The Black Isle

Felis

Felis

TNPer
((Note: Super sorry if it's bad, or less than ideal, I haven't RPd for almost 5 months. D: This just needs doing before I can do other stuff.))
OOC: http://forum.thenorthpacific.org/topic/7507750/1/

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"The Island in the North, The Island in the North, Where they suck your marrow dry, and tear your flesh apart."​


Thirty days ago, a month, since ships and stations in the North-East of the region began to hear a call, a yearning, from the very heart of Cronaal. A woman, an important woman, was calling for help, aid for her homeland that had been taken hostage by itself, turned into a wasteland and battleground for the petty who wished to act as heroes, and champions. It was a place where innocents were brutally murdered in the streets where they once worked and lived, it was a place where criminals had access to the most dangerous weaponry available, bombs, grenades, nuclear and biological explosives.

******​

"My name is Lara Kray" the signal let out in a croaky, coarse voice which seemed rather distressed,

"There is no time, I have no time-" She paused suddenly,

"-Our situation is worse, more dangerous than you imagine. Whilst you sit in your pompous manors, drinking your exotic tea, theres-" She abruptly paused again, outside of the signal, her breath pattern began to become irregular and heavy, but she had to rush.

"When you abandoned us, failed to send aid when we needed it most, our people resorted to means so disgusting, so violent and irrational that I gag at the very thought, I cannot comprehend what some people have done to merely survive their daily lives in this mess- this crisis you've left us in." Lara pushed her hair up from her face with her hands, she knew she could be killed by sending out the distress signal, but it was vital for any hope of escape, from the cannibals and the warlords and...

"But they're coming... They have their grasp over incomprehensible amounts of weaponry; nuclear, artillery, biological! You need to come, to untangle this mess you've woven deep into this nation, before it destroys you."
"You ne-" She stopped, she heard steps above her. She abandoned her message, the one that would repeat itself to the outside world for long to come.

The footsteps hammered onto the thin wooden floor that kept her hidden, Lara knew she had to conceal herself somehow as a looming shadow began to approach the stairs but all she could see were the grungy brick walls, the radio equipment and rotting cardboard boxes. Boxes... She scrambled herself behind them, attempting to not knock the fragile structure they built over. Her hands became less stable, shaking much more than usual, and her breathing pattern moved up in pace, whilst becoming less structured. She was afraid.
 
The message was received through many radios throughout the country, even through a guard's radio at the House of Representatives, interrupting the music, changing from guitar to desperate voice within a second and a whirr of the machine.

As he heard this, the startled guard picked up the radio, and hurried to the hall. Although he interrupted a discussion on a new satellite for the Silvia Peninsula Colony, those present heard the desperate voice, one they recognised - the voice of Lara Kray. Every MP suddenly silenced themselves, listening intently at the message, as Lara's voice told the story of how her nation had descended into ruin.

However, as quickly as it had begun, the message cut off, shocking everyone into the world again.

Adam was the first to speak. "We are to hold off the current discussion until further notice, and we must help Cronaal." he said in a low voice, albeit one that seemed to rattle off the walls. "We must mobilise our peacekeepers and medics and other humanitarian services, and prepare to dock ships in Cro-"

But a voice called out, "But we cannot, for we are likely to be attacked ourselves if we are to sort this out. As said, the people have possession of WMDs, weapons that could do unimaginable damage!"

Considering this, Adam acknowledged the point, but another MP piped up. "Surely, we could send in something stronger than peacekeepers - a small army, to make sure there can be no collateral damage to those willing to help? Or we could band together with our allies, to restore peace to Cronaal."

A small discussion flared up between some MPs, before dying down as Adam spoke once more.

"As the King is currently absent, I call for a vote on regards that we mobilise our peacekeepers and the like - not deploying them, yet - and contact other nations that may have been outside the broadcast range, so they can help us. Once again, press one of the Aye, Nay or Abstain buttons on the arm of your chair to vote."

Barely twenty seconds later, all votes had been collected, with a powerful majority voting Aye. "Then it is agreed," said Adam, "that we ready our peacekeepers and contact other nations. This will be voted upon in the Senate next, and should gain a royal approval when the King arrives, for he has now been notified of the event."

"In the mean time, I will compose the message to be sent to other world leaders when Christian arrives. However, until then, let us continue on our previous discussion."

Having gained royal approval, the following message was sent out...


Letter regarding Cronaal crisis:
To whoever may be reading this,

You may know of a recent radio transmission sent by Lara Kray, desperately calling for help as her nation collapsed. If not, we will enclose a sound file generously donated by one of our citizens who recorded the radio.

This is urgent news, and we will need assistance, as we plan to send in peacekeepers and humanitarian aid to those affected. However, we may also need to deploy an army to quell the criminals in charge, especially those in possession of a WMD. Only once these people are down, and the legitimate government re-installed, can we help the people of Cronaal rebuild their lives.

So we ask for your assistance to help us in this; a force of peacekeepers will be needed to keep order in this anarchy. We hope that we can get into contact with Lara once she is safe to co-ordinate efforts for the rebuilding of the nation.

Sincerely, Adam Reitano, incumbent Prime Minister of Xentherida.
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The footsteps hammered on the stairs, those that were so rickety they could collapse with the slightest bit more force. Lara was absolutely terrified, her heartbeat was racing and her forehead began to sweat, despite how cold it was, and she began to futilely hold back her pounding breaths which only seemed to elevate the volume of each noise she produced.
As the man's flash-light shone over the walls and equipment, Lara began to release tears from her eyes. So afraid, so defenceless, so weak she was and there was nothing she was able to do about it, absolutely nothing she could do to protect herself from the men who hunted her and blamed her for what had happened, whilst she continued to despise and blame the Syrixian people, the foreign nations for abandoning Cronaal and allowing such catastrophe to develop.

Grabbing a blunt object nearby herself, most likely a chunk of piping, Lara began to ready herself behind the boxes, knowing the hunter would most likely look in such an obvious location. Closer, those steps became, closer and closer until she felt the boxes move and shake behind her, a coarse hand was moving them. In what seemed light speed, Lara smacked her pursuer in the forehead with what little excuse of a weapon she wielded, pushing him away and staggering him enough for him to loose balance and fall. She positioned herself over the man and pushed the blunt object onto his throat, to pin him.

"I don't want to hurt you-" She spoke out in the weakest tone,
"Just- Why are you following me--" Lara added as the tears streamed from her eyes.
 
Distress Message:
My name is Lara Kray...There is no time, I have no time...Our situation is worse, more dangerous than you imagine. Whilst you sit in your pompous manors, drinking your exotic tea, theres...When you abandoned us, failed to send aid when we needed it most, our people resorted to means so disgusting, so violent and irrational that I gag at the very thought, I cannot comprehend what some people have done to merely survive their daily lives in this mess- this crisis you've left us in. "But they're coming... They have their grasp over incomprehensible amounts of weaponry; nuclear, artillery, biological! You need to come, to untangle this mess you've woven deep into this nation, before it destroys you. You ne...
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The Board of Directors listened to the message that came out of Cronaal. They had already heard it prior to the emergency meeting, but before anyone said anything, the Chairperson had it played in the Board Room.

"This is the opportunity we've been waiting for," said Grand Duke Valerio Alosiso, the First, of Bustos, Chairperson of the Allied States of Bustos, who sat the head of the long table. The Board members nodded. They have long discussed plans and angles and then re discussed them and made adjustments as the political climate changed in the North Pacific. "With the Rhuvland Crisis occupying much of the world's attention and resources, there will be little opposition to our next Strategic Corporate Expansion. Send Admiral Rearick and her 3rd Fleet, she is quite familiar with SCE IX."

With those few words, years of planning and protocols went into effect. Phone calls direct from the Directors in the Board Room were being made. Strategic Corporate Expansions (SCEs) had been limited to pushing the corporation's land borders to the north. The last one occurred in the late 1800s when the borders met our northern neighbors. Now an opportunity for an oversea SCE has presented itself.

A whole new department will be created. An entire carrier battle group with a marine expeditionary division attached, mobilized; both loaded with full armaments. Supply ships carrying aid to bribe...no, to buy...no, how do they say...ah, yes...to win the hearts and minds of the people. Food, water, medical supplies, tents, construction materials, even portable toilets and showers; it's an expensive endeavor but one cannot create profits without risk.

...and it all rests on Admiral Rearick's shoulders.
 
Fishing trawlers and go-fasts graced the harbors of Cronaal, entering and disappearing its waters at leisure. Every day and night, the silhouettes of smugglers' vessels could be seen against the horizon. The foul-smelling men with unshaven chins would emerge from their boats and ships, bellowing curses in German and French. While the sun was up they sold their wares to the highest bidder; oftentimes the smugglers had already made contracts with this or that Cronaali group and accordingly conducted business exclusively with them. The Cronaali merchants who lived in the ports never starved -- they relied a steady stream of revenue from fishing and the bazaars that could be found not far from the piers. Men of every nationality could be seen, carrying guns and rifles and knives, and shouting and laughing and arguing in German, French, and English. The Kannexans were the most heavily armed and tended to stick to themselves, but the Rhuvish and Pelhaforans were more numerous and sang their love-songs about the sea on the top of their lungs. At night the foreign visitors whored and drank at the bars and bordellos with desperate, hungry Cronaali women and watched young boys and girls dance without clothing as they threw bottles at each other. Occasional gunshots rang through the night.

In the morning, the sweating, shirtless men balanced large wooden crates and boxes against their burly chests. They sold crack cocaine form Pelhafor and rifles and grenades and rockets from Rhuvanland. Someone had tried to rub off the "in Kannex hergestellt" markings from the containers, but one could still spot the German. A dozen national currencies and gasoline were used to barter for goods. Drugs, in particular, was a favorite -- the Pelhaforans made profits, but the enterprising Cronaalis who dared truck them inland made fortunes. The Cronaali coastline had never been so well-off.
 
It was midnight in Yeraennus. Sphan K'ter sat in the War Room, studying the table's screen in front of him. Another sleepless night... I probably see more of midnight than I do dawn nowadays. My old bones most certainly hate me. He thought. Speaking up, he says "Khiara, play the message again." Listening, he began planning. With three land force and two naval force divisions tied up in Rhuvanland, helping reinstate order into that region, he knew he had a large, but not cripplingly so, section of his military forces missing. He zoomed in on the area of the map showing Cronaal, studying known Warlord locations and strategic points. Shaking his head and rubbing his brow, he leaned back, speaking "Khiara, seeing as I am growing older and these military matters frankly give me headaches, pondering the , I shall decide to give you complete Jurisdiction over this operation."


The next day, ships were being outfitted and soldiers were being transported. Khiara stood on the bow of the Flagship Sakirra, grateful that her short-cropped hair did not flip into her eyes as she oversaw the preparations. It was a rare honor that the Grand Warden herself got to lead a military venture. A little under five hours later, the Cronaali Division of the Yeraenn National Fleet was underway, prepared to carry out Operation Steel Hurricane and liberate Cronaal. Thirty thousand sailors and marines, twenty thousand ground troops, a veritable army all devoted to the singular purpose of unifying the ruined nation.

[img=200,200]http://i.imgur.com/j8nA9aV.png[/img]​

To the Sovereigns and Nations of the Seran Sea and surround land,

A plea has come from a nation in ruins, long neglected by the rest of the world. Lara Kray, former leader of the State of Cronaal, has cried out for help, hidden, a fugitive on her own soil. We cannot allow this egregious act against freedom and unity to continue. The Democratic Union has once again demonstrated its failure to protect the citizens of a nation in need, and therefore we, as the nations of the Seran Sea and the Seran Islands Alliance, must step in to protect our kin, not only from others, but from itself, while it recovers and once more rejoins the international community.

Our own High Warden is as of now en route to Cronaal, under the Operation Steel Hurricane. Now is not the time to idle while our fellow state rots.
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Lara stared down, in terror, as her pursuer began to regain the energy to speak that he'd lost after she hit him with a blunt pipe.

"Ease, ease! I do not wish to harm you, by Tribemaster Ulur you are wanted, King and Lord of the Oakvalene Tribes." He cried out, afraid Lara would kill him for trying to complete such an innocent, harmless task,

"How- How can I trust you, what if you want to take me into some grungy old alley and kill me, to eat me-" She couldn't believe she was still saying this, still asking people if they were going to eat her, even after a year she couldn't comprehend the gravity of someone being brought to eat another human being.

"Because... I have something you may care for, quite a lot, pocket it is in." He replied, in a disjointed but calmed tone. He motioned his head down for Lara to look at his front-left jacket pocket, and she complied. Reaching deep into the pocket, she grasped a thin, squared object and pulled it out slowly, as to not harm it. She grasped it, tighter than anything she'd seen once she'd seen it, put it close to her heart and cried, letting go of the man, she didn't know what to think besides sorrow. It was a photo of her former partner, Ulurq Tuurv who was the Minister of Foreign Affairs for Cronaal and the man she wanted to marry so long ago.

"He. He Tenebrar, He our Tribemaster. He leads us, he gives food to weary and organise our tribes, punishing who need. He know you here - he miss you." The man spoke, to comfort Lara, in an even calmer tone.

"I will follow you... Oh my god.." Lara let herself up, holding the photo close to her, and then helped the man. She wept tears of sorrow and joy now, her heart was in the clutch of this new man.
 
Marko Colton Sat back in his office chair, sipping his tea. It was a particularly good blend, today; if he remembered correctly it was the new stuff from Goliad the supply ship captain he met yesterday had given him. He scanned the headers of the sizable list of emails his assistant, Amy, had forwarded to him and sighed; administering the Arcadia Bay station was tedious, more often than not. He felt like a zookeeper, sometimes.

One was flagged, "Urgent". looking at the header, it was about the radio broadcasts coming out of Cronaal, the ones purportedly by Laura Kray. Some of the former residents of the erstwhile island nation that had fled to the sanctuary Sadakoyama had so generously provided them were becoming a little... agitated by the broadcasts. The email contained suggestions from DIS on handling the situation, some more extreme than others, but so far the situation was contained.

He was so engrossed in thinking through some of the possible scenarios each suggestion would set in motion, when he became aware of a presence in the room with him. Thinking it was Amy, he checked to see if he needed a refill, but looking up he saw a shock of messy dark mane perched on top of a filthy, patched Cronaal military jacket at least two sizes too large for the person wearing it. For a moment he thought one of the refugees had somehow found their way past hospital security, until the figure ran a pale, fragile-looking hand through the thick tangle of hair. He shivered involuntarily; like most Sadakhan, he was conditioned against irrational fear, but there was something deeply disturbing about the person's expression. Superficially, it was a young feminine face, almost pretty despite the bruises and dirt; the girl could have been anywhere from twelve to twenty; the eyes, though . . . there was a cold, reptilian look in her eyes. It was the way she stared with laser focus on his face, except for brief, almost imperceptible flickers where she scanned the room.

She was an agent, she must be. He knew there had to be several operating in the Cronaal wastelands, but like most Sadakhan he'd never knowingly met one. With this new context, his assessment of the rust-brown stains speckling her coat was silently revised.

"What can I help you with, miss?" he said, unsure of what was expected of him. One of the great things about Sadakoyama, in his opinion and long experience with the outsiders, was the consistency. Despite sometimes contentious professional or personal differences, thanks to Sadakoyama's robust and unparalleled education system, one could always count on a certain consistent level of respect and civilized behaviour. Even the outsiders were predictable, ruled by their unchecked emotions and unprincipled desires. Agents were raised outside of all that, raised to be completely unfettered by the norms he took for granted.

She smiled at him with broken teeth, and croaked out "Professional courtesy," in a strange accent. She removed a small battered, torn and soiled cardboard box from one of the voluminous pockets of the coat and placed it on his desk. The box used to contain a sugary snack cake once popular in a better, long gone Cronaal. Whatever it contained now was leaking a watery, dark fluid. Gingerly he opened it; inside was a human eyeball. He knew instantly who it had belonged to; he couldn't possible have recognised a particular eyeball, but the tiny implants clustered on the optic nerve were unique.

He spoke a Cronaali word that roughly translated to 'Lord Tremendous'. "You killed him?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure you had your reasons, but even with his . . . barbaric excesses, we found his power base was actually a stabilizing force in his sector . . ."

"He ate babies."

"That's just one of the rumours people like that spread, to rule by fear . . ."

"I have seen this. He ate baby, while I watch. So . . ." She smiled a creepy, childlike smile. "You hear broadcast?"

"Yes. We're already scaling back our operations drastically. This is going to bring international attention we don't need."

She gestured at the implant. "How many like this still in play?"

"Six. We've got recovery teams tracking them down, but these people . . . they tend to move around a lot."

She sniffed, and looked at the ground. When she looked up, she shrugged and said "I am recovery team."

"Okay." This was going to make his job a lot easier; he'd lost too many people out there already. "Let me give you the information you'll need."
 
Official Message from His Magnificence's Government of the Syrixian Empire:
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His Magnificence's Government
Official Message from the Syrixian Empire​
His Magnificence's Government has heard the pleas of what remains of the Cronaali government. Their nation has been taken over by warring factions, trying to take advantage of complete anarchy. Cannibals roam the streets, and the old capital, Smithworks, is a radioactive ruin. The new capital of Ganjarius is not faring much better, being one of the centers of this madness. This madness, which, as Ms. Kray has noted, is partly caused by the international community, specifically the nations that invaded Cronaal during the first Great War.

The Empire was sadly one of those nations, and contributed to the division of the nation between north and south. His Magnificence's Government wishes nothing more than to right the dreadful wrongs of its predecessors. We cannot allow this disaster of our own making to continue. Thus, we wish to let the following be known:

E. The Syrixian Empire will send humanitarian aid to the Cronaali people in the form of airlifts.

D. The Syrixian Empire will not delay in addressing the very clear call for help in settling further formalities. The Empire shall support any international efforts to assist in the rebuilding of the Cronaali nation.

T. The Syrixian Empire shall immediately deploy peacekeepers in order to protect the nation as a whole, and her legitimate government.

C. The Syrixian Empire shall take steps to locate all WMDs in the hands of criminals and warlords and confiscate them to be returned to the Cronaali government, which constructed them.
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Admiral Kathryn Rearick sipped her black, dark roast coffee from the bridge of the ASS Voyager, a Gerald R. Ford class aircraft carrier. She stood near the helm, looking out towards the horizon. The bridge crew walking by, attending to their duties, small chatter in the background from the comm station, and small conversations of double and triple checking the status of the fleet. She couldn't see Cronaal out of the bridge window but she knew beyond the horizon, laid a fallen country that descended to chaos and anarchy, awaiting, hoping for international intervention.

"Good morning Admiral," said Captain Charles McCue, who walked up besides her. "Another fine morning at sea."

"Indeed," she replied. Taking a pause to take another sip from her mug. WORLD'S BEST ADMIRAL was printed on it. A gift from her 8 year old son. "I want to start Protocol Five as soon as we get there. No waiting."

"Preparations are already underway. ETA is 32 hours to Site G. Amphibious landings will launch within 30 minutes of arrival to secure the site."

"Once it begins, enact Protocol Nine 12 hours after."

"Yes, Admiral."

Protocol Five called for the establishment of the Relief Base on the mainland near the islands of Cornaal. It's purpose is to serve as port for the 3rd Fleet and a launching station for all operations. Also a small city is going to be built to house off duty personnel, civilian contractors, Cornaal refugees, and perhaps, act as a temporary home for a provisional government.

Protocol Nine will begin reconnaissance missions into Cornaal to identify local threats and possible friendlies with a priority on rescuing any surviving members of the former government.

Note: The base and city will not be taking up all of that space. It's just the area that will be secured while Relief Base is being built. The end result would be the same size of Floresque.
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Caledon coughed a little, perched atop his throne made of scrap and human bones. He looked over his meagre court of criminals and bandits, who came to him as refuge from the soon-incoming swaths of internationals. They knew Caledon was powerful, that he held control of the Fort Kray armoury, and would not hesitate to use the contents on the innocents, criminals and cannibals of Ganjarius if he so wished but not on his minions. They were useful little pawns he could use to spy, murder and command to do any other nefarious deeds.

"Steward Raphael." He boomed out, over the minor chatter of his court.

"Lord, Master Caledon, I answer your will." Raphael called out as he rushed himself over to the foot of Caledon's throne. Caledon enjoyed his faux royalty, how he could command anyone at will, them knowing they'd die if they refused to comply. Bending the minds of the innocent was a mere hobby of his at this point.

"Any news from Randeen? I'm anxiously awaiting their response."

"I apologise, we've nothi-" Raphael was stopped with the sudden force of a fillet knife penetrating his left arm,

"Well tell them to hurry." Caledon commanded, now standing and appearing furious.

"Tell them or I'll send you to the Kitchens!" He shouted with a less then pleased expression.

Caldon was bloodthirsty, unpredictable and most of all, ruthless.
 
Meanwhile, high above Cronaal's sky, a small group of satellites moved themselves into position, they were one part of the TRSS, and could see everything on the ground, and at their command, was E.V.A, a attempt to communicate with any reasonable survivors with capable technology was attempted.

"This is unit designation E.V.A, contacting on behalf of The Triple Federation of Trinster, please respond on band 22, frequency 13,570Hz. Message repeats." this was sent over and over again, always listening for a response.
 
Connor Johnson belly-crawled up the ridge just high enough to get the heavy optical imager in place for a view of the encampment below him. It was a marvelous device, and he was grateful to the Sadakhan captain that had given it to him-even if he did have to wrap it's snow-white casing in dirty rags to camouflage it. As he began spotting and targeting the cannibals moving around the old steel mill, he heard the rest of his squad move into position to either side of him. Behind them droned the steady hum of their greatest advantage in their crusade against the thugs and monsters that had taken over his town.

Years ago, he had worked a tech support phone line, so when the condescending scientists showed up in their white helicopters saying they wanted to help their cause, he was assigned to operate the targeting computer. This had the effect of making him a de-facto leader of the group, which was beginning to cause friction with Gary. Gary was a hero to most of them, the one who had first organised the Rangers. It was regrettable; Connor didn't want to take anything away from Gary, but the fact was no one could make a move until he gave the signal and the autonomous little flying robots he controlled flew into action.

He finished painting the last of the visible guards with the invisible laser or infrared or whatever the unit used to track his targets when he heard the insectile hum fading away behind him. "Connor! What the hell is going on!?" someone whispered loudly. He had no idea - but the drones were rapidly streaking away into the distance, heading away from the battlefield.

Someone in the encampment shouted a warning. This was going to be bad . . .

* * *

Miles away, deep within Cronaal Hope hospital in Arcadia Bay, little Amelia lay in her hospital bed, dispiritedly watching a cartoon show she didn't really follow. The language was strange and she didn't have the energy or will to pick it up, despite all the lessons she was forced to sit through. Sitting was pretty much all she could do anymore; she didn't know, couldn't remember exactly why or how, but she was paralyzed from the neck down. Her life since being scooped up from her mother's hovel by the hospital men had been in this bed or the electric wheelchair they gave her. The chair was fun, at first, because it had a special hat that let her drive it just by thinking, but the chair got boring once they let her play The Game.

The Game was where she really lived. It was what she was waiting for now.

It was never soon enough, but shortly the nurses and orderlies came in and took her to the little pod, strapping her in and connecting her to wires and tubes (one of the tubes was for food, they said, and the others were for pee and poo. She giggled when they told her that.) She was almost seven, the youngest one to play the game, they said, but she was also the best. They said maybe because she was paralyzed, but she . . . well, she didn't understand all the words they used to explain it but she was just better at it. Better at being a little flying elf. Better at moving through the brightly colorful landscape of the Game and throwing the little magic pots of paint at the ugly grey and white and black shapes that the Game pointed out for her to color; she must have painted hundreds of them, by now.

The nurses were just about to turn on the pod, take her out of her boring, awful world and into her real world, the land of color and movement and fun, when a red light flashed in the room. The nurse apologized to her, trying to explain something, but a loud woman's voice on the intercom kept saying "Abort" and "Recall".

A few minutes later, she was back in her room, crying. The nurses didn't know when she'd get to play again.

This was going to be bad . . .

* * *

In the gathering dusk, a solitary figure wandered on the ridge. Its silhouette was outlined by the burning industrial plant below, where white helicopters were circling, occasionally firing into the conflagration. The girl on the ridge, coat splattered with fresh stains, stepped gingerly around the corpses scattered there. A savage looking knife dripping blood dangled in her left hand, while she moved a beeping signal finder back and forth in the other. Finally, she shoved the device into a coat pocket and reached down to pick up a bundle of rags lying in the blood and muck. It was hard to distinguish details in the dim light, but she smiled at a glimpse of gleaming white plastic poking through the cloth.
 
Ayuda heard Lara Kray's voice on the GusNet, and suddenly opened his eyes. Wait, he didn't have eyes, right? He was just a voice, and didn't have to "see" things. So, why was he suddenly actually seeing things, and why wasn't he in his mainframe? "Alicia...," he said, hesitant. He looked to his left and right, to see his new white robotic hands, which were clamped to the table where he was now laying. Then to his lower body, which was nothing more than a support and wheels. The table suddenly rotated to be vertical, and Ayuda's wheels gently rested on the floor. The clamps released, and Ayuda brought his new arms to rest as his side. The door he faced opened, and Alicia, wearing Leah's iconic dress, and Akerman, wearing a military uniform, walked in. "I assume that you heard from Lara Kray as well," said Alicia to her bot.

"It's Lorie Krotch," said Akerman, before muttering "amateur" under her breath. "Well, what is our solution?", asked Ayuda. "We could always ask Leng and the Cabinet," said Akerman. "No, this is personal, Leah said that we alone must try to answer this problem. Ayuda, could you try contacting Lara? Or anyone who has a solution for that matter," said Alicia, looking to her bot.

"Of course," he said, rolling forward, away from the table.

Transmission:
GusNet

INITIATED LONG-RANGE SIGNALS

ATTN: ALL

This is Ayuda. Message received by the Monarchy of Guslantis from Cronaal and read by Alicia Burns, General Emily Akerman, and Ayuda Burns. Any and all nations that received the same message, we need your help in deciding the appropriate response to this urgent transmission. We will be willing to cooperate with any nation that has a plan we can agree to, and can look into providing financial aid when a plan is put into action.

ATTN: Lara Kray, Occupation Unknown

Can you read us? This is the Monarchy of Guslantis, attempting contact with Lara Kray. Intercepting this message will result in a corruption of the file, and your location will be revealed to Guslantis. If you are Lara, stay safe, stay protected, and let us now how we can help you.
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"Sir, we've received an odd transmission..."
"From where?"
"Cronaal, sir."
"Cronaal? I thought it was an anarchic wreck."
"Exactly. Lara Kray sent out a call for help."
Antlerio thought for a moment. "Send a few more ships to the Kalinins. We'll wait until either the old government can retake power or a group that best represents our interests surfaces."
 
Syrixian ships had entered the Seran Sea with humanitarian cargo in tow. Now, Cronaal was in sight. Humanitarian airlifts began to come in from above, peacekeepers and doctors arrived, and search parties began to fan out to find nuclear-armed clans, as well as Lara Kray and Ganjarius. One such clan, the Mountain Legion of Rodon, however, was well prepared for the Syrixians' arrival. The Legion controlled a large swath of land around Rodon, their capital, and de jure claimed all of Cronaal. Their leader, Jokhmei Dandar, also known as God-Emperor Dandar, was worshipped as a god-on-earth by his men, who served his every command. They were so loyal they would kill children and burn cities for the God-Emperor if the order was given. And they had a nuclear bomb, though its location was unknown.

Their main rivals, however, the tribe controlling Ganjarius, and its tribemaster Caledon, had something they didn't. Lara Kray. The most wanted woman in the world. The international community wanted her; the Legion wanted her; and soon, Dandar suspected, Caledon would have her. She was in Ganjarius, after all, inside the Kray Towers. The Legion prepared to march on Ganjarius, on order of the God-Emperor. They had ferocious cannibals, trained to eat the Legion's enemies, on their front lines. On the wings, a "cavalry" of humvees surrounded the heavy infantry in the center, armed with RPGs and assault rifles. However, on the way to Ganjarius, they stopped at the port of Oakshire to resupply. However, they did not find cargo and supplies; only a team of Syrixians.
 
"Lassen Sie mich es mal lesen. 'Alle Länder, die dieselbe Nachricht erhielten, wir brauchen Ihre Hilfe, um die angemessene Antwort zu dieser dringenden Sendung zu entscheiden...'" Huber broke into laughter as he read the Guslant message. "It says here, they need help in 'deciding the appropriate response'. Christ!" Georg shook his head and chuckled. Huber slapped a knee and wiped away a tear in his eye. "Christ!" he cursed again. "'Um, hey guyss, can you, like, help us decide the appropriate response? Because I'm not so sure we're grown up enough to do that'," Georg added, in a high mocking imitation of a dumb blonde.

The incompetence of the women in charge of Guslantis had been a running gag among the primarily-male KNA (Kannexan intelligence agency) since the Vegaist coup in that country. Even now, it was hard to believe that Guslantis had not been torn apart by their sheer stupidity. They mused upon the several failing countries, Cronaal and Guslantis, which had been led by women, and thanked God that Kannex, like the powerful Wolfsea and Imperium, was run by strong, firm men. "Except under Empress Marianne, it never really goes well."

"Well, what to do?" Georg asked once they had settled down, still grinning.

Huber shook his head and snorted. "It looks like the bulk of our friends are sending forces to help this Kray. We really have no reason to intervene. Keep selling them guns and let them kill themselves off. I mean, I really doubt Kray can manage to pull this off and get herself reinstated. Oh Christus, a nightmare that would be."

"But with reheightened interest in Cronaal, things up there will get feisty..." Georg pointed out. "The Imperium might get involved. Nebula will definitely get involved. So will Syrixia. Business in Cronaal will be disrupted."

"Well, what else can we do? 'Stop, stop, we're smuggling weapons and drugs to Cronaal and we wanna keep doing it!' Yeah, we can't say that." Huber chuckled. "I suppose I could ask the Boss about backing one faction or the other. We need a strongman in Cronaal to safeguard our interests."

"Kray is a problem. The world community holds her as legitimate."

"Well, you know what we do to our problems." Huber pointed a finger to his head and mock-pulled the trigger. Boom. "Kill Lara Kray."
 
"No responses ma'm," stated Ayuda. "Fine then, prepare my helicopter and contact the Syrixians," ordered Alicia. "Damn--," began Akerman, before Alicia glared at her. "We will intervene in one of our former ally's downfall, as the world did for us with Vanessa. I don't care what opposition faces us, we must help them with all costs. Send this to Syrixia," Alicia ordered to Ayuda.

"I know it's been a while since I called last on you, but now the time is dire for action. I will not ally myself with nations such as Nebula or Kannex, but would be willing to ally myself with your nation. For Lara's sake," explained Alicia. "As long as I get to rip a few soldiers to shreds, I'm good," said Akerman, laughing. "We're ready to fly out if you're ready to accept us," said Alicia.
 
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City Construction

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Seaport & Airport Construction

"Are we getting anything over comms?" asked the Admiral Rearick. She looked up at her aide who sat on the other side of the "room" across from her desk. The "rooms," separated only by the computers and servers of communications and surveillance equipment. The large tent that serves as a makeshift command and control center looked rather spartan as construction was underway.

"There is radio chatter across the islands but nothing on Lara Kray. And Yeranennus, Syrixia, Trinster, and Guslantis are broadcasting their own declarations of help, also awaiting a response from Lara Kray," answered her aide.

Rearick nodded and continued to read the summarized reports of her recon teams.

Recon teams report a fucking mess over there. Syrixian airdrops are causing a shit storm as the starving kill each other to claim the drops for themselves. Other teams report gangs are massacring people to control the sites of the drops. God, what are Syrixians doing?

The Admiral facepalms.

Still, Lara Kray was MIA. No one knew if she was even still alive. Rearick knew however, Cronaal didn't matter. SCE IX is already underway. If she helped set up a legitimate government and make a friend of the Allied States, her bonus would be bigger but that was merely an optional, secondary objective. One of many.

Rearick turned to the large map of Cronaal that hung behind her desk and stood up. Pointing to a northwestern island, she muttered to herself, "Mebbe, if we landed and seized this island, we could actually start relief operations to a portion of Cronaal." She shrugged.
 
Transmission:
GusNet

INITIATED LONG-RANGE SIGNALS

ATTN: ALL

This is Ayuda. Message received by the Monarchy of Guslantis from Cronaal and read by Alicia Burns, General Emily Akerman, and Ayuda Burns. Any and all nations that received the same message, we need your help in deciding the appropriate response to this urgent transmission. We will be willing to cooperate with any nation that has a plan we can agree to, and can look into providing financial aid when a plan is put into action.
Click to expand...

Reply to Guslantis:
To Alicia Burns, General Emily Akerman, and Ayuda Burns,

First of all, we apologise for our late reply; there was a localised incident at the nearby power station which caused electrical issues for parts of the city. Nothing was damaged, however, and the power was restored within a few hours.

Secondly, we would like to co-operate with you to resolve the crisis. As a response, we can suggest personally distributing supplies into parts - air drops have proven to be disastrous, with many people killing others to claim them. Peacekeepers will also be needed, along with medics, food, medicine, and temporary shelters.

We would also like to suggest setting up a global coalition to deal with the situation, to prevent any issues caused by governments uninformed of their fellow nations' actions, and to make sure the situation is dealt with the most efficiently.

Finally, we would also like to thank you, as a fellow nation, for volunteering to assist Cronaal in their most desperate hour.

Sincerely,
King Christian III and PM Adam Reitano.
Click to expand...

OOC: Sorry for the late reply, haven't had the chance to type anything up until now.
 
You need to come, to untangle this mess you've woven deep into this nation, before it destroys you."
"You ne-"

"Send in The S. R. Fleet 2" said Felix (newly elected prime minister of Sebland) whilst walking towards the window, picking up his morning cup of Seblandian tea.

"Are you sure sir?"

"Yes, ..., yes I'm sure." he replied looking at the beautiful Seblandian sea from his window.

"We need to intrevene! There has been enough waiting, don't you think? The situation in Cronaal has to be solved before it affects us." he turned to face his assistant so he could explain his thinking.

"As you wish sir. The fleet will set sail at 8:30 tonight. "

"Good! And inform Commander Imulo that he will be hearing from me!" sitting back down at his desk.
"I will sir."

*2 days later

The fleet drew near the shores of east Cronaal, the Larineth region. The ships contained a great ammount of troops, heavy artillery, tanks, humvees, large supplies of food, medical equipment, tents for making camps and lots more. The Seblandians came well prepared, they did not want to underestimate the situation like last time.

The ships docked in a port that seemed to be abandoned. They started to unload the almost overloaded ships and explored the abandoned town.

*6 hours later

"Good evening, sir"

"Good evening!" Felix replied. "So, how is the base doing?"

"Good sir. Everything is going as planned."

"I'm pleased to hear that, commander"

"We will start operation S.T.S.H. tommorow."

"We have big hopes from this operation, commander, so don't you dare mess it up"

"I know that sir and I will do my very best to fulfill it"

"I should hope so. I await your call tommorow!"
 
Bootsie:
Transmission:
GusNet

INITIATED LONG-RANGE SIGNALS

ATTN: ALL

This is Ayuda. Message received by the Monarchy of Guslantis from Cronaal and read by Alicia Burns, General Emily Akerman, and Ayuda Burns. Any and all nations that received the same message, we need your help in deciding the appropriate response to this urgent transmission. We will be willing to cooperate with any nation that has a plan we can agree to, and can look into providing financial aid when a plan is put into action.
Click to expand...
Click to expand...
Delivered via electronic means as well as broadcast on the same frequency as the Kray Transmissions, a message goes out from Arcadia Bay.:

To the Nations of the North Pacific. By now many of you have received or have learned of the broadcasts by representatives of the former government of the Cronaali people. Some of you doubtless have well-intentioned plans or impulses to intervene in this matter, or even to prop up the former political apparatus of these people. Some of you have already taken steps to this end, with disastrous results. We believe interference to be a mistake, and urge you to reconsider.

Whatever your personal affections for the personalities involved, the government of Cronaal, indeed their entire culture, has failed. Spectacularly. Your efforts can only be detrimental to the cultural evolution of these people into a new, more civilized nation. We have been working to preserve the biological and cultural legacy of what was salvageable since day one of the Smithworks tragedy. We have been providing medical care, as well as educating and guiding the most promising Cronaali people, to help them eventually be ready to rebuild. The future of Cronaal is being forged in Arcadia Bay. Providing aid to the vermin consuming its decaying corpse is only prolonging the ultimate restoration of the island, the nation, and its people.

Your compassion speaks well of you. Though well-intentioned, your ignorant and clumsy actions do not. Please withdraw.
Click to expand...
 
New orders came from Imperial Command. Aid airlifts stopped after fights broke out over airdrop zones. The sole goal of the Syrixians' presence in Cronaal was to find and save Lara Kray. However, the Legion stood in their way.

The Legion forces noticed the Syrixians after a couple minutes of perusing the city. The

-WIP-
 
Andrea sighed as she checked the transmission again. With Sebt busy preparing for his duel with Ceaser's champion, Sera busy dealing with the Rhuvish Officers the Wolvesh had co-opted and Lycaon handling the negotiations she had been left to run things. She turned to the Imperial Raven commanders that often occupied the command centre "I leave it in your hands to find out what is going on in Cronaal, I know if my husband were here he would doubtless give you some inspiring words and a solid plan but you are all more experienced than I and I was told to leave such matters to you. Good luck Ravens." dismissing them to prepare for their journey to Cronaal. First they would infiltrate then they would go to ground, find these alleged WMD's and destroy both them and the people who possessed them. She could hardly tell them apart thanks to the plague-doctor style masks they always wore but they were the Khan's hand and they would get the job done "and remember, if you find Lara Kray... get her out... if she's been compromised then do what is necessary..."
 
Lara and the man were quick-pacing through the streets of Oakshire, one of the most effected cities from the crisis. The roads were covered with blood and assorted rubbish, bodies shoved to the walls of the buildings that seemed to give out a gut-wrenching odour, it made Lara gag uncontrollably. Two years since Smithworks was destroyed and just over one since Cronaal fell into utter, uncontrollable anarchy, yet Lara could still not comprehend the madness, the actions of some. She'd heard of Caledon, Warlord of Ganjarius. He'd taken her home, the West Kray Tower, as his own and used it as his royal court, destroyed her belongings and ravaged her memories.

"Name, me. Is Olevar. I not say." the man told Lara, disjointedly and slowly.

"Oh?" Lara replied, quietly.

"Your king, Ulur, must have told you who I am..." She added, shyly whist pushing her hair back.

"Yes. You Lara, many of need for you. King want, very." He said, whilst leading Lara through a smaller alley, between a Baker's and Bookstore.

Strange gunks were scraped over the wall, brown and silver, and gave out a stench of a thousand dead, who must have been resurrected and killed again. Both Lara and Olevar's eyes watered from the gunk as they motioned themselves faster and faster to Mainstreet so they could reach what Olevar described as 'Marrow Paradise', Lara had never figured out what that meant.
As they reached the end of the alley Olevar put his hand in front of Lara, motioning her to stay put. It worried Lara as he poked his head out at Mainstreet, to see which band of Raiders controlled it this day.

"Bad men, hurt they do." Olevar warned.
 
To the Nations of the North Pacific. By now many of you have received or have learned of the broadcasts by representatives of the former government of the Cronaali people. Some of you doubtless have well-intentioned plans or impulses to intervene in this matter, or even to prop up the former political apparatus of these people. Some of you have already taken steps to this end, with disastrous results. We believe interference to be a mistake, and urge you to reconsider.

Whatever your personal affections for the personalities involved, the government of Cronaal, indeed their entire culture, has failed. Spectacularly. Your efforts can only be detrimental to the cultural evolution of these people into a new, more civilized nation. We have been working to preserve the biological and cultural legacy of what was salvageable since day one of the Smithworks tragedy. We have been providing medical care, as well as educating and guiding the most promising Cronaali people, to help them eventually be ready to rebuild. The future of Cronaal is being forged in Arcadia Bay. Providing aid to the vermin consuming its decaying corpse is only prolonging the ultimate restoration of the island, the nation, and its people.

Your compassion speaks well of you. Though well-intentioned, your ignorant and clumsy actions do not. Please withdraw.
Click to expand...

To Sadakoyama.
The situation in Cronaal is getting worse every single day, therefore we have no other choice than to intervene. You have had your time and as everyone can see, it did not help! We need to get this situation under control as soon as possible. We need to make Cronaal great again and the only way to do that is to get involved and solve the current problems. We need to do it together. Cronaal use to be a wonderful nation! That is not the case anymore! This former wonderful nation cannot start recovering until this terror ends.
Our moves are not ignorant as they are in favour of both us and Cronaal.
 
Off the shore of the Lake Pel province, the Yeraenn warships sat, sleek and predatory. The transport ships carrying the soldiers crunched onto the beach as marines army personnel poured forth, quickly setting up a base of operations as reconnaissance planes and drones streaked out from the fleet, surveying the province to provide strategic information.

Khiara sat with her advisors and generals in a pavilion on the beach, discussing the planned operation. "We have three options as to where to advance" Khiara says, tapping a map of Cronaal in three places "Pelle, to our west. Capturing that province would free a friendly harbor in Cronaal and would be relatively simple to take. Our next option is Ganjar, to our southeast. The assault on here would be difficult, even considering our advantage of surprise, but capturing it would eliminate one of the biggest opponents in Cronaal, Caledon, I believe he's called. The last choice is Yamaha, south-southeast of here. Though there aren't any major targets, the entire province is a major resource hub and it would be relatively simple to use it to isolate the eastern portion of Cronaal from the rest of the island. My personal preference is taking Yamaha, but the concern of logistics and supplies is too pressing to ignore. Thoughts?"

One of her commanders, Häl Ve'hym, an older kind looking man, face crossed with many laugh lines, spoke up, "I agree with your assessment, ma'am. Taking Yamaha would allow us to split the island in half, which is more valuable short-term. Perhaps we can ask our allies to conquer the Pelle province for us and set up a Base of Operations in the port itself. But before that, our most pressing concern is taking the Lake Pel Province. Taking Pel would be a problem, looking at its positioning, but I'm sure that laying siege upon it would work fine."

Khiara nods, studying the map once more, "Very well, then. Tell the troops to finish setting up HQ and then prepare for the invasion."
 
Emperor: So... what is it?

Guard Lieutenant: We're not sure sir. The transmission comes from a territory known as Cronaal, we've had few dealings with it as it is a patchwork of feuding gangbosses and there is little of interest. A lady going by "Lara Kray" is asking for help and she has raised a remarkable stir. Fleet recon reports there are ships from at least a half dozen nations headed for Cronaal. Several appear to be going in strength. I believe some of the greater and smaller corporations may know more as they sell small arms, drugs and other items in Cronaal.

Emperor: Well, if everybody on the planet seems to be taking a closer look we can hardly stay behind. Instruct the admiralty to hold an exercise near Cronaal. They're not to mention this rado message or the Plebs will think we're intervening and have a fit. Be sure to have the aviation cruisers Novara, Saida and Tatra with their squadrons participate in the exercises, their helicopters and recon drones are bound to be useful if we want to take a closer look at Cronaal.

Guard Lieutenant: Certainly sir, may I suggest the naval infantry on board the ships may be inadequate and we should probably position some supplies forward?

Emperor: Quite right, if I'm not mistaken we have a bunch of Spaun class assault ships sitting in port at Grosshafen, it so happens there are two naval infantry brigades garrisoned there, hey should join the exercise.

Guard Lieutenant: we'll do sir, meanwhile our contacts will find out more about the situation in Cronaal and about the intentions of all those ships headed there

Emperor: excellent, ask Chancellor Lord Morpheus to see me today at dinner, we'll have to prepare a better cover story then this exercise soon
 
Three days ago...
In the Rose Hall, home of the Rose Union government, sat Rúnaí Ginearálta Rionach, Segretarju ?enerali Isabela and Rùnaire Coitcheann Malik who were discussing options regarding the situation in Cronaal. A map of Cronaal was brought up and one island was designated as the main landing point for the Freedom Corps and the dissemination of humanitarian aid. The island / landing zone was designated as Dun Aulin. After that decision was made, the three Secretary Generals called 31,500 corps members from Kalti, Callaici and Andalucia who were quickly on their way to Cronaal to secure the landing zone and begin preparations for providing humanitarian aid. Operational command was handed over to Freedom Corps Commanders Luca, Ayelmer and Nuri.

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Nebulan officers worked overtime to scrounge the ships needed. Over half of the fleet was still off the Rhuvish coast, and reinforcements to the Kalinins were pulled from everywhere in the Nebulan territories. Aircraft and drones were needed as well.

Eventually the vessels were gathered, and ten ships sailed from Galacta and northern Nebula. Rendezvousing off the west coast of Nebula, the ships began the sail out to the Kalinins. Every available reconnaissance drone was used to begin scouting the Cronaali situation, as well as the Nebulan network of spy satellites.

***

"As you'll recall," said Chrysoparo Topari to a closed session of the Nebulan legislature, "when Antlerio took office after the end of the great war, the deal he signed gave Nebula and Cronaal joint control of the Kalinin Islands. Of course, this became next to meaningless, as Cronaal collapsed, and we were able to quickly move a few thousand troops onto the islands to keep them stable. At this point, the people may not like the way we rule there, but it's a damn sight better than starving in the streets or being massacred by the forces of a brutal warlord."
This got some applause.
"Although Antlerio's administration has been toying with the idea of helping the legitimate government resume power, we need to consider the consequences of such an action to our military's power in the region. Propping up the Kray Administration would serve to lose us our total control over the Kalinins. No, our best course of action would be a full-on invasion of the country, after which we would annex the entirety of it. This gives us total control over not only the Kalinins, but the entirety of Cronaal."
Applause rang from the pro-Malachit side of the aisle.
"Would anyone care to give a rebuttal?" said the Speaker, adjusting her glasses.
The young, charismatic Gipsan Kvarus rose and raised his hand.
"Mr. Kvarus, you have the floor," said the Speaker.
Kvarus sat and adjusted his microphone. "Thank you, Madam Speaker. I would like to begin by pointing out that the nations of Eras would never allow an invasion of Cronaal by our forces. These are the same nations that are almost religiously opposed to our having even a small temporary military base in Rhuvanland, and you think that they will sit back and sip rum while we invade one of their old allies? You must be delusional. Kannex would unilaterally nuke us."
"Hear, hear!" shouted a legislator.
"Furthermore, what would such an invasion do for Cronaal? Assuming we are not able to take total control of the country, what then? Cronaal would be devastated even further than it already is! Leaving troops in would lead to hideous casualties on our part, pulling out would do massive harm to civilians. Even if we do take over, we can expect further violence, and the locals will take the brunt of it. Such an action would be entirely self-serving on the part of Nebula. That is unacceptable. We are a nation that takes pride in our devotion to helping the people. What does it say about us that we would further the interests of our military power over those of millions of civilians? You, sir," Kvarus shouted, "would return us, in mind if not in body, to a capitalist ideal!"
"How dare you!" screamed Topari, charging Kvarus, who ducked under his desk. Other legislators followed Topari's example, attacking their fellow politicians. Chaos reigned for several minutes, before security guards separated the two struggling groups. Several legislators had bloody noses. Topari had a black eye and Kvarus was nursing bruised knuckles.
 
New orders came from Pataliputra and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Aid airlifts stopped after fights broke out over airdrop zones. The sole goal of the Syrixians' presence in Cronaal became to find and save Lara Kray. However, the Legion stood in their way. The Legion forces noticed the Syrixians after a couple minutes of perusing the city. The Syrixians were dumbfounded. Who were these men, in Kevlar vests, with guns, arrayed in what appeared to be an ever-growing mass of doom? They had not prepared for this. They came to find Lara Kray, not to battle an organized war-tribe of sorts.

Before they could react, one of God-Emperor Dandar's commanders fired his minigun at the Syrixians. The Legion charged. The Syrixians nimbly yet feebly attempted to escape on their boats, and it soon became a massacre. 1/10 of the total Syrixian humanitarian crew in Oakshire escaped. Only 1/10. The Legion set to work stripping the city bare. They had just started when suddenly, a Legion soldier went into an alley and discovered something he never thought he would find. A man and a woman, talking. They looked scared, and they looked especially scared when they saw the soldier. The soldier, however, was just as stunned. It was Lara Kray.

Unbeknownst to the Syrixians, the Legion had found Lara Kray first. However, unbeknownst to the Legion, Syrixia was coming back, with a taskforce. Not a big taskforce, but a taskforce that could wipe out the Legion forces in Oakshire.
 
Allied Media:
ALLIED STATES LIBERATE OIR

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Enemy combatants fire on AS Marines

Allied States Marines have killed hundreds of combatants as they liberate a small group of islands off of northwestern Cronaal called Oir.

Town by town, the AS Marines moved through towards Farnburg, the capital city of Oir, blasting “Who Shot Ya?” by Bustian rapper, Biggie Smalls. Hyping the Marines and keeping them on their toes as they rolled in their Amphibious Assault Vehicles (AAVs), or as the Marines call them, Amtracs. The largest firefights occurred in Farnburg, capital city of Oir, where nearly 100 enemy combatants died.

Meanwhile, the AS Navy provided aerial support, largely with helicopters, providing intelligence and firepower.

Now, thousands of residents of Oir are settling into the Allied States' refugee camps and many are being transported to the Relief Base. The longest lines after the cafeterias are for the hot showers.

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Special operations sniper keeps eye over ruins of Farnburg.

Click for more.
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Operation Black Isle Down (B.I.D.) was underway now that the Kaltian, Callaician and Andalucian fleets had met a long distance off from the Cronaali shoreline. Each Freedom Corps in the Rose Union fielded a sizeable number of ships. On this particular occasion, with six divisions present there were a grand total of sixty-six ships of varying shapes and sizes present, from the smallest being the Oks, the patrol corvettes, to the largest being the Sykehus, the hospital ships. As they sailed towards what the Secretary Generals has designated Dun Aulin, Commander Ayelmer and Commander Nuri flew over to the K.L. (Kaltian Luft ) Raven, the lead ship for the Kaltian Freedom Corps and home base for Commander Luca to make final preparations.

Aboard the K.L. Raven, the three Commanders were in the wardroom. Looking over a map provided by recon satellites of the island designated as Dun Aulin, Commander Luca pondered their next move, "I say we split the island three ways, Kalti takes the middle, Callaici takes the top and Andalucia takes the bottom." Leaning against one of the walls, Commander Ayelmer grunted, "that seems like the most logical solution. It allows all three of us to operate with some independent authority and to have as much open ground as we need. I foresee a lot of refugees who will need help." Commander Nuri turned towards Ayelmer, "speaking of refugees, what is our plan anyways?" "Once we have a forward base of operations set up on Dun Aulin, the rest of the corps members shall be split into smaller divisions that shall venture out to with humanitarian aid. If medical services are required, airlifts will be done via helicopter to the Arks that shall be anchored offshore", replied Ayelmer. Luca looked at his fellow commanders, "and no need to worry about the warlords and criminal elements on the ground. While normally our peacekeepers are only outfitted with their Vektor CP1 sidearm, the Secretary Generals have seen it as a wise pre-caution to outfit the corps members with RU2002 assault rifles."

After the meeting concluded, Commander Ayelmer flew back to the Callaician lead ship, the C.L. (Callaician Luft) Gryphon while Commander Nuri flew back to the Andalucian lead ship, the A.L. (Andalucian Luft) Ceffyl. Soon the Rose Freedom Corps made landfall on Dun Aulin with the Kaltians setting up Forward Operating Base Zayin, the Callaicians setting up Forward Operating Base Resh and the Andalucians setting up Forward Operating Base Aleph. Off the coast, the Sykehus (hospital ship) and the Stotte (support hospital frigate) ships were anchored and ready to provide medical aid. The men and women on the ground were busy organizing the humanitarian aid they had brought with them.
 
((Moves a tad fast, sorry :(. ))

Even though Lara and Olevar could see soldier, part of a group from the North, they were afraid of something more than him that was far behind, outside the alley. A cannibal. Even though the cannibals of Oakshire were human, they seemed far from it. They posed their bodies in strange, incomprehensible stances and their body, their clothes and hair were drenched in blood. So much blood, their eyes were a strained red and their yellow teeth were hand-sharpened into menacing, gaping spikes carved to pass as much pain into the victim as possible. So utterly disgusting, to shape their bodies to murder, inflict pain and chew on human flesh and bones with simplicity.
The cannibal approached the soldier from behind, it walked like a hunchback, partially crawling in it's hands at points despite how much of it's long, unkempt hair covered its face. Lara and Olevar took this time to run, run fast.

Olevar grabbed Lara's hand and pulled her out of the alley, they continued to run in nonsensical routes whilst latched to Olevar's hand in attempt to get to Ulur, the Tribelord of Oakshire. They were constantly under gunfire, as they rushed past Legionnaires, Raiders and other criminals who wouldn't hesitate to kill them, to tear them apart with their bare hands. Lara began to hold back tears, she was terrified, she wanted to be sick. Then, Olevar led her into the Hale Square of Oakshire, under rule of Raiders who wore crimson. And they shot Olevar, in his hamstring. Lara was forced to drag his body behind cover, before she had a breakdown.
 
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You do not anger a Syrixian.

There was a reason the Empire had lasted for 1,732 years before the communists took over. Syrixians were always fiercely loyal, hearty, and, if they had to exact revenge on someone, more often than not they would do it. It was an absolute massacre of humanitarian troops in Oakshire when a minigun was fired at them, and an entire army of Legion soldiers attacked the group. The situation was dire. The Syrixians returned with a force of marines to wipe out the Legion or at the very least drive them out of the city. This "Legion" was no true legion. It was a ragtag group of beastmen led by a crime lord, whoever this man might be.

The Syrixians marched in an orderly fashion through the Old Street of Oakshire. Men, women and children came to beg. The Syrixians threw them food, and sometimes clothes. They found what they were looking for at the end of the main Oakshire Square. The force of Legionnaires which had massacred the group of humanitarian aidgivers stood there, in wait. At this point, Syrixia had control of the Oakshire Port. But, the majority of the city was still under the rule of the Legion, with small pockets being under control of Ulur, the tribemaster of Oakshire. The Syrixians began to array themselves in a formation, to see what the Legionnaires would do.

There was no enemy formation. They just fired. Quickly the Syrixians began to utilize their famous Bullhorn tactics. The Syrixian center slammed into the Legion lines, pushing them back, while the troops on the wings formed the horns, and smashed into the Legion's flank. Easy pickings. The Syrixians squeezed the Legion forces tighter together, until no one in the Legion could even raise their arms to fire a gun. The Syrixians massacred them, taking prisoners of the main commanders, but mowing down the rest. Finally, what was left of the Legion forces surrendered. They knew, though, that there were many more of them. The God-Emperor was a master at recruitment. He had countless forces, and his armies were some of the largest in Cronaal.

It was only a matter of time, Dandar thought, until Caledon bent the knee. But for the Syrixians, there was no further anxiety. They had avenged the humanitarian group the Legionnaires had so maliciously slaughtered. While many Syrixians rounded up the cannibals and insane people, those whose minds remained with them were rounded up in a separate group. The mad were driven to rehab camps outside the city, while the sane were driven to a makeshift shelter prepared by the Syrixians. This would serve until their true home was to be complete. The massive building in the center of the city, which could be seen looking from the Old Street, was to be repurposed as a great shelter, and eventually, a luxury hotel, so the people of Oakshire would forget their troubles. Soon, they announced the liberation of Oakshire to the world.

All this would take a while, but Oakshire was liberated nonetheless. One soldier, in particular, Vijay Choudhari, was enjoying the newfound liberation of Oakshire when suddenly he came upon something. Something a Legionnaire, a lucky Legionnaire, had come upon earlier, albeit with ulterior intentions. But Choudhari's intentions were much more pure. Infact, this one finding would perhaps be the greatest thing that ever happened to Cronaal in a long time. There they were, in the Hale Square, a body of a man and a woman carrying it. She looked terrified, and also exhausted. Curiously, however, there were no Raiders. One had saw him and the rest, after being notified, ran off. Vijay slowly made his way to the woman, and asked the simple question he wanted to ask for weeks now.

"Are you Lara Kray?"
 
The operation started! Thousands of well equipped soldiers got into their beige tanks and humvees. Things were about to happen. They divided themselves into small convoys to cover as much land as possible and set off. Convoys of about 20 vehicles freed hundreds of towns and the Capital from those monsters. Medical vehicles and vehicles containing humanitarian aid came after the towns were clear so the gangs could not get to any suplies. The longest convoys were heading to Radeen, the Capital. They surrounded the city from the north, west, south, and even the south by boats. They also had air support.


The troops drove into what was left of the coastal city. It was a nightmare, rotting dead bodies layed on the side of the road, blown up cars were blocking the way for the troops, blood everywhere you looked. They did not expect that. On the way to the city centre they stumbled upon a group of men with AKs on their shoulders, covered in blood. They were absolutely shocked, when they saw the convoys aiming to the centre. They immediately reached for their wepons, but they didn't have a chance against the gunmen. Before they even aimed at the humvees they were exterminated.


Finally they got to the town centre, that was where most of the enemies hid. The humvees and tanks stopped on the town square. The soldiers jumped out and took cover behind the bullet-proof doors of the vehicles. The gunners aimed the tank barrels at the enemies. "FIRE!" shouted the commander. The tanks fired and the soldiers started shooting. Enemies started fleeing but they didn't have where to go since the troops surrounded them. After 3 hours of nonstop gunfire the battle was over. The army came out victorious. 70 Seblandish lives were lost in that battle. 500 enemies were killed. Finally the city was under control of the mighty Seblandish.



The Commander: " This is Commander Genco here, send in the medics."
Headquarters: "Yes sir! They will be there in 2 minutes."



The SBS news:
As everyone knows Sebland has one of the largest and best equipped armies in the world. The Seblandish government decided to use the army to help make peace in the former Seblandish ally known as Cronaal. Since the First Great War the Cronaali government struggled to bring the country back up socially and economically, but the government failed the task and it eventually fell apart. The country fell into anarchy with tribes killing other tribes, gang wars going on, widespread cannibalism, cities collapsing, suicidal rates by far the highest in the region. Arcadia bay (Sadakoyama) started a struggle against the terror. The former Cronaali leader Lara Kray reached out to the nations of Eras for help. Many nations responded by sending peacekeepers to calm down the situation, but that wasn't our case. We sent in the army. We wanted this over and done with. We started the operation S. T. S. H., the government does not want to tell us what it stands for, but we will and find out another way. We sent our news crew to the war zone to find out some closer information on what exactly the government wants to do.

We have also got some photos directly from the war zone. Have a look for yourself.
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The army has proceeded sucessfully and controls most of Larineth including the capital Randeen. The army estimates 950 gang member causualties, another 400 arrested. Sadly we lost 112 brave Seblandian lives.
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The purple area
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"We need to begin military action immediately," said Topari.
"This is true," said Kvarus. "But at what scale? We cannot begin a full invasion. We simply lack the ships."
"The military has devised plans for military attacks at all scales," noted an advisor from the military. "Some may not be workable at this point, however."
"We have also not yet decided what role the forces will play in Cronaal, either," said Kvarus.
"That can be decided later," Topari said bluntly. "We need action now."
"By our estimates, we can have a foothold in the city of Balle within six hours of the invasion order," said the advisor. "It is likely that we can secure all of Balle province in less than a week."
"If we secure Balle, we have more bargaining power once things are sorted out in Cronaal," said Topari.
"We also have the capabilities to bring humanitarian aid to more people," said Kvarus, giving him a sharp look. "I call the motion of an invasion force at Balle to vote."
"Seconded," said Topari.
"The motion has gone to vote," said the Speaker.

Two minutes later, the motion for an invasion at Balle was passed. Antlerio signed it less than fifteen minutes later, and the fleet was on its way.
 
Caledon, and a group of 13 other soldiers, stood over a civilian settlement in the Ganjarius Business District from the peak of a looming skyscraper. Caledon and five of his lieutenants sat, almost excited, in a helicopter that was preparing to quickly evacuate the area whilst the other 8 stood over the edge, one in a hazmat suit.

"Is it bloody ready yet?" Caledon impatiently questioned,

"This takes time, especially with something so dangerous!" Raphael answered.

Caledon was not pleased, the total, utter destruction of North Cronaal's most prominent civilian settlement was nigh and he had to wait for a group of scientists to hurry their asses. Raphael was much more nervous than his master, he was essentially a slave to Caledon and did not want to see such suffering inflicted on those so innocent, who merely wanted to leave Cronaal.

Almost one hour later a soldier came up to the helicopter,
"We're ready to drop the P^4, King." They simply spoke,

"Oh I can't wait to see their little corpses once that phosphorus hits." Caledon replied, rubbing his hands together in true, malicious, excitement.

And at that, the chopper began to left up off the towering skyscraper with such pace whilst the 8 soldiers began to prepare dropping the White Phosphorus on the settlement, hoping to kill everyone.

"Dropping in 300 seconds." And very soon after, chaos ensued below in the settlement.
 
At Milcom, Commander-General Alexander Thomas was awaiting any new information on the Cronaal situation, he was about to leave for the night when suddenly he got a call from E.V.A.

"Sir, the time period for the message has expired, and the TRSS has identified that several other nations have already landed troops. Should I continue broadcasting?" E.V.A requested.

"No, though it is a shame we cannot find any groups wiling to contact, this may still be an opportunty. Activate the Epsilon Program." Alexander ordered.

"Sir, are you sure?"

"Yes, E.V.A, I'm sure you're ready for this. Make us proud."


---------
The following day
0100 Hours
South-West Coast of Cronaal

A cannibal was enjoying a nice midnight snack of kidney during his patrol, when he though he heard a high pitch whine. He looked up, mouth fastened open with awe of the armada of planes. As they flew over him they where broadcasting a message in every language they could. unfortunately for this cannibal, he could not understand it.

"We are the Epsilon Project of The Triple Federation of Trinster, to those who need help, light signal fires and do what you can, we will find you. To those who have prayed on unsuspecting innocents, we bid you farewell."

What the cannibal especially didn't realise was what was falling towards him, until it hit the ground and exploded.
 
Summarized Report On SCE IX for the Board of Directors by Admiral Kathryn Rearick:
Relief Base is coming along quite nicely and the Marines had little trouble completing Protocol Seventeen and starting Protocol Ten. Construction projects are moving even faster with the influx of Cronaal refugees. All able bodied refugees are offered to stay and possibly make the new city their home as long as they contribute to its construction. If they chose not to contribute, well, there is plenty of room on the islands of Oir to house them among the refugee camps. A much less desirable place. Even still, some rejected the opportunity for permanent stability. They are easily replaced.

The refugee camps have begun moving into the ruins, running out of any standing buildings that still had a roof. Tents are popping up, surrounding these refugee “towns.” A small semblance of order and peace is being maintained as the Marines heavily patrol these areas. They are slowly being replaced by Army MPs as they arrive in Oir. Frankly speaking, conditions are bad and crime is rampant but, considering how they were living only weeks ago.

On a side note, the gangs that ran these islands certainly lived well. Much of their armaments, equipment, drugs, alcohol, and valuables have been claimed by the invading Marines. Any items left over were sent to Logistics and will be redistributed as they see fit.

Protocol Five Status: Ongoing. On schedule.

Protocol Nine Status: Ongoing into the main island. Still no sign of Lara Kray or former government members.

Protocol Ten: The refugee camp operations. Status: Ongoing.

Protocol Seventeen: The invasion and control of the islands. Status: Completed.
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