OOC: It helps to have very little going on in your life
I spend a lot of time on Wikipedia, trolling through articles for potentially interesting people or places. But to be honest I'm probably out of ways to RP invading Sokoto. If 5 lvl 2 armies AND air support can't do it, I give up.
I've been treating the battle results as the start of the turn, and all my posts since then have been meant for 1920.
OOC: Don't give up! Don't give in to French stereotypes! Prove them wrong!!!!!!!!!!
And, good. I hope that was GBIT's intent. I plan on taking your(our) position a step further, and proceed to write for next turn's results. Kinda.
***
THE MARCH TO MOSCOW
The Whitestone One, the First Throne, the Forty Forties. The Third Rome. Moscow.
They were still a good three hundred miles from the city, just outside Voronezh. Their route could not be called straight, for they approached from Samarkand but had to stay close to trails which allowed for over fifty thousand men to be fed and cared for daily. After what seemed to be endless marching, they were outside the first large outpost of expatriates which had to be retired by force. Voronezh, the town was called, and although not nearly as mighty as their ultimate target, Voronezh was a dangerous place for any army to attack. For, quite unfortunately, they faced the mightiest wall one finds on this earth- water. The Voronezh river was no small stream, and the only ways across were the rather feeble Stepana Razina bridge, and a pair of wading points connected by a tiny island called Vogrisovsky. At most, fifty men could at a time cross the wading point, while the bridge would be even worse: Stepana Razina's heavy defenses would have no issue holding a line of advance which would be at best three men wide. All this was known, which explains why Stalin was taking his men South away from the town. But an explanation did not make him like it any better.
He was to take his men to Novovoronezh, a glorified hamlet some seven miles away. It was also home to the only other major crossing point within a week's march. According to the plan they had concocted back at the main camp- without Annenkov to make decisions, the minor generals had to throw a strategy together on their own- Stalin would lead two brigades across this other bridge tonight, and use them to hold the bridge and port long enough for the other brigades to cross and form a permanent foothold for the Emperor and his armies. From there, they would flood the city and crush the relatively small amount of resistance. 65,000 of the realm's best men
should be able to kill a few thousand peasants.
The next morning, the force had its first break. They were a mile outside the town proper, hiding in plain sight in the tall corn fields of a rather unlucky farmer. As there were no horses in the two brigades, they had no issues keeping quiet and out of view. Their attack was to take place at sunset, and so the men gratefully slept for a full eight hours. Perhaps they were the best, but then again even gods sleep. As the lights of the town began being lit- from Stalin's view, only a quarter of the town was in full repair, let alone lit up- he ordered his men to formation. They lit their torches, and set to work.
It was all but over in a few hours, and the only resistance was outside a church; even this was being cleared as Stalin walked towards the rebuilt General's tent just next to the dock. Looking towards that dock, it was hard to ignore the piles of corpses which were, thankfully, decorated with the purple and gold of the Pretender rather than the purple and red of the Emperor. Only a few hundred men had been lost in taking a fortified town with several thousand members of resistance. This was quite a good sign. One thing, however, worried him quite too much.
During the fight, a man called Zhukov had more than proven his worth. Perhaps this should be a good thing, but his manner of heroism was rather disturbing to an established general like himself. Zhukov's captain had been killed, one of the more powerful effects of the battle. In response, rather than allow the next Lieutenant in line to take command, Zhukov stepped up and began issuing orders even before he pinned on the deceased's gold. What made this absolutely horrifying was that men actually listened to him, rather than laughing him out of the coat. And now, Stalin was about to recognize him as a legitimate power!
The road to Moscow had been opened, and they would be there in a few weeks. The only knife Stalin had to watch out for was that of his Captain's, and he did not like that one bit. Only time would tell what his nefarious command would do for power.
***
They were now at the gates of Moscow itself. Or, at least, within a day's march of it. The anticipation was killing him, but Stalin realized he would have to make sure he knew his part of the plan as much as any other general for the battle to work. The men who held Moscow for the Pretender were much more organized and powerful than any of them had anticipated it was said one of the Generals of the Pretender himself was there, the cousin one- Dmitry Ivanovich. He was a grizzled veteran, and it would be difficult to dislodge him and his men. It even appeared that they had a cavalry brigade! How a man finds that many horses in this wasteland was beyond Stalin. But nonetheless, they had to truly think over the plans.
As usual, they decided that numbers would win. Six brigades would attack first, approaching from all sides. Their purpose would be to draw out, then withdraw and overrun at a weak point, the cream of the enemy army, namely its cavalry brigade. Then, five brigades would assault all across the city, condensing on a weak spot. The original wave would then regroup with the second wave, and create a path for the last two brigades under Stalin to charge in and break the city.
As usual, nothing went according to plan.
The city had what could be called walls, even for its size; due to the sudden drop in population after the fall, only the core of the city remained active. As such, the outlying districts were abandoned, and thus were free to be left as piles of ever so cheap wall. This was planned for, but what was not expected was the sudden charge of cavalry. As the first six brigades ran to the six gates- holes in the rubble, truly- the cavalry came running from a cornfield just like the one Stalin was in. The cavalry ran down scores of troops before anyone could even blink, and within a few minutes the first wave was a complete mess. The second wave was launched to circle the cavalry, in an attempt to pincer the similar action of those horsemen. As this occurred, A second force of enemy footmen flooded from the surrounding countryside as if by magic. The fighting was close, and intense. Many men died, and it was impossible to tell which side exactly had the edge. All communication was lost, and Stalin saw several of his fellow Generals fall from their valuble, rare mounts- he himself opted out of one for his operation. It was into this chaos that he plunged the two brigades under his command.
His forces brought some semblance of order to the battle. Royalists ran to his standard, and they formed a rock for soldiers to put their backs to. Not meaning to be encircled, Stalin led his men across the battlefield, a walking all of death. As the carnage built, Stalin took his men deeper into the fray; eventually, he realized they had unwittingly arrived inside the city proper. He started towards a series of partially standing homes, and had his men spread out. From this vantage, they held off many waves of enemy advances- from within the very city these men were supposed to defend. It appeared that Ivanovich had insanely- but with more than a bit of genius- placed most of his troops outside the "walls" in preparation for the battle. Stalin fired after a pair of gold and purple pants when he heard a mighty voice roar over the carnage.
It could only be Ivanovich himself, leading his guard from the Kremlin. If Stalin and the three generals with him could hold this position, they would have all but destroyed the defense. But at what cost? Ivanovich threw himself at their line, and it appeared that he would overtake them. Stalin was just about to command a retreat deeper into the city, where there were larger buildings from which more concentrated defense could be arranged, when that damnable Zhukov was legible from across the road. He led the men with him straight towards the Pretender's hound, and it appeared that he would make it when...
***
OOC: Let's see what the battle results say first.
EDIT: changing regiments, divisions, etc. to be the correct number for my size of 5000 per, "brigade."