I just asked you to not provoke the nations that didn't just attack us.
But what if he declares war on the cold alliance? It could be just like the first or second time!
*Checks Nessie's bank*
Also I love this collection
Unsurprisingly, the Aylwater/Lorigians failed in bombing a large majority of the bases and airports, as the result of lackluster tactics and no battle plans. Fortunately, without flow of supplies, the paratroopers were caught in a frenzy. However, not all was a walk in the park, the Roctanians didn’t know what they were going up against, and they wouldn’t expect this...
Gray painted the sky, as smoke enveloped the air. Mountains of bodies dominated the desert plain, as blood—black as night—flooded into rivers and soaked the oasis dry with red. The city of Injongo collapsed into chaos amidst the invasion; luckily, the force of twenty-thousand Roctanians quickly resumed control.
The all-to-familiar spray of bullets fell to the earth as metal rain. And artillery shells shattered the ground. The first wave of paratrooper squadrons proved ineffective as the last fell to the Roctanian war machine. It came at a cost. The siege was lethal and the Roctanians wouldn’t forget.
The few, remaining tanks banded together to scour the streets. The buildings crumbled as sand into mounds of rubble.
Thick, dust layered the city, clouding the vision of the survivors. Only did they panic when the ringing sounds of explosions lingered in the distance.
The war had begun.
The office was packed with hardwood shelves, complete with countless books, stories, documents, plans. The flooring was refined marble, complimented by a gorgeous gray rug that sat in front of the fire, and behind the towering desk on one side of the room. Directly opposite of that, stood Scarlet observing from her domineering window that took up an entire wall.
“Summary?” Scarlet asked, swallowing hard at the midst of smoke rising in the distance.
“Critical casualties, but the threat has been suppressed, we’ll be up in the skies in—“
“Critical?” Scarlet lingered on the world, critical. It echoed through her skull. “Summon the navy to begin a blockade of their coastline. We’ll engage with their allies soon enough. And, Celeana, bomb them to oblivion.”
“B-b-bomb, ma’am I don’t know if that is important at this point,” Celeana stuttered, “she reached for the desk to steady herself. She couldn’t, wouldn’t have blood on her hands.
“Celeana, we all play a role in the price for war. But, we, we win, understand that?” Scarlet spun around and waltzed over to Celeana. Up against her side, Scarlet twirled Celeana’s amber hair in her finger, curling in it. Caressing her face, Scarlet whispered in her ear, “don’t let me down darling, I believe in you,” Scarlet kissed her cheek and disappeared into the hallway.
Celeana shook ferociously, but she wouldn’t let her mate down. Swallowing her worries deep inside her, Celeana marched out of the study and towards the war room.
"Reconnaissance drones have picked up an approaching fleet on passive SONAR my lady."
The cabin of the leader of the Chairtian fleet is a space space, barely large enough to contain the desk and bed of the woman it contained. An aide stands by the door at attention, his eyes fixed straight ahead as the woman in charge contemplates the situation.
Lady Araika, the founder of the city ship project, and self proclaimed child of the gods sits on her bed, her back to the wall. She takes a long drag from a cigarette, her long white tail swaying from side to side as she thinks over it.
Finally, she smiles keenly, her eyes lighting up. "Johan, contact the captains! we shall be making our way directly towards the Sarkish fleet. I shall be up shortly to make a broadcast, let's see if we can obtain passage."
"Yes my lady." He bows and leaves the room, leaving her alone in her cabin. After a second, she he lays back with a tired sigh, watching the city ships move past her window. Fifteen years at sea had become strenuous, as the ships had moved from Port to Port like beggars scrounging scrapped from millionaire's mansions. Her cold blue eyes harden, her face twisting into a grown. After a second she slides on her coat, a black thing with the logo of the city ship project stamped on its shoulder. She opens the door, and steps out into the halls of the ship.
The broadcast room of the control ship Blood and money is a simple white room, with the gold logo of the project behind the microphone. Araika takes her place behind the microphone and takes in a dropped breath. keeping her head high, and trying to impose as regal an appearance as possible, she begins; "Hello Sarkish vessels. I am lady Araika, of the city ship project. We seek entry into your ports, in order to resupply our vessels and begin trade. We hope that our presence is not an unwelcome intrusion."
A light on the wall flickers from Green to red, and she sighs. Not her best performance, but who could tell how the Sarkish would receive it anyways.