[Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
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[Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
We may as well make a bit of run out of the situation with some backstory for those who want to
Summary: around 50,000 refugees arrive at the Abbey of St Michael and All Angels and are made comfortable by the monks prior to their departure towards the coast this evening starting at 10.30pm GMT. Meanwhile the HMS Sir Galahad and SS Carpathia depart Willow heading south-east aiming to call at Prins Haven and finally at Zurich. Two Globemaster transport aircraft have left Willow and are heading for Monovia City international airport; have requested the right to over-fly Alexandrian airspace so as to arrive safely and quickly. If this permission is refused the aircraft will urgently require air-to-air refuelling above the ocean if they are to arrive in one piece.The Abbey of St Michael and All Angels stands on the outskirts of Monovia City, a large central hall bordered a cloister around which the monks’ cells stood. The whole complex was skirted by wide lawns which ran down short slopes on either side before reaching a tall curtain wall which marked the edges of the Brothers self-imposed isolation. On the face of it the morning of the fourth day of August in the year of our Lord 2011 was like any other; the sun had climbed into the clear winter sky at around 6am and the Sanctus bell had rung to call the monks to their devotions, but that was where the normality ended.
Following the morning prayers a group of around 10 monks filed in two columns towards the gates at the eastern perimeter of the Abbey grounds; stone angels with swords aflame stood guard atop the high arch of the gateway and the hard wood of the gates stood closed as they did each night. The party of monks reached the shadow of the gatehouse whereupon the leading pair lifted out the heavy locking-bar and, with the other eight monks now assisting, began to pull the heavy gates inwards. As they did so a pitiful sight was revealed, framed by the archway of the gate; where before a long winding road had stood now a great sea of people sat or lay upon the earth. Men, women and children each clutching to a bundle of their world possessions spread like a sea from the walls and all eyes turned towards the gate as it slowly opened. Each monk crossed himself as their vision fell upon the vast expanse of human misery before him, and slowly from amongst the stirring crowd one figure stepped forward; a lone nun from the order of the Sisters of Mercy approached the monks. She wore the blue and white habit of the order and her hair was tucked beneath a neat white wimple bearing a red cross on the front, she bowed to the brothers who returned the gesture before signalling for the refugees to follow. The monks formed two lines flanking the gates and watched as nearly 50,000 people filed past them in near silence and spread across the lawns surrounding the Abbey; many wept to have finally reached safety. Atop the gate and the Abbey itself was raised the banner of the Five Wounds of Christ; a bright but mournful banner of our Lord upon His cross riding the winds which gusted around the precincts and the vast dark sea of desolate Ocians.
Even as the crowds began to gather before the walls of the Abbey of St Michael and All Angels the banner of the Five Wounds of Christ was already dancing and rippling in the stiff sea breeze thousands of miles to the north. The HMS Sir Galahad and the SS Carpathia had sailed from the Willow sea port in the early evening of the third day of August; both packed with supplies and the latter sported a line of Chinook helicopters where previously thousands of deck chairs and amusements had peppered the decks of the cruise liner. The military crew of the Sir Galahad lined the deck in the fading light of the evening, the lines of personnel saluting their base commander who stood on the dockside as the ships set sail. The Carpathia meanwhile had been hastily converted from its role as a cruise liner; the neat white sides and deck of the ship had been hastily daubed with red crosses and the civilian crew had been replaced by nuns from the order of the Sisters of Mercy who were busily setting up wards where luxury cabins had stood only days before. As the monks of St Michael and All Angels had opened their gates to the refugees the two ships were far out to sea, their prows crashing through the rolling waves of the rough ocean and sending spray splashing over the deck. The surface of the sea writhed and thundered beneath the dark skies even as the first light of the sun rose over the Abbey far away, the crew of both ships slept uneasily on their bunks and prayers went up for calmer seas when the sun rose and for swift progress towards the people who needed them.
The same hard winds which were whipping up the seas around the Sir Galahad and the Carpathia were howling across the darkened airstrip at the Castrum Nazarene Auxiliary air force base south of Willow. Even as the gates swung upon at the Abbey on the other side of the world two bright shapes appeared amongst the darkness that lay about the runway. The taxiing lights of two Globemaster transport aircraft appeared between the two rows of lights which marked the boundaries of the runways. The vast bulks of the aircraft lurched as the engines were powered-up, the deafening noise hurtling down the runway on the crest of the winds even before the aircraft moved. Eventually the breaks were released and the lights which had been stationary began to move, flashing red and white at the tips of the wings and tail; slowly the aircraft began to roll forwards. Faster and faster the lights advanced before, still concealed in the deep darkness of the early morning, the two vast aircraft lifted off from the surface of the runway. Inside the aircrew concluded their checks and the landing gear was retracted as the planes sailed into the sky; looking northwards the men and woman onboard could see the vast towering pinnacles of the Cathedral of Willow and all inclined their heads towards it before turning their course southwards and climbing into the dark skies.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
Only short, but I never have the patience for backstories.In the warehouse were row upon row of boxes, sealed in a white plastic film. The fork lift trucks were moving back and forth, loading the cargo trucks one box at a time. Printed on the white plastic were large black letters "HA", with smaller writing that scribed "Humanitarian Aid." Men shouted from one side of the warehouse to the other - one truck was immediately replaced by another. Despite the slightly chaotic appearance, the operation ran smoothly and within a couple of hours the trucks were driving down to a military airstrip 40 miles east of Hazel-Rah.
After being securely fastened to the cargo hold of the three cargo planes on the runway, the trucks and the cargo were ready to go.
Meanwhile, sitting in a private military passenger plane were 50 people being debriefed. 30 were doctors and nurses, 15 were Charity volunteers and 5 were armed personal to escort the VIPs. Once they had all been instructed, the doors were closed and the plane slowly taxied across to the runway.
3 Heavy Duty Cargo Planes, each carrying 10 Cargo Trucks containing medicine, food and water are being sent to the Directus Interional Airport from a military airstrip near Hazel-Rah.
50 individuals, as described above, are being sent to coordinate and distribute humanitarian aid to refugees and those in need.
"I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours."
The Kingdom of Oscland
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
[Placeholder Notice: Blurb to follow when I can shake the lethargy]
Summary: The Babkhan Fleet Auxiliary ship BFA Magadha CLD-01 shall, as of 21:45 UTC, leave the port of Bushahr loaded with emergency food rations declared surplus by the IBAF. The vessel will be bound initially for Antican Suryo on the first leg of the voyage, which will be its preliminary staging area before coordinating with international efforts.
Summary: The Babkhan Fleet Auxiliary ship BFA Magadha CLD-01 shall, as of 21:45 UTC, leave the port of Bushahr loaded with emergency food rations declared surplus by the IBAF. The vessel will be bound initially for Antican Suryo on the first leg of the voyage, which will be its preliminary staging area before coordinating with international efforts.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
Summary: After receiving no over-flying permission from Alexandria the two aid aircraft from Willow are refuelled mid-air by civilian tankers from the Craitish territory of Zandarijn. They have now landed safely at Monovia City airport and are unloading; particularly ill or elderly refugees will be evacuated on the return flight and meanwhile supplies are being unloaded. The refugees begin to leave the Abbey heading for the border.“Any word from Alexandria yet?” The pilots question was answered with a severe glance from his deputy. “Well in that case, we’re in a spot of bother”. Both men knew that without clearance they couldn’t enter the territorial airspace, and without entering the territorial airspace they didn’t have enough fuel to reach Ocian Monovia. “Alright, we need to send out the distress signal and try and get some help up here.”
The co-pilot nodded that he understood and flicked the switch to begin the transmission, “This is Castrum Nazarene Auxiliary Air Force flight WO-409, requesting immediate air-to-air refuelling 250 miles due east of Poitou. Over.” There pair sat in silence as they awaited a response; the vague sounds of the engines’ roar could still be heard from behind and the canopy of the vast aircraft was speckled with rain and far below the pilots could the unending grey mass of ocean. The co-pilot repeated his plea and the nervous silence continued; no one wanted to let their eyes drift to the fuel gauge but all minds were fixed on those ever decreasing digits.
“Castrum Nazarene Auxiliary Air Force flight WO-409, this is ZandAir control tower at Prins Haven. We have received your signal, refuelling tankers are being dispatched to your projected co-ordinates. Out.” A sigh of relief went up on the flight deck, “Thank Christ” the pilot muttered before crossing himself. A pair of Craitish VC-10 refuelling aircraft met the two Nazarian aid planes around 250 miles from the Alexandrian east coast.
Having been given enough fuel to avoid Alexandrian airspace by skirting the continent on the eastern seaboard before turning west over Zandarijn. At around midday local time the aircraft entered Ocian airspace and began their descent towards Monovia City International Airport; as the city unfolded before them the crews of the aircraft could see smoke rising from various locations where buildings had been set ablaze and to the south an odd sight met their eyes. An almost perfectly circular mass could be seen on the outskirts of the city; the aircrew didn’t know at the time but they were seeing the precincts of the Abbey of St Michael & All Angels, the circular curtain walls entirely filled with the thousands of refugees who’d arrived since the previous morning.
Eventually the time came to land and, as the runway came into sight through the canopy, the pilots exchanged glancing; each noting that the landing strip wasn’t quite as long as would be liked for such a huge aircraft. Nevertheless they hadn’t come all that distance to fail and so, as the first wheels screeched onto the tarmac, the breaks were applied and the thrust reversed and the plane came to a sudden halt only about 10 meters short of the end of the runway. They’d made it. Soon both aircraft were on the ground and the back doors were lowered to allow the vehicles which had been bought to roll out onto the tarmac, frantic conversations began with the Ocian ground crew who soon consented to the unloaded to begin in proper.
Meanwhile a couple of miles away the Abbot of the Abbey of St Michael & All Angels, Brother Charles la Blanc, was leading the first of the fit refugees out from the gate of his home for the previous 15 years. The great march south had begun.
Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
All vessels involved with the refugee relief of Monovia shall enjoy free passage and assurance of protection in the Flying Sea (just named it that since that map doesn't have a name for the body of water between Cibola and Tapfer). The Natopian Navy is on stand by and at the disposal of any relief forces.
The supply ship Optimist, filled with bagel and juice rations, and personnel transport Remembrance are en route from Tapfer Point to rendezvous with the Babkhan ship Magadha to aid in international relief operations.
The supply ship Optimist, filled with bagel and juice rations, and personnel transport Remembrance are en route from Tapfer Point to rendezvous with the Babkhan ship Magadha to aid in international relief operations.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
The Royal Zealandian Naval Service, Royal Zealandian Coast Guard, Zealandian Air Force and Police are all on board to help these poor people.
ZN Ships Palme (DDG) and Curtin (DD) ZCGV M. Savage and MV Madeline (Nuclear Propelled) are making best speed to the area with supplies.
and Four ZAF Antnov's and 2 Hercules Aircraft with Police and more supplies and Generators have just thundered down the runway at ZAF Te Puk
ZN Ships Palme (DDG) and Curtin (DD) ZCGV M. Savage and MV Madeline (Nuclear Propelled) are making best speed to the area with supplies.
and Four ZAF Antnov's and 2 Hercules Aircraft with Police and more supplies and Generators have just thundered down the runway at ZAF Te Puk
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
Summary: thousands of refugees have now left the Abbey and are beginning the march south. Meanwhile the injured and elderly are being evacuated by ambulance to the airport in Monovia City where they are to be airlifted to safety.Brother Charles de Blanc, Abbot of the Abbey of St Michael & All Angels and member of the Sovereign Order of Hospitallers, had not left the Abbey grounds for fifteen years. There he had lived a life of silent devotion and prayer; cut off from the world outside by a curtain which, while only thin in terms of construction, kept the whole world at bay. Before joining the Church Charles had herded sheep across the lands south of what was now Ocian Monovia, but at the age of twenty he had seen the Light and moved swiftly up the ranks of the Brothers. He and his companions tended to the earth and to the ill of the surrounding communities, kept an oath of silence and lived a life of prayer and quiet piety.
But now, fifteen years after he had breathed “Amen” supposedly as the last words of his earthly life, he stood beneath the shadow of the gates of his Abbey. Behind him a solid mass of desperate and ragged people blanketed the acres of land which surrounded the Abbey, and before him the world loomed menacingly and showed the thin wisps of smoke which marked the trails of looting which criss-crossed the nearby land. Crossing himself slowly he announced, in a voice that cracked with emotion and disuse, “Follow me” before stepping out into the world; his vows of silence and isolation thus broken.
Brother Charles strode out from under the arch, his hooded robe lightening from black to a dark brown as he left the gate’s shadow and entered the late morning sun. Behind him the first of the refugees followed tentatively; the road leading from Monovia City to the Abbey was eerily quiet and the large mass of people who had followed the monk forward from the gate trudged in near silence down the broken tarmac of the lane. Each refugee carried a ragged bundle or bag stuffed with food and the worldly goods they’d managed to salvage from their homes, looks of trepidation and fear showed on their faces and for many it seemed that they walked with fear of what each new step might bring. But before long no less than five hundred people were scattered across the road following the hooded and cloaked figure of Brother Charles, and still countless thousands were jostling at the gates to get out onto the road before turning south cross-country in the Monk’s footsteps.
That was the sight that met the eyes of the aid teams who’d flown into Monovia City earlier in the morning as they sped along the road leading from the city. Travelling through the narrow urban streets the convey had projectiles and even petrol bombs hurled at it by the roving mobs who still scarred the city, however the white red-cross-daubed armoured ambulances sped on paying them no heed. The long line of vehicles eventually emerged into the suburbs and picked up speed and thus it was less than half an hour after leaving the tarmac of the airport the ambulances came within sight of the Abbey. The sight of the approaching convey struck fear into the refugees who turned to dash back towards the gates, but Brother Christopher reassured them and led them onwards.
Seeing the road blocked by the advancing people the aid convoys slowed and passed onto the grass alongside the roadway. Before long the leading ambulance reached the wall to the right of the gate whereupon a great trumpet blast went out from atop the gate, the aid workers exchanged glances before climbing out of their vehicles. The refugees avoided the gaze of the aid workers and continued their march, but before long the trumpet was answered by the first of a long line of stretchers being borne out of the gates carried by the Sisters of Mercy. The extremely ill and extremely elderly were being bought out and, while the first of them were loaded for transport back to the airport, the medics began to treat those who would need to wait. Bit by bit a town of white tents sprung up, and as hundreds of passing refugees turned to thousands, the vast shuttle-service to and from the airport got into full swing.
Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
While our Natopian allies are perhaps slightly too ready to declare passage for Nelagan home waters, we of course have no plans of barring legitimate relief vessels through the area. Our own navies are needed elsewhere, but we will coordinate with the Natopian ships in order to ensure a peaceful transportation lane and confront any troublemakers.Nathan wrote:All vessels involved with the refugee relief of Monovia shall enjoy free passage and assurance of protection in the Flying Sea (just named it that since that map doesn't have a name for the body of water between Cibola and Tapfer). The Natopian Navy is on stand by and at the disposal of any relief forces.
Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
My apologies. I only meant to imply we'd provide protection to refugee ships traveling beyond national water boundaries. I don't know what to call that entire body of water that extends from Nelaga to Mar Sara to Cibola to Tapfer.SaiKar wrote:While our Natopian allies are perhaps slightly too ready to declare passage for Nelagan home waters, we of course have no plans of barring legitimate relief vessels through the area. Our own navies are needed elsewhere, but we will coordinate with the Natopian ships in order to ensure a peaceful transportation lane and confront any troublemakers.Nathan wrote:All vessels involved with the refugee relief of Monovia shall enjoy free passage and assurance of protection in the Flying Sea (just named it that since that map doesn't have a name for the body of water between Cibola and Tapfer). The Natopian Navy is on stand by and at the disposal of any relief forces.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
Our thanks to Nelega and Natopia for their kind co-operation in this. As it's the weekend I won't be doing a vast backstory, however it is to be assumed that the refugees are still moving south and the ships are continuing the journey with an estimated date of arrival of Monday.
Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
A grizzled old man, his face deeply pitted with wrinkles, a long beard bleached white by time, looked out over the snowy wastes of the Aurora Plains. The wind whistled as it blew over the icy tundra, whipping what few trees grew here side to side, flattening the scrub down to the ground. Henry Silverhaus was an old man now, no longer the slick vanguard of the fallen Ocian Federation. Him and his ilk had long ago been exiled to what was called Bluelight when the tyrant Radchenko corrupted the democratic Ocia into a tin-pot dictatorship. With Silverhaus went a loyal contingent of supporters, settling in the frigid Antarctic colony. Radchenko, unaware that the colony survived at all, passed the area by and assumed himself victorious. When the Ocians sought to wipe Slaventija from the map, the remnants of that population, led by former President Davidovich, also found their way to Bluelight. Thus populated Silverhaus saw the gradual development of a free, albeit exiled Ocian population in Bluelight.
Now, old and tired, he had lived long enough to see the day come when the dictatorship began to fall apart. Foreign forces threatened the old Ocian homeland and, to his great surprise, a wardship sponsored by the Church had established a tenuous hold on the country. With Davidovich long dead and the Slaventijans, Ocians, and others now all identifying themselves as Auroran, it seemed strange to think of Ocia as even relating to them. But it did nonetheless.
The Sovereign Order of Bluelight was established as a military stronghold aimed at maintaining the freedom of the Ocian people. At the time this was in the form of fighting the tyrannical government of Radchenko, now it could be said that the Order should fight foreign invaders. But was Silverhaus really up to the task given his age? He contemplated this thought carefully as he continued to stare at the wintry scene out the window.
The sounds of a loud engine starting nearby and a score of horses neighing in fright at the loud noise interrupted his reverie. Silverhaus recognized it as one of the armored tanks they had begun to manufacture. He was still surprised by the innovation shown by these people – alas, Bluelight was once a model of modernity with its genetic and botanical research, as well as its not-so-public military development. These skills had come in quite handy when the colony had to begin faring for itself. Now they had amassed a small but well-honed army.
Silverhaus sighed and looked to the tabletop at which he was seated. The letter sat unsealed before him. Nodding to himself he signed it and sealed it in an envelope, stamping it with the wax mark of the Order. It was addressed to the Diocese of Ocia and the Anglican Church. Its contents contained notification of the colony’s existence and whereabouts, and the intent of the Order to support the diocesan wardship, with inferences to support a change in Ocian leadership. Despite years of political experience behind him, he had no idea how the letter would be received. It could be a boon to Bluelight, or it could very well spell the final doom for the colony.
Summary: The Sovereign Order of Bluelight and the Knights of Aurora announce their intention to support the wardship over Ocia, and offer military support to the church. The colony of Bluelight has secretly survived on the southeast corner of Cibola, unnoticed for the past several years due to its small size.
Historical note: Ocia founded Bluelight in 2008 as an Antarctic research facility/colony, publicly for scientific work, privately for military development. At the time, Henry Silverhaus (me) was in charge of the operation and rather prominent in the Ocian government. Vlad Davidovich (also me) was Vice-President of Slaventia until Kovac arbitrarily annexed it to Ocia.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
Summary: The Archbishop urges the forces of Bluelight to mobilise themselves to assist their suffering fellow citizens in Monovia but forbids the use of force unless as a last resort to defend innocent people (read the radio broadcast section above for specifics). Meanwhile the SS. Carpathia arrives in Prinshaven to pick up the first refugees, the Sir Galahad anchors off shore and it's Merlin helicopter patrols overhead.“Bluelight...Bluelight” the Archbishop quietly muttered to himself while closely scouring a dusty map of Cibola which had been hastily fetched from the catacombs of the State Library. “Aha! Well there it is at last, so small a spec and yet of such huge significance to us at this time.” What followed was a long period of discussing with the assembled Bishops who stood now in the Epiphany Chamber of St Augustine’s Palace, the wind drifting softly through the high arches of the windows and down onto the vast marble floor below as the great men of the church paced the length of the pillars which surrounded the room, each lost in thought.
Eventually when all points had been considered the Archbishop seated himself in front of an antiquated looking microphone and, after a nod from the nearby technician. “Citizens of the Ocian territories of Cibola, this is Castrum Nazarene. I, Archbishop Alfred of Willow, have opted to speak to you personally at this time. Firstly may I express my deepest regret and sympathy for those of you who have been forced from your homes by the hostile incursion of foreign troops, which I must now condemn as unlawful, though you have suffered much respite will soon be upon you and the Grace of our Lord travels with you in your plight. To the people of Bluelight, whom the Church has thus far regretfully neglected, we would urge you to have heart and assemble your full force of arms in case you too should fall prey to this ruthless belligerency. Move to help your fellow citizens if you may, but do not open fire or cause harm to any other being unless in the defence of innocents, and even then do so only with the deepest caution and only as a last resort. Further instructions will follow and our representatives are even now hastening to be with you. Stay strong in faith, and remember that our Lord Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace, and may that peace be upon you now and always.”
The radio broadcast sped out from the small broadcasting tower and, en route to the Ocian territories, crackled through the radio of SS. Carpathia as she sounded her horn to announce her arrival into Prinshaven.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
I've been preoccupied in responding to the problems in England for the past 2 days in my real life capacity so i'll finish off the backstory at some point in the near future.
Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
You live local to that nightmare? Be safe.
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Re: [Backstory thread] Ocia-Monovian Refugee Evacuation
I work for a local authority so I've been bombarded with people claiming a riot is breaking out in our area when in reality we've been fine, the violence was minor in the local authority next to us but we escaped unscathed. That didn't stop people claiming that every passing helicopter or police car was a sign that all hell was about to break loose though .
I also identified two looters to the police by trawling facebook, a productive few hours well spent.
I also identified two looters to the police by trawling facebook, a productive few hours well spent.