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K. A. Pital
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Post by K. A. Pital »

KAMAZ new advertisment

Buy the new KAMAZ in contamination-zone gear!

* - easy to decontaminate
* - protective layers against radiation
* - can haul any cargo through rough roads
* - best product for the recolonization of contaminated territories
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Whether you travel to Mt.Shepmore near Nuketopolis:
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Or near the capital of Tonkin:
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Or in the massively destroyed urban zones of Tian Xia
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Or the ravaged city of Omsk
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Or the Death Roads of Saddamistan:
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And the irradiated coastlines:
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The KAMAZ ARAD is your friend!

*** cut ***

Buy large "40 Year Apocalypse" postcards from FAP Press Union. A unique view, taken from the ALMAZ orbital station during the war!
Image

Special discounts for anti-nuclear war protest movements for their rallies, when buying them for posters.
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Post by PeZook »

PeZookian countryside

Mirosław Jankowski, 72, stood in the door of the little mountain cabin. As far as he understood, it was placed here as a retreat for the Royal Family, in case tensions led up to nuclear war - small and out of the way, impossible to find from the air.

He looked at his grandson, playing in the small forest clearing nearby, and his daughter working in the little field nearby, and sighed. He still remembered that day, 200 kilometers over the planet, when he woke up to a completely different sight.

They commanded what remained of FUN forces after the attacks for 24 hours with Peter, and after that - they boarded the escape capsule and descended down to Nova Terra, landing in PeZookia.

Mirosław has managed to locate his family and flee into the mountains, when he found this cabin - stocked with supplies, weapons, ammo and even diesel fuel. He has lived here ever since, raising his children...eventually, they found spouses amongst the Gorals, the mountainpeople of PeZookia...and they would live here for the following generations.

His friend, Peter Klimiuk, was buried near the cabin. He never married after the war, but worked dilligently as a teacher, helping to preserve the old knowledge. Hopefully, this would help rebuild the island nation of PeZookia in the future...and reach for the stars again.

Mirosław walked out of the cabin, breathing in the fresh mountain air. His daughter waved at him and smiled,and he waved back. Supporting himself with his walking stick, he approached his favorite rocking chair and sat down.

Yes, he though, looking at the mountainous skyline, I could've found a worse place to live out my days

He sighed, and let his head drop on his chest. He died peacefully, on his rocking chair, surrounded by children and grandchildren.

Just as he always dreamed.
Image
JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.

MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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K. A. Pital
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Post by K. A. Pital »

Mausoleum, New Omsk, Red Square
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Secretary General Stanislav was put in deep cryogenic freeze 20 years after the war, when he hit 70. His wife personally oversaw the process.

He was being expected to lay down for hundred years or more until biological technology and nano-medicine would have developed to the point of restoring humans from deep frost and repairing their bodies.

It was unknown whether death reversal would be ever possible, but most citizens of the Red Technocracy hoped that one day, their leader would be ressurected to lead them again.
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Last edited by K. A. Pital on 2008-07-09 05:01am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by RogueIce »

Seven Days after the Nova Terra Apocolypse - Task Force 23

Captain Scott was still in a state of semi-shock. The world had ended, or most of it had, anyway. Despite a valiant defense, the proximity to Saddamistan had meant massive losses in the Shinra Republic itself.

He had been lucky to have survived. Apparently, the former Adrianopolis - renamed Orestias - had not figured highly on the UAR's strike plans. And the small detachment of frigates were apparently not enough to get them to take notice.

The P-3s had tried to left to check things out, but turned away from Terra Libertia when they saw the radiological and contamination readings go off the chart. And so they had flown to the west, over T.M.C.K St. George who had, remarkably, given them safe passage, and finally to the Republic itself. From the reports they had brought back, things were looking grim.

They had, however, heard from the Ranger who had survived out at sea. Several of her escorts were gone, and the carrier itself damaged, but Admiral Clarke was alive. And, it seemed, the senior military officer who remained, at least in initial contact. He had sent orders for TF-23 to head to Enderistan while the carrier would link up with Byzantium, and they'd coordinate with the rest of the MESS - those who were left - in getting back to the Republic itself.

And so it was Captain Scott find himself now only a few hours from Enderistan. Already he had come into formation with one of their CVBGs and now was steaming into port in a few hours. His P-3s were already there. He'd been told a rescue mission was being planned, as both nations fell under MESS SOUTHCOM. EASTCOM had come out of it fairly well. NORTHCOM was hardest hit: Canissia was pulverized, though not as bad as Shinra; apparently Shepnukistan had been slightly more humanitarian than their southern neighbors and hadn't launched a full biological and chemical attack on Canissia. Though they're apparently done so as a "going away present" later on... Wilkonia was hit by the fallout of the FUN's cobalt bombs, though apparently they'd managed a partial evacuation to the LSR. Byzantium was in good shape still, not being targeted until towards the end.

And apparently the FUN had had mixed results, some of their nations untouched, others ravaged by war, and some of their Duchies simply annihilated.

Well, at least those bastards in the UAR and those IRT dickheads got what was coming to them. It was small comfort...
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"How can I wait unknowing?
This is the price of war,
We rise with noble intentions,
And we risk all that is pure..." - Angela & Jeff van Dyck, Forever (Rome: Total War)

"On and on, through the years,
The war continues on..." - Angela & Jeff van Dyck, We Are All One (Medieval 2: Total War)
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." - Ambrose Redmoon
"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." - Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
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Post by Fingolfin_Noldor »

Imperial Chronicles

In the aftermath of the devastating nuclear attack on the world, much of the population was hiding out in deep bunkers that cost billions to build and were constructed over the last two years (some of which were constructed in the first year.) Since the Government policy has been to bury anything sensitive, such as nuclear reactors underground, most of the population had access to food and so forth. Most of the navy had steamed out with radars looking out for enemy fighters and bombers, and the Stratellite high above was feeding radar information to the ground and fighters were up high ahead ready to intercept the enemy if need be.

But there was only so much food available underground. With much of the farmland affected by the slight radioactive contamination, they were useless. The underground farms were at the infancy, and the government, rushed to complete them. Unfortunately that will take years. Rationing was required, but many died from the starvation when the food ran out.

The Emperor of Byzantium sat in his bunker wondering what to do next. Attempts were made to communicate with the outside world, but there was little or no reply. The ... DPM of Shroomania reported to him that the PM had a nervous breakdown and was in the hospital, and communication to PeZookia was shaky at best. Sighing, he ordered the decontamination squads to go out and clean out all the trash. The economy was going to contract adiabetically, and a lot of poor people were going to feel the pinch hard.
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STGOD: Byzantine Empire
Your spirit, diseased as it is, refuses to allow you to give up, no matter what threats you face... and whatever wreckage you leave behind you.
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K. A. Pital
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Post by K. A. Pital »

Red News: War Chronicles.

Major Volkov, Thrice HRT: A Spacer's Story.


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- Little is known about that episode over Wilkonia, where an RB-73 was lost to Unit 06 Spacefighter of the SPIRAL orbital group. Today with us is Alexander Volkov, now 83, telling the story of space combat previously classified. Alexander, is it true that you downed the RB-73?

- Correct.

- Please tell us, how it happened. Your fighter carried only a space-to-ground bunker-buster missile for Shepnukistan.

- Yes. I noticed the RB-73 rapidly streaking over Wilkonia, on a collision course. I was coming from behind and thus had the advantage. But I had no missiles.

- So what did you do?

- We have stock laser weapons and a small hand-fitting hermetical glove to operate them outside the ship. I fired at his ship with the handheld laser and apparently damaged some of his telemetry equipment and sensors; I have a pretty good grip on what is where, I fly a similar fighter myself. After that, he lost control. He probably died in the Eastern Ocean.

- Do you feel any hatred towards the enemy pilot whom you killed?

- No, not really. Besides, it's hard to blame him for doing his job until the end. His entire nation was being totally killed. They probably suspected that the weapons we lobbed at them were not ordinary nuclear munitions. The RB-73 pilots were agents of revenge as much as soldiers; but I can understand their feelings.

***

JOIN THE RED TECHNOCRACY SPACE COMMITEE. RESTORE THE SPACE GLORY OF OUR FOREFATHERS! GO BOLD WHERE NO MAN HAS GONE BEFORE!
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BRING BEAUTIFUL ALIENS THE JOYS OF SOCIALISM!
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Shroom Man 777
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Post by Shroom Man 777 »

Coilerburg
Forty years ago...

Tourff Risto's cellphone vibrated near his crotch. It vibrated in Morse code, and through that code, he knew something was up.

He pulled out his phone and flipped it open, reading the SMS message - sent from SOFIA straight through the Shadow stratellite.

"Aw hell no!"

Tourff ran as fast as he could, kicking the doors open and rushing to the counter.

"What the hell is going on?!" cried Gene Blowhard, the PeZookian's RIS man and owner of Blowhard's Boutique.

"This shit just got real!" Tourff showed him the SMS message.

"Shit!" Gene cried. "We have to run! Get to the bunker!"

Image



Today...


Forty years later.

Tourff stayed in that bunker for years... so many years that he lost count. Lost track of the days, the months. Lost track of time, lost track of life.

Gene Blowhard had been embezzling his Boutique's supplies, the food rations and the Super Saddam Special Baby Milk, stockpiling it inside a hole. An eventuality for the worst.

Thanks to Gene, Tourff lived.

Thanks to Gene, Tourff had something to subsist on after the food ran out.

Some time after he finished eating the last of Gene's remains, he emerged to find Coilerburg reduced to ruin.

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But he wasn't alone.

"Let's go Gene," Tourff said quietly. Not to himself, but to his dog.

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Slung behind Tourff's back was an M4 carbine. He wasn't alone in Coilerburg, aside from his dog there were also... others.

Survivors.

The Coilers were like cockroaches, Tourff thought.

"You Coilers are like cockroaches," Tourff said.

"Assssss..." hissed the last Coiler in Coilerburg.

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"...hooole."

Tourff growled.

"Call me asshole one more time."
Last edited by Shroom Man 777 on 2008-07-09 07:05am, edited 2 times in total.
Image "DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source)
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Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people :D - PeZook
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Post by PeZook »

PeZookian mountains

"Holy shit! Holy shit! I can't believe we've found it!", shouted a young man, running his flashlight around a huge, thick metal door.

The two travellers wore rugged travel clothes: obviously military surplus, thick, warm and nigh-indestructible. They were part of the new breed of PeZookians: born after The Fall, they had to scrape a living in the new world. These particular two decided to chose the most hazardous occupation of all: they scavenged supplies from nuclear blast sites.

There weren't many in PeZookia, and the only semi-accessible one - Paradiso Island Airbase - was scoured clean decades ago. However, there were two places in the mountains were massive groundbursts irradiated the entire surrounding area. Supposedly, bunkers with something incredibly valuable were located there.

Over the years, many people tried to find the entrances, and most died - even if they actually located the main doors to the bunkers, it turned out they were the places targetted by Shepnukistani SRAMs. The intrepid explorers died of radiation exposure soon after.

But there were alternative spots, hidden and well-camouflaged, though much smaller and less accessible.

And now the pair stood there, after traversing a barely-accessible, kilometer-long underground tunnel. Their mother lode...

Site B Emergency Equipment Storage Hangar (SEESH-B).
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JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.

MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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Post by Lonestar »

Midland Missile Range Complex, 10 Weeks after nuclear war

"President Davis?"

VADM(ret) William Davis turned at the voice. In the first day of the war the primary NSC complex at Dyess had ben hit in the first wave, but Site 2 underneath the TTC Dog-chow factory 15miles off base had been left alone, and so a degree of functionality was able to be maintained during the course of the war. 4 weeks after the shooting stopped, the Director of National Strategic Command made his way to the most intact(after Galveston Naval Base) military facility in the country…The Midland Missile Range, which, inexplicitly had not been attacked.

There he found Secretary of Energy Ian McDermott, who with undecent haste resigned and made VADM Davis, as the highest ranking surviving officer, the President of the Lone Star Republic.

The Cabinet had been virtually wiped out, and standing before him was the acting AG, Cordell Walker.

"What is it Walker?"

"Given any more thought to our conversation yesterday?"

"I have, and the answer is still no. Martial law will not be lifted until the ermergency is passed, and that means no calling up of the Assembly."

"We're a democracy…"

"With only one major city that wasn't hit, and Houston is rapidly becoming a madhouse. Disease is stalking the land. Public order is just barely hanging on. We're struggling to get food and medical supplies to the regions that need it, and now the eggheads are telling me the crop is going to suck this year. Now is not the time to call a bunch of politicians togather and add another layer of red-tape to the whole evolution."

Walker nodded. "Then you have my resignation." He turned and stepped out of the conference room. Davis waited a minute then called his chief of security.

"Deal with Walker."

--------

12 weeks after the war.
"A Nation that has suffered so much mourns as law enforcement hero Cordell Walker was laid to rest. The Former Texas Ranger was bushwhacked by the highwaymen plagueing our country last week, his body was found hanging from a lamppost…"

Davis turned off the radio. His chief of communications came in.

"Sir, good news, we have the landline with Tian Xia back up. Beowulf would like to peak to you."

Davis got up and walked down to the conference room, and sat down. The VTC flickered to life. Beowulf, ruler of Tian Xia, was sitting in his command post in Cheyenne Mountain.

"Vice Admiral Davis?"

"Presient davis." Davis leaned forward. "President Lonestar's body was recovered…DNA confirms it. So was most of the cabinet anduniformed leadership…I'm the one left holding the sack." He gave a wry smile.

"Ah." Beowulf said, then sighed. "I had hoped…that someone, something would have saved him."

Lonestar had never struck Davis as a particularly religious man, neither had Beowulf on the few occassions they'd met, so this seemed to be an odd statement. He remained silent, and Beowulf spoke again.

"Can you give me an estiimate of the state of your country? We've been playing 'telephone' with the Texas in Houston, and the picture isn't as clear as we would like."

"Certainly. Austin is gone, wiped out. So is San Antonio. Most of the UAR strikes had salvage switches, so even when we shot them down, in the case of the DFW Metroplex less than 50 miles out, it still caused signifigant damage. The largest city untouched is Houston, and you know we have the Texas there tied up to the grid providing power. The Yellow Rose is in Corpus Christi doing the same. We've had to quarentine whole cities and hundreds of thousands of people affected by the biological agents the UAR released…air force is virtually gone, and the NG is having difficulty maintaining order in the cities…and inbetween the cities for that matter. We have a lower estimate of 4 million dead, but it's gooing to get much worse because of the failing crops, and breakdown of public services. The eggheads are telling me 8mil dead this time next year."

"Fuel supplies?"

"Ah, that we have plenty of. Making flex-fuel mandatory for all POV vehicles back in '08 means we can pull up tree stumps and convert them to methanol."

"We've been somewhat less effected by the attacks then you, fortunately. But we have no fuel. I will do everything in my power to send what food and medical supplies I can spare, but my country is tanking due to lack of petrol."

"I'll do the best I can."

"Same here."
"The rifle itself has no moral stature, since it has no will of its own. Naturally, it may be used by evil men for evil purposes, but there are more good men than evil, and while the latter cannot be persuaded to the path of righteousness by propaganda, they can certainly be corrected by good men with rifles."
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Shroom Man 777
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Post by Shroom Man 777 »

Farbanti, Shroomania...
Forty years ago...

Image

From the shattered skies, it looked like Farbanti was on fire. The setting sun casting a red-orange haze upon the waters of Crater Ryker, that ancient feature in the Farbanti waterfront renowned for its spectacular sunsets. The sight wasn't so spectacular anymore.

Though Farbanti - and most of Shroomania - was unharmed, that visual reminded Shroom of what had just happened everywhere... to everyone.

He came down Shroom Force One's ramp feeling weak... feeling sick. His hair had gone grayish-white due to the stress of the ordeal, he felt so old. Forty years older.

Alison held his arm and steadied him, and she led him down the stairway.

"What's the..." Shroom could barely ask it. "... the situation?"

"Well, sir... it's like this," SOFIA Director John Baylor told him everything. The man seemed strangely calm despite being demoted to merely being the SOFIA's chief. Demoted because no one knew if anything was left of FIA aside from its Shroomanian Office (SO). He reached out and supported the quaking Prime Minister as they all walked towards the limousine.

They were all wearing gas masks - and the usual formal attire of coats and ties were replaced with NBC suits.

Two cities and everything surrounding them were gone. San Salvacion and Wiapolo - dead along with Excalibur.

Not a bad deal though, to be honest.

Excalibur had blinded as many of the bombers as it could've - and that ensured the survival of a lot of the smaller FUN nations. Low-priority targets that a single Shepnukistani bomber could've obliterated with a single nuclear warhead... had it not been for the Sword of Tauberg. The Shroomanian-Red Technocracy Friendship Tower indeed.

But there were too many of them.

Of those sent to destroy the FUN, most had been fixed on eradicating the Red Technocracy... and they had succeeded. Defenses were simply overwhelmed.

Elsewhere, one had slipped out and ravaged PeZookia. Another had destroyed Qudlivun like an after thought. Two had weaved through the defenses of the Shroomanian mainland itself - despite the best effort of the SAF and the Peacetime Air Defense.

But Shroomania survived.

With the rest of the world - save for a few - in ruin... Shroomania had to help all those it could.

Shroomania had to prevail.




Today...

"Today we stand resolute!" Shroom declared, standing atop his podium. Banners and flags fluttered in the wind - the Shroomstaffel and the Shroom Youth surrounded him like an iron ring. And around them were thousands of adoring men, women and children.

"We have survived the holocaust!"

They cheered.

"We have endured!"

They applauded.

"We have aided our friends, brought salvation to those ravaged by Saddamistan and Shepnukistan - two nations that are now dead! Forever!"

They screamed and cried and wept. They were not merely Shroomanians, but PeZookians, Red Technocrats, Canissians, Neverhoodians, Shinrans, Tian Xians, Lonestars, Bear Republicans, Wilkonians, Adrianopolians...

There were also Shepnukistanis and Saddamistanis - but they were interned. Them, and their children, and their children's children - branded by the mark of the atom, patches of cloth sown on to their clothes. Condemned to live in the wastelands of San Salvacion and Tauberg - left to kill one another in the postapocalyptic ravages they sought to inflict upon the world.

The omnipresent telescreens showed pictures and videos of these UAR denizens laid low, forced to feed upon their own excrement, to ride around in obscene vehicles while donning outrageous hairdo like mohawks, forced to battle for petrol and oil, black gold and... gasoline. All within those walled cities.

The crowds jeered at the endangered species that the Shepnukistanis and Saddamistanis had become. It was the Three Minutes of Hate.

And then the omnipresent telescreens stopped - the violent depictions disappeared, replaced by the soothing calmness of silence.

Shroom raised his hands.

Jubilation and exaltation ejaculated forth from the enraptured crowds.

"SHROOMANIA SHALL PREVAIL!"


So said Shroom - the Fungal Fuhrer.



Forty years ago...

Shroom listened to everything they had to say. The effects of the cobalt bombs on the UAR, how the fallout had been blown by the wind to ravage the nations of the east... how half the Bear Republic was dead, and how millions had been lost in nations throughout the FUN and MESS. How Byzantium and a few others had emerged unmolested.

How Heraclius was now living in a hole in Constantinople.

How Paul and his wife wept over PeZookia.

How Stas' health was failing to sickness.

How Lonestar's skeletonized remains were uncovered from the wreckage of his helicopter.

As Shroom walked towards the Farbanti sunset, he shed a single tear - the last one he had left.
Last edited by Shroom Man 777 on 2008-07-09 08:20am, edited 1 time in total.
Image "DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source)
shroom is a lovely boy and i wont hear a bad word against him - LUSY-CHAN!
Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people :D - PeZook
Shroom, I read out the stuff you write about us. You are an endless supply of morale down here. :p - an OWS street medic
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Post by PeZook »

Astoria, PeZookia

Paul was sitting on a bench in front of his wife's grave. He came here regularly, to contemplate the world and what had become out of it.

She died nearly a decade ago, the stress and various ailments brought on by the war accelerating her death. In a spectacular display of cosmic injustice, Paul remained in good health even after forty years of running a country ravaged by nuclear hellfire.

He daydreamed sometimes - of how different things could be. We'd have colonies on all the moons by now..., he thought idly, And a space infrastructure...we could build massive colony ships and build outposts elsewhere in the solar system...and maybe even find Earth and run a prank or two on them...

But it all came down to this moment. He thought he'd lost everything when the missiles struck - but it wasn't quite like that. The universe wasn't done taking it all away from him. His wife had to die, in pain, nearly three decades later. His friends slowly grew insane, or were crippled by old age.

Shroom's a fascist now, Paul thought to himself, How far can we still fall?

He only had a few years left on this world, and all he could do was watch the shattered glass.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere in the Great Ocean

The "Ferdinand Magellan" ran out of fuel long ago, but it was not in vain: it managed to ferry thousands of people while it could still sail.

The small, duchy-sized island in the Great Ocean was discovered by crew of the ship mere days before the nuclear war started. It was a beautiful place, untouched by human habitation, with plenty of raw resources. The crew explored the island for a few days, and then they heard about the holocaust at home.

The ship sped out to the Archipelago as fast as it could, and found ruins. The crew held a vote - those who wanted to stay and help were let off in Shroomania, while the rest - and any volunteers - kept the "Magellan" and shipped out to build a new settlement on Rapture.

Throughout the following years, the Magellan ferried many more people to the island. Wretched souls, who lost everything in the war, comitted themselves to the reconstruction of the island. It wasn't long before other ships started appearing, and Rapture now possessed a not-insignificant merchant marine, mostly used for ferrying raw materials from other islands.

They even had a navy - two frigates and a Shepnukistani SSN, whose crew mutinied in the opening hours of the war and followed the Magellan to the island. Its core long expended,the submarine floated aside the giant cruise ship, a monument to past long gone.

But they would start anew. Build a better world out of the rubble.
Image
JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.

MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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Post by Fingolfin_Noldor »

Imperial Chronicles

40 years of rebuilding and cleaning up the ecosystem in Byzantium had finally born fruits. The country was now restored to some semblance of its former self. It wasn't the first time Byzantium was threatened with destruction. It's cities still stood and its people stood tall. So long as Constantinople survived, the country would not fall. Nevertheless, the country was still a shadow of its former self. The population was growing again, but much still had to be done. Was it time to restore diplomatic relations with other countries? Was it time to do return to a democracy? The Emperor Heraclius IV had spent the last 3 decades of his rule trying to keep the country together. The country had largely escaped devastation, short of one stray nuke from Shepnukistan that struck near Nicae.

An Emperor Commenos I now sat on the throne of the Byzantine Empire. The son of Heraclius IV, he now held stewardship of the Empire and was determined as ever to ensure the country returned to its former glory as the center of education and science. The knowledge of the past it retained and advanced as much as they could.

Emissaries were sent to Red Technocracy to renew the old friendship. It was hoped that the two countries could aid each other and rebuild as much as they could.
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Post by PeZook »

As life slowly returned to semi-normalcy, diplomatic moves returned to the Archipelago.

Believing themselves to be left on their own, with their closest ally - Shroomania - turned into a totalitarian fascist state, the reformed PeZookian government has sent diplomats to the Red Technocracy, the Shadow Empire and Byzantium, in a probe for accession into the Slavic Confederacy.

Of course, the delegations were not quite as glamorous and pompous as those before The Fall, but they accomplished their missions nonetheless. Another semblance of a normal life that returned to the ravaged, war-weary Archipelago.
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JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.

MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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Post by Fingolfin_Noldor »

Imperial Chronicles

"King Paul is still alive?" Emperor Komnenos I said.

"Yes, Sire, apparently he seeks to join the Slavic Confederacy."

"Our hands are full helping Red Technocracy rebuild. I guess we can invite him into the Confederacy. I should pay Ana of Red Technocracy a visit, come to think of it. My father always had warm feelings for Red Technocracy. A shame that the enemy savaged the land."

Gesturing to his adviser, "Prepare my plane. We are heading out for Red Technocracy, Shinra Republic, and Pezookia. Maybe Shroomania. My father always grumbled Shroom needed a whack in the head."

The adviser nodded, and made ready.
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Post by RogueIce »

50 Miles SSW from Byzantium, 8 Days after the Nuclear Apocolypse - SRS Ranger

Rear Admiral Edward Clarke was sailing his much reduced battlegroup up to Byzantium. Along the way he had picked up the stragglers; SRN ships that had been at sea on general patrols, and that had managed to survive the brief skirmishes.

Of particular note were the SSKs. They, alongside the SRS Specter and Scorpion had managed to blunt the Saddamistani attempts to blast a nuclear mine in the port cities. Not that it mattered too much, since missile attacks had overwhelmed the land defenses, but it was something at least.

The stragglers were loosely known as Task Force Three. The lead ship, the cruiser Midgar had in fact been a part of CVBG-3 but was out on a training cruise when the attacks came. A few other former CVBG-3 ships had also been similarly blessed that they weren't caught in port. And so it was they kept their old number. Battlegroup One's ships had not been as lucky; in a refit cycle at the time of the attacks, they hadn't had a prayer of survival.

Of course some of our own ships need plenty of yardwork too...but thank God we weren't getting it...

Their plan for now was to link up with Byzantium, their nearest MESS ally that was still semi-operational. Already the scattered survivors of the SRAF and a few shore-based navy air units were already there. It was taking them longer than usual, but that was because the cruiser Repulse, the destroyers Guardian and Shield and the lone FFH in the entire Navy, the Slayer had been damaged. And so the flotilla's best speed was their best speed.

Clarke knew they'd be going back home, sooner rather than later, he hoped. But first he had to get the damaged ships to a safe port, to salvage what part of the Navy he could. Task Force 23 he knew was doing better, and Enderistan apparently hadn't been hit at all. He hoped Captain Scott could convince the southern nation to send help back to the Republic.

=====================

Two weeks after the Nuclear Apocolypse, 10 miles SE of the Shinra Republic - Enderistan Battlegroup

Captain Scott was waiting nervously aboard the Fortuna for the helicopters to return. They had received word that President Shinra was alive, and thus this mission had been launched. It was a simple extraction, based off the Enderistan carrier, but out of respect they had let the Marines of 2nd Battalion take the lead. They were the only Shinra Republic Marines left, saved as Task Force 23 had by the UAR's ignoring of Oreistias. They had also let the Fortuna tag along, as well as SRNS Mercy, their surviving hospital ship. Damn it they should be back by now!

And then the awaited radio call came in: "Basestar this is Eagle Two One Zero. Be advised we are inbound and changing our callsign. Eagle Two One Zero is now Marine One."

They had been successful!
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"How can I wait unknowing?
This is the price of war,
We rise with noble intentions,
And we risk all that is pure..." - Angela & Jeff van Dyck, Forever (Rome: Total War)

"On and on, through the years,
The war continues on..." - Angela & Jeff van Dyck, We Are All One (Medieval 2: Total War)
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." - Ambrose Redmoon
"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." - Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
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Post by Shroom Man 777 »

LIVE on ShroomSat/StratTV - ShroomSEES
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The Shroomanian Sentinel
SOLDIERING SHROOMANIA

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A new dawn at Farbanti.

Under the beneviolent rulership of Prime Minister Shroom the 777th - the Sovereignty of Shroomania soldiers on.

Relatively unscarred by the wastes of war, Shroomania - the true winner of the War of the World - is magnanimous in victory.

It has aided the nations of the world, those the the FUN and the MESS not annihilated by the atomic holocaust wrought about by Shepnukistan and Saddamistan. It has helped repair the ravages suffered by its two closest allies, the Red Technocracy and PeZookia. The hospital ships that brought medicine and healthcare to the nuked nations of the world are still, to this day, undergoing medical missions.

But the reconstruction has taken long, and after forty years, the Red Technocracy and PeZookia are only beginning to return to their former glories.

Nonetheless, Shroomania - under the beneviolent leadership of Shroom the 777th - has consolidated its new role as the Shepperd of the World.

To prevent another War of the World from breaking out, to ensure the sanctity of life against the threat of nuclear holocaust, the nations of the FUN have rallied under the Fungal Fuhrership of Shroomania.

Shroom the 777th watches all. With the ShroomSats and the ShroomStrats creating a network now called ShroomSEES - the world is under his watchful gaze.

Shroom the 777th extends the hand of peace to all nations. He rules with an iron fist, and a heart of gold.
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shroom is a lovely boy and i wont hear a bad word against him - LUSY-CHAN!
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Post by Raj Ahten »

Indhopal Post War

The post war period had been a time of opportunity for Indhopal in the post war period, simply because they hadn't been ravaged by war. It was also a time for great sadness and economic hardship. The world's economy had tanked and millions lay dead. ProTec had played a prominent role in rescue efforts, and Indhopal's military had lent a hand as well. ProTec had greatly expanded past just security contracting in the years after the war, its subsidiaries doing brisk business in salvage and a multitude of other tasks. Providing security remained its biggest business in the destroyed cities and countryside of the world.

Alexandria Post War

The nuclear war had profound effects on Libertopia. When aid dried up, things returned to they way they were, only worse, for much of the continent. Anarchy was the rule of the day. Except in Alexandria. Ruthlessly using his professional army and police, Alexander had kept out refugees and culled those infected by bio plagues. There had been famine, and getting finished goods were always a struggle.

But through such a crucible, Alexandria had become a real nation with a shared identity. The population was tiny compared to before the war; the plagues had been bad. But the Iron General's nation had survived. A favored General has been placed to take command when Alexander dies, but the 86 year old has no intention of retiring.
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Post by Fingolfin_Noldor »

Imperial Chronicles

40 years before

The ground stations for the Stratellite still operated and they picked up the incoming MESS vessels.

"Incoming vessels, identify yourself."

"This is Rear Admiral Edward Clarke of the Shinra Republic, commanding Task Force 3," the Admiral was relieved. Some semblance of order still existed in the world.

"Admiral, good to see you are alive. Taskforce Justinian will meet you and guide you in to the military base at Antioch. Follow the beacon. See you on the other side."
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Post by DarthShady »

40 years after the Great War

The world was dark, death was everywhere. Millions were dead and those who survived now found themselves in a world full of insanity and Chaos. Things were different now in the Empire, the Shadows weren't hit by nuclear weapons but that didn't stop their leader from becoming even more insane. The God Emperor had changed, much like his Shroomanian counterpart, he was now different. He was old, his body had transformed into a mere shadow of his former self. He was now Crazy, but he was also more powerful than ever before.

He was now a powerful Necromancer. He was the Lord of Death.

Location: Temple Prime, Sarajevo

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"Hear me, my children. We have survived. We have cheated death it's self.

We are now its masters!

I have saved you, I have saved you all!

My power protects you!

You cannot die, for I am the master of Death and I will not allow it."

*thousands of people surrounding the temple cheered*

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"Yes my children, it brings me such joy to see your happy faces.

Together we are unstoppable.

But we must not forget our allies, they will need our help and they shall receive it.

My power shall help them.

We must not forget our enemies either. The hateful scum of the once mighty UAR. Look at them now."

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"What are they?

They are our slaves. Their pathetic lives are mine.

And so shall their deaths be."

*the people chanted*

All hail the Lord of Death!
All hail the Lord of Death!
All hail the Lord of Death!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The former Black Hand was transformed. They were now Insane, just like Shady the Necromancer. They were now the Black Legion. The Riders of Death. Killing for the Necromancer, hunting down the remains of the UAR.

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They would not rest until everyone was dead.

[[OOC: I have no need for Sanity. :lol: ]]
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Post by RogueIce »

Central Square, Neo Midgar ("Edge City"), Present Day

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The 67 year old President Shinra was taking a walk through the city square of Neo Midgar. It was the new capital, built outside the ruins of the old. While cleanup work had taken place, there were still plenty of ruins visible. As a result, the new capital had acquired the nickname of "Edge City" for the obvious reasons. Many people wanted some of the ruins to remain. After long thought, President Shinra had finally agreed to let the stable buildings remain.

He looked at the statue at the center of the place. It was a fiery meteor, a memorial of sorts. Most people had figured that if something caused the end of the world, it would be a meteor or other extra-terrastrial object striking the planet. That hadn't been the case, of course, but the artist had decided that looked better than a mushroom cloud. Besides, the ruined buildings to the south served as a far more potent memorial than any sculpture could dream of.

His wife, Kamila Brzozowska, was at his side. By some minor miracle she had survived, and they had met again when an Enderistan helicopter brought her aboard the Mercy, 40 years back. It had been chance, really. The Shinra hospital ship had taken some of the overflow from PeZookia, and she happened to be one of those. When they had found each other, they had embraced warmly, glad to see some glimmer of hope, of normalcy. Fifteen years later, they had married. King Paul hadn't been there, sadly.

Behind and around him, members of the 1st Infantry Regiment, one of the reformed units of the Army, kept everyone else away. While for the most part law and order had been restored, there were still the occasional troubles.

His planners told him that it would be another 15 years or so until they were back to their pre-war strength. He knew that several members of the MESS had already bounced back, as they hadn't been hit quite as hard. Saddamistan's bio-weapons had exacted a terrible price on the Republic's citizenry, and his had been the only MESS nation so deliberately targeted. Still, thanks to help from the alliance, his nation would recover faster than it normally should have. For that, he was thankful.

President Shinra and Kamila moved off to their motorcade. They were going to board a plane to PeZookia in a couple hours. He knew that Emperor Kommenos of Byzantium was planning to visit the Shinra Republic, but first the Emperor would stop in PeZookia. Rufus hadn't seen King Paul since the death of Agatha, and felt it was long overdue to see his friend once more. This way, he'd accomplish both goals. Kamila was also excited; in addition to seeing her former boss, she wanted to see how her homeland was doing.
Last edited by RogueIce on 2008-07-09 10:33am, edited 1 time in total.
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"How can I wait unknowing?
This is the price of war,
We rise with noble intentions,
And we risk all that is pure..." - Angela & Jeff van Dyck, Forever (Rome: Total War)

"On and on, through the years,
The war continues on..." - Angela & Jeff van Dyck, We Are All One (Medieval 2: Total War)
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." - Ambrose Redmoon
"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." - Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
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Post by DarthShady »

40 years before

The God Emperor was sitting in his bunker, looking at all the monitors filled with various information received from the Strattellites. The monitors showed the destruction caused by nuclear fire.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

"So, this is how the world ends."

Those were his last sane words. Something snapped inside him and Insanity took him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

40 years after the Great war

A young mother was putting her child to sleep, but the little boy didn't want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake and play.

"It's way past your bedtime."

"But mom, I don't want to sleep."

"You have to."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't... Shep will come and nuke us."

"Oh, noo. I go sleepy now."

"Don't forget your prayer."

"Yes mom. Nukes for the Nuke God.
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Post by Shroom Man 777 »

The Central Sea
Forty years ago...

"Incoming bombers - Shepnukistani B-1Cs," AWACS Thunderhead reported. "Coming in at Mach 1.25."

"Where are they headed?" asked F-14G pilot Hans Grimm, callsign 'Archer'. "They can't be going for Vulpesia! They already nuked PeZookia and Qudlivun, what else do they want?!"

"They might be headed for Comona," replied his wingwoman, Kei Nagase - Edge. "Or Shinra."

"Goddamn it, we can't let them do this," said their team's third, Alvin "Chopper" Davinport. "We have to stop them!"

"Affirmative, Wardog Squadron," came the voice of their AWACS. "Standing SAF orders are to defend the Shroomanian mainland, and to stop the UAR planes from flying over or near us on the way to other targets in the FUN or MESS."

"Alright," Edge acknowledged. "We have to stop them."

"This is Archer, Wardog Squadron, moving to engage!"

"I'm feeling the need," Chopper proclaimed. "The need for speed! AWACS, activate tactical music!"

"Copy that, Wardog 3."

As the F-14s moved to engage, their AWACS began transmitting blaring music all over the airwaves.

Image

It was Kenny Loggins' Danger Zone

Revvin' up your engine
Listen to her howlin' roar
Metal under tension
Beggin' you to touch and go


Highway to the Danger Zone
Ride into the Danger Zone

Headin' into twilight
Spreadin' out her wings tonight
She got you jumpin' off the track
And shovin' into overdrive

Highway to the Danger Zone
I'll take you
Right into the Danger Zone

You'll never say hello to you
Until you get it on the red line overload
You'll never know what you can do
Until you get it up as high as you can go

Out along the edges
Always where I burn to be
The further on the edge
The hotter the intensity

Highway to the Danger Zone
Gonna take you
Right into the Danger Zone
Highway to the Danger Zone



Over the shattered skies of Shroomania...

"Incoming nuclear missiles!" cried SkyEye, the AWACS combat controller assigned to the aerial defense of the Shroomanian heartland - including San Salvacion.

There were contrails as the nuclear-tipped anti-missile missiles of the Peacetime Air Defense streaked into the stratosphere to detonate against the Shepnukistani's obscene weaponry - nuclear-powered nuclear missiles.

"ABM has intercept," the voice said triumphantly over the radio. "Wait... what the - multiple supersonic contacts, coming low, Shepnukistani Lancers! I can't believe it... those bastards went through Canissia. They're too low for ABM intercept, it's up to you to shoot them down - Mobius 1!"

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"You're cleared to engage!"

"Mobius 1, fox 2! Nice shot, you've got one down!"

"They've passed by you, turn around and go all over their asses!"

"Bingo. That bastard's gonna crash and burn!"

"Fox 2, fox 2!"

"Mobius 1, there's still one left but you're low on missiles!"

"Fox 2, wait... missile shot trashed. Mobius 1, you've expended all of your -"

The final B-1C exploded.

"Gun kill! That was a gun kill on the last Lancer! I can't believe -"


A flash of light, and then San Salvacion was gone.



Tauberg

"Commence primary ignition!" screamed engineer Ernesto Elefantino Enrique. "Blast those fuckers out of the sky! Melt their retinas!"

Image

The Sword of Tauberg - Excalibur - unleashed a lance of invisible light.

The Shroomanian-Red Technocracy Friendship Tower was doing all it could - with its coverage encompassing almost the entire SDN Archipelago, it was blinding UAR bombers left and right, up and down, north and south, east and west. But there were too many of them - and then there were the missiles.

"Reactor 5 is overheating!"

"We can't keep it up!"

"Stratellites report incoming bombers heading for Farbanti!"

"We've got some bound for North Point, Stonehenge, and Wiapolo!"

"Blind them! Increase cyclic rate and pulse ratio - "

"We're missing! We can't hit them, they're too fast!"

"Shut up, goddamn it. Re-acquire them, let the targetting computers -"

"We got them! They're down for the count!"

"Fuck, PeZookia's been hit! Fuck!"

"Goddamn it, increase coverage to Central Sea area! We can't let them waste the archipelago - a single nuke's enough to wipe out an entire Duchy and..."

"Qudlivun's gone."

"Fuck..."

"The Red Technocracy's getting wasted. Canissia too."

"Goddamn it!"

"They're not hitting Byzantium, decrease coverage there and increase coverage over the North-Eastern corridor, goddamn it!"

"Lancers have been spotted, flying over Vulpesia and heading for Comona and Shinra!"

"Take them down! Goddamn it!"

"We've got them! We got them!"

"Eat it, you bastards! Ruthless genocidal warmongers!"

"That's it boys, keep it up!"

"Reactor 4's reporting a coolant leak!"

"We can't keep this up, sir. We'll melt the mirrors!"

"We've got more contacts!"

"Increase rate of fire! Increase it! Exterminate them! Exterminate!"

"Sir, we've got more missiles coming at us. The UAR's smartened up to our lightshow."

"San Salvacion's been targetted again."

"Increase coverage to the North West."

"Sir, what about us?"

"Light up San Salvacion's skies! We can't let anything through - "


The Sword of Tauberg was shattered that day.
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Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people :D - PeZook
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Post by Coyote »

CANISSIA: THE DAY AFTER

Chief Karl Tigh spat, and this time it was only blood. No teeth this time, he mused, I must be getting better. He knew that was far, far from the truth. He was getting worse; caught outside when the blasts hit, far enough away to be damned to survive. For awhile, at least.

The SPS Chief had been on his way back from a briefing on the recent SWINE activity when the bombs started to fly. He and his two assistants had shot the lock off a industrial cellar and ducked inside as the blast wave rolled past moments later-- even as the room filled with dust and particles he knew, from that moment, he was a dead man.

Tigh grabbed his assistants and they ran outside, and contemplated "appropriating" a car to get to either Police or SPS headquarters, but the sudden panic if traffic trying to get out of the city had foregone that. They were faster walking.

All through the streets, dust and debris settled, car alarms were going off, and dogs barked-- the expected panic of voices and shouts were, surprisingly, non-existent. Cars were flooding the road as people hastily packed a handful of belongings and tried to escape, but so far it was almost eerily quiet.

Soon, however, fear created a crescendo of its own as cars began to honk at obstructions, and drivers shouted impotently from behind their stalled vehicles. They continued to walk, and found stunned survivors-- not fo rlong, they wouldn't be-- and people stumbling around, coated in dust. A man wailed, flailing, unable to see-- he'd happened to look right at the blast. His eyes were dead, it was a matter of time before he'd follow.

The SPS officers reached deep into the part of the city where the EMP had rendered cars useless. The lack of low electronic whine, a constant in every industrialized society and never really noticed until it was absent, seemed deafening.

"What's up, officer?" Tigh asked almost jovially as he approached a stalled squad car. It was dead, the cops technically were, too, and they seemed to know it. They stood in the street, as if directing non-existant traffic; one with the car shotgun, one with a rifle. The one with the shotgun, who had two chevrons on his sleeve, shrugged.
"Waitin' for orders," he said, "But the radio's broke. This is our patrol base," he said, with a shrug towards a small precinct office nestled on the urban corner, "But they all took off."

"Well, I'll give you instructions," Tigh said, and showed them his badge. "C'mon. Leave this piece of shit," he said, with a contemptuous kick towards the patrol car.

The small group, now five, wandered into the city. Ahead, they saw a pair of M-1117 armored cars race down a corner-- some military unit from outside the blast area had already begun to respond. The five police officers shared glances, and by unspoken agreement, raced forward to catch up.

They did not have to race for long. Soon, the sound of machinegun fire guided them towards their target-- the M-1117's had stopped outside the joint UAR Consulate, a high-walled and barb-wired monstrosity of post-industrial Sturm und Drang architecture. The Canissian armored cars were pouring fire into the gate guards, who were fighting back helplessly with small arms.

As Tigh and his small force arrived, it became evident that the Canissian armored cars were operatingon their own-- the highest-ranking person was a sergeant, and organization was based more on anger and vengeance than careful application of tactics against a fortified, fixed position.

"Sergeant, you better pour some goddam HE frags into those upper windows before they get an RPG on you!" Tigh bellowed. The sergeant was scared into a sense of propriety by the arrival of Tigh and the uniformed police... but he quickly issued the order. The turret gunners stopped their blood orgy against the UAR Marines and security guards and chewd into the building's glass facade. Tigh and the other cops laid down fire into the crowd of UAR personnel, keeping them away from the cars.

"Let's go!" Tigh said, waving everyone forward with his pistol. The cops, and a couple of dismounted soldiers, strode through the small swarm of bodies on the ground, pumping follow-up rounds into their skulls in methodical fashion.

"They didn't even avacuate their own people," one cop muttered, kicking a dead UAR man in the head, hard.
"They don't give a fuck about anything," the other cop, the one with the corporal stripes, said. "WHY!?" he suddenly screamed, and pumped his entire magazine into the head of a UAR body, reducing it to pulpy gore. "WHY! You ignorant, servile, fascist fucks!"

The M-1117's drove over th ebodies like so much road debris as they came through the gates, continuing to pump machinegun rounds and grenades into the building until their guns ran empty. The soldiers then dismounted, grabbed their rifles, and joined the cops entering the building.

The Canissians went through the lower floors, putting rounds into anyone they encountered, living or dead. It did not take long-- the UAR had no formal embassy in Canissia, only the small consulate to handle the minor amounts of trade between the nations, and to serve as a point of contact during rare moments of cooperation. Several posters from the recent Olympics were all over the walls, showing the Saddamistani team with their couterparts from other nations, all laughing and enjoying one anothers' company. Days of naivete, now long gone, Tigh though as he reached out and tore one of the posters down. A soldier spat on it and went on by.

They reached the top of the small building-- it was only three stories-- and cornered the Chief Consul and his family in the spacious suite the UAR provided them. His name was Gerd Huber, and he was a native of Shepnukistan. All the better, Tigh said. Consul Huber seemed unconcerned for himself, but tried to shield his terrified wife and the two kids hiding behind his large oak desk.

"Get out, Huber," Tigh barked, almost choking on the man's name as his mouth suddenly filled with bitter, metallic-tasting liquid. He spat out blood, looked at it, and grunted. "Get yoiur goddamn nappy fascist ass out from behind that fucking desk and die like a goddamn man."

Huber stepped forward.
"Do what you want to me, just don't--" Tigh punched him.
"Goddamn it," Huber said, trembling in fear, "We're all already dead! What's good's it gonna do--?" Tigh punched him again, then, jumped on the man, pinning his shoulders to the ground and pummeling him with his fists, repeatedly. Huber's face was a mass of blood when Tigh paused.

"It'll make me feel better as I slip into the cold void," he said, and punched Huber one more time. The Consul lay on the floor, panting, sobbing, shivering. Tigh looked up at the man's family.

"Get your bitch ass over here," he said, pointing at the woman. She fell to her knees, wailing, trying to hide her children behind her.

"I said get your goddamn slack-cunted Mongoloid hausfrau ass over here, you fucking Shepnukistani skank!" Tigh said and got up to reach for her. Huber tried to grab at him, but a soldier kicked him, hard, on the side of the head. Tigh grabbed the wailing woman over and punched her, hard, in the face. She sank to the floor, dizzy, mumbling incoherently. Tigh went over to the children, backing away from him, their eyes wide with terror. They backed up against the far wall and could go no further.

Tigh grabbed the boy, about 8, and dragged him over in front of the parents.

"First thing we're gonna do," Tigh mumbled, "Is we're gonna clean up some of the goddamn Shepnukistani pollution you subhuman little cockgoblins have been spilling all over the world," he said, and squeezed the trigger, creating a bloody starburst design on the boy's chest as th .45 round went through his spine and erupted out his lungs. The SPS cops exchanged sober glances, and looked around-- the Canissian soldiers' face were set with bloody rage, and predatory, fierce grins-- they wanted revenge, and this was as close as they were going to get to Shepnukistani personnel, ever, before they died as well. The civilian cops were impassive, a mask of contempt for the victims. Tigh was in his own world, a world of rage and boil, and he was going to make Shepnukistan pay in whatever way he could.

Tigh raised his pistol and fired again, putting a bullet clean thrugh the neck of the girl against the wall. She slumped to the ground, gurgling, dying, dead.

Tigh calmly reloaded his .45, then stood over the Consul and his wife. He put a round in Huber's abdomen, then one in each leg, and then shot his wife in each leg.

"Enjoy your stay, you genocidal fuckers."

He led them down the stairs and to the first floor, where the pile of Olympic posters were. He lit them on fire, and kicked them around, until the curtains caught on fire, and the carpet, and the wood desks. The small band ran outside, and stood, and watched, making sure the whole building went up in flames. It took a long time, and by 10pm that night the hellish yellow-red glow still illuminated much of the block.

It provided Tigh with the only warmth he would ever know, again.

He spat blood, and a tooth, and watched as the people burned, wishing he could have done more.

SIX WEEKS LATER

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Chief Tigh dragged his broken, decaying body into a basement. With amusement, he realized it was the same basement he and his assistants had first taken refuge in on the day the bombs fell. He coughed, a deep, liquid rumble in his lungs. He had no more teeth to spit out, and his bloody sputum was now almost black.

A fitting reflection of my soul, he decided.

Tigh was now thin, gaunt in fact, and dying. He'd been subsisting on what he found in stores, in homes... most people were like him-- weak, toothless, and so things like soup and stew had been consumed in a ten-block area. He'd cooked a stray dog over a hobo barrel one day, but it had cost him one of his few remaining teeth at the time.

His SPS assistants had long since left, probably dead; they'd been deeply disturbed by the events in the Consulate. The cops had disappeared, presumed killed in a firefight. He found the one corporal's shotgun, empty, the buttstock covered in clumps of bone, hair, and gore. And maggots.

The soldiers had departed almost immediately, and Tigh caught only fleeting glimpses of other military units. For a few days, it was a brutal air war, as bombers flew over from Shepnukistan, being intercepted by RAF F-22 fighters, and then bomber missions were being counter-flown by massive aircraft bearing the Red Technocracy markings. Everyone wants to play! Tigh realized.

But eventually, there were no aircraft left. No missiles. No traffic, no voices, no gunfire. The silence, in the middle of the big city, was preternatural. Huddled clumps of moldy, mummified, dust-covered bodies lay where they'd fallen; for a couple of days citizens had tried to round up and organize the dead but it proved an impossible task. Then, for a couple weeks, there were the endless suicides... and even the stray dogs, rats, cats, and other scavengers seemed to lose the will to eat, or even live. Even the dull buzz of the flies was muted.

For the last week, Tigh had seen no other person, alive at least, or heard any evidence of anyone else remaining. For all he could tell, he was the last man on Nova Terra, although he knew that to be wrong, but he did not have the energy to go find anyone else. Or the desire.

He spent his last days drinking, setting up shop in a ransacked liquor store, smoking cigar after cigar, and drinking uncooked canned soup when he could find it. He raided vending machines, and spent his nights curled up, contemplating his .45 and the last three rounds he had.

Then, one day, six and a half weeks into his ordeal, while stumbling around on a fire escape, drunk, looting a last can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew, he fell two stories and shattered his left leg. He lay there, passed out, well into the night, in agony, watching the moon creep up and into the sky. Karl Tigh dragged himself out into the intersection, and leaned against a crashed delivery van. He smoked his last cigar, drank every last drop from his jacket flask, shot two stray dogs that came up to him, hungry, and put the last round in his head.

The next day, a military recovery team rolled in, driving away a pack of dogs feasting on the body of a hobo leaning against a delivery van, an empty .45 still clutched tightly in his hand.
Something about Libertarianism always bothered me. Then one day, I realized what it was:
Libertarian philosophy can be boiled down to the phrase, "Work Will Make You Free."


In Libertarianism, there is no Government, so the Bosses are free to exploit the Workers.
In Communism, there is no Government, so the Workers are free to exploit the Bosses.
So in Libertarianism, man exploits man, but in Communism, its the other way around!

If all you want to do is have some harmless, mindless fun, go H3RE INST3ADZ0RZ!!
Grrr! Fight my Brute, you pansy!
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Fingolfin_Noldor
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Post by Fingolfin_Noldor »

Imperial Chronicles

Forty Years Before

The clean-up would take 2 years, but replacing the contaminated soil was going to be a tedious and long task. For one thing, it will take many years before the soil could be free of dust. For the moment, the workers were sent to the reserve underground factories to get working and the underground farms were producing as much food as they could. More underground farms were constructed as fast as humanly possible but it was clear that things were taking an ugly turn. Revolts were reported in Nicae which was hard hit by the stray nuclear weapon, and the army had to be sent to suppress the revolt with as little force as possible. The Emperor Heraclius IV invoked emergency laws and retook back control of the entire Senate. The Byzantine Empire regressed back to a Monarchy, but the measure was necessary. Drastic measures were needed to keep the Empire together. Training of his heir now took on a more urgent note. His eldest son was only 5 years old but he must be groomed early to prepare him for the throne. The Emperor suspected that the reconstruction efforts would sap much of his energy, and he was no longer young; he took the throne at 30 years of age, and had ruled for the last 10 years.

Efforts were made to contact fellow MESS nations, particularly Canissia which was hard hit by the attack. As many rescue teams that could be mustered were sent to Canissia to aid in the rescue and recovery operations. The same went for Red Technocracy as well. Byzantine resources were limited, but what could be done, shall be done. Of particular concern was the Bear Republic. Byzantium had much collaboration work with Bear Republic and though the research data was saved, the researchers were another story. Another sad loss for Science.

========================================

Present Day

The An-225 was sadly one of the few examples left. Fortunately, plans for constructing the aircraft were procured before the factories that produced them were destroyed. The plans were then stored in the deeply buried database in Anatolia. It landed in the new Shinra Airport near the new capital. The Emperor stepped out with his Varangian Guard and walked towards the approaching Shinra delegation. His father had told him much of the current Shinra President. Though he was many years younger than the latter, he was determined to make a good impression and to ensure that the close diplomatic ties which his father had so carefully developed were maintained.

He approached the president with a smile and shook his hand. "It has been a long while since a Byzantine Emperor stepped foot on Shinra soil. Let the old Alliance and friendship between our two peoples be maintained, for as long as our two nations last."
Last edited by Fingolfin_Noldor on 2008-07-09 12:35pm, edited 2 times in total.
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STGOD: Byzantine Empire
Your spirit, diseased as it is, refuses to allow you to give up, no matter what threats you face... and whatever wreckage you leave behind you.
Kreia
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phongn
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Post by phongn »

40 Years Ago

The Tonkin Self-Defense Force won their Pyrrhic victory over the Bear Republic. Senior commanders, lashing out in anger, ordered massive retaliation against the FUN once they realized what was coming to them and what fate would befall their nation. With what naval support could be offered to provide a "safe" operating zone for their long-range fighters, the entirety of the TASDF was thrown against the Bear.

Outnumbered, the TASDF resorted to mass nuclear bombardment to roll back the Bear's defenses, destroying airfields and defenses. The civilians were surprisingly untouched ... at least until the fallout coated the entire northern region. Roads and railways were already jammed - and in many cases, destroyed.

The second wave, consisting of survivors, hit the Bear's southern bases, and that was a much more difficult fight. Defenses were heavily stacked, their air marshals kept fighters in reserve to preserve the uncontaminated south. And stocks of nuclear weapons were not infinite and there were fewer naval vessels in range for support - and many ships ended up locked in short-range, self-destructive combat with desperate Bear Republic sailors who tried to defend their homes.

But, in the end, they won. And now the survivors were gunning right for the Red Technocracy on a one-way mission of revenge, every nuclear weapon left thrown at them. Most of the pilots did not expect to survive - perhaps the still-neutral Blackadders would accept them, but if not? No FUN nation would, not after the IRT declared war. Perhaps not the MESS, either. But maybe ...

Maybe long-abandoned Atlantis could provide a suitable base. Already, the TMSDF's survivors were trying to get there. It had infrastructure, it was clean, and nobody bothered to use it after the disastrous International Conference some years ago. It would do.

But first ...

Survivors of the Red Air Force - the pitful few still remaining after expending itself fighting the Shepnukistanis - rose in defense of their motherland. Ground control was long since shattered, what few AEW aircraft were overloaded trying to manage the many air battles in the region. The advanced space communications and control network was wrecked ... but the Tonkin raid was ragged, even if it had its own AEW aircraft, this battle would be a mess

Missiles streaked, fighters jockeyed for position, nuclear weapons flew at any suitable target. Groundburst targets were especially preferred and priority had been to identify where dams might yet survive, if they could. This was a mission of hate, of vengeance.

--------------------------

Atlantis, c. 40 Years Ago

Settlement. An authoritarian military dictatorship set up, survivors ruthlessly screened for signs of radiation sickness or disease. Tonkin-in-Atlantis - the Tia Territory - was set up. Ground control was established over the still-intact satellite communications system set up long ago in orbits far lower than anyone else's, calls for Tonkin merchant traffic to attempt to divert. Fisherman to fish the wide open seas, still uncontaminated, to get food.

It would be a long, hard road.

--------------------------

Vault Zero, c. 40 Years Ago

The Board of Directors, key leadership personnel and selected persons from all walks of life watched the monitors. The Door was closing, and sealing. The great armored gear rolled and then inserted itself into the entranceway, sealing the facility from outside contact. Vault Zero, constructed towards the eastern mountain region, had enough time for desperate food and supply shipments. Heavy machinery to expand the underground facilities, fuel and supplies to run them for a time. The entire complex run by banks of nuclear batteries supplied by the UAR.

Everyone else ... projections indicated virtually the entire population would die from the lethal fallout. Military forces were ordered to get as many people out before it was too late, but perhaps it already was. Now, the select few waited in their bunkers ...
Last edited by phongn on 2008-07-09 12:00pm, edited 1 time in total.
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