Sins of Nature - Varathron Blood Fever (Open)

[Drakonian Imperium]

"I boast nothing, but plainly say, we all labor against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases."
-- Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, 1643 A.D.

__________________

"It's insidious."

Dr. Aemilius Cammius listened intently as the pair quickly made their way down the sterile halls of the hospital. His companion was a local doctor, a woman by the name of Althea Verus.

"The infections began about two week ago," Dr. Verus briefed. "The early stages of the pathogen mimic the symptoms of the flu and, as you know, we're in the middle a rather severe flu season."

Aemilius was an expert in infectious diseases, specializing in respiratory diseases, including influenza and other flu-like diseases.

"Fevers, chills, every symptom one would expect in a flu," Dr. Verus continued. "It wasn't until a few days in, when the patients should have been recovering, that we realized something was incredibly wrong. Their conditions suddenly worsened. Their fevers spiked, and--" She hesitated. "Well...you'll see."

The pair of doctors rounded a corner in the hospital and continued on toward the ward.

"We lost our first patient just over a week ago. Since then we estimate we're losing more than a third of all our patients."

Dr. Verus stopped in front of a glass window that looked into a room. Inside two patients lay in their sickbeds, both looked feverish. One simply lay in his bed as a slight trickle of blood ran down his face from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. The other was leaning slightly out of his bed vomiting blood into a small bucket.

"The staff have taken to calling it: Blood Fever."

---

GHOLGOTH PROUDLY PRESENTS...

SINSOFNATURE

---

"Near as we can tell, in the late stages the pathogen begins to more aggressively attack the soft tissues of the upper Respiratory Tract in order to facilitate increased replication. As you can see the damage is severe enough to cause profuse bleeding."

Profuga City was not unaccustomed to disease or suffering. The city’s very name hinted at lost hope and forgotten dream. And yet, thousands upon thousands of miles from the heart of Imperial power in Drakonia, in Disia, this distant colony in Varathron, many generations of refugees and immigrants lived alongside colonists and alike natives. They had seen their shanty towns and makeshift camps give way, pushed aside by skyscrapers and manufacturing plants, and still they came. Even the recent war had not deterred them. For Profugium had need of skilled and semi-skilled workers. Whereas the rest of Disia was devoted to providing its vast natural resources to fueling the needs of the Imperial economy, Profuga City supplemented the colony’s need for manufactured goods, when imports from the homeland fell short.


"This pathogen, it's diabolical," the local doctor continued. "At this hospital, we have 63 patients who either have the flu or this new disease. There have been eighteen confirmed deaths."

It had been Dr. Althea Verus who had alert the Imperial Ministry of Health in Drakonia to the new threat. She was young with unusual auburn hair, barely out of her residency, but her olive skin revealed her Drakonian heritage. Whether she was born here in Disia or off in Drakonia was unclear. Dr. Cammius had been told she specialized in pathology and emergency medicine. Both of which were now of vital importance.

"And it’s highly contagious. I've got one doctor and two nurses down sick already." Dr. Verus paused, looking back to the patients. "With all the bleeding, the pathogen seems to spread into the blood stream, and then it only a matter of time until serious complication occurs. Fatalities seem to result from complications; sudden spikes in fevers, blood loss, pneumonia, or the organs just shut down."

"Antivirals?"

"Negligible effect, at best." Dr. Verus sighed. "With the flu our supplies were already stretched. We've administered what we had, but it’s hard to tell if it making much of a difference at all."

Dr. Aemilius Cammius was much older than his counterpart, middle aged, he was balding and what hair he had began the inevitable march toward a grey color. He spent most of his time in an office and not a hospital, so despite an active lifestyle his physique bulged and drooped in places he would really rather it would not. Cammius had been sent by the Imperial Ministry of Health to evaluate the pathogen and report back on the danger it posed to the population of the colony.

"We're still not quite sure about origin of the pathogen.” Dr. Verus stood eye transfixed on the patients as she talked. “But the first cases were among the foreign population, so it’s possible that it’s from somewhere else in the world. Samples of the pathogen have been sent to Mille Mortifere* and Drakonia for analysis."

As Cammius stood there listening to the young woman, he realized that he would be doing more than just evaluating and reporting. He would be on the frontline, desperately trying to develop a treatment for this new disease. Cammius had been sent to Disia evaluate the danger posed by the pathogen and now that he understood that danger, he understood the need for swift action to counteract it.

"What about containment," he asked.

"Containment?!" She almost laughed, meeting his gaze. "We're two weeks too late for that."

When he flew into Disia, Cammius had seen that precautions had already been taken to prevent the spread of the disease beyond the colony. He had seen military personnel in the airport screening passengers.

"This is out there," Dr. Verus declared, gesturing for emphasis at the two patients suffering on the other side of the glass. "Whatever we do now will only slow the spread of the disease, but believe me, it’s already jumped any cordons we've put in place. This pathogen is already out there in the world, beyond our reach; it’s spreading, and it’s killing people. It is only a matter of time before the rest of world realizes they’re in the middle of an epidemic."

__________________

* Mille Mortifere is a Drakonian Territory located in Gholgoth. Drakonia is located outside the region proper.

OOC: This thread is open, all are encouraged and welcome to participate. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact myself via telegram, through IRC at Gholgoth's Public Channel on Esper.net: #Gothic_Santum, or through the OOC Thread.

Please, direct all Out-Of-Character (OOC) content, questions, and comments to the OOC Thread. The OOC Thread is also intended to serve as an information digest and will feature and expound upon information in this thread. Thank you and enjoy!

[Drakonian Imperium]

Grand Dominion of Drakonian Imperium

I N T E R N A T I O N A LH E A L T HA D V I S O R Y

The Imperial Ministry of Health is issuing an INTERNATIONAL HEALTH ADVISORY following the discovery of an unknown infectious biological entity in the Drakonian Colony of Disia.

Symptoms of this pathogen initially appear similar to Influenza and other Respiratory Diseases. However, they are more severe in the later stages and include hemorrhaging of the tissues of the mouth, nose, and throat. This disease also appears to have an unusually high mortality rate for a respiratory disease.

The source of this infection is currently unknown. No known instances of infection in animal populations have been documented and the infection is currently believed to be limited to the human population. It is unknown whether the infection originated in Disia or whether it was brought to the colony from an external source.

Containment Protocols have been initiated to limit the spread of the disease. All flights leaving the colony are being screened for any individuals ill with the flu or any flu-like illness. Individuals found to be ill are being prevented from travelling and given medical treatment. An advisory has also been issued to all international shipping.

More information will be released as it becomes available.

Office of Colonial Health Affairs,
Imperial Ministry of Health
Drako Throne, Drakonia

[Drakonian Imperium]

Martinus Decimius sneezed violently and loudly. No one in the crowded airport terminal appeared to notice.

Martinus was glad to be home in the bustling capital of the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere, Port Imperial. Despite this, he was tired and drug out from his long flight from Disia.

And his office expected to see him in an hour.

You would think the biggest shipping company in Mille Mortifere could manage for a day or two without a report on the status of post-war Shipping in Varathron. After all, Martinus had just spent an entire day flying thousands of miles from Varathron.

As he stood in the center of the terminal, his carry-on bag at his feet, his laptop bag slung over one shoulder, he again exhaustion rising up from inside him. Everything was beginning to ache. He wanted to sleep, not report. And there was the thought, creeping into to his mind that he might, just might, be getting sick with something.

He suppressed his urge to rest and looked for a restroom so that he could clean himself up before retrieving the rest of his luggage and hailing a taxi to take him to work.

He was not halfway to the restroom when he was overcome by another massive sneeze.

[Emporer Pudu]

SHEN ALMARU ARCHIPELAGO
CITY OF MAZARAAN, PoP: 30 MILLION
SCENE OF A CRIME

"So what is it?"

"Chicken blood. Why'd you step in it?'

"Fuck you. How do you know it's chicken blood?"

Inspector Eastman clicked his flashlight on; it illuminated a headless chicken about fifteen feet away. They were standing in the lowest reaches of the ultra-large container ship Swan, it was utterly black. Sergeant Mamon had slipped in the grime on the steel deck and his flashlight had clicked off. Eastman only noticed the chicken as Mamon flailed the light around as he fell. Now both men had their flashlights on and were approaching the chicken carefully. It was surrounded by a pool of blood and a few scattered fetishes; there were desiccated heads whose eyes had been removed and replaced with various trinkets; a few turtle shells covered in a strange script, and the remnants of a small fire. Mamon crouched down to inspect one of the desiccated heads. It once belonged to a small monkey whose species was native to the island, recently though it's eyes had been replaced with fragments tiny eggshells. The young sergeant was looking up from this when he noticed what Inspector Eastman was looking at; his flashlight's beam was fixed on the corpse of an elderly woman. Her skin was gray and pulled tight over her bones; nearly mummified, like she had been suddenly sucked dry. Mamon almost fell backwards and gasped in surprise.

Eastman picked up a radio from his belt, "We found what we were looking for. We're at the bottom of Tank 2-B, you'll see the flashlights. We've got a body."

Through heavy interference an affirmative response snuck it's way through and the inspector replaced the radio at his side. "This is perfect, it's exactly what we were looking for." He smiled, turning to Mamon. The younger local equite sergeant was still crouched a few feet behind. He quickly recovered and stood up next to the inspector, "One old dead woman, check."

"You have no idea what you're looking at, do you?" replied Eastman, his moment of enthusiasm passed, "Where are you from, sergeant?"

"Asral." answered the sergeant. Eastman asked, "Lots of dried up old dead ladies in Asral?"

"Well, yeah." Mamon chuckled, "But not like this. Never seen this before." he concluded more soberly.

"Good thing I'm the one the IG's office sent then. I don't imagine there's many Almarans outside harbor patrol in your precinct then, or else your commanders might have know what the fuck this is."

Mamon was Numian, one of the oldest Pudite ethnicities and one of the most prevalent in the later diaspora. Almarans were the locals here in the Shen Almaru archipelago. Despite being tens of thousands of miles to the west of the Pudite emperors, the islands had been under the suzerainty of the pantokrats for centuries. The largest city in the group of sixteen major and many hundreds of smaller islands was Mazanaan. In Mazanaan the municipal government and most other influential institutions were dominated by a social elite made up of various foreign ethnicities migrated to to the island, mostly Numian, Peregrini and Kursarrumite Pudites. The locals were almost all legally casteless, making them inferior in many official and unofficial ways in the eyes of the government in Hollarum.

"What the fuck is this?" Mamon asked. Eastman had lit a cigarette and was lazily jotting notes down on a small tablet computer. The light was illuminating his face; he was a man in his late thirties who wore the beginnings of a beard on his face and short-cut black hair on his head, although usually he also wore a hat. He didn't look up to answer Mamon, "How long do you think this woman's been here?" he asked in response.

"I dunno, could have been months, she's dry as leather. Maybe she came over on the boat, where was it sailing from?"

"Mille Mortifere, but you've got the wrong idea. She's from right here in Mazanaan and she didn't even lay eyes on this boat until it was safely moored here at port. Your harbor patrol officers spotted a gang of people out here two nights ago, all local Almarans by the look of it. They thought they were stowaways, but the truth is they came in here two nights ago just for this." As he was talking the ash from his cigarette fell on the screen of his computer. After brushing it away he put the tablet back in his bag, "This woman was Abiou. She would have been the First Woman in her family, they were the ones the harbor patrol spotted a few nights ago."

"Her family killed her?"

"No, not really. They would insist it was really the evil spirits killed her." Mamon laughed, "Seriously?" he said, "Oh definitely." answered Eastman, "She sucked up all the evil energy in this cargo hold while the high priestess performed for the family, kinda like clearing the air. It's how their prayers get through. The priestess would probably have been one of the older daughters of this woman right here, although sometimes it's just allegorical. You know how they do it?"

"Do what? Magic? You're kidding me with this shit."

"No," Eastman laughed, "I just meant kill them. I'll bet you three dried monkey heads this woman's blood is filthy with opiates. They get them really high, the ones who survive have said it makes them a blank slate to receive the visitations. Look at her throat; she was choked to death. Sometimes that happens, they say." Eastman flicked his cigarette away into a different puddle of slime.

"Spend a lot of time with these guys, did you?" Mamon replied, "There's a fair few we have locked up." Eastman remarked casually, "Practicing this, it's illegal obviously, promoting a violent archaic interpretation of their faith. Heresy, and murder if your First Mother dies, like what happened right here." Inspector Eastman was Special Deputy Inspector to Mazaraan for Religious Affairs. This was why he was here. "Problem is, this family is short one opium-addicted spirt avatar now, and they'll be on the market. It would help if we knew why they came down here in the first place,"

"Shouldn't be long before the rest of your squad shows up, you mind guarding the body for a bit?" Eastman asked, turning to leave. Mamon was outranked but also unhappy to have to stand with the corpse in the pitch darkness. "Good," Eastman continued, "I'm heading back up, this place is dreadful." Mamon could see him light another cigarette as he was walking away. He noticed the inspector wasn't using his flashlight, but based on the sounds he heard echoing through the massive cargo bay, he found his way to the stairs just fine, the cherry of his cigarette bobbing away and around a corner.

The Swan had come into port three days before, carrying bulk trade goods into Mazaraan. The archipelago exported raw materials and imported manufactured goods, their economy could be accurately described as 'developing'. The rush to develop had swelled cities like Mazaraan and Ashkak elsewhere in the island chain to tremendous sizes. Mazaraan's metropolitan area, which sprawled along the northern coast of the largest of the so-called 'dancing islands', as Shen Almaru was sometimes known, was home to around fifty million people. The preponderance of which were desperately poor native Almarans. Their environment was already host to a half dozen serious endemic diseases of the urban poor. No-one could have prepared for what was coming.

[Emporer Pudu]

SHEN ALMARU ARCHIPELAGO
CITY OF MAZARAAN
MBCC SHIPPING OFFICES

The name of the company was the Mazaraan Bulk Cargo Corporation. Inspector Eastman had phoned ahead that he was coming by and had made an appointment with a public relations officer, but he had not told them why he was coming. The building was at the edge of the harbor district; warehouses lined the streets nearby and only a few blocks away the maze of tenements, boarding houses, taverns, inns, and brothels that surrounded the working neighborhoods began. It was a two story concrete building that had once been painted in colors of yellow and blue, now the paint was chipping along with the facade. The metal doors were rusty and the windows were translucent with dust and grime. Eastman had taken a taxi here; he wasn't ready to trust his own car on the street in this part of town, especially if someone recognized him as a police officer.

His Inspector post was much more than that, though. The normal municipal police in the city were the Equites; a paramilitary law-enforcement organization introduced from the much more homogenous cities of western Kalium in the Middle Prefecture. Here, where class and racial distinctions were far more visible than even in the heart of the Pantokratic Dominate, the obvious gulf between law enforcers and the citizenry painted a disturbing picture for those who looked too close. The Inspector General's office was a national investigatory body whose jurisdiction superseded all local police forces; especially in places like Mazaraan, where the equites might not be the most effective tool for law and order, judicious oversight by the IG's office was often necessary. Eastman's specific job, Deputy Inspector for Religious Affairs was more controversial as well, for it was his duty to enforce the often harsh laws regulating the practice of the national religion. At home in the Middle Prefecture regional differences between the practice of faith were very minor, almost all subscribed to the One, Holy, Anukai Church. Here in the islands, although they prayed to the same gods, their local traditions varied widely from island to island and were miles removed from decent, as far as upper-class Pudite theologians were concerned. The people of Mazaraan often begged to disagree.

Inspector Eastman knocked once and then pushed the metal door open to reveal a dingy reception area. A woman, an Almaran, sat behind a cheap desk on the other side of the room, “Mr. Eastman?” she asked perceptively, “Yes, I'm here to see Mrs. Steward?”

“Of course sir, just take a seat over there,” she pointed to some armchairs, “I'll stand, thanks.” he replied. A single fan buzzed in the corner of the room, flapping the covers on the assuredly decades-old magazines piled next to the ratty sea-green colored wing-back armchairs. The secretary was smoking, the smoke from her ashtray trailing up lazily to the ceiling; Eastman watched each time as it climbed a little higher before it was blasted away as the fan turned back to it, and it all began again.

Moments later a well-dressed white woman, not Pudite or Almaran, emerged from the back of the building, “Mr. Eastman?”

“It's Inspector Eastman, actually, I'm here to ask you a few questions. Do you have an office we can talk in?”

The secretary stopped typing for a moment and took another look at Eastman, as if there might have been some clue she missed the first time that told her that he was a high-powered agent of the central government. He still looked relatively normal to her, though. Maybe even a bit ragged, but that could have just been his surroundings rubbing of on him.

Mrs. Steward led Eastman down a short hallway to an office painted in the same faded yellow color that was chipping off the front of the building. Ad posters for the company were hung on the walls. She sat down behind her desk and offered a chair to the inspector, “Thanks, first, is there someone else we can bring in for this. I'm interested in a ship of yours that came in just the other day,”

Mrs. Steward looked genuinely worried, “We are very careful, Inspector, we don't carry contraband. Our manifests and import documents are in order.”

“That's excellent news, Mrs. Stweard. I'll need to see those documents, of course, but I would add that you're not under any suspicion of wrongdoing. A crime was committed aboard one of your vessels the night before last. I'm wondering if they may have been interested in something you were carrying.”

“Do you mean the Swan? The one the police boarded?” She wanted to add something about how valuable the time was that they had lost, and that maybe they had already had enough time to inspect the ship, but she was public relations director for a reason. She didn't say things like that.

“Yes. Is the captain or load-master available for comment on this matter?”

“Actually, sir, neither of them reported to work this morning. They both used company cards to check in to a small hotel a few blocks from the pier, but we haven't seen them since. In fact, the Swan had a twelve-man crew. We haven't heard from any of them. Is that bad? Could something have happened?”

“Fascinating... I'd try and get in touch with your people. Give me the address for that hotel, I'll find the captain.”

[Drakonian Imperium]

Flu-like Outbreak in Varathron reaches Gholgoth
February 21, 2013

Article Features

• Often fatal Flu-Like Illness spreads to Gholgoth.
• Analysis of Pathogen ongoing in Drakonia and Mille Mortifere.
• Outbreak spreads throughout Disia; cases reported in Novaporta, Colona, and Agrium.
• Over two hundreds cases documented in Disia, three in Mille Mortifere.
• Mysterious Flu-Like Illness appeared during bad Flu Season.

PORT IMPERIAL, Mille Mortifere (ENN) - Drakonia's Imperial Ministry of Health are working to identify a new mysterious flu-like disease amid reports that it has spread to Mille Mortifere.

Instances of the disease, being referred to as Varathron Blood Fever, have proved difficult to authenticate because it mimics other respiratory virus, such as the flu, which has been further complicated by its appearance during a particularly severe flu season.

Blood Fever was first identified in the Drakonia colony of Disia in Varathron, and is characterized by its violent and often fatal late stages. It is suspected that the pathogen may have been involved in the deaths of as many as 44 people in Disia, over a third of all reported cases. Thus far most of the cases have been localized to Profuga City. However, over the weekend, the first cases of the disease were identified in the cities of Novaporta, Colona, and Agrium.

The new disease has left health officials in the Imperium scrambling for answers; a week ago, a special team of experts was dispatch from Drakonia to Disia to begin an investigation into the outbreak; with samples of the pathogen dispatched to laboratories in Mille Mortifere and Drakonia for testing.


Disease spreads to Gholgoth

Today, the first cases were confirmed in Gholgoth. Three instances of the disease have been identified by hospital officials in Port Imperial, and the spread of the disease to the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere has authorities there worried about the possibility of an epidemic.

In a statement, release today, Millian officials said they would take "any and all" measures necessary to fight the spread of illness. Health officials also reiterated that genetic analysis is underway and more information on the nature of the disease should be available shortly.

When asked about potential medical treatments for the disease and possibility of a vaccine, the government spokesman had no further information.


Blood Fever spreads throughout Disia

Authorities in Disia have declared a public health emergency calling on people to take every precaution to prevent the spread of the illness. The government has ordered all public buildings and schools closed. All public events have also been suspended, with people being advised to avoid shaking hands and attending public gatherings. Individuals were also urged by the Disian government to remain calm and avoid panic.

More than three hundred people are thought to have been infected with Blood Fever in Disia. Estimates of those infected with the flu, or other respiratory ailments, vary, but range from anywhere from five to ten thousand cases.

In Profuga City, residents have taken to donning surgical face masks, an item, which has reportedly sold out in many pharmacies.

Containment measures remain in place in the Varathron colony despite their apparent failure to prevent the spread of the disease. All passengers and crew of aircraft leaving the colony are checked for symptoms of the flu or flu-like illness and if found to be ill are prevented from travelling abroad. Warnings have also been issued to all international shipping within the colony.

[Union of Independant Republics]

(Image)

Flu-like Outbreak in Varathron Spreads to Gholgoth
February 21, 2013

Article Features

• Often fatal Flu-Like Illness spreads to Gholgoth.
• Analysis of Pathogen ongoing in Drakonia and Mille Mortifere.
• Outbreak spreads throughout Disia; cases reported in Novaporta, Colona, and Agrium.
• Over two hundreds cases documented in Disia, three in Mille Mortifere.
• Mysterious Flu-Like Illness appeared during bad Flu Season.

PORT IMPERIAL, Mille Mortifere (ENN) - Drakonia's Imperial Ministry of Health are working to identify a new mysterious flu-like disease amid reports that it has spread to Mille Mortifere.

Instances of the disease, being referred to as Varathron Blood Fever, have proved difficult to authenticate because it mimics other respiratory virus, such as the flu, which has been further complicated by its appearance during a particularly severe flu season.

Blood Fever was first identified in the Drakonia colony of Disia in Varathron, and is characterized by its violent and often fatal late stages. It is suspected that the pathogen may have been involved in the deaths of as many as 44 people in Disia, over a third of all reported cases. Thus far most of the cases have been localized to Profuga City. However, over the weekend, the first cases of the disease were identified in the cities of Novaporta, Colona, and Agrium.

The new disease has left health officials in the Imperium scrambling for answers; a week ago, a special team of experts was dispatch from Drakonia to Disia to begin an investigation into the outbreak; with samples of the pathogen dispatched to laboratories in Mille Mortifere and Drakonia for testing.


Disease spreads to Gholgoth

Today, the first cases were confirmed in Gholgoth. Three instances of the disease have been identified by hospital officials in Port Imperial, and the spread of the disease to the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere has authorities there worried about the possibility of an epidemic.

In a statement, release today, Millian officials said they would take "any and all" measures necessary to fight the spread of illness. Health officials also reiterated that genetic analysis is underway and more information on the nature of the disease should be available shortly.

When asked about potential medical treatments for the disease and possibility of a vaccine, the government spokesman had no further information.


Blood Fever spreads throughout Disia

Authorities in Disia have declared a public health emergency calling on people to take every precaution to prevent the spread of the illness. The government has ordered all public buildings and schools closed. All public events have also been suspended, with people being advised to avoid shaking hands and attending public gatherings. Individuals were also urged by the Disian government to remain calm and avoid panic.

More than three hundred people are thought to have been infected with Blood Fever in Disia. Estimates of those infected with the flu, or other respiratory ailments, vary, but range from anywhere from five to ten thousand cases.

In Profuga City, residents have taken to donning surgical face masks, an item, which has reportedly sold out in many pharmacies.

Containment measures remain in place in the Varathron colony despite their apparent failure to prevent the spread of the disease. All passengers and crew of aircraft leaving the colony are checked for symptoms of the flu or flu-like illness and if found to be ill are prevented from travelling abroad. Warnings have also been issued to all international shipping within the colony.

New Moscow,Union of Independant Republics-0700 Hours

The President was Enjoying his Daily Exercise When a Aid Ran into his Working Room.
"What is it now"He asked Slightly Irritated.The Aid Responded"It Appears that a Unknown Disease is Killing Hundreds of People.It Also Appear to Be Spreading at a Alarming Rate."The Aid Turned on a T.V and The Local New Appeared to be Covering it."It Appears that a new mysterious flu-like disease is Responsivle for the Deaths of three hundred people.The Nation of Drakonian Imperium has Begun Containment Protocals and has Closed to the Border to All infected People.There has Been No Offical Statement from the UIR Health Deparment About this Incident."The Aid Turns the T.V off and Glares at the President.
President Nogovich Then Looked up"Seal the Borders Now......i Want All Filghts Grounded......Start Sending Containment Teams to Every major City Have Hostpitals Preped for Infections.Also I Want All Millitary Commanders Here for a Emercancy Meeting."Then He Waited for His Aid to Summon the Generals and Joint Chiefs of the Health Department.He Also Sent a Written Letter to the Leader of Drakonian Imperium.
To Whom it May Conern
From The President of the Union of Independant Republics
Regarding The Recent Infection
Per Emercency Protocals i have Shut Down All Borders and Have Grounded All Flights.Per Code 09988-009
I have to Send a Reasearch Team to your Nation to Study the Infected and the Infection.Expect Them Within the Hour.
From President Valdimer Nogovich

[Drakonian Imperium]

Port Imperial was the shining jewel in the Imperial Crown. For centuries, the city had been the center of a trade empire in Gholgoth. It had been in the city’s central harbor that, at the beginning of the thirteen century, the first Drakonian ships had sheltered after a typhoon.

Since then, the city had grown from a trading post and fair weather harbor to a megapolis. Mile upon mile of docks, shipyards, and port facilities were overshadowed by a steel legion of colossal skyscrapers. The tropical city uniquely suited the Drakonian ethos and, as such, it had become the third most populous city in the Imperium. Port Imperial supported a population in the tens of millions and far surpassed even many cities on the Drakonian mainland. Because of its vast size and economic importance, the thriving metropolis also hosted some of the most advanced medical research facilities in the Imperium. For this reason, and its proximity to the outbreak in Disia, samples of the pathogen had not only been sent home to laboratories in distant Drakonia, but also to Aesculapius Labs in Port Imperium.

The Research Laboratory occupied a relatively small, multistory building on the outskirt of the city center. A glass and steel structure, it was dwarfed by the veritable wonders of modern engineering and design, the giants and titans, that towered around it. And yet, what the building lacked in height, it more than made up for in security. For Aesculapius Labs handled and researched a range of biological pathogens, ranging from the relatively benign and minor to the incredibly dangerous and deadly. Security and biological containment were absolutely vital to the building's design and function.

"It looks like Influenza."

Dr. August Septimius bristled at the comment. "So does the Coronavirus. Nature is efficient. It evolves just the right package to fit its purpose."

"It's clearly a virus." The bureaucrat commented matter-of-factly. Titus Leonardus was neither a scientist nor a medical doctor, he was corporate bureaucrat sent to supervise, and hurry, the research into Varathron Blood Fever.

By the time the first samples of the pathogen had reached Mille Mortifere the first cases were already being reported in Port Imperial. Panic and concern had prompted the involved of a government official, to "hurry things along" as it had been explained to Dr. Septimius.

"Yes." Dr. Septimius was not amused. He was not one for bureaucratic handholding, but with threat as high as it was governments were inclined to interfere, and as it was the Drakonian and Millian governments who were funding the research into the new pathogen, Dr. Septimius had little choice but to humor his government minder.

Despite his gruff demeanor, at late middle age and slightly balding, with his bright white hair cut to a utilitarian length, August Septimius appeared very much a professional figure. He wore black silk dress shirt with a red tie, under a lab coat. Not very particular tall, or lean, he left little question in his guest to the expanse of his medical expertise and knowledge.

His guest, Titus Leonardus, was quite different than the more fair-skinned doctor. He looked more the athlete than the professional, even in his black, expensive imported Drakonian suit. Titus was tall, even for a Drakonian, and his skin the classic bronze one would expected of a race that had lived for millennia under a tropical sun. Though, Septimius was beginning to wonder about the man's mind.

The two men stood before a large digital display covering most of the wall of a room largely taken up by various computers. On the display was a digital image of the pathogen, what had now been identified as a virus. Due to their small size, viruses are invisible to traditional Optical Microscopes. Optical Microscopes simple do not possess the necessary magnification to be able to see viruses. Thus, the image before the two men had been produced by a time-consuming process on a Transmission Electron Microscope.

The virus itself appeared rather innocuous and small. It was stained yellow against a green backdrop. It looked weird, due to the vast magnification required to expand an image of cellular sized, produced by the wonder of an electron microscope. It was roughly symmetrical and circular with weird irregularities marring its surface. He was not about to say anything, but Titus could barely understand what he saw.

Expensive equipment, like the Transmission Electron Microscope, was part of the reason why samples of the disease had been sent outside Disia for testing. The other was the necessary expertise and equipment required for a complex genetic analysis.

"We've begun a genetic analysis of the viruses RNA sequences,” Dr. Septimius stated. "Once that is complete, we should be able to identify the genetic markers necessary to facilitate widespread identification of the virus in patients. After that, we will be able to look more in depth at the genetic code, and learn more about the virus, it relationship to other virus, and perhaps even its origin."

Titus looked nonplussed by all the information. "And a vaccine?"

Septimius sighed. "That will take some time."

"Some time?!" The corporate bureaucrat was shocked. "This is not the flu! It's spreading fast and people are dying!"

"Exactly," the doctor shot back. "This is not the flu. We don't really know now what it is, and it is going to take time and a lot of work before we do."

Septimius paused, collecting himself. "Vaccines take time. We have begun work on developing a vaccine, but it could take quite a bit of trial and error before we are able to produce, much less mass produce an actual successful vaccine."

[Drakonian Imperium]

Grand Dominion of Drakonian Imperium
Official Communiqué

TO: His Excellency Valdimer Nogovich, the President of the Union of Independant Republics
FROM: The Right Honourable Lady Diana Minerva, Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps., Drakonian Imperium
SUBJECT: Health Crisis in Disia


To His Excellency Valdimer Nogovich, the President of the Union of Independant Republics,

Mr. President, we would like to assure your government that the vast resources of the Drakonian Imperium, it various protectorates, territories, and colonies are being fully utilized to resolve the current health crisis as efficiently and as expediently as is possible. We do, however, welcome any and all assistance that your government can provide.

Your research team will be met in Profuga City International Airport by a health official of the Imperial Government. They will be provided with any and all relevant information on the pathogen, access to our research, and will be allowed to assist in research and treatment.

The Imperial Government, and its partners, the Colonial Government of Disia, and the Territorial Government of Mille Mortifere have instituted strict containment protocols over samples of the disease in order to restrict the spread of the outbreak. As such, some access to samples of the pathogen may be limited until a time when such measures are deamed less critical to control of the disease.

Also, be advised, that due to the lack of advanced medical equipment, genetic research and development of a vaccine is currently underway in Drakonia Proper and the Territory of Mille Mortifere.

Most Respectfully yours,

Lady Diana Minerva,
Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps.
Drako Throne, Drakonia

[New Roman Empire]

Eastern Roman Trading Company

---

Dear Lady Diana Minerva,

The Eastern Roman Trading Company has been the first of our country to hear about your epidemic. The ERTC would would to extend a hand and would like to open our services to you. As this message is sent to you, I have asked for the government to review your situtation. These course of action will come at a later date. But our company offers anit-biotics that could slow down this sickness abit. We hope you are well when you recieve this.

Sincerely,
William Shermen

[Imbrinium]

Like in a lot of wars there are people and companies who will fill the gaps of what’s left and take from the have nots, then there are people and companies that wish to build the future brighter than the past and help the wounds of war to hear with new construction.

Catone Mancini was order by his company to go to Varathron and try to get contracts to rebuild the old and build the new. Catone was the top salesman in new contracts for new builds. Catone had been in the air for thousands of miles and wasn’t feeling good thinking maybe he’d had caught a cold but he was excited of the new contracts he had signed. As the flight went on Catone felt worse, he was beginning to think maybe food poisoning.

As the flight came to land in the northern city of Assandra where Catone felt seriously sick now running fever. He was coughing and started coughing up a little blood but still he didn’t think it was something other than a really bad cold maybe the flu. People around him tried to help to a seat inside the airport terminal he coughed on at least 3 to 5 persons walking by or that stopped to help him. One person walked to a checkpoint and touched a security guard saying that a guy needed help down the terminal.

As the guard made the scene Catone coughed on him and got blood on him the guard call for a medical team and an ambulance for the guy. Within about ten minutes the ambulance made the scene and Catone had passed out from high fever the medics loaded up Catone and rushed him to the hospital. The medics arrived at the hospital as they wheeled Catone into the ER and started IVs and oxygen on him Catone suddenly woke up and sprayed the ER staff with blood and then passed out again, he was then moved to ICU to monitor him closely. Still nothing was known about what Catone had or what was wrong. The die had been cast the blood virus was now in Greater Dienstad and the Kingdom of Imbrinium.

[Drakonian Imperium]

Dr. Aemilius Cammius sat up with a start.

The Doctor was seated in an office chair. In front of him a desk strewn haphazardly with papers and reports had been serving as an impromptu pillow. The room was darkened and small, a private office; faint light flickering in through the slats of Venetian Blinds that had shielded Cammius from the brightness of morning.

Catching the Doctor's attention, another light shown up from the beneath the papers on the desk. It's origin eluded Cammius, as his hands flailing about through the pile across the desk, his fingers hunting blindly for his glasses.

Aemilius was just glad he had not been sleeping while wearing his contact lens. Though, he could not quite remember when he had stopped wearing them. He did know he had been wearing them when he first arrived in Disia. Then again, the Doctor could not even remember the last time he had been to his hotel room. Or was it Guest Housing at the Military Base, Aemilius could not quite remember, his mind still grasping for memory after having been awoken. Sleeping face down on a desk was not the best way to refresh one's mental processes.

The sound of rapping knuckles on the door to the office drew the Doctor's attention.

"Dr. Cammius," a questioning voice wafted into the room. "Sir?"

Aemilius' fingers finally found his glasses and he quickly put them on. Clearing the strewn medical files from the light on his desk, the Doctor excavated his tablet computer from beneath them. The time on the screen of the computer read, "8:05 AM".

Cammius sighed, another night of sleep lost. "Yes, one moment," he called to the door.

Wash your hands, drink lots of water, get plenty of sleep, all vitally necessary for a strong immune system. A week into trying to get a grip on the epidemic of Blood Fever and Dr. Cammius was losing an increasing amount of sleep each night.

Had it only been a week? Two? Events had certainly spiraled violently out of control rather fast.

There were now well over a thousand cases of Varathron Blood Fever in hospitals across Disia. The death toll had risen to 239 people in the Drakonian colony. The situation was only slightly better in Gholgoth. The latest reports from Port Imperial said that they had 57 cases of the disease, and six people had died. Rumors were flying that the disease had spread beyond Mille Mortifere to other nations in the region. And now there were unconfirmed reports of an individual who had flown to Imbrinium in Greater Dienstad from Disia dying under mysterious circumstances. The infection had quickly gone from local outbreak to potentially an international epidemic and that worried the Doctor.

Cammius stood, straightened his clothes. His dress shirt was now only half-tucked into his pants. He re-tucked it in and moved to open the door.

When the door opened, the young Imperial Army Lieutenant snapped to attention as if struck by lightning. Cammius thought, he might have kept her waiting a little too long.

She smiled, recovering. "Sir, Colonel Mauricius would like to speak to you."

"Of course."

Lieutenant Regina Honoria reminded Aemilius of his daughter in Drakonia. The officer was a spirit of youthful vigor and happiness. She always had a shining smile on her face. Colonel Mauricius had assigned the Lieutenant as Cammius' assistant and liaison with the Imperial Army.

The room, outside Cammius' office was no less drab. However, Cammius could see the office was already alive with activity; Military Officers and Enlisted moving back and forth, working at desks and carrying out other mundane tasks. Across the room, and past several desks, was the Colonel's office. Cammius followed the Lieutenant to the office.

Colonel Mauricius commanded the 9th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (9th M.A.S.H.), a field medical unit, which had been deployed to Disia after the last war to relieve the fatigued 5th M.A.S.H. The 9th was stationed at the Military Base in Profuga City and was thus a natural place for Dr. Cammius to use as his command center during the Health Crisis. The Medical Unit was also providing support to the local hospitals by allowing its beds to serve as overflow during outbreak.

The Colonel himself, was a rather uninteresting middle age man, he was also a medical doctor. Balding, the Colonel had a crown of light brown hair. His face was a mask of a military seriousness as he sat at his own desk.

Colonel Mauricius looked up as pair entered his office. "Ah, Dr. Cammius. We've received another request for information from the Diplomatic. Something about Antibiotics, I believe they mean Antivirals."

The Colonel handed Cammius the message. "I'll make sure and get a reply to the Diplomatic Corps., promptly." He looked it over. Attached was the original communiqué from the Eastern Roman Trading Company.

"I also wanted to discuss the search for Animal Vectors."

Dr. Cammius looked up sharply. "We've already discussed this."

Cammius had a veritable army of Imperial and Colonial soldiers, alongside half of the region's police force combing the city and surrounding area looking for evidence of infection in the animal population. Proof of an animal vector to the disease could solve the question of its origin. Different strains of flu often originated from the animal population, and Cammius had hoped he could solve the mysterious of the virus by finding the sickness among the local fauna.

The Colonel frowned. "I don't know if you noticed while you were sleeping, but we're facing an epidemic here. I've got two overflow wards full of patients and I don't have the staff to manage another. I need those soldiers."

"Information is what we need," Cammius shot back. "Every single person we pull off the search could mean that much longer until we find what we need to cure it!"

"I need personnel, at least until relief forces can arrive from Drakonia."

The Imperial Navy had reported that two Hospital Ships, along with support ships had sailed from Drakonia, several days ago. The Imperial Ministry of Health had also replied to a request for additional personnel, saying that they were putting together a medical relief force. It could be more than a week before either arrived in Disia.

The Colonel continued, "This health crisis is an epid--"

"Plague." It was Lieutenant Honoria. Both men turned to face her, surprised at the interuption.

"It's a plague." The Lieutenant looked flush with emotion, overcome by it. "Revelations 6:8 – And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."

Dr. Cammius looked her over with an accessing eye. She was shaking ever so slightly.

"Oh no--"

The words were barely out of his mouth when she collapsed.

OOC: The OOC Thread is now live. This note will be removed, presently, please see the first post OOC NOTE in future for the link.

[Finium]

Imperial Communique
from the Ministers of His Imperial Majesty

TO: The Drakonian Diplomatic Corps., Drakonian Imperium
FROM: Imperial Minister Felicia Ripclaw, Minister of His Imperial Majesty, Imperial Finium
SUBJECT: Virus Outbreak

M'lords of Drakonia,

We would offer our most sincerest support in your current struggle with this terrible mutation that is currently plaguing the streets of Disia, it is most regrettable. The Emperor has made it abundantly clear that this crisis justifies the full support, financially and scientifically, of his majesty's government. Do not be hesitant in the slightest to request our aid in any way during this time of transgression; Archbishop Chael has even offered a special prayer for your people as you struggle with the virus.

We ourselves are not immune from the crisis on your shores, though we have halted all travel between our ports and those infected. Unfortunately, two imperial cargo ships are currently at anchor in the ports of Disia, the Durian and the Divine Passage. Allow me to be forthwith in mentioning that these ships are not to be boarded by any unauthorized forces, the Emperor was pointed; no unauthorized personnel may board these ships.

I have been dispatched to Drakonia along with my colleague, Dr. Viceroy, who will care for the health of our crewmen. No medical assistance will be necessary. Please continue to publish your latest developments so that the Finian Health Committee may offer assistance wherever possible.

Thank you for your time and understanding.

Minister Ripclaw,
Imperial Minister of Finium

[Drakonian Imperium]

Grand Dominion of Drakonian Imperium
Official Communiqué

TO: Mr. William Shermen, the Chief Executive Officer of the Eastern Roman Trading Company
FROM: Dr. Aemilius Cammius, Imperial Ministry of Health, Drakonian Imperium
SUBJECT: Shortage of Antiviral Drugs in Disia


Mr. Shermen,

Lady Diana Minerva, the Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. has requested that I answer your query to the Drakonian Government. And as a result, I have been given full authority in this matter to purchase necessary supplies.

Due to the severity of the 2013 Influenza Season, supplies of antivirals in Disia are quite low. The Imperial Ministry of Health is arranging for shipments of both traditional and experimental antiviral drugs. However, the need is urgent and they cannot meet all of the colony’s needs.

While extensive tests have not been conducted due to limited supplies, antiviral drugs do not appear to have an effect on the new virus, Varathron Blood Fever. However, once sufficient supplies have been secured testing will be resumed.

Hospitals in Disia have urgent need of supplies of both Neuraminidase Inhibitors, such as Oseltamivir and Zanamivir, and M2 Protein Inhibitors, such as Amantadine and Rimantadine. Therefore, with the authority of the Imperial Government, I request shipment of the following:

• 1,000,000 Doses of Oseltamivir (Trade Name: Tamiflu), each equivalent to 75mg Oral Tablets.
• 1,000,000 Doses of Zanamivir (Trade Name: Relenza), each equivalent to 10mg Oral Tablets.
• 10,000 Doses of Amantadine (Trade Name: Symmetrel), each equivalent to 100mg Oral Tablets.
• 10,000 Doses of Rimantadine (Trade Name: Flumadine), each equivalent to 100mg Oral Tablets.

Disia is likely to have a continuing need of antiviral drugs due to the nature of this developing crisis. While Drakonian Pharmaceutical companies can supply some of the colony’s needs, particularly for exotic and experimental treatments, they cannot supply all of it. It is very likely the colony will require the continued services of your company.

With Gratitude,

Dr. Aemilius Cammius
Imperial Ministry of Health
Profuga City, Disia

[Drakonian Imperium]

"What were the names of those ships, again?"

Dr. Cammius looked out upon an office in the midst of chaos; officers and enlisted rushing about trying to get a grip upon the latest wrinkle to the health crisis.

"The Durian and the Divine Passage," someone called out over the din and furor.

Aemilius Cammius felt very much alone. When he had first arrived in Disia, it had been with a full team of doctors and specialists from Drakonia, but the increasingly overwhelming nature of the outbreak had meant that each and every one of them was needed to manage one task or another.
Cammius was left without even an assistant. The Commander of the 5th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital had assigned him Lieutenant Honoria. Cammius was now realizing just how much he had come to rely on the Lieutenant's experience in military matters and general competence as an adjutant. Now, however, she was sick, deathly ill with the new virus, and Dr. Cammius was once again left on his own.

"Fortuna be praised." Colonel Mauricius made his way to Cammius at the front of the common office room.

A makeshift map and table were currently serving as the core of the office turned crisis command center. The rest of the room was given up to desks, chairs, and a horde of military personnel each anxiously and urgently carrying out some important task.

"The Divine Passage made harbor here in Profugium, five days ago," the Colonel informed the Doctor.

"And the Durian?"

"The Port Authority doesn't know." It was worst possible news. "They are calling up to Novaporta hoping someone in the Colonial Government will have the records for the other ports."

The Colonel looked down at the map of Disia. The colony was largely undeveloped and much of it consisted of coastline and rivers. Population centers were either coastal or located along waterways. Then there were the jungles, the vast expanses of forests and marshlands; legions of green, broken only by native settlements.

He gestured along the coastline. "The official, I talked too, thought she might have sailed into Porta Vallara."

Cammius sighed. "We need to find that ship."

"Port Official know no one is to board the Divine Passage," the Colonel informed. "I left orders for them to contact the crew by radio and inform them of the situation. I also asked Colonel Longinus to send over a couple of his men to insure the Finian request is met."

Dr. Cammius looked over at the map. His tablet computer also lay on the desk. "As soon as we get confirmation on the Durian's location, I want Dr. Venantius on an transport aircraft." Dr. Venantius was one of Dr. Cammius original team. "We need someone on location who can rapidly access the situation and provide whatever aid they may require."

"I'll make sure the Colonial Army has a plane standing by," the Colonel confirmed, nodding his own agreement.

Dr. Cammius lifted his tablet computer from the table. "I've been informed that the Diplomatic Corps. are sending someone out here to personally manage the diplomacy. They are also sending someone from the Office of Gholgothic Affairs down here from Gholgoth."

The Colonel nodded again. “I’ve received no further word on the team from the Union of Independent Republics.”

Cammius sighed again. “The sooner those diplomats arrive, the better.”

[Vetalia]

Port Imperial, Mille Mortifere

Viktor Demidov was the quintessential symbol of the Vetalian upper-middle class. A middle management professional earning 50,000 rubles per year with a wife, a dog, and two children, living in a 2,000-square foot house with lawn and above-ground pool in the suburbs outside of the thoroughly flyover city of Kashin. He was a senior lending officer with the Industrial and Chemical Bank of Petrovsk and had recently arrived in Mille Mortifere following a long and productive trip to Varathon meeting with various clients, mostly Vetalian import-export firms operating in Profuga City. He'd finalized 50 million rubles in loans over the week, not too shabby and just about maxing out his lending authority. Good quality too, none of the subprime stuff his coworkers were dealing with...they were great guys to work with, but damn if they knew the difference between a VICO score of 800 and 300. Next year he'd probably be promoted out of lending to the investment banking division.

He was in good spirits, smiling to himself as he thought about the bonus he'd get for closing such great loans, It'll be a damn good Christmas for the Demidovs. Regardless of his good mood, he felt pretty damn tired, but that was certainly just the jet lag taking its toll. He'd blocked out a couple of vacation days after his trip for some well-deserved R&R. As he was walking towards the terminal, he felt a sneeze come on and unloaded a few in rapid succession into his handkerchief. Just my luck, getting back home right at the start of the pollen season and the monsoon he thought. He could also really use a smoke, but knew he'd have to wait until he got on the Aeroflot jet before he could light up...other nations weren't as laissez faire about smoking as Vetalia.

Noticing that he was smack dab in the middle of the food court, he decided a drink or two was in order and he stopped at one of the airport bars for a couple of drinks before the flight left. During the course of his drinks he infected two other passengers sitting near him and the bartender. He tipped the bartender with a 10-ruble bill that was crawling with death.

During the flight, a couple more sneezes came on, infecting many of the passengers of Aeroflot Flight 193. He then disembarked in Petrovsk and picked up his car from the airport parking lot, grumbling about the fees good naturedly, being that he was more than happy to be home.

Along the way, he infected two gas station attendants, three cashiers, one waitress and put a handful of contaminated ruble notes and one pen into general circulation. By mid-morning, Viktor was running east across Melnikov Oblast and coughing steadily. The monsoon cough was a real pain in the ass, that was for sure.

[Finium]

Untar, Southern Finium

Doctor William Viceroy was a small man, not much noted for his small works in communicable disease containment, and more renown as a clever chess played than an MD. He had a small crop of syrupy brown hair draped over the left side of his head and set of quick brown eyes that peered behind a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles. His eyes were locked at the moment on Minister Ripclaw, the single tight-lipped female member of His Majesty's Ministry. She was of average height with an expressionless face and graying hair scraped into a bun even tighter than her lips; she also terrified the doctor.

They sat on opposite sides of an Imperial Aereocraft, the doctor fighting to be ever further away from the stoic woman. The plane was soaring slowly through the thick smog over the city of Untar and towards the southern Sea, at the very edge pf the Empire before Dr. Viceroy risked speaking to Ripclaw.

"Terrible business this plague, isn't it?" He asked cautiously.

"Very inconvenient." She replied, her face snapping towards William, "The Durian and Divine Passage were on imperial business before they were waylaid in Disia."

She paused and studied him for a moment, eliciting a shiver with her ominously clear blue eyes.

"How fully have you been briefed?" She demanded

"Oh I know everything, the plague outbreak, the virus, the containment problems, I even know that the lead scientist for research is Dr. Cann... Cammius!" He replied, proud to recite all that he knew of the situation.

Felicia held his gaze for a few moments before looking away out the window; he didn't know anything of the situation. The two ships were more than just cargo ships, they were tribute ships coming back north from the Oceanic Holdings of the Empire. The Durian carried roughly a metric tonne of gold, still in ore, from the oceanic mines and the Divine Passage carried a tonne of refined gold that was previously the combined treasury of several conquered nations. More importantly, there were no escorts for either ship; they had been listed as medicinal suppliers in order to avoid the attention of pirates or hostile powers.

Felicia knew that Dr. Viceroy would eventually have to be informed, his role would be to approve the ships clear of any infection before she ordered them to weigh anchor immediately while avoiding any questions of the cargo itself. Heaven knew that he seemed frightened enough to comply. She did enjoy his fear, much like she enjoyed the furtive glances thrown at her and the other ministers, but she had a feeling that William knew how an Imperial Minister came to be. The Finian Imperial Ministry was also known as the Ordo Praefracti, the Order of the Broken. Named such for the secretive and often harsh fashion in which children were trained to forget all else but their service to the Emperor; Felicia was a top student.

As the plane hovered over the still sea, Viceroy eventually began to drop off into nightmares of cold-hearted beings that chased him though long streets. Felecia pulled out sea charts and began looking for escape routes, while musing over the position of nearby warships, just in case too much was found out. It would be a long night for both of them.

[Emporer Pudu]

SHEN ALMARU ARCHIPELAGO
CITY OF MAZARAAN
TORCHLIGHT MOTEL, ONE STAR ACCOMMODATIONS

The motel was exactly what Inspector Eastman expected. A vacancy sign flickered above it, but there was nothing else that might suggest that this was a place you should sleep; the neighborhood was dominated by the towering brick walls of warehouses and factories and the few apartments in the vicinity looked more like the centerpieces of a shanty-town. Eastman hadn't seen a police officer in the last hour; he had been sitting across the street from the motel in his rented sedan with a cup of rapidly cooling black coffee. He was speaking into a tape recorder, "It is five thirty-eight PM, I have been sitting outside the Torchlight Motel for the past sixty-five minutes and have seen no-one come or go from the scene. Pedestrians were few, all native Almarans, some intoxicated. A bar is located around the corner on the same block. I have decided to attempt to contact the captain of the Mazaraan Bulk Cargo Corporation's ship Swan, on board which a peculiar murder scene was found the day before last."

He clicked off the recorder and slid it into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a sidearm from the glove compartment and checked his hair in the rear-view mirror before opening the car door. At this point he stopped and pulled the recorder out again, "One more thing, the captain has not reported to work for the last 24 hours and neither have any of his crew. Their whereabouts are not yet known." He replaced the recorder in his pocket and got out of the car.

Walking over to the motel office he couldn't see anyone inside. The light was fading in the city, blocked out by the tall buildings this late in the day, and there was no light on inside the office and so visibility was low. Eastman pulled open the door slowly and peered inside. The glow of a computer monitor caught his eye in a back room, and when a man stood up from in front of it he nearly jumped. "Hello?" he called inside,

"Yes, hello, one moment" came the reply. True to his word a moment later an elderly Almaran man tottered out of the back office. Inspector Eastman smiled at him, "Hello" he said cheerfully, "I was hoping you could point me in the direction of one particular guest," he handed over a picture of the Swan's captain as well as his own official ID, "I'm Deputy Inspector Eastman with the Inspector General's office, the man in the picture isn't in trouble though, it's just that someone was murdered aboard his ship once it had docked in the harbor. I'm sure he knows nothing about it, but we've got to track these things down, you know." Eastman was chatting happily, but the old man had made up his mind. When he sensed a break in Eastman's train of thought, he jumped in, "Room 223, he's with the guy in 224 too, they came in together yesterday. Haven't seen 'em since."

"Thanks!" Eastman proclaimed, leaving. The old man shuffled back to his computer and Eastman, once outside, pulled out his tape recorder again. "Met the operator of the Torchlight, he's not hiding anything. He says the captain and another man checked in yesterday and he hasn't seen them since that time. He doesn't seem to see very much, though, so the importance of that statement is unknowable." He stopped the recording, but had a second thought, "Well, it's not unknowable in a technical sense. We could undertake various means to ascertain the extent to which he is aware of comings and goings, but to do so presently would be highly impractical and provide no useful further evidence to me in exchange for the effort, and so the result is practically unknowable, which is good enough for me." Satisfied, he again replaced the recorder in his pocket.

The Inspector strode up the stairs to the balcony that crossed the front of the second floor of the motel. He could hear a TV on in the captain's room. Upon reaching the door to room 223 Eastman knocked loudly three times; no response, he called out "Captain, are you there! Captain? This is the police! If you're inside open the door!" Again, no response. He tried the handle: it was open. Eastman pulled out his sidearm and gently nudged the door open. Inside the room looked to be slightly out of order, and as he walked into the room he found on the far side of the bed a duffel bag of clothes and various personal effects scattered open on the floor. Before continuing to the bathroom Eastman clicked off the TV, at the same time noticing a tissue speckled in blood on the coffee table. Turning, the pillow also was lightly speckled with blood. He continued into the bathroom where he found nothing extraordinary.

He pulled out his recorder, "The captain does not appear to be in his hotel room, although what are presumably his clothes and other effects are still here in a state of disarray. It is possible he left in a hurry. He forgot to lock the door at the least. Interesting are certain patterns of blood spatter evident in the room, evidently from coughing up blood. I will be sure to check local clinics and hospitals for any patients matching his description, but first I think I will investigate the room of the man who came here with the captain. He may know where he went, or could have at least left a clue to the destination if he is also absent, which I am starting to suspect may be the case."

Eastman left the room and knocked on the door of room 224. This time he heard a response, a very weak sounding "Arthur! Is that you?" Inspector Eastman replied, "No, this is Inspector Eastman with the IG's office!" There was a brief pause, "Come in!" the voice eventually declared. Eastman found this door to be unlocked as well, and an obviously feverish man laying in the bed, "Is Arthur all right?" came the immediate question, "I haven't heard fro-ough!-oghhf!" he coughed violently, which cut him off. Eastman noticed the blood immediately. "Was Arthur sick like you are?" he asked. "Yes, went to hospital last night." the man replied hoarsly, recovering from his fit. "Why haven't you called an ambulance?" Eastman asked. The man looked out from beneath his mop of sweaty hair and the grimy blankets he had pulled up to his chin, "You don't think I would have if I could afford it!" Ambulance services in Mazaraan were privately owned, and as they say, there are no free rides. Penalties for indebted persons were stiff.

"I'm calling you an ambulance." Eastman said, "And what hospital did you say Arthur was taken to?"

[Newtdom]

NRCGS Shelter
Sovereignty Class Littoral Combat Ship
Koltomian Sea

Ever since the Gholgoth Civil War, the Empire had increased its permanent presence in the waters of Varathron. Thirty-five Sovereignty Class Littoral Combat Ships had been reclassified from the naval auxiliary and placed on active coast guard duty, and stationed throughout the Varathron Sea and island chain. Their primary duty was to offer support and defense to Imperial shipping in the region, but could also perform search and rescue, policing of maritime disputes, and search and destroy missions against piracy and other belligerents in the area.

Commanding the Shelter was Lieutenant Commander John Hall. He was tall and lean with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He had entered the Coast Guard as a rescue swimmer after graduating from college through an OCS program geared towards commoners, and was put in charge of an installation on the north coast of the homeland. But after a severe injury to his lower back, he was reassigned as a surface ship officer. Hall had just been given command of the Shelter , essentially a two year long test to see if he was worthy of a promotion and a cutter, and was excited for his opportunity.

The young skipper sat in the captain's chair, overlooking the high-tech bridge. The Royal Navy had commissioned the Sovereignty and Authority Classes simultaneously to offer a replacement for aging destroyers. However, it became clear that the ships were far too small for line duty and were quickly relegated to support and the auxiliary fleets. The high tech design offered one major advantage for the Coast Guard, and that was automation, only sixty crew members were needed to man the 525 ft long ship. However, seventy-five was the standard muster list.

A Petty Officer Second Class sat at the RADAR station watching the black and green screen intently. He thought to himself How typical...another day and no excitement . It had been like this for a while. With so many Gothic fleets in the area and peace restored to the region, Varathron's seas had been relatively quiet. The PO closed his eyes and yawned. Just has his yawn subsided a piercing ping went through his head set. He perked up and glanced at his screen " Skip!" he proclaimed, breaking the mundane silence of the bridge "Contact, cargo vessel at heading 2-7-7 degrees."

Commander Hall grabbed his binoculars from the desk to his right, and briskly walked to the starboard bridge window. He raised the looking glass to his face and focused it for the correct distance. As he stabilized his hands, the site of the large cargo ship came into view. Nothing peculiar stood out to Hall, but something dreadful still lingered in the back of his mind. Why would a ship be lost out here? this is not a standard shipping lane he thought to himself, Pirates? we hadn't seen any since we reached the station. Abandoned? but the life boats were still in place. he moved the binoculars to the stern to see what ensign the ship flew, but did not immediately recognize the colors. He turned toward another on the bridge and ordered "Carl, please bring me an ensign register."

The mariner grabbed the closest register book and brought it to Hall, who quickly rifled through the pages until he came to the correct page. The ship is...Finium. That's odd, Mr. Dowell, try and hail her."

Lieutenant Michael Dowell was a baby-faced, and stocky. A middle of the pack surface ship officer, who would probably never rise to command anything larger than a ship the size of the Shelter . Not particularly brave, and certainly not intimidating, he made up for his command short comings by being well liked by the crew. He made an adequate executive officer, at least for the Coast Guard. Dowell typed the message over a non-encrypted channel and sent the message to the Finium ship.

Finium Ship Durian this is the Newtdom Royal Coast Guard Ship Shelter what is your condition?

The message was sent, and Dowell expected an immediate response. He continued to repeat it over the course of two minutes and on various common frequencies used by merchant ships. After which he turned from the communication station and asked "Skipper, what could be taking them so long?

Hall shrugged and shook his head " Dowell " he said " bring us closer. Use the Aldis lamp and try to get a response. The Shelter turned towards the Durian and increased her speed. Dowell walked onto the fly bridge accompanied by two Petty Officers third class. One uncovered the signal lamp, while the other turned the power on. Once the light came to life, Dowell nodded and the same message was transmitted through morse code to the Finium merchant ship.

As the distance shrank between the two ships Dowell thought They have to see us, why aren't they responding . He motioned to the two crew members to continue their efforts at hailing the Durian , as he walked through the hatch to the bridge. He walked up to Hall and said Nothing, sir. We don't see anything.

Hall had been watching the Durian over the duration, he lowered his binoculars and looked at Dowell I know, something is wrong. I haven't seen a single member of the crew. Prepare a rigid and a Knight Hawk, and get a boarding party over there.

Dowell said Aye while he nodded to the CO. He quickly gathered his team on the helo deck on the aft of the ship. Twelve crew members would make the short trip to the Durian , four in the Knighthawk providing aerial support, while six would come alongside in the Zodiac. The team was kitted for a hostile boarding mission, the assumption was the Durian had been taken by pirates and the crew held hostage or killed. Dowell expected the worst as the Zodiac hit the water..

[Finium]

HMS Durian
Gallant Class Cargo Vessel
Koltomian Sea

Commander Verity wasn't a naval officer, but like most missions from the Empire, an Imperial Army officer was placed in command. He was reliant on the Durian's naval contingent of crusty old dockworkers and the seven Imperial Navy officers lead by Captain Josephine Aera. He had remained silent through most of the voyage, standing quietly in a corner of the bridge watching the officers speak in some salty dialect of Finian that he was completely unfamiliar with. Things went quite well with the mutual neglect that the army and naval officers paid to one another. A small malfunction in the engines was the only time Verity bothered to speak, and now they were two days late to their berthing in Varathon. A strict radio silence with and between the two ships had been imposed upon their exit from the Finian isles of Marid and Djinn, forcing them to create some makeshift solution that sailed over the tactically savvy officer; their only order was to arrive at Varathon and await instruction from Imperial Command.

That was why Commander Verity ordered the crew to clear the deck and refuse to respond to any messages when the Shelter approached; he couldn't afford to reveal his mission. That and he was frightened out of his mind the moment he saw the foreign ship approach. At first it was a simple hail requesting information, then the Aldis lamp; each attempt to communicate making the young commander more and more reluctant to respond. Finally they were right on the strange vessel, reportedly some Gholgoth nation. At long last, the short officer gave an order.

"Captain, secure the hold. Send the nearest sailors to stop them before they get on the deck." He commanded, his brown eyes squinting out through the dark glass of the cabin out onto the port side and the cautious group of intruders. They were military men, which frightened him; the sight of the Knighthawk convinced him that he wouldn't be able to float by without any further contact. A quiet curse silenced his previous order, "Belay that Captain, I will meet them myself."

He ran from the cabin and down a hall to his quarters where he ripped off his officer's jacket and threw on a civilian's coat. He turned in a circle searching for a prop to cement his image as a simple civilian, a clipboard came to his hands and he rushed from the chamber. Down the hall, to the left, down the ladder to where one of his men, still obviously a soldier, met him. They burst out onto the deck just as the twelve men began clambering aboard.

"You there! What are you doing?!" Verity shouted angrily, running to the side of the ship. He shivered slightly as the aircraft kicked a breeze across the vessel, wishing that he could have just shot the intruders and vanished in the mass of harbors that Disia was famous for.

Imperial Aircraft 221b
Disia

Ripclaw and Viceroy circled the Divine Passage, watching two crew members scramble around the deck in an effort to avoid the descending aircraft. Originally they had planned on landing in the local airport, but Commander Craven had radioed them earlier and requested that the visit his ship immediately upon their arrival. Felecia ordered the pilot to skip the pleasantries and aim strait for the ship and "step on it too". A matter of hours later, they were hovering over the divisive ship.

The helicopter landed with the usual bump of success and the door was ripped open by a man-at-arms, obviously a soldier not a sailor. "Good morning Ma'am!" He shouted over the still spinning blades, Commander Craven requests that you join him in the hold immediately!" Felecia stared at the man before leaping from the helicopter with Viceroy in tow; she was now officially worried. The number of reasons that he needed her in the hold came cascading before her eyes; they had an irreparable failure, the gold was fake, the locals had already seized the vessel, he was going kill her in the name of the rebellion. All of these were plausible in the sociopathic mind of the minister.

The soldier led them down into the hold, stopping briefly for Viceroy to heave his guts over the side. In the echoing dimness of the hold they came suddenly to a halt before a plexiglass window and the stern form of Commander Craven; the longtime runner of discreet goods for the Empire. His eyes were icy like Felecia's, so was his soul more than likely. The soldier gave a quick salute before vanishing back they way they came. Craven gave Viceroy a long look before beginning, he couldn't know how much everyone else knew; except for Felecia, who knew everything.

"Minister, one of the sailors has fallen ill. I can't confirm that it's the plague, but I didn't want to inform the locals without your authorization."

Her eyes snapped to the window. A sailor lay languishing quietly, his face covered with sweat and a trickle of something red. She stood frozen for a few moments, weighing the situation. This one sneezing fool would compromise the entire operation; something that could never happen with this level of wealth involved. The Empire was famous for removing the gold stores of conquered nations without a whisper of when or how they were moved, she wouldn't be the first to fail something as routine as a classified tribute.

"Kill him." She pronounced, "Kill him and get rid of the body quietly. If the locals found out, we wouldn't be able to leave without their own men sneaking around down here. What did you say your cargo was?"

"Medicinal supplies, as per protocol."

"Good, no one is ever suspicious of humanitarians." She smiled, it was always the humanitarians that got by without too many questions asked. "Inform the local authority that I have arrived and am interested in meeting with them to coordinate our cure efforts."

Viceroy was shocked; anyone would have been. Kill him. That was her pronouncement and apparently that was all it took to sentence the man.

Ma'am- he began.

She turned on him and gave him a sufficient stare that he understood his place in the scheme; very expendable. "Doctor, please don't, we're dealing with far greater matters that a single dock rat."