Of Tangent Dreams {ATLA II: Closed}

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]

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Postby Laysley » Fri Jan 20, 2012 1:58 pm

"Yallak's like going to a funeral of a friend of a friend. You never quite know why you're there in the first place, and you certainly never want to go back." ~ The late Lord Pimms.

Fort St. Michael,

The Burns Room had one real capacity: to hold meetings of the still technically unofficial Layslian high council. Generations of the great and the genuinely concerned (as Richard Carlyle had termed it, distinguishing it form the great and the plain rich, who discussed matters of state in the infamous Commonwealth Club) had sat beneath the prodigious chandelier, amongst the neoclassical decor favoured by the upper-crust who were secure in their class consciousness. The idea was an informal meeting room, with plush armchairs scattered in a loose circle where government types could lock their fingers together and muse intelligently, and for the most part it worked. The main sign that it was a meeting room was not, in fact, the assembled great and concerned of Laysley filling the chairs and looking concerned, but the larger armchair in front of the fire at the far end of the room.

In that chair sat Her Reverence Princess-Archbishop Clare Kehlam of Laysley, resplendent in a dark blue business jacket and skirt. She sat up straight with her hair tied back and her legs folded, supporting her clasped hands on her thigh. She looked all the world like a secretary sitting in on her boss' big meeting, albeit with some effort to look authoritative. Flint would muse later that the only thing she would ever rule with were her eyes, but at this point he contented himself to daydreaming and mindlessly staring at her legs while the meeting droned on.

The Bully had started them off, or John Fond as he was more sympathetically known. As the Permanent Secretary to the Court of St. Michael, i.e. head of the civil service, his brief was to provide a functioning proto-bureaucracy for the relief efforts which, bias aside, he had done a good job with, especially as it seemed he alone was the civil service just right now. Of course, he'd thrashed out the proposals in the style that had earned him his nick-name, excessively loudly declaring it in no uncertain terms, exasperatedly explaining a minor detail to Flint when his poor little mind got a bit boggled and very nearly throwing a hissy fit when Miss Kehlam (as she liked to be known) had told him to skim over the next item. Yet the man in the impeccable but entirely styleless business suit had finished, and it was Vincent Mole's turn.

Cutting a monkish figure with his more-bald-patch-than-hair look, creased suit and broken arm, Mole was, of course, too old and clever to care what he looked liked. As the wizened Governor of the Bank of Laysley, style and content were both, thankfully, brief and he quickly asserted that the Byzantine efforts to bail out the banks were running smoothly and people's cash-in-hand needs were, for the most part, being met. Some good news at last. Furthermore, the half-formed proposal to covertly pull investment out of Mykola had been met with open arms at the Commonwealth Club where the members strongly believed Mykola was in for a rough ride pumping money into their "government" in Blünderburg. However, he added at the end, a couple of smaller merchant banking firms had relocated officially to the Reich, to audible snorts from Whistling, and members of the Club were concerned about mobs raging through some of the richer suburbs.

And with such relatively mundane tasks out of the way, it was time to twist the tale even more. Miss Kehlam's style, unusually, was to save the 'best' till last. Flint supposed it broadly worked, so it was surprising and a source of great pride when the stories flooded in from other countries where putting rich men into a room together when the fate of their nation was the in the balance had the opposite effect of resolving anything. Sat ominously in the First Minister's old seat in dress that merited a hike in the more dangerous parts of Qualah, helmet on his lap, General Astia, who was de jure actually in charge here, was politely asked by Kehlam to speak. So he spoke.

"Gentlemen, your Reverence" he gave a polite nod to Miss Kehlam as he stood."As you know your position is very stark. The Emperor himself will be arriving in Laysley within days complete with his own crack legions, intent on killing every Layslian here. As it stands I have had no contact with senators in the Empire, and my colleagues and I will take no action until the Senate places us under orders. We will not move, but we will not fight. My only suggestion to flee while you can."

Flint thought later that the silence that followed, broken only by Speckle scratching the back of his head, was one of the only moments wherein his brain wasn't filled with easy sardonic jokes to tell to some girl later.
For once he just sat amazed, along with everyone else. They knew all about it from Whistling, but from Astia it took very real dimensions. Genocide happened to other people…

Kehlam replied first, starting with a small cough. Flint's eyes flicked away from the now sat Astia back to the Princess, then in a matter of moments inexorably slid towards her legs…

"Flint?" she asked, politely.

Very nearly visibly he shook himself and caught her eye. Of course she'd seen, how ridiculous he looked! He gave her an affable grin while groaning ferociously inside. Clearly it worked: she gave a little but genuine smile in return .

"I feel it prudent to inquire as to the intentions of Lord Crisp. Can his actions stay the hand of the Yallakians? Is there any way we can get in contact with him?" Kehlam remained in exactly in position, quizzing as professionally as ever.

But Flint, by upbringing, temperament and philosophy, was not a professional. He spread his arms out, palms up.

"To be frank, Miss Kehlam, I have absolutely no idea what he's going to do with Cato once he's got hold of him. From what I remember…" He paused for a moment, then continued "He would probably end up holding him as a hostage, but-"

"Well" interrupted Astia brashly "in that case you're only exacerbating the situation."

Flint lined up words for a next comment involving a way of getting back at Astia for his horrible, condescending, not to mention naive, tone, but Speckle got there first with the start of stammer. A moment later:

"-then it appears we have difficulties on b-both accounts. As to your second question, your Highness, it has always been the policy of the Guild of Assassins that contact with agents while in fieldwork is virtually impossible. W-we cannot speak to him."

The room eyed Crisp's empty chair apprehensively.

The Bully was quiet today, perhaps grasping the gravity of the situation, but at least they could all be thankful they had Astia to replace him.

"Get out then. Get everyone out, because Yallak cannot be stopped."

"Maybe not" came an instant reply from directly opposite him. Whistling and Astia looked superficially symmetrical facing across from each other, bolt-upright in their chairs with hands clasped with military precision. But as Astia wore modern urban-warfare gear, Whistling sat resplendent in his General's dress, complete with medals, seeping in tradition. And while Astia's words were the words of an upstart superpower, Whistling's were the words of the old order of Waldenburg. "But we will never know unarguably unless we put them to the test."

Whistling stood up. Astia shuffled backwards in his chair. Flint felt a wry smile tugging.

"Lord Whistling…" Astia began, consolingly, then stopped suddenly as Jowls stood up from the other corner.

Dominating the room, the assembled swivelled in surprise to see him acting without the Princess' orders. He sneered slightly, then growled.
"I don't know what you do in Yallak, Mr. General, but in Laysley we fight for what we love. To the last drop of blood!"

His mouth hanging open ever so slightly, the Yallakian held up a reasoning hand. Then Fond stood up right next to him.

Then Flint, with a friendly grin to Whistling, sprang up. Speckle creaked to life shortly afterwards.

Kehlam smiled slightly. "Is this the decision of the council?" she inquired flatly.

The question didn't need an answer, so it was left hanging. The dramatic moment was lost, with the Lords standing awkwardly…

"Then" she continued, just in time "I propose a toast!"

Standing and lfting her glass, even though she didn't strictly drink, the others followed suit.

"To the last drop of blood?" inquired Fond.

"To Laysley!" she replied, with startling gusto.

"To Laysley!"


The Middle of Nowhere,
The Middle of the Night.

In the shade of a glade, the motley crew sat around a fire, expertly produced by the Inquisitorial Stormtrooper, each in front of a tent, also put up in a flash by the above. He sat studying a collection of poetry, his state of the art equipment neatly piled beside him, reading glasses lit up from the flames. A clumsy plaster was slapped to his swollen lip.

Another employee of the GOA sat smoking his own, much higher quality, cigarette while struggling to polish a boot one handed. He had dark skin, a fine crop of curly black hair straddling his head and a rather impressive sniper rifle laid across his lap.

Crisp simply sat impassively staring into space, hands locked together atop his crossed legs.

Cato lay back smoking a cheap cigarette inexpertly, given to him moments earlier by Crisp with a simple 'I am informed that you smoke'. He was quite resigned to his position and, besides, these were Layslians. He liked Layslians. You knew where you stood with that brand of soulless traitors.

The Prince rotated the cigarette between his fingers, looking at it quizzically. The sniper, Cato thought he was probably Fictionese, grinned at him. Cato smiled back politely, realising he was the one that made the joke about the cheque. Then again, they were Layslians, and some people just never joke about serious things like money...

"Would you like one of mine your Highness? They're much better!"

The sniper spoke perfect Palonian-dwardle, thought Cato. Show him some real German, he resolved.

"Do you mind? These ones are rather, as you observed, tasteless."

They shared a lighter, and after the first inhale the sniper nodded sociably.

"Prince Cato in the flesh" he said smiling "I didn't think I'd live to see the day! Your running about the place confusing the life out of every government and newspaper in Tyrrhenia gives you a very larger-than-life record, your highness"

Cato smiled politely, again, then couldn't resist the temptation to reply. "I'm flattered, my dear chap, but larger than life? I do believe you're the one with the fascinating background here!"

The sniper looked at him quizzically.

"What's your name, Layslian?" His slip into military style seemed to go unnoticed.

"I'm Jamal. I'm Fictionese, actually, I just work for these gents."

"Then, Jamal of Laysley, how is it that a nice subcontinent boy like yourself ends up in the depths of Sälitz, presumably for quite some time with an accent like that, working in the secret service of an entirely foreign power as a sniper?!"

Jamal smiled warmly. "Layslians aren't that alien to us Fictionese, your Highness. I'm the son of nomads, my father won countless awards for his shooting and I've done my best to emulate him. I was enlisted by the Layslian Embassy, then packed off to Sälitz with a branch of their Fictionese Service when we took over the governorship here. Here I am!"

He finished with a laugh. Cato chuckled at the infectious chortle.

"What about you?" said Cato turning to the reader. The pommie looked up from his anthology momentarily, replied with a curt "I'm an Inquisitorial Stormtrooper." then went back to it. Cato turned back to Jamal.

Jamal shrugged "He doesn't enjoy his job. He's a writer by temperament, reads like a librarian and is only happy when he's doing that! Or off with the girls, obviously!" Jamal pointed at the pommie's knapsack with his cigarette. "Full of books! That and sneaking off to go off with the girls are the only two things he doesn't do exactly by the book! How he'll make it to retirement age without topping himself I have no idea. Damn good solider though, don't get me wrong."

Cato looked puzzled. "If he hates it so much, why did he sign up in the first place?"

Jamal shrugged again "You're asking me?"

There was silence for a moment, then Jamal called over to the pommie.

"Lieutenant Edwardson, sir?" He said this without a hint of actual respect.

The Lieutenant looked up again, annoyed. "Yes?"

"Why did you join the Stormtroopers, sir?"

Edwardson sighed and reluctantly put a bookmark in his anthology. He put it down with great care on top of his combat armour, then straightened up and replied.

"Family thing." he had a public school voice "We'd all been in the Stormtroopers since the war, and I was naturally expected to carry on this tradition. I studied hard and actually finished my degree, which is more than can be said for my father" he almost spat the word out "then I assumed I'd just sign up, not be suitable and be advised to leave." He stared out longingly at the tree line.

"Then what happened?" Cato asked quietly.

"Then…" another sigh "then I was fantastic. I was promoted quickly and after five years I'm here, one of the best respected and least liked men in the entire Guild." His voice had lost its edge by the end, and he didn't take his eyes off the empty air.

"You know" mused Cato aloud "I've sat in innumerable meetings with innumerable characters and I've never once been surrounded by such fascinating individuals" Perhaps this wasn't strictly true, but it can't have been far from it and it made them happy.

They laughed, then Crisp arbitrarily switched on.

"Your Highness?" Crisp asked straight to Cato's startled face, in a sort of hiss that managed to be unnerving without being at all aggressive. Cato supposed that was one of the few parts of his personality Crisp was born with.

The Prince smiled politely. "How can I help?"

"I believe I am the one helping you, your Highness." Crisp replied unusually cryptically, then got to the point. "The aim of this expedition is to rescue you from the Yallakians and deliver you back to your army. You will defeat the Yallakians and reign independently."

"Whether I like it or not." Cato grumbled tactlessly. The idea of the Layslians trying to be pivotal in changing the course of world history was laughable. But then, as he reflected later, a city state was a bit like a banana. Small, yellow, vaguely interesting and invariably in a position where you ended up slipping up on it.

Crisp gave an almost invisible smile in reply. Then: "We will discuss where you would like to go in the morning. Corporal Marhab, Lieutenant Edwardson, the usual watch drill. Goodnight."

As Crisp crawled into his tent, Cato began to muse he had got an excellent deal with this particular kidnapping.


Rural Qualah.

Ama reached the top of the hill and immediately turned to look at the vast expanses of Qualah stretching out beneath her, the sun low in the sky at the dawn of a new day. Her little village lay a few miles down the road, a snaking road leading out of it into the distance. She breathed in the air, panting. Having been at college in the capital for so long, this walk that had once well within her stride had all but exhausted her. She would miss her home, for she had come to say goodbye.

Then she turned back.

The hermit and her struck absolute juxtapositions. She stood neat and prim in business suit, shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, long black hair flowing in all directions since her discarding of the hijab for when anyone official wasn't looking. Save for the tattered walking books and the general dustiness, she was the very model of a young, upcoming progressive. And she knew it.

The hermit sat solemnly but contentedly, wearing a loin-cloth and loose robe as ancient as he was. Resplendent in wrinkles and wisdom, he looked not far dissimilar to the rock of ages. But naturally he had long been above such things as aesthetics.

They smiled warmly at one another.

"You have come to say goodbye?" the hermit's voice sounded in bad need of oiling, seeping croaks and wheezes.

"I have, my master." Ama's was crisp and clear in the early morning air.

"I see" the hermit nodded contentedly. "We are sending light to the old world. They have grown tired, my dear Ama, you will do great works."

"Thank you, my master."

"No no no!" replied the hermit with a chuckle "no no, I am not your master now. I have taught you a great many things, your family and village have taught you many others, your city has taught you even more. Now you must go and learn lessons I shall truly never be able to comprehend. I do not expect I shall live to see you if you ever return."

Ama nodded sadly. She never did have many words, except around her closest friends perhaps, and certainly not in front of her master.

Then she nodded again, much more audaciously, smiling slightly. "Goodbye."

"Go in peace, my daughter."

She turned round and set off back down the hill. For the very last time.
Last edited by Laysley on Sat Jan 21, 2012 6:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Cukarica » Fri Jan 20, 2012 4:55 pm

The Neapolis Aequitas

Blockade initiated, troops in Paloni placed on high alert!

As of today all Classis Imperialis vessels has been ordered to set sail to their blockade positions according to the contingency plan Z-XI for the first time since the Hanslow crisis. The reasoning for this action is the currently deteriorating situation in Waldenburg and the landing of 500,000 Aschen men in southern part of the coutnry, which are currently fighting against the force of the Mykolan pretender on the Waldenburger crown ''Emperor'' Frederick. The government officials have stated that they will allow supplies and basic necessities for that force and the county of Wissenholm to pass, but will not allow any further military deployments and meddling in the Waldenburg affair. The Emperor has told the Senate that any more unprecedented actions by any warring side in the Waldenburg conflict will be forcibly resisted by the Imperial might.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Currently Aschen forces are present on the Waldenburg continent ,but limited to the county of Wissenholm und Himmel, along with the newly arived force currently in combat in southern Waldenburg. Cukarican forces, most notably Legio Palonica stationed in Blomburg and Vonderborn has been put on high alert and is currently ready to take action against any party willing and crazy enough (-editor's note) to try to violate the sovereignty and teritorial integrity of the Latin Imperium. Not lacking a sense of irony, Aschen forces have landed under the pretext of ''peacekeeping'' and preventing large scale humanitarian catastrophe but in fact have only added more oil to the fire and spilled the conflict into southern Waldenburg which was until now considered relatevely safe and untouched by warfare. Emperor announced that any ship that violates the exclusion zone (left), tries to pass through the Mednordian canal without permission, or tries to enter Cukarican territorial watters will be liable to be sunk without warning by the Cukarican defensive military assets including the long range ''Ostwind'' anti-shipping balistic missiles. Currently watter mining operations are under way, and as stated by the Classis Imperialis sources, only few corridors will be left unmined to provide safe passage to civilian shipping and humanitarian vessels. Concern over the conflict in Waldenburg has been growing in the Latin Imperium. With the re-entry of Aschen forces into the Waldenburg conflict, several ''Hawks'' in the Imperial Senate tried to contrive a number of justifications and secure a majority of votes for several legislations of which some provided the legal means for the Legio Imperialis to directly enter Waldenburger territory and intervene in the conflict.
Last edited by Cukarica on Sun Jan 22, 2012 7:48 am, edited 5 times in total.
Please note that my nation is no longer called Cukarica, but Elysian Empire or Imperium Elysium.
Imperivm Elysivm: Wiki
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Quotes to remember
<Rodarion> even Yallak is reluctant to fight the Legions of Cvkarica
<Mykola> Cvk it takes a thread on II to get you to do anything
<Ralk> I'd have to blast my way through cvk. In doing so I'd lose a lot of men.
<Ossoria> isn't stupid enough to challenge someone with the caliber of military that is Cvk when he is right on the border
<Rodarion> I'm never going to try to invade you lol

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Postby Aschenhyrst » Tue Jan 24, 2012 1:14 pm

January 1st, 2014
The Imperial Palace
Arrandin, Yallak

"Lord Dortrean, I have been stationed here far too long for you to play games with me. I am fully aware of the diplomatic word games you and I must play, both our nations have our secrets." stated Armitage
"That being said, I know your people are aware that we have paid operatives in the Sudkreis. Viceroy Schoenebeck`s Intelligence Minister was a ISS agent for years. The Viceroy himself has been on many 'Diplomatic' missions throughout the Sudkreis and he`s made many...ahem...contacts in that area. Our sources say there is a meeting in Salitz, hosted by the Duke of Sloterwald. A very ambious man, the Duke is."
Armitage paused and took a sip of water, "This meeting that may or may not be taking place..... our forces have halted their advance pending the outcome of this meeting. We`ve run through the country like a Waldenburger runs through puns. With a larger force, we could overrun the entire nation. They are too busy fighting amongst themselves for the scraps to pay attention to the greater prize."

December 27, 2013
250 nautical miles west of Mintasburg, Waldenburg
Task Force: Jolly Roger

The WIS Indolent was running all ahead full, the Anirtakian Task Force was pushing their engines to their limits to close the gap. For two days Task Force: Jolly Roger had been in pursuit of the Indolent at maximum speed closing the distance between them by two and a half hours. The Indolent was obviously steaming for Rudyt, the passage between Mintasburg and Rudyt placed the Task Force dangerously close to attack from land-based aircraft. Kapitän Erhardt was faced with a dilema, he wanted to take the Indolent intact as a prize but refused to endanger his entire flotilla for the task. In 24 hours his task force would enter the channel and the Indolent could call for aid. Erhardt summonded his air wing commander,
" Kommander Von Rohr, we must take the Indolent. You have 12 hours to develop and execute a plan to halt the Indolent`s escape without sinking her."

January 3, 2014
Near Namen, Klagenfurt, Waldenburg
Tettenburg Forest

"Corporal O`Malley! Your men have been drinking!" shouted Sgt. Major Harington "What kind of a half-ass squad are you running here!"

"Sgt. Major, Sah! I take full responsiblity. The men and I stopped in this little gasthof about a half mile east of here for a bite to eat. The boys got to fraterinizing with the local lasses and we stayed a wee bit too long."

"Lasses, eh? Fraterizing? O` Malley, did these lasses have socks?"

"I...I don`t see what the relevance of socks is, Sgt. Major"

"Did they or did they not have socks?"

"I don`t recall them having socks, sah!"

"Christ almighty O`Malley! Waldenburger Whores go without socks you horny simpleton! It`s like a scarlet letter sewn on the backs of their corsets. You and your men have been fornicating with those clap-ridded, bare ankled harlots. The Goddamn Waldos will hear your dicks dripping two miles away! Do you know what religion the Waldenburgers are O`Malley?"

" Umm... Catholic, sah."

"That`s right O`Malley. If any of you men impregnated any of those prostitutes... they`ll have a thousand little half Aschen, half Waldenburger bastards running around. They`ll be shunned by both societies. Think of the children, O`Malley, think of the children."

"Aye, Sah?"

" Get your squad down the the dispensary and get your shots. Afterwards, your squad is confined to quarters. If I hear of any more men from our regiment fraternizing with prostitutes, I`ll shoot the scalawag whore-mongers myself!'

Along the front, troops had dug in and boredom had set in. Incidents similar to O`Malley`s squad were common but not widespread. The NCO Corps of the Aschen Army hurriedly restored disipline amongst the troops and found creative ways to occupy the idle hands, like ditch-digging and sock-darning. The first defensive line ran along a ridgetop east of Namen, south to the Sauer river. Two passes near the Sauer, along the main road from Wuppenthal, were heavily reinforced. These passes were the only route a major armored thrust could proceed through. Should the fighting resume, control of these passes was paramount. General Marlow established HQ near Blekenham as supplies and reenforcements gathered in the area around town.
Last edited by Aschenhyrst on Tue Jan 24, 2012 5:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Waldenburg 2 » Tue Jan 24, 2012 3:33 pm

Middle of Nowhere
Slightly Past the Middle of the Night

So many stars speckled a sky that begged words like ‘velvet’ or ‘inky’ but in actuality more resembled, to Cato, a sooty bowl. Northerly winds were sweeping the industrial smog of Waldenburg over Paloni adding cinder and smoke to the dark forest where Cato and his captors had pitched their sleeping roles. It was a little too chilly for any person to sleep comfortably, and Cato’s breath frosted in the air above him as he lay awake, brushing the frost from his eyelashes every minute or so. The Fictionese Corporal, Corporal Marhab, could be seen flitting from tree to tree shadow to shadow every so often. It was only because Cato was looking for the guard that he could ever see him. And the fact he shivered.

“Marhab.” Cato whispered, “Come here for a minute.”

A rustle of leaves and the corporal arrived behind the Prince, bending down to his ear. The few leaves that still clung to the trees rattled disconsolately in the stiff breeze. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Cato didn’t move, but angled his eyes to face the man, “Where do you come from? The town?”

“You wouldn’t know, it’s a small place, nobody has ever heard of it.”

“I had Dr. Rashiad Pavtrati for geography you know.” Cato answered back blithely.

“Tiran,” Corporal Marhab answered wryly, “A very small village.”

“You were right, I have no idea.”

“I know Your Highness, you only got a ‘B’-although your final paper truly did have dynamic.”

“My, you have done your homework Corporal Marhab.”

“And you never did yours.” Corporal Marhab crouched down beside Cato,” What did you want?”

“Black forces eh? Ever thought of something else? A florist maybe or a policeman?” Cato leaned up on an elbow to speak to the man.

“I have brown thumbs, and have a small head, nothing bad, but they don’t make a helmet small enough.”

“Really?” Cato asked, “But always for the black op?”

“Well I’d like to retire sometime, maybe open a shop of my own, but these Layslians pay too well.”

Cato nodded knowingly and brought his left arm into contact with Corporal Marhab’s head, slamming the Order of Tyrhennia, nearly half a pound of gold, silver, and bronze into the man’s temples. Jamal collapsed. His eyes still moved but only a groan escaped his lips. “Sorry Jamal, this really is nothing personal. I have enjoyed our time together, and I hope you wake up in a little shop in Tiran selling kitschy crap to rich tourists. Dar salam” The medal was brought down again and the Jamal fell into unconsciousness.” Cato shot up from the ground and began to run, heading south, clutching Jamal’s pistol in his hand, his overcoat lying over the figure of Jamal, who had neatly stamped into his forehead: the rising phoenix of Tyrhennia.

The WIS Indolent
110 Miles Southwest of Rudyt

There was no way the Indolent could outrun the Aschen ships, as fuel oil was low, and Waldenburger ships were never exactly known for their agility, and indeed combat damage to the vessel had gone unrepaired for several weeks as the Catoists lacked a proper port. For the last twenty or so miles the crew had been tossing coiled hempen ropes onto the diesel engines, producing a thick black smoke that appeared to spell the fate of any combustion engine.

Wilhelmina had been striding the deck and ordering the occasional rocket to be fired behind. “We’re losing ground Captain.” The Countess shouted up to the deck house where a short man waved back, “It’s called water!”

“Lieutenant,” the Countess looked dourly at the rear watch officer who leaned demurely over the deck rail as his watch scrambled to rocket the single rocket tube. “It would be a shame if the next rocket were to fail to leave the ship.”

“Well yes it would, would cause quite the bit of havoc.”

“Quite an explosive show Lieutenant, always looks worse than it is though.”

“This is true.”

“Radio down to the engine room, shut down everything, and order the away teams to stand by in the bulkheads…” Wilhelmina stared over the sea gritting her teeth, before stalking over to a telephone built into the steel of the ship. She truly was a young girl, no more than fifteen and barely formed in the chest, let alone the voice or face. “This is the WIS Indolent, Countess Wilhelmina von Waldenburg commanding… requesting help from all Imperial units…. Our transponder is active."
"You guys have meetings?"

"Cole Porter would be proud. A money grubbing effete banker teaming up with a female nuclear wasteland to take over the world. "
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Postby Mykola » Tue Jan 24, 2012 9:10 pm

December 28th, 2013- 8:43 A.M.
Vienna, Hapsburg Reich
Chamber for the Council of the Nobility

As clouded as the workings of the Hapsburg government seemed to the outside world, every so often it became readily apparent to everyone that there was a variation on what could be called a functioning parliament, and due to the dire circumstances facing Franz Josef's ailing Empire, it was as clear as day as to the reason for the Chancellor's summoning of the Council of the Nobility.

In the quasi-legal documents of the Reich, the council of the nobility consisted of an elected delegate for every one hundred and fifty nobleman that were aged over eighteen and off of the support of their father. Within the council there were approximately three hundred and twenty five delegates, representing a total of 48,756 male head of households. In most respects, this council was entirely powerless, as it was chaired by the fifteen most powerful men in the entire Reich, after the Emperor, the Emperor's Imperial Council.

Consisting of the fourteen Imperial Ministries and the Chancellor, and ranging from the ministry of the interior to the Kaisichdein, these men, having been appointed by the Emperor himself, held a monopoly on the power within the Reich, and judging the circumstances befalling the man whom had appointed him, they were understandably nervous, knowing very well that their rivals would take the first opportunity to tear their aging carcasses to shreds.

The fifteen government members stood behind an over sized elevated table, seven on each side with the Chancellor several feet higher than the rest, to their front, organized in a semicircular fashion, were seats for the three hundred and twenty five delegates, most of them being either Dukes or Grafs, the richest and most powerful men in the areas that they represented.

The Imperial Chancellor, with what might have been the only gavel in the world that would not give the impression to oneself that they were staring at a plump oompa loompa, struck the desk with a ferocity that one would never expect such a cholesterol ridden mess to ever put forth.

"I now call to order, the three hundred and eighty seventh Council of the Nobility, may our God save his Imperial Highness! Post the colors!"

Beneath the table that the government stood at, two Reichswächter officers posted the flag of the Reich, and then calmly relocated to their assigned positions in the back of the room.

Paul von Hindenschloss, the Chancellor then took his seat, in which the rest of the chamber followed in suit.

"The first order of business, the Grand Duke of Hapsburg, and heir to the throne of Kaiser Franz Josef II's Empire, Frederick-Wilhelm IV, or Emperor Frederick V of the Waldenburg Empire, has decreed that two hundred billion Reichmarks be used to purchase Waldenburger bonds. By the law of the Regency and Succession article, decreed in the year of our Lord eighteen-hundred and sixty four by his late Imperial Highness, Kaiser Frederick-Wilhelm III, the Council of the nobility must approve this measure with at least a fifty one per cent majority, as the Grand Duke is not the Emperor of Mykola."

Upon saying this statement of business, the chamber went into uproar. Oddly enough, the right side was on their feet, jeering at the Chancellor, shouting such insults as, you bullock!, as well as, I've seen better on Hurfickenstrasse!.

Hindenschloss, taken aback, nervously looked to his colleagues that sat to his side, those whom had, at the last meeting, scorned and mocked those who spoke out against them, now tugged at their shirt collars as they prepared for rotten fruit to be the least of their problems.

"Order! Order! Order! This is a place of government! Not an asylum! We shall have order!"

Hindenschloss' outcries were only met with more outcry, from Wetzel von Braubach, a thick headed Duke with the audacity to fill a chamber pot with his own excrements, for the simple reason to pour it out the window onto some unfortunate passerby.

"If you want government, Chancellor, then what of the last meeting? Do you still consider Helmut von Elsdorf a nappy headed pig? Perhaps if you would simply look at yourself!"

At least half the chamber responded in laughter at the momentous insult hurled at the Chancellor, while the other half sulked solemnly in their seats, watching in horror as the previously unthinkable was happening.

"If you don't contain your," Hindenschloss began as most heavy men do, with a puff of their chest and a continued pulsating of their shoulders in a vertical fashion, "tongue, I'll have you escorted out and fined!"

"I would contain your tongue if I were you..." it grew silent in the room as Braubach waited for the prime moment to attack, "but purely for health reasons, it looks like it may have gotten the best of you!"

Hindenschloss gave a glance to Bergmann von Präterburg, minister of the Kaisichdein, who sat frantically scribbling notes, before continuing, "If it is government that you want then come up to the podium and present your views on the topic at hand! The allocation of two hundred billion Reichmarks to the purchasing of Waldenburg bonds."

"Very well...your 'grape'...I mean grace." Braubach took a few steps forward, to the podium that sat behind the enraged Chancellor, now red as a tramp's dress.

"It is readily apparent that we must heed the call to our most noble regent and Emperor of Waldenburg. The Reich must become great at whatever cost! Two hundred billion Reichmarks is a drop in the bucket of our empire!"

The Chancellor interrupted, "Your grace it is not our empire as you so candidly put it, but rather his majesty the emperor's."

Almost mumbling, the words, "for now," came out of Braubach's mouth before he continued, "Emperor Frederick the fifth the is legitimate Emperor of Waldenburg and he must be supported with everything we have! I say we vote to join the war!"

For the first time since the chamber had been called to order, those sitting on the left at long last responded, jeering and cursing the cynical Duke's remarks.

Werner von Eberhardt, a Duke himself, stood to oppose this, proclaiming, "If the Reich joins this war, we shall see the complete and total ruining of the Empire that we have striven to build since we threw the socialists out!"

Reminiscing a scene from a British parliament sitting, the left side began applauding and cheering, while the right began shouting and jeering, with several members going so far as to take the step of knocking each others papers off of their desks.

"I will remind you, Duke of Braubach," Hindenschloss thundered above everyone else, "that his Imperial Highness will be recovering very soon and that your actions, if continued will not go without repercussions, suggesting that the Reich go to war? While the Emperor lays recovering from a heart attack? You were not even at the mass for his Imperial Highness this morning! It wouldn't be unreasonable to charge you with high treason for such sentiments!"

"You are wasting our time Chancellor! Call a poll to determine if we have enough members willing to put this issue up for vote."

Braubach, called several of his colleagues up to the front with him, and looked at the Chancellor, who reluctantly began the operation to poll on whether or not the issue was ready for vote, tugging at his collar once again as he did this.

After tallying those willing to vote, a majority of one hundred and sixty three delegates signaled being ready to vote on the matter at hand.

Smashing the gavel once again onto the table, the Chancellor called to the chamber, "I call on everyone to return to their seats and to remain seated, the Council of the Nobility will now vote on whether or not the Hapsburg Reich allocates and uses two hundred billion Reichmarks to finance the purchasing of Waldenburg bonds in the equivalent amount in that currency. It has been determined by the majority of the council that this issue is ready to be voted on, and shall be promptly done so."

The Chamber sat silent, as a chance for a split down the middle made it's way into the light of all those present.

"For those abstaining, please rise," no delegates rose, "and for those in favor, please rise."

The entire right side of the chamber rose, approximately half of the chamber. The counters set about to counting those voting in favor, after several minutes an envelope containing the confirmed vote tally reached the Chancellor.

Carefully opening the envelope, he read, "The Council of the Nobility, by a majority of one hundred and sixty three in favor, to one hundred and sixty two against, the motion is approved."

The expressions on the faces of the Imperial Ministers that sat at the head of the room turned to that of shock and disbelief, what would have been inconceivable a mere four days ago, was now happening, a complete and total rift in the nobility, directly down the middle. What would become of this? Those within Mykola had no idea, let alone anyone in the outside world, to them, the Reich was running just as usual, however, they would come to rue the day when they were proven wrong.
Last edited by Mykola on Wed Jan 25, 2012 3:44 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby Waldenburg 2 » Fri Jan 27, 2012 3:02 pm

Rudyt-Wacht auf Tettenburg
His Excellency's Own Foot Guard
January 9th, 2013

Everyone had one. Every marshal had certain perks and the first one was certainly men, and it was now custom to hand choose the color regiment of a Marshal's army. Field Marshal Pälitz had certainly taken advantage of this privilege and selected a regiment of monsters, all over seven feet tall, built like trees, and duller than a sixth grade field trip. They were however quite impressive as they stood holding back silent crowds as the army meant to deal with the Aschen incursion had its own last chance at pageantry. It would be field gray from here on out.

"I trust out dear cousin the Countess Wilhelmina will be rescued?" Princess Alexandra von Waldenburg, the 8th Princess Imperial, and nominal commander of a small corp sent to capture her father Prince Andre, stood beside her superior and spoke out of the corner of her mouth while battalion after battalion stomped past.

"I have spoken with the mayor," Pälitz said coldly, for he felt, along with most of his peers, that one woman in war is far too many, "They only have a single frigate at their disposal and they need it to close the harbor. They could send a fighter wing out but...."

"You don't like me do you Field Marshal?"

"I could never be opposed to a member of your gender."

"And yet..."

"We have," Pälitz finally snarled, breaking his iron salute, "Fallen so far we are reduced to placing women in command of armies. This is not how it is supposed to be!"

"And I am of the blood," Alexandra spat back placing the heel of her boot on the Field Marshal's insole, "You will rescue my cousin."

"The Emperor orders me to take no prisoners, and I will obey, he orders me to allow Mykolan soldiers onto the continent, and I obey. He threatens me, he curses and insults me and I obey. I swore an oath to the crown of which you are one of its finest jewels Your Highness, but how do you justify fighting against your father for the... pretender?"

"I..." Alexandra spluttered into silence.

"Times are changing child, your cousin Cato is coming back. And for the first time in two thousand years von Waldenburg means nothing, you and I, lauded since time immemorial as right and true leaders, nobles and peers of the realm will mean nothing. But I swore an oath." Pälitz looked pointedly down at the girl beside him, "We're all trapped dear." he looked off into space as a squadron of lancers trotted by, "Trapped in this world of ours. Trapped under the coronet. I am weighed down in braid and owing to a boy who tells me to kill defenseless men. I'll do it too, without a moment's hesitation."

"You don't have to." Alexandra said quietly.

"No I don't. I don't have to answer to His Majesty, I could stomp my feet and sweep him from the throne in a minute, we both know that. But who would I take orders from? Coronets and braid Your Highness."

"And what about cousin Wilhelmina?"

"I'll ask von Letsburg to send a squadron of naval bomber to Thule. But she is a Catoist you know."

"She is my cousin. Thank you Field Marshal." Alexandra offered him a weak smile as her words were drown out by the passing of some imported tankette that looked more chic than practical.

"Your Highness. I always do my duty to Waldenburg."
"You guys have meetings?"

"Cole Porter would be proud. A money grubbing effete banker teaming up with a female nuclear wasteland to take over the world. "
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Postby Laysley » Fri Jan 27, 2012 3:33 pm

Slightly after the middle of the night,
Slightly south of the middle of nowhere.

"Hände hoch, you bloody nonce."

Edwardson released the safety catch on the gun with a satisfying crunch. Cato stopped into his tracks at the sound of a large, advanced assault rifle opening up an eager eye in his direction. His hands went up hastily.

Edwardson advanced on Cato, reflecting on the pathetic fallacy of the the cold, clear night. He never did like Waldenburgers. Very poetic in some cases, granted, but good solid prose never came out of the rest of this blasted continent. This Cato could have all the titles in the universe and it wouldn't stop him looking like a cat caught in the act by an angry owner with water in easy reach at this very moment. Made the case for republicanism very neatly, he drily commented to himself.

Foot steps crunched from behind Edwardson.

"Lord Crisp, sir, I caught the bastard trying to escape. I think he's killed Marhab, sir, although he might just be unconscious. If I can suggest w-"

Edwardson collapsed onto the foliage. Cato span around to see a manically grinning Sufrir in his place, hefty wine bottle in hand. Cato gave him a lop-sided smile back.

"I was thinking it might serve to toast the occasion later" Sufrir said quietly, composing himself.

"Super. Great. Let's just get the hell out of here for now, shall we?"

They ran off into the night.

Crisp gave a quick, tight smile to himself from his vantage point a view yards away. With a barely audible hiss as he breathed in, he stalked silently after them, pistol in hand.
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Postby Yallak » Fri Jan 27, 2012 11:27 pm

ooc: sorry, not the best but its been a long week

November 27th, 2013 – 12:08
Fort St. Michael

It was a sight to behold, a united Layslian High Council standing one by one and raising their glasses in unison to salute a declaration to stand courageously against whatever fate awaited them. The finest minds and leaders of their nation, defiant and proud. General Astia wondered whether something similar to this inspiring moment must have occurred before the Layslians decided to resist his invasion, and in that thought was the irony of the situation. It showed bravery and spirit to stand against indomitable odds once but this time it held nothing more than the abhorrent stench of stupidity and denial.

Mikkel couldn't help but give a wry laugh, and every eye in the room turned to glare at him with disapproval. He was not perturbed however and though he remained seated he spoke in an icy tone that carried an edge of scorn. 'Seriously? Are you people stupid, insane, or some combination of both? You have already seen first hand what happens when you fight the Imperial Legions, only this time you have even less of a military to do it with. You aren't going to have some glorious last stand, they will merely decimate you.'

When his rant concluded, General Astia slumped right back into his chair and a sullen expression took over his face. On one hand, he was absolutely correct, the Layslians were moronic to even consider trying to fight yet on the other hand he felt a glimmer of respect blooming. At long last they had finally found their backbones and with it a measure of worth in his eyes. If they weren't all about to die, they might just have started becoming friends.

After a moment of stunned silence he spoke again, in a low and peaceful manner. 'I will speak with the Emperor when he arrives and reason will prevail, that is our greatest and only hope. I expect that you and your people will continue to comply and co-operate with the order to disarm and leave this fool notion of fighting to the end to rest.'

December 30th, 2013 – 16:44
The Fortress of Weißburg
Scant, Ibblesguard

Another blast resounded out through the mountains as high explosive charges were detonated on Mount Hochvogel to the north of the fortress. The ground vibrated ever so slightly in unison with the returning echoes. Kaidan Valorus, Emperor of Waldenburg, idly watched the small concentric rings form in his glass of water, fan out to the edges of the glass and then dissipate.

'Something troubling you?' Garviel Leidos, the Provincial Governor-Militant, was hesitant to ask the question, but felt obliged. Kaidan always looked troubled these days, ever since the assassination attempt on his life. Where once their activities had gone hand in hand with jovial chat they now usually just worked in relative silence.

Kaidan flicked the rim of the glass and more ripples fanned out. 'No, not really, well, sort of, yes.'

'Is it about the water?'

Another explosive boom echoed through the mountains, though this was far off, and barely registered as more than a feint background noise. When it had passed Kaidan answered, 'Yes. Would you do it?'

'I would,' Garviel's voice carried no reservations.

'This Mykolan, how old is he anyway, like twelve? Are there no other ways?'

'Another way would require great sacrifice. I would not have that burden placed upon the Empire if it could be passed somewhere else.'

Silence returned to the room and Kaidan flicked his glass again, as if he might find the answered he sought in the soundless ripples of the liquid itself. It was broken after a few moments by the sole surviving Custodian, who now hovered around Kaidan like a bad smell every hour of the day and night he was awake.

'The orders have already been given, it serves no good to doubt them,' he declared in his deep voice. 'You should make your address now, and whether they live or die through this will be up to them.'

Kaidan merely nodded and then picked up his glass and tossed back the whole thing in one go, before leaving.

People of Waldenburg, I address you today under the most grievous of circumstances. It saddens me to learn that some among you have taken to treason and conducted the coronation of an imposter to the throne in Blünderburg. Yet treason is not just taking action against the crown, it extends to allowing such actions. Thus you are all guilty of allowing this crime to occur.

And death is the punishment for treason.

I have ordered all sources of water from Ibblesguard to Blünderburg closed. Every pipe has been sealed, every river dammed or diverted, every mountain channel sealed. Not a single drop of water will flow from the mountains to the city from today onwards.

I am not an merciless Emperor though. So i grant you one chance at redemption. If you, the people of Blünderburg, correct your sin, cast out the imposter and his followers and deliver our great capital back into my hands, then you will be forgiven and the water restored.

Death or deliverance, the choice is yours.

Simultaneously, while the Emperor's address was broadcast over every television station and radio wavelength, the Imperial Fleet anchored off the coast of Pondderborg, launched a large cruise missile attack on Blünderburg. Known defenses, military installations and airports were targeted, though these were not the primary goals, merely a distraction to take priority away from the real goal of the strike, the destruction of the cities purification plants.
Last edited by Yallak on Fri Jan 27, 2012 11:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Cukarica » Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:08 am


To: Lord Balor, Sovereign of the Infinite Empire of Yallak
From: Emperor Maximus Meridius Augustus
Subject: Waldenburg problem

Esteemed leaders of the Infinite Empire ,

Word has reached my ears of the misfortune your cousin Kaidan has placed upon the innocent people of Waldenburg due to the actions of the Mykolan pretender in Blunderburg. I pray with whole my heart that you come to see that this course of action is not the way to resolve the current problem in Waldenburg which troubles us all. I know that the pretender and his criminals stand for no cause and hold no code of honour, and such is evindent in the blatant disregard for all of the civil, domestic and international laws that are relevant to the Waldenburg issiue, but civilians should not suffer for his misfits. There are several things that must be kept in mind as I deem that you do not want to become a man like the pretender. Inocent Waldenburger civilians are not the enemy here, Mykolan mercenaries under pretender's command are. Therefore i urge you to reconsider your recent action to stop the delivery of fresh, drinkable watter to southern and central Waldenburg. Civilians shouldn't suffer for pretender's criminal conduct. They don't support him, but they cannot topple him due to his command over Waldenburg's remaining army and police forces whose officers are loyal to him.

What I am suggest is to launch a series of actions that would take out the pretenders military clique and effectively end his command over Waldenburger military forces by destroying the link between him and the common soldier, and that link are his bribed and corrupt officials and officers. The Latin Imperium would like to reassure your excelency, whom we hold in high regard, of our good intentions for the civilians of Waldenburg, who are only human beings, and although somewhat uncivilized by our standars of culture and heritage, they too have the right of self-determination and the right to live their own lives without the fear of what will happen to them. It is with great worry that the Latin Imperium watches events unfold in Waldenburg at a rate much too rapid for our liking, in fact I'm sure that even my cousin in Byzantinoupolis, Wenzel Allamanikoi I, ruler of the Diadokhi Confederation shares my views on this troublesome matter, as well as the government of Ascelonia.

Frederick, no doubt with extenssive Mykolan backing, has once again shown a wanton disregard for the security and stability of entire Tyrrhenia by taking steps to immediately escalate a civil war to one of much grander proportions. The pretender believes that he and his cronnies can shape the fate of Waldenburg without outside interference, but they would do well to note that already a number of Tyrrhenian nations have taken interest in the situation. Such posturing can lead only to greater conflict, and that troubles me the most.

I have no doubt that this was a onesided act done by Kaidan without any discussion with your Majesty, however if it wasn't I ask you why was there no thought given to contacting other nations in the region? Pretender would undoubtedly back of his claim and his demands if he faced a united,strong and firm Tyrrhenian multinational opposition. Once again I urge you to reconsider and influence Kaidan to resolve the issiue peacefully before the conflict escalates beyond repair, and before thousands if not millions of innocent civilians of all nations perish.


Princeps Senatvs
Imperator Ellysivs
Pater Patriae
Pius Felix

Somewhere in the sea of Ascelonia,
Cukarican Maritime Exclusion Zone
Cukarican A-40C Albatros patrol amphibious airplane1

''Hey Caius, check this shit out, we've got a kid speaking over the Waldenburger NavalCom2 distress channel'' the com officer shouted over the music to the duplicarii sitting next to him.

''Oh come on Marcus,I thought you stopped smoking pot four years ago." he shouted back. "Seems you just can't get yourself off that shit."

"Well fuck you mate," the com officer replied, biting on a cigar. "It's always like this, I find something interesting and you start your fucking babble about pot. Better respond maybe it's one of our guys, with an extremely gay voice."

''Give me a break'' he sighed and switched the com systems on.

''This is Aeronautica Imperialis patrol flight X/A, WIS Indolent you are within the Cukarican Maritime Exclusion Zone, divert now, if you don't act according to the given orders the Cukarican ships will sink your vessel-'' he didn't finish his sentence as red lights on the radar screen started going up everywhere and a loud and fast beeping caught everyone's attention.The music stopped automatically.

''What the fuck is this?'' Caius exclamed, seeming annoyed and somewhat shocked to see seven ships behind their Indolent contact. ''Aschen ships according to their radar signatures'' he continiued.

''We better report this, and send the distress recording to the CiC'', said Marcus as he quickly sent the recording to the Cukarican Ascelonian Classis Command in Mediterranica City in central Ascelonia. Moments after that immediate orders came to notify the ship and to pick up as much of it's valuable passangers, while more Cukarican combat vessels move to the vicinity of the hunted ship.

--''WIS Indolent, disregard the recent warning, Cukarican Military forces have been redirected to your location, standby and hold tight, help is on the way.''

While the Cukarican fleets were slowely being redirected to the site, the patrol flight was ordered to land near the ship and completely evacuate it. ''ETA - two minutes, Indolent, sit tight.''

1 Heavily modified Cukarican version of the aircraft, sporting powerfull radars and with improved floatplane capabilities.
2 Naval Command distress channel, not sure how it's called, but just assume it's the standard military communications channel for the given situation.
Last edited by Cukarica on Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
Please note that my nation is no longer called Cukarica, but Elysian Empire or Imperium Elysium.
Imperivm Elysivm: Wiki
Imperivm Elysivm: OOC & IC Factbook
Imperium Elysivm: Embassies
Quotes to remember
<Rodarion> even Yallak is reluctant to fight the Legions of Cvkarica
<Mykola> Cvk it takes a thread on II to get you to do anything
<Ralk> I'd have to blast my way through cvk. In doing so I'd lose a lot of men.
<Ossoria> isn't stupid enough to challenge someone with the caliber of military that is Cvk when he is right on the border
<Rodarion> I'm never going to try to invade you lol

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Postby Laysley » Sat Jan 28, 2012 8:24 am

Fort St. Michael,

"Don't sit down."

The searching eyes of the room swivelled away from the cynical Yallakian to the hulking Jowls. He had kept up the family tradition of puritanical intimidation, sporting a plain black suit with white shirt under a black jumper. His muscly neck spilled typically over the grubby collar.

Fixing Astia with a despising look, he sniffed. The room, sadly most obviously Kehlam, as noted by many participants later, tensed in anticipation. Astia stared critically back.

"You're a bloody cad, mate. You come in here all pomp and circumstance and noblesse oblige or some whatever stupid latin phrase like that you all want me to say and think you can tell us how to think. Oh sure you're the one with all the bloody little gadgets and trinkets and bollocks, but you've never seen a real fight in your life mate, have you?" In his usual manner, Jowls growled on through Astia's short-lived attempt at objection "Reason ended when you bombed us. Discuss it with him, sure, but not if you want yourself or any of us to come out alive."

Jowls moved quickly into a more conciliatory tone.

"I don't expect you to shoot your countrymen, no, but you must let us defend our pride. We're only a city, sure, but we're a people too." He returned to clasping his hands in front of his groin, standing like a monument to soldiery in ages past as he delivered his sentences in an unemotional rumble "Surely you can see that a nation can't just let itself burn? You can have all the meetings you like, mate, but real policy, in the final analysis, is made with blood and iron."

And in age-honoured style, Whistling took up the baton.

"If you've an honourable bone in your body, sir, I implore you to let us fight your Emperor and not you too."

Flint inwardly applauded. These two beautiful beautiful men in beautiful beautiful moments like this needed a lot more applause. His father had tried to tell him, but you needed to see it first hand. And, he supposed, him and Speckle would have to nurture the mind later now the heart was in the bag. Unless, of course, Yallakians don't have hearts…
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Waldenburg 2 » Sat Jan 28, 2012 1:05 pm

Meandering away from the Middle of Nowhere
Thirty Seven Minutes Past Midnight

“I could have shot him you know,” Cato wheezed as both he and Sufrir hurtled over a half fallen elm tree, slippery with frost and the home of a rather perplexed badger, “The pistol was tucked into my coat.” The prince waved the pistol airily in front of them as the two plunged through the underbrush.

“Yes,” Sufrir naturally did not seem to be out of breath at all, “But there was a third one, and if we allowthe free market to be our guide, the marginalization of dead guards has a distinct drop off in return after two.”

“You’re an ass Sufrir,” Cato snapped, wondering just how long the Marquis had been following them, “And I didn’t kill the first one.”

“You might very well have, the day you start to understand head trauma is the day I am no longer needed in our fair expedition.” Sufrir expertly vaulted a gorse bush, which snared his superior’s trousers and sent him flailing to the ground; the Major stopped cracked his neck and offered a hand down to the Prince. “You are awfully clumsy.”

“I was supposed to be married Sufrir! An Emperor raising children, keeping his feet warm, ordering the occasional beheading, cutting ribbons: that sort of thing.” Cato slowly disengaged himself from the shrub and stood up, brushing his now tattered pants into a semblance of cleanliness. “I wasn’t built for this.”

“Nobody is built sire,” Sufrir gripped Cato by the shoulders for a few moments, checked his eyes with a human compassion that most would have thought impossible, then gently slapped the Prince across the face. Two pale hands pulled them on the run again, diving through thickets and disturbing what seemed like millions of thrush from the trees. The birds ascended like a black haze going to meet the smog of Waldenburg in the oddly silent night. “You were taught to fence no? And speak Latin and Pontean, and Greek, and the old languages. Taught to serve a lady, direct an army, build a ship, finance an expedition, write a paper, and as you say spawn a horde of sticky, Imperial progeny.”

“It sounds,” Cato was getting faintly dizzy again, the exertions of their run in the thin air combined with the pugilism and nerves of earlier were sapping his vision, “Like you were built Sufrir, made in some Pontean factory, to be a perfect android.”

“I take offense, Your Highness,” somewhere above a helicopter slashed the silence of the night into droning sheets, but it was nowhere in sight; it was however getting louder, “There are many things I can’t do.”

“Only where physics or God prevents you.”

“I can’t whistle.”


“I assume my lips are too thin from generations of sneering at peasants.”

“You must tell me more at some point, I really am….” With a dull thud Cato collapsed, his medals jingling to a halt sometime after his body had tripped itself on a gnarled root and flung his regal brow against a stone. He was most certainly unconscious.

In a blaze of white light Cato opened his muzzy eyes, to catch the profile of Sufrir’s face; they were inside some sort of enclosure, small and cozy, rather too itchy where he was leaned against it, but comfortable all the same. Sufrir looked down as a groan escaped the Prince’s lips, “Don’t worry sire, I’ve found a farm. I can see a pair of donkeys, we’ll be on the road again soon.”

“Sufrir…. My uncle said that he…”

“Not now Cato, not now.” Sufrir patted the Prince kindly on the cheek, turned his head away and a tune so beautiful it brought tears to Cato’s eyes eschewed from his pursed lips, before the Prince fell back into a dark sleep.

Streinlikstern, Greater Blünderburg
January 9th 2013

“You will all return to your homes! This is an unlawful assembly! These fountains are the property of the War Ministry!” Colonel von Bröz had been having a continual nightmare since the night when Inquisitors burst through the palace gates through his command, and launched the war he was convinced to end all wars. Naturally his first thought was if he was to get into trouble, and indeed he had. Since that day, he had been yelled at by two different War Ministers, and most of the General Staff, but far from being removed from his usually dull command, he had inherited extra duties. One of which, was to defend the baroque fountain outside the War Ministry building, which every day ran with cool fresh water.

At the moment civilians, not in the heat of some rebellious fervor, or even with much energy, were languidly climbing the small ornamental fence that separated the suites of the Ministry from the Imperial Avenue and dipping utensils in the reservoir at the bottom.

“This water is property of the Ministry of Defense! This is for the soldiers of the realm! Stand aside!” Behind the colonel a small troop of his grenadiers were nervously eyeing the currents of people on the Imperial Avenue, who occasionally detached a member to join the water seekers. They all looked hungry though. “Get the fuck away!” Bröz bellowed at an elderly woman trying to fit between two bars of the fence. She turned to face him; Bröz turned away disgusted with the emaciated face; whereas the elderly were normally a bag of distress and decay to gaze upon, this woman’s face had turned inward, losing all moisture till the skin clung to her false teeth. The reek that came from that unnatural maw, made the Colonel dizzy and almost vomit unto the woman.

As his head turned however, he saw a dark shade in a window of the Ministry building. It nodded slowly to him. “In the name of His Majesty! Armed grenadiers! Bayonets!” His squad of grenadiers, quickly fixed bayonets, formed a line and then began to advance slowly. It didn’t faze the protestors at all. Colonel von Bröz, unfortunately leading the troops, met the old woman first and slapped her across the face with his pistol, knocking her to the ground and scattering her teeth across the cobbles. Most of the rioters did not even react as the bayonets plunged into their backs, or the rifle butts cracked their skulls: only two ran away from the fountain.

Bröz turned the last rioter around with a strong hand, stuck his revolver into his face and said sadly, “Go home.” He seemed no to register this, and the pistol struck him across the jaw, shattering the face so easily.

“Oh, Waldenburg.” Bröz covered his face to cover his welling tears, “Will I ever see you again?” Somewhere in the city there was the crack of the MMS swiping something out of the air, and then a distant explosion.

Hafstadt-Lowenbach Shipyards
January 9th, 2013

Arc welders lit a hellish glow in a room so cavernous it dwarfed St. Michaels cathedral, and would have drown scores of worshippers in the tidal pools and lakes of molten iron the coalesced in vats equal to any soccer arena. Hundreds of thousands of men, armored in leather and welding masks swarmed over the monstrosities that would be the remade Imperial Navy given a few more months’ time. Battleships laid nestled like loaves of bread in a shop window, while destroyers lay like buns on a tray; so many ants crawling over them. Steam hammers the size of buses slammed down on steel plates, forming them into armored sheets. For every lack of technology there was another hundred men, and ten thousand square feet of floor.

Suited foreman stood on walkways directing the chaos from their clipboards; mysterious tablets directing the labors of so many hundreds in their division. There were nearly two hundred ships in various stages of construction, and along the hull of nearly finished WIS Undulant two black clad figures slipped between the flickering shadows stopping in the lee of the occasional worker, until their knives snapped out, slitting the worker’s throats and tossing them into vats of puddling iron.

They paused every hundred yards or so and tossed a small brick into this alcove or that and swung off the bow onto the completed WIS Blünder, where their blades lashed out at a startled foreman and pitched his body over the rail to the scaffolding below. As the pair rounded a corner, a semi-automatic rifle was stuck in their faces and fired: there was enough time to hit the detonator, and bodies littered the floor as the fires spread, and the iron flowed freely from its vats and blanket the shipyard with
"You guys have meetings?"

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Postby Aschenhyrst » Fri Feb 03, 2012 2:17 pm

December 27, 2013
250 Nautical Miles West of Mintasburg, Waldenburg
Aboard the ANS Blitzkrieg, Task Force:Jolly Roger

Air Wing Kommander Von Rohr developed a strategy to stop the WIS Indolent before it could enter the Rudyt Channel. A squadron of twelve F-35 fighters streaked the 40 mile distance between the Anirtakian Task Force and the Indolent. As the squadron approached it`s target, they broke into separate flights. One flight darted around the Indolent to draw it`s fire, while a second flew in a defensive posture as the third flight set it self up to attack the Indolent.

"Red Team One to Red Team. First run, target forward weapons systems."

The first aircraft of Red Team rolled into posisition, coming at the indolent from the starboard side. From two miles away, the onboard targeting system locked on to the forward guns of the Indolent. "Red Team One, weapons away." Red Team One released two Sea Eagle missiles at the forward gun battery. One missile slammed into the forecastle deck as the second one hit it`s mark, the forward turret erupted in a fireball. Red Team Two followed in, unleashing it`s missiles at the second forward gun battery, the first missile just missed hitting the wheelhouse. Missile two scored a direct hit on the second forwar gun turret.

"SOS, this is Countess Wilhelmina von Waldenburg....commanding WIS Indolent. We are under enemy fire. Friendly units...please respond!"

''WIS Indolent, disregard the recent warning, Cukarican Military forces have been redirected to your location, standby and hold tight, help is on the way. 'ETA - two minutes, Indolent, sit tight.''

"Red Team One to Red Team, incoming aircraft. Let`s finish the Indolent."

"Red Team One this is Blue Team One. I`ve got a single radar signature. Heading 270 degrees. Will investigate."

"Copy Blue Team One, Red Team One out."

Red Team Three and Four assumed posisitons to take out the rear gun battery and propulsion systems. Red Team Three fired its missile, one missed the ship entirely and the second struck a glancing blow on the rear turret. Although not destroyed the turret`s traverse control became locked, rendering the gun useless as it was now stuck facing the bridge structure. Red Team Four dove at a 45 degree angle toward the fantail and quarter deck section of the Indolent before launching it`s missiles. The first missile found its mark, blowing the rear missile launcher of the Indolent from the fantail deck. The second missile ripped through the quarter deck and detonated inside the Indolent`s engine room. Black smoke billowed from the ship as she fell to a stop. The Anirtakian missile detonated between the Indolent`s engines, the explosion severed the cooling lines on the starboard engine and blew a chunk out the the port engine block.

"Red Team Four to all units, Indolent is dead in the water"

"Gold Team One to Gold Team, take out the communications array."

Gold Team roared over the Indolent`s bow, unleashing a hail of lead from their 20mm guns. Groans of fatigued metal were heard before the communications tower of the Indolent toppled onto the roof of the bridge in a twisted heap. The Indolent`s mayday calls fell silent.

The air wing broke off it`s attack as the Cukarican A-40C Albatross appraoched the Indolent. Determining a single float plane was not a threat, the Anirtakian fighters returned toward the Blitzkrieg. Disabled and adrift, the Task Force would intercept the Indolent within an hour.

On board the Blitzkrieg, the attack had been monitored closely over the radio. Kapitän Erhardt radioed the commander of ANS Strumtruppen, "Prepare boarding parties, we`re taking the Indolent....intact!"

On the Sturmtruppen, Anirtakian Marines assembled on the flight deck and began boarding their Seahawk and Chinook helicopters awaiting final orders to take the Indolent.
Last edited by Aschenhyrst on Fri Feb 03, 2012 2:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Yallak » Tue Feb 14, 2012 3:28 am

January 1st, 2014 – 11:15
The Imperial Palace
Arrandin, Yallak

The fact that knowledge of the meeting in Salitz had been leaked and reached the ears of the Aschenhyrst ambassador was disturbing to say the least. If Prince Cato was alerted before he arrived then he could disappear again and great setbacks to Imperial goals would be the only result. Erkal made a mental note to have the person responsible, and that person was undoubtedly a Salitzian, discovered and enlightened as to his error. In the meantime though, regardless of the truth to the subject, he did not wish to discuss the matter and decided the best course of action was to give Armitage something else to talk about instead.

'Come now Israel, surely you have more important things to worry about, like a certain handful of missing nuclear devices, than to be fretting about the in-substantiated possibility of a Salitzan tea party.' The diverting comment was delivered with a warm and knowing smile. 'How fares the search?'

November 27th, 2013 – 12:18
Fort St. Michael

'Have you?!' Astia snapped back, his voice brimming with borderline violence, all trace of patience lost. Several people in the room visibly recoiled at the verbal strike, but Astia's burning glare fell solely upon Jowls. The general could deal with pompous politicians dribbling contemptible sentiments and foolish notions and might even have indulged them just a little, but the Empire would play host to the worlds first international flying pig Olympics before he would abide anyone, least of all a foreigner, to insult his legions honour or the memory of those fallen in battle.

'What do you know of fighting, battle and war?,' growled Astia, standing to confront Jowls. 'Have you seen friends baked to death by the heat of a fire-bomb? Seen men literally clinging to life with nothing but their teeth to tear out their enemies throats? Do you hear the screams of the maimed and dying in place of long forgotten silence? See the vacant faces of the dead when you close your eyes?'

Talk of such things unavoidably drew Astia's thoughts into the dank and decrepit corner of his memory where he sealed away the many unspeakable acts of human brutality, viciousness and turpitude that he had borne witness to over the course of several campaigns. Foremost amongst the horrors permanently etched into his mind was of course the Islandic Campaign, where several days of naval and aerial skirmishes had culminated in the deployment of three legions to seize the occupied capital of the Islandic League from the Undershi Empire's forces. The cities name was long forgotten but the sounds, smells and searing visions were as cold and fresh as the icy wind of the Cloudspire mountains. About the only thing Mikkel and his men hadn’t been forced to do in that hell hole was to eat the flesh of the dead, and that was simply because the ground was so thick with the dead that scavenging food had been the least challenging task of the war.

'I do,' continued Astia, 'I think it is you who ignorant of the harsh truth of a “real fight”.'

With practised fluidity, Mikkel drew his sidearm from its holster and levelled it at Jowls. The dark metal device hovered ominously a few inches from the Layslians chest, its barrel pointing towards the man’s heart. 'You want to fight the Emperor? Just say the word then and I may as well kill you now. Either way you're going to die but at least this way you can meet your end with the luxury of never having to know of what I speak.'

The shock that had gripped the room now turned to scandal and Mikkel could see some of Jowls facial muscles twitching with outrage. Ironically enough he thought, this was most likely what the scene had actually looked like when Heeley had taken over the government and led them all to war in the first place.

'Gentlemen...' Whistling interjected before the situation could further degrade, but a sharp, curt look from Astia saw the objection trail off. Nonetheless, as his gaze met Whistling's, the General's foul mood lifted from anger to disapproval and he lowered the automatic pistol.

'I waste my time and my breath,' Mikkel grumbled as he re-holstered his weapon. 'You're all so blind. With one word you speak of not wanting to see your country burn and then with the very next you make plans to see that outcome become ever more inevitable. So fine, keep your weapons. Do what you will and know that you have only yourselves to blame for the outcome.'

And without another sound, Mikkel walked out of the room.


To: Emperor Maximus Meridius Augustus
From: The High Council of Arrandin
Subject: Re: Waldenburg problem

While the Emperor would undoubtedly thank you for your concerns in these troubled times, he is currently unavailable to discuss the matter with you in more depth. I can assure you however that the Emperor has full faith in Chancellor Kaidan Valorus and his administration and has charged him with ending the rebellions currently taking place in the Imperial province of Waldenburg.

Such measures may be harsh, but the response to treason and sedition must be so. As the people have been informed, water shall be restored when the pretender is removed. It is well within their power to topple him.

You and other leaders throughout Tyrrhenia might wish that Yallak had sought your aid in this crisis, however Waldenburg is now an Imperial province and as such what happens within its borders are of no relevance to foreign governments any more. Therefore we ask only that you remember and respect that.

Lord Sollonaal, Supreme Magistrate of Yallak
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Postby Laysley » Tue Feb 14, 2012 1:49 pm

"I always find drinking with the Waldenburgers an enlightening experience. I'd never realised that a man could play Tomlinson standing on his head and bashing the piano with his feet before." ~ The late Oliver Flint.


"Well that went well!"

Flint cowered into his armchair as the room glared at him. He caught Whistling's disapproving eye.

"Just trying to get the b-"

"Shut up." said Jowls.

The room went back into another musing silence. All now sat in their respective chairs in various positions befitting classical statues. Even Speckle, who's fingers only worked quietly on his cheek while his eyes drifted off into space.

Flint was tensed for an inappropriate remark by the Bully, but he was holding his tongue. He caught his eye, and gave the Bully a tight smile. He bowed his head slightly to Flint in reply, breaking off the eye contact. The Lords had clearly taken over this meeting.

Jowls stood up again and strode to the middle of the room "He doesn't understand it remotely does he? The bastard thinks that because he's been in a war he's seen the nasty side of life. I bet he's never had a gun levelled at him in cold blood in his life, the bastard. And I'd put any amount on that /he/'s never stood unarmed in a pub with a bunch of armed buggers blasting about the place!"

"Jowls please!" Kehlam almost cried, waving an arm in the air "There's no need to mention that, we've been through enough in these past days, haven't we?" She slumped back into her chair, losing her professional composure completely. Flint was nevertheless glad someone had stopped him, Jowls wouldn't lose an argument under any circumstances.

"B-but the b-boy's right."

The assembled turned to look at Speckle, who patiently forced out his next words. "We got what we wanted, didn't we? T-they're letting us fight back."

Murmurs of assent flooded the room, and Whistling suddenly stirred. He stood up slowly and dignifiedly; Flint realised the old stallion would look fantastic with a mane. With a slight limp, he walked over to Jowls and patted him affectionately on the shoulder.
"We're going to do this." He paused and looked thoughtfully at Jowls' tie. Then: "We're going to have barricades, just like they did back in the revolution. We'll have our guns and we'll set traps and we'll…" he broke off from Jowls, biting his finger and looking at the floor. He strode seemingly randomly towards Flint's chair, then stopped. He looked straight up at a very bewildered Flint.
"We made a very big mistake last time, we all know that, but the Yallakian has it wrong. This time we're not fighting for honour or glory we're fighting for survival and Layslians fight tooth and nail for self-preservation don't they? Or that's what the Waldenburgers say anyway." Another pause. "No! We'll take them this time! To the last drop of blood! If we are to die we will die with our claws out!"

"Old boy, you'll give yourself a heart attack." Flint's father used to say that sort of thing sometimes, he felt it appropriate now. His voice lacked the soft touch of his father, but it seemed to work.

Whistling paused again, in mid-stride. He looked straight ahead at the wall. "Right. Flint, get the Byzantines on side. Speckle, organise the men. Jowls, make this hell-hole impenetrable. Pimms-"

The room looked at it's knees.

"Pray for us?" ventured Flint, after a moment.

"Mhm. I'm sure he will be." replied Whistling with a curt but not unfriendly nod, still looking at the wall.

After a few seconds the assembled geared into life, noisily standing and filing papers. Flint offered the still shaken Kehlam his arm. She smiled sweetly at him, regaining some lost aura, and took his arm.

"Would you be so kind as to bring me a drink to my office? A large one, if you please."


Bartholomias looked at the plans, entirely bemused. This stripling (he must have been no more than thirty, with a shock of wavy blonde hair and an extremely long face) of an architect appeared to have plans to turn Laysley into an acropolis. They had all but ran through presumably extremely dangerous ruins, Bartholomias worriedly taking up the rear as the architect (he had one of those short, hard names you got up here that were impossible to remember) explained his dramatic plans equally dramatically, all arms waving and hands gesturing wildly.

"And here!" shouted the architect, stopping in front of the bridge to St. Michael's island. "We're going to have a statue!"

"Yes, I believe I saw this…" Bartholomias replied quickly, fumbling with the folder.

The architect bunched up his arms then sent them heavenward. "One hundred and fifty feet high, bearing a great torch aloft!"

"Is this like-"

"Exactly! The tale of the Colossus of Leukopolis! She revealed the riches of Byzantium's most prosperous colony to all who passed under her!"

Bartholomias forced himself to ignore the incredibly obvious innuendo. The boy clearly had 'upbringing'.

The architect had turned back to the river. "My Grand Lady shall bear her torch aloft to all who pass by her, symbolising the pride, nobility and honour of the great Layslian people!"

Jeez, they didn't make egos like this anymore.

"So, err" Bartholomias started. The architect was still looking dramatically out at the water. "On the plans she doesn't very particularly, well, Leukopolian."

The architect turned to him, looking concerned "how do you mean?"

"Well, in our architecture they don't usually cover up…" he made cups with his hands on his chest.

"Oh heavens!" said the boy, aghast "You don't mean…?"

Bartholomias shrugged.

"What would the neighbours think!?"
Last edited by Laysley on Wed Feb 15, 2012 4:40 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby Aschenhyrst » Thu Mar 01, 2012 9:22 am

December 27, 2013
250 Nautical Miles West of Mintasburg, Waldenburg

Six Zodiac assault boats were loaded with members of the Anirtakian Combat Swimmer Commandos (KSK). The KSK were highly trained individuals, skilled in taking down ships and oil platforms. Two Sea Hawk helicopters carried more KSK toward the Indolent. Accompanying the KSK were additional Sea Hawks to provide overwatch and five Chinook helicopters laden with Anirtakian Marines.

The Sea Hawks circled the Indolent, searching for threats as the Zodiacs closed the gap bewteen the Anirtakian Task Force and the Indolent. The Chinooks flew in a circular pattern about a mile away from the Indolent. The Zodiacs had finally caught up to the Indolent, three Zodiacs went along each side of the Indolent. KSK members hooked their rope ladders to the ship and began to board the Indolent. Once the Zodiacs had come alongside the Indolent, the Sea Hawks carrying KSK troops headed in toward the ship. As the Sea Hawks hovered above the bridge of the ships, KSK troops began fast-roping onto the ship. A brief fire-fight ensued as the KSK stormed the bridge. KSK troops that had boarded the Indolent from the Zodiacs began to secure a perimeter on the still-smoldering quaterdeck. As the quarterdeck was secured, the Chinooks were instructed to bring in the marines. 30 KSK commandos and 120 Marines would now begin the process of securing the ship and eliminating whatever resistance they encountered.

December 29, 2013
FOB Victory-Klagenfurt Province, Waldenburg

Inside a ramshackle barn within the perimeter of FOB Victory, the Sinister Rouge had established their HQ. Three Waldenburgers captured earlier on the raid sat bound and hooded awaiting interogation. Major Blalock of the Sinister Rouge had been tasked with intelligence gathering in Waldenburg. She had selected the old barn as the interrogation facility. On this particular morning, the barn was quite chilly. Blalock`s erect nipples could be seen protruding into her leather jumpsuit.

"Good Morning." she addressed the Waldenburgers in their language. "I am looking for someone, someone with something very special. You know who I`m looking for and you will tell me where to find them. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, that is up to you."

Blalock removed her thigh-high leather boots and socks, replacing them with slippers. Her leather jumpsuits leg came to just below her knees. Bare-ankled and bare-shined, knowing full well her appearence was offensive to the Waldenburgers she began to question them.

For nearly a hour she questioned, taunted and teased the Waldenburger captives to no avail, her patience growing thin. "You, think of a number between one and three!" she said to the Waldenburger on the left of the group.

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"I`m asking the questions, not you. Answer the fucking questions, you snivling twit."

"I..I don`t understand the relevance of this?"

Blalock delivered a spin-kick to the Waldenburgers head. Knocking him and the chair over and dislocating the man`s jaw. She turned her attention to the Waldenburger in the middle "Think of a number between one and three!"

"I..I..I don`t understand. Why are you doing this?"

Blalock picked up a pitchfork and drove it into the second Waldenburgers foot, she then turned her attention to the third Waldenburger "Think of a number between one and three!"

"THREE!" the third Waldenburger shouted without any hesitation.

"Very well," replied Blalock " you will be the one....number three."

The Waldenburger was taken from his seat and tied to a table in the center of the barn. A rope and pulley hanging from the top of the barn dangled above the table. Blalock took the rope and tied it around the man`s genitalia and began to take the slack out of the rope, hoisting the man from the table by his groin.

"Where is Lovat heading?"

Blalock pulled harder

"Where is Lovat heading?"

Blalock pulled again

"Where is Lovat heading?"

Again no response. Blalock gave the rope a mighty tug. The Waldenburger raised off the table as far as his bonds would allow. Blalock climbed on the table, the rope wrapped around her hands and prepared to jump from the table.

"I`m only asking you once more, Where is Lovat heading?"

"Kolmanskuppe!" The man screamed "Lovat and Prince Andre are heading to Kolmanskuppe"

"That wasn`t so bad, now was it?"

"No ma`am."

Blalock leapt from the table. A popping sound was heard and the Waldenburger let out a blood-curdling scream.

January 1, 2014
Imperial Palace-Arrandin, Yallak

Israel Armitage continued to sip his tea. He knew that the Yallakans knew, he had also been dealing with the Yallakans for nearly a decade. He was well aware of their ways and reactions.

"Lord Erkal, it`s no great secret that we have a small nuclear stockpile in Wissenholm. Our tiny outpost would have been overrun long ago if not for that deterent. I haven`t the foggiest idea where you`ve gotten the notion that some of our weapons are not under the control of our troops?"

Armitage wasn`t outright lying.... the weapons were still under the control of Aschen troops, it was the loyalty of said troops that was in question.
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Postby Wissenholm und Himmel » Mon Mar 05, 2012 9:47 am

Refugee Camp-IX
Bitberg an der Welt, Klagenfurt Province-Waldenburg
January 1 2014

A meeting was called for by the Sudkreis Viceroy, the Duke of Wissenholm. The highest ranking noblemen and civilian leaders from the Aschenhyrst Occupied Terrritories were summoned to attend. Refugee Camp-IX was about a mile from the Wissenholm border, established near an abandoned industrial complex west of Bitburg an der Welt. Former warehouses served as barracks, mess hall and adminstration buildings. Far from ideal, the facility did provide a roof over the heads of 20,000 refugees. Camp IX was one of twenty-five established in the Occupied Territories, funded by the Viceroy and administered via joint Wissenholmer-Anirtakian military forces. Camp IX could be considered average among the camps, some camps were established in former Waldenburger military encampments and had most modern (by Waldenburger standards) facilties while others were little more than hastily assembled tent cities.

Represenatives from the Waldenburger territories of the Duchy of Zwickow, the County of Steinburg, the Duchy of Klagenfurt and the County of Fleiner am Sauer were invited to the meeting with the Viceroy. The meeting was held in the camp adminstation building, a former 55,000 square foot warehouse. To the side of the ad hoc conference room, a full buffet had been arrainged for the attendees. At one end of the room a slightly raised platform had been erected, a large screen was behind the platform. Along the sides of the platform the national and provincial flags of the represenatives were arrainged in various order, a large Sudkreis Banner hung on each side of the screen. Seating was arrainged for the Viceroy, his ministers and the Adminstrator-General of Uberschau (his closest ally in the Sudkreis). Ten unarmed Sudkreis Landsknecht provided security inside the conference. The Viceroy elected the Landsknecht inside the confernece hall be unarmed as not to give the appearence of a hostile meeting.

Anton Heinrich Schoenebeck von Anirtakia, The Duke of Wissenholm and Viceroy of the Sudkreis, approached the center podium and addressed the group. "Noblemen and Noblewomen, Ladies and Gentlemen elected by their constituency, Honored Guests....Welcome to Camp IX. Before this meeting begins in earnest, I welcome you to enjoy the hospitality of the Sudkreis and partake in the bountiful feast prepared in your honor. Before we eat and our meeting takes place.... I welcome Fr. Horst Stahl, the Territorial Abbot of Wissenhom to lead the Invocation."

" Dear Holy Father, bless this meal which we are about to recieve. May it nourish our bodies and raise our spirits. May your divine covenance provide safety, wisdom and cooperation to these assembled before you. May your presence help these people in their hour of need. We ask you bless all who are assembled here today and all the displaced souls who are currently residing in camps similar to this one. We pray for a speedy end to this conflict and a settlement in which all your children may live together in peace again. In your name, we ask this. Amen."

Nearly two hours had passed since the blessing and meal before Schoenebeck took the podium again. "Honored Guests, I have assembled you today to discuss matters that are of our mutual interests. Historicly, the peoples of the Southern Waldenburg Provinces and those of the Sudkreis states are linked. Neither of us are truly Waldenburger, that way was forced upon us all by the sword. As the situation in the Sudkreis has somewhat improved since the Empire has left, some of our brethren have exchanged one oppressor for another. Myself and my colleague, Mr. Paul Bratsch of Uberschau, have worked in concert to improve the situation within our respective territories and those of our neighbors. Since taking the throne of Wissenholm, I have been working to improve the standard of living within my realm and preparing my land for it`s full independence from foreign oversight. Wissenholm and Uberschau are very close to forming a political union, it is this union I wish to discuss with you and invite you to join. A union of nations run by it`s own leaders, not those thousands of miles away. In order to achieve this union, fears of an omnipotent federal government must be forever put to rest. I assure you, what we have in mind is a Confederation. The rights of the states that form our Confederation will be above all else. The Confederation government will primarily act as arbiter between the members and as chief negociator in our affairs with outsiders. I will give you a few moments to absorb what I have presented before I engage in the official proposal. Let`s take a fifteen minute recess before resuming."
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Postby Yallak » Fri Mar 16, 2012 5:31 pm

December 30th, 2013 – 07:16
Turing County

The veil of night was rapidly withdrawing from the blazing glory of the morning sun as it crested the horizon and bathed the dawn in a fiery crimson hue with its warm, bright light. Yet on this morning it was not the spectacular form of the sunrise that drew the attention of watching eyes, but the equally impressive and terrifying sight on the horizon below, where brilliant golden rays reflected glaringly off of a sea of iron. From the sleek, angular stealth design of the frigates to the sheer and oppressive armoured bulk of the battleships, the crystal blue waters of the Layslian coastline were now teeming with the warships of the Imperial Navy. Though there had been a fleet at anchor since Astia and his Legions had first arrived that force had more than doubled overnight and as day broke the new arrivals were spurred to action. Mighty amphibious ships opened their gaping metal maws and disgorged the first wave of landing craft. Shallow waves lapped at the smaller vessels hulls as they powered through the slowly receding tide towards the shoreline while the reverberating roar of jet engines announced the presence of dark predatory fighters that circled overhead like vultures above a dying animal.

He had arrived.

From an elevated position just up road from the very location he had first landed in Laysley, General Mikkel Astia had a commanding view of the surrounding area and the fleet laid out before him. Though it had been some weeks since the invasion, the faint breeze that swirled dust around his feet was still scented with smoke and death. This should not have come as a surprise, this area had been among the most devastated parts of the nation and in every direction there was only piled rubble, burnt out vehicles, cratered roads and partially destroyed buildings. Astia doubted if any one structure had escaped the naval bombardment unscathed.

Amid the bleakness of the ruin the General stood in stark contrast. He had of course made himself as presentable as possible for the occasion, having his hair cut short, shaving the several day old stubble from his chiselled jawline and in lieu of a dress uniform instead wore his freshly cleaned pale-blue/slate-grey armour with the exception of a helmet. Were his skin made of marble he might have passed as a statue of a long dead hero, a noble visage that any Legionnaire or citizen would be well decided to aspire towards.

Accompanying him on the hilltop vigil were two others, both similarly outfitted. On his right was an attractive woman in her late thirties whose armour plating and anti-ballistic padding did not entirely disguise the more feminine highlights of her form; attributes that were only further enhanced when coupled with her beautiful emerald eyes, charcoal hair and enticing voice. Mikkel knew well enough though that it was not those traits that had earned General Lujayne Forge command of the fifth legion, her skills in battle far out-shined her looks. To his left was the opposite extreme; a hulking, brutish man, whose imposing height and mass made even Astia's muscular body look scrawny by comparison. With scruffy brown hair, strong features and a violent twinkle in his eyes, General Ehrlen Therrak, commander of the eighty eighth legion, resembled an ancient demi-god of legend. The only thing he lacked to achieve said status being the ability to shoot fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse.

'There can be no turning back from this road, are you sure of your purpose?' queried Lujayne softly. Astia thought he detected just a hint of concern in the question.

'I am,' he declared, not all too convincingly, after a pause that seemed to hang in the air for much longer than the few seconds he actually used to consider an answer, 'though I still cannot truly believe that we have come to this point.'

'The only thing I can't believe is that you let those retards get their guns back,' growled Ehrlen.

'They are clever enough to stay out of the way for now. If they fired on us or the Emperor they wouldn't live out the hour.'

'Exactly,' exclaimed the brawny general. His expression should have passed for cheerfulness but the lurking smile that tried to appear somehow failed to take hold as if the rest of his features threatened violence against those muscles if they dare give way to such inappropriate amusement. 'It would be no effort to cut them apart so if the Emperor wants them dead then lets just shoot them and be done with it.'

'No-one is shooting anyone today, Ehrlen,' affirmed Astia with a glare, turning his gaze from the fleet at anchor for the first time towards his comrade.

Ehrlen snarled in response but conceded the matter and pressed it no further. Astia was not at all surprised by his position on the 'Layslian Problem' though, he knew the man well and learnt long ago that he was blunt, tactless and very black and white. A loyal friend and a merciless enemy, he had no moral grey zone. If he didn't like and respect you then you were nothing. When Astia had once questioned Ehrlen's brutal and unsubtle approach to battle, the hulking warrior had simply replied “Bah, I'm no biologist but I’ve never encountered an enemy that can keep attacking once you hack its head off.” Not that he was an idiot mind, no enemy who'd made the mistake of underestimating his intelligence yet lived. The goal might have always been the same but the giant never seemed to run out of new and creative ways to achieve it.

'Mikkel, they are about to land.'

Lujayne's alert drew Astia's attention back to the sea, where giant sprays of misty water erupted from the bows of the first transports as they plowed through the final swell before hitting the beach. Though it was a good sign that the fleet had not opened fire upon the city-state before launching the transports, Astia could see the vessels loaded with tanks and infantry fighting vehicles and knew that although it seemed the Emperor would grant him an audience he was still inclined on reaching a less than cordial outcome. Even with a grim uncertainty hanging in the air though, Astia couldn't help but feel pride as he watched the ramps come down and the Imperial armour drive ashore, which in turn opened hatches and ramps from which legionnaires poured out with faultless discipline. The second wave landed moments later and the shimmering sparkle of a gold patch among the throng of blue/grey armour marked out the Custodians. Too far away to make out individuals, Astia could only assume the Emperor was among them.

'I need to know if I can count on your support in this?' Even as he asked the question, Astia understood that the answers would be meaningless. Either way this day would likely be his last as a respected soldier of the Imperium. He had defied the orders of the Emperor of all people and at the least would be stripped of his position and discharged from the military. He wanted them to say yes of course, to support his defiance, validate his actions and provide a measure of vindication, a remote chance of success even but on the other hand he hoped they would simply stay out of it and avoid any backlash.

'You have mine,' responded Lujayne.'This battle is well and truly over, there is no just cause to exterminate these people now.'

'Eh' was all that escaped Ehrlen's mouth. Astia was just about to ask him to elaborate after a moments silence when he continued anyway, 'If the Emperor orders me to kill them then that is what I will do. Until then, this is your command and I'll follow your lead. Do what you must.... but tell me you at least have a plan?'

'To stand firm and act with honour in all things,' declared Astia resolutely, somewhat surprised with the determination he had mustered.

Ehrlen's frown was imbued with the biggest measure of unimpressed he could muster. 'That is not much of a plan.'

'It's all I've got,' said Astia as he began walking down the road towards the Emperor.

Though the Emperor had always been an imposing figure, Astia had never witnessed the like of what awaited him down the road. The ruler of Yallak stood fully prepared for war. His armour was a deep black but covered in lightning bolt esque veins of pale grey giving it the look of polished black marble, his dark blue High Council cloak billowed almost delicately in the breeze allowing visibility of the side arm and the intricately detailed sword that were attached to his belt and under his left arm he carried a legionnaire helmet of the same black marble pattern that had be altered to have the faceplate resemble that of an ancient Greek helmet with a long, flowing blue plume that matched the colour of his cloak. He was of course flanked by a retinue of Custodians in their resplendent gold however their numbers were far greater than the usual escort the Emperor traveled with.

‘This is certainly a start,’ proclaimed Balor as Astia approached, his right arm sweeping out before him in a wide arc to encompass the surrounding devastation. It stopped mid swing. 'And yet you have failed me, disobeyed a direct order and betrayed your country to side with the lowest form of foreigner imaginable – the very same who murdered your own people.'

Though the words were cutting, the Emperor's tone did not express the rage Astia had expected. Mikkel could not put his finger on what emotion was being conveyed. Anger, disappointment or both? Perhaps he had finally escaped his vengeful stupor during the long trips from Yallak. Astia sought the answer in the Emperor's expression but what awaited him was unsettling. Beneath the awe-inspiring warrior-king impression, the man before him was not the Emperor he knew. Where Balor had always been a handsome man, intelligent, kind-hearted and even at the worst of time radiated confidence and comfort to those around, this man was pale and gaunt with unkempt hair and he looked as if he had not slept in months. And the eyes. Cold, uncaring and dead orbs that threatened to drain the life from you if you gave them but more than a glance.

'Those people have been destroyed,' returned Astia defiantly, 'these lands and people are part of the Empire now, you...'

'I want them all destroyed!' Balor interjected. 'This land maybe part of the Empire now, yes, but these ...beings...they are not worthy. Now for the last time, I order you to obliterate them.'

Astia swallowed, but it did nothing to alleviate his dry throat. His heart pounded in his chest so hard that he could hear it. This was the moment of truth. Every fibre of his training and loyalty begged him to just salute and comply with the simple order but he resisted, his own words to Whistling echoing in his mind. ”Had you simply had the stomach to do what you knew was right and necessary in the first place you might well have more than this building left standing”. Astia straightened his posture and prepared himself.

'My Lord, I would burn a thousand enemy nations to the ground for you, but what you ask now is illogical and wrong and I won't be responsible for it coming to pass.'

Balor let out an almost imperceptible growl. 'Then you are not worthy either.'

The Emperor drew the pistol from his belt and after staring at the weapon for a few moments he leveled it at Astia. The crack of the shot that followed rang out, splitting the silent tension that had built up as two imperial armies looked on, awaiting the outcome of this one fateful meeting.

The bullet just grazed the Emperor, slicing through the air past his head and drawing a line of crimson blood across his left cheek. Every watchful and ready, the Custodians reacted immediately and advanced to block line of sight to the Emperor from the direction that the shot had come from, one of them who had seen the muzzle flash calling in the position to the circling aircraft. Amidst the activity Astia stood unmoving and slowly closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Damn fools.. Perhaps the Emperor drawing weapon had spurred the Layslian's to act out of the impression that violence was unavoidable, perhaps ignorance had led them to simply ignore his nigh uncountable warnings. Whatever the case, Astia knew now that there was no hope for Laysley or his legions.

In the distance, a series of missiles streaked down from the sky reducing the small half ruined building from which the sniper had fired, and the surrounding city block, to dust. Over the top of the echoing explosions Astia heard the Emperor speak, all the anger of the world returning to his voice, 'So this is what you would plot?! You are the vilest of traitors.'

Astia said nothing in his defense and his eyes remained closed. No words could fix this and he didn't need to see what he knew was coming next.

Another gunshot reverberated throughout the ruined county.

Slumped on the ground, blood and brain fluid trickling down his forehead like a small creek, consciousness slipped quickly away from Astia. The last thing he heard was the Emperor shouting out to his army.

'Kill them all!'
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Postby Laysley » Fri Mar 23, 2012 11:59 am

"Fictions was alright. I'd rather have had a whisky, if I'm honest." The late Lord Frederick Speckle


"Well old chap, we are only a city state after all!" George popped a self-rolled cigarette into his mouth, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the harbour down below.

Next to him, Charles released the safety catch on his Wurlitzer rifle and tested the sights while replying in his erudite, clipped tone. "We still will not be insulted. And I hope you don't intend to light that cigarette."

George sighed and pocketed it then picked up his rifle from the rock in front of him. "Whatever happens, this chappy isn't getting out alive, God help us."

Then looked down at the Yallakian Emperor, flanked by his tank-men, marching out boldly onto a sea front street. From their vantage point on the cliff side, nearly two hundred feet away, the two men watched his every move through their rudimentary scopes, shaded by the ruins of George's old apartment block.

"I don't believe in God." said Charles, flatly.

"Really?" George lowered his rifle in friendly surprise. "So you're not doing this to go to Heaven or anything?"

"Oh heavens no." replied Charles slightly less flatly but not registering the irony at all. He uncommonly elaborated "I am just doing this in revenge for my family and my country."

"Well, I hope God sees it fit to bring the occasional non-believer in now and again. You deserve it." George set his eye to the rifle.
Charles smiled slightly.


George fired.

The world lit up.

Charles remained stock still.

George shouted at him, suddenly inaudible over the helicopters and shouting.

George grabbed his arm desperately and shouted again.

Charles sobbed once.

George stood to run.

George fell down again, a bullet through the face.

Charles sobbed again.

Both of them were blown to pieces instantly.


Whistling laid a hardened hand on the cold stone rail to keep his balance, and looked over to the harbour. The weak winter light bathed the ruins of his homeland in an eerie light. The dark, wispy clouds spread randomly out across the pale sea. The metallic grey of the battleships' masts stood forebodingly visible over the destruction, gently rocking.

On a balcony of Fort St. Michael, the assembled pillars of Laysley watched the all-but still scene in front of them. No vehicles ran on the blasted roads, the streets and stalls were free from the bustle of merchants and hagglers, the buildings and tents silent. The seagulls, on the other hand, didn't seem to quite understand the significance of the moment, although Whistling felt that even they were quieter than usual. Not that that was saying much.

Next to him, Fond rubbed his hands together and blew out a gust of condensation, mercifully loud against the background. Whistling turned his head to look at him, and caught his eye.

And his knee smacked against the hard slabs of the street. He flung himself round onto his sweat-soaked back to see the tall, clean-shaven young soldier appearing from round the street corner, not five yards away. In a flicker of a moment, the soldier caught his eye. In that tiny space of time before the eyes flicked away, Whistling felt the sheer passion and fire and unconditional defiance streaming from then. He lay amazed, his pain and terror forgotten, as the soldier looked with absolute composure and nobility down the street at the machine gun nest.

The bullets ripped through the soldier, tearing his body apart in a hail of metal. The man was thrown back into the road in a shower of blood. Whistling gaped.

But the hardened hand that had pushed him down pulled him back up, hauling him uncomfortably upright. Whistling turned to look up at the stern, unemotional face of his father. He felt his face inexorably crumpling up to cry at his pain from his knee and distress from this terrible battle and this horrible city and the intolerable, constant heat. With unusual ferocity, Whistling Sr. clipped him about the ear.

Then he took hold of his son's arm and all but dragged Whistling along the street towards the machine gun post, snapping a short "Don't be ridiculous Gerald, you're much too old for that nonsense." before descending into bawling unintelligible orders at the scurrying Layslian soldiers. Passing the nest, a bewildered Whistling Jr. caught the eye of the gunner. The man's expression was strictly professional, showing no feeling at all, but there was a strange sad deadness to his eyes. Their gazes followed each other for a moment, Whistling Jr. staring openly as he was dragged past, then were cut off by the embassy wall.

Since that day in Coronet over forty years ago, Whistling had thought about his first battle many times. Over the years he had seen, fought and commanded many more battles; he had seen, delivered and ordered far more deaths. Over time, he had perceived that the unconditional defiance of the rebel and the sad deadness of the gunner were the most important signs an officer must learn to read. Without fire in the eyes of your men you might win the battle through training and technology and strength of arms, but you could never truly win the war. Just as the supposedly hopeless Coronette rebels had driven out their conquerers, no matter what the odds, when your man could look with absolute nobility at a machine gun nest at the end of a street there was ever the sweet, tantalising taste of victory on the tip of your tongue.

Nicolas Whistling had surely seen that fire when he led the glorious Layslian revolutionaries against the papists. Whistling knew he had not a fraction of his great great great great grandfather's wisdom, but that bit of his ancestor's spirit he had was with them now.

Whistling found himself catching the quizzical, concerned eyes of Fond again. The Bully, Flint called him. Well, they could use a tall, proud, fearless man like him right now. Whistling nodded with his mouth tight, Fond gave him a manly nod with a slightly down-turned mouth in reply. There was a slight but definite smile between them.

Then he suddenly, impassioned, turned to Kehlam. Her beautiful eyes continued to resolutely scan the horizon, as much a Captain of the good ship Laysley as ever there was one. After a moment she turned calmly to the the inflamed Whistling, who gave her a rare grin. She almost giggled despite herself, flashing him a distinctly girly smile. But the moment didn't last.
Jowls, hulking at the end of the row of people, snatched his phone out of one of the holsters on his belt under his jacket and listened stock still, the eyes of the assembled turned on him with nothing but deepest concern in them.

Jowls slammed down the phone on the stone rail, then breathed deeply.

"Astia's dead" he said in deliberately slowly in his growling voice, looking firmly at the horizon "We are at war."
Last edited by Laysley on Fri Mar 23, 2012 11:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Mykola » Sat Mar 31, 2012 2:54 pm

December 31, 2013-
Blünderburg, Waldenburg Empire

The cries of the dying echoed, while the blazing fires turned the sky a glowing orange. The Yallakian cruise missile strike, while detected early enough that some damage could be prevented, did not fail in death's task.

The first wave of missiles concentrated upon several army and air bases on the outskirts of Blünderburg. Fortunately, a combination of Waldenburg's missile defense systems and fighter jets succeeded in shooting down the majority of these missiles, protecting the major military installations, the civilian targets however, were a different story.

In the civilian districts, entire blocks were leveled, turning buildings into piles of rubble, uprooting the streets and blowing up gas lines, sending fires spreading through the city, turning block upon block into what could only be described as one of the rings of hell. The fire brigades continued to fight a ferocious battle with the flames, just as they had been doing since five o'clock when the missiles hit. Emergency workers dashed in and out of the Blünderburg's now overfilled hospitals, carrying in on stretchers what were people with fourth degree burns and others with missing limbs. Some would later ask, were the water treatment facilities worth this?

January 1, 2013- 0118 Hours
Blünderburg, Waldenburg Empire
Kaiserliche Unterschlupf

A guard opened the reinforced steel door and in came Emperor Frederick. The entire war council stood and greeted the Emperor, who took a seat at the head of a wooden conference table, situated in the center of the less than extravagant room. The Emperor had for some time now, been forced to take cover in the bunker beneath the palace, however, he did manage to tour some of the damage and visit a hospital while waiting for the entire war council to assemble, with the only absence being Field Marshals von Pälitz, who was busy with the preparations in Tettenburg.

The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, presenting an aura of tension throughout the room. Everyone was on edge, it was one thing to be at war, but it was an entirely different issue if your ivory tower could now be struck.

Finally, the Minister of War, Dr. Ulrich Graf von Ems spoke up, "Your Highness, if I may say, we are lucky to have avoided such a military catastrophe. Our air force and missile systems were relatively unscathed."

Frederick shot out of his seat and slammed his fist on the table, "You say that we are lucky? Have you not taken a look outside? Or have you cowered in this bunker the entire day? Well, I shall tell you what I saw, masses of charred bodies stacked twice as high as this table, hundreds of maimed and disfigured waiting to be treated in the hospitals, entire city blocks leveled by the bomb and flame! And not to mention our city now has no water, if we don't die from the fire we will die from thirst!"

That was when von Solf spoke up, preventing the doctor from replying, "Your highness, there is something to say about the water situation."

"What?" Frederick replied whilst slowly returning to the sitting position.

Shuffling a few papers over to Frederick, Solf elaborated, "Out of the clear blue, or rather a few hours after the missile strikes, I was contacted via a letter from the Diadakhoi Confederation's economic minister. They're offering to supply the empire with all of its water needs until the Yallakians reopen the dams!"

"I'll be damned," Frederick said, flipping through the letter, "When can we expect to receive this water?"

"Within a few days, to be specific, January third, I suppose they're shipping it over and possibly buying Cvkarican water and shipping it over, but regardless, we're safe for now, and we still have enough water in reservoirs to hold over for a few days."

"Don't forget that people can melt the snow," General of Police Francis Leddenmeir-Ogenbach interjected.

"Well I must say, this is absolutely exquisite. I was beginning to worry that our cause would be lost, but again we have found life!"

Solf felt obligated to remind Frederick of the unfortunate propaganda that the Yallakians had spewed out over the airwaves earlier, "Your highness, I think it is absolutely necessary that you prepare to address the nation as a whole, you cannot let that man Kaidan have the final word on this."

"Very well, I'll set about writing something. Keppelheim, fetch me a cup of coffee, I shall be up a while."

January, 2013- 0900 Hours
Blünderburg, Waldenburg Empire

Sitting at the desk of the Waldenburg Emperor, touting a magnificent General's uniform, Emperor Frederick began his speech to the nation, to be delivered on Television and radio and even read aloud where neither existed.

To my most faithful subjects, I, Emperor Frederick V address you on this day, amidst the single most important hour in this great Empire's history. Yesterday, December thirty first, the city of Blünderburg was struck by Yallakian cruise missiles. Simultaneously, the Yallakian puppet, Kaidan, closed the mountain dams, stopping water flow into the Waldenburg Empire from Ibblesguard. As a result, your brothers and sisters in Blünderburg have been subjugated to absolutely horrific death and destruction, passed onto us by monsters who wish nothing but the destruction of this great empire upon you. My subjects, I implore you not to fall victim to the devil's words. Kaidan offers you redemption, but you must not overlook the atrocities committed by him and his Yallakian puppet masters in Laysley. The entire nation destroyed, millions dead. The nation has become a killing ground for the Yallakian savages to rape and pillage, killing as many men, women and children as they can to satisfy their thirst for blood. This we can never allow! We have but two choices, to stand and fight for our country, or to allow ourselves to be subjugated to the intolerable cruelty of the Yallakian Empire. With those choices, I swear to you, so long as I live, the enemies of Waldenburg will not gain one inch of ground without paying the price of a gallon of blood for it! As you have seen, the puppet Kaidan claims that you have all committed treason, and has resolved to cut off the nation's water to you, your husbands, your wives, your sons, your daughters, your friends and your family. He seeks nothing but to watch this great Empire suffer and rot. But today, is not that day. Already, the nations of the world, seeing the inherent evil of Yallak and its minions have resolved to provide this Empire with the water necessary to facilitate the nourishment of its people. This will go on until Satan's army is removed from our continent! People of Waldenburg and of the world, stand as one with me, and we will prevail!
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Postby Aschenhyrst » Sun Apr 01, 2012 11:12 am

********Encrypted Communication-For the Emperors eyes only***********
To: Maximus Meridius Augustus, Emperor of Cvkarica
From: His Majesty Mark II, King of Aschenhyrst, Emperor of the Aschenhyrst Dominion
Subject: Blockade of Waldenburg and terms of the CenTyr Pact

Your Grace:
Recognizing that the conflict in Waldenburg is happening on your door step and many nations feel Aschenhyrst`s intervention in the Waldenburg matter has fanned the flames of this conflict, we understand your decission to enact a blocakade around your access to the Waldenburger continent.

We wish to draw your attention to certain articles of the CenTyr pact, which was signed in good faith between our nations:

CenTyr members pledge to provide economic and political consideration to each other. CenTyr members will offer prefered partner trade status to each other and not interfere in the internal affairs of each other unless requsted to do so."

CenTyr Members will join in consulatation when a member state is threated by foreign forces and in the event of internal threats to national sovereignty."

As Aschenhyrst Military Forces are currently engaged in operations upon the continent and in the high seas surronding Waldenburg, any blockade that interferes with the flow of required war marterials is detrimental to our objectives. We understand your concerns about expanding the conflict and propose the following :

Combat forces:
No additional forces will be deployed to the continent. However, replacement troops may be allowed into the exclusion zone on a one-for-one basis limited to replacements for injured and deceased troops. Rotations of entire combat units in and out of the exclusion zone will be allowed after consultation between our respective governements.

Warships/Combat Aircraft/ Military Vehicles:
No additional combat craft of any type shall pass through the exclusion zone except for replacements to those lost due to combat actions. In respect to the combat forces proposal, Warships and their compliments that are being rotated to/from the combat zone shall pass through the exclusion zone on a one-for-one basis.

Supply ships:
The Dominion has never sent an unescorted supply convoy and has no intentions of doing so now. Convoy escorts through the exclusion zone shall be limited to two destroyers for every ten supply ships. We will agree to further escort by Cvkarican Naval Vessels to ensure that the escort vessels stay with the supply ships during their passage through the exclusion zone and in/out of the combat theater.

Non-Military aircraft from Aschenhyrst destined for Wissenholm and vice versa shall be escorted by Aschenhyrst Military Aircraft. If Cvkarica wishes to apply additional escorts of their own to monitor overflights though the exclusion zone, they are welcome to do so. All overflights shall be agreed to by our respective governments.

I hope you find these terms to be acceptible and look forward to the continued cooperation between our nations.

Mark II of the Aschenhyrst Dominion


December 27, 2013
250 Nautical Miles West of Mintasburg, Waldenburg
On board the WIS Indolent

Anirtakian KSK Commandos took the bridge of the Indolent with little resistance. The bridge crew and officers were hancuffed and hurried towards the forward deck of the Indolent. KSK Commandos moved quickly to secure the engine room and the bowels of the ship, to prevent the Indolent`s crew from scuttling the ship. Marines began a deck to deck sweep of the ship to secure and detain the remaining crew. A platoon of Marines rushed to secure the arms room and powder magazines as squads of riflemen secured the ships naval guns.


January 11, 2014
Tettenburg Forest

The snow had begun to fall nearly two days ago, a blanket of white nearly six inches deep covered the ground. A few kilometers south of the hamlet of Kreuzfelden was the Kreuzfelden Pass, one of two passes through the hills of the Sauer valley that was key to any force passing through the area. It had been nearly two weeks since the Advance had been halted and troops ordered to dig in. Corporal Higgenbottom of the 8th Ulster Regiment of Foot had drawn the Midnight to 4AM watch. As his comrades slept, he kept overwatch toward the front and the road leading to the pass. Higgenbottom`s squad was one of several set-up along the pass, these pickets were more than a kilometer in front of the main lines. As a forward operating post, these men were the eyes and ears of the rest of the front. Lightly armed and equiped, these men were to report enemy movement and delay an advance as the main force readied itself. The snow kept falling, occasionally whipped by a 10 mph wind. Visibility was limited to about 400 meters. Higgenbottom checked his wristwatch, another hour and he`d be relieved. As he prepared to patrol around his squads encampment, as he had every half hour since his watch began, he heard a mechanical sound approaching the pass. Squinting through the darkness and the snowfall, he concentrated on the road through the pass. The noise became louder and more recognizible after a few moments, it was the steady clack-clack-clack-clack of tank tracks. Higgenbottom shook awake one of his comrades, Private Arrington was the squads radio man.

"John, wake up lad. Somethings coming through the pass."

"Wha-? Higgie, what`s up mate?"

"Look towards the pass. Tanks. Tanks are starting into the pass, escorted by infantry. Get on the wireless to the CP and let them know."

"Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey. This is Whiskey-Four, Over."

"Whiskey-Four, this is Whiskey. Over."

"Whiskey-Four reporting movement in the Kreuzfelden Pass. We`ve got armor and infantry moving towards the pass. Over."

"Whiskey-Four, do you believe this to be a scout party? Over."

"Whiskey, Negative. Possible battalion strength. Awaiting orders. Over."

"Whiskey-Four. Delay advance and fall back to Rally point x-ray. Whiskey out."

Higgenbottom awoke the rest of the squad.

"Lads, it`s about to get crowded around here. Spike, you alert the other squads along the north ridge. Patches, you get ahead of that column and alert the squads on the south ridge. Rally at RP X-Ray. We`ll delay them there and wait on reinforcements. GO!"
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Postby Yallak » Sun Apr 08, 2012 5:18 am

December 30th, 2013 – 07:30
Turing County

Fire and blood. The world spun, this way and that, but never in unison. Everything was blurred and shaded in deep crimson. Blood and fire. He closed his eyes tight and then opened them again. A beautiful sunrise rose underfoot, plump clouds of pale red dancing around his boots. He looked up. His neck ached and resisted the motion but he managed to turn his gaze up enough to see the blighted landscape still existed, it had merely moved overhead. It still carried only two things in abundance and they both dripped down on him from above. Fire and blood.

Where the hell was he?

Movement drew his attention. A great warrior in familiar armour moved in his direction through the hell-scape. He saw the man take cover behind a crumbled wall and a series of small impacts blew holes out along the ruined barrier. As the warrior took off again he noticed others too. Figures in the same armour. Some fired weapons, some huddled tightly into whatever cover they could find, while yet others stood in shock, unsure what to do, even as bullets tore through them. It was only then that he realised they were all upside down. In defiance of gravity their boots were affixed firmly to the burning ground above and when they died they didn't drop but fell back almost in slow motion until they came to rest amongst the flames, gore and rubble. And there was no sound. Explosions bloomed and frittered in the distance, men died and shouted and ran and fought. Yet there was only silence.

The warrior reached him, stopping inches from his face. He looked down from the heavy boots to the metallic face hovering overhead. It spoke to him, though no mouth moved, but the sound was so very faint and muffled. It spoke again and this time he just made out the word, 'Captain.'

A hand reached down towards him but just before it touched, the warrior was pitched back, tumbling up into the fiery ruins, a fine red mist hung in the air where he had knelt as the only sign of his passing.

He tried to move, but acute dizziness set upon him like rabid dogs the moment he stirred and the world started to blur again. He waited for it to pass. It felt like an age but the red mist was still dissipating above him so he knew it had been mere seconds.

He felt something grab his arm, but there was no time to see what before it yanked hard. Pain lanced through his body from the force and he felt himself moving. The world righted itself. The clouds were sucked out from beneath him and returned to the sky, and he was dragged into the very heart of the bloodied and burning ruined city. Some distance later he was pulled in to a large crater and propped up against its sloped side.

As he sat, he began to regain his senses. A cacophony of noise flooded into his ears, the red haze cleared from his vision and the confusion he felt fled in terror as he recalled who he was and what was happening. He was Taerone Ventanus, Captain, First Battalion, Acting commander of the Legiones Imperatorius II and he would see treason met with vengeance.


Gunfire had forced Commander Tawren Anselin to dive sideways, and after short, less-than-controlled roll down a hill made of rubble she had ended up in the remains of a single story building. Rising to one knee she looked up and then suddenly froze. Three enemies stood barely meters in front of her. She waited a moment for their reaction but by some miracle they seemed not to have noticed her arrival, obviously too intent on firing their weapons out of the holes that had once held windows. She began to rise to her feet, aiming to take advantage of the situation, when the right most enemy turned aside from his position to reload his weapon.

Tawren cursed. He had seen her. It would have been nigh impossible to have missed her. She raised her assault rifle and fired. An arc of bullets carved through the two unaware legionnaires and they were dead before they even realised they were in danger. Their armour provided somewhat less protection from the depleted-uranium tipped armour piercing rounds used by the Imperial military than against the typical ammunition they faced, yet Tawren didn't spare any bullets on them, it was best to be certain after all.

She didn't have time to target the third soldier. He had dispensed with the idea of reloading and came at her with his combat blade. She parried the first downward thrust with the rifle. He stabbed out at her again and she turned the blade aside with her left arm, while her right hand reached down to her belt to retrieve her own blade. Before he could move in for a third attempt, Tawren threw her rifle at his head. The legionnaire knocked aside the bulky projectile with ease but in that split second distraction she lashed out, disorientating him with a punch to the face before driving her combat blade into his side. He went limp suddenly and Tawren let him fall away, sliding off the blade and onto the floor.

Victory was short-lived however. As she moved to retrieve her discarded weapon from in front of the door on the far wall, the very same doorway burst open before her. The legionnaires on the other side had obviously been in the thick of the fighting since it began, their armour coated in a thick layer of grime and more than a few splashes of blood and though she couldn't see their faces for their helmets she could feel them snarling at her with predatory intent.

Tawren saw a less than satisfactory situation before her. She had no cover to use in a shoot-out and about zero chance to evade, thus only one option remained and she took it without hesitation. Lightning reflexes saw her pistol in hand even as she took her first step towards to the doorway. She pulled the trigger and the first bullet shot out. It took the front legionnaire in the right eye lens, blood practically exploding out of the shattered helmet socket. The next two bullets flew over the falling corpse and hit the soldier behind him. One in the chest and one in throat. He fell to his knees, hands clutching at his neck as he attempted to stop the flow of vital fluids from the wound. The next bullet put him down for good. A fifth shot hit the legionnaire at the front on the left side of the door frame, the head-shot sending him reeling backwards into his comrades. Three more bullets followed in rapid succession hammering into his chest. The remaining legionnaires dived for cover, but Tawren's unrelenting tirade did not stop. Another two bullets caught an enemy in the side who is just a fraction too slow, before the pistol finally clicked down on an empty chamber.

Tawren tossed the now useless sidearm away as she passed through the doorway. On the other side she was surprised to find the legionnaire she had shot no less than four times trying to rise back to his feet. A heavy combat boot to the chin however snapped his neck back and finally finished the job. Only two foes remained now, though they had recovered from the fury of the sudden attack and pressed forward with their own assault. Tawren rolled forward as the first opponent fired his rifle, barely dodging a torrent of bullets that ripped through the empty air she had been occupying just a moment before. The legionnaire readjusted his aim but Tawren sprang to her feet and knocked the weapons barrel aside as he fired and the bullets shredded his own squad-mate as he attempted to attack Tawren from behind. At a disadvantage and with no room or time to regain his poise, it was a simple matter for Tawren to finish him off, and his life ended after a short scuffle when her blade was thrust up into his head.

Though the sound of war raged on around, some very nearby, the immediate threat was over and Tawren dropped exhausted to one knee. The whole ordeal had only lasted mere minutes but she felt fairly drained, and her heartbeat pounded away at an incredible rate. Frankly, she was surprised she had even survived the second encounter.

The crunch of jackboot on crumbling stone cut through the background noise and snapped Tawren from her thoughts. There was another crunch, and then another. They came from directly behind her and she felt eyes upon her back. She looked down for a gun but they were all too far away too obtain secretly, if she reached for one she would be dead before she touched it.

Tawren rose slowly, her combat blade held tightly in her hand. Blood dripped from its tip every few seconds. The blade gave her confidence even though she knew it was next to worthless now. She turned around. More than a dozen warriors occupied the room before her. A squad of legionnaires from the eighteenth legion and a handful of Custodians in their now not-so-resplendent gold. Tawren guessed her own image looked as unceremonious as theirs did, perhaps even more so, but it was for the best, gold didn't make a good battlefield camouflage. At the head of the group, out of all the hundreds of thousands of Imperials who could have been in that room, was the Emperor himself.

'Commander Anselin,' said the Emperor, his voice now tinged with the same metallic tone as any other legionnaire with his helmet in place, 'this is no time to pause, we must press our advantage.'


'Report,' snapped Captain Ventanus, between bursts of his assault rifle.

A wounded legionnaire nearby, fiddling intently with a radio system answered. 'I'm getting nothing. Short range communications are definitely working because our helmet comms. are functioning, but the fleet is not responding. Long range, well, I don't know what's going on there but I cannot raise Legion Command or the Senate or anyone.'

'And the Legion?'

'In disarray, Sir. Some units are pulling back, some are advancing or holding ground. I've had no contact with any regiments from third battalion.'

'A whole battalion? Ten thousand men and not one can reach a radio? Frak me.'

Taerone stopped firing for a moment and surveyed the battlefield from his elevated position atop a badly damage parking garage building. Whatever front their might have been at the outset of the fighting was gone, the battle line ebbed and flowed back and forth for as far as he could see and he wouldn't have been surprised if the line stretched across the entire one hundred and seventeen kilometres of the city state. The lack of unity was what was killing them. Astia had believed, like most of them had, that his defiance would not lead to violence. There had been no strategy to fall back on for this situation was unthinkable. Impossible. And without an overall leader, each legion, each unit, hell probably each legionnaire was simple doing what they thought best.

'What are your orders, Sir?'

The wounded legionnaire was looking at him and waiting for an answer. The other men he was with were looking to him and waiting, even those with one eye down their gun sights had the other in his direction. It was the first time ever he had seen the Legion without purpose, without the fortitude and will of an Empire behind them. That was going to have to change quickly, before their morale was broken completely.

'Give me the radio, legion wide broadcast,' he commanded. The legionnaire complied, handing him the receiver.

'Warriors of the Second Legion, this is Captain Ventanus. Though today may be the darkest day our Legion has ever known you must face the truth squarely and without flinching from duty. Yes, our general has been murdered. Yes, our Legion has been bloodied and betrayed by no-one less than our beloved Emperor. But I, like each of you, am still a loyal soldier and citizen of the Empire and nothing that has happened so far excuses us from sworn oath. You can either rot here as branded traitor or triumph as victors. There are no alternatives, stand firm and defend yourselves by all means at your disposal. Orders will follow.'


The ground shook so violently that it would put any earthquake to shame. Waves of heat and pressure battered and seared at the skin. Two legionnaires running just ahead took a direct hit from a missile and simply ceased to exist. The fiery blast flung Lujayne back into a large metal object, so damaged and deformed that there was no telling what it once may have been. Her brain screamed in agony from the trauma but she knew that to stop even for a moment was to die. She clawed herself to her feet and took off again, weaving through debris and running as fast as her injured leg could manage. Very close behind her, a resounding crash signalled the progress of the enemy tank as it smashed through another building, crushing brick and concrete as if it were made of porcelain.

There was an increasing whine of jet engines, the vulturous fighter-bomber had come around for another pass. Lujayne threw herself aside as a line of cannon fire tore across the ground, blasting tire sized chunks from the ground. Another of her legionnaires died, firing defiantly back at the plane even as the shells pulverised his cover and then chewed through his body.

Another crash, the tank was drawing nearer. That damnable tank. It was killing them. Unprepared for a full scale fight, the enemy armour had been driving over the top of them indiscriminately and they had been forced to keep fleeing before them without chance to regroup. Lujayne could hear the metallic squeaking of its treads now and the growl of its roaring engine. It was almost on them.

'General! Over here!'

Lujayne summoned the energy to rise again and propelled herself toward the shout. With Astia dead, she was officially meant to be commanding the combined taskforce of the second, fifth and eighty eighth legions, but she had failed that task spectacularly. She didn't know the state of her own legion, let alone the other two. They were flailing in the dark. The only option she had left to her was to die fighting beside her loyal and brave soldiers.

'Good to see you're still alive, General,' declared one of her men as she half stumbled into their makeshift redoubt, 'we feared the worst.'

'You're already in the worst, I’m afraid Sergeant,' she answered despairingly.

It hadn't been meant as humour so she was surprised to hear the Sergeant laugh. 'You can say that again. Fraking bastards are crawling all over us.'

Lujayne took position beside the Sergeant and checked her weapon. It had a full clip. Only now with a moment to breathe did she realise that she had not even had the chance to fire it yet today. She would need it now more than ever though.

The wall of rubble fifty meters ahead began to vibrate like a giant pile of atoms. Each piece bouncing and moving independently and inconsiderate of the others. The more they vibrated, the more that fell away. After a few moments the pile suddenly burst outwards and collapsed, the tank treads churning through it like sand.

The tanks machine guns opened fire. Heavy grain bullets peppered the redoubt. Lujayne and her men kept low and waited. Their weapons could do nothing against its armour.

The tanks main cannon turned towards them and fired. A tremor passed through the ground and a wave of pressure speared through the air in its wake. A portion of the redoubt exploded. The concrete shattered into fragments and the two men behind it were thrown away like bloodied rag-dolls.

Enemy legionnaires, their markings identifying them as from the sixty third legion, now poured over the ridge on either side of the bloodletter battle tank. They were like ants beside the hulking metal behemoth but no less dangerous. Unlike the tank however, they could...and made to pay for their victory here with blood. Lujayne squeezed her assault rifles trigger tightly and the weapon spat out her anger in the form of lethal projectiles. She killed one foe. His head practically taken off by a burst of fire. She killed another. And another. The Sergeant beside her died, a series of bullets punching through his chest plate. She set her sights on his killer but the weapon clicked empty when she pulled the trigger.

The general didn't bother reloading. The tanks cannon traversed slightly to the left and stopped, its ominous barrel staring directly at her. As her men died around her, Lujayne knew that this was their end, but at least it had been a fitting end for an imperial legionnaire. There was a blinding flash of smoke and fire and the tank shook again. A tremor passed through the ground and a wave of pressure followed in its wake. The tanks turret exploded, practically ripped off its hull and scraps of twisted metal were hurled out across the battlefield in all directions. Plumes of flame erupted violently from a gaping hole in the machines side and its engine gave one weak, final growl before it died.

The sixty third legion's assault faltered. They looked to the burning tank in surprise, puzzled by what had happened. Their foe was done for, they had not been responsible. How then? They traced a fading line of smoke across from the wreckage to another ridge where a pair of legionnaires knelt, one hefting an anti-tank weapon on his shoulder. The other loading another missile into the launcher. And they were not alone, their allies below were charging forward at great speed.

With a blood-curdling war-cry the warriors of Ehrlen's eighty eighth legion descended upon Lujayne's assailants from both flanks. Guns flared and blades flashed. One part elite shocktroopers and one part insane asylum, they ripped into their enemies without compassion. Though Ehrlen and his men were often considered somewhat unrefined, to put it nicely, by the other legions, Lujayne knew without question in that moment that it would be that very quality that would be their saving grace in this fight. While her legion had been loathe to kill their own people even as they came under fire, the eighty eighth seemed less far less concerned about such matters. Like any fanged animal that comes under attack they had turned on reflex and bitten back without restraint. In fact, she would not be stunned to hear that they took great joy in tearing the betrayers to pieces, for she herself certainly felt nothing but elation at seeing them so mercilessly destroyed.

'Move out,' she commanded, turning back to her surviving men, 'it's high time we got back into this fight.'
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Postby Laysley » Tue Apr 17, 2012 1:37 pm

The Flint Residence.

"Come on pops, surely you've not forgotten?"

Ama, his wife for over nearly seventy years, tugged gently at his sleeve, smiling that smile that age simply couldn't diminish. The life had gone out of her body, since the operation, but her eyes twinkled just as much as ever. Addressing him in the manner of their arrayed great grandkids, basking in the sun on their lawn extensive in their various states of muddiness, her request, clearly, could not be refused. They'd given up their roguish antics to hear him tell a story, and a reputation must be upheld, after all, even when you're ninety and have a life of losing your reputation behind you. Looking over their extensive grounds with the summer sun beating down on the sparkling lake in the distance and an ice-cold gin and tonic in hand, it was just like old times.

"Well if you insist!" he said, with a swashbuckling grin to the assembled offspring.

He leant back in his wicker chair, and took an exaggeratedly thoughtful sip of his drink.

"It was twenty fourteen, back then, I was cousin Tom's age then."

"Did you have hair like him too?" interrupted Philip, aged eight, and a great lioniser of said Tom. Flint had always reckoned he'd turn out to be one of those originally overzealous chaps who are too clever not get extremely disappointed with things at about forty. Oh well, wouldn't live to see it.

"Oh heavens no!" Flint retorted loudly, much to the amusement of the assembled. "No, things were all quite different back then, we wouldn't dream of having hair like old Tom. Or wearing trousers like he does, either."

A bright smile from Ama here.

"No, I was Lord Flint back then. Right in the middle of the invasion, you know."

"This was the second war of independence" said Edward, aged ten, high-pitched, with a scholarly nod that hid his extreme pleasure with himself. If he gets over the little prick complex, he's going to be a damn clever rascal, thought Flint.

"Indeed, Edward, a difficult time for all of us you know. Indeed, but we didn't know quite how difficult it was going to be just then." He diplomatically avoided reference to the fact everyone was still in shock from the abominable casualties. "I was just standing at the airport you see, in the freezing cold, waiting shivering for the Byzantines to get off their plane."

"No, no, mother says you mustn't say Byzantine, doesn't she grannie?" Griselda, also aged ten, (horrible name) piped up, sitting neatly and speaking like a little queen despite the fact she was covered almost entirely in dirt. She'd grow up yet, and what a terror she would be.

Ama smiled warmly at her, disarming the lordly complex completely. "Oh, that's only when you're talking about the whole country. Pops was just meeting with people from Byzantium, isn't that right dear?"

"Yes, yes" Flint lied through his teeth with a grin "But your mother is absolutely right of course. Anyway, there was this other plane that had just landed and there was a strange variety of people getting off, all different groups of students from around the world coming to study Laysley, because it was a fascinating place for intellectuals back then. And amongst them there was this this beautiful southern lady" He turned to Ama, smiling "With her big, fascinated eyes and her princely walk and…"

Flint paused for effect, and instantly drifted off. He distinctly remembered her, the beautiful Qualan, alighting from that plane. She was covered in head to toe with all sorts of thick cold-weather clothing, which he mistakenly put down to controlling parenting back then, but she was beyond stunning in the winter's half light. He'd forgotten all about what was going on, never mind what he was actually meant to be doing, in an instant, gazing unashamedly at the beautiful figure stepping assuredly down those steps…

"And then there was me, behind her" Ama put her wizened hand gently on his, to guffaws from the assembled. He took a swig of his drink, then put it down on the little table between him and Ama's chairs.

"But we didn't know what was going to happen just then." He leant forward slowly as he spoke, all eyes on him. "Kablooie!" He exploded with his arms, sending the offspring reeling in terror and delight, hiding the real, pure terror that had reigned then. Flint winced in pain from the movement, but the kids were having too much fun to notice, thankfully.

"So all the bodyguards were shouting and waving their arms about and started to cart me off, to this day I have no idea where we were going, when more bombs started raining down on us!"

"Boom boom boom!" Frederick, aged five, spluttered with glee. You could tell already he was going to be excellent company at a dinner party one day.

Lucy, aged three, hadn't been listening but she flung herself round to look at the commotion with a grin. She reminded him remarkably of himself.

"Boom boom boom indeed!" Flint paused just for a moment to work out how to make that terrible situation of blood splattering horror into something suitable "So we all got carried away and people were flying about everywhere and no one knew what was going on and soon enough I was face down on the tarmac."

"And then?!" Griselda almost shrieked, getting into it at the expense of her lady-like façade.

"And then the explosions had moved on, and everyone knew we were fighting again, although we didn't know who or why just then."
There was silence for a minute. Ama wiped her eyes discreetly.

"And then" said Flint, leant-back, looking up at the sky again "And then a group of our soldiers came marching over the runway, singing this song."

"The bells of freedom?" chimed Edward, proudly.

"Haha yes indeed the bells of freedom, but not with the lyrics you know today!"

"What were they singing then?"

"Oh I don't remember" Flint lied "But that was the first time I ever heard it."

The lyrics to that song had, he recalled, been sung in about as many different ways as was possible in a period of no more than a week. From "And we'll all eat toasties, when we get electricity back" (his personal favourite) to "And we'll all hang Whistling, if he makes us fight again" to "And we'll all shag Clare, whenever the hell we want", the various arrangements were, overall, most entertaining. It remained a mystery to him whether "and we all toast victory when the bells of freedom ring" was written by some pious soul before or after the tune had seen more than it's fair share of obscenities.

"So I was watching them march proudly past, with their old-fashioned rifles and a fluttering flag on a broomstick, when who was it but that girl who came up next to me, sat down right next to me like we are now, except on the cold tarmac and I shaking from all the bombs! And you know what she says to me? She asks me, and you must remember she had this ridiculous accent at this point" Ama shoved him amiably, biting her lip in mock embarassment "if I knew the way to the taxi rank!"

"Of course" interjected Ama quickly "We didn't really have taxis back in Qualah, I didn't know that these strange contraptions didn't run through bombs!"

She leant back, smiling at Flint with their hands still interlocked as the assembled rolled about in various states of mirth.
"And that, ladies and gentleman" called Flint with his best ringmaster's voice over the laughter "Is how I met your great grandmother."

So the tale was finished, but the assembled weren't satisfied yet.

"Sing us the song, pops!" Philip bawled

"Yes, sing us the song!" they all chimed.

"Well…" Flint began, pumping up his chest.

"Oh no dear, I think it's time for luncheon." said Ama with a warm smile to the children. She'd always been very protective of Flint's respectability. It was news to Flint that he had any.

"Then!" Flint shouted above the groans of disappointment "We shall march up to luncheon like the good Layslians we are! Ready lads, come on line up, two rows of three, jolly good, and… left, right, left, right!"

So, Flint, bringing up the rear with Ama, leaning his pain racked body heavily on his stick, fulfilled his patriarchal duty of teaching the next generation a rousing rendition of:

"We've all got a treacle tart,
Hoorah! Hoorah!
And we'll give mother a great big start
Hoorah! Hoorah!
When she comes in we'll take our place
And soon treacle'll be dripping from her face
And we'll all eat sponge cake,
When the bells of freedom ring!"

And so they marched off up the path to the grand old house, basking in the perfect day. By that following morning Flint would be dead, and with him the last memories of the government of those fateful days.


South Turing, Laysley. The present.

Captain Ventanus' voice had drifted from their radios moments ago, just before, in fact, they'd been brutally attacked. Scattering their unit across the ruins of an old industrial estate, Aengir had ended up in a train station with about thirty other members of various brigades.

Bullets hammered into the wall just above his head as he threw himself off the platform and onto the tracks. Shots from a window inside the station appeared to send the attackers running for cover. Momentary quiet ensued, with only the, admittedly rather loud, sounds of war from other firefights.

Aengir was scared. It was his first foreign engagement ever, and here he was shooting at his own Emperor in some godforsaken city-state with hardly enough ammunition to go round. Thankfully it was the middle of winter, but it was still itchy hot for a far north Yallakian like himself. And as a mixed blessing, he appeared to have landed next to Sergeant Varsin, who was bawling at another soldier next to him.

"They'll have tanks here any minute, we need support!"

"Look, sir" said the legionairre, exasperatedly "it may surprise you to know that I'm just as worried as you are about the sake of the skin of the soldiers here, but there really is nothing I can do. I can't pick any of the district commanders…"

The sound of light machine gun fire from another platform. Aengir noticed two legionnaires examining a platform map of the Layslian railway system really rather calmly. Maybe there'd be a train in a minute to come take them to some safe leafy suburb? Looking at the tracks broken up from shelling, Aengir smiled at his own joke.

The Sergeant was smashing his communicator roughly on the ground in frustration. "Bloody fuckwits-"

"Wait!" the Legionnaire frantically fiddled with his device, and the harsh sounds of a Layslian suddenly emanated.

"Oh God, it's bloody Whistling again" moaned the Sergeant.

"Shh" said the Legionnaire, turning the volume up. The man was reading out a list of divisions, the rebel divisions… The radio crackled out momentarily, and then there was suddenly a lot of shooting. A lot of shooting.

The two map lookers were cut down suddenly, and an instant saw all three occupants of the railway tracks in cover. Nimbly, Aengir had followed the other Legionnaire to a position behind the stairs to the no-longer existent railway bridge. The Sergeant was ducked on the tracks just below their feet.

Another moment and they were advancing onto the platform. Varsin aimed and fired without hesitation, and in a second he had been sent sprawling with a bullet through the face. The Legionnaire in turn didn't even get a shot off when he poked out of cover. His radio device landed at Aengir's feet.

He breathed in and set his back against the metal. From the sound of boots, they appeared to be advancing down the platform away from him. And, then, of course, the device flickered into life.

"I need not tell you that facing the terror of invasion once was enough. Yet I must tell you that we cannot shrink from fighting that invasion a second time. We fight not for honour or glory, but for the continued survival, geographically and ethnically, of Laysley. If we are to be a people with dignity…"

An inquisitive soldier looked round to the bleating device, and Aengir had no choice. There, he'd killed a Yallakian. One Layslian, one Yallakian. A terrible record for his first assignment, to be frank.

"…there is no cause greater than the defence of the ones you love..."

Aengir dived round to the back of the stairs, bullets flying close behind him. Aengir slammed a new clip into his gun, mentally preparing to face the inevitable. Then he looked up, down his new view of the broken rail tracks and his heart lurched - three enemy armoured cars.

"…for, as we have always prevailed..."

Why the hell were they approaching from inside the city?! But before he could analyse the situation more fully, there was an all too familiar crack from the other platform, now out of sight. Wurlitzer rifles! Of course, the Layslians were the goddamn good guys now!

"We cannot and will not surrender!"

The Layslian national anthem blasted in tinny passion from the device as the Layslians swarmed the station, rifles blaring. Two armoured cars, machine guns rattling, swept past his position. He almost waved.

But, naturally, he didn't and a, it transpired, that was good thing too, as the third one pulled up next to him. A moustached young man poked his head out as the window wound down.

"We're here to relieve the 11th Company." he shouted squeakily over the gun shots.

Aengir saluted. "11th Company reporting, sir."

"Hop in." replied the man, entirely unsurprised. "The fight back has begun."
Last edited by Laysley on Tue Apr 17, 2012 1:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Tonight, we bring the dream of death.

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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Waldenburg 2 » Mon May 14, 2012 7:15 pm

Early Morning
On the Road to Hechingen

“Lucius…Lucius… We’re almost out… Lucius? There’s ice cream.” A wheedling voice pulled the Prince back, prying open his crusted eyes and flicking the switch back on his headache. Cato was lying flat on his back, blanketed in warm straw and swaying back and forth.

“I’m not Lucius….” Cato muttered as he tried to force his eyes open, “My name is Cato…” He grumbled as he rubbed swollen fingers across an even more swollen head. “Is that the ruminate drone of one Major Sufrir?”

“Quite so sir.” Sufrir turned ever so slightly in the seat of the hay cart and patted Cato gently on the head, “How do you feel?”

“Ever so slightly mauled. Where are we going?” Cato pushed himself up on his arms and peered over the edge of the hay cart at pristine, pastoral surroundings that rolled off into the horizon. Small farms dotted the fields which themselves had been pulled in for the winter. Snow generally didn’t fall this far south in Paloni, but a few flakes were starting to drift down. “And how did we manage to commandeer this?”

“We’re still in Sälitz but making our way to Hechingen, we have about fifteen miles left to the border.”

“Hechingen? The stronghold of Layslian sympathies and…. Are you wearing a smock?”

“Indeed,” Surfrir said uncomfortably, “I had time to phone ahead to our detachment around Bligh Hardings from the farmhouse, and to C&C Krune; the invasion will start in a couple of hours.”

“It’s actually happening.” Cato made the Sisyphean effort to sit up, and once the world stopped revolving, leaned up to Major Sufrir, “We’re actually invading Horenburg. It’s actually happening.”

“It is Sir…. It is.” There was a moment of silence beside the creak of cart wheels and the heavy breath of the two donkeys. “How are we getting to Horenburg?”

“Straight through Sälitz. If they resist, we have the Byzantine fleet ready off the coast. They already tried to take us hostage.”

“Yes,” Cato said carefully, drawing out every syllable, pondering, “But we only have six divisions, and a few flights of fighters. We wouldn’t really stand a chance against an organized field army.” Cato had to admit he wasn’t exactly cogent, but the thought of his small army forcibly marching through Sälitz, did not offer too much hope to the situation. He ran his hands over the rough wood of the cart, and brushed off some hay from his dress trousers.

“Oh,” Sufrir spat a piece of straw from his mouth, “Mrs. Wellig, said we should call on her, she is visiting her son in Nimmenburg. It’s just across the border, and a company of hussars will be waiting for us in Hechingen.”

“Damnnnn.” Cato leaned back in the cart again, resting his head on his hands, “Mrs. Wellig. A whole division of Mrs. Wellig.”
January 10th, 2014 - 5:51 PM
Greater Blünderburg

The guns were oiled. Gleaming pieces of silverware on a fully laden table that sat in the Kolingsplatz. A few regiments lounged idly nearby, sitting or leaning back; they were tucked up in heavy winter-wear. They had been assembled nearly five hours ago and after standing to attention for ten minutes had given up and begun to flop on the cobbles and run off into cafés to trade their water for steaks. Every half an hour or so a small group of officers would drive through in a covered car, pause for a moment, and then speed quickly away. Additional platoons filtered in , and if someone were situated on the gray stone roofs of the surrounding townhouses with a map, one could determine light infantry village, and mortarmen boulevard. As the day progressed, and the weak sunlight began to die into twilight, the soldiers were become restless.

“Linsky!” Corporal Linsky of the Fifth Fusiliers, started from his sleep, and spasmed himself into attention; waking with unnatural wisdom into something resembling parade ground attention. He had only been in the Army for four weeks, after receiving two weeks training, they had slapped a rifle on his shoulder, which he had the faint suspicion was made by a Lady’s Aid group, and topped him off with a silver embossed helmet. “Take these to Captain Detmord,” a Lieutenant waved a sheaf of papers at the corporal and snapped his gloved fingers, “He’s by the chapel.”

The corporal shuffled over trying to maintain attention, he was a short fat man so this was quite a feat and when he finally shuffled to a halt outlying portions of his body took a few moments to catch up. He stood practically a foot shorter than the Lieutenant, who shook his head sadly. There was a hole in his jacket. “Just…. Just… hurry corporal.”

“Yes Sah!” Linsky shouted, and trotted off to the command post under the colorful awning of five story house. The stubby corporal squeezed between bustling soldiery, waving occasionally to men he had met during training, and avoiding the gaze of officers. Politely parting two grenadiers, Linksy advanced on a table where a bevy of overdressed regimental commanders gestured over a table.
“Consider the elevation; it will reduce the range of our guns proportionate to…”

“Sure sure, but it’s right up there on a bloody great hill it’s not like we can miss.”

“You’re a damn greengrocer!” One man banged the table, nearly knocking over a set of snifters, “You ever lead a bayonet charge?”

“No, but I know what I meat grinder looks like,” Captain Detmord snapped back. He was a tall lanky man, who seemed to have a face that could never stop smiling, although he was it giving a game attempt. “We have to tell the General…”

“For the love of God! What else are we going to do?” Nobody at the table noticed Corporal Linsky, who hovered with his mouth half open. “This isn’t going to resolve itself.”

“I hardly feel,” Detmord replied coolly, “That this is an appropriate avenue…”

“Sah!” Linsky finally spoke up, and immediately blushed as twelve pairs of eyes locked onto him. “Lieutenant Collman presents his compliments and… and the company’s report.”

“Oh,” Detmord maneuvered around the table, “One moment gentlemen. Thank you corporal,”

“Of course, Sir.” Linsky saluted clumsily and made to leave.

“Do you have a scarf Corporal?” the Captain asked.

“Uh… At home sir.”

“Do you live nearby?”

“No sir. In Streinlikstern.”

“Pity.” Detmord smiled weakly, “I would try and get one if I was you.”

“… Yes certainly Sir.”

“Good, good.” Detmord turned, patting Linsky on the shoulder.

Fifth Imperial Field Army
January 10th, 2014 - 11:35 PM
Greater Blünderburg

About an hour previous, a small stage had been erected in the Kolingsplatz, and an adjunct demanded that the soldiers prepare themselves. They stood, huddled in the cold, their breath fountaining out before them, crystalizing on drawn bayonets. Corporal Linsky was dwarfed between two giants of privates. Their coats alone could have provided shelter for half a platoon. Linsky, had managed to obtain a scarf and had wrapped it tightly under his wooly gray coat.

“Gentlemen,” A braid-bedecked officer stood on the stage surrounded by similarly faceless men. “I won’t take up anymore of your time. We are assaulting Scant tonight. We will be in position in four hours, with over two thousand guns, speed is our byword. Sapper battalions will be moving out immediately. God shall continue to bless us. God save the Emperor!”

“God save the Emperor.” Murmured Linsky, as the soldiery erupted into cheering.

With my own initiative, I have activated the Fifth Imperial Army and attached artillery brigades to affect an attack upon the pretender Alaric. I shall remove him by force and reunite Ibblesguard to your throne.
Your Eternal Servant,
His Excellency Lieutenant General Frederick Margrave von Bant und Treimen, C&C Fifth IFA
"You guys have meetings?"

"Cole Porter would be proud. A money grubbing effete banker teaming up with a female nuclear wasteland to take over the world. "
Vetalia on the Great MU Musical

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Wissenholm und Himmel
Political Columnist
Posts: 4
Founded: Dec 09, 2009
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Wissenholm und Himmel » Thu Jun 07, 2012 12:26 pm

Refugee Camp-IX
Bitberg an der Welt, Klagenfurt Province, Aschen-Occupied Waldenburg
January 1 2014

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I`d like to return this assembly to order." Anton Heinrich Schoenbeck, the Sudkreis Viceroy, was prepared to unveil his plan to the leadership gathered at Refugee Camp-IX.

"Since coming to the Sudkreis a little over three years ago, I have witnessed a transformation in this land. Many of our states have risen up from years of oppression and living under the yoke of foreign masters to achieve their rightful place in the community of nations. Wissenholm was but a backwater when I arrived on her shores. Three years later, she is a model of progress and efficiency; her fields overflowing with crops, her industries producing enough to meet demands and her people among the most free on the continent. None of this would have been possible without the blood, sweat and tears of a proud and determined people.

In the course of relations with our neighboring states, we have deliberately sought out those states whose people share our work-ethic and desire for freedom. What I am about to propose to you is a draft resolution to form a confederation of Independent States, a Sudkreis Confederacy. A union in which we may all prosper and enjoy freedom without the interference of outsiders."


To all to whom these Presents shall come, we the undersigned Delegates of the States affixed to our Names send greeting.
Articles of Confederation and perpetual Union between the states of Wissenholm und Himmel, Skanderhafen, Uberschau, Saxe-Glunder-Eisebach, Fleiner am Mosel, Fleiner am Sauer, Klagenfurt, Steinburg, Zwickow and Mendelsgard
The Style of this Confederacy shall be "Sudkreis Confederacy".
Each state retains its sovereignty, freedom, and independence, and every power, jurisdiction, and right, which is not by this Confederation expressly delegated to the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled.
The said States hereby severally enter into a firm league of friendship with each other, for their common defense, the security of their liberties, and their mutual and general welfare, binding themselves to assist each other, against all force offered to, or attacks made upon them, or any of them, on account of religion, sovereignty, trade, or any other pretense whatever.
The better to secure and perpetuate mutual friendship and intercourse among the people of the different States in this Union, the free inhabitants of each of these States, paupers, vagabonds, jews, gypsies and fugitives from justice excepted, shall be entitled to all privileges and immunities of free citizens in the several States; and the people of each State shall free ingress and regress to and from any other State, and shall enjoy therein all the privileges of trade and commerce, subject to the same duties, impositions, and restrictions as the inhabitants thereof respectively, provided that such restrictions shall not extend so far as to prevent the removal of property imported into any State, to any other State, of which the owner is an inhabitant; provided also that no imposition, duties or restriction shall be laid by any State, on the property of the Sudkreis Confederacy, or either of them.
If any person guilty of, or charged with, treason, felony, or other high misdemeanor in any State, shall flee from justice, and be found in any of the Sudkreis States, he shall, upon demand of the Governor or executive power of the State from which he fled, be delivered up and removed to the State having jurisdiction of his offense.
Full faith and credit shall be given in each of these States to the records, acts, and judicial proceedings of the courts and magistrates of every other State.

No official state religion shall be imposed upon the Sudkreis Confederacy. Waldenburger Catholicism being the most dominant religion is unofficially recognized as the religion of choice for the Sudkreis Confederacy.
For the most convenient management of the general interests of the Sudkreis States, delegates shall be annually appointed in such manner as the legislatures of each State shall direct, to meet in Bundestag on the first Monday in November, in every year, with a power reserved to each State to recall its delegates, or any of them, at any time within the year, and to send others in their stead for the remainder of the year.
No State shall be represented in Bundestag by less than two, nor more than seven members; and no person shall be capable of being a delegate for more than three years in any term of six years; nor shall any person, being a delegate, be capable of holding any office under the Sudkreis Confederacy, for which he, or another for his benefit, receives any salary, fees or emolument of any kind.
Each State shall maintain its own delegates in a meeting of the States, and while they act as members of the committee of the States.
In determining questions in the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, each State shall have one vote.
Freedom of speech and debate in Congress shall not be impeached or questioned in any court or place out of Congress, and the members of Congress shall be protected in their persons from arrests or imprisonments, during the time of their going to and from, and attendence on Congress, except for treason, felony, or breach of the peace.

The Chief Executive of the Confederacy shall be the freely elected Sudkreis Viceroy. The Viceroy shall be raised to Royal Status as King of the Sudkreis and the line of sucession shall be passed to the House of Schelswig-Schonebeck, where it shall follow it`s dynastic laws in perpetuity. Upon the ratification of these Articles, the Herzogtum of Wissenholm und Himmel shall sever its ties to the Aschenhyrst Dominion and enter the Sudkreis Confederacy as a free state. The Viceroy shall renounce all claims and titles of nobility granted him by the Dominion upon Wissenholm und Himmel`s entry to the Confederation.
No State, without the consent of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, shall send any embassy to, or receive any embassy from, or enter into any conference, agreement, alliance or treaty with any King, Prince or State; nor shall any person holding any office of profit or trust under the Sudkreis Confederacy, or any of them, accept any present, emolument, office or title of any kind whatever from any King, Prince or foreign State; nor shall the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, or any of them, grant any title of nobility.
No two or more States shall enter into any treaty, confederation or alliance whatever between them, without the consent of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, specifying accurately the purposes for which the same is to be entered into, and how long it shall continue.
No State shall lay any imposts or duties, which may interfere with any stipulations in treaties, entered into by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, with any King, Prince or State, in pursuance of any treaties already proposed by the Bundestag, to the courts of Waldenburg and Paloni.
No vessel of war shall be kept up in time of peace by any State, except such number only, as shall be deemed necessary by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, for the defense of such State, or its trade against piracy; nor shall any body of forces be kept up by any State in time of peace, except such number only, as in the judgement of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, shall be deemed requisite to garrison the forts necessary for the defense of such State; but every State shall always keep up a well-regulated and disciplined militia, sufficiently armed and accoutered, and shall provide and constantly have ready for use, in public stores, a due number of filed pieces and tents, and a proper quantity of arms, ammunition and camp equipage.
No State shall engage in any war without the consent of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, unless such State be actually invaded by enemies, or shall have received certain advice of a resolution being formed by some foreign nation(s) to invade such State, and the danger is so imminent as not to admit of a delay till the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled can be consulted; nor shall any State grant commissions to any ships or vessels of war, nor letters of marque or reprisal, except it be after a declaration of war by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, and then only against the Kingdom or State and the subjects thereof, against which war has been so declared, and under such regulations as shall be established by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, unless such State be infested by pirates, in which case vessels of war may be fitted out for that occasion, and kept so long as the danger shall continue, or until the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled shall determine otherwise.

No Foreign State may occupy, station or quarter troops within the Sudkreis Confederacy without the approval of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled. Upon the ratification of these articles, all foreign military forces currently on our seas and soil must withdraw from the sovereign states of the confederacy within one year of the date of ratification.
When land forces are raised by any State for the common defense, all officers of or under the rank of colonel, shall be appointed by the legislature of each State respectively, by whom such forces shall be raised, or in such manner as such State shall direct, and all vacancies shall be filled up by the State which first made the appointment.
All charges of war, and all other expenses that shall be incurred for the common defense or general welfare, and allowed by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, shall be defrayed out of a common treasury, which shall be supplied by the several States in proportion to the value of all land within each State, granted or surveyed for any person, as such land and the buildings and improvements thereon shall be estimated according to such mode as the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, shall from time to time direct and appoint.
The taxes for paying that proportion shall be laid and levied by the authority and direction of the legislatures of the several States within the time agreed upon by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled.
The Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, shall have the sole and exclusive right and power of determining on peace and war, except in the cases mentioned in the sixth article
of sending and receiving ambassadors
entering into treaties and alliances, provided that no treaty of commerce shall be made whereby the legislative power of the respective States shall be restrained from imposing such imposts and duties on foreigners, as their own people are subjected to, or from prohibiting the exportation or importation of any species of goods or commodities whatsoever
of establishing rules for deciding in all cases, what captures on land or water shall be legal, and in what manner prizes taken by land or naval forces in the service of the Sudkreis Confederacy shall be divided or appropriated
of granting letters of marque and reprisal in times of peace, of grating writs of parole in times of war
appointing courts for the trial of piracies and felonies commited on the high seas and establishing courts for receiving and determining finally appeals in all cases of captures, provided that no member of the Bundestag shall be appointed a judge of any of the said courts.
The Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled shall also be the last resort on appeal in all disputes and differences now subsisting or that hereafter may arise between two or more States concerning boundary, jurisdiction or any other causes whatever; which authority shall always be exercised in the manner following. Whenever the legislative or executive authority or lawful agent of any State in controversy with another shall present a petition to the Bundestag stating the matter in question and praying for a hearing, notice thereof shall be given by order of the Bundestag to the legislative or executive authority of the other State in controversy, and a day assigned for the appearance of the parties by their lawful agents, who shall then be directed to appoint by joint consent, commissioners or judges to constitute a court for hearing and determining the matter in question: but if they cannot agree, the Bundestag shall name three persons out of each of the Sudkreis States, and from the list of such persons each party shall alternately strike out one, the petitioners beginning, until the number shall be reduced to thirteen; and from that number not less than seven, nor more than nine names as the Bundestag shall direct, shall in the presence of the Bundestag be drawn out by lot, and the persons whose names shall be so drawn or any five of them, shall be commissioners or judges, to hear and finally determine the controversy, so always as a major part of the judges who shall hear the cause shall agree in the determination: and if either party shall neglect to attend at the day appointed, without showing reasons, which the Bundestag shall judge sufficient, or being present shall refuse to strike, the Bundestag shall proceed to nominate three persons out of each State, and the secretary of the Bundestag shall strike in behalf of such party absent or refusing; and the judgement and sentence of the court to be appointed, in the manner before prescribed, shall be final and conclusive; and if any of the parties shall refuse to submit to the authority of such court, or to appear or defend their claim or cause, the court shall nevertheless proceed to pronounce sentence, or judgement, which shall in like manner be final and decisive, the judgement or sentence and other proceedings being in either case transmitted to the Bundestag, and lodged among the acts of the Bundestag for the security of the parties concerned: provided that every commissioner, before he sits in judgement, shall take an oath to be administered by one of the judges of the supreme or superior court of the State, where the cause shall be tried, 'well and truly to hear and determine the matter in question, according to the best of his judgement, without favor, affection or hope of reward': provided also, that no State shall be deprived of territory for the benefit of the Sudkreis Confederacy.
All controversies concerning the private right of soil claimed under different grants of two or more States, whose jurisdictions as they may respect such lands, and the States which passed such grants are adjusted, the said grants or either of them being at the same time claimed to have originated antecedent to such settlement of jurisdiction, shall on the petition of either party to the Bundestag, be finally determined as near as may be in the same manner as is before presecribed for deciding disputes respecting territorial jurisdiction between different States.
The Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled shall also have the sole and exclusive right and power of regulating the alloy and value of coin struck by their own authority, or by that of the respective States
fixing the standards of weights and measures and establishing a common currency throughout the Sudkreis Confederacy
regulating the trade and managing all affairs with the Indians, not members of any of the States, provided that the legislative right of any State within its own limits be not infringed or violated
establishing or regulating post offices from one State to another, throughout all the Sudkreis Confederacy, and exacting such postage on the papers passing through the same as may be requisite to defray the expenses of the said office
appointing all officers of the land forces, in the service of the Sudkreis Confederacy, excepting regimental officers
appointing all the officers of the naval forces, and commissioning all officers whatever in the service of the Sudkreis Confederacy
making rules for the government and regulation of the said land and naval forces, and directing their operations.
The Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled shall have authority to appoint a committee, to sit in the recess of the Bundestag, to be denominated 'A Committee of the States', and to consist of one delegate from each State; and to appoint such other committees and civil officers as may be necessary for managing the general affairs of the Sudkreis Confederacy under their direction
to appoint one of their members to preside, provided that no person be allowed to serve in the office of president more than one year in any term of three years; to ascertain the necessary sums of money to be raised for the service of the Sudkreis Confederacy, and to appropriate and apply the same for defraying the public expenses
to borrow money, or emit bills on the credit of the Sudkreis Confederacy, transmitting every half-year to the respective States an account of the sums of money so borrowed or emitted
to build and equip a army, navy and air force. forces assembled by the Viceroy, known as the Sudkreis Landsknecht, shall be incorperated into the "Military of the Sudkreis Confederacy".
to agree upon the number of land forces, and to make requisitions from each State for its quota, in proportion to the number of male inhabitants in such State (not to exceed 10%); which requisition shall be binding, and thereupon the legislature of each State shall appoint the regimental officers, raise the men and cloath, arm and equip them in a solid-like manner, at the expense of the Sudkreis Confederacy; and the officers and men so cloathed, armed and equipped shall march to the place appointed, and within the time agreed on by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled. But if the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled shall, on consideration of circumstances judge proper that any State should not raise men, or should raise a smaller number of men than the quota thereof, such extra number shall be raised, officered, cloathed, armed and equipped in the same manner as the quota of each State, unless the legislature of such State shall judge that such extra number cannot be safely spread out in the same, in which case they shall raise, officer, cloath, arm and equip as many of such extra number as they judeg can be safely spared. And the officers and men so cloathed, armed, and equipped, shall march to the place appointed, and within the time agreed on by the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled.
The Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled shall never engage in a war, nor grant letters of marque or reprisal in time of peace, nor enter into any treaties or alliances, nor coin money, nor regulate the value thereof, nor ascertain the sums and expenses necessary for the defense and welfare of the Sudkreis Confederacy, or any of them, nor emit bills, nor borrow money on the credit of the Sudkreis Confederacy, nor appropriate money, nor agree upon the number of vessels of war, to be built or purchased, or the number of land or sea forces to be raised, nor appoint a commander in chief of the army or navy, unless seven States assent to the same: nor shall a question on any other point, except for adjourning from day to day be determined, unless by the votes of the majority of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled.
The Bundestag of the Sudkreis Confederacy shall have power to adjourn to any time within the year, and to any place within the Sudkreis Confederacy, so that no period of adjournment be for a longer duration than the space of six months, and shall publish the journal of their proceedings monthly, except such parts thereof relating to treaties, alliances or military operations, as in their judgement require secrecy; and the yeas and nays of the delegates of each State on any question shall be entered on the journal, when it is desired by any delegates of a State, or any of them, at his or their request shall be furnished with a transcript of the said journal, except such parts as are above excepted, to lay before the legislatures of the several States.
The Committee of the States, or any seven of them, shall be authorized to execute, in the recess of the Bundestag, such of the powers of the Bundestag as the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, by the consent of the seven States, shall from time to time think expedient to vest them with; provided that no power be delegated to the said Committee, for the exercise of which, by the Articles of Confederation, the voice of seven States in the Bundestag of the Sudkreis Confederacy assembled be requisite.
Mornou and Salitz acceding to this confederation, and adjoining in the measures of the Sudkreis Confederacy, shall be admitted into, and entitled to all the advantages of this Union; but no other State shall be admitted into the same, unless such admission be agreed to by seven States.
All bills of credit emitted, monies borrowed, and debts contracted by, or under the authority of the Bundestag, before the assembling of the Sudkreis Confederacy, in pursuance of the present confederation, shall be deemed and considered as a charge against the Sudkreis Confederacy, for payment and satisfaction whereof the said Sudkreis Confederacy, and the public faith are hereby solemnly pleged.
Every State shall abide by the determination of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, on all questions which by this confederation are submitted to them. And the Articles of this Confederation shall be inviolably observed by every State, and the Union shall be perpetual; nor shall any alteration at any time hereafter be made in any of them; unless such alteration be agreed to in the Bundestag of the Sudkreis Confederacy, and be afterwards confirmed by the legislatures of every State.
And Whereas it hath pleased the Great Governor of the World to incline the hearts of the legislatures we respectively represent in Congress, to approve of, and to authorize us to ratify the said Articles of Confederation and perpetual Union. Know Ye that we the undersigned delegates, by virtue of the power and authority to us given for that purpose, do by these presents, in the name and in behalf of our respective constituents, fully and entirely ratify and confirm each and every of the said Articles of Confederation and perpetual Union, and all and singular the matters and things therein contained: And we do further solemnly plight and engage the faith of our respective constituents, that they shall abide by the determinations of the Sudkreis Confederacy in Bundestag assembled, on all questions, which by the said Confederation are submitted to them. And that the Articles thereof shall be inviolably observed by the States we respectively represent, and that the Union shall be perpetual.
In Witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands in the Bundestag. Done at Bitburg an der Welt in the State of Klagenfurt, the first day of January in the Year of our Lord Two Thousand and Fourteen, and in the Third Year of the independence of the Sudkreis States.


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Posts: 316
Founded: Oct 25, 2008

Postby Cukarica » Fri Jun 08, 2012 7:16 am

Somewhere in the sea of Ascelonia,
Cukarican Maritime Exclusion Zone
Cukarican A-40C Albatros patrol amphibious airplane

Landing and slowly gliding across the water, the Cukarican floatplane was separated by just 500 meters from the Indolent when the airmen sighted the Anirtakian zodiaks and helicopters heading toward the Indolent. With clear orders to rescue Wilhelmina at all cost, and to stop the Aschen-Anirtakian forces from capturing her and with her achieve superiority in any future negotiations with prince Cato.

''Shit Marcus, they just sent commandos.'' Caius screamed shocked by the rapidly deteriorating events -''What do we do now?''

''Sit tight I got this...'' Marcus replied, strangely calm as he grabbed onto his radio, he slowly turned on the speakers as well, and started to speak.

"This is Aeronautica Imperialis patrol flight X/A, speaking to Aschen forces'' - Cukaricans never really made any difference between Anirtakia and Aschenhyrst, for them it was one country and a country which shouldn't be trusted - ''You are in violation of a Cukarican maritime exclusion zone, if you do not pull back and allow our medical officer to evacuate the sickly and wounded from the Waldenburger vessel, you will be held acountable for the lives of your men. Do not let this situation to escalate beyond repair. Even as I speak, over 400 warships of the Cukarican Classis Ascelonica are moving to this position to enforce the integrity of the exclusion zone. Act wisely.''

''What the fuck whas that Marcus?'' Caius looked at him with disbelief - ''You do understand that if these fuckers don't comply, they will probably blow our shit skyhigh, and we will be pretty dead, what's the use of our 400 warships in the vicinity if they blow us up, we are not piloting a Tyrrfighter, we're piloting a FUCKING FLOATPLANE ASSHOLE!''

"Chill, it's their move now. I just hope they aren't stupid as we are. Our guys are 15 minutes from this position, just sit tight and chill.''


To: His Majesty Mark II, King of Aschenhyrst, Emperor of the Aschenhyrst Dominion
From: Emperor Maximus Meridius Augustus
Subject: RE:Blockade of Waldenburg and terms of the CenTyr Pact

Greetings friends of the Latin Imperium,

I have recieved your proposition and have thought about it for quite some time. I'm understanding the need to ressuply and reinforce your troops who are embroiled in the conflict in southern Waldenburg. I'm willing to pull back my fleets and allow the free movement of supply ships from Aschenhyrst to Paloni and Waldenburg, and to guarantee their safe passage through the Mednordian Channel, however I am unfortunately unable to offer this without any favors asked in return. Information i have tells me that your naval infantry captured WIS Indolent which was commanded by a member of the Waldenburger Imperial family, princess Wilhelmina. If possible the return of Indolent's crewmembers would be very appreciated by our goverment and myself personally.

In return will allow your forces which are currently in the sea of Ascelonia safe passage and i personally guarantee that nothing will happen to them if they surrender Wilhelmina and her surviving crew to my forces which are currently closing in on Indolent's position. I have no interest in the ship itself and your forces can even use Cukarican tugboats (if your fleet lacks them) to take the Indolent to Chausey islands or Aschenyrst proper.

I await your answer with great anticipation dear friend,

Princeps Senatvs
Imperator Ellysivs
Pater Patriae
Pius Felix
Please note that my nation is no longer called Cukarica, but Elysian Empire or Imperium Elysium.
Imperivm Elysivm: Wiki
Imperivm Elysivm: OOC & IC Factbook
Imperium Elysivm: Embassies
Quotes to remember
<Rodarion> even Yallak is reluctant to fight the Legions of Cvkarica
<Mykola> Cvk it takes a thread on II to get you to do anything
<Ralk> I'd have to blast my way through cvk. In doing so I'd lose a lot of men.
<Ossoria> isn't stupid enough to challenge someone with the caliber of military that is Cvk when he is right on the border
<Rodarion> I'm never going to try to invade you lol


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