«12. . .4,0934,0944,0954,0964,0974,0984,099. . .8,7708,771»
Breakng News
"Following the complete and utter destruction of the sad group of pirates known as Zekberg, by Demonos. The priates moved into waters near Dernel. The pirates tried to push a land invasion from the south but were immediately sunk by railgun artillery stonks. If it werent for the sonic-booms every shot made the populous would have never noticed the pirates deaths.
Subsequently the pirates once again tried to attack Dernel from the north this time. The Dernellian commander on scene allowed for the pirates to make landfall, and decided to test the new prototype Rhino suits. One squad was sent against the poor musket bearing pirates. Not a single pirate stood after the repeated hailstorms of HEAPI rounds. This proved the DPA-P suits effectiveness against primitive, smooth-bore, black powder weapons, and was given the effectiveness rating of 110%.
After being defeated twice the pirates refused to give up, and decided to charge the Dernellian navy, not once, but twice. The navy, not wanting to cause more problems waited for the navy to cross the horizon and show signs of hostility. The navy then riddled the pirate navy with holes sinking all attacking ships within three minutes. One enemy shot was able to hit a Dernellian vessel, but due to the long distance, and modern armor of the Dernellian ship the 16 pound cannon ball bounced off of the Dernellian vessel without even scratching the paint. Upon further inspection it was revealed that the weaponry on the pirates vessels was simple smooth-bore, black powder, torch-fired artillery.
Now deeming these pirates of significant annoyance the DAF decided to use a Loch Ness I2 bomber to tag the pirates ships with ODP targeter bombs, and have them subsequently sunken with ODP fire. This destroyed the remaining fleet of the primitive pirates.
Wanting to finish the job, Secretary Zubeknakov cleared the use of the RFG system to cause the small sad state of Zekberg to cease to exist."
(6 more battles, 6 more losses: page=challenge/nations=zekberg)
Wtf just happend here?
Demonos and Dernel
NOTE:
OOC
Check it out, y'all. I just got suppressed by a mod! That's awesome. What I wrote was so powerful it had to be calmed the eff down. Really though, I can't blame the mod. Lady Vera takes treason intensively serious. Lol.
New vedan, Mzeusia, and Dernel
Oh, Cossack Peoples,
We will offer 6 million more in Crux gold for the corpses of the pirates the Navy of the Righteous Dernel left in their wake.
:O
Tubbius the Rotund hides after seeing all the suppressed posts.
Volaworand, Temmi, Tolfaer, and Dernel
Worry not large one, many of the ones from us are in your defense against an evil doer
Treadwellia and Demonos
Seriously what happened? The mods beat me to the RMB.
Temmi and Dernel
Lady Vera sees Tubbius retreat and in the direction he moves a mirrored wall reflects a demon beast. Her fangs barred, her horns extended, and the fair white hair she'd seen groomed by her stewards just this awkening: had become deep black. She placed her clawed hands before her face covering her all black eyes to exclaim, "It was for the blood, too, you know!".
She turned, extended her wings, and flew to Demonos.
Still no clue why my stuff was suppressed
Hello!
Treadwellia, Demonos, and The centrucian empire
EXTREME RP!
If you want the full story of Snudgeskooge, read from the bottom of the second post, up.
Name Pronunciations:
Rumpain - (Rum-pain)
Serra - (Sarah)
Cerion - (kair - e - on)
Peritinyl - (Per - it - in - ill)
Martikaian - (Mart - ick - eye - an)
Raeia - (Ray - a)
Hienak – (High - nak)
HDIMS - (His Divine Imperial Majesty's Ship)
Snudgeskooge’s eyes flickered open, and he sat up, whirring the bed into life with one of the buttons on the side panel, feeling a hand on his shoulder. ‘Snudgeskooge, how are you?’ The voice of his sister sounded strained, worried and quiet. He could tell she hadn’t had enough sleep and had probably been hounding the surgeons and nurses for updates.
‘Hey Raeia. I’m good.’ He whispered. He took her hand in his and smiled up at her. ‘I should get up now. It wouldn’t do for me to lay about in hospital any more.’
Raeia squeezed his hand. ‘You just had a lung collapse. You’ve been shot. You should still be recovering. Snudgeskooge, please—’
‘Yes, yes and now I’m better. Let me up. My surgeon will no doubt confirm that I can leave. I’m fine, please, just take a seat.’ He gestured to the high-backed, winged, green-cushioned chair. Raeia, knowing he wouldn’t back down, took a seat.
The God-Emperor took another look around the room. The red phone on the bedside table next to him, the potted plant on the windowsill behind his head and the sleeping figure of Illidia in another chair. One of his military uniforms was neatly pressed, folded and laid out on an extendable table on wheels that was meant for meals to be put on so patients could eat in bed if need be. Next to the uniform was his personal phone.
He still had not gotten used to the fact he was not having trouble breathing. Shaking his head, he picked up the phone, opened the chat with his First Secretary and sent a text. ‘Get me my surgeon.’ The message pinged red and the yellow response was lightning fast. ‘Of course, Your Divine Imperial Majesty, right away. Oh, and it’ll be good to have you back to work.’ Snudgeskooge smiled. The man knew how to type. He would not be having any of this nonsense text speak on his watch. It took five minutes for Snudgeskooge to see the armoured, sliding, glass doors open. In stepped the man who he’d seen put him under all that time ago. Illidia stirred and came to. She tried to rise but Snudgeskooge bade her sit. ‘Not in your condition, Illidia. I’m fine. Extensive cellular surgery can do that for you.’ He turned to the surgeon. ‘Can I leave now?’
‘Yes, I think you can be discharged now, your Divine Imperial Majesty.’
Snudgeskooge gave his sister a smirk and a raised eyebrow before addressing the surgeon again. ‘And how’s Baersrik?’
‘He’s recovered very well. He can leave in a few days.’
‘Good, good. You did the right thing. And I think yesterday you said there was no more healing to go?’
‘Not any more needing to be done here. It won’t be noticeable and won’t leave any damage. The lung might as well not have collapsed. As you said, the miracles of cellular surgery.’ His Divine Imperial Majesty shot another smile to his sister.
‘Miracles? Professor, cellular surgery is no miracle. Snoodian scientists and researchers worked on it day and night and on the weekends. I won’t hear that talk about their work.’
‘Apologies, God-Emperor, I merely meant to say that if we didn’t have it, things could have been a lot worse.’
‘Very good Professor. Anything else?’
‘We’ll have to do regular tests for a couple days to make sure everything is still going smoothly.’
‘Monitor me for a week and define regular.’
‘Hourly, Your Divine Imperial Majesty.’
‘Hourly? Very well. I’ll just change and leave. Thank you for everything.’
‘It’s my duty God-Emperor Snudgeskooge. Part of why I love the job.’
‘That’s good to hear Professor. You feel as though you’re well looked after? That the Snoodian Imperial Health Service is fair and has enough funding?’
‘I do. Most definitely.’
Snudgeskooge smiled. ‘Good to hear Professor.’ The man bowed and left the room. The God-Emperor pulled back the covers and swung his legs over the bed.
Raeia got up. ‘See. Hourly. If you’d just stay here, you wouldn’t have to have hourly monitoring.’
‘I have a country to run Raeia. I can’t just sit in a hospital getting better.’
‘Yes, but you have a government for a reason. Others can do this for you. It’s only for a couple months in total. A week more at this point.’
‘But how would that look to the public? I have an image to uphold. It won’t do to be out of action for so long because of one sniper. I’m the God-Emperor, His Divine Imperial Majesty! That’s got to mean something.’
‘You have your health to consider, dear brother. It would hurt your image more if you couldn’t breathe properly when giving another speech.’
‘Grrr.’ He smiled at his sister. ‘you’re insufferable.’
A tall, middle-aged muscular man in a black suit opened the door and saluted. ‘God-Emperor. I have a security detail outside waiting for you.’
His Divine Imperial Majesty looked at the man, still smiling from the conversation. ‘And has Director Hienak been arrested?
The man nodded. ‘He didn’t put up a fight, Your Divine Imperial Majesty.’
Snudgeskooge thought for a second, following the man out, Illidia falling into step beside them. He was flanked by another man in a dark suit. ‘Have him disappeared. What’s his family?’
‘A wife. Three kids, seven grandchildren. None, two and five, another on the way to six.’
‘Waive his wife’s immunity.’
‘Yes, God-Emperor.’
Snudgeskooge nodded as the doors opened to the rest of palace, two servants decked out in their usual uniform.
The First Secretary was walking swiftly towards him. ‘Your Divine Imperial Majesty. How are you faring?’ the man asked, turning to march beside Snudgeskooge.
‘I’m okay, First Secretary, what’s the situation been like in my absence. Has the world collapsed yet? Who needs Snoodian military support?’
‘Nothing of note, Your Divine Imperial Majesty. Counter-Terror managed to bust a few large cultist cells and we appointed the Deputy Director of the Home Division of Imperial Snoodian Intelligence to Head.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t allow me to be shot.’
‘He assured me everything would change. I can set up a meeting with him if you like.’
‘In a few hours. Get me the Divine Imperial Influences Council now.’ The God-Emperor paused for a second. ‘Oh and remember to have someone bring in the orange juice.’
The man nodded. ‘I’ll get them to bring in a jug.’
A few minutes later, a servant opened the door to the Influences Room. The God-Emperor surveyed all the men and women standing around the table. The television was on, a reporter commenting on the re-floating efforts of HDIMS Mr Hissum, awaiting conversion into a museum ship.
‘Ah, yes. The Mr Hissum class. And how’s Mr Hissum’s Revenge coming along?’
The Head of the Navy spoke up. ‘It’s coming along marvellously, Your Divine Imperial Majesty, should be ready in one year. That’s not to mention Mr Hissum’s Venom, Sweet Mr Hissum, Strong Mr Hissum, Mr Hissum’s Victory, Mr Hissum’s Bite, Divine Mr Hissum, Imperial Mr Hissum and Conquering Mr Hissum.’
‘Very good, turn off the television. And what about the freedom of navigation operations we mentioned before I was shot?’
‘Well, the South doesn’t exactly want us conducting operations south of the equator.’
‘And they control half of the world’s international waters? No, we send a ship down and wait for their response. This is important enough to send them down south.’
‘Of course, your Divine Imperial Majesty. I’ll have HDIMS Fneeb steam down there immediately from the Hyperborean anti-piracy squadron.’ The Head of the Navy sat down, taking a sip of orange juice from his glass.
‘And how’s the implementation of facial recognition and body scans coming along on the underground? We won’t have another attack?’
The Minister for Transport stood up. ‘No, Your Divine Imperial Majesty, we’re strengthening the structure of the stations and tunnels slowly. It’ll take some work, loss of productivity and diversions but it’ll be done in a few months. Snudgeskooge’s Palace should be safe from that kind of attack. The facial recognition and body scanning will slow travel times a bit, but it will screen against such bomb attacks as happened at the Royal Darvig II Station. We’re modernising the ticket barriers, so it won’t happen. Blast doors will be fitted on all entrances. We’ll install anti-vehicle barricades outside too. You won’t be able to drive a tank into any station in the city after they’re put in place. Emergency medical offices will be built as well. The emergency services are quick, yes, but they can always be quicker.’
‘Very good Minister. Those all sounds adequate. If you have any other ideas, brush them past me and you’ll probably get them approved. Have the measures put into airports and ports. Anything else?’
The Minister took a gulp of orange juice before clearing his throat. ‘Moving on from public transport, I was thinking we could install trackers in people’s cars and bicycles. Give the police another edge. I mean, you’d have to run to not be tracked. That said, there’s always the personal tracker. With this, we track everyone and all the vehicles.’
Snudgeskooge smiled. ‘Yes! Throw in a kill switch for all the vehicles for good measure. No more car bombs, no more truck bombs, that’s an excellent idea Minister!’
The Minister for Transport smiled and sat down. The God-Emperor looked around the room again, eyes landing on the Domestic Influences Principal Minister, Sir Deanron Kreaunik. ‘I take it the boys in blue know who the assassin was hired by and who he was.’
‘’We do. Mostly. The man worked, or rather, works, for the Orbinity cult, was Snoodian born, trained in the army, retired, trained as a police officer for a few years and he took the shot from The Old Cannon Tower just outside the square. His cover was allegedly a maintenance worker—’
‘Maintenance worker? Alone? Surely not. This is crazy. He should have been arrested on the spot!’ Snudgeskooge burnt holes into the man to his right.
‘He said he forgot some tools and would only take a few minutes. A minute or so later, he took the shot.’ The Principal Minister continued.
‘Evidently,’ Snudgeskooge shot back, venom coating every syllable. ‘Have it ringed off and turned into a watchtower for the Protection Directorate. I won’t have my life threatened again. Not from some old tower. Oh, and make sure it gets funding to stay up. I won’t bore you with its history but trust me, it’s historic alright.’
‘I’ll have it done straight away, God-Emperor.’ Deanron said, taking his seat and lacing his fingers.
‘And this cult, they were some long lost cult from before the Founding Wars and Snoodism, if I remember correctly, yes?’ The room radiated silence until a small cough to the God-Emperor’s left broke it. On looking over, he only saw one of the servants. The man cleared his throat again and Snudgeskooge raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’
The servant was clearly sweating and, carefully setting down the jug of water he had come in to deliver, he popped his knuckles. ‘You’re correct Your Divine Imperial Majesty, God-Emperor Snudgeskooge. They were the most prominent religion in what is now Snoodum but with the rise of Snoodism, they were pushed into the shadows. We know only snippets of their practices owing to the lack of records and all that, but they were, and still are, very brutal in their religious beliefs.’
‘And you know all of this how?’
‘It’s a special interest, Your Divine Imperial Majesty. I follow counter-terrorism efforts closely and this inevitably leads me onto terrorists and their motivations.’
‘Very good. Thank you. You may leave.’ Snudgeskooge gave the boy a wave and the servant hurried out of the room. The God-Emperor looked at The Principal Minister. ‘Have his house and those of his friends searched. Anyone he interacted with in the past month.’
‘Uuh..Yes. Of course, God-Emperor.’ The man said, frown quickly leaving to be replaced with stoicism.
‘Speaking of the terrorists, how are we doing rooting them out?’
It was the CIGS’s turn to stand. Noerak set his glass of juice down. ‘We have the army busting tunnel networks and supply caches as we speak. The Airforce is flying spy planes over, capturing footage of suspected hideouts. Some have put up stiff resistance but that’s what bunker busting bombs are for. We’ll have them flushed out shortly, Your Divine Imperial Majesty.’
‘Tunnels?’
‘Yes. Rudimentary ones they dig themselves underneath farmhouses and barns and the like, storing weapons and drugs and other commodities there. Angel's Bliss, Rumpain, Serra, Cerion, Peritinyl and Martikaian Swamp Leaf are all stored there. Concentrations exceeding regulation alongside guns they get abroad.’
‘Guns they get abroad? Do we not have the Smuggling Suppression Unit for that?’
Sir Deanron Kreaunik stood up again. ‘They can’t get everything, God-Emperor. International shipping would stop. It would simply cease to be. We can’t check every container.’
‘Put in security measures that allow them to check more then. When people think of Snoodum I don’t want them picturing a porous border.’ The Domestic Influences Principal Minister nodded. ‘These guys clearly have powerful backers. They fund terrorists everywhere. I mean, just look at the organisation and resources they can acquire. Maybe they were planning this for a long time. You sure we don’t have a mole in Border Control Command?’
‘No, your Divine Imperial Majesty, we just don’t have the security infrastructure needed. I have been thinking about a few things, but they’d need approval first.’
‘What doesn’t? Go on. What are you thinking?’
‘Well, it won’t stop things coming in but it could very well stop things going out. Let’s fit maybe two cameras in each truck or train carriage that leaves for international trade. We’ll hook it up to the car electricity supply. If the camera dies, have the engine stall and the car alarm sound. The trackers we’re going to fit can send an alert to the police and, either the people can run off in which case it’s a simple case of following their GPS or they sit still and go to jail.’
‘Good idea, now you’re talking!’ A smile returned to Snudgeskooge’s face. ‘Have the legal people draw it up and I’ll sign it. Wait. Fit the cameras with facial recognition if at all possible. If anyone on a list thinks of anything faster than a bicycle, then stop the vehicle. Have the cameras dying trigger the brakes too.’
‘Very good, God-Emperor.’
His Divine Imperial Majesty looked around the room. ‘Anything else?’ He paused. ‘No?’ Well then—’
‘God-Emperor, you should see this!’
The God-Emperor turned behind him. ‘Ah, First Secretary, what’s this?’
The First Secretary came in holding a black folder bearing the Snoodian flag and the motto ‘All hail God-Emperor Snudgeskooge.’ He smiled at the memory of saying that. It had been a nice morning and the flags were out everywhere. He hadn’t been shot at that morning. On opening the folder on the table he saw eight bold words staring back, mockingly. The Board of Alliances, Freedoms, and International Accommodations. Snudgeskooge groaned and took a seat, his legs suddenly weary. ‘Not this again. It’s going to be another we all love each other but are actually encroaching on how you run your country documents.’ He smiled up at the top brass of Snoodum. ‘Gather round lads and ladies, we have another comedy sketch to read.’
Nervous smiles were passed around the room as Snudgeskooge rubbed his face with a hand, comically stretching his features. ‘Acts passed by…’ The God Emperor droned, reading it to the room. ‘Ooh,’ he adopted a high-pitched tone. “Board Administrative Council. Oh, yes, hello, I’m from the Board Administrative Council. Hippity hoppity, your country is now my property. Yes, yes laws and regulations, just sign your life and leadership away here. Thank you!” His Divine Imperial Majesty tore that part off the document and sent it hurtling into the bin at the far end of the room.
‘But wait, it gets better. It says acts “do not require the consent of all Council members, merely requiring a simple majority to pass.” Great. So now we don’t even get a say in our own laws. They just want a free pass on doing whatever they want!’ Another scrunched up paper ball landed in the bin as Snudgeskooge tore the document further.
Droning on through the document, Snudgeskooge’s eyes stopped, widened and narrowed angrily as he slammed a fist around the page. Looking up, he spoke with an anger not seen often. ‘They want our military bases. They. Want. Their. Troops. On Snoodian soil! They want to invade Snoodum! What is this?! Joint military bases in each other’s nations!? Have they gone cuckoo? Are they loopy? Why oh why does everyone want military bases in Snoodum. The countryside is great but keep your boots off my ground!’ Snudgeskooge tore the page again, this time punting it into the fire.
‘Yada, yada, independent scientists. Whoever thought independent scientists was a good idea? Tsk. Independent scientists.’ He mumbled, taking another chunk out of the document.
He snorted with laughter further down the page. ‘Fair trial? Fair trial? Ha! Yeah, uh huh, fair trial. Why don’t we throw that in there with democracy!’ He turned to the room with a grin. ‘Fair trial. You know how one gets a fair trial? By handing over sensitive government data to some idiot lawyer to say to some idiot judge that the defendant wasn’t guilty. This is just another trick to get us to hand over our country! Hand over Snoodum through the courts! Good one!’ Snudgeskooge shook his head before disposing of the paper in the bin again.
The God-Emperor turned to the Principal Minister and Minister for Transport. ‘They’re after our security measures. They want us to hand over all our data! Thieves! Vagabonds! Rascals! Scoundrels!’ He tore the page again. ‘No contraband between countries, yeah, good luck reaching that target. I know how to do it. Stop all international trade. How do they expect us to search every single container that come in? Every package? Every Christmas card?’ What, Dear Father Christmas redacted. Lots of love redacted. P.S. redacted?’ The God Emperor could feel his mood lifting from the insanity of the document before him. ‘I want to see that Christmas card in shops by next week. Get someone on that.’
‘Oh by the Stars, is that really what I just read?’ Snudgeskooge looked up at the brass again. ‘They truly are after our data! They’re setting up intelligence and security agencies that can use, and I quote, “counterintelligence, special forces, secret police, and anti-terrorist forces, as well as provide means of negotiations and intelligence on foreign nations.” Snudgeskooge finally looked over the list of signatures already. ‘Well, looks like our Southern Compact friends really are after our data. Why would we give them such security access? They must have been intoxicated when writing this! Bah! The Southern Compact is at it again. Have HDIMS Fneeb go a bit faster. This is an awful trap meant to get nations to sign away everything they have to an oppressive alliance of southern tinpot dictators!’ Snudgeskooge took a sip of orange juice. ‘Well, with that, Principal Minister, please accompany me to Domestic Influences Headquarters. Your boys in blue need a congratulations.’
The men and women at the table broke up as Snudgeskooge left the room, The Board of Alliances, Freedoms, and International Accommodations left torn to shreds on the table, long eaten by the fire and sitting forlornly in the bin.
The convoy of APCs rumbled under the grand awning of the palace as Snudgeskooge walked down the steps to the square outside. Ten APCs waited there, the first one and last seven filled with a full complement of eight soldiers and their three crew, the second and third having five and six soldiers respectively. Snudgeskooge was ushered into one alongside Illidia after giving a smile and a pat on the back to Raeia. He clambered in at the back and took a seat between two soldiers. They didn’t seem in the mood for chit chat. The convoy set off after a brief burst of radio chatter and the slight jolt of the vehicle was accompanied by the crunch of gravel under caterpillar tracks. A few minutes later, they had left the heavy traffic of the centre of the city and were on the much more isolated road to the Domestic Influences Headquarters where the party would take place.
The radio on the soldier next to him crackled to life. we have a tree in the road up ahead. Repeat, there is a tree lying in the road. The soldier looked over at Snudgeskooge. ‘Sir?’
‘Drive through it. We’re in APCs. It’s a tree.’
‘Roger,’ the soldier spoke into his radio. ‘drive through the log.’ The convoy jolted forwards again for a second as the first APC crested the thick trunk, and set the front down again, bringing the back down with it.
BOOM! The front APC shook with huge force as a shaped charge detonated under the weight of the vehicle, exploding into the passenger compartment. The convoy stopped immediately as everyone realised they were under attack. The soldiers scrambled out of the rear doors, two of them staying behind to man 20 mm autocannons on the tops of the APCs. The sound of small arms fire and radio noise exploded with the shout of ‘grenade!’ going up. A bang was followed by a burst of gunfire then far off screaming. Illidia and the God-Emperor had been pushed to the floor as the roar of a motorbike suddenly stopped amid machinegun fire. The 50 mm main guns on the ten APCs pounded away, throwing up bodies and dirt and damaging trees close to the road. A sustained burst of cannon fire ended in a huge explosion and the screams of men burning as more gunfire tore the air. The shout of ‘Get down!’ got to Snudgeskooge’s ears amid small arms fire and he heard an underslung grenade launch, the shout of a man going down in a spray of bullets that tinged against the side.
Boom! The APC the God-Emperor was in shook, the slat armour on the outside protecting those in the passenger compartment. Suddenly, the two soldiers manning the 20 mm machineguns ducked back down into the APC, one of them tackling Snudgeskooge to the floor, the other covering Illidia with his body. The blare of a siren sounded over the gunfire and the second and third APCs were knocked to the side, the third tipping over as a giant tanker truck careened into the side of them. The rear doors slammed open and the God-Emperor, his wife and sister were all led out of the vehicles, now dangerously exposed to RPG fire. Snudgeskooge coughed against the smoke that was billowing around them from the smoke grenades the APCs had launched at the start. They hit the tarmac as soldiers fired bursts into the surrounding tree line and 50 mm cannon rounds tore through the vegetation. Up above however was something the terrorists had not counted on. Two Imperial Phoenix Attack Helicopters streaked overhead. As part of the convoy, their job was simple. Only engage if things could not be handled otherwise. As the rotor blades chopped air three hundred meters up, the buzz of the distinctive 30 mm cannon sounded, tearing through leaves and branches on either side of the road, Rattlesnake rockets streaking to explode into the light woods. Within seconds, the gunfire had stopped, the RPG rounds abated, and the cabin of the fuel tanker was a twisted burning mess.
Snoodian Imperial Air Ambulances flooded the scene, with regular ambulances arriving minutes later to load the wounded on and race back to Snudgeskooge’s Palace. As the smoke cleared, Snudgeskooge rushed over to the APC where his sister had been in. He looked around frantically to see a grim-faced soldier standing there. Standing over her body as a paramedic looked up at him, covering her with a white sheet. His Divine Imperial Majesty knelt down, tearing the sheet off and pushing the paramedic away. He looked into his sister’s eyes. Nothing stared back. Her coat lay open, her top red with blood, her chest riddled with bullet holes. She had clearly long stopped breathing and those glassy eyes stared at the sky. Snudgeskooge placed a hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze and set his jaw. Inside he was tearing everything apart, ripping people open with his bare hands but outside, he was angry, silent and determined. He stood up, gestured for the soldier to give him his assault rifle and took it, pushing the stock into his shoulder and walking into the trees. Paramedics who had been tending the attackers started coming out of the trees, carrying equipment, heads down. Bang. Bang. Bang. Gunshots split the air again only this time they were methodical. Minutes later, Snudgeskooge came out dragging a man by his coat. He was too weak to give any resistance and was put in the middle of the road. As the paramedics left with soldiers loaded up and being given emergency care, the destroyed APCs were pushed to the side of the road, stripped of everything that could be taken and the rest of the convoy formed a defensive perimter around the Divine Impperial Majesties, guns swivelling and soldiers still with adrenaline pumping. Snudgeskooge sat on the ramp of one APC, his mind a riot of hatred, confusion and terrible pain as they waited for the emergency military backup to arrive, the soldiers taking pot-shots at the local wildlife.
Below is the dispatch referred to in the spoiler above:page=dispatch/id=1294672
Steadfastness, Demonos, Cossack Peoples, Northern Rosary Isles, and 1 otherSapclojand
[quote=snoodum;38059522]Let's pretend this post is straight after the news of the coup in New Rogernomics.
Name Pronunciations: Teiran Jeiarak (T-ear-an (Jure as in de jure)-ak)
Kenerik Sirein (Ken-err-ik Sigh-rin)
Noerak Faersier (N-or-ak F-air-see-er)
Ginaric (Zhin-ar-ick)
Kutsenrog (Koot-sen-rog)
The coup in New Rogernomics was worrying. The Second Imperial Chamber, the room where Snudgeskooge held his most important impromptu meetings was currently filled with military and intelligence heads alongside the relevant government ministers. Satellite footage of the ongoing coup in New Rogernomics was playing on a large television screen as they all sat around the large Witwood table.
'The world will be looking for a strong stance, God-Emperor,’ said Sir Teiran Jeiarak, head of MOSID, wearing his deep blue suit with gold stitching and the MOSID crest pinned to his lapel in silver. ‘Snoodum needs to act quickly, force the world to look upon this as the terrible event it is. We cannot have Socialist schoolboys playing politics.’
Sir Kenerik Sirein, Minister for Foreign Affairs broke in, his large frame dominating that length of the table. His fist came down, brown handlebar moustache waxed to perfection. ‘I have to agree with my compatriot here,’ The man was loud whenever he spoke but now, he spoke quickly too, as he always did when some new threat had just showed itself. ‘We have to act fast and decisively. Not acting, as I urge with the south should not be considered. While the south can be left alone to squabble in squalor for scraps of seafood, the north needs strength and unity. These pipsqueaks that have taken the government hostage are like rats. Multiplying and multiplying if we don’t put a stop to them. And how do we do that, you ask? With fire! With Holy Snoodian Fire! The fire of napalm if we must! The fire of our 130mm cannon! The fire of Snoodian Freedom!’
Snudgeskooge made a stop motion and, after a few seconds, Kenerik sat down, smoothing his moustache. The God-Emperor smiled slightly at the man before standing. ‘Thank you for your enthusiasm Kenerik, I love it. Now, what are our options, Generals? These revolutionaries clearly didn’t count on the strong international response we intend to give them.’
Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS), Sir Noerak Faersier opened his folder. ‘Please all tun to page ninety-three. Here we have satellite images of important government infrastructure that need taking out quickly. Bridges, railway lines, buildings etc. I suggest we demand all Navy and Airforce personnel still loyal to the old government in New Rogernomics fly or sail over to Snoodum. If the military that is still loyal cannot bring equipment back to Snoodum, they should destroy it or, failing that, inform our Airforce where the equipment is so we can take it out and prevent it falling into Communist hands.’
The Director of the Thulian division of Imperial Snoodian Intelligence stood up as Noerak took a seat. ‘We put out a statement saying we support the old government and do not recognise the new one. I have the Fourth Propaganda Battalion of the Snudgeskooge’s Palace Herald printing anti-revolutionary leaflets in support of the government. Expect these to be able to be flown over in the coming days. I’ve worked out key targets for the leaflets and some enterprising agent suggested we drop sweets with them too. If you approve, we can have Deliciousness Inc. stop all production on anything but the new ‘Better dead than Red’ sweet my men have designed.’ The Director paused, remembered he still had more to say and stopped sitting down. ‘We need to send in agents to train and supply sympathisers loyal to the legitimate government in their fight for freedom. Snoodian agents and airforce will deliver aid and propaganda to the rebels to successfully prosecute the civil war.’ He said, half standing, half sitting. After a pause of seeing if he had left anything else out, he nodded his head in self-satisfaction and sat down. Snudgeskooge looked at him for a few seconds before turning to the rest of the table.
The Head of the Navy, Grand Imperial Admiral Ginaric had been absent-mindedly flicking through, not listening. By the point he turned to page two-hundred and four, he realised all eyes were on him. On looking up and taking a sip of water, his eyes darted between the faces. Setting the glass down slowly, the Admiral closed the folder and stood up, giving a slight cough before addressing the room. ‘All Rogernomics shipping will hereby be seized and stowed safely in Snoodum. Rogernomics crew will be interned, the rest will have to be retrieved by their host nations. Snoodum has no obligation to repatriate them.’
Snudgeskooge stopped the man from sitting down with a wave of his hand. ‘You may have no part in the delivering of sweets to Rogernomics and I appreciate your willingness to memorise the nearly four-hundred-page document but please pay more attention in future.’
The Admiral nodded, took another hesitant sip of water and sat down, trying desperately not to make a sound when tucking in his chair.
General Kutsenrog, Head of Thulian Operations, stood up, his chair hitting the floor with a bang! The table winced as the man launched straight into his speech. ‘We have to summon a coalition of the willing in order to liberate New Rogernomics from the clutches of Communism! Saying that, I don’t hold much hope for any useful response from the spineless and indolent dolts we call our neighbours! If we do not stop the Red Menace that menaces our freedom and New Rogernomics, our freedom shall be stripped from us and we will no longer be free! I call not just for containment as some may but boots on the ground! Leave it to our neighbours, we have better things to actually be doing but we should definitely be the ones to say we came up with a coalition of the willing! We—'
The God-Emperor had heard enough of the man. He pulled an antique flintlock pistol from his belt, and cocked it loudly, ‘General, please refrain from talking anymore.’ The General stuttered for a second, gave a sharp salute after a second and picked his chair back up, taking a seat. He had already finished his water so he surreptitiously swapped glasses with the man next to him.
Snudgeskooge chugged a jug of orange juice. ‘And the full invasion plan?’
The Head of the Airforce, a stout, no-nonsense man stood up, having calculated how best to move his chair without making any noise while maintaining peak efficiency spoke out. ‘I’ve authorised the advanced preparations to go into effect for the First through Fifteenth Air Armies. Ground forces will be supplied by the Nineteenth through Twenty-Third Airborne Armies, and the army is prepared to reinforce by sea if needed. Combined with the Thulian Grand Fleet and the rebels, we expect a full takeover within a month and the restoration of the government.’
His Divine Imperial Majesty had started to regret the orange juice power move so simply nodded and motioned for everyone to leave.
After a few minutes of him sitting down, the door was opened by a servant. ‘Morning, your Divine Imperial Majesty, God-Emperor Snudgeskooge, but I’ve been asked to turn on the TV.’
Snudgeskooge nodded, and tossed the man the remote, too ill to do it himself. The servant caught it with ease. On the screen, a reporter stood in front of Sluluberra Station outside of which dozens of emergency vehicles were pulled up. The reporter spoke quickly, glancing over his shoulder at the carnage behind. ‘The seven thirty-eight train from Floysus Hill to Dochums Park has exploded with around three hundred people on board. Paramedics are already here and civilian vehicles are being requisitioned as ambulances. Counter-terrorism police are waiting in the wings to secure the station again. All other stations on the Imperial Line have been evacuated and the stations swamped with Counter-terror officers.’
Snudgeskooge turned to the servant. ‘Get me the Minister for Home Affairs, bring the CIGS back and get us some more water.’ The servant nodded and rushed off. Snudgeskooge got up again and stood behind his chair, muting the TV. The morning had only just begun for most people, but the God-Emperor hadn’t slept. He doubted he get any for a while longer given these new developments.
hello!
Treadwellia, Snoodum, and The centrucian empire
Aghhhhhhh
Persistence sometimes isn't the key.
Everyone, please don't engage with Zekberg.
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