gorgenmast

Who designed this fucking bio test

Mussels don't graze on pond weed, they're sessile filter feeders

@Antarctic Termite

pond weed

@Antarctic Termite

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

Djibouti, Pan-African Empire

They had arrived.

Towers of steel and menace glowing in the twilight of the setting sun stood vigil across the waters from Ethiopia's port city. A wall of mighty guns trained upon Djibouti, awaiting only the order from Admiral Santiago Santin to smash the city into dust. That order would come soon - once the swarm of landing boats now being lowered into the sea had reached a safe distance from their own guns. The muzzle fire from one such naval battery could incinerate a house. No matter: time was on the side of the Spanish; Djibouti was going nowhere, but it could be hoped that the Ethiopian defenders would loose heart in the face of the coming onslaught and would flee rather than resist.

Luis glanced longingly back to the Armada's ships as his landing craft drifted toward the shore some four kilometers away. On those ships, the private felt relatively safe. The primacy of Spain's blue water navy was uncontested - barring a naval intervention by the Chinese, the Spanish fleet could never be threatened. Behind the study hull of the Golondrina, nothing could hurt him. But in this rusting old boat, rocking and bobbing about in the sea, Luis would be utterly helpless if calamity were to strike. He could only pray and hope that the Lord would steer this boat through sea mines and incoming shells. Even an errant wave could spell disaster, spilling Luis and his companions into the open water.

Those companions did not seem to share Luis' concern. There was a tension amongst the men to be sure, but it was not one of timid reservation. Brief comments here and there met with short bouts of laughter. Luis' comrades were coiled springs, ready to be released from the landing boat and thrown against the Ethiopians. It was a palpable eagerness - they, after all, would be the ones to redeem the imperial splendor of Spain. Hector in particular seemed as though the spirit of Cortes and Pizarro were spurring him on against the Aztec and Inca of the modern age.

"Did the Armada forget how to shoot those guns? What gives?" One of the infantry spoke up.

"What's the range on those things anyway?" Another added.

"I've heard something like forty kilometers."

"Shit, those ships get any closer to shore and they'll be able to clear us a path all the way to Addis!"

"Forty kilometers on a good day." Lieutenant Ayesta corrected, leaning against the hull of the landing craft as the boat rolled over a wave crest. Droplets of foamy seawater splashed over the side and fell upon their olive-beige combat helmets. "And today is not a particularly good day as these things go. That storm's going to be on the Armada's ass in a few hours and you bet those gusts will play havoc on shells sailing through thirty to forty-five kilometers of air. They're getting in as close as they can. No reason not to; we've got aerial superiority and Ethiopia just lost what's left of a navy." Chuckles and grunts of approval rang out over the rumble of the diesel engine churning through the sea to the rear of the boat.

Luis craned his neck over the lip of the hull toward the shore. His boat was at the rear of a loose, vaguely-linear cluster of landing craft - one of the first waves. They had traversed about half of the distance between the Armada and the coast - heightening waves and the beginnings of whitecaps showed that the water was already quite shallow here. The landing boat was no longer rolling over the surf, but powering through it. The diesel motor revved angrily as the front of the boat plowed over the ridge of a wave - shattering it into a mist of beads shimmering in the spotlight the driver had switched on minutes earlier. As the boat bobbed up with the waves, Luis could see with some clarity their target, their destination.

Orange streetlights glowed over the inky darkness of the water, illuminating the city against the encroaching darkness. For the bastion of communist sympathy in the West, Luis was not particularly impressed by what he could see of Ethiopia so far. Djibouti was by no means a grand city, the buildings washed in the glow of halogen streetlamps went no higher than a few stories - a far cry from the glittering high rises and office complexes of Alicante, Valencia, or Barcelona. Wharves, warehouses, and loading cranes silhouetted against the reflected glow of the city against the nighttime sky could be seen off to the north. There was no doubt that any shipping-related infrastructure would be the first things the Armada would target; denying Ethiopia an important resupply port was a vital point of the Spanish strategy. Directly ahead was the ebbing whiteness of surf-driven foam crashing against a beach: a more suitable medium for a waterborne invasion.

An explosive flash materialized somewhere in the city, followed immediately by a handful of others. Several seconds passed before the distance-dulled boom of the blasts registered. The barrage had begun, eliciting cheerful whoops from the Spanish soldiers. No sooner than the Armada's initial salvo had begun, the unmistakable roar of helicopter propellers came in loud over the crashing surf. Barracuda gunships engorged with infantry swooped just over the landing craft crawling through the waves. They would carry heavily-armed fireteams behind the enemy's defensive lines, further encouraging the mass rout of Ethiopian forces that General Ponferrada so desired. For his own sake, Luis hoped that the Ethiopians would quail at the sight of this display of force.

Another shell fell upon Djibouti, deep within. It triggered an explosion that blossomed into a churning fireball, then rose upward above the city turning from bright orange and yellow and mushrooming into a deep red cloud. Embers and smoke billowed upward as the fireball expanded over the city. Another round of cheers as the sound of that explosion met their ears.

"Must have hit a fuel depot with that one!" One of Luis' peers exclaimed.

Another infernal flash materialized up to the north, nearer to the harbor. And then another flash, and another...

"Jesucristo! Armada's making these shots count!"

"That's not the Armada." Lieutenant Ayesta declared, craning his neck to look back over the driver's platform. "Our guns aren't firing."

"What a bunch of fucking morons!" Hector cackled. "They're shelling their own city!"

As the soldiers burst into hysterics at the supposed stupidity of their enemy, Luis watched as the fireballs continued to blossom forth from the bursts of light, each one merging into a horizon of firelight. Djibouti - the entire city - was rapidly beginning to burn.
__________________________________

Admiral Santiago Santin stood at the helm of La Ira de Dios, his arms crossed behind his back as he pressed himself against the windshield of the aircraft carrier's control tower. A pair of state-of-the-art infrared binoculars rested upon a nearby console; Admiral Santin had no need for them now, he could see everything he needed to. An infernal glow radiated across the hills and deserts surrounding the port city as the conflagration grew ever more intense.

"That bastard!" General Ponferrada snarled, joining Santin's side in watching the great fire. "I knew he'd do something of this caliber."

"Communists would sooner see their country burn than allow it to fall from their grasp. I'm not at all surprised either. It does complicate your landings. How does this affect your plan moving forward?"

"It doesn't." Ponferrada decided matter-of-factly. "The only thing that they've accomplished with this feat is sparing us the munitions to destroy Djibouti. It was never my intent to engage them in urban combat, and it seems that Hassan is no more interested in guerrilla warfare than I am. A career of fighting Belgians and separatists in the bush has made him fond of a more open field of combat - I must assume he's forgotten that Ethiopia proper is a land devoid of cover. The Fuerza Aerea will burn his forces out of any hole he tries to hide in, and he cannot win a set piece battle against the Ejercito.

The Barracudas will take the forward guard into their midst and dispatch their artillery without difficulty. Forces arriving on the beaches will simply have to pick a path through the city, or perhaps await aerial extraction if the fires get too expansive. This stunt might have impressed that maricon Demessie, but it will take much more than napalm shells and a few hundred liters of kerosine to faze me."

General Ponferrada glanced furtively about the bridge, ensuring the officers and ensigns were occupied with other matters. Satisfied no one was paying particularly close attention, he leaned into Santin's ear. "On the subject of impressing these savages, we have the opportunity to spare ourselves any combat here. We can avoid all confrontation for this landing," he whispered. He took one more glance over his shoulder before continuing.

"I know as well as you do that the Cascabel carries nerve gas shells, and that the Prime Minister has granted you permission to use them at your discretion. Their artillery batteries and formations could be dispatched with a handful of shells..."

"No," Santin curtly denied. "Those will be sorely needed before this war is finished. I have no intention of wasting them on Ethiopian artillery battalions of all things."

Before he could continue, the Admiral took note of a sudden uptick in the chatter amongst the officers at their consoles. Santin approached the communications officer to be appraised of the situation at hand.

"The Cimmarón has reported radar contacts moving overland. Attempting to confirm...," an epaulet-sporting officer informed the Admiral in between conversations through his headset.

"I can confirm: unidentified contacts on radar moving in at 220 knots, heading of 105 degrees!" A white-clad ensign reported. "Aircraft and lots of it!"

"I want every fixed-wing aircraft on the carrier airborne in the next seven minutes." Admiral Santin snapped. "Get those flak guns firing." A chorus of 'Aye's and 'Entendido, almirante's responded to each order. "General, do I understand that there are gunships moving inland?"

"That's correct." With this, the General's face drained of color.

"Then you turn them the Hell around."

Stellvia [Always Accepting] (Hey, these things in parentheses are hip, right?)

Okay! App reviews are done, everyone up to and including RomanAria is accepted, along with HounderHowl. WIP apps will be reviewed at a later date. Murtox, your app is okay, but the planet's size should be turned down. It's totally possible for like to exist on a planet 10x Earth's size, but I don't think a humanoid form would work in general. One fall in that kind of gravity and your bone is shattered. You'd want to have a species like mass effect's Elcor for that.

@Keyguyperson

Does that mean we are free to post IC?

Stellvia [Always Accepting] (Hey, these things in parentheses are hip, right?)

- New character sheet in progress -

Stellvia [Always Accepting] (Hey, these things in parentheses are hip, right?)

Wrong section, my bad.

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

*closes about 20 tabs on navy stuff of italy*

@Wilted Rose

Yep, I know that feel.

So.

I got turned down for a job a Wal-mart today because I am "over-qualified" and there are other people who need it more?

That was confusing.

Not really. "Over-qualified" is a polite way for an employer to say "You have a master's degree and yet you're applying to work as a gas-station cashier? Something's got be wrong with you. Next..."

Even though, in all likelyhood, it's just that there's a saturation of people with degrees and the market for labor is horrible. College graduates who should be getting into entry positions are getting denied and are increasingly taking menial labor work while they search. Walmart and employers who tend to hire people with less formal training (for their non-management positions) will likely shy away from hiring "over-qualified" candidates because these employees will quit immediately once they find something more suitable - and high-turnover is a constant challenge in low skill, menial workplaces.

tl;dr you were rejected because you probably have a degree and they know you'll quit within three months. Leave out the degree on your resume/pretend to be a minority next time

I HOPPED OFF THE PLANE AT LAX WITH A DREAM AND MY CARDIGAN

HE'S THE REASON FOR THE TEARDROPS ON MY GUITAR

Archipelagos of the Equinox - The First Steps

Ruler's name: The Luminance
Ruler's Title: The Guiding Light
Ruler's Appearance: The Luminance is an incorporeal being composed of noon sunlight. Its origins are steeped in mystery - all that is known is that it selected Touchstone to be its home. Over the centuries, its disciples have carved a sanctuary around it. The Luminance, for its power and majesty, is a humble being. In the presence of mortal men, it often chooses the form of a wizened white-haired sage.
Island description: Touchstone - a towering rock of chalky-white stone rising from a deep blue sea into a cerulean sky. Temples and gardens are carved into the marble. The carved edifices in the rock gradually taper the massive stone into a single spire hundreds of meters above the sea.
Archipelago faction: Light
Unique metal of the island: Auralite - iridescent, glassy material harvested from deep within Touchstone.
Starting settlers: Disciples of the Luminance - a host of stern and strong-willed monks.

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

Straits of Mandeb

A thin and smoggy haze hung over the waters at the terminus of the Red Sea. It was a humid, still air infused with the smell of unburned diesel and acrid smoke; the lingering odor of destruction. The Bab el Mandeb reeked of it. Yesterday, the Fuerza Aerea destroyed here what paltry remnants of a navy the Ethiopian Empire possessed. The territorial waters of the Empire were defenseless; the Spanish Armada steamed into the Gulf of Aden unopposed a mere sixty knots from the vital Ethiopian port of Jibuti.

Above Luis Morazan's head, the heavy guns of the Golondrina inched by, ticking audibly as the turret ratcheted into position. Inside of an hour, the vanguard of the Spanish fleet would be within thirty knots of Jibuti - firing range of the cruiser's main armaments - and already the guns were being trained toward the city. Luis too was in the process of readying for battle - he and his platoon had been issued the equipment and gear they would be carrying into combat only minutes before. A backpack full of all manner of campaign essentials jingled and bounced against his back as he followed behind one Lieutenant Ayesta to the armored watercraft dangling alongside the hull of the cruiser. Along the midship flanks of the Golondrina were four landing boats hanging from booms just off of the ship on steel cables. Deckhands ferried supplies from the cruiseer onto the landing craft by way of a short aluminum gangplank as the four platoons being ferried by the Golondrina gathered at their assigned boats.

The Spanish landing craft seemed more like something that would move on treads or wheels than any boat. They were quite blocky, so much so that they looked as if they would sink like the bricks they resembled if they were ever lowered into the sea they were suspended over. They were essentially flat-bottomed barges with tall hulls, hopefully of a thickness sufficient to stop a bullet. A parapetted steering column was positioned above the passenger deck in the rear of the boat off to the left; to the right of the driver's post was a small machine gun nest that would provide enough suppressive fire to allow the infantry within to disembark from a ramp in the front.

"Here's how this is going work." Ayesta declared casually as he parked the twenty soldiers in tow behind him before the gangplank of their landing boat. "When we're given the order to deploy, you make your way to this point right here and step on over into the passenger deck in an orderly fashion. We're not leaving without you, so step aboard in a civilized manner, get cozy in there, and wait to get lowered down. Once we're in the water, this boat is going to gun it for the beach. Once the ramp comes down, get to terra firma and get to cover. We have air and naval superiority over the enemy, but we will be fighting on their own soil. The intelligence grapevine suggests that the defense will be personally led by one of their more seasoned commanders, and we are to expect heavy resistance. Remember your training, and we'll all be coming home."

A distant rumbling on the horizon drew the attention of some of the soldiers.

"Shelling," Hector thought out loud, "I hear shelling."

"Thunder." Ayesta corrected, pointing over the platoon's heads to the east. There, hanging against a backdrop of hazy cerulean, was a wall of dark, roiling thunderclouds rising into the very stratosphere. The swirling chasms and irregularities of the distant tempest flickered angrily as lightning flashed from deep within. The monsoon squall had seemingly shadowed the Spanish armada ever since it entered the Red Sea. For a week, Spanish meteorologists tracked the squall as it crept southward across the Gulf of Arabia, gathering moisture and strength over the warm seas as it lumbered toward Africa. And now, it threatened to make its landfall late that night - mere hours before the Spanish were to make their landings.

Another rumbling, followed shortly thereafter by another two percussive blasts. Luis knew full well that this was not thunder when Ayesta's typically-lackadaisical expression very suddenly became much more grave. Hector was right, there was gunfight taking place in the distance. As if to confirm this, the klaxons of the vessel's PA speakers roared to life, warning all hands that hostilities had commenced.

"Battle positions!" Ayesta ordered over the warbling drone of the sirens, leading his men from the landing boats up to their positions near the prow of the cruiser. As they had during the Battle of Port Said, the soldiers butted themselves up against the railing lip at Golondrina's fore and peered out over the water, the barrels of their weapons resting against the railing. Naval personnel assumed control of the deck gun behind Luis.

"Hostile contacts at the two o'clock position!" Luis heard one of the deckhands manning the cannon shout out. He looked out before the ship and off to the right - the reported whereabouts of the Ethiopian attackers. There, steaming northward across the straits, was a gaggle of vessels of varying sizes and shapes. Most were very small - smaller than Luis could expect even the smallest torpedo boat to be. If he were forced to identify these distant vessels, he would say most of them appeared to be fishing trawlers or ferries. Some were nothing more than metal boats affixed with outboard engines.

"Fire at will!" Screamed one of the men manning the deck gun. The cannon acknowledged the order with three thunderous blasts, one right after the other. In the distance, Luis watched as geysers of white, pulverized water shot skyward around the enemy vessels as the rounds slammed into the water around the vessels. The air resounded with the whistling of shells tearing through the air around them as Luis and his companions regained their hearing following the salvo being fired just behind them. Two other cruisers were now opening fire - flashes and puffs of smoke materialized on the bow of the nearby cruiser Hechizada seconds before the concussive bursts reached Luis' eardrums.

The rounds from the sister cruiser found their mark: a deck gun shell tore what appeared to be a fishing vessel into a cloud of shredded debris and dust. Luis cringed as the boat collapsed into the sea; despite watching it unfold from a great distance away, he was certain that he could see bodies flung about like ragdolls into the water. The smaller, more maneuverable boats turned away and scattered toward the Yemeni coast from the approaching Spanish warships, the larger boats were unable to escape.

"They're refugees." Luis groaned as shells continued whistling through the air. "Why are we shooting them?"

"That's exactly what they want you to think, Luis." Lieutenant Ayesta declared, pausing as the deck gun behind them shot off another five rounds at the slower ships trapped in the path of the Spanish armada. "They want us to think that they're civilians trying to flee the country - so they can drop sea mines in our path. Never underestimate the lengths to which a desperate defender will go to survive."

"Fuck them anyway, even if they are refugees. They had their chance to escape this mess when Yaqob got into bed with the Chinks." Hector snarled, watching as a ferry burst into flames from a shell impact. "Better dead than red."

Excerpt from Fuerza Aerea Communique to the Oficina de Intelegencia Militar

Aerial Combat Incident Report

Issue Serial: 6.102
Incident Date(s): 4 June, 1980
Mission Classification: Reconnaissance, Interception
Personnel Involved: Captain Bartolo Uriega, Fuerza Aerea 8th Division - 5th Fighter-Inceptor Squadron
Incident Location: Gulf of Aden
Actors Involved: Fuerza Aerea of the Second Spanish Republic, New People's China
Assets Involved: AE13 Fantasma, Fuerza Aerea 8th Division - 5th Fighter-Inceptor Squadron

Weather: Clear skies and low pressure at incident locality and altitude. Aircraft struck by lightning during interception action prior to engagement. Lightning strike notable due to clear weather and failure of aircraft electrical systems. Cpt. Uriega made emergency landing at Abd al Kuri island and made repairs to electrical systems prior to engagement. (See Attachment: ACIR 6.101)

Incident Overview: Cpt. Uriega scrambled from the aircraft carrier La Ira de Dios in northern Red Sea via AE13 Fantasma jet-propelled fighter to gauge defensive capacities of the Pan-African Empire's Ethiopian and Somalian coasts beyond radar and propeller-propeller reconnaissance thresholds. At 1415 local time, Cpt. Uriega detected a single unarmed aircraft with heading of 80 degrees in the vicinity of the Somalian coast from Ethiopian airspace and proceeded to engage. A lightning strike and subsequent failure of electrical systems forced Cpt. Uriega to make an emergency landing on the Abd al Kuri island to facilitate repairs. Uriega was unable to relocate the target aircraft.

At 1605 local time, Cpt. Uriega encountered three jet-propelled aircraft moving into the vicinity at high speed with a heading of 30 degrees from Ethiopian airspace. Cpt. Uriega initiated hostilities with foreign aircraft. Combat between actors lasted for approximately 14 minutes, 830 rounds of 12.7x100mm ammunition were expended. Cpt. Uriega believes that one enemy plane was shot down, but was unable to conduct a thorough search for the unaccounted hostile plane. Uriega was struck twice by enemy machine gunfire - once in the distal shoulder and once in the upper back. The engagement concluded when the accounted hostile aircraft retreated from the vicinity into Ethiopian airspace. It is likely that the hostiles left the engagement due to low fuel rather than combat-related considerations. Cpt. Uriega returned to La Ira de Dios to refuel and seek medical attention. At 1807 local time, Cpt. Uriega deceased due to blood loss.

Incident Analysis: Bullet fragments recovered during the autopsy of Cpt. Uriega and within the AE13 Fantasma were found to be of a 13.0x102 caliber analogous to the Browning .50 caliber round. This bullet caliber does not correspond with any round of European, American, Ethiopian, or Persian manufacture. The bullets that killed Cpt. Uriega can likely only be of Chinese origin. Likewise, the industrial capacity of New People's China is thought to be the only one outside of the Second Spanish Republic capable of producing jet engines of any reliability. While it is distantly possible that the New People's China has provided jet fighter aircraft to the Pan-African Empire, the training regimen required to prepare Ethiopian pilots, mechanics, and engineers to operate efficiently with a Chinese jet aircraft would likely be very cumbersome. Far more likely, the New People's China has stationed their own fighters and pilots within the territory of the Pan-African Empire. It is abundantly clear that elements of the military forces of the Second Spanish Republic and New People's China have come into direct combat during this incident.

Recommended Actions/Corrections: Incident currently pending review by the Prime Minister.