[b]2014 international incidents roleplayer of the year: Virana V.s. The Order of Takhisis[/url]
Virana, most commonly known as Emmeria, has become a well-known name in the field of NS rp of late, recently attaining the rank of II roleplay mentor. Arguably less well-known but no less skilful is the Order of Takhisis, a member of The Forgotten Lands who has made a name for himself with his descriptive story-based roleplay.
The Order of Takhisis:
She appeared, knifing through a cover of clouds, with the bow splashing them apart as if it were water of the high seas. The vessel massive beyond measure, undoubtedly the largest flying aerocraft to be seen in these peaceful skies. Turbines spun the many shafts leading to eight bladed propellers. The Leviathan crested just over one-hundred-eighty-six meters in length, and a beam of seventy plus meters. As the massive airship began to descend from it's service ceiling of eleven-thousand meters, it's features could start to be discerned to the naked eye.
The top of the vessel being dominated by twin conning towers, that were more or less mirrored by stubbier versions on the underside of the vessel. It also bore the look of something not entirely of this world, as it was not just simply an airship, but a dreadnaught of the skies. Visibly present were the eight 6 × 28 cm (11 in) guns on four turrets, with two turrets at the aft bearing the same cannon type. Littering the Yoweth ith class are thirty-two 20mm phalanx turrets, surrounding both the launch deck, and conning towers of top and bottom. The broadside weapons on the ship are ten 8 × 15 cm (5.9 in) cannons evenly divided between the left and right broadsides. Littering about on the dorsal and spinal areas of the vessel were the dual box launcher turrets, capable of firing air to air intercept missiles as well as air to ground anti-armor and or emplacements.
Most impressively on either flank of the vessel, at it's meatiest at least, were large emblazoned emblems of the Takhisian Imperial Knights, specifically regarding those of the Lily. It was a white flower atop twin blades, one facing up, and the other facing down. Wreathed in a slightly faded five headed dragon muted to be seen but not overwhelm the images atop it. Rising above the central mass of the warship, and extending above the bridge is a high mast which has both a listening post with numerous sounding horns as well as a lookout post. Attached to flutter in the wind was a flag bearing the image of the Takhisian Order and the Empire.
As she steamed towards her destination, two other versions also became apparent. They were much smaller, but still formidable and occupied a role akin to that of destroyers. While the Leviathan was of a burnt silver-platinum, these were a muted rust-burgundy with grey outlining. A smaller buzzing sound, and push prop fighters shot past those casual land based observers, streaking their silvered hides to gleam in the rising dawn's light. These were the defenders and interceptors held by the airships, and more could be deployed, but two was enough for what they were doing.
The radar signature alone would be sending spasms into the Tagmatine responders and it wasn't long before the communication officer was standing behind two pairs of enlisted sailors, proffering a sheet of teletype paper. While the airship looked as if it was some sort of archaic beast, they did have a merging of technologies for some things. The message was a polite greeting and of course notification of their arrival and that diplomatic personnel and entourage should number no more then five and so on.
The communication officer by name of Tyrel had a thin slice of hair atop his head, silvering as his age was much higher then many on the Leviathan. He was nearly fifty years of age and had a weathered face of which his green eyes peered forth out of. His uniform was like the other officers as it consisted of having closed lapels with the top open and gold edged lapels. The jacket having a long skirted coat, without a turnback. The uniform itself was a light blue and went with the colours of the lapels and so forth quite well.
He approached the raised command section of the bridge, passing several of the senior bridge officers to directly approach the Leviathan's Lord of Host, Duke of the North, Syious De'Wyren. My Duke, communications has sent the diplomatic message as requested. Syious had a hard look to him, he was just over one point eight meters in height, just a few centimeters taller then Tyrel actually. While younger then the communication officer, he was no less weathered, possessing an angular face of a Nordic like people.
Closely cropped grey hair lay atop his scalp, a tattoo lay across right temple in a series of lines with runic glyphs in what could only be a mentioning of something important. His uniform mirrored that of Tyrel's save it was white in hue. Very good Tyrel, inform the pilots to return to their berths and.. He glanced over towards the navigation officer, a woman named Estralita. Estralita, do bring us to hovering at proper height.
The woman in question was roughly the same height as her Duke, of which was pretty much an average overall. She was a brunette, hair cut to her shoulders and currently mostly under her officers cap. She nodded and began directing the team of six pilots needed to maneuver the Leviathan. Hover proper meant twenty-six meters above the ground, so essentially just above one's head. There was a subtle shift in the deck plates as the Leviathan and her escorts began the maneuver, of which her pilots were returning as this was going on.
As each Dhac fighter nuzzled up to the exposed grab hangers, which essentially secured the plane from about the nose and just before the engine so as not to snap the blades. One by one they were brought aboard, clanking gears upon the air as each was drawn aboard while the airship began to draw closer and closer to the ground. Tree's and the very earth would feel the reverberations of the many propeller's washes and the shadow cast by the Leviathan alone would and was probably cause for some alarm as it crested over land and homes alike.
From: Carried on a steel wind
Virana:
Ball Room
Blackdonian Palace
Afalia
As President Alex Vaziri entered the hall, he could not help but gasp in brief bewilderment at the monarchial formalities and preparations that surrounded him. His libertarian side seemed utterly out of place, philosophically averse to the ornate characteristics forming the fabric of nobility. Emmerian politics had always been somewhat anti-monarchial since the centuries-past independence from the Belfrasian kingdom. If there were the slightest threat that a monarchy would rise in Emmeria, Vaziri would stand at his door, his shotgun in hand, with a pioneer hat, a bandanna around his neck patterned as the Emmerian flag, and a shirt that read the nation's traditional motto: "Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God."
Unlike many of those in the room, Vaziri was a self-made man. Who would have guessed that an aspiring lawyer who took two weeks off college mourning the death of his bartender father would soon become president? That a student of above-average intelligence, who spent the first year out of law school nursing a gravely ill widowed mother and raising his two younger siblings, all while working at a local gas station, would soon lead the country? Even later when he was a successful small businessman, whose modest local law firm solidified his position in the middle class, he would have laughed if someone had told him that he would soon be his nation's chief executive.
At the same time, Vaziri admired the deep-rooted tradition characteristic of monarchies. After all, he was a conservative; and while Emmerian politics, even conservatism, had never typically incorporated monarchial concepts, the sheer historic, time-honored traditionalism of nobility fascinated him. He almost gaped at the brilliant decorations, the high-rising pillars of the ball room, the sheer attention to detail, and the lavishness these represented. From a glance it was easy to ascertain this was a historic event whose significance meant a lot to people.
Vaziri was no stranger to monarchial customs. He was close friends with King James of Belfras and Emperor Aaron III of New Belhavia, symbolic heads of state of two of his nation's closest allies. Vaziri understood the nature of his relationship to them extensively: as a head of state himself, he was their equal, and while he would show utmost respect and dignity to his counterparts, he would not bow down to them—both due to his own political convictions and his own merit as the leader of his country.
Back on the plane, one of his Secret Service security guards had asked, "Mr. President, we're supposed to like bow to the queen and call her 'Your Majesty,' right?"
Vaziri recalled looking at the guard and squinting his eyes. "Your charter," he had begun, referencing the Emmerian constitution, "states that no title of nobility shall be granted."
The guard had looked at him confusingly. "But… we aren't in the United Republic."
"The same rules apply," he had responded. Seeing the guard still flustered, he continued. "Now, of course, you treat them with utmost respect, and maybe even refer to them as 'Your Majesty' as a display of that respect." He looked around to the rest of his staff in the plane at the time, all of which were listening tentatively. "But I'd strongly prefer if none of you bowed to the queen or any other noble. You and I are their equals. No title of nobility shall be granted by the United Republic of Emmeria."
Of course, much of his staff—including Secretary of Defense Zain Arian, who had accompanied him—understood these principles fairly well, especially throughout previous state visits and through their own last-minute research. But to others, such as his wife and some lower staff members who had not yet visited a kingdom, this had been new news.
Vaziri himself wore nothing special. He had always disliked the militaristic extravagance of leaders who wore service dress uniforms. Instead, he wore a black suit with a deep red tie, matching the rich red of his wife's dress. The First Lady, Farah, was symbolically his proudest accomplishment, a woman who, even in her mid-40s, seemed to retain the beauty of her younger years. The two had been a reasonably happy couple throughout their 18-year marriage, with two beautiful children back home.
Alongside them was former president Washington Hayes. An African-Emmerian whose vice presidency skyrocketed him to the nation's top position for several months following the 2013 assassination of late President Luis Castilla (who had been president during the Titianician War in Afalia). Hayes, a longtime member of Congress and widely regarded as a liberal, had lost the presidential election in November 2013, his stance of fiscal liberalism and his Congressional background as a politician in Oured contrasting with Vaziri's conservative neoliberal economics and more localized, state-centric governorship. Hayes, as with both Castilla and Vaziri, had been a longtime supporter of increased cooperation between the United Republic and Afalia; indeed, Hayes had visited Afalia on state visits during his time as president and knew the prime minister fairly well.
Hayes walked with his wife on one side and United Republic ambassador Jake Harding on the other. Harding was Emmeria's chief diplomat in Afalia, working closely with the Royal Family, the elected government, and various other contacts throughout the country. Under Vaziri, diplomats had adopted a model focused on extensive involvement in communities across their assigned nations, spending weeks at a time away from the embassy building itself. It was, in fact, very rare for Harding to be at the embassy at all; when he wasn't coordinating diplomatic commerce between Oured and Blackdon, he was out sponsoring a small business conference or planning a charity auction or donating books to a local school. Harding himself wasn't the most skilled diplomat; while he had "people skills," he lacked an international relations background. He, like many Emmerian ambassadors, was a celebrity, geared towards winning sponsorships and support rather than conducting actual diplomacy. His diplomatic staff had significant autonomy in that respect; most of them had majored in international relations and maintained a deep understanding of the processes and forces concerning each aspect of foreign policy. They were the analysts and facilitators; he was the popular face of the embassy who signed off on their strategies. With that exposure he had gained much experience with international relations, but, while he enjoyed his position, he was still unpolished for a diplomat.
With them was Secretary of Defense Zain Arian. He didn't truly understand why the president had asked him to come; while an appointed head of a federal department, Secretary Arian generally disliked politics and diplomacy. He was a very down-to-earth, matter-of-fact man, a former military general. The Secretary of State, Alia Kouri, was unable to attend; she was on a separate visit to a different country. That was, Arian thought, the most likely reason Vaziri had asked him to come—behind the state secretary, Arian was the most important member of Cabinet and, for all intents and purposes, Cabinet's secondary facilitator of foreign affairs.
And so they stepped through the ball room, a group of Emmerians surrounded by dignitaries and leaders (and security guards, of course). They broke into groups, with Secret Service guards subtly following each, mingling and conversing with the Afalian nobles and the distinguished people that were spread throughout the ball room.
Blackdon military base
Afalia
The festive atmosphere of the ball room served as merely an artificial veil over the tension of the situation. Sure, a queen was to earn her crown that night. But what many had negligently buried in the back of their minds amidst the convivialities—everyone except the various security guards that stalked the room, their eyes constantly peeled—was that this country, though renowned for peacefulness and tranquility, was in a state of insurgency, the paramilitary Harling Freedom Army vigilantly watching the occasion and possibly, as predicted by Afalian, Emmerian, and everybody else's security forces, preparing an attack aimed at the leaders of the free world.
Just miles away from the palace at the military base, twelve Emmerian soldiers sat in the mess hall in full uniform wearing all their equipment, as if they were preparing to embark on a major operation. They wore no unit patches or distinctive insignia, only Emmerian flags; they mingled amongst those around them, but kept their backgrounds opaque; they wore and used equipment whose cost and sophistication would make military logistics officials upset; they only described themselves as "Emmerian special forces" who were in Afalia to "aid in establishing preventative security measures in preparation for the coronation." The reversed flag patches they wore on their shoulder and chest made their mission obvious: they were to protect the president of the United Republic and the rest of the team.
Afalia was no stranger to Emmerian special operations. In 2013, Titianician dictator Jack Lazin had invaded the peaceful Afalia in what became known as the Titianician War. During the conflict, U.R. naval special forces launched a daring submarine raid that ended in the renowned capture of Lazin in what is oft considered the most successful Emmerian special operation of their golden age of the past decade.
The SEALs who caught Lazin were honorable men who had received elite training. But the twelve men in Blackdon today were different. They were recruited from the special forces branches of the United Republic Army, receiving notoriously rigorous training that likely surpassed that of traditional special forces. They were part of the Army's Combat Applications Group (CAG), which was one of the Special Mission Units in the country's elite Joint Special Operations Command. These particular twelve formed a team handpicked for the mission: protecting the Emmerian president. Of course, should the president come under attack in an area dense with foreign dignitaries, working with foreign security forces in eliminating any attackers would become their secondary mission. Extensively trained in hostage rescue and unconventional warfare, the two most complex types of operations perhaps in existence, they were the Emmerian president's ace-in-the-hole.
From:Law, justice and Mercy
As I've had very little exposure to either, I'm going simply off of the rp samples. And off of those, it's close: however Virana has nudged the first vote by a hair.
