The Narwhal's Tusk

[Zirandorthel]

As the Shirerithian First Fleet made its way past the island of Norfolk, five heavy transports detached themselves from the flotilla and changed course for the island. Flags were run up and down masts, and in the radio rooms of the five vessels and the flagship Erkinpoika’s Revenge orders and messages of goodwill crackled back and forth. The largest of the five transport ships, The Shade of Kaiser Jaundice, led the convoy towards the Shirerithian outpost. On its mast the majestically ugly flag of the Imperial Republic of Shireroth fluttered proudly in the wind, and below it the less eye-searing Hyperborean one. In the afternoon sun, the troops the Shade was carrying were mostly upon deck, relaxing or looking with both anticipation and dread towards their new base of operations, and beyond that, they could imagine they saw the headlands of enemy territory, lying foreboding upon the blue seas.Av Nirim surveyed his troops with a critical eye from the control room of the Shade. They were fresh recruits, many of them never having left sight of the Isle of Volsung. The heat of their new locale might take a bit of getting used to, but it was nothing Nirim hadn’t seen before. In his youth, he had journeyed to Babkha, even learning passable Farsi, and the heat here was little more than a passing warmth compared to that constant inferno. They would adapt. The Raxidal were strong, Nirim thought, just like the narwhal for which they were named. Soon the enemy would feel the might of the narwhal’s tusk.He turned his back on the window, blinking for a moment as the perpetual gloom of the control room re-asserted itself. He spotted Captain Lucas, a lumpen man whose grizzled features failed to belie a fondness for drinking. “Captain, I wish to make landfall at Norfolk by nightfall. Have your radio officer contact Norfolk port authorities and inform them of our imminent arrival.” The Captain nodded, and one of his lieutenants was dispatched. The man soon returned, and after conferring with his captain proceeded to look to Nirim. “Lotter Nirim, Major Mac…the Major would like to talk with you.”Nirim concealed a smile. Hyperboreans usually had trouble with Treesian names, used as they were to the consonant-vowel-consonant structure of their native tongue. Major Tamm Mac Fheardaigh was an immigrant from Treesia, who had made Volsung his home, and whose military expertise led him to his position of command in its first tank unit, the 1st Volsaarn.“Av me hearty, I knew that fella would find you eventually,” Tamm exclaimed as Nirim entered the Major’s quarters. “Yes, Tamm, he did. Now what was it? We’re very busy, you know,” Nirim responded, affecting the busy-Hyperborean-with-no-sense-of-humour manner that Tamm loved to ridicule. “Ah go ‘way out of that. We got our orders, I presume? At least I thought I felt us change course. Us tank jockeys never get told anything,” the Treesian expostulated, smiling slightly. “Yes, we should reach Norfolk by about 1800 hours.” “Thank Veradroon for that. I want to get off this hulk, stretch my legs, see how my Lawal’s treads survived the sea air. Bet they’ve rusted up.” Nirim rolled his eyes, sometimes Tamm’s own affectation of Treesian yokelism was a bit tiring. “We’ll be making landfall, setting up base, and then tomorrow night we’ll skirt across the bay and begin operations. Have your division prepped and ready to go, and make sure they know where to go.” Tamm grinned, a wolfish, predatory grin. “The Warking is with us in this, Av, I can feel that. They won’t know what hit them…”SummaryThe five Hyperborean transports have split from the rest of the fleet and are making for Norfolk. The 1st Raxidal and the 1st Volsaarn Armoured Regiment are on board. Wil Nider to the HyperboreansEoin to the restZirandorthel to the ages

[Zirandorthel]

The amphibious transports thronged Norfolk harbour, all of their duck-like prows facing north. Towards the enemy thought Av Nirim as he watched the Raxidal and the Armoured Division prepare to board the AAPCS. Transporting all five brigades was an arduous process, and the presence of Mac Fheardaigh’s 150 Lawal tanks made it even more so, but Norfolkian efficiency and the excellent training received by the Hyperborean marines meant that no more delays occurred than were strictly usual. Apart from one incident when a Lawal’s engine decided to explode unspectacularly, managing to block the traffic going to and fro in the process for an hour. Which was frustrating. But these things happen, and most good commanders accounted for them. In any case, all five brigades were almost loaded, and he was within his self-imposed deadline. He glanced at the horizon, where an orange sun hung a thumbnail above the blinding sea. Once night fell, they would move out. He could feel the gathering tension and excitement in the air as the Raxidal faced their first battle, and could well understand it. These marines were mostly fresh-faced young women and men, with the only veterans being their officers and NCO’s. To them, battle was still something passionate and inspiring, the concept of war still thrilled them. How unlike the Paladins they were, the former Lotter mused. Paladins saw war as a rot, a thing to put an end to, to be parlayed with but never encouraged. This new Raxidal, whose emblem was the sea-unicorn, the narwhal, with all the chivalrous images that brought with it, hungered for war, thirsted for the tactics and manoeuvres and assaults. That chilled Nirim, frightened him in a way that being in command of Paladins never had. And exhilarated him, but he dared not consider that.His private thoughts were interrupted by the lugubrious Major Mac Fheardaigh, who had come to report that his division were “all boarded up”. The Treesian major was holding a map of their target, with the red arrows and circles that suggested troop movements. “I presume we won’t be hugging the coast until we get right up near them?” he said, all business where battle was concerned. Nirim nodded. “I want Batok and Vusen Brigades at the front of the flotilla, with the other brigades at least twenty minutes behind. That way if they run into more trouble than our reconnaissance has told us to expect, we can back them up easily.” Tamm nodded. Neither of them were to command the first attack personally, so that was their prime worry. “Your brigades, Korok and half of Maran, will take the second target, and they’ll be twenty minutes ahead of mine. There should be even less trouble there, they’re cut off from the mainland. And the only people that could help them are our third target.” Mac Fheardaigh gave a grin at this, and nodded again. “Alright, and then you, with the remaining half of Maran and Butil Brigades, will take the third target. About what time will it be then?” “By my estimation, 0500 hours. The route I’ve marked out should take us around 4 hours, with the first brigades landing at the first target at 0200. What time do you make it?” Tamm looked at his watch, a battered one of Fabonese design. “Quarter to nine.” Nirim winced, his military calculations thrown off by Tamm’s insistence in using civilian time. “Then we’ve got 75 minutes. Your division ready?” “And willing.” “Then let’s get this show on the road.”Turning towards the assembling troops, Nirim cleared his throat and addressed them. Hearing his voice, they looked up to the raised platform where he and Mac Fheardaigh stood. “This operation, named Obsidian Haddock by the boys back at Military Intelligence, will begin in 75 minutes. Report to your NCO’s for time synchronisation. It is imperative that the objectives given you are achieved by midday tomorrow. The invasion of Acre, Tyre and Eblis will give us a valuable foothold in Terre d’Riches, one which the GC will have to fight hard to take back from us. Batok and Vusen Brigades will depart first, led by Captain Kecon.” The relevant officer nodded at the acknowledgement, but all faces still faced towards Nirim. “Major Mac Fheardaigh’s brigades will leave second. Their target is Eblis, of course, which should be the easiest of the three targets to seize.” This was greeted with whoops and cheers from the Armoured Division, either Volsaarns whom Mac Fheardaigh’s irascible nature had rubbed off on, or Treesians whose cheerful disdain for propriety manifested itself in “Up ya boy ye, Mac Fheardaigh”’s and other examples of wit. “And my brigades will hit Tyre. Now, the most important objectives, as you’ve been told, are military barracks of any kind, particularly communication facilities. We are being provided with air support (I hope thought Nirim) from the Baronial Air Wing of Halluci, but it would be nice if reinforcements from Miska and Chaddington didn’t move on us until the day after tomorrow. That way we can make it a hell of a lot harder for them to get to us. Now, you have 70 minutes to finish boarding and to prepare. Don’t let me detain you any longer.” With this, he gave all assembled a salute, which was returned with a cheer, and stepped off the platform, Mac Fheardaigh at his heels. “Not the most inspiring of speeches, Av, but it’ll do for a firstie. They don’t need much encouragement anyway, save the better for later.” Nirim ignored his friend’s chattering. He headed for his transport and surveyed the horizon once more. Another two hours to go before he could leave. Enough time to check over the plan once more, and to make sure he had absorbed every detail of the reconnaissance. He shared his transport with a platoon of cheery young marines, whose jokes and boasts put an added urgency on his last-minute (to his mind) preparations. The less of these young people die, the better I’ll feel about securing these “important tactical locations”, Nirim thought, as he re-read the report on Tyrean fortifications for the fourteenth time. SummaryThe Raxidal and the Armoured Division are being ferried across the bay at night to attack Acre, Tyre and Eblis before dawn. They are expecting support from the Baron of Halluci's fighters in case of attack from the air. Wil Nider to the HyperboreansEoin to the restZirandorthel to the ages

[Sebastien Alexandre]

The Baron laughed, from his headquarters he could fully well see the little dots, which represented the Shirerithian navy, and the even smaller dots, which represented what the Babkhans could muster... He smiled as he noted 15 green dots, his fighters; and 3 blue dots, his normal bombers, in front of the Shirerithian navy. We hoped they were raising their Halluci banners proudly. ------------------------------------------The pilot of the three bombers fell into triangle formation, 5 fighter planes circling them in a tight circle as they made their way to shore. The bombers mission? To smack any airfield or communications tower, radar center, telephone company, radio station, cable network center, pretty m uch anything that preceded to normal life, including knocking out the power plants they could find... they had just crossed shore, and thus far had managed to obliterate a warning tower... this job fell to the first bomber, in order to save ammunition.The job of the fighters? Protect the bombers at all costs, and shoot down anything that came their way.----------------------------------------------The other 10 fighters were proudly circling the Shirerithian navy, ready to completely annihilate anything that flew towards their friends and countrymen.---------------------------------------------Today, would be the day the Halluci were remembered for more than the envisioned people, for more than their un-canny knack of irritating the Duchess and Duke, for more than their freaky code of language, today they would be remembered for their ferocity, their seemingly endless amount of fire power, for the fear they could strike into their enemies, for the willingness to take their own life if it meant an enemy went down and one more friend lived.Today, was for the Halluci.Summary:3 Bombers are running around in front of the navy, blowing up anything they can get their hands on, they are guarded by 5 fighters. The other ten fighters are busy obliterating anything that flew to close to their buddies from Hyperborea.1 Stealth Bomber and 5 Fighters remain at Jaris

[Osman Shahanshah]

Acre: The Al-Nouradin School for the Islamic Youth, once a repository of learning for pretty girls in those fetching black hijabs that were all the rage this season amongst the immodest. Now it was a store for rifles, RPGÂ’s, ammunition, tinned food, sleeping bags, booze and pornography, though in fairness some of the vodka and whiskey had been found in the girls lockers, come to think of it so was much of the pornography. Truly the piety of the modern generation was lacking somewhat. The Fedayeen Ardashir had been thrilled when it learned of its deployment to Palastina. Prior to arriving in the city of Acre there had been ugly rumours that they were destined to the front in Jaris that had produced a near mutiny among the men. The Fedayeen were trained to enforce the new Khanist ideology on the streets, not to fight in the open countryside. Not that the Fedayeen were not brave, but merely they had been raised in the slums and it was amongst the cesspits and fleshpots of humanity that they were in their element and Acre had a reputation as one of those unequalled throughout Babkha or the Commonwealth, the night life: the gilded singing girl in her enamelled hair-do, her stage makeup, her tight-fitting gown with its slit skirt breaking at the silk-clad hip . . . the hundred dance halls and the thousands of rials; the opium dens and gambling halls . . . the sailors in their smelly bars and friendly brothels. The Fedayeen flourished.Defensively Acre was in an excellent position. The town stands on an eminence, part of which slopes, the rest being level. The east and south sides of the city face the sea and there is a harbour with its back to the town and its old walls reaching into the sea. They leave a distance of 25 metres without any wall, only chains to restrict entry which are stretched from one wall to the other. The Friday Mosque dominated the walled old town, which the Al-Nouradin School laid outside the walls of, down towards the harbour in the slums between the walled old town and the walled port by the main gates through which the modern road ran.In the School itself some of the Fedayeen were lounging in the canteen watching a ‘borrowedÂ’ television propped up in the corner on one of the dining tables. Late night and morning television was pretty dire. Patriotic speeches, mass rallies, re-runs of footage of the fly boys dropping their load on unsuspecting Anticans at Nafticon. A bored fedayeen had control of the remote and was idly flicking through the channels until he came to pictures of another rerun of the massed rally held in the Babkhan capital the other day.‘Babkha Zindabad! Babkha Zindabad!Â’ The crowds were still chanting in Kamalshahr. ‘Long live Babkha, Long live BabkhaÂ’ was the cry of young and old on the other side of the Euran continent, far away from any danger. Nematollah Nassiri remembered Kamalshahr. He remembered a time when he had held the grace and favour of a certain Grand Vizier, one Ardashir Khan Osmani. He remembered a time when he had been an Arteshbod of SAVAK and a man whose name struck terror into all who heard it, for invariably was it associated with the unexpected knock at the door in the middle of the night, the unexplained disappearances, the terror, the corruption, the glory of Babkha? Pah! Nassiri had watched Ardashir reduce the last Shah, Tahmaseb, to a drugged out shell of a man, a human husk sent packing to this new Commonwealth capital being jury-rigged out in the Skerries once Ardashir had tired of being the power behind the throne and savoured the trappings of royal majesty as well as its exercise. Nassiri had known Ardashir with all his sadism and self-indulgence, his erratic behaviour had plunged Babkha into civil war over the chimera of Tashbaan oil fields, it had gotten Babkha into an un-winnable war with Baracao and Treesia over some god forsaken lighthouse out in those same Skerries. Surely someone with that many blunders to his name would have been impeached or done to death long ago, but no Ardashir had the luck of the devil. Kia Mansoor had told him so. During his time with the brigands of North Babkha, or Alkhiva as they call it now, the half Treesian visionary and bandit chief had explained ArdashirÂ’s pact with Ahriman, and how he was the essence of an ancient evil that had dogged Babkha for time immemorial. Nassiri had much to be grateful to Mansoor for. No less a person than Ardashir had sent him north to find and interrogate Mansoor as part of some insane hallucination the then Grand Vizier was having. Of course by that stage Nassiri was rich and more interested in leaving the country to live the good life abroad, and would have too if it hadnÂ’t been for the intervention of a Yemin Zoka snatch squad. Eventually Mansoor of all people had freed him and shown him the truth. However Mansoor had since gone back into occultation and NassiriÂ’s job with SAVAK had gone to some ghastly civilian by the name of HirmaniÂ…Suddenly the noise from the television and indeed NassiriÂ’s own thoughts were drowned out by the intrusive wail of countless sirens simultaneously sounding all around the city. Nassiri raised himself in bewilderment from where he was sitting when suddenly an agitated regular soldier from the 31st Mech regiment burst through the door.“Comrades quick! To the shore, to the harbour! The enemy has been sighted! It is an invasion!”Without a moments hesitation Nassiri picked up and slung his Noigant rifle over his shoulder and gathered up a clutch of ammunition magazines and grenades and stuffed them into his haversack before joining the throng rushing out side to jump onto their scooters, rifles and RPGÂ’s slung over shoulder and racing down through the narrow streets and bazaars to the seafront. As Nassiri pulled up his scooter and jumped of at the foot of the harbour seawall he could already see that the old parapet was lined with fedayeen, grim faced, rifles and rockets at ready. The absence of the mech infantry puzzled Nassiri but he had grown up knowing the unreliability of the regular army and placed all his confidence in the fanatics who were his backwater command. At last he saw a uniformed regular, it was the commander of the Lions of Palastine Brigade, the nominal garrison of Acre, Sarhang. Omar Khalifa. He looked bewildered. Nassiri gave a bow of respect to his fellow commander and pulled him to one side to enquire as to the state of the emergency. Khalifa nodded gravely, "they were detected on the Harbour Master's radar, approaching the port at a fair rate of knots. We can only deduce they are most likely landing craft of some sort." Nassiri understood the enormity of the situation and that prompted his next question "where is your command comrade? Surely the Lions of Palastine should lead the defence?" Khalifa looked defeated "I gave the order but they would not come. Some have fled, some have gone to defend their own homes, some are just sitting in the barracks waiting to surrender. None of the conscripted men will obey orders. It is a mess. I dare say the city is now yours Agha Nassiri, do with it what you will."As he raced up the steps he saw the first volley of flares being fired darkness-shrouded night sky. He knew a day of agony and exhilaration laid ahead. Including hopefully the rebirth of his career.Summary:The Fedayeen Garrison of Acre are swarming out of the slums and down to the harbour and seafront to meet the on coming enemy vessels. A chain has been laid across the harbour to inhibit the enemy from entering port. Edited by: Osman Shahanshah  at: 8/13/05 18:02

[Zirandorthel]

Acre:Captain Kocen of the Raxidal was comfortable with night missions. He preferred the eerie stillness of the night to the frantic silence of a daylight stealth mission, where troop chatter was the hardest thing in the world to keep down, even in tightly disciplined units. At night, all men and women felt the oppression darkness brings, felt their mouths closed by the veil of the stars, and a commanding officer could think. Think about how to deal with the near-impossible situation presented him. Attacking from a bay was never easy at the best of times, and especially not when you’re attacking the hub of enemy operations in the area. Even a kilometre out, Kocen could make out the lights of Acre, could hear a little of the night-time bustle of troops laughing it up. They would probably see them soon. He looked around at the marines in his transport, and further out at the other troop transports of Batok Brigade. As the transports neared the city, he could hear sirens going off, and a chain was hauled up across the harbour mouth. That was unexpected. Quite an archaic mode of defence. Nonetheless effective. Good thing the others were behind him, as per Lotter Nirim’s orders.His radio officer tapped him on the shoulder, and whispered “The Baron sends his greetings.” This was the cue for a cacophony of detonations on the shore, and the howls as the bombardment reached living targets. Bombers swooped overhead, and Halluci fighters wheeled over the transports far below, ready to meet any air resistance. Kocen breathed a sigh of relief. “Radio Nirim,” he whispered to the radio officer, “tell him Plan B may have to be used.” Thank goodness for contingencies.Summary:Batok Brigade has been halted at the harbour mouth, and awaits further orders. Wil Nider to the HyperboreansEoin to the restZirandorthel to the ages

[Sebastien Alexandre]

Oz got off the radio with the Command center.He dialed into his fighters and bombers"Bombers, new orders. The commander wants the Babkhans kept IN Acre. I want every bridge, road, train, hell, even a sidewalk out of Acre destroyed. Fighters, take five from those guarding the planes, those will be replaced with the fighters flying in from Jaris. Those of you fiv ebrave men responding, circle around any capable aircraft deployment area, do not, I repeat, do not, allow a Babkhan into the air.

[chancellorN8]

(Continued from "Setting Off Once More")After the conversation with Captain McMaky, Nathan retired for the evening. His dreams were filled with him dressed in his old Lavalonian Chief Justice Robes, chasing a rat-faced McMaky around with a comically oversized gavel. He awoke refreshed and generally a bit happier, as he remembered the dream vividly, a rare occurance. His breakfast, a Tasneemian steak, bagel, and juice, was cut short with an urgent messaqge to report to the nearest communications terminal. Grudingly he got up, gestured to the valet to heat his breakfast up again when he returned, and walked down the corridor to the nearest comterm. He evicted a young crewman in the middle of a discussion with his mother and coded in his keyword. The image of Nik Raesin appeared, "Sorry for interupting King Nathan, but I have a request to make of your fleet." Nathan had taken a bagel with him to the comterm and brushed the crumbs away as he spoke, "Yes yes, of course. What does Shireroth need?" "We have some forces about to make an assault near the city of Acre and some naval support would go a long way if you could divert your fleet," Nik said as he was typing something on another terminal on his end of the vidscreen. "Certainly, a little old fashioned coastal bombardment will give my destroyers something to do," Nathan replied with a little enthusiasm, Natopia's goal in the war was vaguely to provide support for Antica while it got its act together, but a clear mission, now we had something to keep focused on! "Thank you so much Your Majesty," Nik said as the screen faded. Nathan left the comterm, and the young crewman quickly reentered the booth. As Nathan walked down to finish his breakfast the young crewman bolted down the corridor "sir, SIR, a message for you!" Nathan reached out his hand and a folded note was placed in it. He quickly dismissed the crewman and read the contents of the note, smiled, pocketed it, and finished his bagel.Ten minutes later he was on the bridge, giving orders to the duty officers to prepare for the attack on Acre. First he spoke to his navigations officer. "Lieutenant, I want us to approach Acre from the southwest, so that a frigate and one destroyer are in an easy position to stay behind a few miles from the main fleet to block up that little inlet that leads up to the city of," Nathan checked back over the map of Terre d'Riches tapped the allusive city name and continued, "Miska. We don't want any ships slipping in that waterway to provide support from behind for Acre." Nathan turned to his comm officer, "Are you following all this? Good. Tell Mehlville, and The Massive that they will be doing that little mission. And while you're on the radio, inform the destroyers to prepare for coastal bombardment, focusing on harbor facilities," Nathan paused, "military or civil harbor faciliities are acceptable targets." He sat and thought for a second, then punched in the code for the flightdeck commander on the radio in his armrest, "Commander, prep 5 N-1s in case the Shirerithian air forces need assisstance in the aerial bombardment of Acre." And then Nathan waited. The fleet was moving in formation, with the assigned destoyer and frigate lagging behind. He munched another bagel, it was blueberry. They were moving in between the eastern islands of Norfolk to approach Acre from the correct trajectory. He was given an update, broadcasted from a nearby Shirerithian ship, the air attack on Acre had begun. He turned to his nav officer, "Lieuten..." "Thirty minutes to maximum fireing range sir," the lieutenant interjected, but in a manner such that it was not a rude interruption but a simple report. "Ah, very good," Nathan munched another bagel.Thirty minutes later they could see the bright explosions of the Halluci bombers. He picked up the radio, punched the code that made him audible on every PA on every Natopian ship in range, "Natopians, this is it. Attack EVERYTHING that would allow the Babkhans to use this city as a port. I don't even want fishing ships getting into this city. Get rid of that chain, the docks, the piers, anything, sink any ships you see to prevent any retreat." Within minutes, the Natopians entered the fray, attacking Acre's harbor from the sea while the Halluci took care of the rest of the city.SummaryNatopian fleet approached Acre from southwest after being redirected from their course to Jaris. Majority of fleet is bombarding Acre's harbor. Small detachment is blockading access to Miska and rear of Acre. His Sovereign Majesty, Nathan I,King of Natopiahttp://natopia.cjb.net

[extreme007]

Extreme007 woke up quickly as the telephone next to his bed rang. Hearing the news of the air strike on Acre, he immediately put on his pants and shirt and quickly ran down to the war room. Being a pilot in his early years, he was trained to get ready immediately and run. As he was running here, his four pilots, those assigned on immediate call, ran towards their planes. While the other pilots woke up quickly and got dressed. They were on ready status, incase they were needed. And thanks to the first confrontation between the Shirerithian air force and the 11th Air Force, they would all be needed.Extreme007 saw the map laid out on the big main center table. There were two young men putting aircraft models over the town of Acre. There were at least five aircrafts in the air. This, extreme007 knew because of the number statue like object put on top of the aircraft model. There wasn't enough place to put fifteen aircrafts, so the Babkhans had come up with ingenious way of putting the numbers. Extreme007 remembered the times in the Karnalian Air Force when the same system was used. Before it, the aircraft models were colored differently to indicate different numbers. But that proved too tedious for the men who had to deal with moving the models and constantly keeping the map updated. The Karnalian Air Force, off course had graduated to a completely electronic and digital system. Infact, they had advanced one step beyond and had all the information displayed on a big screen which was updated every time new information was received. Signs of digital revolution were slowly visible in the Babkhan Air Force as well. They had already the best of the front line aircrafts - the Ashavan. But that's where the digital revolution had taken the maximum step. The local air bases and command centers, although electronically modern and connected, still utilized a generation old technique in most of it works.Extreme007 looked at his AWACS officer and ordered him to put his AWACS back into the sky. He then suddenly remembered about the morning's politician visit and the special mission. He again looked at the changing battlefield map in front of him and pictured where his special mission transport would be at this time. It was already 0200 hours. The mission men would be on their way to their target, while the transports would be back at the refueling station. That was good, thought extreme007, but bad too. The politician would be at York at 0500 in morning, and he wanted all the AWACS back in base inside the hanger which was to be closed afterwards for his presentation and all. The AWACS officer showed thumbs up sign signaling that one of the AWACS was up in the air, supported by two Ashavan fighters. The AWAC would be operating over Richmond Island. That place would provide enough coverage for monitoring the entire airspace over Acre. The two Ashavans will also be able to provide more than adequate defense to the AWACS. Besides, if the AWACS were to detect enemy aircrafts inbound, then it would definitely send the warning to all available aircrafts and guide them in on the enemy approaching. Within minutes, the AWACS will be able to get a clear view of the airspace over Acre. Then extreme007 will have his eyes and senses of the air battle over Acre.Suddenly, another aircraft model entered the area over Acre. It was a bomber model. And the number five over it along with a question mark. The question mark also came up next to the five on top of the fighter model. Extreme007 tried hard to remember what that stood for, and finally asked the young Babkhan who put the question mark symbol."5 aircrafts over Acre. Not sure how many are bombers and how many fighters. Sir."Extreme007 nodded after listening to his answer. Bomber, fighter combination. Yes, the Karnalian Intelligence report had said that these planes were multiroles. The AWACS officer signaled another thumbs-up sign. The airspace over Southern TDR was soon being monitored as the AWACS, designated Bold Eagle, flew South towards Richmond. The young men began changing the number above the fighter and bomber model. Seven. Nine. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. Extreme007 was shocked. Eighteen aircrafts aiding the attack on Acre and all of them from Jaris airfield."Commodore Arslani. You are in charge of TDR defense are you not?""Yes Sir.""I want a full report on how eighteen 1-8 aircrafts got past the entire Northern TDR and managed to attack Acre. And I want it ASAP."Extreme007 was angry. He and 11th Air Force were taken completely by surprise. How had Commodore Ozarka managed this? The entire TDR airspace was covered with active radars. It had taken the Karnalian Intelligence authorities and extreme007 himself a very hard and long time to get a route for the three transports avoiding all radar. Any this Ozarka managed it with eighteen fighters? Extreme007 paced up and down the center map trying to figure out what he had already asked Commodore Arslani to do. He suddenly stopped walking and looked at the part of map nearest him. Antica. Ozarka got his aircrafts undetected to TDR radars because he moved them through Antica. That could be the only reason. Extreme007 smiled as he walked back to his place near the South of the map. He now knew what Ozarka had done and knew very well the logistics that Ozarka would have needed in order for this attack to be successful. He smiled as the bomber and fighter models moved away from each other. The bomber model now being on top of Acre and the fighter off to the sea. The number on top of the bomber fell down to 8 while on the fighter, it fell down to ten. Extreme007 grabbed the question mark from the desk and put it next to the figure 8. Not all of them had to be bombers. The ten aircrafts were obviously fighters protecting the transport ships from my attacks. The eight had to be a mixture of bombers and fighters - bombers to bomb Acre and fighters to defend the bombers. Extreme007 smiled once more, as he could see the clear picture over Acre even though it was still dark there and there was hundreds of mile between where he was and the Acre. Now, he knew what Ozarka had done to get to this stage, what he was doing and what he would have to do to get back to base safe. Ozarka had just lost this battle.Extreme007 called the officer in charge of the long range missions."Commander. Send two Ashavans, designation Ghost, over to Antica. They are to search for any tankers, in the area and destroy them immediately. Those tankers are their primary goals. Secondary will be any other force multiplier in the region. Bonus will be any of these Shirerithian fighters/bombers that will make its way back to refuel. Go!"Then he walked over to his officer in charge of all the anti-air missions."Commander. Send fifteen Ashavans up. Groups of three each, designation Viper, Thunder, Storm, Rainbow, Full AAM load out. Another group of three Ashavans, designation Bear with 50-50 AAM and ASM load out. Viper will operate over mainland TDR. Thunder, Storm and Rainbow will head to Acre. Bear to these transport ships. Bear will follow this path, and stay as close to the surface as possible. I don't want them to be detected by their aircrafts.""Sir, they should have an AWACS in the region. They couldn't be flying blind" aided the Karnalian AWACS officer. Extreme007 looked over at him and knew he was right. There had to be an AWACS out there helping these Shirerithians aircrafts. Where would it be was the question on those who were concernedÂ’s mind."Sir. Mother Goose says five aircrafts taking off from Philban. Their present route is towards Antica." The AWACS officer said with air of certainty. "Sir, five aircrafts over Acre are withdrawing. They are going West to Antica." The AWACS officer, by now wasn't even looking at his ACM. He was paying attention at the blinking screen in front of him and his ears heavily tuned to the headphone voice sent in by his AWACs crew. Extreme007's thoughts began taking a fast train - the remaining five aircrafts at Philban were leaving, and five of the ones over Acre were leaving that area, three fighters above Acre protecting five bombers, the five bombers must be out of fuel or bombs depending if they took extra fuel tanks, good, no very good. Those bombers were alone now, and they were out of ammunition."Good. Since all of their planes are up, Commodore. Put three more planes up, designated Viking. Send them here on this path. Their primary goal is that AWACS. Secondary are refueling tankers and bonus any of these ten aircrafts that are inbound on Antica.""Commodore Arslani. Send a message to all HUMRAAMs and S-300 PMU1 units. Tell them to be ready at moment's notice. And tell them to link in with our AWAC network. We'll let it all go without much human input.""AWAC officer. Tell Bold Eagle JStar section to handle the SAMs that are linking in."Extreme007 walked back to his place near the Southern end of the center table map. He heard the officers give away their orders and felt assured. He was going to get Ozarka. He was going to put a major dent in his fleet. Then the thought of the secret mission struck him. And then the Babkhan politician Ghulzar Hirmani. The smile quickly faded away. Those AWACS.Summary: I AM IGNORING NATE'S POST. mainly because dugobert's navy is somewhere in between nate and this theatre of conflict. dugobert had a naval blockade. nate couldn't have possibly managed to evade it with the entire fleet without firing a single shot!anyways, the picture best sums up what i am doing.Viper Group 3 ashavans. they are in the yellow circling making sure if any of the shirerithians fighters decided to make a run for philban directly, they would have to deal with them. (and not to mention the SAMs)Ghost Group 2 ashavans. They are to operate in that region looking for refueling tankers (primary goal), AWACS (secondary goal) and the shirerithian fighters (bonus goal).Viking Group 3 ashavans. They are to fly in the route shown, looking for AWAC (primary goal), refueling tankers (bonus) and shirerithian fighters (bonus). expect them to fly high, so no SAMs or ship missiles can get to them.Thunder, Storm and Rainbow groups 3 ashavans each. they are to fly directly to acre to destroy the aircrafts there. i said fighter group, as i am assuming (in character role) that the five aircraft being exchanged are bombers. Please further note, that your bombers, the three remaining aircrafts at Acre should be without any ammunition, and should be about half to no fuel. you have been bombaring pretty nicely.. so, offcourse these bombers dont have any AAM missiles Bear Group 3 ashavans. 50% anti-air weapons, 50% anti-surface(ships) weapons.. they are flying low and fast.. and their target is the transport ships (primary)... also, they are bit behind the above 15.. so, the 15 would first show up on your radar, and then these 3 after quite a bit of time.Also, with respect to the timing of this event, the special mission team has already landed, the transports are back at the refueling station.. and the men are driving to their target. Discover, Invent, Theories, Experiment,Advance Science,Advance Extremism,(in Karnali, Republic of)

[AngelGuardian93]

Northeast Mirioth"GET OFF YOUR LAZY ARSES AND LOAD UP! WE LEAVE IN HALF AN HOUR!"Company Commander Cerune Russell yelled out to the myriad of troops assembled before her. It was the first time the entire Russell Company had been mobilized since... well... ever, really. That is not to be confused though, with the idea that all of them were greenhorns to combat. Each unit inside Russell Company had seen combat in the wars on Benacia island where Kaiser Mors IV died, and Univi Unit had even been a part of the rebellion against Kaiser Alejian. That was an interesting time, and they barely avoided being disbanded for their actions.It was dawn, and the sun was blazing over the ocean, casting a red-ish tint over everything it could, making the shadows long and ominous. Of course, no one really had time to reflect on such a pretty sunrise. No one save the Company Commander and her assistant. "John, do you pay attention to the old legends?" She asked, not even bothering to look at him as she talked. He replied with unease. I hate it when she gets poetic, it's allways so creepy he thought. "Not really Ma'am. I prefer to think about the future." She narrowed her eyes, not liking his answer too much. She decided to ramble on anyway. It was the Russell blood in her. Just like her brother, the former (in)famous Baron of Amity and Mirioth, she too had a strange affinity for the supernatural."They say that if you see a blood-red sunrise like this, you will see death before the end of the day."Summary: Russell Company is leaving Mirioth in half an hour, and traveling by transport to Norfolk. There are no flowers, no not this time. There will be no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words I find.

[Yuri Zhivago]

Soon after Nassiri had departed, Yuri Zhivago arrives on the scene decked out in the full military uniform of the Zemlyan KGB, his right breast covered in shining medals. "Privyet, tavarisch!" Zhivago addressed the young fedayeen who had only moments ago been speaking with Nassiri. Zhivago joined the man at the parapet and gazed down at the landing craft floating about in the harbour, veritable sitting ducks, anticipating the slaughter to come. "Why have we not commened firing? The enemy are ripe for the kill! Get those rockets loaded and sink those fools!"At his command the fedayeen began firing into the hapless floatilla of landing craft, rpg rockets and rifle fire raining down upon the Shirithians. Zhivago left the parapet, wondering all the while why it had taken his orders to set about the attack, when the fedayeen should have known their advantage. He set about organising an office in the war room, having one of his comrades hang his portrait of Great Stalin on the one of the Al-Nouradin classroom walls, he sat at the desk and began planning with his loyal comrade and lieutenant Vladimir Lebed. "Comrade Lebed, have the Shilka we dispatched arrived yet, and what of the stinger battery? I want them operational within the hour! We must defend this position at all cost."On the parapet the fanatic Babkhan fedayeen were in a frenzy, raining righteous and fiery death from the skies, what force on micras could stand against the fury of the vespa-jihadis?Summary: Zhivago takes command of the Acre harbour forces, with anti-aircraft stingers and Zemlyan-Soviet surplus ZSU-23-4 Shilkas enroute to aid with defence. Soviet Republic of Novaya ZemlyaWe must be ever vigilant, Comrades!

[Osman Shahanshah]

Important Note: Please consider the events in mine and Yuri's posts to have occured before the Natopians open fire. “Sarhang Nassiri!” A young Fedayeen whose face was obscured by a black & white Shermagh smartly saluted Nassiri who was at that time peering over the parapet. To his astonishment the enemy transports had halted at the very harbour mouth. Only a few shots had been exchanged so far. The invaders had not opened fire from their landing craft. Like the Fedayeen they were more absorbed with the explosions in the old city and the surrounding countryside. The Shirerithians were going crazy over the old town it was almost as though they were trying to cut the lines of communication with the rest of the countryÂ… ‘Oh Zurvan!Â’ Nassiri cried out inwardly, if the Shirerithians were to land further along the peninsular the garrison of Acre would be cut off and if the Palastina Defence Force melted away as it had done in Acre there would be no force aside from the civilian population to bridge the gap between the Fedayeen in Acre and the ShahÂ’s forces in Terre Des Riches. Now he thought was probably a good time to start looking for an escape route. The only problem was that the Fedayeen had an unfortunate habit of beheading deserters. This could be a sticky one.“Sarhang Nassiri?” It was the shermagh sporting Fedayeen again.Nassiri finally turned to face the young man.“Yes, what is it?”The Fedayeen saluted again“Sayyid, Comrade Zhivago sends his complements, he as arrived to take over defence of the position. You are to retire into the old town to organise popular acts of resistance.”Popular acts of resistance, a euphemism for suicide bombings and sabotage, booby traps and the like, as taught to the fedayeen by their Komiteh instructors. Clearly Zhivago was not intending to let the city fall to the enemy swiftly, easily, or intact. “So I am detached from the unit then?”“Yes Sayyid, you are to blend into the civilian population and organise the resistance to demonstrate to the entire world that the people of Acre will fight to the last man woman and child in defence of Khanism and His Imperial Majesty Ardashir Khan Osmani, the Osman Shahanshah. BABKHA ZINDABAD!” The Fedayeen gunman saluted once more and ran back along the parapet to where Nassiri could just about make out a man in a Zemlyan commissarÂ’s uniform. That had to be Yuri Zhivago.The Fedayeen as a whole Nassiri remarked to himself, were clearly insane – a bunch of deranged thugs and zealots sold on the insane Khanist dream of world conquest and Babkhan chauvinism. But that would make them difficult to kill, they would most certainly die hard amongst the ruins of Acre, using civilians as human shields and involuntary suicide bombers. Nassiri pitied whoever drew the short straw to take the town but he had no intention of being around when they tried. Summary:Nassiri is detached from the Fedayeen and is slipping back into town leaving Yuri Zhivago to take command and slaughter the infidel, won't you Yuri? Yuri? Yuri??? Edited by: Osman Shahanshah  at: 8/14/05 7:01

[AngelGuardian93]

1 hour west of NorfolkThe soldiers of Russell Company had been at sea for about a day now. Each unit occupied two transports each, with roughly 2,500 people in each. Conditions were slightly cramped aboard the "Pride of Nordagaat", but no one complained. They were too busy to complain. They had been running drills every 2 hours during the day, and at night were given leisure time to do as they please. It was about 2:15am, and most of the men and women were asleep, all save a few lookouts and some insomniacs who were too anxious about the upcoming battle. One such of these men was a young Amity-man by the name of Sue.It was an unfortuanate name for him, and he had been made fun of his whole life for it. He allways tended to overcompensate on the macho-ism because of this. As a kid he was the first one to climb up the tree, in his teen years he was the first to score with the ladies, and as an adult he was the first one to sign up with the military among his friends. Why his parents decided to name him that was a question never far from his mind. Actually, the question that never left his head was the simple question of WHO his parents were. Sue was an orphen from the age of four. He was literally dropped off in a basket on the front door of Mrs. Jane's orphanage with a single letter signed on a note, "Love."Some love... thought Sue with a bitter sneer. He had never liked the life fate had brought him, and now he liked it even less. For all his macho overcompensation, deep inside he allways resented having to prove himself time and again. One of his biggest regrets was joining BAM's militia of marines. He felt like he really had no other choice though, especially after the bombardment of his island by the devil-wore-a-headwrap named Ardashir. His whole life was filled with uncontrolable anger, and the only person who ever had managed to make him feel even remotely at peace inside was a special girl named... well, it didn't really matter anymore WHAT her name was; she died during the attack. She wasn't even an elf! In fact, Sue had never even SEEN an Elf on Amity, yet she had to die for because they had a problem with a Babkhan. He wasn't sure who he was more angry at; Ardy or the pointy-eared forest-dwellers. In fact, he wasn't especially alone in his reasoning for signing up. Over half of the force signed up, stating their reason was because they had lost some family member or another. He was sure though that none wanted revenege more than him."What're ya doin' up this late man? We're arriving at Norfolk in an hour!" Who was that? Oh, right, it was Muzzle. It wasn't his real name, of course, but only the CO's knew his real name, and that was only when they had his file in front of them. He never told anyone his real name, and Sue could completely understand. He was a large, dark-skinned foriegner. His story was a simple one, with lots of loopholes of mystery. He came to Mirioth 6 months ago, bereft of any personal posessions save what he had on his back. He did odd jobs for the local crime syndicate, but when Russell Company formed, he signed up allmost as fast as Sue did. He was huge, a 6' 5" muscled brute of a man, allmost as at home with ripping someone's face off as he was with any sort of gun. The two had bonded instantly, and allways watched out for each other.Sue turned around, and as he did, lit up a cigerette. Yet another "macho" habit he had picked up. He held it to his lips, sucked in, held it in for a second or two, then let it out with a giant puff of smoke. "I couldn't sleep man. I tried, believe me." Muzzle laughed, and took one of Sue's cigs as he offered it. Lighting up he took a moment to savor the sweet addiction, and lauged again, running his left hand through his shaved scalp. "You're thinking about her again, aren't you? Man, you ain't never gonna sleep again if you torture yourself with her face. Mors [Cedrist god of death] has claimed her as his own, and she's at peace now. Why can't you let go of the past?" Sue scowled at the sage advice and turned back around, leaning forward on the rail. He took another drag, "Because she was the one thing I had going that was right man." He rubbed his three-day stubble and spat out into the sea. " I swear, when I find Ardy, i'm gonna choke him until his face turns red and pops off."Muzzle laughed and took another drag himself. "Sue, what makes you think we're gonna meet the good man himself? He's sitting back in Babkha with a million Feyadeen standing in the way, or whatever those guys is called. I never did pay attention. I just point and fire where Cerune tells us to." Sue raised an eyebrow, "If the CC heard you talking about her like that, she'd hang you by your toenails and let people beat you for a dollar." Muzzle coughed up a laugh, as he was in the middle of his cigerette. "Man, you know she wouldn't do that. She and I have somthin' special!" Sue rolled his eyes and flicked his cig into the ocean, shuffling so he was leaning back against the railing, his arms folded. "You and every other soldier in Trivi Unit." Cerune, the Company Commander, had the unfortuanate fate of being extremely pretty. When one commands a military unit, and signs the box on the forms marking her as "female", it makes for some interesting dynamics. No one dared say it to her face though, not since the first day of boot camp, but the discipline showed by the soldiers wasn't exactly perfect either. More than once she had soldiers punished for howls and whistles, stating "that if they wanted to act like her dogs, then she'd treat them like it."Muzzle replied, "You know what man? You'se a downer all the time. You know what's true though, that you'se could have her anytime you wanted." Sue stared at his companion with obvious annoyance at his reference to her botched attempt at trying to seduce him. "Why do you have to bring that up? I don't wan-" BOOM! A giant fireball reached upward to the night sky from the engine room. Screams could be heard coming from the bridge, and the boat shuddered violently. "What the PRH was that?!" Sue yelled, running with Muzzle and a myriad of tired and confused people to see if they could help in any way. "GET OUT OF THE WAY YOU BEACH-RATS! Make way for the fireman!" It was Gamemalvin, their Unit Commander. He was refering to a certain number of the transport crew who had been trained as fireman-at-sea. At best, their engine was gone, but if they couldn't battle the flames, then they'd all have to abandon ship.The flames licked upwards, feeding on what remained of the fuel tank and the fumes. The fireman turned on the pumps, and the hoses were brought out. Insantly it was clear to Gamemalvin that their efforts were doomed though, the flames were to hot and the damage to extensive. He raced back to what remained of the bridge and prayed to Vivianta that the radio wasn't out. Surely the other boats would have seen the giant flames, but it would have been much easier to arrange a rescue if he could tell Commander Cerune what was going on exactly. As he reached the communications area, he saw that entire panel had been burned through. Blast the luck! He thought. He knew they had to abandon ship. Running back out to the deck, he yelled out to the entire ship. "Abandon ship! I repeat, ABANDON SHIP!" And with that declaration, people began to board the lifeboats. He only hoped their were enough.Summary: The transport ship, "Pride of Nodagaat", was mysteriously sunk. There are no flowers, no not this time. There will be no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words I find.

[Sebastien Alexandre]

Ozarka growled with fury as he saw more and more red dots, the enemy, and less and less green dots, his pilots, on the radar."call a full retreat, I will not loose another man!" he yelled slamming his hand down on the table."The Babkhans will expect us to fly back to Antica... head straight to Jaris, the farthest side, I don't care if you have to emergency land from lack of fuel, make it to Jaris. From there, refuel and head straight back to Hallucidagrad, from there we can get more fighters and send them all back in."

[Osman Shahanshah]

It was about midnight Babkhan time when four Gazelle helicopters landed close by the embankment of the Richmond-Miska highway. The road which ran from Richmond north east to Chaddington and then due east to Tyre and on to Miska was rare in as much as it was a metalled dual carriage way with two lanes running in each direction it was an improvement upon the typical ‘A’ road which ran between the cities of the Terre des Riches, one lane in each direction and predominately composed of compacted dirtAs the Gazelles took off again torches in the field and lanterns on the roadside illuminated the grim progress of Osman Shahanshah across the dusty field. He was not best pleased.“Four ships! You mean he lost FOUR ships?”An aide from the newly established Commonwealth Navy was desperately trying to keep pace with the enraged Shahanshah, perhaps it was the urgency in keeping step with the king of kings that led the aide to speak with more haste than sense.“The Ak-Horus was lost as well.”The Shah stopped in his tracks and in the illuminated gloom turned upon the bearer of bad tidings.“He lost the carrier as well?”By this point the aide had realised that his life was probably in danger at this point.“The Erkinpoika's Revenge took significant damage”The Shah was having none of it.“He lost a carrier?”Desperately the aide was searching for the silver lining in the great thunderous cloud that had suddenly loomed up over his head.“Two destroyers lost, the rest suffered significant battle damage. The enemy will probably retire towards the Norfolk Isles.”The Shah now stood Full Square to the aide“My dear chap. Did he at least think to scramble the Ashavans after being surprised? He did get the fighters away didn’t he?” Suddenly the aide thought he had good news to report.“Lord Shahanshah,” he said puffed with pride and relief, “we counted eight naval service Ashavans landing at York Airfield.”“Eight?”“Eight, your Majesty.”Ardashir looked the man straight in the eye. “I needed fifteen…”In the blink of an eye the Shah pulled a Glock 18 from its holster and emptied two rounds at point blank range into the aide’s forehead. It was a classic double tap done execution style. The victim’s forehead had two unobtrusive small holes above the left eyebrow; the back of the skull had however burst open as though a mallet had smacked a pumpkin. The poor man’s brains splattered across the florescent-lit field as he slumped, understandably lifeless to the ground with a confused and petrified look upon his face.“You see!” The Shah cried to his staff and horrified onlookers on the road. “This is the price of failure! If you follow me to victory I will shower you in riches untold. If you fail me however, I will promise you a shameful death!”“Now then”, the Shah said as he pulled to one side a Sarhang of the Imperial Army Headquarters, who in spite of his natural skin tone was as white as a sheet by now, “would you be so kind as to explain the current situation to me.”The Sarhang, glancing occasionally on the corpse illuminated in the dusty field, did his best to explain the situation at present. The Shirerithians attempted landing at Acre, the rumoured Antican infiltration of the westernmost portion of Palastina. He also detailed the response of the garrison in TDR, skirting tactfully round the fact that the Shah was having to send forces to Palastina because the Palastina Defence Force had fled at the merest hint of an invasion. Instead he highlighted the success of the 11th Tactical Air Force in gaining air supremacy, the heroism of the Fedayeen at Acre &etc. On the highway a long column of tanks, armoured personnel carriers, self-propelled artillery, trucks and of course the ubiquitous conscript infantry of the Colonial Army pressed ever eastward. The Sarhang explained to the Shah, that by midnight the next day, this hastily assembled troop, stripped from the garrisons of the western cities would be in Tyre, the day after that, Acre, and finally into Miska. Then with the province rescued for Empire and Commonwealth attention would be given to punishing the Shirerithian forces in the Norfolk Islands who had dared to open a second front against the King of Kings. Their audacity would be punished.The Shah looked pleased as the column that stretched in segments from west of Chaddington right the way back to the outskirts of Richmond. He asked the Sarhang for a simple summary of the so-called Acre Rescue Mission. The Sarhang duly obliged and the Shahanshah was pleased with what he read.Quote: First Terre Des Riches BrigadeSepahbod1st &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Earl of Chaddington's Regiment&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 20 Type 86 WZ501 Boragh&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 5 30-Tube MRL Shahanshah Osmani 2nd&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Lord of Richmond's Regiment&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 20 Type 86 WZ501 Boragh &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 5 30-Tube MRL Shahanshah Osmani 4,000 menPalastina Expeditionary Force [Elements: Fifth & Sixth Brigades]Sarlashger9th &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The King's Royal Grenadiers10th &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The King's Royal Yeomanry (I)&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 10 Kapav II "Zulfiqar" MBT &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 5 30-Tube MRL Shahanshah Osmani 11th&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The King's Royal Yeomanry (II)&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 10 Kapav II "Zulfiqar" MBT &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 5 30-Tube MRL Shahanshah Osmani 12th&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The Lord of Richmond's Regiment of Foot13th&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The Lord of Richmonds's Artillery&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 20 Sexton (self-propelled artillery)17th&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The Lord of Richmond's Regiment of Pioneers&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp 12,000 menExuberant, quite as though he had not just left a man for dead, the Shah and his staff climbed the embankment onto the highway and got into waiting staff cars to drive off towards the front of the column and Palastina.Summary:The Shah has travelled down from York to outside Chaddington to lead the relief of Acre from the Shirerithian infidel. He was also unhappy about a certain naval battle. Of which, more anon.

[AngelGuardian93]

Norfolk Naval StationThirty-two hours had passed since the sinking of the "Pride of Nordagaat". They had lost four good men and three sailors, and 113 men and women had been burned, badly. Deep inside a command bunker designated B-12, nicknamed "Easy Access" for certain undisclosed reasons, sat a rather forlorn group of officers. Company Commander Cerune Russell sat at the head of the table, with Unit Commander's Jinx, J'Rasha, and Gamemalvin sitting in a descending order. Further down from them was the former captain of The Pride, his first mate, and a couple of Norfolk officers. A naval intelligence officer stood at the opposite end with a projector screen behind him. Normally, any spook that wasn't a part of SHINE took a long, long time to do anything. This time though, they had not only responded within hours, they had managed to compile a nearly complete folder on the events surounding the sinking within a day. Simply amazing."As many of you allready suspected, the explosion aboard The Pride was no accident. If you'll notice here, here, and here, you'll see some interesting things..." He trailed off as he pointed the suspect areas. They had launched a science vessel and sent down an unmanned submarine to take pictures of the now defunct transport. It confirmed the bad feeling she had in the pit of her stomache. A toxic, burning sensation her grandfather had allways refered to as, 'the deadly premonition'. She never really understood how that felt until now. The spook continued, "We aren't completely sure as of yet, but we're almost sure this is the work of the Komiteh Polis. You know what that means, Commander Russell?" She clenched her teeth and seethed with anger, barely choking out her next words. "We have a Babkhan spy."Outside, unaware of the meeting being held inside "Easy Access", stood Sue, smoking his ever-present cigerette. Of course, Muzzle sat beside him on a cement block that would eventualy form a wall. Wrapped around Muzzle's head was a white bandage, wrapped around a small wound he recieved in the panic of abandoning a burning, sinking ship. "You feeling allright there muz'?" A pale-white girl with short, military-style black hair stood over the half-asleep brute. It was D'arcy. The third ingrediant to Sue's crazy concoction of friends. Like Muzzle and him, she was assigned to Trivi unit under Gamemalvin. He wasn't too crazy about associating with her at first. It was all Muzzle's fault they met in the first place. He was sitting with his ever-present shadow in a nice little bar outside the barracks, when D'arcy strolled by, minding her own buisness. Muzzle was drunk out of his mind on Treesian Red, when he made a dirty joke at D'arcy's expense. She turned around and slugged him unconcious. Sue, ever at his friends aid, then proceeded to spend the next several hours slugging it out with her in a bar-wide brawl. When they woke up the next morning, it was inside the brig. Since then there relations had improved considerably, though Sue still wasn't sure how."I'm aw-right there, pretty lady. Just... uh, recoverin' from a burn wound I sustained while saving a fellow soldiers life." was what Muzzle blurted out, obviously trying to impress her. Sue rolled his eyes. "In all reality, he was pushed off the side of the deck into a waiting lifeboat. His head broke the fall." D'arcy broke out into laughter, and the seemingly stoic Muzzle blushed through clenched teeth. "Thanks Sue. Thanks a lot..."Sue took another drag and laughed at his poor friend. "hey look, i'm just messing around with you ya know?" Muzzle sat up, but hunched over in defeat. "With friends like these, there ain't no need to be fightin' in Jaris." D'arcy crossed her arms and leaned down to his head level, and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should stop hitting on anything with long hair and actually focus on the battle to come. We'll all be in the thick of it soon enough."Back in the B-12 bunker, Cerune sighed as she read through her orders one more time. The Intell officer had agreed to send a few agents inside her units to try and weed out the spy. As much as she wanted to stop and weed him or her out in the safety of the base, her current orders were to march to a city called Miska ASAP, and hold it until further notice. Apparently time was enough of a factor to warrent risking the continued infection of a spy. Not good! Seige's NEVER went well for Yardistani's. Especially not for the hot-headed, passionate warriors of Russell Company. Fortifcation and defense weren't what they had been trained for. They were specificly trained for shore-landing battles and raiding tactics. These weren't the regulars of the MoMA! They were good for harasment and annoyance of enemy troops; NOT LONG, DRAWN OUT BATTLES! She threw the notepad across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding 'thud'. The room remained fearfully quite of her temper, even the spook stood with his mouth open and fear level high. She noticed how angry she had grown, sighed, closed her eyes, and brought her hand up to gently massage her temples. After several seconds of intense silence, she managed to speak up. "Allright... fine. We march for Miska..." Jinx spoke up first, ooffering some insight as he saw it. "Maybe command is trying to test our ability to adapt...? After all, what good is a unit that can't hold their own?" The second line was a mistake, and the fundamental reason he was given the name 'jinx' by his parents. Rumor had it a gypsy fortold the expecting couple that their child would be, "unfortuante in his aspects." Cerune drew herself up to her full height, an impressive 6 foot even, and stared at him with raging eyes. "Are you saying We couldn't hold our own in a firefight WITH A BUNCH OF SAND-EATERS?!" Jinx slinked back in his chair, petrified with fear. Thanfully Gamemalvin stepped in for poor Jinx, and soothed the beast that was their commander. "Easy Cerune. He's just nervous. Can't blame the guy for that. In fact, we're all a bit nervous about this. It's foriegn soil and we're going to have to improvise on our own." Cerune sighed and collapsed in her chair again. "You're absolutely right Game'. I'm sorry Jinx. I guess i'm more nervous than I thought too." Gamemalvin and Russell had a brother/sister relationship that most real siblings would die for. They allways knew what the other one was thinking, and had nothing but respect for each other. It was how he got away with using her first name. Jinx meekly waved an 'its ok' to he CC, but remained quiet. "We'll grab another transport, and head off to Miska. Officer Brian, when can you get me another ride?" The local supply officer of Norfolk shrugged modestly. "I could have one ready by 1400 I suppose." Cerune nodded and leaned back into her chair. "Great. We load at 1400, and leave for Miska by 1500. Do you have enough supplies to lend us some extra? We don't know how long we'll be there. Brian Shrugged again. "I'll see what I can do."Summary: Shireroth Intell finds out that the transport ship, "Pride of Nordagaat" was sunk by a spy from the Komiteh Polis. Agents have been dispatched to try and weed the spy out. Their orders are to march to Miska, and hold it untill further notice. There are no flowers, no not this time. There will be no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words I find.

[extreme007]

"Splash One""Splash Two""Splash Three"The three Ashavan pilots of the Storm Group said out loudly in their microphones as their radar screen showed their missiles hitting the three aircrafts flying over Acre."Congratulations Storm. Your first kills. 11th Air Force's first as well. And mine too", one of the radar operators onboard the Avekshak Bold Eagle spoke quietly into the microphone. "Storm, Thunder, Rainbow, you got bogies inbound from South East. I repeat, bogies inbound from South Ea... Wait. Negative. They are now heading North. They are entering TDR airspace. I repeat, ten bogies entering TDR airspace over Eblis.""No. Wait. Negative. They are now heading South to the open seas. I repea. No wait. Negative. They are heading West again. Towards Ty. No. Awwww man. They can't make their minds up.""I think they are lost, " replied the pilot of Bold Eagle, "someone give them directions."There was laughter all over the communication channel. The Ashavan pilots, the Avekshak crew and the men listening at the 11th Air Force HQ at York were all laughing at the suggestion of the Bold Eagle pilot."Bold Eagle, can you confirm they are not jamming?" asked the AWACS officer, after a small burst of laughter. It had suddenly struck him that one such tactic was used during the Northern Wars between Karnali and the rebellious Northern Islands."Negative. They do not have ECM package. Both of our sensors show the same thing. And uh... yeah even the backup shows the same thing. They are not jamming us sir. They are truly lost."The AWACS officer looked over at his ACM. They both were sharing the same thoughts. What were the Shirerithians up to? Flying those planes in circles was just wasting their fuel. Extreme007 sat on a nearby chair with his mind trying to recreate the vision of the Shirerithian planes up in the sky over Acre waters. From experience, he knew that pilots were following orders. If so, then those orders must be continuously changing. First they headed towards TDR indicating that they wanted to make a run for Jaris, or perhaps trying to attack York or other targets. Then they headed to the open seas. Why? Extreme007's eyes looked continuously over at the empty sea space on the map thinking about everything, including the intelligence files. Only ships could be out there. And the Shirerithian fleet was out near Karaman. And the Natopian fleet..."Gentlemen, is there a fleet out there in the seas? Any sign? Ask Bold Eagle. Ask Bear. Ask Viking. Surely one of them would tell us about a ship contact or two."The AWACS officer soon spoke the orders into the microphone. Within minutes, he would get his answer."Bold Eagle, this is Ghost One. We have four tankers and two Antican aircrafts in our radar. At maximum range. We are closing in over.""Acknowledged Ghost One. Good hunting.""Roger. We will be in missile range in a few minutes.""Roger that Ghost One. Get in missile range, fire your missiles and then get out of there. Black Raven will guide your missiles in.""Whose Black Raven?""The Avekshak in the West near Norwich. DonÂ’t worry. Just shoot your missiles and then get out. Let them do the rest.""Bold Eagle, this is Viking One. We got contact. AWACS. Altitude three zero thousand feet. We are going hunting.""Roger that Viking Group. Get that fat boy.""Roger. Will do.""AWACS in weapons range in One minute.", said the pilot of Viking Two. It was his first anti-air mission, and he was going to have his first air kill. And what a prize it was. Every pilot's dream."Look at him run. Poor bastard can't even out run us. Weapons range in 30 seconds.""20 seconds.""10 seconds. No sign of enemy contacts.""5 seconds.""Bear leader, this is Bold Eagle. You are safe to use free will against those transport ships. I repeat, you are weapons free. Good hunting.""Thank you Bold Eagle. We have the transports in missile range. Bear group. This is leader. Fire your missiles at the targets. Two missiles per ship."Soon, ten missiles were shot out of the three Ashavans of the Bear group. The Bear group leader began calculating quickly in his mind of the chances his group had. Two missiles per ship was good a chance. And should some get away, they still had two more missiles in the group to fire and make them count. It was quite a sad state really. Ashavan had the capability of loading upto 8 weapons, and half of them on the Bear group were anti-aircraft missiles. And since the enemy fighters had ran away towards Eblis, these anti-aircraft missiles were useless to anyone."Contact. Surface. Maximum range. South. Bold Eagle do you copy?""I see it Bear Leader.""Sir, Bold Eagle reports surface contacts by Bear. In the south. Perhaps the fleet you were looking for?"Extreme007 ran back to the book shelf where he stored all his intelligence files. He quickly opened up the latest and read out the fleet roster of the Natopian Naval fleet. He quickly telephoned his war room and ordered all of his aircrafts to head back to base if they had performed their primary goal. He then gave another look at the Natopian fleet's roster. It was packed with anti-air capability and an aircraft carrier. It would be foolishness to go and strike the Natopian fleet now. Especially now, since most of the aircrafts in the air were carrying anti-aircraft weapons. The Natopian fleet will have to wait."Sir, we are picking up six, no eight aircrafts. Eight aircrafts are inbound sir. They are.. they are friendlies. From the carrier. They are requesting a... a new home!" cried out the airport's radar observer.A new home? Every single soul in the war room now looked towards Extreme007. What did that mean? They all knew the obvious answer but none of them wanted to speak it out."What? Why do they...""Sir, they say that while enroute to aiding the air battle on Acre, a Shirerithian fleet attackd them. The Admiral then ordered the aircrafts to defend the carrier. But they failed.""WHAT THE HELL? Fighters came to the rescue? Utter..." extreme007 stopped before he could continue. He suddenly realised the unique similarity between his current position and that of this Admiral. He took a deep breath and felt proud of not having sent his men into a death trap. Proud that he didn't have had to send his pilots looking for a new home. These pilots who were flying in would be definately heart broken. It was one of the hardest thing for a pilot to lose. Planes could be replaced, but a home, a base, could not. He then suddenly smiled. Make good while the sun shines."Get them on the ground immediately. I want to send them back to destroy their enemy. I want their anger to guide them."Summary: see above image for more detailthe three bombers over Acre are destroyed.Ghost group got contacts with tanker and supportive fighters.... it has fired its missile and will run away from there.. the fighters could be some of those five-five=ten shirerithian fighters that ozarka was switching around..Viking group got contact with AWACS. and no other enemy fighters in sight. missiles fired.Thunder, storm, Rainbow are returning to base since their primary mission was over... but, should the need arise they could start a fight again.Bear fired 2 missiles at each of Eoin's five transport ships. should more be required, they still have 2 missiles left (from the whole group).. i recieved those 8 fighters from Dugobert.. they are ordered to be readied as soon as possible. i am planning on them back to extract their anger because of the loss to kaiser's fleet..i have had no losses reported... i am ready to accept a loss of 2 or 3 planes... provided they are good reasonsfurther, with regards to the 10 fighters that were protecting eoin's ships.. since ozarka gave them quite a few orders (at which even i was confused).. first fly straight for jaris, second to destroy dugobert.. third to fly to halluci.. forth to fly south to natopian fleet... so, i assume those 10 are flying circles.. or some pattern therein....which reminds me.. Bear group sighted nate's ships..not visual.. just those similar to like SAM! SAM! (i am tired and not interested in finding the right word)... anyways, the aircrafts are ordered to return to base after they finish their primary mission.. which all of them have done (fired their missiles!) Discover, Invent, Theories, Experiment,Advance Science,Advance Extremism,(in Karnali, Republic of)Edited by: extreme007  at: 8/15/05 21:46