Stoking The Fires [Attn: Gholgoth]

[Automagfreek]

The Council chambers had sat empty for many years, with thick layers of dust gathering on the once beautifully polished wooden furniture that decorated the expanse of the room. Its stone walls had bore witness to many a historic event, and hosted its share of Gothic Lords whose voices would no longer echo throughout its ancient walls. Indeed, the death of Damien Dreadfire had drive a stake through the heart of the Gholgoth Regional Alliance, and since then the once mighty organization had fallen into years of decadence, infighting, and despair.

The Freekish Empire itself had selfishly stolen itself away for years, turning inward and blocking out the outside world and those it once had held so dear within the Alliance. Since then many troubling events had transpired, especially with a foe turned friend, then turned foe again in the Kraven Reich. But alas, little was known of the conflicts within Gholgoth's very borders, for the Empire under Damien Dreadfire II had little concern... for he had struggled to gain a sense of himself and a sense of the Empire since the demise of his father Azrael and his grandfather Damien the elder. But with several more years under his belt, it was finally time to step back out into the light and assume his rightful place within the Alliance and the community of nations.

Cleaning crews began meticulously cleansing the Council Chambers of the years of neglect, bringing new life to the dreary and cold room and preparing it to receive the Lords of Gholgoth. However, the chair which once hosted the Founder of Gholgoth and First Among Equals would remain empty, and Damien II would assume his own place at the round table next to that of his grandfather. While the hasty yet thorough restoration of the chambers continued on, the Supreme Warlord found himself in the famous gardens at the Great Hall, at the magnificent stone fountain which decorated the center of the labyrinth. The bronze statue of a Panteran Reaver alongside a Freekish Sentinel forged from stainless steel had shown practically no wear from years of exposure to the elements, and the tranquility the young master found there was the same as that of his grandfather.

It was there in the serenity of the finely trimmed maze-like hedges and the carefully landscaped flowers that he personally penned his invitations to the Gothic Lords. It had been too long since the brotherhood had been called to the round table, and news of renewed regional civil conflict haunted his thoughts. His grandfather had given his life to see the Regional Alliance restored, and he would see to it that such a sacrifice would not be in vain.

The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek

From the Desk of Lord Damien Dreadfire II

Brothers and Sisters of the Gholgoth Regional Alliance,

It has been many years since anyone has heard from the Freekish Empire, and in our recluse our once dominant Brotherhood has fallen into chaos and ruin yet again. Unchecked aggressions against each other have wreaked havoc upon us all.. and the sacrifices of the men who died on the beaches of Atraeza, in our first regional civil war, have been for naught.

But it doesn't have to be that way. Gholgoth has lost its way, most certainly... but we can find it again. We can become the reigning terror that once dominated so much of our planet, and restore a sense of balance and sanity in a world run amok. I would invite you, the Lords of Gholgoth, to gather at the Council Chambers in ULE City, and it is my hope that in those sacred halls we can forge a new covenant, and mend the wounds that have torn our brotherhood to shreds.

The time for infighting and old grudges has passed... the new dawning of the Goth is upon us. Will you join us in the great capital of Automagfreek? Will you stand once again as brothers in arms? I eagerly await your presense.


Lord Damien Dreadfire II
Supreme Warlord of the Freekish Empire

[Artitsa]

It had been many years since Anodonis had entered the Council Chambers in ULE City. A fact that remained a personal shame to Anodonis, for he had come all those years ago to re-pledge the Gothic oath to Lord Damien Dreadfire.

An oath he failed to keep.

Dreadfire had perished on some Milograd battleground, fighting gothic brothers of Kraven. Surely the world understood that it was a fight between the Freeks and Kraven, but that lifted no weight from Anodonis’ already hefty shoulders. A million times the thought had meandered into his head I could have saved him. I could have done something but it was all moot. He hadn’t done anything.

He had taken the oath and remained silent as brother slaughtered brother and now his eldest friend lays dead.

He had regrets too – he regretted blaming Dreadfire for the eternal blight suffered upon the lands of Artitsa. He regretted blaming the boy Dreadfire II for a conflict that happened well before his birth, attempting to embarrass the new Freekian leader in front of the Gothic Leaders.

Artitsa had changed; the land was still sickly but the government was ineffective. Long gone the interventionist ideals of a Grand Artitsa. The economy rumbled forward as it always did, and always will. An economic powerhouse in every facet – but no indication of intent to back its interests; Artitsa had faultered.

And it was under Anodonis’ rule.

He quietly entered the Council Chambers, a stark difference from his past entrance. There was no booming monologue disparaging the Dreadfire family and the Gholgoth nations.

His flesh now even further decrepit, emitting poisonous noxious fumes from his pores and respirator – he had lived a great many years – a time that would come to an end shortly. He sat down quietly in his chair at the table; it’s ancient wood creaking and moaning under his gargantuan frame. Beside him he rested the shaft of his cane against the table.

Here he would patiently and quietly wait for the start of the meeting – ominous and silent as death.

But any brave soul that would gaze into his eyes would see a broken man.

[Havensky]

Skyan High Command
Crystal City, Havensky
Region of Texas

The Havensky High Command Tower was a glass enclosure on top of one of the highest skyscrapers of Crystal City. A twin room, halfway across the globe and with the same specifications, had been built in the Gothic Havensky's Citadel City. The same glass walls that could switch to digital screens on a moments notice, displaying any information that Havensky High Command may be concerned with.

Special holographic projectors and receivers had been built around the round table. With the Skyan Commonwealth now spread across the globe it made virtual meetings a necessity. With Jessica Heart, Secretary of State and Queen of Gothic Havensky, living and working twelve hours ahead of Havensky's home territory - it made for some unique challenges.

Additionally, with Queen currently in Vetalia dealing with the crisis there... it was simply impossible for everyone to gather for this particular meeting.

High King Drake of the Skybound Republic, High Executor Vincent Profecta, and Prime Minister Elizabeth Artemis took their seats. Virtually, King Lucas Ironwing of Gothic Havensky appeared as a hologram projected from his command room Citadel City. Queen Jessica Heart's image appeared at the table from Vetalia and World Assembly Ambassador Lance Atticus appeared from his airship - the HRA Open Hand.

Every time they had gotten into a conflict in Gholgoth, a letter had been sent out to the government in Automagfreek in ULE City. As the founder of the region, it had seemed like the polite thing to do. And every letter had since been ignored. This wasn't taken personally. Nothing had been heard from their government in ages even as the Reich had drawn outsiders like Havensky into the region's conflicts.

The clock in each room chimed 8:00am Texas Time and 8:00pm Gothic Time respectively. The glass table top on each table lit up with the most recent statement from Lord Damien Dreadfire II... A statement that had resulted in the following meeting. How would democratic, peace loving, and religiously tolerant Havensky react to the sudden re-emergence of the Dreadfire family.

Obviously, we have to send an envoy and establish an embassy. Thier importance in the region can not be overstated. They're the founder - and this region still carries the scars of the civic war between the Kraven and Automagfreek. We have to engage with them. I shall make a visit once this Vetalia business is taken care of., answered Jessica Heart.

That's going to take time Jessica. We have other people who we can send., replied King Drake.

Who? Lucas is in Citadel City getting ready to receive the Gothic Lords in Citadel City as part of the negotiations for Vetalia. And Atticus is knee deep in World Assembly affairs - and the last time I checked the Gothic Empire didn't exactly give any sort of respect towards the WA. Why would Atticus be received well?

The last time I checked, muttered Atticus, my title was Ambassador at Large. I can deploy anywhere. What's the point of having an airship as an office if I don't use it? Given that we are - in fact - A Gothic Nation... I don't think we'll have a problem being received. The real issue is that we know very little about the Freeks or their intentions.

Profecta grunted, It's amusing you didn't mention their condemnation by the World Assembly.. in part of killing those of the Christian faith.

Static sparked in the holographic projection of Atticus.

Only because it doesn't really help us at this point. It's not like there are that many World Assembly Nations to being with.

It does present a bit of a problem for me., said Prime Minister Elizabeth Artemis. I'm already catching flak for the trade agreement with Empire of The Scandinvans. Welcoming them with open arms won't be the most popular thing I've ever done - and I have an election in another six months..

You're really going to pull that card now?, asked Lucas.

Hey! I'm the one who appoints half the people in this room! Save for your majesties of course. I'm just saying, since the Milogradian conflict the Isolationist Party has regained their support. The next six months are going to be a bit...messy on my end.

We're getting off topic

Right right right, said Artemis with a sigh. Look, I don't think it's that much of a policy change to establish an embassy in ULE City. They're a Gothic Nation and we've already said we're going to do outreach to the region. The only reason we're calling this meeting is because there's a lot of...history...we don't quite understand. And we still don't know how they're going to feel about Kraven's recent actions.

I still don't like it., uttered Profecta.

I thought you were supposed to forgive?

Forgiveness is one thing. Forgetting is another.

King Drake finally spoke, Right or wrong, I believe the current policy still stands. Lance, you're the next highest diplomat we have after Jessica. Take the Open Hand to ULE City and establish relations. Be. Nice. Ascertain their intentions if you can. Once we do that, we'll have a better idea on what to do next. If they ask about Vetalia, our standard line stands. The Reich must leave the Peninsula.

* * * *

Havensky Republican Airship Open Hand
Gothic Waters
En Route to ULE City

Captain Lee and Ambassador Lance Atticus stood on the bridge of the HRA Open Hand as it crossed into Gothic territory. The large pearl white luxury airship cut through the thick clouds as it crossed the border. It was more round and bell shaped than the usual dagger hulls of the military armada. The vessel boated large quad engines, huge deck to ceiling windows, hangar space for four helijets, numerous offices, and a full kitchen and dining room. The Open Hand was built to impress. Although, Atticus doubted that would be much use here. In preparation for the flight, Queen Heart had sent a letter to Lord Dreadfire.

Lord Damian Dreadfire II,

I don't believe we have been formally introduced, but my name is Jessica Heart. Queen of Gothic Havensky, Secretary of State for the Skybound Republic of Havensky and fellow Gothic Lord. I was pleased to receive your letter and for the opportunity to meet you in person.

I would depart for ULE City immediately, but at the moment the crisis on the Vetalian Peninsula has kept me detained. As you are probably aware, the Reich has occupied territory and killed or enslaved hundreds of Vetalia citizens in what I believe is a violation of Gothic Law. I have since called for a Summit of the Gothic Lords to render the situation to their judgement and I look forward to speaking with you about the matter very soon.

As we came into the Gothic Alliance during your absence, we have yet to establish an embassy in ULE City. To correct this, I am sending Senior Ambassador-at-Large Lance Atticus on the HRA Open Hand. His airship will serve as the temporary embassy until such time as we can build a permanent one. The Open Hand is the flagship of the Skyan Diplomatic Fleet and Captain Lee would be more than happy to give you or any members of your staff a tour of the vessel.

Atticus looked down beneath the window to see twelve red tailed Accipiter-class interceptors came into formation just ahead of the Open Hand. The Airship Flagship Carrier Overwatch had been assigned escort duties for the ambassadorial airship and her patrols would surround his airship from here on out. The Overwatch would be joined by the escort carriers Winter Soldier, Liberty Bell, Gonzales' Cannon, Red Glare and Runaway Scrape. The five escort vessels formed a tight 'V' formation around the Open Hand.

Lance Atticus serves as our Ambassador to the World Assembly, but has been our prime negotiator for peace talks in dozens of conflicts. Thanks to his efforts, we have settled many disputes peacefully and without unnecessary bloodshed. You will find that he is a fair, but stern, leader who has the full faith and confidence of the Skyan People. I have attached his credentials to this communication in the hopes that you will receive him.

Atticus turned over the pen in his hand several times as he read the latest reports coming out of Vetalia as the airship moved forward. He had gotten into a bad habit where he would stand with the tablet in one hand and crane his neck down to read. The fact that he was mainlining coffee during this reading sessions wasn't the most healthy thing in the world either.

What's bothering you Atticus?, asked Captain Lee.

Atticus pointed to a set of text on his tablet.

See, Kraven and Vetalia are both part of the Brimstone Pact. By those rules, Kraven has no right to intercede on Vetalia's sovereignty - which I'd argue they're doing right and left. That explains why the Reich went to the damn lawyers for their latest move. That treaty is supposedly their way out of this treaty. I'd make the argument that the Brimstone Pact negates any need for Vetalia to rely on Kraven for 'security' purposes. Clearly, just being a member of the Brimstone Pact should be enough. The combined defense spending of these nations would dwarf most regional GDPs

I am sending an escort fleet to accompany Atticus to ULE City. While we of course, wish for peace in the region, we can not ignore history. Our diplomatic and humanitarian teams have been targeted repeatedly by the Kraven Reich and it is our policy that they must always be escorted wherever they go. The escort fleet will hold at the border of your airspace unless they are welcomed by your government and extended an invitation to port at ULE City.

That said, on the behalf and the behest of the People of Havensky, we are eager to establish relations with the Gothic Empire of Automagfreek and look forward to speaking with you.

In Fellowship,

- Jessica Heart

Gothic Lord, Queen of Gothic Havensky
Secretary of State of the Skybound Republic of Havensky

[Sambizie]

Central Command Communications Center
Mambotu, Sambizie

It was a relatively quiet evening and the communications technicians were keeping busy monitoring the Sambizie communications network. They sat in a large room surrounded by digital display screens covering most of the Empire and major network transmissions from regional member states. Lights flickered on and off signaling the transmissions of everything from an out of country cell phone call to major –global news broadcasts. It can be a tedious job, but almost everything news-related first passes through the Sambizie communication grid before being filtered down through other transmission and broadcast stations. Every bit of information is scrutinized, examined, filtered, and then approved for transmission to the citizens of the empire. However, as one would guess, most global news rarely reaches the radio or airwaves within the empire. The night dragged on and it was business as usual.
A small light flickered on the screen of a senior technician’s console. He paused for a moment when the light flickered and had to take a second look before confirming it was an actual transmission and not a backlight of another line causing the illumination. The technician was puzzled at first as he has never recalled the light from the sector being activated during his eight year tenure. He confirmed, reconfirmed, and checked again –it was not a false reading, but an actual communication broadcast originating from the eastern sector of Gholgoth; AMF to be more precise. The technician sent a signal to the station chief who was tucked away in his office in a remote part of the building. After several moments, the chief responded in person to the senior technician’s work station.

“Sir,” the technician stated as he pointed at the light on the display screen. The station chief glanced at the flickering light and back to the senior technician. Before the chief could even ask the question, the senior technician stated that the light was confirmed, reconfirmed and verified as actual. The station chief instructed the senior technician to run a copy and send it “upstairs” and provided a digital authorization stamp. Within minutes of the communication, the message was forwarded to the ISF (Imperial Security Force) Headquarters.

ISF Command
Mwat’su Ahmed, Sambizie

In the early morning hours, the transmission was received by ISFC and was promptly hand-delivered to the offices of the Supreme Overlord, General Al-Zied. Normally, transmissions would be sent via a email or some other indirect source however; the Sambizie have “special” protocols for certain regional alliance members –AMF being one of them. The currier handed the message to the general and within seconds the general was breaking the officially sealed envelope and scanning over the message. The general knew it must be of some importance as it was hand delivered, but upon opening the communiqué he was somewhat surprised to see the great seal of the Automag’ Empire. The general dismissed the currier and moments after he took his seat behind a large desk. Al-Zied spoke softly as the currier departed, “Guess I should sit down for this one.” Al-Zied read through the communiqué thoroughly and after reading pondered on its contents for several minutes. While there was no groundbreaking news contained within, the general found it curious that “Freeks” have chosen now, to summon the Gothic Lords, especially with the other events taking place throughout the region; namely those between the Reich and Vetalia.

To most within the Gothic Alliance, the Sambizie may appear to be “removed” from regional activity and current events. However, in reality the Sambizie are very in-touch with the regional environment. The Sambizie may not be as vociferous as some of the other regional members, but they believe they do not have to chime in for every skirmish that erupts within the region. For the Sambizie, there is a time and place for everything, even speech. The Empire is fully aware of the current conflict erupting within the region and while not completely obvious to other member states, they have maintained a degree of readiness since the end of the Kraven campaign against Milograd, namely the positioning of certain Imperial assets. While the Sambizie appeared to advocate the Kylarntia cause against the Kraven Reich, the truth behind the actual invasion was not so much in defiance of the Reich invasion of Milograd, but more of a political posturing maneuver to ease tensions between the Empire and its southern neighbor, as show of good-faith for lack of better words.
The Sambizie remain is a state of elusiveness as it is common political practice to not divulge too much information pertaining to the internal affairs of the empire. For the Sambizie, the “sharing” of information with member states is frowned upon as it is viewed as providing advantages which could undermine the empires practices. However, certain exceptions have been made in the past amongst a small grouping of regional members. The Sambizie have been staunch allies of AMF for countless generations. Even before the Gothic Alliance was founded, the Sambizie stood alongside the Sentinels of AMF on countless numbers of battlefields both regionally and globally. In fact, the very existence of the empire today is in large and in part, due to the relationship with the Freekish administrations past and present.

After Al-Zied read through the communiqué he knew this is one of the rare times his presence would be deemed necessary. Al-Zied placed several calls to high ranking officials within the empire and after a few hours was given an Imperial Directive to attend the conference in ULE City, Automagfreek. In some respects, the general was pleased to once again visit AMF. Since the demise of Damien Dreadfire and the induction of Azreal, the Sambizie almost completely dissolved all assets within AMF. In the past, it was not uncommon to see Sambizie warships docked at St. Freeksburg or sailing off the cost of the empire doing routine patrols and war-game maneuvers between AMF and Pantera. General Al-Zied recalled several times in which he spent his shore leave amongst the Freeks, the good times that is. However, the general did have one concern; the directive also stated the General would be accompanied by an Azizi (Ah-Zee-Zee) Soldier, and naturally a “handler.” It was concerning due to the reputation of the Azizi as they are not renowned for their political or diplomatic aptitude. In addition, the Azizi are special group of soldier that most-if any within the region have seen before. It was the generals concern that the very presence of the Azizie could be distracting to some extent and after such a long time of absenteeism from AMF/Sambizie affairs, the last thing he wanted was to be distracted. However, the general was confidant in the fact he has had “positive” and stable relations with AMF in the past and anticipated no change in that respect. After several hours, the general departed on a private plane for ULE City. Upon boarding the flight, the general instructed the pilot to inform them upon approach.

[Jagada]

Svedal
Matriarchy of Jagada

It was a riotous affair across Svedal. Millions thronged the wide-open streets, each lane filled to the brim with thousands of vehicles, their engines screaming and revving as a would-be racers, gangsters, and just plain pissed off people passed leisurely through the Downtown District. The district was nothing but a chaotic scene straight out of some whimsical paradise that most people could only dream of. Skyscrapers loomed over everything their dauntless might would have been imposing if it wasn't that each one was covered in bright LED billboards selling everything from narcotics to sex to (a recent addition) slaves. Most of the towers were a mismatch of various metals, art-styles, and design to the extent that none looked similar in any regards. One was constructed completely of concrete flooring and structural steel, its floors encased by the cleanest glass. Each window was into a room where all sorts of debauchery was conducted on all types of peoples. Things both pleasant and painful in equal measure and more than one window was covered in the blood of the willing. While to foreigners this alone would cause both alarm and temptation it was the calmest part of the city by far. For in the shadow of the towers was where madness grew plentiful.

The religious dogma of old still existed in Jagada. It clung to the darkest corners; its beady, bitter eyes scolding all around them as its dwindling congregations screamed all the louder of the blasphemies conducted. It was blasphemy. Jagada had once been the pinnacle of the Christian faith -- its every action done in the interest of protecting all facets of that faith and ensuring that Christians (and all those of the Abrahamic Faiths) could sleep securely knowing that they had at least one militant advocate in an increasingly hostile world. All of that ended with the coming of Kraven and the Extermination War. The Jagites had clung to their faith, to their gods, and their ideals as they falsely embraced Kraven in an effort to subvert it from within (at least that's what the history books now say). But you cannot outwit the devil at his own game and within a few short years of the false conversion it was the pious Jagites who felt the angry wrath of a god that they were neither capable of understanding or defeating. It was in the fires of the old capital of Inn that the Jagites died a true death. Their dreams crushed beneath a thousand thousand jackboots marching to the cold calculation of killers.

When the Jagites fled from their homeland, covered in ash and shit, they forever abandoned Old Jagada to become Neo Cyondia and did so with full expectation of extinction. And yet they did not die. When they landed on the shores of their new homeland those gaunt, depraved madmen who disembarked did so with desperation in their eyes and darkness in their hearts. Gone were the peaceful, kind, and humble Jagites of an older age. Those were misguided children who falsely believed in the gods of their fathers. Monsters left those ships and the land that would become New Jagada died for it. It is said that Jagites do not feel guilt over what they did to the natives.

The message from Damien Dreadfire the Second was received on the top priority channels by the Commission, the ever present hand of the Matriarch in all strata of society, and was immediately forwarded to her private channel. The only response they were given was that she already knew. A meeting had been called within the dark corridors of the Impossible Palace. In attendance were all those expected: Foreign Minister Dermon, Commissioner Lex, and a string of others whom were held in high enough regard by the Matriarch to be present. As always a seat at the head of the table was left open for Jagada's sole master and as always it went unfilled. But the Matriarch always made her presence known.

'What is the progress of the Reich in Vetalia?' asked a stern female voice from all around them.

'They are currently in full control of the peninsular,' replied Lex looking through a folder, 'There is some Vetalian resistance to this movement.'

'Options?'

'Limited,' replied Dermon quickly, 'A treaty was signed they are currently protected by Gothic Law.'

'Jessica of Havensky has made her decree,' inquired the Matriarch, 'Should we intervene on her behalf?'

The responses from the across the room can to a dead split. Dermon led the anti-interventionist faction immediately while Lex took up the opposing opinion.

'Gothic Law is Gothic Law,' began Dermon, 'It doesn't serve our purposes to intervene.'

'Havensky intervened in this region to assist us in Milograd,' said Lex, 'They're about the only other nation in this whole region we can count on.'

'I understand that,' replied Dermon, 'However, we cannot risk intervention until we are aware of what Automagfreek, Crimmond, and others will do. We risk a major confrontation with the region if we're seen as the aggressors.'

'He is right,' said the Matriarch, 'We need to gauge Freek-Reich relations before we proceed. I am not confident we can hold off both of them.'

'Then I volunteer to go,' said Lex bluntly.

There was a silence, 'You presume?'

'With all due respect Mistress,' said Lex, 'Did you ever plan on going?'

'Point made.'

[Ganos Lao]

Olyan - The Ganosian-Vecerian Dual Monarchy

With the Iraqi situation under control, the Empress of Ganosia and Queen of Veceria, Quinn Zurithalissaran, was preparing to make her way to the Freekish capital to meet her most esteemed comrades, her fellow Gothic Lords and Ladies.

She had intended to use this meeting as a means of expanding recognition for her pet project, to ensure that her son's rule would be seen as legitimate in the eyes of her comrades.

After all, the puny Arab Republic of Syria and the butthurt Bolriegans would be incapable of resisting the threat of Gothic annihilation. She smiled wickedly while sipping on her cream soda, swishing around in a crystal goblet. No longer was she the vapid bimbo of her youth, but the ever popular and conquering sovereign, whose image and influence roared across many landscapes.

The Caudillo of the Cuscatlani said in a speech of his that she was a friend of all Martinezists, and her image put fear and worry into the hearts of that pathetic many who would, through force of their dictatorial ineptitude, let their brain drain funnel straight into Chawaland.

Now it was time to flex her muscle amongst the Gothic Lords and Ladies, to not only bring them on board with her plans for Iraq, but to ensure she would be seen as an equal among them (even if the Kravenites gave her the skeevies).

She understood the geopolitical situation, no doubt. Vetalians were cowering under Kravenite tyranny, the Freeks were plotting to restore the Brimstone Pact (which I have every intention of joining, she thought), and Leslie still sent e-mails from Kylarnatia, saying that Agape was doing nicely. Quinn wished she'd visit sometime, for old time's sake.

Maybe Agape could meet one of her other sons? If her oldest son could take the Iraqi throne, what else was possible? She hoped to secure his position in this meeting; if anything, she could invoke the blood oath she took at the prior engagement, and the message Damien Dreadfire II had sent to her son, saying that he would consider him as equal a lord as his mother.

As Quinn left the Imperial Court, she instructed her courtiers to keep the peace and to ensure that everything stays stable while she was away. The courtiers wished her well, no doubt knowing that their beloved sovereign would be exposed to the Kravenites, whose brutality had put in them a sense of foreboding, knowing it could've been their country instead of Vetalia. No one shared the fetishizing that Dolores Killbourne applied to the Kravenites, nor could describe in words the rumors that she used their atrocities as aphrodisiacs.

Was it possible that her husband serenaded her with stories of Kravenite destruction when she concieved her second son? Yes, it damn well was. Dolores, a general of the Imperial Ganosian Army, sitting at her mansion, overseeing the development of her son, observing news from Corona (where her daughter was chieftess), and letting her husband serenade her with news from Vetalia. Thank goodness no one told the Vetalian refugees in Chawaland about General Dolly's appropriation of their suffering.

As the Empress made her way to her private jet, she decided she would attend without any of her ministers; a detachment of guards would do her just right, clad in their power armor and armed to the teeth. She just hoped nothing would go wrong, especially with her sister Lilith in Jagada, experiencing the thrill of the temptations they had to offer.

She was always a thrill seeker, Lilith. She hoped that the Jagadites would not complain about her sister at the meeting, but she doubted it. Lilith kept herself confined to art galleries and brothels anyways.

Iraq was her major concern. Only two of her fellow Lords had sent their recognition. The rest, even her good friend Silvier, were silent. She wanted to ensure their cooperation, that the Iraqi affair would not end in disasterous tragedy.

She didn't want her son dead, his ministers forced to form a government in exile at the Imperial Court, which had hosted enough pro-Ganosian politicians as is. As she sits upon her seat in the jet, letting it carry her away through the clear summer skies, she wonders how things will turn out, and hoped that her chosen could hold down the fort, especially since Allison was staying behind. Allison, the Chancellor Princess, another sister of hers, but even still, no matter how many friendly platitudes they exchanged, a rival for the control of the heart of an empire that spanned across the globe.

To think, Quinn smirked, my sister thought I'd bend my knee to her! Well, I sure showed her! It's because of me that we've done so much! Because of me!

---

Lord Damian Dreadfire II,

Allow me to introduce myself to you. I am Quinn, the First of My Name, Empress of Ganosia and Queen of Veceria, etc, etc; above all else, a fellow Gothic Lord. I am glad to have recieved your letter and for the opportunity to work closer with my fellow Lords. It has been too long since we have glimpsed upon our brothers and sisters.

I wish to let you know that I will be attending the meeting, along with a detachment of Imperial Guards for my own personal security. None of my ministers will attend, for they are all preoccupied with matters of state that require their attention. As you are probably aware, my son, Prince David, has become the King of Iraq, Daud I, and my ministers are working round the clock to ensure everything goes smoothly for him. I love him very much, as I do all my children, and it is no doubt my desire to see him successful in his endeavours, especially in such a heartbreakingly broken country like Iraq. I should like to see, if it is at all possible, you assist me in my plan to bring my son the support of all the Gothic Lords, especially after I was notified that he recieved threats from the so called "Arab Republic of Syria," and the ever looming spectre of aggression from those Bolriegan barbarians.

I will no doubt be grateful for any assistance you can offer him. He is a good man, and I trust he knows how dear the Gholgoth Regional Alliance is to me and the Empire as a whole. We may have been silent all this time since we joined, but we wish to break that silence and work closer with our comrades, for the benefit of all. We believe that Iraq is the perfect chance to begin a region-wide project of uplifting these poor peoples of Iraq and ensuring their safety and security in the years to come. Should we achieve our goals, no doubt we will pay you back, in our gratitude, by assisting the Freekish government with its own endeavours, insofar as such endeavours, of course, do not endanger the lives and interests of my people and nation respectively.

I have the honor to be,
Quinn I Zurithalissaran,
Gothic Lord, Empress of Ganosia, Queen of Veceria, etc, etc.

[The Naacal]

Enrial's Wings
50,000 ft above the Eastern ocean region of Gholgoth

The HST flew along at Mach 5, accompanied on it's swift journey by 2 Triads of Le-29A fighters. Both fighters and HST were dwarfed by the bulk of Adraniel's Shadow, which was escorting the Emperor's plane to ULE City in response to the Summons put out by Lord Damian Dreadfire II. The ancient vessel had no problem keeping up with the HST and fighters, and was included as part of the escort in response to the Kraven Reich's actions in Vetalia.

Onboard the HST, Lerian XII was in the situation room, watching intelligence briefings of the goings-on in Vetalia given by Imperial Intelligence, as well as SIGINT being received from other sources. "They have sold their souls-metaphorically" the Emperor spoke softly as he took in the myriad reports coming in. "Radiant Majesty?" came the slightly confused voice of Eneth-Khalas, Chief of Operations of the Imperial Army, from a monitor as he sat in his headquarters in the far-off Imperium.

Lerian smiled. "I mean General, that the Vetalians have signed a metaphorical Faustian pact by allowing the... liberties they have with the Kravenites," he said towards the video pickup. Eneth-Khalas nodded. "Indeed All-Highest. It remains to be seen how this will develop, but we have word of mobilization in the Scandinvan Empire." Lerian nodded. "It would make some sense, General, It is perhaps too early to mobilize, but I want readiness plans drawn up for various strategic scenarios just to be on the safe side," As the General saluted and then moved off screen, Lerian turned his eyes towards another monitor. "General Nethren-Lael? I want all SDS units to remain on standby alert, Gam-4 level." The man on the screen, in the black uniform of the Imperium's Space Defense Service merely said "As you Command, All-Highest."

A console started beeping. Lerian touched a control, and the main tactical tank lit up, showing a holographic image of Ship Leader Neliriel, the Escort Force Commander.

"Radiant Majesty, we will be returning to the Imperium. We are approaching Freekish Airspace and we wish to turn to avoid accidental penetration. The turn will be large because the fighters cannot... You understand." Lerian chuckled. "Of course. Triad Alet will stay with us as escorts on final approach. May the Triune's Blessings be with you, Ship Leader."

As the planes and Aerial Fortress moved closer to Freekish Airspace, the massive contragrav vessel started slowly turning, accompanied by one of the fighter Triads. The ship turned gradually, as to allow the fighters to stay at formation at high speed without killing their pilots. Just before the HST crossed into Freekish airspace they broadcast their identification coding, and slowed to low-supersonic speed, headed for ULE city as they slowly began descent.

[Sniper Country]

Speaker Paul Stevens was unlike many of the Gothic Lords. In fact, he scarcely felt worthy to be called one by his own right. The Confederacy had stood by Lord Dreadfire from the beginning, but it was under Stevens' leadership that the nation had gone silent. So much so, in fact, that the Confederacy had sealed its borders and neglected the entire civil war that had ravaged Gholgoth years ago. Moreover, he was much more a "normal guy" than so many of the war heroes and terrifying leaders who dominated the alliance. He'd done his time in the intelligence services and could hold his own in a gunfight, but the sight of many of the Lords was enough to make him wonder what he - or his nation, for that matter - could possibly bring to the table. Yet he knew his country was a member of Gholgoth for a reason, and he knew his was not to be overlooked among the Equals at the table.

Stevens had left his security detail at the airport in ULE; there would be no nonsense of concern for his wellbeing at this meeting. He walked into the Council Chambers quickly, his stride quick and gated. He looked around the Chambers, which looked sparkling - as if they'd never been left in disarray and neglect. He nodded toward Anodonis of Artitsa, who remained motionless and silent. He quickly moved toward his seat at the table and took it carefully.

"Arise," he said under his breath as he clasped his hands.

[Emporer Pudu]

From the Pantokratic Dominate would come no Lord of Gholgoth. Emperor Pudu Shangjun was dead, killed by an assassin's bullet in the closing stages of the recent war. The battle in his homeland ended with his death, however; the invaders had taken the opportunity to make a peace and force their terms on the defeated Pudites, to the extent they safely could as allied forces bore down on them. There was no Lord in the Dominate. Shangjun's eldest living child was Dengmu, an old man himself and never expecting to have been given the throne; Dengmu's elder brother and sister and certain superiorly-positioned nephews had died in the troubles of the past months. He was preparing himself to be celebrated as the successor and officially crowned but the chaos in the nation was not yet contained and such things tainted an already weak rule. He would wait. That told, there was nobody in position to attend this assuredly important event; Shangjun had only once attended a meeting of the Lords, a short time before his death, and had made his pledges to his fellow Lords for the first and only time in person. This was a thing Dengmu himself would have liked to do, but it was yet impossible. In the place of the head of state would come a simple ambassador; unequal to the many equals present but bearing with him all the purpose and authority of one of their kin.

Lucias Salvias Otho was the newly appointed Special Representative to Gholgoth; it was a permanent post and senior to the regular diplomatic corps and which reported directly to the throne. Otho was an experienced diplomat and a well-schooled gentleman from a patrician family in the Pudite city of Daram, the city which perhaps had been hardest hit by the invasion. Formerly a city of about 400 million, moderately sized for the Dominate, its population had been reduced through evacuation, brutal city fighting, nuclear war and eventually biological attacks by about three quarters. The ambassador was a man without a home, and so he would make his new one here in Gholgoth. There were plans being drafted for a massive embassy complex in Mazaraan, the capital of the Shen Almaru island prefecture in Gholgoth; it was to be a spire visible from over the horizon, looking out over the busy local sea lanes and standing as a symbol of pride for the Pudites in the region and as a visible assurance of their presence to their allies. Neither the appointment of Otho nor the plans for the future embassy would be announced prior to the meeting, however, and it would take some introductions or off the cuff briefings from talented diplomatic intelligence liaisons for the Pudite ambassador to be recognized here.

In ULE City just outside the meeting chambers Lucias Salvias Otho took one last breath and summoned his courage before he pulled open the doors and took his first look at the assembled Lords of Gholgoth. Regaining his composure quickly, he quickly but confidently walked to his seat at the table and sat. He was dressed in a chocolaty brown suit and deep purple tie. Under his shirt he wore a lucky charm on a chain; an old gold coin with the face of Emperor Domitian, a fifth or sixth century emperor and the first from Otho's home city of Daram shortly after it joined the empire after centuries of flirting with the periphery. That was a man that could have sat here; a warrior-king who united his people and forged a new and stronger nation by brilliance and strength of arms. He reminded the ambassador of the late emperor Shangjun; all men are cursed however and all suffer differently. Otho wondered if Domitian struggled the way Shangjun had in the months before his death. Either way, he hoped to carry with him some of their strong character.

[Havensky]

H.R.A. Astral Wind
Docked with H.R.A. Open Hand
Border of Freekish Airspace

Ambassador at Large Lance Atticus pressed a few keys on the Astral Wind's electric glass cockpit controls and the sleek airship disconnected from the Open Hand's docking clamps. The Astral Wind was a civilian luxury airship yacht that was black as night. The top center of the sleek airship was lined with dark tinted glass that sat between two thick lines of solar panels. The hull was shaped similar to a throwing knife - thin at the front and middle. The very edges of the craft held rotating propellers blades.

I didn't know you were a pilot Atticus.

Atticus turned towards Dephiran Godsend General Jane Romanov. She was leaning back in one of the airship faux leather couches. She was wearing her traditional black plate armor with a blood-red trim. Her red hair contrasted sharply with the black armor.

Well Jane, the airship is very forgiving. It practically flies itself thanks to the on-board computer. I'm surprised Captain Lee let me take it out like this.

Lance Atticus was a tall lanky man, but his tailored grey suit help to fill out his thin frame. His hair was dark, cropped somewhat short, and was clean shaven. His glasses were round and thick and his wallet sized glass tablet stuck out in his back pocket.

Atticus had opted to take the Astral Wind into ULE City so that the escorts could stay close to the Open Hand among other reasons. The Astral Wind was also much smaller which would be easier for the ULE airport staff to handle. The airship had a small bedroom with a king sized bed in the rear of the cabin. There really wasn't much else. From there, the cabin opened up into an area that held a solid oak desk on the port side. The desk was placed against a large bookshelf with both recent and classic books. On the aft side, a sturdy looking bar that held a number of red wines and a few select liquors. The deck had a dark mahogany finish. Forward of the bar and office were faux black leather couches which led up to the cockpit area. The front of the cabin also featured massive windows that reached out from the cockpit to the couch area. Everything about the airship indicated luxury and was clearly hand crafted. The most striking part about the airship was what was lacking. In an aircraft, particularly if one was used to jet planes, being in the air meant being berated by a constant barrage of engine noise. This airship produced virtually no sound. An all electric craft, the airship used several electric propellers to move the craft. Combined with the solar panels, the airship required almost no fuel. There was an emergency gas generator to produce power if need be, but most of the time it was not necessary. This resulted in an airship may not have been the swiftest way to travel, but it was certainly the quietest.

How does a bureaucrat like you afford something like this anyway?, asked Jane. The Godsend General was heading to the conference as the representative from Dephire and had decided to ride with the Skyan delegation. She also wanted to get a better sense on what Atticus was thinking. So far, he had been a perfect gentleman - albeit a distracted one. Once the airship's course has been set for the short journey. Atticus immediately took the tablet out of his back pocket and started reading. Every few moments, he would whip out his e-pen and scratch something out only to re-write something else.

Atticus? You're doing it again.

Atticus has still standing with his neck craned down at his tablet. He had been doing this the entire trip from Citadel City.

Oh, sorry - you were just asking me something... OH, the airship? It's a gift of course.

[Aldarminia]

The Freekish Empire, Gholgoth Region
ULE City
Council Chambers

Dalikharl was ecstatic. All of his life, he had read of the epic history of his Gothic brethren, the Freeks. As a small child, he wished he could join his father, Dalikharl I, on his trips to the Freakheim. In his imaginative games of pretend, Dalikharl graciously allowed his friends to be the fervent warriors of the now-former Imperial Republic, while he happily transformed himself into a vigilant and vicious Sentinel compatriot. Now, there was no pretending here. The Hammer was at the inspirational source of his childhood fantasies, but that did not mean he could fall back into the mindset of a child. Here, Dalikharl, truly had to prove himself a fellow man among an infamous and influential circle of Lords. Gothic Lords they would be, and so, now, must he.

Instead of the extravagant mosaics of purple and gold of his Imperial Regalia, the Hammer swaggered to his seat wrapped in the black fur of Gothkoginian bear. Carmine and obsidian plates of armor clanked louder then when he was walked as Dalikharl claimed his chair. In place of the normal, Imperial Crown, this Gothic Lord bore the ancient Vykraun, the crown of the last Vykhenir king in medieval Gothkoginia to fall at the hands of Fredijhar I The Restorer. This crown was one formed from onyx and obsidian stones bejeweled with rubies that, legend said, were enriched with the blood of all those killed at the hands of its wearer. A plume of dire wolf fur ran down the middle of the back of the crown, which was known for its use in combat as a sufficient helm. Two twisting horns reached out from Dalikharl's temples, giving the impression that he was always at ready to suddenly charge at something or someone. Beneath the brown of his bangs, purple irises shown like crystal islands in seas of scarlet. His red eyes were seemingly piercing into nothingness has he awaited, pensively, for the first person to speak because he wanted to as well. But... He wanted to be courteous and let others go first, if only, because the Hammer thought he had had a lot to say.

[Tersanctus]

Cartagena, Capitol City of Tersanctus

Alexander Dantes' hand trembled slightly in reading the letter. A voice he'd heard his whole life sang a song in his blood that resonated with what he simply knew was truth.

This heart beats with the same blood that swore an oath. This nation, and this alliance were built on honor and must be reinforced with honor. What seems dead was only sleeping, and the time has come to wake from the dream. The Ghost and The Glory can never fade from this Page, and the Ink is written with this same blood. There is no 'I' who can deny this Debt, no 'I' that can forswear this Oath, no 'I' that can accuse us of being Separate. We are as One. Sworn in Blood. Sworn in Oath. Sealed in Swords.

His hand reached over to the phone and pressed the intercom to his secretary.

"I need to arrange a communique to Lord Dreadfire the Second. A wayward son of Gholgoth is done wandering..."

[Kylarnatia]

Aboard Caesar One, En-route to Citadel City
Gholgoth

"My Caesar..." Hyperion began, holding a wafer-thin tablet which was already dwarfed by his own hand. On the screen was a message sent by the Department for Foreign and Imperial Affairs back in Krytopia, and attached to that was a message that had been sent directly from ULE City. "It seems that the young Lord Dreadfire has decided to make a re-appearance, and he requests that all Gothic Lords make their way to ULE City in order to discuss a reformation of the alliance."

Caesar Silvier now sat a little uncomfortably in her recliner seat, which had been gilded with the finest leather and wood, so to find herself uncomfortable within it's embrace was quite an oddity. Even though she was uncomfortable, she tried her best not to show it, taking another sip from her glass of brandy which she held with the tips of a few fingers. Taking the tablet from Hyperion, she read the message herself several times, before eventually letting out an intentional sigh. Standing, she finished off her glass and passed it along to the attending stewardess, who was trying her best not to reveal how starstruck she was.

"Well, it seems that we're going to have to push our agenda early then, isn't it?" Silvier remarked as she made her way down the aisle and towards a small private quarters, which featured a desk for her to work at but also a bed to rest her head in the event of an incredibly long journey. Hyperion followed her obediently, listening to her as she continued on. "At least this gives us the chance to bring the Freeks onto our side. The young Damien and I seemed to get on quite well. We never got the chance to meet in private, though, like we'd planned. Perhaps I'll query that with him upon our arrival."

"Shall I inform the pilot about a change in course?" The Dux Imperator asked, though he was pretty sure that he already knew the answer.

"But of course. We must illustrate our full commitment to the alliance, and what better way then to make an appearance myself. Though do extend my apologies to Citadel City. I was rather looking forward to observing the work--"

"Well," Hyperion interrupted. Had anyone else done that, they would have received an icy glare from all those around them until they silenced themselves and allowed the Caesar to finish. Yet this was Hyperion, and nobody was prepared to stare the ancient monolith down, not even if their life depended on it. Silvier still looked on unamused, however. "It's convenient you should mention the Skyans, Caesar, as it seems they've already thought of you. Apparently there is a gift waiting for you at our embassy in ULE City."

"Oh? Is that so?"

The Imperium Antiquum Embassy, ULE City
The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek, Gholgoth

[OOC: Credit to Havensky for writing the description on the gift.]

"Right this way, my Caesar."

The embassy staff member spoke, hints of complete surprise and excitement in his voice as he brought the Caesar through the building and towards the location of the gift. Upon their journey the Caesar and Hyperion would see a vast and colourful interior, with fine rugs and carpets decorating the floor while many elaborate paintings adorned the walls, particularly paintings which bore particular significance between the Kylarnatians and the Freeks. The furnishings were exquisite, carrying the strong smell of old wood and the shine of good care. The bookshelves were laden with hundreds upon hundreds of book, telling the tales of both Freekish and Imperium histories, and the most outstanding books in the collection discussed the Imperium-Freekish relationship.

Yet for all the colour and splendour that the embassy provided, none of that mattered to Silvier. She was purely intrigued by this gift. After all, she wasn't expecting one, so it had to be somewhat personal in nature. Close behind the staff member, who was clearly ecstatic about being in her presence - a pleasure that he felt would never be given to him - the Caesar eventually found herself in the embassy's drawing room, a place were visiting dignitaries or groups would be allowed to mingle before moving on to meet the ambassador himself. She was in fact quite curious to his whereabouts, and upon inquiring she was told that he had gone out on "business". Incredibly vague, she thought, especially for ones superior. Even so, she had been told in the past - with the strictest confidence - that the Imperium Antiquum's Ambassadors were well known for going out daily on "business", usually in meetings with the states government or leading authority in some matter.

"There, my Caesar; on the table."

A red box was laid carefully on the table with a white ribbon and gold trimming with a large envelope on top. The envelope was sealed with a red stamp depicting a winged lion. Approaching the gift with an ever increasing interest, Silvier opened the envelope and pulled out the letter which was handwritten on heavy parchment. As she read it, a bigger and bigger smile grew across her face.

Caesar,

I apologize that I was unable to deliver this in person, but I wanted to repay the kindness you showed me upon the last meeting of the Gothic Lords. The dress that you had ready for me was lovely and I still wear it on special occasions and date nights.

I took the liberty of getting your measurements and had Atticus bring this by your embassy in ULE City. It’s a little early in the season for it, but I hope you’ll find it pleasing.

Thanks again,

Alexandria Scarletwing

Alexandria Scarletwing was the Skyan Special envoy that their government had sent to the last Meeting of the Gothic Lords. Their Secretary of State, Jessica Heart, had been kidnapped and the other diplomat had been brutally attacked and captured. Time was of the essence and Scarletwing had travelled in the fastest jet in the Skybound Republic - meaning she didn't have any luggage when she arrived. The Ceasar's government had provided a nice dress for her to wear to the meeting - a small favour that had been very much appreciated by the Skyans.

She opened the box and pulled out a long white dress with a red hood and cape that attached down the neckline. The cape was reminiscent of the hoods that the Skyan Legionaries wore, but much lighter. The fabric was thick and soft, but the cape flowed freely as she picked it up. The edges of the dress had the slightest gold trim to it, with the gold trim moving up just slightly in three different places. Turning the dress around, she saw that when looking at the front, the inside of the cape was lined with white feathers. As she turned it around in the glass of the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room, she realized that the dress was reminiscent of a Skyan winged lion. Turning to face Hyperion and the staff member, the dress now pressed against herself, the smile was still very much present.

"It is a lovely piece, no? I think this is something I'll have to wear to Citadel City upon my visit there sometime soon. Hyperion, remind me once this meeting of the Lords is over to extend my personal thanks to Miss Scarletwing. For the time being, however, I'd like you to have the Department for Foreign and Imperial Affairs to contact the Skyans in order to discuss a 're-booking' of my visit to Citadel City."

"It shall be done, my Caesar."

Chamber of the Gothic Lords, ULE City
The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek, Gholgoth

"Oh, it has been a long time, hasn't it?"

Silvier announced, very casually it seemed, as she entered the Chamber. Hyperion was the only one accompanying her, no troop of guards which had seemed customary in the past. Approaching the central table, she took note of those who were already present in the chamber. She saw the young Darlikharl of Aldarminia, whom she smiled at graciously and gave a tiny wink to, which she humorously imagined would only add more to his obvious excitement. Al-Zied of the Sambizie was also there, who was an individual the Caesar had come to know quite quickly after having ascended to the throne. The representative of the Pudu was also there, and he was someone that Silvier took keen interest in; recent events in the Puduite Empire made it prudent for the Imperium to make it's presence known, not only to aid the stability of a fellow Goth but also to expand the foundations of her own bedrock, so to speak.

There were of course others present as well, including the quiet shadow of Anodonis, though the Caesar paid him no mind. Instead she now turned her eyes to the young Lord Damien Dreadfire the Second, named in honour of his grandfather and saviour of his people from the wrath of his father. The memory of him still hung heavily in the chamber, Silvier felt, for he had indeed took most of the Lords to be fools. Yet in his reign of madness, Silvier felt he unlocked the necessary code in order to keep the alliance stable. Like him or no, he knew what he was doing, and it was something that had to be utilised for the good of the alliance, before anymore evil got a hold of it. That was her agenda.

"Damien..." Silvier began as she approached him, sitting across from him. Although the last time they met was several years ago, the two of them had seemed to get on quite well, not only as two leaders but as people. That's why Silvier decided to dispense of the pleasantries, and acknowledge him as a normal human being. "It is lovely to see you after so long. It saddens me that we were never able to spend time together as we'd planned. Perhaps once this is over, we can pick up where we left off, hm?"

[Dephire]

Chamber of the Gothic Lords, ULE City

Click - Clack

The sound of Jane Romanov's metal-plated leather boots tapped against the floors outside the chambers. They stopped short of the door, briefly, as she opened the doors to enter. She exchanged her plate armor for something more suited to the occasion, a simple golden blouse with white trim and green slacks. Jane had much distaste with the outfit, as she felt vulnerable and naked without any sort of protection. Looking around the room, she noticed that her representation seemed out of place and looked up to Damien.

"Tristan sends his sincerest apologies for not being present in body at this summoning. He took to sudden illness a few months ago and is still recovering in Gothic Havensky. Tristan has appointed me as his ambassador and any discussions in these chambers can be relayed to him through our communications network." She made her way towards the chair assigned to the Dephirian representative and sat as quietly as possible. She was not new to the customs of the Freeks, but she was still timid being in a land so far away from the desolate place she calls home. Jane fidgeted with her fingers and hid her face behind the thick blood red hair she was famously known to have... Awaiting the final arrivals.

[Tiami]

Celeste,
Approaching Freekish Airspace

The hulking mass of the Celeste filled the ethereal skies above as it began it's slow descent into to cruising speed and ultimately. Large and robust, the Celeste was a modified B-984 Airliner constructed by Borikinsha Avionics to court the officials of the Amadorian Republic to nations abroad for diplomatic and military meetings. And when the Freekish Empire had once again called upon the Gothic Lords to re-enact the stagnate Gholgoth Regional Alliance, the entourage of the Amadorian leader Adriana Veronique, had been tasked with attending in hopes to facilitate a better standing among her fellow gothic lords. Thus, the services of Celeste were called upon once more.

Adriana had locked herself in her office, away from the echoing voices of her staff and from the roaring jet engines that seems to groan with pain every few minutes. Yet despite all her efforts to retain quietness and tranquillity, every few seconds an abrupt, a ringing noise, three rings then a loud, ominous ring, flew out from the desk-side telephone. The calls were rather fruitless; the chef desiring to know what food she had a lust for; other calls were even more pointless… even one of the inflight maintenance men called, briefing her about her porcelain throne. And in all this, the activity never ceased. As a leader, Adriana could afford little free time. More importantly, was that her free time would be relegated to the back seat when she landed in the Freekish Empire. More specifically, she would be landing in ULE City where the Gholgoth Regional Alliance is headquartered… or was, at least until recently when the young Freekish leader, Lord Damien Dreadfire the Second, had announce his intentions to reform the alliance.

A sudden buzz soon radiated out from the wall. The intercom. Adriana thought as she looked up, eying the intercom as if she was waiting for an object to come out and begin the announcement. "All personnel aboard are to be prepared for landing in The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek. Please be buckled in as to reduce chances of injuries. Thank you."

Adriana sighed, letting out a shallow, warmth breath of air. "Great. I was hoping for a little more time to myself… not that I had any alone time anyway."

Standing up, she made her way to to the main hall where the majority of the airliner's seat were. She chose a soft, plushy chair on the left side, adjacent to the oval windows, which revealed large swaths of land below. Adriana then became nervous, sweat began to pour down her right cheek. No, maintain composure. Calm yourself; calm. Being in the presence of a gothic lord was nerve-wracking enough, but being in the precedence of many at once? It was a heart attack waiting to happening. Looking around, the crew and entourage accompanying her (destined for the embassy, though she was not), were pale, their breaths becoming shallow as if they had been gasping for air.The aura around was prominent. Shock, nervousness, and a little bit of fear all hung together, clustered among one another. Hopefully, before too long, some of these feelings would dissipate, allowing everyone to retain their composures. And in all this, not a word was spoken during the landing…

Chambers of the Gothic Lords, ULE City,
The New Gothic Empire of Automagfree, Gholgoth

Click! Clack! The sounds of two feet dissipated throughout the chamber as Adriana nervously walked in, her eyes wandering around like she was a lost puppy looking for its mother. Adriana adorned an unspectacular, if not underwhelming loose black dress and black boots. Her glistening red had was tied into a pony tail and her red locket, a present from her mother, gracefully rested around her neck. In the wake of the many Gothic Lords were already present, she felt barren, but nonetheless noted each of them. The Kylarnatian Caesar, who Adriana respected, but feared immensely, was accompanied by the always-feared Hyperion, to which Adriana almost immediately cowered. Cold shivers ran down her spine, the sight of the two visibly scarring her. The Dephirians as well, were accounted for and present in the form of Jane Romanov. The Darlikharl of Aldarminia, whom Adriana briefly glanced at, was also present. Others present included: the Pudu representative and Al- Zied of the Sambizie. The most notable figure though, was Lord Damien Dreadfire the Second who was preoccupied by the Kylarnatian Caesar.

She had made no greetings to the other gothic lords, as her desire to begin the meeting overshadowed any small talk she could possibly partake in. Her heart rate was already running rampant being amongst some of the most powerful men and women in the world. She was visibly shaking, her hands vigorously trembling. Despite her efforts to contain her fear, Adriana knew it was fruitless. In all likelihood, she had probably been seen by other Gothic Lords. A plethora of thoughts were wildly running through her mind. What will happen? Will I mess up? What if I embarrass myself? Will I earn respect? These were all questions that would be answered in due time throughout the course of the summit. With luck, she would not have to speak heavily as to avoid her visibly trembling persona. Until then, the wait continued for the other stragglers.

Oh please, do take your time...

[Artitsa]

The last time Anodonis had met Silvier it had not been pleasant. She had sat in his seat after all – but surely his method of approach had been… unnecessary. She had rebuffed him hard, and they had never spoke again.

He hoped that she did not continue to habour ill feelings towards him, they had very important business to discuss before the summons began. He glanced over at her – she was exceptionally beautiful – something that Anodonis was no longer used to. He had isolated himself from anything of beauty… inwardly it was beginning to get old. She was striking up a conversation with the young Dreadfire, a smile had curved on her lips. No time like the present he thought to himself.

He awkwardly hefted his bulk from the chair he had been occupying and perilously teetered on his feet. Quickly his hand darted out for his cane – he hadn’t needed it last time he was here. His injuries continued to worsen, despite a lack of recent aggravating incident. His struggle to stand upright had caused him some mild embarrassment – he may be a powerful Gothic Lord, a founder even, but it did not stop Anodonis from quickly scanning the room for anyone looking.

They were all looking. Silly to think that they wouldn’t he thought to himself. His seven foot six, five hundred and seventy pound body would always draw some sort of attention. His moment of embarrassment was quickly relieved as he made note that the majority of the faces were either of curiosity or fear. He could certainly see the fear on Adriana of Tiami’s Face. She wore it like a great hall banner. This pleased Anodonis. A warrior of his stature deserved respect… right?

He began to shuffle towards Silvier and Dreadfire, who were in deep conversation. She appeared to be playing with a strand of hair, so delicately with her fingers. Did Anodonis just feel a pang of jealously? Impossible, he was impervious to such feelings… right?

He was close enough now to smell her sweet perfume, it was entrancing and revolting to him at the same time. Too clean, too… human. These kinds of odours were alien to Anodonis.

He cleared his throat, which ended up turning into a deep chesty cough.

“I would like a moment of your time, Miss.” He grumbled.

[Dephire]

Jane continued to fidget. Though she had been in meetings before which included powerful men and women, a Council of the Goths had a much more intimidating factor. Case and point, when Anodonis stood and lumbered over to Silvier, she involuntarily gasped. She saw her fair share of hulking men, but his figure was one for the books. She dared not to speak a word to him, nor to many of the others as she knew Dephire was not on favorable terms with many after the past several occurrences involving Kraven affairs. However, she saw that another newcomer sat next to her.

Adriana of Tiami seemed just as, if not more, nervous than Jane. She was definitely younger than the Dephirian by a large margin, though only a handful of people in the world knew Jane Romanov's true age. Many would speculate that was approaching her late twenties to early thirties and be far off from the actual, but she is one to be very fit and able to age well. She studied the young lady before scooting her chair closer.

Through her veil of blood red hair she whispered softly, "This is my first meeting here as well." Jane picked up on Adriana's nervousness. "I am so damned nervous that I haven't stopped shaking since I got off that Havensky blimp!" She held out her hands so that Adriana could see them shake. "Hopefully there is nothing for us to be worried about!" Jane smiled, her white teeth seeming to bring some more brightness to the room. "Tell me about yourself, Lady of Tiami."

[Havensky]

Words as Weapons (How they terrify)

Council Chambers
ULE City, Automagfreek

Lance Atticus stepped into the chambers and for once was glad that he had worn his heavier suit jacket. Living on an airship, he was used to the cold - but the rooms he stepped into was always warmer than what he was used to.

However, this room was oddly chilly even to Atticus. Atticus assumed it was either because the chambers were very old, located in far northern Gholgoth, or the ghosts of Lords past still lingered here.

Well, thought Atticus, it may be time to wake up a few ghosts.

He walked to the head of the table where Lord Damien Dreadfire II was standing and waited for a free moment. When that moment came, Atticus bowed and presented Lord Dreadfire with a small red envelope with a white-gold seal.

Lord Dreadfire, thank you for receiving me. The Skyan People look forward to opening an embassy in ULE City as well as the start of relations between our two peoples. As a token of our friendship, we would like to present you with a gift.

The envelope contained the deed to the Astral Wind along with printed schematics of the airship. It also contained a handwritten letter from Skybound Republic’s High King Drake.

It may not be the fastest airship in the sky, but it is a nice way to get some peace and quiet in these times of chaos.

Atticus bowed again and took his leave as he saw other Lords were approaching Lord Dreadfire. He imagined that Lord Dreadfire would be in high demand and he respected that. He walked across the stone floor to his designated seat at the round table. A pair of Skyan Legionaries in gleaming pearl white power armor stood behind him. Atticus would have prefered to leave them on board the Open Hand, but given the injury rate of Skyan diplomats in the region it was against policy. Looking around, he saw a mix of nervousness and anticipation. If any nervousness was felt by Atticus, it was that of an actor before the opening act. Although Atticus had never served in a courtroom, he went through the same motions a defense lawyer might make in summing up a jury.

Atticus had been an ardent pacifist for much of his life. During his mandatory service, he had seen first hand the effects of war during his time serving as an local aid coordinator onboard one of the Skyans many humanitarian airship fleets. In this room, he understood that he was probably the only pacifist present. His traveling companion for the trip had been a general after all. After his service, he had gone to university to earn his degree in diplomacy. After that, he had studied in Grays Harbor for his masters in international relations. He then received his law degree from a Kennyite school. After serving as the Ambassador to NewTexas, he had risen to the rank of Ambassador-at-Large. Most of the time, that meant giving speeches in front of the UN. However, at times he was deployed to hotspots around the world to act as peace negotiator. He had, on countless occasions, sat down between two quarreling nations and used a mix of charm, sanctions, aid, and implied threats to make peace. While other leaders may have valued military might, Atticus prized the number of lives saved.

Havensky had always been an oddity among the Gothic nations. Havensky was one of the few democratic nations and certainly one of the only nations who could claim to have broken into the Fortress Continent and live to tell the tale. While they were seven billion people, they were still a quarter of the size of most Gothic nations. The Skyans had but one Gothic City - a small morsel in comparison to other Gothic lands. But, as Atticus liked to put it, that city would have the same deliciousness as a sharp prickly cactus.

Atticus pulled out the chair behind the small placard that read "The Skybound Republic of Havensky" and took his seat. While he waited for the meeting to begin, he flipped through his statement and rehearsed in his head. His stylus twirling in his fingertips.

[Ganos Lao]

As the Ganosian delegation made their way to their section, the Iraqis that they had brought along with them took the initiative, and with solemn respect, approached Damien Dreadfire II, waiting for a free moment of their own.

Whenever it came upon them, the Iraqis bowed respectfully. One of them spoke while the others kept silent. "Salutations, sadiq. His Majesty, the King of Iraq, hopes that you and yours are doing well. He continues to express his thankfulness for the support you have given his government, and wishes to acknowledge it through this gesture of ours."

Another Iraqi stepped forward, offering what had appeared to be a forty three-inch sword with an embellished blade and sheath with gold inlaid Arabic writing. "The King sends his regards. He hopes that you will like his gift, and remember that our people have pinned their hopes upon the auspicious dream of brotherhood with all the Gothic nations. It is His Majesty's sincerest hope that those here present today would come together to stand up for Iraq and her people against those who would do her, do them, harm. May this sword stand as a testimony to the power and strength of the alliance of which we are all a part."

As the Iraqis would speak to their host, Empress Quinn had been observing the various lords and ladies. She hadn't seen many of them in so long, not even Silvier (whose country was quite described in the Imperial cirriculum due to it being one of the first pro-revolutionary states). It made her feel somewhat awkward, not knowing if any of them knew who she was, or if any of them had thought much of Ganosia to begin with. Ganosia, no doubt, had played some role in regional politics. Vetalians and Milogradians had fled in droves to the Refugee Sanctuary, forming provinces therein. The Empress knew that the Kravenites were brutal, and had never intended to test them, but she knew she could not forsake the mission she herself had given sanction to. Pitkanen told her that he felt compelled to assist them, come what may, and he was permitted to do so, and thankfully nothing came after them. Quinn sighed, leaning into her seat, wondering when the meeting would start. She already had her speech memorized - she was going to wow them, to prove that when she had taken the blood oath that she had meant it, and that she desired to uphold it. We would join Brimstone, she thought. We would join it and we would help engineer its rise to ascendancy over the world. I want them to help my son, to help protect him. I can't be too careful when it comes to him. I need only the finest guards, the bestest friends, for him to keep around him. Iraq is as much Ganosia's child as David is mine.

She was here to ensure that they would know that the Dual Monarchy wanted to do more with them, that the Dual Monarchy wanted to broaden its horizons. She wanted to ensure her own legacy, as a ruler rather than a vessel of her sister's.

Meanwhile, the Iraqis were here to account for Quinn's wish to secure recognition for her son's kingdom, but they also had motives of their own. They had wanted to gain for themselves the sublime distinction of having secured Iraqi freedom and recognition in their own way, not merely to satisfy the whims of their benevolent sovereign's mother. They may have cried out, Daud w bas! Quinn w bas!, like any of their comrades had, but they had always stressed the name of their king, and had always recited his name first.

Was it not in his name, after all, that the khutbas were said?

[Kylarnatia]

Chamber of the Gothic Lords, ULE City
The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek, Gholgoth

Silvier didn't hate Anodonis. Sure, their last run in together had been rather heated, but she hadn't let it get to her. She actually had quite enjoyed their encounter: no doubt Anodonis was a man who was used to being quite revered and feared by many men and women, so encountering someone who was not so afraid of him must have been quite a shock. Therefore, when she'd entered and noticed his shadow in the room - although she paid him no mind initially - she did hope that they'd have the chance to exchange words again. Therefore, when he came up to her and requested that they speak privately, she could not hold back the smile that came across her face as a result.

Looking to Damien, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "I'm sure we can continue this conversation later after the meeting. For now, please excuse me." Then, without so much as a word, she glided off to the edge of the room, expecting Anodonis to follow.

Hyperion, who was of the same height and stature of Anodonis - though perhaps bit more robust - stared down the leader for a few seconds before he departed with Silvier. When he was gone, the ancient Dux Imperator bowed respectfully to Lord Damien and removed himself from his area. Moving around the table, he observed all those present. Despite being a behemoth of a man, his shadow-like nature made him almost glide around the room without making so much as a sound. He observed everybody individually before coming across both Jane Romanov of Dephire and Adriana of Tiami. Seeing how both of them were shaking nervously, Hyperion felt something click in his sub-concious which compelled him to engage them.

Coming up behind their seats, the Dux Imperator's voice boomed out like light, but strong thunder. "Are you feeling alright, ladies?"

Meanwhile, Silvier now found herself alone with Anodonis in a quiet corner of the chamber. Jokingly, she remarked, "I promise I didn't sit in your seat this time, Anodonis. It was tempting though."

Laughing a little, she then looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. "What is it that you need?"

[Dephire]

Jane heard the familiar voice from behind and smiled, turning around to see the mountain of a man standing there, "Goodness, hello again, Hyperion. It has been some time since we have last seen each other. I am doing alright, just feeling a bit out of place since this is supposed to be Tristan's first time since taking over the helm and yet he is unable to travel. outside of the southwest sector." Her gaze moved to the floor, though Hyperion's legs were in the way, obstructing her view.

"What afflicts the young man? It must be a powerful illness to miss out on the first summit in years." Hyperion sounded concerned. Other than the meeting to determine an end to hostilities in Milograd for the second time, the two had not really spoken nor came into contact with one another. Jane had been fascinated with the man's bulk, and as was her reaction to Anodonis, she felt insignificant without her armor to protect her.

"I would tell you the story, but much of it you would probably not believe. Tristan's illness is in part to a grave wound he received in the civil war your Caesar helped us win. He was struck by what the scientific community would consider a poisoned blade. It wrecked havoc on the poor boy's body. His mind was twisted by the poison until he nearly delved into madness, even coming close to handing over the reins to the Kraven Reich. A bit of common sense and reasoning struck him at the last minute, changing his mind from such a deed, but he still showed a strong lack of recovery from that dark moment." Jane noticed the poor girl from Tiami was listening in to the story, wide-eyed with astonishment. "The Emperor, Tristan, was moved to Citadel City in Gothic Havensky to recover. He has been there for a good many months and shown phenomenal progress. Somehow getting away from those wastelands seemed to do the trick in expediting his recovery." She looked around the room briefly, taking notice that Silvier and Anodonis had moved to a secluded corner in the room. Jane stood up and leaned in closer to Hyperion. "Of course, you and I both know that poison is not what truly ailed my emperor."

Hyperion's eyebrow raised slightly, "So he got rid of it then?"

Jane sat back down, "Yes. The weapon has been hidden away at the bottom of a large well filled with molten metal. Also, since we are using this brief time to catch up. We have confirmed that Menias Volthe was KIA, but still have been unable to determine which party was responsible. The matter is a closed case as there was no evidence left behind to prove one way or the other. I tell you this because I am obligated to fulfill the man's will. This is for Silvier," Jane handed Hyperion a deceivingly small, but very heavy box. "Inside contains a perfectly preserved ash rose and several seeds. Illegal to sell on open market, but worth millions on the black markets due to rarity. Menias had some sort of fanboy crush on your Caesar. Poor boy too blind to see reality. Anyway, his will stated that the box was to go to her, but I leave it up to you. There may be a mixtape or two, kindly discard those so he doesn't embarrass himself in the afterlife."

Hyperion took the box, still curious as to how such a small trinket could weigh so much. "I will, thank you. May he rest in peace."

Jane noticed that Atticus finally tore himself away from the airship, "Hey, Atti! About time you-... Oh, you are still scrolling away on that damned toy? Relax! This meeting isn't the apocalypse!" She was shouting across the room to get Atticus' attention. "Or is it?!" She tried to sound grave, but reared back in laughter.

Jane Romanov, the woman who gets excited when nervous...

[Artitsa]

For the first time in memory, Anodonis found himself extremely happy to be wearing his respirator. It had done an admirable job of concealing the smirk that had crawled across his mouth when Silvier responded to him. She was sharp.

Hyperion on the other hand – Anodonis had heard of this individual. While he caused no great concern to the leader of Artitsa, the martial prowess of Hyperion was legend among many. Anodonis followed the pair to the edge of the chamber.

“Silvier”

Anodonis paused, searching for the right path to tread.

“I respect you.”

“I respect Kylarnatia. That is why I come to you now. We know the Skyans will come to these chambers to speak of Vetalia’s plight.” He adjusted under the now uncomfortable gaze of Hyperion.

“I will be honest. Vetalia is not a concern to Artitsa.” He waited for Silvier to react to this statement, but he would find none.

“What is a concern, is Kraven. Your nation has opposed the Kravenites time and time again and thus my earned respect. But I fear…”

He trailed off, glancing back to the round table in the Gholgothic Council Chamber.

“I fear that Kraven will look to Kylarnatia as a threat. I am confident that you will weather any storm that presents itself as a Gothic Lord – but know this – I have every intention of speaking out against Kraven in this council hall, and I have every intention of standing beside Kylarnatia should you wish to openly oppose them.”

Anodonis shifted uncomfortably. Silvier was staring at him and not saying anything.

“Too long Artitsa has stood by and allowed this alliance to crumble. We sat behind our walls and mourned our dead but did nothing to prevent other nations from the same fate. Vetalia…” He paused to find the right words. His contradiction was evident without further explanation.

“Vetalia played with fire. My concern is for those nations who do not invite the Kraven machine to their doorstep but are visited none the less. Do you concur?”

[Tiami]

Gothic Chamber, ULE City
The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek, Gholgoth

Hyperion's sudden entrance had all but ended Adrianna's hope to settle down and talk to Jane, as his entrance had attracted her newfound friend. His imposing figure and feared reputation had silenced her Adriana trembled in fear. As the two continued their talk though, the distraction, Adriana found, presented ample enough time to bolt up out of her chair and make her way to the entrance that she had come through. While she was not leaving, being alone until the summit officially started would surrender tranquility upon her, calming her nerves. Her hands still fidgeted though, but she was unbothered and quite relieved.

"W-when will this be over?" Adriana shallowly stuttered as she wiped away a bead of sweat from her forehead. "There is t-too much fear in t-t-this room…"

Adriana began to scout out the room, watching the individuals go about their lives. The hulking Anodonis, a marvel of a man so apparently damaged, was making conversation with the Kylarnatian Caesar, Silvier, a beautiful, yet fear-inducing leader. Jane had finally turned her attention away from Hyperion. Instead, she had yelled across the room to Atticus. Jane's burst of laughter jolted Adriana, sending a chilling signal up her spine.

For now, Adriana waited for any remaining stragglers. The meeting would begin soon, so she hoped no one would be too much longer arriving for the summit. For Adriana, the sooner the better, as the mental and physical stress of being in a room with the most powerful nation's in the region, of being in a room where the leaders could annihilate her own country with a flick of a sword, had all but weakened her awareness and integrity. Perhaps, in due time, she would be able to calm down, though this seemed unlikely. If she could not hold herself together now, how could she possibly contend with the others during the duration of the summit?

Adriana took another breath, sucking the air in slowly before letting out the air in one swift exhale.

"Oh boy."

[Emperor Pudu]

Ambassador Otho was keenly observing his surroundings. The sidelines meeting between Anodonis and Silvier could hardly have gone unnoticed for the formers significant bulk; it was their conversation Otho was most interested in however. He couldn't hear their discussions from where he was sitting, but he could hardly imagine it strayed far from the situation in Vetalia. Was the great weight of Artitsa finally shifting, Otho wondered, chucking to himself at the pun at the same time. The other Kylarnatian here, this Hyperion, he had noticed as well. The man Otho had expected the most from though, sight unseen until today, was Lance Atticus; the Skyan however had apparently brought reading materiel and was most interested in himself for the time being. When the Crown Regent of Tiami excused herself from the towering Hyperion Otho had to stifle a grin; who wouldn't want to escape that man's shadow. They were truly in a realm of giants here. Considering it would probably be a short while yet until things really began in earnest, Otho carefully stood up again and made his way toward the back of the room where the Gothic Lord of Tiami, the lady Adriana, stood alone. Otho had to remind himself that she was in fact one of the Lords here today as he made his way over to her, because she sure didn't look the part right now.

He opened with a warm smile; Otho was nothing if not friendly. He met the young woman's eyes for a moment before averting his gaze, out of respect. He began formally, though he wasn't sure exactly what her proper styling would have been, "Lady of Tiami, it is a privilege." He bowed before continuing, "I am Lucias Salvias Otho, Special Representative from the Pantokra- Oh, you know what, you either already know or it doesn't matter," Otho laughed, waving his hand dismissively, "I noticed you look a little nervous." He tried to engender some trust, he was being earnest with her, "I just wanted to say, this is my first time here as well." Otho looked around the room, once again taking in all the impressive sights the Gothic Lords presented. Suddenly, Otho jumped backward about a foot, "Now, here!" He joked, "I've been!" He was standing just on the other side of the open chamber doors. He stepped close to Adriana again, whispering now, "You know, nobody knows this, but when my Emperor Shangjun, rest his soul, came here for the first and only time I was his footman!" The ambassador sounded very proud.

Otho continued in his excited whisper, "I came that far," he pointed to the doors, "But never entered. I was his only companion on the trip, his close confidant. I had only met him personally one time before, you can imagine what that would be like? Well, he planned to introduce me as the Special Representative that day, he told me, but it never happened." Otho trailed off sadly then. "But I'm here now," he grinned, "It's quite a sight, yeah? Anyway, I just wanted to say, you're not the only one. I'm sure some of them are putting on a show out there too, like us." Then he bowed again, backing away, "Excuse me now, nervous habit, you know?" Otho produced a pack of cigarettes and smiled guiltily before retreating a polite distance and lighting up. What good was a conference of hegemonic power-brokers if the room they conferred in wasn't smoke-filled? They were all playing parts, after all.

[Sniper Country]

Most everyone in the room seemed to be meeting with others, talking - either seriously or less so - about who-knows-what regarding the day. However, Speaker Stevens remained in his seat at the large table, seemingly a wallflower in the midst of the giants of Gholgoth. He did wonder what many of the conversations ongoing in the large conference area were regarding, but he was far less interested in the many spin-off conversations and diplomatic meetings here than the specific point of the conference itself. Stevens was eager to see the region return to its glory days, and he wanted the Confederacy to be at the front of the line when the time came to invoke the powers of this great region. As he waited for the arrival of the Lord Himself, though, he found himself losing concentration, running through the numerous scenarios he could produce in his head that pertained to today's great meeting. Finally jerking himself once again from his musings, he turned his head to notice the ambassador from Pudu produce a small pack of cigarettes as he backed himself into a corner on the opposite side of the room.

Standing slowly, now keenly aware of his surroundings, Stevens pushed his chair under the table and slowly shuffled toward the ambassador. He noticed the attire of many in attendance: from grandiose, costume-esque outfits, to more simple, elegant attire. Any other person would feel out of place wearing cargo pants and a simple button-up shirt. As he approached the ambassador, he gave a curt nod and smile.

"Don't suppose you have one of those to spare," he said, pointing toward the pack of cigarettes the ambassador was beginning to return to his pocket. "Just being in this room with all of you makes me feel like I need one of these again," he said, giving a slight chuckle.