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| Federalization; The End of the Alliance | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 2 2015, 04:18 PM (1,553 Views) | |
| Carbadia | Feb 2 2015, 04:18 PM Post #1 |
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Freedom Enthusiast, Former Clerk
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Proventia, Aurelia, The Legantian Alliance Silvanus stood behind the podium, the familiar lights of the cameras shining and almost drowning out everything beyond the surface’s edge. He resisted the urge to look behind him at the six flags hanging limply from their poles, and the single blue-gold flag draped out of sight above them. He focused on preventing his hands from fidgeting, and simply waited. Above the white-gold glow of the TV lights a single subdued red light sprang to life. Silvanus checked almost absentmindedly that his tie was straight and his suit was wrinkleless. The light blinked green, and Silvanus waited a half-breath before beginning. “My Fellow Legantians, Citizens of Ullir and Vasio, Lero and Dellinger, Aurelia and Caturix. I come here today to inform you of a most momentous decision made by the Alliance Council. For generations, our peoples have remained separate, distinct. Since our alliance was formed and our Council made whole with the leaders of all our nations, we have known our peoples would not remain separate for very much longer. Now, at last, we know when that day will be.” Silvanus paused slightly, taking a breath before continuing. “Our Council has decided that our Nations will finally come together and become one. The process has been underway for some time, with our economies, militaries, and transportation systems becoming more interconnected every day. Now our central governments will follow suit. On January Third of this upcoming year, elections will be held for seats on the newly formed Legantian parliament. I implore you all to set that day aside, and to choose your representative carefully.” “My Fellow Legantians, this will be a time of both trial and opportunity. We must work together towards the brighter future this Union will bring. My Fellow Legantians, let us look together towards the new dawn. Goodnight.” The single light blinked red again, and the lights of the camera flashed off as a sheet, bringing the room into seeming darkness. The various camera crews, who before had been hidden by the bright glow of their charges, filtered off to the sides and out of the room. Silvanus took the page containing both the transcript of his speech and the latest reports on the military integration of the various Legantian states, and slipped behind the flags at the back of the room. Behind him, almost unnoticed, men began hauling the flags out as the blue and gold ensign of the new Legantian state flowed down to fill their place. |
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The USSC is currently in - Zustand des Friedens (State of Peace) Zustand der Spannung(State of Tension) Verteidigungsfall (State of Defense) ..Screw Off.. ii...Russia...ii | |
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| Mastropa | Mar 21 2015, 07:08 PM Post #31 |
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis
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General Meleagros kept his silence as his driver threw their APC over the next not-exactly-sapling in their path, ignoring the jarring ‘snap’ of the trunk. Around them, the entire convoy of APCs, both the Achaian models brought from the Peloponnese and the more numerous Caturixian armor, climbed across the low hill as quickly as possible, not even bothering to hide the sound of their approach. They really couldn’t do anything about it, which was problematic in and of itself, but at the very least there were plenty of other sounds that were hopefully taking up their enemies’ attention: explosions, for the most part, centered on the valley that was currently positioned over the peak of the hill to the convoy’s left. The convoy of APCs was approaching that height at an angle, not actually interested in surmounting it, but racing instead to get close enough to release its passengers and continue on. There were plenty of passengers, to be sure. The Achaians and several of the Cainisaben recruits were crammed into the APCs themselves, but the majority of the locals were hanging on for dear life on the outside of the vehicles, almost digging in to the sides of their rides as they roved around or crashed through the trees in their path. Meleagros, remembering his own time as a raw recruit, didn’t envy them; normally the Achaian military avoided putting more men on the front line than they had materiel, so the general had never had to put up with that kind of transportation (though a lack of armor in some exercises meant that everyone had slogged through any number of marches that Victorium’s militaries might have considered unnecessary as a result). But MEF deployments were always an exception, given the Achaians’ reliance on the employers’ generosity in terms of materiel, and especially when those employers also attached additional men to the MEF in order to bolster the admittedly-small size of the fighting force. As the explosions grew louder, Meleagros nodded to himself and picked up the radio. “This is the general. Halt the convoy and disembark. Halt the convoy and disembark.” As Meleagros gave the order, he nodded to his own driver, who immediately began to slow. As soon as the APC stopped, the doors were thrown open, allowing almost every passenger to race out into the woods with their weapons and gear on their backs; those who remained behind were already manning the APC’s own weapons stations, namely a mortar turret and machine gun posts. The last men out of the vehicle closed the doors again, and the general looked on as they made for the heights. Lifting the receiver again, Meleagros said, “We have five minutes to get to the base of this hill and cut off any attempt to retreat. Let’s move.” Immediately the convoy, much lightened and empty of everything not necessary to wade into battle, rumbled forward again, this time angling away from the peak and moving toward the base of the mountain on the other side. This was the entrance to the valley, and as the Zaliviyans at their rearward base camp had helpfully pointed out, the advancing Decapitans were almost entirely confined to that space. It was Meleagros’s intention to cut them off from any hope of retreat, a duty for which his fast-moving convoy was particularly suited. About the only thing the column of APCs really had to worry about would be air power, and though there were Decapitan planes overhead, Meleagros also saw Caturixian fighters giving them as much trouble as they had hoped to give the Zaliviyans in turn. Unless the air battle went completely sour, then, the general was only vaguely concerned about the outcome of this fight. Finally rolling over the low crest of the mountain’s foot, Meleagros could see into the valley as the rows of mountains extended far off to his left. At a distance, he could make out the explosions of Zaliviyan mortars among the mass of Decapitans, while sniper and machine gun fire raked over them from the mountaintops. “Spread out,” Meleagros ordered into the radio. “I want to cover the whole mouth of this valley before we fire a single shot.” At length, the order was carried out, as the APCs created several overlapping fields of fire that would hopefully prevent any fleeing Decapitans from escaping at close range. The general double-checked the battle in the sky for any changes, and decided upon inspection that the Caturixians had it well in hand. “Mortars, fire at will,” he ordered. Turning toward the driver’s side window to watch the battle continue, the general grimly wondered how many Decapitans would survive long enough to charge into their machine guns when they’d had enough of the raining shells. |
![]() MAKARIA to the Achaian People: Be as Many as the Stars | |
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| Nova Decapita | Mar 22 2015, 10:40 AM Post #32 |
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New Decaff
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UMC Airspace, 72 miles from Decapitan border After the Tornadoes had completed their initial bombing of the Zaliviyan mortars, they had met fierce competition from the UMC's fighter planes - they were giving them a harder time than they had expected, especially given their lack of knowledge about the UMC's air force. "Destructeur 3, report," came a disembodied voice in the pilot's headset. "We got, ah, UMC fighters coming in from the south, and the Zaliviyans aren't neutralized yet." "Is that all?" "For now." He saw a fighter coming up in his rear view and swerved right down only 30 metres above the ground; hopefully the enemy would follow him, and crash. He passed over the crest of a hill, and came back to the valley. He flew over, and saw what appeared to be a group of APCs. "Control, we've got several APCs, unknown party, few hundred metres south of the valley." "Take a closer look." Still skimming over the expanse of countryside, he dipped a wing, slowed to about 120 mph, and curved back round. Now he had a better view of the other group, and he could see now that they were - "Achaians, we've got a group from the Achaian Peloponnese coming up the south edge of the valley." "Who are they fighting for?" "I don't know yet." "Do not fire until we know what side they've taken." "Affirmative." He accelerated, rose steeply, then came down again so he was behind another enemy fighter. He squeezed a trigger and let off the Mauser cannons mounted under the wings. Eastern UMC, 72 miles from Decapitan border By now, the order to retreat had mostly been fulfilled. The soldiers who had been in the valley were attempting to get back out of it, although coordination was difficult now that their communications had been destroyed. The Marshall had met with another section of the Legion who had been advancing towards the valley. These people did have communication, and he was currently talking with their commander about the situation. "So, what have we got here, then?" the commander said. "It was a trap. Our men are retreating now. Where are the other six sections?" "We spread in a line. We're trying to surround the valley, and encircle the Zaliviyans." A man's voice came from his radio. "We need you to avoid the south. There's a small-medium group of Achaians. Control thinks they're going to fight us." "Hang on a minute," the commander said to the Marshall. "You sure?" "Yes. They've got APCs and they've come up the south end of the valley - no doubt in an attempt to stop us from retreating. They underestimated our size." the commander said with a smile. "Section Commander 1, 2, 3, you there?" he continued. "Yes," they replied in unison. "Right. Apparently, there's a bunch of Achaians round the south of the valley." "We see them." "I need you to get behind them..." |
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The Republic of Nova Decapita - President Carmen Leonora - - Partido de Centro - - Next election is 23rd August 1408 - Current seats in the Salón de los Señores ![]() - My factbook - | |
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| Carbadia | Mar 23 2015, 05:27 AM Post #33 |
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Freedom Enthusiast, Former Clerk
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Airspace over UMC-DeCapito Border March 10, 2015 "Three, he's trying to slam you down. Follow and try for guns, I'll stand off and see if I can get a shot of. Two and Four, stay on the others and keep them off of the Strike package." "Copy, One. Two, you got the east one, I'll take northwest. Spiking..." "This is Two.... Good Tone Good Tone Fox Three, Fox Three!" "Copy that, Two, I got good release. Looks like tracking is good." "This is Three, Guns Guns Guns. Guns Guns Guns." "One, switching over to Archers. Come on, you bastard..." "Strike package Rolling in. All ships, go for Hydras. Weapons release in twenty seconds." "Copy" "Aye" "Understood" "Weapons release in... Five... Four... Three... Two...One... Firing Hydras." "Damn, never really saw how much that looks like a dragon's breath before now." "Our dragon's breath is a lot more deadly." "Cut the chatter. Pull out and set up for a pass to check the damage, then we go in with the Mk 84s." "Wrath of God..." "Cut it and focus on flying." |
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The USSC is currently in - Zustand des Friedens (State of Peace) Zustand der Spannung(State of Tension) Verteidigungsfall (State of Defense) ..Screw Off.. ii...Russia...ii | |
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| Saros | Mar 23 2015, 06:40 AM Post #34 |
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Sergei Lyashko wasn't quite sure what exactly he should be looking at. The battle above him was terrifying. At any moment, one of the planes above him could explode into pieces, littering the mountainside with shrapnel and likely killing him and his remaining men. Sergei suspected that a pair of Decapitan missiles had killed two of his teams, a sniper team and a machine gun team. Hopefully, he was wrong. In the valley, however, it looked as though he had been entirely wrong about the size of the force. Sergei had set up this ambush site hoping, at most, to encounter one stray platoon whose green lieutenant had led them off the beaten path into such a tactically unsound position. Now, as explosions cleared away some trees that had been obscuring his vision to reveal more men than Sergei could count, or even make a reliable estimate on. He had hardly expected to see upwards of a thousand men wandering into this little hellhole. This was over Sergei's head. He had started this ambush with ten men, including himself. Now he would feel lucky if he had half that. It was time to leave. Abandoning his heavy sniper rifle, Sergei instead picked up the headset to his radio. "Teams," he screamed into the headset over the radio. "This is Sergei. Report in." "Blue here," a response came, quickly. "Me and Aleksandr are up. Over." A few heartbeats later, another response came over the radio. "Green team here. I'm here, spotter was hit by a countersniper. He's still alive, but his arm's pretty fucked up... He says he can walk." Sergei waited another full thirty seconds. He hoped wholeheartedly that the other two teams would report in. But when they did not, he had to assume the worst, and faced the situation down. Of the nine men he had come to the valley with, four were left. He sighed before pressing the talk button again. "Alright. Damn it. Looks like Orange and Purple are fucked. Goddamned shame. Well, gents, there are planes in the skies and more boots on the ground than we have bullets for. There's nothing left that we can do. Let's get back to base, and quickly. Good job, for what it's worth." Edited by Saros, Mar 23 2015, 06:40 AM.
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| Mastropa | Mar 23 2015, 04:56 PM Post #35 |
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis
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Meleagros allowed himself to smile as the valley-bound Decapitans attempted to retreat, coming up against the crossfire the Achaians had set up to block them off. Already shattered by mortars and small arms fire from the Zaliviyans, and further mauled by the Caturixians’ air strikes, the trapped Decapitans had no cohesion left; their scattered attempts to break free made destroying them a piecemeal task, and the general figured that a few here and there might escape notice and get out, but given that the overwhelming majority had become a collection of scorched body parts at this point, Meleagros didn’t consider this a serious concern. He became much more concerned, however, when the radio in his APC crackled to life: “The Zaliviyans have spotted another force coming up to flank us. They’re retreating.” The general frowned. “How large?” There was a pause. Then, hesitantly, “More than a thousand men, based on reports.” There was another pause, before the other man attempted to justify their compatriots’ actions: “There were apparently only ten Zaliviyans holding them up, they didn’t have the ammunition—” “Never mind about them,” snapped Meleagros. “Vehicles?” “None reported.” “Then we outnumber and outgun the force that’s attempting to flank us,” Meleagros concluded. Glancing back at the bloodbath in the valley, he nodded to himself. “Thirty APCs will remain to hold the valley. I don’t care if a few manage to escape, as long as you give them a good mauling. Mortars will continue as they have done,” he added. “Twenty more will return to the hill crest and fortify the rear of that position. We still aren’t sure where the enemy is going to arrive from, though I will be sure to get updates from our friends in the air on that score. The rest of us will split up: I want half at each side of the valley mouth. If the enemy marches against us here, we will come at them from the flanks and slice them up. Understood?” “Yes, sir,” came from dozens of different voices. “Excellent,” the general said. “Get into position.” |
![]() MAKARIA to the Achaian People: Be as Many as the Stars | |
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| Nova Decapita | Mar 23 2015, 07:24 PM Post #36 |
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New Decaff
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Eastern UMC, 72 miles from Decapitan border The commanders had decided to get away from the action temporarily in order to make a plan. They were currently standing around a table in a large tent, listening to the noise of the missiles. The Marshall, standing at the head of the table, started. "So... we're in a bit of a fiasco here." "You don't say!" came the immediate reply. "Shut up, I have a plan," he said, turning to a page in an atlas. "So, the 3rd Section's in the valley." "What's left of them, you mean." "I ordered a retreat. It's been, for the most part, carried out, but of course the mortars caused some trouble. So now..." he stuck 10 pins into the map: 8 blue, 1 red, 1 black. You see the 1st and 2nd - they're south of us. The Achaians," he said pointing to the red pin, "are trying to stop the remains of the 3rd from getting out, but we suspect they're gearing up for battle with us now. We're gonna try and flank them. The Zaliviyans appear to have retreated, and we're getting the 4th and above to come further south." "Wonderful. So what about the damned mess in the sky?" the 2nd Section Commander said. "Apparently the UMC's air force is much better than we expected. They let off a couple of bombs a few seconds ago, actually, and we think they've got Hydra missiles." "Damn." "Don't worry... the underestimated the Legion." UMC Airspace, 72 miles from Decapitan border Destructeur 2 was currently trying to get behind one of the UMC's horde of planes. It really was quite hard to manoeuver in the hilly terrain, and the UMC were punishing them. "Control, we're gonna need backup." "We can get you 4 Rafales in 10." "That's not fast enough, dammit!" "It's the best we can do." At that moment, there was a faint explosion, and a lot of static as Destructeur 3 was taken down, spiralling to earth. "What happened?" "Destructeur 3 is down." "Anything else?" "Well, the UMC just fired a load of Hydra missiles at the troops." He took the plane right round in a loop to get the plane behind him off him, then came level again, chasing a MiG. He fired the cannon at its fuselage, then realized there was a radar-seeker on his tail. Silently cursing himself for his inattentiveness, he pushed a button, and a cloud of chaff appeared behind the plane, then he swerved off to the left in a bid to avoid it. |
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The Republic of Nova Decapita - President Carmen Leonora - - Partido de Centro - - Next election is 23rd August 1408 - Current seats in the Salón de los Señores ![]() - My factbook - | |
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| Carbadia | Apr 1 2015, 03:02 AM Post #37 |
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Freedom Enthusiast, Former Clerk
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Airspace over UMC-DeCapitine border March 10, 2015 "He broke lock, missile lost tracking. Switching to Archers..." "Shit, this guy's still dodging..." "Three, stand by to break right..... Now. Good tone, good tone, Fox Two." Linkthoven March 22nd, 2015 Supplies had arrived in town, as the first batch of rush-produced arms and armor had finally been shipped out. Alexandre found himself with his head in a maintenance hatch, trying to jury-rig the connection between the commander's periscope and the monitor he was supposed to view it from. The rush job meant that there were numerous defects in the construction, mostly in the areas that required more delicate and precise tuning, such as the wiring. There were also defects in the machining, but most of that was fixed through filing and a little light welding. Henri had looked over the armor and expressed his surprise that the armor defects were few and far between, which was something of a relief given that it was likely that they would be ordered into combat again soon. The Alliance had apparently forced through UMC Lines (That was the official tack, anyways - word from some friends on the Ullir front made it seem to Alexandre that it was much less of a fight than people were making it out to be) and was racing for towards the Lerotian border. While in actuality the UMC troops would be only partially surrounded, with Alliance troops only able to get in position around about three/fourths of the UMC's lines, with the other fourth being along the Neutral Lero's borders. Under normal circumstances, that would mean that the UMC's forces could break out. However, Lero had closed its borders to all forces currently engaged in combat. If the UMC violated that, the Lerotian army would join in the war on the side of the Alliance, and the UMC's troops would still be encircled. About five seconds of impossibly bright light from a soddering gun, he closed the maintenance hatch and extracted himself from the turret. Isaac was standing as the IFV was filled with gas, as Issac and Henri loaded several crates of assault rifle magazines into the troop compartment. All around, Troops from the rest of the platoon and from other ones filed through the same routine. He almost felt bad... almost. Edited by Carbadia, Jun 8 2015, 03:23 AM.
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The USSC is currently in - Zustand des Friedens (State of Peace) Zustand der Spannung(State of Tension) Verteidigungsfall (State of Defense) ..Screw Off.. ii...Russia...ii | |
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| Sviardia-Nordrvegria | Apr 2 2015, 06:19 PM Post #38 |
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Dicktator Dimi
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UMC-Ulliur Border Having entrenched themselves both the UMC and Valkanid Volunteer Forces had been fighting in trenches with skirmishes, firefights and artillery exchanges for almost a month. With the weather clearing the Valkanids finally decided to make their move. In coordination with the Alliance's Air Force they assaulted the trenches with artillery and air fire. A textbook barrage, catching the UMC troops by surprise at the beginning. The barrage continued for six days without end, pinning the UMC down. As they started to get used to it or at least adapt on the seventh day the Valkanids decided to make their move. April 2nd saw the artillery and air force create a covering coat of fire. Every three minutes it stopped for a short time allowing the Valkanids' ground troops to advance. At the same time an armoured force had crossed the Ulliur border at another section from where the main forces were gathered. As the Valkanid groudn troops got closer to the trenches heavy fighting broke out with deaths and injuries on both sides. The armoured battalion attacked the UMC troops when they were not expecting it slamming into the eastern flank's back. With the east collapsing the collpase started spreading to the west of the trenches. At the same time the artillery stopped firing allowing the Valkanids to charge at the trenches whiel the UMC troops were getting out of their shelters. At bayonet range the surprise attack was almsot unexpected and soon enough the overwhelmed UMC forces surrendered or retreated on the entire line. The armoured forces along with some units continued to pursue pushing 60km into UMC territory before having to stop. The routed UMC troops had already been damaged by the previous assault of the Valkanids in the middle of March. They needed time to recover and probably reinforcements, having lost 1,253 troops dead or wounded and 2,569 POWs being captured by the Valkanids. The assault however had also cost the Valkanids who had lost 963 dead or wounded. The near month long push had strained both armies which needed time to regroup. The Valkanids fortified themselves in a new set of trenches while the UMC troops camped in a small, mostly abandoned farming village, also digging trenches. The coming of spring helped as the winter and early spring had been very harsh for the troops. Valkanid mechanized infantry after their advance stopped. Edited by Sviardia-Nordrvegria, Apr 2 2015, 06:22 PM.
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![]() His Royal Majesty, King Oscar III 'Deus et Dies' By the Grace of God, King of Sviardia and Nordrvegria, King of the Goths, the Geats and the Wends | |
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| Mastropa | Apr 8 2015, 11:36 PM Post #39 |
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis
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The Cainisaben folks weren’t particularly happy, Meleagros thought to himself, but they knew why they were moving out so far from home. The warfront had shifted. With Decapitane’s invaders being put through a meat grinder, the focus of the fighting went back immediately to the border between Caturix and the rest of the Legantian Alliance. That frontier too had shifted, and not in the UMC’s favor. Drastic movements at the front suggested a complete disintegration of the front line in certain places, especially as the reinforcements for those lines had been something of a ‘home guard,’ those who would otherwise not have been asked to fight at all. Based on the speed of the advance, there was an open question about whether or not they had actually fought at all. ‘Only a few months in,’ the general thought to himself, ‘and these people are already giving up. What a disgrace.’ The Cainisaben folks might have been unhappy, but unlike their countrymen, they were prepared to fight to the best of the Achaians’ ability, and their victory in the mountains had certainly improved their morale. Meleagros had done his best to maintain that morale without letting the men get soft in the meantime. Marching from one end of Caturix to the other was out; instead, the general rounded up as many road cars from the village he needed and ordered his drivers to stick to the UMC’s road system until it was absolutely imperative to leave it, meaning that the marching time for those who didn’t fit in the large group’s too-few APCs was much, much shorter when they arrived at their destination. Obviously Meleagros had ensured that they were parked out of the way and covered by as much camouflage as possible to avoid being a target for Alliance aircraft; if he needed a quick retreat, as long as the roads were still intact the men could manage it. If not… there had been rather few casualties in the mountains, but this fight was much more open, and promised a bit more blood. There were likely to be far more spaces in and on the APCs to drag the men back home if need be. Of course, no one was looking forward to either that or any other scenario that involved retreating. Rather, General Meleagros was considering the battle his men were marching into. From the reports he had received thus far, the retreating Caturixians had managed to regroup and retrench—literally—facing several thousand men who the UMC had determined were not Alliance troops. These foreigners clearly had some training, and not all of their equipment could have been supplied by their Legantian allies, so it was likely that at least a good portion of them were deniable assets enforcing their government’s foreign policy under the cover of volunteerism. Either that, or they were fellow mercenaries, and Meleagros hated to fight against paid men simply because it made him feel like one of a pair of pawns in someone else’s chess game. He much preferred more direct action against whatever enemies he happened to be fighting on any given day. There were the trenches, then, and the artillery, which could be heard firing sporadically to make sure that no one on either side got too comfortable. All of this was on the far side of the ridge in front of them, as the Caturixians had dug in on the highest ground they could manage in the near vicinity. Rather than crest the hill immediately, Meleagros ordered a halt while still hidden from sight on the other side, and radioed to the Caturixians. “This is the Makarian Expeditionary Force, and company. We are approaching your position.” Glancing out at the sun, and then at his maps, the general asked, “Where are the gaps in your trench lines, gentlemen? Over.” There were remaining gaps, of course; there were too few men who were too tired to continue digging on short notice. In order to extend the line in the hopes of preventing a flanking maneuver, the Caturixians had allowed for gaps between the trenches they had dug, covered as well as possible by unmanned protections such as razor wire with machine guns and rocket batteries positioned on either side. No doubt any reinforcements would have been expected to connect the pieces and make space for themselves along the line, but in the short time that the Caturixians had held that position, the line’s length had been considered much more important than its continuity. Meleagros had to assume that these weaknesses would eventually be taken advantage of by the attacking force given enough time, but he had also heard how the enemy force had flanked these Caturixians prior to their retreat, and understood the need for a longer and better-manned line to prevent that tactic from working a second time. Having received his information, the general double-checked his map, turned to look at his watch, and finally said, “In half an hour, begin a heavy bombardment on the enemy forces, with particular attention on taking out enemy artillery. Clear out the obstacles you’ve piled in the easternmost gaps within another half-hour. We will be coming through an hour from now. When we cross the trench, you will cease your bombardment and man the defenses in preparation for any counterattack. Out.” Turning to the channel shared in the APCs of his group, the general said, “We’re going to hang out here for forty-five minutes. Then we will advance in order to cross the Caturixian trenches an hour from now. With the sun as low as it is, there will be reduced visibility, which will be all to the good as far as advance across no-man’s land is concerned. The APCs will make the crossing and crash through the lines on the other side. The Achaian foot will follow the APCs and take advantage of the chaos as much as possible; Cainisabeners will reinforce the Caturixian lines and prepare for any counterattack, should we be unsuccessful.” Meleagros sighed. “If you have thumbs, start twiddling.” Depending on the person, those forty-five minutes were either the slowest or the fastest they had ever experienced. The final fifteen were largely spent listening to the pounding of the Caturixian guns as their periodic shots turned into a firework celebration’s worth of explosions, the light of which was actually slightly visible as the sky began to darken in the first hints of evening. Finally General Meleagros lifted the radio one more time and gave the order: “Let’s move!” The APCs roared to life again and drove forward, their usual complement of passengers lightened so that only the passengers who could safely ride inside were present. Meleagros directed his driver to take the lead, and relayed the positions of the gaps in the Caturixian trench line to the following vehicles so that they would be able to find alternative routes instead of waiting for the entire mass to file through a single point in the line. The APCs organized themselves accordingly as they crested the hill and made their way down toward the Caturixian lines at full speed, ensuring that there would be minimal time for the enemy to see them coming and prepare—if they even could under the artillery barrage, which was only just letting up to allow the MEF to engage. The men on foot followed behind as quickly as possible, though there was no hope that they would keep up; the general just hoped that they were quick enough to take advantage of any disorder that was caused by the APCs’ arrival on the opposite side of the battlefield. The long shadows and the fading light helped to disguise both the APCs’ number and their positions; meanwhile the mortars of the Achaian APCs put out its own withering, and increasingly accurate, fire as the group got closer and closer to the enemy’s line. Then they were among them, rolling over sandbags and razor wire and smashing over the trenches at their narrowest points, or else crashing literally into the trench line nose-first, tipped down across the gap at an angle that allowed the gun emplacements at the top of the vehicles to fire into the trench to either side. It was a dangerous position, in that it would take a moment or two for the drivers to reverse and pull out of the gap, but with cover from the APCs that had crossed the trench entirely, it was safe enough for the moment. Added to the fire from the APC passengers on the enemy’s side of the trench, which was free of nasty machine gun nests, and that section of trench was soon cleared enough for all of the APCs’ passengers to disembark and begin hunting—with the rest of the Achaians, of course, running up from the rear, due any minute. Meleagros didn’t know when the enemy’s armor would arrive, but he knew that he had enough time to break the back of this offensive before he had to move his men back into the safety of the Caturixian lines. The UMC’s defenses might have had a critical failure, but Meleagros was going to make certain that they would not be tested at this particular point for at least another two months—and in the meantime, he would have a good long talk with whoever was responsible for sending a clearly-unready state to war with such minimal international reinforcement. [Apologies in advance to Dimi if anything in here constitutes god-modding. I’m sure I’ve stepped over the line a little here, but the alternative was to be too cautious and quit posting after ordering the artillery barrage, so that we’d drag this battle out over the course of real-time months as we tip-toed our way through it.] Edited by Mastropa, Apr 8 2015, 11:37 PM.
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![]() MAKARIA to the Achaian People: Be as Many as the Stars | |
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| Nova Decapita | Apr 9 2015, 10:21 AM Post #40 |
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New Decaff
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Eastern UMC, 72 miles from Decapitan border The Marshall was in a conundrum. He had an army of 8,000 (probably about 7,500 now) men at his command, a force which would most likely overwhelm the forces the UMC would inevitably send at them. They could continue, and maybe they could win another battle... or they could retreat and try again. They had underestimated the UMC's air force greatly. They had send 1,000 men into what was essentially a death trap. Already more than 300 people lay dead at the hands of 10 Zaliviyans. "Gentlemen," he said. "You've decided?" a commander said. "Yes. I'm sure now." "So? Go on..." "We must retreat. Back into Decapitane." "Your reasoning being?" "We've lost over 300 men at the hands of... 10 people, I am told. We vastly underestimated their air force. We should turn back, right now. It was a mistake even coming here anyway without some sort of mechanised infantry." There was a sort of silence punctuated by the occasional sound of gunfire from the planes; then they realised he was right. "So, ah, this is sort of embarrassing..." a soldier said. Speaking into his radio now, the Marshall ordered, "I am ordering a full retreat. I need everyone to gather 2 kilometres east of here. Any previous orders are void." |
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The Republic of Nova Decapita - President Carmen Leonora - - Partido de Centro - - Next election is 23rd August 1408 - Current seats in the Salón de los Señores ![]() - My factbook - | |
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| Saros | Apr 18 2015, 02:00 AM Post #41 |
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Ivan Romovo, entered the makeshift headquarters for the Romovo-Lyashko Private Military Company, in an old, decrepit barracks of Hallfrager Airbase. His partner, Sergei Lyashko, had asked to speak with him there. This was significant. Sergei had been in seclusion since he and ten of his men engaged a large group of Decapitane soldiers. The loss of employees had been fairly minimal, but still took a toll on Sergei. As soon as he entered, however, it was clear that whatever qualms of conscience had plagued Sergai the past few days, they were gone now. "Ivan!" Sergei cried jovially. "Good to see you, bratishka. It's been a while!" Ivan chose not to comment on this manic change of tone. "Good to see you as well, Sergei. You wanted to see me." "Ah, yes," Sergei responded as he put his feet on the table he was sitting at, a table in the middle of a number of moth eaten bunk beds. "I got some orders. We have a new mission, and we're being redeployed." "Oh?" Ivan prodded for detail. "Oh yes," Sergei delivered. "Seems we're being pulled back to Kaisergrad." Ivan nodded slightly. He had expected this. "I thought the order might come. Cautrix must be getting antsy about this newest alliance push. I'm only slightly surprised. I would have thought they would put mercs on the front lines." Sergei jeered at Ivan with a slight, knowing glean in his eyes. "Oh, these orders didn't come from the UMC. No, no, my friend. These are orders directly from our client." |
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| Savasan | Apr 30 2015, 02:33 AM Post #42 |
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Jacob's Main Guy
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Entering the city of Cautrix was the militia of Balázs Németh, a private contractor hired by the government of the Dual Monarchy to carry out operations in Cautrix. His rag tag army, consisted of willing civilians, farm hands, current and former military, and his own men. In one of the armoured cars rolling down the streets of Kaisergrad, sat a middle aged man staring out the window, next to him a younger man -- some farmhand turned militiaman from Pannonia and Balázs across from them both. The middle aged man leered out of the window and remarked "This is the Kaiser's city, eh? A damnable hamlet of a town." Balázs looked out of the window, a rainy evening greeting him. "We are getting close to our destination, Your Grace." The middle aged man nodded, and stopped his leering. "I haven't been in a car like this since I left the army in 1992." The farmhand looked up at the man. "Why did you leave, Your Grace?" The middle aged man turned his head to the farm boy "I was called upon by my brother, the former emperor, to become a civil servant in his court. I was the Arch-Steward. To be frank, I was lost in the soldier's life, but that is what our father wanted for us. I wanted to work in the diplomatic corps of our nation." The man squinted his eyes and leaned forward, as to get a better look of the lad. "You look young, were you not old enough when I was in power?" The boy with a naive smile said "I was born in 1993, Your Grace." The older man leaned back into his seat. "Fair enough." The armoured car squealed to a halt. "We are here, Your Grace! You will meet my associates at once." The man half-stepped out of the car. "In this pub, Balázs?" Balázs turned around to the man, with an enthusiastic smile. "Yes, Your Grace! Come!" The old man stepped out of the car, with that boy. An APC stopped behind them, letting off some more men. The army continued onward next to these two vehicles. These were trained mercenaries from Balázs' company. The pub, empty of patrons, contained a few men, seated around a corner stall towards the interior of the building. "Good to see you Hans." Hans was the owner of this pub, and he had closed shop early to let this clandestine meeting take place. "This better be quick, Balázs. I'm losing money for doing this to you." Balázs looked at him and said, "I'm sure saving your ass in Saros was payment enough!" The middle aged man asked Hans, "How much money do you usually make in a night like this Friday?". Hans, polishing a snifter, remarked, "Around 3000 Areus a night." The man produced a money clip from his pocket, and counted cash. "3500 should cover it." Hans looked up at the man, stunned. "Who are you?" The man, while staring at the money, then looking up at him, simply said,"Someone you shall know soon." Balázs and his crew walked down to the men, ready to greet them. "Lads. Good evening." The seated men responded with their hellos and little pleasantries, until a seated man spoke out, "Is this the Archduke?" The middle aged man responded with a cold "I am." Balázs smilled again and said, "Gentlemen, this is the Nemacian Prince, Archduke Ladislaus von Neumarkt, uncle of our Emperor." |
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| Nova Decapita | May 2 2015, 07:42 AM Post #43 |
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New Decaff
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[OOC: Skipping ahead to current time because describing the actual battle would take too long real-time] Back in the corridors of power, a representative of the 1ére Legion Étrangere was pacing nervously outside the president's office. "Come in," called a voice from inside. The man walked in and shut the door behind himself, not wishing to let the rest of the palace hear the president's inevitable ranting. Sure enough, the president shut the window letting the breeze in, then exploded. "What the hell happened out there? Explain yourselves!" "...I'll start at the beginning. So, one of the units, encountered a large mountain range roughly 70 miles east of the border. The Marshall of that unit saw a valley and took an opportunity to cut some time off, so he sent his unit through the valley-" "Not realising, apparently, they were walking into a death trap?" "No, sir, they were well hidden. The ambushers." "Do go on..." "So, we got about halfway through the valley, then apparently the Marshall spotted the ambush and attempted an attack." "The fool." "We were greeted by sniper fire and mortars. We couldn't get out fast enough." "Then you tell me me, what?" "We got out of the valley, then realised that to our south, roughly 20, 30, Achaian APCs were approaching." "So what happened next?" "We got annihilated. Final death count comes in at roughly 1,500." Clearly wishing not to invoke the president's temper again, the representative stopped talking. He could see Jean's face working out what to do, and the president spoke. "You must have come here for a reason?" "We would like to finish the job, sir." There was a deeply unpleasant pause. "Fine. Go out there again. Take the equipment you want. Just don't screw it up. You can leave now... and tell the Marshall of the unit to come to me, as soon as he can." "Yes, sir." The representative got up quickly, thanking the president, then left. Edited by Nova Decapita, May 2 2015, 07:43 AM.
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The Republic of Nova Decapita - President Carmen Leonora - - Partido de Centro - - Next election is 23rd August 1408 - Current seats in the Salón de los Señores ![]() - My factbook - | |
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| Medai | May 8 2015, 12:11 AM Post #44 |
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Classified Conference Room Medapolis Greater Medai "Alright," said Secretary-General Torstein Lahti. "As you all know, a civil war in the Legantian has been dragging on for some time now. I have decided that we need to finally take an actual position on this. There are three possible positions, to support the Legantian, to support the UMC, or to remain neutral." Minister of the Military Knute Frank began to speak. "I think-" "Hang on!" said Lahti. "I'd like to quickly reiterate the pros and cons to all sides." Frank slumped back down in his seat and sighed, slightly irritated. Lahti ignored this. "First of all, supporting the UMC is completely out of the question, as I think you all agree. This would encourage separatist movements. Then, we could support the Legantian Alliance. It would help the Legantians win, which, if they did, would prevent similar movements from occurring in other places, such as here. If we get involved military, we lose men, but whoever survived would gain experience. Finally, we could remain neutral. This would avoid wasting money and lives on a conflict that isn't ours." Lahti paused, making sure he had made all the points that he wanted to make. Satisfied he had, he continued "Does anybody else wish to add anything?" "I would," said Minister of Foreign Affairs Hanna Jokela. "So far, other countries have been keen to get in on this conflict. Our lack of involvement makes us seem... unassertive, and therefore weak. Getting involved would lend us a tad bit of influence while negotiating." "Alright," said Lahti. "Make a note of that. Anything else?" "As a negative note concerning getting involved, this would cause our military to be less ready for other issues," said Frank. "Specifically, the increasing assertiveness of Zaliviya is concerning, and this is not going to be quick operation. In the mean time, we can't expect Zaliviya to wait for us to be ready for their aggression again." "Good. One note against involvement," said Lahti. "Anything else?" Lahti waited a couple seconds, and when nobody spoke up, he said. "Alright, meet me back here in fifteen minutes with an opinion on how to proceed formed. Until then, you are dismissed." Everybody stood up and left. After fifteen minutes had passed, Lahti resumed the meeting. "Alright, you should've had ample time to draw a conclusion now. What does everybody think. We'll start with Frank and go clockwise." "I think we should support the Legantian," said Frank. "Alright. Jokela?" "Same." "Simonsson?" asked Lahti, to Minister of the Economy Filip Simonsson. "I think we should stay neutral," he replied. "Axelsen?" "Support the Legantian," said Minister of Public Relations Frederick Axelsen. "Alright then, and I support the Legantian. So that's what we shall do. I'll draw up the letter to Silvanus. You guys to get to work. Frank, prepare the military. Simonsson, get the necessary funds together. Axelsen, get on the public. Demonize the UMC, glorify the Legantian, all that other stuff. Namely, try to get recruits." "Yes sir," they said in unison. "Dismissed," said Lahti.
![]() Edited by Medai, May 8 2015, 07:41 PM.
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| Saros | May 8 2015, 05:23 AM Post #45 |
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Sergei chuckled from his seat, as he quaffed a pint glass of vodka. "This must be a fashionable fight Ivan. It's attracted all the best people." Ivan stood and offered a slight inclination of the head to the Archduke. Not enough to attract untoward attention from the people being forced out of the pub, but enough for the Archduke to know it was meant in respect. "Your Majesty," Ivan began. The words seemed to stick in his mouth. Ivan had never met a royal before. "My name is Ivan Romovo, and this is Sergei Lyashko. We are the owning partners of the Lyashko-Romovo Private Military Company, and we are at your disposal. What would you have us do?" |
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