Predetermined [CLOSED]

[Western Confederation]

^{Undisclosed area, near Unity
Northeast Torchland
January 2016}

"lock 'n' load you motherfuckers!" the guy had a picture next to him its was black and white and dated back to the civil war some 70 years back, presumably. He was accompanied by a few farmers that mounted their age-old rifles around their torsos with a bullet belt strapped around. They looked the young gentleman in the eyes and saw nothing else but fear, they went through his wallet, took his 20-something western dollars and snitched his ID. "Well, well, well.. What do we have here?" the leader of the herd said. "Enrico Santi--" he stumbled trying to pronounce the boys name. "Whatever.. You must be one of those filthy Rodarions?" He said condescendingly.

The armed men laughed exposing their bad teeth and thick Iron Vale farmer accent. "For so long you and your little pope think you are better than the rest of us." He paused for a brief moment. "Well.." he continued as he grabbed the Rodarian by the throat. "I don't like to waste my precious bullets on filth like you. So I got something I inherited from my father a long time ago - 70 years to be exact." he said ominously as he reached for his pockets flickering a dagger in front of the peer with an insignia crafted on the blade. It said CC, also known as Civium Credutalis - an old Citizenist saying. He dropped the boy on the ground, pushing his face against the dirt with his boot. He then took the knife and went for his throat until the blade was drenched in blood and the life was sucked out of the young mans eyes.

"Jeb we are going to be too late if y'all stay here like sheep." Another farmer said amused by the killing just moments ago. Jeb cocked his head, "Aight Jimbo". They dove into their pickup truck and YEE-HAA'd out on a rusty road with a sign saying UNITY 19M, a thirty minute ride along the countryside of northern Torchland.

"Come on as if they are going to figure shit out." A shady figure whispered in a dark chamber. Three men to be exact, one was a notorious Citizenist supporter, Douglas Isenberg, the second was a top Globo corp liaison and the third a delegate of the South Laker board. "Listen, we are giving you money and power to do your job. I assume we all know what you need to do." The delegate began in a calm voice. "The South Laker board can give you the necessary funds as we all know this menace needs to be stopped. And we have the power to impose sanctions must Romula retaliate so there is nothing you need to worry about."

Isenberg - the Neo-Citizenist - frantically stood up from his chair and wandered around the room, contemplating his next move. The few drips of sweat visible on the mans forehead. As much as he knew allying with these capitalists was against the oath, not having partners was suicide. Besides the citizenists hated authoritarian Rodarians more than they hated the corporate system of the market states. One problem remained and that was the fact that Neo-Citizenist forces were not cohesive, rather independent factions that range from radicals to moderates and it would be a hard to make them work together. "Look, we know it is tough, but I got my friend here to sort things out and help you where needed." The delegate pointed at the bulky Globocorp Liaison clad in his blue costume and short military-style haircut. He had no morale, it was pure business, and as one of the biggest private military firms in Lusankya, they sure knew how to act.

"Of course we have the capacity to support you through in-depth training of your new army by providing you with tactical support and weaponry that will eliminate enemies ranging from conventional armies as well as paramilitary groups. Things we have directly experienced in the Bogorian Civil War where fighting along ethnic lines had a similar impact upon our experiences to perfect a method we call seek and destroy..."

The Globocorp Liaison was interrupted when a rusty diesel engine heard roaring on the parking lot in front of the building a few mumbles and car door slams included -- what is supposed to be a soundproof chamber. "Well if it's not Jeb, Jimbo and Earl!" Douglas Isenberg uttered relieved from his tensions. "Thank you very much gentlemen and I will certainly take this into consideration." He hastily shook the guys hands before leaving. The liaison and the delegate looked eachother in the eyes before turning to Douglas once again. "Please, here's my card and call me when you made up your mind.."

[Rodarion]

Agnadello, 5km east of Rodarion
Carnaro, Torchland

---

"Salvation is something we all aspire to, it is what drives our very lives, not earning money, or buying cars or houses, but salvation. Or at least it should be, I seek salvation for my sins, I pray you do too, but the government, if you can call that vile, corrupting, abomination of a temple to greed a government, doesn't want you to seek salvation, nor does it believe you deserve it.

"Those stinking rich businessmen on the board in Palmerston don't give a damn about you or me, or God. To them, we're just numbers, employees, spending machines, well we're not. We're human beings, with free spirits, faith and family and above all free will, a gift, I remind you, straight from the hand of God. A gift we should all cherish, it is a gift that is completely alien to those monsters who rule over us, they see it as a means to an end - money, but how I see it, how any god-fearing Christian should view it, is the gift of knowing when to run and when to fight.

"We can run, sure, we can run across that valley there and live in bliss within the borders of the Church State, or we can fight and demand change, an end to this abomination of a government and a return to democracy. Or we can fight to be free, because those thieves in Palmerston, they don't want to let us be who want to be, they don't want to see us leave this living nightmare of a country for another, because we... their numbers and employees will belong to someone else.

"Well, I say we fight for our freedom, why? Because nothing gets you salvation quicker than violence. Violence in his holy name, is but the greatest of deeds, to die in his name is to be washed clean of all your sins and sins of your fathers, violence not against the innocent, but those who would destroy you, bring wickedness upon you, evil upon you, death upon you and family, violence against sadistic souls, will grant you a place upon the shoulder of God. Is the time now to seek salvation? No, it is not. The time will come when they inflict violence upon us, and they will, under many banners they will do so, but know that God protects us, the Holy Mother protects us and together we shall overcome. Together we will each gain our salvation, through resistance and violence against those who would bring wickedness upon us, and our faith.

"You know when the time comes, you will know when to seek out your salvation through blood and iron and it will come to you, because God wills it, his faithful will be united, and no gang of robbers, gluttonous death merchants will ever, ever overcome the will of God, even if the hand of the devil himself guides them and it does guide them. Remember, always remember that God protects you, the Holy Mother loves you and salvation is obtainable, just pray you have the strength to do what needs to be done to obtain salvation from this broken world, God bless you all", so were the words of Father Daniel Brocco, a firebrand, an outcast, a self-declared oracle of the future and a Crusadist.

Brocco, the 53 year old balding priest from Unity moved to the far-east of Torchland in 1999, to take up the parish of Agnadello, an ethnic-Rodarian village nestled in the "Ingresso" or Gateway Valley that straddles this region of the Torchland-Rodarion border, here he became infatuated with the Toba Revelations, the supposed Marian apparition that correctly prophesised the Urbana Hurricane disaster, climate change in 1923 and finally her prophesy that the entire world will burn unless all of mankind is consecrated and brought before her. He like thousands of other priests, monks, nuns and even Bishops succumb to the hysteria around the final revelation, in the hysteria, the fundamentalism was born. "Salvation through violence", "Salvation through personal Crusade", "Salvation through Blood" became the slogans of 'Crusadism'. The belief that the consecration of mankind is an impossibility, without global wars of annihilation of those who refuse to convert, guaranteed the fiery end of the human race, best to save oneself before the sinners bring the end to all.

Crusadism, or Apocalyptism as it is also known states that in order for the faithful to achieve salvation should the end come, they must prove themselves worthy in comparison to those who bring the end. And the best way is through violence in the name of Christ Jesus and on behalf of his holy Church. Since every Catholic for every single day of their lives fights evil and temptation, they are by all truth - crusaders, waging their own individual crusades against temptation and the schemes of the devil, to free themselves of their sins and the dangers of the devil, they should wash their hands in the blood of the faith's enemies, raise them up to the heavens and declare themselves free of sin and salvation shall befall them. It itself was shunned by mainstream Catholic scholars and clerics, the Vatican denounced it as "abhorrently backward", yet it had followers in the most lowly of dioceses to the highest offices of the Curia in Romula, to the imperial houses of Ulthrannia. And Torchland was no exception.

After stepping down from the microphone, his recording finished, Brocco took a sip of his Ice Tea and left his small recording studio in his barn. His followers or rather listeners numbered around 300, his social media numbers were a bit higher, around 640. Even before his conversion to violent salvation, he was considered too fire and brimstone, old school Catholic as the saying goes. Even in his faults, his drug induced hallucinations he advertised as premonitions, his alcohol abuse, his refusal to accept confession from the local whore, made him a broken priest, let alone a broken human being. Yet Daniel Brocco knew a lot about the world and he knew an opportunity when he saw one and this whole business over returning Carnaro to Rodarion was his opportunity - to finally "save some thousand or two people from being engulf in God's cleansing fire along with the rest of the animal filth that is mankind".

As much as he was a religious fanatic, he was also a very proud ethnic Rodarian and quite simply, hideously racist towards the rest of Torchland's ethnic groups. In recent days, his listener numbers grew steady as the United Carnaro Front begun to lose some of its initial momentum, many of his new listeners were far-right activists, racist thugs and ignorant peasants on the fields, yet his words meant something to these basic folk, they meant hope for both the mortal world and the thereafter.

Walking across his garden, his ripped black cassock was almost grey with the dust and dirt, his stubble becoming thick, his breath no different from the bottle of whiskey he drank a day in smell, he stopped and looked up at the wispy clouds whirling above his head. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "burn them Lord, burn those in Palmerston to ash and toss their souls into the fires of damnation, or so help me God I will burn them for you" he said as he released his breath.

Looking back straight, a rusty car pulled up outside his house, sighing he slowly walked towards his guest.

"I heard it, very good this time, much better than yesterday's" the 19 year old bell ringer, Marcus Pirelli.

"Do you think so Marcy?" Brocco enquired as he lit up a cigarette.

"Yeah and I did some checking on the radio last night, you had over a thousand listeners last night, that's great isn't it?" Pirelli asked with a great grin, the guy was incredibly naive and childish for someone his age, but then he was always rather simple.

"Over a thousand huh? That means jack shit, there are 24 million people in this god forsaken shithole of a country, 1.4 billion next door in the Papal Republic and over 7 billion on this shitty, doomed planet... a thousand is like a grain of salt on a beach. So stop fucking smiling... please" Brocco snapped, barely altering his non-existing facial expression.

"But God is making sure your message spreads, its obvious, you are an instrument of God's will. You're the saviour of all Rodarians in Torchland" Pirelli raced.

"Marcy, I am not an instrument of God's will. We all are. You, me, the Holy Father, the UCF, the Board of Devils in Palmerston; god strike them down, and of course every single human being in the world today. God's will in relation to our dear homeland, will become clear in time. All I know is so far, that a great deal of violence will come out of this sorry mess and the enemies of God will stack up into the clouds themselves and their little temple to greed and materialism will burn brighter than the sun, I've seen it. God showed it to me, I will treasure that vision for all my life" Brocco nodded to himself in absolute contentment.

"Shame you can't paint, you could document your visions" Pirelli lamented, Brocco merely looking at him in pity.

"Your dad on his back fucked by vodka?" Brocco asked, his right eye twitching from his own intoxicated state.

"Yeah, wanted to be out of there before he wakes up, you know how it is" Pirelli again lamented, looking away from Brocco.

"Don't worry Marcy, that cunt of a man will burn for his sins against you and your mother, don't you worry one bit" Brocco smiled, patting the young man on the shoulder, before entering his desolate home, time to write the next sermon...

[Western Confederation]

^{Northeast Torchland
January 2016}

Douglas Isenberg pondered as he was violently shaken around in the pickup truck driving along a rusty road on the vast countrysides of north Torchland. Isenberg was a negotiator through thick and thin. Father of two sons and a Occident wife that knew these rural lands like no other. He himself came from Viridia - the most populated of all former states - an English born that dedicated his career above anything else, like most of the people back in the day. Though he always felt left behind, even during the days the Confederal government was still in power, he could not align himself with any political group and after the dissolution, it bothered him even more.

He traveled over to Torchland, because he knew Torchland, due to its ethnic diversity and multiculturalism, could never live long under the banner of market statism. He devoted himself to creating a functioning state where the Westerners, more commonly known as Occidents would live in harmony, and more importantly to feel part of a group, he decided to join the Occidentales Front.

"What did they offer?" The wheat hat, ginger-bearded Jimbo said seated next to a bit of hay and Douglas himself.

"The usual. You know Citizenism is bad, we have you covered. Blablabla. The stuff you hear on the news all the time. Thing is they are scared."

He said peeking at the necklaces from underneath his jacket, one displayed CC - Civium Credutalis, and the other a christian cross. He subsequently looked up in the sky. He was scared and he knew lying is sinful, but likewise he knew it was for the greater good and as a messenger he needed to keep his mouth shut no matter what. If he didn't, he knew damn well what would happen, if not by the OF leadership itself, he would be taken out by others, mercenaries - Globo Corp. Heck even the Royal Intelligence Agency.

Douglas looked outside the pickup truck, the view was nice, children playing football in the field a true peaceful society so it seemed. Further down the road there was a town with a few red-white checkerboard flags, it was named Codrington. Located just near the border with Iron Vale. When they got in town a few armed men popped from behind the corner and pointed their rifles against the truck and its driver - Jeb.

"Get out!" The guards shouted violently before jabbing their rifles against the pickup truck. Soon they slammed the doors open and dropped the passengers down on the dirt. "Who are you and who are you working for?" the guard uttered while pointing his rifle against Douglas' cheek.

"I am with you guys!" Douglas said worriedly.

"Bull shit, you tell me who you are right now or I will blow your fucking head off!" They now started to kick Douglas in the head and abdominal areas, same story goes for the rest of the passengers until everything faded black. Unconscious.

"Pss.. hey, are you there?" a calm tone whispered. Douglas tried opening his eyes everything was blurred out, he saw a vague shade approaching him. "Pss, wake up Douglas!" He heard the vague noise again. His pupils focused and he got a better picture. The shade and the voice, it was Franco Velema, number two of the OF. "Sorry for the rough entrance. We need to make sure this place is secured. You never know these days My friend." -- "So, what did they say?"

[Rodarion]

Pietraporzio
Carnaro, 6km west of the Torchland-Rodarion border
January 2016

---

Pietraporzio was like any other border farming hamlet, quant, traditional and intrinsically Rodarion. The tanned bricks, the terracotta roof tiles, the cobbled streets, it was a piece of the 'Patria' in Torchland and a natural spot for the third meeting of the Circle of Reunification; Circolo della Riunificazione. A knightly name chosen for the group of men and women who represent 13 groups, movements, unions and associations that seek Carnaro's return to the Papal Republic. The four primary groups present; the United Carnaro Front, Brigade of Revolutionary Action, Army the Tinian March and the Carnaro Order of the Cross. In reality these four groups were the largest by membership and most powerful in terms of money and weapons, yet only one of the four wanted a peaceful political solution.

As the 13 leaders and representatives sat at the makeshift circular table in the chasm of a barn, the echo of a mandolin being played outside by some unknown militiaman merely stereotypofied the meeting of ethnic Rodarians, yearning to return their people to their kin across the border. One suggestion made at the Circolo della Riunificazione days after the fall of the Confederacy was that of a mass exodus of the 4 million ethnic Rodarians back to the Fatherland, this was swiftly dismissed as cowardice and the abandonment of their heritage in the Carnarian soil beneath their feet. The agreement came in the summer of 2015 - pursue a political solution, peaceful and calm - should it fail and they (the government) resort to violence to silence the calls, violence will be met with violence.

In truth the mandolin outside merely personified the mood, news of the brutal murder of 18 year old Enrico Santini in a corn field in the middle of nowhere, broke the air of possible success among the Circolo della Riunificazione. He had been brutally murdered for no particular reason apart from his heritage. Pietro (Peter, being his given name but he refuses to use the English translation) Cavallero, the leader of the UCF sat dispondent, he never thought this would happen - the use of violence as a means of identifying the divisions and now he was being framed by the incompetent Belfrasian government over the assassination of Belfras' ambassador to Torchland, not that he cared much, he always liked the prospect of becoming a martyr.

"We need to hit back" leader of the Brigade of Revolutionary Action; Augusto Turati spoke up.

"By killing a kid?" Cinzia Ascoli replied, she headed the Popular Union of Teachers for Reunification.

"Of course not, we're not animals" Turati shot back swiftly.

"Then how?" Cavallero enquired, barely moving his eyesight from the table.

"We know an Occidentian police chief in Scopello, he's bent as fuck, take him out send a message" Turati replied confidently, his chest puffed out.

"We're already in trouble for suposedly killing that faggot ambassador" Alessandro Farinacci replied from across the table. Farinacci was the hardline of the hardline in the Circolo, a clerical fascist through and through and proud of it.

"You care about that Alessandro?" Peter Stevens replied, he headed the Grass Movement, a popular student pro-reunification association that was gaining ground, sadly for Stevens his name and family history gave him few friends at the Circolo.

"What did you say mongrel?" Farinacci shot back, his stare as dark as his response.

"You heard me, killing figures of authority won't help. We need to get the Occidentians themselves back for killing that poor kid"Stevens, the son of a ethnic Rodarian mother and ethnic Belfrasian father.
"For once I agree with the half caster" Achille Starace entered the fray, as leader of the Army of the Tinian March he was one the most powerful men in Carnaro, the ATM had least 2,000 members according to his own boasts, whether it was true or not was never known for certain.

"We're giving up on a political solution?" Giovanni Scorza, the former leader of the Carnaro Party (merged with the UCF in December 2015).

"Of course not, but its pretty clear the dogs in Palmerston intend to use dirty tricks to crash your party down Giovanni, I mean they could come and arrest Pietro at any point, they're going to provoke us" Turati explained.
"So we're letting them?" said Antonio Muti, the leader of the Worker's Union for Reunification. He was a rough-one of the educated bunch of the Circolo, a former electrican at a coal mine in northern Carnaro, he was now the general secretary of the largest trade union in Carnaro and one for realism.

"Think about it, the Primitivi have conjured up evidence, of these gunmen who are pretty shit at killing someone and then getting away, having seriously damning evidence on their person that Pietro personally ordered this dog shot dead. On top of the poor boy being murdered, I mean they're pushing our buttons. If we react, they can put all the blame on us for the violence they will unleash" Muti finished, bowing his head.

"But then if we don't respond and the Occidentians carry on hitting us and the government and their primitivi masters in Belfras do nothing, they're complicit. We're victims of ethnic cleansing" Floriana Guidi spoke as she stood up to take a warm flask of coffee from an armed masked gentleman.

"You want us to sit here and take whatever those animals throw at us?" Farinacci stood up in protest.

"Yes, that is exactly what I am say Alessandro. We sit here, our eyes full of tears, on our knees praying for mercy from these beasts, whilst the world sits and watches them brutalise us. Once we're the victims of a great injustice, we can stand up and beat those animals back into the barbarian lands they come from" Floriana Guidi responded with a smile.

"You've been a housewife too long Floriana, way too long. How the fuck do you expect us to sit here and watch them rape our women, kill our sons and burn our homes?" Farinacci spat in anger.

"She has point Alessandro, we need to world to sympathise with us, not the primitivi" Starace responded with raised eyebrows, a taken sign that he wanted the bull-dog Farinacci to sit down and calm down, which he did.
"What happens if they arrest Pietro?" Turati enquired. Cavallero finally looked up at the Circolo, all the eyes were upon him.

"I will use the courtroom to defend our cause and ensure that the world sees the case for what it is" he replied. "Piovani will replace me as leader of the UCF and if I must go to jail then so be it, God's will" he spoke further, his gaze returning to the far distance.

"There will be anger at your arrest Pietro, people may protest" Cinzio Ascoli spoke up softly.

"Just make sure it is peaceful and calm, I will become a martyr for the cause of the Fatherland, that I have no problem" Cavallero repeated his last point, he clearly wasn't ready for a prison stay or perhaps execution.

"You heard that nutjob priest on the radio right, we're all instruments of God's will and he intends to see the downfall of the Market State and its dogs of war, we're all instruments of his will and he looks after his instruments, so don't worry Pietro" Farinacci offered a smile, which was rare as it was comforting, Cavallero smiled back, afterall if they succeeded, he wouldn't be in prison for long.

"I propose that we prepare, should the violence against become so prolific, we must defend ourselves" Turati stood.

"I second" Ascoli spoke up.

"Those in favour, raise your hands" Starace ordered.

10-3 in support. Now the forces of reunification would prepare for the coming war of peoples.

"Though when we do respond to the primitivi, we shall do so from this spot, together, that is agreed?" Stevens asked, loudly enough for some of the silent members to jump. All nodded and raised their hands, giving the three-fingered saluted - the Circolo had convened and now they were return to their normal lives until the next time - if there is to be a next time.

[Western Confederation]

^{Codrington
Northern Torchland
January 2016}

The Occidentian peoples, a once peaceful nation now had to manifest its force to prepare for battles to come. These people and their ethics are inherent to these lands, originating from the Papal States roughly hundred-and-fifty years ago. A history of bloodshed, tears and violence. Occidentians were once upon a time officially called Rodarians. Today this sounds nothing more than a fairy tale. But perhaps by telling the history of the Occidentian peoples the current situation might be a lot easier to understand.

As the Papal Republic went in decline and the people of these lands wished to align themselves with the newly found Confederal States, factions disagreed heavily within the Rodarian community; one wished to stay part of the Papal States and the other wanted to align themselves with this new land of opportunity. After the 1867 Congressional act of Expansion that would allow the integration of the Aerlon province – purchased from Isn Deslen in 1801 – and Carnaro into a single state called Torchland, violence erupted and Rodarians loyal to the papal regime committed widespread atrocities against the Occidentian peoples creating a bloodbath that was known as the Unity massacre – or how it was then called Sanilo in 1868.

Expeditionary Force II of the brand new Western Army was deployed to east Torchland to seize violence between the two groups and announced a formal state of order in which all the groups would be submitted to martial law. This martial law was lifted after five years and a new nation grew from the mud. Ethnic hatred was still vivid, however overtime, after decades of reconciliation, the two groups seemed to have learned to live in peace together despite their religious differences. One being protestant and the other remaining Rodarian catholic, Occidentian and Rodarian respectively.

However, peace would not last long with the rise of Citizenism in the northern territories of the Confederacy. Marking the beginning of the 20th century was a forty-six year long war that would reach peaceful Torchland in 1914. The Citizenist Republic of the West needed support in the southern territories so they set up a puppet state in north Torchland that would allow the creation of a Free Occidentian Republic. Led by the revolutionary leader Fabriccio Codrintono. The regime was militant and viciously against the Papal Republic and the Belfrasian Empire. Despite Citizenism viewing any religion as undesirable, Occidentian Citizenists suggested that Protestantism differed in that it made no social distinctions. It created a killing machine. What followed was a killing spree of the “undesirables”, of which mostly Rodar-catholics were targeted.

When the war was over and Torchland was reintegrated into the Confederal States in 1945. Citizenist activities were outlawed as well as any ethnic radicalization in Torchland. The only threat left was the Western Republican Army, a designated terrorist organization. It originates as resistance guerrilla front during the occupation of the southern territories by the Belfras Armed Forces, though never taken seriously. Now, 60 years later - yet another cycle is starting with the dissolution of the Confederal States - the only regime that have kept the ethnic groups united. Today the OF will not allow another bloodbath and devoted themselves to protecting Occidentian homes and lives.

Bruised in black and blue, sitting on a chair in a house with medieval wooden architecture and a fire place was Douglas Isenberg. Looking outside men in camouflaged uniforms were guarding the post and inside Franco was accompanied by two static armed guards standing straight in front of Douglas. In full disbelief he sat there trying to comprehend what just happened; he was dragged out of the pickup truck with his friends, butchered till near-death and now the infamous right hand of the Occidentian Front, Franco Velema, was sitting next to him asking a notorious question.

First he wanted to laugh, but he knew that was not a good response knowing the record of these militiamen. No, he was better off going straight to the topic by answering his question as polite and straightforward as possible. He started wiping bloodstain leftovers around his mouth and cheeks before he spoke. "To keep a long story short, sir, they want us to fight the Rodarians off and keep them at a distance."

Franco looked directly into his eyes and gave a smile, he then approached Fabriccio Alecante, a bald-headed militia, perpetrator of all these bruises. He whispered something into his ear after which Alecante left the room altogether with the other militiaman. Franco turned around facing Douglas and walked to the direction of a seat on the other side of the table. "Tea?" Franco asked.

"Yes, please," Douglas smiled before continuing. "Mr. vice-president," he said as he turned serious, "the representative said that South Lake can give the ODF structural military support and funds and that they are willing to hire assets of Globo Corp to fight for our cause."

"Globo Corp? What is its business here?" Franco queried curiously listening to Douglas.

"Globo Corp, the private military contractor hired by South Lake to train ODF personnel and support us logistically as well as strengthen the ODF with additional manpower. Trust me, these men are top-notch soldiers that know conventional etiquette. They can set up strongholds to fortify our positions all over the Occidentian Republic."

"Excellent!" Franco said. "Thank you very much for your support mr. Isenberg, it is always nice to hear you speak, you are very charming indeed. Not like that genocidal Rodarian radio rat - I forgot his name.."

"Brocco?" Douglas added.

"Brocco yes! Him and his vile mouth. How can there be someone that puts their faith in a pope above the faith in his people and lord Jesus Christ himself I will never understand. In the name of this so-called pope, this authoritarian figure to be exact, they are willing to kill innocent Occidentians. Well not on my watch. It is my job to protect the peoples of the Occidentian Republic. And I can see that there are people like you that came to this part of the world to help us achieve our common goal." Franco's mobile phone started to ring, "We are very thankful for people like you, thank you very much, now if you will excuse me I have some business to do, my guards will escort you outside." Franco finished after which the armed guards got back inside the house to escort him outside.

Meanwhile Franco Velema opened a door that led to a different section of the house with a coded mobile phone still gripped in his hands.

Franco then proceeded to another door on the other side of the room that led to a hallway in the complex. He then heard dimmed gunshots and screams in the background. Four bullets were enough to extinguish these screams, one was undoubtedly Douglas Isenberg.

"Presidente, the South Laker government is in and so is the Belfrasian government." Franco said with a grin on his face, speaking directly to Adolfo Cremona - leader of the OF and soon-to-be president of the self-proclaimed Occidentian Republic.

[Rodarion]

UCF proposes talks to Torchlander government after securing public backing

---

Giovanni Sabatelli (L) and UCF leader Pietro Cavallero (R) are expected to represent Carnaro at any talks with the government

The United Carnaro Front has formally requested talks with the Torchlander government after a petition calling for a referendum on Carnaro's reunification with the Papal Republic secured 380,000 signatures for it to be considered by the UCF, but as of today's request the petition had close to 850,000 signatures, giving the UCF according to its spokesman the "necessary support from the general public to pursue a referendum". Public opinion in recent weeks has continued to move in support of the UCF, following the murder of 18 year old Enrico Santini in a suspected racially motivated attack, has only further solidified the UCF's gains.

The UCF's chief spokesman, Matteo Fabula stated that, "with sufficient public backing in a formal petition, we are now confident we have a mandate to represent the people of Carnaro in our common effort to secure reunification with our Fatherland and to return to our cultural kin."

The petition which was first initiated online in early December was reportedly slow at gaining signatures at first, however the more prevalent the UCF became on regional television, radio and social media the more the population became aware of the UCF's aims by January 1 it had gained 275,350 signatures, by January 10 this had reached 380,133 signatures and finally, as of this morning the petition had reached 850,703 signatures. The UCF leadership agreed that 380,000 would be sufficient to pursue talks with the government, however reaching 850,000 has given them greater momentum. Even such, smaller groups have formally signed up to the UCF's Charter for Democratic Reunification, including the Popular Union of Teachers, the Grass Movement and the Farmer's Cooperative Union.

Speaking further "with the growing numbers of businesses, unions, movements and associations that are declaring their support for the Charter for Democratic Reunification, we can safely say that our aims and our cause is shared by many across the Carnaro region. Our dedication to securing reunification through democracy, free speech and open public debate is being embraced by more and more Carnarians every day" Mr Fabula said.
Mr Fabula explained that the UCF would now pursue discussions with the government about a referendum taking place by the end of 2016 or beginning of 2017, he also argued that any effort by the government to push the date beyond the start of 2017 would be seen as a delaying tactic and would not be accepted by the UCF.

"We want this referendum to take place as soon as possible, but with sufficient time for the necessary structures to be put in place to ensure the campaigning in the run up to the vote is open, free and fair. But we do not wish to this process be prolonged purposefully by the government, a swift conclusion to this process will benefit both sides, regardless of its result. We are hopeful that the government will be cooperative in discussions and accepting of the democratic wishes of the people" he said.

Yet the murder of 18 year old ethnic Rodarian, Enrico Santini in northern Carnaro has only exacerbated growing tensions in the region. NTV1's Leonardo Capri, who is currently in Carnaro covering the current developments noted in an extensive documentary for NTV1 news that despite the apparently cheerful atmosphere in Carnaro, underneath the surface tensions are bubbling up due to the government's lack of cooperation and growing citizenist activity in the north of the country. There is also the problem of more hardline groups who are advocating unilateral secession from Torchland.

The assassination of the Belfrasian ambassador to Torchland has also greatly worried a vast majority of Carnarians, although the Belfrasian's supposed belief that the UCF ordered the ambassador's murder has been completely rejected by both the UCF and the general public as "slander and dirty tricks"; to quote one pro-reunification regional newspaper, it has highlighted the level of establishment opposition to their cause.

What has also appeared in recent weeks is numerous opinion pieces, television interviews and online blogs from within Carnaro on why reunification has risen now and not before. Many both inside Carnaro and commentators elsewhere across the world have noted that with the dissolution of the Western Confederate States, the entity that many in Torchland felt an affinity for and were legitimately loyal vanished, the biggest push according to many commentaries is that the Market State that emerged after the collapse of the WCS was not what the majority of people in eastern Torchland anticipated, let alone considered worthy of government. Many ethnic Rodarians in Carnaro oppose the nature of the Market State system on ideological and religious grounds and this only further confounded a disillusionment of what it means to be a Torchlander.

Already popular culture has come out in support of reunification, numerous Carnarian music groups and individuals have produced songs calling for reunification, Cecilia, a popular pop-singer in Carnaro has reached number one in the region's charts with her song, 'La mia madrepatria mi chiama' (my motherland calls to me), whilst another popular singer, Luca Castello is a close second with his song, 'Mia Romula' (my Romula). What is interesting, according to Capri's documentary is that all of these efforts to advertise reunification has been done by ordinary people without pressure or assistance from political elites. It's being called an "informal bottom-up revolution" and with the UCF usually acting in response to public initiatives at the grass roots level, support for reunification appears to be certainly growing.

Despite the positive support of the population, UCF leaders have expressed serious caution in their expectations of talks, even if the government agrees to them. Giovanni Sabatelli, one of the senior UCF leaders spoke to Capri during his documentary, he was very clear on why the UCF is not overly optimistic.

"So far, the government hasn't been respectful of the fact that we have a growing support base, this petition says enough. But what the ordinary people of Carnaro are doing themselves, public debating reunification on the street, posting supportive messages on social media, starting up online pro-reunification groups and of course signing up to our Charter for Democratic Reunification, which has 1.3 million signatures.
"They don't seem to recognise this, so no I am not optimistic about talks, I am hopeful we make some progress. But even if they do happen, I am more than certain it will be difficult, especially if the government tries to use delaying tactics or doges the point of what we're trying to achieve here" he said.

Asked whether unilateral secession was an option, he replied that it was but it was a complete last resort.

"Unilateral secession is an option, but first we need to seriously have exhausted ourselves at negotiations, or have lost patience should the government continuously reject our invitations for talks or reject a referendum overall. But let us be serious for one moment, unilateral secession will result in very difficult situations and its a risky move most definitely, so for us it is a last resort" he replied.

The UCF is expecting a reply from the government in coming days, how the government responds will surely determine the nature of the referendum question indefinitely.

---

By: Piero Ambrosini

For more information go to: http://www.ucf.org.to

[Rodarion]

Santa Maria Quarter, Unity, Torchland
January 2016

Inside the dusty, rundown apartment, hundreds of water bottles filled every gap on the floor, every surface, every shelf and table top. Across the walls were newspaper clippings, stories covering murders, disappearances, shootings and stabbings - every single one was ethnically motivated. Although most of the articles were true and in fact did happen as described within the print, how they were perceived was what took a different form.
Scribbling away on a cheap sheet of paper, being written was a goodbye note. In amongst the anarchy of the apartment, the monotone, deep yet hypnotic voice bellowed from the radio sitting on top of a tattered cupboard.

"Noble and kind people of Carnaro, Torchland is suffering. Even now as their cities quake under the weight of disunity and violence, as their citizens choke on the blood of innocents, you seek only to be free. Their imposition of the Market State upon you was nothing more than the personification, the physical manifestation of the Confederacy's sin and a violation of the will of God.

"Know that war will be forced upon you, yet stand firm and be sure, when the time comes, that the Westerner will no longer know you as brother, but by counting the number of their dead. No matter the efforts of the noble United Carnaro Front, war will be forced upon you, because they seek war as much as they seek riches. But know your victory, your survival and your freedom is the will God, for he never abandons his faithful.

"No matter what comes, no matter what they do to you, remain firm and strong. Know that God's hand will always work to bring you salvation. May peace return to the Tinian March once more" the voice ended. The voice was that of the 'L'angelo Custode'; the "Guardian Angel", the radio station had sprung up several weeks after the formation of the UCF, no one knew who the "Guardian Angel" was, but the FM frequency was one based in Rodarion. The radio station's listener ratings had dramatically increased in recent weeks, far exceeding the prophetic ramblings of Brocco, the station according to ordinary Carnarians offered a sense of protection, knowing that someone, somewhere was watching out for them.

The note was signed, folded and left next to a framed picture of a soldier and his mother. The soldier stood up from the desk, in full uniform he picked up his 9mm pistol from beside the framed picture and left.

Ricardo Fratini, a 30 year old ethnic Rodarian from Drenova, at six foot he was a tall and formidable form of a man, yet his face was unassuming, average looking and an average intellect. Yet he had served in the WCS Army for six years, the collapse meant either becoming a civilian or serving as mercenary, he had no intention as serving as such, but he couldn't bare the dull normal life of a civilian and reluctantly signed up to Globo Corp, the pay was better but he was still a mercenary and that hurt inside, it destroyed him slowly. Fighting for a pay packet rather than a flag or nation. But above all he felt the guilt of a traitor, serving a private military company that only profited out of his people's resentment and suffering of the Occidentians and the Market State. All of this didn't treat his psyche any good. He had become obsessed with the conspiracy theories of water contamination, forced sterilisation of ethnic Rodarians, government and Occidentian joint plans to destroy the 4 million ethnic Rodarians and claim Carnaro as their own. Perhaps there was truth in all of it, but for Fratini there was no argument - it was true and he had to do something.

Over a year of growing chaos and violence had tipped him over the edge, in his insanity he planned and plotted his personal war against the tyrants, he never intended to last long - he craved martyrdom and today would be the day he would become a martyr. Leaving his baroque style apartment building he walked down the street towards his place of work, Unity's headquarters for its Globo Corp. garrison. For the past six months he had worked as a logistics administrator. He had direct access to Colonel Howard Richards, the commanding officer of GloboCorp in Unity. He would die this day.

Walking through the streets of the Santa Maria Quarter of the city, the hub of the city's ethnic Rodarian population he could see in every direction why he was doing what he perceived to be right, the parents walking arm in arm along the pavement with a buggy before them. The elderly men and women sitting on their balconies, smoking, talking like they had done decades previous, this was life and it had to be protected.

After twenty minutes of brisk walking he eventually reached the office block, something of a steel and glass monstrosity that only a PMC would consider fitting for a garrison headquarters. Entering the lobby he was greeted by the same people and the same manner he had been greeted for the past six months, the same process - a search, a permit for his weapon signed by the security officer and his signing in at the main desk. He never uttered a word or offered a smile, though his colleagues still did to no avail. He took the main elevator up to the 12th floor, he was alone in the chasm of the metal box. His breathing increasing in pace, he had to focus... he only had one chance to shoot the would-be butcher. Lifting out a rosary from under his shirt, he kissed Christ and placed it back inside. Uttering the Lord's prayer in Latin, he finished just as the doors opened to reveal his office floor.

The tapping of keys echoed all around him, the floor spotless, the windows offering a view over central Unity and the cloudless winter sky. He stepped out and immediately made his way to Colonel Richards.
"Hey Ricardo" a voice to his left shouted out.. no answer.

"Morning Fratini, cold as fuck outside right?" another voice laughed... no answer.

Eventually he reached the glass cubicle of the Colonel. He was sat his desk, his feet on top, staring out of the window whilst obnoxiously laughing down the phone. He stopped just as his hand was about to turn the handle, but he froze. He couldn't move, closing his eyes he remembered the voice of the L'angelo Custode, this unleashed a frenzy within him. Opening the door, Richards sprung round in anger, an interruption was an interruption. Placing the receiver down on his shoulder, he glared at Fratini.

"Do you not know how to knock dumbass?" he shouted. Fratini shut the door quietly and glared right back at Richards.

"Do you have a problem Fratini?" the Colonel's glare turned dark.

"Yes sir, yes I do" Fratini replied without tone nor emotion.

"What is that? Your mother's cooking turned to shit?" Richards spat.

"You sir, you are my problem" Fratini spat back. Slamming the receiver down on the desk, Richards stood up.

"Don't you Rodarian scum not know how to talk to your superiors?" Richards roared.

"You are not my superior sir, you are nothing" Fratini replied again without emotion or tone, pulling out his pistol swiftly he lifted it up with both hands and fired one shot. The bullet entered Richards' skull directly between the eyebrows, exiting the otherside it smashed through the window. The office outside fell dead quiet after the shot. Fratini turned around and exited the office, six rounds left.

Lifting it up again he fired his last six rounds wildly into the mass of colleagues and work friends he had gained over the past six months. Two shots rang out, from the other side of the office, falling to the floor, Fratini could now possibly become a martyr, all he knew is that he had succeeded, he had saved his people for another day.

[Belfras]

Barnesville,
Torchland.

Night basked the entire town in street light, creating an image that likened Belfrasian art experts to the late Alfred Montgomery's work, those expertly crafted masterpieces capturing the cities with the beauty they had deserved. The town matched those cities, with the small spears of lights from vehicles tracing along the busy main road and the nearby highway.

"And here we see the Royal Air Force jet taxing to the parking spot where the funeral cortege are awaiting. The coffin containing Ambassador Alexander-Wright's body lay's on-board with his former bodyguards providing their last duty to the veteran political figure. Now we're seeing the Prime Minister with the honorable Charles Keats alongside, the deputy ambassador who will be given the full office after the funeral is held on the second of February." Footage of the coffin of David Alexander-Wright was replaying on the television in a decisively 'middle class' front room. Understated wallpaper only giving a beige hue to the second hand leather sofa and chairs with a solitary figure crouched over a dinner plate watching.

The footage flickered, bringing light to the unlit room as the sounds of the knife and fork scraping against the plate sounded out the only other noise in the room. That was, that is, until the front door opened with a stereotypical creek to reveal a figure at it's boundary, capturing the man's attention. "Good Evening, George." The voice began after what had seemed like a heart-wrenching eternity. The voice was devoid of any real emotion as it called out across that dark expanse, only lit by the wall light that silhouetted the man at the doorway. "So sorry to barge in, but I feel that you owe myself and my co-workers an explanation for your conduct." Reality dawned on George like a chilled knife digging into his heart.

"You're.. with the Service?" George furrowed his eyebrows as the dots slowly and painfully connected. The figure walked further in and nodded, holding an umbrella idly in his hands as he tipped a hat. "Sir. I had no idea to suspect that they would get caught that late. They did the job, but they were meant to-"

"I know what they were meant to do, old bean." The figure slowly withdrew the hat from his head, his stiffened expression and rimmed glasses making him look more like an upper-class snob than the kind of person that would induce George to the rapid heart beat that now attacked his rib cage. "The problem is that they had too much evidence when they were caught. It's obvious, George, and too obvious. You might have done the deed-" he paused to point at the television, which was now showing the coffin being withdrawn from the plane "-but you ballsed up the actual job. Ballsed up rather well, one would say." A sigh of what seemed to be disappointment came from the man. "I had hopes in you, George. You're loyal to the King and you realize the vital truths to this country. But you're too eager. You need to be subtle. Focused. Intelligent about how you operate." The figure schooled George as the man sat with his plate of now-cold fish.

"I promise, sir. I'll do better next time. You can count on me." George's promises were hollow, and he feared the man knew it. George wasn't a patriot, he was in it for the money. Being given a case full of untraceable Emmerian dollars gave him a literal hard-on. "No. You wont." The figure said grimly, and George was dead before he could comprehend those words. The small hole in his forehead beginning to trickle blood as the figure he had been to distracted to see sneak in through a window lowered his silenced firearm. The two glanced to eachother and gave a small, knowing nod before getting to work. It was quick and the work of masters at their craft as the bullet was retrieved and the stage set for a fatal asleep-with-cigarette fire. The firefighters would only look grimly at the corpse, burned to such a state that most of his upper bodice was cremated. The head that contained a hole burned in from the intensity of the flames in that small hovel.

[Belfras]

OOC: Roleplaying Torchland on behalf of West at his express permission.

---

Santa Maria Quarter,
Unity,
Torchland.

It had been hours after the shooting but the air was still filled with sirens as the cordon of the area was set up and, over time, dismantled. The local police had originally been convinced that the gunman was not acting alone until CCTV proved otherwise. They had three bodies - including the gunman - and a whole boatload of questions that needed answering. News crews had gathered but to their own dismay had not yet actually spoken to anybody with anything but 'no comment' or 'we are awaiting more information' upon their lips. All they could do was report assumptions, talk to experts that know the corporation and show footage of black-windowed vehicles coming and going. Of the vehicles coming and going did the arrival of three blacked-out SUVs with police escort spark the most interest. Men clad in suits left the vehicles and began speaking to the local police in voices too low for the media to hear.

"I'm Benjamin Ross, chief of ops for the Unity branch of the State Investigative Agency. Agents Ronas, Ryan, and Marshgate. Show us what you have, lieutenant." the more senior of those in the middle SUV spoke to the officer who came to greet them. Benjamin looked in his mid to late fifties with dark, short-cut hair that was half greyed with an aged face that made him look older than he really was. The group was led into the office that had been effectively sealed off from the world and to where the shooting had happened. The bodies still lay where they fell aside from those who survived to be taken to hospital. Witnesses had been detained 'for their safety'. Ben could only grimace as he saw the now dry pool of blood around Ricardo Fratini's corpse.

"Here's the gunman. Badge on his person and witnesses confirm him as Ricardo Fratini, the head of logistics for the branch. Weapon is his own sidearm. CCTV-" Agent Ryan stopped briefly to point at the few cameras dotted around the room "- has him zombie marching from the elevator to the first victims office." The group slowly retraced Fratini's steps as they made their way into the office. Richards' body was still strewn where it had slumped, gore had strewn behind him after the bullet passed through and out through the window behind from where the man had stood. "Howard Richards, or 'Colonel' Richards. He was in charge of this office and had been on the phone when Fratini stormed in. Now, Fratini paused at the doorway before entering. That might be important, but he entered and had a verbal exchange with Richards' voice raising toward the end. Anyhow, Fratini takes out Richards with a single round through the head before coming back out-" again, they retraced Fratini's steps. "- and opened fire into his co-workers. A security guard took Fratini out and here we are."

"Good work." Benjamin summarized, looking down at Fratini's body. "Anybody else know who he is?" he got a brief round of negatives before nodding to himself. "Get agents to his apartment, no-warrant raid under the counter terrorism act. Everyone here is being detained for their own security. You three stay here and keep the press away from the witnesses. I'm headed back to the office to get things rolling in earnest." Ben rubbed at his bare chin as he spoke and went to walk back out to the cars. His exit of the building sparked some murmuring of interest from the media, but he merely took out and sparked up a cigarette before hopping into the back of the SUV he had minutes earlier disembarked from. The convoy took no time shooting off back to the field office for the SIA, leaving an SUV behind for the agents remaining at the building.

SIA field office, Unity.

It hadn't been that long afterward that saw them back at their main office for Unity. Benjamin had enough time after arriving to get the information he needed together, but that was mostly it. The coffee in his hand as he looked at the room full of agents crowding around him was cold, forgotten as he prepared himself for the coming days.

"Okay, let's review the basics." Ben started, pointing at the fact sheets and images on the wall behind him. "Shooter is Ricardo Fratini, a thirty year old ex-military vet with Rodarian ancestry. When the split happened he chose to join Globo Corp and has been working as it's logistics administrator for the Unity branch for six months now. Co-workers described him as friendly and an altogether 'nice guy'. Had a decent savings account and looked set considering his age. Now we understand that this life was a lie. Once we get through this outer, false layer we're left with Ricardo Fratini, crazed fanatic. His apartment was a conspiracy theorists' wet dream with non-existent connections between crimes enacted against other ethnic Rodarians that some newspapers tried to label as ethnic violence rather than just happenstance and bad luck."

"What we also know is today he chose to walk into his office and instead of being his former self, he shot down two people and put two others in hospital. Victims are Howard Richards and Veronica Sturgeon, the boss of the branch and an office worker. Surviving victims were two of Veronica's co-workers who are being treated at the local hospital under guard with a no-press cordon. What's important to remember is that he targeted Richards. He walked past everybody to get to him and could have started shooting at any time, but he made sure the first bullet was a direct kill-shot for Howard Richards. Let's start checking his past, see if anything could've made these two enemies in the last six months. Given what's at his apartment, let's also see if Richards or the corporation overall had anything related to race or religious hatred."

"That in mind.." Ben stopped for a moment to tap at his mug before continuing. "We're going to go at this in two angles. Agents at his apartment are taking everything which at the moment is the crazy shit and what looks like a hand-written goodbye note. This angle will be us removing all evidence from public eye until it's all in our possession. Jeremy, you're going to head this up. Get IT specialists on everything electronic and go through his history. Find out if he's been on any websites or left anything electronic that could be manifesto. Helen, you're going to be tearing this guy and his friends lives apart. Find everything you can out. Norman, you're our public guy. The bosses have already stated they want this guy to be shown in the worst possible light, so do what you can to make that happen. When the boss goes in front of the press tomorrow about this he wants everything at hand along with pictures of the victims. This is a 'do or find a new job in a new country' kind of situation, people. I'm going out to give the press the preliminary in case the crazies go ahead with their usual propaganda bullshit."

After Benjamin had finished, everyone quickly broke up into their groups to start their jobs. The local office was getting busier and busier as events kept spiraling out of control. If Ben knew one thing, it's that he was going to need some liquid courage before going up against those cameras. Harsh, scared eyes would be looking at him and he knew in his stomach that the bosses would want to capitalize on it. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was going to be the headline for the entire nation, so he needed to be good. In the hour that it took from that meeting to him standing at the podium, Benjamin had been given the briefing for his opening statement thrice. He knew that through those cameras that now pointed at him sat not only the leadership of his country but those of the two countries that Torchland bordered.

"Ok, ladies and gentlemen. Allow me to introduce myself first. I'm senior inspector Benjamin Ross and I'm the chief of operations for the Unity branch of the State Investigative Agency. Earlier today their was a shooting at the office of the Globo Corp's branch in Unity. The situation was contained in their offices the shooter was shot dead at the scene by security officers. The shooter has been positively identified as Ricardo Fratini, a thirty year old ex-military veteran. In his crazed shooting he unfortunately shot and killed two people and put another two in hospital. When agents raided the apartment of Mister Fratini shortly afterward we came across articles that bring us to believe that this was not an isolated act of violence."

"What can you tell us about the victims?" A reporter, sporting a rather strong South Lake accent, called out. Another, a young ladies voice that came from a local reporter called out shortly afterward "What do you mean it wasn't an isolated act?"

"Well the identities of these individuals are being kept confidential at this time whilst we make sure their friends and families are notified, but it appears that one of the victims was the primary target of Fratini's actions today. Their identities will be revealed in another session tomorrow once we have ensured everybody who needs to be told first has been. At his residence we found articles that suggested that he had become radicalized, either by a third party or by his own hand. What we found is still being disseminated thoroughly, but we also found a handwritten note that confessed his role in the shooting. What is clear is that Mister Fratini deliberately planned out today's events with the agenda of dying at the end of it."

A few moments of silence happened with reporters quietly raising their hands to speak, with a lucky reporter being able to ask a question by Benjamin moments later. "Is this related to the terrorism that the Chairman was warning us of earlier this month?" the reporter simply asked. Whether or not this was the underlying question everybody had, the microphones swiftly turned toward Benjamin as if controlled by a referee.

"We have no conclusive evidence at this time to support the idea that Mister Fratini was acting on either some sort of orders or at the behest of others, but it's a theory that some within the SIA possess toward this case. Mister Fratini was known to be a very religious man who knew the consequences of killing others in cold blood. He was ex-military and doubtlessly knew that he would be gunned down. It's matching the kind of fanatical views of martyrdom that some religious extremists show. We, however, are keeping our thoughts out of our investigation as we owe the victims of this horrific and unforgivable crime the true answers. No further questions, thank you."

[Western Confederation]

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End of Chapter 1: Predetermined, click here for Chapter 2: Underestimated

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Fuck wetbacks and muslims, Trump 2016!