Blood and Iron [IC/ALT-HISTORY/OPEN]

The New Byzantine · by **The New Byzantine II** » Tue Oct 18, 2016 5:59 am

People's Socialist Republic of France
Socialiste République Populaire de France

Élysée Palace
Paris, Ile De France Region, France
21st of January, 1891 A.D.

For the past weeks, the military operations proposed by President Cluseret himself was a great success. The increased French navy presence in the western Meditterenean Sea was also a success and was reported to be seen in the Iberian and Italian waters. The spread of the teachings of Marxism to Iberia was about to start and plans to expand the glorious ideology across Europe. President Cluseret was also planning to fund the so-called Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (in English, the Social Democratic Party of Germany) to start an uprising against their government. If this plan to fund this German party was a success, he would order the French military to retake Alsace-Lorraine to create a distraction. The French invasion and the rebellion. President Cluseret was looking at the European map, impressed by his glorious plans. President Cluseret also heard about 52 socialists executed in Iberia and the leader was a Frenchman, he was outraged by this because President Cluseret doesn't want his people to get killed although he was confused about this Frenchman. Maybe a supporter? He wasn't part of the plan. He thought it was Acel Henriot; one of the most influential propagandists in France.

A messenger would calmly open the President's office and there were at least four messages from other countries; one from New England, two and three are from Iberia, and last but not least..from Maurania. President Cluseret was surprised that even an American state had sent a message to France. President Cluseret were looking at the papers one by one. He then respond to this three nations

Andorra la Vella
Andorra la Vella, Andorra, Iberia
24th of January, 1891 A.D.

Two weeks before the events. Acel Henriot arrived in Andorra at 12th of January, 1891. Principality of Andorra was founded in 1278 and became an Iberian puppet for unknown reasons. If Andorra was influenced by the teachings of Marxism, then the spread of the ideology will be connected to Catalonia, and then to eastern Iberia. Andorra is ruled by princes but is under controlled by the Iberian government. The Andorran Socialist Party was recently founded in Andorra but very small and weak as the Iberians tried to prevent the spread of socialism into Iberia, Andorra being the gateway to mainland Iberia.

Acel Henriot met Vince Henrer, leader of the Socialist Party in Andorra. Vince Henrer had been an anti-Iberian and admired France and the Paris Commune and he wished that he'll do the same to this "country". Acel gave an advice to Vince Henrer that to create propagandists to post the socialist posters across the streets of Andorra la Vella in order to spread socialism across Andorra, create a paramilitary group and to influence people that the teachings of Marxism was a great philosophy that this kind of ideology worked in the nation of France. Vince Henrer agreed to the idea and formed a paramilitary group called the Guàrdia Roja d'Andorra or the Andorran Red Guards. Aced would help the Socialist Party to rise up.

During this times, Acel had posted hundreds of socialist posters written both in Spanish and Catalan. Posters such as this, this, and this. People from Andorra la Vella had noticed this unique posters and the people acknowledge the teachings of Marxism, the people got interested and then Vince Henrer showed up out of no where. "People of Andorra!" he shouted. The people looked at Vince Henrer. "People of Andorra, today, we had entered a new era, do you know that France is a large socialist nation and the teachings of Marxism worked in the French government? The Iberian government had lied to us that socialism is a disease! But they are wrong! If this ideology considered a disease then socialism in France had fell years ago, but they are wrong. They had lied to us. We must awake into the reality from the corrupted capitalists and corrupted imperialists, they had lied to us. The teachings of Marxism is a truth! Even the Princes of Andorra had been brainwashed to imperialism because of the Iberian lies! Today, we are awaken. Marxism is a truth! Viva la Andorra! Viva la Socialismo!"

There were moments of silence, suddenly, a teenager shouted, "Viva la Andorra! Viva la Socialismo!" and then others followed by shouting those words. The people then take a membership of the Socialist Party based in Andorra. Today, 24th of January, 1891; thousand people had joined the Socialist Party and the teachings of Marxism became popular in Andorra and the Princes of Andorra were concerned about this situation, it will continue to get more memberships on the future which it will reach to ten thousand. Because of this, people always talked about Socialism being a success and the teachings of Marxism being the truth until it reached in Northern Catalonia. In Northern Catalonia, a recently-founded socialist organisation was created there which is just small and weak.

8 km to Mauranian land
Southern Balearic Sea, Mauranian waters
26th of January, 1891 A.D.

Most of the Western Meditterenean Sea are full of French navy, patrolling the seas. Admiral Courbet had dispatched another batch of ships to patrol the southern Balearic Sea. This another batch of ships was led by Admiral Moreau, patrolling the southern Balearic Sea. They don't know that they are in the Mauranian waters. A sailor then reports to Admiral Moreau.

"Sir, it appears that we are not in the Iberian waters anymore. We are in the Mauranian waters, the southern Balearic Sea." the sailor said. Admiral Moreau raised his eyebrow, "Are you sure that we are in the Mauranian waters?" he said. "Yes, sir." the sailor replied. Admiral Moreau nods and headed outside. He smell the fresh air of the southern Balearic Sea, doing inhale and exhale. He then looked at the sea. He then saw multiple ships headed to a land, most of them are merchant ships. He grabbed his telescope and zoomed in onto the land. He then saw an Mauranian flag waving, he zoomed out and put his telescope back to his pocket. Admiral Moreau ordered the ships to keep patrolling. Admiral Moreau meant that western Meditterenean is belong to France.

by **Esselman** » Tue Oct 18, 2016 3:17 pm

January 25^th, 1891

The Tsar had received more letters, foreign leaders wishing to exhalt him no doubt, but one from the Empire that was Byzantium was quite rare these days. Lenin and the Imperial Duma had detested aligning with large empires as they could create an unsteady balance and wanted to focus on an influx of industry to aide Russia internally and leave foreign affairs where they were. The Tsar has other plans.

The letters were sent and though all foreign deals and alliances now had to go through the Imperial Duma, the Tsar still had tremendous affect on world leaders perception of Russia and what information would be useful for alliances. The Tsar would only inform the legislative body of his dealings should his own personal desire to join Byzantium succeed as they are of Orthodox heritage and thus the heavenly ally of Russia.

by **The V O I D** » Tue Oct 18, 2016 3:35 pm

January 30^th, 1891
The Chancellery Palace - Stockholm of Sweden
The Scandinavian Federation

Chancellor Valentin Hall had all the preparations made; the Chancellery Palace's Meeting Hall was prepared with a small meal, as well as for the meeting that was about to take place. The Germans were coming, soon, after all. Chancellor Hall was sitting in his chair, waiting for the news of their arrival. Suddenly, a Royal Guard from the Swedish Guard came into the room, walking over to the Chancellor; he saluted dutifully, and then, when Valentin nodded, rested. The Guard then spoke to the Chancellor with great importance.

"Your Excellency, the German Delegation has arrived. Shall I send for them?", the guard stated. Chancellor Hall nodded immediately; and with that, the guard left. Chancellor Hall began preparing his diplomatic speech and voice; trying to prepare himself for the diplomacy about to take place. Once they had drawn up a treaty or some such document, they could each return to their respective governments and send notice of approval and ratification of the treaty. Chancellor Hall smiled slightly, happy that it was time to meet with the Germans. He also thought of the Byzantines, whom he had sent a message to earlier.

January 30^th, 1891
Stockholm, Sweden
The Scandinavian Federation

The German Delegation, and its escorts, had traveled through the Scandinavian Federation; first through Greater Denmark, and its capital in Copenhagen - a quick passing by of the Parliamentary Building - and then towards Sweden. It had been a few days of travel, but now, the German delegation was here. As their carriage arrived, a Swedish Royal Guard opened the door to the carriage; another one waiting outside of the cart for them. The Guard bowed his head respectfully, before speaking in a warm tone.

"On behalf of His Excellency, Chancellor Valentin Hall, I welcome you to Stockholm. I shall be taking you to the Chancellery Palace, and to the Meeting Hall within it.", the guard said simply. The German Delegation was being prepared for escort into the Chancellery Palace and the Meeting Hall. The meeting about to take place was of extreme importance.

by **Newne Carriebean7** » Tue Oct 18, 2016 9:52 pm

Texan-Louisianan Border
Army of the Mississippi Headquarters
January 21st,1891

General Walter Payne Lane stared at the map,he couldn't risk an assault with the 45,000 total men at his disposal, even if there were 20,000 man groups on the flanks, the weather had not picked up, and many of the food wagons had been delayed because of the shit roads out in this far of the nation. the men's dinner rations were cut to three small slivers of ham, half of an egg to share, and a cup of dirt coffee. it was not nearly the familiar home cooking that the men had gotten used to,and so around twenty of the more wealthy sons of the plantation owners, the scheming bastards that wanted a promotion in the ranks by a few "favors" and not hard work and dedication had gotten their first taste of "peasant food" as they called it, and shot themselves in the head. if it meant less spoiled little shits in the army, he would be fine with it,and the men were easily replaceable, a middle finger to the wealthy aristocratic slave owner's families as they retrieved their corpse from the coffin. as he dumped a ladle into the cup of liquid shit they called coffee, he heard the sound of cannons, then distance explosions and crashes on the other side. several soldiers were awoken by the noises and got dressed and readied quicker than before because of the sounds. Lane left the small thin tent, gripping a pipe in one hand and the cup of coffee in the other, he chugged the semi warm piss and threw the cup away,all the while yanking a lowly aide by his collar.
"who the feckin 'ell is shootin, is it us, or is it the enemy?"
"w-we're shooting sir, the fourth Rio ranger's french made model 1877s are giving the louies hell."
"I don't give a feck where the guns came from and who made them, I want an attack to be launched, has the navy broken through yet?"
"sir, we don't know there hasen't been any contact with them for a full day!"
"feck me arse and call be bluepie, get contact with them at once, or I'll shoot you out of a gun,and begin the assault!"
"yes sir!"
as the nervous aide scurried away, General Lane pulled out his whiskey and began to drink in the begining of the battle.

Mississippi River,Louisianan swamp like area
January 10th,1891
Swamps of the Bayou
Captain Farris felt the small chill of the wind as the battle continued, in the favor for the Texan ship, one of the five Louisianan ships had struck the galleon's wreck that protected the Youthful's starboard flank,while the Texan gunners had shot off some hot shells,impacting two other gunboats, sending the ships and their crews sky high as the powder reached their magazines. that still left two gunboats, which were bearing down on the ship.
"do we have any ammunition left?"
"a shot left for three cannon sir."
"tell them to let loose now!"
"yes sir!"
as the blackened with soot and shot man ran back downstairs, the ship's side lit up for the last time as the three cannonballs soared through the air, and hit one of the ships,smashing it's bridge and sending it crashing into the wreck of the galleon.
"sir, the other two gunboats are going to board us!"
"prepare for hand to hand combat, and get me another damn beer!"
the crew nodded, a young cabin boy fulfilling the alcohol desires of the captain.
"thank you my boy, now to your posts, and make the swords ready!"
as several grappling hooks were thrown to the much shorter gunboat, their crew cursed at them as the Texan men stepped foot on the decks of the ships, slaughtering many of the Louisianans who were less prepared and equipped for the action compared to the Texans. Farris got out his best sword and boarded the small gunboat, coming face to face with two Louisianans armed with swords and pikes, Farris quickly dodged a hack at him from the left pike man, and thrust the sword into the Louisianan's shoulder, causing him to fall backwards,trip over a barrel and off the ship in a blur. farris then turned his attention to the pike man, cutting his way through the frenzied man's defenses, before delivering a finishing blow to the head, slicing some of it off, as the sword was somewhat dull. as he watched the scene around him, many of the Louisianans jumped off the ship or surrendered to him. he then saw a bloodied and tired captain.
"ahoy, who the hell are you?"
"Oui,I am captain Leman Affante Chespake, the captain of the L'restain. you have fought well,and we are no match."
the french man then pulled out his sword and handed it to the man.
"I surrender this vessel, and my fleet to you."
"we were only one ship, alright then, put these men in the brig, the ones we can fit, then shoot the rest!"
the captain was in shock.
"I thought we were promised fair treatment?"
"bullshit."
Farris then grabbed his sidearm and shot the french captain dead before wiping the blood off of his weapon and reboarding the Youthful.
"dispatch crews to the surviving gunboats, and pick up as many prisoners as we can hold."
"Yes sir."
with that, Captain Farris retired to his cabin,exhausted for some sleep.

Austin,Texas
Martyr's of the revolution avenue
January 23rd,1891
72 year old Linda Brown stared out the window of the decrepit old shangli-lengassa hotel she was staying in, the walls drenched in cigar smoke and whiskey pouring on the floor. grabbing her Lebel model 1886 rifle from the closet, she inserted the 8 round tube magazine into the gun, hearing a click, she felt satisfied as she got downstairs to use the hotel phone, as they had been deemed too costly to insert into individual rooms for the failing business. inserting a nickle, she rolled the dial around until hearing a click three times.
"this is the golden tree, the roots have been planted,waiting for the rain to come,come in clouds."
"these are the clouds,expect the precipitation to pour down and nurture you in two minutes sharp."
"understood. should the plant get the gardener to swap the bugs?"
"positive,the weather is changing for the worse. over and out."
with a click,she hung up the phone,gripping the rifle tightly,she loaded the weapon's barrel and took aim from the outside of her house, seeing a Texan ranger escorting a rio grande representative back from lunch to his carriage.
bellowing at the top of her lungs,
"The Sunlight of Socialism makes the plants of the revolution grow!"
she pulled the trigger, forcing the guard to draw his gun before a bullet impacted his face, as the terrified politician began to curse, she reloaded the gun and let loose another shot, putting a stop to the potty mouthed politician. as several bystanders and the other politicians that had gotten caught in the crossfire ducked for cover, several more people began to fire from another rival hotel across the street, the Punjab Pleasure. a full fledged gun battle began. as she reloaded the gun, her elderly hands began to tire, and yet her allies across the street covered for her as politician after politician either ducked for cover or was shot. reloading the gun with a fresh magazine, she then heard the door come crashing down as two Texan rangers entered the room.
"surrender, you are under arrest for the murder of senator Kyle Renards of the Rio Grande distr-"
"fuck your politicians, they're all corrupt, not caring about the elderly, the young or the unemployed, the Farmers of the Revolution will never stop!"
she bellowed before taking aim at one of the guards, who pulled out their sidearms,making the last thing Linda see was the ugly barrel of the man's revolver before a flash.

Austin,Texas
Presidential Residence
Gary Raleigh Hanson stretched as the aides to the president catered to him. he had to endure a five hour train ride in what should have been a twenty five to thirty minute trip because of a faulty engine half the way, and the argument that brewed for an hour over who would pay for the engine. himself having to step in and say that the state would pay for it, and so he had to write off a 36,000 dollar check to the Texan bank because of his kindness,and reluctance to be stuck in the middle of nowhere for an hour longer.
"so what is the situation over in Louisiana?"
"sir, so far as we know is that General Lane's camp is in inadequate shape, and needs more supplies,ammunition,and building materials."
"well then, let's send five trains of supplies, four trains carrying the ammunition and two trains carrying the materials,there problem solved."
"it's not that easy sir, we only have three railway lines that connect to his area of operation,although he is building two more with the help of his slaves,and that will take a solid three to nine months."
"that bastard's exaggerating of course, it'll take much longer for those changes to happen, in the meantime, what else in on the docket?" Hanson questioned the aide, who got out the newspaper. "there's been a shooting in Austin, nearly thirty nine people are dead, and twenty seven have been wounded by a militant socialist group called the sunlight of socialism, many of them are former senators and congressmen that were returning from their lunch breaks to the capitol when it began with an old woman shouting for it to start."
"shit. lock down the city entirely, I want general Lawrence Ross to restore order, mobilize the Texan rangers, just secure this city before a revolution to happen,clear?"
"crystal sirs."
"good."
as the aide left, Hanson nosed the paper further, getting madder at the results.

by **Holoska** » Tue Oct 18, 2016 10:19 pm

by **Kerbodine** » Wed Oct 19, 2016 3:20 pm

GROßER SUPERIOR, FEBRUARY 20th, 1891

133 Goebellstrasse, Waukesha, Wisconsin State

A Progressivbund meeting filled Edward J. Fahrman Hall to the brim. There were probably over 1,000 people in the audience, mostly made up of liberal Germans who had immigrated to the region 1840-1860. A speech was being given by Robert M. La Follette, Progressivbund leader, about socialism. "Socialism," he said in an emotionless voice, "is a scourge upon the people of this fine nation." Pausing to allow a translator to recount each sentence in proper German, La Follette continued: "Indeed, it is a scourge upon the people of the world. [...] It takes a few obvious truths and twists them into something that truly oppresses the opportunities of the average man. [...] It is true that I advocate for unions and worker's rights, but that is only so long as it is voluntary, freeing. [...] Children shouldn't be allowed to work in a factory all day, as they do not yet have the capacity to make that decision for themselves. [...] And public companies built off of the public should be more available to the public, especially such staple needs as railroads. [...] Farmers, the standard of the common man working for himself, should be allowed loans for less interest, to encourage that industry. [...] However, there is such a thing as a step too far. [...] The state should almost never be in charge of the economy, should not control what its citizens do, and should not impede on the rights of the people to do with their work and capital as they wish. [...] As soon as the state enforces these things on its citizens, it is as though it is declaring war on its own people. [...]" La Follette began to get fired up. His well-known orating style, starting by stating things as though facts and then excitedly pushing the emotional response he wanted, was incredibly effective. He had even hired his translator, mostly there as a nod to the German majority in the area, specifically because he was able to translate not just the words but the feelings into Deutsche ever so perfectly.
"Socialists, in France, and even in our neighbors to the East, New England, are killing, murdering, the innovators, the businessmen, the leaders that make a society such as ours so great! [...] They are throttling their own development under the false pretense that they are helping the common man, while, in reality, they are but harming the upper class with minimal improvement to the rest of society! [...] This is something that cannot happen in Superior! [...] My opponents label me and our party as 'socialists'. No. We are progressive, we are practical, and we are the future of the working class, our nation, and the world!"
As his translator began shouting out an impassioned German version of what he had said, La Follette stormed out the back door of the building to a moment of stunned silence followed by uproarious applause.

by **Holoska** » Wed Oct 19, 2016 4:40 pm

by **Auchterland** » Wed Oct 19, 2016 5:34 pm

Free State of Brazil | Vrijstaat Brazilië

29 January, 1891
De Hoek, Heuvelsbaai, Brazilië

The task that Jakob had given to Eugene couldn't be better. Of course, he would still have to work, and a lot, to meet the standards of his employers, but it gave him the chance to explore all that he could in Brazil with minimal costs. He took the rest of the meeting's day to plan his first excursion through the capital in the luxurious hotel room he had been offered, and on the next day, he took off. After a whole morning and afternoon visiting the city's most famous landmarks - historical locations, natural sights, architectonic beauties -, he decided to relax whilst having a drink.

He headed to a popular place in Heuvelsbaai, known as De Hoek, a bar and show house. It translated to "The Corner", for the simple fact that it sat on a street corner in Heuvelsbaai's own bohemian neighborhood. It attracted people of all kinds, but became popular mainly for being frequented by intellectuals, artists and university students. And there, Eugene was sat with his guide, on a small table by the door, enjoying a mug of cold beer. He could be admiring the view of the outside, a merry end of the day, the sky tinted orange and the street lamps starting to be lit... But something else drew his attention at that moment.

On a stage inside the bar, stood a woman dressed in an elegant evening gown. Eugene admired the cascade of brown hair locks that fell down her back, the tanned shade of her skin and the way her lips moved as she sang. The guide quickly explained him, when she was just starting, that the woman was Emma Mulder, a professional singer that had started her career in the city a few years ago and had recently been enjoying an increase in popularity.

As the show went on, Eugene set something in his mind. He wished to speak to that lady. He needed to. As she announced her last song, he murmured to his guide: "If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back." Then he slowly pushed himself up and calmly walked to a spot closer to the woman, sitting on a stool in front of the counter. When she was finished and wished the audience a good night, he shortly made his way to her. "Your performance was fabulous this evening, Mevrouw Mulder.", said he, putting on a kind smile.

She turned back to him and smiled back. "I am grateful for your words of kindness, Meneer...?" She extended a hand in his direction and quirked an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

He took her hand, placing a kiss on its back. "De Blaas. Eugene de Blaas, a painter from Venice."

"Oh, a man of the fine arts. I wonder what brought you to Brazil. Surely not my show." She smirked as she retracted her hand again.

"Perhaps I could tell you more about it at another time - while I paint you, if you agree.", suggested him, expectantly.

It took her about two seconds to answer. "Do you have a pen and paper?" He quickly nodded, fishing out the instrument and note block which he had been using to draw sketches of the scenes he had seen that day and handing them to her. She flipped the pages until she found a blank one and quickly scribbled something before handing the objects back to him. "At this address tomorrow, at five o' clock. Have yourself a good night, Meneer de Blaas." She turned on her heels and left his sight in only a few seconds, without waiting for an answer.

"Ain't she a cocky one, now...", mumbled Eugene to himself as he gazed down at the address on his note block.

5 February, 1891
Nationaal Paleis, Heuvelsbaai, Brazilië

Berend sat at his desk, with his fingers intertwined and held close to his mouth as he pondered. Brazilian diplomacy was going slower than he wanted it to go. The mexican were unresponsive thus far. He soon also realized a flaw in his current state: the only confirmed ally he had thus far was the iberian crown, which he felt that gave him little guarantee. What if it even came to the extreme of turning its back on Brazil or, worse, used this to influence it to its own benefit? If Brazil was to remain safe from foreign harassment and reassure its interests in an international level, it would need to diversify its base of allies.

After some time spent flipping through newspaper pages, correspondence, official statistics and personal notes, it seemed that two european potences were the most promising options. He only hoped that the diplomatic relations between them were friendly enough that none of them would attempt to pit Brazil against the other. So he wrote his letters.

Then, he returned to the letter he received from Iberia. He had already read it once, and now studied its details more cautiously once he had taken care of that other issue and felt more at ease. He narrowed his eyes as he read the plan, frowned slightly and shook his head as he noticed a few flaws, and wrote a letter with his objections.

by **Kazarogkai** » Wed Oct 19, 2016 11:00 pm

February 1891
The Latin Commonwealth of Georgia

Forum Palace, Atlanta
Committee of War

Men of this exalted committee had been in debate for the better part of a day. Ilos Corps was dispatched and news of their arrival in Baton Rouge would soon come their way. The nature of this meeting was rather simple, should they send more? Minister Alerviu as per his duties had functioned as chair of the meeting moderating the course of things. One would hope he would be a little more neutral but he was not and honestly didn't give a damn.

The situation was a serious one. Their destible neighbors to the west were expanding, already worrying in itself, and worst of all it was in their direction. Having such people as neighbors was not exactly something they cared for all in all. At the very least they had a nice buffer region to give them some space though in previous times. Now that was soon to end sadly and the mood of the room was quite ugly.

Some of the most grim voices were calling for war while others were pleading restraint. Despite this the group was as a whole unanimous in that something had to be done and soon. How they wished to go about this varied from person to person in the very beginning which soon turned to 2-3 organized camps which eventually turned to a single group through compromise and a little bit of arm twisting.

When the day was done and all had said there peace they were atleast ready to present a bill to the Forum at large. Among many things it called for a partial mobilization of the second line reserve(25-50% of the entire force), the creation of a second corps from elements of the first line to reinforce Ilo's position, and finally the making of contact with local forces in the buffer region. These would be controversial decisions to call for and probably would be seen as drastic but these were dire times and such drastic action was in Minister Alerviu's mind required for the situation at hand. With that done the men shuffled out and made their way home.

The next day

When the next day dawned and the forum commenced it's day Minister Alerviu's and the committee of wars Bill 15-05-177 was at the top of the agenda. Despite some heated debate a grand bargain was made. Though the Minister wasn't exactly happy that he didn't get everything exactly as he had wanted it was good enough. Things were falling into place:

by **Holoska** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 2:08 am

by **Altegonnia** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 9:00 am

Somwhere in the region of Byzantine Saudi Arabia
Abdul did not know where he was, his head was throbbing like crazy. All he remembers is going home from work at the local school. Then nothing. It became clear to him that he was in a hole, a deep one in fact and that it was now the middle of the night. He tried to reposition his feet but for some strange reason he could not move them. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he realized his feet were literally sealed together in a block of concrete. The gravity of his situation dawned upon him and he felt the onset of panic set in. He knew he could not climb out of this hole with his body weighed down by the concrete he's in. He'd begin to yell," Help! I need help! Is anyone there"

"Looks like he's awake"

Abdul would feel relief to hear that someone was there, however when the three men in desert fatigues and balaclavas enter view with a lantern, he realized these men were not going to be his rescuers. Two of them were holding were holding shovels while the third was smoking a large cigar. Abdul would plead with them, "please let me go! Why are you doing this?!"

"Don't play innocent! You a fucking muzzie. We know you've been encouraging Islam in your community through your classroom."

"You must be mistaken. I am a faithful Christian!"

"Sure you are. Found this in your house."

The man smoking a cigar would toss a Quran into the pit.

"We need this done before day breaks. Bury him."

Abdul's screams can be heard as the two men begin to bury him alive.....

Alexandria, The Byzantine Empire
sevral legionaries were standing outside a store, drinking soda and laughing about a recent Turk hunt. When a French tourist and his family would walk by simply exploring the famous city having quiet conversation with each other in French. One of the legionaries would scoff and say, "fucking french socialist bastards. Thinking they can walk around our proud empire like they aren't utter filth undeserving of the soil they walk upon." One of them would reach out and grab the French man's wife, throwing her to the ground. The rest of the group would laugh. The man would begin yelling angrily in French and begin pushing the legionary who threw his wife to the ground. It would turn brawl between the two Until the legionary pulled a pistol pointing at the man. The French tourist would freeze in shock and then drop at the legionary opened fire into him and his family. The other two legionary would be partially shocked but then one would say, "Fuck ionnes! Did you have to kill them!?"

"I panicked ok?!"

"We need to get out of here.."

"Yeah, shit."

The men would run off into a nearby alleyway. Leaving the family lying the street.

Legionary training camp, Byzantine controlled Iraq.
in a remote valley of Iraq, what looks like a makeshift military base is situated. Soldiers in tan uniforms march in tight blocks and can be seen running brutal obstinately course and practing rifling on a firing range. This just one of fifty similar camps across the Byzantine empire which trains the Legion'a radical and militant members into cohorts to support the organization militarily. The camps are in reality also staging points for larger raids and operations across Empire against its enemies like the Turks, Muslims and socialists/communists.

City docks in Atlanta, Georgia.
Captain Julius would slip the dock master several bills to get him walk away from his boat. His steamer was carrying valuable cargo he cannot inspected. This crap called "cocaine" turned out to be quite valuable and was highly demanded as a ingredient for headaches and medicine. The legion does not grow this cocaine mind you or process it. They simply smuggle and distribute it in North America for a cut of the profits. 30% to be financially exact. On the other hand however they also are smuggling weapons such revolvers and rifles into north America just as they do in Europe. This all to finance the organization's continued plans to expand and supply their armed camps.

by **Newne Carriebean7** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 11:01 am

Texan-Louisianan Border,38 miles outside of New Orleans
Army of the Mississippi
January 21st,1891

Captain Kyle "Bull" Smith emptied the ammunition into his colt carbine weapon, sliding the extended revolver bullet circle back into the weapon with a click. all seven rounds snug as a bug in a rug inside. he had been born in 1860 before the death of old President Greenly, whom he had read up about. he was a fairly short 30 year old man with a pipe sticking out from the side of his mouth. he always had smoked before battle as a sign of good luck, taking the pipe out of his mouth, he unsheathed his sword and pointed across the other side of the Mississippi next to one of the bridges set up the night before with much difficulty by the engineers.
"12th Galveston Volunteers, forwards!"
the men cheered as the nearly 140 odd men marched across the bridge, supported by two other units of similar size, the Louisianan defenders could not believe their luck,and so several cannonballs and musket balls went flying into the tightly packed Texan formations on the bridge, one of the first cannonballs in fact hitting the rear of smith's unit, sending a handful of men flying in the air while a good dozen that were in the way of the cannonball's path were knocked down. loading his weapon, he blew his whistle.
"company,form up!"
the several confused volunteers turned and ran back, while around a third of them got into firing formation.
"present arms!"
roughly forty rifles were pointed at the Louisianan defenders, with many men taking aim at different targets.
"fire!"
a volley of rifle fire echoed in the general area as the cannonballs from the Louisianans kept firing.
"forwards first squad of ten men, rear squad of thirty advance with us and provide covering fire!"
the ten front row men rushed forwards as the rear men let loose another half prepared volley at the enemy defenses.
"we're almost across the bridge, charge all men!"
he southern like roar from the hundreds of soldiers other than the galvenstonian men echoed through the bridge,almost masking the sound of gunfire, but just almost. the louisanans then replied with a heavy point blank volley, Smith grunted with the rest of his unit that was hit, blood spraying from his left wrist and upper left shoulder. grabbing his sword, he struggled to stand,and then positioned the sword upwards as he gave up supporting himself, forcing the sword into his body,ending the man's life with a slight sigh of relief being the last sound the man making, in a muttering voice.

Mississippi River,Louisianan swamp like area
January 11th,1891
Swamps of the Bayou
Captain Farris inspected the decks as they were cleaned from the blood and guts of several men, they were to head upriver until the retreating Louisianans blocked off the crossing via a makeshift dam, an impressive sight considering the lack of resources in the bayou like southern swamps of Louisiana. he had fought back and forth with the salty old Admiral that commanded the entire operation, with this path blocked, the old Ironclads that were brought in from reserve,such as theDefender and Gaurder, both ancient warriors that had been recommissioned into the fleet, to prepare a new offensive up another river, they just needed to send teams either during the day or during the night, both would be risky, but for different reasons, the day attacks would make their presence clear to the Louisianans,and if they were captured and interrogated, it would spell disaster for the main fleet, the night attacks might result in the wrong path being blocked off or the men dying to the lovely wildlife of the bayou, such as the bastard alligators and crocodiles that enjoyed the southern summer heat/ shit January.
"well shit, the front path is blocked off, let's say we rejoin the main fleet, we've had enough of a taste of combat for one day, have the men begin repairs to the ship,what way is the wind blowing?"
"south sir, solid, firm gusts of wind all round."
"good, full canvas, we're going to need to save our coal, we're running out,and so I fear our days of close combat are done, we'll meet up with the fleet and just focus on a planned blockade of New Orleans, we won't take the city, just prevent the people from getting food, and watching the fireworks display from the safety of being out of their cannon reach."
"Aye aye captain!"
with a nod, his first mate began to bark orders at the rest of the surviving crew, much to their both complaints and compliance with the new orders.
"it was all as it should be,"
Farris thought as he wandered into his personal study.

Anchored Outside of New Orleans
January 24th,1891
the rusty old Ironclad Guarder sat at anchor,a good while away from the shimmering city that was New Orleans, a bustling city of nearly a quarter of a million people, all going about their days,making the crew of the ship and Captain Michael Scott feel a tad bit guilty for firing on civilian targets, they had done nothing wrong, and so why should the blood of the innocents be spilled in times of war? he didn't know the answer to that question,and so grabbed one of the cigars from his private collection and lit it with a small box of matches in his personal quarters before heading up on deck. the helmsman saluted.
"captain, the ship is in positioned and the twin 9 inch guns are ready to fire."
"both turrets?"
"yes sir, and the seven lower 7 inch breech cannons are prepped and awaiting the order to fire."
"you have my permission, turn New Orleans into a sea of glass."
"yes sir!"
a bell was rung twice, and the ship shook as the heavy 9 inch forward turret let loose with two shots, this was accompanied quickly by a half salvo of the deck guns. the lookouts peered on the topmast of the ship, watching the shells impact the city, the faint yellowish orange flashes followed by smoke an indicator that they hit something. sighing, he took another puff of the cigar. it was going to be a long night.

Austin, Texas
Grenkenfretter Maulsprenchken Hotel
General Lawrence Ross nosed into the maps of the city, the assault on the congressmen seemed to be the answering call, as around three dozen more attacks had been reported throughout the city, he had ordered it locked down, no one could enter the city, no one could leave it, and that was they way the President had wanted it, which, as a lowly general, could not disobey his commander, though thoughts began to stir in his head of a potential coup, shaking it, he thought "no, not yet, you have a duty to the nation, for now, once they cut my pay, then I shoot the entire dammed cabinet and take congress with me to a fiery grave!" he muttered quietly to himself, the mustache muffling much of what he said. the door creaked open and the man was disturbed once in his days again. chugging the small shot glass of whiskey down before the door closed behind the stranger, he sat the glass down and nodded to the aide that had entered the room.
"sir, several Texan rangers are getting rowdy, they are looting shops in the name of personal and state finance."
"what? deploy squads to arrest these men, I swear, as long as the Texan Union lives I shall not have the good name of the Texan rangers be disgraced by the hooligans and thieves of the lower class so help me god almighty!"
"sir, how is that possible? we only have three companies worth."
"split them off into smaller companies and send them around to maintain order, the mission being to end these hostilities in a peaceful manner,and not to cause harm to civilians, I fear they worry for a coup as much as I do..."
"what was that last part sir?"
Ross cleared his throat.
"nevermind, just,just leave to your post at once, go!"
"Yes sir!"
without another word, the aide saluted then left the room in a hurry, not bothering to shut the door, much to Ross's annoyance.
"it's so hard to get good help these days."
he bickered as the unsteady hand of the bottle poured alcohol everywhere but the shotglass.

Texan Town of Farwell
Texan Californian Boarder
January 24th,1891
Texan Ranger Harold Dale Bluff dismounted from the horse he had been riding on all night. it was part of a small effort by the local mayor's governor's frantic calls for help. a politician calling for help was a common sight,especially whenever slaves were involved,as the bounty on their heads was in the hundreds of thousands, multiple times the daily wages of a lowly cattle ranger or sail maker,if those were not extinct jobs already. Bluff noticed the mayor surrounded by guards and several people in suits and ties.
"excuse me? but, who the hell are you supposed to be?" the man in the top hat, monocle and white beard questioned.
"Harold Bluff, Texan Ranger, what is it you need?"
"I need you to get our property back! or else I'll call the President myself and tell him you suns of bitches are not cooperating, you'd be fired so fast, why I'd-"
" I cannot get your property back unless you have drawings of the slaves,proper ID numbers and a through slave holding permit that's legal."
"s-slave permits,drawings? what on earth are you fucking about with? if you're pulling my chain, I'll rip your ass out of your foot and shove it down your windpipe while ridding an ass out of town!"
"if you wish to be hostile towards us, we have no choice but to defend ourselves."
"now, Roberts was it?"
"Harold."
"Harold, I'm sure we can, be,oh, how you say, in a Mutually beneficial situation for the lot of all."
"go on." Harold nosed.
"what I am proposing, and stop me if you've either heard this before or I am damn near insane, is a potential, how you say, crossing of the boarder, and snatching back our property, eh? it's all set tonight,and you can't stop it, if you try, we'll skin your ass alive and use it as shit wipes! I have a company of militia raised in conjunction with five other units, totaling roughly six or seven hundred strong,we're going to get our property back, and swiftly!"
"y-you'll start a war!"
"don't care, I just want my property back, who's with me!"
to Harold's horror, many of the former Texan rangers cheered in support of the rich man.
"good! mount up your horses, sharpen your swords, to victory or extinction,huzzah!"
sixty five men on horses cheered triumphantly,then were lead by the Mayor himself began to trot across the bridge.
"oh,and Harold, send a letter to the President saying we're going to war,by jingo!"

Austin,Texas
Presidential Palace
January 26th,1891
Gary Raleigh Hanson rubbed the headache from his head. the city was in chaos,there were people rallying behind the Sunlight of Socialism and fighting the armed forces the general had called in,several shops were forced to close and many more innocents had died in the fighting.
"this is a fucked up beyond all recognition situation, Fubar,I like the sound of that. we'll worry about the city in a little while, what news is there from the other parts of the nation?"
"sir, the Ironclads are begining their bombardment of New Orleans,there's the begining of an assault along the Mississippi against the Louisianan slash Georgian forces."
"Georgian?"
"we don't know yet, that's just a guess from Top Military Command."
"well the Top Command can go fuck themselves, I dont' want to get involved in another war, we're involved in one already."
the aide nodded, then was called out of the room by a messenger, after a minute or two of shouting and a gunshot. the aide reentered the room, hiding the blood on his shoes by a red cape.
"actually sir, two." handing the letter to Hanson, he watched the man sigh.
" the stress is getting to me, how long have I been president?"
"only three days now."
" I clearly was not cut out from this job, the only reason why I was on the ticket was because I was having an affair with his wife. I shall resign in a month in accordance to the constitution, mark my words."
" but, you're still our president for now, and, you may handle it better than the other man."
"he was President for three long years, going into his fourth term before his assassination, you know what would cheer me up? watching that madman get pardoned, bring me richard, and an extra set of guards."
"Yes sir."
with that, the aide left the room, this time knocking over the dead corpse of the messenger.

by **Uthary** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 1:13 pm

10th of February, 1891
The Presidential Residence, Port-Au-Prince

President Manuel del Rio, a tall and gaunt dark skinned man stood in front of the open window of his office, a cool breeze wafting through. His chief advisers on domestic and foreign policy entered quickly for their regularly scheduled meeting, looking a bit harried. "Mr. President, good afternoon."

Del Rio turned, smiling slightly, and gesture for the adviser to take a seat in front of the President's desk. "Please, Maxence, Victor. Have a seat, we have much to discuss." The advisers done as they had been bidden, and took a seat. The President followed suit, relaxing in his chair.

"Now. First, Victor. How is the situation in Cuba? I had heard talk of the Nationalists in the west causing trouble."

Victor nodded, recalling the situation. "Indeed. They had been making attacks on land now owned by former slaves, and whites who assisted in the revolution against Spain. They made few demands, and were put down with relative ease by our military forces. Most were captured and await trial in Guantanamo, but a few were killed., I'm afraid."

President Del Rio nodded thoughtfully, listening intently. "Good, good. The Nationalists are losing steam as we cut off their resources. Many have fled to the mainland or Mexico, correct?" Victor nodded in agreement. "Good, less trouble on our hands. And the study program, to foreign universities we've instituted?"

"The program is largely a success, Mr President. Students have been sent to learn industrial and economic techniques in the various European states, and in Brazil. A few have returned, and several new industrial technologies are being put into place."

"Good. Our modernization process must go as smoothly as possible, lest we become irrelevant against the American powers. Now, speaking of Europe and the Americas..." He looked at Maxence. "I believe you had a proposal to increase our security and relevance on the global stage."

Maxence nodded, and held out a pair of files. "Yes, Mr President. Of course, they'll have to be recognized by the Parliament, but I believe they should pass with flying colors. The main two candidates I had in mind for our alliances and good will pacts would be with the Iberian Kingdom, and the Anglo-Dutch Commonwealth. Spain is already one of our chief economic partners, and it would be rather easy to solidify that into a fully fledged alliance. The Spanish ambassador has hinted at this as well."

Del Rio nodded again, and took a small sip of water. "Good, and the Commonwealth?" "They are one of our primary partners in trade, and a closer economic relationship is in our benefit, and theirs."

"You make good points, Maxence. I shall draft letters to the leaders of all three nations. Notify the Parliament, an official notice will be released once these nations respond."

The two advisors, and after a brief period of small talk, took their leave. Once alone, the President removed a sheaf of paper from his desk, and began to write.

by **Kazarogkai** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 1:42 pm

February 1891
The Latin Commonwealth of Georgia

Baton Rouge, West Georgia
Ilos Corps(5)

When the Ilos Corps had finally arrived in Baton Rouge it was already noon day. It had taken them a bit longer than they had hoped but atleast they had arrived. Baton Rouge was border town of georgias that straddled the eastern side of the Mississippi. It wasn't the largest town there was, it most certainly wouldn't come close in size to the cities back east, but it was the largest in a strategically important region. Hence why it was the local capital of the area.

Owing to it's border status it was the frequent stop of many of the escaped slaves coming from the west hence the composition of the town was mostly of African origins. When the troops came marching in as they were good citizens the local residents made sure to take off their hats as they passed by. When General Ilos and his command staff had made their way to the town center they were greeted warmly by the local authorities.

Along with many things he demanded shelter for his men along with the making of one of the larger buildings in town as his personal HQ. They set out to deliver upon his wants partly out of fear partly out of patriotism so that by the end the day they were met. When night had arrived and the hustle and bustle had finally died down and his troops were settled in he convened a meeting with his staff. During this meeting a plan of action was formulated whereby the forces at their disposal would be divided into 2 Divisions, with the first led by him personally and the second by Lieutenant General Paetoria. He had on his travels received word from a mounted courier that the 4th Legion would soon be arriving to supplement his force which would increase his corps to full strength. As a result this allowed him to make the executive decision to send the soon to arrive 10th Legion and a message to the 4th legion to deploy themselves west of lake Pontchartrain immediately north of the river that straddled North of Orleans. These would be the forces that would comprise the 2nd division of his corps, with remainder forming the 1st division.

Ultimate goal was to more or less box the Texans in so that if they were to cross into Georgia they would have to fight on his terms. While the 2nd division set out the 1st division would stay right here in Baton Rouge and fortify their position. The land before them leading to orleans was relatively flat and marshy but flanked by the mighty mississippi and amite rivers. If they were to march on his position in Baton Rouge the land would naturally funnel them, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel filled with shit water. A little obscure maybe but manageable. The 2nd Division though smaller had a nice river that stood before them and lake pontchartrain flanking their west. Any enemy force who came around would have to cross the river if they wished to reach their position. In the unlikely event that the Texans took the middle path and invaded through the Lake they would be at mercy of both divisions artillery compliments and if some were to make it to shore cavalry to discourage that possibility.

With that they adjourned for the night.

The next day

When the new day had arrived and the mourning routine was done: A quick washing, small breakfast, and a heavy dose of tea. The troops set about in the preparations of the their line. Members of the 10th Legion set out alongside the Lieutenant General to convene with the 4th Legion; the troops of the 2nd, 3rd, and 8th Legions on the otherhand remained. To better their position and increase their fortunes if there ever was a conflict they decided to fortify the area around the town.

Trenches would be subject to quick flooding in these lands so those were out of the question. Instead they opted for a system of walls and block houses of sorts which would have to do. The walls in question would be earthen with wooden stockades and wicker baskets filled with rocks to reinforce it along with lagers made from wagons. Though some of the "block houses" were literally just houses within the town edge appropriated for use and fortified as needed, quite a few were built on the spot from wood and tiles.

None of these improved structures stood more than 1 story high at best and the walls not even half that. Still it atleast gave their troops a slight height advantage against any opponents they might face and some protection from artillery. General Ilos had also made the decision to place the majority of his artillery on a slight bit of high ground that stood behind his fortifications. The goal in mind was to create a grand battery to concentrate his artillery against any foe. In contrast his gatling guns would be placed with his regular infantry along the walls to support his troops directly. Since their acquisition in the 1860s the Georgians had made ample use of these deadly pieces mostly against local rebel groups. Though rather dated and easily outgunned by newer weapons especially those found in europe It's range easily surpassed most small arms range allowing it to attack with virtual impunity for atleast a while. And they knew through experience how deadly they could be with their high rate of fire against masses of men concentrated and out in the open. Old but still very effective.

The Georgian Gatlings were a little different from those seen in other nations. They knew for one that it's primary duty was to support the Infantry advance as such they had made a few modifications to aid in that role. For one they spurned the old carriage wheels instead for a more lightweight tripod plus they reduced the number of barrels down to only 4. These weight savings came at a cost though for one though the theoretical rate of fire was about 400 rounds a minute in order to prevent overheating the practical rate was around 200, half that. In total about 36 of these weapons would be spread throughout this line.

The regular riflemen instead made use of their humble Georgia Rifle No 2 which more or less resembled that of a sharps rifle give or take with metallic cartridges fitted with the standard 1/2 in Government rifle bullets. The cavalry were as expected armed with carbine variants of this, or in some cases pistols. Regulars were to position themselves along the line with Sharpshooters making their way up top the block houses to give themselves a view.

Though one might expect such a process would take a good long while the generous numbers of labourers attached to the corps and at Ilos's disposable mixed with the application of corvee labor from the resident population allowed him to get through the process rolling rather quickly and somewhat efficiently. Despite all this Ilos personally hoped that blows would not have to come to bear and all this work would be for naught. Still if there was a fight may whatever gods may be bless whoever came within the path of his forces and the destruction that will be wrought on their heads. When that day came it would be a very ugly one indeed. All they could do now is stand their ground and hope for the best.

by **The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 4:42 pm

Budapest, Kingdom of Hungary

King Joseph III paced nervously in front of his throne, his feet shifting across the velvety carpet. Suddenly the double doors of the throne room burst open and a young man entered. He wore the green trimmed teal dress uniform of the Hungarian army, his head topped with a Jäger's hat, complete with plumed black feathers. Sweat dripped past his dark eyes as he bowed low to the ground. "Rise," Joseph commanded sternly, his indigo eyes latching onto the piece of paper the courier clutched. The young soldier straightened and held out the message, which the monarch quickly scanned. "At last!" he said, his face brightening. "The Romanian partisans in the Carpathians have been scattered by our Jägers, and thanks to the skill of General Antonescu." The man nodded, his hand absentmindedly curling his thin waxed mustache. "Dismissed, soldier!" The man bowed and trooped out, but Joseph paid him no attention. Now that there was no real threat in Hungarian-occupied Transylvania the King could turn his attention to matters of foreign affairs. Relaxing in a high-backed chair, Joseph fetched a pen and paper and prepared to write out a letter on some of the specially-prepared papers, which were already embossed with the seal of the Hungarian Kingdom.

Hungary was completely surrounded on all sides by three major powers. First were the overstretched Byzantines, who weakly grasped the Balkans in addition to the Near East and Anatolia. They represented the weakest of the three; their nation was composed of many different ethnicities, all of which longed for their own government and to break away from their overlords. However, the Empire had plenty of resources and soldiers at their disposal; it would take a powerful ally and careful maneuvering to root their infestation out of the Balkans. To the north lay the resurgent power of Germany. After many years of disjointed feudalism Deutschland had finally unified, taking the Ostmark and Czech lands with them. That country was very powerful, having a single core people and vast, seemingly endless resources at their disposal. In addition, the German army, inherited from the renowned state of Prussia, was among the best in all of Europe; superiorly trained, equipped, and with a long history of combat prowess. As another bonus, the Germans had relatively good relations with their Southern neighbor, largely due to Hungarian help during the breakup of the Austrian Empire. Finally was the Russian Giant, looming far in the East. So far that bear had not disturbed Hungary and Joseph did not want to provoke it. With all this knowledge in mind, the man prepared two separate messages to be sent to the two powers less likely to be opposed to him.

by **The Valyria Empire** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 5:17 pm

January 27th, 1891
The council was still arguing. The Despots had yet to reach an agreement. Men shouted, some even got close to fighting before having to be broken up the Vangarian Guard. Constantine stood up from his chair and slammed his hands onto the table. "SILENCE!" Constantine shouted, which caused all the men to either sit down or get quiet. "I will not have anymore of this! We are Romans! We should be united, not squabbling like this! The world looks down on us, they think we are weak! It's time we show Europe that we are on the same ground as them." Constantine paused, sat down and continued. "I have decided that we will begin the formation of a colonial army. We shall began our expansion into Africa. These European nations think these colonies make them stronger than us. We shall join them in this rush for Africa. Starting with the African coast and making our way deep into the jungle."

The men remained silent, some scowled, others smiled, others were blank. "This council is concluded. You may return home." With that the men and Constantine would stand home and leave the building.

January 31th, 1891
Constantine had finally returned to Constantinople. Seeing the rising sun as he entered the city. After stopping at the Hagia Sophia to pray Constantine would return to his palace to find multiple messages for him.

"Good, not all of the world has shunned us."

by **Newne Carriebean7** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 7:17 pm

Texan-Louisianan Border,38 miles outside of New Orleans
Army of the Mississippi
January 22nd,1891

General Walter Payne Lane took a sip of whiskey as the last of the commanders filtered into the room. if it meant he could go retire to watch some soldiers clobber each other in a boxing match faster, he could deal with the low,monotone voice of the commanding leaders. with a nod to the guards, they shut the door and the meeting began.
"welcome flank generals Thomson and Carver, I trust your fifteen thousand men each are prepared for the assault?"
both men looked dazed and confused,as if they had been drinking heavily.
Thomson muttered "huh? what assault?"
"the assault that's to take place tomorrow."
"I thought it was next week,alright then, I'll prepare the men in three columns of 2,000 men each."
"that leaves you 14 thousand in reserve,don't you wish to use that force against the enemy some more?"
"when we get horses, make sure you tell high command we need horses, and lots of whiskey."
"I'll make a note of that, now general Carver, are your troops prepared for an assault on the far right flank?"
"with proper gunboat and ire clad support we might, but if we don't 'ave that, we bes the feckedest armee in t'nation!"
"so you need naval support,I'll have two gunboats and a small 20 gunned brig be transferred to your command soon. your objective is to march directly down to New Orleans with the men at your disposal,the naval ships will be assisting in the bombardment of the port city, coordinate your efforts with them, and you'll be fine."
"thank ye,m'laddie!"
"excellent, dismissed."
with that, the door opened and the two generals left to attend to other business.

Mississippi River,Louisianan swamp like area
January 12th,1891
Swamps of the Bayou
Captain Farris felt the coolness and wetness of the damp washcloth on his face as he arose from the slumber, a refreshing feel compared to the hot and sweaty pajamas he used to be wearing to sleep. the door creaked and the gunnery officer questioned.
"Captain Farris, are you almost ready?"
"thereabouts,give me two minutes at most!"
the officer nodded and waited for the man to reappear on deck,which he did.
"so,what's the situation?"
"we've gotten reports that the Mississippi is crawling with another faction's warships,the Georgians,and our allied vessels are slowly approaching the river with more ships to help with our patrol,but for the time being,don't we have orders to blockade New Orleans?"
"you are right on that account,signal all hands to full canvas,is the wind blowing south?"
"north sir, and slightly to the west."
"shit, well, here's the plan, get out the oars and have the ship begin to row downriver,I mean,sure we have a paddle wheel, but we need to refit the entire fleet for more supplies,specifically coal and food to fuel the men and the paddle wheels that drive the ship on either side, clear?"
"yes sir."
as the orders were given and the oars were readied, Farris stood out on deck and watched the men prepare the ship and communicate orders to the gunboats, who began to sail with the Youthful. looking down at his pocket watch, he sighed. the trip would take nearly six hours down the mighty Mississippi in order to get back to New Orleans,but, on the bright side,it did give him time to complete a crossword puzzle.

Anchored Outside of New Orleans
the rusty old Ironclad Gaurder sat anchored off the harbor, it was getting late at night, and so many of the crew decided to turn in for the night. the ship had shot off much of it's ammunition supply of high explosive rounds, and were left with handfuls of the ammunition and a plentiful supply of some old armor piercing shrapnel like rounds. nine bells were rung at the ships bell, it was nearly midnight, three hours away in fact. as the men settled down for cards and their late dinners, Captain Michael Scott opened up a bottle of champagne,a luxury good in Texas, while playing cards.
"three jacks and a spruce! hand the candy over!"
the gunnery captain growled as he dug through his pocket for the new Texan candy joveos, a tart candy with a sugary inside.
"say,Scott,if we're low on ammunition because we've been shootin off our rounds, what do we do if we run out?"
"we shall use furniture,clothes,and any object that can fit down and be fired out of the guns,clear?,and tell the cannons to cease firing fer christsakes."
"yes sir."

3 miles into the Californian boarder
Texan Ranger Harold Dale Bluff looked around at the tired men that had been riding with him, the idiotic mayor's goons had even gotten horses and ridden with them. the mayor barking out.
"I smells me some work o'er younder!"
as the men galloped over a hill, a town displaying the name Bottom's hole neared, the town was in abysmal shape, with several decrepit buildings nearly catching on fire with the hot summer sun pouring down on them. two men with revolvers approached them, mumbling something about slaves.
"excuse me fine gentlemen,I am the mayor of a Texan town,and thus would like to aide you in your quest of slavery, mount up your horses and we shall get your property back!"
the two men, hacking up big tobacco spit wads, expelled the globs on the side of the dusty dirt and rock path.
"aaight then, we're goin now?"
"yes, right now, grab your horses,sharpen your swords and make ready the guns, there will be blood tonight, forwards!"
the men cheered as they raced towards the Californians that were turned around, and one man pulled the trigger, striking one of the horses.

Austin,Texas
Gully Gulch executioner's death row building
Gary Raleigh Hanson sat down with the man that shot the former president,Richard.
"Richard was it? I regret to inform you of the judge's decision, you are to be executed on one count of Fatal firearm discharge with an intent to kill political persons,which carries the death penalty, the method of execution shall be hanging. your assets of two barns, three sheds, five hydrogen balloon filing stations, three metallic skeletons for aeronautical purposes and a bowl of fried chicken is to be auctioned off next Tuesday to slave owners and military inventors for possible explorational use in the field. any last words or requests may be given at this time."
"I...I would like a bowl of mashed potatoes, a doughnut, three old ladies hams that have been stolen,and a candy cane. also please ensure my films fall into the public domain."
"alright then, someone get him his food."
the judge looked at the clock and sighed.
"you have a half hour to enjoy this, have fun."
the man sighed and ate the food all alone. once he was done, the guards re entered the room and took the man outside and up the Galloway where he was to live his last moments, as the priest got up and read from the book.
"therefore according to the powers vested in us,we're sentencing you to hang on the rope until death, may god have mercy on your soul,proceed!"
the soldiers then released the trap door as gunshot sailed through the air from an adjacent building, hitting the hats off many of the men and causing them to spin around in sheer disbelief, when they had re-orientated themselves, Richard was gone. one soldier looked at another.
"should we tell Huston?"
"nah,let's have them realize a madman murderer with a slightly happy trigger finger is on the loose,yes of course we tell Huston, go go!"
the men nodded and rushed off on horseback to the capital,while another got ready a telegraph to be sent to the capital.

by **Garwall** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 9:01 pm

First Official Meeting of the British Worker's Party
Basement beneath Patrick's Tavern, London
Republic of England, Commonwealth of Great Britain and the Low Countries
February 26th, 1891 -- Evening

Something was off that late afternoon at Patrick's Tavern. Situated in the thick industrial heart of the city, many hard-working Englishmen would come and spend their hard-earned pay on many rounds of the devil's finest. Maybe not so much fine compared to the bourgeois of London that ruled the sprawling complex of factories that ruled the city. That ruled every patron of that Tavern.

But hey, it damn well got the job done, every night. Except tonight there were no customers.The doors barred, windows shuttered, the bar was bare of all life. But beneath the beaten floorboards, there was a hive of life. However, these patrons gathered not to share drink, but something even more destructive.

Anger. A rage at the worsening conditions, the ever-growing fear of a coming retribution upon the men and women that dare support the Socialists and revolutionaries that threaten to return the means of production to those that know best to distribute them. Made ever worse by a growing cancer in the heart of Europe, as France serves to embolden any and all leftist forces. Francis Williamson knew this all too well, although he didn't need much further proof than what was gathered before him. They were able to clear space to set up about fifty seats--and the number of attendees was enough to pack the entire lining of the dimly-lit basement. He smiled, and clapped his hands twice twice. "Please, everyone, if I may have your ears," he called, stepping up to a large crate that served as his podium.

The gathered crowd, full of mostly young adults, workers all in the factories, mines, and other unsavory professions. "I am glad all of you have accepted my invitation. It is an honor to just be in this room with like-minded individuals--through this alone, we are friends. All of us." He reached into his pocket, and withdrew a rolled-up newspaper. Unfurling it, he displayed the front-page letterhead, reading "Police crackdown kill four in Namur". "These are your fellow workers, across the channel--being put to death by the very government that dares to represent us. Must we stand for this?"

The crowd murmured, with many hushed whispers. Many shook their heads. Francis nodded in agreement. "Clearly this cannot go on." He tossed the newspaper aside, reaching in his pocket once again--this time withdrawing a worn flyer, displaying a slogan supporting the Union Party, a notoriously conservative and jingoistic Party--its leadership representing the higher echelons of British nobility, clinging to their ancient rights through political representation. "Yes, many say the Union Party was dying, that they would not survive the century..." The crowd called out in affirmation. The distaste for the Unionists was clear. "...And yet, here they are. Putting flyers all throughout every Borough of London. Our home!" The crowd shouted disapprovingly.

"As if this was not enough, my friends--do you know who was handing these flyers out?" The crowd was silent. Francis reached in to his pockets, simultaneously withdrawing a small blacksmith's hammer in his left, and a Webley revolver in his right. He brought the hammer down swiftly on the front panel facing the crowd, breaking through to the other side, and tore it back--removing the whole face of the crate to the mob.

Inside, bound and gagged, was the barkeep of the honorable Patrick's Tavern.

The crowd erupted, calling out in dismay and disgust. "Yes, yes, it is true my friends. A horrible reality, indeed--but true nonetheless. He stepped down to eye-level with the mob, and pulled the barkeep from the crate. Resting him on his knees, he tore the gag from his face. "What say you to your fellow workers, my good barman?"

The man's face was bruised and bloodied from the blows that subdued him. "Go bloody fuck yourself," spit. "And God save the Que--"
Before he could finish, the blast of the Webley temporarily deafened the room. The crowd, nearly foaming at the mouth was quieted, as the men recovered to the barkeep's body slumping to the ground. Francis nodded to two darkly-clad men by the wall, who quickly strode over and moved the body from the room. He smiled, returning to his crate and nodded to the crowd. He switched his Webley for the smithy hammer, and rapped twice on the corner of the fragile crate. "And with this, I would like to call the first meeting of the British Worker's Party to order."

by **Holoska** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 11:07 pm

by **Kerbodine** » Fri Oct 21, 2016 4:37 pm

January 23rd, Größer Superior

Fort Grant, Seneca, Missouri State, Border with Oklahoma (part of Texas)

General Thomas Bennett Barret Whitter-Holmes Schwartz the Second (His friends and family, of which he had three and four respectively, called him 'Tom'; to everyone else, he was General Schwartz), commander of Fort Grant, was having a meeting with his command staff.
Major Bradley, head of intel, began: "Texas has been rowdy; they're invading Louisiana, which we cannot condone, and supposedly tensions remain high with their other borders. Ours seems to be the calmest, probably because we're bordering Oklahoma, not Texas Proper." Colonel Fischer, who had grown up in Pommern, Germany, and commanded Tex. Border Brigade I, voiced his agreement, adding "The most exciting thing that's happened here in the past year is those escaped cows that plowed through the border fence. Sir."
Schwartz turned to his last main subordinate, Colonel Ackerman (Tex. Border Brigade II), from another Prussian family; several of the best commanders in Superior were sent to this critical border. In a carefully kept, clipped Prussian accent, "I agree vith ze othzers, sir. I vould almost say it ist... Boring. Langweilig. Dull. Not even any slave incidents." The issue of whether or not to return slaves escaping from Texan territory was still up to some debate, and was expected to be deliberated about by the Senate and Parliament when they came into session in another month.
All was quiet on the Oklahoma-Missouri border.

February 4th, Youngstown Refugee Camp, Youngstown, Ohio State, Pennsylvania Border

The revolutions in New England had been going on for a few weeks now, and dozens of thousands of the mostly upper-middle and upper class were fleeing. Superior's official position, taken by the Chancellor until the rest of the government reconvened, was that they would take in and interview each of the refugees; if they seemed like they could function in Superiorite society (which was the majority), they were welcomed in. Otherwise, they were pushed back across the border.
How this worked in reality, however, was that those with enough material wealth (not cash; the New England Dollar had lost all value, but most of these people had jewelry or precious metals) were welcomed in, having demonstrated their ability to 'function in society', while those without valuables were generally cast away back towards Pennsylvania if they could not prove they had any valuable skills, where many would illegally simply walk back into Superior; the citizens of Superior generally welcomed the refugees.
The Youngstown Pleasantview Hotel, a fine 4-story hotel overlooking (on one side) the Mahoning River and (on the other) a small city of tents and people. It was full of some of the richest of the refugees, including such famed names as Andrew Carnegie, North-Eastern industrialist, and Thomas Edison, the world's most well-known inventor.
Back at the border itself, however, dozens of socialist revolutionaries in frock coats stared over the fence separating the nations. The Penn. VII Border Regiment stared back, fingering their weaponry and wrapping their heavy wool coats closer around them from both the physical and mental chill. The socialists clearly wanted to take back those that they felt were fleeing from justice, stealing the wealth of the common man; the Superiorites just wanted to avoid violence.
There was a tangible tension in the air here.

February 4th, Detroit-Windsor 'Border', Michigan State

There was not a bridge between Detroit and Windsor. Detroit, a rapidly growing industrial and steel city with a quarter-million inhabitants, was connected to Canada by ferries; by 1891, though talks had abounded about tunnels or bridges, it was still the common ferry services providing transport back and forth. The border was relatively lax, with a couple of border officials waving people off the ferries, sometimes checking cargoes, and (rarely) stopping suspicious-looking characters. Passports did not yet exist, and Superior had little care for what few international papers existed.
Nothing had changed here yet.

by **Khasinkonia** » Fri Oct 21, 2016 5:08 pm

The Empire of the Thai-Viet
4 February 1891 - Vientiane, Lan Xang Province - Local Time: --:--

A project begun in Vientiane in 1973 by Emperor Mongkut and Empress Bình was finally completed by their descendants. The Chakri sisters were proud of this marvel, the marvel being a massive palace created with the rarest and most spectacular materials that could be procured. This palace would be dubbed "The Great Palace", or in the native tongues, "พระราชวัง", "Cung Điện Tuyệt", "ພະລາຊະວັງທີ່ຍິ່ງໃຫຍ່", and "វិមានមហា" because of its sheer magnificence later in the day. The palace itself was on a large artificial hill with a hand-dug pond surrounding it. The roof was made with pure Korean celadon porcelain; the jade columns carefully carved by the most skilled masons in the country. The walls were made using the best stone in the country, and the walls were painted using gold. The stairs leading up to the palace were made from the finest wood in the country.

The inside was a separate marvel in its own right. The central hall of the palace was filled with art pillaged from the temples and palaces of the conquered territories, alongside personal commissions of Emperor Mongkut, Empress Bình, and their two daughters. The pair of thrones at the end of the hall were both decorated with gemstones of every shape and variety the Chakris could obtain, and the cushions were produced using the finest silk in the land. The dining room, right off the central hall, was decorated with art taken from the old palace in Bangkok; the kitchen, which was directly connected to the dining room, was endowed with the best cooking equipment available to the Thai-Viet.

On the other side of the hall was the living room, which was furnished with the best furniture produced by the Vietnamese; in the centre of the room was an enormous book with many Thai and Vietnamese words and phrases translated into languages ranging from Danish to Arabic to Japanese. Connected to the living room on one side was the lavatory, which was made with the most advanced in lavatorial technology. The lavatory had a flush toilet and running water in addition to a small collection of literature and histories.

Meanwhile, the royal chambers were at the end of a hall on the opposite side of the living room. The two imperial chambers were richly decorated, and Chakri Lành's chamber had an entire wall filled to the brim with all manner of histories and documents, while Chakri Wattana's chamber had a wall dedicated holding scores of different literature from every corner of the world. The other chambers lining the hall were designated for important guests. As the Thai-Viet, while still an empire, was a small one, and thus received relatively few visitors. Because of this, most of the guest chambers remained locked except for cleaning and maintenance.

4 February 1891 - Vientiane, Lan Xang Province - Local Time: 5:29

Now that the palace was finished, it was finally time to name the palace and present it before the populace. The Chakri sisters had both originally prepared individual speeches, but soon decided to combine their speeches, with Lành to read the speech to the Vietnamese and Wattana to read the speech to the Thai. The two sisters stood upon their respective podiums on opposite sides of the palace, and called to the crowds that had gathered before them.

"Members of this great nation, we gather here today to name this beautiful palace which you have all contributed to so valiantly. This palace not only symbolises our homeland's wealth, but our unity and the strength derived from it. This palace took nearly twenty years to build, but shall stand even if we disappear. It will be one legacy of many—a great legacy of a unity between the Thai, the Vietnamese, the Laotians, the Cambodians, the Khmer, the Cham, and so many others which cannot be named in the interest of time."

"Whether you follow the teachings of Buddha, believe in the ideals of Hinduism, follow Jain principals, or call yourself a follower of God, we are still all the people of this nation. Let this palace be our greatest wonder now, but do not hesitate to suggest other glorious projects. I may be your Empress, but this land is yours. A land is only as well off as its citizens. Now, let this beautiful piece of engineering be henceforth known as 'The Great Palace'!"

"Finally, before the gathering is dismissed for a complimentary attendance meal, remember: Any citizens who feel there is a public need that is not being fulfilled need only obtain the approval of their local governor for funding to be examined for a public works project. Again, a land is only as well off as its citizens."

At this, the two crowds rejoiced and jauntily made their way to the makeshift eating area in the city centre, where there was a variety of food options ranging from the traditional Vietnamese dish Phở to foreign dishes such as Gimbap and Curry with rice. The gathering continued well into the night, with the Empresses leaving shortly before the moon reached its highest point in the sky. This day would surely be remembered for many generations to come as an incredibly glorious day filled with indisputable proof of the two young Empresses' wisdom and generosity.

by **Uragarr** » Fri Oct 21, 2016 5:45 pm

The Grand Empire of Maurania

The Imperial Palace, St Larlus
10th February 1891
"Your Highness they have entered our waters, we must do something!" High Admiral Nukta restrained himself but was clearly seething with rage.

"This is of course not to mention the fact that the L.C.S.M has grown increasingly violent in the provinces, and this is, getting the traditionalists so riled up that they are talking of counter-militias." The Minister of the Interior, Hakib Sashti was in a calmer state but showed signs of agitation as well. The Emperor sat silently in his chair, listening to the voices of his advisors go back and forth. The Minister of Defense, strangely, favoured a peaceful solution while the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces wanted Emperor Eumenes to order thefull deployment of the fleet against France, and troops to target the L.C.S.M. Eumemes looked across to Grand Minister Rashad who seemed to be wanting an opportunity to speak.

"I will now hear from the Grand Minister!" Eumenes gestured towards Rashad.

"Thank you Your Highness, our aim must be to protect our own borders without inadvertently entering an international conflict. It is too early to take sides and though, while nations like Iberia may prove helpful in the long run against communism we should only seek their aid if we are directly threatened by the French. In saying this we must make clear that our we are not a nation to be ordered around, despite the French insistence that their ships are meant to only serve as protection against the Byzantines their vessels have entered the Southern Balearic Sea, a move which places them in our waters. I would suggest the deployment of Mauranian vessels in this region, which, while not directly engaging with the French, would serve to protect civilian shipping in the area and ensure that the French stay out of trouble."

Emperor Eumenes nodded and prepared to speak himself. "As for the increased presence of the L.C.S.M in our borders we must draw a line between peaceful association and violence. If we were to declare the party to be an illegal organization it would continue underground and if we were to use too much military force against them then they would respond in kind. In saying this, all organized armed groups established by the communists or traditionalists will be met with force. We do not need a civil war."

The Emperor paused and turned to the High Admiral. "Admiral, you are authorized to deploy Mauranian ships in the Southern Balearic Sea according to the scale of the French presence there, these ships are not to engage in combat with the French vessels unless they threaten either our navy or our civilians ships."

Following this he faced the Minister of the Interior. "Establish a task force to combat any armed communist or traditionalist groups, this task force is not authorized to militarily intervene in peaceful gatherings."

Nodding, he dismissed his council.

"We will get through this yet.", He muttered to himself.

The Southern Balearic Sea, 12th February 1891
Fleet Admiral Galti stood aboard the deck of his flagship the 'Grand Empire's Ship' Dawn Star. As the warm sea breeze whipped through his hair a messenger came running up to him.

"Admiral, we have spied the French Fleet." Galti smiled and glanced down at the man.

"Order the captains to tail the French at a safe distance, I will attempt to contact the French Admiral and inform him of our intentions."

by **Altegonnia** » Fri Oct 21, 2016 6:38 pm

This episode's theme:link
State of Egypt, Byzantium
The town of Kafi was a small village of 500 people in southern egypt that mostly consisted of farmers who grew crops along the nile river although most people believe Islam to have been purged from these areas, it still can be found openly in rural or remote village such as Kafi. In the town center of Kafi itself there wasn't much to see except for a market and the town bank. This bank was a well respected establishment in the local area as it was a safe place for farmers and villages all over to store hard Byzantine currency for a rainy day. Mohammad El-Sisi was the son of the man who ran the bank and was busy sweeping dust and sand out of the front of the building when he noticed everyone was looking down the road and gawking.

The dust plumes in the air suggested a lot of wagons were coming down the dirt road that goes through the village. It wasn't often that people passed through Kafi so such events where a large group approaches always are sort of an informal spectacle. As the vehicles entered the village everyone saw that it was a long line of carriages with their backs covered. Many elderly folk would shuffle outside to watch the carts pull through and children would run along with the wagons waving at the strangers. Mohammed had to admit even though his father was the richest man in the area even he didn't have a car. So to see so many at once was quite a sight. However he couldn't help but wonder why they were all the way out here? However as the last wagon pulled into the village the convoy would come to a stop and what must have been ten or eleven men must have jumped out of each wagon. This made Mohammed nervous for two reasons, first off the men all had on red berets that had an armband on emblazoned with the orthodox cross and he had been told that such people were dangerous because they are Muslims. Secondly they all had rifles slung over their shoulders. Mohammed would move inside and lock the door to the bank. He would take a scolding from father later with glee rather than leave a door opened for men with guns. He would make it past the iron barred teller counter when suddenly he'd hear screams outside and men yelling loudly and angrily. He would lock the door to the staff side of the counter and would duck behind the counter to hide.

outside...
The soldiers of the Legion had finally been given the order to commence the operation. After several hours roasting in the back of the wagons they were glad to get some payoff out of it. The soldiers would draw their rifles and begin herding villagers to the center of the village, hitting people with their rifles who went too slow or resisted. As they did this other soldiers would begin kicking down the doors to the huts and hovels around and dragging various people out and over to the crowd in the center who were having their limbs bound with rope one by one. Some other soldiers would also be unloading wood planks from the wagons and beginning to nail together orthodox crosses for purposes uknown. They would mostly succeed with their search and round up except for with one door which seemed to be more reinforced than the others. "This is probably that bank the commander mentioned." One legionary would remark.

"What do we do?"

"Probably decent cash in there. I say we loot it and split the money amoungst the men here today."

"Hey as long as our superiors don't find out we kept the money I see no problems!"

"Now about this door.."

A legionary would take out some rope and would tie it to a stick of TNT before attaching it to the door's handle. He then lit the fuse before both the legionaries would split and dive to the ground. A loud explosion would ring out as the door and most of the wallshredded by the blast.....

Mohammed jumped in fright when the explosion rang out, hitting his head on the counter above him. Pieces of debries went flying and slammed into the barred top of the clerk counter. He wanted to yelp in pain but he suddenly heard the sounds of footsteps entering the front area. Some men were speaking saying, "well wonderful we get through the door and the counter is barred up to."

"We'll just use the crowbar on the door. No big deal."

"Well let's get this over with. It'll be tomorrow before we get all these people strung up at this rate if we take too long on this cash run"

"No complaints here on that account. Gotta love being a legionary, free cash and dead Muslims."

Mohammed was frozen in terror. It's the legion! The ones he's heard his father talking about with other men in town. The one always warned against in services at the mosque. Mohammed had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep himself from vommitting. The very idea they were here was a nightmare! It's then he realized his mother and sister are at the market buying dates. Are they ok!? What if they're hurt! Where is father right now? Who's going to save h-

The loud screech of a metal door flying open can be heard along with a set of foot steps can be heard. Interrupting his paniced line of thought. He'd slowly turn his head sideways to look where the staff door was but he couldn't see it. All he could see were the two men looming over him, rifles pointed at his face. The soldier to the right would grin and say,

"Hi there."

The Next Morning, several miles away on a busy road to Alexandria.
They were lined up for miles and miles. Every one mile there'd be one on each side of the road. Men, women and children, stripped and nailed to an orthodox cross which was standing proudly out of the dirt it is propped up in. They each had signs nailed into their chests saying "haereticus" which many recognized as the Latin form of "heretic". Although the main cause of death was execution style shot to the head? Almost all the victims showed signs of being whipped and lashed before death. This was noticeable due to the many lacerations on the people's back. Officially no witnesses to what happened in Kafi have been brace enough to step forward.

In Kafi itself most of the buildings were found intact. With two exceptions being the mosque and the bank. The bank was broken open and looted while the mosque was simply demolished. The surrounding farms were found to have had their crops burned and the farmers were found shot instead of being crucified like the villagers in town.

This to date so far is the largest scale attack on the Islamic population by the Legion, who date back to the sacking of Mecca. The group had not officially claimed responsibility but the act bears many of their signatures.

by **Newne Carriebean7** » Fri Oct 21, 2016 7:33 pm

Texan-Louisianan Border,38 miles outside of New Orleans
Army of the Mississippi
January 23rd,1891

Flank general Thomson looked from the pair of binoculars out at the increased fields of tents that were put up by the texan forces on the other flanks. he disagreed vehemently on that, and thought the men should stay underground, thus the lack of tents,and soldiers for that matter on the his position. five bells were rung as the sun kissed state became slowly less loved as the hot ball of fire retreated in defeat over the hills that could be seen from the vast trees near their position. then,he noticed something odd, hundreds of people dressed in texan uniforms shouting and running across the river in boats, the small smoke clouds indicating to him the undesired.
"damn fuckin idiots, tell the men to prepare to march within a few minutes, go, we shall support them at once!"
as the bugles were sounded throughout the camp, the tired men grabbing their guns and forming up, Flank General Thomson unsheatheed his sword, mounted his horse inbetween shots of whiskey and pointed it at the direction of the enemy.
"for our allies, advance all ye!"
with that, the attack by a thousand Texan souls began agaisnt the river's defenses on the other side.

Army of The Mississippi Headquarters
General Walter Payne Lane was napping in his tent, he did not want to be bothered with the chores of leading an army, or marching a force through a fly filled swamp with alligator shit logs happily bobbing up and down in it. the flap was opened and the sunlight disturbed his lovely slumber.
"what,what is it?"
"sorry to bother you sir, but an attack has been launched by flank general Thomson on the far left, apparently in response to another attack."
"what?! have the artillery blast away, fire at whatever we can hit,shit and fuck around with, go,and tell the men to increase the picket lines,we need to be secured!"
"yes sir!"
with that annoyance dealt with, he exited the slightly warmer tent for the now a little chilly air outside of the flapped thing.
"get me my horse, I shall lead the attack in person!"
"what attack?"
"nevermind then, have the whole line begin the offensive, go! and telegraph Huston the bull of Texas's horns are about to puncture the core of the Georgian peach!"
the aide confused by the metaphor, nodded in agreement and wandered off to the telegraph office.

January 13th,1891
New Orleans harbor
Captain Farris shook his head as he looked at the crossword puzzle again.
"what's an eight letter word for something that is impossible to get done?"
the helmsman scratched his chin, then grinned his remaining two front teeth.
"undoable."
"you sure that's a word? is it in the dictionary?"
"it fits don't it? jesus fecking christ,what a killjoy."
with that, the helmsman walked off from the captain as the ship sat at anchor.the ship had arrived at the New Orleans harbor to blockade, much to the captain's anger. he had captured several ships in a one on multiple action,and he was passed up for a promotion by some upstart dogged man named Carlos? ridiculous. he should be the ones attacking the harbor and giving the louies hell with their guns, not sitting back and doing crossword puzzles, the excitement for action grew in his mind,but he also knew that the ship was not fully repaired. that was partly because the supplies for such a long and extended operation were limited, the texan army used supply wagon convoys to fuel passing troops from base to base, the fledgling Texan navy had nothing like that,or at least not yet anyways. the texan navy only supplied a few naval bases with enough stuff to use in war,and there were no supply ships, the naval fleets would either be so loaded up with supplies they would be vulnerable to attack, or so out of ammunition that they would only have to rely on their speed to get away from any ship as they headed back into the port of abundance. that was if you could get past the pilots' (yes,more than one money sucking parisite in the nation) "admission to harbor fees"and tips.
"when I get back to Huston,I'm givin that president Frost of ours a piece of our mind!"
with a grumble, he went back to the crossword puzzle,getting stumped on a five letter word for a situation that is hoplessly fucked up.

Missouri-Oklahoman boarder town of Chardente
the fatlady's of arabia saloon
ex texan militiaman Gary Hoffstader grumbled between shots of rum to a friend.
"those dammned calis are taking away our property in the east, and we're darn right caught with our pants down out here, hell, what I'm thinkin is an invasion of ten, possibly eleven t'ousand troops along the Missouri river, and marching across their dammed boarder, we all know they takes our property, so why the ell isn't that new president doing anything?"
"he's got his hands tied up, he's the former vice president, I heard he hit on and got engaged to a polygamous Mormon named Jessica, but was forced to kill her while on the honeymoon to prevent a secret that would damage his career from leakin out."
"shit. and I thought cali had it bad, just take a stroll down historical bullshit avenue that's Texas, I mean, old Robb killed three hookers with a dishrag, some acid and a box of crackers, and Eddie, that guy liked to fucking wrestle aligators daily while reading the mornin paper, he was a bad-ass leader, too bad old Frost bit the dust, now we have Hanson,do you think he's ready?"
"he'll be fucking useless, he couldn't find his ass with two hands and a lantern!"
"you may have a point..."
patting his friend on the back, he smiled,that smile turned to a confused frown as a farmer,brandishing a shotgun in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other along with a cigar between his lips,burst in the door and interrupted the meeting.
"slaves is escapin,across the boarder!"
"shit, get me my horse,I'll talk to you later my friend!"
with a nod, Hoffstader rushed out of the bar, throwing an old silver dollar on the counter as he mounted his horse and joined the squad to intercept the slave runaways,taking the safety off of his six shooter colt pistol.

Fort Belknap
January 21st,1891
Chospake Tsaladihi was awoken by the morning bugles, they had gotten to the camp late, after eight days of being on horses, he was as saddle sore as the rest of the men and wanted to sleep in, but he had a job to do, if he was in the army, he would be part of the army, and do his part. with that reasoning dragging the screaming and kicking bed addictive body to the wall,where a cup of water made him wake up, as he dried, a soldier barged into the room.
"Private Tsaladihi! get your ass down there at once!"
"s-sorry,I slept in..."
"what if we were under attack by the louies again? would you be caught sleeping again?"
"no sir!"
"good." with a scoffingly annoying nod,the man spat in his general direction, getting a few old papers wet with the saliva.
"bastard."
"what was that?"
"nothing,now fuck off."
"arsecunt."
with a middle finger being shown,both men walked downstairs to get some breakfast, the mess hall a blur of pissed off cooks and spat in food, one of which the man grabbed and sat down, not looking at anyone as he finished the meal. when he was nibbling on the remnant biscuit from the biscuits and gravy that was served, the general entered the room.
"I take it your first day in camp was fun? no? enjoy the old shut the fuck up and wake your ass up bugles? no?, well that's a damn near shame. you all know my name, but for those of you who are late, let me, introduce myself again... I am Captain Brown.now you men are to head out on horseback a few clicks north, nothing too serious, just up a day or two towards the Oklahoman-Missourian boarder, we have gotten reports from the local raiders that the natives are trying to smuggle slaves out of the nation, we can't have that on our watch,now can we?"
Tsaladihi had many thoughts going through his mind "why were there slaves? why were they running away? would the Superioritans allow the slaves to pass through if they let them?" shaking his head, he bit into the biscuit to get his mind off of it. the men, taking a little longer to wake up, barked out
"no sir."
"good. now mount up and prepare to ride out, I have sent supply convoys ahead along these roads,where they are to resupply us. we're to link up with another force of two thousand militiamen I hear of State governor Narchenputen's liking. move out,dismissed."
the men saluted, then prepared their stuff, the food they would need and the ammunition for the various weapons were readied, Tsaladihi himself grabbing the colt revolving carbine and filling it with six rounds, and putting more than ten to twelve carbine's full of ammunition in his little jacket the army had given him. when everyone was ready in three hours, the men walked outside with their horses and began the long trot to the Missouri-Oklahoman boarder.

Blood and Iron [IC/ALT-HISTORY/OPEN]

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