Aurora Theatre of War: Ethalria

[Dylan]

THIS FORMS PART OF THE 2017 INTERNATIONAL WAR BETWEEN THE AXIS AND ALLIES.
★★★
This thread is related to all fighting or activities related to Ethalria including Kostromastan and Tuvaltastan.

Refer to these links for the back story:
http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009182/3/
http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009172/
http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009316/
http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7005265/
http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009130/
http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009064/

★★★

[Dylan]

[spoiler]Don’t post until I’ve completed part two of this post. Ta.[/spoiler]

1st June 2017
Rivendale State Building, Rivendale, Ethalria

The entire city was lifeless. Although it was early hours in the morning, it was as if nothing existed. Amalda had already arrived at her office and she was sealing a very important war document to send to her Ministry of Defence. She had arranged a meeting for 6am with her Vice-Matriarch.
The doors slowly opened. The two women greeted each other quickly and settled in their respective seats.
“What did you call me for, your ladyship?” the Vice-Matriarch questioned.
“I will kill him before he stirs the rest of the world against us.” Amalda cursed. Clenching her fists in anger and staring in the other women’s face. Despite her vocalised anger, she did not seem moved.
“You’re certain doing this wont push their cause?” the other woman sat back in her chair, almost disliking the Matriarch’s decision.
“Yes. I have addressed the ECI and they’ve set up a plan. I need you to sign it. Nobody besides us and the three heads of the ECI will know.” Amalda insisted, her stern self coming to life.
“I am not sure this is a good idea.” the Vice-Matriarch insisted. She was not for the idea of war at all.
“You’re a fool,” Amalda hesitated. “We don’t want the world against us, so we need to remove the idiot trying to cause that.”
The Vice sighed, and stood up without saying a word.
“Very well.” She turned and left, leaving Amalda to stare at the closed door.

7th June 2017
Sani Bursil, Staynes
5:04AM

It was the day of the annual Royal Parade.
Ivanka Drokeyvich sat in a cheap wooden chair in the basement of a residential building. She had spent over three weeks in the larger of the Auroran capitals, able to explore every cranny, nook and crevice in a four mile radius. She was a part of a four woman team, that was about to do what nobody would ever dare to do.
A familiar voice addressed the team, gathering their attention.
“Comrades. You know this is a one way mission. That is guaranteed. We have been over the plan four times, but for everyone’s sake, I am repeating it one last time.” She paused, setting her laptop on the table. A map of Sani Bursil was presented on the tiny monitor. The screen highlighted the route the Royal Car would go in the annual parade.
“The car starts at the palace, moving several blocks north into the Celidizia district. From there, they go through Prompton Road, past Citadella Stadium, where Les will be positioned. Les will be positioned high into the stadium, gaining access through a ventilation shaft in the south side. She has been in Staynes for several years for the build up to this moment, assembling three perfect-condition SC-MR4. She will have one chance to kill Lambertus. If she fails, she will retreat into the stadium and, given the circumstances, commit suicide or use her cunning deception skills.” she paused. “Under the circumstances that Les does not kill the monarch, the parade will continue, this time more heavily defended. Gas and Ivanka will be situated on the Montecadra building, a 40 storey skyscraper, themselves with two SC-MR4’s that Les has assembled. They will have two chances to shoot the c*nt in the heart.” she paused, the ladies snarling. “But suppose they both fail, I will be positioned on Groote Street, one of the lesser defended routes they’ll take. I will finish the job.” the other lady paused, producing four cyanide pills.
“Each of us must take one. If we believe capture is inevitable, we will use it. We must not be allowed to be tortured to give away our positions.” she spat.
“Security will be tripled. There will be armed guards everywhere. We must avoid detection, which, we have already discussed,” She paused. “Lets do this.”

9:51AM

The entire city was celebrating. The streets were packed full of tourists with the road cleared for the event. Red and blue ribbons were slung across many skyscrapers and tall, metallic structures. The wind was howling, which allowed everyone to hoist the Staynish flag, accompanied by the Empire flag on all buildings. It was a day of national celebration. The streets were filled with laughter, happiness and positivity.
Well that was going to change.
Les was in position. She carefully adjusted her sights to fit perfectly with her altitude and distance. The car came along the road, the crowds roaring.
“Blast!” she said. “His f*cking son is in the way, I can’t get a clear shot!” She slowly retracted from her position, full of fury.
The car steadily bobbled its way down the streets. It was sung to, and by the time it had gotten in the sights of Ivanka and Gas it was littered with confetti.
“I’m suprised nobody else has our intentions.” Gas let out a smirk.
“Don’t be too sure about that.” Ivanka, who had been looking down her sights, saw a man rush towards the car, holding a knife. He lunged forward before being quickly tasered and arrested by seven armed police officers.
“Ain’t you glad we’re up here.” Ivanka laughed. She studied the movement of the King, who was flailing around an awful lot.
“Bollocks,” she said. “Stay still you Staynish rat.” she put pressure on the trigger, and with her breath held tight, she fired.

The city went into panic. The shot had made contact and everyone was thundering around. The scene was like a mass migration of birds. There was so many bodies running around. The car picked off at lightning speed, heading straight for the Royal Palace.
“Hot damn, Ivanka. You hit the shot!” Gas shouted, with a large smile over her face.
“Lets get out of here.” Ivanka commanded. She sent a message to the leader of the operation.
>We just did it.
<Excellent. Round up Les and Gas and meet me here.
>Okay.
She had sent an attachment. Ivanka and Les were quick to pack their guns up into a tiny, briefcase sized box. The city was going into lock down, if they acted the part, nobody would stop them.
Or so she thought.
They had paced down the street, the police oblivious. Of course, they still held onto their pills in case of the worse, but it was the last thing they had in mind. It took them five minutes, but they made it to Citadella Stadium.
"Where the fck is Les!" Gas shouted, looking around. Ivanka spotted her running across the street.
“There, lets go.” the two females ran towards the lady. What they didn’t see is, she was being dragged into a police riot van. In their blindness, they practically ran into the officer, a large bulky man, who turned around and stared viciously down at them.
Les stared at them, giving them a face of 'I’ve fcked it, run!’
“Les!” Gas screamed, falling over and unwillingly hitting the springing mechanism to open her briefcase box. The rifle components dropped out and sprawled across the pavement. The man was quick to notice and instantly held his assault rifle at the fallen lady.
“Put your hands up! Don’t move!” the man hissed. Les dropped to her knees, trying desperately to open the cyanide pill.
To no avail.
Over a dozen officers pushed them to the ground, knocking the pills out of her hands. The weight of the bodies crushed her. Her face was pushed against the concrete by another lady, her knee on her arm, breathing sturdily down her neck. Her hands were forcefully pushed behind her back and the two helpless ladies were thrown into the back, accompanied by two armed officers.
[hr]
Lambertus was wailing in agony.
“He’s been hit! He’s been hit!” Rosetta cried to the driver. Blood had plagued his once cream suit. Lambertus cried, trying to grab at his son as he stared him in the eyes.
The car was going well over ninety. Dozens of police escort vans were cutting a path through to the palace.
“We will be there in less than a minute.” the driver shouted over the carnage. The wheels were spinning at extortionate rates, grinding the roads.
The entire royal family were in pieces. The Kings’ younger children had crawled under the seats and were crying. Rosamund was an utter mess. Rosetta was leaning over Lambertus, balling her eyes out.
Lambertus laid still, falling in and out of consciousness from the shock.
The initial scream Rosetta made was ear-piercing. It all happened in slow motion.

The hole through his chest was massive. There was nothing left. That was all that Lambertus saw and felt. It was horrifying. He just laid there. His body was limp, and he was staring directly into his sons eyes. His dark brown eyes were glazed over and lifeless. they appeared to be nothing more than icy, coloured marbles.
“My son.” Lambertus raised his hands and gently rubbed his fingers down his face. Everything was happening in slow motion. Blood dripped down the monarchs face, mixed with his own tears. His entire face contorted in pain and sadness.
“My dear son.”
[edit_reason]Correcting mistakes.[/edit_reason]

[Dylan]

Feladine Junt, the commander of the operation, laid in wait.
“Where the absolute f*ck are you all!” she rasped. She had tried contacting Ivanka for several minutes, to no avail.
“God damn,” she thrust herself up and began walking around the residential area she had made her way to. “They should be here by now.”
Faint screams could be heard. It was blurred out by the many sirens that ran through the city. Everywhere around her was deserted. She noticed several news helicopters circling the highest skyscrapers, trying to do what they always did.
Lie.
Feladine started walking down the road until she found herself in a small wine house. Although she hated Staynes and the Empire, at least she enjoyed Hobsti. A little monitor was on the side and the couple that ran the shop were fixed. The quality was horrendous, and the frequency was slightly off, but she started watching too.
“…a terrorist attack has targeted the… …family just minutes… It is believed that the… was killed. More information… be announced shortly.”
The man in the relationship turned around to greet the customer. His face was very pale, almost as if he were shell shocked. He muttered an indistinguishable sentence.
Feladine predicted the man at least tried to vocalise a ‘How can I help you,’, which she believed he said, so she went with that.
“Can I have a glass of Hobsti please.” she said, unaware that her accent stuck out like a sore thumb. The man looked her up and down, his face full of disgust. She stared back at him until she decided to take a seat. The man spoke out in a minority native tongue, which she couldn’t understand.
“(She is Ethal, a terrorist!)”
“(Do not assume that all terrorists are Ethal)” she forced. Taking the glass off of him and continuing her order. The man stormed off upstairs out of her presence.
“He seemed upset.” Feladine addressed.
“Yes, this is not a good time for Ethalrian’s in Staynes. The Ethalrian hatred is almost as bad as it was after the Auroran Imperial War.” she noted, placing the wine over the counter. Feladine passed the money over and she took the drink to her seat.
“Yes. I understand.”

(OOC: The story of Feladine Junt continues here: http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7017300/1/#new)
[hr]
The car jolted to a stop outside the medical department of the Royal Palace. The entire medical team had been alerted of the incident. They rushed out to take his body inside, Rosamund and Rosetta helplessly running up beside him as they wheeled him inside. His body was dormant and his eyes were still open. Blood was oozing out of his skin. Quite frankly, the royal was a mess. It was obvious by this point, he was dead. They sped him through several winding corridors until they entered the ward. It was almost empty, beside one other bed; the Kings mother, who was 81. The horror on her face said it all. She gasped, bringing up her weak, frail arm to her mouth. She let out a quiet yet devastating cry, her sadness above all else.
Drugov was next to the Kings mother, the sudden burst in had interrupted their conversation. As the bed whizzed past him, he closed his eyes wearily.
They laid the body on a bed, and everyone sat back in silence. There was absolutely nothing that could have been done to save the man. The room was just littered with cries. The staff even felt emotional, with the younger females giving up and leaving their posts.

And yet, Lambertus was still outside. He laid there, silent, his face a greasy concoction of blood and sweat, and his cheek muscles unable to contain his sadness. His eyes releasing tears as if it were the Jubliak river in monsoon season. His youngest son sat on top of his lap, silently weeping. The pair bonded in the most upsetting way.

[The_Oan_Isles]

The Oan government received the news of Thaddeus’s death. Oan media were receiving live-feed of the events, analysing and discussing the events and the information that was coming through. Different outlets had different opinions and varying degrees of clarity and accuracy on the events and how they occured. Everyone agreed, however, that the Oan people were shocked by these events;

no one more so than Ese Ulua. Thaddeus’s death spelt disaster. Firstly he was family. Although they were not emotionally intimate, they shared a relationship, one he mourned losing. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the Staynish succession was compromised. It was clear that the assassins were well equiped and well informed. They were able to strike at the heart of one of the most protected monarchies and cities on Urth. They were able to carry out attacks with surgical precision.

One could guesstimate that the bullet had been meant for Lambertus. It was clear that the terrorists had the potential to strike again. The blow would threaten Staynish succession and the survival of the Staynish throne. His own aspirations to crown his son as the Emperor of Polynesia were threatened. Perhaps paranoia had gotten the better of him, amidst the shock of losing a loved one.

He took the matter a step at a time, dividing his tasks and objectives into easy pieces, working through them one at a time. He telephoned the Staynish royal court and sent his condolences to the family and reaffirmed the Oan Isles’s solidarity with the Staynish royal family. He prepared a statement and presented it in a press briefing broadcast live on television and radio. He capitalised on the shock of the event to reinforce the SCE-Oan alliance, to solicit support for a declaration of war against Ethalria, to justify the militarisation of the Oan Isles and to discredit his opponents.

He tried to write, but his hand shook violently. He ordered his aide to give him his medication. He eventually managed as his aides tried to conceal their pity. Several minutes later, he addressed the media and the Oan people at large. He delivered his message slowly and clearly, but assertively. He took no questions. He called an emergency meeting with the Member of the National Council for Defence, Kiahuaeni Luawuye, the Chief of Staff Admiral Tukama Uataka and his senior military personnel. The Paramilitary Forces would assume the role of law enforcement, and the remaining police were armed for military combat, and control over the police and paramilitary would be transferred to the Office of the Defender. The military was to prepare to support the SCE when it went to war with the Ethalro-Xagrurg alliance.
He had not bargained on how essential these preparations would be to effectively fight with the Red Tiger across the Ocean.

[Strat]

Supported by his new cane, Drugov slowly hobbled towards Lambertus’s car, wincing every few steps. Something caught his eye near the front of the car. He took a brief detour to stoop and pick it up.

It was a tiara, which had probably fallen off Rosamund’s head in her haste. Holding it in one hand, he limped to the back of the car, opened the door, and sat down beside Lambertus and Thomas.

Drugov was a skilled speaker, known to do so simply yet poignantly. As the leader of Stratarin, it had benefited him tremendously.

And yet, that skill seemed to have departed with his title, for he was speechless.

Lambertus and Thomas both were practically bawling, both tightly in the other’s embrace. Drugov was touched by the scene of fatherly love. Resting his cane against his side, he gently placed the tiara on Thomas’s head.

“I will not say ‘Do not weep,’ but remember to celebrate his life as well as mourn his passing, young one.” He looked up at Lambertus. “Good men die young while the wicked age peacefully. While this is the world we live in, it makes it no less tragic. Though my resources are severely limited, I will do anything you need of me.”

[Dylan]

Twenty minutes later.
Lambertus was clutching his son really tightly over his shoulder. The blood that ran down his cream suit had become apart of the fabric, creating a very wild cream and burgundy pattern. It took a lot of persuasion from Drugov and a Royal Court official to prize Lambertus out of the car, for his own safety and to come inside to be with his family.
He stumbled across the corridor. He had insisted he could walk himself, but the full weight of earlier events still kept him lightheaded.
“Tommy, I’m going to have to let you down, you’re too heavy.” Lambertus nudged, trying to keep back his tears.
“No!” Thomas cried over his shoulder in emotional agony, tightening his grip on his father. Lambertus sighed but carried on walking. He started humming a melody to Thomas, one that he himself was sung to by his mother when his father passed.

They made it to the hospital ward doors. Lambertus stood still, staring at the door frames. His face started cracking up, but he forced himself to regain control by pulling on his face with his free hand.
He eerily opened the door. The entire rooms face was of utter sadness. Everyone looked at him in sorrow, and fell silent, with Rosamund giving a sad sniff. Lambertus looked around until his focus met the very dormant, once glittering soul. His eyes watered over and several drips slid down his face onto the floor. He put Thomas down and stumbled over to his son.
“My boy… My boy!” his voice was full of pain. He grasped onto his sons clothes and wept, rocking his body slightly. He let out a series of wails and cries, his soul open for all to see.
It was full of suffering, as if he hasn’t endured enough. His laid there, almost begging for forgiveness. He wanted him back, but it was impossible. He had questions, but no answers. He wanted to know why. He just laid there, until his wailing became silent sobbing.

12:09 AM

News vans were parked at a distance from the palace, demanding answers. Lambertus had gained some of his strength, mourning his fallen with his family. He had changed his jacket but red stains still stained his hands and face. He slowly but steadily made it outside, leaving his broken heart inside.
In his right hand he clenched Thadeus’s dog tags.
He walked up to the lectern which had been placed on an elevated position with microphones, above the reporters.
“My son was killed today,” he lightly sobbed, pushing back the tears and wiping them on his collar, trying to stay professional for the world to see. “He was a good man. He never intended wrong. He was getting married next year. But the terrorists took that away from him. They took my son away from me. They took our future King away from us.” his glare reached out into the cameras.
“The terrorists were traced back to the Ethalrian government, as I have been informed. My government has also informed me that this is a clear act of war from Ethalria.” he paused. “We will not allow them to terrorise us any longer, with this and the bombings last week, it is time for us to step up our game.” Lambertus walked off of the stage and back into the Palace.

[Alix]

Constantine Fortress, Lambertupol

The fortress had suddenly bursted in to life after the assasination of High-King Lambertus’ son. From that moment forwards it was clear that the Imperial Caltharusian military would soon attack Ethalria and that required lots of preparations. Of course the army had been preparing ever since the war started, but after that moment it become clear that time was on short supply. Grand Marshall Otto Von Hessius, one of the four Caltharusian Grand Marshalls was strolling down the long grey hallways of the Fortresses’ lower levels. He was the man chosen to lead the army group east, that would attack Ethalria from the north. While it wasn’t the only attack, it would be the bloodiest one.

“Ready to push through those damned Ethalrians?” the Marshall asked from the man walking right besides him. The man walking besides him was Field marshal Klaus Obersson, Otto’s right hand man who had stood beside him ever since they entered the army to complete their compulsory military service.

“Of course, sir. It will however be the bloodiest fight of this century” Klaus answered with his trade mark smile disappearing from his face.

“Don’t you remember the Lambertan pocket? This will be much easier than that” Otto said referring to a battle fought in the Imperial Auroran war, while still strolling forwards.

“Well of course I do, how could I forget with that face of yours reminding me of that battle.” Klaus said regaining his smile and pointing towards the burns and scars on his superiors face. “But we were just young boys back then, cursing on the mad officers demanding us to fight to the last man. This time we are those mad officers”

“Well it’s how time works” Otto answered clearly losing his though as they arrived at the underground command centre. The door was opened to them, the soldiers opening it saluting them while holding the door. The room was filled with high ranking officials from the Army, Airforce and the Jomsguard. The individual discussions that had filled the room stopped and everybody stood up saluting the Grand Marshal. Then he spoke:

“I trust that all preparations have been made as planned and that you are all up to your tasks. The order from the King has finally come, this is it. This time we finish Ethalria off for good.”

Near the Ethalrian border, Hours later

The armored transport was steadily rolling onwards, despite the road being filled with humps and holes. Marcus Flumin was looking at his squad mates, sincerely hoping that the whole war was just a nightmare. He along his squad had literally just finished their service once the call to arms had come. Now he was part of an Army attacking Ethalria. While watching his squad mates he saw how they were just as afraid as he was, although all tried to hide it anyway they could. Then his eyes met with his sergeant, Julius. He was just like the others but he wasn’t desperately trying to hide his fear. He was calmly watching his squad with one arm holding his SC-AR4 and other as a fist on his chest.

“What on urth are you doing Julius?” Marcus asked gladly as his mind got something else than the horrors awaiting them to think about.

“I’m praying for Amarths protection on the day of my babtism by fire. What’s so weird about that, don’t you pray?”

While Marcus had realised even before asking that Julius was praying, he got confused by Julius’ answer.

“Well no, i’ve never been that religious person.” After realising that everyone in the cabin was lookin at him Marcus continued nervously:
“Don’t see what use that would really be.”

His statement recieved few agreeing nods and a shrug from Julius who went on to say
“Well it’s not for everyone i guess”.
After everyone turned back to themselves desperately trying to relax despite the gloom of battle in their future, Marcus though to himself:
Well i suppose that there’s no harm in trying, anything that could calm my mind is worth a shot. Heck i’ll do anything to not panic and get my self killed because of that.

[spoiler]There may be few misspellings, but i’ll correct those tomorrow as i want this up today[/spoiler]

[Strat]

Drugov had spent most of the day resting. The pain in his leg had long since lessened, turning from a sharp stabbing to a dull throb.

Amid all the chaos of the world, he took comfort in one thing: Staynish tea was delicious.

It was vaguely ridiculous to him that he was still recovering from an injury in a Staynish hospital while he no longer ruled Stratarin and the world readied for war. He felt as though he should be doing something, anything, to help his allies.

And yet, with any stray comment he made about the current state of Stratarin, he risked undermining the stability of the country he had fought so hard for his whole life.

So he remained silent, and sipped his tea, while chuckling to himself at the Oan Isles attempt to undermine the world’s trust in the Gondwanan Communist dictatorship through media. It would be interesting to see whether or not Starikov was goaded into action, or if the world saw through Oan’s demagoguery.

Drugov’s phone buzzed with a notification. Curious, he opened and checked to see what it was. Sighing as he saw that the Coyden Harbinger had released another issue, he tapped the screen to open it.

His cup of tea shattered into a million pieces as it crashed against the floor.

[The_Oan_Isles]

[DELETED]

[The_Oan_Isles]

RELOCATED TO http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009374/2/

[Alix]

The date during these posts is 13.6
Constantine fortress, Lambertupol

The command room was still filled with action, just as it had been ever since the beginning of the invasion. Officers running around trying to be at multiple places the same time and others discussing through the ever changing situations at the front. Many of the highest ranking men hadn’t even had many chances to sleep, or if they had any, it was soon cut short by new alerting reports from the front.

“Just as we had predicted Grand Marshal, they weren’t able to stop us on the border. In some places we’ve been able to advance just according to our plan, but as expected in most sectors of the front Ethalrian resistance has been able slow our advancing to a crawl” Klaus took a look at the grand marshall before continuing to see whether he still listened. Despite having not slept at all after the first night of the invasion, Otto showed no signs of tiredness. He appeared just as sharp as he had been when he first arrived at the command room.

Suddenly Klaus’ thought was cut short by Otto’s question.
“What about the Southern army group?”

Quickly gathering his lost thoughts Klaus answered to his superiors question:
“We’ve archieved some form of aerial supeority there, although air forces casualties have been high. So far we are trying to create a bridge head on the west side of the mountains.”

Klaus took a small before continuing.
“As for the north western operation, it’s too early to say whether the operations are going to succeed”.

Ethalria

A loud thumm shook the APC. While everyone was trying to figure out what was happening, the driver shouted to the radio
“Hand held AT weapon at the right, next one may hit us” while the driver spoke the APC grinded to a halt and Julius shouted:
“Everyone move out”

The two fire teams moved just as they had practised time and time again. They moved in to position around the back of the APC and scanned the surroundings. Quickly Julius gave orders for his fireteam to advance and for the other team to stay back and give supressing fire towards the bushes where the shooter had to be.

As they advanced northwest towards the small hill’s top Marcus noticed how the APC started moving again to avoid the coming fire. As a result for APCs movement he saw the bushes burting to life as the vehicle recieved small arms and AT fire coming from there.

The fireteam left behind opened fire from what cover the could find, while Marcus’ team crawled bit by bit to firing positions. Luckily enough the hill had long hay growing from it, hiding their presence to the Ethalrians. Then after a crawl that felt like an eternity for Marcus he got there, twenty meters from the bushes.

With a whisper Julius said
“Open fire when they fire the next burst”

Marcus closed his eyes, hoping that they would succeed with a drop of sweat rolling down his cheek. He felt how his short brown hair was glued to his foreheas, because of the sweat. Then he opened his eyes and took aim blindly at the bushes, hoping that he would hit something. Then he could see muzzles lighting just out side the bushes. His finger gripped the trigger first once, then again and again as he fired short burst towards places he predicted the enemies to hide in.

Suddenly he saw through a break in the bush how an Ethalrian soldier turned to face them. Before Marcus had time to even think hhe noticed how his fingers had pushed the trigger once again, bullets from his rifle hitting the man to the neck causing him to fall. Rest of the bushes fell quit during the next few burst of fire from the two fire teams.

After the fight calmed down, Julius ordered his team to advance crouching to the bushes.
“Advance carefully, they may be trying to ambush us when we get there.”

“If they’re alive after that” Aleksander whispered as an answer to Julius’ warming.

Marcus smiled at Aleksander’s joke like answer, it was good to see that the man he had befriended during the first days in the army (thanks to their common hobby of distance running), was his self. Once they were at the bushes that covered that small part of the hill’s top, they could see five Ethalrian bodies. Marcus froze when he stumbled

Upon a body with it’s throat torn open by bullets. The thought that he had killed that man shivered through his body. He felt that his stomach was turning inside out and the shivers changed into guilt burning his lungs.

Then Aleksander said out loud what everyone with the exception of Marcus was thinking:
“And what now?”

[The_Oan_Isles]

RELOCATED TO http://forum.theeastpacific.com/topic/7009374/2/

[Alix]

Constantine Fortress, Lambertupol

After a short stroll through the hallways of the fortress, Grand Marshall Otto Von Hessius arrived at his command room, having just been woken by his underlings.

“I take it that something has happened since you decided to woke me” Otto said with a calm, athough tired voice.

“Yes, sir. Our drones have give us proof that Ethalria is indeed preparing for a huge counter attack on the front. Large portions of their reserves are currently being transported to the front.”

The news provided by general Miro Letholdus were not shocking to Otto, although they were extrenely worrying. However they had been expecting this kind of an offensive to come sooner than later. While Otto thought about the situation, Miro stood infront of him, waiting for a response. For Miro it was an honor to serve under a veteran of the Imperial Auroran war. He was in his mid forties and part of one of the Caltharus’ great houses.

Then Otto spoke, having fully woken up from his too short sleep:
“We’ve been expecting this, inform the field commanders about the threat and make sure the attack won’t be a surprise for our men at the front either.”

As the room bursted in to the action Klaus run to his superior’s side to inform him about another developement.

“We’ve begun the operations to cut off Arkenvel and the the army group commanded by Grand Marshall Kyrkaberg has advanced to the suburbs of Avenai, but resistance is still fierce.”

Ethalria, the village Kanvel 21km west of Arkenvel

Marcus was almost glad that they hadn’t had much time to sleep in the last few days. Nightmares of his first kill plagued his dreams, although it seemed like they were slowly toning down.

“Move carefully, they most likely will fight for this village” Julius said, reminding about carefulness in his usual manner.

Crouching on Marcus’ right side Aleksander smirked and said “Always the damn carefullnes. Like we couldn’t remember that without his constant reminders.”

Marcus answerd with a nod while crouching onwards towards the house nearest to them. Around them their whole platoon was advancing towards the village with support from a few IFVs 600 meters back. Just as Marcus’ squad arrived at the house, it’s windows from which the Caltharusians could be seen, bursted to life.

Kanvel

The order to open fire had finally come and now Kar fired upon the Caltharusain crawling towards the village they defended. To Kar the whole war was just waste,he wasn’t that naive to believe that either side was the victim, most certainly both had reason for the war. Then again it was all about powerplay.

From building’s second floor window, Kar saw how enemy IFVs opened fire, hitting the attic of the building he was in.

“Shit, Marian was there” he shouted to his squadmates few seconds after the explosion above. Before anyone could answer they heared another explosion from downstairs. The explosion was quickly followed by bursts of gunfire and few screams.

Heinick, Kar’s squadmate ran towards the stairs shouting:
“They must’ve gotten Virgil and Dail too.”

Kar answered by ordering Heinick to guard the stair by throwing a grenade downstairs, but just as he was about to throw the grenade burst of bullets forced him off. Just as Heinick was about to just drop the grenade to the stairs, the Caltharusians below threw another one upstairs.

“Grenade!” Heinick managed to drop his grenade, but as he was taking cover, the grenade upstairs exploded, ending his life. When Kar got up, his ears ringed, feeling like they were going to explode. Through the ringing he was able to hear how downstairs Caltharusian screamed for their comrades name, indicating that atleast one of them was wounded.

Marcus couldn’t really hear anything, eventhough he had been able to dive in to another room when the grenade came. However Jonah, his squadmate who had thrown the grenade upstairs hadn’t been so lucky. His body was torn by the enemy grenade and the life had faded from him in an instant. Despite the loss, Julius quickly ordered them to advance upstairs before their enemies could recover from the grenade. Luckily it seemed that their enemies weren’t alive anymore, as no one resisted them when they run upwards the stairs. Julius led them up and was they got there he fired a few burst upon the Ethalrians, but they quickly noticed that none of them moved anymore.

Then Julius shattered the silence:
 “Secure the rest of the house, we don’t want anymore surprises.”

After a short pause he continued answering to a question he felt everyone was silently asking:
“Nieme is takin care of Jonah.”

[Alix]

Ethalria

Was he a coward for surrendering? Maybe he could’ve miraclously fought the Calhians off if he had fought to the last. But then again that did not happen. The truth is after he reclaimed his senses after that grenade, he ran to another room where he waited in fear. The Calthians came in with force wounding him to his left foot in the process. With his leg’s wound tearing through his conciussness with pain, he had thrown his weapon away. Luckily the Calthians were at the mood of taking prisoners. Now he was a prisoner, although still being in Ethalria just on the other side of the front.

As his eye travelled from each man prisoned with to the next, he didn’t see any familiar faces. “Damned be the officers for leading my friends to the slaughter like this.” He thought. Despite the cursing of the officers deep down, Kar knew that he was just looking for any excuses for the events. Events caused by pure madness.

What Kar didn’t know was that Ethalria had started a massive counter attack two days earlier, an offensive that might end up liberating him.

Constantine fortress

“Sir they are most likely heading for our supply lines. The fact that most of their pushes have come in the are between Avenai and Arkenvel. This indicates that instead of trying push us back from two of their biggest cities, they try to cut our forces advancing to Avenai off from supplies. Of the succeed the results would be chatastrophical.”

After finishing his sizeable report Miro returned to his chair, waiting for a response from the Grand Marshall, who quickly started speaking.

“Grand Marshall Kyrkaberg will continue to advance at Avenai to increase pressure there. However to us falls the massive task stopping this Ethalrian counter offensive. Use every single asset we have at our disposal to first reclaim the aerial supeority above our defensive lines, and hold the line. If we can stop their offensive, they shall bleed dry eventually.”
Otto knew that chances for a quick victory were thin, but their power grew every week as the reserves were called in to service. But still he didn’t want that. Every day he sent young men to die for ground that hadn’t belonged to Caltharus for centuries. But he didn’t show these thought to outside, from the outside he seemed just as determined as ever.

Just as Otto stopped speaking his right hand man, field marshall Klaus Obersson started speaking:
“Grand Marshall is right, if we get the skies back, stopping Ethalrians will be much easier. If we can stop them, their advance startes to resemble a gigantic pocket from which not all will escape.”
Everyone in the room could feel the tension in the air, it was clear that the following days and weeks would play a big part in how and where the rest of the war would be fought.

“Exactly. If we can make that pocket happen, large amount of Ethalrian forces will be forced to surrender or die” Otto continued. Then he kept a small pause, while eyeing if everyone surely was paying attention and then he spoke again.

“But that is a big if, this will not be easy. We must be steadfast on this course we’ve taken for this to succees. Everyone carry on”

Then he turned to Klaus and said “I need to leave for a meeting with Urquhart(speaker of the house) and Brom from the CIB.”

“Good journey to you then. Have fun with those two” Klaus answered with a smirk. It was very common for the two men to jokinly annoy eacother, despite they formidable ages.

“Oh I will, maybe Brom actually has some good news this time so that he would for once be useful.” Otto said turning the conversation to Lucas Brom, the leader of the CIB, who wasn’t that popular amongst the officer of the army. The reason behind this was that Lucas thought of Caltharus’ military forces as “expendable assets”. This calculative attitude has made him disliked in the army, but he has kept his position as the leader of CIB for years thanks to his effectiveness.

As Otto left the command room stepping unto the brightly lighted hallway his only thought was whether this meeting would reveal something useful to his campaign. Brom after all exelled at his job, maybe he had gotten some useful intel to give him.