NATION

PASSWORD

The Grand Nicholia-Abiottis War (IC, MT-PMT, Semi-Open)

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

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Azi Altul
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Postby Azi Altul » Sat May 09, 2015 10:57 am

Claanyad wrote:
Azi Altul wrote:Azan smiled at the foreigner's request, but Raull remained wary, his brown eyes darting from each enemy man to another. The man wanted a feast, and he desired a drink. The Altan people were heavy drinkers, of course, and were known to outdrink any heathen man, but there wouldn't be much of a party if the large black Vaethis devoured the man's intestines, so Azan placed on a hand on the wolf's head, and whispered the calm command. With this, Raull's eyes gained their warmth back, and he ceased bearing his teeth. Azan laughed, and the great wolf sniffed at the foreign man's hand, licking it when he was finished, wagging his massive tail.
Azan's men cheered, and the foreign men popped opened their drinks, and the two civilizations feasted and drank and laughed, not as enemies, but as friends. For the next few days, they would share their stories, to allow a more suitable, holy fight, appeasable in the eyes of the Rider.

Of course, Getúmen was intrigued by this 'Azan' fellow. He had never seen a larger man in person, and the way he held himself was admirable. And he was definitely honourable, perhaps even honour-bound. The way he looked after his large wolf, apparently named Raull, was admirable. Though Getúmen knew that he was very likely going to die at this conflict, or at least return home with many... changes, he still wanted to enjoy the experience in the camp of the 'enemy. And to be honest, he did not find the Altans to be enemies after a while. Learning their customs and drinking with them had almost removed the sense that they were at war. It intrigued Getúmen.
Finally, at some point, he approached Azan, drinking horn filled with Clányan Śwod in hand, and his tacal still close to his person. He had never let it go since he arrived in the camp - he felt it made him more respectable. He knew that the Altan people were a lot larger built than Clányans, so he needed all the help he could get in looking masculine. His tacal had always made him feel more respectable. But he approached Azan anyway, and bowed to his soon-to-be opponent.
"May I sit, R†hul?" he asked, hoping to sound honourable as he said it.


Azan laughed, and opened a spot next to his new acquaintance. The Altans had a word for people like him, that was not a word found in any other language, to Azan's knowledge. The closest meaning Azan had found was somewhere between friend and enemy. It was a word used to describe one's respected equal, but was not quite a nemesis, nor was the bond defined as friendship. The word was chall. This man was Azan's chall, and it had been many years since he had found a suitable chall.
"Sit, chall. How have you found our people so far? A bit different from your civilization, I assume."
As he said this, two younglings had started a brawl. They used their fists, as they were not yet old enough to have been given a fascis, or taken one from a fallen warrior. Their vaethis pups were pacing around one another, their backs arched and their ears pressed to their heads, growling defensively. This was expected in Altan feasts, as the men, especially younglings, were even more territorial drunkards. The older on, a child by the name of Clut, had instigated the fight with the younger, more spritely youth named Bath, over the attention of a young girl. Bath, being the more intelligent, quick witted one, had Clut in the mud within minutes, and the men around the camp roared with laughter, and the young girl graced Bath's bravery with a kiss, leaving him red faced.
The Claanyan men were mildly more hesitant in the partying, but could hold their drinks well enough. Raull himself was courting a shewolf, nudging her neck with his powerful face and pouncing playfully on her. She seemed to reject his advances, but the shewolves always made their mates fight for their affections. Azan took a deep drink from the Claanyan horn, which left an enjoyable aftertaste in his mouth. He was enjoying himself, with his new chall, and was almost sad he'd soon have to kill the man.

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Balashov
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Postby Balashov » Sat May 09, 2015 3:27 pm

High above Grand Nicholian airspace, a dark aircraft cut through the thin, cool air. This aircraft, an F-22 raptor, was blackened to blend in with the night sky. It was equipped with the standard weaponry of the jet, but also with a reconnaissance camera. Lt. Joki Vladovich piloted this machine. "Overwatch, this is Raptor" the pilot spoke into his mouth piece as the jet soared across the terrain, "Raptor is engaging in mission specified - over"

"Copy that Raptor," Overwatch responded, "mission is a go"

In the darkness, Vladovich smiled. He lived to do this - he had been flying since age 16. Born reading patriotic propaganda, he had desired to fight for his country and King, and one day, die for them. His gloved hand reached out to the control panel and flipped the switch - "Camera system engaged" a voice spoke through the system. On a screen to the right, images of the ground began flashing as the camera snapped pictures of the terrain. This was only a test though, to make sure the camera system was working properly. Soon, he would be upon the reported enemy positions.

The peacefulness of the high skies brought ease to Lt. Vladovich's life. Up here, he was away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. He was away from the rules, the bosses, the people he hated. His time 10,000 ft. above allowed him to just think and relax. It worked as a destresser for his sometimes tangled mind. Minutes later, the same voice came onto the system speaker "Camera completed, disengage". The same gloved finger reached up and flipped the switch off - everything was in working order. Vladovich began to close his eyes and relax - soon he would be in the target zone.

A loud alarm accompanied by a flashing red light began to blare, disturbing the tranquility of the night sky. "ALERT, ALERT, SYSTEM MALFUNCTION, EMERGENCY SHUT DOWN" the system blared. His eyes wide awake, Lt. Vladovich looked out of the cockpit. His engine belched smoke and fingers of flames flickered through the cracks. "Shit!!" he yelled. "Overwatch, mayday mayday. Aircraft malfunction, I repeat, aircraft malfunction. Raptor is going down, I repeat, Raptor is going down,"

The F-22 Raptor descended rapidly through the air, hurtling towards the ground below. Lt. Vladovich desperately pulled on the ejection cord, to no avail. Something was stuck. "Overwatch, this is Raptor. Ejection malfunction. pilot is going down with ship. I bid my nation farewell. All glory to King Zuri I" The plane slammed into the ground moments later, erupting into a large fireball seen miles around, lighting up the night sky. Burning metal flew through the air, slamming into the forest around the crater. Lt. Vladovich was effectively dead, yet he died a hero for Balashov.



On board the HRS Vlasnok, a team of 8 Black Battalion members were boarding a helicopter. All of the black faces, dressed in dark came fatigues, carried a multitude of weaponry. Their mission - to recover the body of the downed pilot. Lt. Yohan Alkin, the commander of this elite unit, looked at his men. They were being lifted for the first time of this war into Grand Nicholia. Uncertainty awaited them... along with savage, blood thirsty warriors and highly sentient drones. "Men," he spoke up for the first time after the briefing, "we're most likely going to encounter these beasts rescuing this downed hero. I imagine it will be a little easier than hunting bucks in the forests back home." Of course the lieutenant didn't believe that, but he needed to boost the moral and confidence of his men. "If we die, we die with dignity. No man taken prisoner, no man surrendering. We are fighting till the last breath, if needed. Let's get em' boys!" The 7 other men in the chopper grunted in approval as the chopper raced towards the pinned crash site coordinates.
The views of Balashov do not entirely represent my real-life views
I do not RP by my NS statistics

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Azi Altul
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Postby Azi Altul » Sat May 09, 2015 4:03 pm

While the feasting and drinking commenced, a small hunting party of twelve rode through the forests, on their way back from scouting a large village discovered days earlier. The village consisted of nigh on 100 homes, one main building where their R†hul resided, but no warriors could be seen upon close inspection. Bassho was disheartened by this news, as he needed a to prove himself somehow, in his R†hul's eyes. Azan the great destroyer had always paid little attention to him, but that would soon change. He had been given a patrol of 11 seasoned warriors, all known throughout the Altan society, three even possessing their own titles, Cthu the brave, Mtil the cruel, and Mazz the quick, who was the only woman warrior in all of the hordes. If Bassho gained their respect as a leader, they would soon let the other men know, and Azan himself would hear of his bravery and cunning.
On the way back, they saw a metal bird, flying over them, that soon lost its way. It plummeted to the earth, in a brilliant display of fire. The patrol's wolves howled at the noise produced by the crash. It probably hurt their ears, which had a very strong sense of hearing. In an attempt to calm his beast down, Bassho covered the wolf's ears, but that only seemed to antagonize him further. Mazz laughed, having already calmed her shewolf down.
'No little warrior, do not stifle the Vaethis' senses, they will one day save your life. You must not quiet the ears, but the mind." With this, she placed a hand on his wolf's head, and whispered something in ancient Altan. Bassho had yet to learn the language, but he had tried his best. He simply couldn't retain the ancient language. His wolf, Ballthro, immediately stopped howling, and nuzzled Mazz's hand.
"You see, little warrior? Be kind to your wolf, and he will forever be yours." She said with a laugh.
Bassho's face went warm as the adult's laughed knowingly at him, for he knew they thought him a fool. He had to reign them in.
"We must march the metal bird, and take it back to R†hul. He will want to know what resides in his forest."
The adults spoke to one another in the ancient tongue, shrugged, and eventually followed him. Another metal bird, this one smaller and rounder, with fast, almost unseeable wings above its body, had landed next to the larger, longer bird.
Much to the party's surprise, men popped out, armed with fire sticks. They walked towards the metal bird, and inspected its corpse. Bassho saw his chance. He charged the heathen men, determined to prove his bravery to Azan, with an enemy heart.
Last edited by Azi Altul on Sat May 09, 2015 4:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Grand Nicholia
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sat May 09, 2015 5:14 pm

"Hello, girl." Said the 65 year old Archbishop to Travvy as he slowly entered her room. "How have you been doing?" Asked the Archbishop as he slowly approached Travvy. He then put his hand on her shoulder and attempted to gingerly play with her hair, but he pulled his hand away and felt disguted. Disgusted at the fact he fell for the young girl. He then sat down at a chair and asked "How was your day? Was it good?" He said shamelessly as he knew she would reply with a complaint.
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sat May 09, 2015 5:18 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Azi Altul
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Postby Azi Altul » Sat May 09, 2015 5:27 pm

Travvy looked at the man who killed her baby with disgust. Disgust for his face, disgust for his throat and the fact that he still drew breath, disgust that she had let a slimy worm like him kill her baby.
"I'm feeling great, thank you. And you, you slimy piece of shit? How are you, on this fine morning?" She said spitefully. I hope you slept well, knowing that you're a murderous waste of existence." She spat in the man's eye, a sign of great disrespect in all societies. She and the maid had been planning her escape, and they were planning on acting on it come nightfall. Before she left, she was going to cut this man's balls off and feed them to him, of course. She was yet to disclose that part of the plan with the kind maid, though. Travvy would share that later, and hope it went over well.
The man was infatuated with her, she knew, but he was a weak man, and had no right to claim her. She would be sure to use the old man's love to her advantage, though.
Last edited by Azi Altul on Sat May 09, 2015 5:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Grand Nicholia
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sat May 09, 2015 5:33 pm

Azi Altul wrote:Travvy looked at the man who killed her baby with disgust. Disgust for his face, disgust for his throat and the fact that he still drew breath, disgust that she had let a slimy worm like him kill her baby.
"I'm feeling great, thank you. And you, you slimy piece of shit? How are you, on this fine morning?" She said spitefully. I hope you slept well, knowing that you're a murderous waste of existence." She spat in the man's eye, a sign of great disrespect in all societies. She and the maid had been planning her escape, and they were planning on acting on it come nightfall. Before she left, she was going to cut this man's balls off and feed them to him, of course. She was yet to disclose that part of the plan with the kind maid, though. Travvy would share that later, and hope it went over well.
The man was infatuated with her, she knew, but he was a weak man, and had no right to claim her. She would be sure to use the old man's love to her advantage, though.

The Archbishop was horrified by the the girls insult. He quickly slapped her and walked out of the room, bitter with dispointment. But, he knew she would be his, even if he had to force the desire. He quickly went to his study and read his favourite book, The Arabian Nights.
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sat May 09, 2015 5:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Claanyad
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Postby Claanyad » Sat May 09, 2015 10:09 pm

Balashov wrote:

20 miles off the Northern coast of Grand Nicholia
Admiral Burgiak stood, peering out through the windows overlooking the Claanyan fleet. The transmission had come through - the Lord High Commander would be arriving soon. The Admiral was dressed in his white naval garb, with his white hat on top on his head. His left chest was adorned with medals of previous wars, engagements, and honors. His right chest had his rank insignia, the Northern Fleet's badge, and the royal pin of the Kingdom. Burgiak had met with other commanders, yet, this time, he was bit more nervous. His palms were sticky with sweat. This would be the first meeting of the war between two coalition commanders and both fleets were only 20 miles away from a war-torn country. The fleets needed to be ready for anything. "Vice Admiral," Burgiak barked, "is everything prepare for his arrival? Is the intel ready? What about the maps, fleet size, and satellite info?" The Admiral was obviously nervous, hoping this first meeting would go well.

Burgiak's mind began to drift - What is the size of this Claanyan force? Where are they headed to and what is their objective for the time being? he began to wonder, If they're an invasion force, where do they plan on entering the nation? Surely the coasts of Grand Nicholia are being watched by the invasion force.. What reconnaissance have they done? Have they been in contact with the GN? A million thoughts flew through the Admiral's mind.

"Sir, do not fret.," Gorbachev interrupted his thoughts, "Everything is in order, I have made sure of it. We are fully prepared for your meeting with the Claanyan commander. Shall I order up the bottle of whiskey and some cigars? For formalities?"

"Yes, do so." the Admiral responded. He was content and starting to relax. Gorbachev was handling everything splendidly, as was expected of him. One day, he would be the commander of this fleet, and Burgiak saw it to prepare him for the role. "Gorbachev," he said before the Vice Admiral left, "order our destroyers to be battle-ready. I feel like a sitting duck out here, without knowledge of where any of the enemies are."

The Vice Admiral saluted and left the room. Soon two destoryers, the HRS Checniak and the HRS Bravik, began to positions themselves on either side of the fleet. Quick cleaning was being done on the deck of the HRS Rollo I, as the ship began to look presentable. However, the planes were left in scramble-positions, in the case they need to be quickly deployed.

Cáðéit Cecáðéit Cascus was finishing up his uniform. He still wanted to look presentable, and his Clányan military uniform, though definitely smart, would not look as good as a crisp white formal uniform, he knew it. He fixed up his tie, and straightened some medals, many of which he had won in the Emperor's command. He looked down at them on his left side - they gave him a certain degree of pride. He was feeling such pride when an aide entered the cabin, saluted, then waited for the Lord High Commander's permission to continue.
"What is it?" The Lord High Commander asked, still looking in the mirror.
"Sir, we should be arriving by their ship... I believe its called the HRS Rollo, any moment. Do you want me to bring some of your plans with me on board?
The Lord High Commander considered this for a moment, then replied, "Yes. We shall need them to know our positions and troop movements if they are to be an effective ally. Bring the plans aboard - but keep backups here and on the Nefen. I don't want a repeat of 'the Céorceron incident', alright?"
"Yes, sir! I shall bring them aboard."
As the aide left the cabin, Cáðéit checked his reflection in the mirror. He looked decent enough - his moustache was neatly trimmed, his jacked clean and well-ironed, and he donned his cap. He looked like a real military man. Which is good, he thought, because that is what I am.
As he was making his way up to the deck, a voice boomed out through the comms system.
"ALL UNITS - PREPARE FOR IMMINENT DOCKING WITH HRS ROLLO. ALL UNITS - PREPARE FOR IMMINENT DOCKING."
Cáðéit smiled. "It's about time," he said, before fixing up his tie and walking brusquely towards the deck area.




Azi Altul wrote:Azan laughed, and opened a spot next to his new acquaintance. The Altans had a word for people like him, that was not a word found in any other language, to Azan's knowledge. The closest meaning Azan had found was somewhere between friend and enemy. It was a word used to describe one's respected equal, but was not quite a nemesis, nor was the bond defined as friendship. The word was chall. This man was Azan's chall, and it had been many years since he had found a suitable chall.
"Sit, chall. How have you found our people so far? A bit different from your civilization, I assume."
As he said this, two younglings had started a brawl. They used their fists, as they were not yet old enough to have been given a fascis, or taken one from a fallen warrior. Their vaethis pups were pacing around one another, their backs arched and their ears pressed to their heads, growling defensively. This was expected in Altan feasts, as the men, especially younglings, were even more territorial drunkards. The older on, a child by the name of Clut, had instigated the fight with the younger, more spritely youth named Bath, over the attention of a young girl. Bath, being the more intelligent, quick witted one, had Clut in the mud within minutes, and the men around the camp roared with laughter, and the young girl graced Bath's bravery with a kiss, leaving him red faced.
The Claanyan men were mildly more hesitant in the partying, but could hold their drinks well enough. Raull himself was courting a shewolf, nudging her neck with his powerful face and pouncing playfully on her. She seemed to reject his advances, but the shewolves always made their mates fight for their affections. Azan took a deep drink from the Claanyan horn, which left an enjoyable aftertaste in his mouth. He was enjoying himself, with his new chall, and was almost sad he'd soon have to kill the man.

Getúmen smiled, "It definitely is different, but your army is full of good people. I can understand why you are both feared and respected throughout our coalition."
He sat and pondered - how were such agreeable men and women on a different side of this war, and why was the coalition itself made up of many disagreeable elements? Why was it that men who could sit and drink together expected to fight? Because of politics.
Getúmen had no respect for Grand Nicholia. Were their forces to arrive here, he would be almost as quick to pick up his tacal to slice off one of their heads as any Altan man. And from the quick response he had received, he knew that was a quick response time. He didn't like the Nicholian methods, their strategies - heck, he knew that his beśahári, the Emperor, respected their King, but from what he had heard, Getúmen found him to be a repulsive man.
And yet, it appeared that Abiottis was no better. They seemed willing, from what the Emperor had told him, to kill their own candidate for marriage to spite the Nicholians, as well as kill the Dowager Queen. They were ruthless, yes, but was that the only reason for war? A denied marriage and a dead grandmother? It all seemed futile to Getúmen. And yet, here he was to fight with a man whom he respected, and was respecting more by the minute, over a war in two countries which neither of them had any real reason for fighting for. At least, he did not know of any reason the Altans had for siding with Abiottis - not directly, anyway. And Clányad had no real reason to support Grand Nicholia - at least, not in Getúmen's opinion.
But, his beśahári commanded as a friend and ally that Getúmen would face off against this man - no matter his personal opinions of him. Yet he was still interested, and almost sorry that he had to do it.
"Tell me, R†hul - why do you fight with those gyeŧat cofad... er, how do you say... Metal Men? I should have thought that they would have been as offending to your people as they are to ours. And by that, I mean exceedingly offending."
Last edited by Claanyad on Sat May 09, 2015 10:11 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Azi Altul
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Postby Azi Altul » Sun May 10, 2015 7:37 am

Azan grew serious at his chall's question, his eyes moving cautiously towards the metal man, who was sitting against a dying tree, sharpening a long, wicked knife. The metal man had refused any beverages, and was quite sullen throughout the festivities.
"Well, my chall, the metal man are a force that we can't hope to understand. They are an affront to the Rider, in his greatness. They do not breathe from nature, nor do they breathe at all. They don't even bleed, my chall. Their souls, what little they possess, are black with rage and pride. Their brilliance is unmatchable, but they are lacking in the good nature of man. I believe, that as flawed as they are, they are a gift from the Rider, our great lord, sent to assist in the purging of the heathen man of their sins through holy fire, and I would be a fool to deny his gifts."
Azan sat and contemplated his situation for a second, his hand resting on Raull's head, for the great wolf had given up on the courting of his shewolf.
"Perhaps I am mistaken, my chall, and I am feasting with my lord's gift, and have formed an alliance with the enemy. That is why this fight is necessary. Should I fall, then his majesty the Rider, has deemed my current path a foolish one. Should I leave victorious, then I know what I must do, as He has graced the metal man as a gift sent from above."
He laughed, and Raull placed his great head on Azan's lap.
"It matters not, my chall, the outcome of the battle. I am an old man, and Raull and I are growing tired."

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Claanyad
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Postby Claanyad » Sun May 10, 2015 5:01 pm

Azi Altul wrote:Azan grew serious at his chall's question, his eyes moving cautiously towards the metal man, who was sitting against a dying tree, sharpening a long, wicked knife. The metal man had refused any beverages, and was quite sullen throughout the festivities.
"Well, my chall, the metal man are a force that we can't hope to understand. They are an affront to the Rider, in his greatness. They do not breathe from nature, nor do they breathe at all. They don't even bleed, my chall. Their souls, what little they possess, are black with rage and pride. Their brilliance is unmatchable, but they are lacking in the good nature of man. I believe, that as flawed as they are, they are a gift from the Rider, our great lord, sent to assist in the purging of the heathen man of their sins through holy fire, and I would be a fool to deny his gifts."
Azan sat and contemplated his situation for a second, his hand resting on Raull's head, for the great wolf had given up on the courting of his shewolf.
"Perhaps I am mistaken, my chall, and I am feasting with my lord's gift, and have formed an alliance with the enemy. That is why this fight is necessary. Should I fall, then his majesty the Rider, has deemed my current path a foolish one. Should I leave victorious, then I know what I must do, as He has graced the metal man as a gift sent from above."
He laughed, and Raull placed his great head on Azan's lap.
"It matters not, my chall, the outcome of the battle. I am an old man, and Raull and I are growing tired."

Getúmen looked towards the gyeŧat cofad, his eyes shifting from one part to another, analysing every part of the creature sitting against the tree. He looked at his knife, and his joints, and any other part which he needed to see. He could tell it was a ruthless creature, and his beśahárí had told him the terrible things they had done. He despised the creature sitting there, even if he wasn't too keen on the Nicholians. His lips turned up to scowl at the creature, but then he returned to normal, and resumed the conversation.
"I see. That makes a bit of sense. Were Yúrh to offer us something these days, we would accept it openly."
He took a swig from the horn, and his attitude lightened.
"But, wars will be wars. And those who command us command us, eh? Tell me more about your people. I am curious to know."
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Balashov
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Postby Balashov » Sun May 10, 2015 6:12 pm

While the feasting and drinking commenced, a small hunting party of twelve rode through the forests, on their way back from scouting a large village discovered days earlier. The village consisted of nigh on 100 homes, one main building where their R†hul resided, but no warriors could be seen upon close inspection. Bassho was disheartened by this news, as he needed a to prove himself somehow, in his R†hul's eyes. Azan the great destroyer had always paid little attention to him, but that would soon change. He had been given a patrol of 11 seasoned warriors, all known throughout the Altan society, three even possessing their own titles, Cthu the brave, Mtil the cruel, and Mazz the quick, who was the only woman warrior in all of the hordes. If Bassho gained their respect as a leader, they would soon let the other men know, and Azan himself would hear of his bravery and cunning.
On the way back, they saw a metal bird, flying over them, that soon lost its way. It plummeted to the earth, in a brilliant display of fire. The patrol's wolves howled at the noise produced by the crash. It probably hurt their ears, which had a very strong sense of hearing. In an attempt to calm his beast down, Bassho covered the wolf's ears, but that only seemed to antagonize him further. Mazz laughed, having already calmed her shewolf down.
'No little warrior, do not stifle the Vaethis' senses, they will one day save your life. You must not quiet the ears, but the mind." With this, she placed a hand on his wolf's head, and whispered something in ancient Altan. Bassho had yet to learn the language, but he had tried his best. He simply couldn't retain the ancient language. His wolf, Ballthro, immediately stopped howling, and nuzzled Mazz's hand.
"You see, little warrior? Be kind to your wolf, and he will forever be yours." She said with a laugh.
Bassho's face went warm as the adult's laughed knowingly at him, for he knew they thought him a fool. He had to reign them in.
"We must march the metal bird, and take it back to R†hul. He will want to know what resides in his forest."
The adults spoke to one another in the ancient tongue, shrugged, and eventually followed him. Another metal bird, this one smaller and rounder, with fast, almost unseeable wings above its body, had landed next to the larger, longer bird.
Much to the party's surprise, men popped out, armed with fire sticks. They walked towards the metal bird, and inspected its corpse. Bassho saw his chance. He charged the heathen men, determined to prove his bravery to Azan, with an enemy heart.


The helicopter landed in the burning clearing near the downed plane. Pieces of metal were strewn about, with flames dotting the land. In the center was a massive burning mix of metal and jet fuel. Lt. Alkin knew at the site of this that there would be no body recovery. However, he had his orders to search - and an order was an order. "Men," he barked as the chopper touched-down, "scan the area for any sign of corpse. Be ready, this crash is sure to draw unwanted visitors.."

The unit of 8 fanned out, their weapons at ready. The light from the flames illuminated their paint-blackened faces. As their boots crunched the dirt underneath their feet, Lt. Alkin sensed something out of the ordinary. He heard what he believed to be footsteps in the darkness surrounding them. He held his hand up, to signal the unit to stop moving. Then, they burst out of the woods. "ENEMY CONTACT!" a private yelled. The unit scattered into different directions, taking cover behind anything they could. The charge came quickly, and the private who first saw them was cut down by the brute leading the charge. He let out a quick scream as his life ended. They came in fast on mighty wolves, their muscles rippling, their faces contorted in rage and bloodlust. The Battalion members began firing back. The clearing became alive with the cracking of the guns and lit up with the constant muzzle flashes. In the faint light, Lt. Alkin aimed down his sites. One of the brutes began to charge at him - Alkin held his finger down on the trigger and a stream of bullets flew out of the barrel and into the wolf's head. It took a few strides before collapsing into the dirt. The lieutenant began to aim at the rider's head when a rider came at him from the side and slit his throat. The dead lieutenant collapsed to the ground into a pool of blood. On the other side of the clearing, a concentration of three soldiers were firing at the riders from the side. Sgt. Golski, the squadron's heavy-machine gunner began spraying into their pack. The many bullets slammed into the bodies of the brutes and blood splashed out from them. He saw two collapse to the ground, however he was unsure if they were dead, so he put more rounds into their collapsed bodies. The man next to Golski, Cpl. Drasnog, aimed his assault rifle down range at another brute. He pulled the trigger and a stream of bullets flew out and into its head. it collapsed into the dirt as well. The third member of the battalion began running to another position where on his way he was cut down. He cried a blood-curdling scream as his body fell limp to the ground. Golski looked to his right to the other group of three. Tears began to form in his eyes as he saw them be overrun by the brutes and massacred in hand to hand combat. Him and Drasnog were the remaining two squadron members, and certain death awaited them. His hand grabbed his radio and he spoke calmly into it, "Overwatch, this is Black Battalion 3, mission unsuccessful. Our position is being overrun by brutes. We have taken several down but certain death awaits us. Requesting artillery strike on our coordinates - danger close."

As he spoke into the radio, Drasnog continued to fire at the pack advancing towards them. He sprayed into the group, landing several shots, but they continued to advance rapidly. A reply came back in through the radio "Black Battalion 3, hold your position. Jets have been scrambled and are on their way. Hold position, do not lose hope." Golski looked grimly at his brother in arms. Their dark eyes made contact and they knew what they had to do. They popped up, guns blazing. Gunshots rang through out the clearing as bullets found their mark in the torsos of the brutes. One fell to his knees before the top of his skull was blown off by a stream of bullets. They continued their assault and the two brothers continued firing. Another brute fell to the dirt below. Drasnog's last clip of ammo became empty. He then drew his combat knife and began to run at the advancing group. Before he could even cut down one of the brutes, a blade swiftly cut him down. His body lay broken in the dirt. Golski continued to fire, while he spoke on the radio "Overwatch, cancel the jets. Whole unit is down, I cannot hold out. Is not safe LZ to retrieve us. All glory to the King." One of his bullets found its mark - the skull of one of the brutes, who were now very close. Golski then hopped out from his cover, his knife drawn, and charged the remaining pack. He was quickly slain, and his body fell slowly towards the ground. As he fell, his muttered somewhat loudly, "I die for you my king...". A second later, his body hit the ground and a pool of blood quickly formed. In the clearing lie nine Balashovian bodies - the first casualties of this horrific war for the Royal Kingdom.



Cáðéit Cecáðéit Cascus was finishing up his uniform. He still wanted to look presentable, and his Clányan military uniform, though definitely smart, would not look as good as a crisp white formal uniform, he knew it. He fixed up his tie, and straightened some medals, many of which he had won in the Emperor's command. He looked down at them on his left side - they gave him a certain degree of pride. He was feeling such pride when an aide entered the cabin, saluted, then waited for the Lord High Commander's permission to continue.
"What is it?" The Lord High Commander asked, still looking in the mirror.
"Sir, we should be arriving by their ship... I believe its called the HRS Rollo, any moment. Do you want me to bring some of your plans with me on board?
The Lord High Commander considered this for a moment, then replied, "Yes. We shall need them to know our positions and troop movements if they are to be an effective ally. Bring the plans aboard - but keep backups here and on the Nefen. I don't want a repeat of 'the Céorceron incident', alright?"
"Yes, sir! I shall bring them aboard."
As the aide left the cabin, Cáðéit checked his reflection in the mirror. He looked decent enough - his moustache was neatly trimmed, his jacked clean and well-ironed, and he donned his cap. He looked like a real military man. Which is good, he thought, because that is what I am.
As he was making his way up to the deck, a voice boomed out through the comms system.
"ALL UNITS - PREPARE FOR IMMINENT DOCKING WITH HRS ROLLO. ALL UNITS - PREPARE FOR IMMINENT DOCKING."
Cáðéit smiled. "It's about time," he said, before fixing up his tie and walking brusquely towards the deck area.


On the deck of the HRS Rollo I, Admiral Burgiak stood patiently waiting as the Claanyan ship steamed toward the aircraft carrier. Next to Burgiak and slightly behind him stood Vice Admiral Gorbachev, and behind them stood the rest of the officers of the ship and the crew. All were at attention as the royal flag snapped in the wind. It was silent on board, except for a cough here and there and the rustle of the wind. As the ship neared closer, and eventually pulled port side to the aircraft carrier, the docking planks were lowered. The anthem of Balashov was played over the loudspeaker. Admiral Burgiak was excited, for he had researched some about this Lord High Commander, and he found out that they were both very accomplished men. The tall Admiral stepped forward to extend his hand as he saw the Claanyad commander step onto the deck of his ship.
The views of Balashov do not entirely represent my real-life views
I do not RP by my NS statistics

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Azi Altul
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Postby Azi Altul » Sun May 10, 2015 6:20 pm

Claanyad wrote:
Azi Altul wrote:Azan grew serious at his chall's question, his eyes moving cautiously towards the metal man, who was sitting against a dying tree, sharpening a long, wicked knife. The metal man had refused any beverages, and was quite sullen throughout the festivities.
"Well, my chall, the metal man are a force that we can't hope to understand. They are an affront to the Rider, in his greatness. They do not breathe from nature, nor do they breathe at all. They don't even bleed, my chall. Their souls, what little they possess, are black with rage and pride. Their brilliance is unmatchable, but they are lacking in the good nature of man. I believe, that as flawed as they are, they are a gift from the Rider, our great lord, sent to assist in the purging of the heathen man of their sins through holy fire, and I would be a fool to deny his gifts."
Azan sat and contemplated his situation for a second, his hand resting on Raull's head, for the great wolf had given up on the courting of his shewolf.
"Perhaps I am mistaken, my chall, and I am feasting with my lord's gift, and have formed an alliance with the enemy. That is why this fight is necessary. Should I fall, then his majesty the Rider, has deemed my current path a foolish one. Should I leave victorious, then I know what I must do, as He has graced the metal man as a gift sent from above."
He laughed, and Raull placed his great head on Azan's lap.
"It matters not, my chall, the outcome of the battle. I am an old man, and Raull and I are growing tired."

Getúmen looked towards the gyeŧat cofad, his eyes shifting from one part to another, analysing every part of the creature sitting against the tree. He looked at his knife, and his joints, and any other part which he needed to see. He could tell it was a ruthless creature, and his beśahárí had told him the terrible things they had done. He despised the creature sitting there, even if he wasn't too keen on the Nicholians. His lips turned up to scowl at the creature, but then he returned to normal, and resumed the conversation.
"I see. That makes a bit of sense. Were Yúrh to offer us something these days, we would accept it openly."
He took a swig from the horn, and his attitude lightened.
"But, wars will be wars. And those who command us command us, eh? Tell me more about your people. I am curious to know."


"That is a vague question, my chall." Azan laughed, and took another swig from the horn. "We come from the land of Azi Altul, a fallen empire who met its doom nigh on three thousand years ago, plagued by years of civil war. The land was divided by four R†huls, who each believed they were the sole ruler of the motherland's people. Eventually, the lands were destroyed, fires raging, the environment desolate and empty of life. At the realization of this, the four R†huls departed their homeland, each settling their own hordes and raiding new, undiscovered people." He stroked Raull's ears, and the massive beast licked the large man's hand, his brown dog-eyes staring warmly at his master's face.
"The Altan people were divided into four groups, which is why we today have the southlands, my people, the westerners, the peaceful northerners, and the fallen tribes of the east, who were purged by my ancestor, Raicus the Black, the first mortal to accept the mantle of the rider. And your people, my chall? Tell me of your history, of your customs."

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Grand Nicholia
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sun May 10, 2015 6:23 pm

Code: Select all
TO: CALL OF ABBIOTIS
FROM: THE KING HIMSELF, NICHOLAS XVI OF GRAND NICHOLIA
WE KNOW OF YOUR SYMPATHY TOWARDS AYA COMMA WE HOLD HER HOSTAGE NOW PERIOD IF YOU OR ONE OF YOUR ROBOTIC SIBLINGS COME TO THE PALACE AND SURRENDER THEMSELVES COMMA AYA WILL LIVE COMMA IF YOU OR ONE OF THEM DO NOT COME COMMA AYA WILL DIE PERIOD YOU HAVE 48 HOURS PERIOD

This letter was from the King to Call. It was written as an attempt to capture Call or any other robot. They doubted the fact that Call had any feelings for the Princess, but they were hope it did. It was also an attempt to make Grand Nicholia seem strong. The Princess Aya was locked in a small room that only contained a old wooden chair and a small table with candle on it, as well as a portrait on the wall of beautiful Indian Women riding on a Elephant and a little circular window. She was highly nervous as there was an armed guard outside her door ready to take the order. She was shaking, not only out of cold but of fear as well. The King was to stay awake for all 48 hours.
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sun May 10, 2015 6:33 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Abiottis
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Postby Abiottis » Sun May 10, 2015 6:45 pm

Two of the c16 admin drones remained occupied, including Call, but all of his brothers received the signal. They had a quick, telepathic conversation, deciding what was to be done.
My brothers, the Overview has given us the command to retrieve the little princess. We must do this. I am occupied, I fear, with the fleshy king of the Eredions. 983400, I must give this mission to you. Take a battalion of six spider drones, and two hundred p30s. That should prove sufficient to retrieve the young princess. You know what to do, don't use force unless they instigate it.
983400, known as Storm, set forth immediately. He had watched the battle at the royal palace, as had all the sentients, and had known he would be given this mission, or at least assumed. The savage lord had failed them, at the mountain valley, but that was to be excepted. The simpleton savages were even more degenerative than the rest of man, and the technological gap between them was similar to that of man and the federation.
They were about a day's march from the mountain palace, but that was alright. They would scourge the countryside even more than they already had, further decreasing the morale of the Nicholian people.
So far, two death camps had been established outside of the Nicholain territory, and already, 4% of the country's population had been put to work, and 1% of that had already been exterminated. The veers had scoped out the Nicholian territory, but one had been attacked and scavenged by the savage warriors. It was impossible to control them, it seemed.

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Grand Nicholia
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sun May 10, 2015 6:53 pm

Abiottis wrote:Two of the c16 admin drones remained occupied, including Call, but all of his brothers received the signal. They had a quick, telepathic conversation, deciding what was to be done.
My brothers, the Overview has given us the command to retrieve the little princess. We must do this. I am occupied, I fear, with the fleshy king of the Eredions. 983400, I must give this mission to you. Take a battalion of six spider drones, and two hundred p30s. That should prove sufficient to retrieve the young princess. You know what to do, don't use force unless they instigate it.
983400, known as Storm, set forth immediately. He had watched the battle at the royal palace, as had all the sentients, and had known he would be given this mission, or at least assumed. The savage lord had failed them, at the mountain valley, but that was to be excepted. The simpleton savages were even more degenerative than the rest of man, and the technological gap between them was similar to that of man and the federation.
They were about a day's march from the mountain palace, but that was alright. They would scourge the countryside even more than they already had, further decreasing the morale of the Nicholian people.
So far, two death camps had been established outside of the Nicholain territory, and already, 4% of the country's population had been put to work, and 1% of that had already been exterminated. The veers had scoped out the Nicholian territory, but one had been attacked and scavenged by the savage warriors. It was impossible to control them, it seemed.

The King felt the Robofreaks had a trick up their sleeves and decided to remobilize the 5,000 men from the battle before with the Savages. They were perched up in the Mountains ready to strike down all robotic items. The tanks and artillery were sent to Fort Grovenberg nearby. The King also had the Princess Aya tied to a chair with a guard with a knife to her throat ready to kill her if the Robots get to close. They planned to kill Aya and start a battle once the robots were to enter the palace. Aya struggled with the Guards at first but gave up. A battle in the Mountains was about to commence.
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sun May 10, 2015 6:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Grand Nicholia
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sun May 10, 2015 7:05 pm

The King himself was not at the palace. The rest of the Royal Family was, but not him. He fled to the Hexagon where he and Commanding Officers of the Military and The Minister of the Military. They planned to attack one confirmed Concentration Camp. They planned to Strike the Camp at midnight and free the prisoners from the evil clutches of the Cyborgs. They would attack with 50,000 soldiers and 250 Tanks and 300 Armoured cars under the command of Major General Julio Murat. The Planned was named "The Black Rose Blossoms at Midnight" and was one of the largest planned military battle in Grand Nicholian History. The plans were very secretive and were kept in a safe in the basement of the facility. Murat's army was preparing at Fort Balo-Balo.
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sun May 10, 2015 7:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Claanyad
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Founded: Apr 10, 2015
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Postby Claanyad » Sun May 10, 2015 7:06 pm

Azi Altul wrote:"That is a vague question, my chall." Azan laughed, and took another swig from the horn. "We come from the land of Azi Altul, a fallen empire who met its doom nigh on three thousand years ago, plagued by years of civil war. The land was divided by four R†huls, who each believed they were the sole ruler of the motherland's people. Eventually, the lands were destroyed, fires raging, the environment desolate and empty of life. At the realization of this, the four R†huls departed their homeland, each settling their own hordes and raiding new, undiscovered people." He stroked Raull's ears, and the massive beast licked the large man's hand, his brown dog-eyes staring warmly at his master's face.
"The Altan people were divided into four groups, which is why we today have the southlands, my people, the westerners, the peaceful northerners, and the fallen tribes of the east, who were purged by my ancestor, Raicus the Black, the first mortal to accept the mantle of the rider. And your people, my chall? Tell me of your history, of your customs."

Taking another drink of the śwod in the horn, Getúmen nodded, and continued on with the question he was asked.
"Well, R†hul, there is much to tell, but I shall condense it. We hail from Clányad, an empire founded by the great warrior Getúmen Cecadoran, whose name I share. He was given a great banner by Yúrh, our chief God. We still carry its design to this day," he said, gesturing to his soldiers wearing green cloaks with armour painted with white crosses on green, and the barrels which all held the same cross, "It was told that whomever held this banner in battle would forever be victorious. Of course, Getúmen's son, Leðarh Cecgetúmen Cívereś, was a fool, and forgot to use the banner in battle. He was killed in the first instant of battle, and his brother took over, promising to please Yúrh and his pantheon. Centuries passed, and the empire grew to magnificent proportions - we made discoveries, we built buildings, like the Great Library in Céorceron - and we subdued the surrounding regions which were full of other tribes and nations, none as great as our own. It was a grand empire - one which would have lasted for a thousand years to come."
Then Getúmen lost his patriotic fervour. He took another swig.
"But then, it was stolen. A thief came in the night and took our banner - Yúrh's banner. The Empire fell to pieces, in chaos and confusion. The cedongeŧ said that it would take years of sacrifices to Yúrh to appease him. Naturally, it did not work. All we hold now is a reflection of the banner that once was. Yúrh's power no longer runs through it, and it was defaced by the eagle of my beśahárí's house." He took a sip, the story closing, "Thus ended the true empire."
Getúmen was not a man of dishonour - he held the sacred oath of the god Beś with the Emperor. But he still wished that the old Empire was back - that the true sons of Yúrh would ride into battle with their banner flying high above the chosen Emperor. That horses would ride on the wings of the world and subdue all that lay under the sun. But those days were no more. Getúmen passed the śwod to the R†hul.



Balashov wrote:On the deck of the HRS Rollo I, Admiral Burgiak stood patiently waiting as the Claanyan ship steamed toward the aircraft carrier. Next to Burgiak and slightly behind him stood Vice Admiral Gorbachev, and behind them stood the rest of the officers of the ship and the crew. All were at attention as the royal flag snapped in the wind. It was silent on board, except for a cough here and there and the rustle of the wind. As the ship neared closer, and eventually pulled port side to the aircraft carrier, the docking planks were lowered. The anthem of Balashov was played over the loudspeaker. Admiral Burgiak was excited, for he had researched some about this Lord High Commander, and he found out that they were both very accomplished men. The tall Admiral stepped forward to extend his hand as he saw the Claanyad commander step onto the deck of his ship.

"My Admiral, it is good to see you," Cáðéit Cecáðéit Cascus said, stepping onto the deck and grasping the Admiral's hand. He shook it, as per custom, even if not his own custom. He did want to get down to business, but there was no point in rushing that. If it was possible to get to know the admiral, and thereby honour both of them, the he would do it.
"Take me where you would have me. Unless there are any other protocols you wish to carry out."
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Claanyad
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Postby Claanyad » Sun May 10, 2015 7:15 pm

Grand Nicholia wrote:
Abiottis wrote:Two of the c16 admin drones remained occupied, including Call, but all of his brothers received the signal. They had a quick, telepathic conversation, deciding what was to be done.
My brothers, the Overview has given us the command to retrieve the little princess. We must do this. I am occupied, I fear, with the fleshy king of the Eredions. 983400, I must give this mission to you. Take a battalion of six spider drones, and two hundred p30s. That should prove sufficient to retrieve the young princess. You know what to do, don't use force unless they instigate it.
983400, known as Storm, set forth immediately. He had watched the battle at the royal palace, as had all the sentients, and had known he would be given this mission, or at least assumed. The savage lord had failed them, at the mountain valley, but that was to be excepted. The simpleton savages were even more degenerative than the rest of man, and the technological gap between them was similar to that of man and the federation.
They were about a day's march from the mountain palace, but that was alright. They would scourge the countryside even more than they already had, further decreasing the morale of the Nicholian people.
So far, two death camps had been established outside of the Nicholain territory, and already, 4% of the country's population had been put to work, and 1% of that had already been exterminated. The veers had scoped out the Nicholian territory, but one had been attacked and scavenged by the savage warriors. It was impossible to control them, it seemed.

The King felt the Robofreaks had a trick up their sleeves and decided to remobilize the 5,000 men from the battle before with the Savages. They were perched up in the Mountains ready to strike down all robotic items. The tanks and artillery were sent to Fort Grovenberg nearby. The King also had the Princess Aya tied to a chair with a guard with a knife to her throat ready to kill her if the Robots get to close. They planned to kill Aya and start a battle once the robots were to enter the palace. Aya struggled with the Guards at first but gave up. A battle in the Mountains was about to commence.

Corhána entered the room and saw what the guards were doing to Aya. She ran over to them.
"Who instructed you to take Aya out of her safe place and do this to her? She should be in a safer place should the cybernetic soldiers arrive. Who instructed you to do this?"
Corhána was furious. She felt that she had built up a friendship with Aya, and now to see her tied to a chair with a knife to her throat, she could only imagine what was happening, and why.
"I command that you release Aya now, so that I can take her to a safer place. For all we know, those idiots are coming, and will want to kill her, maybe more than you. If she is safe, then she can be a valuable asset. If you hold her at knifepoint, then she is helpless, and unable to help us. And at the moment, we're quite helpless too. So I suggest that you release her now!"
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Grand Nicholia
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sun May 10, 2015 7:25 pm

Claanyad wrote:
Grand Nicholia wrote:The King felt the Robofreaks had a trick up their sleeves and decided to remobilize the 5,000 men from the battle before with the Savages. They were perched up in the Mountains ready to strike down all robotic items. The tanks and artillery were sent to Fort Grovenberg nearby. The King also had the Princess Aya tied to a chair with a guard with a knife to her throat ready to kill her if the Robots get to close. They planned to kill Aya and start a battle once the robots were to enter the palace. Aya struggled with the Guards at first but gave up. A battle in the Mountains was about to commence.

Corhána entered the room and saw what the guards were doing to Aya. She ran over to them.
"Who instructed you to take Aya out of her safe place and do this to her? She should be in a safer place should the cybernetic soldiers arrive. Who instructed you to do this?"
Corhána was furious. She felt that she had built up a friendship with Aya, and now to see her tied to a chair with a knife to her throat, she could only imagine what was happening, and why.
"I command that you release Aya now, so that I can take her to a safer place. For all we know, those idiots are coming, and will want to kill her, maybe more than you. If she is safe, then she can be a valuable asset. If you hold her at knifepoint, then she is helpless, and unable to help us. And at the moment, we're quite helpless too. So I suggest that you release her now!"

"By the instruction of His Excellent Majesty, Nicholas XVI, Aya is too be killed as soon as the Drones arrive. Reason being the fact Aya is found useless and it would spark a battle we could win as our soldiers lie in the mountains. You have no jurisdiction over our actions as this is an order from the King who fled to the Hexagon." said the Guard ready to kill Aya to Corhana. Aya had a frightened look on her face and looked at Corhana as she was asking for help with her expression. The Crown Prince Philippe was one of the Captains that commanded a group of 100 soldiers in the Mountains and the Queen hid herself and her daughter the Princess Marie Louise in the basement of the Palace so no else really cared about Aya.
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sun May 10, 2015 7:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Azi Altul
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Postby Azi Altul » Sun May 10, 2015 7:27 pm

Bassho had fallen in the brawl, but remained alive and conscious. Mtil had fallen in the battle, and so had five other warriors and their mounts. Worst of all, was the loss of his pup, Ballthro, who had fallen quickly once the brawl had started. Bassho hung his head over the fallen wolf, but immediately found himself kicked to the ground. He looked up to see Mazz standing on top of him, her knife drawn and her eyes angry.
"You fool!" She said, pressing the heel of her foot into his throat. "Nobody had to die, you idiot, they were a group of eight weaklings!" She gave forth a sudden burst of anger, and Cthu grabbed her and held her head against his shoulder. Bassho looked around at the casualties, and saw her red haired shewolf had fallen as well. She had died protecting her master, as Ballthro had died fulfilling his master's wishes. He was a good pup, though Bassho, and he should have realized that before it was too late. He crashed to the ground, and slowly lost consciousness.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Azan grabbed the horn from his chall, and took another drink, finishing it off.
"That is a sad story indeed, my chall. In the hordes of our great Rider, I know that you will find a warrior's paradise, and I believe that your fallen empire, if it is as great as you make it out to be, you will meet them as well. That is where we differ, from the metal man. They have nothing to fight for, whether it be a god, peace, or even a tangible future. They fight for their master, a creature from the nightmares of man, but that's it. All they want is the termination of all that is good."

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Claanyad
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Postby Claanyad » Sun May 10, 2015 8:00 pm

Grand Nicholia wrote:
Claanyad wrote:Corhána entered the room and saw what the guards were doing to Aya. She ran over to them.
"Who instructed you to take Aya out of her safe place and do this to her? She should be in a safer place should the cybernetic soldiers arrive. Who instructed you to do this?"
Corhána was furious. She felt that she had built up a friendship with Aya, and now to see her tied to a chair with a knife to her throat, she could only imagine what was happening, and why.
"I command that you release Aya now, so that I can take her to a safer place. For all we know, those idiots are coming, and will want to kill her, maybe more than you. If she is safe, then she can be a valuable asset. If you hold her at knifepoint, then she is helpless, and unable to help us. And at the moment, we're quite helpless too. So I suggest that you release her now!"

"By the instruction of His Excellent Majesty, Nicholas XVI, Aya is too be killed as soon as the Drones arrive. Reason being the fact Aya is found useless and it would spark a battle we could win as our soldiers lie in the mountains. You have no jurisdiction over our actions as this is an order from the King who fled to the Hexagon." said the Guard ready to kill Aya to Corhana. Aya had a frightened look on her face and looked at Corhana as she was asking for help with her expression. The Crown Prince Philippe was one of the Captains that commanded a group of 100 soldiers in the Mountains and the Queen hid herself and her daughter the Princess Marie Louise in the basement of the Palace so no else really cared about Aya.

Corhána looked towards Aya - pity, sorrow and dread in her eyes. She knew that she had to do something. She turned on a device which her father had made her carry in her pocket - she had never understood quite why, until now. She knew what she had to do. As she activated the device with her heft hand, unable to be noticed by the guards, she slapped the guard with her right hand.
At that point, she was just filled with adrenaline, and her mind was set on two tasks - get Aya out, and get out herself. She grabbed Aya's hand, which had come free from the Guard, and she began to pull her away from the other guard. She remembered screaming, "RUN", or some equivalent. She hoped that they would escape, but her mind had clouded over, and she as just set on achieving that goal.
Last edited by Claanyad on Sun May 10, 2015 8:01 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Grand Nicholia
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Founded: Mar 13, 2015
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Postby Grand Nicholia » Sun May 10, 2015 8:14 pm

Claanyad wrote:
Grand Nicholia wrote:"By the instruction of His Excellent Majesty, Nicholas XVI, Aya is too be killed as soon as the Drones arrive. Reason being the fact Aya is found useless and it would spark a battle we could win as our soldiers lie in the mountains. You have no jurisdiction over our actions as this is an order from the King who fled to the Hexagon." said the Guard ready to kill Aya to Corhana. Aya had a frightened look on her face and looked at Corhana as she was asking for help with her expression. The Crown Prince Philippe was one of the Captains that commanded a group of 100 soldiers in the Mountains and the Queen hid herself and her daughter the Princess Marie Louise in the basement of the Palace so no else really cared about Aya.

Corhána looked towards Aya - pity, sorrow and dread in her eyes. She knew that she had to do something. She turned on a device which her father had made her carry in her pocket - she had never understood quite why, until now. She knew what she had to do. As she activated the device with her heft hand, unable to be noticed by the guards, she slapped the guard with her right hand.
At that point, she was just filled with adrenaline, and her mind was set on two tasks - get Aya out, and get out herself. She grabbed Aya's hand, which had come free from the Guard, and she began to pull her away from the other guard. She remembered screaming, "RUN", or some equivalent. She hoped that they would escape, but her mind had clouded over, and she as just set on achieving that goal.

"Get those runaways! There are two girls on the run throughout the palace! Bring the marked one to me dead, bring the Crown Princess to be to the Elephant room!" yelled the Guard into a walkie talkie to the Guards. By marked one he meant Aya. And By Elephant Room he meant the room Aya was in. The Crown Princess to be could be charged with treason. The Guards could act as they please as the Royal Family was not near. He could have Corhana shot dead if he wanted. If the Crown Prince was here, he would of defended his Fiance faithfully and the King would have Corhana pardoned. The Guard acted as Guard, judge, and executioner all at the same time. He wanted Aya dead, Corhana locked in a room with communication to the outside world. He would not care if it would cause an international incident! He and his guards chased them down the hall, and eventually gave permission to shoot tranquilizer darts at them. As they ran down the hall they eventually reached the back door, where Corhana made the decision to.....
Last edited by Grand Nicholia on Sun May 10, 2015 8:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Claanyad
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Posts: 879
Founded: Apr 10, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Claanyad » Sun May 10, 2015 8:25 pm

Azi Altul wrote:Bassho had fallen in the brawl, but remained alive and conscious. Mtil had fallen in the battle, and so had five other warriors and their mounts. Worst of all, was the loss of his pup, Ballthro, who had fallen quickly once the brawl had started. Bassho hung his head over the fallen wolf, but immediately found himself kicked to the ground. He looked up to see Mazz standing on top of him, her knife drawn and her eyes angry.
"You fool!" She said, pressing the heel of her foot into his throat. "Nobody had to die, you idiot, they were a group of eight weaklings!" She gave forth a sudden burst of anger, and Cthu grabbed her and held her head against his shoulder. Bassho looked around at the casualties, and saw her red haired shewolf had fallen as well. She had died protecting her master, as Ballthro had died fulfilling his master's wishes. He was a good pup, though Bassho, and he should have realized that before it was too late. He crashed to the ground, and slowly lost consciousness.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Azan grabbed the horn from his chall, and took another drink, finishing it off.
"That is a sad story indeed, my chall. In the hordes of our great Rider, I know that you will find a warrior's paradise, and I believe that your fallen empire, if it is as great as you make it out to be, you will meet them as well. That is where we differ, from the metal man. They have nothing to fight for, whether it be a god, peace, or even a tangible future. They fight for their master, a creature from the nightmares of man, but that's it. All they want is the termination of all that is good."

"Here here to that," he said, taking the horn and throwing it as far as he could, as was customary. It hit a tree, but it was picked up by one of the wolf creatures. According to Clányan culture, that sort of thing was not a good sign. It was supposed to foreshadow the death of the Clányan person who threw it. But he chose not to tell Azan - he did not want to ruin the mood, or bolster his courage.
He considered what he was told by Azan. He thought back to his own rituals - if he were to die, he might join the yetŧ in the heavens, only if he had pleased Rhol in life, and once the Verasyetŧ was called in Clányad, then they would return, but only as they would be needed. He had always hoped that he would find the heroes of old in the heavens, and Getúmen Cecadoran most of all. If Azan was right, he would surely be with the rider. Getúmen did not know if perhaps the Rider and Yúrh were the same God in different forms, or if the views were actually conflicting. He felt like he knew very little.
He still tried to lighten the mood, though, and stood with his tacal, offering a hand to Azan.
"Today, we feast, and in the night, we party then sleep. For tomorrow, we fight. Good luck, friend."
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Azi Altul
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Posts: 60
Founded: Feb 15, 2015
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Postby Azi Altul » Sun May 10, 2015 8:28 pm

Azan stood up, and nodded to his new chall, shaking his hand. The handshake was a strange custom used by the non-Altans, that had never quite made sense to him, but he did it nonetheless.
"Good night, my chall. I wish you the best of luck, in the upcoming battle."
Raull himself stood up, stretched lazily, and walked over to Getúmen, his tail wagging. He sat in front of the man, and licked his hand, nuzzling it slightly. Azan smiled at his great wolf's affection, spoke the come command in ancient Altan, and walked through the night. He'd need his rest, for this man would prove a deadly opponent, come the morning.
Last edited by Azi Altul on Sun May 10, 2015 8:39 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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Claanyad
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Posts: 879
Founded: Apr 10, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Claanyad » Sun May 10, 2015 8:40 pm

Grand Nicholia wrote:
Claanyad wrote:Corhána looked towards Aya - pity, sorrow and dread in her eyes. She knew that she had to do something. She turned on a device which her father had made her carry in her pocket - she had never understood quite why, until now. She knew what she had to do. As she activated the device with her heft hand, unable to be noticed by the guards, she slapped the guard with her right hand.
At that point, she was just filled with adrenaline, and her mind was set on two tasks - get Aya out, and get out herself. She grabbed Aya's hand, which had come free from the Guard, and she began to pull her away from the other guard. She remembered screaming, "RUN", or some equivalent. She hoped that they would escape, but her mind had clouded over, and she as just set on achieving that goal.

"Get those runaways! There are two girls on the run throughout the palace! Bring the marked one to me dead, bring the Crown Princess to be to the Elephant room!" yelled the Guard into a walkie talkie to the Guards. By marked one he meant Aya. And By Elephant Room he meant the room Aya was in. The Crown Princess to be could be charged with treason. The Guards could act as they please as the Royal Family was not near. He could have Corhana shot dead if he wanted. If the Crown Prince was here, he would of defended his Fiance faithfully and the King would have Corhana pardoned. The Guard acted as Guard, judge, and executioner all at the same time. He wanted Aya dead, Corhana locked in a room with communication to the outside world. He would not care if it would cause an international incident! He and his guards chased them down the hall, and eventually gave permission to shoot tranquilizer darts at them. As they ran down the hall they eventually reached the back door, where Corhana made the decision to.....

Corhána tried to open the door, but it was locked. As the guards came closer to her, she shouted, but it seemed indistinct. No, it was Clányan. She was shouting to no-one in particular in Clányan, a language foreign to Nicholia. She continued shouting, not really thinking about what she was shouting about, just shouting instinctively. She felt a dart hit her in the neck, and her shouting trailed off, as her mind went blank and she fell to the ground.
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Balashov
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Posts: 98
Founded: Apr 29, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Balashov » Sun May 10, 2015 8:42 pm

Bassho had fallen in the brawl, but remained alive and conscious. Mtil had fallen in the battle, and so had five other warriors and their mounts. Worst of all, was the loss of his pup, Ballthro, who had fallen quickly once the brawl had started. Bassho hung his head over the fallen wolf, but immediately found himself kicked to the ground. He looked up to see Mazz standing on top of him, her knife drawn and her eyes angry.
"You fool!" She said, pressing the heel of her foot into his throat. "Nobody had to die, you idiot, they were a group of eight weaklings!" She gave forth a sudden burst of anger, and Cthu grabbed her and held her head against his shoulder. Bassho looked around at the casualties, and saw her red haired shewolf had fallen as well. She had died protecting her master, as Ballthro had died fulfilling his master's wishes. He was a good pup, though Bassho, and he should have realized that before it was too late. He crashed to the ground, and slowly lost consciousness.


Above the clearing, the helicopter that had dropped the troops off hovered. The crew on board had watched in horror as the soldiers were bravely killed, while they could do nothing. Alas, it was over. On the ground, the crew watched the remaining brutes get into a fight with each other. The helicopter came around for another pass, and out one of the sides, a crew member began shooting at them. It had little physical effect, as the shots slammed into the ground. However, for reasons unbeknownst, the brutes fled into the forest. The helicopter began circling, scanning for signs of the beasts, but to no avail. They had seemed to have fled, or decided their mission was over with. The helicopter touched down where it had before, this time the remaining crew members disembarked. They began to retrieve the fallen soldiers. One by one, the 8 soldiers vitals were checked and then loaded onto the helicopter. None survived this brutal encounter with the brutes. As the crew began the final sweep of the clearing, looking for anything salvageable, they noticed a soft groaning coming from one of the fallen brutes. He was a big man with well defined muscles, and he was groaning as he lay in the dirt. He was covered in blood, and his hands rested upon the blood-matted fur of his wolf. A crew member walked up to the brute, his pistol drawn. He aimed it at the head, ready to kill and get some revenge for the loss of 8 of his brothers.

The man looked down the sights, his hand shaking, his breathing deep. So much sadness began to erupt from him and tears began to trickle down his face. Obviously this horrendous loss had shook him to the core. His white finger slid down the trigger. Just a little pressure and this brute's life would be lost. The man took a deep breath, his eyes full of vengeance, anger, and sadness. Right before the shot was fired, a voice spoke up "Stop private! Do not shoot the brute."

The finger fell off the trigger and the man walked away slowly. "Place zip-ties on his hands and feet. Make sure he cannot escape from it, we do not want to test this man's strength. Gag him and bag him - we're taking him prisoner. For all we know, he could be a valuable asset. And if not, we can let him suffer the worst death - drowning in the sea." the voice, belonging to the Crew Chief, continued.

The crewmen nodded in agreement and bound and gagged the brute. He was still unconscious and unresponsive. The crew then carried the massive man to the helicopter. Shortly, its blades began to whirl rapidly and it lifted off, speeding in the direction of the Royal Northern Fleet.



"My Admiral, it is good to see you," Cáðéit Cecáðéit Cascus said, stepping onto the deck and grasping the Admiral's hand. He shook it, as per custom, even if not his own custom. He did want to get down to business, but there was no point in rushing that. If it was possible to get to know the admiral, and thereby honour both of them, the he would do it.
"Take me where you would have me. Unless there are any other protocols you wish to carry out."


"It is good to finally put a face to the name as well. Admiral Loui Burgiak, commander of the Royal Northern Fleet." the Admiral said as he shook his hand. Of course he didn't care too much for pleasantries, but he knew they were essential. "I require no more formalities, if the same of you. If so, let us continue to the bridge. Up there, I have compiled all the date and intel we have. We can discuss what the future holds."

Admiral Burgiak then led the way to the bridge, past the rows of fighter jets on board the ship. Crew members saluted as the party passed, knowing these two were the main coalition commanders in the region at the moment. Soon the party arrived in the bridge. It was large enough to accommodate all the officers accompanying both sides. "Commander Cascus," the Admiral spoke up, "here is all what we have so far. We have not much, as we only just arrived. We are conducting reconnaissance of the region at the moment, but any information you have towards that is valuable. We have our first Royal Fleet on its way here, and they shall arrive in around two weeks time. Other than that, this fleet is just naval and aerial, with a few of our elite Black Battalion squadrons for special operations." The Black Battalion, world-reknowned for it's special operations capabilities, were usually kept secret from even allied commanders - this just shows the priority and necessity of this conflict and this commander. "Where is your fleet intending to beach or set up, if I may ask? And how can we aid in your approach?" the Admiral continued.
Last edited by Balashov on Sun May 10, 2015 8:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The views of Balashov do not entirely represent my real-life views
I do not RP by my NS statistics

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