1935-2000 Era War 4: New Beginnings (IC)

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Socialist Slavic Union Kingdom
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Founded: Jun 21, 2020

Postby Socialist Slavic Union Kingdom » Wed Jul 22, 2020 7:58 pm

Last edited by Socialist Slavic Union Kingdom on Mon Aug 03, 2020 6:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Founded: Feb 16, 2020

Postby HypErcApitAl » Wed Jul 22, 2020 8:01 pm


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

January 27, 1935; 26th Congress in Session
Capitol of the Confederation, Combined Chambers

The first thing on the docket today was of course, the War in The North. Aimesland had gotten declared war on by Nihon, and it would've been likely that other Declarations of War were soon-to-follow. The Continental Doctrine implemented decades ago- making the Confederation the Continent's Protector- would ensure that an intervention on the side of the Aimeslandish should be declared and everything being poured into their defense. But that was decades ago, and now, more pragmatic voices had arisen. Especially a certain senator and his circle of yes-men and the convinced. As for himself, well. Hiramson couldn't really argue with what the senator was saying, "Quite the realpolitik politician, that Senator Armstrong." he couldn't help but mutter inwardly, "Man's got his Alright Rhetoric, some things leave a bit to be desired though." And as for said senator...

Colorized picture of Senator Steven Armstrong giving a
speech at a recently opened factory, 1931

"I've been telling you all, a war against Aimesland rather than its invaders will be beneficial both short and long term!" a slammed fist on his table, and raised finger as to accentuate his speaking; already were there senators and representatives saying "hear, hear", and some saying to get him out of here, "We're not just gonna get ourselves out of this damned economic plateau and slash unemployment rates with the jobs we'll make, we'll secure this continent better than going to war against a nation with a bigger military for a lost cause." It seemed as if the senator had convinced more people, the sounds of "hear, hear" were getting louder at the expense of the naysayers. "Just think about it! If we secure Aimesland for ourselves, we secure the continent from footholds that those outsiders will carve out there." He continued.

He brought up a paper, a declaration of war he'd written most likely. "And therefore, I present to this august assembly the draft for a declaration of war to Aimesland." he cleared his throat first then adjusted his glasses,

"Joint Resolution Declaring that a state of war exists
between the Blue Republican Government of Aimesland
and the Government and the people of the Confederation
and making provisions to prosecute the same. (DRAFT)"

Awareness of aggressive Aimeslandish rhetoric
against powers outside of this continent

Concern about Aimeslandish attacks on Nihonese ships

Denouncing the fact that Aimesland refuses
to take responsibility

Alarm at the resulting Nihonese declaration of war,
and build-up of aggression in other nations
towards Aimesland

Concern about the security of the continent as a
whole with an Aimeslandish defeat at the hands of

Determined to ensure that the security of the
continent will not be compromised with such an

Concluding that continental safety is above that of
Aimeslandish security

Hereby declares a state of war between the Blue
Republic of Aimesland
and the Confederation

He placed the paper back, to somewhat-loud applause. On his face was a confident smirk, "Well whaddya think? " he confidently told the rest of the combined houses, downing a bottle of Water right after, "Here's another two cents for thought, we're not just gonna get us out of this economic plateau, we're going to get out of this Falsesense of Security we currently have!" He quickly raised a hand to silence the potential opposing voices. "Lemme explain; before I became a senator, I was in the Navy and as you all know, the Navy then was on an observation mission to study the naval battlefields, and if possible, the land battlefields, of the 9 Years War." his look became somber, "Lemme tell you, there is no honor in war. I've learned so much then, but I saw that the Confederation hadn't learned this fact, so I became a senator to shed light on said fact. This isolation of ours will end, and mark my words, we'll get them outsiders to respect that flag when it waves alongside this continent's coasts with any potential allies." He slammed both hands onto his table, and looked straight towards President Galen. "Mr. President, I ask that you END THIS LETHARGY!"

The room erupted into cheering and shouts of "end this lethargy/isolation". It quickly quieted down when the President raised his hand, and leaned forward. "Mr. Armstrong, I must congratulate you for all this, succeed, where I failed." he nodded briefly towards the man, "I too, mirror your thoughts on the Confederation and its lethargy, but I come to you all with an addition." He stood. "Our flag shan't fly on this blessed continent and intimidate our enemies only, no- we shall see this flag fly upon the seas and in the lands beyond, driving away the imperialist at every corner!" he also slammed his fist, "To the gentlemen of this august assembly I say, mark my words, when our flag flies, all those that stand against liberty, equality, and justice for all, will QUAKE! IN IMMENSE FEAR!" Uproarious cheering, shouting, and chanting.

Such immense desire for a war unearthed with a few words, "As I thought it would." Galen thought with a knowing smirk, everything had gone according to plan. He had known of Senator Armstrong's motivations, he just needed to give it a push when that ball started rolling. He'd even made moves to reorganize the navy and army somewhat and all! "With any luck, the Jurchen-class battleships will be ready and with experienced crew," he thought, "And the army already in the process of mobilization under the guise of an exercise. No exercises anymore though, we're going to war." A good thing this meeting was coming to an end, he could get a proper draft up and sign it quickly.

January 29, 1935
The Confederation Goes to War

Declaration of War on the Blue Republic of Aimesland
As stated by the: "Joint Resolution Declaring that a state of war exists between the Blue Republican Government of Aimesland and the Government and the people of the Confederation and making provisions to prosecute the same."

Enacted by the 26th Congress of the Confederation.

AWARE of Aimesland's prior actions before this declaration.

NOTING that said actions were unnecessarily antagonistic to outside powers.

FURTHER NOTING that said outside powers can threaten the security of the Confederation and by extension the continent.

FURTHER NOTING that such a foothold from said powers will inevitably threaten the Confederation's security.

CONCERNED at the fact that Aimeslandish navalforces opened fire upon Nihonese ships patrolling in International Waters.

DENOUNCING the Blue Republic of Aimesland over the fact that its government has refused to take responsibility.

ALARMED at the ensuing declaration of war from the Empire of Nihon and the build-up of aggression against Aimesland by other outside powers.

AGAIN CONCERNED about the security of not just the Confederation but the security of the continent as a whole, referring to this document's third point.

AGAIN CONCERNED at the threat that a Nihonese foothold in Aimesland has to this continent presents to it and the Confederation.

DETERMINED to ensure that the security of the Confederation and by extension the continent will not be compromised with such an event.

CONCLUDING that Confederation and by extension, continental safety is above that of Aimeslandish safety-and-sovereignty.

HEREBY declares a state of war between the Blue Republic of Aimesland and the Confederation

The Wakefield Office

"Who the fuck are these motherfuckers and what the fuck do they think they're doing? I haven't even fucking heard of a Confederacy, and yet, they want us dead for some reason. We're already at-war with Nihon, and these fucking shitstains are making it worse. Fuck 'em and their horses." Sprout groaned.

She got so angry, she just couldn't take it anymore.

But, she couldn't destroy the Resolute Desk.

So, she left the Office and went to the Gymnasium/Fitness part of the Samston House, working out her anger by destroying shit and doing Martial Arts kickflips.

She still felt angry.

She screamed.



She'd perform a highkick, shattering one of the Training Dummies.


She continued attacking and flinging them around.


She'd attack another Dummy.



"Hi!" A 16 y/o girl chirped.



"Hi!" The girl repeated.

Sprout facepalmed, then chopped the door down with her hand.

The President tried to calm herself down.

She sighed hard.

"So... who are you?" Winston asked.

The girl hugged her.

"Uh..." The girl drooled, trying to think.

"The Nihonese Emperor is so ugly, he could be a Masterpiece from... those weird people with the weird accents... Uh.. shit. What the fuck are they called again?" She thought aloud.

The girl stared at her own feet.

"Please, Ms. President. Calmdown." The girl said, with the most high-pitched voice ever.

Sprout was confuzzled.

"Why is your voice so high? Did you eat Helium?" She asked.

"No!" The girl cheered.

Something about the girl made Sprout have flashbacks...

Flashbacks back to Campus, way before Nihon and Manticore were even thoughts in the Aimeslandish mentalscape...

"Oh, my, god. Did you see Sally the other day? What the fuck she had on? She looked like she had on Tennis rackets for shoes." Sprout gossiped.

"Whore can't even do her Math homework, and so, she's gonna get that dude Tomathan to do it for her. Lazy-ass girl." One of Sprouts' old friends replied.

"She's fat, too. I mean, c'mon. I'm way skinnier than she. And she smells. What the fuck do she eat, Pigshit?" Sprout pondered.

Allison laughed.

"You betcha." Allison responded.

"By the way, did y'all see that Flute Girl the other day? She was...pretty." Sprout fawned.

"Yeah. But..." Allison laughed and placed her hand on Sprouts' shoulder.

"I don't think she can Play." Allison responded.

"C'mon, man. Give the gurl time. It's way harder than playing Sax, or the fucking Bongo." Sprout replied.

Allison laughed.

"I guess." She nodded.

"But, you think she's hot, that's on you. Now, I'm not gonna let that ruin a Friendship. I pinky-sweared on it." Allison continued.

Sprout winked.

"Hopefully not." She responded.

Then, the Flashback ended and the President snapped back into Realtime.

And, her hand was on the girlies' chest.

What a fondle.

For awhile, she felt Serenity, like she finally achieved Nirvana Status.


It couldn't be Nirvana. Not in an Atheistic Republic.

Maybe back when Aimesland was Anarch, but not now...

"You... you remind me of Someone." Sprout said, whilst still holding the tit.

"Who, Your Excellency?" The girl said.

Sprout blushed.

"Aw..." Sprout leaked.

Her entire face turned red as if it were cooked in Satans' Firepit.

"You're sweet." She continued.

She looked down, at the girls' feet.

"Reminds me of Diogenes." She said.

"Why the Cynic?" The girl asked.

" 'If they can do without, then I can too.' " She quoted the Cynic.

"But, that's not a shoe thing. That's a mentality thing. That's like Nihon siccing his entire Navy on us cause I called their Emperor a faggot." Sprout explained.

"Damn. Gotta introduce myself now." The girl nodded.

"My name's Allegra." Allegra introduced.

Sprout swore she heard catcalling, horn noises, wolves' howls, and maybe something else.


"Allegra, you think we can, uh..."

She'd takeoff her high-heels, then kneel.

"Maybe." Allegra said, kissing her.

It felt odd to kiss the freaking President. But, atleast more shit was gonna go down in the Historybooks, ifnot, then again cause no one Presently can recall this type of shit.

"You think... that maybe...this...was the Cure?" Sprout said in-between kissing.

"Maybe. But, y'know. The Nihonese are warmongers." Allegra commented.

The two let themselves fall on the floor, then Sprout picked herself and Allegra back up.

"Something's odd about what we're abouta do." Sprout confessed.

"I mean, dozens have. We wouldn't be the First." Allegra replied.

( intensified, though with the Aimeslandish adding their own spin/lyrics to it.

Atheism, Aimeslandia, and Sprout!

We trust in our Most Esteemed to lead us through the way
Stopping the Imperialist scum in Nihon, they ain't okay

Sprout Winston, the Mighty Krag, defender of all Good throughout the World

We are proud, we are loud!

Everyone declares War on us, 'cause they know we're the bestest - striking them with the Fury of the Sword!
We need nothing but the Sword!

Aimeslandia! Forever! The Mighty Tree!

The Sun! The Sun! The Sun!

Aimeslandish knights will not war
unless it is to free Takeshima
or else Landenforcer Winston wouldn't allow!

We are your boys, Sprout!

Aimeslandia, we need no God!

The Eco-Anarchists, in our past, taking no shit and lighting the haters of Nature on Fire!
And they led with their men-and-women!

They told the World - Aimeslandia is a free Realm!

We are the Dawn of Freedom - we won't accept anything but Democracy!


The Aimeslandish people are in the Streets, raising-up their Banners high - to exonerate President Winston!

[Atheism, Aimeslandia, and Sprout!

We are your boys, Sprout! ~ chorus and refrains]
Kehrernesia wrote:
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"Peace is a lie." ~ Sith Code (excerpt)

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Socialist Slavic Union Kingdom
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Founded: Jun 21, 2020

Postby Socialist Slavic Union Kingdom » Thu Jul 23, 2020 2:46 am

Trading with USSK

Below are trade agreements made by a few countries, U.S.S.K welcome everyone of the deal in good health and relationship with said country. The U.S.S.K will be sending cargo ships to each country with their order with hope it will bring more deals to their lands. The Nihonese Empire order is the most guarded so to say with two armed boats escorting it, the reason behind this is because the Nihonese Empire have requested some U.S.S.K firearms but modify them to use their own ammo. The U.S.S.K hope the deal with Nihonese goes well and if it does it will mean more trade deals for the U.S.S.K and a better relationship between Ninonese Empire and U.S.S.K

Trade agreement
Partys: U.S.S.K / Nihonese Empire
Date: January 1935
Traded Item: V.A.R, DSnkP-28
Item Description: The Nihonese Empire has requested an order of V.A.R and DsnkP-28. The Nihonese Empire wants 8,100 V.A.R and 2,240 DsnkP-28 under the condition that both weapons are modified to take 7.92×57mm. The U.S.S.K will accept the order from the Nihonese Empire request and in doing so 4 military factories will be used to make the modified weapons, doing this will make the order easier but will take time to modify the weapons for 7.92x57mm round.In return the Nihonese Empire will pay the U.S.S.K. Two armed boats will escort the cargo ship.
Payment: Cash (Yen)
Method of Travel: Cargo ship (sea)

Partys: U.S.S.K / The Empire of Norcourt
Date:January 27th, 1935
Traded Item:Vodka, Steel, Fur, Clothing, oil
Item Description: The Empire of Norcourt have asked for a goods trade in which the U.S.S.K accept for good relationship with the Empire of Norcourt. In return The Empire of Norcurt will pay in cash for the items.
Payment: Cash
Method of Travel: Cargo ship (sea)

Partys: U.S.S.K / Protectorate Kingdom of Sveria
Date:1st of February 1935
Traded Item:Varieties of Freshwater fish
Item Description: The Kingdom of Sveria has asked for a trade deal but for fish. The U.S.S.K accepts for good relationships and to have more trade deals open. Due to the detailed request for fish the trade will take some time to finish because of the type of fish that the Kingdom of Sveria wants.
Monthly order:5000 Oil Barrels per month
Item Description: The Kingdom of Sveri have asked for oil in which the U.S.S.K agreed on. Since this will be a monthly order the amount of oil will be counted carefully and watched over when sending to the cargo ship.
Payment: Cash
Method of Travel: Cargo ship (sea)
Last edited by Socialist Slavic Union Kingdom on Mon Aug 03, 2020 7:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby HypErcApitAl » Thu Jul 23, 2020 8:37 am


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

After all of that time...

It didn't feel so bad, and Sprout felt rejuvenated.

Taking in all of The Senates' and the Mainstream Medias' ideas, Sprout was gonna finally declare Aimesland a Technate.

Or maybe, a Technocratic Republic, though "TRA" would make a weird acronym.

Already, Aimesland was mocked for having "BRA" as their acronym, and even more humor considering all of the cultural revolutions and the "Free The Nipple" movement, further changing the way Aimeslandish dressed.

So no more underclothing. There was no real shame for Passion or the Human Anatomy and the Female Form in Aimesland, but the 1920s called for alot of Revolution and Change, just like the Communist-Socialists popping up and demanding Labour, or Laborstrikes and shit.

Aimesland was already weird - it was inevitable that they become weirder and weirder, and even campaigns to Keep Aimesland Weird.

The Aimeslandish had many advantages, not just their Tenacity or their Fighting Warrior Spirit, but they were also Prideful and Rebellious people. They were quirky and weird. They had proud intellects and proud physiques.

And best of all, their President having many rumors and myths around her, like her birth, for example.

Sprout was a good candidate for the Symbol of Aimesland, already being a jack-of-all-trades and exemplifying all of Aimesland and their beliefs.

In a sense, being Aristonia.

The Manticorans gave a big fuss over Aimesland being an Armed Republic and its culture and cultural attributes of dueling, chivalry, fencing and whatnot, but that was what made Aimeslandish Aimeslandish.

Every man, woman, child Armed and ready to defend themselves - though Aimesland was a Teenager/Young Adult State, priding the Youth and Youthful Intuition, Ambition. Old people still existed in Aimesland, but weren't noticed or given any attention. An Aimeslandish person was to vanish past Thirty-six, metaphorically being placed in the broomcloset for no one to think about.

Aimesland had no place for Ageism or Gerontocracy. No place for the Old to rule and rule ironfisted over children. No place for Abuse such as whipping or spanking kids.

Aimesland was, is, and will still be a free and tolerant, Liberal society. Spring Liberalism being the outlet of all of this, as Aimeslandish are very liberal people. Spring Liberalism wasn't the means, but the justification.

Spring Liberalism wasn't why Aimeslandish acted the way they acted, it was what justified it. What made it possible for a civilization to be so free, so open-minded and the "Look The Other Way" vibe or athmosphere.

Not judging or even prejudging.

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.
(though technically that White was a Blue, so it had to be "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity")

Aimesland, very ahead of their time - even with Futurism and Retrofuturistic elements.

Futurism, a sister-ideology to Technocracy, and that's what Aimesland was spiraling towards. Becoming a Technate and taking the World by Storm. The Aimeslandish Snake was to mechanize. To embrace the mechanical, technological and technical over the spiritual, astral, and immaterial.

In the past, Aimesland was Anarcho-Environmentalist. Now, they were Technoenvironmentalist, but were fighting to be fully-Technological.

Modernism, Postmodernism, Romanticism, Hopeless Romanticism and other ideals and ideologies - inbuilt in Spring Liberalist and Aimeslandish culture.

To love, to enjoy, to cherish, to be Passionate.

The many things that make Aimesland Aimesland, but to specify two:

  • Laissez-faire
  • Colo(u)red Republicanism

Though being the first, and pretty-much, ONLY republic, Aimesland has made and invented several kinds of Democracy and even built-up upon it.

High Culture, Culture, Fashion and High Fashion - the forerunners. In many ways, Aimesland was civil and cultured. In many ways, an accomplished Nation and Civilization - even in their Anarchic days.

It was the political axis of Nudism v. Prudism, and Aimesland always leaned to the Nude. In the past, they were Nudist, but now, the Present, they were Pro-Nudism. Not caring or minding it, but embracing skin and flesh.

Everything in Aimesland is cumulative - adding-on, including Ideology. In several ways, Anarcho-Environmentalism added onto Spring Liberalism, though Spring Liberalism distanced itself alot from it, and now, was distancing itself s'more by leaving the Technoenvironmentalist mindset it shortly adopted behind in exchange for full-on Technocratic Thought.

Just like that, it was like Sprout's comment on Lemons and Lemonade, and what do you do when Life gives you Lemons?

Apparently, many things.

With all those weapons bought from the Warglorian Reich, and now the USSK, Aimesland had to put more debts and loans onto itself, though the USSK wanted to help, though that help was hamfisted since it was help in the form of a Landlease.

Now, it was unknown to the Aimeslandish Gov't why in the heck everyone wanted a slice of Aimesland, but apparently, that was the case. Apparently, the Monarchists lacked honor, and wanted to brutalize the Aimeslandish.

Atleast the Warglorians weren't playing Hardscrabble with the Aimeslandish.

Sprout, being a dealmaker, atleast honored the deal, though finding it very odd and silly. Atleast they'd now be increasing their Arsenal s'more with this.


Salvaging relations

A declaration of the deterioration of foreign relations between Carriebean and the Blue Republican Government of Aimesland

ALIENATED by the feeling of increased belligerence on behalf of the Aimeslandish Government owing to recent affairs:
DISTURBED by the Aimeslandish radical liberal spirit in their national country, and feeling threatened by their vows for illegal international abolition, which shall harm the lower markets of the Carriebeanian Slave Trade:
ALARMED at the deterioration of relations between the Carriebeanian ally and co-belligerent of Nihon with the Blue Republican Government of Aimesland:
Hear by calls not only a Jihad, but a Secular war on the government and the people of the Blue Republican Government of Aimesland:
This message has been instructed by his majesty government to be delivered by Carriebeanian Ambassador to Aimesland Hugo Fatson McDonald on the First of February in the Year of our Most-Sacred Allah 1935.

In which the Aimeslandish gov't sent an Apology to the Carribeanian gov't

Code: Select all
To the Newne Carribean:

We'd very-much like to apologize for recent relations. While you hold an insufferable Subjugation ideology, we do not wish to harm relations, for we find many commonalities.

We can agree on many a thing, an example of this being that we both mutually-desire the elimination of Communism-Socialism, but except Slavery - which is where us Aimeslandish people draw The Line.

But, that doesn't mean that we have to be enemies and start acting Rash, like those warmongering Nihonese, or those smacktalking Manticorans.

We can do better.

We will do better.
Last edited by HypErcApitAl on Fri Jul 24, 2020 4:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
Kehrernesia wrote:
"Hypercapital's greatest wish would be for others to stop thinking of them (Hypercapital) as too "edgy" and for said other persons to get to truly know and appreciate the depth of Hypercapital's lore."

"Peace is a lie." ~ Sith Code (excerpt)

Classical Liberal (ClaLib), Proud stan of Kim Jong Un's sis, Kanye West 2024, Vermin Supreme (whenever)

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Postby HypErcApitAl » Fri Jul 24, 2020 4:27 am


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)


Cops patrolled the streets of Ambercity, Chamberlain (The Capitol), and the other Inner Cities, Cities and Big Cities in Aimesland, making sure everyone followed the State of Emergency-Mandated curfew. They possessed six-shooters, staffs and were dressed mainly in White or in Brown, not arousing Suspicion but also because the average cop wore a tophat and trenchcoat, along with his boots - all Brown.

Other cops had weird hats and jackets with medals on 'em - the Bobbies, or Constable Protectorate as they were officially called.

Both enforcers of the Law were very fast hands - Quickdraws, and very fast spinsters with their staffs.

Not just fast, but also good detectors, detectives, and analysts - as one had to be in a Republic that never slept.

Being an Armed Republic, it was odd that they had police - being staunch supporters of Vigilantism and Selfpolicing/Mentalism, though they were still needed to make-sure things didn't get slippery and slippy. The Longarm of the Law, protecting since not everyone wanted to own a Firearm or Blade, though it was smoked in Aimeslandish Culture to do so. It was the Right. It was Just and Honorable, Fair.

No need to stick your nose in anyones' business or fear your stores being panhandled or robbed when everyone had a Big Iron on their hips.

Everyone had a Right to Safety. A right to keep the Government from infringing and intruding on the laymans' business. A Right to Protection, that kept the Gov't where it should be - out of peoples' faces.

A government should be Just, and fear their Citizens.

A Government had to be rightly - had to be Civil and Peaceful.

A good citizen was an armed citizen. A smart, woke citizen that knew their Rights and Laws. A citizen that stood up for his Country. A statesman, patriot, Nationalist.

Cops are the Middleman between The People and the Gov't; made to debomb/undetonate situations before they got too explosive and violent, or investigate situations - solve Mysteries and stuff.

(Too trivial for the Gov't; too hardscrabble for the People to solve, therefore the Cops had to solve all those cases.)

Aimesland will never be a Police State or be Militaristic-Fascist/Military Junta.

Legalism was good, in some cases, but sometimes the Law could be used to commit Crime, or overextending.

The Aimeslandish philosophy was; "A Bad Law is no 'Law' atall."

Too many checks-and-balances for a Tyrant to takeover, though the Aimeslandish could never be too sure - that was the case with the infiltrators/Grifters/lobbyists to the Centre, and the Anti-Sword traitors; their supposed "Bill/Paper" that flunked The Senate and made everyone unanimously vote "No" in a Plebiscite.

It made no sense as to how/why Nihonland used Sprout Winstons' Filibuster/Rally as fodder to make a justification for War, but...

Very easily, Sprout was a cheerleader. She is a very-good speaker; she just-so-happens to speak off-the-Cuff alot and shoot from the Hip.

'Tis was the Aimeslandish way-of-speaking to be very informal and hypercasual, but now, the Nihonese got so paranoid and senile that they thought Sprout's words were calls-to-War.


Sprout has more personality than the Nihonese Diet and the Manticoran PM combined!

If it's stupid that she talks like that, then it's racist that Nihonland placed those ships in Aimeslandish Waters (not the True/Actual Waters btw, but still, to prove points), and then declared war.

Aimesland's very-liberal.

It's insane to come-after a hyperlaissez-faire people - Might as well kick a cat in the face.

"Well, we have a saying for that; 'Don't do the Crime if you don't want to do the Time.' " ~ Paraphrased from President Sprout Winston.


(Picture of The Most Esteemed Sprout Winston, POTBRA, colourized)

(Aimesland's National Animal, and delicacy, the Coiled Snake)

Effective immediately, the Exec. Order was to make ( the War Anthem to Aimesland.

Another historical first for Aimesland! Chalk that one up on the board!


Aimesland went awhile without having a Coat-of-Arms, but now was the time that they grab one.

The twelve main industries/pursuits of Aimeslandia:

  • Trains
  • Sciences
  • Foodstuffs
  • Butchery
  • Clothing
  • Fashion
  • Hunting
  • Fishing
  • Construction
  • Homestead (Housing)
  • Factory work
  • Business(es)

The avian creature represented The Capitol (Chamberlain) and all of those arrows symbolized the Armed Republic.
Kehrernesia wrote:
"Hypercapital's greatest wish would be for others to stop thinking of them (Hypercapital) as too "edgy" and for said other persons to get to truly know and appreciate the depth of Hypercapital's lore."

"Peace is a lie." ~ Sith Code (excerpt)

Classical Liberal (ClaLib), Proud stan of Kim Jong Un's sis, Kanye West 2024, Vermin Supreme (whenever)

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The Imperial Warglorian Empire
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Imperial Warglorian Empire » Fri Jul 24, 2020 10:08 am

To: All Nations
From: Reichsministry of Foreign Affairs, Oberkommando der Wehrmacht
Encryption: Public

To the national governments of the world,
I am Jack Churchill, Oberstgruppenführer of the SG Foreign Legions, writing to you on behalf of Oberkommando der Wehrmacht and the Warglorian Reichsministry for War with an offer that could prove very beneficial to both your nation and Wargloria.

Many of your nations have those that would be considered the dregs of your societies: whether they be the unemployed, the petty criminal, the "inferior" race, etc, all of them have something in common, they are what you consider burdens on your society and those you'd rather not have in your nation at all.

Some of you might utilise prison camps or even straight up execution, however, we in the Reich offer a much more productive solution. The Schwarze-Gewahlt Foreign Legions are an elite fighting force within the Warglorian Wehrmacht, made up of peoples coming from outside the Reich yet all trained in the arts of war in order to fight for the Reich. Yet what may seem most appealing to you is that we accept foreigners no matter the background: whether a member of the aforementioned unemployed, petty criminal, "inferior" race or more, whether old or young, male or female, the Foreign Legion will accept most recruits.

Which is why we would like to ask your government's permission to establish Foreign Legion Recruitment Offices within your nation's cities. In this way, your nation's governments can help send towards them those dregs of society that are undesired. If you accept, this could prove beneficial for both of our nations: you get rid of all those you find detrimental and undesirable, and the Reich gets new source of manpower to which to operate her war machine. We even accept prisoners: and will even pay for the finer specimens if you ever send any to the Reich.

Rest assured, there will be no breach of security considering the Recruitment Offices. Any new recruits, whether "volunteered" or sold from prison stock, will immediately be sent to Warglorian operated territories to begin training.

So, we in the Reich ask you to look over, think about, and hopefully accept this highly beneficial deal.

Oberstgruppenführer Jack Churchill
On behalf of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht

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✠ (Put this in your Signature if you are a Militaristic Germanic/Prussian Nation!)
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Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Fri Jul 24, 2020 7:39 pm

Gokyo, Nihon
Imperial General Staff Headquarters
January 25, 1935

General Terauchi sat at his desk, polishing his sword, staring outside the window at the cold streets of Nihon as he did so. He was a general, he could have done anyone do it for him, but the sword had been in his family since the 1600s and he took to caring for it personally.

As he cleaned it with a cloth, breaking the sword down by removing the handle he felt the cold steel, he thought about how many battles the sword had been though. Just as he had finished reconstructing it an aide knocked on his door.


The man came into the room, a young lieutenant. "Sir! General Kan'in wants to see you."

"Again!? Damn for Yamashita wanting changes to our war plan. We are going to win, why does he want all these unnecessary things? Do you think we need a paratrooper unit?"

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes sir Major General Yamashita says..."

"I don't care what Yamashita says, he is a fool. I don't know how he got promoted. Tell General Kan'in I will be there in a minute."

"Yer sir!" The man saluted and left. As the door closed, Terauchi slid back down into his seat. "Dammit!" he said to himself. "We keep changing our plans and now the navy is in charge of the invasion." he muttered as he straightened his uniform, checked himself in the mirror, and slid his sword into his belt.

He walked across the hall, occasionally saluting to the passerby commander before he reached the planning room. He bowed as he entered to hear Yamashita speaking.

"Gentlemen, it is foolish for us to not be mobilizing more men! Aimesland is the great testing ground for our army. This is our chance to evolve our tactics!"

Terauchi found his seat and immediately spoke. "Why should we need to evolve if we are facing a backwards nation? Give me a division and 10,000 bamboo spears and I will destroy the entire Aimeslandish Eastern Army!"

Several men in the room chuckled but Yamashita frowned. "We need to prepare in the event that the Aimeslandish receive outside support. I propose in addition to the Warglorian trained divisions, we train another 20 Type A divisions and 5 more Field Kenpeitai units to keep order as we occupy." thundered Major General Yamashita.

It was now Terauchi's turn to frown. "Do we really need to waste that much money? We also don't want to force Manticore or one of our traditional adversaries to mobilize as well."

Yamashita pointed to the map "Look how far away Aimesland is. Do you want to win this war? We need to order more tanks from Wargloria. In this war I propose we streamline the air arm, work to mechanize the Army, and to create a paratrooper corps. This could be a good chance for us to experiment and implement this so we are ready to fight our northern adversaries."

Major General Tojo shook his head. "We need more Kenpeitai yes, we need more men yes, we need to streamline our air service yes, but mechanization and paratroopers are not needed in this war. We face an inferior enemy, and we cannot afford to waste funding on silly projects." Terauchi nodded in agreement.

Yamashita countered, "We are trying to prepare if a foreign power gets involved. Look at Europa, they have mechanized units. If we train paratroopers, we will utilize our advantages over the Aimeslandish and it could help us advance quicker!"

Tojo pointed to the map. "We are too far away to utilize paratroopers effectively for a while. The Navy's SNLF has paratroopers and that is sufficient. Mechanization is too costly. While we need to improve our equipment, as we are doing buy purchasing or producing Warglorian technology, we do not need mechanization."

Chief of Staff General Kan'in shook his head in agreement. "We will be using the Warglorian trained divisions and have them outfitted with top of the line equipment. There is no need to mechanize or train paratroopers yet. We need to focus on training new men and putting them on the front, that is all."

"Sir do we really need more divisions? We just deployed 8 divisions earlier this morning and they are already a lot to maintain. It is taking 101 Otsu-Class Landing Craft Carriers, 105 Ko-Type Landing Craft Carriers, 100 No 101 Class Landing Ships, 150 No 103 Class Landing Ships, and 8 Cargo Ships to send all the men and enough supplies. If the enemy actually had subs, we would be in trouble. Thankfully we have the 3rd Fleet escorting them, but the logistics are crazy. We are sending 233,200 men from 6 Special Naval Landing Forces divisions and 2 Type A Divisions from the Kwangtung Army. We have packed aboard their ships and the other transports 160 Type 95 Light Tanks, 384 Type 89 Medium Tanks, and dozens of armored cars. On the No 101 and No 103 Class Landing Ships, they are carrying with them 65,000 tons of supplies. The 8 cargo ships are carrying around 80,000 tons of supplies! All this, and we estimate this will only be enough to last the 8 divisions a little over 16 days of heavy fighting!"

"That is not all, we have to send a equal convoy of supplies in 15 days! This war is expensive enough, how are we supposed to send 20 divisions?" said General Terauchi.

Kan'in nodded. "Do not worry, it will get to a point were the fighting slows down and we will not have to send so much supplies. Hoosier is sending 10 divisions so we will be fine in Aimesland for now. We only need the new divisions to prepare for the worst. Do not worry."

The meeting continued on but the main things were achieved.

The Imperial Nihonese Army has made a call for the creation of 20 new Type A Divisions and 5 Field Kenpeitai Units in addition to the 17 Type A divisions that had been trained under Wargloria and served in Traansval and Rannoria. Together, it would add up to 1,157,800 men called for service, with the 17 Warglorian trained divisions being ready for deployment in 1 week and 6 days. Several divisions were equipped with weapons they were familiar with from their time in the Warglorian Armed forces, SLR 33 rifles, new Panzer IIIs, and Pak 34 Anti-tank guns, all purchased from Wargloria.

Meanwhile the navy had issued a call for 7,400 new sailors and support troops to take control of the older Type-1 U-Kreuzers purchased from Wargloria. However many of these men would not actually serve on the ships, rather them taking the places of other experienced personnel.

Fuji Training Area
January 29, 1935

Private Sezuo Ishii pulled back the bolt of his SLR 33 chambering a round into the rifle before pulling the trigger. He emptied the magazine on a target 300 yards down range before walking back over to the other men of his unit who had stood watching. "This new gun is very good!" he exclaimed. "It is much better than the Type 38 we trained with."

The sergeant nodded. "I heard High Command plans to outfit us all with Warglorian tanks too! Rumor is we are getting these new guns so we can deploy to Aimesland."

"Ha that's a joke!" cried another man. "Aimesland is a piece of cake, our men up there will have finished before we are even deployed."

Sergeant Fushimi shook his head. "We wouldn't have been mobilized if we weren't needed. Last time I was mobilized we went and fought in the Carriebean."

"We wouldn't be getting this new equipment if we weren't going to have to fight would we?" asked Ishii.

Fushimi nodded. "I don't know what High Command is doing. They are so divided among their factions. The Toseiha want to maximize Nihon's industrial and military capacity to be ready for total war while the Kodoha want a cautious northern expansion. With all this war you would think the Toseiha and Kodoha would be more united."

"No, I heard just yesterday General Terauchi and Major General Yamashita had a squabble in the Diet over the 600 million Yen Emergency Funding bill. Yamashita wants funding for his paratroopers and Terauchi wants the Army to stay how it is. I don't worry about it, it always gets resolved eventually. Let's just go see the new Panzer IIIs that just arrived. Come on, I hear they are better than the Type 89s!" Called the Lieutenant.

Message From: The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Empire of Nihon
To: Reichsministry For Foreign Affairs and Oberkommando der Wehrmacht
Encryption: Medium

The Empire of Nihon and its military would like to order 1,440 new Panzer III tanks as we seek to expand our forces in order to wage this war.

On an unrelated note, the Empire of Nihon is happy to accept the deal to create Schwarze-Gewahlt Foreign Legion Recruitment Offices in Nihon. said office can be placed in your zone in Hokkaido or in Gokyo.

Minister of Foreign Affairs Baron Kujiro Shidehara

50 Miles off the Coast of Aimesland
Combined Fleet
Early Morning February 1, 1935

Co Write Nihon and Aimesland

It had been eight days since Nihon had been viciously attacked by Aimeslandish forces unprovoked, and only seven days since the Imperial Diet had declared war. The Combined Fleet, now sailed to meet the Aimeslandish Naval Forces and their duty was to completely destroy enemy forces.

The enemy was rather inferior in numbers and in their technology, and it was assumed a victory could be achieved through the use of superior ranged guns, better planes, and more modern ships.

Already the majority of the 6th Fleet had broken off and now sat 75 miles from the Aimeslandish coast, with the intentions of providing reconnaissance for the rest of the fleet with their carrier planes. Only one light carrier remained with the rest of the fleet as the 6th Fleet ordered half of its bombers to load for ground attacks while the other half loaded with anti-ship weapons.

As of now the fleets were divided. The Combined Fleet now consisted of 48 Battleships, 6 Battlecruisers, 1 Light Carrier, 2 Seaplane Tenders, 11 Heavy Cruisers, 22 Light Cruisers, 3 Protected Cruisers, 120 Destroyers, 20 Torpedo Boats, 6 Minesweepers, 16 Minelayers, and 12 Submarines. The other 40 Submarines and Submarine Aircraft Carriers had broken off to launch attacks on Aimeslandish merchant shipping in the area, to surround the coast of the nation.

The 6th Fleet now consisted of 2 Battleships, 3 Fleet Carriers, 3 Light Carriers, 1 Amphibious Assault Ship, 4 Heavy Cruisers, 5 Light Cruisers, 1 Armored Cruiser, 40 Destroyers, 1 Submarine Chaser, 4 Minesweepers, 6 Submarine Tenders, and 5 Submarines.

In the air over and around the Combined Fleet flew 60 Recon Aircraft, 10 Flying Boats, and 86 Fighters all armed and ready.

Over the 6th Fleet flew 57 Fighters and 15 Recon Aircraft accompanied by dozens of recon planes from their escorts. On the decks of the carriers, bombers now sat ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

The Combined Fleet led by the 1st Fleet now were on high alert, with escorts surrounding the capital ships protecting them from attack. Leading them was Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet, Vice Admiral Sankichi. He watched from his bridge waiting to spot the Aimeslandish Fleet. So far things were quiet, but he waited as he neared the coast, all the men ready at their battle stations, ships all in formation.

It came at a cost, but the Waterenforcers decided to scuttle the ships - burning them down and fleeing into smaller Paddleboats. Now, the Nihonese would’ve been surprised by this movement - as the ships cost a lot of Aimeslandish Chi, but it wasn’t really that surprising considering the Aimeslandish’s knack for Sacrifice.

Aboard the Susanoo, Vice Admiral Sankichi saluted an aide who delivered a report.

“Sir, we have just received a report from the reconnaissance plane from the Hosho. The Aimeslandish have scuttled their ships and are fleeing aboard lifeboats.”

Sankichi nodded. He looked to the captain. “This could be a trap.”

Captain Sato shook his head. “Sir we have known for a long time how inferior the Aimeslandish fleet is, they are cowards, they are retreating and we must seize upon the opportunity.”

Sankichi gave a grim grin. “I did not expect things to be this easy. Have the fleet continue with caution. Their lifeboats are valid targets, they contain sailors of the enemy fleet. Have a squadron of destroyers rush ahead and see if they can capture or kill anyone fleeing on the smaller boats.”

He paused. “Have our fighters and recon planes strafe the boats. Send orders to the 6th Fleet to launch all bombers escorted armed for ground attack. They know the targets. Planes in the air are priority targets, otherwise target enemy ground forces and infrastructure. When we get in range, begin a bombardment.”

Aboard the carriers, 55 dive bombers took off, armed with HE munitions, and under escort of 90 fighters, tasked with bombing enemy sailors trying to escape, and other military targets such as fortifications, ports, batteries, fuel storages, and other assigned objectives.

Within the hour, the battle fleet was in range of enemy shores, and Vice Admiral Sankichi gave the order to fire. A loud thunder of all 548 guns aboard the 54 different capital ships boomed across the otherwise silent sea as within a minute, around 1,644 shells impacted around the different targets, sending Aimeslandish sailors and soldiers trying to escape the beaches to their graves. The battleships continued to fire at any military targets, merchant ships, docks, and fortifications as planes buzzed overhead working to gain air superiority.

Aimeslandish ‘Yellow barons’ whizzed around and fired at the Nihoneses’ aircraft, utilizing their Finesse and Nimbleness to get where no one else would. And, ofcourse, the Blimpforce serving as Reconnaissance or “Sky Dogs.”

Waterenforcer Springleaf sighed.

“They had us at the First Half. But...we’ll continue to march Onward, even if they destroyed our Defensive Ships.” He said.
“Whoo! Bang-bang! Kill them all!” An overambitious pilot under the codename “Warpath” shouted in his Cockpit.

“And… smooth sailin.’ “ Ambrey, a Redstripe, and very shy female pilot reported.

She had a codename, ofcourse, though she hated hers. Why was she “Powerglide” when everyone else had cool and flashy aliases?

It had also looked like the Nihonese had forgot about the Seaplanes, not as nimble as their cousins-in-arms in the Airforce or Blimp Force, but still something to think about.

Captain Genda scoffed as he led his fighter squadron towards Aimesland. He thought ‘They still use zeppelin? What fools’

As he watched the Aimeslandish Air Force approach, he motioned for his fighters to ready themselves in battle formation. He smiled, as he thought ‘These pilots are new, they have never seen combat.’

He knew his men had superior training and were flying better planes. The Nakajima A2N with its max speed of 182 mph, its impressive range, and its superior service ceiling would be able to fly circles around the Aimeslandish.

His men knew what to do, and they would show no mercy. Their job was to stay in formation and protect the dive bombers, however the Aichi D1As were faster than the A2Ns once they dropped their bombs, so it would not be a worry.

The 90 fighters and 55 Dive bombers presumably outnumbered whatever the Aimeslandish could send at them, and the zeppelin would make very easy targets for the fast fighters.

If the Aimeslandish dared to attack the Nihonese Fleet via air, they would have to face off against 53 fighters protecting the fleet and thousands of Anti-Aircraft Batteries.

It was too extreme a chance, attacking the Fleet. But, the Airwarriors had to think-up a strategy to keep the Nihonese at-bay.

Maybe Swarm tactics?

The High Command continued to think, still stubborn in surviving the Nihonese Spectre.

While the Aimeslandish commanders were indecisive, the Imperial Nihonese Navy Air Force was not. Dive bombers attacked fuel storage tanks, military buildings, and the local Aimeslandish airbase, attacking fighters and bombers while they still sat on the ground, vulnerable with ammunition and fuel laying about. The bombers were rather accurate and successful, destroying hostile forces before they could even make it off the runway as they made their dive bombing runs. Aboard the carriers, a second wave was readied, and would soon be deployed after the fighters and dive bombers returned.

Captain Genda personally scored several kills of the Aimeslandish “blimps” as fighters protected the bombers and dealt casualties to the technologically inferior force. He smiled as he maneuvered his fighter shooting down a hostile plane. And as soon as it had begun, the air raid was over. The planes had sustained some light casualties, but would now return to the carriers to rearm and refuel. The fighters would be getting priority.

Genda raced back to the carrier, and circling overhead, he landed gracefully, watching as others did the same. He smiled, victory was inevitable and within half an hour the second wave would be ready.

Meanwhile the shore bombardment had ceased after half a hour and now only consisted of cruisers and battleships firing occasionally at ships. Fighters over the fleet protected the ships from attack as crews remained at the ready. It seemed things were going well for Nihon.

The Aimeslandish Airwarriors were mortified.

“I can’t believe they took down our Zeppelins like that.” Airwarrior Arlington said.

“It baffles me. They’re moving at Lightning-speed.” The man continued.

“So, apparently, we’re going to use Swarm tactics, and also get more Reinforcements. We’re not going to allow the Nihonese to just take over like that.” Airwarrior Thompson said.

“Yeah. Look at the Water. Their ships are gone. We can just send more planes at ‘em.” Waterenforcer Springleaf responded.

“I haven’t heard from Warpath, hopefully he’s not MIA.” Airwarrior Harriet Newman told.

“Maybe. The Nihonese move too damn fast. They could’ve swooped in and killed him before he even noticed. And, they even bombed our Seamen. What a damn shame.” Thompson responded.

“What a mess. Their generals are killing our Blimpforce.” Commander-in-Chief and President Winston said, from a highchair.

She was tall, though still felt like sitting higher than the other men-and-women in the room.

“This is a hot mess.” She regarded.

“Sirs, I made it.” Powerglide reported.

“Wow.” Sprout replied, amazed.

“Atleast she’s still here.” Arlington remarked.

“A good chunk of my Barons, dead. My navy, or atleast, the ships, dead. Now what?” Winston asked.

“Sir, we’re trying our best. We can lead and strategize all day, but those planes are nothing we’ve seen before.” One of the Landenforcers replied.

“Well, shit. That’s because we’ve never gone to war since the Anarchic days. We’ve never seen anything before.” Sprout facepalmed.

“Fair point.” Springleaf admitted.

“The only regret I have is the Navy. But my predecessors should’ve updated ‘em.” Sprout commented.

“Well, who knew the warmongering Nihonese were gonna start with us?” Springleaf replied.

“No one. But at least they declared war, instead of continuing on the course of being Coward.” Sprout said.

“Honestly, I kinda wanted to declare War first. Y’know, ‘War-on-Terror,’ and all that.” She added.

“I thought we bought from the Fascists.” Harriet asked.

“We did. I didn’t buy planes from them, though.” Sprout replied.

“I’m going to miss Warpath so much. I liked fighting alongside him.” Powerglide cried.

“He was all like: ‘Wham! Bam! Thank-you Ma’am! Ka-blow!’ and making onomatopoeia and gunshots with his mouth, all the time. I’m gonna miss that.” She continued.

The Aimeslandish Airforce then proceeded to use Swarm tactics, and also firing on the cruisers and battleships that still remained.

The Airwarriors called-in more reinforcements for both the Airforce and Blimpforce, determined and ever-focused on the Skies, and continuing the Aerial Domination of them.

The Nihonese control in the air was solid after heavily bombing the enemy airbase. It would take far too long for hostile forces to arrive in a timely manner, and the Aimeslandish foolishly mounted an attack on the highly protected fleet, which was secured with not only 53 fighters, but hundreds of Anti-Aircraft Guns. When any hostile aircraft neared the fleet, fighters and thousands of rounds from AA guns immediately engaged, shooting down enemy resistance. Nihonese numerical superiority in the area was high as the second wave of over 300 planes bombed enemy positions, laying waste to the local area’s defenses and airbase.

The battle would soon be over, the objectives achieved. Secure air superiority over the immediate area, and destroy the entire Aimeslandish Fleet. Casualties would be counted, but it was well known Nihon would field the favorable kill ratio due to technological, numerical, and strategic superiority.

Over the coming days, Nihonese force would be ordered to heavily mine the Northwestern regions, and continuously patrol the coast alongside Hoosier allies. Vice Admiral Sankichi smiled as he chuckled with Captain Sato. “That was much easier than I had expected. They sunk their own fleet! An amazing propaganda victory.”

Sato nodded. “Sir, we will all get medals for this.”

Sankichi soon became sombered and said, “Well this is not yet over. Have or minesweepers launch a full sweep and have our minelayers deploy to the Northwest. I hear the Confederates are coming and we will make it hard for them. Our scout planes say the enemy has retreated correct?”

“Yes sir, they have fallen back 15 miles.”

“Perfect. They are still in range of our guns and carrier planes. Have our bombers resume strikes on their forces and have our fighters and seaplanes continue their regular patrols. We have our Amphibious Assault Ship with us, why don’t we land?”

Sato considered for a minute. “We can land within an hour, 2,000 Special Naval Landing Forces men should outnumber anything the Aimeslandish have there. They will advance only 10 miles and with naval and air support, they should be relatively safe. We have enough supplies and the larger force should be arriving soon. The men could even save some of our downed aviators.”

Sankichi nodded.

After an hour and small bursts of shelling, under full air support a wave of 1,000 SNLF marines landed on the beaches, rushing up the bluffs. In another half hour came the other 1,000 marines, bringing with them some of the more heavier equipment.

By the end of the day the force had seized the port facilities and the “small” marine force had only encountered light resistance. They had even managed to land a sizable amount of tanks and other armor by the end of the day to help provide the force with armored support. While haphazard, this force was an elite fighting unit and ready to defend any attack on it, supported by the full force of the navy and carrier fleet. Nihon was in a good position for the full assault, and sure enough, the nation would be victorious.

At the end of the day the casualties were rather disproportionate. By Imperial Nihonese Navy estimates, the Aimeslandish had suffered around 10,000 casualties compared to Nihon's 500. The entire Aimeslandish Fleet had been sunk, their airbase destroyed, and their docks and immediate areas captured. Their air force had lost nearly 360 planes, having been destroyed while on the ground with Nihon only having lost a little over a dozen.

The reaction in Nihon was great, with military and political leadership applauding the Navy's victory and already high morale among the populace skyrocketing. It was hoped this would only continue, and with 8 divisions in the way, they were sure it would.

State of the Nihonese Advance:
Last edited by TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON on Sun Aug 02, 2020 4:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
A proud Conservative.
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Postby HypErcApitAl » Sat Jul 25, 2020 12:10 am

To: All Nations
From: Reichsministry of Foreign Affairs, Oberkommando der Wehrmacht
Encryption: Public

To the national governments of the world,
I am Jack Churchill, Oberstgruppenführer of the SG Foreign Legions, writing to you on behalf of Oberkommando der Wehrmacht and the Warglorian Reichsministry for War with an offer that could prove very beneficial to both your nation and Wargloria.

Many of your nations have those that would be considered the dregs of your societies: whether they be the unemployed, the petty criminal, the "inferior" race, etc, all of them have something in common, they are what you consider burdens on your society and those you'd rather not have in your nation at all.

Some of you might utilise prison camps or even straight up execution, however, we in the Reich offer a much more productive solution. The Schwarze-Gewahlt Foreign Legions are an elite fighting force within the Warglorian Wehrmacht, made up of peoples coming from outside the Reich yet all trained in the arts of war in order to fight for the Reich. Yet what may seem most appealing to you is that we accept foreigners no matter the background: whether a member of the aforementioned unemployed, petty criminal, "inferior" race or more, whether old or young, male or female, the Foreign Legion will accept most recruits.

Which is why we would like to ask your government's permission to establish Foreign Legion Recruitment Offices within your nation's cities. In this way, your nation's governments can help send towards them those dregs of society that are undesired. If you accept, this could prove beneficial for both of our nations: you get rid of all those you find detrimental and undesirable, and the Reich gets new source of manpower to which to operate her war machine. We even accept prisoners: and will even pay for the finer specimens if you ever send any to the Reich.

Rest assured, there will be no breach of security considering the Recruitment Offices. Any new recruits, whether "volunteered" or sold from prison stock, will immediately be sent to Warglorian operated territories to begin training.

So, we in the Reich ask you to look over, think about, and hopefully accept this highly beneficial deal.

Oberstgruppenführer Jack Churchill
On behalf of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht



BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

Code: Select all
To Wargloria:

That sounds like a good idea; perhaps we can use this opportunity for joint-training exercises? Your gear is so good, and we think that you may also have some wisdom to impart on us.

And we will do likewise ~ Our grand, enlightened culture shall boost-up your culture, mutually-helping both sides against the Barbarians.
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Classical Liberal (ClaLib), Proud stan of Kim Jong Un's sis, Kanye West 2024, Vermin Supreme (whenever)

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Postby HypErcApitAl » Sat Jul 25, 2020 4:28 pm


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

Later that day; 26th Congress in Session
Capitol of the Confederation, Combined Chambers

The first thing on the docket today was of course, the War-in-Terra. Aimesland had gotten declared war on by Nihon over a few destroyers, and it would've been likely that other declarations of war were soon to follow thanks to the former's aggressive rhetoric against the monarchies that ruled the majority of the world. If this war had occurred decades ago in an age of the Confederacy where blood ran hot and anti-monarchist rhetoric was strong, the Confederacy would ensure that an intervention on the side of the Aimeslandish would occur and everything being poured into their defense, regardless of distance or logistical costs. But that was decades ago, and now the blood had cooled, more reasonable voices had arisen. But with that wave-of-Reason came the Pragmatists, especially a certain senator and his Circle of Yes-men and the Convinced. As for himself, well. Hiramson couldn't really argue with what the senator was saying, "Quite the realpolitik politician, that Senator Armstrong." he couldn't help but mutter inwardly, "Man's got his alright-rhetoric, some things leave a bit to be desired though." And as for said senator...


Colourized picture of Senator Steven Armstrong giving a
speech at a recently opened factory, 1931

"I've been telling you all, this war in Terra is going to be beneficial for this Confederation, both short and long term!" a slammed fist on his table, and raised finger as to accentuate his speaking; already were there senators and representatives saying "hear, hear", and some saying to get him out of here, "We're not just gonna get ourselves out of this damned economic plateau and slash unemployment rates with the jobs we'll make, we'll be able to help in knocking those damn imperialist Nihonese scum down a peg!" It seemed as if the senator had convinced more people, the sounds of "hear, hear" were getting louder at the expense of the naysayers. He slammed both hands onto his table, and looked straight towards President Galen. "Mr. President, I ask that you end this lethargy of self-imposed isolation and let the flag of liberty fly once more!"

The room erupted into clapping and loud voices saying "end this lethargy/isolation". It quickly quieted down when the President raised his hand, and leaned forward. " Very well Mr. Armstrong, I suppose we could send some aid to Aimesland in the form of selling them military supplies," he quickly told them, "As strange as their ideologies are, they are still a brother republic of ours. And we help our brethren." He sat back down and glanced at the senator. "Mr. Armstrong, I see that you have multiple papers on your table; I assume you have been writing the draft, or better yet, the full text for this deal?" To this the bulky senator nodded. He adjusted his glassed before taking the topmost paper on the pile, "That is correct Mr. President, and if I may, allow me to say it out for the rest of this august assembly to hear?" he got a nod, which in turn made him nod briefly as well, "Very well..." He quickly cleared his throat.

It was more or less the selling of outdated rifles, pistols, artillery pieces; every outdated piece of military technology the Confederacy infact, to the Blue Republic of Aimesland, as well as selling them the remainder of January and all of February's worth of production used on these items, which included ammunition and other things needed to run the equipment, save for the men of course, that was on them. The senator had worded it well though, seemingly implying that it was a purge of outdated military equipment within the Armedforces of the Confederacy, and making it sound nice to the pocketing bigwig senators and representatives inside the Combined Chambers. At the end of Armstrong's modest oratory, the room was filled with the sound of clapping. "Very well said senator." That would be all the remark he'll give to the man.

It would be signed into Law and would cost the Aimeslandish some 100 to 140 million Chi. A productive day for the Confederacy.

The President's Speech to the Nation at the Resolute Desk; "Strong-and-Stable"

"Ladies-and-Gentlemen, Boys-and-girls. I know all-'a y'all are tired, but we'll make it. We'll keep on. In all the Power invested in me, I will make sure that this Republic is Strong-and-Stable, that we continue to be deeprooted. That our Liberal ways never die-out, never Perish. I believe that Only The Strongest Shall Survive, and that Freedom Is The Right of All Sentient Beings.

We have to remain Strong. We have to remain Free.

Like my friend Jared Springfield noted; "They hate us, 'cause they ain't us; Haters gotta hate."

I know all of my Senators are counting on me, counting on me to Do The Right Thing, and I swear, that that's what I'm doing. I'm putting my All into combatting Terrorism. Into making sure that each and every man, woman and child grows-up in a Safe Environment; one without Slavery or Cowardice.

And, one most-definitely without Warmongers.

Our Enemies have no Precision, no Tenacity - their spirits can easily be Broken. But not us. Not the Aimeslandish. We are a proud and nimble folk. We don't play around. The Manticorans are Bullshitters, but you can't bullshit a Bullshit Artist. I've seen this, myself. You know the Rules, and so do I. We know that their 'empires' will crumble, and that my Manticoran Counterpart is naive.

We must Discombobulate.

Aimesland will remain Strong-and-Stable, at all costs. We will continue fighting. We will never Surrender - infact, it'll be the Warmongering Nihonese that fall.

The animals that fall, and get farmed en masse.

This will prove that Theocracy, Theocratic Warfare and all Spiritual Principles are foolish - that we are One Technocratic Republic, establishing Peace-and-Security for all of Wonderwall, or Terra, or Westeros, or whatever you may want to call this Continent. All Wonderwallers will live happily, and be sustained under Technocratic Thought. Under not just The Capitol, but in every Aimeslandish that takes-up the Sword, Spear and Axe and keeps-on Fighting.

And that's why Imma metaphorically turn the clock forward by an hour - so that we may never be Late. To be Late is to be Foolish, and I know we know Better.

Their School Systems are so barbaric, they punish the Late. They punish those that're eating and straightening their Hair, but we'll never do that barbaric shit here. We will make it on-time, as an allegory for how Aimesland is speedy and Fast and that we're Accelerationists.

Academia is supposed to rule Democratically, not Tyrannically. Have you ever been in a Class with a teacher that taught like a Dictator, that never allowed you to ask questions or raise-up your Hand? I know I have - like three times, but still.

I've seen shit. I've seen things that'll make y'alls' heads spin furiously and ferociously.

I run the Country like this is School, 'cause this essentially is. It's a College State. We applaud Education and Learning and readin' books. Not reading your Lunch and eating your books - like a dummy. Like one of those girls that didn't know how to Dress.

But that's beside the point.

The point is; Strong-and-Stable. Making this country last Forever, and fighting Terrorism. Not being like the Warmongering Nihonese or the Smacktalking Manticorans.

I believe in y'all. I know we can do this. I know that Aimeslandia will stand strong, that Aimeslandia Advances.

Recently, we've spent so much money, it'll make your head spin. It's making the Treasurys' head spin tryna figure out this shit, right now. We're the best at spending money. No one can spend money like we can - Believe me. Personally, I had to open-up my coinpurse and spend so much Chi on dresses and saxophone reeds, it's crazy.

But yeah. Me being a Goth has saved this country - proving that the Quiet Ones are powerful. Well, also the Semi-Quiet, too. I transformed this country into a Gothic Republic. Now, we made so many forms of Republicanism, it'll make your head spin. No one can touch us; no one got nothin' on Us. - like really, what in the heck do they think they're doin'? They think they're so superior - their complexes are Through The Roof. It's insane, man - but that's what being President is, living and coping with Insanity whilst keeping your (c)ountry Strong-and-Stable.

Taking all the ideas from The People, and buildin' 'em up, reinforcin' 'em. Making y'all stronger. Keeping the Snake well-fed, like that time you had to care for the Class Pet.

But I'm getting besides myself again.

We've made so much progress, not just This Week, but also Today. Being Progressives has most-certainly saved this Country, and the Aimeslandish People. It made us Strong-and-Stable. And that's all you can need. All you can hope for, is Stability and Strength.

At the end-of-the-day, nothing really matters. You learned the same curriculums and Lesson Plans, agendas. You studied and practiced so hard; making A's on your tests and Report Cards. Just being successful, and alotta people are really drawn to Success. It's a good trait, to be Successful, y'know?"
Kehrernesia wrote:
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"Peace is a lie." ~ Sith Code (excerpt)

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The Manticoran Empire
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Founded: Aug 21, 2015

Postby The Manticoran Empire » Sat Jul 25, 2020 7:41 pm

The recent authorization of Armored Divisions led to a review of the Infantry Division, in particular with an emphasis on motorizing the division to keep pace with the Armored Division and to modernize the tank companies. The M1 Medium Tank, with a top speed of 42 kilometers per hour on roads, would quickly outrun the infantry if they weren't in trucks and it was deemed pointless to require a division to find a quartermaster unit when they needed to move. As such, truck companies were added to the division, including one company to provide additional capacity for supplies. The Infantry wanted armored half-tracks but, at present, existing half-tracks weren't reliable enough to meet service requirements. As such, there would be trucks employed in the interim while new half-tracks were developed. The new tables of organization and equipment were published in early February and Fourth Army would be the first one to reorganize and re-equip.

Motorized Division
Division Headquarters: 46 men
Divisional Headquarters Company: 213 men
Divisional Service Regiment Headquarters: 9 men
Military Police Platoon: 73 men
Signals Company: 226 men
Quartermaster Company: 193 men
Quartermaster Truck Company: 111 men
Light Ordnance Maintenance Company: 147 men
Medical Detachment: 16 men
Chaplain: 1 man
Divisional Band: 58 men
Reconnaissance Troop: 155 men
Medical Battalion: 466 men
Engineer Battalion: 664 men
Divisional Artillery Regiment Headquarters: 8 men
Divisional Artillery Regiment Headquarters Battery: 106 men
Chaplain: 2 men
Medical Platoon: 56 men
Artillery Battalion, 155mm: 519 men
Artillery Battalion, 105mm x3: 509 men
Infantry Regiment Headquarters (x3): 8 men
Infantry Regiment Headquarters Company (x3): 100 men
Chaplain (x3): 3 men
Infantry Regiment Cannon Company (x3): 118 men
Infantry Regiment Anti-tank Company (x3): 165 men
Infantry Regiment Service Company (x3): 114 men
Medical Company (x3): 135 men
Infantry Battalion Headquarters (x9): 4 men
Infantry Battalion Headquarters Company (x9): 122 men
Infantry Battalion Rifle Company (x27): 193 men
Infantry Battalion Weapons Company (x9): 166 men
Infantry Battalion Medium Tank Company (x9): 117 men
Quartermaster Troop Transport Company (x9): 111 men
Total Division: 15,282 men
Equipment: 153 M1 medium tanks, 2,074 trucks and cars, 13 M1 armored cars, 3 bulldozers, 12 155mm M1 howitzers, 54 105mm M2 howitzers, 54 81mm M1 mortars, 90 60mm M2 mortars, 57 37mm M1917 anti-tank guns (towed), 221 40mm M1917 anti-tank guns, 236 12.7mm M2 machine guns, 157x 7.62mm M1919 machine guns, 243x 7mm M1913 or 7mm M1 machine guns, 12,959 7mm M1 or 7.62mm M1917 rifles, 1,176 11mm M1911 pistols, 906 11mm M1921 submachine guns, and 10 observation and liaison aircraft.

In the meantime, new armored vehicles were being proposed. A total of three were considered necessary. The first was a half-track truck with enough armor to defend against small arms fire, a turret ring for a machine gun, and space for a full squad of infantry. The second was a half-track truck with enough armor to defend against small arms fire, a turret ring for a machine gun, and space for approximately half an infantry squad, being intended for use by command elements. The last was a wheeled armored car, to be armed with a 37mm anti-tank gun in a turret and armored to survive small arms fire, to be used by cavalry units as a reconnaissance vehicle. Furthermore, all of the vehicles had to at least keep pace with the M1 tank and meet similar reliability standards.
For: Israel, Palestine, Kurdistan, American Nationalism, American citizens of Guam, American Samoa, Puerto Rico, Northern Mariana Islands, and US Virgin Islands receiving a congressional vote and being allowed to vote for president, military, veterans before refugees, guns, pro choice, LGBT marriage, plural marriage, US Constitution, World Peace, Global Unity.

Against: Communism, Socialism, Fascism, Liberalism, Theocracy, Corporatocracy.

By the Blood of our Fathers, By the Blood of our Sons, we fight, we die, we sacrifice for the Good of the Empire.

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Postby Guuj Xaat Kil » Sun Jul 26, 2020 8:54 am

February 2, 1935
Presidential Palace

Desolation, ancestral blade of the Hiramson Family; sheathed.

"Alone in the evening... He's probably busy right now." Lillian thought after completing the last question on the assignment, and alone she was. She looked up from her now completed task with a satisfied sigh, and took a quick look around. "Nothing but a fireplace and living room furniture." she noted with a bored tone; said boredom disappeared when her eyes fell upon a sheathed blade hanging right above the fireplace, she smirked, "And something of interest." She quickly ran out of the room to grab something to help her with grabbing the sword.

Returning with a stool, she quickly stood upon it as leverage to grab the blade from its hanger. Regarding the blade's ornate wooden hanger and the name it had screwed on, she would then hop off the stool to study the sword. "Desolation huh? Fitting." she noted with a small satisfied smile, "Wonder why pa decided to move you out of the attic only a few days ago." She gave the crimson hilt a feel, somewhat surprised by its softness. "Weird, it feels right in my hands for some reason." She gave it a few mock swings, again surprised at the ease at how it was swung. Nodding in satisfaction after the tenth swing, she decided to fully unsheathe it. It came out with a distinct sounding tsching.

"Nice," her eyes widened as an idea formed in her head, placing the sword on the couch, she quickly moved about the rooms near the living room, looking for any of the maids or assistants that would hinder the idea; seeing nobody was near, or near enough to matter, "Time to see how well you cut." And once again the teen ran out of the room with the stool she brought earlier, this time returning with fruits that wouldn't make that much of a stain when sliced, and a taller stool. "We'll try getting our hands on a melon tomorrow," she muttered to herself as she placed an apple on the makeshift platform-stool, "I am Lillian the ninja, and uhh... Hmm." She struggled on a cool thing to say, before a figurative bulb lit up.

"Ah! Cowabunga!" An easy slice of the fruit followed, too easy of a slice. So easy that she managed to embed the sword in the couch with the force. She rapidly pulled it out, "Oh, crap." Oh crap indeed for the 15 year old teen as she scrambled to find a needle and thread. Running out of the room for the last time, she returned with the mentioned items, and sighing with relief, knelt down and got to work. "Here's hoping that nobody notices this for some time," she muttered; she'd look back at the sword on the stool with narrowed eyes, "Perhaps bringing you out means location as well..." A few moments pass as she returns to working on the cut, sewing it haphazardly and eventually, finishing.

"Welp, see you tomorrow Desolation," she began sheathing the blade slowly, and was about to fully do so when she abruptly stopped; it was out of the sheath just enough for her to see her reflection, "Man, it reflects like a mirror." Her gaze lingered, the blade was... Beautiful, to say the least. The fact that she held and looked at it in an angle where the fireplace was just behind, it looked like something out of a painter's magnum opus. Didn't her dad have a painting of something similar? "Huh, I think it hanged just above the fireplace as well," she remembered with a small smile, it looked beautiful whenever the old living room was dim "I appreciated it a bit more when gramps won, it was near-mystical then. I wonder where..." She began to frown slightly. "When grandpa... Won."

Oh, she remembered that day clearly all right. Particularly cold winter and harsh winds, the morning was so extreme that the inauguration had to occur in the night where the snowstorm had calmed down. A hug from both when he spoke the words on the radio, too bad it was her bedtime then, she couldn't hear the rest of the thing. A kiss goodnight, then the dreams. "Why... Why was that dream so vivid?" and a strange dream it was, basically that day on repeat, and her waking up to the morning, "And then, I woke up..." A creaking door, the sound of footsteps, and then... Something she couldn't remember. A push, then bright, cold, warm, and dark. Her lips quivered.

"LILLIAN! Put that where you got it from!" a shout, ignored, "Don't fool around with this kind of stuf- oh you already did, fantastic." Disappointment, ignored. "I swear the moment I put something out for display somebody starts fooling around with it." a growing anger, "Ignoring me again? Well that's just!" Surprise and dread. "Lillian? Lil? W-why are you crying?" A hand placed, a small gasp, something like a sniff cut short. "Lillian, is something wrong? C'mon now, I didn't point all that towards you on purpose I've just had a... Bad... Day..." she had hugged- no, clung on to him tight, like someone who refused to let go; the sobs were clear at this point like a floodgate opening, "C-come on now Lil, that's it, let it all out. I'm here." And he would refuse to let go either.

He took a quick look at the blade on the floor behind her, "Gideon did make good painting of Desolation, when he left he brought..."

The hug grew tighter, "Don't worry kid, I'm here, and I promise you that I'll be there..."

February 3, 1935
Confederate Embassy in Ezhid

Ambassador to Aydinir, Matthew S. Clayt
An apt sentence for the Ambassador to Aydinir, or rather being whispered behind said ambassador's back, was "How did that roughshod man become an ambassador?" This was a question that for some reason, Marcus would always answer honestly, and it was always the same, "Corruption" the man would respond behind closed doors and sometimes to close confidants. "And what a truth it is," thought the ambassador smugly as he readied his clothes for the day, "But now... I've earned my post." And earn it he did, a rough stone was polished and a diamond in the rough was found within, a painfully arrogant one behind closed doors, but a diamond nonetheless. Taking a quick gander at himself with the mirror, he nodded once before leaving his room, "Ready for the day." He'd say to himself before finally exiting with a confident gait.

Walking through the hallways of the embassy, and getting the ladies all hot and bothered with his repertoire of gestures, his mind would wonder about the goings on of home. "That Senator Armstrong is making waves, but I've also heard of that Whitfield guy trying to counter him. And then there's that enigma of a president." he shook his head with a sigh as he exited the building and into the streets of the Aydiniri capital, at the bottom of the steps, a cab lay in wait; his mind wandered back again, this time he shook the thought away quicker, "Ah Confederate politics, some call monarchy politics one of the most difficult environments to navigate. Hah! To that I raise our own politics seen on every bloody corner in Tlat'uu." He boarded the cab with a smirk on his face.

"Mornin' sir, where to?" The driver asked, not once looking behind him.

"Why, the palace of course," he replied quickly, "I have a post-party celebration to, well... Celebrate, my friend. And being late is not on the docket today." He gave him a wad of cash, just a bit over the needed amount, but perhaps the tip would get the driver to drive faster. "Here's the pay, keep the change. Now go!" His shout and the money spooked and motivated the man at the same time, resulting in a nice mix of "let's go now". And so the cab went.

Again his mind wandered to home once more, and the continent it stood on as well. "The Aclusian Sadreans, barely heard of them, don't care that much for them," he sneered mentally, "Although their relationship with Aydinir and the latter's desire to send all Aydiniri and brothers under one flag puts them in our radar. Perhaps some pushes to that subject would be good in the long run." Once more, an aimless mental wandering. Ended with a stare at his hands, "Ringless..." No engagements for him, he wasn't meant for a single woman. His eyes darkened as opposing thoughts bubbled up, and he silenced his mind for some peace in quiet. The ride to the palace was uneventful and thoughtless from there on out.

He must've muted the outside world, as the moment he unmuted, the cab was at his destination. "Well, here's the palace sir," the driver told him, "Thank you for your patronage, Ambassador."

"Whatever, whatever." he left the cab without another thought, and beheld the palace in front of him with a satisfied grin, "Must be compensating for something, heh." Onward he went, there was a post-birthday party celebration to enjoy.
Former Foreign Minister of the Federation of Allies.
Formerly [REDACTED] and [REDACTED], 8000 combined what the heck.


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Father Knows Best State

Postby Norcourt » Sun Jul 26, 2020 3:55 pm

Gran Norcourtia

Norcourt had long been a rather isolated nation, due to Zeeland's distance from the Europea. Maranossos had taken it into account to establish furthering relations with other nations around the globe. By establishing trade negotiations with the likes of The Protectorate Kingdom of Sveria, The Union of Socialist Slavic Kingdoms, and most especially, The Confederacy...

Maranossos had consulted the likes of President Galen Y. Hiramson, offering valuable resources through trade, combined military research, providing mutual benefits for all, whilst maintaining a shared military and political alliance between the two powers of Norcourt & the Confederacy.

The Republic of Leeria

Elements of the 3rd GADNAC Army had made good progress in the securing of Southern Leeria. Southern Leeria was to be divided into three states, one incorporated into the Aydinirian territory of Andharvan, a client state of the Aydinirian Empire, and an independent Sirvanskan state at its very northern tip, perhaps one to be absorbed by the growing influence of the Norcourtian Protectorate of The Republic of Leeria.

Since its founding in 1928, the Republic of Leeria had been a sanctuary for Sirvanskans looking to live a stable life, away from the horrors of the unstable wild north. Living under Norcourtian rule meant their children were able to receive a proper education, along with integration into Norcourtian society, by means of citizenship through service.

Military Armor & Aircraft Updates

Production of the new Vozza VM.35(M) "Deciter" Medium Tank, and AM35-A1(P) “Sovrano” Heavy Tank, had begun in the beginning of the year, with the first models being paraded throughout the cities during the numerous military parades held around the empire. The sloped armor of both the Deciter and the Sovrano allowed extreme protection for the frontal hull. The front hull of the Deciter being 38mm thick, at a 45 degree angle it's effectiveness was equal to that of 76mm. The Sovrano has a frontal plating 50mm thick, and it's effectiveness at a 45 degree angle was staggering, an immensely effective 100mm. The only true way to practically pierce this beast of steel, was to pierce the 40mm thick sides & rear...

New research by Pontus had been conceived for the development of a higher velocity 57mm Anti-Tank Gun, along with the work in progress Scutario 480 Series 400 hp 12 cylinder engine, which had been converted from the dedicated Scutario 960, 900 hp aircraft engine, that had begun development at the beginning of the year, and was expected to arrive in a couple years or perhaps more.

Meanwhile, the Regia Aeronautica de Norcourtia had adopted a new fighter plane concept, designed by Zaragena, designated as the Zaragena Caccia 1935 (ZC.35). Prototypes had been tested since mid 1934, but newer advancements had qualified the plane for service, with production to begin in mid January.

Developments in Doctrine

Several military exercises, besides the ones already going on with the Aclusians and Manticorans, had been conducted on mainland Norcourt, to increase infantry effectiveness against enemy armored vehicles. The military structure had changed quite a bit since the Sirvanskan War, with shock troops being listed as "Grenadier Legions". Grenadier Legions were essentially the same as the older shock troops in the army, however since the war, had been particularly trained in Anti-Tank combat, when infantry was to be in lack of any allies armor or anti-tank artillery. By using a combination of AT-Rifles, Mines, Grenade Bundles, Smoke Grenades, and even improvised bottled firebombs. AT-Rifles would be the most direct form of AT warfare, however when it came to close range disabling of a tank, mines were to be placed strategically and take out tracks, smoke grenades to hinder vision of the targeted vehicle, while the AT Grenades and firebombs would be targeted in specific weak spots in the targeted vehicles armor (though fire bombs also proved to be relatively effective on terms of hindering drivers & gunners vision, as well). The Grenadier Legion, was a force to be reckoned with.

Back in Leeria…

Konstantin sipped his ginger ale and stared at the map beside him. The presence of the aggressive northern Hoosiers had shed skin in his mind. He understood what war would mean, he fought on behalf of many Warlords during Sirvanskas warring period just a decade ago. Upon the arrival of the Norcourtians in 1928, the young officer aided in key battles, acting as an informant to Norcourtian Command, & leader for his people.

Historically, Norcourt had a tendency of electing military leaders, and at the tender age of 24, was chosen to be the elected Prince of Leeria, both by his people, and by the Norcourtians.

Now, 33, the young prince had other things in mind. Smoking his cigarette, he eyed his advisor for urbain & civil affairs, Marta Miano, from top to bottom. He favored her most, out of all his staff, and was looking to eventually court the 27 year old woman.

"Marta," he said, "what is the current status of our... infrastructural improvement project?"

"80% Sir. Within a given time, the entire northern side will be at full capacity." She said

The largely rural Leerian countryside had undergone a major infrastructural improvement project in 1929, building up every major town in the entirety of Leeria.

His Investments in equipping the Army of Leeria with modernized Norcourtian equipment, had been made in the past, as well as training then alongside their Norcourtian brethren. Efforts were successfully made by converting the likes of the Old Leerian Cavalry divisions into lighter tank divisions, with many receiving leased AM31-L’s, while newer AM34-P’s and AM35-M’s were shipped in by the day for the regular Norcourtian Army.

As he sipped his ale, he took to a stand, observing the hilly Leerian grasslands around him, contemplating his next move...
Last edited by Norcourt on Fri Oct 23, 2020 1:56 am, edited 6 times in total.
My puppet nation is Nuza

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Founded: Feb 16, 2020

Postby HypErcApitAl » Sun Jul 26, 2020 6:15 pm


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)


In-between her time having fun with Allegra, and practicing her instruments, she continued her swordplay, trying to prove that she was still a very-effective swordfighter, not just a musician or leader or girlfriend.

Not just as a POTBRA, or Commander-in-Chief, or The Most Esteemed, or any other title she'd possessed, but just as an Aimeslandish Girl, she had to prove the sword was still a good way-of-life. A tool that should be in everyones' arsenal, instead of merely depending on guns or weird blades-on-guns - the only thing that got close to a Bayonette was a Gunsword, which was as quirky as both the People and the country were.

Her lancing, too. She wasn't like any other President, shit, even other POTBRAs weren't like Sprout.

Not just a brainiac or intellect, but also a skilled athlete, with Bowling, LaCrosse, Tennis, and Martial Arts. It also helped that she was born Ambidextrous, switching hands on-will, though liking to use her left hand for things.

Alot about Winston made rumors and other stories come to her, and also her past was good fodder for alot of books or movies. Ironically, there was a rumor that she was born by/on a river, which made sense - so many puns came with Aimeslands' Spring Liberalism.

Also being born on the 13th Floor, as a rumor made sense - though the number Thirteen meant nothing in Aimeslandish Culture. It was just a number, and many places had Thirteenth Floors in the country - though probably not in other countries, which kinda made that Lost-In-Translation.

Not having a real canon birthstory also made people makeup more, and finding alot more ways to explain her and her Finesse.

Already, she was Gifted, and a Jack-of-All-Trades, though it also had helped that Aimesland focused on Academics and Athleticism, bettering both the Body and the Mind. She was very well-read, and could speak like how any other politician elsewhere spoke due to her Education, but didn't, since that's not how Aimeslandish in-general spoke.

Aimeslandish weren't all posh and formal and regal - they were hypercasual, and very rhetorical beings. They essentially dabbled alot in Gossip, much like schoolgirls, though it meant that Aimeslandish Schoolgirls were way better at Gossip than any other schoolgirl.

Somehow, the Bayonette was "the natural evolution" of the Gunsword, though it made no sense as to why/how you'd go from one huge and long blade to a teeny-tiny blade one'd have to put on their gun. Just permanently affix the damned thing to your Armin, or Revolver, or whatever, and you'd be done.

There were just so many varieties of Sword; if you didn't feel like using an Axesword, just switch-over to a Sabre or a Cutlass or a Rapier or a Broadsword, a Greatsword, Longsword, a Scimitar, a double-edged sword, double-bladed sword, and so many other kinds. There was about every type of sword for every type of personality on Earth.

Guns had different types too, that mainly served the same purpose but at the same time, used for different purposes, like a Huntingrifle or Shotgun or Pistol, Pistolla.

Guns had many different kinds of tactics, but Swords had many different kinds of Combat. Heck, you could even smash someones' head in with the pommel. There were even combinations of swords and knuckles, one for close-combat and the other for close-to-midrange.

Swords help close the Gap quickly, alongside the Axe, Polearm, Lance. Bows, slings and slingshots were good if you only had Wood nearby but still wanted something dead. One couldn't really run out of Wood or Stone, though Metals and Alloys had to be traced and mined.

There was alot of care, time, work, and effort placed into Smithing and Metallurgy. Making swords and hammers took time. It was a patient art, that hopefully, would be taught for Generations and generations - the Future should know how to be handsy and hands-on. How to work with the Product and effortlessly form and shape things, much like Pottery.

Teach a man how to fish, give that man a schedule so that he'd get good at it, and then he'd catch many.

Give a man fish, then get tired of giving and sharing, then tax or debt him somehow, and that's how you get a Debtor, or a Debtslave, a Serf. An indentured servant that as time goes on, will become your Slave.

Slavocracy, Servitude and Feudalism - Dishonorable.

But yeah, Guns weren't really a "one-size-fits-all," or a cureall. Guns enforced Uniformity, and Uniformity was bad. Not just to an Aimeslandish, but in-General, though the Aimeslandish were all about Character and Individuality and standing-out, being different than the Next Guy. Showing up and showing out; Flexing and Finessing.

The Aimeslandish emphasized, honored, and prided in Skill, Talent, Expertise, and how much a person knew - their Mental Fitness and cognitive abilities. How sneaky they were, how backstabbing they were. How much time and effort it took for them to put into Music Theory, or Law, or Lemonade Stands - what-have-you, the AImeslandish would do it, and take time into it to Perfection.

This perfectionism was a big part of Aimeslandish culture, though the Aimeslandish were lax peoples. They had this culture of Chillax, not worrying or stressing-out. "Oh, I'll get to it, someday. Just hold-on."-type mentality.

In Aimesland, you had to be sociable, likable, and relatable, otherwise, it's a social suicide, though at the same time, asocials and antisocials were also praised and held-on pedestals. It'd be very easy to get a high-up position in Aimesland, if you had alot of Prestige, Character and just Moxie, in-general.

Guns made people lazy, whereas a sword prioritized Effort. You had to do alot of exercise, footwork, wristwork, etc. Alot of time and money went into Swordplay and Knifeplay. A good knife, a good dagger, or a good shortsword.

Swords and staffs could be spun-around very quickly, and it took alot of finesse to cut-down someone very quickly. It took finger-game. It took alot of Mentality and Mentalwork.

With a Sword, or Martial Arts, you had to be Patient. With a gun, you couldn't really be Patient. You're just shooting and shooting at things rapidly.

A bow was the ultimate weapon, used from generation to generation - and there were many,many different kinds of them.

With bows and swords, you had to be Precise, not shooting just to shoot or wasting bullets like you'd do with a gun - though there were always Exceptions. Exceptions to the Rule, always.

Sniping and Sharpshooting existed, too. You'd just put a man in a Tree, and watch him go to Work on the enemy. He'd shine.

There was also the Hidden Art of Trickstabbing, though Trickshotting and Noscoping also existed. Scopes were valuable assets for guns, much like the Stock or other extensions.

What about Guns and Explosives? Well, they're very uncivilized, compared to a Sword. The Blade should always win-out, and ifnot, there was always the Bat, or Shovel, or Fryingpan, or any other kind of Bludgeoning Weapon.

Aimeslandish, both militarily and civilly, should be able to Go The Distance with melee weapons.
Last edited by HypErcApitAl on Sun Jul 26, 2020 6:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Corporate Police State

Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Mon Jul 27, 2020 11:20 pm

Aimesland Occupied Zone
6:00 AM February 10, 1935

Co-Write Nihon, Manticore, and Hypercapital

Colonel Noda sat on his tank, watching as hundreds of them moved across the town to the occupied zone. They would be marching on the towns captured by their SNLF comrades, thus they were unopposed. He was a member of the Kwantung Army and he was part of the landing force consisting of 6 SNLF and 2 Type A divisions to reinforce positions and launch an operation further into Aimesland. They had landed just yesterday, and now rested and ready, they began their advance.

Within half an hour, his tank had made its way to near the front. He listened as hundreds of Nihonese carrier planes bombed Aimeslandish positions and naval artillery brought hell upon the defenders, just a few miles away.

He motioned to one of his commanders in charge of the artillery guns. “Are the men ready with our ‘special shells’?”

The commander gave a grim nod. “Sir, shall we launch the blister agents or the choking first?”

Noda frowned, giving thought. “Choking, let's see if we can catch a few of their men off guard. If our first advance fails, we can use other weapons.” He waved to his men. “Affix gas masks!”

Within minutes, a half hour barrage of Diphosgene gas was fired towards the enemy positions with hopes of catching the defenders off guard.

Noda yelled to a commander, “Continue with regular shells! Advance!”

With that 160 Type 95 Light Tanks, 384 Type 89 Medium Tanks, and several hundred armored cars began to advance, followed by over 233,200 men from both the elite SNLF and Kwantung Army. Several dozen had broken off to perform a flanking maneuver as planes and artillery continued to rain down death upon the Aimeslandish defenders.

The early morning light shone through the treetops in broad beams of soft, warm light, glistening of the dew covered leaves as the Aimeslandish troops finished their breakfast. The troops had taken full advantage of the lull in the fighting to entrench themselves. The foxholes were dug until only the head and shoulders of each soldier was visible when they stood upright, with dirt piled around the sides to provide cover. In a more modern army, like the Nihonese, Manticoran, or Warglorian armies, these mounds of earth would be covered with vegetation to provide camouflage while branches and logs would be placed over the hole to provide overhead cover.

But the Aimeslandish weren’t one of those armies. They would have preferred their shields to these earthen holes but the invasion had shown them that shields couldn’t stop bullets. Hundreds of men had died when they attempted to form their shield walls against Nihonese machine guns. Hundreds of others had died when they tried to defend against artillery and aircraft by holding their shields above their heads. Only the men who had flung themselves into ditches had been able to avoid injury and so they dug in. But a foxhole would only do so much.

The peace and quiet of the early morning was shattered by the dull thunder of artillery. The sound was still new to the ears of the Aimeslandish soldiers and many paused to listen closely to it, attempting to identify it. Those soldiers who had survived the initial Nihonese assaults made a different choice, diving into their foxholes and pulling their comrades in after them. Troops crouched, expecting the thunderous roar of high explosive shells to shake the ground and shower them with dirt and bits of wood but it didn’t come.

Instead of the whistle of high explosive shells, a chugging, gurgling sound could be heard. It was a sound that none of the soldiers had ever heard before. A Manticoran or Warglorian soldier, however, could have told them precisely what it was. There was, after all, only one type of shell that made that sound.

A gas shell. But the Aimeslandish hadn’t fought a war in decades and had never used gas in warfare. They had gas masks and had heard of the effect of gas during the Great War but the practical experience wasn’t there. It wasn’t until the first shells slammed into the earth and troops near the shells caught a whiff of moldy hay. And then came the effects.

Diphosgene is a nasty agent, attacking the throat and lungs of its victims. The gas has a corrosive effect on the skin, causing burns and boils. The victim’s vision blurs, making it difficult to do anything. Worse, the gas burns the throat and the lungs, causing the lungs to flood with fluids.

Headaches and vomiting follows, preventing troops who don’t have their gas masks on from putting them on. Exposed troops would be completely incapacitated in 12 hours and dead within two days.

For the Aimeslandish soldiers, who’s only exposure to gas had been tear gas in training, the colorless Diphosgene was a terrifying shock, causing many of the young soldiers to panic. But panic was deadly. Now the distinctive whistle of high explosive shells could be heard alongside the chugging of gas shells.

Trees exploded into jagged shards of bark and wood. Craters were torn into the earth, hurling rocks and clumps of dirt in all directions. Worse, the hiss of steel fragments as they flew through the air.

Men who had been in the open, investigating the new sounds of gas shells, were torn apart by explosions and shrapnel. A few unlucky troops who had been in their holes were killed when a shell landed in their hole. Others who had tried to flee their foxholes when the gas started were cut down by shrapnel as they clambered out of their holes into the forest.

For thirty full minutes the Nihonese guns boomed and Aimeslandish soldiers died. And then the guns stopped and the tanks and troops came. The Aimeslandish were caught out of position, many of them still trying to hide from the artillery.

But enough of them had kept their senses and began to service the Nihonese advance with rifle and machine gun fire. The bullets did nothing to the steel beasts that trundled forward but the infantry advancing alongside them were a different matter.

When a bullet hits the human body, it initially has little effect, leaving a neat hole roughly the same diameter as the bullet where it enters. But very quickly this changes. As the bullet travels through the body, the kinetic energy of the bullet is transferred to the soft tissue and fluids, creating a wide wound channel that shatters bone and tears internal organs.

Many rounds also start to tumble and fragment after entering the body, creating more wound channels and causing even more damage. Bullets also have a tendency to ricochet off of bone, meaning that they can exit the body from very strange places. A bullet may enter the body near the stomach, ricochet off the pelvis, and exit through the upper back, tearing up the intestines, spleen, lungs, liver, stomach, and possibly the heart as it goes.

And when the bullet leaves the body, it doesn’t leave a nice, neat hole like it did on entry. The bullet tears its way out, leaving a hole several times the diameter of the bullet where it leaves.

That was the fate of hundreds of Nihonese soldiers, their bodies torn apart as bullets ripped through them, shattering bone and tearing organs. Blood soaked the soil as hundreds of Nihonese and Aimeslandish soldiers died in agony. And then the Nihonese returned fire and charged.

The Aimeslandish troops couldn’t see the faces of their adversaries through their masks. But one did not need to see the face of one’s enemy when that enemy is charging with a sixteen-inch long knife on the end of his rifle. The thrust of bayonets and the crack of rifle fire spelled the end of many hundreds of Aimeslandish troops.

For the tanks, there was little to do. The Aimeslandish troops that held their positions were in foxholes, low to the ground and difficult to hit without causing harm to friendly troops. But the fleeing Aimeslandish were a different story. Machine guns and cannons wreaked havoc on the panicked youths as they fled the field, amputating limbs and taking out chunks of bone and tissue.

For one poor Aimeslandish soldier, a simple boy from a farming community, this would be his first and last taste of combat. As he fled for his life, a burst from Colonel Noda’s machine gun ripped into his back. Seven 6.5mm rounds punched through the light iron armor this young man wore, tearing through his spine, his lungs, and his heart, ripping through his aorta, and shattering his ribs.

Three of those bullets punched through the front of his chest. One of them lodged itself in his sternum. Two others ricocheted off of his ribs and tore through his abdomen, ripping into his stomach, liver, and intestines. The last one ricocheted off his ribs and tore through his shoulder, grazing his ear as it left.

The boy managed somehow to stumble forward three paces before he collapsed face down on the forest floor, blood pooling in his lungs and foaming from his mouth as he struggled to breath.

His final moments spent in agonizing pain. Some were luckier, with bullets tearing through their brains or their hearts, killing them before they knew they were hit. Others were even more unlucky, with bullets ripping into their abdomens, leaving them to die slowly as their blood mixed with stomach bile and whatever excrement was in their colon and their intestinal tract.

Some of those poor souls would live for fifteen minutes before they died. Some of them would be finished off by other bullets or a Nihonese bayonet. Others would suffer the unfortunate fate of being buried alive by dirt kicked up by exploding shells.

But perhaps the worst fate befell those who held their positions in their foxholes as tanks drove past. Rather than wait for an infantryman to walk by, the tank commander would simply order the driver to turn the tank, knocking over the piled earth and burying the foxholes inhabitants alive.

For those men, there was no escape. To leave the hole meant they would be shot or stabbed. To stay meant they would be buried. Certainly, some did try to flee, to join their comrades who were running deeper into the forest. But rifle and machine gun fire put swift ends to those that did.

About a half a mile into the forest, an Aimeslandish officer rallied several hundred troops together. They varied in age from 17 year old volunteers to 30 year old senior NCOs but all of them still had some weapons.

Some had kept their rifles, older Enfield rifles from the Great War or Manticoran M1903s. But most had only their swords, slender rapiers excellently suited for dueling. The Nihonese attack had slowed, the tanks proceeding slowly to avoid running over friendly infantry and the infantry advancing cautiously to avoid falling into foxholes or running across hidden enemies.

Now. Now was the time to charge, to close with the enemy and prove to them once and for all that the Aimeslandish way of the sword was the correct way. The officer raised his sword, elegantly decorated, above his head and gave it a quick swirl before levelling it towards the Nihonese and shouting, “FOR THE REPUBLIC!” as he led the charge.

Hundreds of soldiers shouted and hollered as they burst forward. Those with rifles fired as they could while those with swords simply focused on getting as close to the Nihonese as they could.

The charge itself caught many of the Nihonese troops by surprise. Many of the officers and NCOs had seen charges, to be sure, but they had never seen one launched by an enemy so hopelessly outmatched. While some of the soldiers looked on in confusion, others crouched to stabilize their aim and fired. Machine gunners fell to prone positions and fired in disciplined bursts while the tanks swung their turrets from side to side, sweeping the charging line of Aimeslandish soldiers with machine gun fire.

Many of the Aimeslandish fell before they reached the Nihonese. But some made it. Sword clashed with bayonet in a short but vicious melee. Several Nihonese soldiers lost their lives to the piercing lethality of the rapiers but there were many times more Nihonese troops than Aimeslandish troops and every single Aimeslandish soldier who made the charge died in the attempt.

Most of those that made it into close combat were stabbed by several bayonets at once, tearing their internal organs and rupturing arteries.

The entire battle lasted approximately five or six hours from the first guns firing to when the last Aimeslandish soldier escaped. Casualties were heavy on both sides, with the Aimeslandish around a third of the 80,000 men that had held the position that morning.

The Nihonese had themselves suffered over 11,600 casualties, including three tanks lost when bullets had achieved lucky hits through vision slits, killing crew and, in one case, detonating a shell as the loader was manipulating it into the gun.

State of the Nihonese Advance:
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Postby HypErcApitAl » Tue Jul 28, 2020 4:58 am


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

Code: Select all
Message to Wargloria:

We heed your message, and will be officially starting our mercenary "sellsword" program. In the past, Aimeslandish bounty hunters and headhunters worked independent of the gov't, though now, as we wish to have solid Warglorian-Aimeslandish relations, and are going to be sending you our Sellswords.

It is imperative that your armedforces learn Honor and the Chivalrous Code of Conducts. The Barbarians are to be taught Honor, though we know that you are a very-honorable people, as we can tell from your weaponry and its Style. We can also tell, since your diplomats were very down-to-Earth.

Aimeslandish Discipline shall now become Warglorian-Aimeslandish Discipline, and we shall now become one, even if the Republic were to fall somehow.

From generation-to-generation, we've taught and passed-down our Teachings, well now, we shall impart these Sacred Texts and Codes to all of our allies.

Very-skilled men and women, in the Art Of The Blade, and the Spear, and the Muskette, but also the Bow and Shiv, and other weaponry thought to be "obsolete" or "ancient," nowadays, though we also have capable Riflemen. It isn't just Know-how, or Character, Skill and Personality, but also Technology.

We are to become very technological, though there's still stopgaps and blindsides to this.

People mistake our Culture for a culture of Barbarism and Animism or behaving like an Animal, when, infact, we are Human. We feel. We hear, listen. We have taste, and touch. We love, and are very social beings.

The barbarians only know Warfare, whereas we've only known Aimeslandish Neutrality.

The barbarians don't know how to Walk; they stumble upon their own Feet. Like we've said, in our Media; they're a buncha animals that lick their own feet, instead of feeling, sensing, being emotional. The barbarians enslave eachother, and do not know the concepts of "Freedom," or "Liberty," or "Equality," heck, their Armedforces isn't even egalitarian, it's just men. All men. What is this, a sausagefest?

If we are to be having Sausage, then where's the Bonfire? The campfire? The campsite? The grills?

Very foolish, and odd, and immature.

They fall upon themselves, with their own guns. They blow themselves up, with their own bombs. They deafen themselves with their own Cries and wails.

They're self-defeating, shooting themselves in the Foot, and not understanding self-respect or Tolerance.

Freedom isn't Free; but Slavery is dirt-cheap, and the Aimeslandish and other honorables are to be Free forever.
Kehrernesia wrote:
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Baharuthia » Tue Jul 28, 2020 8:46 am

26th January 1935
Nordmark, Sveria
Royal Palace of Nordmark

Barlich Newspaper- Least Reliable Newspaper for the Sverians, discounted to 1 Warglorian Reichsmarks each

Aimeslandic Aggression against the Nihonese Navy

By the date of...23rd? 24th? At least the 20s date of January, 1935, the Aimeslandic Navy aggressively fired against a Patrolling Imperial Nihonese Patrol Fleet, around a half a mile away from their territorial waters.

After no issue of warning nor words, the Nihonese Teitoku declared war against the unjustified aggression against their Navy. Reports from sources say that 2 Nihonese Destroyers were sunk, effectively killing 500 till 600 innocent, though the word is liberally used, sailors.

"It was horrible. Blood. Everywhere. Death. Smoke...or at least as I heard about it." - A Random Sverian citizen, Insert Name Here, Age(Age is a number, please type the numbers here), not at all involved in the war spoke his worried views. "Who are these Aimeslanders again? I kinda forgot."

Either way, the Nihonese aren't backing down and have issued a declaration of war against the Blau Federation of Aimesland.

“What a load of bullshit…” Minister of Justice, Adler Kruger read the newspaper, flapping the papers from time to time, reading the articles for the day. “Nihonese Destroyers getting blown out of the water? Surprising…” He muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Hey, Adler, what’s up?”

Putting his newspaper down, he could see Victoria only wearing her towel and all that, shameless? No, it’s mostly because she wanted him to see her nearly naked for some reason. “Put some clothes on before talking to me.”

“Wha, oh fine, I thought you men would like this…”

“If it gets repetitive, no. My boner slowly got killed by it…” Adler got back to reading.

“’re a weird one.”

“When are we finalizing the marriage ceremony?”

“Maybe next year.” She answered with a shrug, Adler nodded, not paying attention to what she was saying.

“Ah, expected...Eh?” He looked a bit confused by her answer.


“’re not opposed to it?”

“I think we’ve wanted to do this for a while now…” She shrugged as she got her clothes, the black uniform with the cap. “I should get more clothes for my wardrobe.”

“Surprisingly, you’re minimalist for a woman.”

“I got by it for some time…” She shrugged once more to him. “Nothing to it.” She took out the uniform by its hanger before going back to the bathroom she got out of.

“Weird woman…” Adler spoke to himself, as the woman changed her clothing. “Also don’t be shameless, woman! We still have the No Sex Until Marriage Policy and I don’t want to ruin that!”

“Shaddup!” Her muffled yell came through the door. Well, she was in her room, he was her boyfriend, fiancee, whatever people call him… “You’re not my dad!”

“I...true. Fuck.” Adler had to grumble away as he read the newspaper.

“Hey, Adler?”


“Do you think you would get more girls?”



“What do you mean with that?”


“I’m not a Monarch…nor someone interested in that…” Adler cautiously worded his sentence.

“You need a harem.”

“Why are you pushing your agenda to me?”

“More babies.” She answered, as if it was the most obvious answer of all time, which to be fair, is a lot more sane than many things ever said in the world as of now.


“You do realize that you are going to be the Kaiser if you are going to marry me, right?”

“And the others?”

“Well…” She had a mischievous smile as she exited the bathroom, wearing her uniform. “Let’s just say they’ll be concubines…”

“...I don’t feel so good about that one…”

“Don’t worry…” Victoria gave a chilling smile. “You’ll be loyal, right?”

“...Right…” His face was going for a ‘I’ve made a huge mistake on this,’. Looking away with beads of sweat going by his forehead.

“M’lady, herr Kruger.” The door opened as Adler was met with a maid, wearing a dark blue base maid dress with a white frontal apron. Having silver hair and amethyst purple eyes. “I see that you are getting ready for the meeting.”

“...A meeting? Scuse me?” Adler was quickly taken aback with a questioning look.

“Herr Kruger, you didn’t hear from lady Victoria?” The woman blinked in surprise. “Well, to simplify it, the Nihonese Empire declared War on Aimesland on the justification of the sinking of two Nihonese Destroyers by the Aimeslandish Navy half a mile out of their territorial water."

“I did read that. Well, they got baited quite easily…” Adler commented off handedly. “Half a mile. And they got shot? Damn are the Nihonese quite quick to pull their hand on the trigger. This meeting’s about?”

“About the matter at hand, I don’t think lady Victoria told me about that.” Said woman only could cough.

“You really are troublesome sometimes, herr Kruger.”

“Victoria told me…” Adler sighed as the maid simply giggled at his expense. The woman herself laughed as she had been dodging the matter.

“As I can see on the matter quite a few times.” The maid bowed.

"Belle, cut me some slack." Adler sighed, rolling his eyes.

"It appears that you do not overrule Lady Victoria, herr Adler."

“...I hate this.”

“We could potentially share him.”


“I have been saving myself after all.” Belle just shot Adler a look of interest.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-”

“You could be the first concubine.”


“Relax! This is going to be a walk in the park.”

“Doubting that.” Adler spoke as Victoria couldn’t help, but giggle at his expense.

Sveria's Status Report

The 5cm Panzer Sonderfahrgestell II, or the Pz.Sfl.II had been going through production, it’s earlier prototype was a success with its 55km/hour top speed off-road. Which was unheard off. But the only thing that delayed it was the reliability of the engine which was reworked on.

The 5cm Cannon makes it incapable of adding actual roof armor or rear turret armor, which was covered up by cloth. And additionally has no form of co-axial guns due to space conservation for more rounds, crews were given Karabiner 98k or their relatives or the MP18/28s, or MP29s.

More to it, 2 Admiral Van Kruz had been launched, the first being named as SMS Admiral Van Kruz and the other sent to Wargloria unnamed. They just need further adjustments in Wargloria’s father land, Gloaros. With enough numbers, by late 1934, Sveria had sent a total of 19 Large Destroyers to Wargloria. Effectively finishing the Large Destroyer order to Wargloria.

Now, Sveria is given a list of 60 Large Destroyer orders, 30 to Aclus and Norcourt, for Aclus, 15-15 of the Gram and Tyrfing Class Large Destroyers and for Norcourt 30 of them being Tyrfing Class Large Destroyers.

PS. For Adler, it was a great success, as this would mean Sveria will HAVE EVEN MORE FUNDS TO BUILD SHIPS!

There was a planned Admiral van Der Mitt Class Super Dreadnought, which was a further build up to the Admiral Van Kruz. A Setting of 12 380mm cannons, 3 turrets housing 4 380mm on each one. Then Adler’s call to build an even more ridiculous design, which housed 4 turrets housing 4 380mm guns on its turrets. Of course, while criticized, people started

Also the fact that the Sverian Government had begun building on more ship slips for MORE SHIP BUILDING and then additionally more factories. With the State of the Bog, Sveria has more production bases to build guns and weapons as well as more land to build additional farms and such civilian factories.

Finished Ships:

-16 Large Destroyers(4 Gram-Class, 6 Tyrfing-Class, 6 Balmung-Class)
-20 Destroyers(12 Gråhajar-Class, 8 Hundhajar-Class)
-2 Admiral Van Kruz Class Super Dreadnoughts(1 sent to Die Zweite Warglorian Reich)
-4 Nordmark Class Dreadnoughts(All 4 sold to the Newne Carriebean)

End of report

Sverian Meeting Board

Within the room, Sverian Blue Shirts closed the door and guarded each of the doors. The windows were shut, causing the room to be only illuminated by the light emanating from the light bulb. Adler Kruger sat silently beside his fiancee, the Kaiserin herself. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Glad you can all join us in today's topic. The Nihonese-Aimesland War."

"So it's the Nips and the...who's Aimesland?" Svein, Marshal of the Air Force questioned the target in question. Everyone looked a bit uninterested, a bit of confusion plastered on their faces.

"Well, Adler addressed them as…ehem…" Victoria had a bit of a red face.

"Nudist Republic...Technobarbarians...I dunno, I'm making these names for fun." Adler shrugged, tapping his finger on the desk. Evidently bored by the meeting.

"That aside, please be more serious, herr Adler." Minna, Minister of Defense ushered him.sighed at the man. “We have solid evidence that the Nihonese Empire was attacked first by the Aimeslandish…? Aimeslander? Aimeslandic? Aimeslandian? Whatever they’re called.”

“Well, on that case, should we send our Wikings?” Adrian Quisling, Chancellor questioned as the men and women began muttering to themselves.

“Order. Order.” The man with a Warglorian dress uniform sighed, the Reichsauseher, Joseph looked at the board before he got up. “The Warglorians had not gone to join the war…and we are here discussing it?”

“An Anti-Monarchist Regime is threatening us, no matter how small, such ticks had been exemplified by the Traansval, a Democratic Republic turned into a Communist Menace with a civil war, and then ignited a communist revolution in Rannoria.”

“True, despite their distance, they had ignited a revolution from Indianum to Europa.” Janet, the Grand Admiral, present in the Invasion of the Bog nodded, a grimace upon her face. “It’s terrifying to think about what they could do despite the range.”

“Well, they aren’t that clever compared to those other two when they openly fired on two Nihonese Destroyers and sunk those ships.” Adler shrugged. “They just openly attacked the patrol and then they’re going to get the 3rd Largest Navy up their ass.”

“I can’t blame them for declaring war...” Adrian shook his head. "But then again...0.5 miles out, are you sure they didn't issue warnings?"

"I mean…"

"What we know is that two Nihonese Destroyers were sunk and no casualties on the other side."

"Easy Justification for the Nihonese." Everyone had to nod, there was easy land and they just took it.

"Anyways, that aside, what about the state of Scinfaxi?"

"Ahh...errr...yeah, errr, many partisans, lots of them, we just lost a few establishing villages here and there."

"Now that's unfortunate." Adler had to comment. Rusklandrs had come and go to get their citizenship, while others commit to their lives as partisans.

It would seem like they kicked the hornets' nests and angered them. Well, they had to run out of manpower, right? Right?

"I doubt the Rusklandrs would give up their territory just like that. Maybe set them up as a collaborationist regime?"

"Now hold on, you still are protectorates of the Warglorian Reich, what are you trying to suggest?" Joseph came in with a hint of anger.

"First of all, Wargloria will be receiving this territory, but as a puppet state. Not as a colony state., we believe that it may garner more prosperity if we set them with the promise of retaking old Ruskland territories." Adrian snorted, putting his hands on his side of the table.

"So a puppet state...but Wargloria will not be interested in having a puppet state in Ruskland. I'm sure of it." Everyone mentally coughed at the Nationalist.

'Tell that to them when they turned the Carriebeaners into a regime that relies on Wargloria for the most part.' No one dared to make eye contact with the Overseer, Adler had to bite his lips as he tried to feel around for his cup of cappuccino. Only to feel air on where it was supposed to be…

As he remembered, but then again, it was common knowledge for many people that Sverians are not very clever men and women, only 50% were given the severely underrated concept of common sense.

So it's basically a coin toss of you having common sense or not, Adler, for his credit, surprisingly has a half-functioning concept of common sense.

...Wait 50%, last he heard it was 75% in favor of people with common sense.

Oh Bahamut damn this, it's like the lottery again. Those bastards said that there was a 50% chance of winning, saying that you either win or lose.

Of course, Victoria had to point out how stupid he was for thinking it was going to be a 50-50-...


He turned to find Victoria drinking a cup...of cappuccino.



"Mein Cappuccino?"

"Tis mine now, herr Kruger, please wait until this boop." She raised her left hand and extended its pointer, before she pushed his nose with said pointer.


"Why are you such a child when not needed?"

"Either way, herr Kaiserin, what is your opinion of the matter?" Victoria laid the cup down onto its pad and let out a satisfied breath.



"Which topic are we talking about again?" Everyone nearly facefaulted at her bashful reaction before Adrian coughed into his hand before he answered.

"We were discussing the Aimeslandish Aggression, milady."

"Ah yes." She coughed before her bashful and innocent eyes turned into a very sharp, cold and very serious pair of eyes. "Ehem, my sincerest apology, I had not had my cappuccino, since the day before, for the matter at hand, I believe that we should approach the Nihonese with three of our finest Wiking Divisions and the worst criminals attached as a Penal Battalion to each to open a frontal attack with little to no important losses to our more experienced and important men."

"I see…" Adrian spoke with a tone of seriousness. "Then at our vote?"

"The Minister of Justice shall stand with the Kaiserin."

"The Grand Air Marshal shall do the same."

"As does the Minister of Defence."

"As does the Grand Admiral of the Navy."

"Well...I don't think I'm left much of a choice, so I'll say I stand with the others…" Adrian sighed, many of the lesser important council members voted mostly on the Sverian side.

A slow clap came from Joseph. "Well, I'll give you this win. However, I will assume command if this brings us to war directly against Aimesland and not indirectly with our volunteer forces."

"No worries, Reichsauseher Tarbovün," Victoria smiled, a chilling curve upon her lips. "You won't regret your decision. Wargloria's Most Prided Protectorate and Main Source of Fish Supply will not let you down."

"...Mein Kaiserin, Sveria is the only Protectorate of Wargloria and Fish Supply...I'll give you the latter…"

"Eh? Ah...right…"

"Hold on," Adler interjected. "Sveria being the only Protectorate also equals to them being the most prided as well."

"Urgh, you're not wrong there."

"Then we could say that Sveria is the most prided Protectorate."

"...Yes, but I don't see how this is relevant-"

"Moving on." Adler clapped his hands.

"Did he just ignore me?"

"We shall prepare the invasion-I mean Volunteer force and prepare our schiffs to load them to Nihon, hopefully not missing any actions…"

"He bloody ignored me!"

"And with that, the meeting is closed."

"Stop ignoring my words, heathens!" Suffice to say those words went ignored. Ignorance is bliss as they say...

27th January 1935
Early Morning, Nordmark

By the next morning, the three Wiking Divisions, which were stationed in Nordmark were beginning to board convoy ships, many of them saying their goodbyes to their friends and families. “So this is their first mission as a Volunteer Unit, huh?” Victoria asked as Adler nodded by her side.

“That’s right.” He answered her question, he could see her hands tighten up and bit her lips.

“...They were all willing to die…”

“That is correct, under their rule, they were content, and seeing that they were content, they decided to let other people feel the joy and happiness of them being under your rule. Because they know that without you…” He trailed off, letting the woman piece the puzzle in herself.

“...They won’t be content?”

“Their lives for the livelihood of the people. To destroy an Anti-Monarchist Regime, they willingly gave out their oaths.”

“...Is that how much they love their nation that they willingly wish to die for it? This is...not what I wanted.” She frowned, a pained expression on her face.

“A small price to pay for salvation as they’d say…” He shook his head. “Honor their wishes, Victoria.”

“How can I when I’m sending my people to die?”

“For their deaths, the lives they saved within our nation and others will prosper.”

“...Herr Kruger?”


“...Give them our best equipment...I want all of the good equipment to be sent with them, instead of reserve equipment that we gave them.” Her determined look impressed him, causing his lips to curve into a grin.

“Consider it done then,” he spoke with a pretty satisfied tone.

“Only this instance...I’m not going to let my people die needlessly…I want them to be equipped and trained to their fullest capacity.” For Adler, this would take time, and many years will be taken mostly for training. A possibly deadly training regime, and very limited amount of soldiers.

But...he wasn’t going to refute her order. “As you say then, milady.”

“Then this shall be the start of it…” The Era of Victoria’s reign shall begin here.

Nihon-Aimesland Conflict, Military Report for the Units arriving in Nihon


1st Wiking Division ‘Reichsadler’
2nd Wiking Division ‘Unser Kaiserin’
3rd Wiking Division ‘Calluna Vulgaris’
1st Penal Battalion ‘Strafe Korps I’
2nd Penal Battalion ‘Strafe Korps II’
3rd Penal Battalion ‘Strafe Korps III’

Escort Ships:
4 Kaiserberg-Class Light Cruiser
6 Balmung-Class Large Destroyer
4 Tyrfing-Class Large Destroyer
4 Gram-Class Large Destroyer
4 Hundhajar-Class Destroyer(Optimized for Anti-Submarine Warfare)

Auxiliary Vessels:
12 Resupply Ships
6 Navy Oiler Ships
6 Troop Transport Ships
6 Decommissioned Tugboats(Not mentioned previously due to the Sverian High Command's orders)

Additional Equipment:
5 Pz. Sfl. I ausf A1(Panzer 5cm KwK 35 auf Sonderfahrgestell II, Prototypes)

Important Notes:
Wiking Divisions are to be equipped with the latest weapons, meaning to purge the reserve units from their superior equipment. Wiking Divisions will also be equipped with Amphibious Tanks which are still in prototype stage. 10 of them are to be added to each Division. A total of 150 Specialized Sverian Landing Boats are to be added with 50 to be given to each Division.
Last edited by Baharuthia on Thu Oct 08, 2020 11:25 pm, edited 5 times in total.

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Founded: Feb 16, 2020

Postby HypErcApitAl » Tue Jul 28, 2020 8:25 pm


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

The Samston House

"This shit sickens me." Sprout admitted.

"Why? Y'know it wouldn't be a day ending in 'y' if they went Once without calling us 'Barbarians.' " Allegra responded.

"True." Sprout acknowledged.

"But, that's the Pot Calling The Kettle 'Black,' they ain't Democrat, lasttime I checked." Sprout added.

"And we're not Black either, we're Blue, Your Excellency, but fair point." Allegra said.

"We're fucking dating, you don't have to call me 'Your Excellency,' all this time, y'know." Sprout responded.

"Dating? Well..." Allegra inquired.

"It's our tradition. We're fast. Don'tcha know that? Fast to make advances, and fast to turn-up on advances. Plus, I can't turn-down a beautiful girl. I've learnt that from my Past." Sprout answered.

"I can't believe their goddamned Mental Gymnastics, calling us warmongers. We don't go around putting our ships in peoples' water. They should've known not to fuck with Aimesland." Allegra stated.

"Yup. I just feel bloodguilty for ordering the blasting of those ships. But, y'know. Had to defend. I'm The President, and all. I'm held-up to insanely-high standards in this Country, y'know." Sprout told.

"We killed 'em all. I enacted Martial Law. I put-on the black pantsuit, lasttime I checked. I'm just so fucking guilty. I'm guilty-as-Death." Sprout cried.

Allegra wrapped her arms around Winston.

"Don't cry. I believe in you. You're tough, y'know that? It takes balls to do what you do everyday, especially in The Senate." Allegra said.

"Fucking Buyers' Remorse. Fuck me and my Liberal, bleeding-heart guilt." Sprout still cried, even in Allegras' arms.

"I really dunno the difference between Buyers' Remorse and Survivors' Guilt. Sounds like the same shit to me. You feel guilty of shit; that's that." Allegra responded.

"Atleast it ain't Regret. I don't 'regret' shit, I'm just in my Emotions, is all." Sprout admitted.

"I feel like I'm having a fucking Midlife Crisis, for fucks' sake." She added.

"I'm twenty-six years old. I've done an awful lot. I'm the fourth-oldest President in Aimeslandish History. I'm a jack-of-all-trades; master of none. I do too much."

"No, no, no. You really shouldn't say that. You've got me. You've got The Senate, and a large amount of supporters and followers. Shit, people even send ya fanmail." Allegra replied.

"Eh. Warmongering Nihonese are master-slingers of Propagandas, they're very-fucking-good at Cognitive Dissidence, making one thing look like another. Heck, I think they're way-better gossipers than us. Maybe even better than I, and I like to consider myself the Master Gossiper." Sprout said.

"They fucking call us 'Barbaric,' because we still have Honor, and they don't. Like you said, they're Coward. They're a buncha hooligans that don't play Fair. Y'know, Fair is fair, you've said this. I trust you, Sprout." Allegra stated.

"Thanks." She cried tears-of-Joy, kissing Allegra, before entering another bearhug.

"What would I be w/o you?" Sprout pondered.

"Still fucking The Most Esteemed Sprout Winston, POTBRA, yessir." Allegra answered.

"I don't ever want to fucking let-go of you." Sprout admitted.

"For a girl, you sure do cuss alot." Allegra joked.

The couple laughed.

"Shit, I even fucking cuss in my Speeches. But, that's us being us, for ya. You can't fix Perfection." Sprout responded.

Allegra laughed.

'You're funny." She told.

"And, that's very-nice to hear. Y'know, someone has to put-on the big-girl pants on, might-as-well be me." Sprout commented.

Allegra giggled.

"'Big-girl pants.''" She repeated.

"Well, you came to me fucking dressed like a fucking Military Admiral." Sprout replied.

Allegra laughed.

"It's High Fashion. This shit's in-Style, son." Allegra said.

"Well, you looked fucking cute in it. And, even cuter out of it." Sprout complimented.

"I could agree. You have a good 'bod, you look nice in anything. How in the frick do you do it?" Allegra asked, and also complimented.

"I was Beauty Queen in Primary, for fucks' sake. I'm just naturally-good-looking. Plus, I eat good, I sleep good, I have the best time in my room, not just playing Sax but when I get lonery..." Sprout listed.

"Now that I think about it, I'm not having a Midlife Crisis. I'm just fucking through with all their bullshit, but you can't reverse Time. I swear, if we could, I'd just return to when we were Isolationist and non-interventionist, and didn't give a fuck about anyone else. But, we can't. We have to change the world. All of these Monarchist and Communist and Monarcho-Communist motherfuckers will learn to not fucking mess w/ Aimeslandia and her President." She added.

"I agree. I'm just sick-and-tired of everyone spreadin' lies about us. Especially the whole "they're anti-everyone," thing. Like, no, we're fucking not. We love all of you. If anything, we'd be the thirsty one rushing to get in-bed. It's just, we're Spring Liberalist, y'all're Monarchistic and Slavocratic, we're incompatible. Our ideologies are fucking incompatible. There's no fucking Chemistry. Now, if there were more Progressive and Democratic countries, then, hell yes, we wouldn't be so fucking gung-ho about removing Fascism or Communism or whatever from your country, and installing Democracy and Democratic Values in it. I really fucking hate that Prime Minister dude, who the fuck do he think he is, dissing my girlfriend like that? Well, we weren't fucking dating when he came up after us, but..." Allegra said.

"To be Honest, I shoulda just came up in here with 'Whip creme all on me, but, you prolly would've laughed." She added.

"Hell-to-the-fuck-no, I wouldn't have. Anytime you want, you can do that. Shit, I'd be happy to lick it all off. I'm just so lonely that I have to send hoes in here. This Free Love concept really is good." Sprout told.

"Agreed. It feels good to be Liberated, sexually. One of the many things that makes me Patriotic about this country is we're very sex-positive, and also don't bodyshame - we don't mind Nudity. I could just walk around; feel free. Don't matter, either way. Like you told me about the Shoe thing, it really doesn't matter." Allegra replied.

"And that's why our beaches are so fun. But, we're kinda weird for tourists, y'know. It'll make their heads spin." Sprout told.

Allegra giggled.

"That's your favorite Sayin', huh? I've literally counted you saying "Make their heads spin," and "Strong-&-Stable" so many times, I could've had a Drinking Game. I would've been knockout-drunk by the end of that Address." She said.

"Dayum, your Drinking Tolerance is low." Sprout joked.

The couple laughed loudly.

Sprout segued back into the Sex discussion.

"And that's how I know they're Barbaric - they're sexually-repressed and oppressed. No nation on Earth can live that way. Even their politics shames them. In our politics, it's proud to do Sex Stuff. Shit, that ain't even Scandal-worthy. No point in wasting our time in something that's as natural as Breathing, or Killing, or..." She stated.

"Shoulda burned mah Passport," Allegra announced.

"I don't want to leave a country that's this Free," She continued.

"Though, I bet my Leftfoot, there'll be a time when I may haveta."

Sprout giggled hard.

"For basic Liberal bitches in The West, we just do too much. Now, that leakage and spillage is radiating to the rest of the World. We may see more Democratic countries, who-the-fuck knows. If Aimesland doesn't succeed in Breaking The Chain, then that's how I know this world is bleak, and devoid-of-Merit, Luck and Optimism. It'd then have no Character. To have Character, you need to be funny. Be whimsical. Be weird. Challenge the Statusquo, like we do - instead of adding upon it, like the Warmongering Nihonese or Smacktalking Manticorans do. They're just two shades of Red, whilst we've always remained Blue. The Blues verse the Reds; an ancient legend. The Redshirts were good shooters, but got killed en masse by the Blueshirts, the more witty and lighthearted bunch. Blueshirts showed their ingenuity, whilst Redshirts just died and died Hard. Don't be a Redshirt. Be original." Sprout thought aloud.

"Sounds like the saddest shit ever, but I like that story. That-there is good Storytelling." Allegra replied, holding Sprout's hand tightly.

"History repeats itself. These dumbass motherfuckers refuse to learn from it, though." Sprout stated.

"I'm so fucking sick-and-tired of these dimwits taking me outta Context, and makin' me seem like the Evil Villainess, when I'm just fucking tryna help people - for fucks' sake. I have had it with this world, to be Honest. Like I said earlier, I'd gladly go-back into Isolationist policies, but it's too fucking late. Can't turn the Clocks back. If they're bashing me right now, wait 'til the Historybooks come out. Then, they'd really be shittin' on me!" She cried, kissing Allegras' hand and trying to not give into her Explosive Rage.

All of this lovey-dovey time had seemed to have chilled-down Sprout, though the cowards finagled themselves in Winstons' brain. Now, they were essentially living rent-free in her cranium.
Kehrernesia wrote:
"Hypercapital's greatest wish would be for others to stop thinking of them (Hypercapital) as too "edgy" and for said other persons to get to truly know and appreciate the depth of Hypercapital's lore."

"Peace is a lie." ~ Sith Code (excerpt)

Classical Liberal (ClaLib), Proud stan of Kim Jong Un's sis, Kanye West 2024, Vermin Supreme (whenever)

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Newne Carriebean7
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Postby Newne Carriebean7 » Wed Jul 29, 2020 7:32 pm

Carriebean City
Imperial Palace
January 20, 1935


What a hell of a drug, man. Who’d of thunk you could whip up nationalistic sentiments over some stupid cattle grazing ground and useless, arid farmland? The Carriebeanian President clearly thought so. President Rachlét Partenbre was known to be opportunistic at the best moments, though he had a hard time judging when they were the best moments for Carriebean in the long term, often pursuing short-term expansionist goals. Still, it would get the revanchists who rallied to return to the homeland off his back and firmly behind him with the polls.
“So long as we do some sort of red meat, they wouldn't dare abandon us.” Partenbre was heard to say in his study to his wife.

A smile crept over his face at the appearance of a large crowd of people.
Outside of the Imperial Palace, where the Emperor had ostensibly invited the President for a personal meeting, the real purpose was to fire up the crowd for a military adventure. Regardless of if the soldiers marched to the drum of the officer, there was always a threat the soldier would sympathize with the commoner and turn on the officer. That was the duty of propaganda and military happenstance to nip this in the bud. Large, ornate paintings were hung in the square of the Triumphant Partenbre on horseback, along with a large marble statue of Partenbre in his military uniform alongside that of the Emperor. Huge Carriebeanian tricolors were unfurled from the top masts, along with a new flag, one of a red background juxtaposed with a white circle.

The parade grounds were filled with thousands of Carriebeanian soldiers, dressed in military uniforms befitting of the antebellum Carriebeanian south. More militant members of the Patriotic Party, a paramilitary unit not sanctioned by the president called the Protectors of Partenbre, or PP, stood stoically beside the president, Warglorian k98s in their hands. The PP were adorned in 1870s Carriebeanian military uniforms of blue dress pants and a black jacket with golden buttons, the shoulers flanked by golden eppalautes. Partenbre wiped a small tear from his eye, cleared his throat and began to speak at the microphone placed in front of him.

“People of Carriebean! Honorary citizens of the nation! There is a conflict brewing throughout the world. It stems from the honorable Nihonese fighting against the unwavering and tough Aimslandish government. As thousands are slain, Carriebean watches. Carriebean shall continue to monitor such a situation. However, there is a much graver concern as compared to a bunch of pansy ass liberals slashing the shit out of some damned japanese nihonians.

I have received word this morning of the so-called restoration of order from Sirvanskan gangsters, anarchist and terrorist cells operating out of the Sirvanskan Provisional Government. This government is infamously known for committing heinous acts of barbarism that only Carriebean is known to stoop to! Carriebean is known for it’s love of law and order, and we have received reports of lawlessness, anarchism and emancipation! Emancipation!
Carriebeanian businessmen are being chased off of their properties by armed thugs, brutally murdered. I got a report of a 72 year old Carriebeanian slave owner who was shot through the head in bed while his labor, his capital, his sweat and blood (ok other people’s sweat and blood) to work hard for such a do it yourselfer attitude all gone to shit in less than a few seconds! The murderers were never caught, owing to the corrupt and dejected state of SPG law enforcement.

They make Carriebeanian law enforcement look credible in comparison! I never imagined my tongue twisting around to get me to say those words in my lifetime! Carriebeanian law enforcement? Credible? Those two words should not be together, it is an oxymoron, an impossibility, an implausibility, and yet, here I stand. I have not caught on fire or have dropped dead from a heart attack for saying such a thing, so it must be true by some stretch of the imagination!

I conduct this action on behalf of the old man’s labor. His best nigger was named Jokar. Jokar was in tears after we beat the shit out of him so he can seem sad-I mean after the brutal muder of his master. He was beside himself in grief. Carriebean grieves with Jokar. Carriebean cries out for justice! Carriebean demands vengeance! Give us the weaponries of the heavens, and we shall have god sort them out! Order will be restored!”

The crowds soon were whipped up into a frenzy, parroting several sayings back at the President from his balcony.
“Order will be restored!”
“The Patriotic Party will bring glory to Carriebean!”
“The Patriotic Party will bring victory to Carriebean!”
“Avenge the slave holding Grandpa!”

To: Admiral Eugene Von Bismark of the Imperial Carriebeanian Navy
From: President Rachlét Partenbre
Encryption: MAXIMUM (lol Carriebean finally has competence, what an oxymoron)
It is the interest of the government to prepare for “peacekeeping” actions in order to protect the stateless citizens of the former country of Sirvanska, especially considering the actions in recent days of the Aydinirian forces, if newspapers are to be believed. Your orders are to organize a peacekeeping force to sail across and anchor first at Carriebean City, under escort from the entire Carriebeanian Main Fleet.
The Armies Attached (tentatively; subject to change)
Army of the Hobo organized in 70 tensuns for a total of 70,000 soldiers.
Artillery attached:
63 x 1917 105mm Cannon
50 x 1897 75mm Cannon
25 x Gatling Guns
25 x Moores Volley Guns
36 x Hoppes 77mm Stock Cannon
40 x 7cm Field Guns
14,337 pack and field animals for towing and to propel the 1,097 provision carrying wagons that shall accompany the Army.

Armored Cars attached:
20 x Kongress Whip Halftracks
275 x Tractor Assault Vehicle Mark I
206 x Pope Talos 1926 Armored Cars

Carriebean City
Bed Bay Dockyards
Battlecruiser Hook

Admiral Eugene von Bismark nursed his cigar and held his hands steady over the cup of coffee he nursed gently in between his digits. The dockyard had been abuzz with activity. The Main Carriebeanian Fleet left it’s jungle anchorage, shedding the thick foliage that proved well after the war with the Confederation in favor of massive facilities to accompany the growing fleet. He paid a slight glance at the still skeleton structure of new carriers being hammered out, just the beginning of a new generation of warships for Carriebean.

Along with the numerous Carriebeanian surface ships which maneuvered slowly past one another, large passenger liners slowly glided into the harbor. The passengers on such warships were still fairly confused until they were to disembark, greeted by a Carriebeanian officer. If they wanted some ‘adventure’, the officer offered a military uniform, a rifle or carbine and enough ammunition for a crazed carriebeaner to load on friday shoot off until sunday.

For those in the know, there was a reason why the military uniform seemed so heavy when they picked it up, which was another reason why few were seen departing the ocean liners for good old terra infirma. Through some ingenious accounting, several golden nuggets were cobbled together to serve as bribes for the impromptu infantrymen to invade and be infamous for irredentist ideas.

Though these bribes were only handed out by a few opportunistic captains, as many of the other vessels had actual, shit throwing Carriebeanian soldiers swarm their decks with their guns and infantry kits, fighting for bunk beds that ended in deadly shootouts or duels over who was to flush (or let alone clean) the one functioning toilet within the passenger ship. Bismarck took a glance from the portside of his flagship, the Battlecruiser Hook.

He soon took notice of a column of smoke getting closer and closer to the naval base. Raising a telescope to his eyes, he was able to make out faint masts and superstructures of a few large, capital ship sized warships.
“What the fuck are those?” He motioned for Captain Eustace Bagge to peer through the scope, with him staring at the four smoking shapes that got closer and closer to the Carriebeanian Main Fleet.
“I-I’m not sure sir.”
“Well have all hands to preliminary action stations.”
“Sir. All Hands to preliminary action stations! Destroyers are to sortie from harbor to enable dreadnoughts to fuck off!”

Amongst all the shouting and yelling from various crewmembers, the destroyer captains eventually got the message when their copious amounts of pot were tossed unceremoniously overboard to get the attention of such skippers, much to their chagrin. The destroyer force soon bumbled it’s way outside of the harbor, with a dozen still filled to the brim with carriebeanian soldiers, their carbines, machine guns and light cannon all glistening in the morning sun as it maneuvered out of the larger ships’ way.
“Get in contact with those ships, I’d rather hope that the overculture hadn’t discovered our plans, or worse, the Manticorians.”
“Oh hell Bismark, I’m sure we’ll be just fine. Hopefully. Probably. Alright we’re probably going to die, but not today, eh? Eh? No? Damn it.”


As the smaller side arms for the armored cruisers swung out, manned by determined and overly nervous sailors, coilers rushed to their posts, shoveling in massive amounts of coal to provide power for the ships’ hungry engines and turbines that would propel them through Neptune's wet real estate. A sense of unmitigated terror swept over Admiral Bismark.

“Had the enemy really broken our codes? Were we in the midst of an ambush, and so close to Carriebean herself? What did I eat for lunch because good god my stomach says fuck you to aclusian steak and mashed tots.”
Soon a wave of relife crept it’s way toward every man on the fleet when a reply was hastily hammered out.


“Ah, so they are allies. That’s wonderful news. I was half expecting us to open fire on such foes. This brings our total number of dreadnoughts to 9. Now our forces are even stronger in repelling the barbarian bastards. Signal the Leroy to take up escorting positions around the eight destroyers herding our transport ocean liners along.”
“Yes sir.”
After a few minutes of frustrated signaling and a few mistaken salvos from the Leroy and her sister ships, the message was finally received as the four dreadnoughts stopped firing on their own allies and steamed off in an attempt to steer around the flanks of the fleet. What was supposed to happen was that the four ships were to approach the convoy vessels leaving port and rapidly turn to port so they could maneuver around and join up the flank of the sailing convoy. As you all know, plans meet defeat when in contact with the enemy. The enemy in this case was competence. The Leroy and the Princess Wilhelmina Packard cut too close to the other dreadnoughts of Saturn and Nagaoka, with horrific scraping sounds being uttered as thousands of tons of steel and whatever else makes up dreadnoughts collided with one another.

Admiral Bismark practically exploded.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! I just told them to form up on our flank and they end up damaging some of our battleships.”
“Well, admiral, maybe they could be set into port for some repairs-”
“Dont have time for that. I cant afford to be out even one dreadnought. Singal, using flags this time, that they are to conduct repairs on the fly and continue to follow the flagship out of the harbor.”
“Yes sir.”
With that, Admiral Bismark ventured into the mess hall to snag a small glass of water, dumping two fizzy white tablets into it that caused bubbles to erupt, akin to an underwater volcano, minus the heat and the lava/magma bullshit. He wolfed the water down and slammed the cup hard on a table.
“Fucking Heartburn.”

Carriebean City
Parliament of Carriebean

Parliament was an imposing building, almost rivaling the Imperial gardens and elaborate marbled temples that surrounded it, a sign that the Parliamentarians clearly had some pent up rage from Emperor Darvic in the 1600s. While the outright violence that struck the younger brother of Parliament was a visible and dangerous sign of the times Carriebeaners lived in, the older legislative chamber rarely had such quarrelsome clashes. Many of the MPs were former nobles, with a section of the class being restricted to those of the nobility. Sure they were snooty and out of touch, but who could deny them victory with the sai slush funds of their grandfathers who had held the seat in rotating political dynasties?

Surely not the Prime Minister, who ascended the fragile looking marble steps into the assembly hall. Parliament had three main chambers, all stacked on top of one another. The House of the Nobles sat at the very top, frequently relieving themselves right there and then, taking turns to see if they hit anyone with their shit. The receiver of such brown bombs was the House of Peasants, who were armed with enough umbrellas that kept the members from smelling like...well how Carriebeaners normally smell without soap, which is they smell like shit.

The House of the People were the middle, elected from the middle class that represented the merchants, well off but not three mansions and a gigantic statue of him/herself emblazoned with medals and made out of cheese, and slave owners with small family owned business ties. Ok sure these businesses have ties to organized crime and unorganized crime, unorganized because the gangsters often bribed military police and demanded protection funds from shotgun packing old ladies. The people still don’t feel safe when given the choice between incompetent law enforcement and incompetent criminal organizations.

House of the Peasants… well, how do you best describe them? Hmm, think of rednecks, like they’ve got really bad sunburns, but they’re also drunk half the time. While the most “democratic” as the political parties hold primaries for the constituents to vote in (only white Carriebeaners or mixed race with at least 3 generations of white Carriebeanian ancestry), they’re still woefully behind the times. The MPs for these are often picked from the captains of Carriebeanian militia forces, with election day having widespread violence and intimidation in such localities. What’s the harm really in stuffing a few more ballot boxes or burning down some polling places where you’re behind? You still hold an election (that’s not verified by any independent source), so you’re still subservient to the (right) people when you get elected.

It was this political atmosphere that Prime Minister Mara Chyltenslavbargden found herself embedded into when she entered Parliament. Among a hail of cheers from those on the political right and an accompanying rival screech of hisses from left leaning members, she approached the government benches and cleared her throat, waiting for the approval of the Speaker of the House. The crusty old man rose from the throne he sat upon, initially the throne of kings to belch out speeches from every year, now saved for the Emperor’s annual address instead of a more frequent affair.

“The House shall now convene for the customary first meeting since the dissolution of the triple houses following the 1933 general elections and the election of the new members. As the new members were sworn in beforehand, there is no time to get to know every single one of the two hundred and ninety seven freshmen members of Parliament. The Prime Minister has the floor for opening debate on the Military Reorganization and Diplomatic Clusterfuck Act of 1935, known as the very first bill of this new legislative session, followed by the Preliminary Funding Act for the Fiscal Year 1935.”

Among a hail of insults,tirades on one side and an opposing crescendo of applause and enthusiastic cheers on the other, Prime Minister Mara Chyltenslavbargden rose from her seat in the front row to address Parliament, thanking the speaker before beginning her remarks.

“Thank ye, Masta Gibbs. I speak to you as but a humble pioneer woman. I intend not to have flowery language you’d run for a dictionary over, but simplistic words that my constituents can better understand. I open debate on the Military Reorganization and Diplomatic Clusterfuck Act of 1935 by applauding the hard work my fellow politicians have done in crafting the legislation. What better way to honor their efforts by passing the legislation by a wide margin. Carriebean is currently barren without such weaponry. This bill will ,over a five year period, better fund all three branches of the Carriebeanian Armed Forces. This is unprecedented for a diplomatic clusterfuck act. I understand that it is ambitious-”

A howl of angry noises and chants to ruin the Prime Minister forced her to compose herself, waiting for the sexist growls from opposition members and leaders of left leaning groups to subside before carrying on.

“I understand, before I was interrupted by such misogynist attitudes for the first female Prime Minister-”
She was interrupted again, but this time with roars of approval by her fellow supporters and several opposition moderates who disagreed with her politically, not based on her gender. A smile crept across her face as she savored the applause and cheers of “Mara” because her last name was too tongue twisting to properly pronounce for the parliamentarians.

“I understand that it is ambitious to fund all three branches. I hear my opponents meekly cry foul at bettering one of the three branches at the detriment of the other two. I respond, why have you forsaken the country? Why have you had sailors fucking in the bushes while the airforce has to chop down trees in order to conduct repairs for the aircraft? Why is it that Carriebeanian soldiers have spiffy uniforms while the Sailors still grumble about empty stomachs and horrific accuracy? We cannot simply rely on one branch of the armed forces to save Carriebean. I’ve had it with all three of you bullying the shit out of one another for the glory of ‘saving Carriebean’.

I don't see what you’ve saved in the slightest! Our armed forces are more shriveled up than a jackrabbit in july! This inter-service rivalry must be stomped out or pissed on like how we extinguish raging infernos before towns are in flames! This bill is designed to better all three of the major branches of the Carriebeanian Armed Forces. The Triumvirate of army, navy and air force political power will be eternally grateful to the politicians who back such an action, possibly generous enough for donations to campaigns for public office?”


I. The Carriebeanian legislature recognizes the fact that indigeous Carriebeanian rifle, tank, plane and ship production lags significantly when compared to neighboring geopolitical powers and potential rivals. In order to better prepare Carriebean for an eventual conflict, such as one against the Manticorians or Aclusian militaries (purely a hypothetical but you never know with such people in government), this legislature has agreed to set apart multiple items for expenditure to ensure the safety of Carriebean from outside and inside threats to her citizenry, commerce and foreign interests abroad.

II. The Carriebeanian legislature hereby approves the following items for production:
Two Leroy Class Aircraft Carriers with the following characteristics:
Displacement: 36,118 tons
Length: 800 feet
Beam: 140 feet
Installed Power:
4 Reciprocating Engines
14 Bestton and Britten coal fired boilers
14 Bestton and Britten wood fired boilers
Top Speed: 25 knots
Range: 8,200 miles at 14 knots
Complement: 1,730 enlisted and 200 officers for 1,930 personnel
Aircraft Carried:
90 x Shark Torpedo Bomber/Dive Bombers organized in 18 five plane squadrons
Belt: 6 inches
Flight Deck:1.25 inches
12 x 6 inch guns housed in pairs of 4 guns on either side
28 x .303mm Vinegar Machine Guns
10 x 2 inch Anti-Aircraft Flak Cannons
12 x 1.5 inch Anti-Aircraft Flak Cannons

Two Barten Davidson Class Aircraft Carriers with the following characteristics:
Displacement: 39,345 tons
Length: 815 feet
Beam: 106 feet
Installed Power:
4 Reciprocating Engines
18 Bestton and Britten coal fired boilers
10 Bestton and Britten wood fired boilers
Top Speed: 27 knots
Range: 7,500 miles at 13 knots
Complement: 1,667 enlisted and 200 officers for 1,867 personnel
Aircraft Carried:
75 x Shark Torpedo Bomber/Dive Bombers organized in 15 five plane squadrons
Belt: 5.75 inches
Flight Deck:1.25 inches
12 x 7.7 inch guns housed in pairs of 3 guns on either side
24 x .303mm Vinegar Machine Guns
11 x 2 inch Anti-Aircraft Flak Cannons
14 x 1.5 inch Anti-Aircraft Flak Cannons

Two Klaus Adler Class Experimental Battleships with the following characteristics
Klaus Adler
Erich Dönitz

Displacement: 48,704 tons
Length: 912 feet
Beam: 194 feet
Installed Power:
4 Reciprocating Engines
25 Bestton and Britten coal fired boilers
5 Bestton and Britten wood fired boilers
Top Speed: 25 knots
Range: 12,000 miles at 15 knots
Complement: 2,238 enlisted and 222 officers for 2,460 personnel

Belt: 1.1 inches to 10 inches
Bulkheads: 2.5 inches to 10 inches
Casemates: 7 inches
Barbettes: 4 inches to 14 inches
Turrets: 6 inches to 14 inches
Conning Tower: 12 inches to 14.7 inches

8 x 15 inch guns housed in two quadruple turrets
6 x 17 inch guns housed in three twin turrets
20 x 4.7 inch Parrot Ordnance Cannons with 10 on both port and starboard respectively.
18 x .303mm Vinegar Machine Guns
61 x 25mm Anti-Aircraft Guns
28 x 2 inch (50mm) Anti-Aircraft Flak Cannons
21 x 1.5 inch Anti-Aircraft Flak Cannons

II. The authorization by Parliament to produce Shark Land Bombers/Torpedo Bombers in order to better accommodate the aforementioned carrier expansion. The Current Total of planes sits at 340. A planned expansion shall detail the opening of five new factories capable of manufacturing the parts for such aircraft, then they shall be shipped to an assembly factory where they shall be organized and put together as military planes. Such factories will be able to produce 10 planes in a day, per factory, with an estimated boost within one month of 1,500 planes for the Carriebeanian Air Force within a month. Current production per month is 27, coming from nine different factories pumping out three planes over the thirty day period.

The authorization by Parliament to direct funds and resources, as allocated by this legislature and overseen by the Carriebeanian Imperial Army Board on military procurement and supplies for a lightweight armored vehicle with the following specifications:
Must be able to travel up to 35 miles per hour on paved roads and 25 miles per hour on unpaved surfaces.
Contain either a 7cm Nihonese Field Gun or a Carriebeanian 7.5cm naval gun housed inside of a turret housing a two man crew. The Armored vehicle ideally has three main people, a gunner, driver and loader.
Experimentation on local civilian automotive chassis will commence in order to determine the right vehicle that’s maneuverable and lightly armored enough to sustain machine gun and rifle fire.
Preliminary contracts will be awarded to the Bestton and Britten Boiler Company and the Rookes Industrial Industries. 700,000 Sais will be granted upon the delivery of two prototypes, with the winner receiving the following contract:
Company promises to deliver, on time by January of 1936, 1,000 Company Armored Cars.
For each 25 Armored Cars delivered to the Imperial Carriebeanian Army, the Carriebeanian Imperial Army Board will allocate 450,000 Sais.
For the delivery of the full order of 1,000 Armored Cars, the company shall receive tax exempt status for the duration of continuous cooperation with the government until such time as the expiration of such an arrangement.
Also, the company shall receive government subsidies up to 21,000,000 Sais in order to streamline the manufacturing and procurement of raw resources for their construction and expansion of production lines throughout Carriebean.

The authorization by Parliament to direct funds and resources, as allocated by this legislature and overseen by the Carriebeanian Imperial Army Board for the establishment of the Shattered Crystal Special Attack Tensuns. An Emphasis will be placed on the self-sacrifice of units for the Emperor, Party and the Nation. Fervent national pride shall be constructed around such units to bolster volunteers for dangerous assignments. Thirteen reserve Tensuns shall be established, with another Twenty-Six being housed in a semi-state of ‘fluid-mobility’, where a fourth of the unit is for active and three fourths of it is still deactivated. Overall command of the Special Attack Force falls with Military-Minister of Holy Jihad Issac Dorothy.

The authorization by Parliament to direct funds and resources, as allocated by this legislature and overseen by the Carriebeanian Imperial Army Board will be the production and allocation of Carriebeanian Bolting 1905 Rifle. A total of two hundred Carriebeanian factories will be granted subsidies in order to encourage the mass production of at least two million rifles by January of 1936. Another order will be organized by one hundred and eighty of the two hundred factories, who have agreed to build 400,000 Vinegar Machine Guns. All factories have henceforth agreed to the production of 2,000,000 Grace Imperial 1900 Rifles, at least 700 Pope Talos 1926 Armored Cars and the addition of 500 more Tractor Assault Vehicles.
Also included are the schematics for the local Nihonese 7cm Field Gun, where we shall produce local copies still named after the Nihonese 7cm Field Gun to sow confusion in our own lines. Production cues for such artillery pieces have an order of 350 additional guns to be fitted first in 200 prepared Kongress Whip Halftracks and the other 150 as field gun batteries organized as five guns in a battery for a total of 30 batteries to be attached to a Carriebeanian Field Army.

IV. The Carriebeanian legislature hereby approves the following items for production:
Four Fischer class Tin Cruisers with the following characteristics:
Fischer class Tin Cruiser
Man of War

7 - × 6inch Parrot Ordnance Cannons (3 × 2) (1 x 1)
3 - × 3 inch Parrot Ordnance Cannons (3 × 1)
3- × 2 inch Dual Purpose Parrot Ordnance Cannons (3 × 1)
11 - × .303mm Machine Guns (11 × 1)
2- × 2 21 inch Torpedo Tubes (2 × 1)
Armor: Belt: 1.77 inches
Deck: 0.6 inches
Turrets: 0.9 inches
Displacement: 6,200 tons
Length: 550 feet
Width: 50 feet
Complement: 345 sailors and 55 officers for a total of 400
Engineering: Three Triple Expansion Engines
Seven Bestton and Briten Wood Fire Boilers
Top Speed: 29 knots

Four Rambler Class Tin Cruisers with the following characteristics

7 - × 6inch Parrot Ordnance Cannons (3 × 2) (1 x 1)
4 - × 3 inch Parrot Ordnance Cannons (4 × 1)
4- × 2 inch Parrot Ordnance Cannons (4 × 1)
15 - × .303mm Machine Guns (15 × 1)
4- × 2 21 inch Torpedo Tubes (4 × 1)

Armor: Belt: 1.87 inches
Deck: 0.8 inches
Turrets: 0.9 inches

Displacement: 6,900 tons
Length: 576 feet
Width: 58 feet
Complement: 365 sailors and 55 officers for a total of 420
Engineering: Three Triple Expansion Engines
Seven Bestton and Briten Wood Fire Boilers
Top Speed: 27 knots
AYE: 3,449
NAY: 2,332
Last edited by Newne Carriebean7 on Wed Jul 29, 2020 7:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Former Carriebeanian president Carol Dartenby sentenced to 4 years hard labor for corruption and mismanagement of state property|Former Carriebeanian president Antrés Depuís sentenced to 3 years in prison for embezzling funds and corruption

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Founded: Feb 16, 2020


Postby HypErcApitAl » Thu Jul 30, 2020 1:48 am


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

Business and tax in Aimesland was very-positive, as the Aimeslandish Gov't was very pro-business. Aimesland was, infact, Capitalist; its brand of Capitalism being Laissez-faire Capitalism, which made sense. Aimesland was economically/monetarily/financially liberal and ideologically liberal; being firmly-Liberal and devoted to Democratic principles and values. Socially/culturally, Aimesland was the most Liberal one could get, causing some to consider it a "Utopia," though that wasn't the preferred term. Aimesland, being Futurist, preferred a "Futurama," moreso than a "Utopia," though being considered "Utopian" was highly-flattering to Aimeslandish.

Spring Liberalism, always being associated with the color Green, or Neon Green; it tied-down all of the BRAs' beliefs, principles, philosophies, schools-of-thought, and system-of-Governance. The ideology was unique to Aimesland, and the Aimeslandish were masters of the principle.

Tax, ofcourse, being frowned-upon, and the gov't tried to not tax its citizens to High Heavens. Knowing how civil the Aimeslandish were, they were happy to pay Tax and do their Civic Duties to the gov't, but at the same time, were very skeptical - as was expected in a Democracy.

Valour, Honour, Respect, Self-respect and Chivalry were sacredcows in Aimesland, as the Aimeslandish were very honourable and respectable; though very sardonic, sarcastic and biting. They knew Satire and how to make fun of themselves (self-deprecation); not take themselves very seriously, though with everything going on in the World, had to take themselves as Aimeslandish and the Aimeslandish Nation very-seriously, including its symbol the Flag.

Beauty, Talent, Celebrity, and Class were also valuable traits in Aimesland, though Aimeslandish Class was very different than the rest of the world; sometimes looking like they had no class at all, and that they were very peasant-like or 'lowly', though this was untrue. Aimeslandish had their own Swagger, their own beats and horns they walked to.

They very-simply carried themselves differently, and at-times, this was hard to articulate.

A futurama was very different than a utopia, as Utopia can sometimes be Dystopia. Futuramas were very idealistic, light-hearted and cynical, or "not serious at-all."

Ofcourse, Futuramas were very technological, or based in Technology and Art or being Artsy and Artistic.

Art; being highly-valued and very important in Aimesland.

Aimeslandish Architecture was very colorful and round/curvy, or minimalistic - this being "Aimeslandish Minimalism."

Pastel and neon colors littered the cityscapes and towns, and seemed kinda garish or unsightly to tourists though at the same time had its own charm.

Sprout, herself, was an artist - she went into not only Music or Martial Arts, but also painting and coloring; having skill in it and focusing at it towards her Toddler years. She also liked fighting and tried very hard to be the best at it, this perfectionism being kinda expected since Aimeslandish were all about Skill and having a particular hobby or attribute - being good or very good at something.

With being an artistic nation, Fashion was certainly a main feature and fixture - the way an Aimeslandish dressed (or didn't dress) was very important.

Not all Aimeslandish were talented, multitalented, or megatalented, though this was a desired trait socially.

To an Aimeslandish, an ideal world was a world of Drama, Beauty, Art, Talents, Character (and the many flaws in it - sometimes), Dreams, Craftsmanship, Finesse, and Language.

A highly-linguistic and sociable world where everyone was talkative and communicated their feelings; being honest and frank, or literal despite seeming tactless. Honesty, and paradoxically being dramatic were also good to an Aimeslandish - the "I like someone who tells it like it is"- notion being universal there.

Someone that knows exactly how they feel, what they want, and what their dreams are, instead of flip-flopping or changing Sight or visions.

It's good to be quiet and secretive, too, but the main goal was to have a nation that said what they felt; essentially a nation of very-real people and chatterboxes. Being real whilst being sarcastic and dramatic was also kinda paradoxical, but it was possible.


Aimeslandish got very experimental. Being known for being avant-garde - and especially their wooden shoes, experimented more with Wood, causing the very-interesting piece-of-fashionwear above - the Wooden Highheel.

Absurdism, Surrealism, Satirism - traits of both Aimesland the people and Aimesland the nation. Aristonia, herself was a very weird and proud Lady - the said symbol of the Aimeslandish Nation went back awhile, though imagined and reimagined differently as Aimesland wanted to be more Futuristic and visionary, or advanced.
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The Manticoran Empire
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Founded: Aug 21, 2015

Postby The Manticoran Empire » Sat Aug 01, 2020 9:48 am

Tirpitzstadt, Sudreich
Warglorian Reich
10 February 1935

Princess Lieutenant Mary Javette stepped down the plank of the packet steamer Veronica onto the bustling pier of Tirpitzstadt’s civilian port facilities. As one of the largest and most important ports in Wargloria, it had a large naval presence, with around half the Warglorian Navy calling it their homeport. It also boasted the largest of Wargloria’s major fleet yards, capable of building and repairing perhaps half a dozen capital ships.

But for Mary, the fleet yards and the battleships weren’t what she was here for. A particular Warglorian male, one from a proud and noble family, a de facto aristocrat, was her reason for being here. She’d never met Stefan Adler, indeed she’d never seen more than a photograph of him in a newspaper. But everyone who talked about him said he was a good man and her Uncle had insisted that she meet him.

Uncle Robert had always been fascinated with the Warglorians. Probably had something to do with Eva, his Warglorian wife. Or possibly the many times he’d gone to Warglorian Zeeland on hunting trips. But whatever the reason, he’d insisted she meet Stefan and had even gone as far as to arrange leave, passage, and a meeting. All the while, he’d been saying, “Stefan’s a good lad from a good family. I’m sure the two of you will get along swimmingly.”

Well, now Mary was here. The plan was for her to meet Stefan at a restaurant in a couple of days so her first step was to get to her hotel, where she could drop off her luggage and relax before wandering around Tirpitzstadt. She took a moment to find her bearings and locate a taxi stand before walking briskly in that direction.

Vicuna, Middenland
Manticoran Empire
11 February 1935

Queen Catherine stepped into the conference room that for the last 25 years had been the home of her weekly meetings with the Joint Chiefs and her Government. Chairs scraped against the mahogany floor as the officers and secretaries rose in recognition of her presence. David Kasper, still Prime Minister after 15 years, bowed slightly as Catherine crossed the threshold and walked to her seat. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” Kasper said with a regal air of one who had spent decades in Parliament. “Good morning, David. How’s the family?” Catherine replied as she reached her seat, positioned at the head of the table and to the right of Kasper’s. “Fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking.” The two friends exchanged smiles as Catherine greeted the rest of the room. The Government hadn’t changed much in the 15 years since Kasper won his seat.
Secretary of State Alfonso Ashburn was across from the Prime Minister, his dark hair and tanned skin merging quite well with the hints of graying hair and wrinkles of time. Upon his shoulders rested the Empire’s ability to avoid conflict and Ashburn was very good at doing that. It was largely as a result of his stewardship that war had been avoided in Indianum.
Secretary of the Treasury Charles McNair stood next to Kasper, his wide rimmed glasses and thin appearance oddly fitting for the head of the Kingdom’s economy. Even more fitting was his keen intellect and his analytical mind, perfectly suited for dealing with interest rates, inflation rates, and currency exchange rates. While he approved of the Empire’s hand’s off economic approach, he did ensure that there was enough oversight that the economy could weather most storms.
Secretary of Defense Charles Lee stood across from McNair and was almost exactly his opposite in physical appearance. Where McNair had glasses, Lee wore none, where McNair had a thin, subtle frame, Lee had the broad, muscular frame of a career military man. But the physical differences weren’t enough to hide the same, sharp intelligence in both in the eyes of both men. And for Lee, that intelligence was absolutely essential. He was, after all, the man responsible for leading the most powerful military force on the planet and having a stupid man in that position was a quick path to disaster.
Attorney General Gordon Brown, standing next to Lee, was a pudgy, balding man who had the tired yet learned appearance of a man who had seen too much. Brown truly had, as well, serving as a Judge for almost 40 years, trying and sentencing murderers, rapists, thieves, and other undesirables as well as seeing how poor police work and bad lawyers could set those who should have been free men to rot in prisons. His work the last 15 years on reforming the justice system had made many people happy and resulted in many wrongfully convicted men and women going free.
Secretary of the Interior Edward Turner, across from Brown, had tanned skin which contrasted with his bright, blonde hair, boyish blue eyes, and near child-like giddiness. But he was also an avid conservationist and almost single-handedly responsible for the system of parks and preserves across the Empire. But perhaps Catherine’s favorite part of Turner wasn’t his enthusiasm for nature but his pet bear, Edward. A lovely Hochland brown bear, Edward was the official mascot of the Royal Parks and Preserves Service, his likeness being on their badges and seal and, much to Turner’s everlasting embarrassment, the new emblem of Princess Mary’s army unit in Nuwe Afrikaa.
Secretary of Agriculture Cornelius Peters, however, seemed an odd choice. Seated next to Brown, his skin was pale and smooth, very unlike a farmer and standing in stark contrast to Brown’s ebony skin tone. However, few would challenge him retaining his position since he was, in fact, quite a knowledgeable man who had led the Empire in an agricultural revolution of sorts, seeing the farms of the Empire to their highest productivity in decades. His years of study on the effects of different plants upon the soil and the order in which crops should be grown to ensure the most bountiful harvests each year had made even small farmers wealthy off bountiful crops and had made the Empire’s produce some of the most plentiful in the world.
Secretary of Commerce Raymond Nichols, across from Peters, was, like McNair, adept with numbers and, like all of her ministers, highly knowledgeable in his field. He had taken great care to ensure that the Empire maintained good commercial relations with other countries and that the Empire’s merchants could engage in healthy competition with foreign sellers. He was also very good at negotiating with those same merchants to prevent them from demanding trade protections, which would only have hurt the Empire in the long run.
Secretary of Labor Son Smith, seated next to Nichols and with a rather unimaginative name for an incredibly imaginative person, was also one of the least popular members of the staff when he had been appointed. His position, established just before the start of the Great War and initially filled by a series of entirely unsuitable morons, had been criticized as unnecessary and not in keeping with the ideas of a free market. But Smith had led reforms and championed new laws that made workers more comfortable in their places of work, better paid for their labor, and more productive. As Smith was fond of saying, “Happy workers work harder and comfortable, well paid workers are happy workers.”
Secretary of Health and Human Services Ralph Mitchell, across from Smith, was perhaps one of the most necessary members of the government who was seen by some in Parliament as the most useless. His responsibility was the healthcare services of the Empire and ensuring that children and underprivileged families had access to the necessary resources to support growth and escape poverty. It wasn’t always easy, as many fell through the cracks or were never helped because of pride or lack of funds, but he did everything he could and he was still working tirelessly to improve his department.
Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Alexander Isler, next to Mitchell, had a department that was seeing ever more work with the annexation of Manchukuo and the continued investment in Almaty. The need to build schools, housing, and other structures had led to more than a few long days and even longer nights as he worked to coordinate the various efforts needed to accomplish the goals in those regions but he was so far succeeding. And it was in part due to his excellent relationship with the man across from him.
Secretary of Transportation Richard Westbrook, a pale, balding man in his 60s, had been involved in road and transportation infrastructure for thirty years before his appointment to Secretary of Transportation. He had started out working in a relatively large town in Reikland, keeping roads paved and improving bridges, railroads, and other transportation infrastructure. After being made Secretary of Transportation, he took his experiences from Reikland and began to scale them up, spending the last 15 years on completing infrastructure projects initially requested by the Army, involving a system of interconnected highways across the Empire, at least where practical. He couldn’t build bridges across the ocean but, until the land met the sea, he had been determined to ensure it could be reached with a road.
Secretary of Education Lawrence Holt, seated next to Westbrook, had led his own charge for reform in the Empire’s education system, determined to make the youth of the Empire intelligent and articulate individuals, capable of functioning in the rapidly shifting society of the modern world. Many of the changes hadn’t been popular, particularly among rural communities, but overall they seemed to have made great improvements. When they left school, the Empire’s young people were capable of quickly finding jobs and contributing to society or move on to universities, both in the Empire and abroad. While the full effects wouldn’t be realized for several more years, all the signs appeared to be positive.
Secretary of Veterans Affairs George Sher, across from Holt, had become a close friend and ally of Catherine’s even before his appointment as the Secretary of Veterans Affairs. They had collaborated in the years before the Great War on making the transition to civilian life easier on former soldiers and, in the years since the Great War, their efforts had doubled, providing aid and relief to the men scarred by the War and the families left destitute by loss of fathers, husbands, and sons.
The fact that all of them were still in their positions was astonishing, providing a stability that hadn’t really been seen since the start of The Great War. There were, however, two new faces in the government. The new Budget and Management Director, a young woman named Sarah Hodges who had risen to the position last year after Douglas Johnson’s untimely death in an automobile accident, had already demonstrated her skill by taking the budgets requested by the various departments and the budget passed by Parliament and turning the results into manageable monstrosities of charts and allowances. The other new face had only arrived a few days ago, making his first appearance in one of these meetings.
Michael Arce had replaced Rufus Heskett as Chief of Staff after the latter had finally decided to retire after over two decades as Catherine’s Chief of Staff. While Michael had spoken with most of the people present at least once in the days leading up to the meeting, he had never been in a room with all of them and his desire to make a good impression was written all over his face and, Catherine noted, in the neat stack of folders and documents at his position on the table. He clearly wanted to put his best foot forward for everyone present.
Then there were the military men who were present. The Joint Chiefs had changed over the years, with new members appointed every four years. Currently the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs was General Clarence Harper of the Royal Manticoran Army, with General Guy Hawley as Chief of Staff of the Army, Admiral Harry Miller as First Sea Lord, General Steven Yee as Commandant of the Marine Corps, and a new position in the form of General Lee Lummus as Chief of Staff for Air Forces and Commandant of the Army Air Force.

Having greeted everyone, Catherine pulled her chair out and said, “Gentlemen, and lady, please be seated,” before lowering herself into her chair and pulling herself towards the table. Chairs scraped as the others followed suit and she swept her eyes around the table again before coming to rest on Arce. “So, Michael, what’s on the agenda today?” The young man cleared his throat and shuffled some papers before speaking. “Well, your Majesty, first on the list is the ongoing conflict in Aimesland, specifically regarding our own response to the situation. I know that the Joint Chiefs want to discuss our providing escorts to merchant travel in the region as well as further steps should Nihon, Hoosier, or Aimesland attack convoys under our protection. I also know that General Hawley and Admiral Miller want to discuss the Hoosier and Aydinirian invasions of Sirvanska so they can put forth some advice and get some guidance for the troops in the region.” He flipped the page in his folder before continuing, “It also appears that economic and educational topics to cover and, quite notable for the Department of State, is the apparently cordial meeting between Princess Mary and Stefan Adler. We don’t have all the details, of course, but it would seem that there is potential there and, of course, it would behoove us to have some form of plan in place if it does pan out.”
Catherine hid a grimace as he finished. She knew this day would come, of course. Mary was heir to the throne and, as such, it had become increasingly pressing to find her a husband so she could produce an heir herself. Her commissioning in the Army had only increased the urgency, since it was possible that she could be killed while in service and it wouldn’t do for her to die without leaving someone to inherit her titles. So Michael was quite correct that a potential courtship of any sort was something to be discussed and planned for. The thing he hadn’t mentioned, however, was almost immediately brought up by Ashburn.
“You sorta glossed over the fact that her apparent interest is in one Stefan Adler, the grandson of Reichsminister Klaus Adler, who is not only their defense minister and uniformed head of their armed forces but a personal friend and confidant of Führer Landa. Certainly that pedigree earns him a bit more than a passing remark. Consider it, if this courtship does result in marriage, then Princess Mary’s children will also be potential heirs to one of the most powerful dynasties in Wargloria, as well as to the throne of the Empire. Think about what that could do for our relations with Wargloria.”
At this point, Lee spoke up, “It could be a very good thing, indeed, but it could also lead to very confusing relations with Nihon. Our relations with Wargloria are very good right now, certainly better than they were fifteen years ago, but the Warglorians also have a close relationship with Nihon, Hoosier, and Aydinir, all three of which are major military, political, and economic rivals in Indianum and two of whom we have had war scares with in the last decade. If our relations with those three nations were to sour, it could also sour relations with Wargloria, marriage into the Adler family or not. A better political match would be Landa’s grandson, Rudolf. Or perhaps an Aclusian noble. At least marrying into an Aclusian family won’t have the potential of putting the husband at loggerheads with us if we go to war in Indianum.”
Catherine spoke now, “All of these are fine points, gentlemen, but I think that we should at least see if the two of them actually LIKE each other before we start planning for how to deal with the pairing. By all accounts, Stefan is an excellent match for Mary. He comes from a good family, he is an officer in the Black Guard, and he is a handsome fellow. Of course, by all accounts Rudolf would be a good match, too. And there is sure to be a match that could be made from Aclusia, Arengin, the Traansval, Norcourt, or any number of other places. But Mary seems to have an interest in Stefan so let’s see if this is going to be a relationship or a youthful fling.”
She paused for a moment before continuing. “Right, now that my daughter’s sex life has been discussed in detail by her mother and a group of old men, let’s get on with the business of Aimesland. I’m certain Mary will find that rather less disconcerting than the idea of who she shares her bed with being made into a major debate of the Government.” A light chuckle rose from the gathered “old men” before Admiral Miller spoke.
“Current reports from OSS, ONI, and Army Intelligence are that the Aimeslandish are fucked,” he paused, “Um, pardon me, your Majesty.” Catherine waved her hand dismissively, “Continue, Admiral. We are all adults here and I think fucked is the perfect way to describe the situation there.” Miller nodded and continued. “The Nihonese have secured a beachhead on eastern shore, destroying the Aimeslandish Navy, such as it was, and capturing their largest naval installation. This has allowed them to land a force of approximately 230,000 men with over 500 tanks. The Nihonese have suffered almost 13,000 casualties and lost two ships so far, counting the destroyers lost at the start of the war, while the Aimeslandish have suffered 35,000 and 40,000 casualties and their entire fleet was scuttled. Granted, the Aimeslandish Navy was hopelessly outdated but they still possessed approximately 180 vessels, including about 30 warships that would have been cutting edge only thirty years ago. The expense of that fleet should at least be considered and they sunk it themselves, so they were intelligent enough to realize that they couldn’t stand against the Combined Fleet with eighty year old ships.”
“The Nihonese have also captured several towns in the area and routed the Aimeslandish defenders in the region. As it stands, the Nihonese forces presently in Aimesland equal more than 50% of the total Aimeslandish Army and some 23% of the Aimeslandish Armed Forces as a whole. If Aimesland is able to put up enough resistance to cause the Nihonese difficulty, it may well see Nihon abandon our disarmament treaty and drastically increase the size of its armed forces. And that’s before we discuss our own contributions. Providing convoys with escorts is seriously impacting our destroyer and light cruiser squadrons, pulling them away from training with the Fleet and sending them off across the world to escort merchants. While a noble and necessary mission, it does leave our main fleets under protected, should war begin elsewhere. This is then where the problem arises.” He rose and walked to a large easel at the end of the room and lifted the cover from it. “We presently have three hundred and thirty five destroyers and forty-three light cruisers operational out of a total of three hundred and seventy-eight and forty-eight, respectively, in full commission. That’s forty-seven escorts out for refit or maintenance. Of the remainder, most of our Light Cruisers are in Manchukuo, where the current tensions with Hoosier make it impossible to redeploy them. That means we must draw upon the light cruisers in the Second Fleet and the destroyers of the First and Second fleets to fill these escorts and the unfortunate fact is that currently ship levels are not adequate. We want to try to maintain approximately two of these escorts for each of our capital ships to defend against submarines and aircraft. We currently average about 2.5 escorts per capital ship and even stripping our escorts down to the bare minimum only gives us 92 ships that can be deployed for convoy escort. At best, we can escort eight convoys at a time with current numbers of escorts. We have seven hundred and sixty-four destroyers in mothballs that can be recalled if needed but will require over 93,000 new sailors just to crew them, with thousands more men required to provide maintenance staff in order to maintain serviceability rates. And that’s before we consider the costs needed to refit them and repair them into working order. Ammunition must be purchased, fuel and provisions loaded, et cetera. Quite simply put, Ma’am, bringing these ships back into service is necessary for us to meet the operational requirements we have been given but will require time and money that we presently don’t have.”

General Hawley then spoke, “There is also the conflict in Sirvanska to consider. Hoosier and Aydinir have advanced hundreds of miles in the last week and threaten Leersog. Not only that but the lack of Skartenian activity may give the Hoosiers enough courage to attack Smirsja. This would put them in a position to threaten Almaty and Manchukuo from several directions and would increase the border we need to defend. Then we have to consider our deteriorating relationship with Aydinir and the fact that Rachana’s royal family married into the Aydinirian royal family, meaning our relationship with that nation is fairly dependent on our relationship with Aydinir. Hoosier is also sending troops to help Nihon in Aimesland and both Hoosier and Aydinir are improving their relationship with Nihon in general. This has the potential to balloon into a major conflict in which we will be substantially outnumbered in the initial stages.” He rose to join Miller at the easel and indicated a new board. “Between them, Aydinir, Nihon, and Hoosier have eleven and a half million men currently in service and the potential to raise millions more in only a few months.
And this is without considering Parsa, Rachana, or the Hoosier backed government in Aryshtakova. While we can count on support from Aclus and Norcourt, that only gives us a little under nine million troops at the start of a major war and most of those are separated from Indianum by thousands of miles of oceans three of the largest navies in the world. While we do have the two largest navies, in the form of the Royal Manticoran Navy and the Aclusian Royal Navy, as well as the sizeable Norcourtian Navy, our fleets are much more divided than the fleets of Indianum and we can’t guarantee their joining before a battle begins somewhere. As such, it is imperative that we draw up the contingency plans and coordinate them with Aclus and Norcourt. It is also imperative that we recheck our mobilization plans.
If a war does begin in Indianum, it will begin quickly and there is little room for initial preparations, due to the treaty which limits the size of our forces. We must provide our current forces with as much modern equipment as quickly as possible to give them the best chance of holding the line until new troops can be raised and shipped overseas. The alternative is, to be frank, distasteful from a diplomatic standpoint.”
Ashburn leaned forward, “How distasteful?”
Hawley looked Ashburn in the eye and said, “The alternative is to unilaterally withdraw from the de-escalation treaty and commence a massive military build up. There are a number of obvious problems with this, not the least of which is the fact that we would be unilaterally withdrawing from a treaty that you worked for over a year to achieve and that has kept the peace in Indianum for seven years. Furthermore, it will likely inspire our rivals to conduct their own buildups, greatly increasing tensions in the region and creating a higher chance that war will start. And then there is the monetary expense in doing so.
At present, the most economical thing to do is increase the number of troops in Indianum and move the remaining troops to Tamir, to shorten the distance that must be traveled in order to reach Indianum. It will require a great deal of investment in new infrastructure and will undoubtedly inflame tensions, both with the local populations and with our rivals, but it will improve our ability to defend our frontier. The other, far less practical option, is to build a series of fixed fortifications along our borders with Hoosier and Parsa in the hopes that it will keep our rivals from considering an attack. However, those borders are thousands of miles long and, as such, it is entirely impractical to consider building permanent fortifications.”

Hawley paused to let the rest of the council absorb his words. Finally, Charles McNair spoke, “General Hawley is quite correct about the expenditures. However, I think we can stretch the budget enough to build up a stockpile of material. Munitions, spare parts, tanks, planes, trucks, et cetera. That will at least reduce the amount of new spending needed if a war does break out and it will provide new troops with equipment to train with.” Ashburn then pointed out, “Stockpiling equipment will start people asking questions about why and it could lead to our rivals stockpiling their own equipment. Not to mention that Nihon is already expanding its forces.” Westbrook then spoke, “Without functional infrastructure to facilitate the movement of troops and materials, none of this will mean a damn thing. The current budgets simply aren’t enough to meet our goals.” He turned to McNair, “You’ve gotta figure out some way of getting me more money so that I can keep building these roads and maintaining railways and bridges or we are going to be a serious spot of bother.” McNair replied, “I can only dole out what Parliament grants me leave to collect and so far the Parliament is rather stingy on the subject.”

The councillors continued to debate amongst themselves while Catherine sat at her end of the table and thought for a while. No matter what they decided, a war was coming. She didn’t know where it would start and there were many places. Leersog, Smirsja, Manchukuo, Almaty, Tamir, Nuwe Afrikaa. So many ways it could start, too. Hoosier or Skarten or Parsa could start a war over Almaty. Skarten or Nihon could start one over Manchukuo. Or perhaps Aydinir or Hoosier starts a war over Leersog and the Empire gets dragged into it. Maybe Aydinir gives up on subterfuge and invades Yindrai. Perhaps rebellious groups in New Reyvan or Vladburg start a war with Arengin. Or one of those convoys around Westerwald is attacked and a war starts that way. There was no shortage of ways a war could start and no shortage of ways in which it could start badly for the Empire. And the most unfortunate thing was that it distracted her from thinking about her daughter. She did earnestly hope that Mary’s meeting with Stefan was going well but, considering the distance and the currently pressing discussion about war, she didn’t know and wouldn’t be able to find out for some time.

She finally allowed herself to return to the discussion and said, “No matter what choices we make, they won’t be perfect solutions. What we need is an affordable solution that is also practical and one which can be maintained for years if necessary. Charles, I believe I remember reading in one of the circulars that the other two factories for M1 tanks are coming online this month, correct?”
Charles McNair said, “Partially, Ma’am. The Brunswick Tank Arsenal will build M1 tanks, with the first coming off the assembly line at the end of next week, if the schedule holds. However, the Harrendale plant will take over production of the M2 light tanks, freeing up the current Hochwald Tank Arsenal to solely produce M1 tanks. We expect production to reach 10 tanks per day at all three plants by the end of next month.”
“At that production rate, it will take almost five years just to replace our existing inventory, never mind a stockpile,” Hawley said, “We’ll need to build them faster to accomplish anything meaningful.” McNair replied, “Building tanks isn’t cheap and we have other projects to accomplish. Such as the motorization of the infantry divisions that the Army insists on. Each division needs another 500 trucks added to its total, not to mention the 2,700 for each of those armored divisions you want. 79,000 trucks and then there’s the rifles, machine guns, trailers, radios, field telephones, artillery pieces, helmets, uniforms, et cetera, et cetera. All of which needs to be built, bought, and paid for. And that’s without thinking about the tens of thousands of trucks that will be needed for non-divisional supply units to keep all of these motorized formations supplied. All of this is going to take money and time and we aren’t going to decide how much of either we get. Parliament controls our money and the Gods control our time.” Everyone at the table became silent as they considered the facts before them. Parliament was indeed unwilling to spend more money than legally required. And they indeed needed a lot more equipment than just tanks. They needed planes, ships, trucks, cars, and everything else. All of it would cost money and time to build. And they didn’t know how much of that they would have.

Bayantal Army Base
Bayantal, Almaty
12 February 1935

“FIRE!” The calls of gun leaders could be heard for a scant second before the guns roared to life. 1,254 guns from 19 divisions shattered the pre-dawn silence, the tubes belching great tongues of flame as they spit shells towards the mock trenches some five miles away. The current drill was little more than a test to see how well the divisions could coordinate their fires and their ability to sustain a length pre-assault barrage.

The 15-kilogram shells were filling the sky at a rate of one round every twenty seconds, arcing over the horizon before slamming into the ground at the other end of the range, shaking the earth and tearing enormous craters several feet across into the ground. Barbed wire was thrown up and fell to earth, tangling into a mangled mess of wire and poles. Dugouts caved in, trench segments collapsed, entire fire-trenches were ruined when a shell landed within them. And the guns would continue the barrage for three more hours before a cease fire would be called.

When the cease fire order was given, the troops limbered up their guns and withdrew back to their encampments, where officers would debrief each other and the gun crews would go over what they did right and what they got wrong. And all the while, officers and NCOs would talk about the tensions with Hoosier and the potential of a war breaking out in Almaty, all while paying lip-service to the hope that it wouldn’t come to that. Not one man in the entire Fourth Army would come out and say that they hoped a war would begin. Every man knew at least one person that had fought in the Great War and every man had seen the maimed veterans that had returned. Yet for some war still had a sense of adventure attached to it. A sense that glory could be won and medals earned through dashing deeds of heroism.

But the older men, the ones who had seen war before, they knew better. In war one would find no honor, no glory. Only suffering, fear, and the chance to earn a few bits of ribbon or scraps of tin to adorn your chest if you were lucky. Or your casket if you weren’t. But ribbon would not keep children fed and wives in company. Tin would not pay for the home or provide for the education. These were the things that a man could do only when he was alive and healthy. And war had too many ways of complicating that.
For: Israel, Palestine, Kurdistan, American Nationalism, American citizens of Guam, American Samoa, Puerto Rico, Northern Mariana Islands, and US Virgin Islands receiving a congressional vote and being allowed to vote for president, military, veterans before refugees, guns, pro choice, LGBT marriage, plural marriage, US Constitution, World Peace, Global Unity.

Against: Communism, Socialism, Fascism, Liberalism, Theocracy, Corporatocracy.

By the Blood of our Fathers, By the Blood of our Sons, we fight, we die, we sacrifice for the Good of the Empire.

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Founded: Dec 11, 2019
Corrupt Dictatorship

Some Slice of Life and Intermissions

Postby Baharuthia » Mon Aug 03, 2020 4:17 am

11th February 1935
Nordmark, Sveria
Royal Palace of Nordmark

"So, Victoria…"


"Do you know how to cook grain?"

"...Do you mean rice?"

"No, no, no, grains as in the wheat that many nations use for foodstuff." He shook his head at her question, gesturing both a no in form and words. That was overkill to be honest.

"Ah…" She trailed off, seemingly understanding him. Seemingly "...I don't get it."

"Look...what do you eat for daily stuff?"

"Rice. Duh."

"...You eat rice?"

"We import most of them from Nihon, we often get bread because we don't have shit, and Wargloria was not very kind about providing the needed resources."

"We are a tundra nation..."

"We have hot spots."

"I doubt that."

"We have certain places that get hot."



"...Huh...either way, you know how to cook rice then?"

He was met with silence. He didn't like that one bit. The door creaked open as Adler can see a blank faced Belle, coming in with a tray of China filled with Cappuccino. "...What?"

"Adler, are you raised below a rock?" Victoria asked, mighty suspicious of him for some reason.

"No?" He answered.

"...How can you not know how to cook rice? That's Sverian 101."

"To be fair, mom worked the kitchen."

"You as a man are a disappointment, I don't know how you aren't disowned." She shook her head. It was condescending as fuck.

"Herr Kruger, do you not know that Sverians are religiously worshipping rice to the point that everyone in a household should know how to cook them?" Belle questioned neutrally, scarily laying down the tray of China onto a table.

"So wait, are you two ganging up on me?"

"No worries, Adler. We're gonna teach you how to cook rice. Now just stand still and let me teach you." Victoria had a sinister smile on her face.

"You know something?" Adler spoke as he was ignored. "Somehow I don't doubt being driven insane when I get a harem." His face was sweating like an early flood, it kept on going from how much stress he was being given at once.

“No worries, as I said.” Victoria grinned at him.

“...I’ll need more alcohol…”

Minister of Justice’s Office

"Fuck me…" It was apparent for Adler that the two were quite furious on how he was very uncultured. Apparently teaching him the Sverian way to do it, which is even more absurd than the Nihonese way of doing it.

There were only three needed things...your hand, a pot and a stove. That's fucking it. Of course, there's also the rice and water needed for it. He had been doing it wrong. You just slap some rice into a bowl, clean it thrice, quadrice? Pentrice? Were those two a thing or a word?

Other than that, slap it on a cooker and cover it with a lid, then let it simmer. Apparently no one bothered telling him that people use fingers to measure how much water is needed.


He wasn't joking when he is writing this very sentence down. "Adler?" He could hear a muffled voice from the door.

"You know you can open the door, right?"

"Awfully rude of you as I am trying to be polite to call before entering." Joseph snorted as he entered the room.

"It's a courtesy, you knock before entering, what're you on about?" Adler seemed a bit heated.

"Have you gotten your part of coffee?"

"Err...yeah? Why?"

"Good, I have to leave my newly arrived assistant with you and she never complains about this. So have her."

"Wait, what? Joey! Where’re you going!?"

"I see that the Reichsauseher had entrusted me to you." The moment Joseph walked away, a woman in her 20s with long white hair, blue sparkling eyes and a dress uniform with a criminally short skirt came into the room.


"Do you like black coffee?"

"That's a random question."

"Answer the question."


"You're sure?" Her face scrunched, not trusting his words.

"...I do Cappuccino?"

"I see...another heretic who does not do plain Black…why am I paired with uncultured swines?"

'Ooooh, boy, guess I'll die here…' Adler coughed up. "So are?"

"Minnerva Deutsche von Waltzsieg. You are Adler Kruger?"

"Von Fafsneer,'re a part of the Dynasties?"

"Before we moved to Gloraros, yes." She nodded briefly. "You have managed my homeland greatly...I suppose...with these delicacies…" she took out a packet of Bahamut's Beard candies. "I'll admit I was a bit skeptical, but now I know these taste good."

"Are those almonds?"

"No, chocolate...laced them with some coffee…"

"...You might want to try the almond ones...they taste great."

"Do they now?" She looked interested.

"I don't think I would lie on that one..."

"Hmm, well, many of my higher ups did say to loosen up a bit...perhaps I shall…" a tone of dignity lacing her voice.

"Says the woman with a criminally short skirt…" He muttered to himself, before ceasing his breathing when she glanced at him.

"Hmmm, I believe that you will be fine for now…"

"...For what?"

"Loosening up."

"Sorry, loosening up what?"

"Loosening up something as they say…"

"...I need a drink." He can only get those words out as he questioned why his life is being slowly turned 1260 degrees around…

For the record, his life is being turned upside down upright thrice and upside down on the last one. Why did Bahamut damn him till this point of life?

"Adler, what does...loosening up mean?" Adler stretched his face, a bit tired from all the sudden bullshit he’s been getting.

"...You see…loosening up means...."

"So another girl to the harem!" Victoria cheered as she ate her chocolate fudge cake at this time of day. Minnerva was eating her bitter black coffee-based cake.

"I believe that a ‘Huzzah’, would be appropriate for this time of day?" Belle asked as she served a cup of cappuccino for Adler.

"Belle...please...I'm suffering from this...can't you see?" He was practically trying to not weep as his life was being tortured slowly.

"Hm? I believe so, should I invite other Dynasty members, milady?"

"We should! For the harem!" She cheered out loud, as Adler was slowly slumping down.

"...I'm not following something here...but what?" Minnerva muttered, not catching what the hell they were talking about.

"Well, Adler…"


"We can move the date closer."

"I want to end my suffering."

"You're too much of a pussy to do that. I know you."

"Fucking damn it!" He cursed.

"Nah-ah, this is a Cult of Bahamut blessed building, please refrain with the severe and provocative language."

"...I need alcohol…"

"For once?" Belle questioned with a suspicious look.

"Give me the strongest you got."

"Don't do anything stupid." She spoke, Adler snorted with a hint of hopelessness.

"I won't."

He didn't do anything stupid. It was mostly by the fact that Adler was too drunk and too sexually pure to push his sexual agenda hidden from within him, also the fact that he’ll get three women on his ass if he tried. Even when drunk, Adler had no balls to do shit.

12th February 1935

"So we're trading fish?" Victoria asked as Minister of Fishery, Hollandr shrugged at her, being one of the Minister of Fishery was no easy task as he was one of the Tuna Lords of Sveria, who excel in defining qualities of Tunas, which is a hard thing to master, taking ages to do so.

"With the Confederacy, the Aydinirian Empire and the Dai Nihon Teitoku." The man nodded. "Many are interested in cold water Tunas that we offer."

Victoria rubbed her chin. Thoughts of using exquisite words came through her mind, many, many of them, but one stood out so much. That she couldn't bear not to use it. "Yeet."

"Your Highness?"

"Ehem, no worries." Did that have to come out so wrongly? Probably. "Those are wonderful news, although I am worried about the Confederacy's current stance as they had exited Isolation."

"We shall build our relation with fish trades, it is only logical to do so with a just out-of-isolation nation."

"Yeah, I can agree with that. Now what are we exporting?” Victoria questioned, the man blinked before coughing.

“Yeah, we mostly are going to send them some of the cheaper Tunas, the Rip-Tails, the Azure Finned, the Svavic, Black Hats, Small Eyed and our prized Grey Martyrian Tuna. Other than those, we are sending Blade Tooth Groupers, Copper Groupers, Striped Groupers, Spotted Groupers...”

“...That’s a lot of fish we’re exporting.”

“Tis be a dent to our stockpile, also many Great Houses within Aydinir had been ordering many Caviars.”

“And we’re selling them how much?”

“Well…” The man looked a bit nervous. “...1250 Warglorian Reichsmark per kilogram. That’s 500 Manticoran Dollars.”

“...That’s quite expensive.”

“Well, they’re a bitch to raise and give off smaller numbers of caviar for each fish, not mentioning how much we produce a day.” Hollandr justified the matter, while he had less experience with Sturgeons, he knew for a fact that they were a hard species to raise.

“How much kilograms?”

“5 Kilograms per day, of course, we are breeding even more and building more fisheries, but we need time to breed them and raise them. By the next eight years, we’ll be estimated to bake out 10 Kilograms per day, with a reliable count for each day.” The man answered, details laid out.

“...That’s a lot of caviars.” She knew how much you often use on a dish, 10kg is a lot of caviar, no way would one be able to finish that in a day. “But how long can we stock them?”

“Right now, they have six months in our containers, two till three weeks if opened, we don’t freeze them, since that would completely desecrate the taste and texture.”

“I think everyone knows that.”

“I’d wish so too. Otherwise it’ll displease the Bahamut, the Leviathan, the Scinfaxi and the Hrimfaxi.” He muttered, Victoria had to wince at their mentions, those four were considered the Water Deities of the Sverian Legends. And they tend to their fishes, to which they bless the Sverian peninsula with an amazing amount and variety of fish.

“I see...then, other than that, is there anything else that might need to be added?”

“Not really, no…”

“Well then, I guess this meeting is finished…” Victoria can only trail off as an awkward silence came through the room. “Well…dismissed?”

"This car’s" Adler drove his Ichivail Modell Experimentell 35 Saloon, the car was a new model, due to be released in 1936, but is given privilege with one condition of basically the driving teacher of the heiress.

That was not the best decision he's ever made, he'll be honest. Ichivail as a Company had been known to continue the Automobile Industry in Sveria, compared to Wargloria, the Automobile Company is still young, having just evolved from a simple carpenter's shop to a more industrial Company.

So as a 1936 model, this was great.

“So new harem member?” Victoria gave him a flash of her toothy grin.

"...Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "You're my navigator, don't get us lost."

"Don't you remember the way?"

"If I do, I wouldn't have you on the front as my navigator, would I?" He lazily looked at her, making her panic.

"Eyes on the road! EYES ON THE ROAD!" She panicked, it always feels like she's going to have a heart attack one of these days. She was practically at the verge of tears, just because he glanced at her.

He laughed hysterically as he swerved left and right. "Nooooooooo, Adleeerrrrrrrrr, pleaaaseeeeeeeeee!" She cried out, feeling completely numb as she panicked.

"Hahhhhh, alright." He rode normally, Victoria was pouting at him, teary eyes.

"Meanie." He had to stifle his laughter at her cute pouty face.

"Yeah, yeah. Love ya too." He waved off. The car jumped on a rock, causing her to have a bit of a jump.


12th February 1935
Major Port City of Aydinir, Mazdharbān


Arriving at the docks, the Cargo Ship, nicknamed ‘Fishy Fish Fish’, the weird name was not its official name, its real name was ‘Sverijke Person Schifff’ or SPS Rikehaj, by the time the ship arrived, the onboard quality inspector stepped out onto land after some time on sea. One of the Proclaimed and Treasured men of the Protectorate of Sveria was Fish Inspector Waldo van Tunarike.

He is placed the 5th of the 10 Fish Lords of Sveria, now he was called onto Aydinir to get results of the best Tuna, picking fifty Tunas from the current spotlight of a thousand Azure Finned Tunas that are stored within the Ship.

“Hmmm, fresh air.” The man narrowed his eyes. “Huh, weird atmosphere, but not complaining.” He stretched his arms and legs out as he got off the ship he boarded. It was a lengthy process, he had to admit, to go through the Sea of Martyrs, then the North Sea, then landing on the Twelve Isles to refuel for the journey to Aydinir.

“Ah, hold on, please, herr Waldo! I still need to accompany you!” Waldo’s translator, Eduardo de Layte, got off the ship before stumbling face first to the pavement.

“Ah, you’re a pain in the ass, Eddy.” Waldo helped his translator on his feet. “You got that?”

“Aye, herr Waldo.”

“You need to drop the formalities at some gets annoying. Get the crew to bring my utensils and the best tuna that the coordinators marked for me.”

“Aye!” The journey to the exhibit was interesting as the beautiful blue colored tiles were well maintained within the buildings. It was beautiful compared to some of the dull colors Sveria had been used to. The audience in front of him were from the Great Houses with some of noble houses, of course, Aydinir is an Autocracy and he had no complaints on that.

Sveria had them as well, but they were quite much given into progressivity and modernized their own Dynasties. But that was a matter for another day as he had to test the tunas for their quality control. One of the specimens that he was given was the largest Tuna of the bunch, 3.7 meters in length, it weighed around 677kg, it was smaller than the Biggest Tuna ever caught by Sveria, which was a 4 meter whopper with a weight of around 700kg.

The specimen was a fine one, but first. “Before we begin the testing, let us praise the Deities for allowing us to fetch these fine beauties of the sea.” The Sverians had all, but shut their eyes as they bowed onto the fish caught and laid before them. “...Ceremony ended. Bring me the blades.”

One of the most prized items that a Tuna Lord was bestowed in Sveria were the ten Nihonese Tuna Blades, they were from maguro bōchō blades, made for cutting through Tuna, complemented with them were a regular kitchen knife and a Twelve Islander Knife, despite their foreign origins, they were all forged within Sveria.

The best materials and well kept conditions made them usable for decades. “Herr Scinfaxi, herr Hrimfaxi, your blessings upon thy fish.” He was given a syringe-like device, inserting it into the fish, he pushed it to its limit before slowly pulling it, on the syringe’s insides were a myriad of colors, a dark red hue which seemingly resembles ink due to its darkness, then slowly began to turn brighter, the strong pink was what was the most obvious with a translucent pink at the end.

“A 1st Rate Tuna. A blessing to be sure.” He spoke to himself as he took the flesh away and stowed away the syringe. The crowd was intrigued as the man brought his massive katana-like knife before he and his colleagues began the operation.

“Help me cut the collar.” One of the men took out a pair of heavy duty gloves before putting them on, as Waldo placed the blade by the head’s collar, the man held the blade and the two began to carve into the head’s flesh, cutting through the collar and cleaved the head right off the body. “Get rid of that part, could you?”

His other colleague helped haul the decapitated head over to a table before he looked around the fish. “Bring me the other knife.” Another knife was brought to him, shorter, but slightly wider, the inspector checked his knife before he cut through the fins. Rock hard fins are to be disposed off, they weren’t good for eating.

The man immediately exchanged his blade for a trapezoid-shaped knife before he cut off the ‘chin’ placed at the front of the fish. That part was quickly thrown away as garbage. Then he gave a cut on the tuna’s mid-side, making for easy access for it to be cut.

“Rinse it, would ye?” The other colleagues came around with a bucket of water and a scrub. They rinsed the fish, from its frozen form to its shining glory, the scales were by far one of the most beautiful scales one can ever see. The silver and black scales glistened by the light provided by the lamps. “Beautiful fish,” Waldo can only comment.

Then after cleaning, the man laid a much shorter katana blade onto the cut, standing on the other side of the table, on the opposite end of where the cut was sided on. Then he began to cut through, cutting from one end to the other. As that was done, he took the first rate katana-like knife before he cut the piece to the side, going to the tuna’s back before it was separated. “Take that piece away, wouldja?”

As that was hauled away, he asked one of his own men to grab the other end of the blade once more and another to place his hand on the fish to not let the piece fall off. When the other piece was sliced, the blade came out on the other side, nearly hitting the poor fellow holding the fish fillet in place. He flinched a bit from the sudden action, but was thankfully not harmed as the blade stopped before his stomach.

“No worries, I’m not going to slice you in two,” Waldo rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Now take that piece away.” As it was hauled, the inspector placed his blade on the half Tuna before cutting it in two. With that the cutting part was finished. Now was to cut them apart into pieces.

As it took a while, Waldo was given many questions by some of the nobles, some from the Great Houses and some from the lesser houses and even from some journalists. There was a question regarding why the darkest hued flesh was cut off. “Oh that part, those parts are mostly tainted flesh, not good for eating, the best part would be the layer below it which is not tainted. Those parts are made for sushi, really delicious.”

Then one of the questions is why they taste different with some of their local tunas, his translator translated the words for him. “For canned tunas, those tunas are mostly from Albacore, which is a True Tuna, but smaller and better for mass breeding. Azure Finned Tuna, a derivative of the Deruhn Bluefin Tuna, is while slightly smaller has a better due to what it ate.”

“Due to what it ate?” A questionnaire asked, looking at the face alone, Waldo already understood and ushered his translator to catch every word he would give out.

“Correct, you see, in Sveria’s Sea of Martyrs, there are many kinds of fish that our Tunas can eat. Ranging from Horse Mackerels, Sardines, Yellowtail Tunas, Cuttlefish, Bone Squids, Herrings, Salmons, and other such fish. This will only occur from one up to three days for the flavor to come out.”

“Is there any other factor that could change the flavor?”

“Oh yes, its lifestyle.” Waldo answered as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Its lifestyle?”

“Yes, indeed, the taste of a tuna can determine how it has lived its life, a peaceful and healthy life, you can learn many things from its flavor alone, of course, this is after years of experience. So nothing is easily grabbed by one in two or three days.” Waldo had to give out a hearty laugh. “Well, enough of that, take a sample of them.” The man took one of the already cut out Tuna fillet, ones that were colored a bright hot pink color, that he quickly wrapped around seaweed and slapped on a bit of wasabi he made himself from his time in Nihon.

“Of course, the fish right now tastes somewhat normal, as I said, it’ll taste like what it ate in one or three days.”

“I heard about the many types of Tuna meat there are, can you tell why they are different from each other?”

“Well, it’s simply common knowledge among us, fishermen, but I get some people are not too aware, so according to Nihonese standards, there are two types, the Maguro and the Toro, the Maguro is the meat which has no form of fat, making it the standard meat you get. The Toro is divided further into two types, Chutoro and Otoro, both of them contain fat which you don’t get on the previous type. The Otoro is by far the fattiest meat, so fatty that moving it causes it to fall apart, so when eaten, the Otoro would literally melt in your mouth whereas Chutoro is often preferred as it isn’t as fatty. The Red Meat you often find on sushi is mainly the Toros, where a Tuna Steak gives you the Maguro. I think that’ll be it for today, thank you for attending this old man’s interview.” He chuckled nervously, having a bit of a nervous breakdown after talking to an exhibit full of people.

The response to the exhibition was mainly positive, Waldo can name that the only ones unhappy would be the ones figuring out how to lower the price. To which he only answers with. “Every good thing in life comes with a hefty price, when you pay it, you will be satisfied. I can guarantee that.”

The auction house was highly successful as many of the fish sell over 750 Reichsmark per Kilogram, with as many as fifty Top Tuna, the other nine hundred fifty are sold as standards, while the top fifty are auctioned. The auctions reached for nearly 1500 Reichsmark for the largest Tuna they had, the lowest being around 780 Reichsmark. The sales of Caviar was less exciting compared to Tuna as many of the qualities of Caviars remain similar, while Tuna is a bit more intriguing with their different taste per fish and every day on top of that.

To say the least, the Fish Company made a good amount of income with this auctioning and sales to Aydinir. The next Shipment would be placed by next month, where the Sverians were happy to again do the same exhibition and auctioning, for the sake of entertaining and intriguing onlookers from Aydinir.

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Postby HypErcApitAl » Mon Aug 03, 2020 4:33 am


BRA (Blue Republic of Aimesland)

Since Aimesland was at-war, and people kept joining the war; it made the war lopsided as it was everyone and their mothers against Aimesland, but Aimesland had some funding and guns from The Confederacy, Norcourt, Wargloria and the USSK. It's not that anyone was "Too coward" (to use The Most Esteemed Sprout Winstons' words) to fight on the Side of the BRA, it's that there was alot of apathy and no one was motivated enough. Plus, Aimesland was ideologically too different from the rest. Culturally/socially, that was a given and they'd probably be able to look past Aimeslands' weird culture, but ideologically? Aimesland was too gung-ho and progressive; wanting Regime Change. They wanted more Democracy and more cultural progressivism, or more open-mindedness.

Aimesland was idealistic, perhaps even way too idealistic for its detriment, kneecapping itself. It also was stereotypes that kneecapped Aimesland, as everyone saw them as "barbarians", "uncouth", "uncivilized", "ruled by spoiled brats," and so on. Aimesland was no longer Anarchist, and hasn't been in a long, long time, but that stereotype kept a-going since Aimesland was too uncaring, focusing on herself and her nonviolent principles, though now starting to do like an Onion or Orange and peel itself.

Already, the Winston Administration had changed and added alot to the Country, giving Aimesland alot of Historical Firsts. It was Sprout's third year as POTBRA, and already the world seemed more different.

Aimesland would usually celebrate all of its holidays, parties, festivities and whatnot, but since they were at-war, Aimesland was at a constrain and had to focus on The Enemy.

Though, Aimeslandish still kept trying to innovate culturally.

They say that "Necessity is the Mother of All Invention," but really, it was Boredom, and the Aimeslandish had alotta time to kill and alotta reasons to keep advancing Forward. Forward, into a world that matched all of Aimeslands' priorities and values. Forward into a Democratic international community, instead of a bunch of monarch scumbags.

Aimesland was essentially a girl trying to date and find matches, but sofar, every guy she came across was unattractive in some way. The Aimeslandish Wallflower had tried opening-up, and even questioning herself, with her President getting very anxious and angry.

Aimesland had insulted, or hurt the feelings of the Newne Carribeanian Empire, though really didn't mean to, so she apologized and tried to fix relations. The Carribeanians and the Aimeslandish had so much in Common, though Aimesland wasn't ruled by old people, or really really old people. It mainly was ruled by Youth, and heavily-prioritizing such Youthful Vigor.

Aimesland had worked to enact Change, not just on an ideological or political level, but on a personal level and a societal/cultural level. Aimesland had lots of time to work on its Internal Politics, but now she had to put her foot out the door. She had to put her best foot Forward and try her hardest. Maybe if she wouldn't wear her Values on her sleeve, things would workout.

For now, Aimesland had to put her Coexist philosophy down, as the world didn't want to "coexist" with her. It wanted to tear her down and change her - turn her into something she wasn't. She had tried to preserve her Culture and its Roots. (and she still tries to, but still) Being an Armed Republic had gave her alot of backlash, but she had to work beside it, and not really let it get to her, though she had a quick tongue and emphasized speediness.

Like Allegra said, maybe Aimesland was too incompatible for the World, afterall.

Being "tough and unwavering,' really isn't too good. Already, with Aimeslandish Idealism, that really was bad.

Aimesland probably was 'that girl with unusually-high Standards,' despite other countries saying she had none herself.

To an Aimeslandish, an ideal world was a world of Drama, Beauty, Art, Talents, Character (and the many flaws in it - sometimes), Dreams, Craftsmanship, Finesse, and Language.

A highly-linguistic and sociable world where everyone was talkative and communicated their feelings; being honest and frank, or literal despite seeming tactless. Honesty, and paradoxically being dramatic were also good to an Aimeslandish - the "I like someone who tells it like it is"- notion being universal there.

Someone that knows exactly how they feel, what they want, and what their dreams are, instead of flip-flopping or changing Sight or visions.

It's good to be quiet and secretive, too, but the main goal was to have a nation that said what they felt; essentially a nation of very-real people and chatterboxes. Being real whilst being sarcastic and dramatic was also kinda paradoxical, but it was possible.

"...I agree. I'm just sick-and-tired of everyone spreadin' lies about us. Especially the whole "they're anti-everyone," thing. Like, no, we're fucking not. We love all of you. If anything, we'd be the thirsty one rushing to get in-bed. It's just, we're Spring Liberalist, y'all're Monarchistic and Slavocratic, we're incompatible. Our ideologies are fucking incompatible. There's no fucking Chemistry. Now, if there were more Progressive and Democratic countries, then, hell yes, we wouldn't be so fucking gung-ho about removing Fascism or Communism or whatever from your country, and installing Democracy and Democratic Values in it. I really fucking hate that Prime Minister dude, who the fuck do he think he is, dissing my girlfriend like that? Well, we weren't fucking dating when he came up after us, but..." Allegra said.

Its warrior-princesses, its valkyries, all of the Presidents' cavalries and tanks and the Grand Army of the Republic - the Armedforces, or its Land divisions since the Aimeslandish had to scuttle their Fleet and that everything was pretty-much heading towards Guerrilla and Urban Warfare. The war wasn't in some poor old bastard's country, it was on the Ancestral Homeland.


'Twas the War-on-Terror and the War-on-Aging, though those wars were unofficial - the Aimeslandish Gov't never explicitly declared war, or a crusade on Terrorism, though President Sprout Winston was communicating that idea.

Already in Aimeslandish Society/culture, Aimesland was in a War-on-Aging, preferring Youth and Immortality over Age and Death. To be Young was to be immortal, in a sense. Ignorance was also immortal and as vast as the Universe, though Ignorance can be good - which is why it was called "Blissful Ignorance," or "living on Cloud-09," which the Aimeslandish were prone to doing. Being a highly-ideological and riled-up populace, they had to find Escapism, and finding Escapism in Sport and Entertainment. Finding it all in Celebrity, which was a high part of Aimeslandish Values and Culture.

This made an everlasting circle; probably more everlasting than the chain of repressive Ideology and Regressivism. The chain of Autocracy and being governed, not having a metaphorical economic stake in your own Future or Destiny. Free people would rather take "mob rule," than take being ruled by a person with a rinky-dink bloodline.

Aimeslandish would rather "dangerous Freedom" than a "peaceful Slavery," and that's why the Aimeslandish seemed so chaotic and anarchic; but also probably because all that was pre-Republic was Anarchy, specifically Anarcho-Environmentalism, which the Aimeslandish had ran from. The master of having no masters, but technically being ruled upon by the teat/bosom and feet of Mother Nature.

Going from being Anarcho-Environmentalistic to Technoenvironmentalist, but now scrapping both visions for a purely-technological and scientific landscape or world. A world in which Dreams weren't merely dreams and works of Art, but said dreams were spoken into existence VIA the Law-of-Attraction.

A nation of dreamers, huggers, thinkers but not a nation of warriors and fighters; though now starting to take shape and question all of its Hippy instincts and intents. Aimesland had to grow, to sprout, and get out of its Puberty per se.

A proud nation of skeptics, rebels, and idealists - though probably becoming more and more jaded and cynical in the Future, but such was life in the BRA. A very idealistic and ideological existence filled-to-the-brim with alotta Passion and Romance, or Romanticism.


The Romanticist Rose, though it got co-opted or Culturally Appropriated by the Communist-Socialists in the early 1900s.


This had brought outrage and mass confusion, as no one knew why the Communist-Socialists were rising-up or talking about Bread and Labour so much, but also outrageous since a famous symbol got appropriated and abused by the ultra-left. Said ultra-left later would be killed-off, or executed, ending the Socialist Experiment in Aimesland, though the Aimeslandish Gov't did take some ideas from them. The rest were highly-destructive to Aimesland and its Spring Liberalist statusquo, or the Blue Republic's statusquo, so those Communist thinkers had to be ended permanently.

Communism would ignite Aristonia on-fire, and would even ruin Westeros forever, which was a very-good choice that Aimesland narrowly-avoided it.

Aimesland was now very anticommunist, not just utilizing the Mobs against fascism and supporting antifascism, but also using the mobs on anyone too far to the Left aswell.

Now, Aimesland had to kill the far-left, enshrine Democratic Values, keep its culture/traditions/values, keep on being atheistic and anti-theist, and keep its Coexist philosophy, though now the very-latter (Coexist) was being questioned.

Not that Aimesland was warmongering, but that there was alot of animals and not enough humans - or peoples that shared Aimeslandish passions and viewpoints on things, especially Democracy.

Democracy and Spring Liberalism were the bloodline of the Country, and the Aimeslandish believed that by killing both, Aimesland was essentially dead.

Maybe a compromise had to be made. Maybe it could just be Democracy dying that kills the Nation, since there'd probably be a time where the Old Guard would have to be switched-out with the New Guard.

Ending its environmentalist self and prematurely ending its Communistic-Socialistic self, meaning the Ecosocialists were also dead before they could uprise. Fascism, or atleast Aimesland's firstwave of it, never worked - both due to the Aimeslandish being a very free-spirited and rebellious people, and also the mobs, militias and voice of the Nation.

Standing for We The People and not corporations or megacorporations - no Corporatism or Hedonism, but being firmly a democratic people. Being a freedom-loving people and Liberal people, both economically and ideologically. (Laissez-faire economics)

Weirdly enough, becoming more and more Material and technocratic. Already, Futurism was the base of this Technocratic Movement, or Technocracy Inc - it just needed more of a lookthrough or look-at. Now, Aimesland was a technocracy; a weird mixture of a Technate and a Technocratic Republic.

Already, Aimesland had to be expansionist/irrendentist, but using Technocracy as a vehicle for that. Aimesland also had to continue learning from its Anarchist roots, and knowing to never be Environmental or supporting the Olives ever again.

Aimeslandish owned their humanity and their emotion, instead of disowning and discarding it. Knowing the Golden Rule and fighting very-hard against Tyranny and Slavery.

Pure Technocracy was a great evil. Technosocialism and Technomonarchism diluted Technocracy. Technology was supposed to be benevolent and serve for Freedom, Liberty and Justice - not just technocratizing and technological supremacy over your enemies. Technologies and Sciences only had to be serving of/for Democratic Values and Principles, not tyranny and Crime, or large governmental overreach.

Transhumanism and Superhumanism were good, but the Aimeslandish vowed to never return to Anarchy (except maybe in very-special cases), so Anarcho-Transhumanism couldn't Function.


Aimeslandish food emphasized taste and pleasure, or the senses. Aimeslandish candies were very sour, tangy and juicy. Foods were very spicy, as the people themselves were very spicy and emotional and dramatic, or soulful and filled with meaning, principle and purpose.
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Corporate Police State

Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Mon Aug 03, 2020 10:18 am

Gokyo, Nihon
Imperial General Staff Headquarters
February 11, 1935

Commanding General Kozuki of the Shipping Transportation Headquarters stood up and pointed to the map for his fellow commanders as they discussed the recent invasion of Aimesland.

"So far our division and the SNLF have successfully landed yesterday in Aimesland. The initial heavy fighting is ongoing, but our men should have enough supplies to last for 16 days of this. The Aimeslandish are weak, and I do not think they will be able to sustain heavy fighting for long, and will not engage us constantly. But to be safe, the Railways and Shipping Section are preparing to send another shipment over. We will have to replenish our losses and send more supplies."

"This morning I authorized our forces to deploy 1 more Type A division and our Field Kenpeitai. I suspected the Kenpeitai would not require the same amount of supplies as the regular divisions since they hopefully will not be seeing any heavy fighting so I lessened what they would need. We are sending 43,400 men, 20 light tanks, 48 medium tanks, several dozen armored cars and tankettes aboard 20 SS Class Landing Ships, 100 No 1 Class Landing Ships, 53 No 103 Class Landing Ships, and 6 No 101 Class Landing Ships. They carry with them 39,660 tons of supplies. We have also sent 22 cargo ships carrying 210,380 tons of supplies. This will last the men 16 days since the trip is a 15 day journey."

General Terauchi smiled. "Very good very good. We are also sending bombers correct?"

"Er... yes General, but they are not ours." said Kozuki.

"The Navy's?"

"General, the Navy's G3Ms have superior range to anything we have. We are sending some light bombers however." said Kozuki as laid out a map. "We have captured several airfields and work is currently ongoing to repair them to allow us to launch operations from them, however the carrier bombers have been proving themselves effective in destroying enemy targets."

Tojo slammed the table. "We are allowing the Navy to take over this entire operation! Next deployment we must send a sizable unit of army plane and army men."

The meeting continued, but in a room not so far away the Navy was having a similar discussion.

Captain Hatsuhara bowed as he entered. "Sirs, our reports from Vice Admiral Sankichi are saying our bombers have been very successful lately, although we have suffered losses."

Vice Admiral Yamamoto pointed to a design map. "What if we deployed our newly designed Mitsubishi A5M Fighters? This could be the perfect testing grounds. If we start production now, we can have enough to supply the carriers in a few months. The fighters are much more advanced than what we currently operate, and it will put us on par with other nations worldwide."

Admiral Kobayashi nodded. "That could work well. The enemy is already hopelessly obsolete, introducing these fighters will lead to certain victory. I agree with this proposal."

Minister Ōsumi pointed to the map. "I do not see how the fighters will even play a role in the war, they are too far away to fly there and our carriers are already deployed. However, for the sake of competing with our traditional enemies, I agree. Captain? Send order to Mitsubishi for 1,200 of their fighters immediately."

Captain Hatsuhara saluted. "Yes sir. Right away sir!"

Aimeslandish Occupied Zone
February 11, 1935

Fighting was ongoing but behind the lines, it was somewhat peaceful. Imperial Nihonese forces had so far captured 4,914 Aimeslandish soldiers and they currently were being rounded up under the watchful eye of Nihonese troops. They were being moved into the transports; 4,000 would be shipped off to Nihon for labor, and the other 914 would be sent to Aydinir. The military had engaged in a process of ensuring that locals could not fight back, and now Nihonese soldiers went house to house, searching for weapons and looting.

On any given house, Nihonese soldiers would walk up, burst in through the door, and secure the homeowners. From there, they would take it upon themselves to trash the house, breaking furniture and scattering belongings across the floor. They would search then, taking with them anything that could be possibly seen as a weapon, loading any guns, ammo, swords, knives, or others into a truck. After this was done, the soldiers would then take whatever they wanted, food supplies were taken to another truck as soldiers looted any valuables they cold find including money, jewelry, silverware, paintings, and other fancy items.

If the family was lucky, they would be left relatively unharmed inside the house. If not, they would be taken by the soldiers, or executed on the spot.

All of these things were being loaded on the cargo ships. Valuables would be shipped off to Nihon or kept by the individual soldiers, weapons would be shipped to Nihon to be studied before they would be shipped off to Shishir be sold in the Carriebean, and food supplies kept by soldiers, enjoying the luxuries they stole.

February 16, 1935

Written by Manticore

The 4th SNLF Division was waiting on the outskirts of Ikesville, marked on their maps as Objective 71. It controlled two road bridges and a rail bridge across the Ike river which currently confined the Nihonese advance.

A total of 108 artillery pieces were arranged in tiers, starting at just over 2,500 meters from the town with the 70mm Type 92 battalion guns. Next were the 75mm Type 41 regimental guns, 7 kilometers from the town. Behind them, 11,000 meters from the town, were the 75mm Type 38 Field Guns. At 18,000 meters were the 10 centimeter Type 92 cannons. Finally, just under 20,000 meters from Ikesville, stood the 15 centimeter Type 89 cannons. All told, the guns could fire 456 rounds per minute. The 460 Type-89 and Type 10 Grenade Dischargers could fire another 11,500 rounds per minute, with 50mm high explosive shells that would fall upon the town shortly.

The sun was just beginning to rise behind the Nihonese position as the troops were roused from their foxholes. Officers began shouting orders and NCOs barked at their troops.



On the edge of a forest, a bare 1,000 meters from the periphery of Ikesville, 10,080 soldiers formed up, ready to attack the small garrison of defenders.

Those defenders, numbering barely 3,000 men from a variety of battalions and regiments, were rousing themselves from their slumber as the sun rose.

Some had been lucky enough to score rooms at inns and in private homes. Others had been forced to sleep in trenches and foxholes on the east side of the river, facing the Nihonese lines.

The defenses were layered, with soldiers from the 336nd Infantry Battalion, 111th Infantry Regiment deployed on the east bank of the Ike, dug in to protect the bridges. Around six hundred soldiers were dug into foxholes and trenches or in sandbag bunkers, hoping that today would be as quiet as yesterday.

The battalion had no organic machine guns, instead having 590 rifles and twenty-six pistols. The machine guns that Aimesland had were too heavy and bulky, not to mention expensive, to issue so widely.

However, a Machine Gun Company from the 203rd Infantry Regiment was on the other side of the river, with their machine guns ready to cover the position. They were armed with .303 caliber Vickers machine guns, late of the Aclusian Army during the Great War.

For Private Aaron Kitchener, standing on the edge of his hole, looking at the soft, warm orange of the sun rise, those weapons weren’t what was going to save him. His rifle, a Model 1903 from Manticore, was resting against the side of his foxhole. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier. It was a much simpler design than many of his comrades, with a plain steel blade, a simple wood hilt, and a simple steel guard.

Kitchener’s hand stroked the hilt for a moment, absorbing its unique, simple feel. At least, until a dull rumble shook him from his thoughts. He looked about, seeing men fleeing for their holes, and then he realized what the sound was.

The dull rumble, the whistle of high explosive shells, the gurgle of gas shells.

Nihonese artillery.

He turned and jumped into his hole, quickly picking up his rifle. He’d lived through two fights with the Nihonese already and he knew that rifles were a lot more than just bits of metal and wood that made loud noises. They were lethal and the Nihonese had lots of them.

The first shells hit the ground, shaking the earth and heaving up mountains of dirt and grass. Kitchener ducked as earth fell on him and he heard several men scream as shrapnel tore them apart. Some of them stopped screaming. Others just groaned. But some kept screaming, their screams still audible over the sound of shells exploding.

He lifted his head up to look over the edge of his foxhole and saw that very few shells were landing around him. He heard many more explosions and it took him a moment to pinpoint where they were. With shock and horror, he realized that almost all the explosions were behind him. He spun around in time to see a shell explode in the middle of a house scarcely fifty yards from the bridge.

Other shells were raining down on the town, as well. Not just high explosives but gas shells were raining down on a town filled with civilians. Kitchener couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d known that the Nihonese were vicious, brutal adversaries. He’d seen them bayonet wounded men often enough to know that. But the town was filled with civilians. The soldiers were outside of it. Why would they shell it and gas it? Truly they must be barbaric people if they could justify this.

The Nihonese soldiers looked out at the Aimeslandish positions with rifles at the ready. The 68 tank crews started their engines and did the final checks on their weapons. As the shells rained down on the town, officers checked their watches. Thirty minutes after the barrage had begun, they shouted orders.

“IT’S ALMOST TIME, MEN! FIGHT WITH COURAGE AND HONOR AND IF YOU DIE, YOUR SOUL SHALL FIND ITS WAY TO YASUKUNI SHRINE! TENNO HEIKA BANZAI!” The officers threw up their arms as they finished and the soldiers followed suit, shouting back, “BANZAI! BANZAI! BANZAI!” As the cheers finished and the barrage stopped, the officers waved their pistols towards the enemy. “CHARGE!”

Tanks rumbled forward through the trees and soldiers raced towards the bridges, shouting at the top of their lungs. They had a full kilometer to run, a thousand meters in the face of the enemy but, while the regimental and divisional guns had fallen silent, the battalion guns were firing just as fast as they could. Hundreds of rounds fell every minute and it would take five minutes for the soldiers to reach the bridge. In that time, 1,800 rounds would have fallen on the enemy position.

Private Kitchner lifted himself to his feet and fired, his first bullet missing the Nihonese soldier he had aimed for and pinging off the hull of a tank. He cycled the bolt and fired again, this time striking the Nihonese soldier in the torso. He saw the man fall, a cloud of red mist expanding behind him as he did.

He cycled the action again and fired at another soldier, the bullet tearing into the soldier’s leg. He cycled again and fired again. It was honestly repetitive, the monotony broken every fifth round by having to reload the rifle. He had managed to fire thirty rounds by the time the Nihonese were too close.

Then, he leaped out of his foxhole and drew his sword. Alongside dozens of others from his battalion, he charged the Nihonese troops. The distance was barely a hundred yards but he would never cross it. A Nihonese rifle didn’t end his journey. No, it was an entire section and a burst from a Type 89 tank’s machine gun.

Fifteen rifle bullets and six machine gun bullets ripped into his body. Three ripped into his left thigh, tearing muscle and cutting blood vessels. One of those even severed his femoral artery. Another bullet impacted his groin, ricocheting off of his pelvis and tearing through his right thigh. Four more tore into his abdomen, ripping open his intestines, puncturing his liver, perforating his spleen, and tearing his stomach. Waste and stomach bile were now pooling in his abdominal cavity, ensuring his death would be agonizing. One bullet struck his left arm, shattering his radius bone. The last six came from the machine gun. The first of them struck just below his sternum, tearing into his diaphragm and lodging itself in his ninth thoracic vertebrae. The second shattered his ribs, just above and to the left of where the first round entered, and perforated his lung before ripping out his back. Two others managed to miss his ribs but perforated his lung and lodged in his heart. The fifth bullet ricocheted off his ribs and lodged itself in his hip, tearing through several organs to come to rest there. The last bullet struck his collarbone and ricocheted off, tearing through the soft tissue and lodging itself in his throat, tearing the carotid artery as it came to rest in his trachea.

He stumbled forward barely two steps as the bullets tore through him before falling to his knees. His rapier thudded to the ground beside him, the sound muffled by the grass and dirt upon which it lay. The Nihonese section was already moving on and he could feel his life draining away.

He struggled to breathe but he couldn’t. His left lung had collapsed and air was filling his chest cavity, threatening to collapse his right lung with every breath. Blood hemorrhaged from almost every organ in his body. His leg was wet with blood and he could feel it draining down his chest from the wound in his throat. Every breath was agony, every inhale flooded his good lung with blood at the same time as it squeezed it with air from the outside. Every exhale was an agonize cough, filled with blood and bile. He sat on his heels, his arms too weak to stem the bleeding and his body too weak to move.

A Nihonese officer stopped beside him and looked at him. All Kitchener could do was look up, his face pale as his life drained away. The last thing he saw was the barrel of a Nambu pistol before an 8mm round drilled a hole into his forehead and blew his brain out of the back of his skull.

Kitchener’s lifeless corpse fell back, a lifeless husk surrounded by hundreds of other lifeless husks that were all that remained of the 336th. The men of the 203rd tried to hold their position but with only six guns, it wasn’t long before the tanks had finished them. And then the Nihonese were over the bridges and storming the town.

Nihonese troops with grenade dischargers set up on the bridges and on the east bank of the river, firing their shells into the town to cover the attack. They’d fire one or two shots and then they pick up and advance again.

Meanwhile, Nihonese troops were fighting house to house with the remaining defenders. Ikesville, once a peaceful settlement, had been torn apart by artillery and was being torn apart again by the running gun battle between the 4th Division and the Aimeslandish defenders.

Bullets tore holes into walls and shattered windows. Doors were splintered by machine gun fire. Rooms were demolished when grenades were lobbed through windows. Rifles barked and machine guns chattered. Tank guns tore down buildings that had stood for two or three centuries.

Every now and again, a group of Aimeslandish soldiers would try a counter attack. They would charge with bayonets and swords and they’d be cut down by rifle and machine gun fire. Civilians would huddle in their basements, mothers hugging their children and trying to comfort them.

“Don’t worry, darling. We’ll be alright. They’ll pass us by. We’ll be fine.” Sweet little lies, the kinds of lies that parents across the world told their children all the time. Lies that parents kept telling their children right up to the moment that a grenade was thrown through a window or down the stairs and that child’s life was snuffed out by the explosion and the shrapnel. Others tried to flee across the streets, escape the town or find shelter in a different building, only to be cut down as they did so by Nihonese or Aimeslandish soldiers, seeing any movement as a sign of enemy contact. Others were curled up in bedrooms or kitchens, blinded and choked by the noxious clouds of gas that had filled the town.

The fighting lasted for the rest of the day but, by the end of it, Ikesville and its bridges were in the hands of the Imperial Army and the defending garrison had been effectively destroyed. Of the 2,890 men that had begun the day, scarcely 200 made it to the next line of Aimeslandish defenses. Another 800 were wounded or had surrendered voluntarily. The rest lay dead, their corpses littering the streets and the surrounding area. Of the nearly 5,000 civilian inhabitants, almost a thousand of them had died and nearly 1,500 more would die in the coming days, due to injuries sustained from the battle or from the gas attack. The survivors would be subjected to all the harshness of a military occupation.
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Postby Norcourt » Wed Aug 05, 2020 6:52 pm

Further Mobilization in Leeria

Following the Hoosier Invasion of Leeria and consequent condemnation sent out by the Empire, the Norcourtian Garrisons of the 7th Army, alongside the 3rd Auxiliary Army, were to be semi-stationed in the northern, and northwestern sectors of the Magnar Line. With the mobilization of the 7th Army already set in stone, the 3rd Colonial Army were moving further up northwest to the defensive zone, leaving behind a minor element in Southern Leeria to assist in it's securing by the Aydinirians.

The Norcourtian Indianum Armada, at the time consisting of 17 Capital Ships, with it, 2 Aircraft Carriers, 69 Destroyers, 15 Cruisers, & 2 Auxiliary Cruisers. Much had been learned in the military exercises in the Almaty region, with proper coordination being implemented between, ground, sea, air, and armored units, furthering the efficiency and effectiveness of the Norcourtian Military as a whole. The Norcourtian Regia Aeronautica had reached maximum capacity in the 3 vital airfields in Alyse, Toerberg, & Tefruet, with many squadrons also reserved in the several airfields, in the middle sector.

New Fighter Craft

The first production models of the new Zaragena ZC.35a "Arcangelo" Fighter Craft, had been produced recently, with several models being sent over for training in Leeria, and many others being reserved until the formation of newer wings & squadrons. Aerial Interdiction was to be set in place in the areas of the north & northwestern sectors each to their appropriate nearest airbase. Fitted with the recently adopted, Arco XI 1,100 horsepower engine (capable of reaching speeds of approximately 335 mph), alongside the dual 12.7mm, and quad 8mm Machine Guns, and it's tremendous maneuverability, the ZC.35 was capable of rivaling and overpowering the likes of many nation's aircraft.
Last edited by Norcourt on Sat Nov 07, 2020 1:08 am, edited 9 times in total.
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Postby The Hoosier Alliance » Thu Aug 06, 2020 8:50 am

Petrograd, Hettausa, Sirvanska

The capital city of Sirvanska had been under siege for several days now. When the garrison commander refused to surrender, artillery rained down on the capital. Elements of the Army of the East waited for the barrage to end before entering and engaging with the remnants of Sirvanskan Army that had not deserted their positions. Even though they were outmanned, outgunned, and cut off from resupply, the Sirvanskans were determined to hold the city. However, unlikely for them, the infamous Hoosier Hellfighters were leading the assault.

Bullets flew from the machinegun as Private Pokrovsky held the trigger and aimed wildly at the Hoosiers on the street below. The foreign soldiers had assaulted their position on the second floor of the partially destroyed house nearly an hour ago. Their numbers slowly dwindled from a full platoon to barely a squad. The Sirvanskan dead littered the upper and lower floor of the home.

A few riflemen fired from the windows, trying to keep the Hoosiers back. If it weren't for the machinegun, the poorly trained Sirvanskans would have been overwhelmed long ago. No matter how hard they fought, the Hoosiers fought harder.

"We aren't fighting men!" Pokrovsky's sergeant exclaimed, "We're fighting devils!"

The private couldn't help but agree. As the Hoosiers inched closer and closer, taking advantage of the machineguns reloading time, the men grew more and more desperate. They had pushed the Hoosiers back twice before, but they came back and killed more than they lost. This time, however, it seemed like they would drive into the building with their shotguns and rifles.

Then, something miraculous happened. Shouting and shooting came from the west, just the left of the Sirvanskans position.

"Reinforcements!" Pokrovsky shouted, spotting the familiar look of the Sirvanskan Army uniform.

Suddenly flanked and surprised, the Hoosiers began to pull back as not to be overwhelmed. They fired as they pulled out, killing several Sirvanskans. Luckily for them, the machinegun was almost dry, and Pokrovsky decided to save his ammo.

As the Hoosiers retreated, the Sirvanskans took their positions on the street and house. Pokrovsky's sergeant went down to speak with the lieutenant leading the rescue party.

The celebration was short-lived, as the men began to dig in once more and prepare for another attack. As it turns out, the garrison was more or less in disarray as the Capitol building was surrounded and facing heavy fire from enemy infantry and armor. It was unclear whether or not parliament was evacuated or if the Prime Minister was safe. Regardless, things weren't looking good, but the Army was preparing for a counter-attack.

Nearly fifteen minutes had passed since Pokrovsky, and his unit was saved. During that time, they thought they could hold their position. Then they heard the grinding of tracks on the street.

"Enemy armor!"

The Hoosier tank rolled out from the wreckage of a burned-out store. Rifles targeted it, as did Pokrovsky's machinegun. The bullets bounced off harmlessly as the turret turned to take its shot. One shell was all that was needed to knock out the machinegun and render everyone on the second floor dead or unconscious.

Pokrovsky was slowly coming too as he heard the machinegun, likely from the Hoosier tank, open fire and rake through the Sirvanskans on the street and ground floor. Screams of dying men filled his ears, but he couldn't focus. The world was still a haze.

He heard foreigners speaking and walking up the stairs. From where he laid, he could see them slowly approaching him, kicking over bodies and shooting anyone still breathing.

When they reached Pokrovsky, a man carrying a revolver squatted down next to him and prodded the barely conscious Sirvanskan. When Pokrovsky groaned in pain, the Hoosier stood, pulled back the hammer, and ended the young volunteer's life.

Written by Manticore
The Sverian and Hoosier fleets were anchored only about five miles from the Aimeslandish coast. The Sverian force had three divisions, the amphibious Wiking divisions that had proved themselves tenacious in the invasion of Ruskland. Four light cruisers and eighteen destroyers would provide gunfire support for the landing. Unfortunately, the transports, unarmored and unarmed, would be forced to close to within a mile of the beaches in order to be close enough for the landing craft to make it.

The Hoosier force was substantially larger, with 10 divisions, twelve light cruisers, and thirty destroyers. A total of 122 troopships sat off the coast, set to land a total of 150,000 men about 940 men at a time.

The Sverian force would send forth their amphibious tanks first, a total of 30 tanks carrying 180 marines for a first wave. Behind them would be the 150 landing boats, carrying 1,500 men in a second wave. Once the second wave landed, the boats would return to the transports to pick up more men while the tanks advanced towards the enemy lines to secure a beachhead. Another 1,500 troops from three penal battalions would be landed by obsolete tugs set to be decommissioned.

Arrayed against the Sverian-Hoosier combined forces were the 3rd and 7th Infantry Divisions, a total of 56,512 men. However, a large number of those men were not on the front line. 7,155 men were in the trains, supply troops several miles behind the front lines. Another 8,060 men were in the two artillery brigades, almost 5 miles from the beach. 3,158 men were in the two cavalry regiments, set up behind the line to counter attack the enemy in a glorious mounted charge. 2,196 men were in the two engineer regiments, hurriedly completing their efforts to rig a few bridges and the ports in the nearby town for demolition. 518 men were in two signal battalions and another 346 men were in two aero squadrons. Only 37,158 are in the six infantry brigades and only 36,474 are actual combatants. Worse, only 108 machine guns were available to defend over 65 kilometers of beach.

And the enemy was attacking a 12 kilometer stretch of that same beach, defended by only 6,676 men and 18 machine guns.

The Sverian-Hoosier fleet fired first, just before dawn. The shells were relatively light but the Aimeslandish troops were not deeply dug in and were occupying very simple trenches, without dugouts and bunkers. As such, the three hour barrage would be far more dangerous, since the Aimeslandish troops had nowhere to run. The twenty-six Aimeslandish guns returned fire, though without experienced field artillery teams or even the most cursory knowledge of ranging and counter battery fire, the shells sailed harmlessly past the invasion fleet. With each minute, hundreds of Sverian-Hoosier shells fell upon the Aimeslandish lines, killing or maiming dozens of men and smashing trenches. Some of the shells even fell upon the massed cavalry regiments, slaughtering men and butchering horses.

And then the sun started to rise, signalling the waiting infantry to drop into their boats and head for the shore. This first wave would have some 4,120 men in it, ready to assault the Aimeslandish line with bayonets, rifles, and grenades. The men clambered down nets into the waiting landing craft while boat crews started motors. Officers and NCOs barked orders to their men. “KEEP THE WATER OUT OF YOUR ACTIONS!” “WHEN THE RAMP DROPS, SPRINT! DON’T FUCKING WALK!” “I’LL SEE YOU ON THE BEACH!” It would take between 12 and 15 minutes for the boats to reach the beach, rocking about in the surf as they chugged towards the sand at about five knots.

Aimeslandish troops were still huddled in their trenches, hiding from the guns of the invasion fleet but the artillery behind them still fired, shells occasionally getting close to the landing boats but none succeeding in hitting one of them. But, as the boats got closer to the beach, the invasion fleet stopped firing, allowing the Aimeslandish troops to lift themselves out of their trenches and return fire.

Unfortunately, the bombardment had been somewhat successful. Of the 18 machine guns on the beach, six had been destroyed and two more were put out of action by shrapnel. The remaining ten chattered to life, spitting lead towards the oncoming boats. Riflemen began to take aim, waiting for the infantry to disembark before they themselves fired.

The boats hit the beaches with the Sverian amphibious tanks landing about ninety seconds ahead of the rest of the force. Two of the tanks had suffered engine failures during the voyage and were floating in the surf, firing their 105mm howitzers towards the beach with the hopes of providing at least some support. Three others had been catastrophically damaged by near misses from artillery and had sunk, their crews and passengers drowning inside of them. As the surviving twenty five tanks advanced up the beach, machine gun fire pinged off their armor and one of the tanks fell into a shell crater, damaging its transmission and leaving it trapped. Another one ran over an unexploded four-inch shell from a Hoosier destroyer and was blown apart by the explosion. Two more broke down when their engines overheated and were left as little more than heavily armored gun positions. But twenty-one of them were still operational and they advanced towards the Aimeslandish positions.

Behind the tanks were hundreds of Sverian and Hoosier soldiers, disembarking from the landing craft before those boats returned to the fleet to pick up more troops. Those on the beach stripped the canvas or tarp coverings from their weapons, chambered rounds, fixed bayonets, and charged for the Aimeslandish positions. Those same Aimeslandish troops opened fire with their rifles, significantly fewer than there had been only a scarce three hours ago, but enough to cause significant emotional events for the troops on the beach.

A Hoosier soldier, a native of Massa Massa, had barely made it to the ramp of his landing craft before an Aimeslandish bullet pierced his skull and blew out his brains. He collapsed in a disorderly pile on the edge of the ramp, dumped unceremoniously on the beach as the ramp was raised and the boat chugged back out to sea to gather more troops.

A Sverian soldier, a penal battalion fighter from Tiga, was hit himself, taking three Aimeslandish bullets to his chest. All three bullets ripped through his left lung, one of them also piercing his heart. His death, while slower than the Hoosierites, was still quick, taking only a few seconds. But other men were less lucky.

A section of the Aimeslandish trench was hit by a shell from one of the tanks, with one poor Aimeslandish soldier being thrown from his position towards the enemy. He tried to rise to his feet, only to find that his legs had been amputated below the knees. His agonized screams were drowned out by the din of battle, only matched by his screams of terror as a Sverian amphibious tank ran him over, ending his life in a matter of seconds.

Another soldier stood up, intending to charge the invaders with his saber, but he was cut down by a burst of machine gun fire, a half a dozen rounds tearing through his abdomen, ripping open his intestines, shredding his stomach, and perforating his lungs. He collapsed, writhing for a few seconds in terrible pain before finally going still.

The second wave was beginning to land as the first wave started to reach the Aimeslandish positions. The defending machine guns had been destroyed by 105mm howitzers and the defending riflemen were splitting their fire between tanks and infantry. Corpses littered the beach and the low ridge that formed the core of the defensive position. And then the tanks were cresting that ridge, turning their turrets to hose the trenches with machine gun fire. Aimeslandish troops began to flee the trenches in their dozens while others attempted last, desperate charges, only to be cut down by rifles and machine guns wielded by uncaring invaders.

A few miles behind the lines, the cavalry could hear the carnage. The orders hadn’t come yet but they knew they would. They just had to wait. Any minute now, they would make their gallant charge and would drive the invaders back into the sea.

Every minute that the cavalry was waiting for their orders, more invaders poured onto the beach. It had been nearly an hour since the first boats had hit the beaches and the Aimeslandish line had broken, its defenders streaming to the rear in a desperate bid to escape the invaders. Those who had attempted to remain steadfast were now dead or dying, disemboweled by bayonets or gunned down by tank machine guns. Others had tried a final charge, which ended in annihilation without ever getting into close combat, their bodies adding to the growing rivers of blood flowing to the sea.

Finally, the cavalry had their orders. Infantry had been streaming into their marshalling area for the last twenty minutes, their faces white with terror and many having thrown their weapons away in an attempt to run faster. And now it came to the cavalry to save the day. Sabers were drawn and horses prodded to action. They would advance at a trot until they were much closer to the beach and then they would charge at the gallop for the last few hundred meters.

It took the cavalry nearly an hour to reach the beach, allowing another 9,760 invaders to reach the beach. Over 20,000 invading troops were ashore now, many of them taking up the trenches once held by the Aimeslandish troops. Heavy fighting was taking place on the flanks, still held by Aimeslandish troops and so most of the tanks had relocated to those positions. But as the cavalry approached, they found that the light machine guns carried by infantry sections were more than enough to slaughter them wholesale.

It started with short, rare bursts and a few felled horses. But in a matter of moments, the cavalry were trotting through a hail of machine gun and rifle fire. They were still almost a kilometer away but it was too late. Riders dug their heels into the sides of their horses, urging them faster in the vain hope of running past the bullets. But bullets move faster than horses do and all the galloping horses achieved was to exhaust themselves in the moments they had before they died. Bullets tore into man and beast alike, tearing organs, shattering bone, and severing arteries. Animals squealed in pain as they struggled to breath and struggled to get to their feet. Men choked on their one blood, many pinned under the corpse of their mount. The regiments were wiped out to the last man, with not a single one of them able to touch an invader with their sabers. No man in either regiment got closer than fifty yards before being killed.

The knowledge that the cavalry charge had failed quickly spread to the rear and the commanders had to make a quick decision. With heavy hearts, they ordered the retreat. As the survivors of the two divisions fled, the Sverian and Hoosier soldiers continued to fire upon them, pursuing them almost five miles by nightfall.

As the sun set that night, the 3rd and 7th Aimeslandish Infantry Divisions found themselves having suffered 7,383 dead and over 12,000 wounded. 30 artillery pieces and 54 machine guns were captured or destroyed and the aero squadrons had demolished their own planes to prevent their capture. In their panic, the engineers failed to blow up the docks but did blow up the same bridges that the Aimeslandish would need to cross in order to link up with other friendly units. While they were safe for the night, it was a near certainty that they would be captured or destroyed in the coming days.

The day had been far from bloodless for the Sverian and Hoosier forces. Four tanks had been completely lost and another eight had broken down. Some 2,000 men were dead or wounded and at least 30 were missing. However, by the end of the day some 88,000 men had landed and more would be arriving tomorrow.

With the success of the Sverian-Hoosier landings, a second front had been opened for the Aimeslandish to defend.
I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery
- Thomas Jefferson
What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms
- Thomas Jefferson
Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it
-Mark Twain
They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety
- Benjamin Franklin
To disarm the people is the most effectual way to enslave them
-George Mason
I ask who are the militia? They consist now of the whole people.
-George Mason

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