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| The Reconquest of Rome; Catholic Europe declares war | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 18 2009, 06:41 PM (560 Views) | |
| Kasnyia | Feb 18 2009, 06:41 PM Post #1 |
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Chairman of the Bank
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OOC- Sorry this took so long. This should shake up the Middle East, Africa, and even Europe to a degree. Invasion will not happen this post, so don't get your knickers in a twist, hm? IC- Palace of the Bloodsword, Zapht Centre At last. After two weeks of negotiating personally with Caesar Antonio, Gassel has broken through the ruler's doubts and insecurities regarding the operation to declare war on the Byzantine Empire and invade her territories along the Mediterranean. Finally, Antonio was ready to reunify the old Roman Empire. Most of the delay had to do with Antonio wishing for a guarenteed victory, something that Gassel was confident of, but no fool to believe infallibility on the battlefield. After all, Gassel himself had to attack the Kasnyian Empire several times before they finally succumbed to his rule. As such, he told Antonio the blunt truth, that it would be a tough battle, but one that Antonio's forces could win if they were smart, thinking that was all the assurance the Genesian needed. It would be the last time Gassel allowed himself to make that mistake. It took two weeks of backtracking, coddling, and straight up lies in order to give his ally the confidence to finally agree. It was somewhat astounding to Gassel that the same man who nonchalantly invaded the Austrians, who were their most powerful enemies in Europe along with Yshurak, would be so ambivalent to attacking North Africa. In the end, Gassel had to promise two armies from Army Group E to support the invasion of North Africa, and a third army from Army Group B to help secure the Roman Levant. The Dominion Mediterranean Fleet would also have to make securing the Sea priority, which would mean that they would not be able to reinforce the action in the Red Sea against the Dominion's enemies. Meanwhile, Catholic Europe would release the full might of its forces against Byzantium and Byzantium alone, which would make for a tough fight to say the least. Gassel was confident that the various military appeasements would be sufficient and would not affect his campaigns elsewhere. --------------------- Army Group B Command Center, Dominion Protectorate of Kruzakistan "He...what?" That was all John could sputter out after being informed by his Political Adjutant, Rimeux of all people that Gassel had promised the Caesar one of John's armies to assist the charge against the Roman Levant. John did not know which was more upsetting: That Gassel had now removed one of his armies out of play against Paradise to fight the Romans, or that Gassel had not told John himself. After all, the whole point of John asking Gassel to seek the help of Catholic Europe was so that he could free up his soldiers. This was a mess. And now John had to figure some other way, all while dealing with a certain Vetan idiot... "You heard me, Field Marshal," Rimeux tutted, suspicious of Bartholomew's incredulity, as was his wont, "You are to attach one of your armies to the operation against the Levant!" "The whole bloody reason we required their help was so that the Group wouldn't have to dedicate men..." "Oh come now, Field Marshal," Rimeux scoffed, "You have seven, count them, seven armies at your disposal. One for each of the cardinal directions in Paradise, one to command, and one to back up everyone else. Why do you need two armies in reserve? We're winning after all!" "Because my fat and oily friend," John replied with more than a hint of malice as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "We cannot risk Paradise getting a lucky breakthrough and crossing the wall. If they were to ever breach the Trans-Eurasian line, the logisitical consequences..." "You, Field Marshal, are paranoid. Or perhaps your age is finally getting to you." Rimeux sighed as though talking to an invalid, "Perhaps I should request for a transfer on your behalf?" "I am not paranoid, and I may be old in body, but my mind and spirit have not yet reached their prime," John replied venomously. He never liked Rimeux, being a political adjutant and general slimeball, but he did not hate him more than he right now, "I am good at my job. I take it seriously. I suggest you not continue on this course of thought." The threat was veiled, but the Vetan got the message. Or John hoped he did, for Rimeux's sake. "Get an army readied, briefed and at the border, Field Marshal. Direct Orders from Zapht," Rimeux restated quickly as he began backing away. "Then I require another army be attached to Army Group B," John stated stubbornly, knowing full well the request was... "Nonsense!" Rimeux shot back, aghast, "You already command more than the rest of the Groups at seven armies, we can't remove any further resources and-" "Enough. I know. But that is the only way we can attack both Paradise and the Byzantines and have both plans be viable. If I transfer one of my armies, I run the risk of weakening-" "Are you going to continue to question His Excellency's decision? Shall I report it?" Rimeux snarled in his whiny voice, quickly scribbling in his ever present notebook. "Yes," John replied, not caring any longer about what he said the imbecillic stooge that stood before him, "I want you to note carefully that I do this under protest. Now get out of my sight." "You speak out of place, Field Marshal!" Rimeux squealed indignantly," I am not one of your-" "NOW!" At that, Rimeux scrambled to the door in fear. However, just before the door could slam behind him... "This will be in my report!" At the opposite end of the room, General Rahman, the soon-to-be-leader of Paradise, chuckled in bemusement. --------------------------------------------- Xamar Fortress, Sennar "By Order of His Excellency, the Supreme Chancellor, you are to dedicate two armies for the invasion of North Africa. You will prepare and brief these armies clandestinely, as this is meant to be a surprise attack." "Thank you, Dahlia, I know just the two," Field Marshal Karelberg replied as he flashed a debonaire smile to the Political Adjutant, "However, I will need time to reconfigure the positions of Army Group E so as to not give the enemy any leeway." "You will have a week, according to High Command," replied Dahlia Isaacs, agent of the IPIB's Efficiency Accountability Office attached to the command staff of one Jan Karelberg. She was possibly one of the highest ranking (if not THE highest ranking) Chirons in Internal Protection Bureau, and so to be assigned to such a...lucrative...assignment had excited her. It certainly didn't hurt that Karelberg was a handsome man (a product of Veicht's doctrine of "choosing the best of the litter" for the military, and the best of them for officer positions, such as Field Marshal), which put a whole new spin in the term "internal affairs". Certainly, if General Tannenberg, her boss, ever found out, they would both face court martial, and General Oleg Jzugnov, who was charged with handling court martials, was notoriously strict on such illicit behavior on the battlefield itself. Still, it wasn't like Karelberg was going to tell. Besides, there was an odd thrill to be had climaxing as one heard (and sometimes saw) rockets bursting on the battlefield, felt the rumble and heard the squeal of tank treads, and whispering sweet nothings to one another as soldiers outside the base loudly coordinated themselves as they headed for the front. "Alright, then how is the situation with the Morroconians?" Karelberg asked, snapping her out of her reverie, "We will need to have them take up some of the slack." "I've already signaled as such, and they are willing." "Alright then, shall we do lunch?" Karelberg asked. "What thats it?" "The enemy is on the run. It will take a few hours for the staff and my field commanders to reorganize their plans and report back to me. We have some time..." "Jan, you're an animal." "Your fault. Bed with you forces it." "We're getting lunch, Jan. Don't push it. We do have a busy day today." "You're devious." "I'm Internal Protection. It helps." "Indeed it does." --------------------------------------- Dominion Fleet in the Northern Sector of the Red Sea "No further reinforcements? How does High Command expect us to secure the Red Sea? There are at least three enemy fleets in the area!" the captain of the lead ship muttered to himself. "Simple answer, they don't. Likely, we're here to keep those aforementioned fleets from backing up the Romans. For what, I don't know." "I knew I should have transferred to Bombay. But no, I had to see the sights and station myself in bloody Genesis City...." "Don't complain. Haadon hears you, and you'll be in front of Jzugnov." "Yeah, yeah..." OOC- Part II later. Decided to make this a bit more character driven before the invasion itself occurs. |
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| Ulgania | Feb 26 2009, 01:08 PM Post #2 |
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A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
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Admiral Mustang felt like screaming. For months, Ulgania’s fleet had been trying to hold the Red Sea. For months, trying to contain one end or another. For months, trying to contain a Dominion breakout on either end, and then finally trying to stop the Morrocon forces from blasting out. Now, however, was a time for composure. “Mariners and soldiers of the Ulganian Navy, I know these times are hard but we are to confront the enemy with all cards on the table. Never forget what Ulgania stands for, and whom we stand against. Our allies can hardly be reached, our former allies try to stab us in the back, and our enemies try to run us through with their own brand of justice. The Ulganian fleets are surrounded, but we will show them valor! We will show the chivalry and we will show them their doom!” His voice echoed through every ship in the fleet. “Until orders flow in, I am ordering a heavy bombardment of every Sennari coastal target, every available Morrocon target, and every other Dominion target in range of our longer-range cruisers. Xamar fortress is out of our reach, but the souls of those closer to us, forsaken by their owners to fight for the Dominion, will know a freedom in the next life. Fight for not your honor, nor the honor of the Federation, but for the idea of a new world!” These speeches were common around the Federation. In Ulgania proper, they helped the draft become popular and drove down opposition to the changes in the government. The war posturing would shift more soon. However, Ulganian ships on the Sahndaqi coast were being built, repaired, rearmed, refueled, and manned. Hundreds of ships were ready to depart and challenge to Morrocons, with help from Mustangs current forces. No longer giving a speech, Mustang entered the CIC of the UNS Valentine, one of the massive Carrier-Destroyers in the Red Sea. “The Morrocons were friendly once. I would like to show them mercy. I want a blockade established that keeps them from joining other Dominion forces in the north, and from linking up with Sennari forces in the south.” “Aye, sir,” said Mustang’s first mate Muhammad al Deetari. OOC: Sorry, been busy of late. |
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| Kasnyia | Mar 8 2009, 01:07 PM Post #3 |
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Chairman of the Bank
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OOC- Part II. There will likely be a Part III. Army Group B Headquarters, Dominion Protectorate of Kruzakistan In the hours since being informed of Gassel's decision, Field Marshal John had been busy reorganizing the logistics of his forces (all the while bearing the brunt of a particularly powerful Paradisian assault), to prepare the 28th Army under the command of General Von Laudenburg to make their assault on the Roman Levant. Hopefully he would get some use out of them to defend from the Paradisian assault before having to send them to the Northwest. He also sent messages to all of his field commanders to ready themselves for the reorganization. ---------------------------- Xamar Fortress, Sennar "Are you awake yet, Jan?" Dahlia whispered as she rolled to face Field Marshal Karelberg on the other side of the bed. His response was to give a grin followed by a affirming grunt, though his eyes remained closed. Dahlia rolled her eyes with a lopsided grin of her own as she got out of bed and began dressing herself. "I expect a full report on the armies you will choose for the upcoming invasion, so do get up," she ordered with a soft but still commanding tone. "Oh but wouldn't you rather hear it from me personally...over breakfast perhaps?" Karelberg replied, laughing. Typical, Dahlia thought, The cassanova never stops the charm. It was one of Jan's most alluring qualities, but also one of his most frustrating. Either way, she needed that report, or General Tanneberg would have her head on a pike, and she already had to fight for respect due to her Chiron lineage. As such, she would not let Jan be lazy just because they were lovers. Work before play was a proverb that was strictly adhered to in the Dominion. "Ah ah ah, don't even think about it. We've just had meals together already and then some. Get to it, Field Marshal." Karleberg sighed, willing himself to get out of bed and getting dressed. "I'll have the report for you by noon. Perhaps in time for another lunch...?" said Karelberg, hopefully. Dahlia shook her head. "No time, I will be expected to have a report of my own ready before the end of the day. No more play for you today," she replied, her lopsided grin growing wider. "As you wish, madam Adjutant." ---------------------------- Termann Florist Shop, Guranburg, Dominion Kasnyia Ring-Ring. The sound of the door opening perked the ears of one Anton Tulzberg, formerly of His Majesty's Imperial Army and currently the leader of the Kasnyian Resistance with a price on his head as Public Enemy No. 1 in these parts. He stood in the backroom, concentrating his well-trained ears on what the next sound would be. If they were soldiers, Tulzberg would have only a few seconds to escape and had to plan ahead accordingly. "Mr. Termann?" A customer, Tulzberg mentally exclaimed with a sigh of relief. At that, he adopted the mannerisms of his alter-ego, that of Humbert Termann, the kindly florist of Guranburg's suburban Sartz District. "I'm coming, just a second!" he replied, using a grandfatherly voice to mask his usual gruff mannerisms. He wore a leg brace that he always kept in the backroom to help him fake a limp more effectively. He then walked out of the backroom to the cashier's desk, looking at who had entered the door. The man was dressed in a uniform of a red cap, white shirt, and brown pants...it was Samuel, the mailman. "Ah, Samuel! How are you!" Tulzberg exclaimed with genuine happiness. He had befriended the mailman early on in the days of the Zapht regime, originally for information than for anything. In the decade plus since, Tulzberg had learned that the man had a son serving in the Dominion Army as a noncommissioned officer, that Samuel did not care much for the foreign soldiers that patroled the city and outskirts, didn't care much for the Resistance because they caused so much trouble for everyone else, and that he was well liked by the City Postmaster for his efficiency and cordial manner (Samuel was one of the few civil servants in the city that had been retained from the days of the Empire). Every week, when mail was delivered, the two would talk. Tulzberg would of course give the memorized excuses he gave to all customers and people not involved with the resistance while Samuel would give Tulzberg a slice of what life was like under the regime. His son had joined the Army to get the medical benefits for his family, as well as a paycheck that outstripped his father's by several orders of magnitude to make sure the family was taken care of. Public servants not apart of the armed forces, like Samuel, would be treated only a little better than the regular citizens, and sometimes not even that. "I recieved a letter from Markus this morning," Samuel replied with a ill-disguised excitement, "So I'm hoping to finish my rounds quickly and get home to Mathilde to read it." "Oh, very nice," Tulzberg replied as he did some mental calculations regarding how fast mail traveled and from where Samuel's son was so that he could figure out just where his unit was mailing from. All information was valid until proven otherwise, in Tulzberg's opinion, "How is Mathilde?" "She's doing very well," Samuel replied, "But she misses our son. She'll be elated at the letter." And with that he started tugging at his mail bag, as if just remembering that he was here to deliver mail. "I have seven letters for you and your mortgage." "Thank you Samuel. Would you like to purchase something while you're here?" "Oh no no, thats quite alright. I'm saving up for when Markus comes back so that we can throw him a hero's welcome!" "Ah, but of course!" Tulzberg replied, "I do hope the news from the front is good!" By now Samuel was at the door about to leave, "I hope so too." And with that he was gone. Tulzberg went back into the backroom, and looked at the letters. The mortgage he placed on the nearby desk for the accountant (one of his Resistance lieutenants) to take care of. He looked through the other seven letters. Four of them were orders for flowers from across Dominon Kasnyia, two were thank you cards from some of his nicer customers and the last was junk mail which he moved to throw away... ...then he took another look and noticed the stamps. There were three of them, all peacocks. The Resistance's most valuable source was contacting them. |
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| NRE | Mar 19 2009, 02:39 PM Post #4 |
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman
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Palamós, Russian controlled Iberia Admiral Boris Ivanenko was in his office at the ports of Palamós. Barcelona province was under Russian control and the Russians for the most part had not encounter much resistance for rule. The Romans were one of the first to bring order to the chaos of Iberia and the Spanish respected the Roman rule. When Hispania unified Iberia for one of the first times in century the Spanish were of course delighted but never forgot the Romans. When Hispania broke apart and the Russians came in to bring order to their small corner of Iberia, the Barcelonians welcomed the help and respected them as they did the Romans, even if they dissolved the local government and put them under complete Russian rule. Now these Barcelonians would be asked to show their respect for the Romans more than ever before. It hadn't been long since the war of the Usurper had come to an end and the Romanovs returned the the Russian throne. They were still rebuilding and reorganizing their military and just did not have the forces to commit to any real engagement. Luckily however, the navies had been left for the most part untouched and did give the Russian Empire to advantage to enact their will over the seas. This advantage would be needed if they were to have any effect in the Dominion wars. The Admiral had been watching the deployments, the intel, the satellite photos. All of these weren't necessary however given the logic of it all. "They're going to attack the Romans" he continued to say to himself and it was a belief many shared in the Russian command. Again it was the logical conclusion of the Supreme Chancellor's movements, he was taking out the big dogs of the regions he moved into and with Paradise struggling against the Dominion surely the Romans would have the next target put on their back. "We need to patrol the waters" he said to himself, "be ready for the attack." That was his idea and that was why he was conscripting hundreds of native Barcelonians to help keep the Russian fleet in the Mediterranean in tip-top shape for an attack. Though Russian soldiers manned the ships, Barcelonians helped with fueling, repairs, and other necessary jobs that the Admiral did not believe the Russian sailors needed to be doing. Within a day he hoped to have the full fleet ready to begin patrols of the waters. An older officer within the Russian military, the Admiral was something of a stubborn man. He decided that he'd command the fleet himself while it made it's patrols just in case the Dominion were to attack, he would be there to command the men personally. Now was the time to study the books, study the maps, and prepare. |
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| Kasnyia | Mar 19 2009, 03:23 PM Post #5 |
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Chairman of the Bank
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It took him over an hour, but finally Tulzberg was able to decrypt the message (once again written in code as a letter from a kind old uncle) and immediately took it to the secret shelter beneath the flower shop. After making sure the way back to the surface was secure, he began reading...
The Romans? Really? As a staunch Catholic, and even more staunch loyalist to the Aloerburg Monarchy, Tulzberg did not care very much for the rude and arrogant Byzantines. That said, he knew full well that their power in the Mediterranean was all that kept Gassel from sweeping once more into Europe, with only the one major logistical line to tether his forces back to the Dominion's Asian stronghold. If he was going to now challenge Byzantine rule over the Mediterranean and North Africa, that must mean Gassel was going to try and establish a link between the Dominion's colonies in Africa and Catholic Europe. Either that, or Gassel merely wanted the Romans out of the way...they were a powerful forces to be reckoned with after all... As he could not decide which idea was more likely, he declined to make note of his thoughts and instead, using the usual method, passed along the message to the Installation in Karlsburg, a world away from Dominion Kasnyia. -------------------------------------- "Well?" John had to fight from rolling his eyes. Rimeux's presence had made that a terrible knee-jerk reaction in the months he had known the man. "Everything is ready on my side, even though I would rather that force was in place to help counter the Caliph's advance, Adjutant," the Field Marshal replied, sneering out the last word. Bartholomew John did not like Rimeux. Not at all. "Do not take that tone with me!" Rimeux whined, unsurprisingly, "I will not tolerate your insubordination! Even if you ARE on a first name basis with His Excellency!" Of course, in reality, both knew that it was more likely that Rimeux himself would be punished should he say anything bad against the former war hero and Gassel's very own mentor. Both also knew it was only John's respect for regulations that he did not play this card against the Overwatch toady yet. That didn't mean he didn't think about it of course.... "Quiet. This is my command center, and I will speak what I want to whom I want to in whatever tone pleases me. Do not make me remove you from the headquarters again," John replied sternly, "You will now go inform Intelligence to begin their operations." Rimeux paused for a moment as though to retort, before thinking better of it and merely grumbling as he wandered off. With Rahman now at the field headquarters in Baghdad as of this morning and Rimeux finishing preparations for the Levant assault, John was finally able to be alone in his own command center. "One hell of a job. One hell of a life," Was all he said to himself, tiredly, before leaving for errands. ---------------------------------- Menhadien resistance had been faltering a bit, with their loss of manufacturing capability and attrition taking its toll. That was the good news of the week at the Xamar Fortress in Dominion Sennar, but that was not what Field Marshal Jan Karelberg and his Adjutant/Lover, Dahlia were thinking about. They were looking at the maps, and were trying to figure out the best course of action for their armies to make an assault. One was already in West Africa, and that would be the one sent north to make an attack, but they also wanted to send another Army, though doing so would invite resistance from the Russians nearby... Nevertheless though, the plan would soon be in place. ------------------------------------ Antonio's three great Consuls were readying their forces. With the Romans concentrating on Gassel, an attack from Catholic Europe would go unnoticed until too late. One against the Levant, another against Egypt, and a third against the rest of North Africa. Fletia of Rome, Ossilo of Naples and Slatian of Antioch would lead each campaign to victory, they would see to it. No longer would the Church be split. The Schism would be healed, even if a heathen like Gassel had to be allied with to achieve such ends... A few days before the main assault, the three generals met one last time to discuss the campaign... Fletia, the lone woman of the trio, was fierce. Ossilo, rotund but an apt strategist, was calm. Slatian was skilled. All three would ensure the rule of Caesar was restored. OOC- Quick post, but what to do. Next post begins the invasion. |
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| NRE | Mar 21 2009, 02:54 PM Post #6 |
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman
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Somewhere out in open waters, The Mediterranean Sea... Admiral Boris Ivanenk sat on the bridge of the RSS Aaline, a Kirov Class Battlecruiser and flagship of his Mediterranean fleet. He was having his morning coffee as he looked out the windows out onto the open seas. It was quiet, too quiet and the Admiral had a bad feeling about what was to come. The Dominion was still fighting in Paradise and though he hoped his prediction, his gut feeling was wrong, he couldn't help but feel that the lion was just waiting the pounce over the horizon. Boris was a younger Admiral, at least younger than the rest of Admirals Russia had commanding it's many fleets spread globally. Yet he had a aged wisdom about him that allowed him to keep a steady hand and not jump the gun when it came to making decisions. He took the captain to keep the ship and the fleet on course and steady as he left the bridge on his way down the corridor to his private office room. After sitting down behind his private desk he called down to his admiral staff office and asked if they had received any news from home office on Dominion movements. They reply was no and after thanking the officer he hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, finishing his coffee. When will this madness end he thought to himself. The Dominion has almost swallowed up the entire world...will Gassel greed never end? These weren't questions he himself could answer and he doubt even Gassel could. By now he had ready enough battle reports from Asia and the Middle East to know that the Dominion would be coming in at full strength if and when they attacked. Their fleets would surely out number his own though because of their limited numbers, they would be able to out maneuver the enemy for as long as his ships stayed afloat. Was it enough? He did not have the answer to that either. Though he was trying to fool himself into thinking that was his logical side new that the Russians didn't have a prayer of a chance if the Dominion decided to take the Mediterranean. A prayer, praying seemed to take up most of his time now that the fleet got into the open waters making the ships small chapel more of an office then his own private office. It was the only thing he could do now, as the fleet sat and waited. Waiting for what, they were not sure. |
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| Kasnyia | Mar 26 2009, 02:04 PM Post #7 |
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Chairman of the Bank
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OOC- Beginning the invasion next post, I promise. I wanted to give background on the Roman commanders first. IC- Consul Fletia of Rome was charged with the task of both defending Caesar Antonio's realm as well as securing the territories of the European mainland Byzantine Empire, which meant the South of France, Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicily as well as any other islands immediately off the coast of Europe. As the only woman of any rank within Antonio's Catholic Europe, she earned her fair share of respect and disdain, and knew she had been given the "easiest" of the theaters for this campaign. No matter, she thought, she would make the conquest glorious and awe-inspiring. No man would be able to match her skill or speed, not even Ossilo or Slatian, the only people of her rank she respected and marginally liked. Her forces, named the Legion of Tiberius, were already in position near Milan, though to any spy it would merely seem as though they were being raised to fight in the Northern front against the heavily weakened, but still extant Austrian Empire. As soon as she was given the order, the games would begin. --------------------------- Consul Ossilo, tasked with the capture and defense of North Africa and Egypt, was a laid-back man. Unlike his counterparts Fletia and Slatian, he did not particularly care about the reunification of the empire. So long as his ancestral estate and his reputation were kept in tact, he would do anything his Emperor asked of him, but dispassionately. Such an attitude had served him well over the years. It had been his careful and objective planning after all that had forced the Austrians on the backfoot and eventually reduced them to a minor nuissance to either Catholic Europe or their ally, the Dominion. It had been he who had destroyed Austria's one chance to make a breakthrough for the Adriatic earlier in the campaign which, had it been successful, would have disoriented and split the Caesar's legions into two. He smiled wryly at the fact that he would be getting the most difficult portion of the campaign. He would have to work closely with the Imperial Navy to be successful. Thankfully, the man in charge at that end, Grand Admiral Lavos Magius, was an old friend of his, indeed it had been because of their partnership (he had been only a Commodore at the time) that the Austrian Adriatic Offensive had been defeated. So his forces, the Legion of Palatine, awaited their orders to move against their enemies in Ossilo's home town of Naples, not waiting for Fletia's forces to take over Corsica, Sardinia or Sicily before hand which, Ossilo thought, would lead to some interesting battles.... ----------------------------- Slatian of Antioch had not been in his hometown for many years. Not since before the war, when the Damascene Empire had been reformulated under the Russian Emperor. So when he was given the task to lead the Caesar's armies to retake the Roman Levant, he was ecstatic. He would liberate his home and punish the schimatics for causing such disunity amongst the Church and against the Caesar, who had bravely reunited Catholic Europe after an era of popeless anarchy. Slatians own forces were waiting for his orders in Trebizond to make their push south and eventually meet up with their heathen but honorable allies in the Dominion, who would attack from the South. |
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| NRE | Apr 17 2009, 09:00 PM Post #8 |
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OOC: Oh by Romans you mean the Catholics, gotcha now. Adding my own character into the mix on the side of the Orthodox Romans and it gives me something to do lol IC: The sweet air of the Mediterranean swept over Arkady Borzakovskiy as he stood near the shores of Roman North Africa. Arkady Borzakovskiy was a Russian major in his late twenties who had to North Africa in a officer exchange program setup between the Tsar and the Emperor of Rome. Of course that was before the Tsar was deposed and before the now ongoing civil war to return him to power so why he was still in the country was somewhat a mystery even to him. When Felix Yusupov came to power he expelled the Roman officers that had been sent to Russia and recalled the Russians abroad. Some returned out of blind devotion to their surperiors though others like Arkady remained. Yet those who remain like Arkady soon left when the Tsar began the civil war, believing it was their national duty to return home and help the Tsar rid of the country of the Yusupov traitor. Yet even as proud as he was to be Russia, Arkady remained.He supposed he stayed because he liked the cities and the landscape of North Africa. In it own unique way it was a very beautiful and exciting place to be, certainly a contrast to the lands of Russia. The entertainment was worth watching and the women were beyond description. Still it didn't take a scholar's review to know the true reason why Arkady remained, why he just couldn't bring himself to leave yet no matter how bad they needed him back home. You see Major Arkady Borzakovskiy was in love. To him she was the most beautiful young woman in all the world with long flowing black hair and captivating green eyes. Her family owned a farm some ten miles from the city and she would come into town with her father when they brought their crops to the local market. That is where Arkady met her on the day he would never forget. It was a hot day that day and for most of it Arkady found himself in military drills and military classrooms. Luckily it was a Friday and the superiors always made it a point to end class a bit early so that they could return home to their wives for diner and allow the younger officers the day to play. On that day, after being relieved Arkady and a few Roman officers near his own age decided that the hours of military strategy had made them hungry so and base food wasn't going to cut it. So they requisitioned a military jeep and headed to the market. It was a usual day at the market, people crowding the streets either to buy good for the lowest price they could hassle for, or people trying to sell goods for the highest price they could get. The guys had parked the jeep a few blocks back and walked through the maze of food stands. One Roman officer notice a stand full of the most delicious apples and bought one for all the guys. The rest of the group had gone ahead of him as he stopped to buy the food and after acquiring the apples he shouted to them"hey guys..heads up!" The men were close enough to hear him over the rush of the crowd. They turned towards him and he began to toss the apples over the crowd to their direction. When it was Arkady's turn to receive his, the kid in him took over and he shouted "I'll go for a long one" and began to run forward away from the others. The officer with the apple curled his arm and lunged the apple into the air. Farther the farther back it flew as Arkady rushed to catch it. He never noticed the young woman who was directly in his path. Without warning the two collided and all the goods she had in her arms went flying into the air as the two plummeted to the ground. Embarrassed that he had practically tackle some innocent person, Arkady rushed to his feet to help his victim. " I am so very sorry" said Arkady "I didn't even see...." it was at that moment he first laid eyes on her. She was the most beautiful women he had ever seen and as even though it did not cross his mind then, looking back at it now he realized that it was that first glance they hooked him. "It's ok" she said "an honest mistake but please be more careful there are young children who play in this market often and you could have serious injured one of them." "Of course" said Arkady "By the way, my name is Major Arkady Borzakovskiy and you are?" "My name is Alexis" she replied "it's nice to meet you, though perhaps it would have been easier to have just said hello." The two laughed at bit and the Arkady, feeling very guilty about running into Alexis offer to take her out to lunch if she was not busy. She told him that she had to get the food she had bought to her home so she could not go to lunch but if he wished to walk with her she would enjoy that. Arkady of course agreed and even carried the larger load of what Alexis had bought. The two walked and kept a lively conversation between them the entire time. Arkady quickly realized he had never met anyone as interesting or enjoyable to be around than Alexis. The two would continue to see one another from that day, Arkady even took some of his leave time to help Alexis' family on their farm. Her parents seem to approve of them being together and appreciated the extra hands when he offered. It was these ties that he had made to the land that he once felt so foreign in that now chained him here. He had a brother, sister, mother, and Father back home and they wrote a few times asking for his return. He felt he had a duty to return but simply could not bring himself to leave, not without Alexis. So instead he continued in the program, training with the Roman soldiers even after the program had been terminated. They understood he was hear for another reason and could admire his determination even in the face of duty calling him elsewhere. Besides the Romans didn't want to be the ones to send him back the Russia, not the Yusupov regime. |
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11:31 AM Jul 13