this hour, without sharing a drink eh?” El Caudillo chuckled. “I have some fine vintage tequila I’ve been wanting to open, and what is fine tequila but white lightning if it is not shared among compadres.”

---

The corpse sat on its throne in a large tent lit only by a raging fire in the middle. It spoke in its double voice, where one voice sounded like it was screaming and whispering at the same time with a wet and gone voice, and the other sounded like it was shouting while buried alive. It was speaking to its inferiors while observing the horrific proceedings. This corpse was that of the old communist Aronkanyite rebel Givoc Vedlinit, the spirit within it was something darker. The Aronkanyites in their desperation tried to summon Vedlinit, and they got a long forgotten god of death. As it was, the primal proceedings he was watching delighted him greatly and this energy projected itself as malice.

---

Texotlalpan was born out of rogue bloodthirsty conquistadors conquering the even more bloodthirsty Texoxotlati people. However, this conquest wasn’t as complete as the conquistadors would’ve liked. Relegating the Texoxotlati to reservations and dividing the rest of the territory among the conquistadors, forming the patron houses (similar to the patrician houses of the Romans). In the 18th century, the Texoxotlati started to influence the decadent Patron houses, with many of them slowly converting to the Texoxotlati Spirit Cult. The Spirit Cult became popular because of its occult nature and taught many things, among those being blood purity and blood sacrifice. It is an inherently destructive and chaotic religion, one that got so bad that the surrounding tribes of the Texoxotlati gave them that name, which means “Those who inflict scars upon others” and drove them to build remote fortresses to defend themselves. In 1899, the Patron Houses took over, reworking the old system into an oligarchy controlled by them and the Spirit Cult, and began their murderous march across the badlands, leaving the newly formed Grand Texotli Empire a state constantly on the frontier. Its conquests are genocidal, but it rarely leaves the functions of genocides to the army. Instead, once the army has conquered, it sets up fortresses and prepares for the next campaign. Internal law enforcement is left to local police, the Black Brigades, or the Inteligencias. The genocides themselves are mostly contracted out to mercenary scalping gangs. While the Black Brigades are usually too ineffective to enforce the law, the Inteligencias are the most competent. The Inteligencias have many functions, including monitoring the population, monitoring the patron houses, coordinating genocides, and keeping an eye on foreign threats. The growth of the Grand Empire continues, with it setting its sights on other countries for assimilation.

“Long Live Texotlalpan”

[Wedgwood]

Greystroke, Wedgwood

President Cornelius Sun overlooked the adoring crowd, hanging on his every word. Sun was rather pleased about this. After all, a leaders people were supposed to adore them. Or, not people in this case. Apes. That was the correct term, ‘monkey’ was derogatory. Sadly, the world didn’t know what Wedgwood had to offer. This, would change.

“My people!” Cornelius boomed, his deep voice befitting his 100 souled status. “This is a momentous day! It is time that we reveal ourselves to the world!

No longer will we skulk in diplomatic stasis! No longer will we allow our interests to remain unrepresented! No longer will we hide in fear from the Devils that lurk in the shadows!” He smiles, his chimpanzee mouth opening wide. An unnervingly uncanny facsimile of a human politicians smile.

“Wedgwood… IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS!” He yells triumphantly, spreading his long arms wide. The lower souled masses began shrieking in wild, primate joy. The higher soul count upper classes clapped politely, instead, although this was drowned out. Naturally, all of this was broadcast to the entire badlands. Uninvited.

Wedgwood still had something’s to learn about human etiquette.

[Kva Norale]

Article #1 By: Osakila En'kolr BREAKING: Eternal Mother Announces Birth of Fourth Child June 22, 2024 Ifa Serine, Amador- Only months ago, Queen Maeralya publicly announced she was pregnant with her fourth child. Following a full-term labor of nine months, Glymerhall officially announced the arrival of Prince Dagon Tor Alnis, Second Prince of the House of Amador. Glymerhall announced that the Alfar royal was born healthy and with no complication. Queen Maeralya was stated as being in "good spirits" though a bit of a "mess" following her fourth birth and the first in centuries. Prince Dagon was born on June 20 in secret surrounded by close aides, friends, and family.He was born two days prior to the official announcement to give the Queen, who had retreated from public eyes in the past month, time to spend with her young son. Official Photo of Prince Dagon and his Mother, Queen Maeralya The King Consort, Ailred, was unfortunately not able to make it in time for the birth, as he was away on official state business in Kva Norale, but it is known that he returning to Ifa Serine to be with his wife and newborn child. The heir, Princess Aleriel, was present along with her sister, Princess Cylia, and were stated to be "estatic" with the second princess claiming she was "excited to no longer be the youngest." It is known that Maerlaya's eldest son, Gaeleath, was not able to attend either due to his position as governor of Kva Norale, though it is know that he joined in with his father via video call following the birth of Dagon. Prince Dagon will be fourth-in-line to the Eternal thrown after his elders sibling, Aleriel, Gaeleath, and Cylia. The newborn prince will also inherity the governship of Eska Alfaria, one of the Imperium's overseas territories when he comes of age. The Queen has also announced that Glymerhall, her official residence, will be hosting a ball to celebrate the birth of her soon and the Imperium's new prince. The ball will take place on July 4, 2024, and is expected to be attended by guests from across the world, including Amador's regional neighbors. The birth of a new royal has long been a dream, as the queen had not given birth to a child in centuries. It is a happy occurrence, with the official announcements bring Her subjects to the straights in celebration. Ifa Serine's waterways were packed to the brim with civilian vessels, where thousands upon thousands of of lanterns were let loose in the night skies - a tribute to the royal family. For now, until the ball, the monarchy has asked for peace and respect as the queen recovers from childbirth and to allow the Amador's family to personally greet the newborn prince. .Imperium News Network. MORE IN AMADOR Kva Norale-Marquesan Relations: How Solid Is It? [ 1029355 ] Aleriel to Attend a "Ghost Dance" [ 932742 ] Comments [ 930729 ] | E-mail this article © ANI 2024

[Malkantriz]

Addled by a Whisper

•Balqarrah Royal Palace, Malkantriz, Badlands Frontier•

•09:43, June 22nd, 2024

---

The crowd roared.

Like a wave, they moved, back and forth - forth again, and back to their original position. Thousands of faces clamored beside one another, each as hopeful and as angry as the one next. Signs, hastily put together, were thrown and waved in the air. The hopes and dreams and fears of a people, made manifest in one great protest against a situation that simply could not go on. Hope and fear mixed, intertwined, and came together in great voice - the voice of the people. Here, in the streets outside the Sultan's palace. As one looked on, one could see their faces stretching on into the horizon. It seemed as though the whole city had been gathered here. From the left, one could see the red banners of Marx and Lenin, raised proudly against the crowd - from the right, the green banners of Malkantrizian nationalism - the crescents upon them seeming to call out for the rise of a nation. From the center, those that championed the ideals of liberal democracy - the heirs of a century's long tradition of opposition.

They crowded each little street, gathered at the walls. Noblemen watched nervously from the balconies in their fine clothing, their concubines and wives standing at their side with anxiety in their steps. The image was a pertinent one - the luxury and pomp of the Sultan's palace, those that had been around him - the mustached men wearing their great turban hats, those fine robes - as they spied inquisitively at the crowd beneath them - silken women standing behind them, covered by veils or whatever else have you, having left the confines of their harems to seek comfort. A thickening black line began to separate the Sultan from his subjects - as vehicles began to move in, their engines rumbling as they made their approach unto the crowds.

Long had they endured the Sultan's transgressions. The Sultanate of the al-Malik dynasty had lasted for three-hundred years - and the people, they cried, said it was three-hundred too many. To let their sovereignty choke at a foreign leash - the leash of commerce. To maintain it, and else, to maintain the Sultanate - increasing crackdowns on the freedom of speech, of every right that had been placed thus far granted by his more moderate predecessors.

The Sultan continued to sit, isolated from the protests in his little, well decorated room. The glass was thick, tinted - and from silken sheets, curtains gave it a certain frame.
Sultan Rafiq al-Malik ibn Tariq leaned back into his seat - and with his finger, he gently stroked at his own, lengthy mustache. His face was somewhat young, still - his face unblemished, with a gentle tan coloration to it. His turban remained great on his head, wrapped tightly around it, with all the adornments permitted to him by his faith.
He was known as a Sultan who had relished in his luxury - and a man who was willing to preserve that, at any cost. He was young, powerful, and immensely wealthy - and now, faced with a crisis for his burgeoning administration.
"Free speech."
The phrase was gentle - as if plucking each slogan for careful digestion. The voice itself was soft, tender, gentle even, and that of a woman's - and with it, came the slowly tightening grip of a pale hand. One that had vexed him with its tentative hold. Yet it bore with it a certain disdain for the subject she spoke of - but not for its recipient. She stood behind him, hand on his shoulder, rubbing ever-so-tenderly.
And as if pointing each out each little scattered sign, she pointed out each one - reading aloud from behind her veil.
"Democracy."
She leaned in over the Sultan's shoulder, the adornments upon her jingling a little as she leaned in - some resting over the great chair he sat on, and others dangling helplessly. She spoke from behind her silken veil, her voice ever so filled with contempt towards her subject. It was as if the words themselves were vile to say, choked out.
Her hot breath reached the Sultan's ear - and he felt, with each moment, his hairs standing on edge. He had so been paralyzed whenever she took to whispering into his ear like that. A shiver, however, always raced down his spine. He thought it was because of his feelings for the girl. Perhaps, that he bore affection for her, and that to be so close was tantalizing. But it wasn't quite true. It was a shiver indeed, because that hot breath, that embrace of fire upon his helpless ear, had always only ever been bitterly cold.
She whispered softly into his ear, smiling behind her veil - taking pride in how her voice tickled him so.
"Must you let them make an offense against you, O' Sultan of mine?"
Her other hand began to rest on the Sultan's shoulder, massaging gently with each passing moment.
In this situation, when she had him melting as she did so - it was quite difficult to tell, perhaps, which of them was the slave, and who, the ruler. She was a concubine, of course. Perhaps, the most treasured of them. Heri hair was a deep burgundy color, and it was long, silky - done entirely straight, as such was how the Sultan best liked her. Her skin, pale as fresh Kva Noralan snow - and colder still than it - laid bare in a number of places, most prominently, her midriff. But her most striking feature, of course, were her eyes. How hypnotically beautiful and callous were they, how utterly devoid of humanity were they - and yet, how they seemed to charm and mesmerize at a simple flick of her eyelashes. How they shone a bright violet, and with her cruel gaze, how men and women did freeze.

The Sultan took all but a moment to gain his bearings once more. He found it overwhelmingly difficult to even so much as think properly in her enchanting presence. How she moved - with purpose, hypnotizing him so - with her soft flicks and gentle undulations. How the silks of her home country swaddled her so - not to tease, no - even with her midriff and back left bare, she maintained an almost otherworldly grace, a presence quite unlike any other he had ever encountered before.
He found it difficult to tear his thoughts away from it - how she seemed so gorgeous, and how he could have possibly had the good will with Allah to gain such a woman in his possession. Allah, of course, had very little to do with her presence - for that was the course of a precise calculation of something so far removed from his god, that he could not possibly understand it.
He spoke, taking a little gulp, without looking at her.
"I will... assert my authority as Sultan."
The massaging grew a little more intense, now - slightly more... forceful, almost. She leaned in, and the Sultan let out a little inaudible gasp as she did so - he had so hated and loved when she had done that. And for her, of course, it was little more than a further way to worm her way into his mind that seemed, with each moment, to be coiled by her very presence.

"A wise... idea, my Sultan."
The voice was another drip of poison into his addled mind - with each word, it was like the spider who wraps a web around its victim - each strand carefully, masterfully placed to play at his insecurities. For the young Sultan, he felt that if he did not show his hand as a powerful man - as a strongman, he felt that his reign would end - that his legacy would die with him.
He felt the weight of his forefathers before him - but he was mistaken. His forefathers had long forsaken his reign - a new weight stood by him. That new weight caressed, it soothed, and it otherwise made short work of him. The weight, more and more, became a pull - he was so set on the roaring crowds before him, that he could not quite feel the strings being attached to him.

The soft tap of a phone raised from a table - as the seductress behind her picked it up, maintaining one grip on his shoulder as she brought the little black prism to his lap - gently holding it in front of him.
"Here... my Sultan."
The phrase was said with an unseen smirk behind her veil. It crept up on her lips, more and more, as she watched him open the phone with deft fingers.
His disposition was increasingly amenable - his shoulders relaxed, allowing himself to once again indulge in and enjoy her massage. When he spoke, it was with a relaxed voice - addled by her charms.
"Thank you, Istina..."
He took one look at his Arakhkhari Concubine - into her veiled, smiling face, and found his faith in her renewed once more. 'She was really such a lovely person,' he thought to himself, before he spoke into the phone once more to assert his words - the laws of the Sultan. Before he could, though, she once again spoke in her sweet, charming little voice that he had so loved.
"Ever I am your servant, o' wise Sultan."
But the words were spoken with a smirk behind her purple veil - the gold around her jingling ever so softly with her every shift and move. She enjoyed it - playing with him in this way. Like the cat who would play with the mouse before finally snatching it into her jaws.

The Sultan spoke, addled by her - by her venom, by the fangs which had clutched his heart - by the silk that had been so gently woven for him.
And when he did, he spoke not in his own voice - but in hers.
"Temenggung Bakar."
A single click - than another was heard, before the crackle of a voice was heard on the line opposite him. A gruff, if respectful voice came over the other end. With it, Istina continued to massage his shoulders, bringing nothing but delight to the young Sultan.
"Your majesty."
The Sultan spoke, somewhat irritated at first, but subdued by the gentle consolations of his concubine - who, with his aggravation, only grew more tender with her massage.
"There is insurrection in the royal Bazaar, my friend - insurrection! These... anarchists... they move about as if they do not walk on the ground of the Sultan Rafiq al-Malik ibn Tariq! As if they do not know who they are subjects towards. I would like for you to remind them."
On the other end, the Temenggung was somewhat nervous. He was not one to provoke the Sultan's wrath, if only for his own sake.
"Your majesty, with... all due respect, there is little more we ca-"
The Sultan hung up, without hesitation - all of those around him were so utterly useless. He was the Sultan, the wisest man in Malkantriz - it was his will, his will alone that mattered, that ruled that land! And if someone could not carry out his will, than, by the grace of Allah, he could replace that man in a heartbeat.
Istina, seeing his frustration, continued to soothe him - and then, she gently leaned in, a smile on her face.
"It is... such a travesty that your... subordinates would fail to meet your high expectations, o wise Sultan of mine."
She cooed softly, as she leaned in, now whispering once more.
"If I might be so bold, o Sultan, as to... appeal to your wisdom?"

The Sultan grew ever more nervous by her presence - nervous, and inebriated in her sweet voice and smile - and more than that, in her haunting eyes. Every little thing - how she moved, talked, walked, how with her glance, he froze.
"You... it would not be any transgression, my little flower."
Istina's smile grew from one end of her face to the other. She had him. She spoke in a matter-of-fact way, while preserving her usual calm, tender tone towards him.
"Perhaps, if... your subordinates fail you, it may support your position to... call upon one's allies?"

To call upon his allies - of course.
His own useless advisors could do nothing, did nothing, let all of this monstrosity come to pass. There was nothing he could do with them - but perhaps, with the Arakhkhari garrison, he might be more lucky.
He spoke incredulously, as if he had been missing it.
"I can always count upon you, Istina..."
Istina leaned in, before deciding to gently plop herself onto the Sultan's leg - her arm coiled around him with increasing firmness.
"O, Sultan."
She spoke softly, before the smile on her lips grew yet wider, wider still.
"I am ever... your servant."

---

•Streets of Balqarrah, Malkantriz, Badlands Frontier •

•10:23, June 22nd, 2024•

---

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The clock on the wall continued its ceaseless march. Forth, forth, round again - a minute passed. A second again, again, tick, tock, tick, tock. A sharp click at each - and soon, the sharp click of jackboots upon tiled ground.
Click. Click. Click. Tick. Tock. Click. Click.
In time with the clock, the march was made - the soft shift and creak of leather with it. The garrison was somewhat stuffy, perhaps - the tiled floor being well maintained. The sterile smell of disinfectant gave it the distinctive feel and atmosphere as a clinical - or perhaps, a morgue.

The Subcommander walked with a quick step, with purpose in each one - in tune with the tick-tock of the clock, even as it faded as she passed it by.
Her voice was shrill, and she spoke like as if with her step - with purpose, analytical, clinical.
"Status report."
The more stout woman at her side shared a similar uniform, albeit with less silver adornment. A patch stood at her shoulder.
"The protests seem to have reached a breaking point. The Sultan has requested our aid in quelling them."
The Subcommander smiled deftly.
"Good. Let us come to his aid, shall we?'

It took little more than three minutes from that point. The cries and hopes of a people - the violent sea of a demand of freedom, made manifest - it was spied above by drones. An intern wrote on her computer, as she watched a live feed on one monitor, the blinking word processor on the other.

There stood thousands - their faces whipped and contorted, their pride made evident - they stood together, as one - the left, right, and center, against a force which had been so pervasive and abusive against them. The eternal cry for freedom danced about her screen.
And so she quickly typed.
“Civil Insurrection…”
She checked her watch - a little silvered thing wrapped around her wrist.

She thought for a few moments, examining their struggle, before thinking of the best thing to put in her report.
“Class 2.”

They rode in black vans. Armored personnel carriers, some. Polished, shiny, black - their engines rumbled as they came down the street with due haste in a column. From there, they reached the edge of the crowd.
In the back of one of them, a little cramped space with dim lighting - the lights of the sun flashing by through the narrow bulletproof glass slits that were embedded near the ceiling. But that was not nearly light enough for the environment. The sound of a chopper was heard overhead, and, through the slit, shadow was cast for all but a moment.
In the helicopter, in the van, purple goggles glowed brightly. They pierced the darkness, and with them, they looked out at the roaring mass before them. There wasn't any fear - how could there be?
"Lock in."
The Ordinal spoke, her voice distorted by the vocoder embedded in her inhuman mask. She was an aberration of ceramic, steel, rubber, and flesh underneath - though few might even suspect that she was indeed a living being, and not a faceless tool of a foreign regime.
They, after all, were the allies of the Sultan. And more than that, servants of the Empress. No harm could befall them, then.

They came to a stop at the edge - and the backs of the little capsules began to open. Sunlight crept inside just a ways, though shadow retained its dominion partially over the little place. They climbed out - one after another, each with a stun baton, and each with a shield - behind them, a set of pairs - each with a rifle and baton, but no shield.
It took mere moments for them to form a wall - their purple goggles glowing brightly, even in the daytime.
To look out at the crowd before them, at the snarling and gnashing of teeth, at the anarchy before them. The red banners arrayed, the green crescents, the cheers and languish and fear of three centuries having come to a single point.
An order rang out, barely heard over the roaring of the crowd - with loudspeakers affixed to the top of the PWV-53 behind them - 'disperse immediately,' it cried. Some of the protestors, however, saw the PWV-53 - and with the coming of the Shock Troopers, some of the protestors began to peel away. Some of them, with a degree of precognition, realized what their coming meant - but the word of mouth was not quick enough to bring people away from the impending massacre.

A slight whir - the turret atop the PWV-53 shifted towards the densest part of the crowd. Its twin stubby barrels angled upwards, and...
Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.
One after another, little black things were launched, the barrels each reciprocating, one after another, they fired, on and on.
Some of the protestors would see it - and the roaring of slogans began to turn incoherent - from the cries and hopes of a people, to the screams of terror.
Gas began to spew from each little grenade - white in color. Spreading their hue, being breathed in - there was no escape. As the people frantically turned around, they saw it - this place was a bowl. There was only one exit to the entire bazaar - one which people, in the throes of chaos and desperation, began to flee towards - but there was no easy way to vacate all these thousands so easily.
And all the while, the screams grew more intense.
People began to claw at themselves, choking and coughing at the gas - at their eyes, which burnt and stung.

A new order was given to the Shock Troopers - as they began to sally forth, stun batons in hand. They came down with haste, with fury - they charged at the edges of the fleeing mass. A beating for one, a beating for all. One after another, blood upon the concrete - some slammed down into the ground, some not even moving again. All in the course of arrests, of course. Pairs began to drag those scared, frightened, and bloodied into vans, again and again - the stream was endless - as were the streams of blood that now drenched the royal bazaar.
The chanting and shouting of slogans had come to an end, now. Discarded signs lay scattered among the discarded dead. Red banners lay, drifting about - and the green banners, torn from the arms begging to hold onto them, or discarded so quickly in the face of danger.
For those that 'escaped' through the seeming hole, in their horror, they found no reprieve - for once again, they found more waiting for them. At each street corner, a single, manageable stream was created - to prevent them from fighting back, the cowardly would always be granted a means of escape, a single 'release valve,' while those willing to fight were systematically beaten until the fight had left them - or else, until they could fight on no longer.

The intern sat at her desk once more, and she began to type.
"Civil Insurrection 42224-A - Liquidated at... 11:13."

The royal bazaar was empty. Empty, perhaps, was not quite the right word - there was much strewn about it. The places where makeshift podiums had been, knocked over, trashed. Signs on the ground. Flecks of blood and flesh. The lifeless stare of glassy eyes. The distant sound of ambulance sirens, the gas which lingered still, the few left injured and unconscious crying out for help. The arrested, carted away in droves. An echo of shattered hopes lay about.

A journalist stood atop a balcony nearby - her expression a mix of horror and utter dismay. Her face was twisted by it, as she looked on helplessly at what had gone on. Her perfect outfit, a little bead necklace at her neck - her slightly tanned face.
She spoke without any sort of her typical cheerfulness, as she gestured to the man recording - who was equally horrified. She gave a long sniff to the air, and then breathed out slowly.
"Cut the tape."

[Gonswanza]

As Mictlán builds up, with modernized ports popping up along with shipyards and naval depots, one could note the sudden introduction of HAZMAT clad units escorting heavily guarded vehicles, equipped with crossbows.

Of course, Gonswanza openly declared that the Mixcoatl defensive complex is being installed in Mictlán to defend against hostile powers, as well as other systems being towed along to guard against attack.

Other systems reportedly being imported include but are not limited to the S-400 and S-500 complex, along with "a network of N Torpedoes to dissuade massed attack by sea", though the details are slim to none beyond "it exists".

Besides this stark bulking of the military, the local presence of light vehicles (ELT-105, ELT-115, ZHD-201(T)) has increased with increased training for mechanized defensive forces, likely due to suspicions from neighboring forces seeking to expand into local territory.

Even as the military grows, society was also growing to meet demand, as DDG has begun operations inland using local guides to assist in establishing rail networks to stabilize the flow of supplies to and from the mines.

"Task Force Jackal" will begin exercises soon off the coast, before being handed off to the naval defensive garrison.

ISIC:
SCUD-Ms were being shippee in with Pluton, Iskander and Oka missile complexes as well as stockpiles of predecessor isotopes of Cobalt 60 and the means to activate said materials, as well as low yield nuclear warheads and a vast amount of conventional wargeads for the missiles.

The introduction of Kirov class ships including a few Kirov II and some landing ships along with STOL gunships meant that a rapid takeover of a nearby island was possible, bit it had to be planned first.

[Kva Norale]

Article #1 By: Dorish Makrov Kva Norale Launches Air Strikes on Laefold Following Raid June 24, 2024 Ifa Serine, Amador- Earlier today, a vessel of the Kva Norale whaling fleet was boarded by elements of the Haan'derok Raiders, state-sponsored terrorists of the Laefold Kingdom to the north of Kva Norale. The KNS Pequd of the 640-class whaling vessels, was boarded , whereupon its complement of thirty crewmembers were rounded up and systematically executed via live video broadcast. The ship was then commandeered by the terrorists and sailed to Laefold waters. In response to the loss of life, Overseer Gaeleath demanded the turnover of the terrorists responsible for the attack. When the High King Larry Laefold refused to comply, Kva Norale's Imperium provided Fifth Fleet, under command of Gostoc Verilikov and his flagship, the Damballa-class Testudo Frigate, Princess of Amador, launched a series of coordinated missile strikes upon known hideouts of the Raiders in Laefold, including drug rings and weapons manufacturing plants. Overseer Gaeleath issued an ultimatum to the Laefold Kingdoms expressing the "...continued strikes against known terrorist cells..." and promised to escalate the severity of strikes further if the nation did not comply. INS Ungoliant at sea The Laefold Kingdoms are a collection of northern nations sworn subservience to their High King, Larry Laefold, whom the kingdom gets its name from. The Haan'derok Raiders are a state-sponsored terrorist organization founded to disrupt maritime commerce throughout the Silent Seas and are a highly religious organization that worships their god, Koliak, who believes in the superiority of the Laefold people and the systematic extermination of nonhuman species such as the Alfar. While the Kingdoms themselves do not officially recognize the Haan'derok Raiders, it is known that they do supply the Raiders with military-grade equipment and fundings. Tensions between Kva Norale and the Laefold Kingdoms have persisted as a result, with a series of skirmishes being fought over the decades, including in 2013 when the Raiders launched a coordinated strike on the port of Antillerov, which resulted in a three-week war between Kva Norale and Laefold that resulted in the destruction of several key Laefold cities. While a tactical and strategic victory or Grand Azura, the strikes exposed a series of vulnerabilities in the nations defenses, which have since been significantly upgraded. With the renewed aggressions following a period of relative calm, Kva Norale's Home Fleet has once more been called into action, with a series of blockades being planned if King Larry does not comply with the demands of the Overseer. Air Forces have also been put of standby while the amphibious arms of the navy have been given heightened alert. It is known that Overseer Gaeleath is not hesitant to put boots on the ground in Laefold should it be required, though the loss in life would surely be heavy. The call to war has been echoed in the streets of Kva Norale's cities, including in Grand Azura, where thousands of civilians protested in front of the Museum of Melodies, denouncing the unwarranted attack on a Noralian vessel and imploring the government to strike back. The Imperium was made aware of the attack shortly after it occurred and it is known that the Imperium suggested the military response and has pledged additional support in reinforcing its overseas territory. Queen Maeralya stated the attack to be "cowardly" and a "strike against all Alfar." Overseer Gaeleath is expected to speak to the territory in an international broadcast to express Kva Norale's path moving forward. It is expected to be brief and forthright, with military actions being heavily favored. Is the next Badlands war approaching? Will Larry hold firm once more? Will Kva Norale succeed this time? .Imperium News Network. MORE IN AMADOR Who is Larry Laefold? [ 1029355 ] Does the Cold Affect Sleep Rituals? [ 932742 ] Comments [ 930729 ] | E-mail this article © ANI 2024

[Ghaulgholia]

Palace of Connoisseur, Emirate of Ghaulgholia.

In between the buzzing and muttering skyscrapers of Andrews Mate, in a palace tall, with pillars long, an escapade for faith, an Emir rests. In a kitchen, prepared with the finest spices and the most flavourful herbs, an Emir eats. In a gallery, with instruments from old, and ideas for anew, an Emir sings. Xe sings does, the tune of halal tones, every night on a certain day, what's known as the spiraling song. The believers come to watch, kafir come to die, every year, on this night. It's the only occasion where the Emir ought to dance, where xer steps to ooze, to arouse the public. It all takes place on a block of stone, and a pedestal of metal arises. Where the Emir's hands lay after the performance. And xe do perform a speech, where xe consult the public and bestow xer connoisseur. And the believers come to listen, kafir come to hide, every year, on this night. And this speech, is called the Grand Address of the Emir. And after performing the speech, the Emir meets, with xir advisors. And xir advisors do not compromise with the Emir. For xe is the blessed, xer will unlimited, xer power unfound in mortal means. For xe is smart, but xe is cunning. For xe loves xer people, but xer is bound to the mandate of Jannah, no, the mandate of Allah. And xe speaks, on a matter touching xer silk for a long time, for fine silk but silk doesn't last forever. And xer matter is about the tapestry of power. For xe speaks on a distant but connected land, a land of kafir, powerful kafir, ready to attack. And sits between them and xe, does a small city-state encompassed with forest. And for a long time this state, this city really has been under xer protection. But alignment is a rapid blowing of cash. For all it takes is protection from kafir, and an attack is more certain. So xer advisors speak among themselves, struggling to find an answer. But xe finds a rope to swing to. A plan meticulous, crafted intentionally to belong to the best class, to slingshot a fleet, a fleet equipped with a hundred tons of dynamite, an explosion like no other. And so xe speaks to xer advisors, and so and so is decided. For all matters are shifted through. Now xe, no, the Emir makes xer way back. Back to the castle under the mountains, back to fall in the pleasant sheet of xer bed, back to fall asleep, and the Emir lives a night, GROWS a night longer, taller.

[Gonswanza]

As military buildup continues in Mictlán, the Gonswanzan navy posted there soon receive M-15 Vildkats in return for ELT-115s and their roubds being sold off to Royanne, offering to slightly offset the price of these 42 tanks hovering around 640 million NSD. All 42 have been aquired under Project Guardian, with further imports underway as an invasion fleet builds with corvettes and cruisers slowly joining the ranks of the colonial navy.

Helicopters have become a critical source of aerial firepower as well as STOL gunships, with the first wing of ADC-23s taking off yesterday in a training routine against targets in a remote simulated outpost meant to act as a range for combat aircraft. The trial was a success, though it has yet to be seen how well the M-15 can replace the ELT-115 given superior protection despite the smaller gun.

In other news, traffic will be increased due to the installation of air defense systems requiring major roads to enable the flow of supplies. Please pardon our dust.

[Kva Norale]

Article #2 By: Dorish Makrov Kva Norale Passes Articles of War: Boots in Laefold? Date, 2024 Ifa Serine, Amador- Majority Speaker Jorgin von Falikov, senior of the Council of Twelve officially announced today the passing of articles of war on the Laefold Kingdoms led by their High King Larry Laefold. Governor Gaeleath called for the articles on June 25, following the capture of a Noralian whaling vessel by the Haan'derok Raiders, a state-sponsored terrorist organization, on June 24. Kva Norale launched an extensive retaliatory strike on known Haan'derok positions in the Kingdom and formally sent a declaration to surrender the terrorists to Kva Norale to avoid intense escalations. High King Larry addressed the Laefoldian people in the early hours of June 25, calling for a "united people" and to "resist Icealfar aggressions" while also stating that "they got what they deserved." Speaking later that day following Laefold's announcement, speaker Jorgin was quoted saying "...Noralian lives and interests are at stake... our way of life is repeatedly harassed by his raiders..." and was also quoted as saying ..."the day of reckoning for this 'king' will be coming soon." King Larry refused to surrender the terrorists, claiming they were "heroes to the Laefoldian people." Kva Norale officially declared war on June 28th at noon local time with permissions secured from the Imperium in Gholgoth, its mother country. Naval station Korvisk in Shen Borgisk was seen aflutter with renewed vigor as sailors were being recalled from shore leave and ships were being refueled. Assets already in the waters around Kva Norale included the Fifth Fleet 'Amadorius', the Imperium's primary naval attachment to the territory, and nearly a dozen naval assets of the Noralian Home Fleet. In the days leading up to the official declaration of war, with overseer approval and mandates, the Noralian air forces have undertaken intense bombing campaigns on the the small Laefoldian islands of Kokska and Forbia, in the eastern Laefoldian holdings. The strikes, designed to eliminate local defenses, and limit Laefold's ability to wage an effective war, will ultimately help establish a blockade of the main island of Lothbrok. Army and amphibious landing forces started being prepped with the possibility of putting boots on the ground in the kingdom, with civilians applauding the fast movements of the Noralian military. Regardless, a ground invasion will likely be several weeks out at the earliest as the nation, though always on heightened alert, needs time to prepare an adequate offensive. What is publicly known is that the war will revolve around naval movements, of which Kva Norale possesses substantially better equipped and more numerous vessels of varying specifications. In Amador, the Imperium has declared its intent to support Kva Norale throughout the course of the war. The gothic superstate pledged material and fiscal resources, but did promise military involvement if deemed necessary. Princess Aleriel, Heir to the Imperium offered condolences to the families of the lives lost in the attack on the KNS Pequd while also offering a resolute support to her brother and leader of the Noralians, Gaeleath. The Council of Twelve further released a statement demanding the surrender of Laefold and his forces to the Noralian armed forces, or face severe devastation in the kingdom compliments of Noralian forces. It is known that he has since denied the demands and intends to wage war for the time being. In the interim, Kva Norale has its Badland allies, particularly the SAR, to increase patrols in the Silent Seas while Kva Norale attends to the local conflict. .Imperium News Network. MORE IN AMADOR Casualties Mounting for Laefold? [ 1029355 ] The Twelve: Who are they? [ 932742 ] Comments [ 930729 ] | E-mail this article© ANI 2024

[Astrya Scailand]

---

✫Ａ　Ｒ　Ｍ　Ｅ　Ｅ✫
Ｂ　Ｅ　Ｋ　Ａ　Ｎ　Ｎ　Ｔ　Ｍ　Ａ　Ｃ　Ｈ　Ｕ　Ｎ　Ｇ

Ａ　Ｕ　Ｓ　Ｇ　Ａ　Ｂ　Ｅ　　　Ｄ　Ｒ　Ｅ　Ｉ　ß　Ｉ　Ｇ

---

ＦＯＲＴＲＥＳＳ　ＡＳＴＲＹＡ　ＮＥＡＲＳ　ＣＯＭＰＬＥＴＩＯＮ
CPT. ROLF KRINGEL, REPORTING

In the heart of Scailand, nestled amid the rugged landscape and overlooking the strategic waters of the Silent Sea rises a symbol of strength and resilience: Fortress Astrya. The long-awaited completion of the most advanced military facility in Scailand has been achieved through the glorious accomplishment of die Blutarmee, this according to the honorable Seibterführer, Marschall Lukas Reichen at a radio address on Saturday. Established as a cornerstone of Scailand's defense strategy, this military base marks a significant milestone in the nation's history, promising both security and stability in an increasingly complex geopolitical landscape. The Sanctum of Scailand has long recognized the importance of safeguarding its sovereignty. The decision to construct Fortress Astrya stems from two decades of careful strategic planning and the recognition of evolving threats in the region.

The conception of Fortress Astrya was not merely driven by a reactive stance to immediate threats but was rooted in a forward-looking vision of national security. Strategically positioned to monitor maritime activities and secure vital sea lanes, the base is designed to serve as a deterrent against potential aggressors while offering a safe haven for Scailand's armed forces to train and operate effectively. At its core, Fortress Astrya embodies the principles of defense innovation and adaptability. Its construction integrates state-of-the-art technology with sustainable design practices, ensuring minimal environmental impact while maximizing operational efficiency. The base encompasses a comprehensive network of facilities, including barracks, training grounds, command centers, and research laboratories, all meticulously planned to support a range of military operations.

Architecturally, Fortress Astrya harmonizes with the natural terrain, blending modern construction techniques with traditional Scailandic aesthetics. The buildings are designed to withstand the region's climatic challenges, utilizing local materials wherever possible to foster a sense of cultural continuity and resilience. The layout of the base is optimized to facilitate rapid deployment and mobility, allowing for swift response to emergent threats or military crises. Moreover, the integration of advanced surveillance and communication systems ensures real-time situational awareness, enabling commanders to make informed decisions swiftly. From coastal defense batteries to aerial surveillance capabilities, Fortress Astrya represents a multi-dimensional approach to national security, encompassing both conventional and cyber warfare strategies.

Beyond its military function, Fortress Astrya has catalyzed economic growth in Scailand's surrounding regions. The construction phase alone created thousands of jobs, stimulating local industries and fostering a sense of civic pride among residents. Ongoing maintenance and operational activities continue to provide employment opportunities and support local businesses, further reinforcing the base's role as a pillar of regional development. Community engagement initiatives spearheaded by Fortress Astrya aim to strengthen ties between the military and civilian populations. Educational programs, public tours, and cultural exchanges offer insights into the base's operations while fostering mutual understanding and trust. These efforts underscore Fortress Astrya's commitment to transparency and accountability, ensuring that its presence is viewed positively as a protector and enabler of prosperity.

As a hub for military training and excellence, Fortress Astrya hosts joint exercises with allied nations, promoting interoperability and enhancing collective security across the region. These collaborative efforts not only sharpen the skills of Scailand's armed forces but also foster enduring partnerships based on mutual respect and shared values. Through information sharing and capacity building, Fortress Astrya contributes to a broader network of regional stability and resilience.

While Fortress Astrya represents a significant achievement for Scailand, its establishment has not been without challenges. Geopolitical tensions, technological advancements, and evolving threats necessitate continuous adaptation and innovation. The base's leadership remains vigilant, embracing emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence and cybersecurity to stay ahead of potential adversaries. Looking ahead, Fortress Astrya is poised to play a pivotal role in shaping Scailand's defense posture for generations to come. By investing in human capital, infrastructure, and strategic partnerships, the base remains steadfast in its commitment to safeguarding national interests while promoting peace and stability in the broader international arena.

Fortress Astrya stands as a testament to Scailand's commitment to sovereignty, security, and sustainable development. More than a military installation, it embodies the aspirations of a nation striving for peace amid global uncertainties. As Fortress Astrya continues to evolve and adapt to new challenges, its legacy as a symbol of strength and resilience will endure, ensuring a brighter and safer future for generations of Scailanders to come.

---

[Trevenfort]

Mayor Lukas Daugherty declares himself Mayor for Life!

In a surprise move, the quasi-democratically elected Mayor of Trevenfort, Lukas Daugherty has declared himself to be “in service to Trevenfort for the remainder of his life”. While relatively popular for a Trevenforter politician, he has hardly received a warm response for this act- mostly because the response to this move has been nearly non-existent, as political apathy in Trevenfort has hit an all-time high. When one ano was asked what they thought, they merely said “he worded it well”. As gaggles of reporters surrounded him to attempt to get more information on his sudden proclamation, he simply refused to elaborate in any meaningful way, simply saying that “my statement was very clear- I intend to pursue office for life.”. This violates Trevenfort’s constitution, however, it is unclear if there is any realistic method of recourse at the time. At the end of the day, Mayor Daugherty is unlikely to face consequences, and may just get what he wants- an opportunity to be Mayor of Trevenfort for the rest of his life.

[Gonswanza]

Glorious Liberation Of Islands Begins, Expansion of Mictlán Assured!

Earlier today, our glorious leader has confirmed that boots will be on the ground before July 3rd upon the uninhabited lands just east of Saint Hayes, two islands needed for our expansion into the west. Indeed, the conquest of such wretched lands shall bring us plenty of untapped riches, while we aim to expand our influence at sea.

Soon enough, the Badlands will know peace, but until then, we shall stand strong and united, watching as the masses writhe in their filth. Pirates, anarchists, slavers, lesser "men" who know nothing of civilization. Soon they will all be scattered to the sea like the putrid filth they are.

And the sea shall swallow them without a trace of their existence left.

Hail, hail our glorious leader! Hail, hail Laura Ortiz!

So said the article from GNN, as infantry began to board their landing ships, and more destroyers join the ranks. Some corvettes had also joined in, but they soon dash out to scout ahead with destrpyers to examine coastal areas, while recon aircrsft and satellites gathered precious data. Drones were launched to keep an eye on the expansion, as ELT-105s join APCs for the overdue invasion. A simple island hopping campaign, intended not only to gather land, but presumably pressure Saint Hayes into offering favorable relations.

Not that it was needed, but it could be useful later. A shame that Saint Hayes had no dog in this fight.

Not that there was anything that could be done to stop this either.

[Kva Norale]

Article #3 By: Dorish Makrov Laefold Wars Intensify - Losses Mounting for both sides? June 30, 2024 Ifa Serine, Amador- In a series of lightning quick movements, elements of the Fourth Amphibious combat unit successfully took the town of Kategan on the Laefoldian island of Fobia, the easternmost territorial possession of the kingdom. The taking of the town effectively cedes control of the island to the Noralian forces, though deadly blowback and resistances have been reported. The assault, taken overnight follows days of intense bombings designed to decimate and outright destroy defense infrastructure of the island, was conducted through a series of amphibious landings and aerial landings and were designed to catch unaware the Laefoldian garrison. The island of Fobia is not a strategically advantageous land, with no more than 30,000 people calling it home - the island was home to a garrison of no more than 1,000 Laefoldian soldiers, which were verified via military satellites. The capture of Kategan was met with rapturous applause by the Noralian populace and will serve as an extensive morale booster for soldiers gearing up to take the fight to the main islands of the Kingdom. The continued bombings of the Laefold Kingdom has seen the displacement of thousands of civilians already, with the empty husks of apartment buildings in the cities of Hakla and Forfvak being a rally to arms for the Laefoldians. A Laefoldian town following strikes from Kva Norale The successes seen by the Noralian forces have not been without loss. At least a dozen soldiers are dead in the capturing of Kategan, while several aircrafts have been shot down during the bombings. One vessel, KNS Altaria received damage from a missile strike targeting patrolling Noralian naval warships, though was able to retreat from the theater and is reported to be at port undergoing repairs. The Department of Defense stated that three soldiers were killed during the attack, with thirty-two being injured. The conflict is escalating at an intense scale, with both sides taking losses at what appears to be an even rate. High King Larry addressed his people once more, proclaiming the kingdom the "rightful rulers of the seas" and declared the "end of Amador's presence in the region" to be soon, those this has been credited as the ravings of a mad man with a finger on the trigger. The conflict is expected to last for the foreseeable future with further losses expected. Overseer Gaeleath responded to questions about how he saw the war going, to which he responded with "...the complete and utter defeat of Larry Laefold and his supporters..." When asked about the status of the Laefold Kingdoms, he stated that "...they will surrender or face total and systemic destruction... inclusion into the Imperium is an option pending a total surrender." Inclusion into the Imperium would be seen by many as a win-win situation, as increasing the territorial extent of Kva Norale has been a goal of the Imperium's for several centuries. It is no secret that Kva Norale has immense interest in seeing the Silent Seas as an area of Amadorian influence and should like it to remain that way. It is considered a vital artery to feed the inhabitants of the Noralian Islands. There are, of course, plenty of civilians against the inclusion of Laefold into the Imperium, as they believe the carnages the Raiders and the country itself has inflicted, to be worthy of complete and utter destruction. Though this remains a tense area of discussion, such discussions will only take place should Kva Norale conquer the remaining islands. .Imperium News Network. MORE IN AMADOR Imperium Approves Additional Grain Shipments [ 1029355 ] Troops Massing: Invasion Imminent? [ 932742 ] Comments [ 930729 ] | E-mail this article© ANI 2024

[Gonswanza]

The first Chimera class cruisers arrive today to support the assault on the smaller island, which is now swarming with infantry and tanks. In fact, the advances were so quick, the smallet island was overtaken in mere hours, as a contingemcy of airborne troops and units prepare to build up infastructure while advances to the next island are being prepared... A stepping stone against Saint Hayes, with Iskanders and Okas being shipped over to put Saint Hayes in the crosshairs.

And yet, the cruisers are just being built up rapidly by modern drydocks, shipyards keen on supplying the expansion even if it would put pressure on an otherwise neutral neighbor.