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The Fall of Empires [AltHis/IC]

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Vehemia
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The Fall of Empires [AltHis/IC]

Postby Vehemia » Fri Aug 16, 2013 8:18 pm

The Fall of Empires

Image


Background

The Old World

The year is 1500, but the world is radically different from the one we know. In the Roman Empire, Commodus' death before that of his father, Marcus Aurelius, meant that Aurelius' selection for next Emperor had to be changed, and so he adopted someone from outside his immediate family, causing the reign of the Good Emperors to continue for hundreds of years. Consequently, Rome never entered decline, Constantine never came to power, and Christianity (nor Islam, nor any other Abrahamic faith) never became very popular. The Dark Ages never occurred and Rome eventually conquered much of the western world. By the year 1174 AD the Mongol Empire had accomplished much the same in the east. The two superpowers finally clashed in the early 1200s, leading to one of the longest and bloodiest conflicts in history. Both empires rapidly improved their technology to meet the threat of the other, reaching Napoleonic levels of technology by the mid 1300s and Gilded age technology by the mid 1400s. Both Empires finally collapsed after centuries of intermittent conflict in the late 1400s. The once massive superpowers shrunk to their ancestral homelands as new nations rose in their former territories. Now, twenty-five years after the collapse, dozens of nations compete in the world created by the fall of empires


The New World

An Age of discovery began with the Mongols setting up small settlements and trading posts on the west coast while the Romans did the same in the east. However, by the time large scale settlement could take place the powers became embroiled in the great war so they were rendered unable to advance past the coast. The only major Roman areas were the American Northeast and the Canadian Maritimes. The only Mongol Areas were the Pacific Northwest and the California area. Meanwhile the Iroquois and Mississippian Culture were armed and taught by the Romans to counter their Mongol rivals who do the same with the Inca and Aztecs. Eventually the Inca conquered South America, the Aztecs Central America, the Iroquois Canada and parts of the midwest, and the Mississippians the American South and Midwest. Whether these empires flourished or collapsed is up to you.




The Rules

1. Don't flame, troll, or generally be mean-spirited.
2. Don't godmod.
3. Be prepared for the possibility of losing a battle, or even a war.
4. If you have questions or concerns, ask.
5. Don't tech-rush.
6. Please try to be active.
7. Use your head and research when determining what would be a likely action for a given nation.
8. One-line posts should be avoided at all costs.




OOC
"The pursuit of peace and progress cannot end in a few years in either victory or defeat. The pursuit of peace and progress, with its trials and its errors, its successes and its setbacks, can never be relaxed and never abandoned."
-Dag Hammarskjöld
- Republic of Canada in Birth of an Era
- Hansa Union in Medival RP
- Riel Battalion The Battle for Spain
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Pavlostani
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Postby Pavlostani » Fri Aug 16, 2013 8:46 pm

Aquesta
The Northern Confederacy


"Chief." Running Water, a colonel in the 5th Army, currently stationed in Aquesta, bowed before Chief Fighting Bear of the Northern Confederacy.

"Running Water. How are things down south? I hear you've developed quite a taste for Cherokee food." Bear gave a small smile.

"What? How do you-" Running Water started before he saw Bear's spymaster, a man named Hamenya give a chuckle.

"Funny. Anyways, I wanted to report that there are some strange reports from farther north. Some sort of trouble. The roads south are clogged with refugees." Water said.

"I would assume an epidemic. Give our recent expansion, it's only likely that we're introduced to some new plague. I've sent three men north, they haven't returned. If they visited a plague ridden city, they're likely still there under quarantine. I'd prepare for an epidemic." Hamenya spoke up.

"Does it never end?" Bear sighed, massaging his temples.

Lake Huron

"Get down!" Shiny Trout grabbed Nimenke and threw him to the ground. An artillery shell struck nearby, sending debris in the air.

"We gotta get help!" Nimenke fired a shot from his rifle and cycled the bolt action. A week earlier, the Cree that had escaped domination in their recent wars with the Confederacy, with allies in the Abitibi crossed the border and attacked the Northern Confederacy.

"Get to the fort, get to the fort!" They scrambled through the dirt. Around them, the surviving Confederates in the area were fighting a losing battle around Lake Huron. Nimenke slipped and grabbed his pistol. Instinctively firing, he saw a Cree soldier falter and fall with a bloody hole in his chest.

"Bloody hell!" He screamed, looking around. The dead were lying, abandoned on the field as the Confederates pulled back.

"Send word south! The Confederacy is under attack, I repeat, the Confederacy is under attack!"
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
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Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Fri Aug 16, 2013 9:20 pm

New Nikwasi, Yuchi Province, The Cherokee Republic

The capitol of The Republic was a melting pot of both new and old traditions. Great longhouses still formed the basis of Social centers, yet the residents of the city lived in four or five story townhouses. People in traditional skins intermingled with cotton wearing residents. Those were but some of the more noticeable comparisons High Chief Nikawya noted from his office in the Great Hall. His office itself was unremarkable, as he refused to adorn himself like the Tribal Chiefs of old, claiming he was not of their blood, which he wasn't, and spent too little time there, which he did.

Nikawya was drawn from his pondering by a the opening of his door. In strode War-Chief Powhatan, the de facto Commander of the Cherokee Army. He wore a traditional warriors get, save with a few additions such as a scabbard and holster. Bowing in the traditional greeting, Powhatan began his Annual Report.

"Sir, our Army is at her peak condition. We have 95,000 Regular Troops, arrayed along the border with the Empire and Angles. Most of the troops are on the Angle border sir, some 45,000. On the Imperial Border, we have 25,000, and the remaining 25,000 are at Republican Ports, mainly Port Hacha and Port Hatak. They await the boats to ship them to the Eastern Isles. Tribal Militias and Provincials Defense Forces report in at 100,000 thousand or so, but Sir, I would not use them. Some of those Seminoles still think beads will stop hot lead. As for weapons, most of the regulars have modern weapons, thanks to in part the anticipation of the Great Collapse by your predecessor and the three 5 years plans he put in place. We are almost on par with the Romanji in regards to rifles and artillery, as for planes, we lag.

As for our troops heading for the Eastern Isles, I have great confidence in our plans. The local Tribes are but savages, even Seminoles are more advanced!. They posses no navy to speak of, and still use flintlocks."

Nikawya interrupted and said, "Good. Good. Send my regards to Chief Lomak. Tell him I am watching, along with the entire Republic, on him."

Port Hacha, Central Seminole Province

Corporal Shoomani Tootanka placed one tentative foot on the wobbly board leading up to the liner. A Private behind him pushed him forwards, causing him to stumble up the plank. Catching his balance, he walked up the rest of the plank and onto the liner. A crewman saw him gazing around and roughly gestured for him to head belowdecks with the rest of him Cohort. Shuddering, Shoomani grasped the grimy rungs of the ladder and descended into the darkened abyss of the hold. Shoomani nestled against a wall and fell asleep, catching some shut eye before the Invasion began.
I'm really tired

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Zagornias
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Postby Zagornias » Fri Aug 16, 2013 11:07 pm

January 1st, 1500
Londinium, Anglia
The sun slowly rose over the peaks of the chimneys, the light revealing the smoke coming out of all the chimneys. Crystal white snow was laced over the ground, being ruined by the imprints of boots, as Anglicans slowly went out into the world after their slumber. Carriages and automobiles shared the road, with automobiles soon outpacing carriages. Anglia was devastated by the collapse of Rome, but it was returning, stronger than ever. The economy and trade were skyrocketing, especially with the new trade market in Novum Londennum, the capital of the thriving Anglican colony of Williamslund, in the New World. Anglia and her people were ready to face the world on, one step at a time.

January 1st, 1500
Williamslund, Anglia
Governor-General Mark Aelius paced throughout his office. Anglia was sending aircraft, troops, artillery, mortars, as well as colonists in the Seventh Expedition to Williamslund. The homeland was taking a position of distrust about the natives and the neighboring Dutch. They said in a Telegram that protection of Williamslund was necessary, but he didn't believe it. They could be friendly to us and even beneficial if we can actually be friendly to them. He took a seat at his mahogany desk, and began typing a message to the Dutch, Cherokee and the Confederacy.

Image



TO: The Governments of The United Kingdom of the Netherlands, The Northern Confederacy, and The Cherokee Republic
From: The Governor-General of the Anglican Colony of Williamslund



Dear Respective Heads of State,

You are all major players in the land we call North America. We believe it would be beneficial for all of us if we form a trade alliance that could possibly extend further into a political one. The colony of Williamslund is new, fledgling, and is in dire need of some advice on how to survive in a land so radically different than the continent of Europe. Therefore, I would like to invite you all to a meeting in Novum Londennum, in order to strengthen our bonds as independent, sovereign nations and friends.

Sincerely,
Image
Mark Aelius
Governor-General of the Anglican Colony of Williamslund


(OOC: It would have been longer, but it is night where I am right now and I am discouraged because of what happened to my original post.)
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Irrelevance (Ancient)
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Postby Irrelevance (Ancient) » Fri Aug 16, 2013 11:38 pm

Grand-Market, Gesyev (Kiev), Gothic Empire

"Emperor Winguric and the royal family are coming here?" a shocked Amalric the tailor repeated Ewald the farmer, sure it was only a few minutes walk from the Imperial Palace, but usually the Emperor had everything hand delivered by couriers, the market was where the common folk sold, purchased and traded wares, where in trade dependent, port cities like Brunhem and Vedkirk you could get everything from slaves and weapons to books, maps and foreign hats.

"Yes, Fridigern told me yesterday, you better get your stall cleaned, can't have his highness getting dirty eh" Ewald snorted and went back to his stall across the square, which Amalric noticed was looking far more dapper than usual, come to think of it, the whole market was looking quite smart today, instead of the usual rabble and chaos, most traders were in clean clothing, with combed hair and trimmed beards.

"Ye couldn't have told me earlier?" the tailor grumbled, smoothing his tunic, cleaning his stall of any unneeded junk and putting his best imported silk garments along the regular wool, only the best for the Royals.

*Royal fanfare*

"That's quite enough, Hilderic isn't it?" a distinctive, deep voice could be heard from the entrance of the square, it was Emperor Winguric, known by the peasants as the Good, for his jovial nature and the very non-regal trait of kindness to the common folk, Amalric poked his head over the stall and saw the nervous trumpeter nodding like an idiot, the Emperor patting him on the back with a smile and the Empress and the children looking around curiously yet warily at the peasants and their wares.

The Royals split up and went about their shopping, after stopping at a weapons dealer and purchasing a revolver pistol inscribed with the Imperial Coat of Arms, the Emperor himself, in all his bearded Gothic glory, saw something at Amalric's stall that caught his eye, "Excuse me good man, what is this garment?" he asked, holding up a distinctive white pair of what looked like trousers.

"That would be a Persian Sirwal, made of the finest cotton and brought here by camel train, it costs a hundred and thirty Solit's milord" Amalric explained, he himself had asked the same thing to the Arab peddler who brought it to Gesyev.

"It does feel quite comfortable, I'll take it, here you go" Emperor Winguric decided, handing the tailor a bag of coins, taking the trousers and happily moving on, that was something to tell the children about, Amalric thought, strapping the pouch to his belt.

((OOC: I couldn't think of anything to do so I just put in some filler stuff, sorry about that, when I know who Russia is I can get on with sending an ambassador and all that, Soviet Ruk-Tsan I can probably get along with peacefully enough, but the other guy has said he will attack me... so... yeah...))

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Vehemia
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Postby Vehemia » Sat Aug 17, 2013 3:03 am

January 1st, 1500
Byzantium, Byzantine Republic


Consul Michael Bringas walked down the gangplank of the gargantuan Dreadnought BNS Antioch and into the crowded harbour of Byzantium. He smiled and waved to the military personnel that had gathered around for a glimpse of their great leader. He had just returned from a tour of the nations frontiers in order to rally support there. Bringas was wildly popular amongst the people and so far was the longest serving Consul at 16 years served. He had been the inspiring figure the country had rallied behind in the dark times following the collapse of the old empires. He had been the one to lead them to prosperity and stability, at least that was the they though. In reality Bringas was far less competent than his co-Consul, Alexios Komnenos. Komnenos, however, was neither inspiring nor charismatic and so he was mainly relegated to being the scenes work while Bringas shook hands and kissed babies.

Bringas gave a final wave to the enthused crowd before getting into his car and having his driver take him home. As they wound through the crowded city streets, he glimpsed the spires of magnificent Hagia Sophia, temple of Jupiter.Before long they had arrived at his home. Unfortunately for Bringas, there was still work to be done. Many nations surrounded the republic, they would certainly make better friends than enemies.

Image

To: The Carpathian Empire, Gothic Empire, and The Rus


On behalf of the Republic I bid greetings to you, our friends and neighbours. I come to you with a proposition. In these turbulent times it is imperative nations have strong allies to resist any acts of cowardly aggression form outside forces. Therefore, I would like to invite your nations to attend a meeting in Byzantium to discuss the creation of an alliance between our great peoples. I hope you will all agree so we may begin to walk the path of constructive friendship and cooperation.

Sincerely,

Consul Michael Bringas
"The pursuit of peace and progress cannot end in a few years in either victory or defeat. The pursuit of peace and progress, with its trials and its errors, its successes and its setbacks, can never be relaxed and never abandoned."
-Dag Hammarskjöld
- Republic of Canada in Birth of an Era
- Hansa Union in Medival RP
- Riel Battalion The Battle for Spain
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Reddogkeno101
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Postby Reddogkeno101 » Sat Aug 17, 2013 3:29 am

Vehemia wrote:January 1st, 1500
Byzantium, Byzantine Republic


Consul Michael Bringas walked down the gangplank of the gargantuan Dreadnought BNS Antioch and into the crowded harbour of Byzantium. He smiled and waved to the military personnel that had gathered around for a glimpse of their great leader. He had just returned from a tour of the nations frontiers in order to rally support there. Bringas was wildly popular amongst the people and so far was the longest serving Consul at 16 years served. He had been the inspiring figure the country had rallied behind in the dark times following the collapse of the old empires. He had been the one to lead them to prosperity and stability, at least that was the they though. In reality Bringas was far less competent than his co-Consul, Alexios Komnenos. Komnenos, however, was neither inspiring nor charismatic and so he was mainly relegated to being the scenes work while Bringas shook hands and kissed babies.

Bringas gave a final wave to the enthused crowd before getting into his car and having his driver take him home. As they wound through the crowded city streets, he glimpsed the spires of magnificent Hagia Sophia, temple of Jupiter.Before long they had arrived at his home. Unfortunately for Bringas, there was still work to be done. Many nations surrounded the republic, they would certainly make better friends than enemies.

(Image)

To: The Carpathian Empire, Gothic Empire, and The Rus


On behalf of the Republic I bid greetings to you, our friends and neighbours. I come to you with a proposition. In these turbulent times it is imperative nations have strong allies to resist any acts of cowardly aggression form outside forces. Therefore, I would like to invite your nations to attend a meeting in Byzantium to discuss the creation of an alliance between our great peoples. I hope you will all agree so we may begin to walk the path of constructive friendship and cooperation.

Sincerely,

Consul Michael Bringas

1st January 1500
Vienna, Carpathian Empire



Standing amongst the crowds of his people, President Vladislaus watched the parade of the Carpathian Army through the streets. It had been years since they had fought, but they were still at their peak fitness. You could see their eagerness to fight in their eyes. Their ancestors had fought for 'The Glory of Rome' and now they had inherited that lust for blood. At the same time, the people held their freedoms and rights sacred and discrimination was at an all time low. The President could see this in his people. He wanted to quench that thirst for blood, but he didn't know where. He headed to the Presidential Palace for lunch. As Vladislaus sat down at his dining table, he was given a telegram from the Byzantines. It was addressed to the Goths, Rus and himself. He sent a reply to the Byzantines.

Image

To: The Byzantine Republic


My friend, today as I represent my people, I welcome this proposition and have the utmost support for it, as will my people. I thank you for your invitation to your grand city, and will be there as soon as I can. Our peoples shall learn greatly from each other in this alliance and we shall grow with each other and for each other. We are one for all and all for one.
Sincerely,

President Vladislaus
Last edited by Reddogkeno101 on Sat Aug 17, 2013 3:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Soviet Ruk-Tsan
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Postby Soviet Ruk-Tsan » Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:21 am

Image
The Rus, Moscow, Imperial Palace

Czar Dmitri Andrionov sat on his throne, chin in his hand, a straight face showing no expression. Before the Throne stood a nervous servant, reading from a piece of paper, shaking in his hand. "The newest coal mine near Archangelsk has..." Dmitri drifted off from the man's stammered words. There were countless officials taking note of the reports, and would take care of what ever was wrong. Dmitri's mind drifted far off, thinking about what he'd eat for dinner. His, along with everyone else's attention was drawn to a man running down the royal hall, looking flustered and with a sheet of paper in his hand. He stopped before the throne and knelt, saying between puffs "Your Eminence, The Byzantines."

Dmitri grabbed the paper and read it, the room silent. He finished, and extended his empty hand, saying "Paper." Very quickly, a fresh sheet was brought to him, along with a pen. He scribbled on the paper in silence, and when he was finished he held his hand out and a serf took the sheet to have it put into a telegram and sent to the Byzantines. When the man was gone, the servant continued reading the report, courtiers continued looking and listening, and Dmitri went back to his important business. Maybe steak?

Image
Russian Imperial Missive

Addressed Towards: Consul Michael Bringas
Directed By: His Eminence, Czar Dmitri Adrionov I

Here here, my friend. The words you speak are true. I agree with you on all accounts, and would see it as an honor to attend personally. In these dark times in the wake of two great conflicting empires, it would be wise for us to band together, as brothers! I do hope we can become great friends, and I sincerely hope that all of us together can work together for a greater world!

Yours, Czar Dmitri I
Founder of The Union of Red Nations

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Jamessonia
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Postby Jamessonia » Sat Aug 17, 2013 5:30 am

The Prime Minister of Hibernia, Finnegan Leary, sat at his Dublin desk. A cigarette hung from his lips as he reviewed the map of Europe. He saw the rolling Hibernian hills, the sunny beaches of Italy, the frozen forests of Scandinavia, and the wastelands of eastern Russia. They all could be potential friends or foes, and Leary thought he knew which were which. He decided to draft this letter:

To: Anglia
From: Hibernia
I, Prime Minister Finnegan Leary of Hibernia, notice the tense relations across Europe. It seems to me that if we are to stand against Germany, France and the Scandinavians that we must band together. I ask you for a military alliance and defense pact.
Last edited by Max Stirner on Thu June 26, 1856, edited 48 times in total.
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Pavlostani
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Postby Pavlostani » Sat Aug 17, 2013 9:52 am

Aquesta
The Northern Confederacy


"Bear, we got a telegram, from the Anglicans." The Lord Chancellor, Nomahkee bowed before Fighting Bear.

"Interesting." Chief Fighting Bear took the sheet of paper and read it over.

"The White Men want our help." Bear gave an amused smile.

"Shall I tell the army to prepare for a war?" Nomahkee asked.

"What? No! No, dispatch an ambassador to Novum Londennum. A trade alliance would be most beneficial for our people. I think Yemanka would be a good choice for this situation. Send him westward." Bear smiled. Nomahkee bowed and left the room.

To the Governor-General of Williamslund
From Chief Fighting Bear of the Northern Confederacy

The Confederates believe that mutual friendship could only bring good tidings upon our peoples. An ambassador is being dispatched to Novum Londennum as I write. We hope this is the first of the steps to friendship and peace in this great continent.


Fort Huron

"Bloody hell! Where is the air support?!" Nimenke screamed in the trench.

"The Cree have overrun the air field! Soldier! Put your gas mask on!" General Irawondona snapped. Nimenke strapped the mask to his face and not a moment too soon. Cree biplanes flew overhead deploying mustard gas.

"Ride to Aquesta, tell them that we're under attack. Go, we'll cover your escape." Irawondona said. Nimenke didn't need any prompting. He made his way out the back of the trench and only stopped to grab a horse before fleeing the battle.
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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Saint Kitten
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Postby Saint Kitten » Sat Aug 17, 2013 11:51 am

The newly elected president Kevin Jerjay sits in his two story Presidential Palace. He looks at the current. Map of the world. So many massive, rich, powerful nations that could easily wipe him off the map forever. The only thing good about South Africa was its large stock pile of Jewels and the Island of Madagascar where it is mostly jungle where he has a bunker in times of war close to home.

As of today, he has nothing to fear. Everyone is stuck up in their own affairs that there is no need of worry for war. Then again, he remembers the Old Empires, as Rome and Mongolia where called here. The Great War and its Collapse. He has to use what he has to get ahead. Jewels and ocean. Not much to go on. His army could march into hell if he told them to, but against the masses of other he could hardly stand a chance.

Today, there is no fear of tomorrow. Today, he is on his way to the opening ceremony of a new Hospital. Equipped with the latest technology. With its massive cancer wing, it's going to save millions. Today is a good day.
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Epraria
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Postby Epraria » Sat Aug 17, 2013 1:08 pm

中國帝國
Image


Tao looked over the Forbidden palace he had finished 2 years earlier. It was a magnificent building that had taken 16 years to build and many people. It was a giant construct and was to no doubt show the world the power and greatness of china.

Taos rise to power was a great tale though. Rising from the rank of a lowly soldier to the dragon emperor of china was no small feat indeed but he had succeeded and conquered the Mongol homeland something he took great pride of. Though his power was something many envied and they would not hesitate to kill him for power over china. he would have to steep carefully and be watchful as the world was cruel and dark to the uncaring and Tao was not going to lose his power over china so easily.
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Chemaki
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Postby Chemaki » Sat Aug 17, 2013 1:13 pm

Kigali, Hutu Territory, Upper Mutastan

The small group of guards were about to break under pressure as a surge of protestors overran the makeshift barricades littering the streets. After days of protest and no sign of reinforcements, the governor, a native Hutu by the name Kayin Ihejirika, ordered his cohort of men to use deadly force on any rioters. However, many of the men, poorly-paid natives who didn't share Ihejirika's wealth, were about to rout as their friends and family began to break through the guards' thin line. Uduak, a lean, granite-skinned teenager with cropped black hair, readied his rifle as a dreadlocked man charged at him, growling through his bared teeth. He quickly glanced to his left as he saw his comrades falling back against the tide of flesh, some of them bruised and beaten, others with their hands high up in the air in surrender. As the crowd pushed forward again, and the dreadlocked rioter disappeared out of view, Uduak took a few steps back, finding temporary cover behind the barricade as he pointed his rifle into the crowd. He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice almost breaking as he carefully balanced atop the barricade.

"My countrymen! Hutus! We are not here to fight, and we are not here to kill. We are here to defend our land, just as you are. Do you want the Kurds to kill us? Do you want Kigali to raze to the ground? Do you want to burn it down yourself, your houses and farms? Leave and we will all be spared!"

Uduak then looked down at the milling crowd around him, the noise intensifing as they fixed his attention on him. He fell back off the podium as he ducked to avoid a projectile, and before he could get his bearings the dreadlocked man was on top of him again, his fingers scrabbling at Uduak's neck. Suddenly, with the crack of a gunshot, the crowd fell silent. Uduak paused for a moment, for even the man trying to kill him stopped. He slowly pushed the rioter off of him, steadied his rifle, and stared down at his adversary. The smoke from the gun clouded Uduak's vision but the teenager still glimpsed the bloodied body in front of him. In a split second, Uduak dropped his rifle, and began to run, pushing himself through the crowd and screaming. He tore his uniform off, pushing protestors aside as they tried to hold him back. With his brown trenchcoat flapping behind him in the breeze, Uduak began to sprint down the street. As he turned the corner, he heard the drum of hoofbeats and the sound of a bugle.

Before he could utter a word, a bullet slammed into Uduak's chest. Silently he crumpled, before the volley of gunfire caught his pursuers. The street began to fill with white smoke as the Kurdish Dragoons, their blue uniforms clad in steel, marched into the town. As Uduak lay dying, he heard the screams of fellow villagers and the steady drum of hooves as the dragoons began to sweep through the town, leaving nothing in their wake save for a trail of smoke and corpses.

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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
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Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Sat Aug 17, 2013 2:33 pm

Lucaya, Eastern Isles( Andros, Bahamas)


A mere day after departing Port Hacha, the initial force was arriving off the Lucayan Coast. Some dozen destroyers and frigates guarded the rag tag group of freighters that housed the 5th Cherokee Rifle Raiders of which Shoomani was part off and the 1st Choctaw Artillery Tribe . The 5th Raiders was a cavalry force of 4,000 soldiers, each trained in hit and run missions, would form the the initial landings in two places, one 10 miles south and one 6 miles north of Luca, the main Lucayan 'city' of 3,000 inhabitants. The two forces would rapidly sweep towards the city and take it, dealing with resistance as necessary. From here, the 1st Choctaw would land and take over control of the city, allowing the Raiders to subjugate the rest of the island. Simultaneous attacks on other Islands in the Eastern Isles would be undertaken by the remaining 20,000 troops assigned to the large scale colonization plan. Within the hour, the first raider craft would land, starting the beginning of a new era of Cherokee Dominance over the Eastern Isles, and eventually, hopefully, the Southern Gulf.

New Nikwasi, The Cherokee Republic

"You would think they would call us by our names, or at least our titles. Surely these Anglicans know who I am. I have been the leader of the Republic for ten years and served as Chief of the East Cherokee Province, which borders there Colony. For the Mother of All's sake, they should at least have sent unique message to us. It reeks of superiority, and a colonial governor having the gall to suggest that his Colony shares the same authority as that of a Sovereign Nation disgusts me. Nonetheless, dispatch Tribal Chief Long Paw of the Secotan. He has the most expierience with those lands, seeing as they were partially his until the Anglican bastards came" ranted High Chief Nikawya.
Last edited by The Holy Dominion of Inesea on Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I'm really tired

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Caltarania
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Ex-Nation

Postby Caltarania » Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:04 pm

Mount McKinley, the Great White North

(For effect, play this music in the background. Repeat when necessary.)

As dusk fell, Prime Shaman Agloolik, the effective head of the Inuit faith, stood near the peak of Mt. McKinley, known to the Inuits as the Spirit's Playground, due to the Inuit belief that the Spirits of the dead danced amongst the stars. Agloolik looked out at the Aurora Borealis, known to the Inuit as the Dance of the Spirits. The Borealis was utterly stunning. It was easy to understand how these wonders had captured the minds and imaginations of the Inuit, as a way to explain both the world around them and what happened when their beloved had perished.

Agloolik was the man responsible for conversing with the spirits, and advising the High Chieftain and Supreme Councilor how to deal with the spiritual needs of both the people, and the spirits themselves. The Shaman spoke out over the mountain. "Oh, great spirits of old!" he said, competing with the loud and vigorous wind so that his voice could be heard. "Spirits, the Inuit people are unsure of what we must do. The foreigners from the land across the great sea still plague our land, but we are unsure of how we can remove them! Oh, great spirits! We ever await your judgement!" Agloolik then bowed towards the Borealis, as if to show a sign of respect towards the Spirits, and then gracefully and gently placed his staff in front of him.

The Shaman then waited for a reply from the Spirits. He sat with his legs crossed, and waited. Many hours passed. As dawn began to break, Agloolik stood up to leave. He was disappointed, the Spirits seemed to have abandoned them. But, then, as Agloolik began to walk away, the wind maneuvered his staff to face south, towards the Native Americans and the Dutch colony. Agloolik then spoke to the spirits. "But how? How can we rid our lands of the foreign invaders?" Aglooik said, looking ever anxiously at the Borealis. After a few seconds had passed, the Shaman believed he heard a voice wispering "The enemy... of my enemy... is my friend..." Agloolik looked slightly puzzled. There was no-one here, and the spirits rarely spoke. It must be important. Agloolik remembered the phrase, and began to trek down the mountain, and prepared himself for the long ride by dog sled towards the Inuit capital of Iqaluit.
Last edited by Caltarania on Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:14 pm, edited 2 times in total.
I'M FROM KYLARIS, AND I'M HERE TO HELP!

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Kryskov
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Ex-Nation

Postby Kryskov » Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:19 pm

Imperium Romanum


Roma
1 Ianuarius, 2253 (Roman Calendar)


Emperor Titus awoke to the view of sunshine gently seeping through the curtains. He had had a good slumber, and now prepared for yet another hectic day in the Aquilan Palace. Titus, celebrating his thirty-seventh birthday but a month ago, had been given the difficult tasks of making sure that the Agrippan reforms started by his father continued. Rome needed, as the New Emperors believed, to transition from a very loosely administrated, vast federation to a centralized and orderly empire, so the non-Italics would remain Roman and not defect to the now-independent states of Francia and Iberia.

Titus made his way, by carriage, to the Via Sacra's intersection with the Forum Romanum and stood inside the the Basilica Iulia, staring at the Via and the thousands of troops that passed below him. It had been mere centuries ago when the Legions were clad with segmented armor, swords, shields, and walked down this very road. Now, they marched in a dark khaki-green blend with an M99 Carcanus rifle in their hands and peaked caps instead of helmets. This was the first "Militum Contionem" since Emperor Agrippa's coronation ceremony. And things had changed. By just looking at the pictures, you could tell that the Legions were now fuller, and the people happier. The Emperor smiled as two Volap flying machines buzzed over. Titus smiled at all the progress.

To the Respective Governments of Anglia and Francia

Sirs,

We realize that the near destruction of the Roman Empire has devastated us all. That being said, the government of Rome would like to acknowledge the importance that all of our nations have in both this continent and Nova Roma across the Atlanticus, and because of such, we believe that it would be in the best interests of all of our people that we ally so as to prevent rogues and savages from crippling us one-by-one.

Sincerely,
Praetor-Altum Gaius Vibius Canus, Head of Foreign Affairs
Last edited by Kryskov on Sun Aug 18, 2013 8:10 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Irrelevance (Ancient)
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Ex-Nation

Postby Irrelevance (Ancient) » Sat Aug 17, 2013 5:05 pm

Emperor Winguric was testing out his new, inscribed revolved on the gun range, finding to his joy that it was near perfect, where he aimed, the shot went, which was much more reliable than the Gothic made arms, they usually misfired after twenty or so shots, just as he was about to shoot again a man walked up behind him.

"This arrived from the Byzantines m'liege" Varus, his Roman courier explained briefly, handing over an envelope sealed with the arms of the Byzantine Republic, and stepping back a bit, giving the Emperor some time, when the response was drafted, Varus would take it to the Imperial Telegram in the Palace.

Vehemia wrote:To: The Carpathian Empire, Gothic Empire, and The Rus

On behalf of the Republic I bid greetings to you, our friends and neighbours. I come to you with a proposition. In these turbulent times it is imperative nations have strong allies to resist any acts of cowardly aggression form outside forces. Therefore, I would like to invite your nations to attend a meeting in Byzantium to discuss the creation of an alliance between our great peoples. I hope you will all agree so we may begin to walk the path of constructive friendship and cooperation.

Sincerely,

Consul Michael Bringas


"Thank you Varus, do you have anything to write... oh, thank you again"

To: Consul Michael Bringas, Byzantine Republic

I would thank you for this invite, it is most true that since the fall of the classical Empires, we found ourselves alone in the world, and the Goths would much rather have you as friends than as enemies, I will travel to Byzantium as soon as is possible, and shall appoint my brother as regent while I am away, you should expect my arrival some time within the next week, depending on how I travel, I hope these talks will have a lasting impact upon our nations and peoples.

Faithfully,

Emperor Winguric


((OOC: Do we have rail networks?))

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Alleniana
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Alleniana » Sat Aug 17, 2013 5:44 pm

The sound of hammering, digging, drilling and general clanking radiated from the long, linear worksite into the mossy, frosty pastures around them. They were building the Great North Railway; an initiative by the government to link the whole country with the new technology of rail. With the fall of the Roman and Mongol empires, the empire had been able to expand rapidly, take advantage of the instability and assert its dominance in a shattered world, where it was one of the only stable structures. Now, that power was put to work, as wealth was taken from the coffers to build this great line. Running from Copenhagen, over a bridge, it went to Stockholm, up north, then down again to Helsinki, then round the Baltic to Mecklenburg. It also had a branch, from Stockholm, where it went off to Olso, then a bit north. Overall, it was a very serious, very large project; possibly the largest project since the electrification of the big cities, namely Oslo, Helsinki, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Danzig and Mecklenburg.

In fact, it was probably bigger than the electrification. That had been almost casual, and partially, it had already begun; the government was only organizing it, and placing the big, belching power plants out of sight. In the smaller towns, it had soon informally, with government aid and overseeing, begun, and even finished in some places. But this was a real, tangible, massive project, which would give the country a great boost, though at great cost.
To the Byzantines and the Goths,
Hello, great nations. Scandinavia is looking for allies, and we believe that you would be very good in that role. It is so, that we extend the hand of friendship to you, and propose a military alliance against our enemies.
From the President of Scandinavia

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Benuty
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Founded: Jan 21, 2013
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Benuty » Sat Aug 17, 2013 6:05 pm

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Fravardin (The first month), Hormuzd ( The first day), 2160 P.Z ( Post Zoroaster).
January 1st, 1500 AD.
The Holy Zoroastrian Sassinid Empire
Tehran, Imperial Capital of the Sassinid Empire.
Festival of Nouruz, ( Festival of the New Year)


It was a time of repentance and celebration, the citizens of the empire adorned white robes symbolizing purity. Truly it was a blessed days in the eyes of Ahura Mazda, the uncreated God of all...who truly had blessed the Sassinids and others for their faith. The market square normally abundant with life was quiet in the city as people celebrated the festival. Those that could be spotted working were the non-Zoroastrian slaves sweeping the streets, getting supplies for their masters, or doing menial tasks. In the Sassinid empire Zoroastrians were forbidden to be inducted into slavery and as the number of pagans born within the nation dropped many resorting to using Indian & Chinese workers. The Grand Temple of Fire is filled with the left over scents of incense as the noon prayer service has just ended a crowd of several people dressed in rather ornate white robes, the women in the crowd were adorned with elegant jewelry possibly from china while fashioning purple coverings. The men of the crowd varied, the Moabadan-Moabad, head priest of Zoroastrianism wore a white robe with scarlet red at the hems & chest area while a gold trimmed Faravahar was in the center of the chest area. Next to him stood the Saoshyant-Shahanshah wearing a distinctly Persian feather hat, flowered necklace, and indigo colored hemming. The two men and their advisers were returning to the Imperial palace for the midday meal among other things mainly diplomacy.

The group sat near each other across a rather adorned table filled with various foods from inside the country and the east. Talking filled the air until a servant clanged a bell, the Saoshyant-Shahanshah had raised his hand demanding silence in the room. " So far it has been a good Festival of Nouruz, we must remember however the situations outside our countries especially to the east, west, north, and south. Unless we are to be boxed in and prevented from expansion I say we use the diplomatic resources we have available to secure the continued existence of the empire".

To: The Dragon Emperor of the East Tao Chong ( Emperor of China, Khan of Mongolia, Protector of Tibet, and King of Korea)
From: Saoshyant-Shahanshah Darius-Xerxes the III ( Emperor of the Persians, King of the Afghans, and Khan of the Western Steppes)

"To the benevolent lord of the people of the East, your empire has grown ten fold since its ascension to become a dragon of empires rivaled by no one not even the Indians to the south nor the Russians to the north. My son Crown Prince Vadhaghan-Xerxes has yet to be married, I believe it would be beneficial to both of our empires if a marriage were to occur between our to nations. The choosing of which house of nobility is entirely up to you, as for the possible benefits of such an arrangement it could open up greater trade possibilities along the silk road and possibly contain the growth of the Indian subcontinent to an acceptable level.

-Faithfully,
Saoshyant-Shahanshah Darius-Xerxes the III
Last edited by Benuty on Sat Aug 17, 2013 6:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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King of Madness in the Right Wing Discussion Thread. Winner of 2016 Posters Award for Insanity. Please be aware my posts in NSG, and P2TM are separate.

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Pavlostani
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Ex-Nation

Postby Pavlostani » Sat Aug 17, 2013 7:38 pm

Aquesta

"Rider!" Running Wind shouted.

"Rider, halt!" The horse slowed to a stop and Nimenke jumped off.

"Nim! What are you doing here? Why aren't you up at Huron?" Wind asked, grinning at the sight of his old friend. Nimenke's face was grave and solemn.

"What? Oh my god, what is that?" Wind grabbed Nimenke's arm and inspected a wound.

"Is that a bullet wound?" Running Wind stared for a few seconds.

"They are coming." Nimenke said before passing out.

On the road to New Londennum

"Nine hundred ninety nine bottles of Cherokee spirits on the wall! Nine hundred-" Yemanka sang in the carriage before his guard, Rameekah snapped,

"Shut the hell up!"

"Okay." Yemanka sighed.

Fort Huron

"You men have fought well." Irawondona said. "It's all I could have asked. But let's face facts. The Cree have overrun the fort. Only a few days remain before they march on Aquesta. We have gunpowder storages that we will not allow to fall under the Cree yoke. Do we have anybody who wishes to remain behind to detonate them?" A single hand went up.

"Melboreka, you will stand over Aquesta in bronze for your brave sacrifice." Melboreka nodded respectfully. His wife had died recently from the flu, since then he had lost the will to live.

"Let's go. To Aquesta!" Irawondona shouted.

"To Aquesta!" The refugees began their journey south. Behind them, flames erupted into the skies as Melboreka detonated the gunpowder.
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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Caltarania
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Founded: Feb 01, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby Caltarania » Sun Aug 18, 2013 3:22 am

Iqaluit, the Great White North

(For effect, play this music in the background. Repeat when necessary.)

At around noon, Agloolik arrived at the Inuit capital of Iqaluit. It was very different to where the Inuit used to live. It was not a small collection of tents, it was in fact a bustling metropolis, filled with over a million people; a fifth of the entire Inuit population. It was odd, how the city managed to keep nature and industry to work in perfect harmony. The factories, which produced weapons such as rifles for the Inuit, hummed alongside the unmistakable sound of sleigh bells; as men return from the hunt to sell their meat at the market. The majority of food the Inuit consumed was meat. There were families, known to the Inuit as Tuvaaq's, which is the Inuit word for Hunter, who hunt meat and sell it to the Inuit people.

The dog sleigh pulling Agloolik gradually came to a stop. Agloolik conversed with and comforted his sleigh dogs for a short while, before heading towards the house of High Chieftain Akiak. The house was nothing special, it had two muscular and armed guards, who wielded a rifle each, and a few decorations. Other than that, it would be hard to notice that this house was home to the effective monarch of the Inuit. Prime Shaman Agloolik entered without question. It was no mystery that he was the Prime Shaman, effectively every Inuit newspaper had told of it. As soon as Agloolik entered, Akiak immediately greeted him.

"Ah, Agloolik. I am glad you are here, the spirits have... spoken to me." After Akiak had said this, Agloolik replied almost immediately after. "Is that so? Well, that is most strange. I believe that the spirits have conversed with me also. They said 'The enemy, of my enemy, is my friend'." Akiak looked increasingly puzzled. "That is what the spirits spoke of with myself, also! But what does it mean?" Akiak said, looking ever more worried and puzzled. Agloolik replied "I believe the spirits wish for us to ally with the Natives to the south, and to reclaim our rightful lands from the Dutch."

Akiak nodded. "Indeed, that would make sense. Well then, I will alert the Council, you and Supreme Councilor Alornerk shall travel south, along with around twenty other men, and converse with the Northern Confederacy and the The Cherokee Republic. Make haste, my friend." And with that, Akiak left the building, with Agloolik following soon afterwards. Agloolik headed to Alorneck, asked him to join him, gathered around twenty five men, and headed south, towards the Northern Confederacy.
Last edited by Caltarania on Sun Aug 18, 2013 3:24 am, edited 3 times in total.
I'M FROM KYLARIS, AND I'M HERE TO HELP!

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Of the Quendi
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Of the Quendi » Sun Aug 18, 2013 9:03 am

Tinariwén
On the outskirts of the Holy City of Tamenɣest, Kel Ahaggar
The Tribal Confederation of the Tuaregs and the Empire upon the Niger


Image


Dihya Imúšaɣ Kel Ahaggar




Tinariwén, the Deserts, the land the Arabs had named aṣ-Ṣaḥrāʾ al-Kubrā, the Greatest Desert, the land that had conquered the Romans rather than be conquered by them, was a fearsome place that throughout the history of Man had been a world of its own, isolated from the gentler places of creation. Bathed in the merciless rays of a scorching sun the towering sand dunes would have made for a majestic and beautiful sight had there been people there to see. But in Tinariwén, the greatest of the trials that God had sent the Tuaregs, the God Forsaken Folk, few walked.

Yet the desert was not entirely empty. On a sand dune stood a solitary figure, huddled in an indigo colored tagelmust, the figure seemed as much a part of Tinariwén as the sand and the sun as it moved slowly but steadily southwards. Covered entirely behind the protective cotton of the tagelmust as the teachings of God commanded only a narrow crevasse from which the eyes of the solitary Imuhagh peered out meticulously scanning Tinariwén through deep intense pools of almost blackness, eyes that missed nothing and absorbed everything. In the cloth covered hands the Imuhagh held the weaponry of Muad'Dib's trusted soldiers, the Takoba and the Tagheda, and across the back of the soldier was a masterfully crafted taganze and a quiver of the amur with which it would bring death upon the heads of those infidels that would defy God. A Sheru and a concealed Tellak finished the uniform, the lone Tuareg was no ordinary Imuhagh but an Imúšaɣ, an anointed warrior of God.

But nor was the desert walker any ordinary imúšaɣ. Beneath the man's tagelmust she wore was a woman, Dihya of Muad'Dib's own Kel, a warrior princess, descending from Tin Hinan and the first Dihya who had made Romans flee. For many days she had walked Tinariwén alone, she had nought but disdain for camels and company both, marching across the scorched deserts from the once Roman city of Tripoli to Holy Tamenɣest. She knew that the Romans would have said that it was a journey more than a thousand mile long but cared not. For the Imuhagh such measurement was pointless. The moon had been waxing when she departed the city of the infidels, now, as she neared the holy city, it was waning, that was all the measurement she needed.

When she came within sight of the Holy City, sacred Tamenɣest, the place where the first Muad'Dib had first preached the word of God, Dihya fell to her knees in the sand all weariness and exhaustion fading away before the indisputable holiness of Muad'Dib's city. With unrestrained intensity the Dihya prostrated herself and prayed with fervor and faith void of doubt. The words of the Book which she knew better than her own soul came to her with ease and she readily submitted herself to God.

The sun was lower when she finally rose. It now shone from the west down upon Tamenɣest as the night was nearing. Dihya had best hurry. As she came closer to the city her keen imúšaɣ senses told her that something had changed in the city since her departure. The Muad'Dibs had never suffered Tamenɣest to grow too as large as the city-states of the Empire, and cities like Gao or Timbouctou could have easily absorbed Tamenɣest. But as she neared it, it became clear to Dihya that the solemn but sleepy city she had left had turned into a vibrant and lively place filled with a newfound zest. It could mean but one thing. "Muad'Dib." Dihya solemnly whispered her sensual voice trembling in wonder and joy. She increased her pace, eager to reach the city.

Tamenɣest was yet a city of the old world. The city had fortunately been spared the industrialization that Muad'Dib had commenced in Gao and Timbouctou and the other southern cities and as she entered it Dihya immediately felt at home. Madrazas and Masjids filled the city and the people was soft spoken and modest in recognition of the fact that they inhabited the spiritual center of the world. Infidels was under penalty of death barred from entering the city. Truly it was a place to be spared the industry and corruption of the Kingdoms of the Niger.

But Dihya had no time to wander the streets of fair Tamenɣest not even to pray in the Masjids that was teeming with pious pilgrims. Muad'Dib awaited her. Quickly the young female imúšaɣ walked towards the large fortress looming over the oasis city that the first Muad'Dib had erected to give the tribes a center of their fragmented and divided nation. The guards, indeed the bodyguard of young imúšaɣ protecting the Amenokal of Amenokals, immediately allowed Dihya through recognizing her by her walk and her posture in the absence of any distinguishable features, covered as she was behind her tagelmust.

But she could not go directly to see God's Chosen. Before the door to Muad'Dib's personal chambers she was intercepted by the Azam Wazir, Warmaksan Inhædˤæn Kel Ahaggar. The Azam Wazir was a lithe man with black oiled hair and a large well trimmed beard, both of which was beginning to grey. The man had a dignified and astute face with keen and observant eyes. "Salaam, Dihya Imúšaɣ, Beloved of the God's Beloved, may you walk in God's Light and may He forever be with you." He greeted Dihya with a light bow. Raising her hands towards her still huddled face in subservience Dihya meekly replied; "Salaam, Warmaksan Inhædˤæn Azam Wazir, Servant of the God's Servant, may you walk in God's Light and may He forever be with you, most worthy Lord."

The Azam Wazir clapped his wrinkly hand together gently. "Muad'Dib, may he live forever, will rejoice to hear of your return Dihya Imúšaɣ, but what news bring you from Tripoli, of the lands of the Romans, and the infidels that rule them." The Azam Wazir spoke ceremoniously. "Word of Romans who are Romans and Romans who are Greeks and of empires rising from the ashes of an Empire. But nought which is truly news Azam Wazir. The heirs of Rome have become strong of body by their industry but are weak of mind by their rejection of God's truth. They are nought but dust to the Imuhagh." Dihya, equally ceremoniously, responded. The Azam Wazir nodded his head ponderously but his words where not ones of agreement. "It may well be, oh Beloved of God's Beloved, that Muad'Dib may think differently. For as God has blessed him to live his entire life in a time without Romans he may see what neither his Servant or his Beloved can; that with the demise of the Roman infidels no power remains to threaten his People should their righteous path lead them north. For when at last God has ridden his Chosen People of the scourge of Rome what can it mean but that the time has come for Muad'Dib to lead the People forward?" The Azam Wazir mused in a tone that, had it not been sacrilege, could have almost passed for sarcasm.

Dihya glared at the Azam Wazir with deadly intent in her black eyes. The Azam Wazir had been a large and strong man once, but no more. Dihya could have easily reached her left hand towards her right forearm where her Tellak was held in a concealed sheath. Not as much as a scream would escape the Azam Wazir before he was under her knife like so many of the savages of the south that had risen up against Muad'Dib the year before. "There is no God but God and Muad'Dib is his Servant." Dihya pridefully declared with adamant conviction, her gaze piercing the Azam Wazir. The man merely raised his hands to his face in submission. "Praised be to God, Blessed be Muad'Dib." He pliantly remarked. Then, with a mock gesture towards the chambers of Muad'Dib the Azam Wazir had the final word. "Muad'Dib awaits you Dihya Imúšaɣ, Beloved of God's Beloved. May you walk in God's Light and may He forever be with you." The man spoke with a curt nod before leaving Dihya before the door to Muad'Dib's chambers to meet God's Chosen.
Nation RP name
Arda i Eruhíni (short form)
Alcarinqua ar Meneldëa Arda i Eruhíni i sé Amanaranyë ar Aramanaranyë (long form)

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Chemaki
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Founded: Apr 23, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Chemaki » Sun Aug 18, 2013 9:06 am

Mzuzu, Lake Malawi, Mutastani border

The armored car came skidding to a halt as it waited outside the town's gates. Even with its cohort of Dragoons, the formation was still outnumbered by the Tumbuka tribesmen who waited on the town's battlements, chanting at the group below. Quaif Al-Shaddi, the Commanding Officer, opened the thick steel door of the car and stepped out, shading his eyes against the sun. He looked at the Tumbuka Chieftain, a tall, heavy-set man by the name of N'kumbe. Information from Kurdish scouts and local informants revealed N'kumbe to be a ruthless fighter, harassing the other tribes that lived by the lake; if Al-Shaddi were to exterminate the Tumbaka tribe, his superiors assured him that Kurdish influence in the region would wax as local tribes looked to the Kurds for protection. With South Africa the only major threat to Mutastan, it was important that the thinly-spread Kurdish army, along with its local auxiliary forces, expanded their reach.

"Leave this town, Kurd."

Al-Shaddi's face broke into a thin smile as the Chieftain broke his composure. As N'kumbe readied his spear and his bodyguards advanced on the car, Al-Shaddi simply paced back to the car. None of the Africans had guns: The Tumbaka were a conservative people, trying to establish their own empire on their own rules. They were overconfident of their own power, and looked down on firearms as cowardly and ineffective. The officer from Kurdistan was about to prove them wrong. He closed the door of the car, and with a nod to the driver, the vehicle began to reverse away from the town. The Dragoons, sensing the tension of the situation breaking, turned their backs to the tribesmen and began to trot away from the jeering tribesmen. A minute later, the car shook violently as the artillery on the foothills around the village opened fire. The Tumbaka were about to see the real power of Kurdish weaponry. A split second after the pom-pom-pom of the Kurdish autocannons sounded, the gatehouse was engulfed in a cloud of fire and smoke, the distant screams of the villagers masked by the explosions of artillery shells. The small group of Dragoons abruptly turned around to observe the bombardment; Al-Shaddi himself opened a small hatch at the top of the car to peer out. After a few minutes, the artillery stopped firing as suddenly as it began.

"Dragoons. Now it's time to clean up."

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Epraria
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Founded: Oct 06, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Epraria » Sun Aug 18, 2013 1:25 pm

中國帝國
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Tao read the Persian letter again and again. It was indeed an surprise but an potentially good surprise. China and especially he could need a strong ally and a secure western border. The prospect of increased trade and containment of the Indians to the south where also tempting prospects. He needed to be careful though as the Persians where deeply religious and if he did something that went against their religion could deeply hurt relations. He did finally write an letter to the Persians though after some thinking.

To: Saoshyant-Shahanshah Darius-Xerxes the III ( Emperor of the Persians, King of the Afghans, and Khan of the Western Steppes)
From: The Dragon Emperor of the East Tao Chong ( Emperor of China, Khan of Mongolia, Protector of Tibet, and King of Korea)

I am glad that you most benevolent ruler of Persia has turned to china for a wife for your heir. As for who your heir is to marry I offer my daughter princes Chun Chong. I hope that the marriage succeeds and that prosperity and peace will follow both our nations after it.

Sincerely
The Dragon Emperor of China Tao Chong.
You can call me Easy-E or Eppie if you want but you can if you are really lazy call me Ep.
I am Spanish so don't ever expect me to have anything close to perfect grammar.
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I will not pay my taxes this year :p

After all, I recieved a letter from the City of Warsaw recognizing me as an indepedent apartment.


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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
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Founded: Jun 08, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Sun Aug 18, 2013 5:19 pm

Novum Londennum, Anglian Colonies, The Kingdom of Anglia


Tribal Chief Long Paw of the Secotan urged his stallion forward into fledgling city. Ahead a column of 30 mounted ornately dressed and well armed Secotan Dragoons and Cherokee Raiders. Each was armed with a Model 95 Nikwasi Carbine and a traditional Cherokee bow. Long Paw himself wore the intricate Secotan vestment traditional to a Chief of the Tribe. The garb was a flowing deerskin and and beaver piece that was decorated with various designs and inlays. He bore a Toketu, the symbol of office for a Tribal Chief. As he rode past the outskirts of the city, he turned to a civilian and asked, "Child, where might we find this Governor-General of the Anglican Colony of Williamslund fellow? Or do I have to rape and reave to find this man?" The chastened woman pointed towards the center of town. The column rode on.

Plains of Lucia, Lucaya, Eastern Isles

Shoomani blood pulsed as he rode up he hill. Behind him and around him, axe and bow wielding Lucayans battled carbine using Cherokee. The battle so far had been bloody, for both the natives and Cherokee. The Cherokee vanguard, some 500 men spread over 10 miles had been circumvented by the Lucayan Natives, who had been alerted to the invasion fleet by fishermen presumably. The natives had amassed some 3,000 men from all over the island, and while not mounted, had ambushed the main host of the Republican Army in the forest. The worst surprise came in the form of single shot Berdan Rifles that about a third of the natives had. Those cut a bloody swath in the unsuspecting Raiders, but the riles had neither the range nor speed of the N95 Carbines used by the Raiders. In the close combat of the forest however, the bows proved more effecive. Soon the battle shifted onto the nearby field where they now fought.

Shoomani aimed and shot a perusing Lucayans through the chest. The man dropped his axe as a red swell formed on his chest. Shoomani wheeled his horse and ran down and bayoneted another Lucayan, but not soon enough to stop his from turning a Raider into a pincushion for his arrows. Shoomani looked for a new target, but saw only fellow raiders. Shouting to one, he asked if they had one. The man responded that the Lucayans had broken and fled. Another retorted that loosing almost all your army, then retreating wasn't quite the same as breaking. Shoomani interjected by declaring that whether they broke or not was irrelevant. They had won.

Luca, Eastern Isles

Following the battle on the plains, the city had capitulated. The victorious cavalrymen rode through the savage city, watched by the yes of the natives. One corporal muttered to another, "Bit ironic, isn't it. Natives invading and conquering others."
I'm really tired

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