TsumonrinBoard

Firestorm Brigade, Akrosford Outskirts
A group of scribes climbed into the massive suits of armor, held together with hazard proof materials and movement enabled with hydraulics. The suits would be manufactured as part of a new group of soldiers operating as shock troops against the Pradian incursion.

An older man approached the scribes in their suits of armor and handed them a sort of rifle looking weapon wrapped in copper with a coil at the end. One by one they lined up and began the demonstration.

Each soldier would run through a course including jumping over walls, trying to bend bars of metal, taking shots, taking flamethrowers to the face and then head to a shooting range.

The Shooting range would have interesting results. The rifles, called Electromagnetic Cannons, would generate a charge of electricity which would power magnets to fire charges of energized pellets to deliver devastating effects against enemies. The first few shots rang out and the targets immediately all exploded much to the surprise of all involved.

Once done the scribes would tally the reports and hand it over to an old man, "We nee to run some tests still but we shall have the new squads ready soon."

The man simply nodded, "excellent. Make it happen."

MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCES OFF SERDIA!

An air of fear has gripped the local fishermen of the Southern Peninsula of the great state of Amestris near the shoals of the great Amestrian Cape as within the past three months, no less than four fishing boats and more distressingly a United Serdian States Coast Guard patrol sloop (The U.S.S.G.C. Alliance [SL-05]) have all gone missing within the area with no witnesses or survivors found, in the small fishing village closest to the areas of disappearances, the little town of Oregon Point the older and more superstitious members of the local population lay blame upon the disappearances to a 'Kraken' a mythical gigantic sea-squid that they claim has been terrorizing the waters around the area since the times of the 15th century at the earliest, Government officials meanwhile have been far less fantastical with their theories upon the disappearances, citing two main theories with the first being that with the recent rise in piracy and crime in the waters near Serdia it is possible that on one of the small unpopulated isles near the Amestrian Cape, that Pirates either from Aaronia or the Arvug Khanate have begun preying upon local shipping, or more realistically as Fleet Admiral James R. Mahan pointed out.

"The waters near Point Oregon have always been treacherous, What with the often-times heavy seas and the many jagged rocks along the coastline that can pierce the hull of a steel ship, and let's not forget that whilst those vessels all went missing one must remember that for every ship that goes missing near Point Oregon another fifty ships pass through it completely unscathed, it's quite clear that both the local civilian population and even us in the military have let our imaginations run wild with these theories of Pirates and Krakens... However in-order to restore confidence and to find the missing vessels, we've dispatched a Destroyer and a few minesweepers to inspect the area... Hopefully they'll be found." - Admiral of the 5th Fleet, James R. Mahan.

The three naval ships in-question being dispatched to inspect are the U.S.S.S. Daring, U.S.S.S. Horizon and the U.S.S.S. Hunter and they have been estimated to arrive within two weeks to begin their searches for the missing shipping.
The Serdian Navy refuses to give any further comment.

Below The Cormorant II

Helgryce wrote:

The Pradians continue to watch the plane carefully, but are ordered to begin to march out toward their waiting transports to travel upriver in preparation for the inevitable invasion. The river transports, loaded with mecha, armored vehicles, guns, ammo, artillery, and the likes, train their machine guns on the plane, but none yet fire. The airships, meanwhile, fly ahead, into the distance to some undisclosed airfield. Off the coast, scores of warships, all bristling with guns yet none seeming to exceed the treaty-imposed tonnage limitations on maritime vessels, line the harbour, flying strings of colourful flags and painted with great murals portraying scenes from Norse mythology along their hulls; a new maritime parade tradition started by the NSHAP. Numerous smaller vessels, river patrol craft, line the mouth of the river As, their own hulls free of the grandiose murals of their maritime counterparts, indicative of their intended upcoming use in the imminent invasion.

The Serdian Pilot would continue to peer down upon the Pradonian forces gathered around... before deciding that he'd gotten bored of his situation and slowly the Cormorant banked towards the right in an agressive pattern... the pilot taking aim at one of the various lines of anti-aircraft machine guns that'd trained on him and with a simple pull on the triggers, a stream of hot 7.62x53mm rounds began ripping through the Pradian anti-aircraft firing line as the plane swooped down for the strafing run, the pilot ceasing his fire once he'd flown over his target and laughing. "HOW'S THIS YOU PRADIAN BASTARDS!" Lt. Evans yelled as he banked his plane upwards to try and avoid the incoming retaliatory fire, quickly kicking the plane's engine to full-throttle as he attempted to power himself away from the Pradonian forces he'd just opened fire upon.

January 26th... 1897.
11:32 AM.
South Western New Hanover, Midlands County, Frontier territory near Ambrino.

It was a calm morning, a rather picturesque one at that some might say... the few clouds in the sky, a sunny and blue disposition with a sweet smell emanating from one of the many flowerbeds that were near the small stream where the peaceful silence of the morning was however shattered by the cracks of rifle fire, the clinking-clanking of bolts and levers and the pained groans of wounded and dying men on both sides of the conflict, a red cloud flowing through the stream from one of the many casualties of the skirmish...

"Bloody Secessionist traitors..." A man in a dark blue uniform said, appearing to be an officer of the Serdian Army kneeling behind a large rock with his officer's revolver drawn out as bullets whizzed overhead. "Where's the corporal with the reinforcements?" He hissed crossly to the man next to him who was somewhat too busily reloading his carbine to relay a reply immediately. "I don't know... Goddamnit!" the carbine carrying man said with an enraged sigh as he pulled the tube away from the stock of his carbine, quickly closing the hole on the iron butt-plate of the carbine's stock with the attached cap which he simply nudged back over the hole, with the process of reloading his standard Army-issue Model 1865 Sampson Carbine completed with the actuation of the carbine's lever and the back-pull of the hammer, the soldier would raise his head upwards from the cover of the rock to peer at the marauding 'Raiders' that menaced the beleaguered Serdian Army patrol from across the stream and shouldered his weapon to take-aim at the attackers.

"We got them damned Bluecoats surrounded boys! Get at 'em!" Yelled one of the marauders with a hoop and a holler, his thick Grenadian accent helping punctuate to the Soldiers below that their enemy was a part of that ever-so-frustrating insurgency that had plagued the south and the east of their great republic since the end of the bloodbath that was the Serdian Civil-War, a persistent insurgency made up of both those who were young, angry and easily led and those who had never quite been able to reconcile their anger and frustration at the downfall of the Confederalist movement and the policies the Serdian Federal Government had 'forced' upon them... But that did not matter as of now as from above the ridge-line where the Neo-Confederalist 'Hanover-Raiders' militiamen were firing down upon the beleaguered Army column, the marauders would slowly begin moving out from behind trees and rocks, dressed in civilian clothing or old Confederalist army uniforms they began their charge, whooping and yelping aloud in an attempt to mimic the infamous 'Rebel Yell' that had once sent shivers down the backs of the fighting men of the United Serdian States Military as they charged down the hill, periodically firing down at their enemy as they came running down the hill.

"Here they Bloody come!" The Officer behind the rock yelled, raising himself up and over the rock he hid behind and drawing his revolver at the encroaching free-stater rebels, his Model 1873 Schofield revolver puffing small black clouds of smoke with each shot fired at the incoming rebels. his comrade beside him along with many of the surviving grunts of the ill-fated column all also firing back at the raiders, their Krag bolt-actions, Sampson carbines and Litchfield Repeating rifles laying down a hail of fire at the encroaching Raiders with many of their number dropping dead as they somewhat foolishly charged the (admittedly rather lightly...) entrenched troops of the Serdian column who were ducking and hiding behind rocks, tree-stumps and even both the overturned supply wagon the bodies of the horses the men were riding before the ambush. "You're Done now!" one of the grunts yelled tauntingly as he turned the bolt on his Krag-Jorgensen M1892 Rifle while ducking behind his deceased horse to avoid getting shot with thankfully the only shot that came close to hitting him nailing his forage Kepi but not doing much harm other than that... the same couldn't be said for another grunt, a hot-headed lieutenant who stood up and ran out from behind the boulder he was behind and much to the dismay of his fellow soldiers, foolishly attempting a one-man bayonet charge at the encroaching rebels before unceremoniously being shot in the stomach by a rather cruel raider who closed the distance and singled him out, the young lieutenant groaning in agony as blood poured from the bullet-wound in his stomach before finally letting out a ghastly scream as the hate-filled militiaman he fought lowered his revolver away from the grunt's wound and raised a tomahawk of all things that he held up in his other hand into the air before unceremoniously cleaving the poor Soldier between the eyes and through the skull and brutally putting the grunt out of his misery, the Lieutenant's body collapsing into the stream and further polluting it with blood and gunpowder, the rebel pulling his tomahawk out of the poor grunt's scalp before he himself was inundated with rifle-fire from the rest of the entrenched Serdian army troops... With the bloody skirmish seeming to escalate even further many of the rebels began to desperately attempt to find cover along the edge of the stream opposite the Serdian army troops as morale began to falter as the skirmish devolved into an indecisive if-not phyrric gun battle between two depleted and entrenched groups...

However as the skirmish raged... over the sounds of gunfire, running water, groaning and taunting could be heard the distinctive bugle call of a cavalry patrol. "About bloody time." The Officer grumbled as he sat behind the rock he and his comrade had been taking cover behind of for the past twelve minutes, reloading his revolver as the sounds of hooves against dirt and the commands of a colonel grew louder as they approached, and it wasn't before long that a large gaggle of a force of Cavalrymen poured from the forest trail and into the basin where the stream lied, dragoons dismounting and firing at the rebels who rather ungraciously began to flee from the sight of reinforcements, a few of the cavalrymen rushing over to aid the wounded as the rest mopped up the few stragglers who attempted to make a stand and those who attempted to flee.

"Where in the name of God where you lads?" The Officer yelled as the fighting began to die down, the ginger cavalry colonel upon the beige horse dismounting to meet and talk with him. "We were back at the fort, that corporal you sent? his horse died from soaking up a bunch of bullets so he ran his ass all the way up to the fort and explained the situation, then we mobilized and now look where we are now." The Colonel said. "A Bunch of dead grunts, horses and rebels, a wagon wrecked and full of bullet holes and the supplies carried aboard all ruined." He finished disdainfully. "Goddamned freestaters..." He said before walking back to his horse as the officer walked slowly behind him, the tired and weary men of the ambushed column following along as they walked their way back up to the Fort.

And Such is life in one of the many little brushfire wars and campaigns of the Late 19th Century that defined the Serdian Military of the age.

A Black Hand in Wielbelkia
The rain poured over the streets in Dinsmark. The chateaus and fancier apartments in the upper districts were refined and clean, housing every noble individual you could think of. More often than not the nobles were 3rd cousins of the Kaiser or some relative or another. The streets were usually bustling with activities but the rain make the streets eerily empty. There alone on the street stood Lord Einrich Von Ritter. An older man in his 60’s, he had been despised for his alleged acts of abusing the younger ladies in his service. Some were said to have been found with all sorts of foul mistreatment on his person. Being a man of high standing however authorities were incapable of bringing charges against him.

Suddenly as Einrich was lost in thought, the sound of footsteps slowly approached from the darkness, nearing Von Ritter. Von Ritter squinted, looking into the darkness, “A-Ah hello there!” No reply. Ritter gripped his umbrella, “Hardly the sort of night to be out for a stroll. I must say it’s rather... dangerous...” Still nothing. Now a figure could be seen. Draped in black robes, like a phantom the figure approached. Something dark and metallic in their hands. Ritter couldn’t quite make out what it was, “S-sir p-please I beg of you say something.”
Finally the figure spoke, “Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, Send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.” Von Ritter stumbled back falling onto his back as the figure stood over him, “The Dark Brotherhood has come Von Ritter. Are you ready to join the Dread-Father in the void?” Von Ritter Scrambled, “I-I b-beg of you! Please I’ll give you anything! Spare my life, I-I’ll make you a lord even! I have friends in high places!” The cloaked figure grinned and chuckled, “The sacrament has been made. The deal is struck, bound in blood.” The figure raised the knife and plunged it deep into Von Ritter’s chest before bringing it down his chest, cutting him open as one might a pig. With that the individual strung him up on a lamppost and on the ground wrote “We Know” in the man’s own blood. He also left a note with a black hand on it.

On the opposite side of town in the slums a man waited nervously, sipping his gin deeply, as if trying to forget. As he turned he saw the same hooded figure slowly approach. He panicked slightly as he grabbed some coin in his pocket and gripped it. The hooded figure approached and grabbed the coin, “pleasure doing business.” The man nodded, “The people won’t forget this. That man got what he deserved... it was justice.” The hooded figure chuckled, “good. Means plenty of business for us.” With that he left, as if like a shadow. No one saw him come in or leave. Anyone who did would deny having seen him.

The next morning the grizzly scene would be visible to all. The screams of noblewomen and serving people would fill the air. Police would arrive on the scene to inspect the body. It would take them a while to identify the corpse as Von Ritter’s and to inform the Royal Family. Corpse had already begun to decay and was partially eaten by rats and almost seemingly people.

Egoian Critics applaud new book, All Quiet on The Northern Front in spite of criticism
All Quiet On The Northern Front is very interesting as far as War Stories go, insofar that it is in fact and Anti-War story. The book, Written by former Pradonian Soldier and writer, Einrich Winston Rynsburger, recounts the tale of a Pradonian soldier sent to fight on the northern front against Wiebelkia, taking place primarily in the areas surrounding Staalkastel. The main character, Kraus von Richter, comes from a middle to upper class family and decides to join the Pradonian army with his classmates after a rousing speech from his teacher about dying for the fatherland and securing the place of the Pradonian people on the world stage. The dream of serving with honor quickly falls apart as one by one Kraus’s classmates die, soon enough leaving him alone. The book makes a scathing critique of both the treatment of veterans and of nationalism. Furthermore it goes into intense detail of horrors of war, ranging from descriptions of a blown up leg, the effects of gas and the graphic stabbing of a young Wielbelkian soldier in the trenches.

At the home front the main character is disconnected, feeling lost from the war, unsure of what to do. His entire childhood, all his friends, his beliefs all shattered on the weight of the war, culminating with the ending of the book.

The events of the books are heavily influenced and even contain references to Rynsburger’s own lived experiences in the war. Critics have both praised and condemned the books, one side proclaiming it as a testament to the need for further diplomatic and peaceful organization with the goal of abolishing war, the other side claiming it to be propaganda trying to undermine the stability of free, strong nations. Most Notably Pradonians have made moves to ban the book, even denying any references to Rynsburger’s service.

A Black Hand near Asce
Paul Berg, minister of war of Helgryce, sits at his dinner table at his estate on the outskirts of Asce. The estate had been built in the latterhalf of the 19th century and was at one point owned by some Pradonian nobility up until the monarchy's overthrow. The Minister of War had at some point been given ownership of the estate as a personal gift from the Father. Typically Berg would be entertaining guests but due to upcoming events regarding the Egoian front, security was notched up. Tonight the chef had prepared a great meal, A roasted pig, some sausages and for desert a nice bowl of ice cream. A perfect meal to be his last.

The first course was a delicious rosemary soup. His servant brought out the soup and laid it before them. She stepped back and watched as he ravenously ate the soup, literally slurping it from the bowl. With that he started to cough, "O-oh seems some went down the wrong pipe. Frauline bring me some beer please!" With that a female servant with dark black hair and bright yellow eyes stepped forward pouring beer from a pitcher and stepping back a bit. Berg drank it up quickly and inspected the woman, he didn't recognize her. "I say dear... you're not a servant I recognize."

The woman nodded, "I'm from the laundrey crew. I got transferred to the diner crew, the pay was better and the service to our great leader's most loyal is it's own reward." She smiled and twirled her hair, "more beer sir?" Berg shrugged, extending his cup, coughing more. His throat was so dry and he just kept trying to wash it down. The woman tilted her head, "Are you okay sir?"

Berg nodded continuing to cough up a storm before beginning to vomit and grip at his throat. He panted heavily as his skin began to turn blue and his eyes turned red. The woman leaned over him with her smile bigger than before, "Do you like it Minister Berg? It's a family recipe. Poisonous plant from Egoia. It works slow at first but quickly closes your airways and dissolves your stomach. It's not easy to get a hold of, but my family knows how to. Don't worry though, I'll make sure the Secret police know exactly who it was who did this to you. When you get to the void, tell my dear father that Mirabelle says hello."

With that Berg would begin to pass out and soon die. By the time the next course was ready, the screams could be heard all over the castle, Mirabelle walking away, unnoticed as scores of people ran past her towards the source of screams. Like a shadow she disappeared.

When police arrive on the scene they would find Berg's mouth and eyes sewed together with "We Know" carved into his forehead as a single bloody handprint was on the table.

Egoia wrote:

A Black Hand in Wielbelkia
-snip-

By the time investigators arrived, the site of the crime was cordoned off by military police; overkill but likely done to put on a show of force for the upper class residents. While the rest focused on questioning the residents, two inspected the corpse itself; one of them grimacing.

"Yeesh, if we hadn't already been informed of the victim's identity I wouldn't recognize him. Not after the scavengers got to him." he said to his partner.

Scavengers of course referring to the urban wildlife that crawl around the imperial capital. Despite sitting at the heart of the empire, Dinsmark's location right beside the largest lake in the region and the expansive sewer network meant that there was a constant battle between pest control and all sorts of amphibious arthropods. On the bright side, rats were a comparative non issue thanks to that. What this meant for that late Von Ritter is that by the time his body was discovered, he was being torn apart by corpse lice that rapidly scurried away when they heard screams of horror. Still, an expert could see the telltale marks of someone being torn open by a dagger. His partner though was more focused on the rain drenched note on the ground, picking it up with a gloved hand.

"Any ideas?" he decided to ask him, his partner standing up with the note.

"Esoteric hitmen I'd say. As for who hired them, good luck. Practically everyone in the empire would have a reason if not the means to do it." he sighed. Between the rain washing away the assassin's message and the scavengers, there wasn't much in the way of evidence on the crime scene. That and the high standing of the victim meant that the higher ups would be pushing them hard, which meant a lot of future headaches.

A Black Hand in Staalkastel
The nation formerly known as Staalkastel has suffered a tragedy this night, Jon Rumplestein, a prominent druid in the druidic community, was brutally murdered in his home. His skin had been peeled off and turned into a piece of parchment with the words, "We Know" written on it. Next to him was a a black hand, put onto the wall with black ink. Attempts at fingerprinting was fruitless as the assailant seemed to have been wearing gloves. The entire Druidic community is weeping and mourning over this whole affair. Loved by most and still had a lot of support amongst individuals. The motive for the attack is unknown at this moment in time but it's been suggested that Rumplestein was working on an investigation on a religious sect of radical Voideric cultists.

The New Hanover Gazette. No.279

Scientists Flock To New Austin: Grand New Institute To Be Constructed In Mesa County.
In a move that would surprise the scientific community of both the United Serdian States and the rest of Argus, the universally respected figure, Mr. Jeremy Bennette Of West Elizabeth elected to establish a new institute for his latest research endeavors within the sleepy region of Mesa County in the northern desert of New Austin state, This sudden interest in the remote area of the state has baffled the Scientific community as many find it quite odd that Mr. Bennett, a highly respected figure and considered the authority on "quantum mechanics" would desire to create a research institute in such a barren and remote wasteland.

However despite the general confusion towards such a decision others have been supportive and at least one scientific body has been founded by Mr. Bennett to help him run the new facility. Besides that the State Governor, Mr. Tobias Armstrong has approved of such a move, when asked about his thoughts on the matter Mr. Armstrong said this:
"Personally? I feel this is great! It'd be a chance for the state to shake off it's reputation as being a barren backwards wasteland, which despite our best efforts has remained ever prevalent. so with this in mind I say I and my government will support Mr. Bennett's decision to further science in our humble little frontier, and I sincerely hope that his efforts will raise the collective I.Q. of our state." - Governor Armstrong.

Mr. Bennett could not be reached for any commentary.

A Black Hand in The Serdian republic
The blood spilled out all over the pavement in Columbia's West Waltham District. Reports of a foul miasma had been circulating for days. Due to the poorer's districts priority being on the lower side, the police were slow to respond, but the scene was grizzly when they did finally see it. 3 women's bodies, the youngest 17, had been brutally mauled apart. They had missing body parts, one missing eyes, the other a tongue and the other their ears. Most gruesome however was that their chests had been ripped open and the hearts were seemingly crushed and stomped on the pavement. The brutality of the murders and the degradation of the corpses caused it to taken an extended time to identify anything about the women until learning they were all prostitutes working at a local brothel.

The only thing giving a possible hint to the killer's identity was a note with a black hand and "We Know" Carved into each of the foreheads of the corpses.

Later that day a letter would arrive in the mail at the local police precinct reading as follows:

"Dear Sirs,

I hope this letter finds you in better health than the fair maidens who met a gruesome end at my blessed blade. I am writing you to inform you of a few things, to clarify some things I have read in initial rumors.

First of all, I was hired to murder those women. I am an assassin, a hired killer, but I am also a killer for religion. Sending the souls of the impure to the embrace of our dreadfather. I am a Dark Brother.

Second of all, The box sent along with this package has the ears of the one woman. I suppose she will not be needing them but they have proven difficult in preserving.

Thirdly and finally, This isn't the first of my order's acts. It will not be the last.

Wielbelkia
Pradonia
Staalkastel
Serdia

We're responsible. We want all of you to know that.

Kind Regards,

The Wrath of Sithis

P.S. A copy of this letter has been sent to the local printer. If it hasn't already been put on the press, I would hurry along to prevent panic in the streets. Try and come after us... and our next target will be much... much higher in Serdian society."

Weeks would pass after the initial Rhodish implosion. The resulting turmoil and general distaste for the monarchy would shatter the nation into a plethora of cliques, all with varying alignments and allegiances. Most of these factions would be scrambling for power over the others, and a chance at restoring order to the state.

The Blue Guard
The Blue guard consists of the Prince's most loyal supporters. These monarchists will stop at nothing to keep their dear Prince in control of their fatherland. The Blue Guard is still supported by many everyday people, but it's true backbone lies in it's strong grip over the army. Most of the Army of Rhodicia is still loyal to the prince, however the navy would have virtually split in two, with the Prince only having half of it's support. The Blue Guard and it's Prince strongly believe they will crush these insurrections on there own, but would certainly not decline any support from other Monarchies in Argus.

The Republicans
The Republicans are the Prince's Public Enemy Number One. They are strong supporters of a Serdian style Republic, even modeling their flag off their stars and stripes. Currently they have massive public backing and have hundreds of thousands of everyday people fighting in the streets and fields of Rhodicia for a chance to one day vote their leader into power. So far some smaller portions of the army have turned to fight with them, with hopes that more will join them. The other half of the Navy and the yound Air Force would be fighting alongside the Republicans, both proving to be exceptionally useful to the the Republican cause. The Republicans would first and foremost call on their brothers and sisters in Serdia to intervene and fight for the cause of freedom and justice for all, along with signaling for anyone else who supports such principals to join the fight.
The Mousseauists
The Mousseauists hail from the rural coast and inland countryside of the northwestern corner of the nation. These people fought for Communism in Rhodicia, to prevent the rich from becoming their new masters. With the death of their leader Vincent Mousseau in a prison riot days into the revolution, these people would be passionate and willing to defend their cause with their lives. They would have close to no military support, but a steady and loyal support in the areas they were in control of. While some would go fight with the Republicans closer to the largest urban centers of the nation, the vast majority would be holding onto their northwestern territories, while disagreeing with the ideals of the Republicans. Splitting the nation would not be a desired outcome by many, the Mouseeauists largely plan to either put the Monarchy down themselves if the Republicans are failing, or fend of the Republicans if such and outcome is necessary. The Mouseeauists would call on any and all comrades overseas to assist in their fight against their oppressors.
Kaloulland
Kallouland is a small state in the far east of Rhodicia, attempting to use this as an opportunity to secede from the Rhodicians. The Kaloul people had long been trampled on with their unique and ancient language, culture, and religion being suppressed by the monarchy. The people would not exactly be looking for a fight, but have put in large efforts to barricade and force their own borders into existence. Small militias are prepared to fight off any and all who try to deny them independence any longer. So far some of the Republicans and Mousseauists have expressed support for them but the Monarchists aren't expected to be nearly as kind. Luckily the Blue Guard is more concerned with putting down large rebel populations rather than oppressing minorities.
Argentbourg Commune
The Argentbourg Commune is a small town in the north that has almost entirely slipped under the Blue Guard's efforts to stop insurrections. This countryside town had become an Anarchist Commune largely through a somewhat different approach to Christianity and support for many nearby socialist cells. While having a very small militia force, the Mousseauists have been in contact with the Commune and have expressed that they will assist in defending Argentbourg on account of somewhat similar beliefs.

Unrelated News!

In a totally unrelated bit of News, the United Serdian States Navy has announced that it is both speeding up the development of the recently introduced (still in the limited pre-production stages) Langley Ltd. NF-3 "Flycatcher" Strike Fighter while simultaneously ramping up the production of it's new Glenn-Bright Co. NF-1 "Harpy" Pursuit Fighter to replace aging aircraft carried aboard the Navy's three odd aircraft carriers U.S.S.S. Miskatonic (CV-03), U.S.S.S. Ra-Cailum (CV-01) and U.S.S.S. Whitebase (CV-02) all the while re-drawing up the design for the currently-in-construction Concorde Class Battlecruisers and the single-ship Moore Class Battleship due to newly introduced budgetary constraints being felt by the Navy despite the large-scale selling-off and scrapping of various classes of older and obsolete vessels.

The Serdian Army Air Corps is following suit in the development of new combat aircraft in the meanwhile with many venerable types slowly being phased out in favor of the newer Glenn-Bright Co. PF-2A "Hawk" Pursuit Fighter, the similarly advanced Langley Ltd. FB-1 "Hart" Light Fighter-Bomber and finally the grand Glenn-Bright Co. MB-101 "Martin" Heavy bomber .

...And finally the United Serdian States Marine Corps has shown interest in at least four of the new designs slowly entering mass-production for the three branches.

Greetings all! How’s everyone in this region doing?

-Malaya- wrote:

Greetings all! How’s everyone in this region doing?

Doing okay! Quiet though.