The wreath’s heavy, but the fruit is so sweet!
Without death there is no resurrection.
Under a shroud of glory I see you
and our nation’s honour resurrected....-
Excerpt from The Mountain Wreath by Petar II Petrović-Njegoš
Mod Note: These intros don't have to be short essays btw. More than willing to RP it, just enjoy yourselves. If there is any fact error or something pressing please notify us so we can ammend it.
Montealba, has never been truly peaceful. From its earliest years, the mountainous peoples of this land have inhabited the slopes, valleys, crags, marshes, steppe, and forests of this untamed frontier with blades drawn. The nation was once united, under Kings, then again, forcibly, by the Soviet Union and made a member of the Warsaw Pact after the dissolution of the Kingdom of Krumpelberg in the Great Patriotic War. The Communist Party of Montealba (CPM) held absolute authority and power, but there was always resistance especially with the reincarnation of the mythical warrior-hero Hocherlan made flesh in the 1980s, an aspiring youth from Hocovo Pole outskirts to his studies at Cecensko, he would learn the ways of his oppressors. For a decade, Hocherlan flew under the radar, a sporadic youthful military academy runaway insurgent rallying the many peoples of Montealba against their collectivist oppressors; unifying some, conquering others. Violent and sudden reprisals shook the foundations of the Communist regime, unable to pinpoint his location with blatant disregard for International Law. The Montealban Revolution of 1989-1990 would see the emergence of the Hocherlan’s Tigers, a nationalistic milita of all soda-ethnics reeking vicious reprisals on Soviet Russia in its own death throes, it would be ripped a bloody ruin as would the Communist regime in brutal and dirty warfare. The Russian bear relented eventually and collapsed in its den racked by a multitude of internal and external issues on its way to the complete collapse of the Union. Hocherlan, victorious, would ensure a golden age for Montealba to his supporters, but to some a reign of terror to his enemies. In this time, the ancient house of Krumpelberg would be reinstalled as de-jure rulers of Montealba, whilst Hocherlan ruled with a de-facto iron-fist. From 1990-1994, Hocherlan and his Tigers, would ensure order, stability, and peace would remain in Montealba. Conflicts were minor and settled justly such as the Spezian Uprising, often settled by Hocherlan and the Tigers, reluctantly, compromising for the prosperity of Montealba or forcing submission. But as is the case with heroes, they meet their end. The Apotheosis of Hocherlan, in the dawn of 1994, was the latest completion in Hocherlan’s reincarnation cycle but one of the most climactic in record leading to the formal recognition of Montealbans as him being a deity made flesh. In his final moments, he named Eldurgoth his successor before vanishing into the cosmic ether. Eldurgoth, however bore the weight of the world, his fallen friend gone he became a recluse as the country began to fracture without its God-Captain leading it. Orders became shorter and sporadic, only sermons were regular as the country prayed for the Return, a nation depressed led by a man in grief. Then suddenly when Montealba needed him most, he vanished on a plane heading for the Freedom Isles, a libertarian archipelago in the Green Sea, an alleged libertine coping escapade. It has been several months, not so much as a whisper, telegram, call or message from the 1st Lieutenant. The country is disintegrating around its citizens: prior oaths broken, lands stolen, fragile peace shattered, and leadership spawning with their own malicious desires. The reign of the old order is over! Enemies lie at the country’s gates whilst the children of Hocherlan tear each other apart. This is the Warring Provinces period, this is 1994 Montealba.
The Imamate of Eldurgot
Asalaamu alaikum great Imam of Eldurgoth! The Russian invasion a few months prior has been slow yet relentless and the brave warriors of your state look to you for guidance in the coming battles. 2 Helicopters were recently spotted by an Eldurgot patrol. Despite the use of rockets the Helicopters managed to stay intact and visuals were lost 30 minutes later near the village of Yanshmid. Local commanders in the area worry of a coming assault on the village from the North as they believe special forces were dropped off to seize the bridge on the main road supplying the villages of Mukumbura, Selisburi, and Nay Yerusholaym. If the bridge were to fall the forces in the area would be cut off and unable to resupply or withdraw amidst a Russian advance along the road.
Back in the Capital of Tampere the teips have been continually protesting allowing the Divan greater powers. While most factions are united amidst the greater threat of the Russian invasion and the Imam, politics still impede most decisions within the Eldurgot Unified Divan. The largest Eldy-Loyalist party, largely Cola drinkers from Western Eldurgot recently managed to force a bill allowing the Divan authority over the minority cities to fail, which incidentally hindered the acquisition of a valuable armory held privately by Seltzer elders for the express defense of their homeland. Calling out the Imam on attempting to continue to consolidate power and establish a dictatorship rule. The discourse has to lead to several non-lethal duels as the religions and ethics clash under the Imam’s sphere. That being said, the Divan still holds unity in their hatred and need to remove the Russians, the more glory received the more likely their tune will change. The Orthodox-Hocherlanists and Judeo-Hocherlanists, still want to know their place in the Imamate.
The Nation of Islam, a proud sect of Afro-Montealbans (American and Haitian exiles) coagulates in the surrounding region of "Nové Haiti" around the slopes of sacred Jednotný Kopec. They are an odd form of Islam with a being called "Yakuub", but recognize Hocherlan as an Afro-Montealban warrior. Whilst mostly defensive and rather small, they have great potential as allies. Their capital of Konptom is in Eldurgot, although very few Eldurgothic remain there. The local teip requests that perhaps the Eldurgothics can help their Islamic brethren.
The Cult of Drug
Those pesky nuclear scientists are at it aren’t they. AREN’T THEY? Right? No...maybe...let’s talk about it.
The Drugovichi reign supremely in Pripjat, basking in the glow of their nuclear temples and the worship of Друг. The complexes require water, constant water, constant maintenance, constant care like a true friend needs. The Drugovichi know this, but not the scientists, they flee the glory of Друг. They aren’t ff̵̟̥̣͚̲̌̓̈́̅̊͘͝ͅr̷͓̗̙͖͔̮̹͗́̚̕ị̶̰̥͈̖̗̿͛̒ͅę̸̟̀̀̌̿͜n̵͈̣̫̱̬̔͜ͅd̸̻̫̤̗̞͍̐̍̆́̈́̓s! But Drugovichi from the much smaller Drugovichi cult claim they seen these scientist those that know the true way of achieving Друг’s goals. They fled into Stuyevka when the Drugovichi fled. Into the bowels of the capital they did? Where are they who knows, perhaps with their bolshevik pals, maybe with the Prince, maybe *gasp* in Cod & Mayo diner. But the city is fortified and heavily defended, already lone friends were picked off by Drabants manning the walls, they lock our gates to us, but there our other gates...or should I say grates.
The Laktosia border is not...f̵̟̥̣͚̲̌̓̈́̅̊͘͝ͅr̷͓̗̙͖͔̮̹͗́̚̕ị̶̰̥͈̖̗̿͛̒ͅę̸̟̀̀̌̿͜n̵͈̣̫̱̬̔͜ͅd̸̻̫̤̗̞͍̐̍̆́̈́̓ly in the slightest, the Lost IRA shoot at lonely Drugovichi recently with their armalites. They stole a piece of our dead’s own precious bolts, blessed by Друг himself, we should enlighten them of their wrongs? Yes, NO!...Maybe...it is up to you Друг and his many ff̵̟̥̣͚̲̌̓̈́̅̊͘͝ͅr̷͓̗̙͖͔̮̹͗́̚̕ị̶̰̥͈̖̗̿͛̒ͅę̸̟̀̀̌̿͜n̵͈̣̫̱̬̔͜ͅd̸̻̫̤̗̞͍̐̍̆́̈́̓s!
The province is still on its backfoot from the brief-but-bloody 30-Day Campaign. The sporadic infighting over the past 4 months has done little to ease the minds of thousands of civilians fearing another set of reprisals. The Blankytna Republic successfully holds holds the north end of the Province and the military academy of Cecensko, under the leadership of the warlord Spiridon Stojanović, who can often be found rallying his troops in televised broadcasts for the desolation of Anise and destruction of Root-Beerian leeches. This inflammatory and bigoted speeches find nothing but inviting ears just beyond the border in Royal-Koruna (Hocherlan’s birthplace) and Cecensko (where Hocherlan studied), the latter abruptly unloading a devastating salvo in the dead of night on positions surrounding the fortress, especially in the north. The sound of Stojanović’s speech is mixed with the cries of the wounded until dawn where sniper fire pins down Root-Beerian forces especially the veterans of Juliet Company, where several NCOs are abruptly picked off whilst trying to examine that night’s bombardment. A night passes by without issue, but the forces with Cecenkso are resolute and stalwart and are taking every chance to thin out the ranks entrenching them but keen not to stray far from pinpoint artillery. The capabilities and munitions of Cecenkso are vast and potent, and disturbingly largely unknown.
The flare up in Cecensko is likely no coincidence, reports of firefights along the Samsi also occur although it doesn’t seem nearly as aggressive yet is tying down most Security Forces especially at the bridge between Tigrova and Hopa where the light fighting is most prevalent. In the same tone, buildup of forces in the military capital of Sv.Ciberus is growing with the recruits from the north.
Anise is still dealing with its own crisis however, the devastation of the campaign is putting a strain on the city’s infrastructure with refugees from occupied territories who escaped the atrocities of the campaign. Housing is sparse and many sleep on the street or outskirts with some begging at military outposts for rations.
Republic of Spezia
The new Republic of Spezia has the rare luxury of existing in a de-facto peace. With anarchy on most of its borders and the other major factions consolidating their power or uninterested in Spezian politics only the occasional raid takes up the Armed Forces time. Most conflict has come internally between the Hand of Ozbekh and its continued belligerence with the central government in policy relating to gaining independence. Their ever more agitating reprisal attacks on Cola and Kofolans in the Republic and abroad in secondarily Vissegard and [primarily Auroran in regions they view as “Greater Spezia'' continually begins to attract the attention of local warlords and government units. Most notably Vareha’s clique in Vissegard has begun business aquisition movements right on the border. Vareha’s main field overseer in the region, Sir Lajos, the Hand of Ozbekh and their scouts have reported Varehan trucks unloading men in suits and field hands in the villages of Blantý Most and Datlova Ves to establish a new business acquisition. These notably will cut off major Spezian assets from treading north if the expansion takes them that way however, the money generated from trading with them or having relations could be immense. (SeattleNinja008 as your soldiers have loose control of the road approaching Datlova Ves you can interfere in their approach if you wish)
Among the various tribal leaders many on the border with Aurora, believe an immediate show of force is necessary to show off their martial prowess and independence while those more inland believe they should stay defensive until they can mobilize a larger army and acquire more tanks and heavy weapons. Offering up Vínfalov-Meyle and Buzhan as regions which they could acquire weapons in. Vínfalov-Meyle is the more popular of the two due to the existing alliance between the Aesymnetai and Hetman. Overall the Spezian units right on the border, and Ozbekh guerillas could probably easily repel the Varehans in the villages but it would lead to open combat with them and probably attract the ire of the Eastern Vareha Clique in Royal-Koruna, which is much more powerful of the 2 cliques.
The Hand of Ozbekh is largely against turning towards the Root Beerians and Buzhani for help. Preaching that only the strength of Spezians can ensure lasting independence and reliance on others will make their movement ephemeral.
But perhaps there are other routes the Spezians could reach out for support.
The mountains just beyond the border in Aurora, where the mountainous tribes of the Aieamna mountains, known as "Aieamnas", reside are mostly peaceful with Aurora focuses primarily on the Nasunians and thus are vulnerable however Aurora is a very strong military power. The Aieamnas are rather backward mountainous people split amongst clans and tribes but internal conflict is rare and mainly settled with duels or livestock exchanges. Interactions with them and Spezians has had history but nothing recently to suggest they are prepared for even light attacks.
Lemko-Boyko is another potential target, but are recent violent separationists from Aurora claiming they descend from an alternative branch of people that aren't Auroran, the confusing situation leading to a strong defense force occupying the valley. Perhaps a target or an ally.
“Hush, little Triggy, don’t say a word and nevermind that noise you heard” says a Drabant as he enters into your room with fresh take-out ordered by the Prince, you.
Dumplings as requested, although the apricots are from South America which disappoints you, you prefer the ones of your very own Montealba but Mister Vareha definitely told you the harvest already made them out of season, such a nice man. Maybe you should reward him, after all look at how much food he sends you.
Your aging advisors however completely disagree and look at you with slight frowns, the country is exploding around him and the Prince is concerned with what dumplings. Your loyal drabants will ensure no harm comes to you, swearing oaths upon the penalty of death to Hocherlan himself. Your aging advisors, keep telling you things and how you need to remain in the palace. But this does not help your image, you’re the Prince! But then again Hocherlan did order you inside...but Hoch isn’t here and Eldy isn’t here...hmmm...
Your younger advisors, Mr.Fico and Mr.Pellegrini assure you that you’ll be fine but you need to stop ordering the Drabants to bring you spaghetti (although Pellegrini grows nervous at this) and use them to preserve Stuyevka’s safety, they even say those odd people were seen roaming the gates the other day. These odd Upper Meygerians sent to advise you from Meygeria are very strange but they at least let you walk around the palatial gardens unattended upon request And they seem to whisper about the oddest things, something about a group of friends they have in Vissegaard.
Your drabant servant requests what you would like from the restaurants of Stuyevka today. But as you do, you notice several odd vans skid into an alleyway and open fire, something about a “Goldman” and Russian fighting or something, you don’t know and the Drabants seem indifferent.
Knights of Vladimir
By the eternal light of Christ’s blessing shalt your order prosper, or so you posture. Orthodoxy is not foreign to Montealba, but severe Soviet repression led to you going underground for so many years, now you arise glistening from the conflicts around you loaded up with weapons leftover from the conflicts. Your reach is solid but precarious, many of your fortresses whilst formidable, control little in the ways of territory beyond their borders.
But where you are underestimated, there is ripe opportunity. Vissegaard is wide and fractured, perhaps teeming with converts, this province of mostly soulless Soviet rejects and factories may be what you need to initiate a religious powerhouse in the country, and force them to bend to feudalism and Orthodox subservience. Is your role in the shadows, bending others to your goals, or peaceful proselytizing, a righteous crusade to dispatch heathens or perhaps all. Be wary though nations and factions are easy to turn their attention to you.
In good news, the illustrious capitalist megalomaniac Sir Vareha, has sent neo-feudal envoys to you. He claims he wishes to...associate with you. Vareha, is enormously wealthy and has spotted your fortresses as glorious castles. Vareha sends you an entire turkey with a brand new western style carving knife for some odd holiday called “Thanksgiving”, Vareha doesn’t know what that is but heard about your poultry-sandwich preference. Vareha promises to send plenty of turkey and generally food to your Knights for “a suitable honorific, worthy of my prestigious lineage”, he seems to eye your lands as something very tempting to have support from. He suggests you improve your relations.
The current civil war in Siesty Dom has many worried. Already refugees are fleeing the hinterlands and volunteering on both sides of the war. Both sides have largely calmed down to consolidate their units and prepare their next steps giving the Siesty Dom Assembly time to plan their next movements. The Assembly brings a signed petition to the voivode giving him permission to declare a state of emergency if he feels it is needed for an upwards of 6 months. This ability, when used at an advantageous time could be used to either keep the province from falling to communism, or to secure the final victory against them. He could also subvert their trust and use the emergency powers to seize complete control for himself although that would most likely cause more problems than solutions.
Air reconnaissance give reports of the communists consolidating their rule with their forces spread roughly even along the border with more information near Kogorun is temporarily impeded as a civilian, turned reconnaissance, plane was shot down by anti-air and its pilot taken prisoner preventing his info to be received. But ground reconnaissance assumes the communists are focusing their ground forces near Kogorun. Despite the occasional skirmish on the front line or capture of reconnaissance units both sides of the front appear calm...for now.
Transbuzhanian Theatre of Operations (T-TVO)
Imperio Ex Terrae
Glory be unto the great Colonel-General Aleksei Sukhoi! He who will lead Buzhan to glory! Destroy the Coldian menace threatening Montealba! No one else is brave enough to focus on the Coldian menace! They all remain shut in, focusing on their internal conflict and civil wars to not see the coming! Right? You feel as though you were in a coma for months. Your men are a hodgepodge of Tigers and mercenaries that came years ago for Hocherlan. Now what, is your destiny written in stone? Or are the enemies of Montealba internal, your true desire to pulverize beneath steel rain.
Regardless, the route to the south is clear and unsuspecting, the borders mostly unguarded, just infantry and some guntrucks. This should be off-putting but considering the Nasunians haven’t been invaded in several years, they likely have grown naive as they hear of Montealba exploding into chaos. In the same token however the belligerent provinces of Spezia and Vínfalov-Meyle are right at your door, the latter facing a serious crisis. One that Buzhan can ignore or gain power from, for supporting either side.
In the same, the Spezians are definitely fractured but unified by expansion, a perfect market for arms.
But equally, as they could be allies, so too could they be grave enemies.
Buzhan has seen an uptick in European journalists recently, their presence always...concerning. Some still cling to the idea they can get footage like they did during the Buzhan Conflict (Known as the Coldian Massacre in Nasunia by the ruling Jovist dictatorial party), maybe this time they can be persuaded to leave or show the right footage. Some of them have odd passports, and odd accents as if they’re shell people.
"And noble wrath shall lead us,
to battle with a roar,
Arise, our mighty motherland,
Arise, for Sacred War!"
Chorus, translated, from "The Sacred War," by Alexander Alexandrov and Vasily Lebedev-Kumach
HEADQUARTERS, PRIMARY, T-TVO KRAJINA, BUZHAN INDEPENDENT MONTEALBAN VOIVODESHIP 0415Z
When Private Abel Lenodovich had joined up in the Jasinec Territorials as an Artilleryman, he had expected some degree of hardship. Unappetizing food, no women or alcohol. Early morning runs. Late evening kitchen patrol. The frequent screaming of Platoon Lieutenant Mukva, whose face turned as red as rhubarb kompot every time he yelled. The rather less frequent stares of Battalion Colonel Lyutzen, whose iron grey eyes could frighten anything his burn-scars didn't. Even the occasional live-fire exercise, where he got the chance to actually aim his section's gun, before Corporal Vyazov pulled the ignition leash and deafened everyone in a ten-meter radius. All this, he had judged, would be worth dry bedding, clean clothes, and nine hundred Montealban Dinars a month - and the chance to pick his unit.
The Jasinec Territorials, he had known, hadn't seen any action in decades. Their most violent excursion had been riot control in Stuyevka shortly before Lord Hocherlan had taken over - and the only casualty then had been a poor reserve sapper who had snuck away to flirt with girls at a local nightclub by telling them about the fascinating intricacies of the IMR-2 military engineering vehicle. Unfortunately, one of those women had been the girlfriend of the club's bouncer, who had promptly shown the sapper the fascinating intricacies of his fist. Private Kondratenko, the gun section's loader, had whispered that the girl the Sapper had been flirting with had actually been one of the Mafia's most premier lovers, and the bouncer had shut him up to stop the bloody Russians from burning the whole place down in vengeance. Abel had rolled his eyes. Kondratenko had been born on a Farm of National Importance - those fields growing crops destined directly for the Prince Trigori himself - and was built like an ox, but Abel wasn't sure he had made it much past primary school before the war had broken out.
What he hadn't expected to be doing was freezing his ass off, fifteen months into his twelve-month commitment, standing watch in some Buzhanian industrial-park wasteland on the Nasunian border. That had very much not been in the paperwork, in any of the eleven languages or three dialects it was translated in, that he had signed in his enlistment.
An owl hooted quietly. Abel shivered, and pulled his great-coat closer around him. The blasted thing was ex-Soviet, and probably older than his father. It had a small star sewn into the collar, which was probably originally red, but time and toil had faded it to a dull greyish brown. Just like the Communist ideals of Montealba, gradually faded and degraded until it was only a shadow of what once had been promised.
Or even, Abel mused, like Hocherlan.
After all, what good had he truly done Montealba? Abel's brother had gone off to fight for the Tigers, all the way in '88, before even the Revolutions. Always the idealist, Pavel had told him that Hocherlan was truly Wrath incarnate. "He shall save us," he had said, over slices of rye bread and budder and strong tea, the day before he left. "He shall save us all, and Montealba will be peaceful once again."
Abel had been barely 12 at the time, but he still hadn't forgotten the hope his brother's words had inspired in him - or the black despair, twenty-two months later, when three shabbily-dressed men had returned Pavel's shredded, desiccated body in a casket of pine wood and rusty nails. Killed in a frontal assault, they had said. A hero to us all. Never mind that Pavel had been on leave, had been knifed in the back, and his vintage watch, a counterband discount rolex that he had treasured above all else, had been missing from his body. A hero to us all. Of course.
And now, Hocherlan had abandoned Montealba, Eldurgoth had abandoned Montealba. Vyazov, who wore a makeshift tin cross on a chain pulled from an old toilet mechanism over his neck wherever he went, had even claimed that God himself had abandoned Montealba, but Abel frankly wasn't sure that He had ever been in Stuyevka to begin with.
All the idealism in Marx had only brought the oppression of the Russians, and all the idealism in Hocherlan had only brought the oppression of death. The Territorials had been deployed in Mzochy when the First Lieutenant finally fled, again on riot control, though Abel's unit had been ordered to entrench their gun on the outskirts of the town. The resulting chaos had seen a wave of riots nearly burn down the town - and half the grunts with them. It had taken forty dead soldiers before Colonel Lyutzen had quit trying to reach his higher-ups for permission to engage, and had simply ordered the heavy guns to blast a path through the protestors with five-inch fragmentation shells. By the time they had quieted down Mzdochy, half of Siesty Dom province had erupted in flames, and Meyger militants had started to cut the rail lines. It was only then that Lyutzen had received orders - not from his superior, who, as it turns out, had been shot; nor from his superior, who had fled the country two weeks prior, nor even from the commander of his Corps, who was too busy sleeping his way through all of Vissegárd's brothels; but from the commander of Montealba's Southern Military District, General Sukhoi. Sukhoi had applauded Lyutzen for his initiative, before instructing him to fight his way to S.V. Roki, seize the arsenal supplies stored there, link up with another unit, and then relocate to the border province of Buzhan.
Lieutenant Muvka, in one of his rare moments of relaxation, had let slip to Abel's squad that Lyutzen had questioned Sukhoi - imagine that! A mere Colonel questioning a Colonel-General! "Why Buzhan?" Lyutzen had asked. "There's nothing there. Surely we should move to the capital?"
When Abel had asked for Sukhoi's response, Muvka had merely shrugged. Lyutzen had never told him that part of the story. But it was apparently convincing enough for the Colonel to fight his unit halfway across the nation, and set up shop in a remote borderland, far from any of their homes.
Abel couldn't really complain, though. Not about Sukhoi. When the Territorials had arrived, ragged, dusty, and more than a little bloodied, the other units had made what little welcome they could. Stone-cold Tigers, scattered Laktozian paramilitaries, and even other militia units like themselves, had all made open space for the battered Jasinec men. There had been food and drink - real beer! - set out for them, and, the next day, they awoke to anxious orderlies lugging packs of canteens, jerry-cans of fuel, crates of shells - all a bit past their expiration date, but far better than nothing. The other units had told whispers about Sukhoi, when they all huddled around their fires at night. About how he had fought for the Soviets in Afghanistan, slitting Mujahideen throats in the dark with the Spetsnaz. How he had been a general in the old Tigers - the real Tigers! - and had known Hocherlan himself. How he had been to America, and vowed that he would bring the great industry and science of the West into Montealba.
Abel wasn't sure of these stories - he wasn't even sure if Afghanistan existed - but one thing was for sure. The food was, if not plentiful, then enough. The water was clear and clean. His coat, though old, kept out the cold. His trench was sturdy and well-made. There were rounds in his rifle, shells in his cannon, and even a few coins in his pocket. He was with his comrades. He was surely better off than most others in this nation. And, ultimately that's what counts.
Behind him, a radio crackled faintly. Abel paid it no heed, until someone came running up. It was Vyazov, huffing and puffing. He reached Abel, and stopped, hands on his knees.
"We've got a fire mission!" Vyazov said, in between breaths. "Straight from the top. Some skirmish on the border. Command wants 130's on the bridge at Pejzhar. The old 152's are barely out of range."
Abel felt the adrenaline shoot through his veins - finally, some action. He grabbed Vyazov, and together they sprinted towards their gun. Around them, the long barrels of artillery guns began to rise, as though they were a tape of trees being felled played in reverse, until, soon, it was as though they were in a forest. As they reached their gun - an old 130mm the crew had affectionately named "Madonna" after the Western singer - the first gun barked, some half-kilometer away, and the seventy-pound shell roared off into the distance, screaming its anger into the air for all to hear. A second gun, this one closer, roared its reply to the first's challenge as Kondratenko rammed a high-explosive shell into the breech, and by the time Abel had calculated the fire solution, the entire block was lit up with erupting flame.
RSGF DE RCOM F 120422Z JAN FM COM-TVO TO COM-SGF WD GRNC BT TO ALL UNITS ATTACK PLAN ECHELEN BEGIN STAT. FREE FIRE AUTHORIZED. RAP ROUNDS AUTHORIZED. GAS NOT AUTHORIZED. PURSUE UNIT INITIATIVE. GLORY TO STUYEVKA. WE SHALL RECLAIM OUR HOME. BT CA WA PLAN ECHELON NNNN
Deicide (Imperio Ex Terrae can't spell lmaoo)
The two brain cells bouncing around the Prince's skull have, by a tiny window of chance, collided and the brief electrical impulse between them created a rare coherent thought.
"Unhh..." moans the Prince, unused to such strange hurties in his head.
The Drabant captain, Višević, springs alert and leans by the Montealban figurehead: "My prince?"
The Prince's delicate face, soft and plump from a peaceful life unhindered by the aggressive beams of the Sun, slowly furrows and turns into an artistic impression of a sour frown: "Tell the meanies outside to stop making ruckus with the guns. Stop it stop it! Drb... Dro... hm... Draaab-ant. -S. Make sure they stop. Go outside and tell everyone around the palace..." the Prince frowns again as he buffers, "don't allow anyone around the palace to shoot guns. It hurty head and ears."
As the Prince wraps up perhaps the longest coherent sentence he has ever said, Charles the Dog jumps into his lap.
"You should secure Stuyevka. Protect your citizens as ruler. You don't have the power to prevent the civil war outside, but you must protect whatever you can," speaks Charles in a clear deep voice as his black hypnotizing eyes pierce into the Prince's soul.
"Gosh, gee... y-yeah okay Charlie I trust w-w-w-what you say," stutters the Prince, "Derbent! Do as Charlie uhhh... mm... do as he -- said. Please not hurty-hurty anyone."
Captain Višević deeply bows in Tatar fashion by kneeling and beating his head on the ground; his comically long triangular chin-beard scraping the years-unvacuumed IKEA carpet.
"And o, Viševići!" beckons the Prince. The Drabant captain looks up from the chelobitie. "please tell the nice Mr. Vareha that I, the ilo- ira- hm- i-ra-ste-rus Prince will make him the Marquis de Apricot if he makes Montealban apricots avaaalabel fresh all year. I need them for my dumplings. Not these overseas apricots. Oh and please order some Bun Bo Nam Bo from the Poulet for lunch."
Višević bows again and leaves the room.
"Careful with this Vareha," booms Charles for the Prince in his deep voice. "But Višević you can trust. He is a good man. I can see it in his mind." The Prince sheepishly nods, as always when Charles makes a statement.
"Now scratch me behind my ears."
I have also updated the map with Vareha's attemps in Blatný Most and Ďatlova Ves per Eldy's post
Also Eldurgoth, the Nation of Islam is friendly with you, they wouldn't raid you. Check the faction relations chart. They wouldn't even raid anyone at this point, since they are meant to be self-defense gangs in Konptom and Princov Prístav. They are generally peaceful unless threatened.
In 1993, the province of Šiesty Dom was a productive and growing province. Not exactly flourishing to be sure, but the citizens of the mountainous province were certainly better off than they had been four years prior under the control of the local Soviet government. The province hadn't seen any form of democracy since since 1433, when Šiesty Dom was ruled as peasant's republic for three weeks after then-Voivode Vedamír Drenáš was boiled alive in a pot by local serfs. After Meyger hordes devastated the province lacking a royal defense, Šiesty Dom had been ruled by autocrats ever since. The Soviets promised to change the system to benefit all workingmen as part of their propaganda campaign, but after executing Voivode Copverniža for "impersonating western credit card companies," the Soviets installed their own local despot and as a result the province was ruled much the same, just with more red and gold iconography. With the Soviet retreat in 1990 and the guarantee of protection from Hocherlan's Tigers, the local government of Šiesty Dom and newly installed Voivode Voryn agreed that the province was stable enough to create the First Legislative Assembly of Šiesty Dom. Democracy (or a shadow of it at least, Montealba has never not heard of corruption) was implemented for the second time in the province in 1992, and within weeks the major parties coalesced. Since the assembly's founding, the Cristian Union of the Center has held a majority over the legislature, as opposition coalitions have risen and collapsed to counter them. Meanwhile, though the Soviets had been expelled, their ideas hadn't, and the largest of the squabbling opposition parties to emerge was the communistic Dom Sovietov. The leadership of Dom Sovietov had always loathed the CUC and the Voivode-controlled democratic system as a whole, but could do little to oppose it with the constant looming threat of the Tigers. This all changed with the Apotheosis of Hocherlan and the subsequent distraction of the Tigers. With no force keeping them down, and Montealba as a whole threatening to slip into chaos around them, the Šiesty Dom Soviets seized the opportunity to change their fate.
Years prior, the communists had made an agreement with the Šiesty Dom Farmers Unions for mutual political support, and in 1994 the soviets would use this agreement to oblige the unions into action. With the ascent of Hocherlan still only days old, the soviet leadership followed by scores of farmers simultaneously stormed the legislative buildings of Balmorovice, Sedja Nín, and Korprusárium, looking to physically remove the CUC representatives and return the province to communist control. Instead, it would be the communists who found themselves physically removed by Balmorovice and Sedja Nín police forces and forced to flee into the mountains. In the south was a different scene, however. Korprusárium was a town constantly bathed in the nutrient-rich ash of red mountain and had consequently grown as a significant center of Šiesty Dom farming. The Farmers Union of the South was able to mobilize not just a mass of men, but all eight working motor tractors in the province to their cause. The police of Korprusárium could do little to put down the mobile machines and either fled or were run down by the mob, who took the town and its armory for their cause. Hearing of the failure of the northern attacks and presuming the death or capture of the party leadership, Party Kadet Josif Kastov declared himself the new President of the Dom Sovietov party. With Korprusárium firmly in communist hands, Kastov issued a declaration to the Šiesty Dom government that the Dom Sovietov and Southern Farmers Union would restore the province to communist leadership. Within a week, both sides had organized a military force armed with munitions reappropriated from the Tigers and the remnant Montealban army. The front line advanced steadily in the communist favor for the first two weeks of rebellion, with Múzleft and Krušné Časy falling into their hands and ""volunteers"" drawn up from each to join the Red Guard. Yet with fighting becoming bogged down high in the mountains, and the constant harassment from mountain troops being a crippling detractor to both sides, a stalemated front line has since been established high in the mountains.
Though civil war is by no means a normal event, the situation in Šiesty Dom seemed exceptionally ordinary compared to what the next weeks would bring.
In an abandoned estate home Northwest of Betand, mid-morningThe tender green of young leaves shimmered in the flat light. The tall oak tree outside the window partly obscured the drifting plume of sinister black smoke from over the horizon, an omnipresent sight in the eastern half of the province. This morning as it lofted upwards, it intermixed with the white and grey of dense clouds, painting an uninviting gloom, and further obscuring what little sun breached through.
"Mr. Kočiš!!" A voice called from downstairs. The commander and his underlings alike turned from the window to the source of the noise. Again a call came, this time from the antechamber. "Mr. Kočiš, I have good news sir!"
A runner breached into the room, stopping a moment to collect his breath. Swiftly glancing around the room and realizing the improper conduct of barging into a commander's office, he suddenly shot into rigid posture. "Lieutenant Governor Kočiš, sir."
"Go on" replied the commander, as the other officers in the room glared at the runner inquisitively.
"We've just been radioed by the captain of 2nd Mountain Infantry Company. He says we've stopped them, sir. The commies haven't breached Betand"
The mood of the officers immediately lightened, were they not in formal setting doubtless some of them would have offered up a cheer. A smile crept across Jonáš Kočiš' face. Finally, he realized, the red advances had been checked across the entire province. His men had stopped the whole of them, and only three weeks after first mobilization. Surely there had to be some kind of medal for that amount of rapidity, he'd have to talk to the palace once this whole mess was over. Indeed fighting was a long way from over, but for the first time in weeks the lieutenant governor could breathe a sigh of relief.
"Should I alert the Voivode?" asked the runner.
Suddenly Kočiš' mood darkened. "As usual, if you can reach him." The Lieutenant Governor's mind was for a moment occupied by the Voivode, who hadn't responded to any correspondence in months, yet was always assured to be alive and well by his estate guards. Kočiš glared out the window again at the smoke plume of Red Mountain, and shifted his thoughts back to the fighting at hand.
At the Korprusárium Courthouse, serving as command center for operations of the Red Guards, mid-morning"What!?" cried Josif Kastov. "How in Hoch's name could those imbeciles fail a simple outflanking maneuver! This isn't surrounding a fleet you know."
The aide merely looked downwards and let the upset commander continue in his rant.
"Kastov!" yelled a soviet officer by the name Eugen Mokrý in return. "Don't delude yourself. You can't trust farmhands to know the works of von Scanswitz. Still, this is why I tell you we need them taught something!"
"Of course not Mokrý, I keep telling you it's all mathematics" called a third voice of soviet politician Ondrej Skalický confidently. "If we keep up drawing reinforcements at the current rate we'll oust them through mathematical advantage alone. You have only to walk up the road to Kogorun and smash this nonsense by pure mathematics."
"Now what use is a great force of men that doesn't know what they're doing."
"Oh I'm sorry, should I have our manufacturers work at printing the complete works of von Scanswitz instead of the limited ammunition we can produce?"
"You know that's not what I'm saying, you šikna. I just want our men to-"
Kastov, cooled from the initial shock of being halted, but becoming irate at the bickering officers interjected sharply. "Both numbers and tactics would have done us well in the fight for Betand, but the simple fact is we have neither the weapons to arm swarms of men, nor the time to train them. The bourgeoise turned our men back here, but we can consolidate, organize what little we have, and seek outside help. Regardless, we still hold the southern half of the town."
It was another beautiful day in Eldurgot, the sun beating down on the humid earth, a snow leopard screamed from the mountains, and artillery shells were plummeting from the sky bursting over the heads of the fighters below.
This is what the Abreks faced for months, in the war-torn slopes of Vezin Back. The Russians were merciless deploying paratroopers on the mountain slopes and the campaign became a losing one for the Abreks as Russian air power pummelled their positions to smithereens, but in the same tone, the losses on the Russian side are staggering having to push across rugged mountain outcroppings where Abreks continue to resist. The local Seltzers despite their resistences in the Divan, are extremely unified and armed to prevent Russian incursion reinforcing their synagogues with sandbags and barbed wire and their villages. The southern military outpost of Mukumbura is well-contested as the Russian have now thrice attempted to seize it in combined armor and infantry assault, managing to retreat under the veil of aircraft bombardment. Minefields, medieval fortifications, trenches, and bunkers occupy most of the settlement with most volunteering to join as an Abrek or sent to relatives in the north. The deep caverns of Eldurgot, also ensure a steady supply of hidden reserves and munitions.
The leadership of the Abreks is a unified multi-ethnic force, commanded entirely by Imam Shamil from Tampere with the command of the Seltzer military command under the guidance of Sheikh Zelimkhan Ushurma and Mattathias "Samson" ben-Koseva. In total, roughly half of the Abreks are positioned in this command, with most along the defensive line along the Mukumbura Blacktar Highway, and Seltzer itself.
Under the Imam's orders, the "Mukumumbura line" is a requirement to hold, losing it would threaten Seltzer itself and thus the heartland of Eldurgot. To prevent this, Čadov Hill is to provide the ground for artillery support with the establishment of four artillery batteries to provide support for each town, respectively, with thirty D-20 field guns to lay down artillery support, protected by at least 3 Komplic gun trucks and an infantry company. The positions are to be concealed with netting and enforced with defensive fighting positions and earthworks from local flora.
The positions at the bridge spanning the Yanshmid are of great importance and expecting Russian paratroopers and aerial support, the local garrison will be reinforced to 1,500 abreks with 5 stingers and 10 associated rockets. The local garrison's gun trucks are given double the supply of anti-air rounds for their DhSKs and warheads for RPGs are offloaded. Three BMP-1s and two T-34-85 will be concealed in the towns with rubber paddings to hide their thermal signature. More advanced armored forces will be formed in Seltzer, to drive south in case of the position being overrun, around 5 BTR-D, 5 BMP-2, 1 BMD-2. The local air garrison at Seltzer airfield will be held back in reserve and will not engage unless positions at Yashmid are overrun at which point the 5-MiG 17s and 2 Soko J-21 Jastrebs will scramble to provide resistance and hunt Russian helicopters and fly close-air support.
Meanwhile, the battle-hardened abrek companies in the mountains of the Vezin Back will begin prodding the Russian outposts on the mountains. Hunter-killer RPG and sniper teams will insert through the mountain paths their ancestors once trod, looking for Russian outposts and executing their commanders, and hitting any airborne deployed armor or bunkers with RPGs. The forces are not to provide prolong engagement, hit-and-run. At night, Abrek squads will insert to sabotage Russian defenses.
In the fields and forests of Sv.Senko, the Abreks will begin assembling an armored force to spearhead an armored offensive against the Russian menace with most of the Imamate's tank force to begin to occupy this sector in preparation for the offensive. Headed by the Imam, himself, leading Alpha Company.
Mayzuba, a Russian-occupied outpost of the Kavkan Cuberniya Oblast, is the main target, as its seizure will cut off Russian ground forces occupying Eldurgot and allow Eldurgothic contested control over this oblast highway between its capital and Eldurgot borders.
In preparation for this offensive, 100 Abreks will disguise under the eve of darkness and provide reconnaissance and establish a FOB in the Kavkhan mountains. They will also take with them three distinguished Imams to be taken with and insert into the mountain villages of the Kavkan Cuberniya and attempt to find Islamic-unity in the Russian administered villages and form an insurgency network in Kavkan Cuberniya.
The Montealban Nation of Islam will be contacted by the Imam with an offer: the self-defence forces will be offered training in Tampere and armament provided from Zastáva's munitions factories, in exchange, the Nation of Islam occupying the land surrounding Jednotný Kopec will enter Eldurgot as a protectorate in which they will be allowed representation in the Eldurgot Divan and thus be defended by the full weight of the Abreks and Eldurgot's military. Of which, the Nation must provide at least a regiment's worth of soldiers to join the Abreks.
In later news, the Imam will request the audience of Enterprising Freedom Islander Gentlemen, with the offer a trade agreement between them and the Imamate. The Tampere Airport will allow Freedom Islander planes to occupy a discreet hanger from which business can be operated from. Eldurgot's many poppy and hemp fields were once a boon to the street pharmaceutical industry and the tapestry weaving industry of Montealba can be available for lucrative prices. Eldurgot expects steady payment, no hiccups, and good business. The Imam would also like an...update on his brother.