The Many And Daily Lives (ADMAYORA|IC|NATION MAINTENANCE)

by **Desla-Ahnerania** » Fri Feb 05, 2016 6:59 pm

IMPORTANT BULLETIN
(Last updated: 3/1/2016)

Links for regional maps in the header at this thread's OP are not regularly updated, please check the links in Admayora's World Factbook Entry, WFE for short.

"Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become."

- C. S. Lewis

This is the Regional Daily Life Nation Maintenance Roleplay Thread, a collection for stories, long or short, regarding what goes on in the lives on regular or occasional bases of various people in Admayoran countries.

We can post the daily lives of citizens who are not as extraordinary as our beloved royals and elected politicians, and to even tell further what really happens to that king or president when his subjects or constituents are not looking at all. Share too the joys and sorrow of Admayorans in war and peace. There are too much things we can do that I cannot say here anymore. It all depends on you after all.

So please, do not be shy and write away!

REGIONAL CONVENTION ON THE DAILY LIFE MAINTENANCE RP THREAD
We discourage one-liner posts.
We encourage quality RP posts.
We do not allow those outside the region to post here.
We do not allow OOC (Out Of Character) discussion here.

Click "Show Spoiler" to see list of nations in this thread that are no longer considered integral canon within the region but may be recognized elsewhere unless the nation ceased to exist:

by **Zhenya** » Sat Feb 06, 2016 10:19 am

Behind the Imperial Palace
Stolitsa, Zhenya

Although the front of the Imperial Palace was magnificent, the back was much less so. There were no fancy crystal windows, gold leaf paneling, carvings, or shining marble walls. No rows upon rows of flowers could be seen. There were no soldiers, rifles clasped in hands, slowly patrolling across the grounds. There was no ceremonial artillery battery. No, the rear of the Palace was much different; the walls of the massive residence touched a jumble of servant's apartments, storage buildings, and stables, ringed with hedges fifteen feet high and then a spiked, wrought-iron fence. Two policemen guarded a small gate on one side of the fence, concealed by public view. Rusted from disuse, the iron frame creaked mightily as a policeman opened it to let a single black taxi through. The car pulled up in front of the entrance to one of the apartments; a liveried coachman was at the ready to open the door. Out stepped the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The coachman involuntarily blushed, and the eighteen year-old maid in front of him, adorned in a crimson blouse and a bonnet that barely covered her rich brown hair, winked with a gleaming blue eye and offered a "Merci."

Waiting to greet the new arrival in the foyer of the apartment was the Chief Servant of the Imperial Palace. His black hair was streaked with grey, and flecks of that color could be spotted in his moustache. "Dick", as he was known among the Palace staff, had thirty years of service to the Imperial family under his belt. In all of his career, however, he had never seen a woman such as this.

"Hello, miss. I trust you had a nice ride here?"

"Oui. Il était très agreeable."

Dick did not have much of an ear for French, which unfortunately seemed to be this woman's only language.

"Can you speak Zhenyan, madam?"

"Yes, sir, I have some grasp of it."

"Very good." Dick reached into his pocket and produced a crumpled note, bearing the Tsar's Imperial cipher at the top. "I've been informed by the Imperial Household Committee that you're to be assigned to Princess Maria. I'd like to make some things clear about this assignment- you will address her as 'Your Imperial Highness', or, if you are referring to her in the third person, 'the Imperial Princess Maria Alexandrovna'. She can speak Zhenyan and English, but not French, so please refrain from speaking to her in that language. You must curtsy when she speaks to you. Do not speak unless spoken to, except if you are inquiring after her needs or wants. Now, about your accommodations. Two rooms in Apartment Block 3A- two floors up from here- will be yours. You will receive three meals a day in the maid's common lunchroom. You must remain in the Palace until dismissed by Princess Maria, and afterwards must make your way directly to your apartment building. Your salary will be ten Zhenuns an hour. Are these terms acceptable?"

It was a lot for the maid to process, what with her medium-level understanding of Zhenyan. After a minute, she replied with a "Oui."

Dick smirked. "It's going to be a pleasure working with you, madam." She smiled and turned away. "Oh- I never got your name!"

The maid turned around and winked. "Louise Chambron. You may call me Louise, monsieur."

"Right, Louise. I'll... visit you tonight and ask for a report." He smirked once again, turned around, and walked briskly towards the elevator.

With this, Miss Chambron exited the building. A liveried male servant with a black uniform and white lace and collar stood a little way away from the side of the building, under a lamppost. The sun was beginning to set, and the Zhenyan sky was lit up with brilliant streaks of purple, orange, and blue. The servant ushered her towards one of the back doors of the palace. A weary member of the Imperial Guard stood in front of the door, his rifle resting against his shoulder. As Miss Chambron and her escort approached, he stepped to one side and pulled the door open.

The Imperial Palace
Stolitsa, Zhenya

After navigating through a series of hallways, the light level escalating as she moved closer to the inner areas of the palace, Miss Chambron emerged in a foyer room. The walls were wallpapered with red and gold, and a floral carpet covered the floor. Two chairs, an overstuffed armchair and a bare wooden chair, were arranged facing slightly outwards from each other on the carpet. In the armchair sat an elderly woman, a light blue bonnet on her head and a scarf, thread, and needle in her hands. She seemed to recognize the newcomer. "Miss Chambron, welcome. You may go through there", pointing to a door set into the wall in one corner of the room. Miss Chambron took this to be the head maid and followed the instructions.

The room she entered looked as she expected a Palace room to look: absolutely grand. The floor was covered with a deep, fluffy, dark red carpet. On one end, a large granite fireplace housed a stack of firewood. Two marble statues stood on either side, and a portrait hung above. On the other side of the room, an oak staircase that matched the oak walls rose up to a second level. Miss Chambron could see a blue haze of cigar smoke wafting out of an open door at the top of the stairs, and a liveried servant was busying himself with polishing the bannister. Behind the staircase was a table with jewelry resting in little glass cases upon it; to the right was a large door, inlaid with gold leaf. A crystal chandelier completed the scene; its light shimmered and reflected off of the jewelry, creating a marvelous sight. The entire room smelled of fresh flowers.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Miss Chambron took a step towards it, and then it swung open, hitting the doorstopper with a crack. In the doorway stood a young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. She wore a white dress and a pearl necklace; her black hair fell onto her shoulders. "Ce doit être la princesse."

"Good evening, Your Imperial Highness. I am your new maid, Miss Louise Chambron."

Princess Maria's green eyes twinkled with curiosity. "Hello, Miss Chambron. Mrs. Petrovna in the other room showed me your file." The princess smiled kindly. "I might as well get you off to a good start; I'd enjoy a cup of tea."

"Oui, princesse." Miss Chambron then blushed, remembering Dick's reminder not to speak French in front of Maria.

The princess departed, leaving the door open. Miss Chambron asked the servant polishing the bannister where the maid's kitchen was, then set out on her winding way through the many rooms and hallways of that section of the Palace. After two minutes of walking, she entered another large room, looking similar to the one that she had met Princess Maria in. One of the largest mirrors Miss Chambron had ever seen hung from the wall, replacing the fireplace in the other room. It was not this that caught her attention, however; a tall, lean figure stood at attention in front of it, sword in hand. He heard her coming and whirled around. She gasped- he was the most handsome man she had ever seen! His light brown hair was combed to one side, and he sported a pointed and waxed moustache. Glasses covering his brown eyes rested on his nose. He wore a cavalry uniform, with epaulettes and gold braid and lace. Miss Chambron blushed, and so did the young man standing before her.

"Je suis désolé, sir, I did not mean to intrude-"

"No, no, it's quite all right. What might your name be?"

"I am Miss Louise Chambron, the new maid to the Imperial Princess Maria Alexandrovna."

"Ah... I see. I'm Prince Alexander." The prince chuckled. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Chambron. Or may I call you Louise? You're quite something to look at, if I may say so- very pretty."

Miss Chambron's cheeks blushed so hard they appeared as if they were on fire. "Thank you, Your Imperial-"

"Please, call me Alexander."

This was a blatant violation of protocol, and in fact in defiance of every single thing pertaining to the Imperial family that Dick had said.

"Oui, Alexander." Miss Chambron blushed again.

"You're French? Very-"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MISS CHAMBRON?" The yell was that of an elderly woman. It was Mrs. Petrovna, who had heard the two talk and came in to see what was going on.

"Miss Chambron, I believe that your current task is to make the Princess Maria Alexandrovna a cup of tea, not to talk to the Prince Alexander Alexandrovich. Now get going, or I'll have to report you to Dick- no, no! Directly to the Imperial Household Committee!"

Alexander turned away, embarrassed. Miss Chambron had no choice but to hustle out of the room, almost on the verge of tears. It was not a good way to start her new job, but at the same time it had felt so good. She vowed that she would see Alexander again, perhaps run into him "by accident". He took her breath away- he was the best-looking man she had ever seen.

She was going to like being a maid in the Palace.

by **Terolk** » Sun Feb 07, 2016 1:32 pm

Rorke Lane
Whitesbridge

In the backwater of the City of Whitesbridge lay Rorke Lane, a street riddled with potholes, Terolk Banners and 'Fuck the Taig Deslans' spraypainted across one of walls facing the Main Road. An abode for the less noticable citizens of Terolk, and more independence minded. Lee McKellen stood by the entrance of the street, flanked by his mates, Tim Jekins and Eddy Moore. They'd all taken part in the most recent protests in Whitesbridge and now they were determined to free their homeland from imperialist control, or so they hoped they felt. None of them had finished education yet, and only one had a possible career in their future, yet here they were. Lee was an average looker, standing at 5'9 and sporting dark brown hair that had been shaven at the sides and the hair on top of his head was styled upwards. He wore a pair of black cargos and a light grey zipper hoodie over a dark blue shirt.Tim sported a short shaven haircut and a pair of jeans and a maroon pullover hoodie, will Eddy had a mess of ginger hair, while wearing grey trackies and a dark green jacket.

"Oi, Lee, you sure we should be doing this?" Tim asked, looking around nervously

"Don't be a pussy, Tim. You want Terolk to be free?" he responded, watching Tim nod "Then this is the only way" Lee added, before turning around and heading down the dilapidated street. As they walked, they had to take large steps to avoid stepping in any potholes that littered the path, while looking around to see brick houses squeezed so tightly together, you'd think they'd pop at any moment. The sky was overcast and had begun to lightly rain.

"Which house was it?" Lee asked, looking at Eddy looking at his phone
"Says 12 Rorke Street" Eddy answered, looking up "So, it should be right here". They passed a couple more houses before arriving at Number 12. The house was in a sorry state. It's windows were cracked and chips of bricks littered the floor, with many pieces of the roof slating were missing.

"Ain't this a shit tip..." Tim said, offering his two cents, followed by Lee slapping him on the back of the head. Taking a few heavy breaths, Lee began to walk towards the sorry excuse for a house and knocked twice on the door, which seemed to have lost its original colour long ago. The sound of banging and footsteps followed, before the door was opened.

"Can I 'elp you?" the man behind the door answered. Lee was momentarily too stunned to speak. "Taig got your tongue?" the man added.
"N-N-No, we w-w-were...uhh...we heard you knew who to j-join the..." he couldn't finish as the door was opened fully and the man ushered them inside.
"
The fuck are you doing?" Lee asked, his previous anxiety seemingly disappearing.

"You lads want to join the Terolkian Independence Army. No other reason someone would come to Rorke Street." the man answered, before escorting them into a room. In the room stood a small wooden table, with a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling, offering a flickering source of light. The room had an array of cabinets, but oddly enough many of the floor boards were laid against one of the walls. Around the table was a group of men that were hunched over the table, although when Lee, Tim and Eddy entered the room, they drew their attention.

"The fuck are you bringing kids in here for, Jerry?" one of them asked, standing up "Need something to pass the time while the wife's away?" he added, followed by a round of laughter.

"Stuff it, ya idjit. These lads want ta join the T.I.A" The man, seemingly named Jerry, retorted, pushing the small trio up front.

"Do they know?" the man standing up answered, walking over to them "Are they Proddy's or Taigs?"

"You calling me a dirty Taig?" Lee asked, stepping forwards, garnering a shocked look from Tim and Edyy, while receiving a light laughter from the group of men.

"You have some pride there, don't ya?" the man said "What makes ya think we're gonna let you join? After the other night, many Proddy's want in. What makes you special?" the man added, crossing his arms. The question led Lee to falter slightly, not sure of how to answer.

"Well, I doubt you're able to recruit the youths, ya dirty bugger." Tim, against how he acted earlier, said, stepping in "Plus, soldiers are gonna have a harder time shooting a child." The answer recieved a grin from the man, who offered his hand.

"Well lads, it seems you are suitable members of the T.I.A...and we already have a mission for you." the man said, before making the assembled men move out of the way of the table, revealing a small sealed box. "This," he said, motioning to it "Is the tool of our liberation. We're going to blow those supporters of Taig domination sky high."

"The fuck are you on about?" Lee and Tim asked, almost simultaneously.

"You know what I mean. Tomorrow is the March of the Whitesbridge Constabulary, which we all know is the arm of Taig oppression against the Protestants...any of you own a car?" he asked

"Aye, I do" Eddy said, nervously.

"Then we're gonna stick this box into that car and blow the fuckers sky high, punish them for the illegal imprisonment of our Protestant brothers and the continued oppression of our faith and culture. Now bring your car round and we'll get it fixed in. Then, at midnight, I want you to park it midway on Hyalo's Road. It has a timer set for 12:35, so stay away from the area and you'll be grand." the man instructed. "Oh, and welcome to the T.I.A"

by **Desla-Ahnerania** » Sun Feb 07, 2016 7:08 pm

THE KINGDOM OF DESLA-AHNERANIA
Caester House, South Welstamed

His Majesty Hyalo XIII, King of the Deslans, King of the Ahneranians, sovereign of the united domains of Desla-Ahnerania, has been living outside the Free Royal City of Erdlamn since Friday to take a breath of fresh air and an escape from the teeming sensationalist media. His Majesty the King never appreciated Erdlamn or any other city with a royal residence. He is sick and tired of what he believes the "cramped spaces" of the Royal Palace in Erdlamn, no less to the five others across the Kingdom, the most high and most benevolent found solace in the countryside, isolated and boring for modern, civilized men. Isolated and boring indeed until later that evening.

"Your Majesty, the Prime Minister is on the phone. Mister Riters wishes to speak to you, sir." The King's Private Secretary, Doctor Ferdiyen Jiarl, abruptly told his sovereign as he ate dinner with Her Majesty, the Queen Consort Anelida.

"Well, please tell Mister Riters that my wife and I are having supper and I can't attend to affairs of state at this time. What's my time here in Welstamed all for anyway if I will put my head into government?" The King replied with a grin as he laughed with his consort, talking about the time when he accidentally mistook Mister Riters as the 22nd Viscount of Pontataur's Private Secretary.

"But Your Majesty, Mister Riters said it is urgent, regarding the Free State of Terolk." Doctor Jiarl firmly responded, determined not to leave the Sovereign's presence until he agrees to attend to the matter at hand.

The Sovereign pauses, thinking if he is to go and leave his wife to talk to the Prime Minister, to reaffirm his decision, or to ignore it altogether and pass the responsibility solely to the Privy Council of Desla-Ahnerania and Terolk, silence spreads swiftly across the Dining Hall.

"Very well, Doctor Jiarl, I hope this is truly urgent." The King adjusted his decorations and honours on his chest as he stood up. He is still wearing his official court uniform from this morning when he visited the Provincial Legislature Building, Downtown South Welstamed. He nodded to the Queen and left the Hall with Doctor Jiarl. They walked straight to the King's Study. A footman was holding the phone's handset to keep the Prime Minister on the line. He gave the handset to His Majesty and their short discourse began.

"Good evening Your Majesty. I hope all is well there in Caester." Prime Minister of Desla-Ahnerania, the Right Honourable Welam Loredir Riters, briefly greeted to his exalted appointer and anointed king.

"Good evening Mister Prime Minister. Thank you and I hope all is well there at Government Building." The King greeted, reminding the Prime Minister of what should be discussed, hinting his feeling of being upset that the Prime Minister has interrupted his time with the Queen as they had dinner. Mocking perhaps of the Prime Minister's involvement in a sex scandal that was centred on the Minister of Internal Affairs and a black market weaponry gaffe tailed behind the former Minister of National Defence and the former Minister of National Affairs.

"All is well . . . Sir, as you may have been well-ware, the Terolkian Government and local authorities at Whitesbridge are having a hard time containing the violence in the Terolkian Capital-"

"So I've observed as they tried to bring down my grandmother, my great grandfather, and my great, great grandfather. Not failing to notice that Hyalo the Seventh's and the first king of Desla-Ahnerania's faces were mutilated and predominantly decorated by white splotches of paint, great sense of innuendo humour there." The King interrupted while he listened carefully to the Prime Minister.

"Ah, uh, as I was saying sir: The Terolkians are having a hard time containing the violence in the Terolkian Capital and they are continuously pleading for the immediate deployment of Your Majesty's army to their civil crisis." The Prime Minister paused, not intending to let the King speak in reply.

"And has this request been answered and approved? We still see the images from television about the 'ongoing protests.' The Whitesbridge Constabulary are barely making, cutting corners to end this disastrous consecutive, dangerous feelings of radical nationalism." The King asked unaware that the Prime Minister simply paused for a momentary thought.

"Umm, no Your Majesty. It hasn't gone for the worst. We must respect them as a new nation and respect their borders, integrity, and dignity by allowing their duly elected government to find or broker a concluding and settled peace. They have their constabularies and we have our own. If there would be any sovereign state that would threaten their existence or degrade their stature then we will endeavour under our responsibilities of Terolk's world and military affairs."

"Now you sound like the Chairman of the Privy Council, the Deslan-Ahneranian one. And we must fulfil our obligations to the people of Terolk by protecting them from themselves. Look at the streets of Whitesbridge and look at Hyalo Square. Law enforcement or any special response group cannot handle all of that. Basic, common sense!" The King spoke in a voice of determination.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty. This is not a question of what is obvious sir, nor am I asking Your Majesty's opinion or initiative. I have other intentions for you, sir, to help the Terolkians." The Prime Minister rather spoke in a voice of clarity.

The King remained silent and gasped for a quick breathing. The Prime Minister continued.

"Your Majesty, I advise for you, as the Sovereign of Terolk, to perform a homecoming visit to the Free State of Terolk. It might bring calm among the Terolkian people, probably something better. Maybe even a cease-fire between the Terolkian Law, Protestants, Catholics, and others involved."

". . . Very well, I agree to that. Will this be all Prime Minister?" The King asked, realizing that he is too tired to continue.

"Yes Your Majesty, thank you for your time. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Mister Prime Minister." The King placed the phone's handset back to its hook mechanism. He motioned Doctor Jiarl to come closer.

"What is it Your Majesty?" Doctor Jiarl asked in confusion.

"Apparently the Prime Minister wants me dead."

by **Zhenya** » Wed Feb 17, 2016 4:40 pm

Imperial Palace
Stolitsa, Zhenya

As the night grew darker, the city of Stolitsa grew brighter. Streetlights and lampposts turned on, the neon lights of stores and nightclubs began to flash, and rows upon rows of yellow light could be seen in every office building. If you viewed the city from space at this hour, a curious effect would make itself apparent; Stolitsa seemingly grew brighter as you moved closer to the center of the city. At the very midpoint, an almost blinding brightness would become clear. If you were at ground level, you would see the Imperial Palace. The grounds were bathed in the dazzling light of thirty large chandeliers, arranged in neat rows and hanging from the ceiling of the grand dining hall. The light level was almost surreal. It made being a servant in the room that night distinctly unpleasant; unfortunately, there were two hundred such people in the dining hall. Liveried footmen, cooks, kitchen maids, scullery maids, still-room maids, waiters and waitresses, several butlers, and a sommelier all rushed about, arranging silver dishes and utensils and gilded cups on the large table, covered with a white tablecloth. Squinting in the face of the dazzling light, servants clad in white kitchen clothes carried stacks of plates to and fro, while others rolled wine barrels into position.

Strutting among this assemblage was Dick. A few inches taller than most, he stood above everyone in the room as he issued orders here and there.

"You there! Stop kicking that barrel and pick it up!"

"Damn you, did you ever learn how to uncork a bottle of wine! Dinner starts in an hour!"

After consulting with a footman about the best place to have the pastry chefs bring in the massive dessert cake (on the table in the corner of the kitchen, he decided), Dick turned to the entrance archway to see a man of average height walking in. He wore an officer's dress uniform with a cap that fit awkwardly under his head. A baton was tucked under his right arm; the left arm was unoccupied, but swung slightly back and forth, as if powered by nervous energy. This was Major Sergei Kavoly, the commander of the guard for tonight's dinner event.

"Hello, Richard!" he called from across the room.

Dick hurried over. "Major Kavoly, the Imperial family and guests will be here in twenty minutes. Dinner starts in an hour. I trust you've got your men ready?"

The major nodded. "Thirty guards in all. I had two of them drag a machine gun into some bushes outside, and the other twenty-eight are in here. What did the Imperial Security Committee request again? Two on either side of the entrance, one by each window, two on either side of the grand fireplace..."

"And twelve in the adjoining room."

"Yes, that's right. Well, I'd better be... off, I guess. Some idiot has got his rifle jammed again. I swear..." Major Kavoly trailed off and strolled away, his baton still tucked under his arm. Dick tittered and turned back to his work; meanwhile, the clock ticked by slowly, slowly, until at last it was almost time for the guests to arrive. A whistle blew, the preparations were hurriedly completed, and the servants rushed to their individual positions; the footmen and wait staff to line up against the back wall, the cooks into the kitchen, the maids into an adjoining room, the butlers into one corner, and the sommelier next to the stack of wine barrels. Dick himself took pride of place in front of the footmen, facing the table from behind. A troop of sixteen soldiers of the Imperial Guard marched in, taking up the positions previously discussed with the major. Following the soldiers were two liveried trumpeters, silver instruments in hands, that stood flanking the entrance. Everyone was still, and the room fell silent. "Well?" some people muttered.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a herald that rushed into the hall. "The Tsar is coming. Make yourselves ready!" He was made to stand next to the row of footmen, and the trumpeters held their instruments to their lips. One of them, a short man with a beard, eyed the large corridor to his right and saw what appeared to be a mass of glitter, sparkles, and military uniforms approaching. He gave an urgent glance to his colleague, and both started playing the Imperial salute; everyone in the dining hall, starting with the Imperial Guard, snapped to attention, looking at the entrance with anticipation. The single mass spotted by the trumpeter soon became clear- it was the Imperial procession. The first members of it began to march slowly into the hall; four officers of the Guard, swords in hand. Following these men came ten Imperial valets arranged in two rows of five, each one wearing a gold and blue livery. Next came four more officers; then, the first important member of the procession. Grand Duke Fyodor Ivanov, General of the Armies and cousin of the Tsar, rows upon rows of medals pinned to his fancy uniform, was received with salutes by the soldiers in the room. Two footmen helped the seventy-year old to his seat, where the sommelier and a waiter were at the ready to provide him with his choice of wine.

After Grand Duke Fyodor came his two sons, Prince Ivan Fyodorov and Prince Vasily Fyodorov, both holding the rank of major general. They were given seats next to their father. After these two came more members of the extended Imperial family: Grand Duke Yakov Ivanov, brother of Grand Duke Fyodor and cousin of the Tsar; Grand Duchess Alexandra Valentinovna, cousin of the Tsar; and Grand Duchess Natalia Grigorovna, also cousin of the Tsar. Grand Duke Yakov wore a military uniform, while the two female Imperial cousins wore white satin dresses and copious amounts of jewelry. Grand Duchess Natalia's two children, Prince Nicholas Filipov and Princess Xenia Filpovna, followed their mother, along with the Grand Duchess's husband, Filip Lagounov.

Dick's eyes were already watering at the sight of all of this assembled royalty, and the main Imperial family hadn't even appeared yet.

Next in the procession were the Tsar's aunts and uncles on his father's side. Archduke Grigori Grigorovich and Archduke Valentin Grigorovich entered the room wearing their military uniforms; Archduke Ivan Grigorovich entered wearing an expensive, though relatively simple, suit and tie. Ivan's wife, Galina Pavlovna, wore a red dress. The two Archduchesses, Anna Grigorovna and Elisabeth Grigorovna, used walking sticks and wore light yellow blouses. Then came the Tsar's two aunts on his mother's side. Archduchess Antonina Vadimovna and Archduchess Elena Vadimovna wore identical green dresses and necklaces of light blue pearls.

After these seventeen relations had passed, the monarch himself entered. Tsar Alexander V wore his full dress uniform, complete with medals, epaulettes, and lace. A ceremonial sword tucked into its leather scabbard was on his belt. A gold pocketwatch could be seen inside his right pocket, and gold lace also dangled from the tops of his black luxury riding boots. His brown beard was neatly combed, his hair trimmed, his piercing blue eyes focused on scanning the crowd. A bright, faceted jewel hung from his neck. In his right hand, he carried a gold-tipped, black baton. He was met with salutes from everyone assembled, including the members of his family who had already taken their seats. He stopped, glanced at them, then nodded and was escorted to his seat. Two footmen held his chair out for him, two waiters saluted, and the sommelier stood at attention. Following the Tsar was his wife. Tsarina Elisabeth, wearing a brilliant purple silk dress and carrying a jewel-encrusted handbag, sat next to her husband. Although she was smiling, her face showed signs of worry, and the first few wrinkles were starting to form.

Much to Dick's relief, it was almost over- all that was left were the Imperial children. Crown Prince Konstantin, known formally as Konstantin Alexandrovich Korzhakov, came first. He wore the dress uniform of a colonel. Following him was his brother, Prince Alexander Alexandrovich Korzhakov, his moustache twitching as he took his seat. Then came the three daughters; Princess Catherine Alexandrovna Korzhakova, Princess Sophia Alexandrovna Korzhakova, and Princess Maria Alexandrovna Korzhakova. After these came ten more liveried Imperial servants, then four more officers of the guard, and then finally the procession was over.

All told, there were twenty-four members of the Imperial family in attendance. Outside the Imperial Palace, a passerby might've noticed increased security; more guards on patrol, more police cars in the parking areas of the Palace, a helicopter circling overhead every ten or so minutes. The Zhenyan government didn't want to draw too much attention to the great banquet- it wasn't going to be covered in the newspapers- but increased security was a given.

Crown Prince Konstantin, who had never taken his seat, now got up to a podium that had been set up at the end of the room, facing the table. He bowed and rather unceremoniously tapped the microphone before beginning.

"Assembled members of the Imperial Korzhakov dynasty. Tonight, God, in his kindness, has gathered us here in the Imperial Palace to celebrate my father the Tsar's fifty-second birthday! It will undoubtedly be a joyous event." He coughed, then resumed. "And now... let's begin!" Konstantin motioned for Dick to begin directing the servants to their positions. Dick bowed and did so.

The Imperial dinner was about to begin.

by **Ventlimer** » Wed Mar 02, 2016 6:34 am

Lastoria Mining Corp.
Venler, Ventlimer

The Interview

Emma Castoria sat nervously in a comfortable lobby chair, listening to the secretary pecking at her keyboard. She'd been here for almost a half hour now and she could hear men arguing behind the door to the office she would soon be entering. On it, a plaque read "David Lastario, CEO". Emma sighed slightly as the there was a lull in the voices. The pecking had stopped too. She waited as apprehension seemed to fill the small, darkly colored room of brown and maroon. Across from her, the secretary kept glancing at the door from behind her large wooden desk, appearing to sense the growing Apprehension in Emma. After a moment of silence, the secretary stared down at the phone and began to move to pick it up when suddenly a loud boom echoed from the office and the door bust open.

A fat, gray haired man shuffled through, every step seemingly difficult in the cheaply suited man. "You can't do this to me, Lastario!" He yelled as he walked back. "I'll sue you to the ends of time for this!" With that, he left the lobby and slammed the door behind him. Emma and the Secretary stared after him, their mouths hanging open a little as they watched the fat man get frustrated at the elevator out side the office and pace until he finally got on and angrily mashed the buttons. As the elevator door closed, a light-hearted chuckle filled the room with its warmth. Emma turned to see David Lastario, a white haired man with golden eyes and a slight smile, leaning against the door with a leg crossed over another, shaking his head. Emma smoothed her skirt and started to stand, but stopped as David took his hands out of his pocket and walked over to the Secretary.

"Ruth," he said nonchalantly. "Cancel all my appointments. I'm going to have to deal with Mister Fox today."

"Yes sir, but what about her?" She asked, motioning towards Emma.

David turned to Emma looking over her quizzically, takng in the small dark haired girl with green eyes and in a professional business suit with a white top and brown skirt. "And who are you?" He asked.

"I'm the girl you're hopefully interviewing for a job in your PR department?" She said nervously, moving her hair behind her ear, revealing nice, but cheap, ear rings.

"Right..." David said, turning to his Secretary. "Do you have her file."

"Yes sir," she said as she handed him the file. He took it then turned back to Emma.

"Well, please, come in. Lets get started." She stood slowly and walked into the office behind him. "Shut the door if you will."

She did then turned to see the rest of the office. It was a circular room with a large Mahogany desk in the center with a few papers on the desk, which was lit by a single desk lamp and faced two chairs. It sat on a large, seemingly ornate rug that perfectly fit the room, its edges stopping only 3 feet from large bookcases that engulfed the walls to her left and right. Between each book case, there was a space in the wall showing various mines and smelters. Behind the desk was a large window with a black and white picture stained across it. In it, a small boy was nestled in a man's arms in front of a smelter from maybe 1952.

"Well, Please," David's voice came, blasting through her thoughts, "sit."

Emma walked over to the chair in front of David, who was now sitting in his desk, and sat down as he started to look over her file. She shifted nervously as he flipped through a page of her file and started to nod his head. "So, Miss Emma Castoria. Aged 25 from Venler, born and raised. Went to Venler Central High, then on to Venler University. Majored in International business, Political science, and minored in public speaking. Very good." He flipped another page and frowned a little. "Didn't get to finish that last one in Public Speaking, though, and have no prior experience working in a PR office." David shut the file and pushed it aside and clasped his hands in front of him as he looked in her in the eyes, his face now stern and his smile there no longer. "Miss Emma, How worthy do you believe you are to represent my company?"

She swallowed, but held his gaze. "I don't believe I am worthy of anything but a chance, Mr. Lastario. However, I have the necessary skills to fill the job and have taken every opportunity to improve those skills before coming here. The file may say I have no official experience, but I have held many internships in many of the fields necessary to your department."

He remained still, allowing her to speak. "Yes, and so I see that not only you have done that, but you also have done it solely in the mining business. You even worked for a subsidiary of mine at one point, and applied at several others before landing that job." He relaxed his gaze a little bit and leaned back. "So, why the interest in the mining and refinement business, Miss Castoria?"

She held his gaze, but let her eyes shoot left as she thought of an answer. "My father," she started, "he was a miner that served this company for many years, even rising to the rank of supervisor after his first year. He always told me of the copper pits, the flotation, the smelters. Always told me of how important it all is to Ventlimer and that each and every miner should be proud of the dirt and sweat and small homes and old cars."

His gaze narrowed. "Are you suggesting that I don't pay my miners enough, Miss Castoria? That would be a very bad start to this."

"No, no sir, I just-" She stammered. He raised his hand and she stopped.

"You have some work to do, Miss Castoria, So I can't let you into my PR ranks yet." He stared sternly at her, sitting up as he said it. "However, it seems you've gone a while without a paying job. I can give you a full time secretarial position under the PR division head. His secretary died in a car accident recently and I think you will make it just fine there. And, if you can survive a year, we can see about sending you back to school for that Public Speaking degree." He began writing in her file, then signed it. "Will you accept that, Miss Castoria?"

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling to hid the disappointment.

"Good." He handed her a piece of paper. "Show up there next Monday and you can start then. You'll be getting paid 12 Dollars an hour at first, more if you if you do your job well over time." He stood, and she did too. "Now, I have some matters to attend to, so I will have to ask you to leave."

"Thank you, sir!" She stood and left, then signed out with Ruth and headed down the elevator. As soon as she was out of the building, she turned on her cell phone and dialed her fiance.

"Hey, babe!" A voice came on the phone. "Did you get it."

"No," she said sadly. "He said I needed work and gave me a secretarial position. Said I didn't have real experience."

"What, that's bullshit! You've been working hard for this since you were sixteen!"

"Yeah, well Johnny, maybe I bit off more than I could chew. I'll see you at home tonight, ok?"

"Alright," he said. "I'll get us something to eat on the way home, ok?"

"Thanks, hun. I'll see you soon."

"Of course. Bye, babe."

"Bye."

The phone clicked and she unlocked the door to her old sedan and sighed as she yanked the door open, glaring at the peeling paint as she climbed in. She put in in reverse and started to pull out, careful not to even come close to the nice, shiny black coupe she had parked next to. She then pulled out of the parking garage and left. Maybe Monday wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

by **Terolk** » Thu Mar 03, 2016 1:52 pm

Napier Barracks, Yevan
03/03/2016

The day was unusually warm for Hayk Amara, a junior lieutenant within the Terolkian National Defence Army. The Terolkian National Defence Army was, by name, an army geared towards the defence of Terolk should the Desla-Ahnerania military need assistance or have had their lines broken and need an army to defend Terolk, however they were equipped not with Desla-Ahneranian weapons, but with Terolkian made weapons in an attempt to keep the arms industry alive. The standard issue rifle was the reliable Husali Rifle which was much more cheaper to produce and were often on par with the more recent assault rifles. They were also issued a Anants Individual Soldier Uniform with Takun camouflage pattern, which was more suited to the climate of Terolk than what the Confederation Guard wore, a fact which TNDA members often used to make fun of the Confeds. The TNDA numbered at 35,000 men, with another 10,000 in reserve, and was stationed largely in the North and Centre of the country.

Hayk himself was lucky to be in the TNDA, he had entered near the end of the recent recruitment drive and was only considered because his friend slipped his application into the 'Possible Officer' pile at the Recruitment Office. He was accepted and sent to the Royal Institute of Terolkian Officer Training, which was coincidentally located in Desla-Ahnerania and several lessons were taught to persuade the potential officers that serving the King was the way to serve God the best, although Hayk nor any of the offices paid attention to it. Following graduation, he was sent to the Friv Rifles and given command of Lemur Platoon, Bravo Company, 3rd Platoon, 2nd Battalion. And, for the past two years, he had fulfilled his role as officer with a 'Killing Officer' as the men put it, or someone who only loses men when they are killed in battle, not when they are sent into battle that will see them killed.

For the past two months, the TNDA had been preparing for deployment into civilian centres to deal with the riots happening there, and had been instructing it's units to prepare for urban combat and riot training. Yet, despite the training, there had been no call to arms, which led many National Defenders, as they were called, disheartened at the seeming lack of trust for the Army by the D-A Higher Command who opted to send in the Confederation Guard. However, there distrust wasn't misplaced. The position of the TNDA was officially pro-Union, however many of it's officers, Hayk included, wished to see Terolk independent and had spent several weeks preparing defenses and plans for an Uprising. Trenches dug across the country, makeshift barricades that were constructed in cities where 'protection groups' roamed, however it was a front for the TNDA to make its arrangements. With

Hayk was always too tired to consider politics, instead preferring to socialise or drink with his mates at the Officers' Mess. Lucky for Hyak, today had been an easier day for the Officers as the Sergeant Majors took over the responsibilities, a long standing tradition within the Friv Rifles, so that left many of the Officers with little to do. So, like any Terolkian that wished to waste time, they went to the Officers' Mess to enjoy an afternoon drinking.

Officers' Mess
12:30

"Down it! Down it! Down it!" The officers cheered as Hayk held a bottle of Viniski Vodka to his lips, his throat burning and eyes watering as the liquid went down his throat. He eventually tore the bottle away as the last drop left it, gasping for air, much to the cheers of his fellow officers. Hayk was known to be able to hold his own in drinking, so every day was a test to see if they could get him drunk. Thankfully, today wasn't the day.

"Well, that was a bit fiery" he said, placing the bottle down "Still haven't beaten me though!" he added, followed by a couple moans and 'One Day!'s he come to appreciate. Pleased with himself, he walked back to his table where he sat usually with his brothers, carrying a tray that held several shots and bottles. Placing it, he starting handing them out. Altogether there were four of them. Hayk, Hasmik, Tigran, Serj. All four of them were siblings, with Hayk being the youngest, at 21, and Tigran the eldest, at 28. They had been born into the distinct military family of Ajemin, the most notably member being Field Marshall Vassak Ajemin who led the Republican Forces during the 1901-1904 Terolkian Civil War. Because of such an important name and legacy, all four had enlisted within the TNDA as soon as they left education and had been posted to the same regiment. They were all considered some of the most promising officers the Regiment had received in decades, giving way to significant pressure upon the brothers to realise the title.

"You ok after that?" Tigran asked, taking a bottle with a brown coloured liquid inside

"Was easier than last week" Hayk replied, taking a seat "How's mama?"

"She's doing better. When papa died, I didn't think she'd last this long. Poor women." Tigran said, taking a couple of shot glasses and placing them infront of the brothers. "She has gotten more into politics though. Started calling herself Surban instead of Terolkian. Can't blame her though. Surban was hero"

"Agreed" Hasmik spoke up, pouring a shot into "Bastard gave his life to found our religion, and the bastard Desla-Ahneranians are trying to erase it. Hell, they gave Mount Ser and Sirekin to the Ventlimers on purpose." It was no lie that the Ajemin brothers disliked Desla-Ahnerania and wished to see Terolk independent, however they had to await the permission of the High Command before launching the Uprising, something that left some Officers and Soldiers uneasy.

"Well boys, here's to papa" Serj said, downing a shot before pouring a new one, and then standing on the chair and holding the shot glass aloft "And one for a free Terolk!" he added, loudly, receiving cheers from the officers. No sooner had Serj downed it, someone came running in, crashing into a table.

"Careful mate, Hayk said, moving over to the man, a corporal from the rank on his sleeve ?"What requires our attention?"

"The Square! The protesters have taken control! Supreme General Stemov has ordered all officers to move their forces to Whitesbridge and seize parliament build and take the flag." the corporal sputtered, referencing a flag they were well aware of.

"Now?" Hayk pressed?

"Yes! The soldiers have assembled on the parade square!" the corporal said, before spring outside.

"Well, looks like we are going to free after all." Hayk said, running through the gates, grabbing his rifle and armour, before sprinting to the trucks that awaited them at the parade square.

Whitesbridge
20:03

The journey from Yevan to Whitesbridge had been shorter than usual, although still long. In the distance, the fires in the Square illuminated Mount Sirekin and Ser which indicated Ventlimer would be aware that something was happening. Slowly, the convoy pushed through the traffic and Confed Guard, who gave them a confused look as they passed, and eventually made it to the Square.

Hayk was sat near the back of the truck, able to look through the gap. And what he saw fascinated him. The air was clouded with a light grey smoke and the streets were lit up with fires. The Confed Guard could barely control the situation there, much less the entire city, which made Hayk smile ever so slightly. Eventually they dismounted when they arrived at the barricades outside of the Square of Eternal Heroes, with nearly 500 men with weapons and uniform forcing the Confed Guard and Constable back, saying they could relax as the TNDA was going to deal with the rioters. The Guards were easier to persuade, given the exhaustion they had suffered from dealing with the riot and the promise of rest was enough to spirit them away. Cleared of one obstacle, the TNDA used the trucks to break down the barricades and force a way through the crowd, eventually arriving at the Parliament Building with a swarm of Pro-Independence supporters following them, confused as to why they hadn't opened fire upon the protesters.

Hayk felt hi s heart beat speed up as he approached the Parliament Building , lining his men up in a column that was identical to the rest of the Battalions'. Commander Kavden stepped forth and knocked on the door and received no reply. The politicians were still hidden inside the building and refused to open up the door. In response to this, Hayk had brought a breaching charge with him, prompting him to march forwards with his men and line up against the wall. He placed the charge, his hands shaking, before rejoining the line. He looked towards Kavden for confirmation before detonating the charge, the loud bang made his ears ring, but he stepped inside the building. It was lit up clearly, but was empty.

"Sir!" Hayk called "The Ministers are in the Debating Hall!"

"Then why are you stopping if you know where they are?" Kavden responded "Arrest them!". Hayk responded, kicking the doors open and letting his men file into the room. They found the MPs poining sharpened flagstaffs at them, although they quickly dropped them when the squad fired into the crowd, causing them to quickly raise their hands. Hayk stepped forwards;

"You are hereby under arrest, under the authority of the Terolkian National Defence Army for crimes against this State. These crimes include betrayal, corruption and failure to act against a foreign occupier. Step outside" he said, his voice taking a tone of authority that shocked even the men that had served him for his entire time at the TNDA. Needless to say, the Ministers quickly filed outside and were loaded up into the trucks that had brought the TNDA here and driven off. The soldiers then to build a stand from local materials and make a makeshift microphone system so that Kevdan could be heard over the noise. Hayk was handed a wrapped up flag and brought two of his men with him to the roof of the Parliament Building, unfolding it and preparing to raise it.

Down below, Kevdan could be heard;

"People of Terolk. For nearly 800 years we have been oppressed. Occupied. Betrayed. Viewed as dirt. But no more. No, today, thanks to your determination to the safety of the state I must announce the end of the State of Terolk." This part of his speech was greeted by boos but they were quickly silenced by the sound of gunshots, Kevdan continued "The Terolk State has been dissolved. To take its palce is the next step for our people. The next step in which we shall become independent. The Federal Republic of Surban, named after our founder and Saint, will take it's place. I assure you, this State shall not fail! This State shall triumph against its foes! WE declare our independence from Desla-Ahnerania and I promise you, we will not falter in our goal. Our HOME will be FREE!" after he proclaimed the freedom of the State, Hayk began raising the Surban flag. Pride in his new nation flared inside of Hayk and spontaneous singing from the crowd brought tears to his eye. For once, the people of his home would finally be free.

by **Andenisia** » Mon Apr 25, 2016 5:08 am

CHAPTER I: THE DISCOVERY

Republik-1 rocket at the launchpad in Lemburia. Photo taken from Andenisian Air Force archives, circa 1979.

Lemburia Cosmodrome, Andenisia
17 January 2001

Located between two valleys in the outskirts of the mountain town of Lemburia, the Lemburia Cosmodrome was a long-abandoned structure built in the late 1960s to house Andenisia's prized spacecrafts. It was home the famous Republik-1 rocket along with a Tibro II prototype rocket before it was shut down by the Totalitarian regime in 1981. The Cosmodrome was ever since hidden from the civilian population and only a few select ones in the Armed Forces General Staff were aware of its very existence. Even when the regime was ousted from the Capitol, Lemburia Cosmodrome was kept a big government secret. The airspace above it was now designated a no-fly zone.

Until now.

A convoy of three dull gray pickup trucks approached the Giling Valley Checkpoint staffed by four armed Civil Defence corpsmen. As one of them stepped forward and raised his hand as to gesture the driver to stop, all three of them picked up their speed and one of them crashed into the checkpoint, killing the head guard and injuring the others. Out of one of the trucks, four men, all dressed in a dark gray outfit with balaclavas covering their faces and armed with old AKM assault rifles jumped out, firing off shots to the injured guards laying by the gate. They were unfortunately unable to retaliate.

With the guards eliminated, the men returned to their vehicle and the convoy started moving past the checkpoint. The paved road led to the wrought-iron gates leading inside the Cosmodrome's command center, a three-story building with mounted antennas, radars, and other equipment on its roof. Twelve men, half of them armed with AKMs, rushed out of their vehicles inside the building. Having been abandoned by the scientists who once operated the place, the interior of the command center was left untouched. Old computers and electronic devices were still intact, although without electricity they were practically useless. There were rows of filing cabinets filled with paperwork left from the Republic's last space project, though they weren't what caught the men's attention.

Lined up against the wall in the far corner were four corpses of men in lab coats. Trails of dried blood smeared their white clothing a crimson red and gunshot wounds to their chests were visible. The bodies were already rotten and swarmed by flies, maggots, and other disgusting creatures commonly found on dead bodies. From what they could see, the scientists were killed not too long ago, probably only two or three years back. A few of the men who noticed the bodies went out of the building at that instant, presumably to puke.

One of the men who seemed to be in command instructed three of his men to stay back in the command center while the rest hopped onto their trucks and rolled further into the compound. After roaming around for nearly fifteen minutes, they came over what looked like a hatch leading underground. The men climbed down the ladder one by one and were greeted by pure darkness. Only when they turned on their flashlights did they find out that they were inside a thirty year-old missile silo.

"What the heck."

The Many And Daily Lives (ADMAYORA|IC|NATION MAINTENANCE)

The Many And Daily Lives (ADMAYORA|IC|NATION MAINTENANCE)

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