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The Hammer of the Franks

Sarah Tintagyl

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OOC:Before I begin, I would like to lay some groundwork as to make this RP run smoothly. First, this is an Open RP, anyone can join and I hope all of you do. The main story line is a rebellion in France due to the recent defeat of Communist Armies in North America and will eventually lead to the new country that I am planning, though France will still exist this new Confederation. That said, people are welcome to enter as either a Loyalist, which you do not have to be a Communist, but you should have some ideology following loyalty or anti-separatism, Rebel, which given Kankou's set up post a few threads ago, should be Fascist or at the very least someone against the status quo; Royalist, Fascist, Republican. Something to think about however before entering; your characters can and will probably die if one: you do not use them (i.e. you post once and never post again), if two, you place them a dangerous situation, or if three, their death is central to the advancement of the plot. That all discussed, many people during civil wars opt to RP a group of foreign special operations units and so you have a bunch of foreigners running around and in truth they never really contribute much to the story. You may only include your own country's spec-ops if you can get them in logically. I will not be RPing defenses so that I can push my story along, but if you are from a country who has no ties to France or no history, I will RP defenses just for you, just so your spec ops team dies. To sum that up. Play someone from France, its easier and I'll like you more.

A very brief hint though; if you cannot do any of these things and only RP either He-Man or She-Ra type characters. I already have a Heroine for this story. I don't need copies.



[center][u][i]Chapter I - Escape from Paris [/i][/u][/center]

"What could have possibly gone wrong? Everyone was happy. Everything was perfect."

Simone stared out the windows of the Palais de l'Élysée towards a horizon which was now a depressing mixture of reds, oranges, and blacks. These colors reflected wondrously in her tear-stained gray eyes and her glossy blonde hair even seemed to be full of fire and smoke from the reflection in the glass. The rumors had all proved true and for the second time in two years, France was thrown into what seemed to be another terrible revolution. This was depressing for two reasons, one, nations which imposed stricter laws and had far less civic rights were stable and prosperous. Simone attempted to walk the line in between a full dictatorship and the Republican movements which had popped up in North America, but it seemed as though her feet slipped and she was no pummeling down the deep abyss to the graveyard of failed leaders. Resting her head against the window, she tapped her forehead against the glass lightly. It wasn't supposed to happen like this and she would do everything in her power to prevent a collapse, but even then the question seemed utterly impossible to answer. Where was she to begin?

The sound of the doors opened behind her and the chairwoman turned to see Admiral Regine Avenier along with two prefects enter the room. It was the first friendly face the Chairwoman had seen that day and she turned with a smile to what appeared to be her own friend in France.

"I heard about the Assembly meeting." Regine said and took off holding it tightly under her arm. "Did this all begin after..."

"It began during, in the middle of my speech in fact. Prefects rushed in and nearly tackled me to the floor saying that I was in immediate danger." Simone rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "So they take me to the Palais, still in the heart of this God-forsaken city."

Regine sighed and pushed copper strands of hair from her eyes. "Which is why we're here now. You can't stay here, Madame Chairwoman. The mobs are staring to become organized in the city and some of the regional commanders have taken, a more individual approach, to solving the riots. It's a madhouse and the few guards we have at the Palais aren't enough to keep you safe if these miscreants decide to attack you. Jules and Alain are here to help me get you out of Paris safely."

Simone shook her head. "I don't understand, Regine. Where is the rest of the army? What is happening? No one is telling me anything. They've shut me up in this building like a prisoner."

The Admiral frowned looking beyond Simone's head at the burning horizon in the distance. "I came here on my own. This kind of command break down shouldn't happen, but in less then twenty-four hours this who country has become nothing more than a Roman mockery. The people, the generals, all trying to influence or take the government for themselves." She turned to Simone with fierce eyes. "I refuse to let my country be divided like that again. To watch us turn against ourselves, no doubt the rest of the world and the Andorrans will cheer. But by the end of this, I'll make sure we give France a reason to cheer and then the world will be sorry. This world is just filled with !@#$%^&*."

"But..." The Chairwoman tapped her fingers nervously against the wood of her desk. "If the country is as divided as you say, Regine. Where are we supposed to go?"

"I have a few followers myself." The Admiral smirked and glanced at the two prefects standing behind her. "There is an old castle, in the south of France that the Empire used to use as a garrison against the Valencians - Pau Castle. It's abandoned now, but I've sent out a secured communique to my most trusted friends and people I know who still support you. If we can rally at Pau and at Bordeaux, we might stand a chance to restore order in the country."

Simone turned back to the window and closed her eyes. "Admiral...Regine...I don't know, how..."

The feeling of the Palais shaking underneath them and the close cries of people from outside the window, pushed Simone back into the center of the room in fear. "This is our only chance, Madame Chairwoman. We either leave now and follow probably the only organized thought we have or we stay here in Paris and get slaughtered."

She nodded, "All right, but I don't have a weapon. I'm afraid I don't try to hide the fact I don't know how to fight."

"I wouldn't have brought along help, if I didn't think we'd need it."

Throwing on her coat, Simone followed Regine and the two prefects through the halls of the Palais. It was the first time she walked through the gilded corridors to find all of the state employees, all of the servants, everyone had left and she nearly alone. Their shoes thundered across the floor and out into the courtyard where the gates of the Palais still hung open, unguarded, and the only pathway to freedom for the small entourage. They fled through the gates and out into the streets as night began to climb across the sky, the utter darkness, hidden by the eerie glow of the fires from looters and revolutionaries deep within the city.

The north of the city was in flames so the logical choice was to move south, towards the Seine, deeper into the Paris, deeper into the danger.

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[i]FSOPC headquarters, Helsinki
January 9th, 20XX[/i]

Lt. Major Juho Rautiola's phone began ringing uncontrollably. After a minute, he picked it up, asking the other line to speak. "Lt. Major, General Teemu Äijälä here." Why was the General of the Army calling him? "Look at the satfeeds on France. What do you see Major?" Juho looked over at a wall of televisions. On one was a satellite feed showing France. Paris looked to be in flames. "France is in flames, what the hell is going on General?"

The general sighed. "Revolution in France. Another one. You already have permission from Helsinki HQ to prepare for infiltration, but do it quietly. The Swedish are running patrols in the Baltic, so try to avoid them if possible. Other than that, the punainen kaarti and valkoinen demonit are under your command and yours only. Any other units you request will be granted after consideration. Remember, we want to do this quietly."

Lt. Major Rautiola nodded. "Understood sir." He had a long day ahead of him...

[i]Somewhere in the Paris Underground...[/i]
"Brothers!" Tanguy Richard gripped his FAMAS as he stood to speak with his comrades. "Today, we fight to free France from the Commune! To restore the Crown! If we fail here, we will fail everywhere! Make no mistake, my brothers, fight with the ferocity of the French before you, when the Nazis invaded and stripped us of our rights. For every man they kill, kill ten of theirs! For every man wounded, torture another five!" As he continued, Millard Laprise, a lower-class working man, reflected on what he was doing. Richard was GIGN, from before the Commune took over. He had the fire of de Gaulle and Napoleon's tactical thought, but he was one man leading a group of people who wanted a crown back, the Ancien Regime. He wasn't particularly pro-Crown, but it was better than being a Fascist. Millard had heard rumors that Fascist rebels would especially targeted by French soldiers, executed if captured. With Richard wrapping up his motivational speech, it was time to go. Millard grabbed his FAMAS and loaded a fresh magazine in. He wasn't a soldier yet, but with Tanguy Richard having his back, Millard felt invincible.

[i]Somewhere over the Baltic...[/i]
Sgt. Veikko Peltosaari scratched at his face while his lieutenant explained where the hell they were going. It wasn't part of Operation White Death, he said. The punainen kaarti would be propping up the French Communist regime, whether the Commune wanted it or not. They'd be dropping straight into Paris, given a crash course in parachute training by the valkoinen demonit. "Hey! Peltosaari! Listen up!" His Lt. broke Veikko's thoughts. "You've got the colored smokes, so if we get it, AC-130's going to be supporting us, alright? Mark targets for it by popping smoke, then get the hell down. We'll be in France in six hours, so be ready!" Peltosaari knew the AC-130 wouldn't be there. Nothing ever was on a operation with allies.

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"Yes that is correct, Khagan." Ding said on the hand communicator which he held. The frequency skipping system was one which had been designed to look unsophisticated in order to mask the reality of high high sophistication.

[i]We think that they could actually have a chance of succeeding?[/i] Jia asked on the other end of the line.

Ding listened back for the brief transmission delay, "Yes, we believe the chances are that the rebels could win..."

Jia quickly interrupted, [i]What assets can we mobilize for a counter attack.[/i]

"...no I don't think an invasion is the way to go just yet." Ding responded.

[i]Mmm... I see then I ask that you maintain watch till we get a firmer grasp of what is going to happen. We have beaten the reactionaries twice now, they are on their heels globally. Their success in France could serve as a rallying cry even as the great right wing powers like Germany and Cochin fall before the Horde. I trust you will keep them safe?[/i]

"Yes... I will do so." Ding said. "I'll contact you if further steps are required."

Jia terminated the transmission, snapping Ding back into the realities of the cold underground Parisian catacombs which had become the headquarters of the Tianxia intelligence operation. The operation which included no more than two dozen operatives in Paris proper much like their equipment appeared to be bare bones but concealed a much larger operation.

Having built itself into the infrastructure of the Asian immigrant neighborhoods local gangs and organized crime, the intelligence service essentially was able to black mail these groups into cooperation with them for the mundane. Whether that be couriers, smugglers, or even coming up with quick cash through less traceable channels. Since the death of the Green Gang's leader Kang, the Tianxia Intelligence Service held the Triads by the balls showing the full willingness to summarily execute Triad leaders in the home countries if they did not do what Tianxia had wanted.

As Ding headed up the worn stone stair case in the feint light, a Chinese man approached him. "Executor our spies report two people leaving the palace. Additionally we've been told that the Special Operations Brigade out of Athens is ready to penetrate the French air space."

"Not just yet on the second." Ding paused thinking for a moment, "On the first, lets have Mao and Dmitry begin following, I will meet them there. Our objective is to only interfere if their lives are in immediate danger, we don't need to start some rumors here ourselves."

"Yes sir." the man said saluting.

Ding sighed as he turned a corner towards the armory. It was going to be a long night ahead.

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Pauline d'Artagnon sat high on a hill, overlooking Paris. She peered through a spotting scope, and called out elevations and windages in a fell voice, and upon completing this simplest of actions, a very soft [i]crump[/i] resounded behind her... followed moments later by a second, a third, a fourth. Explosions began to trace themselves in high-explosive and phosphorous glory through the Communist roadblock at the edge of the A14 bridge crossing the Seine, and she allowed herself a small smile as her group of Fascist rebels laid into the hated communist !@#$%^&* with their mortars. Wielding (ironically) Russian RPG-7s, a dozen technicals tore down A14 after entering the roadway, a shower of dirt fanning from under their tires. Men and women in the beds of the trucks wielded the rocket launchers, sending death downrange whenever a target showed itself, reducing the checkpoint and the fast transports the soldiers who had manned it had arrived in to rubble. A Communist tank rolled down from a connecting road, and as quickly as they arrived, the technicals and the people driving and fighting on them vanished.

Pauline stood, gathering her scope and FN F2000 AR, and vanished into the countryside easier than dispersing smoke.

Edited by Mara Lithaen
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[b]OOC:[/b] They all where here before. This just surprised them. And mon Dieu, Charlotte is busy with her schedule.

"Damn, this was unexpected" Charlotte ean through the streets, Dalian at her hand. "Pardonnez-moi, Princess, but this is just for your own safety that we run." They were just going along the street when the city before them began to burn. Dalian wanted to call the fire brigades, but when the first shots were to be heard, Charlotte knew what had happened. "Why...do we...have to run?" Dalian stopped. She hadn't got the stamina. "This' a Revolution. And I'm not going to be in this. At least not where I can get shot like this for nothing." Charlotte herself breathed fast already, but compared to Dalian... Dalian was always only sitting around reading. Never had that girl exercised anything beside that, most likely. At least nothing related to sports. But with that lack of Stamina, they wouldn't get far, before the mob arrived and shot them. Charlotte had her handgun, yes, but that would not to against tanks, assault rifles and artillery. So they ran along the Quai des Tuileries and looked out for something to flee the city with.

Elene had already lost one home. she would not lose another. Carefully she looked through the telescopic sight and aimed. Damn bourgeoisie, rebelling against the Commune. Hiding behind some improvised barricade, she waited here to take on rebels, as they came and this time it were already two. As they grew nearer, she raised the barrel slightly, to deliver a clean headshot, given that the enemy would just hide behind some corner, if she missed. She had only one chance. But, just as the face became visible, she lay down flat on the ground, hiding. "Lookie, who's coming there... I think someone will be happy."

Edited by Evangeline Anovilis
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Michael, the notorious fine dining and flower reporter of the International Herald Tribune, quietly watches the skyline of Paris from his hotel window. He has his laptop out and he's stuck for words. This just isn't his sort of reporting but he feels that someone better cover these momentous events of the French War in the Americas and the possible impact on France or they'll be lost to history.

He sends a message to the appropriate French government department requesting an interview with a high ranking French official who specializes in North American affairs.

ooc: sarah, throw me a bone here.. I'm stoned.. knee problems. We can quickly peck out a Q/A in IRC if you want to bother. If not.. just don't even reply... could be lulzy.

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Captain Gilles Eugène was a slightly balding man in his late fourties and known to a strict but fair man of principle. Though he was physically fit his days of fighting on the frontline had long passed and through hard work and perseverance had gone up in the ranks of the French Army to become commander of the Seventh Armoured Cavalry Squadron and he had proven his loyalty to both France and its leader Simone. As luck would have it he was on active duty at his command post when all hell broke loose and as such was in one of the better positions to react to the Facist uprising.

At his command he had thirteen main battle tanks of the French Army and as reports came to him of attacks on Army bases or worse in a few cases of actual Army forces joining with the Facist rebels. Communication with other units was spotty at best and with the loyalties of the other Army units unknown at this time Gilles couldn't risk sending out orders or messages to other units but he did know that Simone hadn't left the city at least to his knowledge and that probally meant she was trapped somewhere in the city.

Turning to his subordinates he caught sight of his troops preparing their tanks and support vehicles to move out into the streets of Paris and he allowed himself a slight feeling of pride fill his heart. "Okay listen up. The situation has gone to hell and somewhere in our fair city the Chairwoman is probally trapped if not dead already. Regardless we must at least recover her body so not to have it desecrated by these filthy rebels so I want the everyone ready to move out in five minutes" said Gilles.

Before anyone could reply a young soldier came running over her and as she drew to a halt she hastily saluted the Captain before making her report. "Captain sir, we just recieved a report of a sighting of the Chairwoman. She is accompanied by Admiral Regine Avenier and two prefects and the group is moving South towards the Seine".

"If the rebels find them they won't last more than a few minutes" said one of the sergeants unnecessarily and Captain Gilles nodded to the soldier who delivered the report and she ran off back to her station whilst Gilles turned to the rest of the men. "Okay we don't have five minutes everyone report to your vehicles and get ready to move out. I will see if I can't raise the Admiral but in the meantime we will head for the Seine. Rules of engagement are to engage any hostiles spotted with offensive weaponary, we don't have time to offer terms of surrender so shoot to kill. That is all now get moving" he ordered and as they ran off to join their units he stepped away from his desk and jogged over to the communications room.

Inside most of the soldiers were busy destroyed any equipment they couldn't take with them as once they moved out there would be no one left to guard the base and they didn't want to hand over anything to the facist rebels. Still one set of communications gear was kept functioning and as the Captain stepped over the operator handed him the headset before attempting to establish a connection to Admiral Regine Avenier.

"Admiral Regine Avenier this is Captain Gilles Eugène of the Seventh Armoured Cavalry Squadron. I have thirteen battle tanks at my command and we stand ready to protect the Chairwoman I request meeting cordinates over" spoke Gilles and he continud to repeat the message hoping that the Admiral would be able to pick it up before he was forced to move out into the streets of Paris.

OOC: Tank numbers are based on real life French Army squadron numbers.

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The Hethnamarkers that could read outside news, did so, and did not seem too surprised to see France trying to choke the life out of itself again. Lady Marianne didn't seem to be able to make up her mind on her new look, always at odds between dressing in Red, White, or Black instead. Ironic colors. Those which were in Luxembourg and Fort Adelheid, felt some kind of relief anyway, as they were certain to end up fighting France eventually.

And then something happened, something which was almost bound to happen eventually. Adhemar hadn't been one of a kind, but one among many. The people of the until-then-French part of Alsace-Lorraine headed to their basements, and headed to several depots in the nation, many forgotten and dusty. Some were as recent as to show the Germanic Union's markings, but some of them were from Martens' first government. The Berlin Administrations had always prepared themselves for permanent war, and even for outright doomsdays, many spots having abandoned hydroponic farms and even small underground hospital-like facilities. Paranoid !@#$%^&*. But repeatedly throughout history, even if at the expense of economic shortcomings, it had paid off. Now was one of those times. As if Germany had planted the seeds that would later become oaks, to seek their own destiny, and make their own forest.

At first, there was no real plan. People simply took arms to defend "Their Land" or "Their Home", usually meaning the place where they lived, with their families. Then they started to organize in order to prevent outright anarchy and criminality. But as France's situation worsened, their cohesion and organization grew. One good day, one patrol found one particularily large depot, emblazoned with Martens' Personal Coat of Arms. It seemed to be a bunker, and from the looks of it, he must have inhabited it at a point. Deeper below, somebody uncovered a large reserve of armored, mechanical units and more, and said, [i]"I think we better call HQ"[/i]

Sometime later, Panzer Divisions seemed to roam the zone of eternal conflict, and the locals had become Hethnamark's new best buddy when it came to trading. The people had organized themselves so that a triumvirate was in charge of most things. From Strassburg, they would address Europe.


"My name is Wilhelmina Laforge and these are General Meyer-Lefevre of the Franco-German Brigade and Doctor Emil Vatel. We are the current authorities in the zone of Alsace Lorraine, and due to the defunction of the French State, we have been forced to protect our own families' interests. We now declare the independence and sovereignty of Alsace-Lorraine, with capital on Strassburg. Our national languages are both German as well as French, so that Elsass-Lothringen is our name as well and can be used interchangeably. We have no territorial claims whatsoever on France proper, and only wish to be left alone, yet we have prepared our defences in case that East or West should want to attack. We are neither German nor French, Frankish is the closest label we can find."

Now, what would the world do? The sons of Lothair tried to persuade Hethnamark to back them up, but it did not wish to discard its neutrality. If they turned to Germany, they would soon be puppets. Their only choice would be to await the eventual parisienne offensive and hope for the best.

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Pauline relaxed cautiously inside the safehouse - in reality the home of one of the members of her rebel movement - and laid out a map of Paris before her. She observed the plotted last-known positions of the Commune's forces, and thinks of all number of ways to cause the Marxists hell.

She remained like this for perhaps ten minutes, thinking, and as she was about to call Jacques to her side to ask him something, a runner entered, breathless."Madame d'Artagnon!" he exclaimed, bending to catch his breath. She waited for him to continue. "Madame, la présidente est en marche! Nous avons une chance de l'attaquer comme elle quitte Paris!" The chairwoman is on the run. We have the chance to attack her as she leaves Paris.

Her eyes lit. "Rassembler les guérilleros. Nous devons agir rapidement si nous nous attendons à attaquer la présidente. Vite! Dépêchez-vous!" she ordered. Gather the fighters. We must act quickly if we expect to attack the chairwoman. Quickly! Hurry!

The man turned and sprinted from whence he came, and Pauline's eyes glowed as she began to assemble her gear, pulling the flaps shut on her body armor's plate carrier and sliding magazines into the pouches arrayed about it. She hefted her assault rifle, and left the building, soon followed by a number of her fighters, all armed to the teeth, aboard technicals.

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The city was the very definition of chaos as the small band of four made their way from the Palais on the north side of the Seine towards the river itself. Paris was burning from all sides, but in the north the fighting was thickest and there was no chance to escape without being spotted. From her radio, Regine got constant calls from Loyalist divisions moving through the city, but at the moment it was impossible to organize any real resistance in Paris and she was busy making sure the only voice the Commune had left, Simone Valentin, would escape the city safely. This was her primary concern and she intended to see Simone's safety to the end; or die trying.

Fleeing down the side roads of the Champs Elysees to avoid, what could only be called gang war, happening on the road itself; Regine's entourage neared the Seine and faced a strong obstacle in the way of their movement. With mortar fire coming from the hills outside of Paris, nearly every bridge on the river was taking a chance. Beyond that, Communist roadblocks which would offer Regine her only relative quiet chance to escape the city were now being engaged or had been completely destroyed by Rebel mobs moving through Parisian allies and sewers. The quickest way across the Seine near the Tulieries was under fire and held by some band of Imperial Zellists. It was this problem that made the situation in France all the more confusing as Regine and Simone would find out through their trek across Paris and what was happening throughout the countryside. There was not just one France, there was not just two different factions vying for control of France, in a matter of hours there were various Frances, all with a different past and a different ideology for the futures. Imperial Zellists, Dragonists from the Angevin King, Pseudo-Nords, and others. In the middle of this vortex were Regine and Simone.

"We can't cross here." Said the Admiral as she handed Alain's binoculars back to him, staring across the Tulieries. "We'll get shot or at least blasted to hell by mortar fire." Spiting on the ground, Regine looked down another side alley facing east. "Come on, we'll find a different way across the river."

"Maybe we should swim." Jules said jokingly. "You're an Admiral, Regine, that's using your sea legs."

"You can be the first, district the men on the bridge while we get across." She said with a tone that fired acid. The discussion stopped immediately and the band of four continued down the Rue de Rivoli. Surprisingly enough, the one area along the Seine which avoided both mortar fire and street fighting was the Ile-de-Cite where the great Notre Dame stood overlooking the flaming city. Crossing the bridge nearest the church, Regine lead with her rapier unsheathed while their bodies ducked against the sides of the stone bridge. The church and the land across the Seine was in sight, they were almost there.

Then the sound of a bullet struck against the stone pavement of the ground...

[url="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Tu5tLE4flc"]Battle #1 - Baptism by Fire[/url]

[i]Conditions of Victory[/i]
[*]Simone Must Survive
[*]Regine Must Survive
[*]Escape the Ile-de-Cite
[*]Destroy all enemies (optional)
[i]Attack Team[/i]
[*]Regine (Shieldmaiden)
[*]Alain (Soldier)
[*]Jules (Soldier)
[*]Simone (Mediator)
[i]Enemy Team[/i]
[*]Frederic (Soldier)
[*]Joseph (Soldier)
[*]Cesar (Medic)
[*]Cybele (Medic)
[*]Jean-Louis (Commander)
[*]Pauline (Commander)
[i]Allied Team[/i]
[*]Gilles (Dragoon)

Regine jumped back when the bullet struck the ground and pulled her own pistol out as she pushed Simone into Alain's arms and the prefect pulled the Chairwoman to cover. It was dark and the fog and haze that rose from the burning city made it difficult to see even ten feet in front of her. "I suggest you stop where you are Admiral and hand over the Chairwoman to us. We won't harm her, you, or any of your men. But you're crossing into our territory now and you have to respect that diplomatic immunity doesn't exist for traitors to the Imperial Cause."

The Admiral looked at the man standing in front of her. He wore the bright blue uniform of the French Imperial Army, though the coat was worn and his body too, looked worn. "I thought you said we wouldn't be harmed."

"When did I mention anything about harm? I just said you can't pass through here and hope to escape the city." Jean-Louis said as he walked menacingly towards her.

Regine raised her pistol, aiming between the commander's eyes. "You can kill me, before you lay your dirty hands on the Chairwoman."

"That can be arranged too."

Both Regine and Jean-Louis went to their side arms and fired towards each other, but predicting what the other would do, both also moved to escape the path of the bullet. The Admiral, still with rapier in hand, lunged across the stone pavement as she tried to thrust her blade through her adversary's stomach, but with no avail as he pulled out the ceremonial sword of the Imperial guard and parried as they both pushed their weight against each other. All the while, Alain and Jules were occupied in keeping the Chairwoman safe from the onslaught of the other soldiers who Jean-Louis had brought with him. Across the facade of Notre Dame their bullets ricocheted off the ground and the ancient walls of the church. In addition, Pauline's forces up on the hill had begun to shift their attack up the Seine towards the Ile-de-Cite and explosions toppled Regine and everyone else to their knees.

It was when her radio rung with Gilles' voice and she hammered down the button, yelling into the speaker. "There's no time for us to meet up. Just head south! If you can free the south of Paris I'll be eternally gra-" Suddenly a swift kick to her stomach sent the Admiral to her side. Jean-Louis thrust this blade down and it was a quick roll to the side that sparked metal against the ground as Regine rolled out of the way and jumping back up to her feet charged and threw an elbow to his face. The Zellist Commander reeled back and the next sound was the slicing of flesh with metal as the Admiral's rapier tore through his stomach.

As she took a tired glance at the battle in front of her, the Zellist Squad had left, leaving the two soldiers dead and the medics nowhere to be seen.

"We scared them off!" Shouted Alain over the thunder of mortar fire.

"Madame Chairwoman, how are you holding up?" Said Regine as she took Simone up from her shelter in the bushes aside of Notre Dame.

"Better once I get out of the city to be sure."

"That's where we're going. Commander Eugene is hopefully going to give us a chance to escape the city completely. But we'll find a way, I'm positive."

Over the Ile-de-Cite, the band escaped, a bit haggard and fatigued now into the burning south.

OOC: A note on the 'battle list' this is for flavor only, do not try to make characters up who are uber-powerful. If you would like to be classified independently, see me first.

Edited by Sarah Tintagyl
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Grand Papuan Embassy, Paris

Right northeast of [i]L'Hôtel national des Invalides[/i] was the enormous Grand Papuan Embassy complex, located on both sides of[i]Rue de Grenelle[/i]. Made up of several buildings with a court in the middle (and paid for with some of the tons of gold that Grand Papua had sent to France), it was a virtual fortress in terms of the layout, the main reason why the embassy was located here in the first place. The slightly off-center position, being south from the the main government centers and across the Seine, was an added bonus of being defensive. Finally, having the [i]L'Hôtel national des Invalides[/i] right next door, with its various medical and surgical facilities, meant that as long as the district held up, the Grand Papuans would have secure access to first aid.

As the various movements erupted throughout northern Paris, the embassy went into emergency mode. The regular embassy staff were moved into the secure inner rooms or took shelter in the reinforced bunker underneath the compound, as the gates of the embassy compound were barricaded. Combined with the security cameras located outside, the embassy now had a clear view of what was going on around its environment, and soon, depending on the circumstances, helicopters would be employed for reconnaissance and evacuations.

At the same time, the battalion of five hundred Stoßtruppen ("shock troops") stationed at the embassy began proceeding with the emergency sequences. Trained in infiltration tactics and urban warfare, they were what could be considered to be heavy infantry, the assault troopers who would break out of a siege if needed. For now they only got their weapons ready, stationing themselves at the various pillboxes which overlooked into the streets. Heavy weaponry like mortars, machine guns, and grenade launchers had been brought out from the underground storage, along with canisters of the rather strong riot gas which was labeled as a chemical weapon on some countries. The embassy was now prepared to face anything short of air strikes and armored units.

Finally, a message was sent out to the Commune government, which probably would never arrive to the appropriate authorities.

[quote]If assistance is needed, Grand Papua is ready to reinforce defenses.[/quote]

Regular broadcasts were also made through the public air waves.

[quote]All non-nationals of France who needs protection from the conflict, evacuate to L'Hôtel national des Invalides.[/quote]

Now, it was time to show the rebels who they were facing against.

OOC: In RL terms, the Grand Papuan Embassy is where the Swiss and Korean Embassies are.

Edited by Kankou
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[i]"They are heading South. Towards the Cemetery. Enemy units harassed them but they lived, most probable point of intercept is there, as they are heading right towards us."[/i] a voice said through Ding's radio. Ding looked as he came out into the moonlight of the cemetary. There was an eerie calm here as the rest of the city had been engulfed in the flames of chaos. This was as bad as many cities Ding had seen burn, that it was Paris could move even his heart.

Ding has dressed in tactical black camouflage, carrying a carbine optimized for sniping despite its small size, his profile was sleek, and it allowed him to move in with the surroundings of the area. Heading out into the night, he knew that his team mates would be with him.

[i]"We've spotted enemy Imperialists. They are regrouping, we expect them to call in for reinforcements."[/i] the voice on the radio said.

Ding nodded, "Alright go to radio silence, I'll make the intercept, position yourselves on high ground to lay down defensive fire for escorting the Chairwoman out."

Two clicks signaled and acknowledgement by both Mao and Dmitry.

[quote]Event: Reinforcements Arrive

Ding (Sniper)
Mao (Soldier)
Dmitry (Soldier)[/quote]

As they neared the cemetery Ding appeared out of the shadow's with his arms raised in the air indicating that he had no intention of attacking the Chairwoman or her companions, "Madame Chairwoman, the Horde sends their regards and wishes to communicate that be that they wish to see your safe passage. I have men watching the passages around here and I can tell you we have little time. I ask that you trust me and come with me."

He looked at the others, focusing his gaze on Regine, "I know you have little reason to trust anyone at the moment, but I must impress on your the time sensitivity of this predicament."

[i]"Boss we got trouble incoming..."[/i] Mao said on the radio.

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[i]Somewhere over Paris...[/i]
"Set scan range."


"Callsign Warhammer, be advised, friendlies on the ground are marked with diamonds. Callsign is Icepick. Anything else should be considered hostile. Do not engage the buildings, we suspect there may still be civilians inside."

"Solid copy, Overlord. Warhammer out."

"Warhammer, this is Icepick 0-1, how copy over?"

"Solid copy Icepick 1. Ready to service the area."

"Copy that. Dropping in now."

With that, the 110 punainen kaarti troops began to fall to the ground, firing on Royalist rebels who had seen them drop in.


Sgt. Veikko Peltosaari was one of the first one the ground, and the first to fire on the French rebels. Somehow an AC-130 was in the air at the exact moment they arrived in Paris, but it didn't matter to Peltosaari. All he wanted was for this stupid rebellion to be over so he could go back home. If he had to kill a few dozen French nationals, so be it. His lieutenant, over the noise of the combat, shouted at him to pop smoke for the AC-130. He pointed towards a stronghold the Royalist rebels had set up, a technical with a large-caliber machine gun situated on top of it. Grabbing a red smoke grenade, he pulled the pin and tossed it ahead of him.

[i]"You see that smoke?"[/i]

"Crew, be prepared to fire on any markers Icepick sends out."

"Understood. Firing."

An explosion rocked the ground about twenty feet away from Millard. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" shouted Tanguy, before he looked up into the sky. "Ah, merde." he muttered. Millard said nothing, waiting for Tanguy to say something. He finally ordered him to the barricade, then shouted to the others, "ENEMY AC-130 IN THE AIR! TAKE COVER!" Millard began to fire on anything that didn't look too friendly, and these soldiers across from him looked particularly unhappy to see him. Somebody brought up a machine gun, a relic from WWII. Aiming it at the advancing soldiers, they opened fire, forcing them to scatter. Those who didn't ended up with a lot of rounds through them. They seemed to disperse...were they retreating? Tanguy ordered Millard to go check the bodies.

"...Tanguy? You better come see this!" Millard slowly stepped away from one of the bodies. "What is it Millard...oh my." Millard put his FAMAS down and stared at the body. "That's the Finnish flag. Real Finns, Tanguy, holy $*^&. Real Finns. What the hell are we going to do?" Tanguy began dragging the body away, grabbing the soldier's Valmet M76 with him. "We're going to fight them, Millard."

Edited by Markus Wilding
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When the black figure came out of Montparnasse Cemetery, it not only put the entourage on their immediate guard, Simone nearly jumped out of her skin. Regine herself felt a bit flustered, but maintained her composure and the pistol pointed at the man's head as he walked towards her. With his hands in the air and the soft voice with which he spoke to Simone, he was yet another of the many factions moving across France. This one, however, was at least friendly. The Chairwoman walked forward as Ding spoke with her, but she turned back, after he finished, to Regine. "What do you think Admiral?"

Regine turned to Ding and eyed him with suspicion even when he addressed her personally. "No, you're right, I don't trust anyone. Especially not men coming out of the cemetery, but if you're willing to help us then. It's the best odds we've been given all day. But if you try to pull something; anything, against us, I'll make sure that I take you down with me."

But when Mao's radio crackled, a pit formed in the bottom of the Admiral's stomach and she turned back to the foreigner. "Where do you want to take us?"

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Having no way to cross the Seine safely in the west, the two still fled further to the East. They already had passed the Louvre and the Princess still lacked the speed of the former minister. But Charlotte rather kept back than to let go of the Princess' hand, as she had done so already once at the Tuileries. Back then, Dalian had broken down in tears, scared to the bone by the shattering earth and the noise, caused by the continued rain of mortar shells. Charlotte knew, in this moment, as soon as she would let go, Dalian would be dead, scared and no match for the mobs. Her only chance was in Charlotte guiding her. And that one had little clue what to do herself. She only had gotten the notice on her mobile phone earlier, that said the Grand Papuans offered shelter.

As she arrived at the Ile-de-la-Cité, they saw the two dead and ran. Dalian almost threw up, though, Charlotte had seen worse. "Ho, someone already cleaned up here. Let's go before reinforcements arrive." That was all she could say.

Little did Charlotte know that Elene was following her. Princess Dalian and the traitor Charlotte. Most of her unit had already fallen, and the north was not to be hold, so following these two, who were already searched after would surely be the better idea, than to die in the next mortar barrage.

Edited by Evangeline Anovilis
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Pauline ducked behind the corner of a building, her Fascists pouring fire back at the Chairwoman's guard. She pulled her radio from one of her pouches. "Incendie sur ma commande, tous les mortiers, grille cible une-deux-quatre!" Fire on my command, all mortars, target grid a-two-four. She spoke calmly over the din of automatic rifle fire, poking her head and rifle around the corner to fire off a burst at the Communists before ducking back and using her rifle butt to clear a window of broken glass before jumping through it, proceeding to the opposite side of the ground floor, where she had a better view of the Chairwoman. "Toutes les unités, danger proches - feu à volonté, je le répète, feu à volonté!" All units, danger close - fire at will, I repeat, fire at will!

The mortars' firings were silent next to the roar of the gunfight - but the effects of their firings most certainly were not. A pair of white phosphorous rounds set the area ablaze. Pauline herself scrambled to the roof to get a better view, hiding behind the crumbled masonry marking a hole in the roof. Setting her F2000 up on the pile, she carefully looked over, and began to lay her sights across the Admiral who had gutted the Imperial dog. Something caught her eye, to the right of the admiral, fleeing... the Chairwoman! Switching her sights, Pauline let off a hasty burst at the Communist puppet master.

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As Pauline's men attacked, Mao and Dmitry opened fire from their concealed high positions in the cemetary. The two sporting EO scoped rifles began laying down suppressing fire towards Mao and Dmitry. Mao had Pauline in the sights of her scope as she say the F-2000 and Pauline behind it. Firing three shots. Mao rolled behind a grave stone and began to crawl back towards another position.

Dmitry meanwhile sited Joseph. He fired off four rounds at the man before running into one of the entrances to the catacombs, running down the tunnel to another part of it where he could pop out for an ambush.

Ding meanwhile grabbed the Chairwoman by her wrist and pulled her along as they made for the main catacomb entrance, "No time to discuss follow." he said.

Two mortar rounds hit, lighting the area ablaze. This had the added effect of illuminating the position of the party. Ding raised his scope quickly searching, and seeing Pauline, he fired two bullets towards her as they made for the darkness of the catacombs.

"Falling back into the catacombs!" he said. "No choice but to reveal our presence inside, destroy all equipment. Prepare to fall back to outside the city!" he ordered into his radio piece.

Ding turned to Regine who seemed to be the one who was leading the team escorting the chair woman, "Do you need any more armament before we head out. We've got some in here, but we likely won't be able to meet up with a resupply unit till we're well outside the city."

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[b]Langon, France
Approximately 35 Kilometers Southeast of Bordeaux, France[/b]

Dawn was always the coldest part of the day, the time when the sun and the moon were in transit, and the cool moisture and condensation covered everything and could easily soak through even a sturdy jacket. Colonel Joseph Lafayette knew this as well as anyone, but it seemed like every time he stepped into the grass and trudged across battlefields, the bivouac, or the drill field, he seemed to forget that fact. His socks, which he had donned only moments before, were already wet, and the middle-aged field officer was cursing his useless non-waterproof combat boots in the back of his head as he trudged along a ditch that sat abreast of French Provincial Route N524, the long grass making soft swishing sounds as it passed beneath the heavy tread of his boot.

Joseph nodded at a few of his soldiers who were waking up, some were still sleeping underneath canvas tarps, some had elected to dig foxholes, it was a motley assortment of sleeping arrangements that the [i]1er Régiment de Hussards Parachutistes[/i] had made themselves when they arrived last night in Langon. Leading the depleted assortment of one hundred or so airborne reconnaissance troopers from their garrison at Tarbes, Joseph had gotten to his position without any incident. Having just served in Louisiana, the unit was heavily depleted from its battles there, and the revolution had led to the desertion of almost a third of its surviving troops. Nevertheless, as a cohort of the Admiral Regine Avenier, Joseph and his troops were probably some of the few loyal troops left in the country.

Joseph had quietly and quickly briefed the troops before their march north. Knowing full well that many of them were questioning their loyalties after the debacle in North America, he gave a short statement, he might have questioned his own words, but if the troops thought he did not believe them himself, they did not show it. [i]"This country has seen too much instability, its government has collapsed on itself too many times. It is this time that we cannot allow this to happen, we fight not for political ideals, my comrades, we march north to Bordeaux to defend our state as we swore to do. We destroy anarchy and those who spout it, every revolution will only be led by another, we march to preserve the country. If we do not march, who will, I will drive north to Bordeaux myself, alone, if I have to,"[/i] he had said, much to the discomfort of the units' political commissar, who had conveniently elected to stay behind at Tarbes, much to Joseph's relief.

Whether or not the soldiers came because of his words of encouragement, he did not know, but what he did know was that none of them had left during the night, as he finished his head count. Instead of being ordered into the city of Bordeaux itself, the seasoned airborne troopers had been ordered to set up a screening force east of Bordeaux along National Route E72, a major road leading from the southeast to the northwest, running adjacent to the Garonne River. The countryside was, for the most part, quiet, their convoy of vehicles making the journey to the outskirts of Langon at a satisfactory pace, with no incident. They had arrived around midnight, set up a small checkpoint along the highway, using one of their two heavy armored cars, while digging in and settling in for the night, fanning out on either side of the road, while a watch was posted. There was hardly any traffic flow along the highway was much reduced, and there were no incidents with those that passed through, the troops at the checkpoint politely checking papers and asking a few questions before letting motorists get on their way. Joseph had a grave feeling that this would not last, but he kept his reservations to himself in front of his troopers.

A veteran of the German Army before France gained its independence from the Pretender Angevins, Joseph had been a lifelong resident of Alsace-Lorraine, but with the return of the Empress, he was swept into the military as an experienced officer. A professional soldier at heart, he had sided with the Communists after the attempt on the life of Simone Valentin, and noticing that it would be inevitable before the Communists gained a victory. Whether or not that was the right choice, he did not know, but the green-eyed tall, fit, forty-year-old veteran with a flash of slightly greying brown hair had performed his duty. He had served against the Andorrans, led a ground task force in the intervention in Norway, and had campaigned against the treacherous Louisianians, and in campaigns of the German Army before that. Many of his friends from his early days as a junior officer in the German [i]Heer[/i] were spread throughout Europe now, their loyalties to Sweden, Norway, the New Greater Germany, some served France, others served Hethnamark.

As he absently stared across the misty fields before them, searching for an enemy he knew would eventually come, in some form or another, his mind reverted to those days in the German Army, the multinational force from the Nordic nations and Central Europe. He started to think of his old comrades, comrades that had been killed, comrades that had survived and left the service of their nation, he remembered friends and foe alike, and he remembered her...

[b]Stockholm, Sweden[/b]

Dannika Mannerheim sleepily looked out the window of her state-issued car as it bore the Commissioner swiftly into Central Stockholm, the city had patched its wounds up since its own political violence that had gripped it well over a year ago now. Rubble had been cleared away, the sounds of hammers, heavy equipment, and construction foremen had made the city, brick by brick, slowly repairing what was once lost and in ruin. Franz, her driver, was taking it easy that morning, a light rain had left the road slick, and she sighed, turning to look down at her soft hands. They hadn't been so soft a year ago, when she had been fighting for Sweden's political stability on the front lines, like many of the political leadership of the nation did now. The nation had become a politically homogenous place, the Secretary General had seen to that, the political atmosphere was much more relaxed, informal, but still effective.

She looked over at the newspaper tucked underneath her briefcase, which she had picked up outside her house, and had yet to read yet, she sighed softly, and slowly picked it up, as she picked up her mug of coffee. Opening it up, she looked at the front cover, and read the front page story, an international one, she dropped the coffee mug. The hot liquid hit the leg of her slacks, and she issued a curse and a grunt. She threw the paper aside and quickly grabbed at some tissues to clean up the hot liquid, as Franz looked in the rear-view mirror, the older gentleman looking concerned.

"Is everything alright ma'am?"

"No, just, I just spilled my coffee," she replied, her teeth gritted from the pain she had inadvertently caused herself, and she cursed her clumsiness in her head.

"Do you need me to take you back home so you can change ma'am?" asked Franz, a sympathetic look in his eyes as he looked at her.

"No, no, that's okay," she replied, looking over at the front page story again; [i]France in Crisis; Political Revolution Underway[/i]. France had been a staunch ally of Sweden, and it was now in flames, Sweden had had a solid relationship with France, not unheard of; the House of Bernadotte was French; the French and Swedes had an amiable relationship stretching back into the Thirty Years' War. The French Revolution earlier the year previous was one that had an indirect influence on the Swedish revolution that had swept Christian Nyquist into power. As she picked up the in-vehicle phone, and raised the window that separated her from Franz so that she could make a private call, the former soldier cursed their new Commissioner of International Affairs and Trade.

Karl Reinfeldt was a knowledgeable man, but he had been a Director only overseeing the Swedish Foreign Intelligence and Security Team before being promoted to the rank of a full Commissioner. Dannika deftly dialed a number on her phone, as she stared at the picture of a burning skyline of Paris, she wished she had learned of this crisis earlier, like the night before. Dannika took her job seriously, and a political crisis in one of their closest allies was one that warranted at least a meeting of all the Commissioners as well as the General Secretary and the Speaker of the General Assembly.

The phone hit ring tone a couple times, before a sleepy voice said, "Reinfeldt."

"When were you going to call a meeting over the damn revolution that just basically crippled our ally?"

"Mannerheim? Its four in the morning, what do you want?"

"You to do your job."

"What? There's nothing we can do."

"Noth-, we can d-," stammered Dannika, as she tried to form a coherent sentence through her growing annoyance, "Karl, when there is a crisis in probably one of our most important allies, you don't just stand back and wash your hands."

"Look, Dannika, I called Christian last night, I asked if he wanted to call an emergency meeting, he's of the opinion that we getting involved is going to probably make things worse," replied Reinfeldt, his voice strained and his tone exhausted. "I tried to talk to him about it, but his foots been placed down, and its not moving, we can't just get involved in a civil war, his argument was logical, and made sense, I'm not going to argue with that."

Dannika was feeling a little sorry that she was lashing out at Reinfeldt, who appeared to have tried to do something, and she knew somewhere in her mind that what Nyquist was doing was probably the right thing. She trusted the Secretary General for who he was, and what he represented, if there had been someone who had sacrificed a good chunk of his life to Sweden, it was Christian Nyquist, the Nyquist family had spilled its blood for Sweden, of course that did not make them any sort of deity, but the Secretary General was a good man, with a good head on his shoulders. Dannika was known to be the loose cannon of the swath of High Commissioners who served the country, but as part of Internal Affairs, she was driven, she was competent, and she was fiery with her subordinates.

She nodded slightly, as if Reinfeldt were there in a conversation with her, and she said quietly, "Alright, sorry for waking you, get some rest, Karl." He grunted an unintelligible reply, and hung up, leaving Dannika feeling bad. She looked out the window through the rain that had formed a coating of drops over the window of her car, and sighed, she thought of her time she had spent in France during her time in the German Army, she had served when Sweden had not been independent, she was a veteran of multiple wars at the age of thirty-seven. Her driven motivation from being an armored cavalry commander she had brought to her current job as Commissioner of Internal Affairs. Her stature was imposing, a tall and athletic woman standing at 5'11, she had a slight figure, but her piercing grey eyes on her fair, pretty face told the story of a battlefield veteran, who hadn't lost her penchant for being a loose cannon at times.

She closed her eyes, her leg still throbbing from the scald she had probably given herself, and she remembered the faces of those who had been fought with her, died with her, matured rapidly with her. A battlefield was a hell of a way to mature oneself, but being a soldier matured someone much faster then most lines of work, those that could not take the stress, the grief, the pain, they left quickly, but those that were left hardened quickly. It formed bonds between the people you served with, bonds of love, not physical love, love that bound people together as a family, though on a rare occasion, sometimes, those bonds broke those long-standing fraternization policies, they trumped the family association you had with the people you lived, fought and died with... and as she opened her eyes, she thought of that bond she had formed, and the Christmas Card that she never responded to that had found its way to her from Tarbes, France. And for the first time in nearly eight years, she found that herself thinking of one of the bonds that had been frowned upon, illegal, and that had trumped the sort of family values that were espoused by a military organization that had went to war together.

And in that moment, she lost the idea she had held for eight years that leaving him standing on the rail platform at Strasbourg was the best decision for them both, the sound of a small single splash of water on leather sounded in the silent passenger compartment of that car bearing Sweden's Commissioner of Internal Affairs deeper into Central Stockholm. The drop, however, had not come from the heavens above...

Edited by TheShammySocialist
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Pauline was struck twice in her frontal strike plate, sending her skidding off the roof, hanging on to the second-story ledge with a single hand, rifle dangling below her on its' sling. Feeling like she'd been punched in the chest by a bodybuilder, she let go, falling the twenty-five feet to the ground, spraining her ankle and very lucky not to break her whole leg, and she cried out in a sharp gasp of pain as she attempted to stand. Her second in command, Jacques, picked her up in a fireman's carry and carried her to a waiting technical as she cursed the whole way."Vite, vite..!" he murmered, laying her in the bed of the truck and closing the tailgate after her."À plus tard." he said, See you later. He smacked the side of the truck twice as if it were the flank of a pack horse and the driver floored it, taking her out of the city while she drowned in her failure.

Returning to the fight, Jacques picked up an RPG-7 from a fallen Fascist, took aim at the guard behind the gravestone who was moving away... and fired.

Edited by Mara Lithaen
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[b]Groupe Industriel Marcel Dassault, Paris[/b]

The AC-130 had went on a rampage for too long in the minds of the rebels, and on top of the few remaining buildings next to Rond-point des Champs-Élysées-Marcel-Dassault, a rebel called for backup.....


Screens kept flashing out constant streams of information as the rebellion was gaining ground. General Boulanger stroked his gray beard as the movement started to gain ground.

Currently, the anti-Commune alliance was really just a hodgepodge of all those who were against the current government. In the end, the rebellion was sure to be split into several groups once the main objectives had been achieve. There was the conceited Zellists, who wanted to reestablish that failure of an empire; the Burgundians, who supported a Germanic state; the Republicans, who wanted a Republic; the Independence movement in Alsace-Lorraine, and the Fascist rabbles. Of course, the existence of the unmentionable Dragonists truly showed just how low this rebellion went in certain segments.

And finally, there was the Croix-de-Feu, the Cross of Fire. Néoboulangisme, the ideology he established, advocated the three principles of [i]Revanche[/i] (Revenge on enemies), [i]Révision[/i] (Revision of the Constitution), and [i]Restoration[/i] (the return to monarchy). It had the broadest appeal, due to the failures of all the other groups who had let down France countless times. The movement enjoyed staunch support in Eastern France, gaining footholds in urban cities such as Marseille. At the same time, the rundown regions of Picardy and Nord-Pas-de-Calais provided the strategic location and manpower to strike into Red Paris, which was succeeding with little resistance. The fact that the airbases to the north of Paris were under his control also helped.

Already most of the important parts of Paris had been practically overrun, with sparks of loyalists attempting to hold a few positions. It was expected that the continuous rush from the north would soon make all of the Right Bank a Rebellion stronghold. Right now it was the Zellist zealots who were spilling the most blood in this capture, with the Croix-de-Feu pretty much obtaining what the Zellist worked to get. For now Boulanger was content to let the other factions do the work for him, while trying to cut off any escape routes through the underground catacombs, starting from the entrance at Place Denfert-Rochereau. His only concern now was the 6th and 7th arrondissements. Most of the Loyalist had managed to get a large part of their forces into the 6th, and it seemed that the 7th might be the toughest one to crack.....

Edited by Kankou
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OOC: Kankou, it was specifically mentioned that the AC-130 would not be targeting buildings. Also, where did these weapons come from? I can't find any mention of them in previous posts, so until you answer that I'm going to ignore that portion of your post.

"Good effect on target, Warhammer. We're pulling out to consolidate, stand by."

"Copy Icepick 1. We'll circle around and- what the hell?!?"

Sensors inside the plane began beeping. A French fighter zipped by in the airspace, apparently the radar operators sent word to a nearby air base warning them of a foreign AC-130. The FAF fighter barely came close to shooting the 130 down, it'd be sure to circle back around.

"Icepick 1, be advised, we have enemy craft around us, I'll give you one pass and one pass only, then we need to get the hell out, how copy?"

"Solid copy Warhammer, painting target now. Enemy militia are forming in the Rond-point."

With that, another smoke target was thrown, very close to the center of the Rond-point. Almost precisely where Millard and Tanguy are standing...

"Tanguy, what the hell is that?" Tanguy looked up at the smoke grenade, which began to expel red smoke. "Millard, that's a smoke grenade...they're using them to reference targets for the AC-130." Millard grabbed his FAMAS again, looking at the former GIGN operative. "So...what do we do?" Tanguy looked at Millard with a serious look on his face. "We run." The two broke into a desperate sprint as the smoke filled into the sky, the AC-130 preparing it's 105mm cannon for a devastating round against the numerous cars and other junk hastily assembled to create a barricade. With an earth-pounding boom, the 105mm round blasted numerous cars and disintegrated the barricade, leaving anyone nearby practically vaporized.

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Simone looked back with teary eyes as the Chinese soldiers grabbed her hands and yanked her towards the central mausoleum, she saw the city of her dreams burning behind her, filled with the sounds of gunfire, artillery shells, and now joined by planes roaring across the sky. It was such a terrible mess. But time was of the essence now, the battle for Paris, from the Commune's perspective, was over. The various factions which had risen up in what looked to be a terrible war were now at each others throats inflicting terrible casualties on everyone in sight and both Simone and Regine felt their hearts drop at the thought of civilians still trying to either escape the city or bunker down until the fighting stopped. And then who would be in charge? Germans? Imperials? It was too confusing to tell.

Running towards the mausoleum, Regine covered her face from the blasts of mortar shells and shook her head at Ding. "No, we just need to get out of the city as quickly as possible. I think we'll be okay, the lot of us. There shouldn't be that many people in the catacombs and if there are, we can handle them." She said, partly confident and partly reassuring herself of the horrors that awaited the group of refugees in the dark passageways below.

The Catacombs of Paris, while there was an original network of avenues and trails which had been built during the Middle Ages had expanded over the past century as Parisian cemeteries began to dig further down, turning the underbelly of the city into a three-level system. Here, underneath the graves, great stone walls stood on top of the sewer system, running for miles in all directions of the compass rose. Illuminated sconces ran the walls, showing a corridor that seemed never-ending and lined with stone enclaves housing coffins and skulls that were melted into the walls themselves. The moment the entourage began to walk down, Simone started to wail.

"I can't do this. I can't walk here."

"Mada-...Simone." Regine took her by the shoulders. "We don't have a choice. If we're going to get out of this city, it's the only way. Nothing is going to hurt you down here. I swear it."

The Chairwoman looked at the coffins and the skulls and shivered again. "Stay near me, please."

Nodding, the Admiral took her hand and they continued down the dirt and stone path towards the central complex of the catacombs which headed south towards the outskirts of Paris. There were smaller suburban cemeteries which lay outside of the devastation of Paris and from where agents were looking for the Chairwoman. Out into the wilderness, they could make good time in getting to Pau and then begin to set the country straight before it was too late. It was the sound of rattling, coming from the walls that disturbed their walk.

"What was that?" Jules said twisting his body around to look back down the passageways. "I think they're following us."

"Who?" Regine turned her head, looking over her shoulder. "I didn't hear anything and we're pretty far in." Then the rattling echoed through the corridors again, this time much louder and it sounded like it was coming from the walls themselves.

"There! There it is again!" Said the prefect in a loud whisper. "It sounded like..."

"Like it's coming from the dead themselves?" Said a voice through the darkness.


[url="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_KHMvuDzP8"]Battle #2 - The Mysteries of the Dragon Cult[/url]

[i]Conditions for Victory[/i]
[*]Simone Must Survive
[*]Regine Must Survive
[*]Defeat All Enemies
[i]Attack Team[/i]
[*]Regine (Shieldmaiden)
[*]Jules (Soldier)
[*]Alain (Soldier)
[*]Simone (Mediator)
[*]Ding (Sniper)
[*]Mao (Soldier)
[*]Dmitry (Soldier)
[i]Enemy Team[/i]
[*]Michael (Necromancer)
[*]Phoebe (Necromancer)
[*]Blight (Demonic)
[*]Blight (Demonic)
[*]Blight (Demonic)
[*]Blight (Demonic)

Two people, a woman and a man walked out into the dim illumination. Their eyes were green and yellow, a terrible, sickly color, and their pupils had been transformed into something nearly reptilian. They wore blue and white robes that skirted against the ground and their skin was a corroded white. Barely human and it seemed, both barely alive.

"W-w-what did you say about the dead?" Simone said creeping past Regine's shoulder.

"Ah, Chairwoman, and we thought that this was just a group of miscreants." Said Phoebe raising her hands in the air. "But you, Simone, you will make an excellent specimen to bring back Maelstrom. Geoffrey and his wife failed us, perhaps you will do better." Suddenly the rattling good louder and a horrendous cackling scream came out from the walls, as the two Cultists walked forward, their reptilian eyes aglow. Bony hands reached out from the stone and figures, still covered in rotting flesh with glowing blue eyes staggered out towards the party. Simone screamed and felt the air close up around her as Regine pushed her back and shot a bullet into one of the skulls. But the Blight only staggered back for a moment before howling and coming forward once again. "Oh Great Dreamer! Maelstrom Vortex the Eternal! Grant us your power!"

The Blights roared again as they made their way to the Chairwoman...

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Mao heard the whistling of an RPG screaming toward her. Getting up to run into the entrance she felt a shard slam into her back, through her flack jacked causing her to drop her weapon. "$%&@." she blurted as she ran down the stairs into the catacomb sealing the door behind her.

As she rounded a corner to where Ding and the French were, Ding raised his rifle aiming at her. She quickly raised her 9mm hand gun, each ready to pull the trigger before recognizing each other. "I think I sealed the way behind me." she said, "But its only a matter of time. Those $%&@ers can hunt."

Ding lowered his weapon, "Tell me about it." he said sarcastically. "This is Special Agent Mao Fanhai..." he said briefly giving an introduction before noticing her holding her one army, with it bandaged. "Are you.. ok?" he asked.

"Its nothing a light sedative can't keep under control till we get to a better place?" he said.

"Alright." Ding said, he wasn't quite satisfied at what she said, but for now he'd have to deal with it. He then heard Regine's suggestion. He was inclined to agree, the shorter the amount of time they stayed here the better off that they would be. Reloading his rifle, they began making their way through the Parisian Catacombs.

Despite all the horrors of war, he could not help but feel like he was being put on edge by something down here. He felt a chill go down his spine as they walked through the stale damp air. They had to feel their way around on the stones which had spent centuries being worn away. He half expected at any moment to have something reach out and grab one of them pulling them into eternal darkness.

As they moved around a corner, sounds started to echo through the narrow corridor. Ding and his men, already on edge began to prepare themselves for an ambush. Presumably from the royalists they had encountered earlier. As they came upon the necromancers, Ding got a bad feeling in his gut. Keeping silent he motioned for Mao and Dmitry to ready their weapons.

He watched as the two talked, analyzing the opponents, trying to determine their nature. Then the buzzwords. [i]"Oh Great Dreamer! Maelstrom Vortex the Eternal! Grant us your power!"[/i].

"Heh. Not my favorite person, down you go." Ding said. Without missing a beat, Ding raised his rifle firing a three shot burst at both of the necromancers. Mao fired her pistol at the first demon, emptying a clip as she held the trigger in on full auto. Dmitry swung his guns around switching to a pump action shotgun which he fired at the demons to provide saturation fire.

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[b]Base aérienne 103 Cambrai - Épinoy "Commandant René Mouchotte"[/b]

Airbase 103 was the main base for protecting Paris from attacks to the north. For some reason, the AC-130 had managed to slip through the radars, which could be explained away as the plane passing through the northwestern part of the country, where only the Strategic Air Command could be the one having enough notice for interception. The rebels missed this enemy once, and it would not do so again.

Three Dassault Mirage 2000 RDI interceptors took off from the base, which was located north of the capital. Having gotten the coordinates of the AC-130, it rushed south, managing to reach the target a bit north of the city. the Mirages fired their MBDA MICA IR/RF missiles after making a crescent formation, with a total of six homing on the AC-130 from a 180 degree range. It would be impossible for the slow ground-attack aircraft to survive, even if it used flares.....

OOC: Continuing, on the battle between the 7th and 8th arrondissements

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