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Trouble in Paradise


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Paradise City, Isla, Capitol of the Isla Coalition, 0928 6 July 11

Presidente Abidugan sipped his iced whiskey as the warm ocean breeze wafted up from the white, sandy beaches below. The tropical beaches and beautiful jungles of this island made it a beautiful tourist spot, Isla's main income. A large mountain behind his villa was the source of a cool river running through the jungle, providing the town below with both a clean water source and good recreation year-round. It was about 9 in the morning, but his responsibilities were few of late. The various ministers and generals handled most affairs, he was mostly a figurehead these days. An untouchable figurehead, but a figurehead nonetheless. Two guards dressed in comfortable hawaiian shirts and board shorts talked quietly, loosely holding their AKSU-74s.

As he lazily swished the ice cubes around in his drink, he heard a faint knock from downstairs. He stood slowly as the melodic voice of one of his maids rang through the house.

"Senhor presidente, um dos generais está aqui para vê-lo."

Occasionally, though, this figurehead was consulted for advice. 

"Estarei em um momento."

He wandered down the tastefully decorated halls of his home, the faint clapping of the guard's flip-flops audible behind him as he went down the stairs, barefoot. The house was not overly large, but very spacious in its design. Generalissimo Debare was waiting for him, his red beret tucked under his right epaulette band.

"Bom dia, Senhor Presidente. Tenho algumas propostas que eu gostaria de dar uma olhada." The much younger man said. Behind him, the door stood open, revealing the car that brought him to the villa. Not an ostentatious car, very moderate and practical.

"É sempre direto ao negócio com você, meu protegido." The President chuckled. He liked this general, always coming to him for advice and expertise. "Com o que posso ajudar?"

As they sat and talked, various guards meandered through the house, servants brought them tea, and visitors came and went. Hours passed as the two poured over proposals for the expansion of infrastructure and the military. One by one, generals began arriving, and the president briefly greeted them and asked them to make themselves at home.

"Minha casa é sua casa, senhores." He said to them, "É bom ver todos vocês."

1445, 6 July 11

After some time had passed, his conversation with the young general ended, and he turned his attention to his guests as Debare took his documents back to his car.

"O que traz boas senhoras para a minha casa esta noite?" The president said, causing the generals to look back and forth at each-other. Outside, a car door slammed.

One of them spoke, finally. "Você nos enviou uma convocação urgente, senh--"

He was cut off by the front door being battered open, as well as glass breaking upstairs and doors slamming. Four well-armed men in black combat gear burst through the front door, suppressed 416ACs clacking rapidly. Invisible bees buzzed through the air, burrowing gruesomely deep into the guards, several hitting the president. As he crumpled to the floor, several of the generals drew their sidearms, and attempted to return fire as they were cut down. Some managed to get off a few shots, and of those only two found their mark. One of the attackers reeled backwards, clutching his ribs with one hand, while his other clung to his weapon as he fell backwards onto the floor.

The two downstairs guards were completely caught by surprise, and their blood framed them, their colorful hawaiian shirts painting bright streaks of red as they slid to the floor, lifeless. Upstairs, the guards were isolated from each other, and two groups of four assaulters quickly swept the house, executing guards, servants, and guests alike. After they had backswept the house, they policed their brass, and dragged their wounded man away from the villa. The casualty made it for 4 hours through the hot, sticky jungle, before he succumbed to the shock of a collapsed lung. They took his dog tags, weapons, ammo, and gear, and buried his naked body in an unmarked grave. They continued, carrying all evidence of his identity with them.

0153, 7 July 11

The group of men arrived near the mouth of the river, where two inflatable boats were buried in the sand at a pre-arranged location. They dug them up, inflated them, and paddled to the rendezvous point 2 miles off the coast, where they were picked up by a trawler. The ship took them into a storm approximately 34 miles off the coast of Isla, where everyone aboard was transferred to the ANS Concordia. The trawler was wired to send out a recorded distress signal 45 minutes after the Concordia departed, before small det cords were rigged to explode, causing fractures in the hull which would seem to be the cause of sinking.


Not enough evidence of Operation Goliath was ever discovered to accuse Asgeirria of war crimes. The special forces involved in the operation were charged with going AWOL, commandeering a government vehicle, and manslaughter 2 months later. However, the government did not confiscate a purported sunken treasure they discovered during their joyride. The men served 8 months in a rehabilitation facility, before being released on parole indefinitely.


However, there was one survivor of the raid: Generalissimo Debare.

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Paradise City, Isla, Capitol of the Isla Coalition, 23 Jan 18, 0700

Presidente Debare sat behind a bulletproof cage of glass, watching Coalition troops march past by the thousands, rendering their salutes to their glorious leader as they passed. Jets flew in formation overhead, and ships circled in the harbor. The once-peaceful city was transformed into a hardened fortification, the once-white beaches peppered with grey concrete fortifications. Since his rise to power nearly eight years ago, Debare had been preparing for the inevitable aggression from the bold Asgeirrians. He had watched from afar as the ranks of their "Grand Army" had become swollen with conscripts, their ports opened to foreign commerce funding the war machine. He had no proof of the massacre he had witnessed against his people, but it had galvanized in his mind the fact that Asgeirria was the greatest threat his, or any other nation would face. Over the decades without conflict, the Coalition leaders had been lulled into a false sense of security by the Empire's inaction. But on the night of the massacre, their greatest enemy thought it had crippled them. What it had done was unify the Coalition under one leader with a renewed fervor for vengeance. The Coalition Armed Forces had a total of nearly 100,000 men across their air force, navy, and army, with nearly a thousand tanks, hundreds of aircraft, and dozens of ships. 

Debare was no fool, though. He knew the Coalition's industry could not produce the same quality and quantity of assets that Asgeirria could. So he waited for them to attack, for them to make the reckless move they had made over 200 years past. He fortified his coasts, cities, prepared everything for the invasion that he knew would come. And he knew it would come. Asgeirrian hubris was almost as well-known in the Coalition as their greed and thirst for blood. 







Edited by Asgeirria (see edit history)
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January 23, 2018, 0433, 74 miles off the coast of Isla

Centurion Stuhac sipped coffee on the bridge of the ANS Maine, a Concordia-class frigate, monitoring the radar and sonar contact screens. One blip remained steady on both screens; a cruiser. He glanced around the room at his bridge officers.

"Are the clocks set and failures ready?" He said.

"Organic failures are prepped, sir." One of the technicians stated.

"Match speed, maintain heading. Brace for impact." The Centurion responded. "Ping them, then start recording."

All hands on the bridge braced themselves, and a radar officer sent out a strong radar ping to identify the cruiser. A few silent moments passed, but then a faint boom was heard, followed by a the shrieking of an incoming round.

"Mayday, mayday, this is the fleet advanced scout Maine. We've come into contact with a Coalition cruiser. They are firing on us, I repeat, they--"

January 23, 2018, 0430, 63 miles off the coast of Isla

Centurion Aeron's ship, the ANS Spite, cruised gently over the waves, its turrets traversing the horizon towards a point designated by a spotter.

"Are the clocks and sensors set?"

"Yes sir, clocks and sensors set, recording ready."

"Excellent, wait for their ping to start recording."

A few minutes passed, and the passive radar received a ping.

"Enemy contact spotted, imminent launch detected. Firing main battery."

Over the comms a confirmation squawked.

"Main battery firing."

A moment later, the guns of one of the turrets roared to life, spitting hundreds of pounds of Coalition-made ammunition downrange at the target.

"Good hit."

The Centurion looked over at his comms officer, who had turned off fleet comms. They nodded at each other, before the Centurion triggered a ping back at the ship they had fired upon.

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In the words of the Emperor

On the 24th of January, 2018

Unitary Resolution

Declaring that a state of war exists between the government of the Isla Coalition and the people of the Republic of Asgeirria, and making provisions to prosecute the same.

Whereas the government and people of the Isla Coalition has committed unprovoked acts of war against the Republic of Asgeirria;

1 Therefore be it resolved by the Imperator in agreement with the Legates and the will of people,

2 That the state of war between the Isla Coalition and the Republic of Asgeirria which has thus been thrust

3 upon the Emperor is hereby formally declared; and the Asgeirrian High Command is hereby authorized and directed

4 To employ the entire air, land, and naval forces of the Grand Army of Asgeirria and the resources of the government

5 To carry on war against government of the Isla Coalition; and, to bring the conflict to a successful termination,

6 All of the resources of the country are hereby pledged to the Imperator of Man.

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Paradise City, Isla, 0800

Debare slammed the paper down on the table in front of him. "Que merda! Uma declaração pontuais de guerra às sete e meia na maldita manhã! O nervo daqueles malditos Axyrianos!" He screamed, causing his guards and the unfortunate messenger to flinch. 

"Porra! Consolide nossa frota aqui na Isola e invoque as reservas! Quero todos os homens, mulheres e filhos capazes de segurar uma arma pronta para lutar contra a morte!" He continued, frothing at the mouth. "Saia da minha vista!"

The man who had brought him the orders bowed quickly and hurried out of the room. Debare plopped back down in his cushy chair in an angry huff. He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the side of his face.

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You're gonna have some 'splainin' to do."

The order went out to the Coalition fleet, most of which were already in the harbor. They rendezvoused a few miles outside the harbor; the airspace was already buzzing with Coalition ASFs. Anti-air radar began spinning up, sandbags filled, reserves armed, and the islands readied for war. 

Operation: Conquest Dawn, 0830

With the exception of the ANS Maine, which was undergoing repairs, the entirety of the Asgeirrian fleet massed near the jump-off point to Isla. The three battlecruisers were the spearhead, forming a V interlaced with five Concordia-class frigates. Behind them, the fleet was clustered up with layers of frigates and cruisers for AA and CIWS protection. The AH-2Ns were sent in patrols around the fringes of the fleet, maintaining a RADAR watch of the far horizon.

10 Retribution-class subs snuck towards the Coalition fleet in three groups: two of three and one of four. The two smaller groups on the wings came in a little bit faster, prepping their supercavitating torpedoes as they ran deep. The other four were accompanied near the surface by 5 low-flying F-1s, and farther back and up, 4 F-2s and 3 F-2As. As they came up on the enemy fleet circling off the coast of Isla, 12 Mi-22 ASFs scrambled to intercept the incoming F-2s, the F-1s still being below their RADAR horizon. As the Coalition fighters started closing into weapons range of the F-2s, the F-1s surprised them by popping up on their RADAR with a flurry of AAMs, immediately knocking out 3 of the enemies. As the 22s broke formation and high-tailed it back to the cover of land, the Asgeirrian fighters broke off back towards the friendly fleet.

At this time, the 6 forward subs had come within range of the fleet, and fired a full load of their torpedoes at the fleet. The subs were aiming low, estimating where to detonate the torpedoes, so many of them either missed or exploded with minimal damage. Two, however, found their mark, exploding underneath a destroyer and frigate consecutively. The initial explosions snapped the spine of the smaller frigate, damaging the structure of the larger destroyer. The following vacuum under the ships sucked them down to the watery deep, ripping them both in half. As the pressure differential was filled, the waters suddenly forcing themselves back in on the ships crushed them with thousands of tons of force, causing explosions and oil fires, spewing debris sky-high, raining down on the decks of the surrounding fleet. As the enemy captains became acutely aware of the sonar contacts on either side of them, they split off half their destroyers on either side to hunt the offending subs down.

The two initial attack groups emergency surfaced to take on air, before diving to their maximum operational depth for a max-speed run back towards the safety of the high seas. Sufficiently distracted, their hunters did not pick up the four additional hunter-killers until they were already firing their torpedoes. Now isolated from their escorts, the cruisers were a much easier target for the submarines. Their hasty volley of torpedoes scored three hits on one cruiser, ripping through its armor, exploding deep in its core, foundering it, and another hit on a fleeing cruiser, crippling it. As the four submarines emergency surfaced in preparation to dive, two were hit by incoming enemy salvos, damaging one and hitting the engine of another, causing it to erupt in flames as it splashed back down in the water, before a chain of explosions tore up from the rear of the sub to the fore torpedo bays, where a final detonation shredded what was left of the vessel. The damaged sub attempted to limp away, before flooding forced it to surface, facing the enemy.

Four enemy Il-28 bombers cruised over, expecting an easy kill, but were forced to break off when the sub fired its VLS at them, hitting one of the bombers with the large missile in the process. The other eleven missiles were redirected at the crippled cruiser, hoping to take down one final, glorious kill before the sub sank. The cruiser group's CIWS took down nine of the missile, but the other two hit the superstructure of their target. One of the hits destroyed the ship's forward fire control, the other ripped up some of the lower parts of the conning tower, severely weakening the ship as a whole. As the offending sub finished reloading torpedoes and began firing off dumb rounds, enemy shells began raining down on the hapless sub, foundering it as it fired off its final salvo. A few of the crewmen managed to make it off the boat with their PDWs and arm floaties. None of the the dumb rounds hit an active ship, but one managed to hit the sinking cruiser, hastening its demise.

The Asgeirrian surface fleet swung into RADAR view not too long after that, with their naval helicopters tearing in to score easy kills on the disorganized cruisers. As the destroyers and frigates broke chase to protect their capital ships, the F-2As ripped a harsh path towards the RADAR-heavy cruisers, firing anti-radar missiles from exceedingly long ranges, breaking off in a cloud of smoke and flares, with the remaining Mi-22s in hot pursuit. F-1s swept back into view, firing their AAMs at the enemy jets. Five of the six anti-radar missiles were taken down by the cruisers' CIWS, but the surviving one struck deep into the flank of the damaged cruiser, crippling its engines, spewing chunks of metal and flaming oil out onto the water.

The Mi-22s fired their limited countermeasures, breaking off the chase from the fleeing F-2As to engage the F-1s, firing their AAMs with just enough time to lock on before another two of their aircraft were hit. One simply burst into flames, exploding in the sky, showering its compatriots with shrapnel. The second took a solid hit in the armpit of its wing, causing it to pirouette while trailing burning fuel as it plummeted to the sea below, splashing down with an audible thump-pop, just as the Coalition missiles found their marks. One of the Asgeirrian pilots lost his nerve and pulled up--hard, while trying to bail out. A missile hit the lower section of his fuselage, popping the engines open, and sending the tail of the aircraft straight up, splattering the pilot as he tried to bail out. Another F-1 took a direct hit to the nose cone, vaporizing the pilot, sending the destroyed hulk careening into an unwitting wingman flying too close, causing massive damage to the aircraft's hull. The damage fighter broke off and made full speed back home, leaving the dogfight behind. 

Eight naval helicopters closed on the exposed and damaged cruisers, firing torpedoes from the air and passing in for close strafing runs with their 37mm autocannons. One of them was immediately hit, and tumbled into one of the undamaged cruisers' superstructure, where it burst into flames. Another was shot down, where it harmlessly spiraled into the ocean. Three of the remaining cruisers were hit by torpedoes, with crippled cruiser being harassed by ATGM missiles, as its pump systems began giving out. It took on water until it finally foundered, less than ten miles from the shore. Another AH-2N was hit, this time a tail rotor was blown out, sending the aircraft into a wild, unending spin. The helicopters, low on munitions, broke off their engagement of the cruisers as the lighter enemy ships closed in, sustaining another loss before they managed to make it back to the fleet. The five F-2s roared in to the rescue of the two remaining F-1s, engaging the now depleted Mi-22s as their wingmen turned tail and broke for Asgeirria. More AAMs found their mark, sending three more 22s shrieking to the surface, as it grew further away by the second. One of the F-2s took a hit from one of the cruisers' anti-air batteries, its engine choking to a halt, slowly beginning an uncontrolled tumble towards the choppy seas  below. The pilot bailed out just as the F-2s disengaged, leaving the skies open to the enemy. The three surviving coalition bombers from earlier swooped into, making their way for the Asgeirran fleet at high altitude.

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Operation: Conquest Dawn

The ensuing naval battle saw significant losses on both side, but resulted in an Asgeirrian victory.

The incoming bombers scored few hits, causing relatively little damage to the lead ships' superstructures. The ANS Sovereign's RADAR was damaged, but its fire control remained intact. Overhead, a massive engagement of Asgeirrian F-1s and F-2s against Coalition Mi-22s and Il-28s was wracking up large amounts of downed aircraft on both sides, with the more advanced F-2s faring very well. Anti-air support from both fleets was negligible due to a lack of friend or foe identifiers, though the battle on the high seas kept both sides occupied. ANS Sovereign broke off ahead of the other ships, curving off to bear her guns on the enemy while staying out of range of their much smaller artillery. While she scored several initial hits on a cruiser, foundering it, her CIWS was quickly overwhelmed by nearly a hundred ASMs, crippling the Sovereign's helicopter decks, as well as most of her CIWS systems. The commanding Centurion was killed in the strikes, sparing him from a court-martial for his decision to break away from the fleet, subsequently incurring a 2 billion credit loss on the Grand Army. Following the initial flurry of strikes, several more ASMs struck the Sovereign, though she refused to founder. She fired off several more salvos from her main guns, damaging a destroyer before her aging pumps gave out and she began listing heavily to port, capsizing shortly after the rest of the vanguard began engaging the enemy.

The cluster of ships had a very effective CIWS capability, absorbing most of the Coalition fleet's long-range strike capability with minimal damage. One frigate was foundered during the course of the battle, and several others were heavily damaged. The battlecruisers were much more capable at taking and soaking damage, and continued pushing the enemy fleet, with the ANS Majestic scoring a cruiser kill and three destroyer kills, and the ANS Tarsein getting two cruisers kills and a frigate kill, before heavy damage forced it to break off from the attack.

Overhead, 47 F-1s were shot down, along with 1 of the MLUs. 11 F-2s were shot down, in comparison to 88 Mi22s and 23 IL28s. The air battle was a tactical defeat for the Asgeirrians, forcing them to move off from air cover of the fleet, but a strategic victory ensuring Asgeirrian Air Superiority in the future, leaving air defense of the remaining coalition islands to the few multirole Mi22s left, as well as ADA. The Coalition fleet retreat into the bay of Paradise City, where they had the cover of land-based artillery and ADA to protect them. However, the overwhelming numerical superiority of the Asgeirrian fleet, combined with significant losses on the Coalition side ended with the entire Coalition fleet being sunk in the bay, in full view of the populace. Many ships on the Asgeirrian side were damaged, there were significant losses of air power on both sides, but the Battle of the Isla Channel had been won.

Asgeirrian Losses: 1 Battlecruiser, 3 frigates, 2 submarines, 1 heavy cruiser, 49 F-1s, 1 MLU, 12 F-2s, 18 AH-2N

Human losses: 2,812 killed, 398 wounded

Coalition Losses: 7 cruisers, 12 destroyers, 5 frigates, 24 IL28s, 96 Mi22s.

Human losses: 12,748 killed, 832 wounded

Outcome: Asgeirrian Victory

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Immediately following the destruction of the Coalition fleet, the remaining Asgeirrian ships began operations to recover casualties at sea from both friendly and enemy wrecks. Survivors of the Coalition fleet were transported to the Asgeirrian mainland, where, lacking proper internment facilities, they were committed to one of the Old City's most prestigious reeducation centers, where they were given 5 well balanced meals a day, access to clean clothes and bedding, as well as recreation such as cards, books, and various sports. In addition, they were given reeducation classes to allow them to integrate into Asgeirrian culture once they had completed the course.

As the fleet itself retreated, they came into contact with some scattered mines, causing minor damage to several ships, and crippling one ship. The entire armada returned their home base at Valencia two days after the battle, due to the rescue operations, damaged ships, and bad weather. Very few ships remained undamaged, and fleet-wide maintenance was decided to be the best course of action. Prisoners were offloaded, troops aboard troopships and naval crew alike were given shore leave, and a nation-wide shifting of gears came into effect. Production and development of aircraft came into full swing, with the glaring necessity of STOVL or VTOL aircraft with a compatible ship to carry/launch them being the most glaring deficiencies. Additionally, the need for a much more advanced F/F system to identify targets came to light, as well as the need for a minesweeping vehicle. These issues were addressed immediately by High Command and sent to ValenCorp to be developed by AsTech.

In the interim between the return of the Asgeirrian fleet and its full operational capability, sorties were run from northeastern bases against air and ground targets in Isla, Scylla, and Charybdis. The new B-1 Mammoth heavy strategic bomber had its operational capabilities tested in a strike against key Coalition heavy industry centers, specifically those associated with ship production. Over 500 tons of GBUs were dropped by the single available Mammoth across 15 sorties over the space of 2 weeks. With SEAD aircraft patrolling enemy skies, and significant fighter escorts, the threat of attack was mitigated down to a very manageable level, to a point where only token resistance was made by the Coalition.

While naval supremacy and air superiority had been effectively won at this point, the issue of the enemy's ever-hardening land defenses presented an ever-increasing obstacle. High Command lacked the necessary tactical bombers to meaningfully reduce the size disparity between the two armies, and more to the point, lacked the experience and manpower necessary for a full-frontal assault of all the islands. Defeat in detail would be the only reasonable option, and their eyes turned towards Isola; a small, strategically insignificant island far removed from the support of the other Coalition forces.

Weeks went by, forces were trained, leave was given, and preparations were made. Shore crew readied the Asgeirrian fleet for operations far from home, with support ships laden with supplies, troopships with troops, and warships with munitions. Outside the reach of most Asgeirrian aircraft, Isola would likely prove to be a unique challenge, albeit a manageable one. High Command intended to cut its teeth on an invasion within its means and experience, and it had its target.

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Operation Calamity, Isola

The Asgeirrian invasion of the small island of Isola was an assured victory. Between the lack of air and naval capacity, the island had only its limited militia and reserve force with which to defend itself. High Command took full advantage of this by initiating high-altitude precision bombing of military targets, including AAA, a few coastal guns, and several motor pools. The few planes stationed on the island were quickly overwhelmed by the anti-aircraft capabilities of the Asgeirrian fleet. Naval helicopters mopped up what little hard resistance was left on the island, and infantry forces, augmented by the new Hippo Mk I's, swept across the island with few casualties and little resistance. The attack itself consisted of attacking the far end of the single road the ringed the northern part of the island, and moving around the coast, securing the small cities and villages in between the two ends of the road. On the other end lay the capital, which was attacked with support from naval missile strikes, being careful to hit only clearly military targets in an effort to alleviate tensions with the civilians that were sure to arise. The local militia quickly surrendered in the face of overwhelming enemy forces, and were taken to Asgeirria to reeducation camps via transport ships. Now with full control of the southern Gulf of Aurelia, High command began the process of bringing humanitarian aid to the impoverished Isolans. Asgeirrian goods, such as 3-ply toilet paper, pastries, and medicine began flooding the island. The Asgeirrian Department of Health set up medical camps across the island to rapidly diagnose, vaccinate, and treat the islanders in a sterile environment. Work on modernizing the single airport and harbor began immediately by the Imperial Corps of Engineers, as well as the extending and upgrading of power, water treatment, and sewage infrastructure. Several billion credits were moved towards bringing Isola up to speed with the rest of Asgeirria. For the time being, a provisional military government was set up, with respected local leaders being appointed as liaisons between the occupiers and the natives. The entire operation was a testbed for the much larger invasion of the main islands to come, and High Command intended to have the kinks worked out before the final victory.

Edited by Asgeirria
I don't want to do a story (see edit history)
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  • 1 month later...

Operation Twilight, Isla

The invasion of the coalition capitol island was initiated by a series of surgical strikes made by special operations on hardened defense positions along the weakest sector of the Coalition defense the night before the landing. The operators wreaked havoc from the shadows, and regrouped to set up a landing zone to be ready by the morning. The 3rd Division seized the beachhead early in the morning, approximately 4 hours before defense shift changes, to maximize the fatigue of the enemy. XXIV Legio Venatores led the assault, with support from the new Hippo tanks, and successfully broke through the southeastern coastal defense lines with support from XXIII Legio Classica and XXVIII Incultes, while the rest of the division struck various other areas of the southern portion of the island. The 2nd Division hit from the north, with XVII Legio Clades spearheading the assault. Enemy armored resistance was stiff at first, but with overwhelming air supremacy, and tactical strikes of air defense sites, A-2s were able to deliver highly effective close air support to the front lines, with cover from F-2As hitting any radar-based defenses. The Asgeirrian naval forces had full control of the seas, and used this to their advantage, deploying shore bombardment ships in strategic locations, further softening the coalition defenses around the capitol. GBUs were used with precision on exclusively military targets, with extreme caution used in urban environments to stem possible insurgencies from rising up as a result. 

The 1st Division, being the best and most experienced of the three, made a direct assault on the capital, using precision missile strikes to sack the enemy fortifications before making a clean amphibious assault with support from airborne troops making regular landings on the flanks of Paradise City, securing positions for the advancing 2nd and 3rd divisions while simultaneously taking off pressure from the beachhead being established. The three divisions linked up at the capitol, and made a push for the center of the city. Classis VI brought in administrative and humanitarian support in droves from Asgeirr City, making the clear and hold operation much more fluid.

The capitol fell approximately 15 hours after the initial landing, and the rest of the islands surrendered another 3 after that. President Debare was publically tried, and following the tagging and identification of loyalists and their families, one by one, witnesses of the corruption and treason of the Debare dictatorship came forward. Public trials were held, and several high-ranking prisoners were executed the same day. The hand-picked juries of locals were lenient towards those who came forward and admitted wrongdoing, and these people were afforded the luxury of time spent in reeducation centers. Local criminals were re-tried under new Asgeirrian law, and many unjustly-imprisoned Asgeirrian sympathizers found themselves released in short order.

The 1st Division was recalled to the mainland in the days following the invasion, while the 3rd Division was recalled but remained on ready alert. The 2nd Division was split up with 3 legions on each main island, and 1 on Isola. Food, medical supplies, and Asgeirrian recreational drugs were quickly brought in to appease the local populace, while the Imperial Corps of Engineers (ICE) were brought in to rebuild damage caused by the invasion, as well as update and expand existing infrastructure. More funds were allocated to revamping the public transit, healthcare, and education of the former coalition islands, while unemployed islanders were encouraged to take their families to be "integrated" into Asgeirrian society through reeducation centers.

While the process of annexing the islands was complete, a whole new challenge of integrating the recently liberated islanders into Imperial rule was daunting, to say the least. High Command, however, had practiced this on Isola, and had been preparing for this situation for quite some time. Decades of slim spending and saving away into the nation's treasure would prove invaluable in the comings months and years of reconstruction, as the costs incurred were quite hefty.

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  • 1 month later...

Khura District, Carybdis

Trooper Khai arched his spine, trying to shift the weight of his armor off his lower back, even if just for a few seconds. His uniform stuck to him with sweat, the muggy summer heat making even the lightest garmant feel like a sweatsuit. The feeble cold air coming from the Hippo's vents was all but negated by the heat coming off the entire squad being packed into an APC. The bumpy ride along the unpaved roads snaking through the heavily-forested worsened the discomfort of the heat and vest, and he found himself blinking away sweat.
Reaching for the mouthpiece of his HydroHump, Khai made eye contact with a Specialist sitting directly across from him. And what a sight to see she was; decked out in a custom vest with custom pouches and the famous dump pouch, probably bought pre-deployment out of pocket. She even had gause scissors on her vest. In this profession, specialists often overdid their tactical loadouts, trying too hard to look like Rangers or Onslaught Leads. Nobody complained about someone bringing extra gear, especially gear that could be used to open MREs without nicking a finger, and the specialists generally weren't derided for taking their jobs a little too seriously, especially now that they were actually out in the field getting shot at.
Specialist Segovia was, at first glance, your average Asgeirrian; tall, dark complexion, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes, and high, pronounced cheekbones. However, as the APC stopped and the soldiers began pouring out, she was quite a specimen, even for an infantryman. She moved with efficiency, her sinewy forearms had an almost masculine quality, peeking out from her half-rolled sleeves. Her frame was large, even for an Asgeirrian; she towered several inches above most of the soldiers. For the first few weeks of their deployment, he had gawked at her shamelessly, having come from Shaijing, where people were relatively short. He couldn't help but be impressed by her almost manly physique, and she was equally awe-inspiring in battle, easily manipulating her rifle, controlling its recoil like it was a much smaller weapon.

His squad RUO team unloaded their MARS unit, prepping its autoloading grenade launchers and MG3, as the other APC RUO teams did the same, while the remaining teams, including Khai, set up for an L-shaped assault on a small rebel compound deep in the central forests. Once the dismounted troops were in position, the APCs provided fixing fire, while the assault force moved up with support from the MARS units, laying down suppression and saturation fire on buildings and windows, using bounding overwatch to move safely to cover once outside of the forest. Once the assault force had safely entered the village, the APCs moved up, with dismounted RUO teams escorting them, while the RUO himself rode inside the protection of the vehicle. Specialists used explosive strips to frame doors, stacked up with their teams, and blew the door frame off the wall. The standard procedure was to toss in a flashbang and follow it in, having been trained to resist it much more effectively than rebels, and having ear protection. Casualties were low as they moved to the center of the compound, with only a few minor injuries from taking fire from a central building. APCs used their 37mm guns on windows they took fire from, but their ROE didn't allow them to use their 128s on buildings that might house civilians, therefore infantry were forced to stack up on the building to breach and clear it.

Trooper Khai's specialist had been hit earlier in the skirmish, and he was directed to follow Specialist Segovia as the pointman. This building was concrete, and detonation charges wouldn't work on the frame buried behind the hardened material. The specialist and team lead placed shaped charges about two and a half feet from the corner of the wall, where there was least likely to be an intersecting wall.  There were no building plans out here, everything was a game of chance.

This was Trooper Khai's first time taking point, and he started noticing how dry his throat was. He had never had to piss this badly before in his life. His body was shaking, even as he put his right leg back and Specialist Segovia's left thigh press against his right. Some of the more experienced men in the back were unrepentingly jovial.

"Nuts to butts!"

The specialist felt the trooper shaking, and swiftly took out a tiny syringe with a light blue liquid in it, and held it out in front of his eyes so he could see it. He nodded, and she slapped the side of his neck with a practiced hand, before uncapping the needle and quickly injecting the soldier with the liquid. She put the cap back on the needle and placed it in a small, magnetically-sealed pouch on her chest. Taking out a flashbang, she flipped open the safety on the det switch controlling the charges on the wall, and waiting on the squad lead to signal the detonation. On his nod, the flipped the switch and quickly opened her mouth and held her noise-cancelling headphones tight, as did the rest of the squad. There was a three second delay before the explosive concussion went off, sucking the air out of their lungs. The specialist popped around the corner, holding on to a pull strap on the back of Khai's vest, and tossed the flashbang into the gaping hole in the building. In succession, three other explosions at the other corners went off, shaking the building.

Khai followed the flashbang in as soon as the squeeze from the back of the stack reached him, turning the corner just as it burst. He could hardly feel anything other than the burning mixture flow through his veins and into his head. The air felt hot in his lungs, his skin, his eyes, though whether it was the cocktail of chemicals in his system or the result of the explosion and subsequent pressure wave, was something he couldn't think about. His muscles felt fluid and firm at the same time, and he flowed through the empty, destroyed room along the left wall, stopping only briefly so his team could stack on him again before he moved through the doorway. On the nod from the person on the other side of the doorframe, he pushed through, threading to the opposite side of the door while the other person did the same, one person coming from either side of the door in turns. He took gunfire from down the hallway, the whine of bullets passing close by raising the hairs on the back of his neck and scalp, and returned fire, the familiar steady pulse of recoil against his shoulder somehow calming him. Khai moved down the hallway fluidly, and the men behind him deftly swung into position. Heel to toe, heel to toe, his footsteps were measured, swift, and fluid.

"Door left!" He called out, twisting his upper body so that his plates were constantly facing the doorway, less for his own protection, and more to absorb damage that would otherwise kill those behind him. The hallway was wide, and the group of soldiers had adopted a wedge formation, Khai being the tip of it. As he called out the doorway, the entire unit shifted into a T formation, three abreast, shoulder to shoulder, still with the same fluid speed only extensive training could cultivate. The left man of the T broke off to frame the doorway as they passed, closed as it was. Several men from the rear of the T joined him, stacking up on the door. The next closest man from the column of the T maneuvered into position in the center, just as Khai shifted down to take up the left of the T.

"Door left!"

It was Khai's turn to frame up, and he did so, waiting for his group to send men tk stack up. One of the men took out a flashbang, pulled the pin, held the spoon, and put his hand on the doorknob. They exchanged an exaggerated nod, and the man at the door turned the knob, flicked off the spoon, and tossed the grenade in. Khai closed his shooting eye, and rushed through the doorway, planning to break a quick right before posting up a few feet from the wall so more men could come in behind him shielded by his plates, and move along the wall.

The flashbang went off with a pulse, instantly deafening him and making his ears ring. He opened his shooting eye, which hadn't been blinded, and immediately noticed what looked like a large artillery shell with the tip removed, and some wires protruding, laying in the corner of the room. Before he had time to react, it detonated, instantly killing him.

The rest of the building was cleared out, although casualties were high. Several militia leaders were killed or captured, along with a large stash of weapons and gold bullion. The operation was considered a success, although in the after action reports, it would be reported that the casualties were caused by the RoEs.

Edited by Asgeirria (see edit history)
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  • 4 weeks later...

Mercy for the Blind

Emperor Valentino issued out a final ultimatum to the insurgents in the island districts; surrender their arms and no grudges would be held, they would merely attend reeducation centers. Their families would be taken care of, the slate would be swept clean. However, those that chose not to would be hunted down, their families tracked down, their land burned. The Grand Army had been merciful for long enough, at the cost of the blood of Asgeirrians. Ample forgiveness was offered through the course of the insurgency, but this would be the last clemency, and all the unrepentant would be purged by a force outside the bounds of Asgeirrian law. The rebels had one week to turn themselves in.

Less than 20% of the total number of insurgents accepted the final mercy, and Asgeirrian troops pulled back from FOBs to the cities, taking up defensive positions while the Hattusa arrived in the thousands. This bloody clan knew only one mercy for their enemy: a swift death. They lived outside Asgeirrian law, serving only their Exarch; Herod of the Hattusa. Within weeks, hundreds of insurgents had been brutally hunted down. Family members who were found to have given misinformation regarding involvement with insurgent groups were treated the same as the insurgents themselves. The tone had shifted in the islands, and so would the tide of battle. The insurgents would be wiped out by the machines of extinction that the Hattusans were.

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  • 2 months later...


The buzzing roar of the gunship's engine blurred into a monotonous drone to the crew, circling a thousand meters over the jungle. Below, visible through the treetops, was a running skirmish, bright red Hatti tracers chasing the fleeing insurgents through the trees, just ahead of the steady advance of countless little black dots. Like a legion of ants, the Hatti swarm chewed ever onward through the ranks of their adversaries. Like clockwork, a few insurgents would form up behind some cover, and their assailants would rush their position. The intermittent streams of green coalition tracers were much less numerous; the insurgents had to worry about dwindling supplies. The Hatti, however, had few concerns in their drug-fueled rampage.

Over the past few months, the insurgents had learned what it meant to fight against these monsters; men of little conscience for killing, whose livelihood was to kill. Even more than the rest of Asgeirrians, the Hattusa were bred into a warrior culture. For them it was not tradition, it was survival. The Massassi, as they were known in the old Asgeirrian tongue, had been persecuted for thousands of years; they had survived several attempted genocides over the course of 4,000 years, the greatest of which was the great massacre of the Middle Kingdom. Many emperors had tried to gain the coveted honor of having scourged the filth from Asgeirria, and they had failed. As the empire crumbled, fell into decline, and the colonies rebelled, the Hatti threat was gradually forgotten. In fact, during the war against the coalition, they had been paid and equipped to fight the gruesome battles through jungles before, by Valentino's predecessor, no less. Although history had repeated itself, the inhabitants of these islands hadn't learned from the first time these gritty slaves had been dropped into their homes.

"Ey, Tarhu," the pilot called back to the gunner, sitting behind the 37mm guns, "hit those dirty kooks."

The man nodded, and swung out the gun, tracking on a group of enemies running particularly close together. Tarhu racked the charging handles back, letting them slam forward, before beginning the rhythmic symphony. Streams of high explosive rounds flew down towards the group, the steady chunk-chunk-chunk-chunk of the gun caressing his whole body with the pulsing report from each shot, sent down to earth with the power to induce the dance of death. Their legs turned to jelly, the shockwaves shattering their bones inside their body.

The gunship began taking fire from below, as attention turned to the more pressing threat. Occasional rounds would ricochet off the armor plates installed on the belly of the aircraft, although the drug-addled crew barely reacted.

"Bank for me, Labarna, I think I see a tekkie." Called up the gunner, a tracer cracking past a few feet away from him.

Labarna, the pilot, complied with a lazy banking turn, circling slowly around. The tekkie returned fire, as did a few other vehicles. It was quickly overwhelmed by the superior firepower of the twin 37mm guns, of bigly superior Asgeirrian design. The engine was hit several times as the firefight below continued, and the pilot and copilot began conversing to pass the time.

"How dreary this war is, isn't it?" Queried Labarna, "I wonder how long we must keep it up?"

"Quite. Why is this even going on, anyways? Seems a bit odd that the Emperor liberated these people from an oppressive regime, only to have them rebel." Replied Mursili. "I mean, the Republic fought a war, won a war, against an inferior foe, and now they are forced to occupy those they have liberated and bettered?"

His counterpart nodded. "Yeah! Seems a bit arbitrary that they are an insurgency now, even though things are objectively better for them and they have all their rights."

"You know, if I didn't know better I'd say there was someone higher up that wanted to extend this conflict for some reason." Observed the copilot. "I mean, as racist and aloof as the Asgeirrians are, these islanders are getting an objectively good deal."

Behind them, Tarhu slumped over the gun, blood squirting periodically from his neck.

"Oh, looks like we lost another one." Remarked the pilot, glancing behind him momentarily, before pulling the aircraft around to head back to base. "Anyways, it seems like we're just killing people to kill people out here. Which I mean, is fine with me, but seems kind of counter intuitive to liberation."

"Yup. I mean, I've read about wars between nations of roughly equal power in Europa that lasted, like, a few weeks." The copilot said, pensively.

"But hey, I guess someone decided that they hadn't had quite enough war, so why not trigger an insurgency by issuing a super generous ultimatum?"

There was a storm rolling in from the west, and a cool breeze wafted through the open windows. The pilot tapped off some ash from his joint into an ashtray in the dashboard of the small aircraft.

"Kind of a weird world we live in, huh?" He pondered. "I mean, a full-fledged war here to liberate people living under an oppressive regime results in an insurgency, meanwhile a few days of blockading a sovereign nation, and you get a whole new government and the former head of state gets a kangaroo court, nobody bats an eye. Not a single riot. Everyone's just fine with that. What a world."

The thunder rumbled ominously. Storms on Scylla were beautiful, with blue, white, yellow, and even sometimes orange lightning illuminating the weird clouds.

"Seems like contrived convenience, if you ask m--" he was interrupted by lightning striking their engine, causing it to burst into flames. "Oh ye gods!"

As they spiralled out of the sky in a flat spin, the pilot tried to angle the nose down to regain control of the aircraft.

"What a lampshade hanging this has been! It's been a wild ride, brother, I'll find you in the next Dreaming!" Cried Labarna.

They hurdled towards the cold, hard ground, spiralling wildly. Labarna pressed his joint, which had been put out by the exceedingly strong winds, against the now-molten avionics, relighting the smidge of devil's lettuce still left. He put the joint in his mouth, and put both hands on the joystick, pulling against the spiral, attempting to correct the spin, all the way into the treetops, where they collided with a tree, crashing into the ground in a final pillar of fire and debris. The Hatti were fairly skilled in piloting, although the equipment they used was quite dated. While they were quite effective in certain aspects of combat, such as wildly slaughtering insurgents, light infantry, and ambushing armor in cities, jungles, and mountains, they were hardly an effective fighting force outside this capacity. They were cheaper to expend than Asgeirrian soldiers, as well, since they equipped, trained, and supplied themselves. Their weapons had often been passed down for generations, many of them being armed with bolt action rifles from the early 20th century, although they were typically very accurate with these dated weapons. The general terms of the contract given to the leader of the Hattusa, Herod, was that the soldiers would be allowed to loot weapons and valuables from insurgents they killed, as well as receiving military equipment from the mothball storage of the Grand Army. Including the lump sum of credits received by the participating troops upon arrival, and the promise of a substantial bonus upon successfully quelling the insurgency, it was a good deal.

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  • 2 weeks later...

For two millennia, Asgeirrians had sought and found victory on battlefields innumerable. Countless millions had fallen at their hands, from the interior of Aurelia, to far-flung islands across the horizon. They had earned a reputation for unmatched prowess and ferocity in battle, leaving every enemy victor with the bitter taste of the loss of life. However, they were also known for their mercy and honorable conduct. The opportunity for surrender was almost always afforded the enemy, and prisoners treated well. They abstained from looting and pillaging, they treated the sick and wounded of the enemy and civilians with great care and compassion. The coalition war was not one of arms, but one of hearts and minds. It had been going on for nearly 300 years, and it would likely never come to a close.

However, as the first Asgeirrian-trained, island-born Peacekeepers began patrolling the streets, there was a shift in policy. The rebels were asked to submit their information via unarmed courier at rendezvous points, which included whether or not they wanted to continue the conflict, and what House they wished to form or be a part of. All normal Asgeirrian bureaucracy was to take place, and at the end of this, the rebels would be deemed state-sanctioned dissidents, so long as they followed the rules of conduct. Per the 21st Legate of Asgeirria, Nahid Khan, all those who wished to disassociate with the rebellion would be pardoned and reeducated to find a place in Asgeirrian society.

Billions had been spent on the islands, taking a sizeable chunk out of both the budget and the sovereign wealth fund, but effectively modernizing most of the infrastructure and industry in the islands, and rebuilding much of what was lost during the war in under a year. The vast construction projects had been slow at first, but having taken some time to educate and train laborers from the islands themselves had both employed and given future livelihoods to much of the non-agricultural populace. A major effort to accredit educational institutions in the island was made, though they lacked the universities and colleges that were ubiquitous in Asgeirria. The Imperial Academies were opened to all qualifying entrants from the islands, in accordance with their strict admission quotas.

The Hattusa were rewarded for their service in the islands, and offered status as a sanctioned House, giving them the status necessary to be selected as legates and imperators. This was a major step, politically, as the Hattusa had been pariahs for the past few thousand years. John Valentino believed the time was right to bring them into the fold, so to speak, as they had done Asgeirria a great service, and proven themselves on the battlefield. It was a major step in the direction of a reunified Asgeirrian Empire, as internal support was key for such a bold move.

Was the time of glory near?

Or would the empire face an eminent collapse?

Regis Celestia faced a turbulent future.

Many decisions would need to be made to properly guide the nation through this.

Without proper leadership and direction, there was a good change that Asgeirria might fail.

Other than High Command, there were few places that leadership might come from.

Obsessed with the recapture of former territories, these same leaders might fail to see the dangers of international resistance.

Despite this, the Asgeirrian people would charge forward, hungry for expansion, prosperity, and glory.

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