Meeting of the Minds

[Emperor Edgard II]

Activity at the Emperor's office was surprisingly minimal considering the circumstances. Edgard had spent the entire morning in his private quarters, knelt over his ceremonial battle sword and deep in prayer.Your Majesty..., interrupted Brigadier General Alexander Dupont as he knelt on the floor. We're ready to leave.The Emperor got up, made the sign of the cross, and turned to the Brigadier General. Thank you. Let's get going then.The Emperor left his office, dressed in his full military regalia, escorted by his loyal Royal Bodyguards and the young Brigadier General. He walked over to where Brigade Geneva was assembling itself, ready to leave for battle.He began to address the soldiers:Faithful and brave soldiers of the Geneva Brigade, Today is your day to shine in the battlefield. We're off to help our Babhkan brothers defend their territory from Shireroth. This is your time to put your training into practice. This is your time to make your country proud. Go forth, knowing that your Emperor and the Empire you serve will reward you in life, and that the Lord of the Heavens will reward you if you are to die.God bless you!Summary: Brigade Geneva is headed south to Acre.EDIT: I forgot the summary. His Imperial Majesty Emperor Edgard II,Empire of the Alexandrians.Edited by: EmperorEdgardII at: 8/24/05 9:56

[Zirandorthel]

Inside the GPO, Furlong Boulevard“Drowned?? Like it’s been diluted ever since the Babkhans started raiding? Like it’s been sublimated into some kind of neo-Babkhan bastardisation after your precious Commonwealth took power?” Tamm spat at Connla’s feet. He remembered McCulann from his days in the Bucklers. After the first Babkhan raid, the old Baron had mounted a crusade, with a helpful quest for a religious relic thrown in just to sweeten the deal and to get the Unorthodox Church in behind him. Tamm had been one of the lucky few not to be too badly affected by the war. Connla, however, had been left behind, as far as Tamm knew he had evaded the semi-apocalypse at Susa, but Aeon only knew what the resourceful McCulann had been doing with his time. In an army of dishonest and sly quartermasters Connla had always been the star pupil, always the one you went to when you wanted a fix of something, a woman, or anything. He knew where to get things. It didn’t surprise Tamm in the slightest that the weasel was about to turn in an old army comrade.McCulann sipped his coffee and smiled at him in that smug, annoying way Tamm remembered so well. “You weren’t around for the fall of the Barony, were you, McCulann? It was terrible. One night everyone, the whole population, had these awful hallucinogenic nightmares, that the Last Day had come, that the gods were fighting the daemons, that we were all roped into it as foot-soldiers. When we all woke up, days had passed. We assumed something had been put into the drinking water, or some chemical had been released by the Babkhans. But that day we found that the temples had all been sundered, save that of Aeon. Terrorist attacks were postulated, but why would they only strike the temples? Then it was found that the old Baron had disappeared, both of him.” Tamm referred to the twin of the old Baron who had appeared out of nowhere, “And in the chaos, this Sovereign Order of Treesia arose out of the ashes, saying that they now spoke for the Treesian people. Some rot about their leader being the last descendant of the old Five Island Kings. As if anyone set store by them! More importantly, the Order had militias, a lot of ex-Bucklers. They were able to quell the bandits and warlords who even then had started to appear. I guess without the Baron in charge we Treesians are a lawless people. Anyway, it was the Sovereign Order, not the Treesian people, who joined the Commonwealth. As far as I’m concerned, I am a traitor to nothing. Your ‘allegiance’, McCulann, is to an interest group more than a country. So don’t lecture me about imperialist nations drowning Treesian culture. As far as I’m concerned, our culture, our very way of life, has already been hung, drawn and quartered. And not by the Babkhans or Shirerithians or anyone else. But by us.”McCulann just stared at him, so Tamm stared back. He would not stand to be called traitor by someone like Connla. He’d rather die. Hearing the scream of an unfortunate Shirerithian corporal who had been brought in ten minutes before, he grimaced. That might just be his only option.North of the Old Town, AcreCaptain Magenta of the Divi Unit gestured for the others to follow him, and his squadron moved up to another checkpoint. The lack of enemy resistance would be less disquieting if it wasn’t for the constant sounds of gunfire ahead of them. The Raxidal must be hard-pressed, every fedayeen in the area concentrated on exterminating their presence in Acre. At least it meant Commander Jules’ unit could move up behind them and take them out. But by Ugh, Magenta hoped they’d get there in time.The flash from an AK was the first indicator he received that not everything was quiet in North Acre. The man running next to him, Private Clay, fell to the ground, his knee shattered. “Take cover!” roared Magenta, and the marines fell in behind overturned cars, rubble and other debris handily distributed by the Shirerithian bombardment of Acre in the days previous to this. Before the wing mirror of a battered Shavar (he had seen the same make in Elwynn during the accursed Osmani regime) delivery van obscured his view, Magenta counted around twenty fedayeen taking cover behind a makeshift barricade. Sitting ducks.“Grenades at the ready, range..” he took another quick look, saw the muzzle flash and ducked down again before an AK round could deprive his shoulders of their helmeted companion, “..twenty metres, boom factor three!” Boom factor was really a placebo effect designed by the Shirerithian military to make their grenades seem more advanced and impressive. Really they had the same force no matter how you set the boom factor, but it gave the average soldier more satisfaction to throw a grenade with boom factor seven than just any old fragmentation grenade, even if the eventual results were exactly the same.A volley of grenades tapped off the ground behind the fedayeen (Magenta had overestimated just slightly. Oh well) and in that same instant detonated, throwing them into disarray. A quick assault cleaned up the remainder, and Magenta Squadron was ready to carry on. Captain Hymdal Magenta took quick stock of his casualties so far, three out of a squadron of twenty. Hopefully there wouldn’t be another loss until they reached the rendezvous point with the Raxidal unit they were to relieve.Summary: Russell Company marines are moving into position to relieve Raxidal marines. Wil Nider to the HyperboreansEoin to the restZirandorthel to the ages

[Osman Shahanshah]

(OOC: There now follows a map of Acre with significant land marks. Orange denotes it is controlled by the resistance. Red denotes occupation by the Shirerithians. Main roads are in white. Grey urban areas are contested, with both sides criss crossing each other.)

[Osman Shahanshah]

GPO, Furlong Boulevard, Acre:Connla McCulann smiled smugly at Tamm, “You know, I never understood why you were so dead set against the Sovereign Order mate.”Tamm Mac Fheardaigh, bound with wire that rubbed against his flesh leaving it raw, knelt passively on the floor, battered and bleeding. Connla, the Treesian in Babkhan uniform had held Tamm, the Treesian in Shirerithian uniform, for at least three days now, though from the marineÂ’s perspective, trapped as he was down in the basement of the GPO with Babkhan fedayeen, colonial pioneers and another Treesian who he currently regarded as one of the most loathsome creatures alive on the planet, has become somewhat severely distorted. It was not just that every fibre of his being ached with pain, it was not just that he had not eaten anything like a proper in the last three days, it was not just that he was a few yards away from the room where his comrades were being taken one by one to be interrogated, tortured and beheaded, it was not just that all that was sparing him from this fate was the greed of a former comrade and fellow countryman, the aforementioned loathsome creature. It was the sense of guilt that pounded away in his head more surely than the pain – survival guilt, that the anti-tank round had blown him clear while claiming all the other crew members, especially the young lad, that was a real waste.Connla was no longer alone in goading the Treesian prisoner; a broad-chested chain-smoking pioneer had joined him with a long piece of steel piping in his hand.“Granted I may not have been back on the isle that day or that night when Zirandorthel got himself eaten by deamonsÂ… carried off by leprechauns, or whatever the hell happened to the great twozzle of an Ard-Baron,” Connla spoke with a mild almost regretful irony, “but what I do know is the effect of what the collapse of the baronial regime had on the rest of the empire. You can imagine what happened in the palatinates. Lawlessness, secession, and piracy, the Skerries were hardest hit, a portion broke away and came under Aerlig, Cyberians and the Dutch colonised the northern islands and the Free Republic. Even the Babkhans, so long chastised from their defeat at the Lighthouse, had reoccupied the area from Baracao and were sprouting illegal settlements all over the show. The Sovereign Order may have all the noûs and ethics of a committee of accountants, but they saved Treesia from its political and cultural suicide, they arrested the break-up of the far-flung colonies and prevented their absorption by our neighbours. For that they should demand the loyalty of every Treesian. You may think I only want to profit from you Tamm, that I do is undeniable, yet, I do regard you as a traitor, and there are others like you, all across Micras, who must be rounded up and bodily destroyed, this is why we are close to the Babkhans these days, because we can persuade them, that Treesians who reject the Sovereign Order are enemies of the Grand Commonwealth, and of course in their egotism they equate the Grand Commonwealth with Babkha so QED, to take on the Chairman of the Round Table is to bring the Shah of Babkha down upon yourself in all his murderous fury.”The prisoner however was not short of pithy remarks to deflate the verbose sermon that had just been delivered.“McCulann, you sound more like a Babkhan with every day that passes. If only your skin could tan without great red blotches erupting, you could pass for one.”McCulann sighed oh so slightly, smiled for a moment and then nodded to his accomplice, who was referred to by everyone as Winston, though from the colour of his skin it was obvious that he was a Babkhan, probably Alkhivan, from the north of Eura, where, in some forgotten civil war, the oil fields had once been set alight and melted the sand to produce a sea of glass. Tamm had no time to think about that however. All he had eyes for was the steel pipe in WinstonÂ’s hand and where it was now likely to land. It might fall anywhere, head, shoulder, armsÂ… chest. The blow smashed against TammÂ’s chest with such force that the Treesian was knocked flying backwards so that he landed on his back, legs still folded into the kneeling position, arms tied, and wriggling like a fish that had been thrown down onto the floor of the anglers motor boat. Calmly and with superior indifference that denoted Komiteh training at some point in the past ‘WinstonÂ’ stepped forward and placed his booted left foot over TammÂ’s windpipe. At the same time he raised the iron pipe once more this time as though to bring it crashing down on TammÂ’s skull. Winston almost looked regretful when McCulann called him off.Soon afterwards a couple of fedayeen emerged from the shadows to haul a battered and bruised Mac Fheardaigh back up onto his unsteady feet. This either meant the end of the session or that he was to be dragged off to the photocopier room for the removal of his head from his shoulders, which would be a shame Tamm thought as the two were so intimately associated and so loath to part. McCulann nonchalantly leaned in close to the prisoner, almost as if to regard the footprint Winston left in TammÂ’s neck. Tamm responded by spitting a globule of blood and phlegm in McCulaanÂ’s face.“I always thought you were a weasel, but now youÂ’ve become some rabid creature. Another tongue lolling, mouth slobbering, teeth gnashing, fanatic whose sold his soul to Ardashir.”With a handkerchief drawn from his pocket McCulaan dabbed away the mucus from his face.“Save your strength mate. Tomorrow the Special Planning Unit is sending a team in to fetch you out. YouÂ’ll be a dead man, and IÂ’ll be a rich one. IsnÂ’t life a funny thing.” Edited by: Osman Shahanshah  at: 8/25/05 16:00

[Osman Shahanshah]

Meanwhile as these events were unfolding in the GPO, the Friday Mosque in the centre of the old town used the audio system on its minarets to broadcast messages to the resistance from the army outside and the Babkhan government as well:Quote:DEFENDERS OF ACRE! PEOPLE OF PALASTINA!The Imperial Babkhan Army, and all citizens of Palastina must defend every inch of Commonwealth soil, must fight to the last drop of blood for our beloved Acre and for every town and village beyond its walls, must display the daring, initiative and mental alertness characteristic of our people.In case of forced retreat of Babkhan or Commonwealth units the enemy must not be left a single loaf of bread or a single gallon of fuel, nor a single standing structure to provide them shelter. If valuable property cannot be withdrawn, it must be destroyed without fail.In areas occupied by the enemy, mujahedeen units, mounted and on foot, must be formed; sabotage groups must be organized to combat enemy units, to foment guerrilla warfare everywhere, blow up bridges and roads, damage telephone and telegraph lines, stores and transport. In occupied regions conditions must be made unbearable for the enemy and all his accomplices. They must be hounded and annihilated at every step, and all their measures frustrated. The Defenders of Acre, soldier and civilian shall hold their positions to the last man and the last round and by their heroic endurance will make an unforgettable contribution towards the establishment of a defensive line and the salvation of the Terre d'Riches.By Order of His Imperial Majesty the Osman ShahanshahLONG LIVE BABKHA!LONG LIVE THE GRAND COMMONWEALTH!

[extreme007]

"Thunder and Storm are two minutes from Acre," screamed the speakers in the War Room. extreme007 was long gone before the planes were even in the air. For days, he had not paid much attention to what was happening in the war. The war seemed suddenly very distant and with no clear signs of whose winning, it was soon turning out to be dead. Nonetheless, the enemy was still in Commonwealth territory and they had to be removed. Acre was under enemy control, or atleast parts of it were. There were two enemy expeditionary forces at Acre, all moving their way into the city. Either because of the strong local resistance or the lack of interest of the enemy commanders, the enemy had not progressed much into Acre and therefore, its threat was not of much importance. Infact, the only threat to the 11th Air Force was that from the newly made air wings that were sent to a as yet unknown airbase. Rumors even had the enemy had sent another special air wing with advanced weapons of fictional combat-specs to the front to battle with the 11th Air Force. Whether the rumors were true or not, it didn't matter because the mere thought of making the enemy send fictional advanced aircrafts to combat the 11th Air Force was enough to boost the morale of all men and women in the Commonwealth. 11th Air Force was being hailed as one of the strongest fighting force in the world with a long list of success to show and an even longer list of enemy kills. However, those inside the 11th Air Force, especially the higher holders of position, knew that with such great success comes not only increased enemy action against them, but as they were currently experiencing, increased boredom of sending sortie after sortie to blow some buildings occupied by the enemy.Sortie after sortie of hitting enemy occupied buildings and other landmarks in Acre was what a third of the 11th Air Force was doing. The rest were either flying Combat Air Patrol over the northern TDR region or simply resting and hoping to meet the fictional forces they kept hearing about. Many of the pilots and ground crews, during their time of rest, or out of their boredome were drawing up strategies to deal with the fictional force. The crews would first think up a fictional ability the enemy would posses and then find out ways of dealing with them. Some were so far fetched, that they even had strategies to deal incase the enemy had possession of dragons and other crazy transformer like flying robots. Some of the ideas and strategies were sent as high up as to the Air Chief Marshal extreme007, who either had a good laugh with his fellow senior officers or, if the idea was really strong, passed it on to the Karnalian Air Force research development agency. On a daily basis, atleast two to three good ideas were being sent to the Karnalian Air Force. Many now knew that the 11th Air Force was mentally prepared to face even the craziest of fictional aircrafts the enemy possessed. And many more knew that they were bored of their constant routine now.extreme007 had ordered four planes to take off every four hours. The four planes were grouped, Thunder and Storm, with two planes in each. Each planes had two long range anti-aircraft missiles, two extra fuel tanks and four MK-82 general purpose bombs. They were both ordered to fly directly to Acre, above enemy's anti-aircraft defense range, and drop bombs on the mission's assigned targets. The targets were selected an hour in advance of the mission's take off time. First, the Bomb Damage Assessment (BDA) team would look at satellite photos of the targets of the previous mission after they had landed. If the target was destroyed, another target would be selected, and if it was not destroyed, the target would be reselected for a second time. The Direct Mean Point of Impact (DMPI) would then be calculated and fed into the computers onboard the Ashavans of the next sortie. The entire process of selecting the target would take about two hours, while the mission itself took about half. The four planes would then fly across the lagoon like bay to Miska where they would report any enemy movements or locations, "sight-seeing" as the pilots were now calling this part of the mission, and then head back to Shireton. The entire trip would be repeated by another set of four planes after four hours. This continuous wave of attack at Acre was going to take place until a better threat developed to the 11th Air Force's southern division.The 11th Air Force was currently divided into two divisions, northern and southern. Although it was an entirely unofficial division, it had nonetheless created a very distinct role and ease of control within the structure of the 11th Air Force. The souther division controlled three airbases, Shireton, Chaddington and Richmond, while the northern worked out of York, which was still the headquarters of the 11th Air Force. Both the division had twelve aircrafts, with all of northern operating out of York, while in the southern, two operated out of Chaddington and the rest of the ten out of Shireton. Richmond was still a base in its starting age and had not come to the standards of operating two aircrafts. The roles of the two divisions were also separate for the time being and this was the main reason for the division. The northern division was responsible for keeping tabs on enemy air movements in the north, while the southern division was responsible for the war in the south. With the threat of the enemy air wing increasing rapidly with more days passing and the added fictional side to that threat, it seemed to many that the two divisions were soon going to be demolished to face the enemy. After all, no one yet knew where the enemy was operating out of. Tymaria City or Melangia? Or was it an Antican airbase? These were the names on top of everyone's mind and the intelligence agencies were trying hard to continuously monitor these bases. Soon, the answer to the enemy's secret hidden location was going to be revealed and then, the real war of the 11th Air Force would come."Whats the target for this sortie?" asked extreme007"Sir, the main road entrances into Acre. The southern gate and the Furlough Boulevard.""Good. After that, have them bomb the warehouses. Then those docks again. Then the bazaar.""Yes sir."Summary: main stuff is that i am going to be bombing in acre every four hours... the targets are: southern gate entrance and the southern Furlough Boulevard entrance.. then the warehouses, then the docks.. then the bazaar...other than that, i am just explaining how my planes are distributed... and some backstory about waiting to fight erik and fax's air units...... Note: you may think that me attacking every four hours is kinda crossing on the line of 1 day wait before posting... but when you think about it, its stupid to wait a whole day to attack another target, since i have the ability to attack many targets..plus, you guys are probably not going to reply to this attack anyways! Discover, Invent, Theories, Experiment,Advance Science,Advance Extremism,(in Karnali, Republic of)

[Zirandorthel]

Acre, Western WallThe western wall of AcreÂ’s Old Town towered only slightly above some of the newer building developments in the Terre dÂ’Riches town, although in olden times it would certainly have overshadowed most buildings for about a two hundred metre distance when the sun sank behind it. As it was, the sunset still blazed upon those panes of glass in the nearby office blocks as werenÂ’t already shattered. The ancient battlements were still there, probably all ready for a tour opportunity. If the city werenÂ’t currently the site of a hard-bitten battle for control, Av Nirim would probably have considered it for the location of his next leave for rest and relaxation. He liked the heat, after all. And the play of sunlight upon the waters of the bay at dawn was exquisite.He was distracted from his important musings back to the present by the squeal of cables. The remaining tanks of the Volsaarn Armoured Division, as well as a score or so borrowed from Russell Company, were hard at work. Marines of the Raxidal had scaled the walls and attached heavy-duty grappling hooks to the top of the western wall, which had already been hit hard by the aerial and naval bombardments of both the Commonwealth and Shirerithian sides, and to any other points which the Raxidal engineers assessed would achieve maximum effect. These cables attached, they were hooked onto the front of the leading tanks of a row of tanks, all chained together. The idea was for the tanks to reverse, and for the ancient wall to collapse. It might take a while, but to NirimÂ’s mind it was an infinitely better solution than marching out the Northern gate and being not only within enemy sight, but within their range. The Hyperborean General disliked being shot at intensely, and the less he could manage doing so, the better.And now the cables were attached, and the rearmost tanks in each row, upon one of which Nirim was seated, had begun their movements. They were followed by the next-rearmost, and so on until the front tanks were hauling on the cables, with the horsepower of the tanks behind them hauling on the cables too. There were at least twenty tanks in each row, with a total of six rows. The remainder of the tanks were collected two hundred metres down the various streets which the tanks were reversing down, along with the remainder of the Raxidal. Nirim twisted around in his seat to view this force. Somewhat sadly, he reflected. The fighting in Acre had not decimated his troops, but only because halved would be a more accurate word. 1,000 killed, and nearly the same number severely wounded. His field hospital had had to extend its size three times to keep up with the influx of wounded and maimed. The regular bombings from the Commonwealth had accounted for the most casualties. Nirim couldnÂ’t even arrange for burial detail for those. He had received notice of incoming air support, but it had yet made its appearance. He sighed inwardly, and turned around again as the cables gave another collective groan.Cracks began to appear on the walls, small at first, and then expanded and increasing in number.The rearmost tanks increased their acceleration, straining against the heavy chains attaching them to the other tanks. Their drivers yelled encouragement and instructions to each other. For a few moments, NirimÂ’s tank stayed stationary, even as its engine roared and revved against the pressure exerted on it. Then, as the foot troops and remaining tank crews cheered and yelled, the tanks continued en masse down the streets.Chunks of masonry started to fall to street level. Nirim allowed himself a grin of exultance as the topmost battlements fell to earth, followed by a few vertical metres of wall. Just as he had hoped, they piled up at the bottom, and would eventually create a ramp up to those sections of the wall they could not haul down. Once over, a bridge would be erected with steel girders found in a warehouse by the Engineer Corps of the Raxidal. Then, the entire force would move around under cover of darkness, hopefully taking the enemy outside the city by surprise.As more of the wall began to tumble to the ground, Nirim permitted himself a moment to close his eyes and reflect upon this new plan. With Russell Company holding positions within the city, this stroke might just achieve Shirerithian domination of Acre and its environs. Forth, for Kaiser and country!!Summary: The Raxidal, accompanied by extra Russell Company tanks, are pulling down the western wall, and seeking to make a foray out of the city to tackle the 6,000-or-so-strong Richmond forces. Wil Nider to the HyperboreansEoin to the restZirandorthel to the ages

[Osman Shahanshah]

Black Russell Down (Part 1 of 2)Field Headquarters, Acre Front; 10 miles north of Acre:It was dawn on the morning of Shanbeh, 5 Shahrivar 1384 and it was promising to be a mostly sunny day with highs of 29°C, with minimal risk of rain and the possibility to high winds, according to the Imperial Metrological Office in Kamalshahr, so when one considers the reputation for accuracy and attention to detail that the Met Office holds, it was no surprise that the Babkhans and colonials in the trenches, three miles to the north of Acre, were a little sceptical. If they had but known that the Shahanshah had only the week before ordered the secret purging of the Met Office and sanctioned SAVAK to hack into the DataStream that carried the Cyberian weather forecasts they would have been more confident that the weather would transpire as forecasted.Sarlashger Ahmed Majeed Nasuri, who did know this and who was preparing for another sunny day of shelling the infidels in Acre, was finishing his ritual ablutions outside his tent at Field Headquarters, to wash away the impurities that had built up on his person so that he could bow in submission to Allah, Lord of All the Worlds, the Gracious, the Merciful, without the dirt and filth of the kafir infested abode of war clinging to his body. Clean and in the sight of Allah he pulled the top of his dishadasha back down over his head pulling the loose khaki shirt down over his glistening brown skin, with its skirt coming down to his ankles. Next he donned the loose fitting black abaya with an intricate gold trim threading that adorned the sleeves and collar of the garment. Finally looking into a mirror, held by a dutiful Mondesian slave who Nasuri had vowed to free if he achieved victory at Acre, the Sarlashger wrapped the sunnah green turban cloth around his head. Once dressed fully in preparation for prayer he looked nothing like a commander of the Babkhan Colonial Defence Force, instead he had taken on the appearance of an Umraist Imam, and this appearance was closer to his conception of his true self and the cause for which he was fighting. He had no care for the Shahanshah, his concern was to preserve Islam and establish the Caliphate so that all will hear the call to the true religion and that no rival faith shall ever diminish the numbers of the faithful, who one-day would rule all of Micras in accordance with the Law and revelation. Acre was his jihad. Not for Babkha, but for Allah. Before kneeling down to perform his first prayers of the day, Nauri, now ritually pure or tahir, used the Stella-Qibla to determine the position of the Ka'abah, which is known to the Muslims of Micras as the Bayt-Ullah, the home of Allah and the pivot of the universe, the Hajar al-Aswad given to Ibrahim by the angel Jibreel, which is obscured on the far side of the universe by time and space. ‘Yet’ he thought to himself ‘still the Stella-Qibla would seek out Mecca and seek it out with unfailing accuracy, all praise be to Allah, the Lord of the universe, who in spite of the orbits and motions of the heavenly bodies made this miracle possible with the knowledge that had been imparted to the faithful, who confounded the slanders of the infidel kafirs, who mocked that it was impossible to pray towards Mecca because of the orbit of Micras would render the orientation for prayer futile. Lo they were deceived, so too where the hypocritical ‘Straight Path’ apostates who bow towards the Meraaj star, for they do but worship the unseen passages by which the angelic servants of Allah pass through the universe, believing with great malice and ignorance that their prayers will reach the Bayt-Ullah faster if they hitch a ride down a wormhole than if they are directed via the proper orientation. Do they not recall that Allah knows every trick and knows the secret of every heart and that this is a blasphemy greater than unbelief which is pre-ordained ignorance? Where heresy on the other hand is the abuse of free will and a crime against the grace of Allah, the Gracious, the Merciful. Truly the fate of those who doubt this is hellfire.’ Sarlashger Ahmed Majeed Nasuri was most assuredly a fanatic, another example of the fanaticism that the Osman Shahanshah had used his reign and the reign of his ancestors, even during in the Abakhtari interruption, the agents of the Osmani had been abroad stirring up all the radical ideologies; Tudehism, Islamism, Imperial Way nationalism, militant Babkhan orthodox Zoroastrianism, bringing all the contradictory strands together in the Behsaz Party, imparting hatred as the core ideology, leading them to regard themselves as worthless and their cause as the only thing in their puny lives worth fighting for, and to make sure that their cause was unachievable thus forcing them to remain in the Behsaz Party, lest the Babkhan liberal establishment forever banish their fanatical dreams to the darkness. So even those who detested Ardashir, the decadent and debauched inheritor to a decadent and debauched line, for the Osmani were now widely regarded as usurpers to the Kapav, were forced to remain loyal to him, as it was through his authoritarianism that they hoped to achieve their ultimate aspirations. Ironically his authoritarianism kept them under tighter and tighter control, preserving the liberal if somewhat staid consensus in metropolitan Babkha, which, once the courts had been castrated, the Osman Shahanshah found conducive to his variety of good living. Instead the aggressive and undesirable impulses of Babkhan society were exported abroad to fight in foreign wars and generally abuse foreigners, for the Osman Shahanshah did not particularly care if the good lives of non-Babkhans were wrecked by the dregs of Babkhan society-in-arms. Furthermore having an independent and battle hardened army in non-metropolitan Babkha ensure that even in the worst scenario that Ardashir had a power base in Babkha and the Grand Commonwealth. That his Shahanshah was an unbalanced constantly plotting psychopath had not entirely escaped Nasuri’s attention, but neither was it at the forefront of his concerns, after in all the universe how significant was the vain pomp and hidden corruption of the Osman Shahanshah next to Allah who created seven heavens and living planets of corresponding type; and Allah whose command descended among the heavens and earths. Nasuri, a man of conviction was convinced that the faithful know that that Allah is capable of anything and that Allah knows everything. Next to this Osman Shahanshah was just another niggling obstacle, along with all the other petty tyrants of Micras, to be overcome in the jihad being waged across all creation, both seen and unseen, through which the faithful waged jihad to impose Islam for the redemption of their souls in martyrdom and the glory of Allah in ultimate and inescapable victory.Joining the Sarlashger in his early morning prayers were twenty or so Muslim officers, or at least twenty officers who had found it prudent under Nasuri’s command to convert to Islam, from the regiments placed in the trench line across the Acre Peninsular, intended to hold the Shirerithian marines were they to manage to breakout of Acre’s imposing fortifications and ruined streets. News of the Antican retreat from Miska had cheered the men of the Acre Front greatly, as it meant a greater likelihood of more reinforcements in addition to those promised by the Shahanshah, the Royal Tank Regiment, a battalion of the City of Chaddington Militia, and the 1st Cadet Regiment from the King Majeed Military Academy in York, had passed Chaddington and were approaching Tyre. Perhaps another day would see the first elements of the reinforcements enter the Acre Peninsular at its northern point, there would then be enough units to link Tyreforce and the Sennar Front as well as improve the defences of the Acre Front, the Royal Tank Regiment would remain with Tyreforce to provide an armoured reserve to hinder any breakout. The battalion from the Chaddington Militia would work with the civilian population and the Quartermasters Battalions of Tyreforce to prepare the battlefield along the length of the Acre Peninsular, barbed wire, landmines, IEDs, and fortified strongpoints, to augment the first entrenched position north of Acre. As Ahmed Majeed Nasuri and his peers finished their obligatory fajr prayers and were rising to enjoy a breakfast of spinach omelettes, which were it had to be said an acquired taste, when a convoy of jeeps and trucks pulled up by the commander’s tent, sending dust and dirt flying everywhere, including into the tent where the omelettes were laid out, the caterers from the Quartermaster’s Battalion of the Lord of Richmond’s Regiment of Foot desperately trying to cover the officers breakfast with linen cloth before it was spoiled. They met only with limited success.Sarlashger Ahmed Majeed Nasuri stood open-mouthed at the new arrivals who had displayed such audacity to come speeding up to his own tent while he and his officers were still fulfilling their religious obligations. As a Sarhang in Minorcan uniform jumped from the passenger side of the lead jeep, Nasuri was deliberating how many slices would be appropriate for flaying the upstarts skin away. He decided that 1000 cuts would be sufficient to drive home the point and deter anyone else from pulling this stunt in the future. The order to seize the infidel pig and fetch the knife was almost upon the Sarlashger’s lips when the Minorcan Sarhang first spoke.“Alfonso de Almagro at your service. Sarlashger Nasuri I presume?”Almago… Almagro… somewhere at the back of Nasuri’s mind an alarm bell was ringing louder than the muezzins call to prayer which could even at this moment be heard in Acre above the very din of battle itself… ‘Oh Bismallah! The Almagros!’ Suddenly Ahmed Majeed Nasuri remembered with a fright, the colour draining from his face somewhat. The Almagros were a notorious family of hidalgo landowners from Minorca and the Islas de Libertad who had lost their land during the Baracãoan revolution and turned to crime instead, founding the Rio de la Sangre cartel, rivers of blood, an apt name to adopt for an organisation that dominated the coca industry from production to distribution. It was natural then that these practitioners of organised crime had become business partners with the Babkhan Osmani regime of Babkha as it pushed its own pernicious influence into the Skerry Island chain. Under the cover of the infamous and tragic Lighthouse War the Rio de la Sangre had made a concerted effort to wipe out the Treesian Mafia. The gang war had raged in Baracão, the Lighthouse City State, the Far Isle and even North Babkha. In one audacious attack the Rio de la Sangre, led by Don Diego de Almagro had persuaded a disgruntled member of the Far Isle’s National Trust to place a huge bomb at the base of the city state’s eponymous Lighthouse – it is a testimony to the tenacity of the Almagro family that its fortunes survived the collapse of the Babkhan war effort after that atrocity robbed the Jahandar administration of any semblance domestic support. Indeed the family’s fortune had increased dramatically in every sense once Baracão was united with Babkha, by way of the small device of a Minorcan coup, which no one has ever been so tactless to question the legitimacy of. With the coming of the Babkhans to the Islas de Libertad the Almagros regained their ancestral estates on the Islas de Libertad, and through fair or for the most part foul means appropriated the land and businesses of their neighbours. Amongst their more flagrant appropriations was Los Corporación Aviación de La Plata, a company that focused on the production of fighter jets like the Toro, a forerunner of the Ashavan. In any event Diego de Almagro found himself governor of La Plata under the new Minorcan regime of Emperor Augustin Barbone. In this position he continued after the act of union between Minorca and Babkha, progressively making La Plata more and more into his personal fiefdom. In the end, seeing a limit to his potential for growth in a Minorcan outpost Diego staged a coup against the Minorcan administration he represented and invited the tanks of the Babkhan army to put its own distinctive seal upon the subsequent plebiscite where 100% of the electorate voted in favour of becoming a part of the Kingdom of Babkha. Diego certainly reaped a rich reward; the tiny La Plata fighter company gained a 50% share in the Osman industrial monopoly, forming the Osman-Almagro Conglomerate, which dabbled in everything from high performance jet fighters to submarines. Finally the alliance was sealed by marriage of Diego to one of the Osman Shahanshah’s nieces. Without a doubt the Almagro family was a powerful force in Babkhan politics, no doubt Commonwealth politics too, and they were to be feared for the brutal manner in which they conducted themselves.Now Nasuri found himself wondering why would an Almagro be visiting him. Who was Alfonso? Diego’s brother, he remembered reading in the Babkhan Sun. Why was he reading the Babkhan Sun? That didn’t matter now.Nasuri’s mind was fearful. ‘An emissary of the Shahanshah no doubt, and what purpose could one of those have in visiting the Acre Front except to express the Shahanshah’s displeasure at some or another aspect?’ Perhaps Ardashir had heard his low opinion of him and had resolved to send him to the salt mines… or worse. Nasuri had no fear of martyrdom, when it finally comes, but he decided that he would rather that it did not come today. Without any hesitation, or for that matter, grace, the Sarlashger threw himself down at the feet of an alarmed Don Alfonso Almagro.“Oh my Lord! In whatever way I have offended our master I repent of it one hundred times! Nay a thousand times! Whatever is His punishment I willingly accept it! Just let me not suffer the indignity of hewing salt from the earth!”Don Alfonso was both bewildered and embarrassed to be having a Sarlashger grovelling in the dirt and kissing his feet in full view all the regimental officers of the front. He could also not help but notice that the Mondesian slave holding the mirror was smiling contentedly upon the sight of his master’s humiliation. Every time Alfonso would take a hesitant step back the Sarlashger, panic-stricken, would lunge forward to land yet more wet slobbering kisses upon the Sarhang’s boot which now glistened with saliva, all the time wailing shamelessly. For the officers of Lord Richmond’s regiments it was quite clear that something was amiss. “Oh in God’s name get up man. Get up man.” Bending down as if to help the Sarlashger pick himself up Alfonso whispered in a sharp hissing voice into the Nasuri’s ear “For God’s sake you are making a scene that does neither of us credit.”Uncertainly, and still blubbering somewhat, Sarlashger Nasuri got back up onto his feet, his green turban unravelling as he did so.Seeking to restore a sense of calm and proportion to his nominal superior in rank, Alfonso took the de-turbaned commander’s hand and shook it warmly, using his other hand to give Nasuri a jovial backslap. The Islamist commander looked as if he was about to cry again. Alfonso pre-empted this latest flood of tears by getting down to business.“Senor, I assure you, I am only here to over see another mission that does not directly concern your command here. You should not think that anyone at the higher level is displeased with your conduct.” This at least was true. When the Shirerithians had first come ashore at Acre the Osman Shahanshah had expected them to be in Tyre by the end of the week, but the Acre Front had mounted a brave and desperate holding action in the ruins of the city that had kept the enemy bogged down, and with Miska cleared of Anticans the situation was now less desperate if the enemy did manage to break out of Acre, though of course it would be ideal if they could be kept there.“Sa-salaam,” the Sarlashger had recovered his composure enough to give a polite greeting and remember the basic tenets of hospitality “you are my guest, you are welcome to treat my tent as if it were your own.” Anxiously he beckoned Alfonso into his tent before dismissing the assembled officers who had joined him for the prayer breakfast with a sharp glance. Once both men had disappeared inside the Mondesian slave dutifully folded down the tent flap to give some privacy to proceedings inside. The officers, curious as to what had so terrified their commander, who up until that point had been the most frightening individual they had ever met, were nonetheless relieved not to be forced to eat any more spinach omelettes, as was their routine every other morning when the Sarlashger called them to prayer.Playing the attentive host, Nasuri offered Alfonso some of the omelette that had been prepared. The sickly greenness of the concoction led Alfonso to demur and lie that he had already eaten on the journey down. Nasuri decided not to force the matter and instead poured Alfonso a cup of chai. This the Sarhang readily accepted. Nasuri then chipped a couple of lumps of sugar crystal from the giant brown sugarloaf which dominated the tea set laid out in the Bedouin style tent amidst the rugs and cushions and proffered it to Alfonso to sweeten the otherwise bitter tasting fluid.“So how may I be of assistance to the brother of the most esteemed Don Diego de Almagro?”Alfonso took a tentative sip of the tea. To his great relief green tea was more palatable in taste than green omelette was in appearance. “Well it’s not much really. I just need to take a small team into Acre to conduct a mission.”The Sarlashger, now reclining on some cushions with his own cup of chai nodded gravely.“To enter Acre… discretely?”Alfonso smiled at the attempt to wheedle information out of him and took another sip of tea before answering.“We would like to avoid too much being subject attention.”Nasuri stroked his bushy black beard in an almost self consciously stereotypical fashion.“To enter Acre, it will not be easy. The accursed infidel – no offence – has entered the slums to the north of the old city walls. The fedayeen have been driven back inside the North Gate and our forward positions have been engaged by some of their patrols. Although the enemy can only breakout via the North Gate, the slums between our position and the city walls are hotly contested. It is only safe to enter the city by night.”Alfonso frowned, “Well that is rather unfortunate. You see we must enter the city as soon as possible.” He then took a notepad and pen from out of his pocket and began making some notes. “So, if we cannot enter undetected. Can we at least get in under the cover of a diversionary attack?” “You will need at least two separate diversions. One to distract the infidel who patrols the streets, another to distract their commanders who must form an over all picture of what is occurring.”“I see, now the first part of that would be simple enough, a few child suici… martyrdom operatives at either end of the street, would cause enough chaos for the team to reach the North Gate and then be safe to complete their mission.” “At least reach the North Gate and then be less unsafe than before.”The young Sarhang lounged on the cushions and sipped some more tea. “Whatever, it would be a start.”The Sarlashger puzzled at the lack of concern.“You will not be entering Acre?”Alfonso merely laughed. “God no. I’ve risked my neck in this war too many times as it is. Besides Uncle Ardy, the ‘Lord of the Blue Horizon’ no less has his little plans for me.”“May Allah protect us from big shahs and their ‘little plans’.” Nasuri intoned fervently.“Amen,” laughed Alfonso, “amen”.***‘The Outskirts’ North Acre:Over the years people had laughed at Pioneer-Sniper T'al ibn Falstafi, regarding his love affair with the Heckenschutzegewehr 88, a Gotz sharpshooter rifle, when most other snipers in the Lord of Richmond’s Regiment of Pioneers favoured the Barrett M82A1 .50 Calibre BMG Rifle, but he however would have none of it. The Gotz were craftsmen and their rifles some of the finest on all Micras, the Shirerithian rifles may be phenomenally powerful, but they lacked balance, they lacked soul. The Heckenschutzegewehr 88 had both and was a joy to handle as well as a beauty to shoot. A deadly beauty too, for she never missed. Now amongst the rubble of dilapidated slum dwellings, pocked marked by overzealous shelling by the Shirerithian invaders, as well as the intense hourly regime of Commonwealth counter bombardments and air strikes, with a concealed shelter of corrugated iron sheeting and building rubble Falstafi took aim at the Shirerithian marine who was on point. It was a twenty-man patrol, three of whom had been made casualties by the fedayeen. Count that against the twenty fedayeen who laid around the place in dismembered pieces after their roadblock had been literally demolished by a bakers dozen of infernal those grenades.Now however was pay back. Quietly he slid the round into its chamber using the bolt-action mechanism. Safety catch off. Cross hairs aligned directly onto the targets forehead, and shoot… There was no loud bang, instead of the harsh crack of a rifle firing, it sounded almost like an air rifle being fired, a soft click, and to Falstafi it seemed as though the firing pin had made more of a noise than the bullet making its egress from the barrel. That was the wondrous effect of the silencer he had been able to jerry rig together from the equipment left abandoned in the Palastina Lions barracks. However silent the rifle was, there was no way that the Shirerithians would fail to notice the head of their lead man explode in the fashion it did.Once more diving to cover for their lives the Shirerithian marines hit the dirt and their training did them credit, for they quickly sought natural shelter amongst the rubble and even in the contours of the land. Falstafi was able to pick off two more, a shot on the left arm, another on the right foot, before the marines went to ground and started throwing their bloc busting grenades. These were too close for comfort and Falstafi quickly began to leopard crawl backwards along his preplanned escape route. He could already hear the Shirerithians shouting orders to each other. They were most likely planning to storm the sniper den, to put a bullet in his head if they found him still alive after their grenades had gone off. However the marine squadron was in for a nasty shock, for amongst the rubble and from the side alleys other marksmen, this time fedayeen, began to open up. The fedayeen training was not so sufficient as the pioneers when it came to sharp-shooting and their Mosin-Nagant rifles less accurate than the Heckenschutzegewehr 88. However, the constant stream of RPG rounds and grenades lobbed by the fedayeen compensated for their accuracy or lack thereof. Unable to progress any further up the street at that moment, and caught in an unfavourable position, the Shirerithian patrol was being encouraged, nay obliged to pull itself back towards a burnt out bakery which offered a more or less solid structure to hide behind. Well it was either fall back or counter attack and there was no guarantee as to which option the enemy commander would go for, the withering fire from the front and sides was kept however, in an attempt to make the decision for them. Six overzealous fedayeen had chosen that moment to fix bayonets and rush the Shirerithian position, wasting their lives needlessly; they were unceremoniously cut down by automatic weapons fire from the Shirerithians.The news that Shirerithians were in the vicinity provoked uproar amongst the cowering civilian population. For too long they had endured Shirerithian bombardment, which had ruined their homes and their businesses and killed their loved ones. As word spread angry young men picked up abandoned rifles, knives, Molotov cocktails and even ancient scimitars and machetes in a fierce determination to avenge their city and their families and butcher the invader. There were probably little over a hundred enraged men who went out to join the fight. Nematollah Nassiri, who was still severely annoyed at his failure to escape the city before the Shirerithians landed, was taking out his frustration through the simple joy of detonating improvised explosive devices. Now he had received the text message informing him that the enemy patrol had cleared the last checkpoint in sector 12a he gleefully tapped in the activation code for an IED into his palm top. Based the text message, the Shirerithians last reported position put them near the burnt out shell of a bakerySummary:Babkhans are planning something nasty in regards to Acre, but what else is new?A mob of civilians, 50 Fedayeen and 10 Pioneers from the company defending the North Gate, led by the sniper Falstafi are attacking the Divi Unit in Northern Acre.

[Osman Shahanshah]

The West Gate, Acre Old TownAs the twilight fell on the evening of the 28th of August, Mohammed Sheik Khalid crouched down, Mosin-Nagant rifle in hand, and edged along the parapet towards where the vast column of dust was reportedly seen rising up into the during the day.With such an intense mutual bombardment of Acre by both sides, and with buildings and vehicles now burning intensely the dust cloud hanging over a segment of the western wall might otherwise have gone unnoticed. However the swirling cloud of dust persisted there for much of the day unlike other brown masonry showers thrown up by bombs or shells impacting on their targets. This was duly reported to the Sotvam in charge of the West Gate, who armed with his suspicions called his superior, the Pioneer Sarhang, on his mobile. This was somewhat unorthodox but the pioneers had lost their radios to an unexploded Shirerithian bomb on the road to Acre, which had chosen that moment to explode sending the signals section and their radios to Allah or Zurvan or whoever. So the Pioneers used their mobile phones, which are also known as cell phones to ignorant barbarians, talking of whom, the fedayeen had no problem with being asked to communicate with the pioneers via their mobiles since they had never been issued with radios in the first instance. The Pioneer Sarhang sent a text to Sarlashger Nasuri, who, being an Umraist, harboured an intense dislike of mobile phones and other modern technology (except strangely technology which enabled him to find Mecca’s place in the cosmos or kill people at the push of a button that he had no objection to) and replied by sending a runner into the ruined city to find the Pioneer Sarhang who had set up the Lord of Richmond’s Pioneer Regiment Headquarters in the prominent and beautiful Friday Mosque – indeed it was said that the Babkhan Propaganda Vizierate was preparing a special feature on how Shirerithians were enemies of Islam, the violators and destroyers of mosques, it was even rumoured that specially charred and otherwise desecrated Korans had been flown in to be scattered amongst the ruins of the mosque were it to be destroyed and captured, so that the media might find them and report on the Shirerithian atrocity against the Holy Koran, part of the strategy to stir up jihad in Palastina and elsewhere against the Kaiser – and by the time the boy found the Pioneer Sarhang and the Pioneer Sarhang called the Sotvam at the West Gate to send someone to investigate the mysterious cloud over the western wall it was already getting dark.As he was crawling along the parapet towards the site he was supposed to investigate Mohammed Sheik Khalid wondered why it was the fedayeen that always got the shitty jobs. No one asked a pioneer to come out and do the reconnaissance, not even the silly clerks who got given a gun and pushed to the front got sent on the mad dangerous jobs the fedayeen were given by the so called ‘professional’ army – bloody colonials, once the Shirerithians were gone from Acre Mohammed had every intention of slitting the throats of a few of the upstart local aristocrats. Of course he reflected it was just as well that there were no paunchy clerks bumbling along; one, they’d get themselves killed along with anyone around them, two, even if they made it back their first instinct would be to file their report rather than communicate it to their superiors. Anyway the place was bound to be swarming with marines and their bazookas and grenades and BIG explosions, Mohammed really didn’t want to be around when those caught up with him. Which was the entire point. They would. Fedayeen creeping and spying, what’s not to throw a grenade at? The city below still reverberated to the sounds of gunfire, rockets, and explosions, fortunately most of it seemed to be in the north of the city, otherwise things didn’t seem to noisy in the western sector. Then Mohammed heard it, the distinctive revving of the Shirerithian tanks, accompanied by crunch and clatter of falling masonry. ‘By Zurvan’ Mohammed exclaimed to himself in shock and disbelief, there could be no doubt, the Shirerithians were trying to pull the wall down, and with some success as well by the sound of the noise they were making. How this had gone unreported before now mystified him. Crawling closer Mohammed could just about make out a whole pack of tanks in the streets below, with cables attached to the walls, which had caved in quite dramatically in places, work parties amongst the fallen stonework were patting down the debris to make some kind of crude ramp. Even to a humble irregular like Mohammed it was obvious that the enemy was trying to dig itself out of the hole it had gotten itself into in Acre, once outside the city walls who knew what mischief they could get up to, especially if the men in the trenches north of the city were caught unawares. Hurriedly Mohammed laid down his rifle and reaching into the inside pocket of his black tunic he fumbled until he extracted his mobile phone and the GPS device stolen from a Shirerithian he had beheaded the other day. Texting in the approximate coordinates of the general area he failed to notice that his presence had been observed. No sooner had he pressed send then a flare fired from the street below illuminated his position. In a ghastly white light Mohammed suddenly found himself naked for all intents and purposes, exposed to the full view of an entire enemy army and its fearsome weaponry. Suddenly his attention was drawn to a figure standing at the end of the parapet, where it collapsed into the street below, a marine standing sentry as much taken aback by the firing of the flare, as Mohammed had been himself. Throwing his mobile to one side, clattering off the cold stone and into the darkness below, Mohammed grabbed up his rifle and hastily cocked the bolt, raising the rifle to fire as the Shirerithian un-slung his boomist assault rifle from his shoulder and prepared to do likewise. In deadly earnest Mohammed fired, the shot poorly aimed hit the cobbles where the Shirerithian was standing and ricocheted, striking the marine’s boot. The marine cried out in agony before falling to the floor in the foetal position, hands nursing the wounded foot. As he did so he dropped his assault rifle, and as it hit the floor, safety catch evidently off, it accidentally set of the trigger which launched a boomist grenade from a tube underneath the main barrel and sent one of the aforementioned grenades skidding along the parapet, stopping just before Mohammed’s feet.Without a moment of hesitation, rather than be blown to atoms, Mohammed, against his inclination but really without much choice, despairingly threw himself off the parapet and into the dark void of the ruined city below. As he fell in the illuminated gloom a fantastic explosion which lit up the night sky as surely as the flare did, caught the attention of the guards on the West Tower, sending more reports of suspicious enemy activity in the are streaming back to Sarlashger Nasuri. Breccia Street, AcreStung by the enemy incursion to the north of the old city, the Pioneer Sarhang had ordered a series of four man patrols to enter Shirerithian held portions of the city to exact some vengeance. Unsurprisingly it was the fedayeen that drew the short straw and were sent south, four teams of four. One marksmen, one chap with a semi-automatic, and a two man team with a Saghegh, an anti-tank bazooka which had earned the nickname Mango-Cooker after its impressive kill rate against the Shirerithian tanks that had entered the narrow streets of Acre. Breccia Street was no exception. Ali Saoshyant poked his head round the alleyway and took his first look on to the street, there was a marine tank parked up with barbed wire strung across in front of it, as well as a sandbag emplacement where a couple of marines rested their rifles. The Shirerithians had set up a checkpoint at the top of the road. But to prevent access to what? Ali wondered. His question however was answered when he noticed a military ambulance disgorging wounded into a building a little way beyond the tank.“Hey Hesam… psst… Hesam!” Ali hissed to the marksman, who had his rifle pointed down their line of retreat to ward off any surprises.“Yeah, what?”“You got that mobile on you?”“Yes, of course.”“Good get onto the boss and tell them we’ve found the enemy field hospital. Tell them Breccia Street.”“Gotcha.”“Good, then lets get the hell out of here. There are going to be fireworks.”“What about the tank?”“Sod the tank.”Sarlashger Nasuri’s Tent, North of Acre“And the circle of hell reserved for those who associate partners with Allah is the deepest of them all…”Alfonso Almagro really had no idea what Sarlashger Nasuri was talking about but his eyes were so animated, almost literally full of fire that the Minorcan found it prudent to nod along and occasionally smile. Lamb boiled in milk and garnished with ginger and caramelised sugar, was making for an ‘interesting’ dinner, in the Sarlashger’s tent. Indeed Alfonso wondered how many more interesting meals he was going to have before the Strategic Planning Unit was going to report back from Acre successfully, Treesian traitor in tow.At that moment a Sotvam from the Regiment of Foot’s signal section entered with a message for Nasuri. After reading the slip of paper Nasuri smiled and told the Sotvam to pass the coordinates on to the 11th Tactical Air Force.“My friend, it seems you will have your diversion. Our mutual friends in York have a powerful plan. All we have to do is provide them with the locations and they do the rest.”Alfonso, remembering Ahmed of the fighting 11th from the heroic mission to steal the Shirerithian stealth bomber at Philban airport winced uncomfortably. “You recall those two warships entered Acre Harbour to provide anti-aircraft fire?”Nasuri smiled, “Ah my friend” he said warmly “do you not hear the guns? My sextons have already opened up on those stationary warships, sitting ducks as you say in dock.”“But what of the counter barrage?”“Of no consequence, the sexton can change position by virtue of its tank chassis. Fire and move, fire and move. Those Shirerithian cruisers, they are going to have a very bad day. Bismallah.”

[extreme007]

The young Karnalian cadet ran into the ACM's office and handed over a paper to extreme007. extreme007 looked at the paper and noticed that it was sent from some ground commander at Acre. The paper had only two lines in it and after reading the first, extreme007 immediately got up and started walking towards the door of his office. As soon as he walked out the door, he reached the second line and read it. He began running towards the War Room."Officer. Get me Chaddington airbase. And get the two planes - not on the routine, ready to fly in a few minutes.""Yes sir. And uh, Chaddington is connected.""Chaddington airbase here, Sir.""Chaddington, this is ACM extreme007. Get the two planes you have readied to fly ASAP. Have them loaded up with 2 AAMs, 2 ASMs, 2 extra fuel tanks and three MK-82 general purpose bombs. I believe that one of them still has that incendiary bomb on it, while the other still has that data collection pod. Right?""Yes sir. They weren't used on the last run.""Good. Put those bombs up as well. We are sending you the co-ordinates of the bombing site right now. I want the incendiary bomb and the rest of the six bombs to fall at those co-ordinates. Understand?""Crystal clear sir.""Good. Shireton out.""Officer. Our two planes - send them to bomb this co-ordinate. Put uh.. 2 AAMs, 2 extra fuel tanks and six general purpose MK-82 bombs. I want the planes to drop all of their bombs here.""Yes sir.""And send up Bold Eagle to help them out.""Yes sir.""What's the status with out routine aircrafts?""Sir, all of our eight planes are back in base. The next routine bombing is scheduled in another one hour."Within minutes, two Ashavans, call sign Bear, took off from Shireton airbase, while two more, call sign Viking, took off from Chaddington airbase. Their mission was to fly as fast as possible to Acre, while avoiding the surface threats in the region, mainly the two Shirerithian ships. Although, the transmission sent earlier by the Acre ground commander did mention that the field artillery was going to aid the air force by constantly shelling the two Shirerithian ships located in the harbour. This was certainly going to be helpful, as the impact of the shells on the ships would either force the ship's captain to leave the area or cause larger explosions when the shells collided with the missiles shot towards the Ashavans. Either case, the bombers of the 11th Air Force were going to remain safe from the two Shirerithian ships. And if by the craziest of luck, should one of the ship manage to get away from the enemy, the Viking squadron, would fire their salvo of four anti-ship missiles at the two Shirerithian ships."Bear, Viking, this is Bold Eagle. Ground artillery is engaging the enemy ships.""Contact. Two surface ships. Bold Eagle do you copy?""Roger Viking leader. By the way, we saw them about a minute back and are already engaged with them in electronic warfare.""O. k.""Roger.""Bold Eagle, this is Bear leader. We are fifteen seconds from our target.""Bold Eagle, the ships will be in our weapons range in fouurrrrrr... firing missiles. Missiles away.""Acknowledged that Viking. Why did you fire so early?""Sorry. Took a long time saying that. We were in weapons range when we fired.""O. k.""Roger.""Bold Eagle, this is Bear leader. Target in five, four, three, two, one.. bombs away. I repeat, bombs away.""Bold Eagle, this is Viking leader. Approaching our target in ten seconds.""Roger. Are you correct on your time?""Yes Bold Eagle. Four seconds. Three. Two. One. Weapon is away. I repeat, the incendiary device has been dropped.""Acknowledged Viking. Circle back and drop the remaining bombs.""Roger Bold Eagle. Oooohhh. Feel the heat of that bomb!"extreme007 heard the comment of the second Viking pilot and instantly knew the consequences of this mission. Viking had just divided the enemy ground troops while the Bear had increased problems for the enemy rear echelon. Viking's target was the breach in the western wall of Acre which put some of the tanks and soldiers outside of Acre and most inside. It was now the job of the outside friendly forces to finish off those on the outside, since they would not be getting reinforcement from the inside for quiet a while now. extreme007 closed his eyes and tried to picture the incendiary device exploding at the breach in the wall. He could easily picture five to six tanks and many accompanying soldiers trying to go outside just as the bomb explodes on top of them. He could easily see the tanks as burning wrecks of melting steel and ashes of the men in the middle of the breach, while those nearby in the vicinity recieving varying degrees of burn depending upon their distance from the impact point. He knew that getting these really hot burning vehicles and other men out of the breach area to help those stuck on the outside will take a lot of time. For now, the breach was sealed. But the troubles had not. The Viking was going to drop six more bombs in the region and extreme007 hoped that these would fall on the troops stuck outside, causing even more damage to the outside enemy forces. It didn't really matter where those bombs fell, as them falling inside would cause just as much trouble to the enemy. Either ways, the casualties were going to be high and those wounded would become a burden. That was going to be true, extreme007 knew, thanks to the Bear squardron whose target for the mission was the enemy field hospital. Twelve bombs were going to be dropped on the large field hospital. extreme007 didn't know whether the field hospital was in the open, though he knew his pilots had not seen such a target on their previous missions, or inside a building. But it didn't matter because with twelve bombs dropping, the impact was sure to cause enough structural damage to the building as to make it collapse under its own weight. With the hospital gone, or even with several severe casualties, the enemy was going to think twice before continuing with its attack in Acre.extreme007 walked towards the mission planning desk and looked at the upcoming mission. A routine bombing sortie was planned in an hour and the target was the docks. extreme007 smiled. The loss of hospital might just push the enemy back towards the dock. It just might. And if it did, there were going to be more casualties. The enemy is now going to think twice before attacking the Commonwealth.Summary: Viking: 2 planes from chaddington, armed with 2 AAMs, 2 fuel tanks, 2 ASMs, 3 MK-82 bombs and the incendiary device. Target is the breach in the western wall. The incendiary device is dropped, and the planes are going to drop the rest of the bombs immediately in the inside/outside area (i leave to you where you want the 6 bombs dropped!)... and on their way to this target, they fired their 4 ASMs at the 2 shirerithian ships (which were already under artillery fire from the Babkhan ground forces)Bear: 2 planes from shireton (not part of the 8-plane routine bombing), armed with 2 AAMs, 2 fuel tanks and 6 MK-82 bombs. Target is the field hospital (location was provided by shah in his post). Bombs are dropped.Note: this takes place during the time the russel company is moving through the breach.... thus, i assume that some of the tanks/troops were caught just passing the breach when the incendiary device exploded.... no, i didn't mention the casualty, i am just saying that the bomb exploded when some were moving.. Discover, Invent, Theories, Experiment,Advance Science,Advance Extremism,(in Karnali, Republic of)

[AngelGuardian93]

(I just realized I can't post crap until I talk with Eoin about our next move. AAArrggh! Oh well, maybe a fluff post) There are no flowers, no not this time. There will be no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words I find. Edited by: AngelGuardian93  at: 8/28/05 19:34

[Osman Shahanshah]

The minarets, undamaged of the Friday Mosque, in spite of the fighting, continued to broadcast messages of hatred and resistance over the city. However, after last nights airstrike the messages took on a whole new tone. Giving positive incitement for a new counter attack.Quote:DEFENDERS OF ACRE!PEOPLE OF PALASTINA!Comrades! Hear the call to jihad against the foreign unbelievers, who would destroy your city and defile your religion. Allah commands you to rise up. Fight until the ubelievers have all submitted! Fight as mujahedeen! Fight for the Holy Cause! Allahu Ackbar! Babkha Zindabad!Comrades, today we make our stand. Not one step back in the face of the enemy! Today we go forwards! We go forwards onto the offensive. Today we push the enemy into the sea. They will plunge into the sea to escape the fire we have set down upon them! Today is the day of final victory!Comrades and citizens of Acre, in this decisive moment no civilian may be excused from the jihad. Every man, woman and child is to throw themselves at the enemy, whether armed or not, to drown the enemy in blood.DEATH TO SHIREROTH!DEATH TO THE KAISER!SCUD SHIREKEEP!SCUD TIMARSHAHR*!DEATH TO THE ELFINSHI!DEATH TO THE UNBELIEVERS!TILL ISLAM PREVAILS!TILL KHANISM PREVAILS!ALLAHU ACKBAR*ooc Timarshahr = Tymaria City, for home of the ancient enemys of Babkha, thus a popular choice for destruction (over and above what Extreme has managed already) Edited by: Osman Shahanshah  at: 8/29/05 6:12

[Yuri Zhivago]

OOC: Sorry for the absence fellows, now I'm back in all my Stalinist glory.Meanwhile, in the Friday Mosque:"We've drawn the Shirethians into the city Polkovnik Sororov, let us crush them and be done with this. The fedayeen under our command will easily dispatch them.""Da, Commissar."Some minutes later, Bahram Firouz, Yuri's fedayeen lieutenant soon arrived in the Mosque's basement which had been converted quite appropriately into the perfect defensible bunker for Babkha's Vizier of Interior Affairs."Ahhh, Bahram. There is no need for me to remind you how imperitive our defence of the city is to the war effort, I will not tolerate failure, neither will the great Khan, our dear Shahanshah. I want the bazaar retaken. Ensure your scooters are fueled and dispatch sorties comprising patriotic fedayeen with kalashnikovs and rpg's into the streets.""As you wish Commander Zhivago.""Also, Bahram, I want several thousand fedayeen, heavily armed, dispersed amongst the slums to the northwest, north and west of the bazaar, I want the invaders cut off from making further incursions. We will rain down holy fire upon them and drive them back."Bahram turned to leave, but is interrupted."Oh and Bahram, remind our patriotic comrades that they shall be compensated handsomely for every Shirethian head they return with. They'll only get half as much for downed Karnali pilots. But all the same, they'll be compensated, even our allies losses shouldn't impede our mens morale."Yuri smiled at the thought of purging the city of the Shirethian scum was, it a pleasant one indeed. ==============================================As evening falls in the city Yuri's plans likewise fall into place, fedayeen begin to enter the large apartment blocks surrounding the bazaar, position rockets in the windows and preparing for an all out assault on the Shirethian held Bazaar. Roadside bombs are placed to halt vehicle movement by the courageous Babkhan patriots. Bahram surveyed the scene from the roof of one of the apartment blocks, watching as piles of rubble are turned into fortified positions to cut off troop movement. His heart swelled with pride as he heard once more the drone of propaganda streaming from the speakers attached to the Mosque's towering minarets. This time the accent was slavic, adding its own inflection to the Babkhan language.Quote:"My brave and patriotic Comrades, rally now to defend your motherland and your Shah! The enemy shall not pass for they do not understand that their defeat is our manifest destiny. Purge the foul Shirethian scum. Drive them into the sea!Drive them from the Motherland!"The propaganda trails off as a call to evening prayer rings from the speaker with a solemn tone. The brave martyrs who may soon die in the slaughter to come make their peace with God. They know they shall soon meet him in Paradise.Summary: Though it will take some time for all to position, 20,000 remaining fedayeen who had been in hiding since the fall of the docks have rallied behind their Zemlyan Commander in defence of Acre and have begun to surround the bazaar. Sorties of fedayeen on scooters (estimating 1000 of the total brigade strength) have been dispatched to engage those trying to break through the west wall and to reclaim the streets surrounding the Mosque and bazaar. Soviet Republic of Novaya ZemlyaWe must be ever vigilant, Comrades!Edited by: Yuri Zhivago  at: 8/29/05 6:59

[AngelGuardian93]

AcreLater that dayJ'Rasha Jules frowned at the recent news. Captain Magenta and his squad were making slow, agonizing progress in getting to their required location. It seemed like every single man, woman, and child had come out of the woodwork and decided to attack them. They had to take out 3 children allready. Children! They were sending CHILDREN to fight their war. How low will these Babkhan's sink?! thought Jules."Commander? Commander??"A voice came from his assistant. He broke his thought and looked up. "Aah, sorry, I was lost in planning."His assistant nodded and managed a faint smile."It's perfectly understandable. You have alot to juggle."J'Rasha looked back down at the map. They had snagged one at a local tourist shop, that is, before it got bombed back into dirt. His assistant spoke up again."They're pinned down, having to fight on all sides. Every civilian seems to have taken up some sort of arms. They're definitely giving us a bloody run for our money. The Raxidal are just as pinned as us."Jules grimaced as he heard the screams of a wounded woman outside, but tried to keep it out. He wanted to withdraw, but he knew he couldn't, and he wouldn't dissapoint Commander Russell. To see her frown in his minds eye was enough to make him want to fight harder."This is the final battle, I think. The battle our children and their children will talk about. We will fight hard, and whether we win or lose, these Sandcrawlers will know they were in a fight. Sue, Muzzle, and D'arcy had returned to the surface, only to find that Norfolk was a memory. They found Cerune and told her about what had happened. She was shocked, to say the least, but quickly sent down a team to check out their claims. Sadly, it all turned out to be true, of course. Since then it had become a rallying cry for the Russell's. "Even if they managed to get Jinx, we'll pay them back double for that!"Sue roared and dived behind a wall, firing four shots wildly at an enemy. He wasn't sure if it was Fedayeen, or those pioneer guys, or just a crazy civilian. He couldn't say he really blamed them if he was. If some Babkhan showed up on Amity he'd go ape too. The first shot missed wildly, and so did the second, but the third and fourth landed squarely in the enemies lower left side and then the higher right side of his chest. He went down with a bloody scream.Muzzle, D'arcy, and two other soldiers we're pinned down behind some rubble, two more soldiers keeping a close eye for when they stuck their heads up to return fire. Sue clenched his teeth and reloaded his BAR, and brought it up to fire. The first soldier went down uncerimoniously, but the second ducked behind a broken wall. D'arcy brought up her own BAR and fired, giving some cover fire. Sue advanced to behind a destroyed car before 3 more soldiers showed up. They were armed with small sidearms and were clearly civilians playing soldier.Sue grunted and ducked again, cursing the crazed idiots. He motioned to Muzzle, with an overhead swing. His companion nodded lightly and grabbed his last grenade. With a swift toss and the loss of a pin, he chucked it behind the rubble the enemy was at, and heard several foriegn curses. Well, he assumed they were curses. The three civilians went down with more screams, but the soldier, with obvious experience, jumped out of the way with just seconds to spare. Sue narrowed his eyes."Got'cha."edit: Summary: Just backstory. There are no flowers, no not this time. There will be no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words I find. Edited by: AngelGuardian93  at: 8/29/05 17:21