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AO Forum :: > Regional Discussion > Civil War in Sorthern Northland

Posted by: Vilita Nov 28 2011, 11:15 AM

The Civil War in Sorthern Northland has taken a turn for the worst, with the government of Rhys O'Donnell ordering the destruction, not only of Beningrad, but of all major cities in mainland Sorthern Northland by use of the nations Nuclear Arsenal upon itself after impending upheaval in the government. It is believed that there will be minimal to no survivors on the Stralphi peninsula where the majority of Sorthern Northland lies. Beningrad, the closest modern-day city to the glassed island of Tachbe, may now share http://www.3wideracing.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=167, though no search parties have as yet arrived, VOIA drones have been sent to study the air quality and radiation levels in the region. With eerie similarity to the attack on East Gate City, no signs of life have yet been found. There is currently no adverse impacts to the very-nearby Tropics of Vilita or Andossa Se Mitrin Vega, but winds are being monitored constantly new warnings will be issued if necessary. This is the first major recorded nuclear event in Atlantian Oceania since the http://www.3wideracing.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=554. Nearby in Vilita, the Atlantian Oceania Regional Hockey Championships have not been postponed and the Sorthern Northland hockey team, being told they could not return home, has opted to play out their remaining tournament games. In the Restricted VOIA map provided to Atlantian Oceania Leaders, the red area shows the area where Vilitan Drones detected radiation in their initial flyovers, while the middle maroon band shows areas likely to see some levels of radiation in the coming days. Depending on winds, areas as far out as the black could see some slight effects, but VOIA believes no effects will be felt, regardless of wind conditions, outside the black region. http://www.3wideracing.com/3wide/sites/ao/images/snorthnukeb.png What follows is a description of the events as they happened posted to the interweb from Sorthern Northland. Graphic Details may require reader discretion. QUOTE One final deep breath from Danel Bengochea as his commander issues the command to go into battle. A young man barely into his third decade, this is a situation that Bengochea has experienced more than he ever wanted. Over the months of the war he'd lost friends, seen the people he grew up with either killed or flee, or worse, killing for the other side. This though had something of a different feel to it, this wasn't just a battle in the war, it was the battle. Emerge victorious here and they'd finally have control of the country. A nation freed from years of oppression. Already in the Battle of Beningrad heavy losses were being felt by both sides. For Bengochea it had seemed as though comrades had fallen all around him, hundreds must be dead already. “DUCK!” They was no thought in Bengochea's next action, he just willingly obliged without question. A good job as well as he heard a bullet whizzing over his head, the man behind him however wasn't so fortunate. Having seemingly not heard the warning the bullet sped straight through his neck. One more down, but certainly not the last. There would be many casualties before the fight was over. --------------------- The fighting had been tough. Not only were many men and women falling but the wayside, but Beningrad itself was. Fighters were not only having to avoid bullets, bombs and blasts, but also collapsing buildings and the resulting fires and dust clouds. The rebels though had the the upper hand, they were slowly forcing the government forces back, and though the price they were paying was huge, their numbers seemed to be larger than those of the government. ----------------------------- “RETREAT! RETREAT!” Captain Jared Butler. He'd served in the Sorthern Army for a bit over a decade and had always held unquestioning loyalty to his superiors and to the state. Despite that though recent events had seen him begin to question that. There was nagging feeling inside of him that what he was fighting for was wrong, that the people he pledged his loyalty were wrong. The rebels, yes, they were an illegal movement, they were a threat to the nation, the nation that he'd sworn to protect, but did that make them wrong. Or was the nation wrong? Whatever the case he'd made his bed and committed to it. The men under his command needed his leadership and low on morale and weapons retreating ad regrouping was all they could realistically achieve with a rebel tank division bearing down on them. ----------------------------- Surveying the scene Rhys O'Donnell couldn't help but feel a sense of encroaching defeat. The Taoiseach had ruled over this country with an iron fist for many a year, for a couple of decades even. That rule had largely been built on the back of support from the military, but that very military was now failing him. Looking out across Beningrad from his office in the top floor of the Dáil he could see the battle scarred landscape of a previously grand city. Smoke billowed and wafted across the ruins, whilst almost immediately below the rebels could clearly be seen over-running the remnants of the army. Time was running out. ----------------------------- “Yes Taoiseach?” “The launch codes. I want them activated.” ----------------------------- “Taoiseach, are you sure?” “Yes General, I'm commanding you to activate the launch codes.” Once of O'Donnell's closest allies over the years General Xavier Porras clearly doubted his latest orders. “You'll destroy everything. You'll kill us all. Ourselves, our own men, civilians, the rebels. Everyone. The country, everything.” “Xavier.” looking into the eyes of his General whilst taking a final sip of whiskey, O'Donnell spoke his words solemnly, in a calculating manner, but most of all with conviction, “Look out there. Look out the window, go on. Do it.” It was hardly a postcard sight, a previously vibrant city now lay as grey dreary smoke filled ruins, former landmarks long wiped from the face of it. Gunfire could be heard, whilst rockets and shells continued to pound certain areas. O'Donnell continued, “What is there to save? They've already murdered Sorthern Northland. Destroyed it. There's nothing left now to save, she's taking her last few breaths. Put her, put us all out of this misery.” “Yes Sir.” - “COME ON! LET'S GET THE BASTARD!” The rebels by now had overrun the government forces and were now storming the Dáil. Their target? Rhys O'Donnell. They had control of the nation now, but the symbolism of his regime falling still needed to take place. The noise of their charge however was deflated by a loud shriek from the skies above. “What was...” “Oh sh....!” They may well have overrun the government, but in it's dying breaths the government had one final trick up his sleeve. With a sizeable nuclear arsenal under it's control it hadn't merely brought about the end of the rebels. It had obliterated everything. Sorthern Northland is dead. Long live Sorthern Northland. ----

Posted by: Falcania Nov 28 2011, 11:57 PM

Royal Falcon's Council of the Nation Message from the desk of Ronnand Warst, Chairman of the Nation At 4:05 this morning, I was awoken with terrible news. The FAV Feather, on patrol above the Vilitan cove, reported a series of nuclear detonations over the Stralphi Peninsula. Scout drones were sent in to investigate, and they reported catastrophic devastation, and near-complete loss of life. The repercussions of this tragedy will be felt far and wide, by all the peoples of Atlantian Oceania, for decades to come, and in light of the relatively recent cessation of violence in our own nation, we feel it is our duty to ease the chaos that will ensue. The FAV feather has already been retasked, and her carrier group has established a forward command centre in the mountains of "International Territory Area 7", south of the affected region. Further resources are on their way from the Old Country, including a fully-equipped CBRN division to help coordinate relief. Falcania is enjoying a prosperous recovery, and we should like to channel some of this fortune into the region, in the form of humanitarian support for the survivors of the tragedy, and military security to prevent further loss of life in the conflict. I would like to call on all leaders of AO to remember the spirit of Sorthern Northland's role in our great region, and to join us in the relief effort.

Posted by: Falcania Nov 29 2011, 12:42 AM

Daily Icarus Editorial - International Correspondent Horuse Wight Today the Chairman made a very public proclamation of his intent that Falcania shall lead some grand crusade to liberate the survivors and the future of Sorthern Northland. And very impressive it was too. Certainly since the Protectorate downed arms in the wreckage of Mathdon, Falcania has never been in a better position in AO. The new King reformed government, the economy has boomed back to a better position even than before the war, and we have even secured the post of regional delegate to the World Assembly. But critics have been questioning how robust this recovery will prove. Warst has been very vocal about his arrangements with the King, and very keen to rebut those same critics; this, then, must be seen as his great gamble. Clearly, if Falcania is seen to outdo Vilita in providing aid on the Regional Founder's own doorstep, then our place on the regional stage will be assured for centuries to come. However, if Warst overstretches Falcania's recovery, then there won't even be any jobs left for him to find after he's sacked. And throughout all this to-and-fro about Falcanian commitment to relief, there remains the elephant in the room: In the Merlin Programme, Falcania maintains one of the more powerful nuclear arsenals in Atlantian Oceania. Twelve supersonic strategic bombers, each armed with a pair of Tercel missiles, on standby 24/7 to drop up to 96 thermonuclear warheads on any target the King sees fit. As the small but vocal group of unilateral disarmament advocates continue to be blithely ignored by King and Council, a few voices are beginning to question Falcania's ideological commitment to the cause. Still, one thing is for sure. With only 9 months until the appointment of a new Council, one way or another, Warst's Legacy will be remembered by all. For full coverage of the tragedy in Sorthern Northland, please see pages 1-3, 5, 7 Be sure to check out our interview with 'Guns & Nuns' star Katherie Bates on page 4!

Posted by: Vilita Nov 29 2011, 09:12 AM

"Whats that, on the screen?" OP: "Where?" "Right there, just behind that brush, I think its..." OP: "It's Moving!" "Yes! Zoom in! Is there life?" OP: "I can't tell yet what it is" "Loop around, see what you get" OP: "Loop commenced" *Drone begins reprogrammed flight pattern* "Now lets see what we'v.... WHOA! What the hell was that" OP: "Looked like a Falcanian Drone sir." "What!?! A Falcanian Drone?! It almost hit us!" OP: "We've just done a loop sir, it must have been tailing us." "How long have they been here?" OP: "Arrived last night, quite a few in numbers as well" "Have we communicated with them yet?" OP: "Not that I know of sir. We've just been following our plan" "DAMMIT! How many times do I have to say it. COLLABORATE COLLABORATE COLLABORATE. This is a damn humanitarian effort here, we aren't at war!!" OP: "We will contact the Falcanian's immediately" "No. Wait, don't contact them yet. Do you think they've seen this sign of life on the southeastern island?" OP: "They did not loop around sir, they have continued on the original course" "Get some choppers or some hovercraft to that Island immediately. Radiation suits on." OP: "Sir even if there is life now..." "Slim chance is better than no chance. We need boots on the ground, go see whats happening."

Posted by: Achtklan Nov 29 2011, 11:10 PM

There was quite a rabble rousing in the big silky hall of the Nellies in Nellietopolis. And some several million purple-stinging nellies had assembled for a gander at what was supposed to be the resurrection of the old Nellietopia. And assembled with them was the hard-core corps of the AFLAC. And they stood as the news came in from a wide variety of sources. "Sorthern Northland has been attacked, its nuclear arsenal turned against itself. Its population is presumed dead or dying, the remnants of the rebellion sweeping country likewise dead or dying. At this point, it is fair to assume that Sorthern Northland is dead." And a jovial cry filled the air - the longtime nemesis of the bovine geese now deceased - only remember, these are geese and nellies doing the screaming. Any human nearby would have probably heard incoherent screeching, honking, and maybe some exotic sounds that would either be soothing or irritating to the ear (unfortunately, not even hyperbole would aptly describe it). In any event, there was much rejoicing. Except for one character. Guard Duck - the not-so-famous-but-quite-infamous commander of the AFLAC. Of all those sworn to hate Sorthern Northland, it was he who first declared war on Sorthern Northland - and was summarily ignored (along with everyone else in AFLAC) for the past 3279 years - ironically, longer than the mere existence of AFLAC itself, let alone Sorthern Northland. But amid the cries of ecstasy, there lingered a quantum of doubt in Guard Duck's mind - surely, there was one left alive? So he thought, and while the rest of Nellietopia rejoiced in their return and the demise of their long-unavowed foe, he plotted. He first plotted a 9'x9' garden using 54' of 2"x4" wood to construct a barrier, with a remainder of 18' of wood, which he used to craft a giant wooden lance and emblazoned the words "SIC SEMPER MORS AD SORTHNORTHTERRAE" in blood red (using the blood of blood tree - yes, those things grow in Nellietopia...). And after he had plotted his garden, he plotted his next move to conquer Sorthern Northland. The Nellies and AFLAC had a nice conversation, which unfortunately escapes a good translation. But we've decided to try anyway. "But they're all dead, aren't they?" "No, that's what they want you to think! I mean, who nukes themselves? It's obviously a cover for them, and they're too scared to face the almighty might of AFLAC!" "Come on, Duck. You know no one takes us seriously. I mean, we do have an awesome armed fleet of exotic plants and animals, but beyond that, we're cute and adorable - most of us at least. Who'd want to fight us?" "That doesn't matter! We need to fight and kill the last Sortherner. We need to make sure the job is done, if they're not all dead, then they're gonna be." "*sigh*" <<< fortunately, our translators managed to pick that one up unambiguously. One hollow victory... "We're going to lead the bovine goose aircorps to Sorthern Northland, and we're going to hunt the Sortherners until they are no more! And then people will fear AFLAC!" "Come to think of it, don't you think it's unwise to invade Sorthern Northland after they've just nuked themselves? After all, there is all of that harmful radiation lingering about." "We'll just take a vacuum and suck it all out of the area." "What?" "Sure, humans do it all the time. Whenever there's a nuculear explosion, they always use vacuums to suck it out. Otherwise, how else do they continue to procreate without having mutant babies? I mean, look at all of the nukes flying left and right!" "You just said 'nu-cu-lear'. It's nu-clear." "I know. Nuculear." "Nu-clear." "Nuculear." "Nu-clear!" "Nuculear." "Nu-" "Nu-" "-clear." "-clear." "Nu-clear." "Nuculear." After this, there was some unusual grumbles and grunts from the nellies as they went their, and the duck and his bovine geese companions lined up for take off. Yeah, we're not sure what they said, but when you hire Dancougarite interns to do your translating, it's only a wonder you don't get empty paper back.

Posted by: Falcania Nov 29 2011, 11:24 PM

The flight of F-6 "PreyII" strike fighters stormed over LCpl Mossi's head as his fireteam secured the ridge. The terrain was fair, well, fair enough. Rough scrubland dominated the area around Feather Command Post. He turned to look over his shoulder, at the base. Two of the great prewar C-3 bulk conveyors lay, more than 200 metres nose-to-tail, three times longer than the biggest jumbo jet and as vast in its other dimensions. Around them was the fledgling outpost. Even at this distance, he could see the men working to erect the prefab structures that would form his home for the foreseeable future, not to mention the central Falcanian military command post in this sector of AO. He had been briefed; this was to be the first postwar deployment of the Combined Strike Force, and according to the idle chat in the mess it was as much a publicity stunt as a shakedown. Still, nothing more dangerous than straggling rebels was expected; no match for the Skymarine 2nd Division, and their guardian angels, Feather Carrier Command. He looked up to the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the FAV Feather, hovering 12 kilometres above the command post. Of course, she was nowhere to be seen, but Mossi felt safer knowing that the air superiority her four squadrons provided was watching over him and his team. A glint caught his eye. He turned and saw his platoon leader signalling him. "Team 22C," he called into his radio, "we're relieved, return to base." ============ Artur Strongborn straightened his uniform. At 33, he had been the youngest man to have been promoted to the rank of marshal since Michal Hack, hero of the independence war and Falcania's first (and only) astronaut. Those were big boots to fill, and CSF Command had decided to fill them by putting Msl Strongborn in overall charge of Force Feather, comprising the FAV Feather herself, her logistical tenders, five aircraft wings, command facilities, and the 2nd Division of the Skymarine. His direct subordinates were a general, a low-admiral and an air commodore, with a combined age five times his. He stepped through from his ready room to the buzzing activity that was the Command Bridge of the FAV feather. It was getting through to evening, and the view from the captain's rail was quite spectactular. But there was no time for this. "Midshipman, do you have those reports for me, yet?" "Aye, marshal." The young midshipman handed the young marshal a clipboard. "Feather Command Post is 100% operational, and should be fully fortified within two days." "Excellent work. And the drones?" "We've picked up isolated pockets on the mainland, sir. One division of rebels in the countryside, they fired on our drone, no damage was sustained... by all accounts, the poor blighters were dying of radiation sickness. Reckon the operator did them a favour." "Reckoning aside, midshipman," Strongborn replied with a stern glance, "what of the south-east island?" "We're doing fly-bys sir, no indication of any life. Our intelligence does suggest that Vilitan drones are operating in the same area as we are, but we've yet to discover any. Oh, and one last thing, marshal, the CBRN specialists from central command arrived this afternoon, and they've begun their training regime." "That shall be all, midshipman." Strongborn sighed. He'd put it off long enough, but the time was nigh. He returned to his ready room and typed a brief communiqué. CODE ATTN: VOIA MESSAGE FROM FAV FEATHER SECURITY CLEARANCE 2-A MESSAGE DATED 23-622-31 GREETINGS VOIA. THIS IS MARSHAL ARTUR STRONGBORN OF THE FALCANIAN COMBINED STRIKE FORCE. AS YOU ARE NO DOUBT AWARE, WE HAVE BEEN TASKED WITH PEACEKEEPING AND HUMANITARIAN OBJECTIVES IN THIS PART OF THE REGION AS WELL AS IN THE FORMER TERRITORIES OF SORTHERN NORTHLANDS. WE HAVE ESTABLISHED A COMMAND POST ON THE SHORE SOUTH OF TACHBE, NEAR THE NOJIKAN BORDER. AS YOU ARE THE ONLY OTHER FORCE CURRENTLY ON A RELIEF MISSION WE SUGGEST FULL COOPERATION. WE CAN BE REACHED ON FREQUENCY 25236.

Posted by: New Montreal States Nov 30 2011, 12:00 AM

"This is NOT what we bargained for." Chief Paladin Rhys Bélanger was not a happy man. The abandonment of The Kingdom of the Midlands had been controversial - a sideral portion of the population had wanted to stay, even if they were the only nation left in the Midlands. He had staked his re-election, really his entire place in NMS history, on making this move. Yesterday he had announced his nation's new prospective location: right at the junction of two continents, and very near the geographic center of AO. Aside from sports-talk nuts griping about having the Milchamans just across the water, the announcement had gone over just fine. But this threatened to change everything. "What, exactly, am I going to say on the television tonight? 'Sorry, but some of our new neighbors have flipped their -explicitive removed- and nuked themselves right into the history books?' This is like moving into a new neighborhood, looking out the windows and watching your new neighbors smoking crack at 9 A.M." "No, wait." He sighed. "Crack doesn't contaminate everyone's crops." He walked over to the Paladinal sideboard and poured two fingers of scotch, taking a rather indecent gulp right afterwards. Slamming the glass down on the board, he turned to face his chief of staff, who had been watching silently and somberly as his boss fumed aloud. His lieutenant held up a thin manila folder. "Atmos boys are saying that the cloud's not gonna come anywhere near the site. And nobody in CD has heard any alarms go off yet." CD, or Operation Continental Drift, was the moving of the entire NMS from the empty hulk of The Kingdom of the Midlands to their new home in AO. If radiation clouds blew onto the project, two trillion ounces were up in smoke, and Bélanger's election prospects would be as radioactive as his erstwhile new home. "Thank god. One bit of cesium over the line and they'd maroon us in the wasteland before sprinting back home." Bélanger's natural instincts for damage control were slowly whirring into place; his pupils narrowed, his pulse and breathing slowed back to a more natural rate, and he was able to go back to his chair and sit back. "Send out some lab types. And let's start writing this speech. If I'm going to go down as history's greatest moron, I'd at least like to go down as an eloquent moron." ************************** Eighteen hours later, the research vessel NMS Docteur Penfield and the medical ship Five-Leaf Clover, accompanied by the destroyer NMS McIntosh, was making its way towards the glowing remnants of Sorthern Northland. Naval NBT teams and atmospheric scientists had been feverishly loading gear on and off of the Docteur Penfield, and new banks of sensors, as well as a small doppler radar set, graced the top of the research vessel. The Five-Leaf Clover was equipped to handle radiation exposure to either the research teams or any possible survivors. The McIntosh was there just in case those survivors were less than happy to see them; although some crank had worked off his nervous energy by distributing a set of fake "orders" directly the crew to ready themselves for a "radioactive zombie onslaught." The gallows humor didn't do much to dispel the nervous energy on board the ships, as every crew member anxiously checked the closest Geiger counter at every opportunity.

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Nov 30 2011, 07:48 AM

Estrianii Raelea Vega had heard enough. The damn drunks had finally done themselves in and now it was becoming evident that parts of the DSE were now facing a very possible threat from radiation fallout. It did seem as the danger would be mostly in the western provinces and not likely to effect the vastly more populated east, but that was of little consequence as two of the DSE’s largest research and developmental zones were under threat of fallout. Eros especially was of much concern. With a highly active genetic engineering program that had suffered its own issues in the recent past, there was no way to tell what increased levels of radiation would produce. But all steps domestically that could be taken were already in progress. The entirety of the west had been placed on alert and citizens ordered to stay inside as much as possible until further notice. The minimal supply of Potassium Lodide pills currently on hand had been procured and shipped west towards major cities such as Radience and Falcione, while the production of the inexpensive anti-radiation drug had been ordered into full production. While most domestic experts agreed with Vilitan officials in that only Radience and Thryvist were in any form of danger, there was no use taking chances. The pills would be needed at least in parts of Maraque and in the remains of Sorthern Northland. Now was the time to put the military into action and joint the search for survivors being led by Vilita and Falcania. The VDF Navy would set up a perimeter near the Bear Islands and send its drones to search the northern regions of the country for survivors as well as the unclaimed territory between SN and Maraque. A trio of unclaimed islands as well as An Blascoad Mor would also require a search incase of peoples needing immediate help. This would be a huge undertaking to say the least. One thing was certain - the face of AO and Nothandryun in particular had changed dramatically for the worst. Slowly she turned to face the camera. It was time. “Today the Draggonnii Socialist Empire steps outside of itself to lend aid in this time of regional disaster. Sorthern Northland as we know it is no more but there may be survivors in isolated pockets who have escaped the devastation this once proud nation has inflicted upon itself. We will join the search for those survivors and offer asylum for any who wish to take it. The governments of Vilita and Falcania have already begun their relief efforts. In an unprecedented move I have decided to open the ports of Kelsey in the south and Radience in the north to those governments so that they may reprovision and make repairs as needed. These two ports may also be used as staging points for any other nation wishing to join the search and/or relief efforts. We call upon the great nations of our region to lend aid during this turbulent time. Thank you and may the Mother Star shine brilliantly for you.” ASMV Map

Posted by: Sorthern Northland Dec 1 2011, 05:36 AM

(OOC - Apologies for contradicting a couple of the RPs already posted, but it was my admittedly unstated intention that whilst the mainland would be destroyed Inis na Dún (the island to south-east) would escape more or less intact.) Inis na Dún had long been a province associated with violence, and yet ironically it had been the only one of the Sorthern provinces to remain free of the civil war. Many on 'The Inish' as it's residents refer to it would of course claim it not to be a Sorthern province at all. Two years had passed since the referendum that voted in favour of autonomy from Beningrad and in those two years those running the island had taken as much autonomy as they could. Whilst Inis na Dún officially still remained a province of the land across the Tailteann Strait, the 20 kilometre long Tailteann Bridge was more a de facto international border than the provincial border that it legally was. The war across the water however meant that traffic in recent months had almost exclusively been one way. Some of the more hard line and cynical nationalists on the island reckoned the glut of refugees from the mainland to merely be a Sorthern ploy to 'recolonise' the island. Ethnic dilution for those hard-liners was a concern, escaping Sortherners had seen the island's population double, but for the majority of islanders it was a simple matter. The hundreds of thousands of Sortherners may be foreign, but they were still people. People escaping war and the loss of everything they had, to offer what accommodation and help they could was the least they could do. And that had been the story of the civil war for Inis na Dún. Not a battlefield as the other provinces were, but safe haven for those who had lost everything in the other provinces. If the fighting itself however had been hidden from Inis na Dún's view the conclusion of the war couldn't have been. Many along the north coast had spotted the jets heading towards the mainland on a flight path hugging the coast of the former West Pocono across the Straits of Inishnadun from the island. The sound of the bombs being dropped had been heard. Crowds in Tailteann watched as Durness, the town at the other end of the Tailteann Bridge burned on the horizon. In Móinéar an Glas, the capital of the island, crowds gathered on the waterfront to watch a large mushroom cloud billowing above what was probably a ruined Sorthern Northland. The people of Inis na Dún could only stand and helplessly watch as their neighbour was destroyed. Yet rather miraculously they themselves would not fall to the same fate. South-westerly winds would see the worst of the radiation blown away from the island. Over the years many had died fighting for Inis na Dún's separation from Sorthern Northland, but in the end it would be Sorthern Northland fighting itself that saw the mainland and Inis na Dún separate fully.

Posted by: Vilita Dec 1 2011, 04:35 PM

The hovercrafts had landed on the beach of the Island Inis na Dún southeast of the Sorthern Northland mainland. This was the same Island where Vilitan Drones had spotted potential signs of life the night before. Now, under the dark of night, it appeared that the worst fears of the search party would be realized. No signs of life anywhere. "Look over there" one operative said, "Smoke in that chimney and a light is on, lets go check it out" A group of 4 carefully approached the home, careful not to tear their radiation suits on a stray twig or debris. "Thats strange" another operative said," the drones reported radiation in this area, but the geiger counter is pegged with nothing" The group approached the door and attempted the handle. No good. So they took a small explosive charge and got out of the way. "Door Cleared!" was the call as the group entered the home. The first operative turned to the right. *thwak* "What the!" the operative said after being smacked in the head with a frying pan "Oh! Oh! A Survivor! Hello!" -- "Of course I'm a survivor what are you doing knocking down my door!" "Sorry mam we didn't think anyone was alive here" -- "Alive? We're all Alive, there were no missiles fired at us" "Yes but the radiation, the drones haven't spotted anyone clearly" -- "Drones? What are you talking about?" "Planes, flying over head, haven't seen people walking about" -- "Do you think we are idiots? We're not going to walk about outside when we've got perfectly good homes to help shelter us if the winds change" "Fair Point. Hadn't thought of that. Why haven't you called for help" -- "We're all doing just fine, the explosions must have severed some communication lines from the main land. Bill was going to go take his boat and go communicate with some folks if no one came, but we figured someone would eventually come." "Well thats amazing! Let me go radio this news in. And we'll get someone to fix your door." OP: Sir, the drones must have been wrong! We're on the ground here on the Island, no reading from the geiger counters, people are alive! - The Drones are never wrong. OP: Must be this time sir! Incredible! - The Drones are never wrong. The Analysts must have been. OP: Hows that sir? - The Drones were flying thousands of feet in the air. I'll bet my bottom dollar those analysts didn't factor in altitude in their calculations and predictions of the radiation effects. OP: Really? Well, good news for the people of this Island. - Indeed.

Posted by: Achtklan Dec 9 2011, 06:19 PM

Guard Duck was well on his way, leading the Bovine Goose Corps to the remnants of Sorthern Northland. There was a heavy military presence around the islands, but it did not seem that any of them paid heed to the uncommonly large flocks of geese approaching the territories. Needless to say, there were casualties passing the circling aircraft... Brave souls, putting up the valiant fight against flying monstrous heaps of metal and unmanned aircraft... But that was not the fight of the day. Guard Duck was focused. He was going to launch a full-scale attack against the people of Sorthern Northland, and they would rue the day they nuked themselves! Although to be fair, they probably didn't need a bunch of belligerent birds to do it in for them. The Corps made their descent into the charred and scattered lands. Hardly anything was alive. "honk honk honk!" went one goose. "quack." was the simple reply. And instantaneously, the Bovine Goose Corps was suited in NPC hardware. They waddled in the ruins, with a fine dust of radioactive snow littering the ground. What life there was seemed a long distant memory. The only thing scattering in the ruins were tiny little bugs that not only survived the blast and the radioactivity, but thrived by feeding off the scat and debris. The smell of roasted Sortherners appealed to the geese, but it was not why they had come. They were there to finish the job. Maybe there was no job to finish? In that instant, a rumbling swept under the feet of the bovine geese, and Guard Duck stood alert that something big had come. It broke through the ground, and a giant mutant worm started to attack the geese! "QUACK!!!", the commands were barked, and the geese heeded. They lined up in attack formation and proceeded to peck the worm. At first, it did little to hurt or hinder the worm, who greedily gobbled up goose after goose. But in time, with repeated pecking attacks, and the help of a bazooka that Guard Duck happened to have hidden behind him (somewhat mysteriously at that), the worm fell over, its head blown to bits and its midsection pecked to a miserable pulp. Just then, another squadron of geese arrived to support the Corps. "honk honk honk!" they cried. It seemed just the news that Guard Duck wanted to hear. The Bovine Goose Corps was on its way again.

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 10 2011, 03:58 AM

The journey inland was slow and tedious and to the three men who occupied the heavily armed and armored search and rescue rover it seemed as if an eternity had passed in the few short hours since their departure from the northern coast and the bulk of the VDF forces who had been sent tom lend aid to any surviving Sortherners. The results of the first 48 hours of searching had only revealed three drunken Sorhtern fishermen attempting to find their way home. Other than that the rescue mission thus far had been a grand exercise in futility. All cities of all sizes had been hit hard when the nukes were fired and no survivors had been found in any that had been searched. There was no news of a hopeful fashion such as the Vilitans had announced with survivors having been found. Aerial drones and ROV’s had all turned up the exact same thing - nothing. And thus the reason for the current mission. The rover and its crew were to make their way into the more sparsely populated regions inland where people might have had a legitimate chance to survive. Drones raced all over the sky collecting the bleak pictures that showed no life. ROV’s did not have the necessary range for this. “Captain. The radiation levels have decreased substantially that immediate survival could be possible. Now initializing biological scanners. If there is anyone to be found, we will find them.” The Captain nodded his approval. This mission had him more than a little on edge. So much devastation and lack of life were not natural and he would be glad to be leaving it all behind. * * * * *

Posted by: Falcania Dec 10 2011, 07:14 AM

"OK, Squad 22. You've been drilling for this." LCpl Mossi sat in the back of the Skyranger as it hurtled through the sky at Mach 1.4, listening to the squad commander, Sgt Balner. "Our ETA is 13 minutes. Section C is first. We spread out, we search, we report back. Maximum mission time is 6 hours; edict from Command that until a more stable analysis of the radiation levels, we're not to stay in the red zone longer than that. You each have your care package; if you find any civilians, one package per family." 12 minutes later, the Skyranger broke from the cloud bank, with its escort of two PreyIIs, and began the descent to the city of Móinéar an Glas, the capital of Inis na Dún. Mossi put on his respirator at the gesture from Balner, and Section 22C prepared for deployment. Squad 22 fanned out from the Skyranger. They had landed in a town square of some kind, tactically advancing and spreading out to secure the LZ. LCpl Mossi saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and whipped around his FALC to bear on the assailant. The rather shocked-looking woman dropped her shopping bags and fell to her knees in surrender. Through the eyepieces of his respirator, Mossi had a limited view of other pedestrians looking on in awe at the Falcanian soldiers, standing in the middle of a pedestrian shopping precinct in CBRN suits. After a moment, Mossi realised his mistake, and hurriedly pulled up his weapon. "Sergeant Balner," he called into his radio. "There are people here. Not refugees, just people going about their business." "Stand down, Squad 22, our intel has been faulty. This is meant to be a ghost town. I'm getting on to base, in the meantime stand down." Mossi saw his men lower their rifles. He slung his own around to his back and walked to the woman. He crouched down and began to comfort her, though his clumsy rubber-suited hands made it feel awkward. "Hello, can you understand me? I'm with the Falcanians, we're here to help." The woman looked up at him, mollified but nonplussed. Overhead, the PreyIIs thundered past. ============ "That was a bloody embarrassment!" Mossi heard one of the privates thunder, in the quarantine mess later that day. They had gotten back to Feather Command Post, gone through the decontamination procedures, and now the whole of platoons 1 and 2 were confined to the radiological quarantine. The view amongst the men was that Falcanian CBRN procedures were stringent; perhaps a bit too stringent for those who had only gone to Inis na Dún. The most prevailing emotion though, was shock. Shock that the tiny island had gotten off so unscathed.

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 12 2011, 05:19 AM

The rover ground to a stop. Initially the scanners had picked up some form of life in theis quadrant but after more than an hour of searching there was nothing to be found. That is until the rover had crested a small rise to find the smoking wreckage of an unmanned aerial drone. Many had been sent out by VDF orders to search for signs of life. But this was not one of their own. The styling was all wrong. “Who’s drone is that?” The question was asked from the rear of the rover where the communications tech had been resting. “Captain, that’s not one of ours is it?” The captain was slow in his reply. “Looks to be Falcanian in origin. See the wing structure. It is different than what most other nations would call conventional.” “What do you think brought it down?” Again the Captain was slow to answer. “Could have been mechanical failure. This is a long way out to find one of theirs as they have positioned themselves off the southern borders of Sorthern Northland. Could be almost anything. Call it in and see what they want us to do.” Several minutes passed as the Captain stared at the wreckage of the drone. Something just didn’t add up. Something about this whole situation screamed that it was wrong. “Captain, we have lost contact with base. I cant raise anyone on any channel.” “Try it ag… Hold on!” The Captain slammed the rover into full reverse and sped back up the rise. The drone had not crashed. It had been shot down. “Gonna be a bumpy ride!” “Captain! The biological sensors are going crazy. Picking up movement from nearly every direction.” The man who had been sleeping awoke as the rover bounced hard over a large rock.”What the Hell…” “Captain! Multiple missiles incoming!” “may the Mother Star help us! Brace for impact!” The rover shuddered as the first missile impacted its side. It would not take many direct hits like that one… The second missile struck the rover square on the nose and the world went black for the three men inside as countless numbers of people descended upon the newly found outsiders.

Posted by: Falcania Dec 12 2011, 07:00 AM

"You're telling me you want to bother someone higher about this?" Intelligence Officer Dannel Mirin rewound his footage station again. "Sir, I took this footage from the memory dumps. Official ruling is a radioactivity-induced malfunction." He hit play. Liason Consultant Jerem Usnor sighed inwardly as his subordinate showed him his mad conspiracy theories. The footage was of one of the White Raven drones, on patrol fairly deep into the red zone. The footage crackled alarmingly with a degraded signal. Mirin paused the footage. "Look at this cluster here. Four flares in a t-shape" "Radiological burn. There's spots of it all over the camera." Mirin cued up another video. "This one was taken three years ago, the White Raven Mark 2 during development." The footage showed a drone doing an overpass of a mocked-up airbase. At the bottom of the footage, from a jeep, there was the flash of a surface-to-air missile. A cluster of four flares in a t-shape. "I want to take this as high as it can go." Usnor looked at Mirin. "You want to take this to Marshal Strongborn?" Mirin nodded. Usnor looked at the footage again. "Okay."

Posted by: Falcania Dec 13 2011, 07:44 AM

"You're saying this came from the top, Corporal?" "You're a curious one, aren't you, trooper?" Mossi answered Trooper Donard. That kept him quiet. "The very top, Donard. Marshal Strongborn himself ordered this mission." The whole of 2 Platoon were being deployed to a forward strongpoint in the red zone. It was a tiny outpost, a prefab radiologically-proofed bunker dropped from high-altitude, sufficient to sustain fifty men for six months. Radiation levels were dropping all the time, fanned by strong winds away from the isle, but Feather Command was still taking precautions. LCpl Mossi had opted to take the first patrol around their new home with Tpr Donard and the other three men of 4th Company 22C. The ground was barren, ashen, and their CBRN suits were a constant hassle. Still, it was seen as an act of contrition for the PR disaster in Móinéar an Glas, and Lieutenant Warlsh was keen to regain some honour for 4th Company 2 Platoon, who had taken the incident badly in the press back home. Rumour had it Colonel Wisson, leader of the 7th Regiment Skymarine, had personally spoken to Warlsh, bypassing Company level entirely. Morale was not great within what had officially been designated "Outpost 7D4-2" and what the troops were calling "Micro Base" due to its small size and perceived similarity to a microwave oven for them.

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 13 2011, 12:40 PM

VDF forward recon base Kura DZ4 was in turmoil. Situated on the northeast coast of what had been Sorthern Northland the base was the center point of recon and rescue missions in the eastern reaches of the red zone. Thus far tings had gone pretty much as expected with no survivors having been found, first in the larger cities and now in the smaller towns. Drones and Rovers alike had continued to come up empty. Nothing out of the expected had shown its head. That was until last night. Several rovers had been sent out on extended missions to see what could be found. All were in and out of contact as radiation levels surrounding them fluctuated greatly. One of those rovers, Xaiku 217 piloted by Captain Berul Caern’jiu had made radio contact juat after 1800 hours, but the message had been broken and on the verge of inaudible at best. Knight Marshall Ioniq Du’lissi listened to the recording once more… “… signs…wreckage,,,nothing,,,under attack,,,under attack,,,too much…” That something unexpected and probably horrific had happened to the crew of Xaiku 217 was undoubted. But exactly what - and exactly where - were complete unknowns. No signal had been received from the rover’s gps, another system having trouble with changing radiation levels. For now relief units would have to be sent blindly in the general direction the missing rover had been searching. The only saving grace is that this rover had been searching the red zone nearer to the eastern border where Sorthern northland gave way to unclaimed territory. Knight Marshall Ioniq Du’lissi looked over the rescue units assembled to find their comrades. 3 Xaiku rovers accompanied by two Hyu’terii light tanks and a trio of Mizzek Assault helicopters. Hopefully that would be enough to handle whatever they would find. More troops had been commissioned from VDF headquarters, but tomorrow would be the earliest they would arrive. Quickly he turned and marched back to the Command Center. This was going to be a very long day. * * * * * Captain Berul Caern’jiu awoke slowly to the sounds of music and festivity. Somewhere beyond his direct vision a fire crackled and burned. He moved closer to the wooden bars of what could only be described as a crude cage. Still nothing could be seen. “Svabol re wux tirir ti vdri?” The voice came from his left and was followed quickly by something hard finding his head. Slowly the world returned to black.

Posted by: Falcania Dec 13 2011, 05:54 PM

"Sky above, what the hell is that?" Flight Lieutenant Stuwart "Horus" Bellison looked over his shoulder at Flight Officer "Crossbone" Martiz, his navigator. "What have you seen now, Crossbone?" "Crash site. Looks like one of ours." "I'll check it out." Horus pulled the AH-5a helicopter down lower. He'd been carrying Crossbone in his backseat long enough to know that the young navigator's hunches were worth a try, more often than not. He crackled a command to his wingman. "Devilfish, form on my flank. On your guard." He crested the hill, and saw the crater. "Definitely a White Raven. Crossbone, you got coordinates?" "Three-Oh-Niner North, Five-Seven-Five West, sir." "Call it in, Crossbone." "High sky, Horus!" Devilfish's voice came through. "Look at that! A Vegan probe. The bloody VDF shot down our drone." "Horus, scopes show inbound signals from the northeast. Formation consistent with VDF." Crossbone's voice sounded hollow in Horus' ear, as he realised he was on the verge of making a decision. "Horus, this is Feather, stand down! Repeat, stand down! We have received intel from on high, the VDF are not to be considered hostile. Repeat, stand down, VDF are friendlies." Horus looked to his right, and saw that Devilfish's gunner had begun to rev the gatling gun. "Devilfish, for sky's sake, stand down or I'll shoot you down myself." "Intel be damned, I know what I saw." "Goddamn it, Devilfish, I will not watch you cause a diplomatic incident. Return to base or you will be subject to a court-martial." There was a pause, and Devilfish peeled off. Horus sighed. "Crossbone, call it in. Send in the poor bloody infantry." "Feather, this is Crossbone, recommend immediate deployment of Skymarine to secure sovereign Falcanian interests, over." "Roger that Crossbone, tell Horus that the 4th Company is sending their very best." "High sky... Warlsh's boys? Sky help us all." "Better off out of it, Crossbone. Come on, we're getting out of here."

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 13 2011, 08:27 PM

“Kura, this is rescue deployment Aphi Tul. Do you copy?” “We have you Aphi Tul. Loud and clear. Go ahead.” “Kura, we have begun to pick up scrabble on our sensors coms. It srrms that we feared correctly. We are not alone out here. Over.” “Message received. Can it be determined if those picked up by the sensors are hostile or friendly?” “No way to tell at this point. Will use caution upon approach to coordinates .309 keld 0575 jhus. Over.” “Roger that. Be advised that anyone encountered in your area could potentially be hostile as we already know that something went wrong out there.” “Will do, Kura. Aphi Tul signing off.” Captain Ardoin Al’sha urged the rover into a slow crawl forward. The others would make fun of him for it later, but it was far better to be cautious and alive than brash and dead. “Have you made any sense of the scrabble?” “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that the light coms we picked up were Falcanian in origin. But what would they be doing all the way up here?Last I heard they were operating in the areas closer to the southern coasts.” “It cant mean anything good if they are Falcanian. Just keep your ears open. All units, switch arms to hot. We are approaching potentially hostile targets picked up on scanners and radar. Everyone stay alert, we already lost one unit out here.” The subtle shift of the auto cannons on the three Su Hyera class Mizzek gunships told the captain that the message had been received loud and clear. The tanks would no doubt be ready to lend support as well. “May the Mother Star watch over our souls.”

Posted by: Falcania Dec 14 2011, 05:07 AM

"Belay that order, Horus. You're to stay in the combat zone." "Sky... sky..." Horus swooped around and began a patrol pattern. "Negative, command, I can see this escalating." "Horus, this situation is now considered to warrant a full military presence. We have reinforcements inbound." "This is madness, command. You can't see what's going on here." "Further protests will be classed as insubordination, Flight Lieutenant. This is out of your hands now. We're sending in Skymarine Seven Delta Four Dash Two, a Sharpstar and Eagle Eye will be providing AWACS support, and we have PreyIIs to provide air supremacy." Horus sighed. "Understood, command. Securing area." ====== The formation came in like a battering ram. Three T-115 transport jets, four PreyII fighters, and a sleek, large Sharpstar supercruising over the horizon. The Falcanian tradition for assigning any combat role to a supercruise-capable airframe was shown in full force. The Skyranger transports throttled back to subsonic speeds. LCpl Mossi gave the hand signal and C section deployed after their comrades in 22B. Mossi was secretly pleased in spite of himself. As one of the minority of Falcanians with a powerful enough wingspan for flight, he had been aggressively recruited for the Skymarine 4th Company. It was telling that flight-capable Falcanians were estimated at about 44% of the population, but 87% of the Skymarine. He checked his backup chute, fluttered his wings slightly to ensure they were free, and leapt out of the plane. The wind hit him, ruffling his plumage, as he aligned his wings for freefall. --- Horus looked upon the operation with pride, in spite of himself. Nobody could ever do an aerial insertion like a Falcanian. The troops soared gracefully into their pre-briefed battle lines and began to set up. Overhead, the PreyIIs did another flyby. A show of force. "Horus, you are to remain on station until EC2 Eagle Eye arrives with its escort from 8th Heli Command. They'll relieve you." "I'm sure they will..." Horus muttered to himself. --- Mossi looked up and down the lines. His fireteam had been tasked with infantry support; many of the sections of 2 Platoon had been assigned Jackdaw missiles in anticipation of a tank fight. He saw the VDF probes, tanks and helicopters in the distance, closing on his squad. Suddenly things fell tense along the lines. Were they going to exchange fire? Would this be the outbreak of a war?

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 15 2011, 01:51 AM

Captain Ardoin Al’sha urged the rover ahead cautiously. He had not known exactly what they would find out here in this desolate countryside, but this was most definitely as far from imaginable as it could get. “We have eyes on Xaiku 217, Captain. Looks as if a couple of missile strikes disabled her. Patching video feed to Kura DZ4 now” Al’sha slowed the rover to a halt. One wrong ove here could mean disaster. “Aphi Tul to Blanket 1, assume defensive strike positions. No reason to make ourselves one huge target if the Falcanians get itchy over there.” The three Su Hyera gunships immediately peeled of to the left and right to assume a spread formation the VDF had perfected long ago. Even with the odd stacked against the Vegai Rescue Unit, this would give them their best shot. It was time to find out what should be done next. “Aphi Tul to Kura. Come in Kura.” “Aphi Tul, this is Kura Passkey 5J687R.” “Passkey accepted, Captain. Kura line is secure.” The Captain sighed. Somehow he could almost sense what was coming. :Kura, are you receiving the video feed? Xaiku 217 is a loss. There are no signs of her crew. And to top it off we have what appears to be an unusually strong Falcanian force already on the ground, complete with air support. We have also spotted several missile packs which appear to be of the Jackdaw classification.” “Aphi Tul be advised that we have taken the video footage into account and have every reason to believe the Falcanian presence here to be hostile. You are to hold your current position until aid arrives. Aphi Jhun and Aphi Evolz have been reassigned to the coordinates you have provided and should arrive there in under 2 hours time to provide support and assistance. Once they are in place, it falls to you to secure Xaiku 217.” “Kura, I would advise strongly against this plan of action as we may provoke the Falcanians into adverse action. We are outnumbered here and have little in the way of support. Any open conflict will surely go bad for us.,” “You have your orders Captain. Be advised also that the 177th Furrozzii hs been dispatched as well. They should provide the air support need to deal with this Falcanian threat.” The entire 177th? The VDF command was taking no chances. And they were also leaving only a very small window to make good any escape. “Roger command. Holding positions. Out”

Posted by: Falcania Dec 15 2011, 03:42 AM

"Looks like they're spreading out defensively, Sarge." "Cool it, Mossi. Our AWACS support is here." He pointed up to the rounded bulk of the Eagle Eye airship, accompanied by a host of six SuperCondors. Sergeant Balner had seen action during the war, and fought alongside those SuperCondors. He knew the damage those gatling guns could do. "Alright Mossi, prepare your men. We're going to secure the crash site. Fire upon only if you are fired upon." Mossi's men began advancing across the wrecked landscape. It was the most unnerving advance of Mossi's life so far. He'd fought in a war already, but he wasn't keen on starting one. They reached the downed White Raven and the pulverised Xaiku. They had both taken a pounding, huge punched welts all over their canopies. That was odd; the White Raven used the same Sunflare missile that the SuperCondor was armed with. Mossi had seen enough impacts from that during the war; they scorched everything they hit. These were clean, circular impact holes. And they were on the White Raven and the Xaiku. He'd seen these before, too; the missile Falcania had used before the Jackdaw was the Starspike, and with the dominant industry in Falcania being arms manufacture for export, many smaller nations and insurgent forces got their hands on it. "This doesn't add up. Trooper Donard, get me the radio. What's the open channel the VDF listen on?" "I'm not sure what they call it in their dialect, sir, but they do have an open channel somewhere. I'll tune to it." "Do it, trooper. We need to nip this." There were a tense few minutes while Donard fiddled with dials on the bulky radio unit. Mossi looked up and down at the VDF spread. "Here, sir." Mossi took the handset. "Attention all Vegan forces, this is a peaceful transmission. My name is Lance Corporal Mossi, of the Falcanian Combined Strike Force. My assignment number is Seven Delta Four Dash Two Two Charlie Alpha. I am acting under my own initiative, and it will be only moments until my superiors have me recalled, so I shall be brief. I do not believe this conflict is necessary. We are examining the craft of both our sides; they have been damaged by the same weapon. We did not fire upon your probe, and I believe it is increasingly unlikely that you fired upon our drone. We should both seek to down arms and investigate this further." He took a deep breath. "I repeat, this is a peaceful transmission. My name is Lance Corporal Mossi..."

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 15 2011, 11:19 AM

“Sir! We are receiving an open channel transmission from the Falcanians. Sounds urgent.” “Well what the hell are they saying?” “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I speak Sorthern Northlander and Tvarchian. We were not expected to find a Falcanian force out here. Captain Al’sha cursed under his breath. Perhaps the one chance to stop this conflict and he had no way of knowing what was being said. “They are saying that they did not attack our rover, I think. And something about their drone being shot down, Other than that I cant be sure” Al’sha let out a sigh of relief. Finally a break in his favor. “Who is this? Nevermind. Let them know that we have received their message and are coming in to talk. Just one rover. Then get your ass over here, I need you to translate. All units be advised that Aphi Tul commander will be moving forward to converse with the Falcanian force. If we are to avoid a conflict, this is a necessary action. Do not, I repeat, do not fire unless fired upon.” “But sir! My skill with their language is minimal at,,,” “just do it!” Al’sha watched as one of the helicopters broke rank to land next to his rover. The soldier who disembarked and came forward looked little more than a boy. “ready to stop a war?” The solier grinned sheepishly. “not what I expected to do today sir.” “Me either. But this is what we must do if we wish to make it home. Let them know we are on our way in.” Ten minutes later Captain Ardoin Al’sha shook hands with Lance Corporal Mossi. The similarities between them were immediately apparent. Both had seen the evils of war and were more valuable from their experienced knowledge than any superior officer would ever admit. This was a man (he was a man, wasn’t he?) that he could be friends with if the situation we right. Mossi began to speak low but quickly. Al’sha turned to the interpreter. “He says that he has been recalled and a higher ranking officer will be taking his place. Some other stuff as well that I could not catch.” “Bull-explicitive removed-!” the sudden expletive caused everyone near to flinch. “You can tell them that I will only speak with Mossi. If he is recalled, I will leave and we can let those who love war more decide things.” As the message was being delivered Al’sha thought to himself “just what the hell are we getting into here?”

Posted by: Falcania Dec 17 2011, 08:09 PM

Mossi was out of his depth. His well-meaning act had escalated, and now he was shaking hands with a foreign military officer. Falcanian people fell into a spectrum of mutations. Some had claws, some had wings, some had striking head plumage that rose several feet above themselves. Entire treatises had been authored on the variations in leg, knee and foot structure between regional peoples. However, all of them shared beaks and feathers; all Falcanians were very different from other humans. That, and the isolationist politics of the nation, had historically made relations with other nations difficult. The handshake had gone on a long time. The Vegan captain, Ardoin, he thought, seemed a veteran. The translation was awkward; clearly Ardoin didn't speak the High Tongue; it was similar enough in root to most languages in the south and east of AO, but the Socialist Empire was a fair way away from home. He got the gist, however, that the captain was asking for him to stay around. By now the notion of an immediate firefight had ended. Lieutenant Warlsh, commander of 2 Platoon, had been summoned, and was currently walking towards the captain and the lance-corporal, his honour guard in tow. Mossi pulled a hasty salute. By now, most of the platoon had gathered round; the three sergeants, in particular, of the three squads comprising 2 platoon, were standing near the foreign officers. Warlsh stepped up, all bluster and pomp. "Lance corporal, you have derelicted your post and fraternised with the enemy. You are immediately discharged of your duty." "Sir, these people are not the enemy," This voice came from behind Mossi; it belonged to Sergeant-At-Arms Onnigan, commander of the Platoon's first squad. He was standing beside Mossi's immediate superior, Sergeant Balner. "This is a relief effort, not a war, sir." Warlsh looked as though he'd been lashed. "You speak out of turn too, Onnigan? You forget, I am the ranking CSF officer in this theatre." "Not true, sir." Balner was leaning on his rifle. He pointed up. "Flight Lieutenant trumps Lieutenant." Warlsh looked around. The platoon were turning on him. They were on the verge of betrayal; betraying their orders, their superiors, and the honour of the Free Kingdom. "Sir, radio message for you." Warlsh turned. His radio officer was holding a handset to him. He took it. "Warlsh here." "Warlsh, this is Flight Lieutenant Bellison, you are ordered to stand down," came Horus' reply from his SuperCondor, hovering above the scene. "Lieutenant Bellison, this is a Skymarine matter. You should keep out of this." "An act of war on this scale would be a Skymarine matter, but perhaps one for Colonel Wisson." Warlsh considered this for a few moments. "Acknowledged." "Consider all your orders in the past hour to have been belayed. This includes any discharges of duty." Warlsh paused. "Acknowledged, Bellison." He turned to the assembly. "Sergeants Onnigan, Balner and Sinnh, recall your squadrons. Mossi, your section too. We're settling a camp here." He looked to the Vegan translator, with bitterness in his eyes. "You get that, Vegan? We're not prosecuting a war here."

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 18 2011, 08:08 PM

Thu’irnol turned from the pompous officer who had just basically dismissed him offhand. “Capatain, it seems He wants us to wait while he has a tent put up. Do we really have time for this?” Captain Ardoin looked at the young soldier with a tinge of longing for times gone by, “How old are you, son?” The question caught the would-be interpreter by surprise. “Twenty, Sir. Or at least I will be on next Tuesday.” Twenty years old. Damn he felt old. “They have the superior force and thus can dictate the action. Request of them for Mossi to be allowed to stay and speak with me of these (Ardoin swept his hand to include the drone, rover, and everything else present). He seems to be the coolest of the lot and I wish to get things more understandable before the 177th gets here.” He had noticed Mossi’s deferral to the arrogant officer who had come up. Thu’irnol had said he was a Captain or maybe a Lieutenant, that part of the translation had been hard for him. One thing he deeply despised was a younger officer, usually having gained his position through name, ignoring the obvious experience of life-long soldiers. Things rarely went well when that happened and Mossi definitely seemed to fit that latter role. He might never make it into a true command position but he would surely outclass those who did in meaningful knowledge and how it should be applied. The captain watched carefully to see the reaction when the request was made. He would have to be careful to remember to read their eyes. A set jaw he could read, but those beaks would take some time to figure out. Mossi almost cringed as he heard the request. Obviously he had been hoping to be done with his part in this mess. But Ardoin knew a good man when he saw one. To ease the tensions of the one person on the Falcanian side he felt he could trust, Ardoin ran a hand through his shoulder length hair exposing the large, rough patch of bronze scales that started on his neck and ran the length of his spine. Perhaps the Vegai and Falcanians were not so different in as much as they both had mutations to be dealt with. The Falcanian’s were just a tad bit more obvious. Captain Ardoin Al’sha turned to where the lone remaining soldier waited with the rover. His loud bark of orders in the Draconic tongue echoed across the landscape causing every Falcanian and Vegai present to stare at him in near alarm. “ Gethrisj spical ekess wer lyriki! Yth xurwk ihk ssifisv!” Well now, he thought to himself. That gives them something new to think on.

Posted by: Falcania Dec 19 2011, 12:18 AM

The men of 2 Platoon were busying themselves in raising tents; they had decided to pitch some for the Vegai men, who they had taken rather a shine to. Lieutenant Warlsh's men had put up his own tent, and he was sitting within, sulking. Mossi sat in one of the tents, with Ardoin. Sergeant Balner stood at the door. Sergeant-At-Arms Onnigan stepped towards Mossi, and chirruped gently in his ear. "Relax, Lance-Corporal. I hear Blackard is on his way." Mossi stiffened, and Onnigan continued. "Blackard's a good officer, he rose the ranks the old fashioned way. Just tell the truth, you'll be fine." With that, Onnigan smiled, and resumed his post at the door. Mossi swallowed. Translation was going to be difficult. "Er, the drone, OUR drone, and your probe... they were both shot with the same missile." He pointed at one of the Jackdaw units, lying in its case. "NOT the new one. An old missile. An old Falcanian missile, but we sold that one for years!" he gestured with his hands. "I think it was rebels. Northland rebels with old gear." He looked around. "We have more men coming, and more planes. Helicopters. My superior is coming, Captain Blackard. He's not like Warlsh, he's like me and us," he said, gesturing to himself and the sergeants. "Just you wait." ========= Captain Blackard, commanding officer of the 4th Company, had requisitioned an entire T-115 to himself. It was the quickest way of getting to the frontlines. From inside their tent, Mossi and Ardoin could make out some shouting from outside. Even the would-be translator picked up a few choice phrases; "Don't countermand your sergeants, the Skymarine is run by its sergeants," "Don't threaten the Sky Control Force," "Are you trying to start a war here, you bristling cloaca?!" to illustrate just a few. Mossi and Ardoin exchanged a few eyebrow raises. A few moments later, Captain Blackard entered the tent, pulling off a sharp salute. Unlike Lieutenant Warlsh, who had been a plump little man wearing barrack dress, Blackard was wearing full battle dress. Only the sharp winking of the double orange star on his sleeve signified a high rank. Blackard was a tall Falcanian with striking, dark plumage. He gave a sharp salute, and then bowed deeply to Ardoin. He spoke in a very rough, street-dialect approximation of the Draconic tongue. "Deep military-context greetings, sir captain. Please sorry for my poor use of your tongues, I learned only a rough version when fighting near your borders, before our Falcanian inside royalty war. My name is Captain Blackard of the company fourth, and I am here to discuss the events that were sustained between our drone and your vehicle. I have been briefed on Mossi's message, and also on how Lieutenant Warlsh can do a sexual act on a pelican." He smiled, clearly not quite understanding the weight of idiom. "Warlsh is being reassigned to another field of theatre, and Mossi is soon to be promoted to Full Corporal as a result of his initiative. I hope this is pleasing to yours. The Skymarine did not deploy here for war, but for human helping relief. Even though there are those in this north land that would not consider Falcanian, nor Vegai, to be human proper." He chuckled. "I am desire to be your friend, Captain Ardoin."

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 21 2011, 02:14 AM

Captain Ardoin Al’sha looked around the makeshift camp that had been set up around the wreckage of the Falcanian Drone and the Vegai Rover. It had been nearly a week since the two parties had arrived and narrowly avoided the beginnings of war. A week in the Sorthern outlamds and yet one thing remained glaringly clear. They were no closer to any real answers than they head been in the beginning. That the drone had been shot down with what appeared to be older Jackdaw missiles sold in huge quantities to anyone with money. The same type of missile had been used to disable the rover. But the whereabouts of the Vegai crewmen remained a mystery. Discussions had been held at length debating where the rebels/guerillas/usurpers had come from. Talk had ranged over the folly of selling arms to almost anyone before encompassing the fact that both nations had their hands fully involved in that game. Still nothing presented itself. “It’s almost as if someone had wanted us to go to war with each other.” The comment had come from a small group of messengers gathered near the tent’s entrance. Captain Ardoin Al’sha looked up as Captain Blackard turned to him “Now that is an idea worth examining.”

Posted by: Falcania Dec 23 2011, 05:55 PM

"Bad news from the front." Marshall Strongborn looked up from his desk at the midshipman interrupting his report-writing. "The mission to investigate that drone?" "Yep. We've narrowly avoided war with the Vegans, sir." "The Vegai," Strongborn corrected him. "War? Did nobody think it would be germane to check with Feather Command before war was declared?" "Sir, it was 7D4-2 Platoon. Again." "One platoon? You're telling me that all the controversy since we arrived here has been caused by ONE PLATOON?" Strongborn looked like he was about to burst a vessel. The midshipman changed tack. "Most of our other operations here have been fairly unremarkable, and largely blessed with success. We've found a few pockets of life, nomads and that, and we've dropped a lot of food packages on Inis na Dún." "Sky damn it, midshipman." Strongborn sighed. "We shouldn't be out here. This is political. Everyone knows it, everyone's been talking about it but us. It's the bloody Chairman's doing. Chairman Ronnand bloody Warst, wants to be the big man on the regional scene. Wants to show the world that Falcania's not just another bloody third-world country recovering from civil war. They want to show everyone how strong we are! I mean, why else would you commit a full carrier group and a bloody Skymarine division to administer a humanitarian aid effort? They're showing off their muscles by handling a newborn chick! It's madness!" The midshipman stood looking at the marshal, slightly uncomfortable. "Look. Sorry, you didn't need to be here for that. We've got our orders and we're damn well going to carry them out. This is Wisson's mess, isn't it? 7th Regiment? Who's ranking officer there?" "Captain Blackard, sir. He deployed his honour guard personally to relieve Lieutenant Warst of his command." The midshipman shuffled the papers in his hands and coughed. "Warst's father was an officer under Cockroft, sir, in the civil war." "Ooooh. Political. I thought the Republican commanders got shafted in the Retribution Trials?" "Apparently not all of them, sir. I've got his file here, sir. He's got two commendations of merit. Blackard, on the other hand, only just promoted to captain, he was one of the troops uptaken to lieutenant after the war." "What did he do in the war, this Blackard?" "File sergeant. One of the last Protectorate survivors at the battle of Mathdon." "High sky. Tough bastard then." The Marshal sighed. "So, seasoned soldier-turned-commander, fought for the losing side during the war, flies in to powder keg initiated by his immediate subordinate, jumped-up college boy, whose dad fought for the other losing side during the war. We remain, somehow, not at war. Who else you have in that magic file of yours, midshipman?" "Just one other significant soldier, sir. Sergeant-at-arms Onnigan. Senior sergeant in 2 Platoon. Joined the Skymarine after the war, has all the indications of one of the Loyalist militia." "Ah, finally, someone who was on the winning side. What's so special about him?" "Just one thing, sir. Our records show that he served in the military before the civil war. Holding the rank of General." "Well... isn't this just an interesting scenario we have here?" The marshal drummed his fingers. "Who do you answer to, midshipman?" "Uhm, High Lieutenant Mintel, sir. Skyfleet intelligence." "I want to have you seconded to my department. Get me the paperwork. I want you to keep me informed of everything that's going on in that theatre."

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Dec 30 2011, 12:54 AM

OOC- Sorry for the Holiday break. Now back at it. ****************************************** Berul listened to the schackles rattle inside his small cage as it bounced roughly from side to side in the rickety, old army truck as it careened madly down some long forgotten trail of a road. He had given up on attempting to discern his location days ago as those who held him captive were always on the move and the stars this far westward seemed a bit out of sorts. Somewhere between Sorthern Northland and Maraque and relatively close to the Salamantic was his only conclusion. The latter could be determined by the occasional smells of salt water on the cool evening breeze. Of his captors, he knew even less. They spoke a language unknown to his ears and dressed in robes and turbans. More than that was nearly impossible to tell. Other than the man, if a man he was, who wore the yellow robes. His accent was far different than the others, his voice almost melodic by comparison, and he was much taller. The other thing that stood out was that where his captors were definitely light-skinned, the newcomer was most definitely much darker. That they were headed someplace specific was undeniable but as to where that someplace was - only the Gods would know. A shout from somewhere ahead caused the old truck to slow down and Berul craned his head as far into the bars of the cage as he could trying to see what might be there, but one of the smelly, unkempt guards noticed him looking and roughly threw the moldy tarp that had covered the cage for most of its journey back into place. Now he could see nothing. ***************************************** A returning group of scouts brought with them no new news and Ardoin frowned with disgust. The search for the missing Vegai had turned up exactly nothing. Even the 177th had showed how futile the effort seemed. If 75 assault and recon helicopters performing round-the-clock missions had no luck, then there was indeed nothing to be found. Yet somehow here they all still were. Vegai and Falcanian still searching for answers that seemingly did not exist. Only the stark reality of one downed drone, one disabled rover, two dead Vegai soldiers and one missing Vegai officer were there to provide proof that something had happened. No signs of anything else were there to provide clues. Nothing replaced by more nothing. It was maddening. Ardoin stomped hard on the ground. He needed a drink. Perhaps Mossi and Blackard had found something new.

Posted by: Falcania Dec 30 2011, 08:33 PM

The air was filled with the ever-present whine of turbofans; to the Skymarine, it was a comfort to know that Falcania ruled the skies. Mossi was never sure how the Vegai felt about it. One of those cultural things, he supposed. Still, the PreyIIs blasted past the helicopter, and he smiled. His legs dangled out of the side of the Pelican transport chopper, and he resumed scanning the terrain below him with his binoculars. "Not what you signed up for, eh, corporal?" This was Sergeant-At-Arms Onnigan, manning the machine gun next to him. Mossi shook his head, and shouted above the rotors. "No, sarge. I'm a soldier, not a diplomat." "You do what you needed to, Corporal. That's what it means to be a soldier." The journey continued. It was good that the background radiation had, by now, lowered to a sufficient level that Command had deemed continued use of CBRN equipment unnecessary; they were, however, maintaining a quarantine of all units deployed to the mainland. Blackard had deployed the rest of the 4th Company, and "Micro Base" had been supplemented with additional prefabs; now 200 soldiers were deployed in billets there, and there was a small airbase where two wings had been deployed. Even if they were sending a hammer to crack a nut, Mossi mused, there was some pride in knowing it was the biggest hammer present. The Vegai had sent 75 attack copters to perform recon; Blackard had offered all 200 troops of 4th Company. Someone had to find something. But so far all they'd found was scrubland, much of it scorched. The occasional ruined town marked the landscape like pockmarks. "Hey, look! Sign of life!" On the other side of the copter, Donard pointed out one of the ruins. "Call it in." ===== Twenty minutes later, 2 Platoon spread out into the ruins. Blackard walked to the centre as the platoon spread out to secure the area. There was the remains of a huge bonfire in the town centre. Blackard stepped towards it, his boots crunching on broken glass. "This ash is fresh..." he muttered to himself. "B reports clear!" his radio crackled. There really was a lot of broken glass around, Blackard thought. It glittered in the midday sun, almost blinding him from beneath. "A Section clear!" So what? They'd investigated three villages already that morning. But something about this one seemed... different. unusual. The smell of the smoke was still relatively fresh; muted, admittedly, through the limited Falcanian sense of smell. However, his eyes picked out a glimmer on the floor that was different to the others. "C clear, we're all clear, sir." Sergeant Balner stepped forward. "The town is completely uninhabited. It's eerie, sir, there are no bodies anywhere. That was a bit eerie, actually, Blackard mused. "There were people here, recently. Look at all this glass. It's not window glass, it's bottle glass. There was a party." This just got stranger and stranger. He crossed to the strange glimmer he found. Now... this was a lead. He stooped and picked it up in a gloved hand; it was a brass shell casing. He held it up. "Shell casing; 7.62 calibre. And will you get a hold of this!" Dull senses of smell, Falcanians, but very sharp eyes. He made out an indentation on the rim; "Jay Industries 7.62 made in Falcania". Onnigan took the shell casing. "Last weapon Falcania made in 7.62 was the IAW, and that's the 4th-most-exported firearm in Atlantian Oceania. The thinking-man's insurgent firearm," he smiled to himself. "Fired a fair few of these in the war." Blackard went "hmmm" and looked around. "Seems conclusive to me. This town is on the path to the coast. Get to the chopper! Radio it on the way. We got a chase on our hands, boys!"

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Jan 2 2012, 03:15 AM

Things were complete chaos. The Falcanians had finally locked onto something tangible and had deployed their troops overland into unclaimed territory hot on a trail that had eluded everyone else. In response the 177th Furrozzii had been dispatched on a southerly course designed to set a hard perimeter in order to be ready if anything the Falcanians flushed out broke their containment. In addition, the 5th Battle Fleet had been dispatched from Radience to patrol the northern shores of the lands between Maraque and Sorthern Northland. If anything was there, it would surely be found. Ardoin looked at himself in the mirror of the Rover as it bounced along over the rough terrain. Damn he needed to shave. Perhaps he would soon have the chance.

Posted by: Vilita Jan 2 2012, 04:18 PM

OP: Sir, all of our drones from Seraai, they are reporting radiation levels higher than normal when taking off into the Valley. CM: The Radiation shouldn't affect us. OP: I know it shouldn't affect the mainland as projected sir, but at the higher altitudes, it appears stronger than predicted. CM: So It seems. Perhaps we should get a specialist in here. -------------------------------------- SP: Indeed, its worse than I had feared. As you can see on this plot, the upper level radiation is indeed higher than expected due to the winds taking more of the radiation in a southerly path across the water instead of the expected path more along the coastline towards Andossa Se Mitrin Vega. CM: What is this little bit here at the end of the plot, near Irougil? SP: Well, indeed that is the part that is worse than I had feared. Its a bit of a hard thing to predict. But due to the topography of the Vilitan island, the radiation from the upper atmosphere is being pulled between the Vilitan ranges. Then, as it exits the Liguon Valley and over the Tival Jungle it is confronted by the open water winds that were previously shielded by the Western Vilitan Range. The open water winds are pushing the radiation downward, squeezing it between the open water winds and the Eastern Central Range. The net result is a concentration of radiation exiting the southern portion of Vilita, directly over Irougil. CM: How high? Thousands of Feet? SP: Its hard to predict CM: Give me a guess SP: If I had to gu... well, I'd evacuate Irougil. Its not worth the risk. CM: Evacuate Irougil! What are you telling me here? SP: I'm telling you that the model I've just run with an accurate topography of Vilita and input from the drone readings through the Liguon Valley, suggests that the radiation levels in Irougil could quickly become comparable to those seen in Sorthern Northland itself, if these open water winds continue to condense and force the radiation downward against the Eastern Central Range. CM: WHAT! DAMMIT! This can't be happening. Call back the drones. Let the Falcanians and Vaian's deal with Sorthern Northland. We need every drone in the sky NOW over Irougil and the Liguon Valley. This is crazy. How come we couldn't predict this, we could have had everyone out days ago. We could have seeded the clouds and got rid of some of the radiation before it reached our shores. Dammit Dammit Dammit! Who's fault is this! Dammit! SP: Sir, given this model, the priority must be to evacuate Irougil. Like, now. CM: GET ON IT THEN!!!!!!! ----------------------------------------- The last citizens gathered up their belongings and made their way out of Irougil. Many went to stay with family in Arcticala, and other Vilitan cities. However, some were ready to start anew right away, and moved into a low population development outside of nearby Cittea, dubbed "Irottea" or "Irotiia" by the transplants. They didn't know when, or if they would be able to return to their homes, but some of them didn't care. "Even if the radiation goes away, its obvious that Irougil is built in a bad spot if this can happen once, it can happen again. I think I'll just start fresh in Irottea and hopefully some of my former neighbors will do the same."

Posted by: Achtklan Jan 2 2012, 10:53 PM

Just in case you forgot, there were a bunch of geese in radioactive Sorthern Northland, all the while mechanic terrors rumbled overhead. To be honest, we're not sure what it all means, but it'll come round and mean something worthwhile in the end. Maybe. In the meantime, the Bovine Goose Corps of the Armed Forces League of Allemenschen Critters (AFLAC) of Nellietopia (weird history there, my friends...) was headed on its way south, having survived the radioactive clouds and the mutant worms. And here, they would (hopefully) find survivors to peck into dust. Such it was that the surveillance crew spotted what appeared to be clear signs of habitation towards the south of the country on a small quaint island. It's hard to miss such a small island as this, since it was so perfectly tucked into the profile of the coastline that you'd never suspect that it was an island. But it wasn't a simple run over to the island, since the great distance between the shore of the continent to the island was perhaps a big ask for any person - but the uncommonly large numbers of predatory fish in the area seemed to make the swim an irreconcilable flirtation with Dr. Death and his minions, Pain and Agony. But here was the Bovine Goose Corps, ready to deliver the sucker punch to these hapless Sortherners. You could see it in the distance, a great flock that covered the sky in their dull gray feathers. And they descended upon the island in great numbers from the north, such was the odd occasion that people from across the quaint little island stood at their doorsteps, their entrances, their intersections, their highest heights, and unfortunately for some, their laundry lines. Indeed, the few twenty minutes it took for people to get assembled to watch this great assemblage of bird and fowl. And they assembled at the north shore of this island, extending as far as the eye could see. The islanders all cheered the arrival of these auspicious creatures, thinking it to be signs that Sorthern Northland was all at peace once again (although why anyone cared remained a mystery, especially as some of the older folk had fought to win their autonomy from the cold, heartless clutches of the Beningrad Commissariat...). One suspects that these people couldn't tell the difference between a turtle dove and a bovine goose. But they knew a duck when they saw one, such was the uniform distaste of ducks among the islanders. Of course, it was odd to them as they watched one little white duck fly up to the center of this formation and starting to quack orders to the rest of the birds that had assembled. In an instant, the geese all raised their banners and refined their beaks for pecking and their feet for stomping. They waved their wings in unison, such that the people could feel the breeze blowing in the opposite direction than was expected for that time of day. And when all these things had passed, Guard Duck pulled out a megaphone and gave a big "QUACK". The quaint little people had no clue what was coming to them.

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Jan 5 2012, 01:28 AM

The Rover piloted by Captain Ardoin Al’sha sat alone atop a small hill somewhere in the central northwestern area of unclaimed territory between Maraque and Sorthern Northland. He had given upm hope of keeping pace with the Skymarine and had decideed that the best course of action for his recon force was simply to sit and wait. Somewhere ahead the Skymarine and subsequent Falcanian forces had locked in on something. Reputation said they would find it. And with VDF forces covering escape routes south and north, this was the only place left to possibly defend. The radio was awash with news. Survivors had been found in Inis Na Dun. An unseasonably strong jet stream had carried the radiation southward towards Vilitan shores rather than easterly as had been predicted. The Vilitans were leaving Sorthern Northland in order to take care of things at home although other reports referred to a growing distrust from the Vilitans towards the Falcanians and Vegai. Which was more true could not be discerned. Ardoin had even chuckled as multiple reports of an aggressive gaggle of geese were received viewing the geese as a direct threat to life flowed in. In times such as these there was no limit to the absurdities that found their way into the far greater reality of things. So what would happen when this was all over? He had asked himself that vwey question no les than a hundred times in the past two days. One thing was sure, he was not ready for a return to ordinary and bland duty in Radience. Surely there would be other opportunities. “Attention all VDF forces. The Skymarine has come under fire by unknown and unseen enemies. Be advised to hold your positions and ready for defensive measures. You will remain under hugh alert status until further notice. Confirmation Code XT6KL8-Q144 RHAE.” Ardoin confirmed the code and switched on the infra-sweep. No sense being caught unawares. If anything living came within 5 kliks he would know it.

Posted by: Falcania Jan 5 2012, 01:59 PM

Combat. The last resort of civilised nations. The first specialty of the Skymarine. First forged from the remnants of the three military factions after Unification Day, and incorporating lessons learned from the civil war, the Skymarine was a force to be reckoned with. Of course, since the end of the civil war, Falcania had yet to wet her blade in the fires of conflict, but that all changed three days into the pursuit of the convoy. =================== Sergeant Balner sat in the command console of the lead chopper, with Sergeant Willins of Squad 23, and the increasingly-influential Sergeant-at-Arms Onnigan. The three of them were about to engage in a ritual as old as Falcania itself. 2 Platoon had been selected to lead the vanguard of the attack. But one of its three squads was to have the honour of being the first into battle. Falcanian military doctrine had always favoured the spearhead, and every spearhead tapered to a point. One of 2 Platoon's squads was going to be that point, and throughout history it had been considered good luck to draw lots for it. Sergeant Onnigan leaned in his seat, shuffling the deck of cards. "We'll do this the old-fashioned way. Seeds, then Coins, then Wings, then Swords." He fanned out the deck. Willins went first, then Balner, before Onnigan took his own card. They flipped at the same time. Willins held the four of coins, Onnigan the hen of wings. Balner looked down, assuming Onnigan had won. He held the ace of swords. Onnigan smiled. "Auspicious." =================== Mossi heard the good news from Balner, later that day. 22C prepared themselves, placing their FALCs in their racks, as Mossi turned the key in the locker. The CLAWs gleamed in the dim light overhead. Mossi handed them out, before taking his own. The bolt slid back, smoothly, before clicking into place with a wicked snap. The FALC was an assault rifle, a weapon of war, but the CLAW was a weapon that couldn't have been invented outside of Falcania. Some nations that gleefully bought Falcanian arms by the truckload to distribute to their populace had banned it. The Combined Light Assault Weapon had been designed for shock troopers. They were bloodthirsty weapons. He hadn't used these since the war... =================== The convoy they had been pursuing, had stopped for the evening. It had been the first time that they had been seen to make camp. Were it not for the hostages they could have, strike aircraft would have glassed them off the map in transit; however, it had been decided that this would have to be done up close, and personal. The helicopters crested the horizon, to be greeted by a salvo of Starspike missiles. Mossi braced. "HOLD! IMPACT!" Out of the shoulder door, he saw the adjacent chopper get winged by a blast and forced to peel off. So far, they were in the clear. "Contact in 40 seconds! Prepare for descent!" Small-arms fired joined the explosions around them. "20!" Mossi could see the battle-lines now. They didn't look like soldiers; more like robes. Insurgents, he classified them as. "GO! GO GO GO GO GO!" Squad 22 descended first. Mossi flared his wings, slowing his descent, fluttering to a halt faster than the insurgents had planned, ten feet behind the battle line. He turned on his heel and threw himself at the insurgents. The nearest one turned with a pistol, but before he could think, Mossi had cleared the gap, firing his CLAW in a controlled flurry to the right. The 9mm round streamed out like a beam of hollow-point steel, and cut down three men where they stood. He stuck the man with a bayonet, ending his charge. He looked around; the fifteen men of Squad 22 had made mincemeat out of the insurgents. Trooper Donard had claws, and was using them; Mossi watched him tear the throat out of a man. This was the legacy of the CLAW. It was not just an SMG glued to a 12-gauge shotgun. Being issued one was a tacit order to get into a melée, to be close enough to the man you were killing to see his eyes, feel his breath as you killed him. A larger body of insurgents was gathering by the camp, assembling into firing positions. Mossi issued a battle-screech and plunged forward, letting off a fierce spray of bullet and shot. He saw some of the insurgents run; actually run away from his unit, as they descended upon them at close range. This wasn't war. This was slaughter.

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Jan 5 2012, 11:19 PM

Ardoin shifted restlessly in his seat. There was battle afoot and he had friends in the front lines. It was almost wrong that he should be sitting safely here while the Falcanians risked their lives for what was possibly a lone Vegai hostage. In disgust he threw his cigar out the window of the rover. One hundred yards to the left and right and 50 yards forward were the other pair of Xaiku forming the ends of the standard Pincer formation. To the rear would be the pair of Hyu’Terii, though the combat abilities of all five vehicles combined would not amount to much. This unit was designated for recon rather than combat and the bulk of any heavy fire would have to come from the trio of Mizzeks should anything flow their direction. That they had the assault choppers at all had been a twist of the fates surrounding their deployment. Ardoin continued to contemplate their chances in battle when suddenly the radio awoke again, this time violently, “Incoming missile! Captain Ardoin!” the voice was almost frantic. “No time…” The com went dead and Ardoin turned to see the leftmost Mizzek spin helplessly into the ground, rear rotor in flames. Then he was moving, sending the Rover forward. Where did that damn missile come from? Nothing had showed itself on the infra-sweep. “Fire ECMs and move! Then find where that damn missile came from! Damn it! Hya’Kuhn, check for survivors. We cant have lost all five men aboard. There was no explosion.” A second missile was a near miss as the ECM did its job. And still no sign of where they were coming from.

Posted by: Falcania Jan 6 2012, 03:47 AM

The fires burned in the hearts of the Falcanians; and this is why they were feared. Other units had deployed to support 22, tactically advancing behind the CLAW-wielding vanguard, visibly awed at the swathe of destruction they had waged. =============== Mossi screeched as he descended. He was now out of ammo for his CLAW, which was slung behind him. Mossi had been born without talons of his own; instead, he was running, with pistol in right hand, and holding the great, pointed slashing blade of the machete-like Carak in the other. The insurgents were in full retreat from the madmen that swept through them; Mossi would later recall, after the red mists cleared, being shot in the shoulder, before having cut off a man's arm at the elbow with the traditional Falcanian blade. Squad 21 moved up to relieve them. Trooper Donard was seeing to a compatriot, Trooper Wytol, who had taken four 7.62 rounds to the chest, and was currently bleeding to death with a satisfied smile on this face. The chilling comedown of the battle rage mingled with the numbness from his own shoulder, and Mossi felt at it with fingers dripping with blood. He felt light-headed, not really sure whose blood it was. Balner saw him fall to his knees, and yelled for a medic. It occurred to Mossi, as a Skymarine doc patched up his shoulder, that the insurgents fell quickly after the assault. It had been a token defence, at best; the squad had lost only two of its fifteen men to an assault on an entrenched position. Even taking into account the close-quarters talents of the Skymarine, those numbers were good. =============== But after the first wave, where were the insurgents? The camp was silent as the grave. Not even any sign of the men who had run away. Blackard led the troops in, in full battle dress. He'd seen the carnage wreaked by 22, and stepped into the campsite. "B clear!" This was feeling familiar by now. He stepped into the makeshift shack, clearing the corners with his weapon. There was nothing here but some makeshift cage cells. He saw movement from one of them, and aimed his gun. "Identify!" He repeated it in High Tongue and in Draconic. He (and it was a he) raised his hands. "No! Don't shoot!" The man spoke very quickly in Draconic, and Blackard couldn't quite make out what he was saying. He lowered his gun. He pointed at the flag embroidered on his uniform, and began stumbling over his Draconic. "I am Captain Blackard. Falcanian Skymarine. We are working with your sirs, and we are working with Captain Ardoin Al'sha. This is a rescue. Are you understand me words?" The man nodded. "I am Captain Berul Caern’jiu, and I understand you, sky-man," he replied, in passable High Tongue. As a soldier began cutting through the bars of the cage, Blackard held his radio. "Company Command, this is Blackard, do you copy?" "We copy, report situation, captain." "Insurgent camp neutralised, repeat, camp neutralised, hostage recovered seemingly unharmed. Commencing extraction. Tell Ardoin the good news." "Very good, captain. Be advised, Al'sha and unit are under fire, coordinates eight-buzzard-nine north, seven-toucan-seven west." "We're on our way, Blackard over and out." He turned around. "We have to move! Get everybody in the air!" He helped Captain Berul out of the cage. "We need to help your compatriot, we can arm you if you wish. Please come with us."

Posted by: Andossa Se Mitrin Vega Jan 6 2012, 11:50 AM

It was over as soon as it had started. Once the second missile had failed to find a target, no more had been sent their direction. That they had narrowly missed a major engagement was obvious, but what would they have been engaged with? None of the men present could answer that question. They had all seen the Mizzek shot down and the second missile which ha d plowed harmlessly into the ground. They had all felt the ground tremble as something massive passed close by. Yet nothing had shown on radar, infra-sweep, or C-scan. Nothing had been seen visually - and something large enough to tremble the ground that way should have been easily caught by one or more systems and at the very least it should have left a dust cloud and deep tracks in its wake. Yet there was nothing. Ardoin picked up the com. “Attention VDF and Skymarine forces. Aphi Tul threat is over. Repeat we are no longer taking fire.” The reply from the Skymarine was quick. “We receive message. Threat defeated. Also have we Captain Berul Caerju in custody safe.” “Not defeated. Simply gone. Copy on rescue of Captain Berul Caern’jiu.” Ardoin sighed in relief. He could only hope that the Skymarine had suffered little loss in recovering the missing soldier. He had grown to trust and admire the strangers from the south of Atlantian Oceania. He hoped that with the current situation reaching its conclusion that he would be able to work with them again. Blackard and Mossi had proven to be as honorable as any Vegai. The sky rumbled as the Rear Guard of the 177th and the Skymarine simultaneously made their arrivals. Ardoin exited the Rover.

Posted by: Achtklan Feb 17 2012, 09:04 PM

It's been months, hasn't it? But rest assured, the pitched battle did occur. It was a grand fight between the geese and the quaint peoples of the island, mostly on the part of the geese, because the quaint people were actually unaware that the geese were attacking them. It started as disruptive gaggles of geese tore through the village, with people running away as the geese swept with their wings against the buildings, pecking any vehicles ranging from an old truck to a little rusty red wagon, tossing garbage cans into the street, and otherwise causing a riotous ruckus. It finally dawned upon the people that they were being assaulted by the geese (although unaware it was all intentional) and decided - contrary to all things Sorthernish (granted, these aren't your typical Sorthern stock of people, hardy and industrious they were) - to fight back with pitchforks, bales of hay, and the occasional swearing and crossing of the Holy Trinity thingy. You know, I can't really say what actually - it was such a blur and my memory isn't that good anymore - but eventually, the geese decided to stop. No one knows why, but I imagine it might have had something to do with the discovery that these people weren't Sortherners (because a Sortherner wouldn't be so aggressive in their defense against a mighty foe as the Bovine Goose Corps). And after a few minutes of deliberation, the geese - led on by AFLAC Commander Duck - brought out a giant piece of paper, and using a quill pen, started to draft up a treaty of non-animosity between the quaint people of Inis na Dún and the Bovine Geese (as a species) and AFLAC (as a paramilitary organization). Of course, you ask a goose to write up a treaty, and it looks like chicken scratch (and oddly, they did use a goose quill...). Anyway, when all was said and done, the quaint people of the island looked at this piece of paper and thought (at last) that these were intelligent creatures trying to impart their solemn blessings upon them (although the fighting seemed intensely counterproductive...). Lest they should know that the treaty stipulated that as long as these people would remain non-Sortherners the flocks of the Bovine Geese would never trample their soil ever again, they decided to make a quilt out of the paper, tearing it to shreds and using it as the little stuffing that goes between the pieces of worn fabric. By then, the Bovine Goose Corps had departed for home, leaving behind a fragile but precious peace between the island of Inis na Dún and AFLAC. And there was much rejoicing.

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