Dinh AaronMk

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Maxxorlord said
If all goes according to plan, next Saturday shall be devoted to making a post for this here thread.Also, hello Tex.

Godspeed then, Maxxor.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

And pooosted.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Beijing

An air of tensity loomed in the room. Like the metaphorical and cliched elephant in the room. Even the buzz of the lighting seemed to compliment the expectant worry as it droned overhead. The commanders had assembled, taking their seats at the long table in the middle of the room. There were no windows, the only light from sunken lighting in the ceiling. On the desk a darkened projector sat facing a blank screen.

Sitting at their seats they sat, tapping their fingers on the wooden table as they waited. Their caps pulled over their heads. The medals and symbols of their rank glistened in the yellow-gold lighting. This wasn't just waiting for them. This was meditation. Something was happening, and to be called by the Chairman. Only Lou Shai Dek seemed to be in any sort of peace, his old wrinkled fingers gently stroking along the grains of the wooden table as he leaned back on his seat, scowling emptily at the blank projector screen.

With a groan the briefing room's entrance opened. No one needed to turn to see who it was as they heard the familiar tap of a wooden cane on the laminate floors. With a sudden screech of chairs against the cold-pressed, shining linoleum they stood at attention, turning only out of respect as in followed Hou Sai Tang.

In previous days, he would have come in with upright confidence. His back straight as a razor's edge. But since the stroke, and now he announced retirement he was slower. Almost less confidence. And his expression had grown darker. His sharp dagger beard had grown longer and whiter in the past few months. He was aging, and aging fast.

“Comrades.” he said softly, walking to the table. He picked up his back with what strength he had as he hovered around the edge.

“Comrade Hou.” the commanders bowed, greeting the chairman with polite political smiles. Almost like vipers, the chairman thought.

With a soft shuffle they pulled their chairs back to the table, sitting back down as Hou ambled to the head of the table. “Do we know why we're here?” the chairman asked, his voice gravely.

“It's been all over the NPN even, I don't think anyone here isn't aware.” Han Shen said. He was a man of short stature, but a wide build; even for a Chinese man. It was not to say he was fat. Where his face was pinched in, his brow was not. And his shoulders were large and long. The blue coat of his rank hid most of his features, and the naval decorations only helped to distract it. As well as the honorary medals he wore for her service, and the liberation of Dalian. “The Spanish Invasion of Ethiopia, or supposed.”

“It's been made official out of Spain, comrade.” a tired deeply broken voice said. Almost like wind passing through a pipe of broken glass. Yan Sing. The pale ghost of a man leaned over the table draped in black. His hair was thin and silvery. His eyes were narrow and sharp. He frowned as he spoke, “Sotelo made a public appearance the other day effectively declaring war on Ethiopia, and indirectly us. We've known for a long time he wants to purge Communism from the world, I think we all know that really. But the important thing is that he believes he had acquired the strength to act.

“The exchange in the Red Sea wasn't just a minor skirmish, brothers. It's the first stage to a full armed conflict at this point.”

“You can be so sure?” Shen said, shocked.

“Satellite interception of the broadcasts and work directly from Ethiopia can not lie. They are at war.”

“Oh, I misunderstood the situation then.” Shen apologized.

“There's no excuse for prolonged fishing ventures.” Sing smiled wryly, reaching into his black overcoat and pulling out a bland red and white pack of cigarettes, “We all should no better.”

“Well I hope you caught some big fish, admiral.” Shai Dek brooded.

“Fishing is besides the point.” Hou said angrily, his voice risen to the precipice of a shout. “So what are we going to do about this?”

“Unfortunately apart from doing little, we could simply wait.” Shai Dek said, “We all know wars with Spain have been short. As was the affair in Finland. They'll get tangled up in the Congo or get sand in their shoes getting across the Sahara and won't make this an extended campaign. They'll seek an exit strategy before they risk loosing more men to Malaria than to bullets.

“Think about it as a grander campaign in Vietnam. Had the French actually cared, how many would be butchered by the elements alone? It's no doubt what they saw. And probably a factor in them simply giving up. But I can't speak for France.”

“None of us may.” laughed another officer, in a gray coat. Han Jang. Tall and statue like. His daze was distant, and some would say ever upwards. He had facilitated the rise of a space program, for however slow it was. But it was his and he had all right to be proud in part.

He leaned back, brushing his fingers through his short salt and pepper hair. “But I do agree it may be too earlier to partake in this campaign. If we're going to extend Chinese defensive interests beyond the Free Asia protocol it should be if we know the situation is dire. We don't even know if Spain will intend to mobilize their VX stockpiles on Ethiopia.”

“If they do it'll be a disaster.” Sing added with a biting tongue. There was no mercy on his voice. It was grim and precise.

“I agree.” Jang nodded, “At this point we could at the least act as a measure to observe and seek out their stockpiles. Our High Altitude Wing hasn't been tested in a full war-time scenario. We had successful flights over Russia on air recon of the countryside during the peace interlude. But we haven't flown any over Spanish territory. We could use this as a chance to gauge our aircraft's capabilities in interceptor avoidance, if not being blind to radar as a whole for flying too high to be distinguishable by noise. We may also gauge Spanish radar if they can spot it and attempt to intervene on our pilots.”

“Wouldn't that be risky though?” Hou asked with much sprinkled caution.

“All war comes with risk.” Shai Dek said, “We all here understand that. We've paid out our share in risk across Asia. We may have planned well enough to alleviate significant loss.”

“I understand...” said Hou.

“So we fly over Spain. What are we looking for?” the commander of national security asked. Handoi Hu. A large man. More akin to a cow than a commander. And a balding one at that.

“I'd hope to find perhaps mass mobilization over the desert.” chimed Jang, “Anything. Motorized convos heading to Ethiopia, suspicious air traffic. Somewhere they have to have a stockpile of chemical weapons and if there's intention to use them then it had to be somewhere. Depending on success, I'd suggest we run an unrestrained number of sweeps over Spain from the Pyrenees to the Ivory Coast.”

“That close, we're better off bombing the bastards!” Hu laughed, his large ballooning chin shaking like jello.

“We may have the capabilities given the design of the High Altitude Wing but we don't want to play that card too early.” Sing countered, “As tempting as it would be to set Madrid aflame while Sotelo takes a shit we may not do much harm in the long run. We may just end up scaring the Spanish people more into demanding more aggressive action.

“No, if we do have to bomb that home we'll do it en'masse if this turns into a prolonged war for once. Right now we'll spur the people to demand more aggressive movements and before we know it we're meeting the Spanish on the Indonesian Islands just to cut them off from China, or they're on Taiwan. If we do it late enough, grind them to bits in Africa and then bomb them: we frighten the Spanish people to submit. We make them think we don't have the capability. And when we can hit home, they demand they surrender or they die.

“Turn Spain black.”

“If we do that we're liable to repair.” Hu said, shocked, “That's scary expensive. More than the war.”

“Not unless we willingly ignore that part of our military law.”

“Agreed.” Shai Dek nodded.

“That'll be up to my predecessor.” Hou cut in, “I don't want to be involved in this order or the bastardization of the work I wrote. If we're going to win, I do want us to do so better than our enemy. This is why we exist.”

Sing grumbled under his breath. Thinking about Russia. But in the end the Chairman was right, acting on that initiative that had given them Asia was up to who takes over next. So long as he wasn't a disastrous person, storming into danger.

“What else can we commit at this time?” Hou groaned, “Surely more than photographs.”

“We have the small training contingent on Pemba.” Lou Shai Dek said, “If need be we can get them to reposition to Addis and help them to dig in, or whatever defensible position the Ethiopians need Cao at. That much I can promise immediately.

“But with us in Russia it'll be trickier to allocate more foot soldiers. We can meet with the Turkistanians to make a due date for withdraw from Turkistan with the collapse of the Ottomans no longer facilitating their need. But that will open a front for unchecked Russian movement in the north. So we'll need to get Turkistan formally involved in some way or set a goal to move out when our men control Russia up to their western edge. We could then deploy or redeploy fifty-thousand or more then to Africa.”

“I could have the navy ready to move to transport these relief units.” Jang said with a tired voice, “Do we have a commander for this endeavor?”

“No, but I'll look for a candidate.”

“Excellent.” the admiral said, “I doubt we can move an actual battle group to Africa to relieve the situation in the Red Sea. By the time we arrive I no doubt the Spanish will have total control of the region. If we do dispatch ships it'll be to supplement the Ethiopians elsewhere on their Eastern Coast.

“I'd recommend waiting for a later time to deploy a larger fleet to break any possible Spanish control of the coast later. That way we move not only boats but equipment as well to insure a stronger hold on a liberated coast. And by the time we arrive then we can estimate the Spanish may be thinned out to control the coast. We can piece the Spanish navy apart off the African coast in the way and break the war effort.”

“What about the White Sea?” asked Hou.

“I suppose we could give Shao Shen new orders.” Jang shrugged, “What will help?”

“To break the European economy.” Shai Dek said with no remorse, “Disturb the shipping lanes, especially Spanish flagged ships.”

“Well, I do supposed the United Kingdom can't get involved, not after what they've been through.” Jang shrugged, “And Germany is the only other submarine power we're aware of. France has never been a naval power and we can count the Dutch and Belgians out as being a able threat. Not for the Bohai.

“But we're going to need to organize to refuel them that far out for such a mission. Before I can give the order, if we're going to do it, I need to know the logistical support for this. A submarine isn't a sail ship, it doesn't have have indefinite fuel. And it can't resupply itself alone on raiding – if that's what you're proposing comrade Shai Dek.”

“It is.” the commander nodded.

“Well... I see...” Jang said, chewing his cheek. His face grew pale.

“It sounds like we'll need to study this proposal some more.” Hou nodded, “We'll need to reconvene then?”

“Indeed.” the commanders nodded.

“If we're going to be involved with any greater depth we're going to need to convene Congress.” Hou said, “So we're going to need a greater war plan to present to committee. Something to pass down through succession and accommodates for Russia.”

“Understood, comrade.” Lou Shai Dek nodded.

“I'll have my men draw up a full brief on the resources and time needed.” Jang mumbled, “Suggest authorized piracy or raiding of targeted ships. Measure the... legality I guess and how to cover for that.”

“I'll commit resources from my department.” Sing said, waving a lit cigarette.

“Excellent, thank you.” Jang bowed.

“If it will help, I'll issue immediate orders to the Deep Gobi facility. Redeploy the High Altitude Wing to Tibet. When we do we launch?”

“I want to get in touch with the Ethiopian ambassador first thing, as soon as possible.” Hou said, “Either before I leave Beijing or tomorrow. They deserve to know a few things.

“I'll tell them we'll commit intelligence on Spanish ability, and some military aid given Pemba. But the rest is to be decided.”

“Anything more and we'll need Congressional approval.” smirked Sing, “I agree to this. It's best to not leave this waiting. We move now.”

The Forest(Crossover Roleplay)

I'm still not convinced. Or you're not trying.

And how is anyone supposed to contend with what's effectively a god? I don't know how strictly the rules are to be enforced, but that latest app off the bat comes off as being incredibly over powered. Makes me wonder if OP and Charlie even read apps. I know this is the free section and all and I should really lower my expectations if I just want to burn time and crack my knuckles, but there has to be a standard somewhere.

Not to mention one has to wonder just how incompatible the nature of magic between some of these character has to be. Most of their original universes/dimensions undoubtedly have differing laws to "magic" innate to them, like their own subsect of physics. I question just how well they might translate from one world to another - if at all - even given how "generic" this plane is.

This is not to mention often times in these universes the laws allow for equal or compatible characters to exist to otherwise off-set the strength of another. But the whole thing is tossed off balance when even the vaguest rule defining magic in this world isn't written to control or dictate some powers most are claiming as "natural" as opposed to augmented technological abilities.

The Forest(Crossover Roleplay)

I can't help but feel some people are going out of their way to find the most absurd characters in fiction because power fetishes.

The Forest(Crossover Roleplay)

There could be many stories written about the forest. Surely there was many Dawn had heard. And an infinite number of others without a doubt. The story of the unexpected hero whose quest begins in such a place. The story of siblings lost in the fowl maze. Of greater mystery and wonder. Six friends who delve into the depths of the tangled fangs of the deep dark woods in order to destroy a foreboding fate before it's too late, only to discover their virtues each at the end, and be gifted with great power.

It was all a trope. A cliché that Dawn felt that even with the few years of adventurism she had experienced. Her home told hundreds of stories about the forboding stories of the one called the Everfree. One of which was about six very real ponies, all of whom now had offspring she might awkwardly call brothers or sisters if they weren't always so freakish or lesser. There were some that try, but that wasn't enough.

Mirror portals, ponds of teleportation, mad wizard's last ditch, and free standing doors. How many had she walked through now or fell into? How many now did she wish would take her home by now? She heard of all worlds turning around a central axis, a Tower... But at what point in that axle do you get to go home? She was beginning to wonder if it even mattered anymore. Chances are she could slip out as quickly as she could manage to flee from some. But that was always luck. And hopefully she wouldn't be unlucky.

The cliff-side path had long given way to a smooth rocky slope broken by tall and magnificent pines. Their trucks towered above her taller than any palatial column she had seen at home in Canterlot. They were ancient and wise. Reaching up to the bright life-giving sun and opening like an umbrella, spreading their long hairy needles outwards. They competed over the coarse of decades – no, centuries – for light.

She remembered someone had once compared her mother and her aunt to trees both. They were more eternal than any oak and both held sway and mastery of the saplings and bushes that grew below their influences. In their boughs they held sway of the sun and moon both and could in an instant – if they so desired – bless or curse the living things below through suffering the extremes of both their sigils. There were plenty very real stories of her aunt having tried that twice, and for that was cut down.

But now she was reseeded and promised and tried to be like her sister. And to the eyes of Dawn she sired the daughter that she considered more closely a sister than the rest.

But that was neither here or now. Though the thought was seeded with great nostalgia and pangs. It only served to remind her how she wanted to be home. But in due time, all things must transpire.

What was now was a deadset ambition to get out as quickly as she came in. And she can't clearly remember how she got in. One moment she was walking, and it was dusty. She could feel the grit of the dust on her hooves as he bit into her boots. Then the next she was in the mountains. From whence she stumbled down to find below this massive valley, cut across the landscape like green scar. It stood to reason to leave she simply needed to cross to the other-side and scale the mountains that peaked over the distance like a ghost. But that could be leagues and days. Weeks perhaps, depending on how thick these woods got, or how dangerous. There wasn't telling how many foul creatures lurked under the boughs.

Her more immediate hope pending no way to climb the mountains would be some ancient tool left behind. There was always something to summon someone or some-pony between the either to new worlds, if they knew where to find it. The matter was such things were unknown, unstudied, and unpredictable.

Canterlot had such a thing, though it was regular. She had stepped through that first, hoping for the predicted result. But it hadn't changed her. Somehow the mirror didn't work as they thought. Or not on her. So she fled, finding a door. And so the chain went. How infinite the links ran and in how large a yard of mail it wove was beyond comprehension.

She just needed good chance.

There was without a doubt little life in the forest. Or little life that may be called civilized. The path that she walked was not cut by tools. But by the hooves or the claws of animals. Deer perhaps, or those same goats whose path she borrowed a fair ways back. Animals were like any other sentience, they needed order and ease of use. If she kept on this goat path long enough it might lead her to water, or food. She may find a goat for her own to make extra water-skins from, or new wrappings to patch the wear on her rucksack or outfit.

Yet despite the desolation she couldn't help but feel alone. There were stranger things than her in these trees. But they were distant, perhaps. But they were there, somewhere. And most of them – or all of them – would be bullshit to the greatest caliber.

Best not to be involved. Eyes ahead. Blinders on. Take a deep breath, it will all be over soon.

A normal highschool with a twist. (RP and OOC)

Well let us not forget the blessing of the unsound engineering that is twenty people to a single spool of zip chord, thereby making no one their own anchor.

Praise the rock wall! We shall sacrifice many to its honor as the Romans did to slaves in the mighty arenas.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Welcome back.

Rise of Empires

The Forest(Crossover Roleplay)

The weight of armor bore down on Dawn's shoulders. It was a satisfying feeling, one of protection. And it all felt better when it was clean. The wear of the road last traveled brushed off and the blood of memories erased. It took significantly longer than would be otherwise needed to equip herself. Even done away with the unneeded plates and pieces the ritual of dressing took its time. She had to stretch her arms and crane her neck to fasten the straps and latch them down. Adjust plates, and straighten the hauberk.

Hands gloved in thick scaly leather she adjusted the tasset. The metal barding was hammered thin, but held strong. As with the rest. She had taken hammer blows, hacked at. Beasts and creatures had tried to devour her. But she had survived them. As she said, she toppled The Wall.

Engraved into her breast plate shone the golden sigil of her mother's. A brilliant yellow sun. The painting and Equestrian gilding had long been chipped and cut, and the original luster had faded. But though she was still so many worlds away it was a connection to home. And it had been a source of praise by others.

But when she looked at it during the lonely darkness of night she often wished for home. She had left because of her mother's attention. She always coddled her and her brother. It had different circumstances on he, who had grown lazy and pompous. But it had made her restless. She had adventures lost to make up for.

But now she was in the thick of it she doubted her adventurism. She wanted to go home again. To feel her mother's kisses in her hair. And to lay in the thick green fields of the countryside. It would be a good retirement, she thought.

Her sword hung at her hip. It was just over the length of her arm and shone in a scabbard of inlaid silver and gold. The cross guard pressed and rolled inward and embossed with patterns of ivy. The grip a narrow strip of metal and wood, bound with leather; Equestrian smiths were hardly capable of making weapons for hands, and she had been forced to modify the grip over her adventures. The pommel was of all things as much of a weapon as the blade was, a sharp pointed replication of her mother's sigil, the burning sun; she had taken out her share of eyes with it all her own. And finally the blade itself was a long straight thing, define with a fuller in its profile, until it turned to a diamond at the tip. It was a sturdy blade.

Turning herself over she checked her gear. It felt right, and when turning it looked right. Everything was where it was supposed to be and the familiar weight of metal hung off where it was supposed to be. With a relieved smile she bent over, picking up her gear and throwing it over her shoulder. She trotted off along the cliff-side. There was a path down cut into the rock, no doubt from goats. If it was good enough for them, it was for her.