Shattering Diplomacy

Dylan · October 10, 2019, 7:11pm

SHATTERING DIPLOMACY

Contents

Others in the Shattering Diplomacy series

https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/the_east_pacific/ethalria-will-never-rise-again-t15938.html

Ethalria Will Never Rise Again is the first of three planned roleplays in the Shattering Diplomacy series. It focused on events in the Ethalns after the Auroran-Pacific War, where a once great nation and its people came to an abrupt end. Now divided, follow the beginnings of Clauzia Sarohart and other leaders of the age. Throw in some terrorism, and you have two essential boxes ticked for a successful story.

Ethalria Will Never Rise Again is scheduled to be rewritten when the author has finished with the current story, which until given a name shall be referred to by the series name “Shattering Diplomacy”.

Dylan · November 4, 2019, 9:33pm

Chapter One

10 October 2019

The small city of Stalzag in the center of Nocturne Province, the most southerly and disconnected to cultural Morstaybishlia had elected a new mayor. He was a Staynish-born foreigner in the eyes of pretty much everyone in the Ethalrian-speaking suburbs of Deuperlach and Kiesing, but was voted in by a very faint majority. He was seen as an arrogant, money-grabbing crook and hatred spread like wildfire in the slums. He did not represent the many but only the few and instead of unveiling a much needed turnaround to the poorer end of town, he was opening up a new state-of-the-art library in the rich end. Obviously, this would make any working-class hungry man angry.

The grand unveiling came. Mayor John Atornaba opened it with his filthy rich smile and exasperating laughs. After he cut the ribbons, he toured the eager local news reporters through the doors and around the place. It was as someone from Staynes would call ‘magnificent’; a large chamber that contained thousands of books, with delicately crafted patterns made from gold leaf and leather all over the walls.

As he made his way to the back and began conversing with the news crews, the rest of the building was opened to the public. Because this was the rich end of town, most people enjoyed it- but one man didn’t. Friedrich Schneider was recently divorced and his head into communist books of Stratarin’s Great Revolution, his aspiration to become Ruslan Voronin had driven him to the brink of insanity and someone even tried to take him to social services- but that failed. He styled his beard to match and even wore a replica trenchcoat of the former dictator. He snuck through the crowds, a thick mob of upper-class snobs and middle-class bookworms that wanted to either inspect the architecture or find their next read, and reached a viewing distance to where John Atornaba was standing. Just as John was describing how much he loved his new job, a pin dropped from Freidrich’s sleeve. Two seconds later, he launched an apple-shaped object at the mayor. There wasn’t any time to throw it away, and just as the news reporters and people standing next to him began to scream in horror, the thing went off with a ear-destroying bang, silencing everything. Friedrich Schneider was nowhere to be seen.

[hr]

Nocturne had a problem, for decades it liked to pronounce itself as different but never had a strong cause for independence or a strong person to lead them. Over time, this changed. In ten years, popularity of an independent nation state grew, and the Nocturnian Independence Party started to get attention. Election success saw the relatively minor party with no seats take home five; five strong victories that helped oust out the previous fourteen-year Conservative administration from power. Regardless of which party was in power, that being the Conservatives, Labour or Democrats, it made no odds. A growing minority wanted no party to rule over them but elected people from their own constituencies.

The Nocturnian Independence party had a powerful slogan, something that their leader Alwin Jordanes loved to express. He would go on to say it at the end of his speeches in a sort of statement of defiance. And so, on this day, Alwin would make a speech. It was in front of a small hall of locals in the city of Stalzag. Freedom of speech was allowed in Morstaybishlia, but treason was not. Alwin planned this carefully, a behind closed doors “party”. That was his favorite term for what he did. Among the crowd were mainly businessmen, pub locals and members of the party, but one face that would go unnoticed was Freidrich Schneider. He sat at a table at the back.

People in Nocturne chain-smoked more on average than anywhere in Aurora, and the hall was one of few places that did not have a ban on indoor smoking. With that being said, the place had been slowly filled with cigarette smoke for hours whilst people gathered before the actual speech. It kind of made it more atmospheric. Sat back and enjoying some needed company and deep conversations, Freidrich puffed away at a packet of Duck and Swan. Compared to his usual self he was chilled and quiet. They held deep conversations whilst waiting for the speech to arrive.

About thirty minutes on from his first of ten cigarettes, Alwin came into the room. He thanked everyone for coming, and held at least what felt like a two hour debate with the crowd on current topics and things in Morstaybishlia and compared them with how life would be like within a nation led by Jordanes. Schneider sympathised with him, but gave unnoticed scowls as he spoke on his right-wing beliefs. Schneider was mainly there to learn from Jordanes.

The oil crisis with Embask and Sinter Tass crept up, and it was spoken about in much detail, with Freidrich even having something to say. The atmosphere allowed for anyone to have a say, it wasn’t loud nor chaotic, it was calm and controlled.

Finally, after so long, Alwin concluded his talks.

“…the driving point for our independence will come at the sheer hypocrisy and poor judgement of the likes of Mr Barvata and his little band of passive hooliganists, who sit in red leather hundreds of miles away in Sani Bursil! They want everything, and we are going to be the first in a generation to tell them that they can’t have everything for they cannot hold on to it all. We shall stand up to *Morst greed! *” he thrusted his hand in the air and the whole room cheered him on.

Dylan · May 6, 2020, 1:26pm

The bar door groaned like a warthog as the wood scraped the oak floor of the tavern, a pair of thick black boots firmly asserting itself inside. It slowly walked over to a table where a cloaked woman was sitting. They did not dare speak too much, since the death of Mayor Atornaba some weeks ago Nocturne was a frenzy, it felt as if you couldn’t turn a street corner without facing a pair of smug police officers asking you for identification. There was even one at the bar. When she sat down, they looked over in his general direction discreetly and at each other.

“Seems like the whole province hates them here.” the cloaked woman remarked.

“Yes… All they need is a bit of encouragement…”

A waitress appeared from nowhere and startled the pair.

“What drinks can I get you?”

“I’ll have a port please, what do you want?” she glanced over to the mysterious figure.

“I’m okay thank you.”

“Anything else?” the waitress smiled.

“No.” the woman ushered her away with her finger and pulled out a cigarette. She gave it a few puff and patted the end into the tables’ ashtray.

“It’s been over four decades since we were under Ethalrian rule,” smoke flowed from her mouth as she spoke. “My parents were only teenagers, they talk as if it were perfect.” she smoked a bit more.

“It was.” the cloaked figure smirked. “The glorious matriarchy,” she paused. “So why did you ask for us?”

“My leader wants to form a republic over unifying some eastern Caltharusian provinces with central power in Nocturne, but one day I want to take the reins from him but not just as an economically dependent state such as his initial plans,” she glanced at the police officer at the bar. “But as the prosperous independent economic powerhouse that is made up of all of the eastern Caltharusian provinces; the Republic of Marislia,” she said, and the cloaked figure remained silent. “I can’t yet take over from him, he is too powerful of a public speaker. But… I have an idea-” she cut herself short as the waitress returned with her glass of wine.

“Here you go,” she placed it in front of her.

“Thanks,” she smiled. The waitress moved away from the table.

“Your idea?” the cloaked woman pushed, as if she doesn’t have all day.

“Yes… My idea is to ask for funding in increments and push towards smaller cells across east-Caltharus,” a quick glance to the officer. “There are people throughout the land that want independence. Segregated and they’re weak, but together we’re powerful. We all have a common goal, and you know what that is.”

“Yes… I do. But why would we commit to this?”

“I supported Alwin’s ideals at the start. He campaigned for integration with Ethalria- that was before the war, before their image was spoilt. Those ideals left him the day Ethalria surrendered, and his vision moved to an eastern ally of the Morsts,” she gave a long pause. “That is not in my interests. North Ethalria is a shining light in this dark hour. Through the ashes, this rising phoenix has given me hope. Given me a thing to believe in, and I know how much your boss wants the re-establishment of Ethalrian port cities in the Bishlian Sea. I know she wants it, she yearns for it,” she paused, the stare of the woman behind the cloak intensified. “Fund us, and I will bring you great fortunes, the spark of Ethalria as our parents knew it reborn.”

“There is of course, one problem…” the cloaked woman put her arms on the table and lent forward. “The moment Marislia breaks away from the Empire and relinquishes its protection, Sarinn will dive in like a vulture. Barvata won’t stand for it.”

Finishing her wine, the woman smiled.

“I have spies in all of the right places. They tell me Barvata will be too busy with a problem that’s stirring in South Staynes. He will rather protect what he has than claw at what he has lost. You’ll move in at this point, with his blessing of course, and Sarohart will emerge the hero over Marislia and I can have my place under the wing of a rightful matriarch.”

“She isn’t a matriarch.” the cloak woman affirmed, gritting her teeth at her brazenly mentioning her name.

“That’s only a ploy. Do not lie to me, I know it, and you know it, just look how she expelled her enemies without a second notice. She is a strong leader, and she will lead the VWP to a majority in the next election.”

The cloaked woman grunted. “We’re not here to discuss Boeler.”

“Anyway, after you save Marislia from harm’s way, she will help the government establish itself properly. We will allow North Ethalria access to trade through the bay.”

“You have an interesting case,” the cloaked woman affirmed. “And what do you get from this?”

“I’ll eventually be installed to my rightful place, leading Marislia.”

“Hmm,” the cloaked woman pondered.

“But my plan. Do you believe in it?” the woman asked.

“I don’t disbelieve in it,” she stared around the room. “I’m leaving now.” she stood up and nodded to the woman. “I’ll let you know.”

The woman remained seated, snarling to her thoughts.

Dylan · May 10, 2020, 1:46pm

https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/the_east_pacific/viewtopic.php?p=221653#p221653

It had been two weeks since the women called to pitch her case to a representative of Sarohart. She had a slight speculation as to who the masked woman was, but she couldn’t tell for sure; of course it wasn’t Sarohart herself as the President of North Ethalria wouldn’t dare make an appearance in a Nocturnian tavern at the height of all this, but it was certainly one of her cronies Magolen or Tassenburg.

Hearing that she would receive funds to help unify the small independence cells across the vast lands of Caltharus east of the Ider river, she addressed her victory to her small counsel- her co-conspirators in the grand plan. They agreed that their next move was to find a base of operations, separate to the current base of operations of her boss Alwin Jordanes in Fort Nocturne. Through a friend of a conspirator, they had clasped their hands on an old military bunker used by Feldmarschall Ohn Bronfer in the Auroran Imperial War. During her preliminary visit, Through an old Ethalrian clock on a mantlepiece, she was reminded of her former life, the day it ended- the 2nd of January 1975. She would have the bunker renovated, but demanded the clock to be left exactly as it was, for when she worked there it would be a constant pain in her memories and fuel her hatred towards the enemies of the former Grand Matriarchy.

After the visit, she travelled home, which was in a rural hamlet twelve miles from the historic market town Dolmscher in Barbarus Province, as it had been since she left her old life behind in the village of Torshenhausen, near Östimte all those years ago. There was a conflict inside of her, she did not miss the torment and upset the final moments of her old life gave her, but she missed the feeling of security in the former Empire.

When she fell asleep that night, a terrible nightmare engulfed her, a headache of long passed horrors wrapped their hands around her skull, laying heavy on her conscience and pushing her deepest sorrows into the forefront of her mind, such horror no child should bear the witness of. Escaping these violent reminders was not possible and she was stabbed back in time.

She woke up the next day in a pantomime of hot flush and sweat, and when she looked over to her fireplace it was white with ash and cold like her heart. She had relived the day her world died as if she was tied to a chair and relentlessly waterboarded, she could not escape the thoughts, but despite the pain, it put her mind at ease a little more; it reiterated her passion and her driving force and reminded her as to why she carried on. Her hatred, despite not showing it publically, made her powerful. She was accustomed to the game now and she knew that she had to be very patient in order to succeed. Romilda made herself a coffee and washed, before her meeting with Alwin later in the day.

Dylan · June 1, 2020, 2:17pm

Romilda walked into the third “behind closed doors” meeting that the independence movement hosted in the last month. The meeting was held in the same space as before and when she sat down at a chair in the middle of the front row, she sparked up a cigarette and contributed to the smog. On the other side of the room another man sat among the crowd- Freidrich Schneider, brandishing his normal style of a Voronin beard and trench coat. He was armed with a notepad and pen; this was the first time Romilda noticed him and she was curious as to who he was.

Alwin Jordanes walked into the room, he initially spoke to a group of men before walking to the lectern and addressing the three rows of seated people.

“Hello, thanks for being here.” Jordanes coughed. “I first wanted to discuss a new development that was brought to me by my General Secretary,” he smiled in Romilda’s direction. “We’ve been contacted by several people hailing from a new independence cell in Barbarus Province, and we’ve decided that we will join forces to create a larger, more impactful and relevant independence movement of East Caltharus that Sani Bursil will recognise.”

The group grunted a round of applause- Romilda was also clapping, but her loose smile dropped when she looked over to the bearded man, who she couldn’t help but think looked like the old Strataric leader Voronin- not engaging like everyone else and just furiously writing notes.

“We will be working closely with these people in the coming weeks, and we are encouraging other cells to come forward. Together, even if it is in years to come, we can create a powerful East Caltharus with a competitive, sustainable and fair economy. We want this vision for East Caltharus to be a technological and manufacturing hub, with investment into public services like transport and healthcare, as well as a more generous living wage to the rate Morstaybishlia currently has…”

Jordanes kept talking about the improved vision the Nocturne Independence Party would take going forward. Romilda had to work hard to conceal a snarl that grew on her the more Jordanes spoke for he had made her his advisor, and these were practically her words coming from his mouth. There were things she’d work with him on as the weeks progressed, but it was there. Unfortunately for her there would be no chance of taking over from him at any point in the near future as he would simply create a void of power so great that who knows what would happen. She would groom him to her model, and have him begin delegating her more important things which would show people she was also as capable as him.

Across the room, the hidden communist had finished writing his notes on the conclusion of his speech. He packed it away in a small bag he carried with him. Unbeknownst to Romilda, she wasn’t the only political bulldog in the room. Her vision was a progressive social democratic society, bizarrely with some things pulled straight from Sofura’s books; but Freidrich Schneider was the hidden communist, and he would begin to also try and work his way into power through this party’s influence to mould an independent state with strong far-left values.

When Schneider left, he walked to his car and sat inside. He took out his phone and dialled a number.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice was heard from the other side.

“Hello Boeler, it’s Friedrich, we’ve got lots to speak about…”

Dylan · June 4, 2020, 12:29am

Chapter Two

26 March 2020

Schneider walked into a well lit room. It was fitted out like an office but had a small surface area for drink making which also hosted a coffee machine. He took off his trench coat and hung it on a retro hook stand, revealing a scruffy white shirt and fashionable black suspenders. He took off his hat, something he purchased for this occasion. He waited alone for several minutes awaiting company. Becoming agitated, he stood up from his seat and boiled the kettle. Around a minute and a half later, and with the instant coffee and three spoonfuls of sugar already waiting, he poured the boiling hot water over it, creating an aroma he loved like no other. He loved black coffee.

Boeler opened up the door to the room and she placed down some books and a briefcase on her desk. She was pleasantly surprised by Schneiders’ apparent comfort in an unknown environment.

“You look relaxed.” Boeler moved to her chair at the same time as Schneider, before extending an arm for a handshake.

Schneider gave a slight humming sound before speaking.

Many gratitudes for this opportunity, Boeler.” Schneider’s lips curled as he spoke the words. In fact, this was the first time he had met her in person.

“My pleasure,” she returned, before herself pouring out a coffee.

“Your reputation precedes you.” Schneider sipped at his beverage, attempting to make small talk before the real talk happened.

“Oh really? Someone has said that to me before.” Boeler casually stirred her grey-brown concoction, a slight acknowledgement over her shoulder.

“Uh huh, and isn’t that person now dead?” he smirked out of her view. He was met with no response.

Boeler moved over to her chair once more and sat down. She was clearly not amused by his comment but didn’t say anything.

“So update me then.”

“Jordanes has stated that there’s several independence cells in east Caltharus. After his speech I overheard a private conversation with his general secretary and other higher figures of the party which told me there were 6 small cells with varying outreach. From there, I’ve found out who runs them, and I’ve set up a line of communication.”

Boeler somewhat relaxed at this news.

“Unfortunately, for our plan, only two of these parties have cooperated.”

Boeler’s relaxation ended and she sat up in her chair. She thought about this and it was silent for a few moments.

“We can work with these.”

“Good.” Schneider himself felt a little more at peace with her response, and he took a big gulp of coffee.

“So what was it,” Boeler said as she calmly filed through papers “7,500 G36’s, some 28,000 Stormgewehr 45’s and munitions to and I quote last a very long time,” she looked up. “What’s this?”

Schneider just shrugged. Boeler turned the page over.

“Tanks.” she quoted directly from the paper. “Damnit Schneider. How many- in fact how are we even smuggling these into literally the world’s biggest superpower?”

Schneider tapped his nose comically.

“I’ll close this deal if you don’t quit messing around.” Boeler asserted.

“Oh uh,” Schneider all of a sudden looked worried. “Twenty initially, and more afterwards.”

“Mmm.” Boeler quietly sighed. “So and so drones, so and so this and that, Schneider, this sounds like you’re pitching an invasion. How can we assure this doesn’t get linked back to us?”

“I know a man who’s got a cartel somewhere in Yasteria. He’s called Zecrod Furista. Recognise the name?”

Boeler pondered on this. “A little.”

“He’s the last leader of the short lived State of Morstaybishlia. We can put all of our purchases and exports from him, that way it pins it to no state and rather his cartel.”

“If this is executed right… This will be perfect.”

Dylan · July 14, 2020, 4:32pm

10 June 2020

For the last few months, Hanna Boeler’s next step was to get into contact with the crime lord Zecrod Furista. A man so impossibly difficult to find a contact to, let alone meet face to face because of his notoriety in Great Morstaybishlia; the motherland and her allies have tried for over fifteen years to catch him… Fifteen years of loose ends and failed operations.

She grew frustrated as the long months drew to a close one by one, she had tried a few methods to get his attention but as far as now she had received nothing in return, no word of acknowledgement or anything. When, or if, she had contact with him or someone who worked for him, she thought many times as to who she would send. She could not trust the likes of Schneider to barter on her behalf, and she could not send herself, it’d be suicide. Like yesterday, the day before and the day before that, she pondered between two people for quite a while during her dinner. She was slow in her stride this evening, doing the dishes whilst humming to a melody of a song which she couldn’t remember. When the doorbell rang, fear stopped her scrubbing in its tracks. It was 11pm and so very dark during these winter months; her face was recognised across all of Aurora for the failed socialist coup back in August 2019 and when she wasn’t working she was living the life of a recluse on her own.

Hanna slowly tiptoed across her floor and as she did so the creaking of wood pierced the silence. She came to the kitchen table and quietly dislodged something underneath. The door in the corridor opened and Hanna pulled out her handgun.

“Oh, it’s you.” the tension in the air lifted almost immediately as Mia Penning walked in. She was totally unannounced and had come without reason.

“What are you doing here?” The worry in Boeler’s voice was apparent as she put away her gun.

“I have got a link,” Penning rustled a folded piece of paper between her fingertips after hanging up her coat.

“What is it…?” Boeler asked with curiosity, leading Penning into the kitchen for a drink. “Coffee?”

“That’d be nice,” Penning snarled. The two spoke briefly on their week whilst the drink was made. Boeler came and sat at the table, pushing a drink to Penning.

“Ta,” she opened up the paper and pushed it her way. Penning used a candle to weigh the paper down.

“A time and a place?” Boeler was in shock. “What in the blast,” she said quietly as she read over some more specifics. “This place, where is it?”

“I did some searching and found that it is a small city in the Free Pacific States. Giacomina is here, in Columbia State,” Penning showed her on her PrimPhone maps, to which Boeler acknowledged. “This place,” she pointed to the next line on the paper, “Main Street Park- it’s a downtown residential dog walking park about a half an hour walk from the station,”

“Brilliant…” Boeler pondered over the time and date on the paper; 1:35am, 27 June 2020. “How did you acquire this?”

“It was nothing cunning this time, it was an anonymous tip.” she took a gulp of her coffee.

“An anonymous tip?” Boelers’ eyebrows raised.

“Yes, that was indeed my reaction…” she paused. “There was something else on the other side of the paper,” she turned it. “Send one person.”

The room was silent for a long moment.

“Can I send you?” Boeler looked at Penning in the eyes and smiled.

“M… Me?” Penning sat back in her chair and didn’t say anything for she was too busy thinking of the task ahead.

“It was either you or Xurzese, and you’re more alert, you’re faster and you’re not on the same wanted tier that Xurzese is.”

“I’ll do what I must,” Penning sighed. She hadn’t been on assignment before and the thought of what might happen to her tickled at her senses.

Dylan · July 14, 2020, 9:16pm

Penning grabbed at her coat for warmth. She waited to enter the terminal to board a flight to Liberty City, the capital of Free Pacific States- but there was a holdup. The bitter cold of the central Auroran climate was not of snow today but of frost; frost that slithered up her extremities and numbed her senses. It was early, too early for her- as she entered the terminal in Karinthus she looked up to the mass of flight times and saw the clock. 06:15 she read it in her mind. All she wanted was this to be over, she would be in and out- no messing around, to get the job done. That was how Penning liked to play her cards.

After using her fake passport to board as Ms Kiara Vöhm her flight took several hours from the Auroran to Yasterian capitals. Free Pacific States was a lot warmer than her home country, but besides that there wasn’t a huge difference; both capitals were just flurrying concrete jungles of all shapes and sizes. She stepped onto Yasterian soil with a clank here and a clank there, the sound of her high heels just one of many in this busy metropolis.

It took Penning a day to travel from Liberty City to Giacomina after a delay on one of the connection trains. It was not a problem for her however as she had given herself a day to explore for her own leisure, but the delay stopped her from having her time to explore.

By nine o’clock she arrived at the small city. She took some time to explore what there was, but in retrospect it was dull and deprived of vibe and life. She took out a few Federate Dollars to pay for a pizza takeaway and ate it in an outdoor eating area by herself. After finishing her pizza and coffee, Penning waited out the evening.

By one in the morning, the small city was nearly lifeless besides the occasional car and the small flashing lights of air traffic above. She began walking down from her outdoor eating area to Main Street Park. The deeper into the park she went, the darker it got, so she tried to stay within the visible zones. One thirty came, and there was nobody in sight. The desolate sound of nothingness rang hard in her ears and so she cured it with headphones.

That only lasted for five minutes.

At one thirty five in the morning, Penning was tired, sleepy and somewhat irritated for waiting all day. She rocked back and forth on a small stone wall before hands grabbed her from behind- one over her arms to disable her and one over her mouth. Seconds into struggling it was over, the sedative had lived up to its use. Two men dragged her lifeless body into an alleyway and into the back of a white van.

Dylan · July 16, 2020, 6:42pm

Panic overwhelmed Penning as when she opened her eyes it was only ceaseless darkness. Her tied and bound body was being taken somewhere and it was her guess that because of all of the bumping and clunking noises that she was being driven down a country lane. Her immediate instinct was to escape, she writhed around but some sort of cable confined her wrist movement to a very small space and coupled with the fact that she couldn’t see anything and that her body was tied to the side of something made the wriggling efforts for nothing. She accepted that her fate was sealed and that her life was over.

Of course, that was not the case for Penning. Unbeknownst to her, she was on a long trip to the lair of Furista. The trip that the men had taken spanned a privately arranged flight and over five hours of driving and if Penning was awake and able to look out of the window of the plane would realise that they passed over both Fortuna, Auraliyu and Kelssek to land at a private airstrip in the Duchy of Holvogur, Asendavia.

As the van ended its long journey, the men exited the vehicle and opened the back doors. It was a surprise that she was awake so soon after readministering ketamine every so often, but nonetheless a welcomed one; it would take a short while for her to recover from her drugged state and another bit longer until Zecrod Furista was ready to see her.

Penning felt herself untied from a support beam in the van and lifted up. She was helped by the two men who supported her uncontrolled steps towards where they were going. Still unable to see where she was going from the bag over her head and her skull feeling like the inside of a tumble dryer, she tripped a few times on outlying rocks. Wearing only high heels that hurt her quite a bit but she would have to endure the pain for whatever was in store for her.

After turning a few tight corners and passing by some voices in some sort of unrecognised Yasterian language, Penning was casually dropped to the floor. She felt a hand grab her face and rip off the bag. The darkness ended and in shot the blinding light- it took her a good minute or two to adjust by which time she was alone in a cold cell. She moved up to follow the men out of where she laid but after pressing a rifle at her forehead, she had no other choice but to obey. When they left all that she could feel was cold, all that she could hear was the occasional tapping of water droplets and all she could see was the darkness of a vast corridor of some sort of dim-lit underground cave system. Her mind was split into a hundred places, she was fearing for her life right about now.

Dylan · July 20, 2020, 11:08pm

Penning sat there in her cell in the darkness; time was immeasurable in the coarse and clammy underground hell, the area of the subterranean labyrinth she found herself in gave her a sense of revulsion over a foul trail of what smelt like rotten eggs that had likely been lingering there for several generations.

She looked around for clues as to where she was or if she could escape but there was none that presented itself. She thought about clawing her way out but it would only grind her hands down to stubs. It was pretty useless.

What felt like hours went by. These hours in reality could have been only a few minutes; but no matter how much time went by the fear in Penning grew. Two big questions laid on her mind; What sort of arranged meeting was this? What had she gotten herself into?

Soon a man with a balaclava unlocked the cage doors, as she named them, and pulled her out by her wrists. Another man then proceeded to put another mask over her face, plunging her world into darkness once again. She was escorted through a series of winding corridors and transferred to different hands. When they stopped walking two thick hands pushed her onto a seat; to her surprise the seat was comfortable. The bag came off her head and the guard unfastened her restraints. As she looked around, the room was a lot nicer than what she saw as a literal cesspit before.

A man briskly walked in brandishing suit trousers and an untucked white shirt with the top button loose. He walked to the other side of the room and took off the kettle that had begun whistling on the stove.

“Drink?” he said o’ so accommodatingly.

“What is this treatment? It is disgus…” Penning halted, the man had walked over to her and grabbed her face, turning it from one side to another. She glared daggers at him, disgusted by his breach of personal space, bad breath and weird facial expression- something reminisce of a pout but far worse. She wretched away from his grasp and he moved back to the drinks.

“Sugar?”

“No.”

“Milk?”

“No.”

“Pff.” he laughed, and about a minute later brought over a black coffee. He handed it to her and was left with no thanks.

“So you’ve come to my humble abode to discuss… Business.” Furista snarled, the black of some of his teeth showing against the shine of his fake golden replacements. Penning shrugged off a tingling sensation that traveled down her spine.

“That is correct. My client wants to have seven thousand five hundred G36’s, twenty eight thousand Stormgewehr 45’s and twenty Khadgar tanks to Aurus, all of which has been purchased already but needs safe delivery through the Morstaybishlian border.”

“Hah.” he took a gulp of his boiling drink down his seemingly iron gullet.

“Can your band of terro…” Penning chose her words carefully. “Crime underworld handle this order?”

“Band of t- t- t- terro… Care to el- l- l- laborate?” he said sarcastically to mock her. “Of course we can take this order. Is there a specific time period it should be delivered by, and where will we be leaving the delivery?”

“Southport docks, speak with a Mr. Johnald Rusticker, he controls the ins and outs of that docking area and is susceptible to bribery.”

“And how will he be open to a bribe?” Furista said unconvinced.

“I’m sure he will be willing to cooperate if it involves the safety and well-being of his three daughters.” a short and cunning smile enveloped Penning’s cheekbones.

“I’m warming up to you,” Furista smiled as well. “Tell me more of your plan…”

Dylan · July 23, 2020, 12:42pm

17 June 2020
6:15AM
Southport, Aurus

The bitter cold swept in overnight on the southern ports of Aurus. It was particularly cold so much so that as Johnald Rusticker walked through the docks he could see a few clusters of several stalactites under man made overhangs. As he walked through the ports from the car park to his office his steps left thin but visible prints in the frost; every time he inhaled the cold air coated his throat with a weird sharpness and when he exhaled he could see his breath.

After pouring tea into his flask and checking in to work, Johnald glanced at the picture of his late wife by his work computer, smiled, and moved outside to take over from the night shift worker.

“Blimey, you look absolutely fucked.” Johnald smirked.

“Aren’t I always after a night?” his coworker replied.

“Yeah true, alright man take care.” Johnald waved to the man as he left work.

Alright then, what have we got in store today… Johnald thought to himself, preparing for just another normal day at the docks.

[hr]

Twenty minutes later

Johnald scratched his receding forehead as he walked over to a freighter ship that had docked several minutes before. He tried to find the arrival of the vessel on his computer but there was nothing. Confused and cold, Johnald waited patiently for the captain or a deckhand to come from the ship. A crane lifted and placed a boarding bridge from the dock to the vessel and after a minute a short stocky man came waddling down to him.

“Come to deliver 200 containers for the National Morstaybishlian Steel and Shipbuilding Company.” the shorter man crossed his arms to wait to be cleared.

Johnald was struck by this. “Uh, I can’t find your arrival listed in the books anywhere!”

“There must be a mistake. Check again.” the shorter man affirmed.

“Uh okay then, let me just go and get my line manager.” Johnald said as he was about to walk away, but the shorter man pulled on his ear. Johnald squealed.

“How about you let us deliver the cargo and you forget about all of this.”

“This is highly irregular!” Johnald swiped the shorter man’s hand away. “I need to phone my manager immediately!”

“Clear us,” the shorter man reaffirmed. “Or you’ll be making a mistake.”

“And why’s that?” Johnald laughed.

[hr]

Ten minutes earlier

An Audelli estate parked out of sight on a side street. Five men in all black with face coverings and backpacks exited the car. They were given one goal; secure the children.

Moving swiftly in the slowly receding darkness of the early morning, the men moved to a marked address. They had parked only five minutes from the property and not before long had arrived on the drive. It was a fairly average middle class detached home and from the outside looked fairly small as if it were a one or two bedroom property, but the men knew it was a three bedroom from the blueprints they were given. They moved to the side of the property and slowly opened the gate. The first man pulled out a laser pen and shone the thick blue light at the home security camera, within seconds burning out the CCD sensor and rendering it useless. Now that the camera was offline the five operatives moved to the back garden. The alleyway to the back garden was a grey zone where nobody from outside or inside the property could see. The second man brought out his tool set and got to work; luckily for them their job would be easy; the back door to the property was an old wooden door with a warded lock. Within less than a minute the second man got in.

Walking quietly through the house, the men cleared all of the downstairs rooms. It seemed that none of the children were awake for school and so made their job even easier. One of the stairs creaked on their way up and they paused- for a moment it was clear and they were to continue but then they heard movement.

Shh the lead man motioned to the other operatives. They waited but the movement stopped, probably changing position in their sleep.

The five men panned out to the upstairs rooms, now equipped with handguns. They quickly coordinated to intercept and within seconds had the girls secured. Frightened to death and unable to scream with a gag over their mouth, the men rounded them into one room where they sat together. With four guns pointed at them they daren’t scream for help.

The fifth man awaited the phone call.

[hr]

After hearing Johnald’s laugh, the shorter man gleefully smiled and pulled out a cheap flip phone, dialing a number. After only one ring it picked up.

“Here, take this.” the man handed him the device.

“Hello?” Johnald struggled to hold the phone as he rearranged his hands and put his clipboard under his arm.

“Dad?!” a muffled sobbing cry of utter fear could be heard from the other end.

Johnald took the phone away from his ear. “What the bloody hell is this?” he was completely shocked. The shorter man prompted him to listen more.

“Dad, there’s five men here in masks and guns, they threatened to kill us if you don’t do what they say!”

“Let us pass peacefully.” the shorter man smiled.

“Okay okay,” he glared at the shorter man. “I love you Arin, don’t you forget that, tell Mia and Gracie too, you’ll be safe I promise.”

The phone fell dead. Johnald handed it back.

“What do you want.” he grumbled, defeated and compliant.

“Let us pass and no questions asked.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Remember, Johnald Rusticker is it? Remember that we know where you live!” the shorter man said enthusiastically.

In complete awe and defeat, Johnald walked back and signaled for the unloading process to begin. The shorter man snarled as he walked back on board his boat, snapping the flip phone in half and proceeding to microwave it. He pulled out another phone from the drawer at his desk and rang an Asendavian number. It picked up, but the end was silent. This was normal for Furista.

“Mission success.”

A short burst of murmured chuckled could be heard before the other end of the line went dead.

Dylan · July 23, 2020, 7:21pm

17th to 21st of June 2020

From the docks it was now easy. The convoy of lorries would pass through the city and enjoy the journey there. The lorries took the scenic and slightly longer routes to avoid any unwanted or unprovoked stop searches by the police; there were a few instances of trucks being pulled over on suspicion of harbouring immigrants from Yasteria and Gondwana and such an instance was the last thing they needed. When they left the city the convoy split off into two groups; one was bound for the market town of Scarsmere and one was bound for the industrial town of Moredo.

The reason for these locations were of importance. Both groups would end their journey at two designated warehouses in strategic positions- the first warehouse at Scarsmere was nicely situated between the provincial police department headquarters of Barbarus in Delgerdatter and a small military outpost just 10 kilometers from Scarsmere and the second warehouse at Moredo was situated between Khauser and Schome minutes from two of the bigger police departments of Jomsgord province. Hitting all those police targets and the military communication target would set a clear image for Schneiders’ vision and by his estimation would fuel more hatred for the central government.

Of course, Boeler, who essentially was a pawn of Lenski Sarinn, desired the outcome for her own benefit rather than for Schneider. As she was Sarinn’s pawn, he was hers.

The cargo was all secured and in position a few days later, and the executive order for carnage to commence would be given at random with no notice. That is how they would ensure they would get away with it. If none of their followers knew the site until the order was given, nobody would snitch on their little operation.

Now all that was to come was wait, and wait is what everyone did…

Dylan · July 24, 2020, 11:13pm

24th July 2020
Eastern Caltharus

Today was a special day.

Today was Vimera Saloran’s birthday, and as Chief Constable of Barbarus the occasion was celebrated unofficially among the staff at the head offices of Delgerdatter. For Superintendent Arran Vernan it was quite a special occasion; he fancied Vimera a lot, and to his staff members it was painful to watch because it really was so obvious.

As he walked into the station, he brandished behind his back an assortment box of Felly’s hobstiberry infused dark chocolates in one hand and in the other a bunch of yellow lilies; something that many women would snuff their nose to but a flower that Vimera really likes.

Arran swiftly moved through the offices until he was alone. He looked left and right and after seeing that nobody was watching he opened the glass door to Saloran’s office. He moved over to her desk and arranged his presents nicely with a card to complete it. He smiled, and walked out of the office to a group of people that were waiting for Vimera to arrive. He shuffled over to one of his employees.

“What time is she due in?”

“Er, 8:35 today.” his colleague smiled.

Arran looked at his watch. 8:31 he whispered to himself. Not long to go now.

[hr]

Some time earlier

Sarinn took out a cheap flip phone and made a call. When the other side answered she only said four words.

“The time has come.”

She ended the call and smashed the mobile to pieces before putting it in her fireplace.

On the other end of the phone, Boeler incinerated her own cheap phone and made a new call to Schneider. Her heart beat began to climb when he didn’t pick up the first time. She called again.

“Damnit Schneider, you fucking imbecile, pick up.”

“Hello?” a voice came from the other side.

“Schneider, wake up, it’s happening today.”

“Thank you,”

The phone went dead.

[hr]

Schneider phoned his contacts who themselves arranged their followers; these folk were just regular people from around eastern Caltharus who had ordinary jobs and lives but were willing to go to the extreme to set a minimal standard for any future movement in east Caltharus. They were out to defy the central government in Sani Bursil.

People were to arrive at multiple different checkpoints to protect the location of the warehouses and the equipment was to be transported in trucks and under tarpaulin sheets. Layn Riarnes was leading the operation; a retired military veteran who since retirement has remained in good health.

A good portion of the general public in the easternmost Caltharusian provinces were spiteful towards the central government in Sani Bursil. The people behind what came next were very aware of this fact and would use that to their advantage; especially Boeler who was going to manipulate the Morstaybishlian’s reaction to the attacks to her advantage, the RAFOTE’s reaction would decide the public’s opinion and the fate of her plans.

[hr]

The room echoed with the classical happy birthday song as Vimera entered the room. Several dozen staff members clapped and sung happily together for their chief constable. As quite an older, more conservative woman, she easily handled the attention and thanked everyone for their surprise. Vimera was given a few things to open, items ranging from small office decor to small edibles. She thanked those and as time went by people resumed their activities. Eventually Vimera was alone enough and people distracted by other conversations that Arran was able to pull her aside.

“Hey,” Vimera smiled.

“Happy birthday Vim,” Arran said cheerfully and embraced in a hug with her. “I’ve got a surprise in the office for you,”

“Okay.” she replied, following his lead down the corridor and around the corner. They entered the office and Vimera moved over to the presents on the table.

“Aw thank you Arran, this is very nice.” she smiled. Feeling euphoria, Arran was about to ask her a question but something made him pause.

“Can you hear that?” the two listened carefully and all of a sudden the alarms went off in the office. Arran looked around and saw people in the offices scurrying around in a frenzy; Vimera opened up the blinds to the window and horror bestowed her mind. She froze for a second, looking directly into the nozzle of a Khadgar tank gun. She ran away from the window but it was just too late.

“Holy mother of god! Get down!”

Suddenly the force of a 105mm tank shell flew into the room through the window Vimera was just looking through and exploded on one of the side walls, completely obliterating the outer wall to her office and blowing off a thick grating of rubble, pipes and other internal structures into the street below. The gored remains of Vimera and Arran splattered across the interior of what remained in the glass walled office.

Armed police forces were immediately called into the area. The tank fired more shells into the side of the building until it had carved a big hole in the building’s integral supports. Several dozen rebels armed with machine guns swarmed the building and shot dead the officers that were wounded from the penetrating blasts of the tank. It was simply a massacre, and a strong symbol to the people who watched in disbelief and horror that there are men and women out there who would stand up and fight against the central government of Morstaybishlia, the government which lacked the commiseration and empathy for the ethnic Ethalrian and Salovian peoples.

It was not long until the army arrived. The Khadgar which had nearly toppled the police headquarters was destroyed by a soldier operating a Torrent NLAW from behind cover, just before the vehicle could do some serious damage to military personnel and vehicles. After all, the lone tank was being operated by people who didn’t have a great deal of training.

Soldiers swept the city and took position at every junction. Colonarius Mk2’s and other heavily armoured vehicles and transports moved into the city to eliminate the threat. Foot soldiers and other light personnel swept in and a short skirmish between rebel fighters and soldiers of the RAFOTE ensued. All civilian life in Delgerdatter ground to a stern halt; the city streets were at this point practically abandoned due to the attack. Both soldiers and rebels had injuries and fatalities among their ranks, and eventually the Morstaybishlian Army surrounded the rebels and either eliminated them or arrested them from surrender. It was known that at least a dozen men dispersed and escaped.

[hr]

News of this reached Barvata and the press very fast. The terrorist attack was plotted on every news outlet on the continent and even reached other lands around the world. Prime Minister Franklin Barvata was furious, no intelligence had indicated that anything like this would happen and there was no record of all of these weapons and Khadgar tanks being imported or driven into the country. It got worse; half an hour later after Delgerdatter the people behind the first attack coordinated an assault on the police department of Khauser, this was an utter internal disaster, and Barvata’s hand was forced to lock down eastern Caltharus.

It was clear now to the world that this was a very serious problem; dark times loomed over Great Morstaybishlia.

Today certainly was a special day.

https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/the_east_pacific/mbc-t3205-s90.html#p233110

Dylan · July 25, 2020, 1:47am

As soon as the attacks happened the Royal Court began crafting plans for a response from the King. His voice would be a voice of solidarity and compassion hoping to unite Morstaybishlian’s from all walks of life together. Royal One set down in the Caltharusian capital city.

In one of the kings’ rare public address, Lambertus stepped up to the lectern among a crowd in Aeternum.

"None of us should fear the actions of these terrorists. Today, our brave soldiers and people have stood in the very way of death, together determined, together in unity. Men and women from multiple nationalities, faiths and backgrounds were the victims of this unimaginable outrage.

We think of the victims of this attack. The senseless targeted murder of police personnel got in the way of civilian life and claimed the lives of innocents in their daily routine.

These are dark and harrowing times for families and friends of those who are missing or who suffered in the attack - many of you here today. My thoughts and my prayers are with you all now and in the difficult days ahead.

But nothing that can be said can begin to take away the anguish and the pain of these moments. Grief is the price we pay for love."

He stepped down and mingled with some of the people. He spoke to them in great lengths about what was going on. The attack these terrorists orchestrated was not just an attack on his nation but an attack on his heart. The whole thing just reminded him of what happened three years ago.

Dylan · July 25, 2020, 1:42pm

24th July 2020
12:30PM
Sani Bursil

From his residence in 1 Flarin Street, the Prime Minister collected his confidence for the MBC. Off camera he straightened his signature black tie and made sure he looked okay. He sat down in his chair and the camera crew counted him down from three. Just before it started he cleared his throat.

“Good afternoon,

This morning a great burden of terror came upon to us. Our usual daily lives were interrupted by two coordinated and devastating terrorist attacks. The coordination involved with the tanks and the machine guns tell us that there is an enemy lurking in our shadows. An enemy that killed innocents - they deliberately targeted police stations but in the crossfire they killed other civilians, they were all real people, they were our brothers, sisters, children and parents, friends or colleagues, it hurts us all, but we can’t let them break us. These people are simply vile criminals that we will not acknowledge as real people but the monsters who belong in our shadows.

Following the attack on the Police provincial headquarters building in Delgerdatter, I initiated Black Alert, our highest level of emergency response. Our armed forces responded in fantastic time, putting an end to the insurgency. We did not expect a second attack in a different city some half an hour later, but after Black Alert was initiated all military personnel were on the highest vigilance and were able to prevent the second wave more effectively, preventing such a number of deaths as we saw in Delgerdatter.

It’s vital that we prevent such terror attacks from happening again. That is why the government has decided to implement a series of safety measures in the eastern provinces of Caltharus of Laulia, Aurus, Jomsgord, Barbarus and Nocturne. Effective immediately, there will be a curfew past 9pm where only essential workers shall be able to commute to and from work. The military will be deployed in every city and large town and we will be for the meanwhile redirecting police units from across Morstaybishlia to fill those who have lost their lives in these ghastly attacks. Our Great Morstaybishlia will remain open for business to show the world that we will not be phased by anything.

We are searching for those who orchestrated these vile terrorist attacks. My government will focus all of our intelligence and law enforcement resources to find the criminals responsible to bring them into justice. Those who committed the acts of terror and those who support or harbour them are no different and will be treated the same way.

I thank my government for standing strong and unified, the left wing, the centre and the right wing all together to defy these vile creatures behind the terrorist attack. On behalf of Great Morstaybishlia I thank the support that has flown in from people and leaders from nations around the world.

We will mourn together, tonight, for the people who have been affected by these vile attacks and grieve for those who lost their lives. Together we will pray the demons which haunt us away and together we will carve a better future for Great Morstaybishlia.

Today we must unite together as people against what has happened. We’ve survived the worse kind of attacks before and we will manage it again. We will never forget this day, but we will not allow our memories to sadden and down us, we will evolve from this stronger than ever.

Thank you.”

[hr]

Somewhere in the Ethalns…

Hanna Boeler and Mia Penning sat at the table and tuned in to the MBC. They popped a bottle of champagne in celebration. After about fifteen seconds the black page with the MBC logo switched to Franklin Barvata in his office.

They drank to his speech. They drank to the curfew. They laughed in his face at his oversight. They would be completely safe from his intelligence, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to have somebody else framed. They laughed in Barvata’s face when he spoke about the nation coming together in unity. They laughed because it had never been more apart.

When the address ended, Boeler cheered for it was all going the way she wanted. Her next move was to blow on the young burning flames. She could not cause the red fire of socialism to burn over Vothetria, so rather than going for the phoenix she would go for the bull.

Dylan · August 5, 2020, 2:24pm

24th July 2020
Karinthus, North Ethalria

“Today we shall contact Romilda for a report.” Sarohart smiled.

“Yes indeed, and then I assume we shall initiate our plan in the coming days?”

“Yes, definitely, and I…” Sarohart paused as the door knocked. In came one of the administrators. She did not speak besides an apology for the interruption. She grabbed the remote control for a television that was in the corner of the room and turned it on, tuning it to the MBC. The attitude of all three women in the meeting; Sarohart, Magolen and Tassenburg fell from upbeat to a sense of misty gloom.

“Thank you, Carla.” Sarohart nodded to the admin and she nodded back before leaving the room. The three were all quiet as they listened to the broadcast. When the report ended, Tassenburg shut off the television.

“Well well well…” Sarohart sat back in her seat and steepled. She had a hunch as to who it was but wanted to see if the others would guess.

“Who on Urth has the resources to smuggle that much armament?!” Tassenburg showed frustration.

“They sure hate Morstaybishlia.” Magolen pondered.

“I bet you it’s either Thalria or the gangs in eastern Caltharus, but the first doesn’t make sense- it’s just suicide! They’d get fished out in no time.”

“Oh but it is,” Sarohart smiled. “They know what they’re doing. I bet Sarinn has planned this out through to the end, whatever their plan may be,” the other two women came to a quick conclusion and agreed, “Fortunately we can use this to our advantage. We’ve got intel from our agent Romilda von Anzitter remember; we’re betting on timing here, but this intel will allow us to undermine all of their plans. This stays between us; we’ve infiltrated Sarinn’s ranks and soon we may know everything.”

“Fantastic.” Magolen smiled.

“I must delay our previous meeting for another time; I have to sort out an interview for the Nordethal Nachrichten.”

The two women stood up and left the room.

[hr]

Half an hour later…

Sarohart stepped up to the lectern to address the news channels in Vothetria and Kothalria.

“Today we reconcile our differences and pray for the Morstaybishlian servicewoman and servicemen that were either killed or wounded in the horrific attack in the eastern Caltharusian states of Jomsgord and Barbarus. We stand with Prime Minister Franklin Barvata of Great Morstaybishlia to condemn those responsible and to work with the Morstaybishlian Government to bring the terrorists into the light.

We must stand together as peoples and forget our differences during these dark days. It would be horrific if the same actions happened to us. Following the terrorist attack, our North Ethalrian Confederacy has closed the border with the MBE and our intelligence services will work together to prevent a future attack. We have increased our own terrorist threat to severe, meaning that an attack is highly likely. Fellow Ethalrians, stay aware and vigilant, we will not allow the terrorists to destroy our own lives. Report suspicious activity immediately to the police.

Thank you to the Morstaybishlian Government for informing our government and other governments in Aurora very quickly after the attack. Together as a continent we can suppress any future terrorism. Thank you.” Sarohart stepped down as she was flung questions left right and centre; but Sarohart would not answer any questions today.

Dylan · August 6, 2020, 5:06pm

24 July 2020
Sani Bursil

Barvata had to look strong for his nation and to set an example against the terrorists who committed senseless murder. After initiating Black Alert he assembled with his cabinet for an emergency meeting. The gloom of the city during the storm at this point emulsified the feel of the entire nation, and whilst Barvata put on a brave face for his position he was frightened not of what they could do but the inability that they might have to react quick enough and prevent a second attack; after all, it’s quite impossible to be in a billion places at once.

The evening address by the Prime Minister broadcast to the whole nation on MBC One, it took precedence over all soaps and reality shows that were blurting out mindless crap. The nation watched crestfallen and bitter at what he said and did. Barvata’s opinion polls from his handling of the situation so far was not the most ideal at all; it had dropped from 47% to 42% over the course of the day.

He told the nation publicly about how Black Alert would bring quick changes to ordinary lives. He told the nation that his cabinet was going to deploy the military all over the Caltharusian provinces east of the Zycannes; Calthia, Laulia, Aurus, but dominantly in Jomsgord, Barbarus and Nocturne - the three provinces that have had the most terror activity in recent times. He told the nation that this was flexible and subject to change; they were going to force tougher consequences on the provinces if future attacks happened. He told the nation that the government was issuing curfews in Nocturne, Barbarus and Jomsgord for 9PM and that anyone out past that time will be ‘dealt with in accordance to the law’. He laid down these rules fairly and firmly in accordance to what happened, but that would not matter.

People in eastern Caltharus are ethnically more Salovian and Ethalrian than they are Morstaybishlian. The lands on which these men, women and children live are lands tossed and turned to different powers over history - the lands on which these people ate, drank and survived; and to be told by a man some five and a half thousand kilometers away that it would practically all stop was insulting. To them the attacks did not justify curfews, it did not justify the military or police presence, or the fact that they could no longer gather in social groups of more than five or have a drink past 6PM. To them it was a shambolic fuckery of the ruling class, to them it was disgusting. The nation told Mr Barvata that he would not get away with this.

[hr]

9PM
25 July 2020
Streets of Nocturne, eastern Caltharus

Dust swept the dry city. The sun was like the fuel to the fire; as it hit the horizon the sky blazed in thick oranges and reds. The streets were quieting down as ordinary families obeyed the law and returned from their work and their shopping and indulgences to their homes - or to their prisons, it just depended on how you saw it. Ordinary people felt intimidated by the overly exaggerated presence of police and military personnel that were stationed at nearly every road and intersection of the city. It felt like something out of a movie, your every action was being watched by these people who felt foreign, the feeling the armed forces had here was like an overcast shadow of misery and depression, not being able to meet up with your friends for a pint at the pub or even watch the latest Brehn versus Khauser football match there or at the stadium. It was all of the little things that nagged at the people in these far eastern towns and cities, it ridiculed them, it made them feel like second class citizens to those in other parts of their ‘Great’ Morstaybishlia who could enjoy all of the things thought of as basic rights but which felt more like commodities. The first night of the curfew nobody was ready to stand up against the government or armed forces, but after a day of rallies orchestrated by Alwin Jordanes against the brutal rules the people had gathered their strength and courage. This evening, when the church towers rang nine it would not be they that lay six foot under, it would be them.

Police and soldiers were more tense today, reports from across the city indicated that mobs of enraged protestors were not going to back down past the hour. It got worse and as more units were called in it was apparent why. The police had formed a wall of riot shields against the onslaught of eggs, manure and other objects, but the objects eventually became progressively more damaging. The thrown bricks glass bottles and other hard-hitting objects as time progressed saw police dragged from the front line with broken legs and burn wounds. The crowd was nightmare fuel and it was the football hooligans and pub regulars that fueled the fire - forcibly deprived of their habits, it was only natural to seek revenge.

Shattering glass, cries and loud shouts ringed everyone’s ears, more police units were sent to assist - they made dozens and dozens of arrests but every time they detained another person the anger got worse. The sunlight faded over time, and as it faded the means of weapons only grew more violent. Now protesters were throwing knives and molotov cocktails and were so rowed up that they were ready to kill, and that’s what they did. A poor policeman was singled out after an explosive blew the front line apart, the man was stabbed in the chest and leg and eventually slipped free to behind police lines, but it was too late for him, a lot later he would become a victim to death itself. The police struggled to regain composure, and that was when the army was to intervene. It was no longer a protest, it was an uprising.

The crowd massed in their thousands against the struggling police units, who were up until now using rubber bullets, batons and their shields to try and disperse the crowd. In came the fire engines which blasted thousands of litres of water into the crowd, flinging protestors backwards and onto the ground. More police units were dragged away into ambulances with face wounds and broken bones from their extremities. Soldiers took points and fired live rounds into the air. Cries from the crowd dispersed a great many of them - now fearing for their lives, but still, a lot stayed, a lot of the more hardcore protestors fought on. Flares broke the dusty air, colours of red and blue smoke blinded both sides on and off.

And then in freakish and unrefined bursts, live ammunition returned fire and hit the police shields; a few units collapsed and held their feet where they were shot as the line which was advancing halted. Shit hit the fan. Now it was a war. More of the crowd dispersed as gunfire came from their ranks, the screams of people as hundreds and hundreds evacuated. The flares at this point had nearly caused the air to smog. The army and police units were given the authority to shoot to kill, and they did; bodies brandishing AK47s and Stormgewehr 45’s littered the streets. The police front line were then hit with a frag grenade and it exposed the units who fell to the floor and who were behind, the return fire wounded and killed several officers who were unfortunate to be caught in the line of fire. The police didn’t have the power to regain the line and dispersed into pockets on either side of the street and behind cover.

The onslaught of either side continued for a few hours, but as time progressed the crowd diminished to more serious fighters and the police and soldiers grew. After hundreds of arrests, a crippled police front line and deaths in the crowd, the fighting stopped. The province was furious and the entire nation watched in a sense of dread and anxiety; nothing internally of this magnitude had happened since the protests in the Auroran Imperial War. Nocturne was furious, the blood of their sons and daughters were now in the hands of the Morstaybishlian police and soldiers, the men in all black - the monsters.

After the armed conflict, Barvata made another speech, tightening restrictions and the curfew, but it was pathetic and would serve no better purpose. He linked the speeches made by Nocturnian Independence Party leader Jordanes to the armed standoff and condemned him and his party for it. Alwin responded by saying that it was not his doing and rather Barvata’s. Neither side was going to stand down. For another five nights the fighting reignited and continued, other street violence like arson, property damage and targeted attacks on Staynish and western Caltharusian brands continued. So many people would either be wounded or lay dead; the influx of people would grind the accident and emergency hospital wards to a halt.

Dylan · August 20, 2020, 12:24pm

28 July 2020
Unknown location, Barbarus Province

Captain Han Coax was the Detachment Commander for the special forces squadron. The squadron totalled twelve as the AH-1 Viper soared through the obsidian sky, the dark silhouettes of various mountains in the Zycannes visible if you were brave enough to look down. They were travelling to eastern Caltharus, to the hot zone.

The helicopter touched down at 3:45AM and they were transferred to two unmarked vehicles. From there they drove directly to their target. This was no small mission, this was an order from the very top. This was supposedly going to root out the lions den- the intel they’d received came from a woman who reported suspicious activity in one of the warehouses in a small industrial complex some five minutes from the main road to Delgerdatter.

They arrived at the industrial complex and waited for radio confirmation. A reconnaissance UAV scanned the area for movement and did a heat sensor sweep- everything appeared dark and cold apart from the operatives that were a mix of reds, oranges and yellows.

The all clear came and in one fell swoop as Captain Coax ordered the team to scour the building for people or intelligence that could link this site to the suspicious activity that was reported to authorities. They swept the first floor and then the second of this large warehouse complex. If you were one of the men in the operation the only words you’d hear on repeat from the comm links was clear. There was nothing. No people or traces of people.

The team got to work quickly searching for any objects that could link to where the base of operations for the terrorist group was. One of Coax’s men came across a small fireplace and when the place was secured a forensics team was allowed entry. The warehouse complex was now well lit with barriers in places where there could be evidence. The men in white hazmat suits proceeded to the fireplace and began taking samples from the chimney, samples that were tiny charcoaled fragments of something or other; those in the room wouldn’t be able to tell until they went under analysis. Through the next hours that made up the morning and afternoon analysis of all evidence was vigorously analysed- it was apparent that the fireplace had been used to incinerate documents but the only pieces of evidence that was at all decipherable was that of parts of the front cover of a local magazine dated 26th of July that showed the effects of the rioting and shutdown of most things in eastern Caltharus- that was two days before. Two days ago there were people there. If they had been given intelligence earlier then this all could have been over days before.

It was apparent that this was a dead end. News reached the Prime Ministers’ office and it was a defeat. Barvata would order another two raids in quick succession on primary targets but it either showed that the suspects or organisers to the terrorist attacks weren’t there or that the terrorists were always two steps in front of them. It frustrated him immensely. Back to the drawing board Barvata clambered.

Dylan · August 21, 2020, 11:26pm

21 August 2020

Things were beginning to calm down in eastern Caltharus following the horrific attacks a few weeks before. The nation was hurt but it had mostly moved on. The crazy twists and turns of everyday life shoved this terror incident in the past so that the nation could think about the future. That was what the nation wanted; obviously it mourned but it wanted to forget about all of the horrible things that had happened. Unfortunately for Great Morstaybishlia these things weren’t just the past, they were going to be the present and future too.

The provincial lockdowns as a result of Barvata’s implementation of Black Alert had been mostly successful, in most areas it was in fact working very well as violent protests were far and few between more peaceful and respectful demonstrations. Critics and the official opposition led by Benjamin Wardola deemed his handling as poor due to the nature of the untamed and barbaric responses in the forms of arson, property damage and that which was the most concern- armed conflict. It was certainly very worrisome. The whole world watched intently at how Barvata handled the open conflict in his borders and wondered if it got worse how the government would react.

[hr]

2:00PM
Police Provincial Headquarters, Nocturne, Caltharus

Since the attacks the chief constables of eight Caltharusian provinces met in a designated provincial police headquarters on the authority of the government to plan their next movements, communicate their ongoings and to generally deliberate a course of action to assist the army which had been deployed in several provinces against the ongoing insurgency against the terrorist militia. Meetings usually took anywhere from forty five minutes to an hour and a half.

The meeting location was usually not revealed to the public and was randomly selected between each of the police provincial headquarters to prevent a planned attack. Today all but one of the eight chief constables were able to attend the meeting; the eighth, Anthan Rogimlov of Jomsgord had fallen ill and sent his deputy Miriam Juliens in his place. It was going to be another routine meeting.

That’s what they thought.

The police staff entered the room and settled in with tea, coffee and other refreshments readily available. Some indulged more than others with some of the small snacks available like nuts, marmite savory sticks and Staynish tea biscuits. Chief constable Kirkosby Streven was leading today’s conference. He began by announcing the ongoings and then moved on to a whiteboard walkthrough.

[hr]

Elsewhere in Nocturne…

A man in a white shirt and black tie, brandishing a dust mask and black sunglasses strode unseen into a small flat complex in the suburbs of Turigham. He knocked three times, all very hard against the old oak door. A peephole opened up and the smartly dressed man raised his eyebrows twice. That was the signal. He was let in.

Led down a long, humid hallway, he was escorted up a flight of stairs and through a corridor of doorways, presumably leading to flats where people lived. The walls here were bare and a sort of creamy colour, the paint in some places peeling and small spores of black mould in the crease of the corridor ceiling showed him how much the place was neglected; not to mention that the place stank of cigarettes and every few steps he’d come across one or two trodden into the old brown carpet.

He was finally admitted to a door at the end of the corridor. When he entered he took off his mask and sunglasses and shook the hand of the man who waited for him.

“Mr Rogimlov, welcome. I’m Kimber.”

“It’s a shame that landlords aren’t forced to take better care of places like these,” he sighed it off.

“Yes yes, water?” Rogimlov nodded and the other man grabbed him a sealed plastic water bottle from the fridge. “Follow me.” The pair walked to the other side of the room and sat opposite each other on couches. Rogimlov lit up a cigarette and pressed the excess against the small ashtray on the coffee table in between them.

“So you’ve agreed to work with us.” the man stated, rather than asked. Rogimlov nodded. He proceeded to whip out a clipboard and pen.

“Tell us everything you know.”

[hr]

Immediately following the meeting with Mr Rogimlov, Kimber set to work informing his contacts on the plan of action. He instructed one of his contacts of his task; a bearded man of around fifty who was working within the militia who lived nearby to the meeting. He got to work quickly constructing what is an utterly ridiculous contraption and made sure it worked first, which it did, and took it outside onto his veranda. He gave it to his autistic ten year old son, who had absolutely no clue to the real intention of this game of fly-the-drone around in the sky with his papa. The police meeting was happening in the building down the street and there was a clear path of view to the rooftop which had the access point. Of course with the help of Rogimlov and some record digging they had all of the blueprints and knew that the contraption would easily fit through the ventilation shaft. The tricky part was actually flying it in, which of course they eventually did with some father and son teamwork. The drone collided with the interior walls of the ventilation shaft and dropped down making loud thuds which could be heard from the conference room. To those inside it just sounded like a rat or other animal was moving around in the ventilation shaft. Regardless of this, one of the chief constables walked from the room to seek some sort of maintenance man to check it out. Whilst he was away from the somewhat disturbed conference he decided now was a good time to take a quick toilet break.

The father knelt down to his son’s level and explained to him that it was really unfortunate that they lost the drone but that papa will buy him another one. The son began to get upset so the father took him indoors and distracted him with cookies and to watch his favourite movie. He received the all clear from his boss as he was inserting the disc to the movie-player. He quickly told his son that he needed to go to the toilet but instead peeped outside. He pressed the button and the building shuddered, the street filled with people began to scream and scatter, the piercing noise of two car alarms which had been set off nearby and the slight trickle of smoke which seeped out of the ventilation. He walked back into the room where his son was and sat down with him to watch the film as if nothing had happened. The kid didn’t even seem fussed about all the muffled commotion outside and in the other rooms of the flat complex. He was invested in the film.

https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/the_east_pacific/mbc-t3205-s90.html#p234471

https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/the_east_pacific/unac-embassy-t14638.html#p234495

Dylan · September 2, 2020, 7:30pm

(Joint post with [mention]Dylan[/mention], [mention]Tuva[/mention], [mention]Blue[/mention] and [mention]Tretrid[/mention])

UNAC HQ, Aura
Emberwood Coast
28 August

The air was crisp and the sky was clear. It was morning, and the heads of state from every constituent country of the UNAC could be seen making their way into the organisations’ headquarters building. An air of tension and anxiety loomed over the city as an emergency summit was about to take place, it concerned the provinces of eastern Caltharus that had fallen under Black Alert following from continuous terrorist attacks on predominantly police and armed forces targets. If the still unknown ragtag group of terrorists could burden the strongest power on Aurora and get away with it, they could spell disaster for the rest of the continent.

Lara Tarasovna, who had been the commission President since the UNAC’s inception, arrived earlier than the planned meeting time to get everything ready. The large and currently empty conference room felt eerie this early in the day, but the sense of stillness allowed her to ponder on recent events.

Slowly but surely, the UNAC member heads of state entered the conference room, and took their seats in their respective places, and the meeting was just about ready to start. Tarasovna stepped up to a podium situated at the end of the room, and began.

“Fear. It is the strongest and most powerful of emotions, and yet in our modern world is the most destructive. Hate, nearly as strong, serves to divide us. Both emotions only lead to grief; we have all gathered here today to address a heinous crime upon the Auroran people; cowards have murdered our own, and continue to hide in the shadows in fear of what their hate has unleashed upon them. It infuriates me that, even after the horrendous events that the past thirty years has brought us, there are still people that want to disturb the peace through the most egregious means.”

Pearson stood up, turned on his microphone and ‘nicely’ interrupted Lara Tarasovna.

“Lara with your acceptance I would like to stop you for a second and want to propose a minute of silence for the victims who have fallen due to the attacks and the ones who are still in hospital.” Pearson turned his mic off and sat down again, watching how the people would react.

“Agreed, let us take a minute to honor those who have suffered and died as a result of these crimes.”

Tarasovna and the others in the room paused for a minute, before Tarasovna continued, “In front of you, you will find what myself and Mr. Barvata have written up; a proposal to snuff out these cowards and bring them to justice, and a proposal to protect ourselves better from these criminals.”

Barvata stood up from his seat at the conference.

“Thank you for your strong words Ms. Tarasovna. The MBE has been the subject of brutal, planned and executed attacks in the eastern provinces of Caltharus. These people are no more than radical terrorists who are the bane of existence for everyday working men and women in these areas. What originated as a fringe movement for provincial sovereignty some decades ago has been throttled straight into guerilla warfare against our forces and has subsequently allowed street violence at an obscene level; looters, arsonists and no-gooders on a scale that we’ve not seen in our lifetime. The tragic intentional murder of our police personnel at the provincial headquarter building in Barbarus and the Khauser city police headquarters in Jomsgord was enough to grief the nation, but the attack that killed seven police constables and a civilian really hit home. As a nation we knew then that we would not give them what they wanted. We would not bow down to them. But as the threat of another attack continued and our security at stake a UNAC meeting was in order, I thank you all for being able to take time away from your schedules for this.” Barvata sat back down and waited for discussion to begin.

“Thank you Mr. Barvata. As you can see, the proposal is rather concise and to the point, as this threat moves fast and quick. The five points listed are what we believe to be the most important actions we as an organization need to execute. I open the floor to discussion.”

The Oscrelian Chancellor, Ernest Harvey, cleared his throat. “I would first of all like to state my condolences for Great Morstaybishia, and would like them to know that we stand strong with them. I also believe that we should take action to make sure that these terrorists cannot operate within any UNAC nation, and I believe that cooperation between the Auroran nations are needed to help ensure this. However, this raises the question of how to make sure that they’re not operating out of the Auroran nations that aren’t in the UNAC, like Baykalia or Thalria, or even using the unstable situation in Volova to operate there.”

The behind closed door meeting would continue for another two hours, each leader representing their nation in the UNAC voicing their opinion and concerns. For all that time they came to one solid and hard conclusion; Aurora was sturdy, Aurora was united; united in their goal for peace and prosperity. They outlined the key facts: the MBE and its border nations would share all intelligence in crime prevention, smuggling and suspicious activities. The MBE and its border nations would cooperate in increasing random checks and to tighten the free access of movement at the border and at airports; it was simply necessary right now regardless of what an average Joe would say. Hitherto police forces would be armed and would be given greater leeway to communicate with police forces from neighbouring countries. The UNAC Member States were all in the same boat; they condemned the actions of the terrorists, whoever they were, in committing acts of heinous endeavour, and they believed that together they would find those responsible and bring them to justice.

These terror attacks did not change the opinion of some in the room. Great Morstaybishlia has been historic rivals against the Ethalrian and Salovians for centuries. Regardless of how horrid the atrocities were, some leaders believed that the independence movement in Nocturne was right, they believed it would restore some balance, even if it was small in size; but right now just wasn’t the time to make their opinions public. Something would have to shift or change, something that would favour an independence movement rather than the pathetic excuse of them now that installed terror into the hearts of everyone. Just what needed to break was the question…