Somewhere in the Northwestern Mountains of Tassalvalta;
No earlier than 300 UTC, 3 days after the initial Packilvanian Invasion and nuclear strikes.
“WE CANNOT STAND BY WHILE THE ARMY IS TORN ASUNDER! WITHOUT THE ARMY, HOW CAN TASSALVALATA POSSIBLY HOPE TO DEFEND ITSELF?” A voice rang out through the cave fortress, highly hidden and built in secret from former mines.
There was a clamber almost like a wooden cane hitting against the ground, and the source of the cane’s hitting the ground would show a wizened old man standing in a cavernous room, reinforced by steel pillars. In the room with him were dozens upon dozens of other men and boys.
Whomever this man was, he was obviously of some importance, because despite his slightly torn tuxedo, he had the attention of the entire crowd.
“Mister Jacobs, I suggest you calm yourself down. We cannot hope to out-force them in straight combat, and the history of our former neighbors who have fallen from the past should tell you that. King Valta should have done something about it, he should have prepared the army better, asking for equipment and supplies from Angelic Jutland or Drakkengard, one of the few nations in our region smart enough to overtly show themselves as prepared to defend against the Pax menace.”
A red haired young man, wearing a military uniform which was also slightly worn and torn, and which lacked the jacket portion of the uniform, looked sympathetically towards the old man, but then grimaced.
“So you expect me to ignore my comrades, my friends, my family? You expect me to ignore all of that, just for survival?”
The old man tilted his head towards the young military officer, who’s rank was not nearly visible with the only marks of his military status being the olive-beige camouflage fatigues and black combat boots he wore. His extremely red-tinted brown hair a clear distinction from the older man’s silver hair.
“Yes, I do. You and your men as it stand hold no chance of fighting and winning, or surviving, with the Pax menace about. Studies show that you would lose your true self in their assimilation process, and every one of you captured would be another soldier for their war machine.”
The red-haired young officer did not respond for a moment, clearly thinking as he did, and when he spoke, it was clearly.
“So how do we fight them, Lord Richards?”
“Mister Jacobs, are you familiar with the ‘Mujahadeen’ resistance movement within Afghanistan in the 1970s?”
The young officer paused to think about it for a moment, and then replied. “No, I don’t believe I am, sir.”
“Well, in the 1970s, Afghanistan’s government and nation was overrun by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, a massive army not much unlike the Pax, sans the fact that the USSR were not so highly empowered by advanced technology, and were not a hive mind. Both forces, in comparison, are nearly unstoppable in ground wars, and have highly motivated fighters. But if the intelligence that my men gathered prior to the invasion is correct, then they should be highly susceptible to guerilla tactics. In addition, we have a few secret weapons that we of the Tassalvalta Defense Initiative have researched in defense against the Packilvanians.”
The young officer stepped closer to the old man, the entire cave looking at the two as he did.
“How are to bring about an insurgency and guerrilla war supposed to be brought to hand upon the Pax without supplies and without men?”
“Don’t think the entire army is routed yet. Some members of the army were apart of the TDI, after all, despite the former government disapprove of our tactics and politics. I suspect those soldiers and several other squadrons survived, and many of them know of bases like this one scattered through the Tassalkashgar Mountains; our primary problem is supplies and equipment, but with the fact that we have no official government, we cannot very well demand a nation try to bring about help. We can only pray and do what we can.”
Dun dun dun dun.
This is the Warreic Royal Newsservice, in partnership with WRN and the networks of Warre. Broadcast throughout the country, through the help of WRN and your local affilitates.
The familiar face of King Warren II, the King of Warre known in other situations as Warren Keith Patrick McCue II, is seen visibly sitting in a neither harsh or plush chair. He is dressed semi-formally, wearing the ceremonial full dress of the Warreic Marines, including medals which were given to him upon his ascension. His dark-brown hair is clearly tusseled, and his steel blue eyes look intently towards the viewers.
"Roughly three days ago, the Kingdom of Tassalvalta was invaded without apparent declaration of war, by the nation of Packilvania. With the force implace there, and the clear reports given to me from various Warreic Royal Scientists, and Independent scientists, for that matter, make something very clear. Despite international will on the matter, Packilvania struck the Kingdom of Tassalvalta in several places with Nuclear weaponry, the exact types we are not sure on, but we are sure on the fact that they did so. In prior times, with prior situations, we might well ignore the fact that Packilvania has overun yet another country within the East Pacific, but with their use of Nuclear weaponry, and their persistent threat and aggression, we are forced to place sanctions upon any trade with their nation, and will be closing our ports to any trade with them.
He nods silently.
“I strongly urge the leaders of the East Pacific’s nations which find problem with this situation and fear for the balance and stability of the region with the current status quo to meet with me in Lumina. Slainte, may your spears stay sharp and shields stay whole.”