Twenty Years Time

[wolf_brother]

This is a story based upon my last, and more than likely one of my worst-lucked regent games ever. To give a little back story the game map is archipelago, with five opponents; giant size. I had chosen to use this game to play as France, only the second time I had chosen to do so. I started one the smallest and worst starting position. Half of my main continent was frozen waste, the other half nothing but valleys strewn between wide ranges of mountains and hills that stretched the entire continent. I later discovered that I had no iron on my start island, or saltpeter; not even oil. I was forced to play almost pure colonial style just to stay at pace with the AIs. The world was relative peaceful except for a few minor outbreaks of "war" in which one civs navy fought another's far from each other's homeland. That is, up until roughly 1680-1720, as I can't remember the exact date, when the world erupted into war. It has now been a state of perpetual war for the last 300 years, every nation for herself. It was only within the last 50 that clear battle lines were drawn. France, Iroquoia, America and Hittia joined the Paris Alliance against the most hated foes, the Koreans and Incans of the Fascist Pact. It's now 2030, and I look to finally end this war.

Twenty Years Time

Chapter I

I

Captain Jean-Claude raised his binoculars to his eyes, watching the gruesome scene before him leap to his eyes. His ship, the French battleship Mark VII, was anchored just outside the harbor of Sugra, pounding away at the Korean defenses. Just a few miles outside of the small town, the invasion force had landed on a hill, poised to take the city once the Mark VII, and the much older but still battle-ready Novae had knocked out the villages defenses. Although a small town, with no strategic resources to take, the city of Sugra was an important first step in Operation Karma, the French battle plan to knock out the Koreans. Sugra had originally been a small French township, but was taken from her during the first French-Korean War. The symbolism of such a choice for landing would not be lost on the fascist leaders in Seoul. A small grin crept to Jean-Claude’s face as the Mark VII's guns rested; the Korean defenses had been hit hard, and the small detachment of guerilla forces guarding the city would no longer be a problem. He turned slightly, signaling to his radio man in on the Bridge. "Radio Richelieu, tell him his army may now proceed with the attack." He then turned again, raising his binoculars to his eyes once more, the grin on his face now an out-right smile.

II

Private Leon strode through the main street of Fort Hamhung, recently built over the ruins of the old city of Hamhung. During the invasion, after the city of Sugra had been taken, Hamhung had been next on the army's check list. Once the jewel of Korea's northern frontier, now it was nothing more than a name on outdated maps. The city had been burned to the ground, razed during the first night of occupation by its very citizens. It was the greatest atrocity in modern times; nearly 400,000 souls lost their lives that night. What kind of beasts are these Koreans? the private thought to himself, as he recalled the report he had gotten about the fire before being garrisoned at the fort. What kind of people would burn down their own city; burn themselves to ash, just to stop us? He did not know the answers, and as far as he could tell no one else did either. Not even the offices in his unit could tell him, beyond a sad sigh, a shrug of the shoulders and a mumbled and sometimes not-so mumbled comment about the 'dirty Koreans'.
-----


An image by French recon aircraft after the initial landings at Sugra, and the burning of the city of Hamhung.

[wolf_brother]

Chapter II

I

The governor of Tours smiled broadly to the media who had appeared at the city’s harbor to watch him launch the newest ship to be built there. He coughed slightly, throwing back his hair to get it out of his eyes as he raised the bottle of wine over his head. Iroquois wine of course; the best and argumentatively, only wine in the world. He ducked slightly, closing his eyes as he brought the bottle down, smashing it upon against the hull of France’s newest nuclear submarine. One of only two in the entire world, the F.S.S. Stormclaw was without a doubt the most deadly thing in the ocean.

A few hours later, the now exhausted governor sat in a small, dingy, dirty bar just a few blocks from the very same harbor he had been at earlier in the day. Across the table from him was good friend, commander of the French Naval Fleet in the Oiogueon Ocean, the small spot of water separating French from Iroqouia. As the two sat and drank (beers, not wine) the subject of the governor’s day work of course came up. “Those ships are the best in all the world,” the head of the city proudly boasted, a little more loudly than was needed. “With a fleet of them, we could rule the seas, and destroy the pathetic Korean navy!” His friend, a little less drunk, and a little more informed, however seem reluctant to talk on the subject. “Shh…” he whispered softly, looking around nervously. “Don’t talk about them subs, you hear me? Paris has got big plans for them, big plans.” The governor, now thoroughly enthralled, ducked down slightly, casting nervous glances about the small bar room. “You don’t think there could be Korean spies do you? Not here?” The naval office take a long swig from his glass, setting it down silently he pondered for a few moments. “No, that’s not what I’m worried about. Now you keep this quiet, I’m not supposed to even think about this but if I can’t trust ya I can’t trust anyone. Those subs, their supposed to be working on something top secret, something in store for the damn in’jians.”
“The Iroquois?” the governor asked, stunned. “But they're our allies.
“For now”, his comrade told him. “But only for the moment. The Fascist party has taken over in Salamanca, and now there’s as dangerous as the Koreans ever were.”
“You ever wonder why they had those special compartments built into those ships? I mean, why would you want to fire a torpedo upwards anyhow? No... from what I hear, the government’s working on something big, really big. So you just forget completely about that sub that launched today.”
The rest of the conversation was totally normal, fading memories between old friends being passed back over a few drinks. Many hours later, the naval commander was captured by the French secret police, charged with treason, and sentenced to five years on the prison island of Prison D'Île.

II

Pilot to bombardier, pilot to bombardier. We are now over the target, you may begin your bombing run, I repeat we are now over the target, you may begin your bombing run.



TO: FRENCH AIR COMMAND
FROM: SGT. GENERAL ARMEL VAN DHAM
SUBJECT: BOARDERVILLE BOMBING REPORT; FINAL INVESTIGATION

[...] I CONCLUDE THAT THE BOMBING OF CITIZENS WITHIN THE CITY OF BOARDERVILLE HAPPENED FOR A NUMBER OF REASONS:

1. POOR WEATHER CONDITIONS
2. LACK OF VISIBILITY
3. POOR PILOT/BOMBARDIER JUDGEMENT ERROR
4. STRONG KOREAN RESISTIANCE
5. IMPROPER TRAINING

[...]

[Lord_Iggy]

Alright, you're finally starting a story. May it live long and prosper.

[wolf_brother]

Originally Posted by Lord_Iggy

Alright, you're finally starting a story. May it live long and prosper.

Actually I started a Viking story some time ago, but it kinda feel apart on me...

[wolf_brother]

I swear I'll update this sometime. I actually have most of the next several updates done, I just have to find the time to post them and such.