Second Dawn IC [Open & Accepting]

[General Deth Glitch]

The Second Dawn

​

The ghosts of the past call to you. They plead that you don't let this, this wasteland, be their legacy. Within your haven small splashes of green begin to bloom out of the grey. They call you to spread your teachings to the world and share it all. Share the wealth. You look out over the wastes. Miles upon miles of unconstrained chaos. You know that, that is what is actually there but all you see is brown and grey. The thick smog covers your view of the distance as the call of some great behemoth of nature rings true across the landscape. You wonder how, how can I possibly save this? But thought that fear lies a certainty that it is you who is needed to save those poor souls that lie off in the distance. Behind you the sounds of a new nation awaking to a new day of struggle, a new danger to overcome. In front of your eyes, right on the very edge of the dusty horizon, a large convoy of vehicles pass. They are clearly raiders and you could swear one of the vehicles stops, just far enough into the fog that you cant really see, and they look back at you before moving on. They hate you as much as you hate them. They know the wealth you hoard. The power you hold. They want it and they are not alone. You may have gathered these people together to save them, but that very action made them a target. One that attracts more and more threats each passing day. You may be able to hold these walls for now but if you don't look to the distance and expand your power a threat will no doubt arise, a threat far too able to crush what you now have. Go, See, Conquer. Take what you need so your people can be safe. Happiness is a luxury afforded to few.

CS's
OOC
(Old Interest Check)

 

[Pat]

Moscow Union​

Alyosha Polzin traced his index finger along the line of the Oktyabrskaya Railway painstakingly etched by generations of cartographers onto the parchment laid out before him until his distal phalanx landed on the ancient city of Tver. He put the ring of advisors waiting with bated breath all around him into the back of his mind as he flicked open a folder with his left hand and examined for the second time that day the reports his stalkers had compiled of the ruins. The area was inhabited by a population of humans estimated to be within the low thousands, engaged in an endless war with encroaching wildlife and, alarmingly, a group of Metahumans. Regardless of their purpose, he would see to it that they lived no longer and that the innocent citizens of Tver would be rescued from their life in the wasteland. He had already sent the necessary dispatches to the private militaries, and as he deliberated their railcars raced across the northern lines of the Moscow Metro. Those of the Moscow Union government forces would now join them from the depths of Metro 2. Standing from his seat, he nodded to his Vice President Vitaly to assume control of the meeting and in one step began his own journey: to Kievskaya Station.

 

[Yang Xiao Long]

Barcelona, Spain

13:23 Hours

The sound of automatic fire broken the uneasy silence for the third time in the past thirty minutes as the Marines had been moving up the street moved up the street. One of the sergeants yelled for everyone to get down, it wasn't really necessary but he would of rather it not be necessary and doing it instead of him not doing it and some greenhorn freezing and getting shot. The Marines returned fire, the loud 12 gauge C-20s barking off in semiautomatic fire as they aimed for their targets. A scream and then a thud as one of the Bandits they were fighting hit the ground after thinking his makeshift Armour would protect him as it had before against the makeshift guns of one of the rival bandit gangs. He had no such luck here as the Prewar Slug gun was made to combat much more advanced protection.

"Where the Hell is the 280?" Yelled Lieutenant Harold Nastda as he fired down the street at the Bandits. Only seconds later the sound of the C-280 Ringing out answered his question. The Squad Automatic Weapon made short work of enemy forces attempting to kill the Marines. "Move up!"

The Marines moved up the ruined Street to where the Bandits had engaged them. The hostiles hadn't been very well equipped, makeshift automatics and armour that looked like it had been made from a couple sheets of metal welded together. Looking around the Marine noted his surroundings, a narrow street with a hotel at the end of it. That was their objective, the hotel was the base of one of the local bandit gangs that had been reaping havoc upon the local survivors.

"Sargent, remind me why the hell we're doing this rather than sitting on the deck, sipping some fine wine?" The LT asked his XO sarcastically.

"Why in order to rekindle the spark of civilization, to bring order to the Wasteland, to boldy kick ass where no Marine has kicked ass before. That and there is no fine wine aboard the Pralin." Sargent Hannah Murdoch replied almost as equally filled with sarcasm.

A shot rang out and all of the Marines dived for cover. Scanning the area to see where the shot had come from the LT heard one of the more junior Marines speak up.

"That was me, Sir. I saw a hostile poking his head out from behind the sign on the roof of the hotel." He looked like he wanted to melt and crawl through one of the sewage drains on the side of the street.

"Remember to call it out next time, other than that, good awareness. If he could of gotten into position he really would of ruined someone's day before we could of responded." At least he's got the sense to react before going through the all the hoops, the LT reflected. Smartening up the LT went back to surveying his surroundings.

"Barker, Ajax! Get your squads cover the Flanks! Murdoch, Preacher with me across to the objective!" Moving with machine precision the Marines crossed down the street.

"Breacher Up! Stack!" Called out Sergeant Murdoch as she took her place on one side of the Hotel's double wooden doors. Another Marine took position on the other side while the rest fell into file behind either one of them. Four bangs range out as Buckshot from both breachers disintegrated the hinges of the doors. The slam of the doors as they were kicked in and than the clink clink clank of flash bangs being tossed in by the Marines behind them.

The Marines poured into the room. Catching the guards off guard they were dropped in a matter of moments. Flipping down the magnifier of his hybrid optic LT Nastda made his way further into the lobby of the ruined hotel.

"Jesus Christ..." What idiot is sounding off like that? It took him a moment to realize it had been Sergeant Murdoch. Then he saw what had made the woman speak up. There were three bodies hanging from the ceiling on what looked like meat hooks through their necks. Good thing I haven't had lunch yet, he thought to himself. "Dammit stop staring and fan out!"

The Marines quickly cleared the floor and found two stair Wells up to the higher floors of the hotel. Bother stairwells appeared damaged. The first stairwell damaged that it looked like only the stairs up from third floor were passable. The second the stairs up to the third floor were passable. Musing over this new information the LT worked out a simple plan, they would take the second stair well up to the third floor while part way up Barker's squad would break off to clear the second floor. They would then clear the third floor, cross over to the first stairwell and move up towards the Fifth floor. Ajax's squad would break off and clear the fourth floor. It was a simple enough plan but it should work out if executed properly.

After quickly explaining the plan out to his subordinates LT Nastda got his men moving yet again. Due to the normal small size of Marine units, they had to rely on blitzkrieg tactics.

The Marines moved into the stairwell. They moved in twos with Baker's squad leading, then Frost's squad, Ajax's and then Nastda's. The idea for this displacement was so the squad tasked with clearing each floor was infront, that way they could move into their respective floor and allow the rest to pass by safely.

Barker's Squad broke off into the second floor and the rest went past. They had been fighting in this city for a week now, clearing it of bandits, trying to find friendly survivors, and locate resources for the Pralin. It was odd Nastda reflected as he listened to the sound of Barker clearing the floor now below him, he had quickly become used to the sound of hinges being blown off and doors kicked in. Reaching the third floor he inspected the hallway. It was dirty anddark only illuminated here and there sunlight sliping through half open doors. Shots range out from up ahead as Frost’s breachers entered and cleared rooms.


“Boss you may want to see this!” Called the familiar voice of Sergeant Derek Frost. From a room to Nastda’s left as the remaining Marines passed by. “Keep moving, I'm going to check this out.” ordered the Company’s LT as he broke off to investigate.


HMCS Pralin

Bay Of Biscay

13:48 Hours

Captain James Hunt looked out at the horizon with his binoculars. He knew there was something illogical about this, the Pralin’s active and passive radar would be able to pick up anything coming towards the ship long before it was visible on the horizon. There was the clank of boots on metal as someone else joined him on the car Walker surrounding the Pralin’s ‘Naval’ Bridge. At somepoint it would of just been referred to as the Bridge, or Primary Bridge. That was before the Marines had convinced JointCom that they needed a dedicated command center. Before the war that would of been unthinkable, Marines taking over the Auxiliary bridge. But now with the world's Navies either wiped out of destroyed due to disrepair there wasn't much of a chance that the Command Crew would have to relocated due to battle damage.


“Captain you’re not going to like this.” Said the Scottish accent of the man who had just joined him. That man was Norman McTavish the chief engineer for the Pralin. Most people just called him Scotty.


“What is it Scotty?” The Captain asked the aging engineer.


“We can't fix any of the bloody attackers, we try and we try but we just don't have the right parts. There are times I wish you just kept Sparrow Hawk on the deck.”


“Those Marines needed support, are you saying I should of let them die? How were we supposed to know the bastards had a couple SAMs tucked away?”


“No no that not what I'm saying at all! What I am trying to say is we just don't have the parts on board to replace her.”


“Any idea where we might get them?”


“I don't think we’ll be able to, those planes were pretty advanced. Unless of course you want to try crossing all the way back to Canada.”


“Not what I wanted to hear, Scotty. But honestly that’s what I was expecting. What about their guns could we at least outfit one of the Valkyries with them?”


“I’ll get the Boys to look into it, I'm going to say this right now don't get-”


“My hopes up, right. I'm just starting to think we might of waited too long to get out there. Marines keep coming back with rumors of Nations and settlements rising from the Dust. Hell… One of the recon flights said they might of saw armour moving down there. I had him taken to the infirmary just to make sure it wasn't fatigue.”


“Sir, are you sure you’re not Fatigued? I mean you are the youngest member of the Joint-Com, hell you’re one of the youngest captains I've ever served with. The stress might be getting to you.”


“You may be right i’ll go see the counselor when I get a chance. Thanks Scotty. Hey you got the time?”


The engineer checked his wristwatch. “13:50.”


“Alright thanks, the Colonel wants me to meet her in Marine Ops, she apparently has something she wants to talk to me about.”


“Alright, I'll get back to you on the possible rearmament. Have a good day, Sir.”


“You too, Scotty.”

 

[Axel The Englishman]

All was seemingingly quiet in Old London. Those serving under the work force carried out their daily duties as usual - with the rest of the city simply procrastinating the day along. A quiet day, indeed.

A gaze upon the River Thames would show a display of technical ingenuity and a manifestation of the Old World. The HMS Belfast, to be precise. Though she was beaten and pummelled 50 years ago, her recovery has managed to put some colour into those cheeks. Well, if ships had cheeks.

Her crew would uphold their duties. Old London's second most important defensive asset needed to be in top shape for if the time ever came. Hopefully it never would, but one couldn't be too sure.

The ship's Commanding Officer - Captain Bartholomew Schulz - took up position within the bridge of the vessel. The Officer launched a gaze through the glass, ricocheting off the River Thames and into the horizon. If one were to look hard enough, a grin could be seen manifesting upon his face.

 

[General Deth Glitch]

Konungariket Sverige

The Queen was surveying the city. Many of the ruined buildings were now being patched up and the city began to look like a place to live rather then a place to cower. She knew the next planned construction was to wall off many streets and have the city guard use the intervening buildings as watch/guard towers. This plan would take a long time but it was vital to the long term safety of the city, at least the Queen felt as such. While she was walking the streets of Stockholm, flanked by a following of irreverent advisers and the much more important guards, her 18 year old son was completing his Rites of the Soldier. What that meant was he was away in the north hunting so he could return with a kill to prove his ability to serve and there for lead the soldiers of Sweden. While he could in theory just order one of his guards to do the task for him, She knew it was unlikely he would do it. She worried, as a mother does, for his life but she knew he would be successful and then return as a righteous heir to the throne. Her guards were armed with a variety of Axes and Swords and makeshift shields, they had guns but they were holstered. There were soldiers around where she walked who could fire a gun to save her life but those protecting her closely she wanted equipped with melee. She knew all too well what an assailant with a vendetta, a weapon and nothing to live for could do. She walked to the north side, where work was already beginning on the wall, with a gate across one of the main roads. The Gate had no.. gates. It was just a gateway. It will stay like this until the completion of the makeshift war, designed more against local wildlife then against raiders. The Gateway was grand nonetheless, it was simple and made almost entirely of steel, unless the rest of the wall which was to be rubble, stone and other crap. But it was also large. A good three stories tall, over a story higher then the highest points along the rest of the wall. It was also going to be adorned with the royal crest. For now it was the skeleton of a husk of a gateway. It showed a little of the cities power but for now served little purpose. What was far more interesting was what lay beyond where she now stood. In patch of dust, that was once a park, slowly being filled with soldiers. They planned to take Uppsala, historic home of the Swedish royals and the location of many Norse Myths and Legends. Before the war many in Sweden were either Christian or Atheist, the war changed that. They needed something to believe in. The Atheists couldn't believe that mankind had ruined itself so and the Christians refused to believe that this was the work of a benevolent god. Many began to look at the forgotten faith of their distant ancestors who's sites of worship and divination still littered the Rural landscape. The Royals too chose this path as they lead their people into a new age. She knew Uppsala needed to be taken if their claim to Sweden was to be accepted by the other power bases around the country. However Uppsala was one of these. Inhabited by a self styled 'Viking' who called himself Ragnarr the Reborn. He had a small but devoted following and raided the surrounding regions. He needed to be stopped. It was too often that the story of a young man or woman off to complete their Rites would be found mutilated, their body suspended in the outskirts of Uppsala. The Soldiers would march and they would retake the city. But not yet. Today they made themselves merry and said goodbye to their families. Tonight they feasted and dined. Tomorrow they would march, some would never return.​

 

[CabalAnomicPotato]

*puff, puff*
Went the cigar of an old dictator, living in a world ruined by the ambitions of humanity. Portman slid his cig across the cool stone, standing on top of one of the salvaged scyscrapers, which doubled as his main office of work and planning; putting it out successfully, he stood staring at the Ukrainian Federation, and how sucessful his people had prospored. Unlike most of the wasteland, his city was clean of rubble, and building either destroyed or repaired, making it now a bustling little city (as bustling as it gets). He could see the civilains, tiny in size as he stood upward, walking or running, working, also seeing the occasional motercycles as they made their rounds, and he smiled. Portman regained his posture and strode back towards the roof entrance, shifting his eyes slightly towards the soldiers as they straightened up, "sir" one of them muttered, closing the door behind him. He made his way towards his office, sitting in a big chair the personal guard had pulled out, picked up his radio, and contacted the control room, "Are they ready....yes...inform them it's time" he finished, cutting the channel, smiling to himself, turning to the personal guard, "talk to staff, tell them to get me something strong"

Leading officer, pov
Turner cut off the truck radio, turning to the passenger soldier, and nodded, "word from command is in, time to move out" he finished, as he started his vehicle and drove through the gate, feeling a great deal of pride knowing he was leading the first expedition to recapture Ukraine. Three more trucks would drive through, along with 100 standard infrantry, 26 advanced infantry occupying the trucks.
They head to reclaim Chernihiv city, Ukraine

 

[Kent]

The Kingdom of Madrid, New Spain
​

Madrid Defense Force Headquarters

The Border Defense Departmenr got a call from one of the surveillance snipers on top one of the buildings.
"BD Command, this is SS-26, be advised, I got sight of 10 mutants 1 kilometer from the city borders. SS-43 and SS 16 also has sight of them. Requesting permission to engage, over"

"SS-26, permission granted. Bring those abominations down."

"Roger that." There was silence for 20 seconds until SS-26 reported back.

"10 Mutant targets are down."

"Standby, we are sending a medical squad to dispose of the bodies. Good job."


Royal Palace of Madrid

Office of the Royalty

A woman in blue carrying a couple of folders stopped in front of the figure.

"Your Majesty, you summoned for me?" Asked the woman.
"Yes." The king replied. "Now, amanda, do you think that there may be people alive in other places? Spain in particular, are there any chances that people from the other cities are alive?" The Royalty was curious. Could there have been survivors besides them?, the king thought.
"There is a possibility, considering that spain itself was not hit by a nuclear warhead. There are a couple underground shelters all over spain, from civilian to military use, but we don't know if they have been occupied."
"Tried to contact them?" Asked the king.
"Due to some Hane, High Altitude Nuclear Explosion, most forms of communication from the old world are fried. Satellites are also down, meaning that long-range communication is virtually impossible."
"Mmhmm." He then rested back on his chair. "Proceed with your reports."
"A total of 18 mutants has been taken down today. 10 just recently." Amanda said before pausing. She then added. "The construction of factories are going well. The same can be said for the other buildings in spain. Commerce will soon begin. Overall, everything is going fine. Crime rates are at 0% and everybody is getting food, water and electricity."
"Good, good. Please also inform the MDF that I want us to reclaim and secure Toledo and it's surrounding Areas.. Notify the Prime Minister of this too." The King said.
"As you wish, your majesty." She said, bowed and exited the room.

 

[Pat]

Moscow Union​

The railtank began to vibrate: the motor was running. Roman popped his head out of the hatch as the vehicle began to clatter along the sterile subterranean tunnels of Metro 2 and cackled like a madman as the vehicle picked up speed and the air currents whipped his red hair back and blew a kiss against the lenses of his goggles. They had the honor of being at the head of Cossack Company's column, but they weren't alone, further back still were vehicles from every military private and government that called the Moscow Metro home. Climbing down and swinging the lid down with him, he sat back into his seat and grinned wolfishly to his crew. They've served a few good months together yet, scourging mutant nests and bandit stations with hot lead in some of the fiercest fighting to be had since the Moscow Union took the fascists and merchants and rangers and the reds they haven't killed under their banner, uniting the underground against the common enemies of humanity. The tank was newer to him. Even if they hadn't decorated the fighting compartment of the old one with trophies, hadn't painted a tally onto the side of what and how many of it they had killed, they would have known: the inside of the tank stank of kerosene. He discovered last deployment why repair crews used that tactic. If a crew got chewed to sausage meat or were burned to a crisp, you could weld a patch into place on the steel outside. And you could clean up whatever was left of the poor sorry pricks who's got killed. But blood and bits of flesh would linger no matter how well you cleaned things out. Pretty soon, the fighting compartment would start smelling as if you'd forgotten a kilo of pork in there for a couple of weeks. So the repairmen did what they could, they doused the inside of the fighting compartment with as much kerosene as was necessary. Roman didn't know whether that actually killed the dead-meat stench or just overwhelmed it. Kerosene wasn't a pleasant odor, but over what he could be smelling, it was nothing less than ambrosial. The railtank soon emerged from the underground and he moved to look out of the hatch once more to make sure no mutants had strayed from the ruins of Moscow proper. Peering back, he could see the railcar commanders that hadn't put on their goggles were now fixing them around their heads. Fifty years underground had made the sun an alien and hostile fixture of the surface to the humans that dwelled below, sheltered from it's unrelenting glare. It was only natural they became increasingly pink and fearful of bright lights as the generations passed. Retreating back into his armored womb, he decided to get a game of cards going with Boris to pass the time.

>>*<<​

Polzin smiled as the monorail that carried to him hummed down the ancient lines of Metro 2 as if it had a life of it's own. His ancestors had taken vessels like these when they fled from the surface before their home was blanketed in the thermonuclear rage set aside to annihilate the beating heart of the Russian Federation. Fortunately for him, it wasn't enough to collapse the arteries of D6. It wasn't even enough to wipe out those that had sought refuge within the Moscow Metro. The vehicle came to a smooth stop at the secret entrance to Kievskaya. He stood up from his seat and proceeded to exit, flanked on both sides by agents of the revived and revered and feared F.S.B., or at least so the archives had described them. Waiting for him at the door was Alexander. With a baby face, white hair, and set of purple eyes, you wouldn't suspect for a second that men bled and cried under the cruel and surgical precision of his knife until you were the one he was cutting the answers he needed out of. He reached out a ghostly white hand from his coat pockets. "Hello Polzin," he chirped happily. He could be amicable when he was on your side.

"I apologize for your wait," Polzin formally began, accepting Alexander's handshake. Niceties seemed to make a difference for his albino comrade. From past experience he noticed they helped a lot when you needed the support of others. But he had come to gain the perception that Alexander genuinely enjoyed the nuanced realm of etiquette.

Alexander anxiously raked the back of his neck with his fingernails. "I've never been to this section of the Metro before. It has been much more quiet than I am accustomed to, but, perhaps because of my profession, this has been a welcome change."

Polzin picked up on what he hadn't said fairly easily and he nodded in silent agreement. The men at his sides hadn't, thankfully. "Shall we depart?"

Alexander grinned to the affirmative.

>>*<<​

After losing his ass to Boris for the third time in a row Roman gave up on ever winning a round against the Georgian. The kid had a mind, that's for certain. Groaning defeatedly, he was about to dip into his vodka ration before Vaughn sighted Tver. "Roma! I see the objective!"

Roman and Boris gave out whoops and beat their fists against the metal of the fighting compartment. He pulled the bottle of vodka towards him anyway to celebrate. Any reason to drink was a good one, plus it never hurt to get knackered before a firefight to help steady the nerves. After passing the bottle to Boris, Roman moved to check the main armaments of the railtank, his darling DShK 12.7mm Machinegun 'Dushka', and modified DShK Heavy Automatic Shotgun, or 'Abzats.' One could shoot clean through anything the world threw at the railtank, and the second could make anything within spitting distance look like it went through a meat grinder. Assured there were no problems with the bullet boxes of either prize, he accepted his vodka back from Boris and placed it back into his supplies. He climbed up through the cupola and led a brief cheer of the line behind him before looking back towards the troubled city of surface dwellers and resting his arms on Dushka.

 

[Locklaklazarii]

Neapolis, with the coming dawn was quiet, the dew slick upon the grass growing in every crack and crevase within the crumbling infrastructure. Over the light fog and sounds of the sea a growing trumpet sound coming from the Campus on the outskirts of the city. The men in the tents, their slaves, and pack animals all became more and more active, the camp was humming the humming turned into a murmur, with breakfast having past the soldier were prepared for the new day. 3 More trumpets marked the taking down of a camp and the organization of the Troops. One in a Column they began their march, towards Rumors, towards Rome. The Thunderous footfalls marked their one day journey towards Rome. If nothing existed there they would create it, and if something did they would improvise. With Marcus Tullius Bellatus at the helm they marched with purpose and speed able to make it to the city by the Seventh hour on the second day.

 

[CabalAnomicPotato]

Commander Landin, the 1st in command of the huge task force, took a look around his truck; a private of his, just leaving advanced training a month ago, held his gun tightly, it was clear he was nervous. Landin gave the private a friendly shove, shocking him, as he sat up, "sir?", "don't look so tense, ok, we probably won't run into anything anyways" Landin finished, chuckling, "ah...yes sir"the private finished, still looking nervous, "it will be us you know, us advanced and a couple of the small fries, setting up the city so it can be used....and tonight, after we secure the area, drinks are on me, because I said so" Landin finished, smiling, looking up ahead, getting serious "there it is....private?", "oh right" he said, picking up his radio "alright, you know the drill, split" he finished, and like so, the trucks and the soldiers split, their truck still heading for center.

 

[Locklaklazarii]

When the Legion met the Large Cohort they were put at a Halt, the sheilds slammed against the ground in unison in a way that if needed they could form a Testudo. Marcus and his first Cohort went out to meet those on the road, was this a sign, was this what he was looking for? They Aproached in peace not drawing weapons, not at a fast pace, a calm smooth Walk up, Marcus Tullius' Helmet responded to a slight breeze, almost as if it were living itself. Sending a young man foreward, neither legionary or slave, to deliver the message of proposed delegation. The boy delivered the message first in Latin then in Italian that they were to disguss and not quarrel.

 

[Axel The Englishman]

A mass of armed combatants paraded through the Tower Bridge. Nothing stood before them - such a decision would be wise and necessary. It appeared to be the entirety of 1. Brigade that marched along the road, where an automobile or two should be found.

Those high up in the ranks always made it clear that such events were an excellent tactic in raising public morale. Such a thing must be true of they piled so much physical effort into making it seem apparent. That, or they just didn't want anyone growing suspicious.

But there was no time for such thoughts. The 1. Brigade was proudly presenting itself along the bridge - uniform and everything. Some would say these parades would be even more extravagant than those during the era of the Old World.

 

[Locklaklazarii]

Marcus Tullius responded in kind, he approached the man standing tall, he knew that this confrontation was his, he held the leverage this time, but if the rumors were true such action would be foolish, but a merge though politically tumultuous would mean more power for Tullius and safty for his people. He Saluted Titus "Ave Amicus, how are you this day?" he remained calm and semi-casual in order to show strength and keep negotiations calm and peaceful.

 

[General Deth Glitch]

Konungariket Sverige ​

In the northern forests of Sweden a man standing proud of six guards. The guards were all ready and showing their fear. Each held a weapon, for four it was a long spear and the other two held Axes accompanied by shields, their stance low and their movements slow. The man alone held an axe, crafted prewar. On his back lay a shield, also prewar. He was low to the ground and his boots stood behind his feet. His gloves lay beside them. Slowly stalking out of the snow laden trees was a large brown bear. Its left front paw was notable larger then the rest and the left side of its face looked similarly larger. From floor to shoulder it stood 8ft and its head was almost as large as a grown man. It was looking intently at the humans gathered before it. Slowly, the man standing alone took the shield from his back and place it on the ground infront of him. He lowered himself even closer to the ground and then let out a guttural yell. The Bear pawed the ground before charging at him and lashing with it larger paw. Just as the bear was about to reach him the man rolled to the right and slashed at the bears Right hind leg. It roared back at him as it turned before it charged again. This time the man rolled toward it, cutting at its front right leg as it charged over him. It was likely pure luck that he was not trampled by the hind legs. The bear was clearly injured but appeared no weaker. Now it had learned and did not charge. The two paced around the shield the man placed earlier as his guards slowly edged ever further away. As he approached the trees the Bear emerged from he began to back toward them. The Bear was not going to let his prey retreat and so began to move toward him, at a notable pace. Just as it was about to reach him he turned, ran toward a tree behind him and jumped off of it. As he came down he smashed his axe against the bears throat. He thought it would be the killing blow but the bear seemed unnerved as he landed his body against its right leg and was knocked 10 foot off. Now unarmed he knew his situation was not looking great. The Bear seemed more enraged then before and the man had just suffered a full body blow against the force of the beast. He could feel that one of his ribs was likely broken but it would not stop him. With his left hand clutching his chest he gestured for one of the spear wielding guards to pass it over. As he caught it the bear charged again, he rolled away, barely avoiding the left paw swiping across his face. It was Kill or be killed and so positioned himself in readiness. The bear slowly closed the distance and then charged. As it did so he threw the spear into the beasts eye, it missed. But it hit the armoured nose of the beast and ricocheted into its intended target and lodged itself in its brain. As he did this he leapt at the beast, his body impacting the top of its shoulder and flinging him off to the left where he rolled limply on the snowy ground. The beast appeared to be turning. He thought this is it. He had taking many risks and dealt some severe blows but the bear was now between him and his guards, they couldn't pass him a weapon and the bear looked ready for another charge. But just as it began to face him it twitched and then collapsed. Then it twitched some more before it was still. He had succeeded. He looked at his arm, the bone was just slightly poking out of the skin and he could suddenly feel just how bad his ribs were. He feel onto a knee. Panting but holding in the pain. Around him the guards made camp and someone attended to his wounds. While he felt weak from his state the guards were in awe. They had never seen a Jarl-Bear Killed before. The smaller breeds were often claimed as kills by the more boisterous warriors but never one so large. Never a Jarl. He felt weak because he knew he was showing pain to his men and that was certainly not how he was taught to lead. His men, they didn't see him how he saw himself. They saw a warrior, a fighter. A man worthy to lead them.

Meanwhile in Stockholm the soldiers advanced on Uppsala. Shots rang out across the area as there Jarls guards in the exterior of the city opened fire from their seclued locations. But very few of them had guns. As the Swedes returned fire they soon lost their fire ability but they had suffered a fair few losses in the crossfire. Suddenly a loud horn was sounded and soldiers charged down the various streets. The Swedes began to mow them down but they had underestimated their ingenuity as soldiers closed range on all flanks. What the Swedes hoped they could end at distance became a melee and blades cut on blades, hammers smashed skulls and the odd shot still managed to find its mark. When the cutting was done the tracks they did battle on were red with blood. Many who survived had weapons lodged in their skin. Some were blinded by the blood on their face. 100 Swedish bodies lay over many more hundreds that betrayed the crown. The Jarl couldn't be found and the Queen assumed the coward fled the city during the fighting. They tried to shoot down the enemies that fled but many still succeeded.​

 

[InsaneAsylum]

Germania
Berlin

A small strand of light pierced the dark room like a needle. A single boarded up window protected the from from the outside light. A bald headed man stepped in front of the boarded up window, peering through the small opening. He peered down at his city, Franz's city, Berlin. Franz fought from the bottom to be where he was right now. Leading his people to a better future was no small task. However, Franz was up to the challenge. A pair of sunglasses covered the dictator's eyes.

From the other side of the room, a fist roughly knocked on the door. "Urgent news," a voice stated. "Come in," Franz responded, looking over his shoulder. The door creaked open, and a dim light flooded the room. A man stepped in, wearing a light trench coat with a hood. The man had a rugged beard, and bloodshot eyes. "Some fellas have gone and started trying to take some of our farms up North. They're about thirty men strong from what me and my lads saw," the man explained, still standing at the doorway. Franz turned, and strolled to a cracked wooden desk situated in the center of the room. He sat in a spinning chair, and took a deep breath. "Then we'll make an example of them. Prepare a hundred men. Don't give those barbaric wastelanders a fighting chance. Be sure to capture a few of them. Understood?" Franz spoke slowly, and pronounced each word with authority. The man nodded. "Understood." The door closed gently, and light receded from the room, leaving Franz in complete darkness. The dictator sat silently, rubbing his hairless chin. Thirty men? Usually they don't encounter so many wastelanders at once. Could there be more of them somewhere else? Whatever the case, they would be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly.

 

[Locklaklazarii]

" I hail from the port city, Neapolis, and would seek the same as your father. But I unlike you share no lofty titles or lineage, I am Marcus Tullius Bellatus, and I have been looking for you, that is why we make this march. Now personally I know that my men would like to rest for this night, Apollo will soon be from our sight. If you would call of yours I would do the same to mine that they build shelter, perhaps we could talk more with the breaking of bread." He gave a smile and stood silent in wait for response.

 

[guul66]

Pärnu​

20 Protective Allies stood in 2 rows, facing each other, just a few meters from the biggest gates of Pärnu. Most of the weaponry was basic - 4 bowmen, 7 men with a spear, a shield and a shortsword and 5 longswordmen. 4 of the men, however, had hunting rifles, which while not exactly military grade firearms would still, in direct combat, pose a larger threat than a sword or a bow. But in balance the other weapons were brand new, only recently being completed by the smiths of the city, and as a bonus almost everyone carried a knife and a hatchet with them as well.

Linnakogu, an elected council or parliament of sorts that acted as the ruling force for the city, had assigned these men and women to be sent to scout out 2 of the closest old world capitals, Tallinn and Riga. As both the town and the farming hamlets in their territory had been safe from raiders for a while, it was only logical to start searching for other civilized life and if none could be found, then at least expand their power to occupy the whole Baltic States.

A few hipsterish Baltians sang something about the Taara spirit in the background while some of the senior members of the Linnakogu had a small speech:
"In the future, we are going to look back at your bravery and sing ballads of greatness. Soon a new era of growth will be ushered in, all thanks to you. Good luck, brothers and sisters." One of them announced in Latvian.
The soldiers smiled at him, put on their various helmets and other protective headgear and left, closing the 5 meter tall gate behind them.

 

[CabalAnomicPotato]

1 Day after the capture

As Landin finished receiving his report from a couple of soldiers, ones who lead the fortification effort, another group of soldiers came up, confirming the death count, "7 injured, 12 killed" was the count, before Landin nodded and they head on their way. As he walked around, surveying the clean up crews, the ones tasked with scouting, and ones doing whatever they could do to get out of the job, he once again thought back to the fight from yesterday...hoping to be better prepared. Landin walked into what was previously an office building, sat where a secretary would sit, and picked up a bottle of beer, drinking it with vigor as two soldiers stepped, causiously getting his attention, "sir, population control, we have confirmed, 1190 people, now being held in a cleared out apartment complex, none of them had news of the people we fought yesterday", "urg....very well, on your way" Landin said, waving them off as they left.
Somewhere in the same building, a makeshift radio room had been set up and signal had been reached, "yes.....yes, city captured....on there way-er, very well" the soldier, an advanced finished, cutting it off and heading to speak with Landin. The construction crew would arrive within 2 hours.

Chernihiv captured

 

[Albion]

The Emperor stood atop the ramparts surrounding the Imperial Palace. Watching as the six thousand man strong task force slogged along the mix of paved and gravel roads that littered Konstantinoupolis, he felt a swelling of pride in his very core. The setllers, some thirteen thousand rugged folk, bearing metal tools, wheelbarrows full of seed packets or daily items, were behind the great columns of soldiers. He watched as the twenty cataphractarii rode alongside the soldiers, their gleaming lances and streaming banners showing the very pride of the Roman Nobility. With a shout from the top of the walls surrounding Konstantinoupolis, the gates began to heave open. With that, a great trumpeting began from one of the cataphractarii playing the anthem. The soldiers began to take up the call, their great hum of voices swelling explosively in the air.

"God speed, men. I trust Edirne will not be a challenge for you." The Emperor halted his muttering to himself, turning on his heel. His rich velvet cloak billowed through the air as he rushed into the palace. Nodding to his servant, Anatolios, the man offered a cup of wine to the Emperor. The Emperor, nodding his head dismissively now, took a calm sip of the wine and set it down next to his throne. He had urgent matters to attend to, namely the handing out of captured farmlands around Edirne.
(Edirne Captured)

 

[Yang Xiao Long]

Barcelona, Spain
13:53 Hours
Charlie Company
“Get some you irradiated son of a bitch!” Shouted one of Ameelia Serafina’s Marines as they put down one of the Mutants that was undoubtedly trying to defend the nest the Company of Marines were headed towards. In terms of Prewar military tactics what they were doing was insane, walking directly towards the enemy wielding SAWs with Flamers and Slug-guns interspersed here and there in their formation. Though this wasn't a normal Prewar fight, it was an extermination. It was also an operation that only a few other companies in the Marines would relish in as much as Charlie.


The approaching marines looked like harbingers of the apocalypse itself wearing full black armour and flame suits. They were what other Marines would of called Charlies. When the Marauder Corps were originally formed it was decided that a company would be formed comprised of delinquents and less than stable individuals. The result was Charlie company, a company that specialized in the types of fighting that would make other Marines sick. An oddity in and out of itself Charlie had several things about it that was unique, the first being that anyone in the company out of training rarely ever made it past the rank of Sergeant. All of Charlie’s officers were transferred from other companies. The idea behind that was that it allowed the M-COR to utilize people that otherwise could be dangerous wildcards, it also allowed Charlie to be contained and controlled by people of ‘sound judgement’.


Their mission was simple enough they were supposed to eliminate a nest of mutant Bulls that had formed in the old Bull Fighting Arena. If Charlie knew one thing though it was that their mission were rarely if ever simple. Captain Serafina waited for something to inevitably to go to shit, then it did. They were already in sight of the Arena when they heard what could only be described as a demonic moo from hell.


“What the fuck?!” One of the Marines exclaimed looking around for the thing that made the devilish sound. Then he saw it, one of the last things he ever saw to be exact. The mutant bull coming through the wall of the building and impaling the Marine on one of it’s massive horns.


“Dust that fucker!” Screamed the company’s CO as the Bull turned round to find another soon to be human shiskabab. Her company's reaction was what to be expected, they all opened fire on the monstrosity without remorse for their comrade still screaming, impaled on the Demon’s horn. His screaming from the pain of impalment was soon joined by his screams from the pain of being hit dead center in the back by a Phoenix Dust round. Despite the firesuit he wore it did little to stop the 12g thermite round from soon burning through his combat gear to the flesh beneath. Soon another Phoenix Dust round struck, this time it got the ‘bull’ dead center in the face and stumbled the Bull long enough for one of the Flamer Marines to get their weapon trained on it. The deadly mixture of the most potent incendiaries human kind had ever created was enough to put the Bull down for good.


As the Marines walked past the burning pile Captain Serafina took a moment to stop and put a round into the head of the impaled Marine who was still screaming from her side arm. This wasn't something she enjoyed, nor was it something she ever wanted to do again yet she knew she would have to. Sure the medics might of been able to ‘save’ him, but what ever life they would of been able to give him wouldn't of been much of a life at all.


She looked about her as they continued ever onwards, she looked at the buildings of what was undoubtedly once a beautiful city, she looked at her men with their backpacks of flamer fuel and linked ammo belts, she looked at the sky ever grey from the fallout and other pollutants humanity had dumped into it. Reality has always just been so… surreal, be it running around on the decks of the carrier as a little girl, the hells I've faced with Charlie company, or Intense training when I became a marine. Life is just a strange proposition isn't it? Fight, eat, and fuck, all for what? So I can just die at the end of it.


Snapping out of her rather depressing introspection she assessed the situation yet again. From what she could see the nest in question was not much of a nest, more like a gathering place for the various mutant cows, she had been hoping on at least some other type of mutants around to of made some structure. Those nests were the easiest to deal with, surround them, torch them, and then mow down anything trying to escape the inferno. Though the way it currently looked there were only a few ways for the cattle to escape.


“I want Flamers on each doorway! SAWs to support. Slug-Guns with me!”



HMCS Pralin
Bay Of Biscay
14:02 Hours
The Marauder Corps Operations Bridge wasn't usually very busy of the 712 members of the Pralin’s crew only around 250 were marines most of them with auxiliary duties. Now with JointCom wanting to become active in world affairs, the entire bridge was alive with the activity of support personnel directing and planning Marine operations as well as compiling intelligence reports and the like. The activity was a different atmosphere from when they were just doing recon, and training reflected Command Major Colonel Zelina Xervia, though to most she was just Colonel Xervia, or the Old Lady (though never to her face).


She was leaning over the shoulder of a tech as she watched the helmet camera of a Marine while he directed the clearing of a hotel. According to the information on the screen the helmet cam belonged to a LT. Nastda. She didn’t know the man personally but she had seen his unit’s combat records over the couple of weeks the crew of the Pralin had been operating ‘in the open’ it looked like Bravo was going to be a very promising unit in the months and years ahead. Not just because of their skill in a firefight either, they had a tenacity that the other companies just didn't have. It had made her very tempted a few times to transfer them to RAT work if they hadn't been so damn effective where they were. On the screen it appeared if he had just entered a room with about five of the locals.


“Captain on deck!” One of the various tech who was mulling around shouted as she spotted Captain James Hunt entering the room.


“At Ease.” He looked around for a moment and then spotted the Colonel standing beside the tech.


“You said you wanted to see me?”


“Yes, let's go to my ready room it should be quiter in there.”


“Lead the way.”


She lead him into a smaller office, there were various reports and papers lying around. I knew he was coming I probably should of cleaned up, fuck it I was too busy and he knows that. Sitting down behind her desk she gestured for him to sit. “Can I offer you a drink, Jim?”


He sat in the offered seat and waved his hand at the offer of a drink. “Too early to be drinking, that and I wouldn’t trust the stuff Scotty and the boys in engineering have been cooking up in their spare time.”


“Fair enough, let's get to business then. When we set out to capture Barcelona we didn't know how bad it really was. Even after we clear the city I don't think we have enough Marines to keep it that way for long. There also aren't enough survivors in the city that are friendly enough to establish a Militia like we originally planned. Long story short, we need to find another base of operations.”


“We really should get John in on this. This is probably a decision to be made by the Entire Joint Command.”


“Look Jim, you don't think I don't know that? It was John who really pushed for us to land in Barcelona though. With his talks of turning it into the paradise it was before the war.”


“Well do you have any alternatives then?”


“As a matter of fact I do, a couple days ago while on a recon flight one of our Valkyries spotted an Oil Rig.”


“So what? We've found dozens of oil rigs. We took what fuel they had and left.”


“This one is operational.”


“Dammit, I'll go talk to John. Get the Air Cav ready.”


Barcelona, Spain
14:13 Hours
Charlie Company
In a half crouch Cpt. Serafina entered the Arena/Nest normally Charlie wasn't very subtle, and it was ever harder to move subtlety when you had a tank of nearly 30 kilos of incendiary on your back. Around her was about a dozen of her Marines armed with slug guns. Their job was to start a panic and force the mutant bulls out of the other exits, right into the waiting arms of the rest of Charlie Company.


Another couple of meters… She was in position. Gesturing to the others she readied her flame thrower. “NOW!” She screamed while opening up on the unsuspecting herd with the XC-17. Once she opened up her Marines started to fire into the herd with HE-12, and Phoenix Dust.


Like one big organism the herd first shuddered and then started flowing out of the other exits. In the distance she could hear the familiar sound of 7.62 firing off rapidly mixed in with the tortured sounds of the Hell Cows that had most likely been met with a burning stream of thermite and white phosphorus. “Alright keep pushing the monstrosities!”


Twenty minutes later she walked out among the burnt remains of an unknown amount of dead mutants. “Dave! How many causalities?” She called out to one of the Lieutenants that helped her control her company.


“Only the one on approach!” He called back to her.


“Alright, call big sky! Tell them to come pick us up and to bring a body bag! Once we start to load up do a head count I want to know who it is in the body bag!”


“Roge!”


“Alright you pyscos, rapists, murders! Secure the LZ and get ready to go home! When we get back shower for fucks sake, you smell like a burnt stake!”


One of her men Mooed in reply and then complied with her orders.


“Very funny jackass! You just earned the company half an hour of PT, full gear when we get back.”


The Captain found somewhere to sit down, took her helmet off and then lit a cigarette. Blowing a ring of smoke into the air, she looked into the sky. Yeah, my life is just so fucking surreal…


Barcelona, Spain
14:13 Hours
Bravo Company
LT Nastda now stood in one of the rooms of the hotel his company had cleared. They had a problem, that problem was five members of the MDF tied up in another room.


“Sir, I'm aware we have orders to be discreet when it comes to members of these nation states that have been popping up, but we can't just leave them here.” Sergeant Murdoch stated for her CO and the other Sgts in the room to hear.


“We could just shoot them.” Sgt Ajax suggested.


“No, the raiders were using a much different caliber than us. If their people found them and did an autopsy they might wonder what the hell cleared a city overnight.” Nastda reasoned.


“They’re going to wonder what the fuck happened anyway, Charlie did get deployed. I can actually smell the burnt flesh from here.” Frost said sitting down on a threadbare bed in the room. “What if we take them to the roof when we evac, cut them loose there. If there are going to be rumor we might as well strike fear.


“Tha-” Nastda was caught off guard by a voice that sounded in all of their ears.


“Frost is right, strike the fear of God into them. Best to have people start hearing rumors and not be able to pin down our capabilities until we are ready for open operations. I'll talk to the Joint Com about moving to operating at night with more decisive operations. Xervia out.” The words from the Colonel more than several hundred kilometers away resounded in their ears for a moment and then LT Nastda moved into action. You heard her.


6 Hours Later


The Marines dragged the men to the roof of the hotel. It was nearly pitch black, the only indication of the VTOL that had just landed was the loud whirring of the rotors and it’s running lights. The Marines pushed the blindfolded men to their knees and took out their knives. After cutting them loose the Marines headed straight towards the VTOL and climbed in.


Nastda walked up to the man who looked to be either the Noncom or officer of the group. He grabbed the man's face and brought it to be looking directly at his own. With a quick movement the Man’s blindfold was gone and he was looking into the war painted face of a man wearing military body armour.


“W-who are you?” The MDF man asked.


“Your worst nightmare.”


And with that the man turned around and climbed into the VTOL. It dusted off and like that the Marines were gone into the black.

Spoiler: Results

Casualties: 1 Fatality
Barcelona Cleared

In memory of Corporal Max Travis, Charlie Company.
[/Spoiler[

 

[Axel The Englishman]

The Sniper Team sat over so quietly along the ruins of Old London's outskirts. No chatter, no banter. Not even someone asking about the weather. Quite dull to say. Then again, guard duty was normally like this. And for what were these lot looking out for? Mutants, of course.

Elliot took a quick peep down the scope to his weapon. Nothing in sight, of course. It was a rare occurrence for a Mutant to exit the G-Zone along the north east of London. Some sort of natural habitat for them, or something.

Lodge took up position next to his partner. Even when he took a look through his binoculars - normally found dangling limp fron his neck - still nothing would present itself. Looks like it was going to be an easy day today.

 

[guul66]

Rapla​

It took the soldiers a day, but eventually they reached Rapla. Encounters with mutants were to a minimum, they had to chase of a few, but no combat, as the Baltics are generally less radiated than the rest of the places. It gets worse towards Tallinn, that the scouts knew to look out for.
As Rapla was quite close to Pärnu it was left nearly deserted after the bombs fell. Near the town the scouts encountered some people, who told them about the gang of raiders that rules the town and surrounding areas, taking most of the harvest from the peasants as "taxes".
The leader of the scout party radioed the info to Pärnu and they set up camp near the city and multiple scouts were sent to scout the city to get info about the raiders.
Turned out that the Raiders were mostly equipped with the most basic of weaponry - basic homemade larger blades, knives, maces, scrap armor. The highlights were the hunting rifles and crossbows they had, along with a few pre-war factory-make blades.

Pärnu​

Linnakogu called together around a hundred Protective Allies to liberate the city. They were all equipped with various weaponry - even a few military grade assault rifles were given to the best fighters - and they were set to have 1 day of training before they were to be lead to liberate Rapla. Along with the Protective Allies the General of the Protective Allies, Ivars Putenis, was called to lead the force.

 

[CabalAnomicPotato]

Portman sat down at the rather elegant table, eating a fancy salad, with simple beans, drinking a glass of wine. To most people, the salad, which was composed of 4 different ingredients, wouldn't be too fancy, but in the Ukrainian Federation, having more that one fruit was a privilege only soldiers and the best of architects have, as resources are distributed evenly and based on who the person in question might be (an adult would get about 2 fruits a day, a teen and young child 1, a baby half/water is one big jug refilled each week). As he finished his drink, wiping his face with a napkin, one of the 10 advanced guards around him walked up, saluting, "what is it you want soldier, can't you see I'm busy, this better be good" Portman finished, making the soldier flinch and pull out his radio, "sir, the soldiers and infrastructure workers at Chernihiv are set up and working now; the soldiers here are ready to march towards-" "Sumy, yes?, tell them to head out now, and to report as scheduled" He finished, waving the soldier away, and finishing his salad, he stood up and walked to the soldier escort; he would head to military headquarters and check the plans again, making sure everything was perfect.
The convoy takes off, the capture of Sumy, Ukraine is at hand, same amount of soldiers

 

[Yang Xiao Long]

HMCS Pralin
North Sea
09:34 Hours
Captain James Hunt looked at the oil rig in the distance through his binoculars. From his position on the catwalk he could see activity on the deck of the platform. He sighed and then walked back into the bridge.


“Try to make radio contact the Oil Rig.”


“Yes, sir! This is HMCS Pralin to Oil Rig. Do you read us? I repeat HMCS Pralin to Oil Rig. Do you copy?”


“Aye, we didn’t expect to see no yanks out ‘ere. This is Everest Oilfield to Pralin, we copy and I suspect ye be wantin’ tae send over someone tae meet wid us?” came the reply. It was clear that soldier were moving about the oilrig and various weapons were being pointed at the very distant aircraft carrier.


“This is Captain James Hunt, no yanks here. Stand by to receive our contact party.”


The Captain put down the microphone from the radio and turned to one of the noncoms on the bridge. “Contact Chief McTavish, tell him to meet me on the flight deck.”


“Aye captain.” The orderly quickly scampered off to find the chief engineer wherever he was.


The Captain picked up the radio microphone once again and turned it to one of the intra-ship channels.


“Marauder Ops, can I help you captain?” Came the voice of one of the Marine orderlies from the microphone.


“Yes, tell Colonel Xervia I'll need a contact team to meet me on the flight deck. Is Foehammer available? “


“Roge, tell the Colonel to assemble a contact team. Foehammer should be prepared, though she has just returned from an operation. May I recommend Bigsky instead, sir.”


“Bigsky it is. Naval Bridge out.”


The Captain then switched back to the Hailing channel. “Everest, this is Pralin. You should be able to expect our contact team within an hour.”


Everest Oilfield
North Sea
09:41 Hours
“Alrigh’ you seem like Yanks ta me, but we will await your team. Dont try anything. We know what you want and if you threaten my team I will make it worthless.” the oilfield replied “Commander Hawkey out” There was clearly action on the rig and men walked up to the helipad and began clearing it of debris.


HMCS Pralin Flight Deck
North Sea
10:02 Hours
Lt Nastda was standing by the VTOL when he saw the Captain approaching. He moved towards the Captain and then saluted. “I'm LT Nastda, Bravo Company. We’re your contact team.”


“Captain James Hunt, this is Chief McTavish.” The Captain said gesturing to the aging man beside him. “I told the Colonel I wanted a contact team, not a company of Marines armed to the teeth.”


“I don't know how closely you follow the Marauder Corps’ operations but usually a contact team would involve two companies, Sir.”


The men climbed into the VTOL. It was pretty much standing room only in the aircraft but a couple Marines managed to move and open two of the drop seats. The LT watched as the Captain waved his hand. “If it’s the same to you I would rather stand, I don't like being the only one sitting in a room full of my subordinates, sets a bad standard.”


Pretty admirable of the man, that's bound to get him some fans among the men. Thought the LT as he watched the screen unfold.


“Meanwhile if it’s the same with you, Jim. I think I am going to take a seat. I'm an old man after all.” McTavish said settling into one of the offered seats.


“I don't think that’s going to be an Issue, at all.”


All of the Marines settled and then the lights in the back of the Helo went off. Soon the voice of the Pilot came through their headsets. “This is big sky, get ready to dust off”


I hope this goes as well as Barcelona. Taking a look around at the people surrounding him instilled a sense of pride in the man. His Marines had been doing a bang up job since they began operations.


The Turboprops of the VTOL started with a loud roar. A tap on Nastda’s shoulder caused him to turn and look at the Captain who was tapping his ear which did not have a headset.


Nastda touched his own headset. “Ramirez pass the Captain your headset.” The Marine standing beside the Captain compiled and then the Captain spoke through the commandeered headset.


“When we get there what’s the gameplan?”


“My Marines will get out first and make sure the area is secure, once that is done it’ll be good for you to get off. If shooting starts the Pilot will lift up and immediately take you back to the Pralin.”


“Got it.”


Everest Oilfield
North Sea
10:14 Hours
The landing pad had seven men and women with guns standing to the side where the stairs descended from. At the top of the lattice that propped up the drill there was a makeshift sniper nest with a pair of snipers peaking over the edge at the aircraft, aimed at the pilot. In the forefront of the armed people was a man with a thick beard and a pair of aviator shades on. As the VTOL lands the soldiers adjust their grip on their weapons and begin aiming them more at the VTOL, each training on one of the Canadian soldiers. Once the VTOL lands the soldiers spread out slightly and kneel down, ready to open fire. It’s clear these soldiers are trained.


The Marines piled out of the VTOL from both sides of it, as they fanned out they all quickly took up targets. If anyone so much as flinched the whole situation could quickly turn into a bloodbath for both sides involved. Without heeding what the LT said Captain James Hunt stepped out of the VTOL accompanied by Chief McTavish.


The man assessed the situation quickly, the inhabitants of the Oil Rig seemed as equally trained and equipped as the Marines if they didn't look only slightly more sickly. It was nice to leave the Pralin for once that is for sure. He thought to himself as he looked around for the leader of the Riggites.


“Ello, I am Commander Hawkey, wo men listen to my orders and normally we don’t listen to hails from passing ships, not that we get many of them either, but I though you was worth me time. Now I know why you here but we aint got any oil to spare. The rigs busted, but we can fix it. Issue being is we don’t have the parts and what time we can spare to risk the journey to land is spent on food runs. Way I see it. You supply us we supply you with what we can. From your point of view, food for oils a good deal no? That and the parts. However. You and your lads say no, I light up this landing pad and our blood covers the decks. My men wreck this thing beyond repair and sail away.” Said the man in the thick beard, stepping forward in such a way as to show that he felt very much in control of the situation.


“We were actually hoping for something that may be a lot more beneficial to both sides. You see we’re looking to establish a new base of operations, and our recon flights showed that this rig would be in not only a great position strategically. But it is also quite a large rig, most likely with room to expand with the right people and right supplies. We want to go out and rekindle the spark of civilization, but to do that we need to be able to not only produce food, but equipment as well. If you’ll join us we promise all of you people equal standing with ours, and even a spot in our council. Does that not sound better than a simple trade agreement?”


“What sorta council? You got a working government over in north Yankton?” he said, motioning his soldiers to take a slightly more relaxed approach. At his motion they lowered their weapons. “We got a good thing going. Those left over crackpots that live in that mess seem to like their vehicles and there ain't much fuel. Back when we had the mountain running we could trade enough to fill us with food and ammo for months from a few hour trip to the coast. Now I am all for returning the way this place was when my granda took us over here but my pop was just a bearn then and I can't see it happening. Now I am all for working with you, hell I ain’t even opposed to working under you. But this here oil rig is mine and I will lay down my life before I let that change. Now. You want to keep my men fed, that great. All I can offer is fuel and a place to stay. If you keep us fed, and top up our guns when those landside scum empty our rounds then I can let you use the rig to base yourselves, let you use as much oil as you need and even have some of my guys help you keep your ship sailing, though I am sure you don't need that. Now We got room for people, we got room to supply but ain’t got room to place a factory of any sort. My advice if you wanting to build sommat like that. Go north. There are other rigs, they are standing but there ain’t no oil coming out. That or go up higher, to those real northern scottish isles. We got oil and we need food. We got room for you to operate from and we need ammo. But we can’t produce a single damn hat.” he replied.


“Good to have you. You won't regret this.” The Captain held out his hand to the commander of the rig and grinned.


The Commander took his hand and shook it firmly “So I guess we work for you then? I damn well hope you don’t make me live to regret this”

Spoiler: Results

Everest Oil Fields Captured

Population Gained: 50

 

[Kent]

The Kingdom of Madrid

Toledo, New Spain

M1130 Command Vehicle

"NH90-1 Clear to drop off SS-1, SS-2 and SS-3 to their assigned locations. NH90-2 Clear to drop off SS-4, SS-5 and SS-6 to their assigned locations." An officer said.

"NH90-1, all snipers dropped. NH90-2, all snipers dropped." The pilots of their respective choppers replied."

"Proceed to provide surveillance and fire cover to the grouns forces." The officer said.

"Roger that."
---
"This is L2E-1, proceeding with caution. There are no signs of life- Shit, multiple heat signature appearing. And by multiple, I mean alot. Bandits! Permission to engage."

"All forces, engage at will." The officer said. "Sniper forces, try to help minimize the causalties. NH-90's provide support. Good luck." The officer said.
---
Multiple bandits appeared with pipe rifles. Some jumped off from the windows and roofs and charges at them like barbarians. The Leopard 2 fired at will and took out a couple of bandits. The squads took cover and shot at the enemy. One soldier got shot right in the eye by a bandit. They advanced further towards the cathedral. The tank acted as their shield with it's armor, deflecting the bullets from the enemy. As they advance, more bandits keep appearing. They fought around 500 bandits when they arrived at the cathedral. There were hundreds of bodies lying around. After the chaos was over, a squad of 12 proceeded inside the cathedral. They found dead bodies hanging from the rafters and a man standing in.a pool of blood, eyes closed and what looks like praying with a dagger in his hands.
---
"Freeze! Drop the dagger and put your hands over your head." A soldier shouted. The squad surrounded the man and pointed their weapons at him.
"Drop it or we'll shoot." Another one shouted. The man continued with his prayers. He then made a sign of the cross and stabbed himself.
"This place is rotten." One said.
---
Battle of Toledo report
Enemy deaths: Estimated around 500 bandits.
MDF deaths: 30 Soldiers

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|
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Government Capital Building, Madrid, New Spain
"Reports." The Prime Minister asked the general.

"500+ enemy deaths and 30 deaths on our side." The General replied.

"30?! Why so many?" Asked the prime minister.

"The numbers of the enemy were overwhelming. We have snipers all over the roof, choppers providing cover and a tank tanking for them. There were just too many." He said.

"It's a big price to pay for securing Toledo. What's next? Recommendations?" Asked the PM.

"Zaragoza. It has an air base. If we are to minimize the casualties. We need more fire power and better gear." Suggested the general.

"Very well, we will take Zaragoza next. Prepare our troops." The Prime Minister ordered.

"Yes, Sir."
---

Royal Palace of Madrid
"There were that many bandits near madrid?!" Exclaimed the King. "We should have cleared them sooner."

"Sir, the Prime Minister has ordered the military to take Zaragoza. The general himself recommended it. He thinks there are military assets there." Said the woman in blue.

"Let them do what they want." The King replied. "What of the current status of Toledo?"

"More supplies and soldiers are being moved to Toledo."

"Good. It will be occupied by our citizens soon." The King said
---
|
---
"Shit." A soldier said. "Contact command. We got a problem here."

"Reconnaissance squad to command, do you copy?" Said one soldier.

"Yes, we copy." A voice was heard from their com device. "What happened? You guys were off the grid for a long time. We thought you guys were dead."

"The bandits got us, but that is the least of your problems. There is another nation state in barcelona. Well-equipped and trained soldiers with functioning armed aircrafts."

"Get out of there now, meet us at Zaragoza. It's a long way, but I believe you will get there. Good luck."
---
Madrid Defense Forces Headquarters, Madrid, New Spain

"This is gonna be a problem." Said the general. "We need troops at Zaragoza right away. Inform the PM and the royalty."
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4 Choppers, 3 Tanks and 300 soldiers was sent to Zaragoza. 25 snipers and 50 special forces. 2 Command vehicles and a couple of armored vehicles.
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