OOC: Closed to myself, Voodoo, and any we specify.

“Get them out.”
A gruff voice, with a thick Armenian accent, broke the quiet of the cool Saudi Arabian night. The stars were out, sparkling like a mischievous child’s eyes, as if aware of the deceptions at work this night.

A small convoy military transport trucks, stopped in the sand, were barely visible, their dark green almost meshing with the black night. A number of guards were positioned around the trucks, their rifles pointing towards the ground, eyes glancing about warily.

At the sound of the Armenian man’s voice, twenty men moved towards the trucks, two for each transport. They opened the back of the truck and pulled down a ramp. One of the men would enter the truck and push a large crate onto the ramp and down, where the other man, and a third, would pick it up and carry it to the assigned position.

The Armenian man was Arek Zadian, a captain of the Caucasus Guard. He had a home-rolled cigarette in his mouth, its light marking him in the night whenever a man strayed from the lanterns. He was flanked by two more Caucasus Guardsmen, who peered into the darkness, silently watching. Zadian himself would glance behind himself once in awhile to check his men’s progress.

The area had been scanned for unlikely bugs; it was rather hard to put listening devices in sand, anyway. As such, the Caucasians were able to speak loudly if they wished, but each soldier spoke in a hushed voice, as if fearing some dire consequence of disturbing the desert.

The crates were lined up in a row behind Zadian, and about half of the soldiers were repositioned around them. Captain Zadian stared off into the distance, picking up the silhouettes of men in the distance. “Identity Foreign-6934012 SSC, CG, 501” he called, giving the agreed upon access code.

Commander Sadif was sitting in the passenger seat of a jeep, heading to the location he saw fit for this occasion. It was the peak of the night, when the desert was silent and the winds blew little particles of sand. It was a cool night, with the stars and the moon providing the only light needed to see. Sadif told the driver to hit the lights. They didn't need the lights any longer, so not to attract attention from various nomads in the deserts. He had two companies of men behind him that were awaiting his orders.


A few hours earlier, he had downloaded some images from a recon satellite to prepare for the invasion. On the way, he took out his red light flashlight to take a closer look at the images. Nothing spectacular was seen with the quick glances, regardless he saw use for the plan.

Sadif's jeep rolled up to the caravan in the desert. The driver turned the jeep off and Sadif stepped out of the vehicle. He walked up to the captain with the cigarette.

"Hello Zadian. It's been a while old friend, and it's about time we worked together on some crazy plan again. Did you bring the equipment we need?"

"Sadif, good to see you. I haven't seen you since the old days of Novak," Zadian said, smiling. "Equipment's right here," he said, gesturing to the crates lined up behind him. One of his guards handed him a crow bar, which he used to pry open the top of a crate. "Enough Promised Land uniforms, weapons, ammunition, and other gear for 1,000 men." Inside the crate were a number of uniforms of the Promised Land Special Forces. "Standard issue for their Spec Ops," Zadian continued. "Accurate to the last thread, made by a mix of donations from Tbilisi Modern History Museum and imported thread."

He opened a few more crates, revealing the dark mass of weapons in several of them. "Let's review the plan, shall we?" He set a map of Troina down on a small camping table. "The basic idea is to drop down in Kitex...Troina, I mean...in Promised Land uniforms, and terrorize them as possible. Our Special Forces should be able to avoid Troina's forces easily enough. Any specifics you want to add in, or assets you have?"

Sadif made a load whistle and all five hundred of his men stood up and walked towards him.

"Suit up and arm up men, we're going covert."

He turned back to Zadian.

"I say we should attack by surprise, and use the classic Trojan horse maneuver here." Sadif points to a spot on the recon map.

"Have one of your ships fly a Promised Land flag and we can just go right into the harbor. We could pass it off as a supply ship when we get in and go from there. I also have some newly made credentials for a Promised Land supply ship, so they would find it hard to not believe it came from Promised Land."

"Good. 400 of my men are Australian-born, too, immigrants from when Drakoria's economy strengthened. They can help with getting in. We have a ship to go with those credentials. All we'd need to do is raise a Promised Land flag over it and put on the uniforms." He motioned for a first lieutenant to come forward. "This is my second in command, Lucus Ievers, one of those Aussies. He'll do the talking to get us into Troina. You, myself, and our non-Australian troops should keep a low profile until we get inside and can start this up."

He turned and gave a shout in Azerbaijani. The Caucasians approached the line of crates and took what they needed; a uniform, a helmet, boots, a rifle, a handgun, a combat knife, some grenades, ammunition. "When my men are done, you can equip yours. We should be ready to leave immediately after." Zadian clasped Sadif's shoulder. "Again we march into the valley of death together, Sadif. And this time, it's going to be a cold $@! valley."


Edit: OOC: This is a spy op against Kitex. Sarah has confirmed I won the spy roll.



<SarahTintagyl> 1-90
<SarahTintagyl> Drake wins
<SarahTintagyl> 91-100
<SarahTintagyl> Kitex wins
<SarahTintagyl> rolling...in...3...2...1
<SarahTintagyl> 87

Sarah can confirm this. And can someone tell Kitex, I'm unable to send a PM to him.

"It's just another desert to me old friend."

Sadif suited up in the uniform and prepared his men for the cold desert.

OOC: If you don't mind, what's the IC motivation for this?

When every Novakian and Caucasian had their uniforms on and equipment ready. The Caucasian convoy loaded up the empty crates and led the Novakian troops back to the port they had come from. Four large supply ships were anchored there, a Caucasian flag whipping in the cold night breeze at the top of each one. The trucks were stored in a military garage, and they boarded the ship.

The Caucasian flags came down, and were respectfully folded and stowed inside of one of the large containers on board, inside smaller boxes and the boxes surrounded by rolls of bandages.

The Australian-Caucasians were distributed evenly across each ship, 100 per boat. The Caucasians and Novakians were ordered to get as comfortable as they could; it was a long ride.

OOC: Just a note...I only just made any modification to the uniform to distinguish my special forces from the main troops. You won't have ANY uniforms that are different from the standard army.


OOC: if you need to ask this, I feel sorry for you... Neither of them are on the best of terms with me. And Drake hates Kitex--I mean Troinia, as it's called now.

OOC: I know they can't post in the same thread without it breaking into OOC bickering, but I would like to know the IC reason to ship 1000 soldiers some 13,000 kilometers.

OOC: It doesn't matter which uniform, we just need a Promised Land military uniform.



OOC: Our countries hate each other

Please stop cluttering the thread with OOC.

OOC: I'm assuming we should be at Antarctica right now.

IC: Promised Land flags waved briskly over the small fleet of supply ships. In the distance, a harbor was just visible.

On board, the Caucasians were trying to maintain their warmth. Those from the mountainous or northern and far eastern areas of Caucasia were fine, but the others walked around the ships with gloves on, hands stuck in their pockets, smoking cigarettes for the little bits of warmth they offered.

Lieutenant Ievers was at the command station, waiting to confirm their identity as Promised Land ships if necessary.

OOC: Just be sure to let kitex know when it's his turn to reply.

EDIT: Sorry, you can't blame me for being a little nervous, since it is ME you are impersonating.

OOC: He knows. Stop posting OOC clutter here, dammit. >_<

The portmaster got a call from a dockworker about the Promised Land ship, he then radioed to the ship
"Identify yourselves please.!"

****Private****
Also he'd been told that Promised Land was coming for wargames but not this soon, he then secretly took out his cell phone and texted Suzy Orman, the head of the DHS about the arrival of Promised Land soldiers.

Ievers read out the credentials to the Troinians from the radio. The troops on each ship was ready to get off their cramped vessels, and when the ships docked, discipline was the only thing that stopped the soldiers from swarming off the ship. Ievers and two Australian-accented Caucasus Guards stepped off their ship to confirm identification.

The Promised Land troops kept walking, though they were under the watchful eyes of the 1st Marines and the 2nd and 10th Armored Divisions.

****Private****

Suzy Orman recieved the portmaster's text and sent him back a message to email her the video of the soldiers. After about five minutes it was there. She viewed the video and immediately had a bad feeling about the Promised Land soldiers. Suzy then decided to call SecDef Rusa MacNell and tell him of the situation.

"Hey MacNell..."
"Yeah?"
"I just recieved a video and text from the portmaster at Fukoka port about Promised Land soldiers arriving here."
"They aren't suppose to be here yet! What's going on?"
"I dunno, I'll email you a copy of the video."
"Great! I'll show it to the President."

After about two minutes, MacNell recieved the video and took him laptop with him to the President's office. He stepped in the room with a quiet knock and caught the President eating.

"Sorry to interrupt Mr. President, but I have something important."
"Yes?"
MacNell then went over to the President and showed him the video of the Promised Land soldiers.
"But they aren't suppose to be here yet!"
"That's the problem."
"Find out why they're here!"
"Yessir!"

MacNell then called up the Major Gen. Susan Niel of the 1st Marines and ordered her to stop the Promised Land soldiers.

OOC: Also my nation's name is spelt T-R-O-I-N-A.
And the plural in T-R-O-I-N-A-N. Please spell it correctly.

Also just as a reference, here is a map of Troina with all the provinces listed, as done by me. (I'm no good with the paint program)

OOC: You can't bring Subtle into this. It's a closed spy RP, which has already been rolled as successful.

OOC: But him and I planned wargames before this happened, so my nation would be suprised to see the troops arrive early and would want to know why.

OOC: That still doesn't mean you can bring Subtle into it. Taking it immediately to the MoD is a drastic action. It'd be best to ask for credentials and/or a signature, along with why they are there.

OOC: OK, I'll edit my previous post a bit.

Ievers saluted and handed Niel the credentials for himself, depicting him as a Promised Land Colonel, credentials for the ships, and a note seemingly from the Promised Land Adminstrator. The note detailed the supposed mission; the Promised Land soldiers were there to drop off supplies for the war games and get a scope of the climate and immediate area. At the bottom was the Promised Land seal and the Administrator's signature. Ievers briefly reflected on how easy the internet made things. "You can check our supplies if you want. MREs, field blankets, those sorts of things. Please let me know when we can get started."

OOC: Newsflash--I'm involved because you are impersonating me. Those troops are there LONG before I told him they would be--as the wargames in my nation are supposed to happen first. If and when he calls me, you have no choice but to accept it. Roll or not, you can't illegitamize a legitimate RP move, as the roll only means you successfully infiltrated his nation.


OOC: look, if you're going to impersonate my nation, ask me for details so you can do it right. I don't have "Ministries" or "Departments." It's all officially managed by the Administrator.

OOC: A successful spy roll means the spy roll was successful. Derp.

Which means, in other words, the spy operation is a success.

OOC: No, we as a community have never agreed that a successful spy roll completely negates good RP.

I successfully attacked Sargun once via cyberspace, but the IP was still tracked.

I did rolls for HHAYD in his war against Jed and Pikachurin, and they were both successful rolls. However, the results were not what the attacker he was RP'ing would have wished for. Yes, the consequences were RP'd as successful, but with only limited results.

I believe the consensus was, a simple spy roll gets you there, but if you make mistakes...too bad for you. Otherwise, there would be no POINT to RP'ing spy missions.

OOC: We're RPing mistakes all over. It's not our fault that our opponent is ignoring some details. If there is any more OOC, take it to the OOC thread please, it's why we have it.

OOC: Because I hadn't had a chance to tell him yet, and Kitex has yet to respond...Besides, Drake has edited that part anyway. if he does spot any mistakes, too bad for you.

But as you say, this is not the place. I will take my leave, and ask that any responses happen in the OOC thread.

OOC: A successful spy roll means that (in this case) Troinia will believe that your soldiers are in fact Promised Land troops. It does NOT mean you can do stuff like get naked and dance the mamba and claim nobody notices because your roll was successful.

You rolled for Troinia falling for the disguise. He did. Anything other than that is RP, and him doublechecking is simply the harbormaster doing his job as he's the one in charge of planning which dock slots in the harbor are available so nobody gets to wait on one another trying to load and unload cargo.

Not a Mod, but my two cents on this anyway.

The portmaster looked at the credintials for a small while, and, after deciding that they were legit, allowed the group to pass through.
"Go to your left please and meet with Major Gen. Susan Niel, please."

OOC: I gave it to Niel, but ok...

IC: Ievers turned left and handed the same things to Niel.

"Please follow me," Niel said to the Promised Land soldiers. "We are going to take you to a base, where you'll wait until we can get transportation for all of you. You'll be flown to eastern Troina, specifically Aikita Province."

The disguised Caucasians formed up into their squads and followed, trusting that the Novakians would follow.

Everyone came into a medium-sized military base and sat down. Niel then left, as the civilian logistics department already knew what to do. A couple of Troinan Marines walked over to the Promised Land soldiers.
"How ya doing?" said one of them.
"Gettin' ready for the wargames?" asked another.

Well, crap, Ievers thought. Talkative military personnel.
"A bit. We're just dropping off supplies for it and getting a feel for the climate," Ievers said. "And while this place is nice, I think I prefer Darwin."

"Cool. My names Jerry Rockey," the first Marine said, extending his hand. "What's yours?"

"I'm Colonel Aaron Raine," Ievers said.

"Hey, you guys!" said a sergeant "Go clean up the mess hall now!"
"Yessir!" the Marines replied.

OOC: If I was a GM this metagaming would have been called out half an hour ago.

Sadif got his men into formation and followed the Caucasians into to blistering cold. They were used to deserts and the heat they endure while fighting in that climate. Sadif's men met up with the Caucasian men in their squads and they waited there. Sadif went out of earshot of all Troinian citizens and began to speak to Zadian in a soft whisper.

"We need to find a pure-military area. I don't want to do anything near civilians," Zadian whispered in Arabic. "We need to think of a way out of here and communicate it to Ievers without the Tronians knowing."

OOC: Who's metagaming?

OOC: He edited his post, Lateknifewielder.

OOC: Two different people edited their posts. Which one?

"Grab the silencers and make way back to the boat, we'll shoot the high ranking officers and head to an unknown location in the ocean. Thoughts?"

"We can do that. And we can stage any new ops from the ice shelf. Get your men ready." He straightened and said, very loudly and in English, "IT'S COLD OUT HERE."

Ievers took the hint and told the Tronian official, "I'm taking my men back to the boats to grab some extra blankets. This weather's harsh on them. We'll be back shortly." He raised his voice. "Anyone that needs some extra warmth, head back to the ships."

Zadian's shout had been an agreed upon code to have silencers ready and for Ievers to use common sense on what it meant. The men, who had been pacing about to keep warm, began to amble to their squadrons and head for the boats.

The Troinan Marines took notice of the change in the Promised Land soldiers attitudes.

Two Marines came along to the Promised Land soldiers and said to them "Please follow us, we have your rides ready."

OOC: The base is swarming with Marines btw.

"We can walk ourselves back to the boats," Ievers said. "We got here walking, we can go back."

OOC: And these are our elite spec op troops. Your point?

"OK, that's fine." replied Maj. Gen. Niel.

OOC: If you were going to attack you'd lose as even though they are Spec Ops, still if there's an entire Marine division (10,000 Marines), you'd get mercked.

OOC: In war, numbers alone confer no advantage. Do not advance relying on sheer military power.


IC: The troops marched back towards the ships, and Zadian returned to Sadif. "Make sure your men are organized," he whispered in Arabic, making sure he was out of earshot of any Tronians. "We'll need to be fast. We'll be outnumbered 10 to 1 if we make our move here. We should aim to take out their officers and possibly higher NCOs first. Possibly have some fun with explosives."

*still out of earshot of Tronians

"Don't start shooting until we are boarding the boat. Have marksmen get on the high points of the boat to take aim at the higher echelons. After the first shots towards the officers, our men will close the boat. This chaos needs to be organized. Otherwise, we'll be fish in a barrel."