[centre][H2]New Kiev[/h2][/centre]

[centre][h3]The Battle for Charleston[/h3][/centre]

[i]"Are you ready men?" roared Kiev Battalion First Marshal Alkov, extending a finger towards the green, spore infested fog enveloping the city's westerly districts. 

His enthusiasm was met by the cheers of hundreds, all crashing their weapons together, and singing the adrenaline filled melody of war. 

"I asked you, are you ready?" Alkov repeated, raising himself up onto an overturned and rust covered hulk of a former car. "Are you ready to die for people and country, for the greater good of all what we hold dear?" 

His more grimly termed words did little to diminish the Battalion's high spirits. Again they cheered, jumping up and down on the spot, cracking knuckles and limbering up, as if they were about to compete in some sporting event. 

"Then let's get to it!" Alkov yelled, raising a brass trumpet to his lips and playing a soured, high pitched tune.

The Battalion, one mass of four hundred bodies, donned their respiratory protection, and rushed headlong into the fog - just as the broken forms of carriers charged from it, having heard the commotion.[/i]

Today marks the last day of a campaign to rid the ruins of Charleston from the fungal carriers. It has been a bloody battle, spanning six months, and costing New Kiev over four hundred dead - a blow to its man power it can ill afford. Still, with the last of the infected driven from the city, the people of New Kiev can finally look to building for themselves a brighter future. 

The battle is expected to be short, but bloody. Early estimates place the death toll so far at a hundred, and this is expected to rise. However, it is a price the President is apparently willing to make. Many feel this is because of the chronic food shortage that is hitting the fledgling nation hard, and without a fishing fleet, the sea has been unable to provide the resources the people need. Therefore, it is thought the President is looking to drive inland, and to capture South Carolina's famed farmland. 

Even if he is successful however, it is feared that the time it takes to get crops sown, and the loss of life in clearing the area, may well be fatal blows to New Kiev. Only time will tell. 

[centre][h3]Hailing All Frequencies[/h3][/centre]

[i]"We might not find friends, Mr. President, but enemies. Broadcasting this message could draw on us a tide that we could not resist," Security Minister Jenkins, an American national, stated rather flatly. "It'd be best if we sent scouts inland first, to assess who is out there first hand."

The President, wearing an old world suit, stroked at his neatly trimmed goatee as he looked out over the ruins of Charleston. This he did for some minutes, occasionally sighing, or muttering a few unheard words. Finally he turned, and shook his head. 

"We need food, and we need it now. Someone must be out there who can help us. Make it happen, Minister, and make it happen today. 

Jenkins blew out air, showing his frustration. But it was not for him to go against the President. "As you wish, I'll get it done."[/i]

[b]Message to All Players, via Radio Broadcast[/b]

"This is President Vitali Kedzierski, of New Kiev, South Carolina, Charleston. If there is anyone out there, in either need of assistance, or shelter, then I urge you to make contact. We are not hostile, I repeat, we are not hostile. More over, if anyone out there has a surplus of food, then we would be willing to trade. We are operating on the following frequencies (gives frequencies), and I would urge anyone and everyone, to get in touch. I say again, South Carolina is inhabited, and we are driving the infected out, but we need food. Please, contact us on these frequencies (gives frequencies)."