1850: The White Man's Burden (IC/AH/Open)

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

She smiled, "I am sure you will. Mexico is a strong place, and it treats its people well." she gave in reply, hoping to perhaps lift the spirits of the man she conversed with. That little reassuring statement, she hoped, would be a good answer to his concerns about the unity and lasting strength of the Mexicans. She thought about how big Mexico felt compared to her own people. It was, all things considered, a bit humbling. While Mexico united diverse peoples, the Karankawa were a single ethnicity banded together. Five tribes, once distinct, banded together under their common identity. The Atakapans had a few bands that lived like the Karankawa, and the Tonkawa cousins could've been friends, but the Karankawa instead chose to remain a single ethnicity banded as a single great chiefdom. Even still, it was a level of accomplishment hardly seen elsewhere in the Americas among the indigenous peoples. Her people were modest and humble, if anything, and so even being dwarfed by Mexico, she was content with the state of her nation.

" Thank you ma'am." He said, tipping his hat. " This whole thing makes me glad I have allies somewhere, besides ones that are just there to fill their fat cats pockets." Huddleston remarked, spitting dryly into the dust as he seemingly attempted to dig a hole in the bricked walkway.

" Why, Ma'am. I just realized I've got a few Dôllars on myself right now, why don't we head up town to a nice swanky little shop I know of. It makes the best Boots in town, I swear on my dear mother." He chuckled slightly, beginning up the path.

"That sounds lovely." she replied, letting go of her stoic demeanor. It was a common appearance that the Karankawa kept with foreigners, regardless of status. Be they friendly, foe, or anywhere between, the Karankawa were determined, it seemed, to appear stoic and apathetic. Still, though, Tuwamka was getting tired of it, and felt a desire to simply be more open with the kind man. He was, after all, buying her boots after offering his own. Showing a little gratitude was the least she could do.

[Republic of Coldwater]

The Scout felt a great, tantalizing pain in his back as he fell off his horse, lifeless, dead. The horse made a loud cry as he fell from the horse, altering both the Natives and the two remaining scouts in the field. Corporal Yeager thought Shit, they probably shot him, not guns, but some native contraption, or else there would be a gunshot as he, and the remaining private step back from the log, wearily holding their muskets as they pull the cock and put on the percussion cap. Corporal Yeager then told the remaining private "Frank, those redskin assholes are probably raping his corpse, go back to town, I'll shoot as many of those nigger loving brownskins as I could" Frank nodded as he went further down a poorly trodden path in the foliage, back to the town.

For Corporal Yeager, he knew that they fired the first shot. This was a declaration of war. Loading his revolver, the Corporal went up the hill, took aim at a Mexican soldier and fired a shot, before pulling out his revolver and attempting to empty it into the sea of Mexicans, knowing that he shall die, or get captured as a result.

The Town
The Scout ran, panting with exhiliration as Lieutenant Gordon quickly ran to the scout. "Lieu...tenant....Mexicans....they are coming.....prepare for attack" said Frank as he fell on the ground, drenched in his threat. "Shit!" yelled Gordon as he ordered his men to build entrenchments and prepare for a Mexican attack, whilst sending one of his men to report the information to Calhoun, where Colonel Davis was located to prepare for war. "If those spiks were to come and attack us, lets give them hell!" yelled Gordon as his men cheered, loaded their muskets, and readied themselves for battle.

With Jackson

Jackson felt hot, crimson fluid spatter against his cheek as he felt his revolver jerk in his hand, three sporadic shells exploding from his firearm as he furiously shot at the man, his fury over the death of his Lieutenant seeming to carry each round into the man with the seething anger festering within him.

Gesturing with the weapon, felt a fire within him swell with his fury. " Get into formation boys! I want a few meters between each of you, but I want three rows of ten in a wedge formation! Grenadiers and riflemen will head out with Captain James Daniels, and head west, you'll probe these bastards western flank, draw they're attention. Our thundermakers will head with Nate Turner and light them up! Be aware that it will take a long time for Nate to make the journey, and you will be without proper artillery cover until then. Use the forest fire to your advantage and think smart."

Giving a furious roar, Jackson howled into the night as all of his 35 men roared in fury, following him and his horse towards the town.

Corporal Yeager was shot three times, straight in the torso as he fell to the ground, just as his blood spilled over the land of his country. Jackson's a nice shot thought Yeager, before a bright, luminescent light went before him, then afterwards, it was all dark. Over the corpse of Yeager, the Mexicans marched upon the town, and for the Vlotheidan soldiers in the town, the battle was coming. With only two artillery pieces, Gordon knew that if the Mexicans had more artillery, he would easily be overwhelmed, but he needed to take his chances, and he cannot so simply relinquish a town he pledged to defend.

As the Mexicans came into view, the muskets and cannons of Vlotheidan troops started roaring. Covering all the flanks of the small town, the men, experienced fighting Native Americans and rebellious negroes fired their rifled muskets as if they could do it in their sleep. An automated process, the Vlotheidans leveled their lead against the Mexicans, but the Mexicans were good too, taking good cover and making them hard targets to hit. The two cannons roared ferociously, but they were old, smoothbore cannons that have been obsolete in the rest of the army, yet for troops in the rural frontier, you were considered lucky to even have artillery.

The fight had come to a stalemate, with both sides being seemingly unable to get an advantage over each other. Gordon, remembering his lessons from the revered General Forrest planned a strong flanking attack. Using half of his reserves, they would hit the left of the detachment that were attempting to hit the left of the city, flanking a flank attack, something his highly mobile and agile force were trained for. The men readied their muskets, and started to attack the force attacking their left flank.

[Escanthea]

Het Republiek Vlotheid

(Image)

Charleston, Caroline De South
The breeze of the Atlantic flew into the front porch of the prepossessing plantation, as gray, ominous clouds floated slowly over the Atlantic and into Charleston harbor. Sitting in an immaculate swivel chair was Prime Minister Van Bert, drinking a small glass of whiskey as he relishes with a cigar in his mouth. The ashes slowly drip off the chestnut contraption as Van Bert notes that a small nation lied to the northwest of Caroline De North. Though small in territory, its population was a third of Vlotheid's, and using that population, it has become a strong exporter of the same crops that Vlotheid farms, leading to low prices, hurting their respective economies. He knew that any invasion wasn't going to be popular with those in Caroline De North, whom profited from trade, and would take resources away from the tension-ridden border with the Mexicans, and against his party platform. Yet, he knew that if both nations could unite under a single banner, that the combined mercantile and human prowess can more easily overcome others and assert control over the world cash crop market.

"Colton" said Van Bert, addressing his secretary "Get me a sheet of paper". Colton nodded, and gave him a pen, a small bottle of ink and an umber sheet of paper. Van Bert nodded, laid the items to the nearest table and wrote a message to those men in Virginia

From: Virgil Van Bert, Prime Minister, Het Republiek Vlotheid

To: President Robert J. Calhoun, President, Republic of Virginia

---

President Calhoun,

As you know, both of our nations have been the primary exporters and facilitators of various crops of value; tobacco, cotton and a plethora of others upon this great continent, and that as a result, our two nations have, to a certain persuasion, pitted our mercantile powers against one another.

Our two nations share a common linguistic heritage, a somewhat common Anglo-Saxon bequeathment and the same interest: to create an agrarian eden where we shall facilitate a golden circle upon this continent, to dominate the world crop market and assert our hegemony.

If we shall unite under a single Confederacy, under a single banner, where our two nations shall have equal representation in our new legislature, then we shall be stronger, more powerful and become one, single golden circle, setting prices of our exports however we wish, and fighting against the incursion of the Spaniards as did we many years ago, except this time, this time we shall win, for this time, we shall become a lush, sultry and powerful Confederacy, unprecedented in the annals of history

Sincerely,

Virgil Van Bert, Prime Minister, Het Republiek Vlotheid

"So it begins" muttered the president.
Mexico and Vlotheid were gearing up for war. Whichever would win would dominate the South of North America. The conflict was tearing at the fabric of the little country of Virginia. On the one hand, if they helped Mexico they were guaranteed a victory and lands of their own, but on the other hand Mexico was hardly their friend and had made it perfectly clear they would be used as little more than a puppet. Vlotheid, while being a more risky side to join, shared more cultural ties with Virginia than the brown folk of Mexico ever could hope to. It was indeed a tough decision...
"Richard!" the president called for his secretary, "I need you to deliver this letter to the marked address. We're gearing up for war..."

[New Rnclave]

With Jackson

Jackson felt hot, crimson fluid spatter against his cheek as he felt his revolver jerk in his hand, three sporadic shells exploding from his firearm as he furiously shot at the man, his fury over the death of his Lieutenant seeming to carry each round into the man with the seething anger festering within him.

Gesturing with the weapon, felt a fire within him swell with his fury. " Get into formation boys! I want a few meters between each of you, but I want three rows of ten in a wedge formation! Grenadiers and riflemen will head out with Captain James Daniels, and head west, you'll probe these bastards western flank, draw they're attention. Our thundermakers will head with Nate Turner and light them up! Be aware that it will take a long time for Nate to make the journey, and you will be without proper artillery cover until then. Use the forest fire to your advantage and think smart."

Giving a furious roar, Jackson howled into the night as all of his 35 men roared in fury, following him and his horse towards the town.

Corporal Yeager was shot three times, straight in the torso as he fell to the ground, just as his blood spilled over the land of his country. Jackson's a nice shot thought Yeager, before a bright, luminescent light went before him, then afterwards, it was all dark. Over the corpse of Yeager, the Mexicans marched upon the town, and for the Vlotheidan soldiers in the town, the battle was coming. With only two artillery pieces, Gordon knew that if the Mexicans had more artillery, he would easily be overwhelmed, but he needed to take his chances, and he cannot so simply relinquish a town he pledged to defend.

As the Mexicans came into view, the muskets and cannons of Vlotheidan troops started roaring. Covering all the flanks of the small town, the men, experienced fighting Native Americans and rebellious negroes fired their rifled muskets as if they could do it in their sleep. An automated process, the Vlotheidans leveled their lead against the Mexicans, but the Mexicans were good too, taking good cover and making them hard targets to hit. The two cannons roared ferociously, but they were old, smoothbore cannons that have been obsolete in the rest of the army, yet for troops in the rural frontier, you were considered lucky to even have artillery.

The fight had come to a stalemate, with both sides being seemingly unable to get an advantage over each other. Gordon, remembering his lessons from the revered General Forrest planned a strong flanking attack. Using half of his reserves, they would hit the left of the detachment that were attempting to hit the left of the city, flanking a flank attack, something his highly mobile and agile force were trained for. The men readied their muskets, and started to attack the force attacking their left flank.

With Jackson

Despite several men falling, he could tell his men stood strong. Another volley of musket fire echoed into the night as his men unloaded another hellish group of lead.

" Stand strong men! We won't fall to these fools!" Jackson roared, the racket of musket and artillery fire filling his ears as his men regrouped, letting loose another volley. But a thunderous explosion of fire from his left stole his attention. Seemingly out of nowhere, men peaked the hill, muskets raised as furious roar ripped from them, bullets popping around his head as his left flank clashed with the larger force.

He could tell his men were at a disadvantage. These men had not only the speed at which they attacked, but his left flank was too small to push back the force. The only option was to hold.

" Give them everything you've got! Fight for Mexico!" He shouted, firing his own revolver into the group of soldiers as they struggled to remain afoot.

Private Daniel Walters, screamed as he dove back into the fray, a butt stroke knocking him from his feet and dislocating his jaw. Driving his bayonet forward, he felt blood spatter against his left hand as it found its home in an enemy soldier. Ripping it loose, he brought the stock to bear, driving it across the poor sods face. He could feel men all around him doing the same, fighting, attempting to hold.

With James Daniels

The cool night wind was offset by the heat of the fire. That was the only non worrying thing he could think about. As him and 20 other men crept along the trees, James could see the side they were to attack, and he knew he had to do it before Jackson was overwhelmed. But, he couldn't stop the apprehension building in his tired muscles. It was when he heard a scream from beside him, a rallying cry as men charged forward. Gritting his teeth, James followed their lead, even though he was the Captain. Peaking over a hill, he saw the defenders of the town, dug in and ready to fight to the death.

" For Mèxico!" The war cry echoed out into the night, as James and many others raised their muskets and fired the first volley into the defenders.

[New Rnclave]

" Thank you ma'am." He said, tipping his hat. " This whole thing makes me glad I have allies somewhere, besides ones that are just there to fill their fat cats pockets." Huddleston remarked, spitting dryly into the dust as he seemingly attempted to dig a hole in the bricked walkway.

" Why, Ma'am. I just realized I've got a few Dôllars on myself right now, why don't we head up town to a nice swanky little shop I know of. It makes the best Boots in town, I swear on my dear mother." He chuckled slightly, beginning up the path.

"That sounds lovely." she replied, letting go of her stoic demeanor. It was a common appearance that the Karankawa kept with foreigners, regardless of status. Be they friendly, foe, or anywhere between, the Karankawa were determined, it seemed, to appear stoic and apathetic. Still, though, Tuwamka was getting tired of it, and felt a desire to simply be more open with the kind man. He was, after all, buying her boots after offering his own. Showing a little gratitude was the least she could do.

" Of course. This way." Huddleston remarked, setting off towards the shop just a few blocks down. Allies were always welcome, but actual friends to Mexcio would be more useful then any allies. Especially after this war was over, when Mexico would have to face the world it'd created.

" Here it is!" William said, turning to the shop owner." Hello Samantha, nice to see you again, I brought this woman to get a pair of boots, seeing as the hot brick path hurt her, and she is a guest."

[Franco-Iberie]

De Fogo Munitions Factory, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
1850 was going to be one hell of a busy year for the owner of the De Fogo Ironworks. The government had sent an order to De Fogo Works and other factories in Sao Paulo for 100 field guns by the end of the year. Despite the task that lay ahead of them, they were determined to get the order finished.

Belo Horizante, Brazil
As the last stone in the road linking the coastal city of Vitoria and the small inland city of Belo Horizante was laid down, spectators cheered and journalists took photographs for their newspapers. This was only the first phase in the Viceroy's grand plan to lay out an efficient road network in Southern Brazil, the workers who had just finished the road would have little time to rest. Now they would link Belo Horizante to the even smaller inland city of Goiania in 9 months.

Rio de Janeiro
Viceroy Pedro II leafed through reports of road building and gun making while unwinding in his office, which was dull in comparison to the rest of the palace. He had heard rumors of his liege planning to expand the colony and would have to investigate.

To: King Oscar IV, by Grace of God King of Portugal, Brazil, East Timor, Ceylon, and Goa
From: Representative of his majesty in the colony of Brazil, Viceroy Pedro II
I have been informed that you are planning to expand my holdings here in the world. I know that you are a busy man but I would like to schedule a meeting between the two of us, in Rio de Janeiro or Lisbon.
-Thank you,

As he sent the letter he wondered if there was anything else he was missing. "Ah, yes." He thought. "The letter from Mexico." He said wetting his pen in ink again as he pulled a piece of paper from his desk.

To: President Migguel Huddledton of the United States of Mexico
From: Representative of his majesty Oscar IV in the colony of Brazil, Viceroy Pedro II
We thank you for including us in your alliance and we wish to attend your proposed conference in Mexico City as we agree that Kalifornya is merely an extension of Russian Imperialism, but we must first acquire permission from our liege. If they accept then we will send a delegate to your conference. Once again, we thank you for your inclusion of us.
-Thank you,

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

"That sounds lovely." she replied, letting go of her stoic demeanor. It was a common appearance that the Karankawa kept with foreigners, regardless of status. Be they friendly, foe, or anywhere between, the Karankawa were determined, it seemed, to appear stoic and apathetic. Still, though, Tuwamka was getting tired of it, and felt a desire to simply be more open with the kind man. He was, after all, buying her boots after offering his own. Showing a little gratitude was the least she could do.

" Of course. This way." Huddleston remarked, setting off towards the shop just a few blocks down. Allies were always welcome, but actual friends to Mexcio would be more useful then any allies. Especially after this war was over, when Mexico would have to face the world it'd created.

" Here it is!" William said, turning to the shop owner." Hello Samantha, nice to see you again, I brought this woman to get a pair of boots, seeing as the hot brick path hurt her, and she is a guest."

Tuwamka mostly seemed confused at this point, perhaps feeling a bit awkward. Introductions were never a strong point, and it all seemed so sudden, really. She imagined herself in the place of the shoemaker and began to question how baffled she must be. In any case, she snapped back to reality, and nodded, giving little other indication of actually paying that much attention to what was going on around her. Once again, she tried to appear emotionless and direct, a silent and mysterious figure of some sort, as the people of her tribe tended to project themselves.

[Republic of Coldwater]

Corporal Yeager was shot three times, straight in the torso as he fell to the ground, just as his blood spilled over the land of his country. Jackson's a nice shot thought Yeager, before a bright, luminescent light went before him, then afterwards, it was all dark. Over the corpse of Yeager, the Mexicans marched upon the town, and for the Vlotheidan soldiers in the town, the battle was coming. With only two artillery pieces, Gordon knew that if the Mexicans had more artillery, he would easily be overwhelmed, but he needed to take his chances, and he cannot so simply relinquish a town he pledged to defend.

As the Mexicans came into view, the muskets and cannons of Vlotheidan troops started roaring. Covering all the flanks of the small town, the men, experienced fighting Native Americans and rebellious negroes fired their rifled muskets as if they could do it in their sleep. An automated process, the Vlotheidans leveled their lead against the Mexicans, but the Mexicans were good too, taking good cover and making them hard targets to hit. The two cannons roared ferociously, but they were old, smoothbore cannons that have been obsolete in the rest of the army, yet for troops in the rural frontier, you were considered lucky to even have artillery.

The fight had come to a stalemate, with both sides being seemingly unable to get an advantage over each other. Gordon, remembering his lessons from the revered General Forrest planned a strong flanking attack. Using half of his reserves, they would hit the left of the detachment that were attempting to hit the left of the city, flanking a flank attack, something his highly mobile and agile force were trained for. The men readied their muskets, and started to attack the force attacking their left flank.

With Jackson

Despite several men falling, he could tell his men stood strong. Another volley of musket fire echoed into the night as his men unloaded another hellish group of lead.

" Stand strong men! We won't fall to these fools!" Jackson roared, the racket of musket and artillery fire filling his ears as his men regrouped, letting loose another volley. But a thunderous explosion of fire from his left stole his attention. Seemingly out of nowhere, men peaked the hill, muskets raised as furious roar ripped from them, bullets popping around his head as his left flank clashed with the larger force.

He could tell his men were at a disadvantage. These men had not only the speed at which they attacked, but his left flank was too small to push back the force. The only option was to hold.

" Give them everything you've got! Fight for Mexico!" He shouted, firing his own revolver into the group of soldiers as they struggled to remain afoot.

Private Daniel Walters, screamed as he dove back into the fray, a butt stroke knocking him from his feet and dislocating his jaw. Driving his bayonet forward, he felt blood spatter against his left hand as it found its home in an enemy soldier. Ripping it loose, he brought the stock to bear, driving it across the poor sods face. He could feel men all around him doing the same, fighting, attempting to hold.

With James Daniels

The cool night wind was offset by the heat of the fire. That was the only non worrying thing he could think about. As him and 20 other men crept along the trees, James could see the side they were to attack, and he knew he had to do it before Jackson was overwhelmed. But, he couldn't stop the apprehension building in his tired muscles. It was when he heard a scream from beside him, a rallying cry as men charged forward. Gritting his teeth, James followed their lead, even though he was the Captain. Peaking over a hill, he saw the defenders of the town, dug in and ready to fight to the death.

" For Mèxico!" The war cry echoed out into the night, as James and many others raised their muskets and fired the first volley into the defenders.

Jackson's Wing
"WHOP THOSE NIGGER LOVING SPIKS!" yelled a Sergeant as he emptied his six shots into the enemy line, before pulling out a shotgun and firing another blast, killing as many of those men as they could. The once calm, irrelevant town has been tarnished with the blood of both Vlotheidans and Mexicans as they fired their muskets as if they were a blind stallion, galloping and galloping without questioning their surroundings, just hoping that their automation, their training would help them endure the fray. The flanking maneuver worked, and the Mexicans were at a disadvantage. Yet, the line was held, barely. Though they were suffering casualties, Colonel Andrew Jackson truly had the loyalty of his men, for Jackson's men were willing to die with Jackson if that meant not retreating.

However, for the men of the flanking maneuver, they knew that if they could break this line, the day would be theirs. "CHARGE!" yelled the Sergeant as the one and a half dozen men exerted their yell, a raucous, high-pitched sound as they ran towards the enemy as if they were running to kill the devil himself. "FOR VLOTHEID!" yelled the Sergeant, "FOR VLOTHEID!" yelled the men with greater vigor as they came to completely decimate the enemy line.

With Gordon

"Jackson, he is a good colonel" said Lieutenant Gordon as his aide quickly ran to him and said "Sir, another detachment of those browns, they are approaching another flank, lets use the second cannon on them". Gordon nodded in approval as he saw another man crawl back into town. His leg was barely tangling on his torso as another wave of crimson blood gushed out of his leg. The man whimpered in excruciating pain. "GET A MEDIC!" yelled Gordon as he looked at the man's injury, petrified.

Daniel's attack
The men looked at Daniel's men as if they were imbeciles, a group of people inferior to the Dutch and Anglo-Saxon heritage that Vlotheid was comprised of. The men cared little for honor and fired their first volley, before a shell from the smoothbore cannon pounded into their line. "Those spiks, they came to be destroyed. Let us conquer, or let us die!" yelled the Vlotheidan sergeant as he fired two rounds from his revolver into the line. The men once again made the yell the men on the left flank made, and through that yell, did the bloodbath begin.

[New Rnclave]

" Of course. This way." Huddleston remarked, setting off towards the shop just a few blocks down. Allies were always welcome, but actual friends to Mexcio would be more useful then any allies. Especially after this war was over, when Mexico would have to face the world it'd created.

" Here it is!" William said, turning to the shop owner." Hello Samantha, nice to see you again, I brought this woman to get a pair of boots, seeing as the hot brick path hurt her, and she is a guest."

Tuwamka mostly seemed confused at this point, perhaps feeling a bit awkward. Introductions were never a strong point, and it all seemed so sudden, really. She imagined herself in the place of the shoemaker and began to question how baffled she must be. In any case, she snapped back to reality, and nodded, giving little other indication of actually paying that much attention to what was going on around her. Once again, she tried to appear emotionless and direct, a silent and mysterious figure of some sort, as the people of her tribe tended to project themselves.

" Please come over here." Samantha asked politely, leading the Native woman over to a bench where she set about measuring Tuwamka's feet after she removed Williams boots.

" Do you want these back?" Samantha asked. " No. Go ahead and let her keep them, I think I'll set about getting myself a new pair whilst we are here."

Humming to himself, William set about searching the racks of fine leather boots, scanning over them and inspecting a few closely here and there. Glancing over, Huddleston gave a soft smile at the humor of the small Mexican woman attempting to measure the larger Tuwamkas feet.

" So Tuwamka, what are the cities like back home? From what I understand, despite our friendship, our people don't often visit."

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Tuwamka mostly seemed confused at this point, perhaps feeling a bit awkward. Introductions were never a strong point, and it all seemed so sudden, really. She imagined herself in the place of the shoemaker and began to question how baffled she must be. In any case, she snapped back to reality, and nodded, giving little other indication of actually paying that much attention to what was going on around her. Once again, she tried to appear emotionless and direct, a silent and mysterious figure of some sort, as the people of her tribe tended to project themselves.

" Please come over here." Samantha asked politely, leading the Native woman over to a bench where she set about measuring Tuwamka's feet after she removed Williams boots.

" Do you want these back?" Samantha asked. " No. Go ahead and let her keep them, I think I'll set about getting myself a new pair whilst we are here."

Humming to himself, William set about searching the racks of fine leather boots, scanning over them and inspecting a few closely here and there. Glancing over, Huddleston gave a soft smile at the humor of the small Mexican woman attempting to measure the larger Tuwamkas feet.

" So Tuwamka, what are the cities like back home? From what I understand, despite our friendship, our people don't often visit."

The lady did not really seem to mind the measuring and all, mostly ignoring it in favor of the polite conversation offered by the Mexican. She did, however, find a bit of humor in the smaller stature of the shoemaker, as the Karankawa women were of much more average height, maintaining litheness seen in their male counterparts. The Mexican, contrarily, seemed to be the opposite, and she supposed there was some humor in that.

"There are no cities, Sir. My people migrate with the seasons, between the shore and the mainland, sometimes hundreds of miles inland too. We build large villages, hundreds of people occupying each. Our houses are of bent willow frames, tied together at the top like those of the Comanche or the Iroquois, and we drape skins over the frame in the direction the wind blows from. That way, we shelter ourselves. We usually make a fire in the middle, too. Our word for house is ba-ak, which means 'wind shelter'." she explained, hoping it was sufficient description. "We build no walls around our villages, and we build no long-lasting structure. Just twelve willow poles with buffalo and deer hides.

Everything we make is out of hides. The walls, the rugs we use for our floors, even our clothes. Take a feel." she offered, holding out a bit of her skirt to allow the Mexican to observe the exquisite quality.

[New Rnclave]

With Jackson

Despite several men falling, he could tell his men stood strong. Another volley of musket fire echoed into the night as his men unloaded another hellish group of lead.

" Stand strong men! We won't fall to these fools!" Jackson roared, the racket of musket and artillery fire filling his ears as his men regrouped, letting loose another volley. But a thunderous explosion of fire from his left stole his attention. Seemingly out of nowhere, men peaked the hill, muskets raised as furious roar ripped from them, bullets popping around his head as his left flank clashed with the larger force.

He could tell his men were at a disadvantage. These men had not only the speed at which they attacked, but his left flank was too small to push back the force. The only option was to hold.

" Give them everything you've got! Fight for Mexico!" He shouted, firing his own revolver into the group of soldiers as they struggled to remain afoot.

Private Daniel Walters, screamed as he dove back into the fray, a butt stroke knocking him from his feet and dislocating his jaw. Driving his bayonet forward, he felt blood spatter against his left hand as it found its home in an enemy soldier. Ripping it loose, he brought the stock to bear, driving it across the poor sods face. He could feel men all around him doing the same, fighting, attempting to hold.

With James Daniels

The cool night wind was offset by the heat of the fire. That was the only non worrying thing he could think about. As him and 20 other men crept along the trees, James could see the side they were to attack, and he knew he had to do it before Jackson was overwhelmed. But, he couldn't stop the apprehension building in his tired muscles. It was when he heard a scream from beside him, a rallying cry as men charged forward. Gritting his teeth, James followed their lead, even though he was the Captain. Peaking over a hill, he saw the defenders of the town, dug in and ready to fight to the death.

" For Mèxico!" The war cry echoed out into the night, as James and many others raised their muskets and fired the first volley into the defenders.

Jackson's Wing
"WHOP THOSE NIGGER LOVING SPIKS!" yelled a Sergeant as he emptied his six shots into the enemy line, before pulling out a shotgun and firing another blast, killing as many of those men as they could. The once calm, irrelevant town has been tarnished with the blood of both Vlotheidans and Mexicans as they fired their muskets as if they were a blind stallion, galloping and galloping without questioning their surroundings, just hoping that their automation, their training would help them endure the fray. The flanking maneuver worked, and the Mexicans were at a disadvantage. Yet, the line was held, barely. Though they were suffering casualties, Colonel Andrew Jackson truly had the loyalty of his men, for Jackson's men were willing to die with Jackson if that meant not retreating.

However, for the men of the flanking maneuver, they knew that if they could break this line, the day would be theirs. "CHARGE!" yelled the Sergeant as the one and a half dozen men exerted their yell, a raucous, high-pitched sound as they ran towards the enemy as if they were running to kill the devil himself. "FOR VLOTHEID!" yelled the Sergeant, "FOR VLOTHEID!" yelled the men with greater vigor as they came to completely decimate the enemy line.

With Gordon

"Jackson, he is a good colonel" said Lieutenant Gordon as his aide quickly ran to him and said "Sir, another detachment of those browns, they are approaching another flank, lets use the second cannon on them". Gordon nodded in approval as he saw another man crawl back into town. His leg was barely tangling on his torso as another wave of crimson blood gushed out of his leg. The man whimpered in excruciating pain. "GET A MEDIC!" yelled Gordon as he looked at the man's injury, petrified.

Daniel's attack
The men looked at Daniel's men as if they were imbeciles, a group of people inferior to the Dutch and Anglo-Saxon heritage that Vlotheid was comprised of. The men cared little for honor and fired their first volley, before a shell from the smoothbore cannon pounded into their line. "Those spiks, they came to be destroyed. Let us conquer, or let us die!" yelled the Vlotheidan sergeant as he fired two rounds from his revolver into the line. The men once again made the yell the men on the left flank made, and through that yell, did the bloodbath begin.

With Jackson:

Walters could feel weariness wearing at him. Every movement was a struggle, every lunge, was a battle in its own right. Driving forward once more, Walters fired his musket into the ground, coughing as the smell of black powder filled his nostrils.

" For Mèxico!" Rallying cries drove the soldiers back into the Frey, animalistic yells escaping them as they grappled with the enemy soldiers.

Daniels Maneuver:

Daniel rushed forward with all he had, diving along with the rest of his men, almost head first into the meat grinder. Tackling a Vlotheidian soldier, Daniel wrestled his knife out of his pouch, aiming to drive the sharp instrument home in the poor bastards chest.

With Nate Turner:

Freedom. The word was foreign on the former slaves tongue. All of his life, he'd served the will of a master, many different men who thought themselves naturally better then the Africans. But, now, the brown skinned men, from Mexico, wanted to help free them.

" Fire in the hole." The words were almost punctuated by a hellish display of firepower. The sky, dark where they were, became suddenly alight with a dangerous fireshow, the booming racket of artillery filling his ears.

[Sanabel]

Wycliffeshire Embassy, Mexico City

Ambassador Frederick Gordon of Wycliffeshire enters his carriage. The old, seasoned emissary begins heading to the Mexican capitol, having received the Prime Minister's letter, he had scheduled an appointment. Wyciffeshire needs to assure its allies that it will be assisting them, especially Mexico. So that's what he is doing. He will be letting the Prime Minister know Wycliffeshire will be helping any war efforts in some way.

The carriage pulls up in front of the capitol and the short, stocky man gets out. His clean shaven face sweats in the sunlight as he enters the building unaccompanied and heads towards the office of the Prime Minister.

Entering, he bows slightly and waits to be spoken to.

[Republic of Coldwater]

Jackson's Wing
"WHOP THOSE NIGGER LOVING SPIKS!" yelled a Sergeant as he emptied his six shots into the enemy line, before pulling out a shotgun and firing another blast, killing as many of those men as they could. The once calm, irrelevant town has been tarnished with the blood of both Vlotheidans and Mexicans as they fired their muskets as if they were a blind stallion, galloping and galloping without questioning their surroundings, just hoping that their automation, their training would help them endure the fray. The flanking maneuver worked, and the Mexicans were at a disadvantage. Yet, the line was held, barely. Though they were suffering casualties, Colonel Andrew Jackson truly had the loyalty of his men, for Jackson's men were willing to die with Jackson if that meant not retreating.

However, for the men of the flanking maneuver, they knew that if they could break this line, the day would be theirs. "CHARGE!" yelled the Sergeant as the one and a half dozen men exerted their yell, a raucous, high-pitched sound as they ran towards the enemy as if they were running to kill the devil himself. "FOR VLOTHEID!" yelled the Sergeant, "FOR VLOTHEID!" yelled the men with greater vigor as they came to completely decimate the enemy line.

With Gordon

"Jackson, he is a good colonel" said Lieutenant Gordon as his aide quickly ran to him and said "Sir, another detachment of those browns, they are approaching another flank, lets use the second cannon on them". Gordon nodded in approval as he saw another man crawl back into town. His leg was barely tangling on his torso as another wave of crimson blood gushed out of his leg. The man whimpered in excruciating pain. "GET A MEDIC!" yelled Gordon as he looked at the man's injury, petrified.

Daniel's attack
The men looked at Daniel's men as if they were imbeciles, a group of people inferior to the Dutch and Anglo-Saxon heritage that Vlotheid was comprised of. The men cared little for honor and fired their first volley, before a shell from the smoothbore cannon pounded into their line. "Those spiks, they came to be destroyed. Let us conquer, or let us die!" yelled the Vlotheidan sergeant as he fired two rounds from his revolver into the line. The men once again made the yell the men on the left flank made, and through that yell, did the bloodbath begin.

With Jackson:

Walters could feel weariness wearing at him. Every movement was a struggle, every lunge, was a battle in its own right. Driving forward once more, Walters fired his musket into the ground, coughing as the smell of black powder filled his nostrils.

" For Mèxico!" Rallying cries drove the soldiers back into the Frey, animalistic yells escaping them as they grappled with the enemy soldiers.

Daniels Maneuver:

Daniel rushed forward with all he had, diving along with the rest of his men, almost head first into the meat grinder. Tackling a Vlotheidian soldier, Daniel wrestled his knife out of his pouch, aiming to drive the sharp instrument home in the poor bastards chest.

With Nate Turner:

Freedom. The word was foreign on the former slaves tongue. All of his life, he'd served the will of a master, many different men who thought themselves naturally better then the Africans. But, now, the brown skinned men, from Mexico, wanted to help free them.

" Fire in the hole." The words were almost punctuated by a hellish display of firepower. The sky, dark where they were, became suddenly alight with a dangerous fireshow, the booming racket of artillery filling his ears.

With Jackson

The two lines, of two different groups of men yelled and whimpered as they lifelessly charge against each other, stabbing, shooting, doing whatever they can to survive the fray. War, though glamorized, is a mere facade. Men in the annals of history have long made war seem so glorious, so mild, a honorable action where men shall truly exert their manhood, and prove their prowess to others. Yet, in this struggle between the Mexicans and the Vlotheidans, the two sides are being no honorable men, but dishonorable barbarians, fighting to the last men. War was no honor, for war, war never changes

With Daniel
The enemy commander stabbed the Vlotheidan soldier, right in the abdomen as blood gushed out of it, yet, he was no stranger to conflict. A former drunk who once murdered three and was sent to the frontier, he joined up for the Vlotheidan military once tensions with the negroes and Mexicans reached its apex, a mere two weeks ago, he, yelling, lunged himself forward as he drew his derringer, an item used to murder many, and in his last breaths, pulled the trigger, hoping to kill the man.

The fray continued as volumous musket fire was exchanged, yet the fight has grinded to a halt, with no side being able to take advantage of the other. Yet, this was about to change.

From the sky, shells flew right into the line as the men fell back, unable to withstand the enfliade. Gordon looked at the line in agony and surprise. The number of engaged Mexicans were in the dozens, and as far as he knows, there is little chance that they had any manpower left to control artillery. At the same time, he has heard rumors of a notorious free negro's operation in the area: Nate Turner. Rumor has it that he has three dozen men armed and ready at any time. It has to be that uppity nigger thought Gordon

Calhoun, Mississippi Proivnce
The rider galloped at full speed as he tried to reach the city as soon as he could. He used the fastest horse, and he was a good messenger. The ride has been for a few hours now, and finally, the somewhat gleaming city stood before him. Quickly, he ran into Fort Choctaw, named for an assimilated indigenous people and ran into the quarters of General Jefferson Davis. Davis, slowly rising from his chair asked the rider "Why are you here?"

Davis then stood up straight, with his imposing height, his unique beard and his deep Vlotheidan-Anglo accent.

"General Davis, Colonel Jackson of the Mexicans, they....they have invaded Mississippi. Lieutenant Gordon is fighting them as we speak".

Davis looked at the man in skepticism, frowning thinking he was a madman

"Sir, believe me, I saw the advance of the first Mexican line, Lieutenant Gordon is fighting".

Davis nodding, knowing the man is telling the whole truth. He then walked out, and told his aide to order a quick assembly of men. Fort Choctaw had been the largest fort in the Vlotheidan military, recently extended to accompany the 8,000 men of the Western Division, already 3,000 more than its designated size. The number of recruits skyrocketed. Like ants, the men quickly billowed out of their barracks and into the courtyard of the fort.

Davis stood, with his great charisma and the men attentively looked at the worried face of Davis.

General Davis was born in Mississippi when it was a mere Vlotheidan territory. His family immigrated from England many years ago, and his brother Joseph made a fortune selling cotton and tobacco. He was a man who wished for the gradual end of slavery, and treated his enslaved negroes well, having a distaste for whipping, and had a council of older slaves deciding the culpability, and the punishment of supposed uppity negroes.

"Men of the Western Division", said Davis in his accent, "we, are in the face of adversity. Moments ago, I was informed of a Mexican incursion upon our lands, with Colonel Andrew Jackson entering Vlotheidan territory. As we speak, Company III of the Third Alabama is engaged in a small border town with the Mexican Vanguard. While I cannot negotiate terms of peace, or comprehend the reasons for their incursion, we do know that these men are seeking to take something from us, requiring plain, brutal force. The taking must be related to the subjugation of our people, for that would be the only fathomable explanation for their violent engagement upon our bijou border town.

Men, we are a nation named for the very principle of freedom. We cannot so simply forgo this value to so simply gratify their supposed needs, and their dispositions. Men, even if their demands are few and far between, our mere submission to their rule would only strengthen the grip of a highly dangerous and inferior people upon this continent, and potentially serve as a precedent for greater, and more expansive demands in the future.

Men, it is a time that we act to suppress this peril, to ensure that our freedoms are not suppressed by an alien people. These men seek to not only take something from us, but to destabilize the social order by prematurely freeing the negro. While most of our population, and the officials in our government comprehend the need to gradually free the negro, his servitude is incomplete, his education inadequate. Without a system to truly educate, to uplift the poor African race, their premature freedom would result in his irresponsibility and inability to be good citizens in their homelands. Only once the African is matured can freedom be granted, and calamity be avoided.

For our homelands, for our freedoms, let us stand before this satanic invasion and meet the Mexicans at the outer verge of justice, for only once we become a belligerent force shall they forgo their efforts to destabilize our societies and destroy our freedoms."

Davis ended his speech as his men cheered and let out the Vlotheidan yell, making a high-pitched yell that had instilled the fears of even the Indians that failed to assimilate. As they cheered, Nathan Bedford Forrest rode back with his cavalry from a raid deep into Native territories to re-capture escaped fugitives. Forrest, not coming with their corpses came with their decapitated heads as he smoked a cigar and came into the fort. Forrest, though gruesome and cruel was the most effective cavalry commander in the entire country, modernizing the cavalry and helping to design their unique rifle: The Charleston Revolving Rifle.

Born into poverty, by his prime, he was one of the wealthiest in Vlotheid. A natural tactician and businessman, he quickly outmaneuvered his competitors in his slave trade, and established a strong presence in the frontier slave trade. Tall, heavy and fiery, he quickly instilled both respect and fear amongst his subordinates. Even his slaves never dared to question him, and some even rode into battle with him, being promised their freedom after certain successes in military campaigns.

The men stopped cheering, and looked at Forrest and his entourage, carrying the heads of the escaped fugitives. Forrest moved his horse into the stable, and dismounted, curious to why 8,000 men were all converged in the courtyard. Running to General Davis, he asked "Why the hell are there so many men here, what is this? A slave mart?". Davis laughed a little before replying "The Mexicans, they invaded". Forrest nodded in anger. He then turned to the attentive audience, and shouted "Men of the cavalry, lets kill some spiks!". The cavaliers cheered once more as Forrest stepped down.

Davis always respected Forrest for his abilities, defeating forces substantially larger than his in the past, and proving to be a very effective drillmaster and manager of large bodies of people. Yet, he also feared Forrest, for Forrest is simply unafraid to do what he thinks is just, killing his contemporaries, and threatening to kill more. Most recently, after observing a rather ineffective secondary driller, he yelled at Braxton Bragg for not only being apathetic, but not "instilling the right order in your subordinates", threatening to kill Bragg if he didn't "clean his act up". Yet, this was no time for relishing and reflecting. Running to his room, he quickly wrote a telegraph to Gleecfield, describing the situation and the potential for all-out conflict, then writing another one describing the situation and requesting the mobilization of all militia forces. This might be a small border dispute, but to Davis, war has always begun from the small things, and he knows all to well that war, war never changes.

[Mangjukoia]

อาณาจักรอยุธยา
Kingdom of Ayutthaya

Path to the Capitals
From the start of the invasion, the Thai soldiers took the Cham by surprise, heading straight for Panduranga instead of the other cities. Large skirmishes between Cham and Thai were dispersed as the General Naritsuan charged his elephant cavalry straight through their lines, with Thai soldiers following, leaving them to the mission of combating the stragglers left and to keep their momentum to the enemy cities. As this force penetrated the Cham country, a force of 7,500, led by General Saritsri headed northwards, towards the Viet. Surely the Viets would see this coming as the Thai had already entered Cham, the Viet would go down the same route.

---

Krung Thep
As the Thai soldiers attacked their neighbors to the northeast, the King Rama sat on his gilded throne. Taking the countries of a matching power or lesser power is so far easy, however such a advantage the Thais had could only stand for so long. Many countries were becoming just as the larger powers are, and the enemies of the King Rama were no exception, especially when those enemies happened to be European. There was however a light in the darkness for them, which was Korea, an Asiatic nation with power comparable to the Western empires, because of their own westernization project. 'อาจเราก็เรียกที่เพื่อมันความเอื้ออารี?' the King thought, as he began to compose a letter.

อาณาจักรอยุธยา
พระข่าวสั่งของพระราม
๒๓๙๓

รัฐบาลของจักรวรรดิเกาหลีดี
เป็นผู้นำของจักรวรรดิเกาหลีมากกว่ารุ่งโรจน์ได้ดี เราขอช่วยเหลือของคุณเพื่อช่วยให้ประเทศของเรา ตามอิทธิพลของเอ็มไพร์เกาหลีมากกว่ามียืน ประเทศของคุณได้กลายเป็น แบบจำลอง ของอื่น ๆ ควรทำตามท เป็นประเทศบก เรามีจุดอ่อนที่สามารถนำไปใช้พลังงานต่างประเทศ นี้ เราเรียกการช่วยเหลือให้เปลี่ยนประเทศของเราให้สูงที่สุดเป็นของคุณเอง นี้ เราขยายมือเปิดมิตรภาพและพันธมิตรของเรา
-เซ็น แผ่นดินสี่สิบสี่ของอยุธยา

King's Thought
'Perhaps we should call for aid?'
Letter
Kingdom of Ayutthaya
Royal Message of the King Rama
2393 (Buddhist Calendar)
Great leaders of the glorious Greater Korean Empire. We ask of your aid to help our country. As the Greater Korea Empire's influence has stood, your nation has become a model, of one that others should follow suite. As an Asiatic nation, we have the weaknesses that can be exploited by a foreign power. For this we call for your aid to transition our country to one as high as your own. With this we extend our hand in open friendship and Alliance.

[Traxa]

Matewa stood against the gunwale, peering out through the elaborately decorated cylindrical object the Europeans had called a spy glass. Matewa's was surely an odd sight, long breeches, a double breasted white waistcoat, and leather riding boots replaced his tatua. A kilt like garment made of flax, his traditional war canoe replaced by a European sailing vessel known as a frigate, the brave nearly naked warriors with spears had been replaced with musket armed troops, in standard uniforms and heavy metal cannons. Still not all of his Maori heritage could be hidden, beyond his brown skin Matewa still proudly displayed his Tā moko, an intricate tattoo which covered half of his face.

The Portuguese had encountered Matewa's people many years ago, where then King Napo Arepata's tribe and allies exchanged food for modern weapons resulting in Arepata's conquest of New Zealand, and unification into the Maori Kingdom of Eketone. Since this time, trade, both in material and ideals has continued with the Portuguese, resulting in a rapid change in Maori culture, shifting from the life of small subsistence farming communities into a nation state, tribal elders were now statesman.

Matewa was the eldest son to one of these new order aristocrats, and had spent much of his time growing up in Portugese Timor where he learned many European customs and norms, upon his return to Eketone, his father had persuaded King Hani Tipene, to grant him an official office, as an ambassador to the Portuguese. He now found himself returning to Timor, although this time the stakes for his visit were much higher. Hani Tipene had given Matewa the important task of securing, what the Eketone hoped would be a lasting, and binding agreement with their longtime allies.

"There."

Matewa pointed off the starboard side of the ship after placing the spy glass back inside his coat pocket.

"Are you certain sir?"

Questioned Matewa's first mate, observing the landmass that had appeared on the horizon through his own spy glass.

Matewa simply nodded, and ordered his subordinate to begin making preparations for sailing into harbor.

On the horizon loomed, what appeared to be a rather small island, not much was yet discernible, but Matewa was certain it was the land they were looking for. Within a few more hours his mission would begin, the hopes and dreams of all of Eketone would rest squarely on his shoulders.

[New Rnclave]

With Jackson:

Walters could feel weariness wearing at him. Every movement was a struggle, every lunge, was a battle in its own right. Driving forward once more, Walters fired his musket into the ground, coughing as the smell of black powder filled his nostrils.

" For Mèxico!" Rallying cries drove the soldiers back into the Frey, animalistic yells escaping them as they grappled with the enemy soldiers.

Daniels Maneuver:

Daniel rushed forward with all he had, diving along with the rest of his men, almost head first into the meat grinder. Tackling a Vlotheidian soldier, Daniel wrestled his knife out of his pouch, aiming to drive the sharp instrument home in the poor bastards chest.

With Nate Turner:

Freedom. The word was foreign on the former slaves tongue. All of his life, he'd served the will of a master, many different men who thought themselves naturally better then the Africans. But, now, the brown skinned men, from Mexico, wanted to help free them.

" Fire in the hole." The words were almost punctuated by a hellish display of firepower. The sky, dark where they were, became suddenly alight with a dangerous fireshow, the booming racket of artillery filling his ears.

With Jackson

The two lines, of two different groups of men yelled and whimpered as they lifelessly charge against each other, stabbing, shooting, doing whatever they can to survive the fray. War, though glamorized, is a mere facade. Men in the annals of history have long made war seem so glorious, so mild, a honorable action where men shall truly exert their manhood, and prove their prowess to others. Yet, in this struggle between the Mexicans and the Vlotheidans, the two sides are being no honorable men, but dishonorable barbarians, fighting to the last men. War was no honor, for war, war never changes

With Daniel
The enemy commander stabbed the Vlotheidan soldier, right in the abdomen as blood gushed out of it, yet, he was no stranger to conflict. A former drunk who once murdered three and was sent to the frontier, he joined up for the Vlotheidan military once tensions with the negroes and Mexicans reached its apex, a mere two weeks ago, he, yelling, lunged himself forward as he drew his derringer, an item used to murder many, and in his last breaths, pulled the trigger, hoping to kill the man.

The fray continued as volumous musket fire was exchanged, yet the fight has grinded to a halt, with no side being able to take advantage of the other. Yet, this was about to change.

From the sky, shells flew right into the line as the men fell back, unable to withstand the enfliade. Gordon looked at the line in agony and surprise. The number of engaged Mexicans were in the dozens, and as far as he knows, there is little chance that they had any manpower left to control artillery. At the same time, he has heard rumors of a notorious free negro's operation in the area: Nate Turner. Rumor has it that he has three dozen men armed and ready at any time. It has to be that uppity nigger thought Gordon

Calhoun, Mississippi Proivnce
The rider galloped at full speed as he tried to reach the city as soon as he could. He used the fastest horse, and he was a good messenger. The ride has been for a few hours now, and finally, the somewhat gleaming city stood before him. Quickly, he ran into Fort Choctaw, named for an assimilated indigenous people and ran into the quarters of General Jefferson Davis. Davis, slowly rising from his chair asked the rider "Why are you here?"

Davis then stood up straight, with his imposing height, his unique beard and his deep Vlotheidan-Anglo accent.

"General Davis, Colonel Jackson of the Mexicans, they....they have invaded Mississippi. Lieutenant Gordon is fighting them as we speak".

Davis looked at the man in skepticism, frowning thinking he was a madman

"Sir, believe me, I saw the advance of the first Mexican line, Lieutenant Gordon is fighting".

Davis nodding, knowing the man is telling the whole truth. He then walked out, and told his aide to order a quick assembly of men. Fort Choctaw had been the largest fort in the Vlotheidan military, recently extended to accompany the 8,000 men of the Western Division, already 3,000 more than its designated size. The number of recruits skyrocketed. Like ants, the men quickly billowed out of their barracks and into the courtyard of the fort.

Davis stood, with his great charisma and the men attentively looked at the worried face of Davis.

General Davis was born in Mississippi when it was a mere Vlotheidan territory. His family immigrated from England many years ago, and his brother Joseph made a fortune selling cotton and tobacco. He was a man who wished for the gradual end of slavery, and treated his enslaved negroes well, having a distaste for whipping, and had a council of older slaves deciding the culpability, and the punishment of supposed uppity negroes.

"Men of the Western Division", said Davis in his accent, "we, are in the face of adversity. Moments ago, I was informed of a Mexican incursion upon our lands, with Colonel Andrew Jackson entering Vlotheidan territory. As we speak, Company III of the Third Alabama is engaged in a small border town with the Mexican Vanguard. While I cannot negotiate terms of peace, or comprehend the reasons for their incursion, we do know that these men are seeking to take something from us, requiring plain, brutal force. The taking must be related to the subjugation of our people, for that would be the only fathomable explanation for their violent engagement upon our bijou border town.

Men, we are a nation named for the very principle of freedom. We cannot so simply forgo this value to so simply gratify their supposed needs, and their dispositions. Men, even if their demands are few and far between, our mere submission to their rule would only strengthen the grip of a highly dangerous and inferior people upon this continent, and potentially serve as a precedent for greater, and more expansive demands in the future.

Men, it is a time that we act to suppress this peril, to ensure that our freedoms are not suppressed by an alien people. These men seek to not only take something from us, but to destabilize the social order by prematurely freeing the negro. While most of our population, and the officials in our government comprehend the need to gradually free the negro, his servitude is incomplete, his education inadequate. Without a system to truly educate, to uplift the poor African race, their premature freedom would result in his irresponsibility and inability to be good citizens in their homelands. Only once the African is matured can freedom be granted, and calamity be avoided.

For our homelands, for our freedoms, let us stand before this satanic invasion and meet the Mexicans at the outer verge of justice, for only once we become a belligerent force shall they forgo their efforts to destabilize our societies and destroy our freedoms."

Davis ended his speech as his men cheered and let out the Vlotheidan yell, making a high-pitched yell that had instilled the fears of even the Indians that failed to assimilate. As they cheered, Nathan Bedford Forrest rode back with his cavalry from a raid deep into Native territories to re-capture escaped fugitives. Forrest, not coming with their corpses came with their decapitated heads as he smoked a cigar and came into the fort. Forrest, though gruesome and cruel was the most effective cavalry commander in the entire country, modernizing the cavalry and helping to design their unique rifle: The Charleston Revolving Rifle.

Born into poverty, by his prime, he was one of the wealthiest in Vlotheid. A natural tactician and businessman, he quickly outmaneuvered his competitors in his slave trade, and established a strong presence in the frontier slave trade. Tall, heavy and fiery, he quickly instilled both respect and fear amongst his subordinates. Even his slaves never dared to question him, and some even rode into battle with him, being promised their freedom after certain successes in military campaigns.

The men stopped cheering, and looked at Forrest and his entourage, carrying the heads of the escaped fugitives. Forrest moved his horse into the stable, and dismounted, curious to why 8,000 men were all converged in the courtyard. Running to General Davis, he asked "Why the hell are there so many men here, what is this? A slave mart?". Davis laughed a little before replying "The Mexicans, they invaded". Forrest nodded in anger. He then turned to the attentive audience, and shouted "Men of the cavalry, lets kill some spiks!". The cavaliers cheered once more as Forrest stepped down.

Davis always respected Forrest for his abilities, defeating forces substantially larger than his in the past, and proving to be a very effective drillmaster and manager of large bodies of people. Yet, he also feared Forrest, for Forrest is simply unafraid to do what he thinks is just, killing his contemporaries, and threatening to kill more. Most recently, after observing a rather ineffective secondary driller, he yelled at Braxton Bragg for not only being apathetic, but not "instilling the right order in your subordinates", threatening to kill Bragg if he didn't "clean his act up". Yet, this was no time for relishing and reflecting. Running to his room, he quickly wrote a telegraph to Gleecfield, describing the situation and the potential for all-out conflict, then writing another one describing the situation and requesting the mobilization of all militia forces. This might be a small border dispute, but to Davis, war has always begun from the small things, and he knows all to well that war, war never changes.

With Jackson:

The meat grinder as it were, was as bloody as Jackson always imagined it would be. Furious, animalistic wars, punctuated the men meeting in the middle again, gunfire and smoke filled the air. But Jackson knew, with the artillery slamming into the city and its defenders, he now had a chance to break the stalemate. But first, he had plans to make.

" Captain Anderson! Ride your horse back to New Orleans, I'll be returning there as well once we're done here. Begin trying to gather forces, tell them , our eastern neighbor has fired upon us and declared war." The scared Captain nodded, secretly happy to escape the hellish battle. Turning back to his soldiers, Jackson reloaded his revolver.

" Men! Fix bayonets!" All at once, knifes were ripped from scabbards, the stalemate finally breaking as the Emmy coudk charge forward. But Jackson had other plans.

" Charge! Run these bastards through!"

With Daniels:

Daniel felt the bullet lodge itself into his gut as he threw himself away, grunting in pain as he kicked the dying body away from himself. Howling, Daniel laid back against the dirt wall, watching his men struggle with the enemy. Even as his vision became blurry, he could feel a smile cross his features as his men fought. They were close to a breakthrough, he coudk tell. And when the shells fell from the sky, he new he battle was won.

With his final breath, Daniel cheered his men forward.

" Kill these bastards! They've enslaved the Negroes, how long until they try to enslave us?!?"

[Kosovo12345]

Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire
The Tsar was going to Petersburg, visiting the city and greeting the people. It was never good for a leader to be holed up in his capital city and so, Alexander was a trip that went from Moscow to Kiev to Minsk and to finally, Petersburg. At the moment, he was outside in his carriage, waiting to be driven to the local government building in the city. At that the moment, the carriage stopped. (He was going in a carriage due to the train he was on blew up due to leaked fuel.) So, Alexander looked out of the window, instead of a trusted driver, he saw a dead body and 2 men looking at him. Quickly realizing what was happening, he opened the door on the other side and ran away, and at the same time yelling for his guards. Fast enough, troops came from behind the carriage, and they started running to their Tsar when Alexander got shot in the leg and he fail. As he was on the ground, he heard shouting and gunshots. He felt the blood draining from his leg and all went black, and he forgot about his pain. Meanwhile, while Alexander was slipping from life, his men overcame the 2 men Alexander saw and a few more hidden in the woods. They rushed over to Alexander and noticed that he was not awake, and some feared he was dead. However, one of them felt Alexander's heartbeat and declared that there was still hope left. So at that moment, the men carried Alexander to the carriage, laid him down with care, and drove him to the city where doctors would be.

Swedish-Russian Border
General Vladimir was sitting down and telling his men the final details of he wanted them to say. It was simple enough, but he feared that they would ruin it somehow with their idiotic minds. The plan was this; go to near towns and Saint Petersburg and declare that the Swedes killed 20 Russians and that they crossed over the border. The plan worked smoothly and the 20 bodies were already buried so no one could take a closer look and see that they were not in fact part of the army, but locals. Just as Vladimir sent the men on their way, he got word of what happened to Alexander. This news was taken to him by his trusty second in command, Gjergji, and Gjergji looked at him, waiting to see his emotions. However, Vladimir just thanked Gjergji for the news and ordered him to leave, so he could think in private. Once he left, Vladimir thought what he could have done to stop this from happening. This plan was hatched a few months ago, by a few unhappy generals who wanted Alexander gone so they could rule the country and take the sword to Sweden, Poland, and the Ottomans all at once to pay for what they did to Russia in the past. They asked Vladimir to join them but he rejected, and threaten to expose them for the traitors they were. However, his mouth was kept shut by the counter threats to his family and thus, when he didnt hear from them again, he thought they saw the stupidness of their plan. However, it clearly was not so, and now Alexander could well be dead. He had to avenge his Tsar and purge the nation of these traitors but news of the 20 dead Russians would also be going around the country by now. So, he knew, he had to follow though with his plan and invade Sweden. He came out of his tent and told Gjergji to get the army ready for march, for they would bring war to Sweden this very night. At the same time, he sent 500 Imperial Guards back to Moscow with one job, to locate Alexander's brother and keep close watch on him at all times. That done, he gave the word to march and over 50,000 Russians crossed the border, and thus, the war between Russia and Sweden began

[Republic of Coldwater]

With Jackson

The two lines, of two different groups of men yelled and whimpered as they lifelessly charge against each other, stabbing, shooting, doing whatever they can to survive the fray. War, though glamorized, is a mere facade. Men in the annals of history have long made war seem so glorious, so mild, a honorable action where men shall truly exert their manhood, and prove their prowess to others. Yet, in this struggle between the Mexicans and the Vlotheidans, the two sides are being no honorable men, but dishonorable barbarians, fighting to the last men. War was no honor, for war, war never changes

With Daniel
The enemy commander stabbed the Vlotheidan soldier, right in the abdomen as blood gushed out of it, yet, he was no stranger to conflict. A former drunk who once murdered three and was sent to the frontier, he joined up for the Vlotheidan military once tensions with the negroes and Mexicans reached its apex, a mere two weeks ago, he, yelling, lunged himself forward as he drew his derringer, an item used to murder many, and in his last breaths, pulled the trigger, hoping to kill the man.

The fray continued as volumous musket fire was exchanged, yet the fight has grinded to a halt, with no side being able to take advantage of the other. Yet, this was about to change.

From the sky, shells flew right into the line as the men fell back, unable to withstand the enfliade. Gordon looked at the line in agony and surprise. The number of engaged Mexicans were in the dozens, and as far as he knows, there is little chance that they had any manpower left to control artillery. At the same time, he has heard rumors of a notorious free negro's operation in the area: Nate Turner. Rumor has it that he has three dozen men armed and ready at any time. It has to be that uppity nigger thought Gordon

Calhoun, Mississippi Proivnce
The rider galloped at full speed as he tried to reach the city as soon as he could. He used the fastest horse, and he was a good messenger. The ride has been for a few hours now, and finally, the somewhat gleaming city stood before him. Quickly, he ran into Fort Choctaw, named for an assimilated indigenous people and ran into the quarters of General Jefferson Davis. Davis, slowly rising from his chair asked the rider "Why are you here?"

Davis then stood up straight, with his imposing height, his unique beard and his deep Vlotheidan-Anglo accent.

"General Davis, Colonel Jackson of the Mexicans, they....they have invaded Mississippi. Lieutenant Gordon is fighting them as we speak".

Davis looked at the man in skepticism, frowning thinking he was a madman

"Sir, believe me, I saw the advance of the first Mexican line, Lieutenant Gordon is fighting".

Davis nodding, knowing the man is telling the whole truth. He then walked out, and told his aide to order a quick assembly of men. Fort Choctaw had been the largest fort in the Vlotheidan military, recently extended to accompany the 8,000 men of the Western Division, already 3,000 more than its designated size. The number of recruits skyrocketed. Like ants, the men quickly billowed out of their barracks and into the courtyard of the fort.

Davis stood, with his great charisma and the men attentively looked at the worried face of Davis.

General Davis was born in Mississippi when it was a mere Vlotheidan territory. His family immigrated from England many years ago, and his brother Joseph made a fortune selling cotton and tobacco. He was a man who wished for the gradual end of slavery, and treated his enslaved negroes well, having a distaste for whipping, and had a council of older slaves deciding the culpability, and the punishment of supposed uppity negroes.

"Men of the Western Division", said Davis in his accent, "we, are in the face of adversity. Moments ago, I was informed of a Mexican incursion upon our lands, with Colonel Andrew Jackson entering Vlotheidan territory. As we speak, Company III of the Third Alabama is engaged in a small border town with the Mexican Vanguard. While I cannot negotiate terms of peace, or comprehend the reasons for their incursion, we do know that these men are seeking to take something from us, requiring plain, brutal force. The taking must be related to the subjugation of our people, for that would be the only fathomable explanation for their violent engagement upon our bijou border town.

Men, we are a nation named for the very principle of freedom. We cannot so simply forgo this value to so simply gratify their supposed needs, and their dispositions. Men, even if their demands are few and far between, our mere submission to their rule would only strengthen the grip of a highly dangerous and inferior people upon this continent, and potentially serve as a precedent for greater, and more expansive demands in the future.

Men, it is a time that we act to suppress this peril, to ensure that our freedoms are not suppressed by an alien people. These men seek to not only take something from us, but to destabilize the social order by prematurely freeing the negro. While most of our population, and the officials in our government comprehend the need to gradually free the negro, his servitude is incomplete, his education inadequate. Without a system to truly educate, to uplift the poor African race, their premature freedom would result in his irresponsibility and inability to be good citizens in their homelands. Only once the African is matured can freedom be granted, and calamity be avoided.

For our homelands, for our freedoms, let us stand before this satanic invasion and meet the Mexicans at the outer verge of justice, for only once we become a belligerent force shall they forgo their efforts to destabilize our societies and destroy our freedoms."

Davis ended his speech as his men cheered and let out the Vlotheidan yell, making a high-pitched yell that had instilled the fears of even the Indians that failed to assimilate. As they cheered, Nathan Bedford Forrest rode back with his cavalry from a raid deep into Native territories to re-capture escaped fugitives. Forrest, not coming with their corpses came with their decapitated heads as he smoked a cigar and came into the fort. Forrest, though gruesome and cruel was the most effective cavalry commander in the entire country, modernizing the cavalry and helping to design their unique rifle: The Charleston Revolving Rifle.

Born into poverty, by his prime, he was one of the wealthiest in Vlotheid. A natural tactician and businessman, he quickly outmaneuvered his competitors in his slave trade, and established a strong presence in the frontier slave trade. Tall, heavy and fiery, he quickly instilled both respect and fear amongst his subordinates. Even his slaves never dared to question him, and some even rode into battle with him, being promised their freedom after certain successes in military campaigns.

The men stopped cheering, and looked at Forrest and his entourage, carrying the heads of the escaped fugitives. Forrest moved his horse into the stable, and dismounted, curious to why 8,000 men were all converged in the courtyard. Running to General Davis, he asked "Why the hell are there so many men here, what is this? A slave mart?". Davis laughed a little before replying "The Mexicans, they invaded". Forrest nodded in anger. He then turned to the attentive audience, and shouted "Men of the cavalry, lets kill some spiks!". The cavaliers cheered once more as Forrest stepped down.

Davis always respected Forrest for his abilities, defeating forces substantially larger than his in the past, and proving to be a very effective drillmaster and manager of large bodies of people. Yet, he also feared Forrest, for Forrest is simply unafraid to do what he thinks is just, killing his contemporaries, and threatening to kill more. Most recently, after observing a rather ineffective secondary driller, he yelled at Braxton Bragg for not only being apathetic, but not "instilling the right order in your subordinates", threatening to kill Bragg if he didn't "clean his act up". Yet, this was no time for relishing and reflecting. Running to his room, he quickly wrote a telegraph to Gleecfield, describing the situation and the potential for all-out conflict, then writing another one describing the situation and requesting the mobilization of all militia forces. This might be a small border dispute, but to Davis, war has always begun from the small things, and he knows all to well that war, war never changes.

With Jackson:

The meat grinder as it were, was as bloody as Jackson always imagined it would be. Furious, animalistic wars, punctuated the men meeting in the middle again, gunfire and smoke filled the air. But Jackson knew, with the artillery slamming into the city and its defenders, he now had a chance to break the stalemate. But first, he had plans to make.

" Captain Anderson! Ride your horse back to New Orleans, I'll be returning there as well once we're done here. Begin trying to gather forces, tell them , our eastern neighbor has fired upon us and declared war." The scared Captain nodded, secretly happy to escape the hellish battle. Turning back to his soldiers, Jackson reloaded his revolver.

" Men! Fix bayonets!" All at once, knifes were ripped from scabbards, the stalemate finally breaking as the Emmy coudk charge forward. But Jackson had other plans.

" Charge! Run these bastards through!"

With Daniels:

Daniel felt the bullet lodge itself into his gut as he threw himself away, grunting in pain as he kicked the dying body away from himself. Howling, Daniel laid back against the dirt wall, watching his men struggle with the enemy. Even as his vision became blurry, he could feel a smile cross his features as his men fought. They were close to a breakthrough, he coudk tell. And when the shells fell from the sky, he new he battle was won.

With his final breath, Daniel cheered his men forward.

" Kill these bastards! They've enslaved the Negroes, how long until they try to enslave us?!?"

With Gordon
On both wings, men fell back. Though well-trained and able to beat back the Mexicans if they had the advantage in artillery, the battleground was simply too prone to artillery fire. As the furious enemy shells pounded into Vlotheidan lines, Gordon knew that he couldn't win the battle, at least not win without sustaining casualties too much to bear. "Fall back men!" "Fall back!" yelled Gordon as the men of Company III, 3rd Alabama Regiment slowly falls back from the enemy, effectively giving the small border town to the Mexicans. The men ran as they fired from their rifles, their revolvers and derringers, as the two smoothbore artillery pieces fire upon the enemy to delay them and prevent them from stopping the retreat.

Soon, much of the company were mounted as they galloped away, to the next fort, located in a larger town, where a militia brigade is at their disposal, and that soon, if the news arrived, either Longstreet or Jackson's wings of the Western Division will arrive to their aide. As Gordon galloped away from the battle, he thought of the coming realities of the struggle. With a substantially larger population, the Mexicans could field far more men than Vlotheid can field. He knew that the entire army of Vlotheid was probably only 25% of the Mexican army. Yet, he also knew that they were very formal and Napoleonic, of frontal assault and artillery enfilades on flat pieces of land. Yet, Mississippi was a rough land that is unsuitable for Napoleonic warfare, and that the Vlotheidan army, built on anti-Napoleonic doctrines might suffice by wearing down the enemy using the terrain they know best.

Calhoun, Mississippi
As the sun rises upon the city, over the gulf of Mexico, the men, roused and angry slowly ascended from their beds as they began their morning exercise. Shooting their rifles upon targets, practicing the bayonet and hand-hand combat, these men have known how to do all probable combat actions within their sleep. In addition, the Western Division were largely westerners, who grew up in the tough, rigid life of the frontier, knowing the usually unnavigable land the best, and how to live off the land.

For Jefferson Davis, one man represents the westerner the best, not any white man, but Stand Watie, a Cherokee who lived in a rural part of Georgia and Alabama, in the deep swamps, learning how to survive from a very young age. Like much of the Cherokee, Watie assimilated into Vlotheidan society, and soon enlisted in the army and became the commander of Watie's Mounted Rifles, an independent regiment of 400 ruthless and audacious Cherokee cavaliers that were known to be even more brutal than Forrest's Cavalry. Now, Stand Watie was in Fort Choctaw, and standing next to Nathan Bedford Forrest, they are proposing an expedition to wear down the Mexicans.

"Mr. Davis" said Watie with his accented English. "We are now in war, as informed by General Forrest". Forrest nodded, and allowed Watie to continue. "I have talked to General Forrest about...the role of cavalry in this upcoming conflict, and we have come up with an expedition to cut Mexican supply lines and destroy all necessary infrastructure, in order to prevent the Mexicans from making any notable advances into the state".

Forrest then carried on Watie

"General Davis, we could also ambush them, use asymmetric warfare to wear them out. No need to line up or advance in columns, we hit with all we can hit, we break down their supply lines, we wear down their men and eventually they will have to retreat"

Davis nodded and replied "Our men are all well-trained in such aspects. Take all the cavalry you could, dismount them when doing your bidding and live off the land, your training should prove valuable"

The two men stood up and soon rallied their men to begin their campaign of asymmetric warfare.

[Soviet Chernarus]

Republic of Castile
República de Castilla

“In peace prepare for war, in war prepare for peace. The art of war is of vital importance to the state. It is matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence under no circumstances can it be neglected.” Sun Tzu. The Art of War.

February 5th, 1850

Cuba

Messages from all parts of the island flurried back and forth as the news overwhelmed army headquarters in Havana. Mexico and Vlotheid were at war - which was a concern for Spain, due to their close proximity to their Caribbean colonies and the fact that such a conflict could disrupt the markets of North America where Spain sold their goods. A Mexican invasion had ensued, securing gains as the army advanced, but news of the front was scattered and unreliable, making it hard to discern the situation, The top leaders of the government were the first to be contacted and informed by Havana, and the 8,000-man Cuban garrison put on alert. Centered mainly in the more prosperous, western part of island, they had had experience in combat before, mainly from dealing with the various rebels that had popped up occasionally in the aftermath of the Revolution. Styling themselves as "Royalists", thousands of them resorted to open rebellion once slavery was officially abolished in all colonies in 1836. However, their control never extended beyond a few towns, and they were swiftly crushed before they could marshal any significant fighting force. Since then, the situation in Cuba has been mostly peaceful, although the forces there have had to contend with a growing independence movement, inspired by the ideals of the Spanish revolution.

There remained a fierce debate regarding Castile's colonies in the Caribbean; some advocate for greater autonomy or even self-rule, while some argue for equal status as a state. A small minority, however, believes that these colonies should be granted full independence, freeing up money that could be invested internally and help Castile develop. In the years after the revolution, legislation was passed in which Cuba was formally declared a province of the Castilian Republic, in spite of determined opposition. It was allowed to elect its own diputación provincial, a governing board who shared authority with the Captain-General. While it has maintained this status since the legislation was passed, there have been several attempts to overturn this.

With the news of war arriving, the Captain-General convened the diputación provincial in order to discuss the situation and any other matters of relevance; while Castile was generally sympathetic to Mexico, due to shared heritage and cultural ties, as well as disdain regarding the existence of slavery in Vlotheid, the Captain-General, along with other Cuban officials were well aware of the reluctance of the central government in Madrid to involve the nation in a conflict which did not directly threaten the provinces.

[Reatra]

Великая Республика Калифорнии


Velikaya Respublika Kalifornii

The Great Republic of Kaliforniya

Meksika had finally done it. The devils had invaded the sovereign territory of Kaliforniya's recently formed alliance member, Vlotheid. Word had reached the Kaliforniyan frontier in Sonora, and immediately a relay rider was dispatched among the Loshad Express and arrived in San-Frantsisko mere days later. The reaction was not pretty.

Several minutes of crying and shouting and flipping tables among the Kongress Kalifornii, until the Prezident made order in the chaos, and made an impromptu speech about the coming war. He said that "The Meksikan Devils will not dominate" and that "we are called to protect those lesser nations on our continent", the Kaliforniyan people were "required to ready themselves for this inevitable conflict, with the industry turned towards this war" as "is there was one thing Kaliforniya could use to defeat her enemies, it was her population and resources. When Kaliforniya stands united, as she did against the Russians and against the secessionists, when her people work for the state, little can stand in her way."

A war was coming, years of breaking relations and propaganda ha does up to this day, when Meksika had finally crossed the line, and Kaliforniya would be ready.

---

"Yes, focus on the south, do you think Korea is going to invade us?! Bring the artillery from Oregon to the Kolorado. That's our new strong border. In fact... In fact... Yeah, transfer most of our defences from the Great Valley to the Kolorado River, and make is snappy, we need to get ready for a possible incursion into Meksikan territory before they can get their main forces towards us. And keep it on the down-low, too! Don't make it too obvious that we're getting ready for a war. Sure we want them to know not to fuck with the rest of the continent, but only in a few months. If we keep the defences on the Kolorado, the Meksikans shrouding find out until we are fully ready, keep the seventh thousand in Sonora, though, we need the forts there too." The Prezident, Radomir Sokolov, commanded. He had issued his emergency executive powers, and, having ran for election on the grounds of being a successful general anyway, he knew what he was doing. The Meksikans would not know much about Kaliforniyan preparedness, until it was too late and a significant amount of their forces were fighting in Voltheid. As the already mobilized men and active duty men got to the Kolorado, riders were dispatched to the cities and farms calling the reserve forces to head down to the army bases in southern Makwarep for more training and general readiness. The ironclads should be ready by the time any conflict escalates, meaning that Kaliforniya should be able to keep her coasts safe. Industries in the Great Valley and along the coast were informed of the recent developments, and the Federal Government has offered to buy any military products they produce, including cannons and rifles, and the state-owned industries began to do the same.

For the first few weeks to months, this whole process would be kept classified and as secret as possible. The plan was to, should Meksika threaten Kaliforniya, suddenly move all the men from the Kolorado River south into Meksika.




((OOC: Rnclave, please don't metagame with this. I'm only posting about it because if I didn't post it didn't happen. This, right now, even if discovered by Mexico, wouldn't seem too major because Sonora and the border are unchanged.))

[New Rnclave]

" Please come over here." Samantha asked politely, leading the Native woman over to a bench where she set about measuring Tuwamka's feet after she removed Williams boots.

" Do you want these back?" Samantha asked. " No. Go ahead and let her keep them, I think I'll set about getting myself a new pair whilst we are here."

Humming to himself, William set about searching the racks of fine leather boots, scanning over them and inspecting a few closely here and there. Glancing over, Huddleston gave a soft smile at the humor of the small Mexican woman attempting to measure the larger Tuwamkas feet.

" So Tuwamka, what are the cities like back home? From what I understand, despite our friendship, our people don't often visit."

The lady did not really seem to mind the measuring and all, mostly ignoring it in favor of the polite conversation offered by the Mexican. She did, however, find a bit of humor in the smaller stature of the shoemaker, as the Karankawa women were of much more average height, maintaining litheness seen in their male counterparts. The Mexican, contrarily, seemed to be the opposite, and she supposed there was some humor in that.

"There are no cities, Sir. My people migrate with the seasons, between the shore and the mainland, sometimes hundreds of miles inland too. We build large villages, hundreds of people occupying each. Our houses are of bent willow frames, tied together at the top like those of the Comanche or the Iroquois, and we drape skins over the frame in the direction the wind blows from. That way, we shelter ourselves. We usually make a fire in the middle, too. Our word for house is ba-ak, which means 'wind shelter'." she explained, hoping it was sufficient description. "We build no walls around our villages, and we build no long-lasting structure. Just twelve willow poles with buffalo and deer hides.

Everything we make is out of hides. The walls, the rugs we use for our floors, even our clothes. Take a feel." she offered, holding out a bit of her skirt to allow the Mexican to observe the exquisite quality.

Huddleston couldn't help the slight blush that came across his features as he felt the fabric. But despite this, he couldn't deny that the fabric was incredibly soft. It had everything you'd expect from a sort of silk, without the silk part. Nodding at the Native woman, he flashed a smile at her.

" Wow. That is incredibly soft. How do you all do that? We have incredibly talented seamstresses here in Mexico, but we cannot hope to achieve results like this."

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

The lady did not really seem to mind the measuring and all, mostly ignoring it in favor of the polite conversation offered by the Mexican. She did, however, find a bit of humor in the smaller stature of the shoemaker, as the Karankawa women were of much more average height, maintaining litheness seen in their male counterparts. The Mexican, contrarily, seemed to be the opposite, and she supposed there was some humor in that.

"There are no cities, Sir. My people migrate with the seasons, between the shore and the mainland, sometimes hundreds of miles inland too. We build large villages, hundreds of people occupying each. Our houses are of bent willow frames, tied together at the top like those of the Comanche or the Iroquois, and we drape skins over the frame in the direction the wind blows from. That way, we shelter ourselves. We usually make a fire in the middle, too. Our word for house is ba-ak, which means 'wind shelter'." she explained, hoping it was sufficient description. "We build no walls around our villages, and we build no long-lasting structure. Just twelve willow poles with buffalo and deer hides.

Everything we make is out of hides. The walls, the rugs we use for our floors, even our clothes. Take a feel." she offered, holding out a bit of her skirt to allow the Mexican to observe the exquisite quality.

Huddleston couldn't help the slight blush that came across his features as he felt the fabric. But despite this, he couldn't deny that the fabric was incredibly soft. It had everything you'd expect from a sort of silk, without the silk part. Nodding at the Native woman, he flashed a smile at her.

" Wow. That is incredibly soft. How do you all do that? We have incredibly talented seamstresses here in Mexico, but we cannot hope to achieve results like this."

"That is the thing, Sir." she replied, smiling. "We start with our leathers from scratch. We take good care with a delicate touch to make it fine. We hand-craft it from the moment it comes off of the animal to the moment it goes around my hips." She giggles a bit, "Industry may produce more, but at a lesser quality." She noted her feet having finished being measured, and this reminded her of the offer she desired to make.

"I could have my ladies craft you boots, if you so desire. I think it would be appropriate repayment for your generosity here."

[New Rnclave]

Huddleston couldn't help the slight blush that came across his features as he felt the fabric. But despite this, he couldn't deny that the fabric was incredibly soft. It had everything you'd expect from a sort of silk, without the silk part. Nodding at the Native woman, he flashed a smile at her.

" Wow. That is incredibly soft. How do you all do that? We have incredibly talented seamstresses here in Mexico, but we cannot hope to achieve results like this."

"That is the thing, Sir." she replied, smiling. "We start with our leathers from scratch. We take good care with a delicate touch to make it fine. We hand-craft it from the moment it comes off of the animal to the moment it goes around my hips." She giggles a bit, "Industry may produce more, but at a lesser quality." She noted her feet having finished being measured, and this reminded her of the offer she desired to make.

"I could have my ladies craft you boots, if you so desire. I think it would be appropriate repayment for your generosity here."

" As nice as that sounds, I couldn't. It's only proper for a man to offer a lady any means of comfort she needs, espcially if she is a guest in our great city. Although, I would like to get a pair for my son. Without his mother, he's quite depressed as of late. A gift such as this would be mighty appropriate in these dire times. But back to the meat if things as it were. As I was informed before we left, the United States of Mexico is now at war, and while you've already pledged your support, I'd like your support in one more thing. I want to create a Native American state in their Mississippi territory, somewhere where the oppressed Native American people's can live in peace, with Mexican and outside support to help them stay independent and prosperous. What do you Think?"

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

"That is the thing, Sir." she replied, smiling. "We start with our leathers from scratch. We take good care with a delicate touch to make it fine. We hand-craft it from the moment it comes off of the animal to the moment it goes around my hips." She giggles a bit, "Industry may produce more, but at a lesser quality." She noted her feet having finished being measured, and this reminded her of the offer she desired to make.

"I could have my ladies craft you boots, if you so desire. I think it would be appropriate repayment for your generosity here."

" As nice as that sounds, I couldn't. It's only proper for a man to offer a lady any means of comfort she needs, espcially if she is a guest in our great city. Although, I would like to get a pair for my son. Without his mother, he's quite depressed as of late. A gift such as this would be mighty appropriate in these dire times. But back to the meat if things as it were. As I was informed before we left, the United States of Mexico is now at war, and while you've already pledged your support, I'd like your support in one more thing. I want to create a Native American state in their Mississippi territory, somewhere where the oppressed Native American people's can live in peace, with Mexican and outside support to help them stay independent and prosperous. What do you Think?"

"I think it is a wonderful initiative." she responded, starting to have boots shoved onto her feet. "The displaced peoples need somewhere to go, after all. Not all of them have the wonderful chance that my people do to remain in their home territory, unfortunately. A safe place for them would be an excellent idea, if the rival tribes could be kept apart." She made note of the man's apparent vacancy in his life, a son without a mother and a husband without a wife. A sad tale, but something that she, through the gift, could hopefully cure. The Karankawa were not very familiar with shoes, but she was sure she could make some. They could be a little big or a little small without too much worry, as they would certainly not craft boots as stiff as those of the city folk.