A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby Maxington » Wed Aug 08, 2018 3:09 am

11:02, Hammerhead Provisional Airbase, Undisclosed Location.

Before liftoff, Gunderson passed his hands through his course hair. He was curled into a seat between the helicopter's left and right door gunners. Before him, ram packed in the claustrophobic helicopter was his squad, eight young men in tactical vests over woodland camouflage fatigues. The older guys or "hounds" as they were known, was a sergeant and a corporal, brothers who had trained together, eat together and even shit together for years. They had travelled across the world, Keymon, Hutori, Luthori, Kalopia. From birth to Airborne school they've been watching each other's back, a pure example of a military brotherhood. Gunderson's squad was apart of a strike force who were about to drop in on a gathering of Medinese soldiers and their Trigunian advisers. These souls had picked a fight with the Northern Council and it was certain that they were going to be "curbstomped." This was no insert and arrest mission. Their orders were straight forward, insert, kill, peel off.

Gunderson's Squad, "Package 1", was to be inserted in the heart of the shit storm, with the intention of killing the soldiers and advisers at the heart of the village and giving chase to anyone who tries to escape into the tunnels. Whilst Gunderson's package was working, other Packages would enter to reinforce them, prevent escapes and clear the threat zone. The insert was synchronised, reconnaissance from a special ops teams inserted in the area about a week prior painted a clear image of the target zone. Anti-aircraft guns hidden on the flanks, munitions storage underneath wooden shakes, enemy infantry crawling all over and of course tunnels stretching from corner to corner of the village. The perfect shit storm. At least he could be revealed that the burden of responsibility over his squad did not weigh heavy, he had the competence of Corporal and Sergeant Wolden to back him up.

They had been baking on the tarmac for almost an hour, breathing the pungent diesel fumes from the attack helicopters that would accompany them. Everyone was hoping the deployment would be a scratch, hoping that some coalition bomber would release its payload on the compound. However, the Force Commander Major General Gard Mostad's presence meant that this one was a go. A short, grey haired man in woodland fatigues with a half empty beer in his hand, Mostad walked from helicopter to helicopter. "Don't get yourself killed, Be careful out there" he said tipping the beer to them. The revving engines of the helicopters made the earth rumble, a heavenly demonstration of the might of the Kazulian military. Gunderson watched the ground crew load rocket pods and Hellfire missiles onto the attack helicopters. Usually, the rocket pods were replaced with fuel tanks, this meant that trouble had to be expected.

It was about half an hour later when the strike team leader, Major Kjetil Sether, echoed the launch code word through the intercom. "Strike, Strike, Strike. Strike Force Alpha - Two is a go." The Armada launched, lifting off airfield and into the blue vista of sky. In a close formation they banked and flew towards the mountains. Unrolling towards a misty jungle horizon, Asabiro in mid afternoon sun was so bright it was as if the aperture on the world‘s lens was stuck one click wide. From a distance the village had an auburn hue, with its rooftops of straw and galvanise. By the time the transport helicopters had been within minutes from their landing zones, the attack helicopters were already engaging targets. The distinct pop of the 30mm auto cannon as they pounded heat signatures "jack-in-the-boxing" them. One of the crew men turned to Gunderson after spraying down some poor soul with the door mounted Gatling gun, "One minute!" he informed Gunderson.

The Gunderson's helicopter hovered near the building where the advisers were presumed to be located. Gunderson and his squad kicked their fast rope and jumped for it. Being the leader of the squad, he the was always the last in and out. Alerts from the cockpit ringed hard. "Fuck!" the co-pilot screamed over the intercom. "There a fucking bastard anti-air." The pilot yelled back so hard Gunderson lifted his earpiece from his ear. "Pop Flares and Bank right you fuck!" The helicopter let of its flares and banked dramatically to the right. "I don't fucking see him!" the co-pilot panicked. Trying to take command of the situation, the pilot shouted. "Get the fuck out!" Gunderson knew his queue. And with that he went down the rope. As he did he could hear the pilot shouting to the door gunners. "3-4-Fucking-5. Shoot the fuck!" Maybe by mistake or out of pure impatience, the fast rope crew man, detached the room when Gunderson was about one foot from the ground. "He'd be alright?" he thought to himself. "Son of a bitch!" Gunderson screamed as left the sudden change in gravity.

"Dust Off, Dust Off. Maintaining holding pattern." Sether said through the intercom, signalling for the transport helicopters to dust off from their LZ and maintain a holding pattern circling the area, providing suppression from their side mounted guns and preparing to medevac the wounded. Gunderson, having picked himself up, regrouped with his squad whom had advanced some feet ahead of him. "Let's move!" he shouted over the squad-net, pumping his fist. The success of these raids hung on the elements of surprise and speed. When an area had been filled with explosions and flashes, those in the immediate area would usually drop down or move away. All the mattered was that they entered the building with enough speed and authority to sway resistance. On point was Cpl. Wolden with his 12 gauge semiautomatic shotgun in tow. A quick pull on the trigger and the door immediately surrendered. Whilst the rest of the squad moved to clear the building where the Trigunians and Medinese commanders had been presumed to be hiding, Gunderson reached for the intercom, kneeling down as he dodged stray bullets from other package teams and Medinese soldiers. "This is Package 1, we have reached our objective. Stand by for further." Sgt. Wolden came out of the building to meet Gunderson awaiting a response. "Nothing. It's clear." "Fuck!" Gunderson murmured. "This is Package 1, the Consignees [the Trigunian and Medinese Commanders] are not hom..." Gunderson had been interrupted by the shouting of Cpl. Wolden. "I found a tunnel!" "This is Package 1, we've found a tunnel!" With that the gunfight had subsided, thus it had been presumed that the Medinese Soldiers garrisoning the village had been killed. Those who had escaped would be hunted down by another Package.

The leaders of the other Packages huddled around the tunnel entrance which had been covered by a galvanise sheet. "Do we go in?" Package 2 leader quarried. "It would be rude not to." Gunderson responded, signalling for the helicopters to return to base for ammunition and refuelling.
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby Luis1p » Wed Sep 19, 2018 1:12 am

Lourennias Royal Family Private Jet, 50 miles off the coast of Hutori. A talk between Prince Henri Guillaume of Lourenne and King Herbert I of Lourene.

Prince Henri: So, *chuckle* what did you guys do *cough* out there?

King Herbert: "Haha, nothing to worry about. We spoke, we strolled through the gardens, we talked about our lives. Our futures, and that's about it really.

Prince Henri: "Sure you were brother. I bet you 400 francs you were all over her!

King Herbert: "I wasn't!!! Although I must admit she is a beauty.

Prince Henri: Why don't you marry her if you're so obsessed?

King Herbert: "I relally do want to, but I feel like it is too early. We have just met. Plus will father approve of it?

Prince Henri: "Father is close to his coffin! You must marry her. She is very special. Plus Imagine Hutori and Lourenne united because of us?! It'd be exactly what father has wanted for so long!"

King Herbert: "I do want to. I've given her my contact information. Maybe she will call me, or even visit me I do not know.

Prince Henri: "Ahhh very interesting brother. Get married in the spring eh? *wink* "

King Herbert: "Oh shut it already. *laughing* once we get back to Lourenne, I will go back to Hutori to see her........."

*silence*

King Herbert: " and what about you? Did you find somebody to marry?"

Prince Henri: "Actually... I've been talking to Ruth."

King Herbert:"Ruth who?"

Prince Henri: "Rongstad"

King Herbert:" THE KAZULIAN PRINCESS?!!!

Prince Henri: Yes, uhm... I will also see her when we return home"

King Herbert:"Haha, oh be quiet and go to sleep already brother. We'll be in Dorvik soon. I don't think my mind is ready for it"

Prince Henri: "Right brother, goodnight bert"

King Herbert:"Goodnight brother. Until the morning"

Herbert and Henri went to sleep after a busy day, both of them slept with the thought of soon being wed with their lovers.
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby thefalloutfan101 » Tue Sep 25, 2018 4:29 am

Floor 49, Feinberg Building, Moorstown, Westbrook, Baltusia
10:30 AM, September 8th, 4459


Dave Schuster exited his car after pulling into the underground parking lot of the Feinberg Building, which amongst other things, housed his co-operative firm with Arkady Bekowsky. Carrying with him a cup of coffee, it did little to settle his current mood. Strolling to the elevator he signaled it to open, checking his watch. After a few moments and a couple sips from the styrofoam cup the silver doors silently opened. He walked in and selected 49 on the colossal list of lit buttons and let out a long exhale, clenching his left fist as his thoughts swirled around his mind.

Today was not the best of days.

The silver doors executed their silent opening once more, and he was greeted to the sound of abstract conversations, telephone calls, and the distant flutter of paper. Of course, he was much too flustered to care for this. As he barreled towards Bekowsky's office, his face firm and still upset, he passed by the floor's receptionist, Pamela. She managed to stop him, if albeit for a few short seconds. "Good morning Mr. Schuster," she stated as friendly as she could muster. "Several calls have come through to your office. Something wrong?" He was merely two steps past her when he came back. "Saying that something's wrong would be an understatement. I need to speak to Arkady."

"He seemed pretty busy, said that he'd be expecting several calls. He's also got a meeting with the Homeowners Association at 3:15." At that moment, Dave leaned in towards Pamela, as close as he could get to her. "Pamela, I'm sorry for saying this, but I don't give a shit. I need to see him now, whether he's expecting a phone call, meeting, or whatever. I've been wanting to speak to Arkady since the moment I got up on this godforsaken morning."

Visibly seeing the distress on his face, she seemingly understood, and phoned Arkady. He continued his stroll towards Arkady's office, finishing his coffee and throwing it away. He half-listened to what she was saying as he walked further and further away. "Mr. Bekowsky, Mr. Schuster is here to see you. He stated that it was urgent..." Her voice trailed off now as he walked past dozens of cubicles, with people scrutinizing their computers, answering phones, or fluttering through stacks of paper. His footsteps were quick and heavy, now both of his hands having constricted into a fist. He approached the door of Bekowsky's office and flung it open.

Bekowsky shot up from gazing at his computer. Despite expecting him, he was still surprised. "Dave, you surprised me there. You look upset, and Pamela told me it was urgent. What would you like to talk about?"

"Arkady, one thing I absolutely cannot tolerate is a liar. Can't stand them." Bekowsky seemed visibly confused. "I... I'm not sure what you're referring to." Dave walked up further to his desk, his breathing heavy. "Don't bullshit me, Arkady. I've seen the numbers. Our firm is going down the shitter. The least you could do over these past few months is be honest with me." "I...I—" Bekowsky couldn't muster up a response.

"That recession in your home country? That's really fucking us right now, and you damn well know it. We were already seeing a dip beforehand, and now it's gotten even worse. Houses serviced over there are now at risk of losing their insurance along with our representation. I mean come on, we service nearly half a million people here in my country. Now those people are at risk because we're seeing loss! Property value is sinking faster than a rock—If you don't do something, then I will."

Bekowsky went from confused to understanding. "Alright, perhaps I may have distorted some things in the past. We have indeed been seeing slight drops in some property values. Since around December of last year, in fact. And yes, the recession isn't looking too good right now in my home country. But I'm not sure what to do."

"Oh, for God's sake, Arkady. Listen, we've been put against the wall here. And honestly, I can only think of one option to stop losses. You may not like it, but if we do it now, then we may get away easier." Bekowsky shifted himself in his seat, folding his hands. "What do you have in mind, Dave? Frankly, anything will be better, no matter how controversial."

Dave let out a long sigh, speaking flatly: "We file for bankruptcy."

"That's the one thing that might be too controversial." Dave walked right up to Bekowsky's desk, propping himself up on it. "I knew you might say that. But it's our only alternative. It's either that or we sit here and continue to get fucked by lowering property value and feeling the fallout from Valruzia's recession." He gently pushed himself off of his business partner's desk. Arkady mulled the idea over, and his face wrinkled with that of dejection and understanding. "I suppose I'll have to cancel that meeting with the Homeowner's Association." He idly wrote some things on a sticky note, and Dave walked towards the door. Before leaving, he glanced once more at Arkady before leaving, and said:

"Rest assured, if you make the right decision, we'll come out of this better than if we continue."

Dave Schuster then opened the door and left. Bekowsky got out of his chair, walked across his office, towards the window. He glanced at skyline with his hands behind his back. A mix of grey, black, and light tan buildings pierced the sky. After a few moments standing in silence, taking in his thoughts, he strode back to his desk.
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby Auditorii » Mon Nov 26, 2018 12:44 am

Wolf's Den, Wolfsheim, Grand Duchy of Ostland

Dramatis personæ - Political
1. Florian, Grand Duke of Ostland and Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Ostland Landwehr
2. Claus Wilhelm von Pölzl, State Chancellor of the Grand Duchy of Ostland
3. Heinz Stassen, President of the Eastern Land Council
4. Siegmund Stuhr, Minister of Foreign Affairs
5. Elias Hettich, Secretary of the Security and Military Leadership Council

Dramatis personæ - Military, police and security
1. Generaloberst Karlheinz von Eisenhaus-Pilc, Minister of Defense and Chief of the Landwehr General Staff
2. Major Aayden Sydel von Völknitz-Siezenhaus, Chief of the Political Intelligence Bureau
3. Generaloberst der Polizei Konstantin Hersh, Chief of the State Police
4. General Alfons Rohmer, Commander of the Border Police
10. Obergruppenführer Claus Eisen, Supreme Security Service and Intelligence Service Leader "Ostland"
11. Standartenführer Tristan Kornblum, Commander of 1st Volunteer Security Regiment "Felix Bellegarde" (VDKV Security Service)

Grand Duke Florian paced around the room, his hands placed behind his back, he wore his traditional Supreme Commander outfit, fitting for the moment. "We cannot lose our god damned majority in the north." Florian paused and turned the the room filled with officials. State Chancellor Claus Wilhelm von Pölzl stood closest to the Grand Duke who was visibly angry, his arms folded, his right hand stroking his chin. "We've worked for decades, my grandfather finally caused the peace. Ostland has been prosperous. We cannot for fucks sake lose this!" Florian slammed his fists down on his large, dark colored wooden desk. While it had appeared that the Hulstrians, Dundorfians and Kunihito had come to terms with each other, it was only partially true. The first Chief Minister of the Touryou State had laid down the foundation for a Hulstrian/Dundorfian north with a Kunihito south that was ever loyal to their Grand Duke and Prince; or else. While there were a dozen of the most powerful men in Ostland in the room, none of them really spoke as the Grand Duke ranted and raved. Foreign Minister Siegmund Stuhr was the first to take the chance. "Your Royal Highness..." Stuhr started to speak but the Grand Duke wheeled on him. "Don't you dare speak Stuhr! I know that this is the start of something--what precisely--I have no idea!" The Grand Duke was enraged, that much was clear. There was a very direct threat to the stability and ethnic peace in Ostland.

The Grand Duke turned to the State Chancellor who shot him a look and shook his head ever so slightly. The Grand Duke sighed heavily and sat back in his seat, he picked up his glass and sipped his whiskey. "I'm sorry Siegmund. This is a crisis that has the potential to put us as either enemies or heroes. If a refugee crisis breaks out...we've got a lot of land to cover, we've got a lot of things to be concerned about. A notable settlement of Kunihito in the north will for sure be the end of us. We've incentivized moving to the south, we've poured endless amounts of marks into building the Touryou State. What the hell else are we supposed to do for these people?" The Grand Dukes tone became calmer, as if his choler was washed away. Generaloberst Karlheinz von Eisenhaus-Pilc stepped forward, his presence was dominating in the room. "Theres a few possible outcomes here. One, we have a massive influx of refugees, we accept them and send them down south. Two, we have a massive influx of refugees and we turn them back. Three, well...we treat them as invaders. That's the more radical option." Karlheinz nodded subtly at the end; the last outcome was not an option and he would defy the Grand Duke even if it meant his life. Ostland would not go back to shooting innocents, no, that was a part of their past and it would not return.

"If I may..." A man stepped forward, his uniform of the Security Service, the paramilitary branch of the Volksdundorfische Cultural Association that had given much in the way of financial support as well as providing access to Ostland for Volksdundorfische throughout the world. The Grand Duke perked up and looked at the man. "Go ahead Claus." The Grand Duke addressed most of the men in the room by their first name, many of them had been close friends and advisors as he was being groomed for the role of Grand Duke and had served since he was Crown Prince. "We have a friendly regime in Dorvik, perhaps they would be supportive of our efforts if it came to conflict. I cannot speak for them directly but we must understand that if push comes to shove...it may mean war for Ostland to remove regimes that may compromise our power." Obergruppenführer Claus Eisen, the top Security Service man in Ostland had his hands folded behind his back and he watched around the room as many nodded with him. "I hold no glory for war or sending our brave men and women to die but we must not ignore the fact that may need to cause regime change outside of Ostland to protect Ostland." The Grand Duke again perked up. The era of war might be back upon Dovani in the near future, but of that no one was sure.
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby Auditorii » Sun Jan 27, 2019 8:48 am

Dramatis personæ
Major General Safar Baig - Ba'athist Republican Guard officer in charge of al-Kasraj’s security and military forces

Major General Safar Baig finished his cigarette and tossed it down on the ground, his right boot quickly dashed it on the sand covered floor of the house he stood in. Baig was charged with all military, security and police forces in the capital of al-Kasraj and was more importantly charged with the establishment of a "Green Zone" in the Government District of the city. The Ba'athist rise was swift and sudden, but had the support of the people. The "Workers Republic" would cease to exist and soon the Majatran Republic would rise up, bringing a much needed Majatran power to Majatra once again. While he did not necessarily oppose countries like Deltaria and Vanuku, he disliked that the majority of the continent that his people once owned had been...taken away. Kafuristan would rise, he was sure of it.

Baig looked over the faces of his men, many of them had served within the Kafuri Army or with private military contractors, but they were loyal Kafuri's and thats what mattered. The Republican Guard had better access to equipment and thus each of these men wore a ballistics vest, a ballistics helmet and carried a modernized version of the Trigunian AK-47. Baig himself wore a ballistics vest and helmet, only equipped with a sidearm he was personally leading a raid on a known radical Israist Ahmadi named Haamid al-Akhter, the Republican Guard Security Directorate had compiled a massive dossier on him. He personally wanted to blow up the dias of the President at the President's swearing in ceremony. Idiot, he posted his entire plans on some Ahmadist website and the Republican Guard Security Directorate picked it up rather swiftly.

"No mistakes." Baig stated to another Republican Guard soldier in a slightly hushed tone. The soldier nodded and tapped the man in front of him on the shoulder. Within seconds the soldiers broke from small house in al-Kasraj, sprinted across the street under the cover of night and were pressed up against another house, waiting. Baig nodded and with a metal clink and booming flash of light, the soldiers disappeared into the house across the street. Baig sprinted across the street to bring up the rear of the 10 man squad that had entered into the house. Baig could hear the silenced shots of their rifles. It was music to his ears. It was not before long that one of the soldiers had dragged a bloodied man before Baig, his hands zip tied behind his back.

Baig gripped his pistols grip and smiled. "I will personally blow up the dias of that foreign infidel al-Sadhi. His corpse will please Akim!" Baig stated aloud. Baig chuckled. "Bold words." Baig slyly stated as the man began to shout and was quickly interrupted as the wind left his chest with a swift kick to the stomach. "You radicals are all the same." Baig shook his head. As the man started to recover he looked up, the last thing he would see in the moonlight of the al-Kasraj night was the Major General's handgun a foot away from his face and then everything went black, permanently.
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby Auditorii » Mon Jan 28, 2019 2:53 am

Dramatis personæ
Sergeant Miqdaam al-Salame - Sergeant, Republican Guard
Corporal Aqeel al-Mansoor - Corporal, Republican Guard
Petty Officer, 2nd Class Nizaar al-Sultan - 1st Marine Regiment, Kafuri Marines

Somewhere in the Jablemmanet Oil Fields
February, 4522


Sergeant al-Salame gripped the rifle and peered down the holographic sight that his right eye looked into. "Two." Salame kept his eyes forward. Behind him Corporal Aqeel al-Mansoor motioned with his hand, signaling to the rest of the squad that there were two enemies up ahead. "Go!" Salame called out. On his order the 8 other Republican Guard soldiers with him broke cover and opened fire on the catwalk where the two Israist militiamen stood, temporarily. The assault was vicious and carried out with precision. The simultaneous assaults by several other squads had overwhelmed the enemy and a panic began to ensue. The fighting at Jablemmanet had raged for several days, it was a strategic oil field located in northern Jerze'har. Jablemmanet was also the site of a massive amount of storage facilities, with the capture of Jablemmanet, the Kafuri government would be able to start transporting oil from other oilfields and shipping it to the port of Zerin, the largest coastal settlement and Governorate capital of Jerze'har. Jablemmanet's battle had been ongoing for several days and it felt like it would never end, at least in Salame's eyes. He rushed quickly alongside his squad and pressed up against a concrete wall, he could hear yelling of Israist militiamen trying to muster a counter-attack. "Quickly. Breach!" Salame yelled as he tossed his last remaining flashbang in between the two concrete buildings just underneath the catwalk where they'd neutralized two enemies.

The flashbang went off and with him at the point position, he fired three steady shots into the chest of a dazed militiaman, he fired several more times before he conducted a combat reload, dropping his magazine to the floor and retrieving another one from his new ballistics vest. Salame was still getting use to it, they had just been issued them in March, a month later and it had saved his life once already. He hoped that it was the only time it needed to save his life but he was thankful for it. The Nasir Mechanized Brigade was the last of the 1st Republican Guard Corps to be equipped with the ballistics vests, they were playing police in al-Kasraj following the successful palace coup that they had carried out. The Nasir Mechanized Brigade was one of the later Republican Guard forces to be mobilized and many of the soldiers had only been in combat service for the month of March and were activated and re-trained in January following the successful Ba'athist capture of power. Salame found himself pressed against a door and motioned for Corporal Mansoor to take the other concrete building across from him. "5 and 5. Take it!" Salame stated in a hushed but commanding tone. A soldier rounded from behind Salame and with a swift kick, broke open the door. Salame and four other soldiers burst into the room, each of their rifles aimed forward but in a different direction. Salame hit one, two, three, a fourth and a fifth on his entrance and as he aimed for a soldier coming down the stairs he dropped. Salame motioned for his men to spread out.

"Cmon Miqdaam! You cannot possibly think we'd let you capture their commander!" A voice rang out from above the stairs. Salame chuckled, releasing his weapon and allowing it sling over his chest. He embraced his close friend and former Kafuri Naval Academy Cadet Nizaar al-Sultan who was a Petty Officer, 2nd Class in the Kafuri Marines. "I figured that I had to share some for you guys." Salame released Nizaar and smiled. "Its good to see you." Salame surveyed the dead as his men scavenged for intelligence or spoils of war. Nizaar chuckled. "Don't worry, your fellow guardsmen captured the commander. Nizaar motioned for Salame to follow him. Salame and Nizaar walked up the stairs to an office-style room. The windows were blown out, paper littered the ground, a warm breeze blew through the nighttime. "Luckily this is over." Nizaar leaned against a desk, peering out into the night and watching dozens of soldiers flooding into the main complex of Jablemmanet. "You think they'll award them medals?" Nizaar motioned to the obvious fresh looking Kafuri Majatran Army troops unloading off of trucks and cars into the complex. "At least they are working to become an effective fighting force. My brigade is still pretty banged up and young." Salame leaned up against the same desk that Nizaar had made himself comfortable on. Nizaar nodded. "Mine too. We lost a 17 year old earlier." Nizaar sighed heavily. "Wow...its like they dont even care. They claim that they do this for religion and Akim but...violence against each other?" Salame sounded notably distraught. "Akim doesn't guide them. He guides us. They are the lost ones." Nizaars words trailed off.

Both Nizaar and Salame had their solemn moment broken when a Republican Guard soldier rushed up the stairs and informed them that the commanding officer of the operation had requested them both. Nizaar and Salame shared a look and brief nod and then made their way to the Colonel.
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby PaleRider » Wed Mar 06, 2019 4:09 am

Federal Intelligence Centre, Belgae, Zardugal
Deep beneath the hustle and bustle of the Zardic capital lies the endless miles of tunnel and bunkers hosting secure conference rooms and office spaces. The mighty Zardic Intelligence apparatus conducts some of its most sensitive high level planning and operations from these chambers, and it is here the government plans on revolutionizing intelligence collection....

Perhaps one of the most intense and demanding jobs in the reborn Federation was the execution of a new and more aggressive military policy. As the government ramped up operations and funding, new policies, strategies, and intelligence would be needed to guide the transition. It was all three of these that would need to be seamlessly integrated via the Global and Defense Policy Council. Here the daily grind and thankless work of hundreds of inter-ministerial bureaucrats went about rebuilding the core and foundations of Zardic power. However today's meeting of intelligence chief's was to be more than rebuilding, but forward planning...

Global Policy Adviser Ahmed Girgorshivili was an unusual mix in Zardugal. He was born to an Ahmadi father and an Augustan mother but raised as a Terran Patriarch. Now this unassuming expert on international relations from the University of Ingomo was leading a full on swing as the Zards found their grove back on the world stage. But before the overseas deployments, before the global push for power again, a new and unparalleled intelligence infrastructure would need to be built. That was the purpose of today's Council meeting.

"Gentlemen and ladies, thank you for joining me on these extremely sensitive and top secret discussion. We must move swiftly, boldly, yet carefully in the new age of Majatran competition." Nods of approval from around the table were given. "Given these extraordinary times and the weakened state of our Federation we must gain a critical and lasting intelligence advantage at all levels to secure our fragile gains. To this end I have been working on three simultaneous projects I intend to brief you on now. Project Diamond Mind, Project Demon Tracker, and Project Icepick. Some of you may already be familiar due to your particular agency's role in supporting and executing these gains."

"Of first measure is Project Diamond Mind. This is our central and premier effort for global intelligence and information dominance and is broken into two parts: Operation Shape Shifter and Operation Hearing Aid. Shape Shifter is our central information influence campaign to create a favorable information environment to advance our interests. The Federal Intelligence Agency is the lead here with the Information Dominance Agency, the Zardic Communications Agency, and the Federal Agency for Special Affairs. All are working to support our information operations and combat negative narratives against the Federation. While global in focus we are focused on shaping the narrative with unity of message, it is aimed at weakening our traditional foes: Vanuku and Dorvik. Plain and simple their power on the world stage must be broken.

The second part of Diamond Mind is Hearing Aid. All across the world, all of our diplomatic outposts are being turned into intelligence collection posts. While the FIA runs traditional human intelligence operations from its growing network of foreign safe houses we are also creating more signals intelligence platforms and outposts. Sensitive clandestine collection sites at our embassies and a growing network of safe houses will provide the ZCA, IDA, and FIA along with FASA and our military agencies with unparalleled reach into adversarial communications and thus intentions."

"Project Icepick now is a new and bold cyber operation. Not only will we hack adversaries to gain a strategic and credible advantage over others, we will launch a wide range of cyber operations to disrupt, degrade, disorient, and distract our adversaries. We will harass and constantly keep the adversary at bay, unable to coordinate or communicate effectively. We will own the new cyber world and not lose our advantage."

"Now perhaps we move on to the most important and most consequential aspect of this campaign. Demon Tracker is the direct action portion of this effort and by far the most dangerous but necessary aspect of this. Under the direct leadership of the FIA, FASA, and with our special operations forces, we will build, leverage, and deploy a large network of clandestine operatives and teams which will directly degrade the enemy and key decision makers."
Political Affiliation~ GOP (US)
Pro: Liberal Conservatism, Paleo-liberalism, Chicago Capitalism, social conservatism, neoconservative
Anti: leftist, multiculturalism, Islamic radicalism
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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby thefalloutfan101 » Thu Mar 14, 2019 8:41 pm

Floor Three Conference Room, Dorvish Embassy, Dunburg, Oderveld, Metzist Republic of Dundorf
1:15 PM, February 6th, 4545


Klaus Meinhof parked his van on the left side of the street, with it facing directly across from the Dorvish embassy in the heart of metropolitan Dunburg. He scanned the building for a few moments, watching suited men flow in and out, occasionally striking up the uniformed guards for brief conversations. He opened the glove box to reveal various stacks of papers, with the light within the small container illuminating a room bug. It was a small device, shaped to resemble a flash drive, being no more than five centimeters in length. He grabbed it and placed it in the back pocket of his boilersuit, shutting the glove box. Exiting his van, briskly walking past the bright black letters emblazoning SCHMIDT ELECTRICAL SERVICES, SCHLOßPLATZ, DUNBURG on the side, he opened the back doors of the van. He grabbed his tool belt and affixed it to his pants, adding a measurable amount of new weight onto his person. Picking up an extra set of tools in a box, he shut the doors and locked his car, hearing the click-click of the locks as he crossed the street.

A brisk winter wind flowed around him as he stepped onto the sidewalk, nipping at the stubble on his face. He scaled the steps to the rather old style building, with the guards giving merely a customary glance. He opened the wooden doors and was greeted by an incredibly lavish structure, a surprise, given the current ruling form of government in Dundorf. Marble floors and columns, with a massive chandelier illuminating the room, placed directly above the reception desk. He reduced his fast-paced stride to a casual walk, approaching the receptionist. He laid an arm on the desk, evidently startling the receptionist with his rather silent approach, despite the relative loudness of the gargantuan lobby. "Hello. My name is Friedrich Keller, here on behalf of Schmidt Electrical Services, I'd heard that your conference room was experiencing a problem with one of the wall outlets?" The receptionist seemed relieved at his words. "Oh, Gott sei Dank. Yes, it's the only wall outlet in the room, and we desperately need it for our projector. We were also worried that it'd short out and cause a fire, which could've been disastrous." Klaus gave a warm smile, and gave them reassurance. "Ah, seems like it'll be an easy job to start off my afternoon shift!" He gave a jovial laugh, with the receptionist reciprocating such emotions. "Now, where might this conference room be?" The receptionist motioned for the elevator. "It's on floor three. Due to the sensitive nature of the room, you may be asked to provide an ID, but you should be fine." He gave a short nod and a customary vielen dank before walking towards the elevator, passing waiting areas with large couches, and a few potted plants.

Entering the elevator he pressed three, and readjusted his boilersuit, making sure the tool belt wouldn't slip. Crossing his arms, he waited for a few moments before the silver doors silently opened. He was greeted to two uniformed guards, both of them being soldiers of the Dorvish Armed Forces. "Identification, please." Thumbing through his front pocket he unveiled the carefully constructed false identity provided to him by the Staatssicherheitsbüro. He was told that it had been replicated as closely as possible, so his risks for discovery were minuscule. The soldier to his right took his card, examining it for a few brief moments, pausing, causing uneasiness for Meinhof. But he was silently relieved as the man returned his card. The soldier eyed him up and down. "What might you be fixing today?" Stuffing his false ID back into his front pocket, he said "Wall outlet in the conference room." The soldier to his left piped up. "Oh, that one. The diplomats have been raising a fuss about that. It's getting annoying, truth be told. Glad you're fixing it." Meinhof gave them thanks, before they positioned themselves in front of the walls near the elevator. He walked into the room, following directions that were relayed to him earlier by his handler. Eventually he would reach the conference room, a modest space with a large circular wooden table flanked by several leather chairs. The usual style. The blinds to the hallway windows were drawn, while the windows facing the streets of Dunburg were not. He scanned the room for an appropriate place to put the room bug. Kneeling down, he examined the bottom of the conference table. As luck would have it, the support beams were structured perfectly to where he could conceal it. Breaking out a roll of electrical tape from his tool belt, he fastened the bug to the beam, making sure that it couldn't be dislodged by someone hitting it with their foot, or someone touching it with their hands.

After making sure that it was securely attached, he left it be. it was specially designed to activate when voices were heard, so he made sure to stay quiet in order to keep space on the storage portion. Picking himself up, he dusted off his knees before finding the busted wall outlet. Staying true to his cover, he unscrewed the plastic portion revealing the metal underneath. He would then also unscrew the metal bit, revealing disconnected wires. Leaving his tools behind temporarily, he exited the conference room briefly to find a utility room. Hopefully it would contain a fusebox. After some searching, he found a janitorial closet that had a rather large fusebox. With one switch marked Conference Room he flicked it off. Heading back, he carefully put the wires back into their respective sockets and re-screwed both the metal portion and the plastic cover. Picking up his tools, he went back to the closet and flipped the switch back on. The fluorescent lights came back on, and he pulled down the projector screen, then plugged in the projector. It worked, and illuminated the screen with a blank image. He unplugged it, and exited the room with his tools in tow. He walked past the guards and pressed lobby. Standing in silence for a few brief moments the doors opened back up to the lobby and he casually strolled towards the reception desk, his tools giving soft clanking noises. He told the receptionist that the problem was repaired and was merely the result of disconnected wires, before giving them a smile. Dropping his jovial expression immediately after leaving the building he reverted back to a stone-faced demeanor. Examining the busy road once more, he crossed when it seemed clear.

Throwing the tools and tool belt back into the van, he closed the back door and got back into the driver's seat. He reached for the burner phone he had been assigned and gave a brief text of "The job has been completed" to an untraceable number. Watching his corners, he pulled out back onto the street and drove away.
Main Party: Metzistische Volkspartei (Inactive)

Second Active Account: Narikatonisch Arbeiderspartij (Active)

Previous nations: Valruzia, Indrala, Trigunia, Baltusia

Current controller of Tropica


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Re: A Battle Unseen (OOC: First Person RP)

Postby Yolo04 » Fri Mar 15, 2019 3:14 am

18:36, Undisclosed Building Golden Coast
Lucien Guilloux was busy with work again. This work however, was not an ordinary desk job. He worked with Canrailles terrorists to attack government facilities. He had assisted several groups, including the Cow Protection Army, in attacking the government. He was well known in his small community of terrorists, oftentimes seen as a leader of the revolution.

In his basement, he heard the whispers of the men he collaborates with in his acts against the government. In his basement were anarchists, socialists, liberals, and Canrailles rebels. He knew almost none of these men. These men were foreign to him. But he had been told they were allies, so his basement was there meeting grounds. But one man was missing from his basement. Georges Lacan, his only friend in this world. He’d been his friend since primary school and he’d been his friend all the way into his life as a rebel. But his absence made him uneasy. “Calm down. He’s probably just at home and skipped the meeting. Understandable, his wife and kids were always complaining of his lack of time with them”.

There was a knock at his door. Most likely his friend. He opened the door however to his surprise it was not his rebel friends but rather a grouping of men in tactical gear. Before this shock had been processed, he was being pushed against a wall with a pistol in his face.

“If you don’t stay quite” said the man with the pistol in his face-“you’ll be going straight to the gates of hell at the cost of one bullet”. This threat kept his mouth shut. The remaining three men at his door took out a rag and stuffed it into his mouth. They then brought out handcuffs and duct tape. Before he could take out the rag in his mouth, he was handcuffed and had duct tape over his mouth.

The four men began slowly and silently creeping in his kitchen and living room. Then they found the basement. The voices of his allies in the basement were unaware of the new guests in his house. The two men who looked down the basement nodded to the remaining two. One man went over with the other two, whilst the remaining man, still in the living room, put his rifle to the handcuffed mans head.

Lucien Guilloux heard few things coming from the men in the tactical uniforms. But then he heard the flash bang go off. He heard screams and suppressed gunshots. Then the two men in tactical uniforms came up with two bodies each. Then they went back downstairs. They brought another two bodies up each. This process continued 4 more times, until the men dropped the last bodies onto the floor.

Once the last body had been dropped, the leader of the men in tactical uniforms ordered two of his men to tie Lucien Guilloux to a chair. Once that’d been done, one of them men who’d tied him up went outside. When he came back, Lucien noticed that he had brought in a toolbox.

The leader of the men in tactical uniforms saw Lucien look at the toolbox and spoke to him. “Yep, you’re not gonna have much fun buddy. We don’t usually bring out the tools, but you’re special”.

The leader then pulled out a wrench from the toolbox. He then looked it over and smiled and said-“Kid we’re gonna have a lot of fun. Buckle in, because we’ll do this all night long”. He then struck Lucien in the head, causing instant bleeding.

This torture lasted for several hours…it wouldn’t get any better for Lucien
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