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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:28:06 GMT -5
This topic is a child of the Big Toe article directory.TUG O' WARLong in the past, the Big Toe simply did not exist. There were no land formations that grew into it and no geological premonitions to its appearance. It was no more than an arbitrary location on the now-defunct continent of Kanzani. In around 830 OSC, this changed almost immediately. A major geodisplacement event caused the continent of Kelpak to erupt from underneath Kanzani, tearing it in half and jolting up its southerly portions. The violent upheaval led to Kanzani's remnants being rebranded as Talto, and ultimately formed the most prominent features of the Big Toe. CHAPTERS- 1. The Crimson Scourge- 2. The Ultimatum- 3. The Retaliation- 4. The NORK- 5. The H.E.R.N.- 6. Present Day
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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:28:18 GMT -5
THE CRIMSON SCOURGE
Successive geodisplacement events further shaped Talto and its sole mountain range. Over the course of nearly two hundred years, the Big Toe took form, sliding upwards and upwards with every mutation. In that time, the Crimson Expanse recovered and began to slowly snake its way towards the mountain. Geodisplacements occasionally thwarted its advance, but the fate of the Toe seemed to be within the meat's grasp. Before the Cult ever laid its claim upon the peak, the Crimson Expanse had mobilized to seize it. By around 1025 OSC, it had reached the base of the mountain and begun to climb its slopes.
It was that accomplishment that drew the attention of the meat's benefactors. It was heralded first by the Church of Reignsplitter and the Eldest Giants, one of the Expanse's most prevalent sects. The Church followed after the subject of its worship and moved to nurture it. A decree rallied the faithful across the continent; to reach the peak and slather it in meat. Several decades of rituals and caretaking passed with only scattered resistance from handfuls of Looney bunkers. By 1061, the meat had crept along to the halfway point of the Toe. It was a time of labor and bounty for the Cult.
In 1070, nine years later, the unchecked expansion came to a halt. Fearing the possibility of the Cult claiming an entire continent for themselves, the Space Loonies rallied their own response. A meeting of the Joint Orbital Defense Council set in motion the Northern Hemisphere Sterilization Initiative, aimed to scorch clean the Crimson Expanse. Fleets gathered over the Expanse, dropped what ordnance they could, and went along to rearm and restock in a coordinated rotation of bombing runs.
It soon earned its reputation as the Crimson Scourge to both cultists and townsfolk alike. In the first days of the campaign, the meat itself was the only target. It was scorched earth at its most extreme; creeping barrages swept across the edges of the Crimson Expanse day after day, steadily and fruitlessly. Whenever a fleet departed to restore its supplies, cultists swarmed the wounded meatscapes, driving them past their previous boundaries each time. Attempts to close the window between departing and arriving fleets did little to solve the problem.
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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:28:27 GMT -5
THE ULTIMATUM
The campaign drew in the attention of the Loonies in 1072. Many had only a passing awareness of the Crimson Expanse's steady approach. Most did not see it as their concern. The endless thunderstorm in the distance, dropped from their rivals in orbit, brought them together - for all the wrong reasons. Many rallied into small networks to brace for a possible assault. Many more reached out to nearby towns as a means to secure listening posts and fallback positions. It was ignorance at its finest; the Loonies of the Big Toe were expecting an invasion from above, not below.
In 1078, the scars of the Big Split tore open. The Loonies on the ground delivered an ultimatum to their peers above; cease bombardment or expect reprisal. Small fleets of gunships and troop transports stood ready to push into orbit and begin raids against Space Looney platforms. Special forces teams were fresh from exercises on low-orbit derelicts. While they were hardly ready to go toe-to-toe with an armada of warships, they had all they needed to press on with a guerrilla resistance. A single shot in their direction could well have brought the sympathy of Loonies across the planet.
The Space Loonies were baffled by the warning. Some attempted to summon the Joint Orbital Defense Council to discuss the threat, only to be met with ridicule and dismissal. Similarly, few ever tried to communicate their intent to the Loonies on the ground. Bombardment commenced throughout the year, creeping closer and closer to Looney bunkers further up the Toe with each salvo. By the end of 1078, the attending fleet rotated out and returned to its prior affairs. The threat was never taken seriously.
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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:28:37 GMT -5
THE RETALIATION
Just as the Cult took advantage of the window between fleet rotations, the Loonies seized on the opportunity. Roughly a dozen combat missions deployed from Set's surface to orbiting stations. Several garbage hauler facilities were irreparably damaged by Looney special forces teams. Unity Station suffered a string of bombings that killed at least a hundred people. Roughly a dozen civilian ships operating under Space Looney employ were seized and de-orbited, their crews either killed or discarded aboard nearby stations. All the while, Loonies came and went from orbit, with clear view of the Crimson Expanse creeping across Talto.
By the time 1079 had arrived, the Space Loonies were at their wit's end. They were under attack by terrestrial terrorists in retaliation for a bombardment campaign for their benefit. A Defense Council meeting finally came together to discuss the problem. Soon after, a dialogue was established with the Loonies on the ground. Most were skeptical and hardly convinced. In a way, the Crimson Scourge worked against itself; it slowed the tide of meat, just enough to keep the Loonies' attention away, without ever truly halting it.
While the dialogue did not convince the landed Loonies to redirect their efforts, it was eventually able to halt their attacks. Bunkers rededicated their efforts towards securing their own territory. Many took advantage of their newly-established networks to expand. Cooperation with towns helped lay the foundation for future relations across the Toe. All the while, the Cult and the Space Loonies clashed noisily in the distance. Neither paid the budding networks much mind.
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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:28:55 GMT -5
THE NORK
Matters changed some three-and-a-half decades later, in 1114. After a changing of the guard in its administrative council, the Norton Command Post shrugged off its complacency. Once independent, it called on nearby bunkers to form a network, something hardly much out of the ordinary for the time. Bunkers in the region saw the opportunity, seized on the times, and signed on. Over four years, the network grew, incorporating most of Digit Peaks. What few expected was that the network was an elaborate trap.
Even before it had secured an alliance, the Norton Command Post was one of the largest bunkers in the region. On founding the Norton Network, its administrators worked quietly to secure the facility's place as the centerpiece of operations in the region. Bunkers slowly became reliant on resources and support from the facility, others were caught in webs of interdependency that traced back to Norton. When the command post cast off its mask and went to war, there was little its partners could do to object.
In 1118, the network evolved; from it emerged the Norton Emergency Response Network, or NORK, a mirror to the Crimson Scourge above. With a powerful alliance of bunkers under its thumb, Norton began operations against developing Cult positions across the Big Toe. Towns openly flying their flag were wiped out and rounded up in airborne raids. Isolated meatscapes were scorched clean before they could spread. Gunships flew long-range sorties against Cult positions in the approaching Crimson Expanse, knocking out key providers to the growing meatscape.
Dissent crept up as bunkers saw the offensive for what it was; an unspoken alliance with the aliens and traitors in orbit. Early successes helped quell the initial protest; the Crimson Expanse recoiled as the operation struck back. Space Looney bombardments obliviously kept the meat in check while cultists ran shocked and confused. It was the first time they had been directly targeted - and it was by an opponent ready to bring the fight to their doorstep.
The Cult was not stunned for long. A series of reprisals swept back against the Loonies, many striking directly at the NORK. Countless bunkers were dragged into the fight by rampaging warbands and village revolts. Many more were ready to fight the Cult purely as a matter of principle. Just as the Cult came together to lash out at the Norton Network, the Loonies responded in kind. Networks merged, pledged support to one another, and absorbed nearby bunkers. The NORK itself doubled in size over the course of just three years.
Half a century of fighting passed that eventually left both sides exhausted. In 1164, in spite of its early success, the NORK dissolved. Scores of bunkers had been destroyed and many more were forced into concealing themselves. The residents of the region had been repeatedly displaced as villages and nomads were broken up, gunned down, or swarmed by meat monsters. The Crimson Expanse had been pushed back, but only just enough to buy time. Deeper into the continent, where the landlocked Loonies could never hope to reach, the Cult's strongholds readied to expand again.
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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:30:44 GMT -5
THE H.E.R.N.
1203 arrived with a reset on affairs for the Big Toe. The Crimson Expanse had crept up to the mountain's halfway point again. Fighting continued in pockets as Looney bunkers tried desperately to hold off the tide of meat. Towns were crushed or converted on a daily basis under the Cult's grip. The Space Loonies were of minimal impact; most saw their participation in the still-running Crimson Scourge as little better than a hobby. None were ready to believe the Loonies on the ground could ever accomplish much - and most saw the NORK's successes as their own instead.
History looped in on itself as frustrated and fearful Loonies came together again. 1203 saw the rise of the Hallenbeck Command Post, once a member of the same NORK before. After struggling through at least sixteen Cult assaults, the bunker earned its recognition. It went on to scour the Digit Peaks of Cult enclaves, impressing and relieving dozens of other facilities. Its power grew, swift and unrelenting, as more and more of its neighbors offered their help. The Hallenbeck Emergency Response Network formed. On the surface, the HERN was nothing new.
Behind closed doors, Hallenbeck was another ruse. In truth, its senior staff had reopened the century-old dialogue with the Space Loonies. When the facility had finally secured its borders, its small air force had gone to work reconnoitering major Cult positions. Flights ran deep into the Crimson Expanse, identifying and assessing strongholds even the NORK could never touch. Quietly, they passed along the information to Space Looney fleets in orbit - to do so openly may well have damned Hallenbeck to isolation from its peers. Tentative precision strikes followed after.
It was the turning point that both Loonies had been waiting for. The Crimson Expanse quivered, slowed, and halted. Loonies on the ground took back more and more territory as cultists withdrew again. Bunkers that had been in hiding for decades resurfaced. Towns reopened their doors. The Expanse reeled back again. Networks formed, grew, and turned their eyes back to the HERN swelling in size - and still pushing on. It was another united push, with all the lessons learned from the NORK before.
A decade passed as Space Looney ships worked silently for the HERN. Suspicions flared, xenophobia simmered, and inquiries probed, but the furtive alliance was never uncovered. It was only by 1215 that the truth finally came out - announced directly from Hallenbeck's administrative council. Much like the NORK, the time passed had softened and enthralled nearby bunkers; they had neither the independence, nor the frustration to break from the HERN. Most accepted and understood the situation. Alone, neither side could stop the Crimson Expanse. Together, they had only managed to ease it back.
Another century passed as a slur of war and meat. The Space Loonies spread their bombing campaign to strongholds across Talto, complicating Cult movements throughout. The Loonies on the ground retooled their industries for a continent-wide war and went to work solidifying their networks. Cult warbands made brazen pushes to assault the Hallenbeck Command Post itself, sacking towns and bunkers all along the way. Battles seared and cratered much of the Big Toe's northern half, killing thousands on both sides. By 1270, the Crimson Expanse had retreated to the foot of the Toe.
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Post by Insano-Man on Sept 24, 2018 7:32:08 GMT -5
PRESENT DAY
Attempts to force the Expanse back lost steam from then on. It was simply too far, too dense, and too deeply-rooted into Talto. Four decades went on without any success on either side. The meat surged, only to be scorched back. Cult fortresses collapsed, only for them to be rebuilt elsewhere. The constant hail of fire from orbit served to limit offensives on either side - and it was crucial to keeping the Expanse from spreading again. All the while, cultist infiltrators clashed with townsfolk and Loonies deep behind the lines. Minor meatscapes erupted, only to be scoured into bloodied wastelands.
The future for the Big Toe is as clouded as it was when the Crimson Scourge started. The HERN has held on as one of the largest, longest-lived Looney networks for at least a century, but fatigue with the war remains on the rise. The Crimson Scourge has held on as one of the largest, longest-running bombing campaigns for two centuries, but only a handful still take it seriously. Rivalry and dissent continue to crop up between the Loonies above and below, but their cooperation remains vital. All the while, the Cult grows ever more depraved and the Toe's residents ever more desperate. An end is nowhere in sight.
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