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Cygnarian Diplomatic Opening (ATTN: Vapor)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Servoth
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Cygnarian Diplomatic Opening (ATTN: Vapor)

Postby Servoth » Wed Dec 05, 2012 9:49 pm


1901



Please do not post on this thread unless you have been accepted on the Vapor OOC page.




Tis the year of 1901, the second year of the New Century, the first year after the World Expo of 1900, and nine before the beginning of the First World War.

In this year of the world of Vapor, Cygnar opens its doors to the world after the nation's unification and subsequent self isolation in 1871. In the 30 years between then and now, the world outside of Cygnar has changed monstrously; with new inventions such as the airplane, tank, automobile, wireless telegraphy, automatic rifles, airships, mechanized armour, and to a small extent mechanical computers. Other discoveries such as electricity and gasoline engines begin to gain prominence. The (nearly) worldwide railroad was begun and completed, but horrid conflict also happened. The nation of Voerdeland collapsed and was divided amongst those nations willing to grab at it. And so tensions rise even higher as the world quickly prepares for war that all the world knows will come soon.
And with such the grasp of allies and new devices of war arise along with it.

And so is the story of the Kingdom of Cygnar, only recently did it announce the ends of its isolation and only recently did the rest of world hear of this news. The powers of the world quickly jump to make themselves allies of the Cygnarians. And the first of such nations to do so is the Kingdom of Vitzenburg headed by Kaiserness Morgen I and the Greater Federal Empire of Servoth headed by Kaiser Heinz IX.

<><><><><><><>


International Waters just of the coast of Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
12:09 Middle-Eastern Time



The first to arrive was the Servothians. The steamship, the Franz, was nearing the closest Cygnarian port. The news of the openning of Cygnar to the rest world was unexpected. Most of the Servothian peoples had completely forgotten that the place even existed, and as such the rush to get there first was hectic, as so the Franz had not time to properly refuel.

The Franz carried an assorted, and random, collection of what the Servothian Empire had to offer. The officers on board telegraphed a message the Cygnarian port, though it was questionable that they had the technology to pick it up since their isolation beginning in '71.
The Vitzenburgians were not far behind as far as the State could tell. But right now it was a race of who could get there first, Servothian paranoia had taken a quick hike into the sky after the Voerdeland event and this event was crucial in gaining a new ally against the mounting enemies of the Servothian State.

On board and at the very front of the Franz was a Servothian man chosen to represent the State. He was a medium height man, with short black hair, hazel eyes, a face that wasn't gorgeous but not bad, and had a medium build too. He wore the stand uniform for a Servothian military man of the rank of general. A white pickelhaube (with a golden Servothian Eagle on the front, the spike too was golden and so was the chain and rest of the helmet's decoration), the signature red Servothian jacket with a black tie (the forearm of the covered in a variety of gold bands sown each having it own Jugendstil style swirls detailed onto them, the buttons of the jacket were golden also), and finally he sported a pair of black Jodhpurs which had a white and golden stripe going down the side, and finally a pair of plain black knee high jackboots. His name Adrian Brandt and he was chosen to speerhead the Servothian Diplomatic mission to Cygnar.
Last edited by Servoth on Wed Dec 19, 2012 4:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Inoroth
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Postby Inoroth » Wed Dec 05, 2012 11:17 pm

International Waters near City Ceryl, Cygnar
Aboard the I.S.V. Dominion
April 16th, 1901
2:55 pm Middle-Eastern Time


"Cold this morning, is it not, Grand General?" asked Admiral Davide Aulenzi, his breath producing a fair sized cloud of vapor. It was indeed cold, unusually cold for this time of year. Clouds blanketed the skies, but they shared none of their warmth to the world below. This had been a long, harsh winter, it was true... but no winter, no matter how long or how hard, would ever be horrific as the 1890-91 winter General Quartzo Zaponi had spent commanding King Vinchero's Left Wing Army in Voerdenland. The Grand General's blue-grey eyes glazed over as he remembered those days. There, the sun did not shine for months at a time, and the thermometer regularly hovered around - 30 Degrees Celsius. There, the vehicles' engines would not start, anything metal froze in place as if chemically welded, and all the fuel for miles around was used up merely to melt enough ice to keep the men hydrated. There, logistics were a nightmare, and combat all but impossible, except on nights where the moon shone brightest.

Nearly every man who went into Voerdenland came out with scars telling the tales of their suffering, and the broad shouldered General was no exception. His left leg had caught a terrible case of frostbite one night while he was out inspecting the Inorothian Lines, and to this day he still had no feeling in it from the knee down. He thus relied heavily on a cane to keep from falling. His injury caused his posture to slump to 5'11", but before, he had stood ramrod straight at 6'1". But that was then, a long time ago, and General Zaponi had since returned to his Boat, Train, and Airship Manufacturing Company, 'Zaponi Internationale' and prospered, hoping to retire gracefully into the shadows of public life.

But that was not the course which fate had picked for him, for the young country of Cygnar, hitherto in extreme isolation, was now opening up to the world for the first time. This was an opportunity Inoroth could not pass up, a chance to gain another friend in Promethia and to expand her growing trade empire. And what better man to lead the Diplomatic Mission than the War Hero Zaponi, who knew more about modern technology than most? Well, King Vinchero could not think of anyone more qualified, and so General Zaponi was again called into his country's service, appointed head Ambassador to Cygnar.

After hurried preparations, the powerful Battleship I.S.V. Dominion was sent post hast to Cygnar, carrying the Inorothian Diplomatic Team. They had been at sea for two days, and at last there were reaching the end of their voyage. It was a most fortunate thing, for they had coal and water enough to last for only five more hours on half rations. However, the speed had payed off, for theirs was the second ship to reach Cygnar's waters.

General Zaponi remembered when, ten years before, he had been standing on the this same spot, leaning against this same railing, and speaking with this same Admiral about this same cold. 'The more things change, the more they stay the same' he thought. Turing to his friend Admiral Trochi, he slowly responded:

"It is cold, my friend. Very cold indeed."
Last edited by Inoroth on Fri Dec 07, 2012 8:14 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby Vitzenburg » Thu Dec 06, 2012 12:12 am

International Waters just of the coast of Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
1:27 Middle-Eastern Time


"Amazing... simply mind blowing..." Colonel Schumacher mused aloud as he sat in his quarters in the O.K.S. Phantom, still marveling over it. A ship that moved underwater!? This was something Schumacher could never have dreamed of in his wildest imagination. The idea sounded so preposterous when he first heard of it, he tried to convince the Kaiserness that such a concept would be a waste of money. Well, he had been proven wrong. The first of it's kind, the Phantom held 6 bow and 4 aft torpedo tubes, 2 203mm guns, and anti-aircraft guns; though they seem redundant, as the Phantom can just escape beneath the waves before any harm could be done.

While thinking about this, Schumacher then realized that there's no way to see if they're close to land or not. This disturbed him greatly, knowing the Captain of the ship wasn't a bright... or stable one. Getting up, he made his way down the corridor to the command room. There were men at the workstations along the walls, pipes lined the ceiling. In many places, the Colonel could make out hotfixes and flash welding. "There must have been some problems" Thought the Colonel.

In the middle of the room he saw Captain Strivers Shembly sitting on his command chair, looking through what appeared to be a fat pole sticking out of the ceiling. Captain Shembly was a sight to see, probably the longest servering man in the Vitzburgian armed forces, he was the only one crazy enough to volunteer for crewing the Phantom, the rest of the crew were prisoners who volunteered for a shortened sentence.

As the Colonel approached, Shembly pushed up the pole with his old grizzled hand, turning towards the newcomer.
"Aye, what can Oi do ya for Cernel!?" He asked enthusiastically, rubbing his palms together.

"I just had a question about the ship," The Colonel stated, looking around at the men working at their stations, "How do you know we won't run aground down while we're down here?"

The Captain looked at Schumacher and laughed, "Well that's easy tu answer! We got 2 ways, one is raight here." The Captain smacked the pole he was just looking through, "This here's a periscopamajiger, but I've taken to callin' it a looker-upper, has a nice ring to it, don't it?" He chuckled and stepped over to a man hunched over a workstation, a large headset on his ears. "Second is dis thingy raight ere! It's called an echorometer!"

"Echorometer?"

"Echorometer! It sends out dees here bloops, *Captain makes a blooping noise* and then if deres anything close to us, it'll come back in a certain time! Deh shorter time, deh closer!"

"Ahha, thank you for putting my uncertainty to rest. Now, do you know our current position?"

"Mmmhmm, yep indeed I do!" The Captain walks over to a wooden table behind his chair, a map of the Imogen ocean spread out across it. "We're about 2 leagues behind the Serverthians, I don't think dey know we're dis close to em. We should be arrivin in about 1 hour, right behind the Serverthians. And back here *He moves his finger a few inches* Ere is deh Inerotherns. We picked up soma dere radio when we passed em, dey think dere gonna be the seconds. They'll wet dey're pretty panties when they see us come outta the water in dis beauty!" The Captain exclaimed. The Colonel gave a forced smile and nod, backing out of the room before the Captain could shanghai him into a game of dominoes. He needed to go over the mission the Kaiserness had given him. Cygnar was an unknown land, ripe for alliance and industry. He was to secure technical deals and hopefully some sort of trade alliance with the Cygnarians.

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Postby Cygnar » Thu Dec 06, 2012 6:54 am

You guys will arrived at Ceryl.


Ceryl, Royal Palace of Ceryl.
April 16th, 1901
11:30 Middle-Eastern Time


Ceryl was not a metropolis, but was not small either. With a population of 6 million, it could be called ''an average city''. It was mostly known, due to its vast array of docks, probably the busiest merchant town in all Cygnar. It is considered to be the port of entry of all imported goods of Cygnar, that are then shipped towards the continent through the Caspian railroad. Ceryl, was once the mightiest of the northern kingdoms, but after its fall in 1870, it could no longer be compared to Caspia or Telmar. Still, the Cygnaran government treated Ceryl with special care, for it was the most beautiful city in the kingdom, that for sure.

King Leto himself, was waiting for the arrival of the Amplectoran ambassadors in the courtyard of the Royal palace of ceryl. The courtyard, had a stunningly beautiful garden, containing various different species of plants from all over Cygnar. In the middle, there was a stone fountain, with a statue of Cygnar's symbol, the Cygnus bird on top of it. The floor was made out of pink marble, a common material to see in the houses of Ceryl. The palace was magnificently decorated, he wanted to show the best cygnar had to offer, paintings, flowers, every detail had been thoroughly planned. Along with king Leto, several important businessmen were along his commission. Alexander Salvoro, son of Drago Salvoro himself, owner of ''Salvoro Railroads'', the aristocrat ''Johann Werner'' owner of the steel giant ''CYN Steelworks'', and many others.

''Your majesty!'' Markus, a man sitting near king Leto, who was in front of a old telegraph, announced.

''Yes, markus?'' Leto responded, in a subtle way.

''We have just received a telegram, it's from Servoth.'' Markus informed leto.

''Well, give it to me, and send another one to the three ships that are coming, with an official greeting letter.'' Leto said

''Yes, your majesty'' Markus said, before starting to write.

King Leto, followed by his commission of guards and businessmen, left the palace, and headed towards the docks, to personally welcome the international diplomats. When he arrived, he could see three special landing bays that had been reserved for the incoming ships, along them, lots of decorations and members of the Royal Guard were present, to ensure safety of the incoming parties. The platforms, where the ships would dock, were made out of steel, and had oil powered lamps, until the end of both platforms. Near the docking area, there was a metal pole, hoisting a flag of Cygnar, along with the flag of Ceryl and the Royal Insignia.
Last edited by Cygnar on Thu Dec 06, 2012 2:45 pm, edited 6 times in total.
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Vitzenburg
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Postby Vitzenburg » Thu Dec 06, 2012 10:33 am

Ceryl, Docks
April 16th, 1901
2:44 Middle-Eastern Time


The O.K.S. Phantom slowly rose from the water as it approached the harbor, water pouring out of the various ports, shining brass and gleaming steel glinting in the sunlight. The Phantom slowly slid into the designated port, cutting the water like a reaping scythe. The crew slowly emerged from various hatches along the deck, the anchors dropped and mooring was thrown to the workers on the dock. Colonel Schumacher slowly emerged from the main hatched and observed the decorated docks.

"Well, seems they spared no expense." The Colonel thought as he climbed down a ladder onto the main deck. He was dressed in his dark navy blue dress uniform, his breast festooned with various commendations he's received, many from his splendid work in the Voerdeland Crisis. The wind whipped at his hat, forcing him to pinch it's visor between his fingers so it didn't fly away. As he walked along the deck, he saw the cargo lift slowly rising. "I had thought the Kaiserness would send smaller gifts." He thought as it rose. Surprisingly he didn't see crates, but men, or what he assumed to be men. Three of them standing tall, clad in iron suits, much like the Super Heavy Infantry Suits, yet much smaller. Black smout was belched from small stacks in the back of the armor, the men were busy adjusting valves and such on each other, calibrating. This must be what the prototype armor showcased at the World Expo had evolved into.

The middle man, Colonel Schumacher recognized, was the esteemed Sergeant Leandris Wolfgang, formerly Captain Wolfgang. Colonel Schumacher personally busted him down the ranks for disregarding a direct order, and leading a squad of the Super Heavy troops in a suicide mission to rescue an Inorothian force that had been cut off from the main group by the squinting devils. Miraculously he had returned as a Big God Damned Hero; though the Colonel had been quick in the punishment, 14 public lashings and he'd been busted down the ranks to Sergeant. Yet, even for his dissidence, the Kaiserness felt it was a heroic gesture worthy of the Silver Aquila, the highest honor in Vitzenburg. The Sergeant was busy checking over one of the other men's armor, his helmet tucked under his arm as he turned and recognized the Colonel with the sign of the Vitzburgian Aquila. He'd become a symbol of Vitzburgian strength, showing up on propoganda

"You looked surprised, Colonel." Barked Wolfgang over the suit engine as an engineer twiddled with it. It growled angrily for a few seconds and then lowered to a lul. The armor gleamed in the sunlight, black metal shining, a crimson sash running down his chest was pressed and ironed to perfection.

"What is the meaning of this? Yo-" Before he could finish, Wolfgang cut in.

"Our Kaiserness wanted a hero to come for the photo op, with our new technologically advanced prototype infantry armor of coure, you might have noticed. Perhaps the Cygnarians will notice and jump on the chance for the technological alliance."

The Colonel pinched the bridge of his knows with his other hand, "Well, stay out of the damn way, this is a delicate situation! We need to secure our interests in the area before the rest of the world comes grubbing." Schumacher turned on the heel of his boot and walked towards the lowered gangplank, Sergeant Wolfgang and the two other troops followed after. They approached the waiting party of Cygnarians at the base of the gangplank.
Last edited by Vitzenburg on Thu Dec 06, 2012 10:36 am, edited 1 time in total.

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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
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Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Thu Dec 06, 2012 1:52 pm

Inesean Embassy,Evenstead, Mishmahig
April 16th, 1901
2:30 Local Time

Ambassador Fhas-za read the reports on his desk. The current one was the details of this years Annual Pilgrimage. Accordingly, 9,694 Inesean MCs were making the government sponsored trip to Mishmahig this year, coupled with the 15,364 making the trip to Roth, Inoroth. He was responsible for making sure every Inesean had his AMEN passbook and getting the trains in on time. Booking the trains was done literally after the preceding pilgrimage ended, because so many were needed. He approved the Report and picked up the next one.

This Report was the Military Intelligence Report on the region. Ambassador Fhas-za was also the Region Chief for Western Promethia and South-Eastern Amplector. The report was a brief overview of affected assigned regions.

Military Intelligence Regional Report Overview
Miteria- State of Collapse has worsened, Allied States of Rosswood has moved to secure region.

Mishmahig- Status same as last report. Capital city of Evenstead preparing to host the AMEN Council. Inesean pilgrims arrive daily.

Bessavaria- Intelligence operations have been suspended in this country.

Inoroth- Inesean pilgrims have yet to arrive in Roth. Nation is still appalled by the Crisis. Papal Council considering Jihad Crusadecondemnation of Khamul for Brandburgh Camps.

Gratia Infinitia- Nation is requesting Rothian approval of Crusade against Khamul. Again.

Fhas-za put the MIR down and signed it off. He took out a nice Fanalglian cigar and lit it up. He was about to start lounging when a flustered attache burst into his office.

'Ambassador! This is a report from the I.W.S. Tahuanitsuyu. They were over the Harena when they identified several Amplectorian Warships heading towards the 8 tribe kingdoms. The ship went to check it out, and sir. You will not believe this but, the kingdoms are leaving Isolation" flustered the attache.

"Are you sure" inquired Fhas-za.

'Absolutely" was the reply.
Last edited by The Holy Dominion of Inesea on Fri Dec 07, 2012 3:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Pavlostani
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Postby Pavlostani » Thu Dec 06, 2012 2:39 pm

My people have forgotten about Cygnar. They will be surprised when they arrive at Ceryl.


Pavlostani, Khamul

The High Dictator Pavel VIII walked to his desk. He looked at intel reports around the world. He walked over to the telegraph.

General Sorov:
Please send troops to reinforce Brandburg camps. A possible strike is imminent. In the meantime, send scouts south, towards where Miteria used to be. If Brandburg's fall is inevitable, we'll move the prisoners to a new camp there.


Brandburg Birkenau IV

Sam Guevine had seen it all. The guards saw no emotion in his eyes. His daily schedule comprised of: Wake up, survive, go to sleep. "Into the mines, you filthy sons of bitches!" A guard shouted, and shot a man to make a point. Guevine walked into the mine, and began hacking away at the rocks with a blank expression on his face. A guard slammed a truncheon between his shoulder blades, and he didn't flinch. Nobody noticed that he found a gold nugget and hid it in his pocket.

Guevine and his comrades walked out of the mines. Before them was a landscape of death. Brandburg Birkenau had been designed to hold at most, twenty thousand people. A current sixty thousand lived there, not counting the guards. High barbed wire fences blocked the way out, and snipers were positioned around the camp. They were assigned to prevent escapees, but sometimes they got bored. Guevine walked through the camp and saw bodies everywhere. It didn't matter to him anymore. In his bloc, they talked in the bunks. "Hey, Jarmon, got anything?" He asked. "We intercepted a crate of grenades today." Jarmon said. Guevine whistled. "Really? What do the Khamuls think happened to it?" He asked. "They think a Gratian or Rothian convoy nabbed it." Jarmon said. "Well, I'll trade you this." He produced the nugget. "For the grenades." Jarmon's eyes widened. "That will keep my cell running for the next few months!" He gasped. "Grenades for gold." He said. "Deal." Jarmon said. And so went another backstreet deal of the various resistance programs in Brandburg Birkenau.

Vitus Ocean

"Miterian territory?" Admiral Sorros asked. "What's left of it." Said Markos Potan his Zampolit, his political officer. "We need a new area for the camps. A secret one." Potan added. Sorros shuddered. "I never liked those camps." He said, but loyalty won out. The Admiral walked to the telegraph machine and wrote out a message.

To all ships of the Third Deployment Fleet: We shall set course for Miterian Territory. The Brandburg Camps are in imminent danger of invasion. We will scout the area for a new location for the camps.
Last edited by Pavlostani on Thu Dec 06, 2012 2:42 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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Servoth
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Postby Servoth » Thu Dec 06, 2012 8:57 pm

Ceryl Docks, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
14:46 Middle-Eastern Time


The Franz pulled into the dock of Ceryl, behind that of the Vitzenburgs but ahead of the Rothians. That was good, but it had shown that the lack of proper refueling had slowed them down significantly. But with arrival, show the Servothian the Vitzenburgians new toy.

The Franz stopped at the same dock as the Phantom, dropped the gang plank and began unload. Herr Brandt got of his ship and made his way to the other side of the dock in order to inspect the Vitzenburgian thing. Brandt leaned over to one of his men just now getting off the ship. He was short, thin, and gangly. Brandt whispered something in the man's ear, and then the man rushed off to get his camera. Then watched as a minature version of the Owl mechanical computer was loaded off and so was a full-sized Servothian Gun-tractor. Other things that Servoth had to offer were also being unloaded, it was making obvious that they had brought more than the Vitzenburgers.

Brendt then made his way down to meet with the Cygnarians.
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Vitzenburg
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Postby Vitzenburg » Fri Dec 07, 2012 7:54 am

Ceryl, Docks
April 16th, 1901
14:54 Middle-Eastern Time


Now that most of the ambassadorial party was exiting the gangplank, there was enough room to start unloading the Phantom's cargo. The spying Servothians saw a super heavy suit fitted with lifting clamps offloading crates from the cargo lift. The crates were stamped with the seal of the Royal Vitzburgian Armory and the Black Shield. In all there were about 12 crates, with 2 very large crates being the last to be unloaded.

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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
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Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Fri Dec 07, 2012 2:16 pm

02:00 ship time, 15:00 local time
April 16th, 1901
10 NM from Ceryl

Rikke looked one more time at the brief telegram the ship had gotten 4 hours ago.

To: I.S.S. Tahuanitsuyu, AC-17
From: Ambassador Fhas-za

Captain Rikke you are ordered to initiate contact with the Cygnar Kingdom. Please proceed to Ceryl.


Well, it was to the point and brief. Much better than the flowery orders given by politicians. Still, i did't give him much to work on. But he did have an order. So he steamed the Tahuanitsuyu towards Ceryl. At least, he had hoped they were heading towards Ceryl. Now, he knew he had gone the right way, solely by the amount of naval traffic. Actually, he was surprised, and a little offended that the Cygnar Navy had not even challenged their approach. It made him think of how different things were here.

First off, the Tahuanitsuyu was an Armored Cruiser(AC) of the Olympia-class. That meant she had 4 × 20.3 cm/45 Type 41 naval guns for her Primary battery. Her Secondary battery consisted of 14 × 6-inch (152 mm) rapid fire guns, and 10 × 3-inch (76.2 mm) rapid fire guns. The Tertiary battery was 6 × QF 3 pounder Hotchkiss guns, and 2 × Maxim guns. In all essence, she was a battleship with a multitude of cruiser weapons. Secondly, if this was the Vitus, the Inesean Navy would patrolling starboard, port and center. But that didn't matter.

Turning to his First Mate Miles Matherson, he said, "Hoist the the Main Flag and mid-mast the Battle Flag." The First Mate relayed his orders to the crew, who did as asked. Then he ordered, "Take us in"
Last edited by The Holy Dominion of Inesea on Fri Dec 07, 2012 6:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Pavlostani
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Postby Pavlostani » Fri Dec 07, 2012 2:36 pm

Brandburg Birkeanu

General Dirk Ryan was reading world reports.

To our esteemed dictator, Pavel VIII
Brandburg Birkenau is in the imminent threat of being destroyed or liberated in a Gratian and Rothian Holy War. I understand that our Plan B is operational, but not large enough for our needs. I will need to use it. Please open the gates of New Brandburg.


An hour later, Pavel sent confirmation. New Brandburg would be opened in Central Khamul. Measures would be taken to ensure it's secrecy.

General Ryan walked to his lieutenants. "Selection, and then we're leaving." He said. That night, the inmates were examined by SAF doctors. Tom Braiton had been in the camps from day one, ever since the Voerdeland Crisis. His heart raced with fear. He had been there for over ten years. Now, in his thirties, he realized that he could die that night. He was amazed that he hadn't died already. The SAF doctor looked him over. He wrote something on his clipboard. "You pass." He said with a thick Khamul accent. Braiton almost fainted. Half with relief, half with dread. Part of him wanted to end it. "Attention all prisoners." The hated General Ryan said. "You shall be marched out. Anybody who falls behind will be shot. You may stay if you wish, but there will be no supplies. You will surely die." He said. Braiton thought that idea was out of the question. The camp was completely mined anyways. "We shall be marching to Central Khamul. Now MOVE!" He roared. And so began the evacuation of Brandburg Birkenau.

Vitus Ocean

"We're coming up on the former Miterian coast." Lieutenant Galmar said. "Excellent." Sorros replied. "Get ready to get men on the shores. I want them to scout the area."
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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Inoroth
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Postby Inoroth » Fri Dec 07, 2012 4:09 pm

Territorial/International Waters line
City Ceryl, Cygnar
Aboard the I.S.V. Dominion
April 16th, 1901
3:14 pm Middle-Eastern Time


General Zaponi ascended the stairs to the Dominion's command bridge. Here, some of his aides were ensuring that all information regarding Cygnar had been properly filed, while most were learning anything everything they could get their hands on about that peculiar state. Outside of the room, the entire ship was in a flurry of activity, as final preparations were finished for Inoroth's grand entrance. All of the latest and greatest inventions that Inoroth had to offer were about to be displayed. Both her military and civil might were about to be displayed. But first, they had to be admitted into the harbor. Accordingly, the Telegraph Officer on duty sent out a message to the Ceryl Harbor Master requesting permission for the Dominion to enter Cygnar's waters. All awaited the response with eager anticipation.
Life is what you make it -- I made it into a peach cobbler
cosmopolitan/nationalistic: 4%
secular/religious: 63%
visionary/reactionary: 39%
anarchistc/authoritarian: 25%
communistic/capitalistic: 37%
pacifistic/militaristic: 48%
ecological.anthropological: 66%
I am apperantly a Neo-Conservative... who knew?

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Inoroth's Factbook Here

"A fool's words cut down friends on the eve of battle" - Vinchero

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Cygnar
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1463
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Cygnar » Fri Dec 07, 2012 4:37 pm

Docks of Ceryl, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
15:16, local time


King Leto was waiting in the docks, after having greeted the other nation's diplomats, for the Rothian vessel to arrive. He had been informed they received a telegram requesting for permission to cross Cygnar's waters, which had already been answered moments ago.

Leto, remained quiet, looking into the sea. It was a rather windy day, the waves were tall, and almost reached the top of the docking platforms. He could see several crates being unloaded from the Vitzenburgian submarine, but his attention was caught in those armored suits they had brought. Iron clad suits, with black smoke coming out of pipes in their back....''Interesting'' Leto thought to himself.

Next to the submarine, there was a bigger ship, hoisting a white and red flag, with a dark eagle on it. He supposed those would be the Servothians, who also brought quite a lot of cargo to show off. A full size gun tractor and a small machine King Leto could not decipher what purpose it served for.

He moved aside, next to the Servothian and Vitzenburgian commissions, and said:

''Gentlemen, please, you should wait for me inside the palace, my guards will take you there, it's a very cold afternoon, and it will soon begin to rain. As soon as the Rothians arrive, we will meet you there at once.'' Leto said, while instructing the guards to take the ambassadors to the hall of the palace.
Vitzenburg wrote:Cygnar, high on powa! Just try to stop him! He'll sock ya in the mouth as his boys Vitz and Servoth come a knockin!

Cyprum Xecuii wrote:
Servoth wrote:Micro-dick.

Our micro dicks make lots of people. Your 'larger' dicks still create a .000000000000000000000001 % growth rate.
EASTERNERS UNITE!
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Divine! Bah! We could build a god from our own foundries.
Unidox wrote:LSD, no thanks. Give me some NSG.


Oh, hell yeah, thats the stuff...
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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 14676
Founded: Jun 08, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Fri Dec 07, 2012 7:18 pm

Outside of Ceryl
April 16th, 1901
I.W.S. Tahuanitsuyu
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kasuga_class_cruiser


Captain Rikke lounged in his command chair. He was contemplating what he would say to the Cygnar when the look out cried "Land Ho" He stood up, and faced the telegram booth. He reached down and tapped out a Harbor Entry request to the local Port Authority. He the went back to his chair. The ship itself was a whirlwind of activity as the small two man diplomatic team brushed up on the local culture. The Ordnance Division was busy securing the Primary and Secondary batteries. The Deck Division had just finished clearing off the recreational gear from the main deck, and was mopping at the moment. Well, he thought, let see how they reply.
I'm really tired

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Vitzenburg
Minister
 
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Founded: Aug 24, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Vitzenburg » Fri Dec 07, 2012 9:51 pm

Docks of Ceryl, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
15:16, local time


"Of course your Highness." Replied Colonel Schumacher. He turned to Sergeant Wolfgang to follow, but the Sergeant held up a hand.

"I'd like to see an old friend before I'm forced to stay at your side like a lapdog." He bitterly stated. The two other ironclad guards followed the Colonel in while Sergeant Wolfgang started walking towards the Inorothian ship, the engine of the suit making a soft whine as he moved.

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Servoth
Senator
 
Posts: 3950
Founded: Nov 30, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Servoth » Fri Dec 07, 2012 10:28 pm

Ceryl Docks, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
15:17 Middle-Eastern Time



Brandt followed behind the Vitzenburgers, their conversation which he had been lucky enough to catch a bit of, it had sparked his curiosity. But before Brandt would inquire into the dispute between the Vitzenburgians, he discreetly passed a slip of paper with written instructions on it to the Camera man. The Camera man then quietly made his way down to where the Inorothians would be arriving.

"So gentlemen," Brandt called from behind the Vitzenburgian men, "what was that all about back there? Or is that too heated for me to inquire as to such break of military order? Perhaps I can provide some chewing gum to calm the scene? Herr....?"
How did I get this gay?

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Mishmahig
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 9032
Founded: Jun 25, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Mishmahig » Sat Dec 08, 2012 2:54 am

Heading to the Office of the Archpriest
Temple of Unity,
Evenstead, Mishmahig


The rain poured from the heavens like, well, rain. The streets were filled with water, and umbrellas had sprouted like mushrooms. One of them, rather distinctive with pink polka-dots on a red fabric, moved quickly, threading through the crowds that thronged the streets. Pushing past one last group of tourists, the man underneath the umbrella ascended the marble steps, and passed into the building instantly recognizable to any Mishmahigian, due to the notable architecture, and the distinctive motto carved over the great doors.

Fides invicta triumphant

His boots clicking against the marble floors of the Temple, the Archpriest, for that is who he was, passed through the halls, heading for his office. Bursting past his surprised secretaries in the outer office, he moved into the inner sanctum, sweeping past the startled men inside, before seating himself behind the desk. Placing the still-dripping umbrella on his desk, he steepled his hands and stared contemplatively at the men before him for many long seconds.

"A gift from my daughter," he said, drawing many curious looks. "The umbrella, I mean," he clarified, waving a hand idly. "Now, we have things to discuss, many many things, but I am afraid I must end tonight's meeting early, so let us begin with the more important issues first. The status of the refugees, Meisner?"

"Several hundred thousand have been evacuated from Camps A and B, and relocated along the frontier in convoys. Army units have laid the tracks to the new city, and are already beginning to establish the infrastructure, including sewage, power, roadways, and a rudimentary aeroport. Convoys will leave in a week, from Fort Blumenthal, and will consist mostly of those refugees with knowledge in the arts of agriculture, to begin to establish a steady and stable food supply," a man said, reading in a steady monotone from a clipboard, obviously bored.

"Excellent. Continue those efforts," Archpriest Barrus said, bestowing a gleaming smile upon the group as a whole. "I am already aware of the AMEN council, yes, and the Khamulese.....incidents. Our position on both remains the same. As for Cygnar, that kingdom to the south...." he rubbed his chin contemplatively.

"Send Garside," he ordered suddenly. "Full honors and orders, personal representative of the Archpriest, the works. With luck, his savviness and common sense will be enough to tip the Cygnarians over to our side....And if they do not, no major loss, not really. The cross-border trade will certainly make up for anything."
---------------------------------------------------------
Aboard the newly-rebuilt Iron Dancer
1.4 miles away from Ceryl
Altitude: 200 meters


Noise. That was the first thing that people noticed about the airship, the noise. The clamoring of the crew, the clattering of the mechanics, the shouted commands throughout the infrastructure, as the captain changed course. Overlying this cacophony, though, was the ever-present hum and rumbling of the engines themselves, pushing the ship through the air. For some, airships were graceful creatures, capable of soaring through the air where no man could, passing to and from exotic lands. To the crew of the Iron Dancer, though, it was an ugly hulking brute of a ship, temperamental at best, and downright vicious at worst. Still, they referred to it affectionately as 'she,' and would have fought the crew of any other airship at the slightly slur against her. To them, she was home.

However, their mission was nothing as glamorous as people imagined. No sailing to the exotic ports of Cyprum Xecuii, or navigating the airlanes above Vitzenburg, or fighting pirates over the Sea of Coruscus. Instead, they were on babysitting duty, one of the most boring tasks that an airship crew could be assigned to. Their mission was to simply sail around the airlanes, shepherding various ambassadors and dignitaries to and fro. Still, it wasn't all that bad. There was the occasional sightseeing, or a night on the town if they were given liberty, and there was always a chance of a pirate being stupid enough to pick a fight with a Mishmahigian airship...Such things warmed the cockles of every sailor's heart.

In the gondola of the Iron Dancer, as she passed quietly over the plains, her engines steadily pushing her closer to Ceryl, a relatively young man stood in the center of the deck, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Except for occasionally turning to give tersely-worded commands to the other crew members, he stood quietly, staring forward out the windows of the gondola. A grey uniformed named him as an officer of the Mishmahigian Frontier Air Force, and a star surrounded by interlocking chevrons gave his rank---Captain.

Beside him, standing easily, with a slight smile playing over his lips, was an old man, his hands clasped together on top of an elegantly crafted cane. Staring straight ahead, he seemed not to notice the hustle and bustle of the airship's crew, who steered a clear course around him, careful not to disturb his reverie. This was Ambassador Terrance Garside, a veteran of the Mishmahigian Diplomatic Corps, protege of the diplomatic giant, Tylor Baumann, and the man personally responsible for putting Archpriest Barrus in his office.

To top it off, behind his cool and calculating mind lurked a world of madness and irrationality, a world where Terrance Garside was ruled by his impulses. For, you see, Terrance Garside was quiet mad, but he was an intelligent sort of madman. Oh, he would sooner destroy you than look at you, but he was able to hold that in check, hiding his true emotions behind a veneer of civility, a mask of diplomacy, like any skilled sociopath.

Today, thankfully, he was in a pleasant mood as he turned to the man beside him. "Tell me, Captain Lenz," he said, his eyes sharpening as he inspected the captain, "What do you think of the world?"

"Gone mad, it has, sir," the captain said respectfully. "Voerdeland.....that's just what most people talk about. Cyprum's invasion, the Vitzenburg First movement, the collapse of Miteria.....but the Khamulese genocides take the cake."

"The Khamulese are not conducting any genocides, Captain Lenz," Garside said sharply, before relaxing and continuing in a softer tone. "Or so we say. Officially, they're re-educating undesirable elements, and doing it in such an inefficient way." He shook his head. "But yes, I see your point. And how do you see the Dominion of Mishmahig in this, Captain Lenz?" he continued, turning even further to look at the captain directly.

"A bastion of civilization and light, ambassador," the Captain said, repeating the rote phrase with a bare minimum of enthusiasm. "The protector of the true people and true religion of God."

"Good. I see you have not forgotten such things," Garside smiled, before turning to face forward once more. "Now, let us finish and begin the Cygnarian situation."

----------------------------------------------------------
Ceryl, Kingdom of Cygnar

The droning filled the air, pulsing and whining, echoing off the white penthouses of the city. The sound vibrated the windows of the buildings, and rippled the waters of the fountains. It reverberated to and from, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, growing lounder and louder until, at last, an airship appeared. Diving swiftly out of the cloud cover, it swooped low over the city, the engines whirring and coughing a thin trail of smoke as it went.

Tilting one engine to sweep closer to the center of the city, the zeppelin came to a coasting stop over a plaza, hovering slowly as the sunlight illuminated the name embossed along the gondola----the Iron Dancer. For long minutes, it hung in the air, silent and motionless, until flaps lifted all along the body, flaring and venting hydrogen quickly. The gasbag became crinkled, as compartments were vented, and the zeppelin sank closer and closer to the ground, alighting at last within the plaza.

A door opened, and a metal plank was extended, landing on the cobblestones with a clank and scrape. Almost as soon as it had hit the ground, a man began walking down the plank, his elegant cane tapping as he went. Stepping onto the ground, he paused for a minute, clasping his hands in front of him, his grey eyes squinting in the sunlight. A cool breeze flowed through the plaza, tossing an elegantly maintained mane of snowy white hair, and ruffling the lapels of his tailored suit. Tilting his head slightly, he listened attentively to an aide that whispered something urgently in his ear.

Nodding, he turned to the plaza, and addressed the air, his stentorian voice echoing around the square. "Take me to your leader."
Last edited by Mishmahig on Sat Dec 08, 2012 2:54 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Pavlostani
Senator
 
Posts: 4705
Founded: Jun 09, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Pavlostani » Sat Dec 08, 2012 7:12 am

April 16th 1901
Docks of Ceryl


"We're coming up on land!" Commander Buikov said. He lit a cigar, which Sorros instantly snatched and put out. "Come on Admiral..." Buikov complained. "If you want to smoke, do it OUTSIDE my command center." Sorros snapped. Buikov was about to head out when Sorros asked, "Did I say you could leave, Commander?" Buikov, grumbling, headed back in and manned his console. "That place looks surprisingly new and busy." Lieutenant Commander Larinov observed. "Well, let's see what we can find." Sorros said.

42 miles west of Brandburg Birkenau

Braiton marched. It had rained, and nobody was comfortable. But he refused to fall behind. If he did, he would be shot. His legs ached. His friend, Yuri Buckley moaned next to him. "I need to rest." Buckley groaned. "Come on, friend." Braiton said. Buckley started to sit down, and was promptly trampled to death by the other inmates. An SAF officer shot a man next to Braiton for fun. Tom Braiton barely noticed. "We have forty miles left!" An SAF officer shouted. Odd, Braiton thought. I didn't think we were that close to Khamul.. "We will stop to rest there, and continue on the next day!" The officer said. Ah, hell.
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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Sri Tschow
Minister
 
Posts: 2082
Founded: Jul 23, 2012
Ex-Nation

!

Postby Sri Tschow » Sat Dec 08, 2012 9:18 am

Pavlostani wrote:Brandburg Birkeanu

General Dirk Ryan was reading world reports.

To our esteemed dictator, Pavel VIII
Brandburg Birkenau is in the imminent threat of being destroyed or liberated in a Gratian and Rothian Holy War. I understand that our Plan B is operational, but not large enough for our needs. I will need to use it. Please open the gates of New Brandburg.


An hour later, Pavel sent confirmation. New Brandburg would be opened in Central Khamul. Measures would be taken to ensure it's secrecy.

General Ryan walked to his lieutenants. "Selection, and then we're leaving." He said. That night, the inmates were examined by SAF doctors. Tom Braiton had been in the camps from day one, ever since the Voerdeland Crisis. His heart raced with fear. He had been there for over ten years. Now, in his thirties, he realized that he could die that night. He was amazed that he hadn't died already. The SAF doctor looked him over. He wrote something on his clipboard. "You pass." He said with a thick Khamul accent. Braiton almost fainted. Half with relief, half with dread. Part of him wanted to end it. "Attention all prisoners." The hated General Ryan said. "You shall be marched out. Anybody who falls behind will be shot. You may stay if you wish, but there will be no supplies. You will surely die." He said. Braiton thought that idea was out of the question. The camp was completely mined anyways. "We shall be marching to Central Khamul. Now MOVE!" He roared. And so began the evacuation of Brandburg Birkenau.

Vitus Ocean

"We're coming up on the former Miterian coast." Lieutenant Galmar said. "Excellent." Sorros replied. "Get ready to get men on the shores. I want them to scout the area."



Vitus Ocean: Tschowan Naval Patrol
Bridge, BB24- RSN Seoul Chang

Captain Tsao sat at his command chair, resting his eyes. There had been nothing of note, as usual. Why he and his crew must spend days surveying calm, blue waters was beyond him. Since the collapse of Miteria, nothing happened in this part of the Vitus Ocean. Ever. He was awoken by the voice of young Ensign Osa, the overzealous member of the bridge crew assigned to watch. Tsao wondered what it would be this time. A new sandbar, created by the violent monsoon from last week? Perhaps a pod of whales swimming by.

"Captain, I've sighted a ship. Khamulite markings from the look of it. She appears to be attempting to dock."

This was a new one. A Khamulite ship. If those genocidal monsters were poking around here, it could mean trouble. Tsao stroked his beard, and rose from the chair. He took up a pair of binoculars from the table and walked forward, putting them to his eyes. Yes, there indeed was a ship; and, as the young Ensign had said, there it was, the flag of Khamul snapping in the wind. The Captain put down the binoculars, and turned around to the helmsman.

"Bring us about. Intercept that craft."

"Prepare all canons to fire. Get the marines armored up, we're going to board that vessel!"

"Send that ship a message. Order them to heave-to immediatly, or we'll open fire!"

ATTENTION KHAMULITE MILITARY VESSEL. YOU ARE TRESSPASSING CLAIMED TERRITORIAL WATERS OF THE SOCIALIST KINGDOM OF SRI TSCHOW. HEAVE-TO IMMEDIATELY, AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED, OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE.
Last edited by Sri Tschow on Thu Apr 25, 2013 2:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Asking NSG about military strategy is like asking Stephen Hawking about running hurdles."~Blazedtown

"There is no fixing the world. There is just making it suck a little less."~Corsca

"Humans fight to the last. When all hope is lost, when everything stands to be taken? That's when they fight the hardest. I see no reason not to continue that tradition."~The Emerald Legion

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Cygnar
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1463
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Cygnar » Sat Dec 08, 2012 6:50 pm

Docks of Ceryl, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
15:37, local time


King Leto was standing in the busy docking area, along with his commission. As he looked into the sea he could see several large cargo ships, some of them even carrying whales to be processed in Ceryl's factories. The day was starting to get darker, and he could see a storm brewing in the sea. A few droplets of water were starting to pour, right when a guard, wearing traditional Cygnaran blue and golden armour, comes from behind him, and says:

''Your majesty''

''Yes, how may I help?'' King Leto said, with a tone of surprise

''An airship has just arrived in a landing zone nearby. They said they come from Mishmahig, and they wanted to speak to you.'' The guard said, somewhat nervous.

''Oh. Where are they?'' Leto questioned

''I took them to the palace hall, told 'em to wait there for you.'' the guard informed

''Great. I will go there immediately.'' Leto said, before starting to walk towards the palace. He suddenly stopped, turned around and said, ''Oh, one more thing, if the Inorothians or anyone else arrives, take them to the palace hall. We will hold the meeting there.'' Leto said, then walked away.
Last edited by Cygnar on Sat Dec 08, 2012 6:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Vitzenburg wrote:Cygnar, high on powa! Just try to stop him! He'll sock ya in the mouth as his boys Vitz and Servoth come a knockin!

Cyprum Xecuii wrote:
Servoth wrote:Micro-dick.

Our micro dicks make lots of people. Your 'larger' dicks still create a .000000000000000000000001 % growth rate.
EASTERNERS UNITE!
Servoth wrote:
The Holy Dominion of Inesea wrote:What burns in Life, itself burns in Death. To Hades is smote, thee who defy the Divine.


Divine! Bah! We could build a god from our own foundries.
Unidox wrote:LSD, no thanks. Give me some NSG.


Oh, hell yeah, thats the stuff...
♔ ||Cygnaran Königreich|| ♔
♔ ||Steampunk-Dieselpunk Nation|| ♔

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Pavlostani
Senator
 
Posts: 4705
Founded: Jun 09, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Pavlostani » Sat Dec 08, 2012 9:26 pm

Vitus Ocean, April 16th, 1901

"Fuck." Sorros said reading the Tschowan message. "Heave-to!" he shouted. Buikov saw the Tschowan ship. Annoyed, he lit a cigar. "How many times must I fucking tell you!" Sorros almost screamed. "Sorry boss." Buikov sighed, stamping it out. "Arm guns, BUT DO NOT FIRE." Sorros told Lieutenant Ustinov. "Yes sir." Ustinov said. "How many Tschowan ships?" Lieutenant Provalov asked. "Looks like one. The registry on the side suggests that it's the Seoul Chang." Buikov said. "Well, we are in their territorial waters. There are bound to be more nearby." Sorros sighed. "Raise fleet alertness. And send the Vladivostok back to Khamul." He said, referring to the experimental sub in their navy. "Yes sir." Buikov said, and sent a telegram to the Vladivostok. He tried to sneak a cigar and Sorros clubbed him over the head.

Gleiwitz

Braiton gasped as somebody fell on top of him. They were staying in the Gleiwitz brick factory for the night. There was not nearly enough room for them to fit. "Quiet down in there!" An SAF officer shouted and shot a man to make a point. "You're crushing me!' A voice said under Braiton. "Movar?" Braiton asked. "Tom? Brother!" Movar said excitedly. "I thought you were dead!" Braiton gasped. Despite the awful circumstances, Tom Braiton was glad to be reunited with his long lost brother. They spent the evening recounting their experiences in the concentration camps. "We got a man out." Movar said. "Impossible. Nobody escapes Brandburg." Tom said. "We killed an SAF guy in private. He took the man's clothes and got out. He's currently somewhere in the Khamul Navy." Movar said. "What's his name?" Tom asked. "Andrei Borodin." Movar said. They eventually fell asleep, exhausted from the march. When Tom woke up, he looked under him and saw that Movar Braiton was dead.
Last edited by Pavlostani on Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:21 am, edited 2,742,950,128,932 times in total

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Inoroth
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5342
Founded: Jul 19, 2012
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby Inoroth » Sat Dec 08, 2012 10:02 pm

Territorial/International Waters line
City Ceryl, Cygnar
Aboard the I.S.V. Dominion
April 16th, 1901
3:20 pm Middle-Eastern Time


"I'm picking something up!" shouted Ensign Carmello, Communications Officer for the Domminon. His excitement quickly infecting all twenty-eight men on the ship's Bridge. The signature beeps and boops of Morse Code were immediately emitted form the wireless telegraph, old sea dog and 'fresh fish' alike straining to make out the letters that the sounds were forming. However, none were nearly as fast as Ensign Carmello at deciphering the code, and scarce had most made out their first word when he shouted "It's from the Ceryl Harbormaster's Office! It reads:

...DOMINION, YOU HAVE CLEARANCE TO ENTER CYGNAR NATIONAL WATERS. PROCEED TO PIER 29 AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. DELEGATION WILL BE WAITING TO GREET YOUR PARTY...

...and the message stops now."

He added. Now that they had permission to enter, Admiral Aulenzi began barking orders. The Dominion had not yet been fitted with a modern inter-comm system, so subordinates repeated the orders up and down the ship for all to hear, producing a singularly peculiar echo.

"Full Steam Ahead! Rudder... 12 Degrees Starboard! Ensure Accommodation Ladders and Tether Lines are in perfect working order for our arrival!"

The Admiral, turning to the Junior Officers on the Bridge, then offered a short address, admonishment, and order all meshed together through his signaturely relaxed manner.

"Easy now Lads, if we're to make a grand impression on the people of Cygnar, everything must be flawless - decks polished and swabbed one last time, guns and armor re-shined, uniforms pressed, and a general order and tidiness to the ship from stem to stern. Carryout one final inspection of our beloved ship, and ensure that not a line is out of place... DISMISSED!"

The Admiral was left alone with the 12 men whose post was the Bridge, and his good friend General Zaponi,
His mind made some rapid calculations... and he calculated that with current wind, weather conditions, the Dominion should be tethered to the dock before the next hour began.


Pier 29, City Ceryl Harbor
Ceryl, Cygnar
Aboard the I.S.V. Dominion
April 16th, 1901
3:53 Middle-Eastern Time


Admiral Aulenzi had been correct in his estimations, as at precisely 3:52:59 according to his pocket watch, the last ropes had been secured to the Pier, and the ladders was lowered into place. The larger gangplank was also nearly positioned. The Dominion, though an older ship by near all standards, was still among the fastest in Inoroth's entire Marina Reale. Engineers, scientists, and technicians had been unable to understand how such an old ship was able to out-race and out-manuver all but the most modern vessels, though several possibilities had been proposed.

Of course, to the men who called her home, that answer was obvious - though no amount of cold calculations or dead experiments could ever discover it... The Dominion had soul. She had heart. Where other ships would explode their boilers or melt their smokestacks before accelerating another knot, the Dominion seemed to be able to will herself onward beyond all possible limits. She had become a maritime legend world round, and it was hoped that the people of Cygnar would see a legendary war hero of a vessel in their port, not an outmoded, second-rate boat... Inoroth had sent her most famous, most decorated battleship to them, and it was hoped that the people of Cygnar would see it in that light.

They would soon find out, as a delegation from Cygnar was waiting for the Admiral, General, and their entourages as they descended the metal steps.
Life is what you make it -- I made it into a peach cobbler
cosmopolitan/nationalistic: 4%
secular/religious: 63%
visionary/reactionary: 39%
anarchistc/authoritarian: 25%
communistic/capitalistic: 37%
pacifistic/militaristic: 48%
ecological.anthropological: 66%
I am apperantly a Neo-Conservative... who knew?

Inoroth's Military Here.
Nations Represented By This Account: Inoroth, New Inorothian Space Empire,

Inoroth's Factbook Here

"A fool's words cut down friends on the eve of battle" - Vinchero

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Vitzenburg
Minister
 
Posts: 2631
Founded: Aug 24, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Vitzenburg » Sat Dec 08, 2012 10:44 pm

Ceryl Docks, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
15:17 Middle-Eastern Time


"Colonel Schumacher, and that back there was the esteemed Sergeant Leandris Wolfgang, a prized work horse whose owner has yet to put out to pasture." The Colonel said through gritted teeth. "He and I have a long history, going back to the Voerdeland Conflict."

Ceryl Docks, Ceryl, Cygnar
April 16th, 1901
15:53 Middle-Eastern Time


Sergeant Leandris Wolfgang waited at the bottom of the gangplank with the Cygnarian attendees, waiting for the party to step off.

User avatar
Sri Tschow
Minister
 
Posts: 2082
Founded: Jul 23, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Sri Tschow » Sun Dec 09, 2012 10:16 am

Pavlostani wrote:Vitus Ocean, April 16th, 1901

"Fuck." Sorros said reading the Tschowan message. "Heave-to!" he shouted. Buikov saw the Tschowan ship. Annoyed, he lit a cigar. "How many times must I fucking tell you!" Sorros almost screamed. "Sorry boss." Buikov sighed, stamping it out. "Arm guns, BUT DO NOT FIRE." Sorros told Lieutenant Ustinov. "Yes sir." Ustinov said. "How many Tschowan ships?" Lieutenant Provalov asked. "Looks like one. The registry on the side suggests that it's the Seoul Chang." Buikov said. "Well, we are in their territorial waters. There are bound to be more nearby." Sorros sighed. "Raise fleet alertness. And send the Vladivostok back to Khamul." He said, referring to the experimental sub in their navy. "Yes sir." Buikov said, and sent a telegram to the Vladivostok. He tried to sneak a cigar and Sorros clubbed him over the head.

Gleiwitz

Braiton gasped as somebody fell on top of him. They were staying in the Gleiwitz brick factory for the night. There was not nearly enough room for them to fit. "Quiet down in there!" An SAF officer shouted and shot a man to make a point. "You're crushing me!' A voice said under Braiton. "Movar?" Braiton asked. "Tom? Brother!" Movar said excitedly. "I thought you were dead!" Braiton gasped. Despite the awful circumstances, Tom Braiton was glad to be reunited with his long lost brother. They spent the evening recounting their experiences in the concentration camps. "We got a man out." Movar said. "Impossible. Nobody escapes Brandburg." Tom said. "We killed an SAF guy in private. He took the man's clothes and got out. He's currently somewhere in the Khamul Navy." Movar said. "What's his name?" Tom asked. "Andrei Borodin." Movar said. They eventually fell asleep, exhausted from the march. When Tom woke up, he looked under him and saw that Movar Braiton was dead.


Vitus Ocean: Tschowan Naval Patrol (Interception)
BB24- RSN Seoul Chang


"Sir! The Khamulite ship has heaved-to as we requested, be it appears she's preparing to fire!"

"Captain! Sir! The marines are in boarding position. We are moving in, and are nearly at boarding distance!"

The bridge of the RSN Seoul Chang was abuzz, and Captain Tsao at the head of it all. By his side was First Mate Li, his trusted subordinate. The Captain picked up a rifle, and turned to First Mate Li.

"Supervise the bridge for me. I'm going down there."

The First Mate nodded, and Captain Tsao walked out the door. He climbed down the steep staircase, onto the deck, where there were two squads of marines in boarding positions. There were four grappling cannons, and the marines who were operating them, at the Captain's signal, fired. The hook cables shot out, the grappling hooks latching on and pulling the Khamulite ship closer and closer, until it was only a few feet from the Seoul Chang. The marines readied their weapons, and waited for the signal to board.

"Go! Move out!"

With that shout, the marines jumped over the side of the Seoul Chang, landing safely on the deck of the Khamulite ship. As the marines secured the boarding area, the captain came across.

"Fan out! I want every inch of this ship searched! No excuses. Confiscate everything. If anyone or anything gets in your way, kill it!"

The marines spread out, searching the ship. They met the crewmembers, and attempted to confiscate their weapons. The Captain and four marines headed towards the bridge. They rushed through the halls, and when they reached the bridge, there was a soldier guarding it. The Captain rushed towards the soldier, and grasped him by the neck. Tsao slammed him against the wall, and shot him through the heart. The soldier slumped down, dead. The marines got in breaching position, and they kicked down the bridge door.
Last edited by Sri Tschow on Thu Apr 25, 2013 2:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Asking NSG about military strategy is like asking Stephen Hawking about running hurdles."~Blazedtown

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The Holy Dominion of Inesea
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Posts: 14676
Founded: Jun 08, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Holy Dominion of Inesea » Sun Dec 09, 2012 11:17 am

The Holy Dominion of Inesea wrote:Outside of Ceryl
April 16th, 1901
I.W.S. Tahuanitsuyu [spoiler]http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kasuga_class_cruiser


Captain Rikke lounged in his command chair. He was contemplating what he would say to the Cygnar when the look out cried "Land Ho" He stood up, and faced the telegram booth. He reached down and tapped out a Harbor Entry request to the local Port Authority. He the went back to his chair. The ship itself was a whirlwind of activity as the small two man diplomatic team brushed up on the local culture. The Ordnance Division was busy securing the Primary and Secondary batteries. The Deck Division had just finished clearing off the recreational gear from the main deck, and was mopping at the moment. Well, he thought, let see how they reply.

[/spoiler]
OOC: Inesea has a really screwed up world clock, so really ignore it in my posts

April 16th, 1901
15:20 local time
I.W.S. Tahuanitsuyu

Captain Rikke had grown impatient. These Prometheans hadn't responded to him, even though he sent the telegram 20 minutes ago. Their ignorance of proper maritime protocol was astonishing and abhorrent to him. If he was the Regional Sector Commander, Rikke would have had the local commander of this port punished for extreme dereliction of duty. In the Vitus, assuming you survived the brutal Tschowan Naval Patrol, you immediately afterwards had to deal with the Inesean Naval Patrol which was just as effective as their Tschowan comrades just a little more merciful. Obviously, the Cygnarians felt safe in their country. Disgraceful.

"Helm, full speed ahead" ordered Rikke.

The I.W.S. Tahuanitsuyu lurched forward at a respectable 20 knots, nothing compared to the legendary I.S.V. Dominion, but respectable none the less. After less then 5 minutes of sailing, the I.W.S. Tahuanitsuyu was at the port mouth. From here he could see, of all ships, the I.S.V. Dominion, a Servothian warship, and a Burgian submersible.

"Seems we are late to the party" said Rikke
I'm really tired

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