Official War Thread
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Re: Official War Thread
RDF Aerodrome, Kamalshahr International Airport, Kamalshahr… you can figure out the rest
Colonel Hareb ‘Jack’ Bessus, thought he had landed on the right side in life. A soldier in the Royal Defence Force, another of the innumerable bodyguards raised to keep His Imperial Majesty the Shahanshah safe from his enemies, both foreign and (mostly) domestic and both real and (mostly) imaginary. Of all the institutions associated with the former Imperial Government it was among the more fortunate in being assured some form of regular pay, although this pay was mostly in the form of letters of credit based on arrears of pay – a glorified I.O.U. note. (It’s easier to find a camel with fleas than find a government employee with a Rial to spend’ went the popular gripe amongst the public, ignoring the fact that both camels and fleas for that matter are quite easy to come across – you need only look in any bazaar.) Moreover, superintending the RDF Depot in Kamalshahr was a nice little desk job that kept Hareb safely away from anywhere as squalid, vulgar and injurious to one’s health as a frontline. It was as good as life got for a Babkhan, and as high in the (nominal) payscale as one of Hareb’s background could aspire to. He was fifty now, looking forward to early retirement and starting to pile on the pounds as a consequence of a sedentary office based work routine and the proximity of a twenty-four hour kebab house to the main gate of the RDF facility.
The facility itself was a sectioned off portion of Kamalshahr International Airport, just adjacent to the Delta Port Train Station, the home of the 4th Squadron of the Sajin Air Wing, the dedicated airlift element assigned for the air mobility needs of the Jayatar Regiment of the RDF. Twenty C-17s parked on the runway ready to deploy to any where in Micras at a moments notice. So ran the theory, in practice there was usually a lack of spare parts and or a shortage of aviation fuel - aviation fuel! A Kingdom drowning in oil and not enough aviation fuel to go round – some vague unspecified problem to do with refinery capacity, it was as if there was on any one day in Babkha a chronic shortage of something somewhere, or on a really bad day a chronic shortage of just about everything you might possibly conceive of. Fortunately, however, the shortages had started to ease of a little in recent weeks. Hareb could not decide whether this was a sign of things getting better or whether it was blip before a complete systemic breakdown. He had a tourist brochure detailing the seedy delights of Nafticon tucked away in his desk just in case it was the later. He had invested some of his glorified IOUs in gold jewellery care of some sucker who was stupid enough to accept them in exchange, a Norashti by accent – no surprise there. No life was most certainly looking good for Hareb.
And into this idyll walked an officer of SAVAK. Well he didn’t walk straight in; he at least had the decency to knock first. The Colonel, not being so fortunate as to be blessed with the benefit of foresight, or even narrator omniscience, simply told him to come in.
When he saw the black fatigues and Sarhang epaulettes of his visitor Colonel Bessus very nearly had a heart attack. Now to be aware of the circumstances is to forgive the Colonel his impromptu palpitations. SAVAK, you see, has a certain reputation, and not necessarily a savoury one. As an intelligence organisation it lacked some of the finesse, and some might say some of the sophistication, wherewithal and indeed intelligence of some of its rivals, such as say the notoriously elusive SHINE. It was certainly more subtle than its ancient rival the Atteran Crimson Order, though in fairness that is akin to saying that a hammer is more subtle than a sledgehammer, suffices to say that where SAVAK failed to get by on guile alone it was usually able to bludgeon its way through with sheer stomach-churning brutality. To encounter a SAVAK operative was therefore generally deemed not to be advantageous to one’s health.
And now our Colonel was starting to sweat a little.
‘C-can I help?’ was his tentative opening enquiry of his decidedly unsolicited visitor. The SAVAK officer however was smiling.
‘Why indeed you can my good sir. I am given to understand that you are the senior officer responsible for the stock inventory at this base?’
The Colonel merely confined himself to nodding the affirmative.
‘Excellent. It so happens that I have a little request, an inter-service favour to solicit if you like. It so happens that I am responsible for the provisioning of a certain sensitive operation that is in the offing and I am short of a few items. Perchance you might be able to assist with the loan for a few corresponding items out of your own inventory.’ The Sarhang made it sound like this was the most casual and unremarkable request in the entire world to make. Hareb, at that moment envisioning a dark windowless interrogation room with a single flickering light bulb – and being trapped in it – was hardly inclined to dissent from that impression.
‘Anything to help our brothers in SAVAK’ he said with a laugh that betrayed a hint of nervousness tinged with gut-wrenching terror.
‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed the Sarhang ‘it just so happens that I have a list.’ which he then produced out of a dispatch bag that he just happened to have slung over his shoulder. It was at this moment that the Colonel noticed that the Sarhang was wearing a holstered 9mm pistol. So it was with a little trepidation that he accepted the list from the Sarhang and began to read it.
It was a requisition note for twenty C-17s – the entire squadron, written as matter-of-factly as if it were for spare brake pads. SAVAK wanted to effectively steal a squadron of transport planes… and for Zurvan knows what reason. Suddenly the Colonel could feel the world dissolving around him. They were going to steal his planes… not actually his planes, the squadron was commanded by another, but they were taking them off his inventory list, which as far as he was concerned was pretty much the same thing. The colour drained from the Colonel’s face, which was already a certain degree paler that was typical amongst Babkhans.
‘All it requires’ said the SAVAK officer in a voice that was all innocence and light ‘is the countersigning signature of the inventory holder.’
For a good minute or so the Colonel was able to do no more than stare at the SAVAK officer, blinking every so often, and spluttering, the lips of his mouth moving but with no discernable or comprehensible sound issuing there from. Eventually he composed himself and handed the paper back to the Sarhang from SAVAK.
‘But this is highly irregular. SAVAK has no right to requisition these aircraft without Vizierial authority. Of course there are no Viziers as there is no Government, and no Government means no Vizierial authority and no Vizerial authority means no planes.’
The SAVAK officer simply smiled, a weary sort of smile as if he were resigned to what was to follow yet resolved to do it anyway, took the paper back from the Colonel and placed it on the desk and putting a pen beside it, before the Colonel who had remained seated the entire time.
‘There is no government, and there is no government authority – as you say – and yet, by some authority somebody is still running the Salt Mines. What do you suppose that implies?’
The RDF Colonel struggled for a moment to suppress an involuntary facial tic at the mention of the salt mines and, as if to disguise it, went back to glancing through some paperwork that had been strewn about on his desk in a most careless and haphazard fashion.
‘Colonel, I have here a farman signed by the Emir of Raspur himself, authorising the confiscation of those aircraft for the war effort.’
‘What war? If there was a war on, I would have heard about it…’
‘The Jasonian Crisis, are you not following ‘Salaam Babkha’?
The Colonel bristled. The implication that a serving Babkhan officer was ignoring the output of the Vizierate of Babkhan Truth was tantamount to unorthodoxy, and the mere suggestion of unorthodoxy was enough in most instances to warrant the confiscation of property and worse for the accused. The Colonel knew this very well, it was after all how he was paid his wages.
‘I note and venerate the precepts of Babkhan Truth and the veracity of its insights into the higher realms of reality which remain obscured to the infidels’ the Colonel said, reeling off the ponderous quote with the perfect recall of an rigorous autodidact and the tonal sincerity of a practiced hypocrite, ‘but it has been widely stated that Babkha is in this conflict most decidedly neutral.’
‘Look. One last time, I’ll keep this simple. Who has operational command of the Royal Defence Force, the Shah or the Emir?’
‘The Emir.’ replied the Colonel, shifting nervously in his seat as the Sarhang walked purposefully round the desk to stand immediately behind him. Unsure of how to react he focused evermore intensely on one particular sheet of sheet of typed A4 paper. The title said “Unit Quantity Returns Metricsâ€. He had no idea what it meant but nonetheless he pressed on with pretending to read the text.
Babkhan statistics were a farce, nobody ever checked the figures for accuracy – for to check might reveal error and error implied fallibility and fallibility implied the salt mines. Ergo nobody ever checked the figures, each layer of management in the chain of command simply being content to sign off the headline figures as being correct and passing them up in ever reducing summaries until eventually a one line summation would reach the Shah; and for all anyone knew Our Lord the Radiant Sun probably blessed his subordinates, who had devoted so much time and effort to affirming the veracity of false returns, by wiping his arse on it and flushing it down his gold-plated toilet.
‘Correct’ noted the Sarhang, bringing us back to the present, who now placed his hands together – the fingers interlocking, before turning the palms to face outwards. The satisfying cracking sound achieved as he then stretched his arms had the desired of unnerving the Colonel still more so that now he felt compelled to try and turn his head to see what on Micras the overbearing goon from SAVAK thought he was up to.
Taking that as his cue the Sarhang brought his hands crashing down on the shoulders of the Colonel, who jumped with fright but to no avail, the greater strength and weight of the SAVAK officer pushing him back down into his chair.
‘Now finally’, said the Sarhang, his voice alive with menace and pleasurable thoughts at all the options of torment open to him should his subject prove to be uncooperative, ‘who ensures that worthless little half-blood wretch like you receives a wage at all and whose benevolence ensures that your superiors gloss over the fact that your mother was a pox-ridden whore from the Mondesian Quarter?’
‘Fuck you.’ was the Colonel’s considered reply.
This answer did not displease the Sarhang as much as you might expect for it gave him the opportunity to move his hands in such a fashion as to grab at the throat of the luckless Colonel whereupon he proceeded begin throttling the life out of him. The Colonel choking, gasping desperately for air and feeling the effects of asphyxiation coming rapidly upon him desperately tried to grab at his assailant with flailing arms but could do no more than land a few feeble slaps against him. Similarly his desperate kicking against the desk in an attempt to push his chair back against the Sarhang and use the impact to affect an escape achieved nothing more than to break the little toe of the right foot, his own right foot.
In short it was the futile struggle of a puny man, doomed to die; as indeed are we all. But that is a matter best left for another occasion as we will all surely discover sooner or later. Now let us return to the scene that relates to the matter in hand.
Hearing a commotion, the Colonel’s adjutant burst into the office, but, upon espying who was strangling who, deemed it prudent to retreat back out again, carefully closing the door behind him as he went.
The Colonel, whose resistance had been both valiant and feeble in equal measure, now started to go slack, and the Sarhang started to become concerned that he may now have literally overplayed his hand and might be literally burdened with a corpse to dispose of. Tentatively then he eased his vicelike grip.
A moment passed, which seemed as though it might have been an eternity and then the Colonel. Breathed, at first a shallow nasally sniffle and then, realising that his passageways were no longer obstructed, the Colonel breathed in more and more gasping mouthfuls of air as if he were trying to devour the ether. Then at last the panic breathing eased to a more regular, albeit heavily panting, rhythm. For the Colonel the silent euphoria of oxygen starvation was replaced by a joyful exultation in the simple fact of not being dead. A moment being dangled over the void and being brought back to the realm of the living was the salient fact, everything else was now negotiable.
Which was rather what the Sarhang had been counting on, and now, slamming the Colonel’s head down onto the desktop, he bellowed fiercely into his upturned ear – leaving globules of spittle dribbling into the dark little hole of the aural canal.
‘Who pays? Who pays, you worthless little cunt? Tell me!’
‘Emir! The Emir!’ he cried out in both agony and desperation.
‘Good. We have arrived at an understanding. It is important have clarity in these matters. Now then, as to our most reasonable request…’ again the hands eased off, allowing a thoroughly discomforted Colonel to at last sit upright and contemplate his particularly precarious situation.
‘Agreed’
‘Sorry, what was that?’
‘Agreed. I said agreed. You have my consent; you can take the fucking planes. Just please, please, don’t hurt me anymore.’
‘Then sign.’
The Colonel hurriedly did as he was bided to do, the shaky handwriting and the little droplets of blood that had materialised on the paper from somewhere betraying, at least to the discerning eye, the circumstances of its provision. However it was a formality, a box that needed to be ticked. That being out of the way matters could now proceed. Nervously the Colonel held up the paper, his hand shaking almost uncontrollably, only for it to be snatched out of his hand by the SAVAK officer still standing behind him.
‘There remains only one thing.’
‘What’s that?’ voice quivering, on the verge of crying.
‘To congratulate you on your retirement…’
‘Thank you… but I’ve not submitted the application… how would you know I…’
The click of the cocking mechanism of an OAH 9mm pistol being locked into place.
‘Please no… I have chil…’
The echo of the shot reverberated around the office. On the way out the Sarhang handed a chit to the Adjutant. The note instructed him to inform the Gendarmes of the slaying of a Mondesian Tudeh subversive who had died attempting to resist arrest. Property forfeit to the state, naturally.
In the end, when all is done, the monsters begin to devour their own.’
An hour later twenty C-17s began to take off in sequence from Kamalshahr International Airport, RDF crews replaced by “reliable†personnel drawn from SAVAK and the Fedayeen, their destination unknown, flight paths unrecorded and unlogged. That night, it is curious to relate, there were a series of rolling power cuts which afflicted the radars of the Babkhan Air Traffic Control Network. Although coverage over the entirety of Eura was affected it was noted by the uncomprehending observers that there appeared to exist at all times a consistent black corridor which snaked across the continent from Kamalshahr to Alkhiva Ostans. The root cause of this phenomenon was not readily discernable and after network coverage was restored eighteen hours later a memo was circulated that all discussion of the incident would be regarded as a contractual infraction liable to result in consequences that were left unspecified. A couple of more independently minded controllers persisted in raising the issue but they were promoted to superintending positions at radar sites in the scorching arid wastelands of the Zsharra. This was taken to be a warning and it proved sufficient to stifle any further discussion of the incidents of that night.
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Re: Official War Thread
"New intel, commander," said a Novatainian aide, running up to Mel'Kat. Mel'Kat was sitting at his table, quietly reading History of the Jaris War - Uncut Version. He nodded at the aide but didn't say anything, and continued reading. The aide looked at him nervously for a few seconds before Mel'Kat quietly turned the page, put in a bookmarket, and closed the book. "Never rush a good book," Mel'Kat said, as he put it down. The aide, whom Mel'Kat did not recall seeing before (but then, most of the low level crew changed over each voyage, what with promotions and all), still looked nervous, so Mel'Kat asked, "The intel, if I may?"
"Of course, sir," the aide said, trying to salute and hand the paper over at the same time, and failing. When Mel'Kat had recovered the paper he read it, and handed it back. "Have them open a line to commander Korstokk," he told the aide, and got up, with a sigh. This would not be as easy as some had thought. But then, making history never was.
"Korstokk here," came the voice on the other line.
"It appears we underestimated our enemies," Mel'Kat said. "There are over ten thousand Hyperborean Marines stationed at Nang, along with several dozen vehicles which would best be described as flying bicycles armed with a machine gun."
"Any missiles?" Korstokk asked.
"Apparently not," Mel'Kat replied. "However, having fought alongside Hyperboreans before, I'd prefer not treating them like fish in a barrel."
"It's your funeral," Korstokk grunted.
"I've ordered a change of route. My forces will drop a number of soldiers off on the island above, to secure that location. They'll leave any bridges to Nelaga intact, but destroy any bridges to Nang's island. That will leave the Paladins trapped there without further transport off. The rest of our forces will proceed to river to the east of Nang's island, where we can hopefully make a safe landing. My forces will establish a beach head there from which we can make further moves. You know your own soldiers best - I leave it up to you to decide how best to deal with the Paladin presence. If all else fails, there is air-support around. But be fast. Babkhan Mercenaries are due to arrive in a day or two."
"I think I know how to handle these paladins," Korstokk replied, and Mel'Kat closed the line.
"Well, at least we get one part of the island fine," the aide replied, with a half smile. "Lucky we rebuilt those bridges, aye?" Mel'Kat just stared at him until he stopped.
Summary: With new information that the bits on the map are rivers and not huge channels, a few of my men secure the central island (that is, in the centre of Nelaga) and destroy any bridges they find going to Nang's island. The rest of my forces land up the river on the other side of the island from Nang. They don't engage the Paladins yet.
Andreas
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander
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Re: Official War Thread
OOC: There was no summary there Ardashir. Was that intentional?
EDIT: Apparently I have to post this, so i did a secret move with my stealth planes
Summary: I start the war. Armageddon Division are attacking Scott's paladins and flycycles, as well as any airships that aren't fighting but might come close to try and transport troops away. The helicopters are first aiming at the airships if there, then the flycycles then the paladins, while the bombers merely attack the paladins (i assume the can't hit airships, if they can, they'll aim at the airships first too). I am coming from Nelaga, so they can arrive fairly quickly. If Prodigy's troops would've found AA, the attack is called off until the area is safe (unless it's a midget lot I can own easily).Nicholas walked back and forth. He walked back and forth some more. He lamented that at the moment he was coming up with absolutely no backstory. He had called his troops to battle, now he merely needed to decide where to go. He called in Cecil.
"Cecil!" he called (thus making the entire previous sentence pointless. Odd how these things turn out, isn't it? But moving on) "What's the word?"
"Various armies have been deployed, and it appears Prodigy is attacking some paladins, sir," said Cecil
"And what else do they have there?" asked Nicholas.
"Uh... some flying bicycles, apparently, sir."
"Flying bicycles, eh? What has modern technology come to? These bicycles, though- how high can they go?"
"The report says low altitude, sir," said Cecil.
"Low altitude and no AA... what a useless attack force. Well, not useless, but won't be able to do much to my bombers! Send word to Korstokk that the Armageddon Division will be approaching to aid him. Ask for information on anything that could be a threat to aircraft, including helicopters," said Nicholas.
He sent out word to his men. "Armageddon Division, you shall have the first glory. Wipe that Paladin scum off of our island. Well, soon to be our island."
Nicholas smiled. This would be an easy victory. But his men had been trained not to overestimate the enemy, so there would be no chance of stupid mistakes. This was a good day.
EDIT: Apparently I have to post this, so i did a secret move with my stealth planes
Last edited by Nicholas the Mad on Wed Jan 07, 2009 10:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Official War Thread
A cheer went up from Mel'Kat's ground forces as the Novatainian bombers flew overhead. Mel'Kat made no comment, but muttered a silent prayer to Sakat, that the names of those civilians who perished in the attack might be recorded. He then returned to the conversation he had been having with a private, now the private had stopped cheering.
"So, what were you saying?"
"Some of the men are a little ... concerned by our current position," the private answered. "Honourable's all well and good, but his forces kind of outnumber our men seven to one. We may have tanks and ships with us, but what use are they against a horde?"
Mel'Kat folded his hands and paused. So this was what the problem was. "You are aware many of those paladins endeavour to not take lives?"
"Some of the folks in the Academy back home do too," the private said. "But it's a bit harder with conventional weapons. Besides, more of them don't than do, if you get my meaning. If more than half want me dead, that's still four that do compared to three that don't."
"Of course, if we were to engage them in Nang without disembarking, many civilians would be recorded as slaughtered in our name," Mel'Kat suggested.
"And as I said, honour's all well and good, but at the end of the day I'd like to make it home in one piece," the soldier replied.
"Well, look at it this way, private," Mel'Kat said. "Notice our position. We have a number of ships anchored near us with shore assault capabilities. We also have a fair number of rockets and artillery set up in defensible locations around our camp. We're on the corner of the island, and so only have two directions to defend against. Our men are camped next to the ships and, as such, things can be fired over our heads easily. And, if you'll note, I dispatched a few men off with a message explaining that we could blast anyone who approaches, to place the message in prominent locations just outside the blast range, warning not to come closer. And, best of all, if we do such blasting here ..."
"There are no civilian buildings to destroy. You're a wonder, sir," the soldier said, brightening up.
"I try," said Mel'Kat.
Summary: Yes, I know only one action post per day. But multiple backstory are permissible and this is basically a backstory explanation of the exact set up of the "beach-head" I did in my one action. Summary is my ships and vehicles are in position to fire at anybody who comes near before they get within range of responding, and plan to do so if anyone does come. Warnings to that effect have been placed a safe distance away.
"So, what were you saying?"
"Some of the men are a little ... concerned by our current position," the private answered. "Honourable's all well and good, but his forces kind of outnumber our men seven to one. We may have tanks and ships with us, but what use are they against a horde?"
Mel'Kat folded his hands and paused. So this was what the problem was. "You are aware many of those paladins endeavour to not take lives?"
"Some of the folks in the Academy back home do too," the private said. "But it's a bit harder with conventional weapons. Besides, more of them don't than do, if you get my meaning. If more than half want me dead, that's still four that do compared to three that don't."
"Of course, if we were to engage them in Nang without disembarking, many civilians would be recorded as slaughtered in our name," Mel'Kat suggested.
"And as I said, honour's all well and good, but at the end of the day I'd like to make it home in one piece," the soldier replied.
"Well, look at it this way, private," Mel'Kat said. "Notice our position. We have a number of ships anchored near us with shore assault capabilities. We also have a fair number of rockets and artillery set up in defensible locations around our camp. We're on the corner of the island, and so only have two directions to defend against. Our men are camped next to the ships and, as such, things can be fired over our heads easily. And, if you'll note, I dispatched a few men off with a message explaining that we could blast anyone who approaches, to place the message in prominent locations just outside the blast range, warning not to come closer. And, best of all, if we do such blasting here ..."
"There are no civilian buildings to destroy. You're a wonder, sir," the soldier said, brightening up.
"I try," said Mel'Kat.
Summary: Yes, I know only one action post per day. But multiple backstory are permissible and this is basically a backstory explanation of the exact set up of the "beach-head" I did in my one action. Summary is my ships and vehicles are in position to fire at anybody who comes near before they get within range of responding, and plan to do so if anyone does come. Warnings to that effect have been placed a safe distance away.
Andreas
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander
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Re: Official War Thread
SUMMARY: Early tomorrow morning, the forces brought to aid Andreas at Nang (the Blood Raptors and the Dogs of War) are moving to the Novatainian beachhead.Korstokk had expected a warm welcome to Nang, expected the Novatainians to control it. Apparently, they had all been duped - a detachment of Hyperborean Paladins waited for him. Luckily, he had received warning shortly before arrival, but it still pushed his buttons. He didn't like when unexpected obstacles occurred, and he was a chelkran of short temper.
"Urban fighting... how special," he muttered to himself, raising a glass of Chelkran Dragonwater Vodka to his lips with his prosthetic hand. The clear liquid burned like hell as it went down, but left a fresh aftertaste and opened his throat pretty well. His head simultaneously clouded and cleared by the alcohol, he set to his work.
He walked into the communication tent. The Tokian air transports had landed the ground forces on the northern island with the Novatainians, but the destroyers were still out south of Nang. Korstokk told the operator to put him through to Lucas. The phone rang three times before it was answered.
"General Lucas Hellia here," the Satyr replied gruffly, sounding like he had just woken up from a nap.
"Luke, it's Korstokk," the chelkran told him. "You still hanging around south of Nang?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I need you to stay there, but do not engage the Paladins unless I tell you to. The guns and missiles on those destroyers would do an awful amount of collateral damage, and we'll only use them in a pinch."
"Righto," Lucas responded sardonically. "We'll just sit on our hands unless you want us to punch someone."
"Good, thanks." Korstokk hung up the phone and sighed. Now, time to lead the ground troops in for some hand-to-hand.
One of the colonels walked into Korstokk's tent, a Kensai by the name of Samwise Fuldoron, a tall quiet type. "Oh, hello Warleader," he softly addressed Korstokk with a salute. "You're up late. We have an early morning if I'm correct in my guess."
"You are," Korstokk confirmed. "We're bringing the troops down to Nang soon to try and take it back from those Paladins."
"Are you not troubled by attacking these Hyperboreans? They are Shirithian," Samwise pointed out.
"I'm not, though. That's Prodigy's problem," Korstokk grunted as the phone rang. The operator answered it, and handed the receiver over to Korstokk. He rolled his eyes and grabbed it.
"Warleader Korstokk Melebroch of the Tokian Expeditionary Forces. Who am I speaking to?" He listened. "Bombers and helicopters? When will they get there?" Again he listened. "Well, tell them to be careful in their bombing and try not to cause too much unnecessary damage - precise work. They can do that, right? Good. Otherwise I would've just called for massive off-shore bombardment. Right. Thanks." He hung up and turned. Samwise was gone. Damn, those Kensai were sneaky.
With a sidelong glance at the communications operator, he frowned. "Send a message to Mel'Kat about our movements. We're gonna head to his position and meet up with them. Then hopefully we'll stand a better chance of taking Nang."
With another long sigh, he headed to his tent.
Sam was right. It was going to be an early morning.
Prodigy Almighty, Executor of Chelkran Kesh
Baron of Absentia, Count of Western Absentia
"Denken ist schwer, darum urteilen die Meisten." - Carl Jung
Baron of Absentia, Count of Western Absentia
"Denken ist schwer, darum urteilen die Meisten." - Carl Jung
Re: Official War Thread
Synopsis: The 1st battalion of Naval Infantry is using the "free transports from any port to any friendly port" clause to move its ass up to Ura'Bos.A scowl crept across Foghorn's face. "What do you mean he's not coming?"
The communications officer looked like he expected the commander to gnaw his head off. "The message, sir. From Chris. He says we're too far to be picked up now that the Lovely fleet is moving in."
Foghorn sighed. "I guess we'll have to do it the hard way then. Hipser?"
The lieutenant sprang up from behind a pile of ammunition crates. "Yes, sir?"
"Are my eyes deceiving me, or is that an airport over there?"
Hipser looked where the commander was pointing. "Yes, sir, I believe that's Sant Mateu International Airport."
"Good. Go charter a plane for the command staff and SRT Able to fly out to Ura'Bos. The rest of the battalion will follow on those rust buckets of transports that are sitting in the harbour."
Hipser looked confused. "So, Chris isn't coming to pick us up?"
Foghorn smiled. "Nope. As usual, we're being screwed by the navy. Everyone else has their transportation all worked out, but the Naval Infantry has to rely on the whims of the navy to move it around. So instead of waiting and missing all the good killing, we're heading straight for the nearest friendly staging area. You heard the order, lieutenant. Make it so."
Hipser saluted. "Aye, sir."
Foghorn stretched, and started off towards the airport. 'It may not be the military escort we hoped for,' he thought, 'but at least we won't be stuck in this hellhole anymore.'
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Re: Official War Thread
Antican Carrier Group closing distance with Lovelian battlegroup very very quickly.Antican Carrier Enyo
Commodore Octavius in the Command Center again, Captain Macarius quietly fumed to himself. He doesn't deserve command anymore. He's just a rubber stamp, a puppet for that damn... non-Antican. Whatever Captain Bobritzky wants done, he types it up and the Commodore blindly signs at the bottom. If the Naval Service wasn't run so... corruptly, I would be commanding this expedition. It's my ship. I earned it.
"Good morning, Captain." The Commodore greeted with a smile.
"Indeed it is, sir." Macarius said automatically.
The Commodore's eyes wandered around. "Not much for me to do around here right now, is there?"
That's for sure. "Not right now, no, sir. Just cruising along to the battlezone. There isn't much for a Commodore to do except wait."
"Right," he said. "I'll be in my cabin. If that Lovelian fleet does anything, let me know."
"Of course, sir."
Macarius watched as the Commodore vanished through the aft hatch. The Lovelian fleet was approximately 2000 kilometers east of them. Lovely had decided to side with the Maraguans, meaning that if hostility became all out war, they would be a problem. The Enyo had launched an extra Guardian EWA specifically to monitor its movements. There was nothing to indicate that the Lovelians were aware of it. Ever since they began tracking the Lovelian fleet, it hadn't made any changes to its formation and had made its turns in a rather leisurely manner, as if the Anticans weren't following them. The Antican fleet had, in the mean time, maintained the constant distance of 2000 kilometers west of it. More than enough time to launch the Standby fighters and ready the reserve for flight.
"Captain, message coming in..." Announced the communications operator, Chief Hadrian. Macarius approached it and read the screen. It was from the EWA assigned to the Lovelian group. The Lovelians were on the move. Two submarines had detached, which the EWA lost track of soon after. The remaining ships reoriented into battle formation, and the carrier's aircraft were getting busy. They must have detected the Antican group.
"Get the Commodore." The Captain said.
* * *
First Lieutenant Lee stepped through the hatch and followed the short hallway to Briefing Room One. Inside, Commodore Octavius was standing, with someone of Captain rank. Lee could never remember his name, so he simply mentally referred to him as Young'un, because he was probably the youngest Captain of senior grade he had ever set his eyes upon. Following the first dinner aboard, he joked with one of his subordinates that he wasn't sure if the Enyo's Captain was clean-shaven or if he couldn't grow facial hair yet.
"First Lieutenant. Good to see you. I've been discussing a plan with the Captain. He thinks it is utter insanity, and I wanted to run it by you." On the main table were a series of small model ships. One collection had a label reading "Antican Group", the other labelled "Lovelian Group".
"Sure, sir. I'm not sure how I might be of service, sir. I'm a Naval Infantry officer, not a naval tactician."
"Well, I wanted to bring you in because the success of this operation will depend greatly upon the actions of the Naval Infantry." The Commodore said.
"I'm not sure that I'm following, sir. We're still in the deep ocean, and this concerns the Lovelian group, correct?"
"You are absolutely correct. Firstly, I'm going to need all of your SRT teams readied for a drop mission--"
"--all of them, sir?" Lee interrupted.
"All of them. Plus, a detachment of regulars. Make at least one of those knows how to fly a plane."
"Ummm... understood, sir."
"Excellent. A transport helicopter will be ready to take them to..." the Commodore checked one of the maps laid out before him"... Los Santos in Alexandria. Now, to the plan."
Captain Whatshisface stood to the side, his arms folded, his head shaking.
Коля лает «гав-гав».
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- Posts: 2925
- Joined: Sun Jun 24, 2007 3:27 pm
Re: Official War Thread
The SCMC St Helena cut gracefully through the calm blue ocean under the light of a brilliant eastern sunrise which caused the tops of the idle waves to glow deep red as blood around the white of the ship. The refugees who’d been rescued from Point Vincent loitered around the deck in near silence, only the occasional murmur passing between the islanders and the sound of the lapping ocean interrupted the din, all eyes were set towards the bow of the ship where the white flag could be seen fluttering against a backdrop of impenetrably black sky. The storm clouds gathered high above the St Helena; the passengers being steadily cast into darkness as the cloud blocked the burning red of the sun from sight.
On the bridge Mother Superior Lavigne felt a chill pass down her spine as she looked deep into the darkness before her and saw a bolt of lightning tear the sky; a deep crack of thunder followed and all who heard it stared with clear apprehension at the abyss before them as if presented with the very gates of hell, but all knew that that was where they must go. So the St Helena sailed onwards, the sea becoming steadily rougher as time went by until great waves roared all around the terrified passenger, and rain began to fall from the blackness that surrounded them on all sides. Captain Morgan, with Mother Superior Lavigne beside him, looked vigilantly ahead from the windows of the bridge; he knew that Nang would appear soon upon the horizon and so he held his silent vigil as all around him whispered of the ominous situation they found themselves in.
“Land, ho!†the Captain yelled triumphantly above the menacing roar of the waves and grumbles of thunder; all who heard him rushed forth and gazed upon the black mass before the ship which seemed even darker than the blackness of the storm, giving the appearance of a cave opening during the deepest of nights. “Well done, Captain.†Mother Lavigne interjected, rubbing her hands together in eagerness to get ashore and seek out those who had so long dwelt in the darkness which was becoming crushing to those aboard the ship although they’d been in it for only a matter of hours. It was no time for complacency however, they both knew, and so while Captain Morgan planned his final approach to Nang Mother Superior Lavigne bustled off to help the aids teams prepare themselves for the ordeal that lay ahead.
Lavigne rushed down the metal stairs which lead to the bridge and began walking briskly along the deck, as she did so she passed many of the refugees who huddled together under the canopies against the bitter wind and driving rain which soon drenched the Mother Superior’s habit. A feeling of great compassion for the poor former citizens of Point Vincent surged through Mother Lavigne and she thought perhaps they should concentrate on just rescuing those who were already aboard rather than risking them all in search of more refugees, however no sooner had this thought crossed her mind than Lavigne regarded the logo of the St Charles’ Medical Corps painted upon the white body of the ship; “Help of the helpless.†Her doubts waylaid Mother Superior Lavigne continued along the deck until she located the aid teams who were already hard at work preparing themselves; meanwhile on the bridge Captain Morgan saw they only had one choice: they must enter the grand harbour at Nang regardless of the risk if they were to save the Britannic population in time.
Summary: SCMC St Helena to sail into the grand harbour at Nang to evacuate refugees shortly. It’s raining and windy...
On the bridge Mother Superior Lavigne felt a chill pass down her spine as she looked deep into the darkness before her and saw a bolt of lightning tear the sky; a deep crack of thunder followed and all who heard it stared with clear apprehension at the abyss before them as if presented with the very gates of hell, but all knew that that was where they must go. So the St Helena sailed onwards, the sea becoming steadily rougher as time went by until great waves roared all around the terrified passenger, and rain began to fall from the blackness that surrounded them on all sides. Captain Morgan, with Mother Superior Lavigne beside him, looked vigilantly ahead from the windows of the bridge; he knew that Nang would appear soon upon the horizon and so he held his silent vigil as all around him whispered of the ominous situation they found themselves in.
“Land, ho!†the Captain yelled triumphantly above the menacing roar of the waves and grumbles of thunder; all who heard him rushed forth and gazed upon the black mass before the ship which seemed even darker than the blackness of the storm, giving the appearance of a cave opening during the deepest of nights. “Well done, Captain.†Mother Lavigne interjected, rubbing her hands together in eagerness to get ashore and seek out those who had so long dwelt in the darkness which was becoming crushing to those aboard the ship although they’d been in it for only a matter of hours. It was no time for complacency however, they both knew, and so while Captain Morgan planned his final approach to Nang Mother Superior Lavigne bustled off to help the aids teams prepare themselves for the ordeal that lay ahead.
Lavigne rushed down the metal stairs which lead to the bridge and began walking briskly along the deck, as she did so she passed many of the refugees who huddled together under the canopies against the bitter wind and driving rain which soon drenched the Mother Superior’s habit. A feeling of great compassion for the poor former citizens of Point Vincent surged through Mother Lavigne and she thought perhaps they should concentrate on just rescuing those who were already aboard rather than risking them all in search of more refugees, however no sooner had this thought crossed her mind than Lavigne regarded the logo of the St Charles’ Medical Corps painted upon the white body of the ship; “Help of the helpless.†Her doubts waylaid Mother Superior Lavigne continued along the deck until she located the aid teams who were already hard at work preparing themselves; meanwhile on the bridge Captain Morgan saw they only had one choice: they must enter the grand harbour at Nang regardless of the risk if they were to save the Britannic population in time.
Summary: SCMC St Helena to sail into the grand harbour at Nang to evacuate refugees shortly. It’s raining and windy...
- Lord_Montague
- Posts: 913
- Joined: Tue Sep 18, 2007 2:39 pm
Re: Official War Thread
"Orders from Home, sir." informed Lieutenant Commander Gibson as he walked out of the ship's command centre onto the bridge where Hastings stood looking out at the fleet. The ship had been on a complete electronic blackout for the past 2 hours in the hope of evading detection, with only the Hawkeye Early Warning plane and its two Carrier Air Group JSFs radiating. The orders from Home had been bounced off several satellites and Micras radio stations before being received by the Spexico in the hope of maintaining the elusiveness of the fleet. The orders read simply;
"Its probably an attempt by those IASA analysts to identify the Gravships defences and other capabilities. We could lob a few cruise missiles at it with the GPS co-ordinates we have from R-07's pass. It was over Sai'Por. It wouldn't hurt to lob an extra dozen missiles at those Novatainian forces either." suggested his Gravship intelligence officer, Commander Tootem.
"Prepare some ACMs for firing at that time then. It'll be about two hours until we should fire those missiles if I'm correct?" asked Hastings.
"Aye, sir. Just to make sure we're not detected, we should perhaps enter multiple waypoints in their flightpath." suggested Tootem further.
"Okay, let's do that." ordered Hastings. He went back to looking at the sea that was relatively calm for once. He knew there'd be trouble ahead in this war. The array of forces against the fleet was too large to mean a quite life.
*************************
Meanwhile, thousands of feet above him and a good few miles away the JSF and Hawkeye patrol was on its return leg, sweeping back to the west. The Electronics Warfare Officer on the Hawkeye was continuously marking and plotting merchant shipping in the area and the commerical air routes in the region when suddenly there was an anomaly at the far edge of his anomaly coming from the west.
"Dee, I've got an unidentified plane bearing east on a vector straight to the fleet. Boosting power on the dish to get a better look." informed EWO Flight Lieutenant Grimsby.
"Roger that." replied the pilot, Flight Lieutenant Dietrich Mancheim. The power available to the radar boosted its picture. Having previously been on lower power to avoid detection, the electronic signals now bouncing out from the radar dome were bound to attract some attention now. The scope of the radar's range improved dramatically, illuminating the area to the West of them. The return signals from the object were by chirps of return signals from what they assumed was the electronic chatter of a fleet of ships.
"Hawkeye 2, our radar detectors are going a little haywire over here. I think we're being lit up by someone. Not an acquisition radar I think." informed the pilot of one of the JSFs to the Hawkeye as the Grimsby realised what he was seeing.
"Spexico, this is Hawkeye 2. We have an early warning bird tracking the fleet, I repeat we are being tracked. Unknown, likely enemy, fleet to our west. Request permission to splash Early Bird." relayed Grimsby to fleet.
*************************
"Admiral, we're being tracked. Hawkeye 2 is reporting we're being tracked. Enemy fleet west, range unsure but from ELINT telemetry guessing between 1000 and 2000 km. They request permission to splash the tracking bird." said a nervous Captain Vega of the Spexico as he ran into the Command Centre behind the bridge.
"Permission granted. Get their radar link down onto the screen and upload it and every other radar picture we're receiving on Sea IVIS." said Hastings, following the standard procedure he had seen carried out and carried out himself numerous times.
*************************
The two JSFs received their orders to destroy the tracking radar plane. Banking away from their Hawkeye, they were guided in by Grimsby who was assuring them the air was clear of any other fighters. Each JSF selected one of their Meteor missiles and their fire control radar identified the enemy plane as an Antican Guardian EWA. Regardless of what its design was, it was not going to escape the long reach of the Meteors. Both missiles dropped from their external pylons and seemed to hang in mid air before the engines engaged and blasted the missiles towards their target. Within minutes, the Guardian EWA, or what was left of it, was falling to the sea.
*************************
"Its Antican, sir. The Antican fleet must be closing to try and engage us." surmised Commander Tootem.
"What do we know of them?" asked Hastings.
"Reasonably powerful forces. Experienced commanders but haven't fought in a major situation for a while now so far as we understand. I'd say they're equal to us." informed the other intelligence officer, Commander Raithson.
"What do you think their force make up is?" asked Hastings, getting as much information before his decision was made.
"Probably a carrier with escorting forces." replied Raithson. Hastings paused before making his decision. The plan for the war he had formulated had been changed and he was now going to have to dance to someone else's tune, a situation he did not find reassuring. He had to take the momentum back into his hands if was to win.
"Put the remainder of the CAG in the air and have them assemble with an intention to perform anti-air operations. Turn the fleet about and sail with all deliberate speed towards the enemy. If we get in close we can negate their airpower."
"Aye, sir." replied Communications officer who relayed the message to the rest of the fleet via Sea IVIS.
"Have those cruise missiles we prepped across the fleet for the attack on the Jasonian Isles changed to attack the Antican Fleet. Fire them immediately at where we think that fleet is. Have the Aden go hunting." ordered Hastings further. Already plunged into the action, he thought. This was going to be a difficult war.
Summary:
Carrier Air Group is assembling above the fleet and is flying close to Hawkeyes who are providing radar pictures of skies around them.
The Fleet has turned and is sailing west towards the suspected location of the Antican fleet.
5 Tomahawks each fired from HMLS Spexico and HMLS Hood at Antican fleet.
8 Tomahawks each fired from HMLS Triton and HMLS Trident at Antican fleet.
2 Tomahawks each fired from HMLS Warspite and HMLS Tovey at Antican fleet. These remaining four are set to sea-skimming mode.
Tomahawks will acquire targets when their radar identifies ships in their path.
HMLS Aden is released from the fleet and is operating independently.
Explanation:
Having done my research, it is highly unlikely that you will have been capable of detecting my fleet using radar or sonar. Every piece of information I viewed had no transportable system capable of detection at a range greater than 600km. That is why I use when describing your fleet location electronic signals your vessels are emitting, whether they be radar and/or radio signals. Your EWA to track my fleet would have needed to be within 600 km at least and would have been detected by my own AWACs plane which is why I have reported it shot down. EDIT: Furthermore, no plane can detect submarines without placing sonarbuoys in the water which you evidently didn't. I've mentioned the compromise in the other thread and hope we can work it out. I did have concerns regarding your rapid movement of your fleet but I've let them slip for now.
"What do you make of this?" asked Hastings to one of his two travelling intelligence officers, one brought primarily to focus on the Gravship and the other for the conventional forces aligned against the fleet.IASA Sat R-14 overfly WZ at 1350 Lima. Home request attack for intel analysis.
"Its probably an attempt by those IASA analysts to identify the Gravships defences and other capabilities. We could lob a few cruise missiles at it with the GPS co-ordinates we have from R-07's pass. It was over Sai'Por. It wouldn't hurt to lob an extra dozen missiles at those Novatainian forces either." suggested his Gravship intelligence officer, Commander Tootem.
"Prepare some ACMs for firing at that time then. It'll be about two hours until we should fire those missiles if I'm correct?" asked Hastings.
"Aye, sir. Just to make sure we're not detected, we should perhaps enter multiple waypoints in their flightpath." suggested Tootem further.
"Okay, let's do that." ordered Hastings. He went back to looking at the sea that was relatively calm for once. He knew there'd be trouble ahead in this war. The array of forces against the fleet was too large to mean a quite life.
*************************
Meanwhile, thousands of feet above him and a good few miles away the JSF and Hawkeye patrol was on its return leg, sweeping back to the west. The Electronics Warfare Officer on the Hawkeye was continuously marking and plotting merchant shipping in the area and the commerical air routes in the region when suddenly there was an anomaly at the far edge of his anomaly coming from the west.
"Dee, I've got an unidentified plane bearing east on a vector straight to the fleet. Boosting power on the dish to get a better look." informed EWO Flight Lieutenant Grimsby.
"Roger that." replied the pilot, Flight Lieutenant Dietrich Mancheim. The power available to the radar boosted its picture. Having previously been on lower power to avoid detection, the electronic signals now bouncing out from the radar dome were bound to attract some attention now. The scope of the radar's range improved dramatically, illuminating the area to the West of them. The return signals from the object were by chirps of return signals from what they assumed was the electronic chatter of a fleet of ships.
"Hawkeye 2, our radar detectors are going a little haywire over here. I think we're being lit up by someone. Not an acquisition radar I think." informed the pilot of one of the JSFs to the Hawkeye as the Grimsby realised what he was seeing.
"Spexico, this is Hawkeye 2. We have an early warning bird tracking the fleet, I repeat we are being tracked. Unknown, likely enemy, fleet to our west. Request permission to splash Early Bird." relayed Grimsby to fleet.
*************************
"Admiral, we're being tracked. Hawkeye 2 is reporting we're being tracked. Enemy fleet west, range unsure but from ELINT telemetry guessing between 1000 and 2000 km. They request permission to splash the tracking bird." said a nervous Captain Vega of the Spexico as he ran into the Command Centre behind the bridge.
"Permission granted. Get their radar link down onto the screen and upload it and every other radar picture we're receiving on Sea IVIS." said Hastings, following the standard procedure he had seen carried out and carried out himself numerous times.
*************************
The two JSFs received their orders to destroy the tracking radar plane. Banking away from their Hawkeye, they were guided in by Grimsby who was assuring them the air was clear of any other fighters. Each JSF selected one of their Meteor missiles and their fire control radar identified the enemy plane as an Antican Guardian EWA. Regardless of what its design was, it was not going to escape the long reach of the Meteors. Both missiles dropped from their external pylons and seemed to hang in mid air before the engines engaged and blasted the missiles towards their target. Within minutes, the Guardian EWA, or what was left of it, was falling to the sea.
*************************
"Its Antican, sir. The Antican fleet must be closing to try and engage us." surmised Commander Tootem.
"What do we know of them?" asked Hastings.
"Reasonably powerful forces. Experienced commanders but haven't fought in a major situation for a while now so far as we understand. I'd say they're equal to us." informed the other intelligence officer, Commander Raithson.
"What do you think their force make up is?" asked Hastings, getting as much information before his decision was made.
"Probably a carrier with escorting forces." replied Raithson. Hastings paused before making his decision. The plan for the war he had formulated had been changed and he was now going to have to dance to someone else's tune, a situation he did not find reassuring. He had to take the momentum back into his hands if was to win.
"Put the remainder of the CAG in the air and have them assemble with an intention to perform anti-air operations. Turn the fleet about and sail with all deliberate speed towards the enemy. If we get in close we can negate their airpower."
"Aye, sir." replied Communications officer who relayed the message to the rest of the fleet via Sea IVIS.
"Have those cruise missiles we prepped across the fleet for the attack on the Jasonian Isles changed to attack the Antican Fleet. Fire them immediately at where we think that fleet is. Have the Aden go hunting." ordered Hastings further. Already plunged into the action, he thought. This was going to be a difficult war.
Summary:
Carrier Air Group is assembling above the fleet and is flying close to Hawkeyes who are providing radar pictures of skies around them.
The Fleet has turned and is sailing west towards the suspected location of the Antican fleet.
5 Tomahawks each fired from HMLS Spexico and HMLS Hood at Antican fleet.
8 Tomahawks each fired from HMLS Triton and HMLS Trident at Antican fleet.
2 Tomahawks each fired from HMLS Warspite and HMLS Tovey at Antican fleet. These remaining four are set to sea-skimming mode.
Tomahawks will acquire targets when their radar identifies ships in their path.
HMLS Aden is released from the fleet and is operating independently.
Explanation:
Having done my research, it is highly unlikely that you will have been capable of detecting my fleet using radar or sonar. Every piece of information I viewed had no transportable system capable of detection at a range greater than 600km. That is why I use when describing your fleet location electronic signals your vessels are emitting, whether they be radar and/or radio signals. Your EWA to track my fleet would have needed to be within 600 km at least and would have been detected by my own AWACs plane which is why I have reported it shot down. EDIT: Furthermore, no plane can detect submarines without placing sonarbuoys in the water which you evidently didn't. I've mentioned the compromise in the other thread and hope we can work it out. I did have concerns regarding your rapid movement of your fleet but I've let them slip for now.
In Battle; Unbeatable.
In Victory; Unbearable.
In Victory; Unbearable.
Re: Official War Thread
OOC: Hey there, Jonas is taking most Batavian command for his action because my time is sadly very, very, very limited. Ofcourse I found a spot to make this little post since I am the Commander of the Batavian Armed Forces. Max and hopefully Roelof will also post some things on behalf of Max' Carrier Battle Group and Roelof on his Special Forces. I will be commanding a less then I normally would but he, why not. I haven't posted my orbats yet, but since this post doesn't include any of those things I don't think thats a problem. Damn this OOC is getting longer then my post...
IC: General van Veen, Commander of the Batavian Armed Forces was sitting in the 'Kazerne' in conversation with Constantijn Windsor, his highest officer about the Maraguan war. "Ik zeg dat we dat boevennest Nalagan opblazen!" (I say we just blow up that corrupt Nalagan!) Constantijn exclaimed! The General shaked his head forcefully almost getting his neck twisted, "Nee, nee Constantijn! Dat zou de NEVO veroordelen!" (No way Constantijn, The NEVO would've like that). Constantijn sighed and shaked his head as well, "Nou wat moeten we dan doen?" (Well, what should we do then?) he asked to Jeroen. On his turn Jeroen thought a moment and then replied, "We laten de Vermeylen Vliegdekgroep vertrekken naar Maraguo voor bescherming van de eilanden en eventueel terug veroveren, mocht dat nodig zijn." (We will send the 4th and 3rd carrier group under Max to Maraguo tyo protect the islands if necessary.) he smiled and added, "Nu beschermen, maar als het tijd is gaan we vol in de aanval." (We'll protect them now,but when time comes we'll go in hard!). Jeroen stood up and said, "Regel het met Max and vertrek zelf ook maar. Ik zal zo spoedig komen." (You arrange it with Max, I'll come ASAP.) Windsor saluted and they both left the room, Windsor preparing for war while the Commander headed to the Irrel airbase to arrange his personal group.
IC: General van Veen, Commander of the Batavian Armed Forces was sitting in the 'Kazerne' in conversation with Constantijn Windsor, his highest officer about the Maraguan war. "Ik zeg dat we dat boevennest Nalagan opblazen!" (I say we just blow up that corrupt Nalagan!) Constantijn exclaimed! The General shaked his head forcefully almost getting his neck twisted, "Nee, nee Constantijn! Dat zou de NEVO veroordelen!" (No way Constantijn, The NEVO would've like that). Constantijn sighed and shaked his head as well, "Nou wat moeten we dan doen?" (Well, what should we do then?) he asked to Jeroen. On his turn Jeroen thought a moment and then replied, "We laten de Vermeylen Vliegdekgroep vertrekken naar Maraguo voor bescherming van de eilanden en eventueel terug veroveren, mocht dat nodig zijn." (We will send the 4th and 3rd carrier group under Max to Maraguo tyo protect the islands if necessary.) he smiled and added, "Nu beschermen, maar als het tijd is gaan we vol in de aanval." (We'll protect them now,but when time comes we'll go in hard!). Jeroen stood up and said, "Regel het met Max and vertrek zelf ook maar. Ik zal zo spoedig komen." (You arrange it with Max, I'll come ASAP.) Windsor saluted and they both left the room, Windsor preparing for war while the Commander headed to the Irrel airbase to arrange his personal group.
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- Joined: Thu Dec 25, 2008 11:06 am
- Location: Davignon, Dietsland, Batavia
Re: Official War Thread
Somewhere north of Maraguo
"Sir! I have had news from Point Victor. The Vliegende Hert Division has arrived, along with the five planes that belong to us (the Z.M. Vermeylen). They say, that they are waiting for your commands," a servant said. "The other good news is," he said, "that we are close to reaching the strait between Setauket and Airosamente."
"Thank you. Can you connect me with our forces in Point Victor?" Max replied. Within a few minutes, Max was able to communicate with the forces. "Good evening, Lieutenant Van Dijk. I need you to make sure all paratroopers are standby and keep the engines of the bombers running, along with the multi-purpose helicopters and fighters. I need the whole division, plus the five fighters from the Z.M. Vermeylen, to be ready for take-off when I tell them to take off." The answer was short, but clear: "Affirmative, Commander!"
Max called the servant again. "Please make sure I'm having a conference call with the captains of the whole division within five minutes." The servant told Max, he would quickly do so. After seven minutes waiting, Max finally got his conference call. "Bloody servant! I should throw him into the sea with a stone tied to his fee... Never mind. What I was going to say to you all, is the following. I already made sure the Vliegende Hert division is ready for action. My plan is to line up in battle formation in front off the coast of the Maraguan part of Redoubt Island. All subs, the Z.M Ackers, Z.M. Van Haag, Z.M. Alfons II and the Z.M. de Bourbon, will cross the strait between Armoria and Setauket and head south to Edwardsbane. Then they will sail along the Maraguan coast, untill they end up west of Ardy's Reach. The Z.M. Ackers and Z.M. Van Haag will wait for our arrival and patrol the coasts, while the Z.M. de Bourbon and the Z.M. Alfons II will get their ICBMs ready for use. The subs must remain under the surface at any moment. The rest of the ships will follow me. We will sail on the east side of the Islands, towards Enhasa and from there around Redoubt Island towards the position of the subs. We must maintain complete darkness, so every light must be turned off. In Enhasa the Maraguan forces will join us."
Summary: the Batavian 3rd and 4th Vermeylen Carrier Division are on their way to Redoubt Island. The subs take a direct route to the south, being under the surface, while the rest of the division sails around the islands. The subs will prepare their ICBMs for something. The Batavian ships will pick up the Maraguans in Enhasa. The Vliegende Hert Airforce Division is ready for battle.
"Sir! I have had news from Point Victor. The Vliegende Hert Division has arrived, along with the five planes that belong to us (the Z.M. Vermeylen). They say, that they are waiting for your commands," a servant said. "The other good news is," he said, "that we are close to reaching the strait between Setauket and Airosamente."
"Thank you. Can you connect me with our forces in Point Victor?" Max replied. Within a few minutes, Max was able to communicate with the forces. "Good evening, Lieutenant Van Dijk. I need you to make sure all paratroopers are standby and keep the engines of the bombers running, along with the multi-purpose helicopters and fighters. I need the whole division, plus the five fighters from the Z.M. Vermeylen, to be ready for take-off when I tell them to take off." The answer was short, but clear: "Affirmative, Commander!"
Max called the servant again. "Please make sure I'm having a conference call with the captains of the whole division within five minutes." The servant told Max, he would quickly do so. After seven minutes waiting, Max finally got his conference call. "Bloody servant! I should throw him into the sea with a stone tied to his fee... Never mind. What I was going to say to you all, is the following. I already made sure the Vliegende Hert division is ready for action. My plan is to line up in battle formation in front off the coast of the Maraguan part of Redoubt Island. All subs, the Z.M Ackers, Z.M. Van Haag, Z.M. Alfons II and the Z.M. de Bourbon, will cross the strait between Armoria and Setauket and head south to Edwardsbane. Then they will sail along the Maraguan coast, untill they end up west of Ardy's Reach. The Z.M. Ackers and Z.M. Van Haag will wait for our arrival and patrol the coasts, while the Z.M. de Bourbon and the Z.M. Alfons II will get their ICBMs ready for use. The subs must remain under the surface at any moment. The rest of the ships will follow me. We will sail on the east side of the Islands, towards Enhasa and from there around Redoubt Island towards the position of the subs. We must maintain complete darkness, so every light must be turned off. In Enhasa the Maraguan forces will join us."
Summary: the Batavian 3rd and 4th Vermeylen Carrier Division are on their way to Redoubt Island. The subs take a direct route to the south, being under the surface, while the rest of the division sails around the islands. The subs will prepare their ICBMs for something. The Batavian ships will pick up the Maraguans in Enhasa. The Vliegende Hert Airforce Division is ready for battle.
Prime-Minister of Batavia
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- Posts: 117
- Joined: Sat Aug 11, 2007 9:32 pm
Re: Official War Thread
Summary: My troops have been fortifying the airfield at Nova Kajar. However, now they are all going to the Omen, the fighter pilots ready to give air support whenever needed.Nicholas sat in his office in Nova Kajar, discussing tactics with Cecil. He had heard no word on how his previous day's attack had gone. But he had strong hope that they had made a significant dent in Scott's forces. The rest of his troops ahd been enjoying a well deserved break.
Hang on... they haven't done anything yet!
"Cecil, what are our forces doing?" said Nicholas.
"Currently, the majority of the men are fortifying our airfield near Nova Kajar and making sure it is in top condition, sir," said Cecil.
"Ah, how diligent of them. Err... did I tell them to do that?"
"I knew you would be wanting to and it had merely slipped your mind in the stress, sir, so I did," said Cecil.
"Thank you. But I have a new order for them. All infantry, medics and engineers are to board the Chinooks. All units still here are to board the Omen. We'll give it fighter support and stop it getting blown out of the sky before we can get it working properly. Send the engineers to help wherever they can, and have fighter pilots on shifts so they still get their rest but can fly out at a moments notice."
"Have we informed Harvey of this?" asked Cecil.
"Yes. I don't know very much about him, but he seems trustworthy. All troops, move out!
If Scott responds, I still need to take my action with the bombers and such, but if all goes well, they will retreat to the Omen as well.
- Scott Alexander
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Re: Official War Thread
Summary: No backstory because I'm busy. The Novans are bombing Nang. The Paladins have scattered about, dug trenches, and thrown up a smokescreen to make themselves more difficult to bomb, with some success. All civilians have been evacuated from the city of Nang, and there is an attempt to broker a cease-fire so Jeremy's ships can evacuate them further, to Enhasa or somewhere. The Hyperboreans are awaiting the Novan attack. ALL OTHER PRO-MARAGUANS PLEASE SEND HELP ESPEC AIR."Did you ever read about the Redoubt Island War?"
"Yeah"
"Do you remember how the Hyperboreans came in late, and by the time they arrived in the theater of operations, there was nothing left to do except political hijinks with the Babkhans over who would control the occupation force?"
"Yeah"
"Well," asked General Scussion, as a Novatainian bomb exploded directly above the bunker, shaking it to its foundations, "don't you wish we'd tried something similar?"
Tephi did, indeed, see the attraction of arriving triumphantly after all the bombs had already been dropped. For the past twelve hours, Novatainian airstrikes had rained down fire and brimstone on the entirety of Nang province. To his men's credit, they'd flawlessly executed the contingency plan. He just wished the contingency plan had been more exciting then "get the airships the PRH out of there, hunker down in trenches, and wait for the bombing to stop."
But options were, at best, somewhat limited. The Hyperboreans had been the first to arrive at Nang, and so far the only force defending the city. The expected aerial and naval reinforcements had never arrived, and the Novatainians had made the bold choice to attack immediately.
There were few available bomb shelters, and the Paladin leadership had commandeered all of them. There was no question of civilian use; as soon as it became clear that the Novatainian promise to avoid direct bombing of Nang only applied to the forces under the direct command of King Andreas, all civilians had been evacuated from the city. Most were in the small fishing villages on the east of the island; tents had been set up, but it was still woefully overcrowded. Tephi thanked his lucky stars that King Andreas had a reputation for honor and civility, and would be unlikely to strafe the assembled refugees.
Not that they would be likely to thank him. Nang was in an awful state. The Novatainian bombers had tried to aim for military targets in the city only to find out that there were none. They ended up just bombing anything large enough to target from the air, which luckily did not include individual Paladins, who had spread out across the countryside and dug down in an attempt to be as un-bombable as possible. Still, Tephi had already heard of at least a few dozen deaths. Only forty nine thousand seven hundred odd to go, Tephi thought.
"The good news," said Tephi. "Wind, Lightning, and Olive have completed their retreat. They're headed for Yardistan right now. The bad news is that we're still here."
That brought a strained chuckle from some of them.
"We spent the night making a general mess of things, as you know. Putting up some decoys, starting a few small fires in the woods here in the hopes that the smoke would lower visibility and make bombing difficult. I am not displeased with the results. We all knew Nang would never make it through this unscathed. The important thing is that we hold onto it and give its people the opportunity to rebuild.
Heads nodded. Lithe Simprekion, who had stayed behind after the airships' departure, nearly fell from her chair as another rattle shook the bunker, and then said: "The Novatainians have a reputation around the world as honorable soldiers. Yet this town is being destroyed from the ground up, all for the sin of wanting to maintain their freedom and way of life as proud Maraguans. If this is what honorable people do, I never want to meet the dishonorable."
"Well, you're about to," said Tephi. "Ardashir Khan and the Imperial Babkhan Volunteer Forces are on Airosamente right now. Guess who's most likely to reinforce us?"
"For what ancestral sin are our people forever doomed to fight alongside Babkhans?!" moaned Tiethi.
"The sin of not having enough other allies," said Tephi. "Although General Scussion here says Shirekeep has also made the Batavians aware of our plight. Speaking of plights: Aere, the strategic analysis?"
Aere spoke. "Despite the human and economic cost of the bombing, I still remain optimistic about the strategic situation. Our people's morale is damaged, but not broken. The Novatainian bombardment will last only a few more days at most, until General Scussion's attempts to get us air support succeed. Though we will take casualties, we expect to continue to have more men than the Novatainian forces currently on Nelaga. When King Andreas' forces invade the island en masse, the aerial strikes will have to lessen lest they hit their own men; we intend to continue burning forest to lower the visibility and accuracy of bombing. At that point, it becomes a simple numbers and training game. That is a game we can win, if we can recover morale and organization quickly enough."
"And food?" asked Lithe.
"A problem," admitted Aere. "We brought enough for our own use, but within a day, the stores in Nang and the villages will be exhausted and we will have to feed the civilian population off of our own supplies. Luckily, General Scussion has informed us that an English hospital ship has arrived to transport refugees. If they can evacuate them to Enhasa, we will have enough food to last us several weeks. By that point, our allies will have secured the straits, and we can ship food from Enhasa to our position."
"So evacuate the refugees as quickly as possible?" asked Tephi. "I suppose that will make Nang a ghost town."
"It's for the best," said Aere. "If the beginning of the battle goes against us, I intend to force the Novatainians into street-to-street fighting. I will not have that done in a populated city."
"Fair enough," said Tephi. "General Scussion, ask the Exterior Ministry in Shirekeep to negotiate whatever cease-fires are necessary to load the refugees onto the English ships. I'm reluctant to force anyone out, but I want to cut the population of this area down to what the fishing villages in the east can support on their own. After that, our tasks are limited to getting that air support and just sitting and waiting for the Novan ground forces."
General Dick Scussion pulled out his laptop. "I'm on it," he said.
EDIT: After discussing with Andreas and North, we have agreed to raise casualties to about 300 of my men, plus two Novan helicopters damaged. We've also agreed that my men have dug trenches after the last bombing run and will be on better guard the next time.
Last edited by Scott Alexander on Thu Jan 08, 2009 2:23 am, edited 2 times in total.
Scott Alexander | Autokrator of Archipelago (What is Archipelago?)
Illustrious Founder of the MCS, and sometime Special Cartographer
Illustrious Founder of the MCS, and sometime Special Cartographer
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- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2007 8:35 pm
Re: Official War Thread
Summary: My forces enter the eastern edge of the conflict zone and then submerge.Atop the conning tower of the CAA Rana
"Sir we are now entering the area which has been designated as the warzone for this conflict."
The captain nodded "Thank you sailor. Get a good last look at the sun and sky. Its going to be along time before we see it again. Lord willing."
"Aye captain." There was little else the sailor could say.
"Helmsman" The captain was speaking into a radio, "Signal the rest of the fleet and take us down."
The response was quick and the voice thick with excitement "Right away sir."
The crew quickly made their way down into the belly of the ship, in the sea around them there were nearly two dozen vessels of similar design but varying size. Each seemed to have men scrambling down into their dark interiors, then once no more men moved across their decks one by one the dark masses began to slip below the waves and disappeared from sight.
currently still heading for the Nelaga islands
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Re: Official War Thread
EDIT: The fine detail -
While the Hyperboreans are thus distracted, Prodigy and I move our forces off the island and back to Bryden. The Hyperboreans are now trapped on the island. Mel'Kat's navy will patrol the bay around the south of Nelaga, including Provost Island, to stop any navy rescuing them. Helicopter patrols (probably Nick's, I'll ask him) will go along the rivers to stop any attempts by flycycles to escape. I'd say the rivers are too big to ford, Scott may wish to dispute that. It's possible a couple Hyperboreans will get past that, but no sneaking out 11000
Summary: Scott and I agreed a ceasefire. [u]No Nelagan or Anti-Nelagan force is allowed to fight on Provost Island during that time.[/u] It will last for the rest of today and all of tommorow, till the stroke of midnight (OOC, since we all have different midnights, that's as much time as it takes for Jeremy to get the civilians off the island, and for my forces to get off, for a minimum of 24 hours from this post.) No soldiers, Hyperborean or Novatainian, are allowed to go on the ship with the prisoners either.The troops, watching carefully for repercussions from the bombing run, saw a Hyperborean walking forth. Nicholas' forces had already radioed in to report that the Hyperboreans had scattered faster than they had hoped, and attempts to avoid civilians had made it similiarly difficult to hit many Hyperboreans. As a result, casualties were only a few hundred - and the bulk of the force remained alive. Andreas' forces were not surprised to see a Hyperborean. Some were surprised he was in the open, and carrying a white flag. "Surrender?" a few whispered hopefully, but the more experienced ones recognised it for what it was - Parley.
Mel'Kat walked forth to meet the Hyperborean. The Hyperborean put his flag down, and spoke. "You bombed a city."
Mel'Kat held his gaze for a few seconds, then replied quietly, "I did not order the attack."
"But yet you did not stop it," the Hyperborean replied.
"And yet you survived it," Mel'Kat replied. "And, I hear so did most of you. Mors smiles on you, it seems."
The Hyperborean fell silent, for a while, and then said, "I'm here to negotiate a cease-fire. There are many civilians now homeless, and we wish to get the Torrington Island ships to evacuate them. We need time to do it."
"That is a noble plan," Mel'Kat replied. "I cannot negotiate for everyone, but on the island of Provost at least, I can give you a ceasefire for 24 hours."
"24 hours? That won't be enough time to get all the civilians out!" the Hyperborean exclaimed. "48 hours, at least."
"48 hours will be too easy for you to get them all out," Mel'Kat replied. "While I have no doubt you will attend to the civilians first, and keep strictly to a ceasefire, you will have ample time left over to prepare your attack on us, knowing yourself safe because of the ceasefire."
"You dare accuse Hyperboreans of treachery?" the Hyperborean said, with a trace of anger.
"I read the history books," Mel'Kat replied. "Stranger things have happened. An interest in following agreements to the letter, rather than the spirit, has struck Shireroth recently. I'd like to ensure the Hyperboreans do not have temptation to fall into that."
"You drive a hard bargain, Mel'Kat," the Hyperborean said.
"And you are the one requesting the offer," Mel'Kat replied. "But I will grant you this. The rest of today, and all of tommorow. At the stroke of midnight on the second day, your ceasefire will end. That will be enough time to get all the civilians out. And no soldier is to set foot on that ship. I don't want accusations Novatainians released civilians into armed custody, even Hyperborean."
The Hyperborean held his gaze, and then nodded. "Today and tomorrow it is then. There shall be no fighting of any sort on Provost Island in that time. None of our forces will enter the ship. I shall use what radio we have left to inform our allies of that."
"As shall I," Mel'Kat said. Then he did something strange. He pulled a pen and a pad of paper out of his pocket, and handed them to the man. "Record the names of all who perished in the fight, whatever their origin. Return it to any Melangian, and I can ensure you, there names shall never vanish from history."
The Hyperborean took this in his stride, and accepted the gift. Then, wordlessly, he returned to his people.
"You gave them a ceasefire?" one of the Lieutenants said to Mel'Kat after the Hyperborean was out of earshot. "Why?"
"Several reasons," Mel'Kat replied. "While Nicholas' attack was not the method I would have chosen, it has resolved a number of problems. It has shown the Hyperboreans are well trained to avoid any sort of crude missile or bomb assault. Their airships are now out of the picture, ensuring they have no easy means of leaving the island. And it has allowed us to remove the civilians, something, diplomatically, we could not have asked for ourselves. People object, for some reason, to leaving their home at the enemy's wishes."
"But you know how many were killed," the Lieutenant replied. "They still outnumber us considerably. When that ceasefire is over ..."
"... I no longer intend to be on Provost Island," Mel'Kat finished calmly. "Oh, don't look so surprised," he added, at the Lieutenant's expression. "That attack has shown any sort of shore assault would be futile. But it's also removed any transport we have off the island, and given our men time to cut any bridges. If we leave now, we can do a much better job elsewhere in the war, and leave the Hyperboreans trapped on the island. Without the townsfolk to worry about, they'll have enough supplies to last them the course of the war."
"You're going .... transform this into a giant POW Island?" the Lieutenant said.
"Exactly," Mel'Kat replied. "Our navy can patrol along the island as well as around the bay, both protecting Nelaga and ensuring nobody can rescue the Hyperboreans. The rivers, as you have seen, are wide and mighty. Since the fall of the islands they've become so big early cartographers thought they were ocean channels, and not rivers at all. With the bridges removed, they will not be able to ford the river. If, by a miracle, a few do get across, they will have no way of transporting eleven thousand easily. Though they do have flycycles, I think regular helicopter patrols along the river should be more than enough to keep the vast majority of the Hyperborean forces out of the war. Sakat knows between the other Novatainians and I we have the helicopters to do it."
"What will Korstokk think of this?" the Lieutenant asked, but Korstokk came up behind him and answered the question himself.
"We'd already discussed this possibilty," Korstokk replied. "If we can avoid heavy losses (which we doubtlessly would take even in victory), I would suggest we do. This seems a logical and effective course of action for now."
"The ceasefire is also the perfect activity to keep the Hyperboreans occupied while our troops re-embark. Otherwise, it may have been a bloody exit, which was Korstokk and my worries," Mel'Kat concluded.
"Well then ... I'll just tell the men to get ready to leave then, shall I?" the Lieutenant said.
"Leave it till the civilian transports arrive. Then they'll be occupied, and by the time they notice our departure, it will be too late."
While the Hyperboreans are thus distracted, Prodigy and I move our forces off the island and back to Bryden. The Hyperboreans are now trapped on the island. Mel'Kat's navy will patrol the bay around the south of Nelaga, including Provost Island, to stop any navy rescuing them. Helicopter patrols (probably Nick's, I'll ask him) will go along the rivers to stop any attempts by flycycles to escape. I'd say the rivers are too big to ford, Scott may wish to dispute that. It's possible a couple Hyperboreans will get past that, but no sneaking out 11000
Andreas
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander