NATION

PASSWORD

Never the twain shall meet [Complete]

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

Advertisement

Remove ads

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Sun Jan 29, 2017 3:41 pm

Emissary Airport

The drummers stopped their drumming as Atticus, flanked by both World Assembly Ambassador Lamula Hagane and Major Gavin Squall, passed a plate of salt and bread to the Lamehkens. An aide followed him passing cups of wine. A simple gesture, but one that conveyed the rights and protections of hospitality to those whom the Skyans had serious differences with.

Squall watched as Atticus did his dance with the words that he had become accustomed to hearing. Each phrase that left Atticus’ lips had been weighed and measured in both tone, prose and warmth. Passing the plate to an aide he bowed, every so slightly, and opened up his arms just shoulder width apart.

“Lords and Ladies, I am pleased to welcome you to Citadel City and am honored you have come. Please, this way. We have one of our royal helijets waiting to take you to the Citadel itself.”

As Atticus finished, the honor guard stood to attention and the band began to play a Skyan marching tune.

Squall and Hagane stayed behind as the delegation boarded the helijet and the rear door began to close behind them. As a slaver state, the Lamehkens were detested and their arrival had prompted large vocal protests in the streets. Skyan law dictated that any slave who sought asylum on Skyan territory, which included vessels of the land and sea, would be granted the immediate protections of Skyan citizenship. The protests included the handful of people who had escaped Lamehkenian servitude. The helijet was meant to spare their guests the indignity of the dressing down they would receive if they took a motorcade. Instead, they would be treated to a grand view of the skyline.

Squall was aware of the change in tone that Atticus had used. The phrase “at the behest of” had been dropped and it was ‘I am pleased and honored’ and not ‘we are pleased and honored.’ This way there would be no duplicity as the people of Havensky wouldn’t feel pleased and honored at their arrival. In his head he knew this, but his sea blue eyes were like tempests.

“Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve; I know you don’t like slavers.”

“I went to combat with Heartbreak Company; I literally have one painted on my shoulder.”

“You know what I meant Major, but they’re our guests and we need them to vote on our side.”

“They bring slaves!”, protested Squall. “The blonde girl… you saw how she walked. How she kept just a half-step behind the Lord. How she’s a different nationality than the rest of them. How she keeps her face ever so still. She’s-”

“-listed as domestic staff.”

“You knew didn’t you?”

“I see your diplomatic training is helping to turn your martial observational skills to more peaceful pursuits. Yes, we suspected that they’d bring a slave regardless of our feelings on the matter. They’re being subtle about it and we mustn't press lest we make more enemies than we already have. If this becomes us against the slavers it’ll only mean more bloodshed.”

Squall exhaled in a puff. He put aside his feelings for a moment and soldiered on.

“HONOR GUARD, AT EASE!”

The White Citadel

The helijet slowed down to a hover and gently landed in one of the hangar bays of the Citadel’s North Tower. As it did, the flag of Lamehk rose next to the other Gothic flags on the battlements much to the annoyance of the crowd that had gathered near the Citadel bridges.

The White Guard, wearing pearl white power armor with blue cloaks, stood to attention as the Lamehkens stepped off the royal helijet. A captain guided them to the lobby where the rest of the Gothic Lords were gathered. As the guard opened the door, the captain spoke loudly to announce the presence of their guests.

They were greeted immediately by King Ironwing and servers carrying appetizers and their favored drinks soon followed.

“My Lords and Ladies, thank you for coming. I’d like to welcome you to the Citadel and look forward to our discussions.”
Last edited by Havensky on Sat Nov 10, 2018 8:03 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
The Scandinvans
Senator
 
Posts: 4898
Founded: Oct 09, 2004
Capitalizt

Postby The Scandinvans » Tue Jan 31, 2017 11:41 am

Patriarchal Bull on the Condition of the Gothic City-States of Havensky


To the noble Lords of Gholgoth,

The condition that we see the state of the Gothic region within recent years has forced us to thoroughly consider the state of affairs that has emerged as a direct consequence of the intrusion of the newly created the Gothic City-States of Havensky. The creation of this new holding has been connected to the intervention of foreign forces, namely Kahanistan and the Maccabees, underneath the auspices of a variety of different treaties that the Skybound Republic has signed. Allegiances which innately compel Havensky to directly ignore ancient precedents that have largely forbidden the garrisoning or operations of alien forces in Gholgoth. Forces which are solely in the region to combat the interests of other Gothic nations and therefore makes it all the more disturbing that they are in the region regardless of the conflicts which might be occurring. Whilst, the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvan Empire would not be particularity concerned about things like war games we must acknowledge the basic fact that Havensky has forsaken their duties to their fellow Gothic nations by being the party responsible for the presence of the aforementioned powers.

Therein creating a situation in which the Skybound Republic's loyalties must be deeply questioned. Their continued actions suggest that they have operated in a purely self-centered manner and have actively sought to destabilize the region with their long term goals of spreading the anarchic systems of democracy throughout the entire region. The aggressive actions of the Scandinvan Empire towards Havensky were a direct byproduct of this agenda. His most blessed, enlightened, and honored imperial majesty Crown Prince Fernic ap Erid ao Erid suffered an attempted assassination attempt at the hands of traitorous forces which Havensky employed in an effort to tear asunder the pillars holding together the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvans. This attempt, whilst thankfully not wholly successful, still claimed the one of the princes the House of Erid (a close brother to the Crown Prince no less). These efforts to do harm to our nation were the provocation for our recent attack upon Citadel City. We wanted to remind Havensky that regardless of where they hid justice would come down upon those who betrayed the region and sought to overthrow reigning Gothic Lords.

They will certainly claimed that our participation in conflicts against their allies provoked them first, but their loyalty to extra-regional nations before fellow Gothic states is a telling sign. In many ways it condemns them as unworthy of the trust of any true citizen of Gholgoth. For even now they seek to hamper the traditional rights enjoyed by Gothic Lords in their efforts to reform the region in their favor. In their greed they would destroy the individual identities of every nation in the region. They aim to undermine every aspect which has allowed the region of Gholgoth to stand as one great places in the world. A force of unrivaled power when united. Instead, they would turn us into crusaders seek to spread their devil inspired progressive ideals to the world. They would have us guard pitiable notions such as human rights. They would have us throw away the institutions which bind each of our individual nations together.

The only logical conclusion that the Scandinvan Empire can make from these activities is that the Skybound Republic of Havensky has chosen to abandon its status as a nation holding a Gothic lordship. Therefore Havensky has abandoned any of the privileges and rights enjoyed by those nations which have remained loyal to the ancient tenants of Gholgoth. This in turn forfeits their rights to claim any holdings within the region. Thus the Glorious Empire has chosen to insist upon the return of the lands that the Gothic City-States of Havensky to the Scandinvan throne underneath a doctrine of lapse as we are the last Gothic power to lay claim (and exercise control of) to those lands during a struggle in which our people successfully destroyed a dominion of the crazed soothsayer. Though we would certainly recognize the right of Havensky' s people to leave the region peaceable if their nation's land claims are rendered void. We additionally, if the principle of lapse is applied, would not actively seek to settle the land by ourselves solely and would be more than happy to give control over the future of nearly all the territory to the Gothic Council to do with as they deem fit.

This is certainly not an issue that we Scandinvans take lightly nor would we insist upon such a principle in application to those nations whose ancestral homelands are in Gholgoth. Yet, in these trying times we must set understand that those who would betray our region in pursuit of liberal idealism and outlander alliances must be punished. Without us acting now to curb the Utopian dream of the Skybound Republic we risk allowing their cancer to spread to other nations. They eventually will provoke a civil war if the democratic infection is allowed to gain momentum. That is why we must act soon.

May this message find the Lords of Gholgoth in good fortune and health. May the Almighty bless Gholgoth with bountiful harvests for years to come.

Signed on behalf of his most blessed, enlightened, and honored imperial majesty Crown Prince Fernic ap Erid ao Erid,
Thomas III,
Patriarch of the True Church,
Servant of Erid,
Voice of the Faithful,
Defender of the Word,
Holy Peter's Appointed Successor
Last edited by The Scandinvans on Tue Jan 31, 2017 11:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
We are the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvans. Surrender or be destroyed. Your civilization has ended, your time is over. Your people will be assimilated into our Empire. Your technological distinctiveness shall be added to our own. Your culture shall be supplanted by our own. And your lands will be made into our lands.

"For five thousand years has our Empire endured. In war and peace we have thrived. Against overwhelming odds we evolved. No matter what we face we have always survived and grown. We shall always be triumphant." -Emperor Godfrey II

Hope for a brighter tomorrow - fight the fight, find the cure

User avatar
Dephire
Envoy
 
Posts: 233
Founded: Sep 06, 2005
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Dephire » Thu Feb 02, 2017 4:43 pm

Operation Wilhelm
Hilem Estate, Northern Dephire
One week since ULE City


The convoy consisted of five armored infantry transport vehicles, six high mobility vehicles, four attack helicopters, one hundred soldiers, and one Inquisitor Dramman. It snaked along the imperial highway and made a hard turn onto a private road heading towards a structure in the distance. Everyone was heavily armed with assault rifles and thick riot armor. Twenty soldiers carried Havensky-inspired combat shields and were larger than the rest, his majesty's paladins.

"Hmm," the Inquisitor was examining a massive book, "The triumvirate has declared that ninety percent of this facility's occupants are guilty to some degree for actions against the crown. Most are of grade three and four, who will receive quite lenient sentences. We are here for the grades one and two. They have been given execution sentences that will be carried out as soon as we arrive."

"If the Emperor wills it, then it shall be done," said one of the paladins.

The Inquisitor set down the book and looked out the window, "This will be a long day. At least we have arrived." The convoy stopped inside the estate's parking lot and the helicopters made a quick sweep of the grounds before returning. A soldier rushed to Dramman's door, opening it for the Inquisitor. Dramman, with his legs augmented with the latest technology to restore his ability to walk, stepped out of the vehicle with a small walkie talkie in hand and wore a formal uniform. Two more soldiers rushed over with a speaker system. A loud whine from the speakers made it clear they were on and ready to project.

"Citizens of Dephire, I command your attention. This estate has been found to be conspiring against the Empire. Surrender peacefully and you will find leniency in your sentences. You have five minutes to comply." Dramman spoke with the same ironic tone he used in ULE City. He pulled out a pocket watch and watched as the five minutes ticked down. As he waited, the soldiers exited their vehicles and got into formation. "I repeat, come out peacefully and the emperor shall grant leniency to your sentences. You now have four minutes to comply."

A few people began exiting the massive building. They ran to the convoy and were intercepted by a few of the soldiers. One of the paladins walked up to them, verified who they were, and let them walk. "No grade, Inquisitor. They said there are a few thousand in the building. Dozens of children are also in the building."

"Ah, thank you, Paladin Maiz," Dramman whispered. He turned his attention back to the building, "You now have two minutes to comply. Exit the building immediately or we will use force."

A window on one of the middle floors shattered, "Fuck you!" A man shouted and fired several shots towards what the Inquisitor thought were him, but the man was an extremely poor shot as puffs of dirt popped up in various areas of the grounds. The man disappeared as another came from behind him and pulled him away from the window.

"Well, I guess their time is up. Proceed." Dramman gestured for the soldiers to file into the building. He waited outside, sitting on a small wooden box while drinking tea and reading a newspaper, and listened to the shouts, cries, and short spats of gunfire from inside. Within ten minutes, several dozen people were walking outside towards the waiting paladins. The paladins processed the people and put them in their respective grades. More gunfire and shouting. The Inquisitor examined each person and noticed many had several wounds, as if being held captive and tortured by the occupants of the estate. He made mental notes of each individual and waited.

"Floors one through four cleared. One hundred casualties to report. No friendlies KIA." A soldier reported through his comm. "More people heading your way for processing."

"Very good, proceed." Dramman saw a much larger group was exiting the building, most were bound by their hands and all were being escorted by at least half a dozen soldiers. The paladins rushed up and intercepted the group.

"Hold up! This door is rigged. Back out."

"This doors is as well. Check the stairwell."

"Stairwell is clear. Moving up."

"Wait! Stop!" A soldier shouted in the comms. The Inquisitor only had a moment to look up at the building before a massive explosion erupted from the east side of the building.

"Report!" Dramman shouted in his microphone.

"Multiple squads down. Orders?"

Dramman heard intense gunfire and looked to his paladins, and then he picked up a phone.

Aboard the HMA Defiance

Beep... Beep...

Tristan stood in a bright room holding his beloved's hand. They were both severely injured during the Galva incident, but Tynsei remained in intensive care. Tears rolled down one of his cheeks, as the other had to be removed and was replaced with a prototype cybernetic eye. Tynsei lay on a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor. Her pulse was weakening with each beat of her heart.

Knock! Knock!

"Enter."

"I apologize for the disturbance, my lord. Inquisitor Dramman is asking for you."

Hilem Estate

"What is it, Dramman?"

"My lord, we have met much heavier resistance than expected at Himel. I-" A loud screeching boomed forth from the speakers. The gunfire ceased immediately.

"This is Emperor Tristan Skragg!" The man's voice boomed out loud and clear for all at Hilem to hear. His voice in the room on the Defiance was, however, soft. The beeps from the heart monitor were becoming further and further apart. "Your devotion to a cause that created much grief for this nation has pulled at my heartstrings. I, Tristan Skragg, pardon you all for such insolence. May the gods show you mercy." The heart monitor produced a long beep. Tristan unplugged the machine and gave the phone back to the soldier.

"Rest in peace, Empress Tynsei. I will notify all personnel to leave you alone, my lord." He bowed and walked away.

"Thank you," Tristan turned to his wife and kissed her forehead. "Rest well." He left the room and looked outside to see Havensky in the distance.

Hilem Estate

"Paladins, we are leaving!" Inquisitor Dramman shouted. "Hurry!"

"What of the citizens? We haven't finished processing them!"

"You are welcome to stay with them, Paladin. However, their processing has been completed for us!"

The paladin's eyes widened as he understood what his boss was implying and picked up the pace. They all boarded the vehicles and began driving away from the estate as quickly as possible.

"Orders, Inquisitor?" A pilot from one of the helicopters inquired.

"Grade Zero. Neutralize everything."

"As the Emperor wills." The pilot confirmed moments before all four of the aircraft open fired on the entire estate. The building collapsed after several rocket were launched into it, burying anyone within the grounds. A few more minutes passed before the helicopters returned to the retreating convoy to provide support.

Dramman noticed the group of people that Paladin Maiz had let go. "Driver, pull over."

"Aye, sir."

The vehicle pulled over onto the shoulder and Dramman exited and opened fire on the group. "For the Emperor," he said before calmly returning to his seat and closing the vehicle door. "Proceed, driver. Onward to the next location."

Citadel City

The trip was a difficult one for Tristan and his Godsend. Their brief visit to ULE City only further proved the dissatisfaction many of the Gothic Lords had with each other. He was frustrated how much they would talk but never act on their own words. If broken promises were bricks he could build a tower to the moon, figuratively. His airship began its long descent into the Dephirian assigned area of Citadel City where the Templar Knights held a remote branch. This new Defiance was black and used only in show, and it is protected by ten fighters of the Belka'vek division.

"Emperor Tristan, we will be landing in two minutes. A small group of local fans have gathered together to meet us. Our motorcade is also here to take us through downtown to the summit. No one knows about Tynsei's passing. I knew you would want to address everyone when you were ready." Godsend General Minera Volthe hugged her emperor then stepped back to bow. "I apologize, Tristan... I shouldn't have done that."

Tristan smiled, "Thank you for the briefing and your console, Minera. Remember, we are friends first." Minera smiled and bowed again before excusing herself. Tristan closed his bedroom door and changed into more appropriate attire. His casual clothing replaced with formal clothes. Everything was more difficult to accomplish ever since his battle with Ki'lan. The technology Wilhelm and Lady Raven had bestowed to him helped, but he will never be the same man. His eye was linked to the Triumvirate, the three artificial intelligence programs Colossus, Leviathan, and Ragnarok. They provide him with advice and help him manage the nation. Though, right now, they are helping him with diminished depth perception and bad taste for fashion.

Fifteen minutes since touching down, Tristan, accompanied by his Godsend Generals and two dozen knights, finally descended the ramp to meet the Skyans awaiting him. He chose to wear armored clothing, which was both stylish and protective.

"Hello and thank you for having us!" Tristan shouted out, smiling to the Skyans. Though, it was difficult to accept his enthusiasm with the heavily armored escorts and his scarred face. "Well, let us get started with the tour. Shall we?" He whispered to Minera.
"My nation was forged by the blade of a sword and so it lives on through the sword." -Tristan Skragg, Emperor of Briska.

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Wed Feb 15, 2017 8:28 pm

Cameras from Skyan journalists were rolling as the Emperor Skragg’s airship touched down at Emissary Airport and were met with cheers from the Citadel City residents who were watching on their screens.

The one camera that didn’t instantly upload their photos for the whole world to see was that of Kyle Boshi. His big heavy camera make a mechanical click as the image of Emperor Tristan Skragg stepping off the tarmac against the backdrop of the afternoon was captured. Boshi was a photojournalist. His images were not the quick snapping of people’s mobile devices, but the patient and steady hand of somebody with an underappreciated skill.

Boshi’s process was careful. There were things to consider when taking the photos. The lighting, the framing, the actual moment that he needed to snap the camera. He didn’t always produce the greatest number of pictures - but they were better.

While Briska was the most authoritarian of the Skyan allies, the reforms they had made and their steadfast contributions to the military efforts of the Legion had endeared them to the Skyan people.

As the Emperor stepped onto the tarmac, the honor guard snapped to attention as the band began to play the Dephirian national anthem. A pair of fighter jets swooped low and performed a flyby and the crowds cheered again. Across the route from the airport to the Citadel, crowds had gathered to greet the Emperor and were waving Skyan and Briskan flags.

A few more careful clicks of Boshi’s camera.

Secretary of State Atticus, flanked by the Skyan Ambassador to Dephire, the Briskan Ambassador to Havensky, and Major Gavin Squall marched up to greet him with a plate of salted bread and bourbon. As the Emperor finished his bread, Squall shook his arm and that of his fellow military brethren.

“Emperor Skragg, welcome back to Citadel City. I am pleased to find you in good health. Please, this way you majesty.”

Despite the Emperor’s brave face, Atticus could discern something was amiss. Atticus could not have known what had just transpired. The Skyan High Council had been given information about the attack and had known that both Tristian and Tynsi had been injured. As the crowds cheered louder as the convoy moved onto the main streets of Citadel City; they could not have known what had just happened either. If they had, the crowd would have been silent and respectful for a man in mourning. Boshi noticed, but it wasn’t his job to pry - just to get the shot.

The convoy took a different route than the other Lords. This time, the convoy routed to the south through the Portside District and towards the Great Library. Before reaching the Great Library the convoy slowed down as it reached a bronze and stone statue across from Glitch Labs. There were many like this in the city recognizing fallen warriors. This particular one was special.

This statue depicted an image of Godsend General Wilhelm who had served alongside Squall and other Legionaries during the Milograd Conflict and had taken part in the rescue of Queen Heart. He had been named a Heartknight Gaurdian for his action, but upon his request had been allowed to caucus with the Astrals. It had been just like the General to be recognized for his skills as a warrior, but want to be treated as a scientist.

The statue’s shield and armor were made in the Skyan manner, but with the cloth cape in the color’s of Dephire. His shield bore Wilhelm’s crest and his sword was split between the red blade of a Guardian and the Purple hue of the Astrals. On the pedestal, the words “The Godsend Knight Wilhelm of Dephire & the Warrior Scholar of Havensky”

The crowd sat silent for a moment as the car stopped in front of the statue. The only noise the sound of the car’s electric engine and the flags flapping in the breeze behind the statue. The car moved on.

Boshi had been traveling in a different car. He couldn’t hear the conversation. He only knew that the faces of the leaders were more somber than they should have been.

The convoy moved through jubilant crowds along the main route towards the Citadel. The band stood to attention and began to play the anthem as the black phoenix of the Dephire rose to take it’s place alongside the flags of the other Lords.

The Ironwings were the only officials to meet him on the Citadel steps as the convoy pulled in. The media, which normally would have been there to capture the moment, had been ushered away. Only Boshi remained. The band had marched out into the street away from the entry tunnel blocking the view from the crowd looking in. The honor guard had been reduced to just a platoon of Heartbreak Company. As Tristan stepped out of the car, it was Lucas who reached out first to greet him. Not with a bow, or a handshake, but with a bear hug.

Boshi could hear the voice of the King. He had been allowed to take pictures, but not video.

“Tristian, we are so sorry for your loss. You know that you don’t have to be here. We understand - frankly everyone will understand. I’ll have a high speed transport waiting for you if you change your mind. You should be with your children. I know you want to see this through; but have faith in your people.”

Lucas released him and Tristan was immediately hugged by Jessica.

“Are you ok?”

Alone in the entry tunnel over the brick and mortar of the Citadel stood three friends for a spell as they remembered those who had gone before.
Last edited by Havensky on Sat Nov 10, 2018 8:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
Ghant
Minister
 
Posts: 2443
Founded: Feb 11, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Ghant » Tue Feb 21, 2017 12:18 pm

“Grasp of Steel”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

(Co-written with Aldarminia and Havensky)

After relaying the news of the new Azcheyko’s pending arrival to the world, Katya realized she had committed a gross injustice to her hosts. Blushing, she hurriedly hugged Silvier and whispered her temporary goodbye. The Hearthkeeper then made her way to the Ironwings, parting ways with her children who sought after the attentions of the Ghantish. Approaching the Ironwings, Katya bowed her head slightly in respect to the Skyan royals, regardless of the sort of royals they were. Simpering with a red-flushed face, “Forgive me, my hosts, but the faces of close friends can be so distracting and alluring.”

The Grand Empress nodded in a pause to the king before continuing, “You Majesty, Lucas, it is a great pleasure to see you again, so soon at that. But, I have to say the greatest pleasure to me here and now is that I can finally meet the renowned Jessica Heart.”

Katya bowed her body at her hip in a show of admiration for the Skyan Queen and proceeded with her formal introduction.

“Ah, Grand Empress Katya we meet at last!”, remarked Jessica as she turned towards the Aldarminian. Lucas Ironwing followed shortly behind her and returned the bow.

“We’re so glad to have you in Citadel City. Lucas was just telling me how much he enjoyed his visit to your palace.”

A server walked by with a tray and offered the Empress an iced glass of vodka, which she happily accepted. She laughed in surprise before she sipped it, wondering if Lucas had remembered or if the Skyans were excellent at doing their homework. Her laughter had a subtle air of nervousness. A decade or so ago, it would have been unfathomable to Katya to meet the Kylarnatian Caesar, and when the tales of the Skyan incursion and Jessica’s escapades had reached the beleaguered Aldarminian state, the Hearthkeeper was sure that the tense security situation of the Empire would never allow her to meet the Hero.

Yet here she was, not just among her greatest idols, but among them as an equal. The Makars had been Gothic Lords centuries before, but with the Azcheyko Uprising in the mid-twentieth century, that hegemony came tumbling down until finally the orphaned and alone Azcheyko fell in love with the Makar princess. Katya had never been so thankful to have been ambushed during the Usurper’s War. To Jessica, she barely managed to hold back her nervous and giggly response, “Oh, that old place? The fall house is quite nice, but you two have to come see the real house in the homeland. It’s much larger, and there are all sorts of castles and gardens to explore. The Arannalsk is extremely beautiful this time of year, as well, if you two would like to visit after these affairs are settled. The snow has just started its first waver so everything is capped in white.”

“Oh, I’ve never been a fan of the cold… but maybe I’ll try it just once.”, replied Jessica. While the Citadel was an enormous fortress, the actual royal residence was quite modest by Gothic standards. It was only three stories with a small garden that buffered it from the larger city. Indeed, everything about the Skyan royals seem to portray modesty. Their clothes were nice, but simple. Jessica’s crown was in fact a simple iron band without any decoration or engraving.

Nodding in understanding, Katya replied, “Oh yes, believe me, when you live in the Eternal Winter, the cold gets quite tiresome. Though I am sure we could cook something up to warm the body and spirit. If you do not like the cold though, I suppose Dalikh and I could turn on all the heaters in the Arannalsk. The gardens would probably love that.”

As the Hearthkeeper spoke, she scanned the Skyans and their regalia. Compared to her and her children, the Skyans appeared to be some class of humble servants who had been given the freedom of their own uniform choice. Katya understood it to be the Skyans’ tendency to play down their royal status, but it still disturbed her. When actually given the chance to act like one, even in the middle of a civil war, the then-teenager had adored playing princess and later Empress.

Two servants appeared behind Katya, bearing gifts from the Empire to the Skybound Republic. The Aldarminian Grand Empress turned to gesture to and present the gifts. “Dear friends, it is my honor to present these tokens of our national affections…”

One of the servants stepped forward holding two bottles wrapped in furs, “...For you King Lucas, there is Faratovish Bourbon…”

The servant bowed to Lucas and handed him the bottle wrapped in field tiger’s fur, “...And for you Queen Jessica, there is some Crasnipol Red Wine…”

The same servant did the same bow and the same hand-off before retreating to their original position behind Katya, cueing the other servant to advance. This one held a long wooden box decorated in animal bone shards and Mralic runiform engravings. The engravings themselves were a friendly challenge to any willing Skyan, which Katya explained as the box was presented to both the Ironwings, “The box you see has been carved into it an ancient poem which has been ciphered with Mralic grammar and ancient Aldarminian runiforms. I am sure someone will be entertained by such a puzzle and its solution, but the real prize lies inside…”

The servant opened the box, revealing two shashkas, or Cossack sabers, of the highest quality, which the Grand Empress buoyantly elaborated upon, “Theseto shashkas were specifically crafted to your ergonomic appeal,” with the drinks and the blades, it appeared as if both Aldarminia and Havensky were good students of each other’s preferences, “The hilts and pommels are crafted from tiger bone, while the blades are forged from Polar steel. The sheaths are oaken with a field tiger’s coat as theirs. Consider these gifts to not only come from the Aldarminian Empire, but also directly from the Hearth of the Cossack and the Tige. The Azcheyko family is graced to have new friends such as you two.”

“Ah, these are wonderful! Thank you so much!”, remarked Jessica as an aide took the bottles for safekeeping as Lucas studied the box.

“Is it cheating for me to phone a friend?”, asked Lucas studying the runes and eyeing the two swords.

The Grand Empress laughed, “Well, you could do that, or use it as an excuse to convince Jessica here to come to the homeland. We have a saying in Aldarminia that I think fits neatly here: ‘The only cheater is the one who does not claim to be king.’”

Lucas laughed, “Well, we will work on that.” He handed the box to an aide to keep it safe as he took out one of the swords and tested its weight. He peered along the edge of the blade moving his hand ever so slightly to feel how sturdy the blade was within the hilt. This did not go unnoticed, as the young Crown Prince of Ghant, who was with his father and siblings, turned to admire the blade.

“These are very fine swords. I thank you very much.”, Lucas said carefully placing the sword back in it’s box as an aide took it away.

“I understand that young Zlobaskar is becoming quite a duelist himself. If he has time while he’s here; I’d love to test him. My day job is a professor at the Citadel Military Academy and I coach the dueling team as part of my course offerings.” By now, Bebe’s attention was wholly upon the conversation at hand.

Katya and the Ironwings had been unaware of a lingering eavesdropper. Upon hearing mention of a duel, though, the spy of the conversation blew his cover, “It would be my honor, sir.”

A mischievous smile stretched Zlobaskar’s lips as he snapped a servant to him. The other Azcheyko children had wanted to make their way to the Ghantish royal spawn, but the possibility of a duel was too enticing, so the youthful entourage turned around and began forming the beginnings of a circular audience around the Synoktron and the Skyan King. The Ghantish, taking notice of this, joined them in forming a circle around the prospective duelists. Zlobaskar handed his fur coat to the servant he had beckoned, relieving him of the warm weight. Another servant came to him holding a sheathed shashka.

The sheath was similar to the ones that the Ironwings had received, but as Zlobaskar drew the blade, it became clear that that is where the similarities ended. Because Zlobaskar was younger and smaller, his blade was shorter and smaller to compensate for the difference in weight and balance. The blade was slightly more curved at the tip, and the hilt and pommel were deeply encrusted with jewels, and the tassel which hanged from the pommel was a length of tiger’s tale. There also appeared to be small runiforms beveled into the lower section of blade.

The children were giggling, but the mother was mortified. Katya’s face had now become entirely red. She felt her heart drop as the razor sharp Tiger’s Claw--The Syknotron had little originality when it came to naming his weapons--was drawn and as the remaining Blood Guard in the social area made a tense march towards the circle. Katya almost screamed, “No! Zloba! This is not-”

A sly smile emerged from Ironwing’s lips as the young lordling drew his sword. He reached out with one hand and shouted, “BUCK” and one of the Captain of the Iron Guard tossed one of the ceremonial staffs that he had been carrying. The staff was already in the air even before Ironwing had spoken.

Time slowed. The moment that the staff reached Ironwing’s hands it slide wide and struck the young lordling’s wrist causing him to drop the sword. In the next instance, Ironwing swung the staff back then thrust it towards the Zlobaskar’s chest pushing him back. He then reversed the staff downwards catching Tiger’s Claw and bringing it towards him. As he did, he watch the lordling dash towards the sword. He extended the staff again and tripped Zlobaskar.

The duel was over.

Ironwing bent down to pick up Tiger’s Claw inspecting it. At the result, Bebe roared with laughter. “I thought young Zlobaskar was something of an aspiring duelist. What I saw instead was pathetic, any of my sisters could wield a blade with more skill,” he laughed.

“Silence,” the Emperor of Ghant reprimanded his son. “Such mockery is unbefitting of a Crown Prince towards a Prince of another nation.”

“Nonsense,” Bebe said defiantly to his father. “If the boy wishes to play a men’s game, then he should learn not to fight like a girl,” he continued to snigger.

Ironwing was speaking to Zlobaskar quietly so that the other children wouldn’t hear the lecture.

“This, young lord, is a very fine sword. A treasure fit for such a brave young man like yourself. That said, it’s not a dueling sword and this really isn’t the place for horseplay. I imagine both of our guards would be quite nervous if we both dueled with the sharp swords. I will have Captain Buck give you one of my practice swords so you get familiar with it and later on we can have a real lesson at the Legionary Training Ground. If that’s ok with your mother?”

Ironwing’s tone was stern, but friendly. It was clear that he hadn’t wanted to embarrass him too much and had admired the lordling’s bravado.

Katya never wanted the duel to happen in the first place, but when all was said and done, she was thankful it had happened and ecstatic that it had not ended with Zlobaskar trying to cut the Skyan King’s head off. Zlobaskar was annoyed and disgraced, but the Grand Empress knew he would get over it. To her genuine surprise, the Synoktron was unusually gracious in his defeat. Zlobaskar, uncued by his mother or a servant, bowed himself to a near-ninety-degree in front of the Skyan King, and almost mumbled his surrender, “Thank you for the duel, Your Majesty, but I would certainly enjoy a rematch. Please forgive my foolish haste…”

This show of graciousness impressed Ironwing far more than the bravado he had shown earlier.

“It’s perfectly alright, you’re not the first hot headed student I’ve had nor shall you be the last.”

Zlobaskar turned to his mother to acquire an approval of the invitation and a sanction of the rematch, which she did give with a slight nod. So, Zlobaskar accepted, “It would be my privilege to have a more proper duel, Your Majesty, so please call on me when the convenient time has arrived.”

Ironwing smiled as Captain Buck handed the young lordling a sheathed practice blade. The blade was in the same tanto shape as the standard Skyan sword.

“You best be ready sir, the Butcher’s End don’t play.”

After this, Zlobaskar regrouped with the rest of the Hammerspawn who were now fully resolved to introduce themselves to the Gentry children. Meanwhile, Katya, some of her paleness returning to her expression despite all the near-misses (Near-deaths might be a better choice of phrasing) diplomacy-wise, spoke to Lucas with a mother’s grace lining her voice, “Thank you, Lucas. Zlobaskar gets a little too excited when it comes to fighting. But as I am sure you know, boys will be boys.”

“No need for thanks, I raised a boy myself and they can get rowdy at times. He’s got guts that’s for sure. Your son handled his lesson far better than most. He’s got a bright future ahead.”

“The guts of a girl, maybe,” Bebe said jeeringly towards Zlobaskar. “He’s had his chance, now he can wait his turn, and watch a proper swordsman in action. I won’t be subdued so easily.” Turning to Ironwing, Bebe closed his fist over his heart and said, “I would challenge thee, King Lucas, if you’re willing to accept a challenge from someone who is actually skilled in the use of a blade.”

Zlobaskar, sheathing his blade, and mumbled something in Alnardic to the effect of, “I have watched enough proper swordsmen to know you are not one.”

The Synoktron humbly walked past his Ghantish counterpart, saying an insult in Mralic loud enough for his siblings to laugh and his mother to grimace at but only them and the Blood Guards understand, “The Gentry prince speaks of girl guts like he doesn’t like them. Maybe he’d prefer to be at a boyhouse than a citadel!”

The Blood Guard erupted in a chuckle, knowing that the Grand Empress was petrified that her son had just insinuated that Bebe was a pederast. After giggling for a few moments, Sophyana and Lucylla exchanged whispers and took turns glancing at the Ghantish Crown-Prince as he made his challenge. The younger sister plucked a flower from her necklace and gave it to her elder. Ryslander handed a platinum coin to a smug Hrothashki, who deposited it into a small black bag hanging from his tunic hidden by his cherkesska. The youngest Dalikharl pulled gently on Ryslander’s cherkesska and Hrothashki’s coats, using the two’s garments to swing his small body back and forth.

“...You know who that is, right?” the Emperor said to his son. “King Lucas Ironwing is a master of his craft.”

Bebe yawned and batted the air with his hand. “With all due respect, father, I’d like to be the judge of that myself.” Having said that, Bebe called out to Ser Rolli. “My sword, please.” Nodding, the Knight Champion withdrew Bebe’s sword, and handed it to him. Drawing it from it’s scabbard, the sword was castle-forged steel, a narrow shortsword with a keen edge and a hilt of black and gold with a large piece of onyx embedded in the pommel. The Crown Prince was old and strong enough to wield the blade with one or two hands, depending on the circumstances.

“Considering that you’re the host, your Majesty, what shall be the terms of the spar?” he asked the Skyan king in a more dignified manner as he raised his blade.

Behind Bebe, the tall frame of Jessica Heart reached out and grabbed Bebe’s sword by the edge much to the surprise of Bebe. Her voice had switched from that of a diplomat to that of a Gothic Lord whose word was law and did not suffer fools. “There will be no more swordplay in the lobby. You can all take your dueling lessons on the training ground like everyone else. Understood?

Bebe was as surprised as he was jarred, and unwilling to shift the blade for fear that it would cut the Queen’s hand. “Are you mad, your Majesty? You’ll cut your hand…” Bebe’s voice trailed off as he turned his head and examined the Queen’s arm, and upon noticing that it was artificial, his jaw was left agape. “Oh my...wow…”

Prince Victor looked at the spectacle as though the boy had never seen anything more wondrous in his entire life. “You’re arm is...steel…”

Rubbing his forehead as he glanced at the queen, he quipped “it would appear as though Her Majesty has a grasp of steel…”

“Y’all are all too quick to brandish the blade,” remarked Jessica. When Bebe had the chance, he sheathed his sword and handed it back to Ser Rolli.

“I allowed him to bear steel, Jessica,” the Emperor of Ghant explained himself to his colleague. “Prince Zlobaskar was permitted to do the same against your husband, so I expected my son would be allowed a similar opportunity.”

“And my husband is going to get a lecture for encouraging the boy! Seriously, dueling in the lobby with sharp objects and people all around. Your son will get his chance, just not in the lobby! Perhaps, Ironwing can take those interested in a little lesson to the Training Ground during our Summit?”

Valentina crossed her arms and squeaked, “I could probably beat Zlobaskar too, and I’m a girl. Men think they’re better but that’s just because of pride!”

“Well, then you’d be more than welcome to go with them then. But please, put those things away!”

While making a mental note to discuss the behavior of the children, Katya ordered the Blood Guard to seize Tiger’s Claw. Sophyana, seeing an opportunity to advance relations in a more positive manner, scurried towards the Ghantish princess and curtsied. Lucylla and the youngest Hammerspawn followed closely behind their sister, but the eldest trio of Azcheyko boys remained near the scene of the dueling gaffes. Here, their expressions had shifted from jaw-agape awe at Jessica’s arm to a proud troop of sneers aimed at Bebe.

Sophyana saw this and decided that pleasantries should come before hostilities, “I think I could beat him too, but he never practices with me. It is an honor to meet you, I’m Sophyana,” she leaned in closely with a whisper, “But you can call me Sophy.”

“You can use a sword?” Valentina asked Sophy. “Maybe he won’t fight you because he’s scared you’d beat him,” she giggled.

Lucylla ducked her head under Sophyana’s chin, and her teeth glistened behind a dimpling grin. Fixing her floral crown, she introduced herself through a snicker, “I am Prynzesha Lucylla, but I’d like it if you called me Flower,” she pulled her younger brother to in front of her, “And this is Troi,” pausing to realize her mistake before correcting, “I mean this is Dalikharl the third of his name, after our father and grand-father.”

“...How can he be the third of his name if he’s not Emperor?” Valentina asked, seeming confused. “One only acquires a regal title upon their ascension. For instance, Bebe isn’t Nathan the Fifth because that’s a regal name, and he’s not Emperor, so he’s just ‘Prince Nathan.’”

Sophy tilted her head in befuddlement, “Well, in Aldarminia, you are second or third after your name whether or not your royalty, so long as you’re named after someone, but,” the Aldarminian princess paused to consider her question before asking, “But what did you just call your brother? ‘Bebe?’ What is that?”

“So if there was a Dalikharl the second who wasn’t Emperor, then there would have been an Emperor Dalikharl I and an Emperor Dalkiharl III, but no Emperor Dalikharl II?” Valerie asked with a cocked head and a raised eyebrow. “That would be stupid.”

“Bebe is French for baby,” Blanche began to explain to the Aldarminians. “Father’s name is also Nathan, so people called Bebe ‘Baby Nathan.’ That’s where Bebe comes from, besides the fact that he acts like a baby, so he’s earned his nickname well and good,” the princess giggled.

Whilst the girls exchanged greetings, the gang of elder Azcheyko’s approached Bebe with devilish smiles. Hrothashki had realized himself of his coat as well now, and he offered his hand first to the Ghantish Crown-Prince, and in almost perfect common tongue said, “If you want to spar at the training grounds, I would suggest placing a wager on your victory. Assuming you win, you and I could gain a small but satisfactory profit. Prince Hrothashki, second of my name after my uncle, may he rejoice in paradise. It is an honor to meet you, sir.”

Bebe looked over the Prince, and nodded curtly. “My uncle warned me not to accept wagers from eager foes, since no sane man would place such a bet unless he was sure of his victory. Well met Hrothashki, I am Nathan, Crown Prince of Ghant. Pray tell my prince, are you a better swordsman than your brother?” he asked with a grin.

Hrothashki chuckled, “Your uncle is a wise man, and I am sure his cup sits comfortably filled to the brim. As for swordsmanship, I would wager that you would be an unsuitable match for me, but my brother, on the other hand, well…”

“Your brother got his sword knocked from his hand like an amateur,” Bebe laughed as he waved a hand dismissively. “Speed is more important than strength. Had that been me, I would have anticipated such a strike and appropriately shifted my swordhand so as to not have been disarmed so easily.”

Hrothashki looked at Ryslander and Zlobaskar who were exchanging whispered ideas for some devious plot. “I was betting on you because you are the long shot. I can afford the loss, but I would like to see the Tiger lose his claw again,” he finished as his twin and adopted brother neared within earshot.

Zlobaskar appeared as smug as ever, as if every insult Bebe had thrown and any shame from the dueling fiasco had bounced right off his chest. Ryslander’s sneer was fading to either some cold indifference or fiery vehemence towards the Ghantish Crown Prince. The Aldarminian Synoktron was the first to formally introduce himself of the two, “It would appear that the guts and the iron arms of a girl are all that is needed to defeat the great Nathan of Ghant,” Zlobaskar’s chuckle was similar to his twin’s but it had the hint of a rumbling and boiling confidence, “Throne-Prince Zlobaskar, first of my name in the Blood House Azcheyko, it is an honor to meet you, my Ghantish friend and fellow heir. You can call me Zloba, comrade.”

Ryslander reluctantly shifted his lips into a smile and extended a courteous greeting, “Ryslander, first of my name in the Blood House Azcheyko, second of my name after my great-grandfather in the Veiled House Makar. I am the adopted son of the Grand Emperor. Honored to meet you, Ghantar.”

Bebe scowled at the two Aldarminians incredulously. “Ghantar? Your Highness would be appropriate, Aldarminians. Or did your mother not teach you proper etiquette? That wouldn’t surprise me all that much, considering they didn’t bother to teach you how to fight properly either. No worries though, I’d be pleased to train your myself,” Bebe did an about face and began speaking nobley. “My mother has expressed an interest in a match between our respective houses, and if we are to be bound, then we must train together as warriors, must we not?”

Not far away from them was Prince John, who scratched his scalp and tilted his head. “First and Second of your name? How do you bear regal enumerations when you do not rule anything yourselves? For instance, my brother here is just ‘Crown Prince Nathan,’ but if we were to follow Aldarminian customs, He’d be…” thinking for a moment, John pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “Nathan, the sixth of his name, because only the first, second, fourth and fifth Nathans were Emperor, while the third one died while he was Crown Prince, and didn’t beget any children.”

“...Thank you for that knowledge, John,” the Ghantish Crown Prince replied sarcastically.

Katya made her way through the crowd to greet Nathan. Bowing her head both in respect and apology, she spoke softly, “Forgive me but I did not expect that my children would get this excited and start duels with our hosts,” repeating the formal greeting, then, “I look forward to working with you, though. Hopefully, alongside our fellow Goths, our two empires could enjoy a-” Katya took a moment to glance back at the children to make sure they were not stirring up anymore trouble, “Very prosperous relationship.”

The Emperor took Katya’s hand and gently kissed it upon the back. “I would like that, Katya. In times of uncertainty, friends are the greatest treasure, and I agree that there is much our nations can gain from working together in a...mutually beneficial fashion.”

The Hearthkeeper blushed, but she saw the warm gesture as a good sign, so she kissed the air beside the Ghantish Emperor’s cheek. Katya inquired delicately as she reared back, “Have you considered the suggestions that my husband and I made through Lady Jarasa?”

“My wife and I have,” the Emperor replied as he offered Katya his arm. “There’s certainly a great deal of potential there...much to consider indeed. Come, let us walk together, and we can discuss these matters in greater detail where there will be less prying ears.” the Emperor was worried that his children would eavesdrop on the conversation, and so he firmly, though gently, made his best effort to escort the Aldarminian Empress away from the crowds of guests, many of which were family, into more secluded areas of the building’s accessible areas.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Ghant
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Factbook | IIwiki | RP Resume | IIwiki Admin | Recipient of the Greater Dienstad Roleplay Reward
"Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" - Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias
XX XXX
XX XXX

User avatar
Drakonian Imperium
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 125
Founded: Antiquity
Anarchy

Surprise Royale

Postby Drakonian Imperium » Wed Mar 15, 2017 2:58 pm

Like a great bird, the massive jet glided gracefully down onto the runway. The Drakonians called these jumbo jetliners "SkyEmbassies". Operated by the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps., the SkyEmbassy was a variant a military transport and civilian passenger aircraft. Named for their ability to fully function as embassy or consulate when operating abroad, SkyEmbassies were only deployed on the most sensitive and largest of diplomatic missions.

This great bird had three decks, the two main decks were a full length passenger deck and a full length cargo deck, while the third upper deck, which served as a command and passenger deck, gave the forward section of the aircraft a distinct hump. The aircraft had two massive engines under each dramatically swept back wing. Painted a metallic silver, a single bar ran the length of the fuselage, it’s core was a line of gold, around that lines of black, then lines of red, and finally bordered by thin lines of black. The Dragon Seal of the Imperium was laid out on the wings and the flag of the Imperium, the Eclipsed Sun, spread across the tail.

As the SkyEmbassy rolled down the runway, waiting on the tarmac were an assembly of Skyans and Drakonians. Among them was the Drakonian Ambassador to Havensky, Lady Adula Vesta. A native of the city of Portulum, on the island of Alyssia in south central Mille Mortifere, she was middle aged, but was still maintained trim figure. She had a regal and severe bearing and had the olive skin of a Drakonian with long flowing brown, almost black, hair, and piercing jade eyes.

Lady Vesta looked to the woman next to her. "Were you aware that Aldarminian Emperor had a family?"

"It wasn't in the intelligence dossiers I've read." Gaia Calpurnia was the personal aide to the Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. Miss Calpurnia wore a v-necked, bright red dress, cut just a little too high and little too tight. The young maiden was one of the brightest stars in the diplomatic service. An exceptional linguist, she had been present in Krytopia for Havensky’s admission onto the Gholgothic Council of Lords. For this meeting, she had been dispatched with the advance team and arrived in Citadel City a few days ago aboard a cramped military transport full of Praetorian Guards.

Next to her, the Lady Vesta wore a darker and far more conservative outfit. The Millian aristocrat wore a long emerald green gown, with half sleeves and a high cut neck. She covering this with a black stole scarf embroidered with intricate flower stylings in gold thread.

Lady Vesta turned back to the plane. "So many soldiers," she said dryly.

Gaia nodded, her own eyes falling upon the honor guard sent by the Drakonian Embassy. They stood in formation, two rows of five men each, with their officer, a major, standing in line with the first row. The guardsmen stood pillar straight, their legs shoulder-width apart, left arm resting behind their back while the right held their rifle barrels, the butt of the guns resting on the ground, rifles tilted forward at a slight resting angle. The bayonets affixed to the tip of their rifles glistened in the sunlight. 'Stand-at-Ease,' Gaia had heard the officer call.

The guards' uniforms consisted of a stand-collar tunic, a deep obsidian black in color with the dark violet piping and shining gold buttons, matte black pressed trousers with a thin imperial purple stripe down the side of the leg, a black peaked cap with its top rim trimmed in purple and a purple band, black gloves, and glossy black dress shoes. In addition, to their assault rifles the guardsmen were armed with a short sword hung sheathed on their left hip and a pistol holstered on their right. The officer lacked a rifle and instead of a short sword he wore a sabre.

On the runway, the great plane had rolled to a stop. The energy of its flight and landing spent, it again slowly began to roll forward.

"You know how we, Drakonians, like to put on a show," Gaia quietly said back to the ambassador. She caught the Lady’s eye and drew it to the Skyans. "It would seem the trait is shared by our hosts."

Across from the guardsmen, the Skyan too stood still as statues in their powered armor. Next to the them, the Praetorian Guard appeared as renaissance soldiers next to fully armoured knights.

The SkyEmbassy lazily turned off of the runway onto one of the taxiways and toward the awaiting entourage.

"Atten-TION," the Praetorian Major ordered.

In a fluid motion, each left boot snapped together with their right, each left arm fell to their hips, and each rifle straightened to vertical alongside the right leg. The honor guard prepared to receive Havensky’s latest guests.

Its journey complete, the great aircraft finally rolled up the to the assembly.

"Slope ARMS!"

Again the honor guard moved to action; again their rifles moved. This time they lept from the ground, their left hand catching the foregrip before the rifle moved across their bodies to rest on their right shoulders, left hands holding the rifle by its stock while the right now moved to rest on their thighs.

A ramp was brought out to the plane to aid in embarkation. When the hatch opened, the first out of the aircraft were another two Praetorian Guards armed the same as the honor guard and in the same full dress uniforms. However, there was one difference, these guards wore aiguillettes of gold-wire cords on their right shoulders. In perfect unison and drill they turned and took flanking positions at the top of the ramp. Their rifled remained on their left shoulders and they too stood at slope arms.

Again, another pair of guardsmen emerged from the plane. These marched down the ramp in line, before turning in unison and taking positions flanking its base. They too stood with their rifles at slope arms.

Now a tall man emerged from the plane. He too wore a black uniform trimmed in purple, but he also wore a purple sash bordered in gold from his right shoulder and across his chest. He also wore gold aiguillette from his left shoulder. On his right hip he wore a rapier with a gold basket hilt. Its scabbard black leather with a gold cap and a gold base. His skin was dark, almost seeming bronze in the sunlight, though it was perhaps lighter than most Drakonians; the tropical sun apparently showing it more care. He wore no cap, his brown hair was streaked with light brown and grey. Blue, almost violet, eyes scanned those assembled as the band began to play "Press on, Imperium".

Stunned looks pasted across the faces of the Drakonians. This was not who they had expected to emerge from the plane. First to react was the captain of the honor guard.

"Present ARMS," he barked.

The guards who had emerged from plane did not move. But not the rifles of the Honor Guard, they lifted from the Guards’ shoulders and pushed outward, underside first, right hand coming to rest on the bullpup’s magazines, while the left gripped down just below the pistol grip. In a final snap the guards’ right boot heel snapped down behind their left.

Gaia opened her mouth to announce the man who had departed the aircraft, but in her surprise her voice caught in her throat. She closed her mouth, once more summoning her voice. This time it worked.

"His Imperial and Royal Majesty, Augustus Valens Drake, Praetor of the Drakonian Imperium by the Grace of God, Representative of the People before the Senate by their Will, Monarch of the Realms of Drakonia, and of her Protectorates and Territories, Lord of Gholgoth."

No sooner had Gaia finished speaking then a young woman exit the plane. She too wore a uniform, though hers was trimmed in a crimson red rather the purple. She also wore a purple and gold sash and the same gold aiguillette. Her skin color was a light brown, almost darker then the man she now stood next too, but where the face was different the eyes were same blue-violet. Her hair was black and long seeming woven in lines of small curls. She held a cap under arm and wore an ornate gold-handled basket-hilted rapier on hip. A keen observer would notice that both the man and young woman wore similar badges on their left breasts above their medals (of which she only had a few). This badge appeared as two outstretched wings.

The eyes of the Drakonians again widened. However, this time, Gaia found it much easier to speak.

"Her Imperial and Royal Highness, Liliana Alexis Glorianna Bellona Drake, Princess of Drakonia by the Grace of God, Princess of Mons Regalus, and of Trinitia, Lieutenant of the Imperial Drakonian Army."

The Praetor led his daughter down the ramp and onto tarmac. As they passed the honor guard, the major in charge raised his sabre from his shoulder, bringing the hilt across his face then dropping it down diagonal so that the point nearly touched the tarmac to his left, before returning it to his shoulder. The Praetor nodded slightly acknowledging the salute.

A third figure emerged from the aircraft. He too was tall with olive skin. He wore an expensive black wool suit, tailor-made, covered in intricate silver lacework. It appeared military, also having a stand-collar tunic much like the uniforms of the Praetorian Guard and the Imperial Army. He would be known to the Skyans, for he had represented the Imperial Government in Krytopia at the entry of Havensky into Gholgoth.

"His Excellency, Caius Paulus Octavius Argentius, Prime Minister of the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere, Dux of Argentia, and Lord of various holdings throughout Drakonia and Gholgoth. Honored Representative of Drakonia before the Gholgothic Council of Lords."

The Skyan Legionaries moved from attention to an at ease position with a sharp snap bringing their swords from the front of their helmets back down. As they did so, Secretary of State Atticus and the Skyan Ambassador to the Imperium stepped forward with an offering of salted bread, wine, and juice.

"Your Royal Highnesses, Prime Minister, Esteemed Guests - at the behest and on the behalf of the People of Havensky - welcome to Citadel City. We are honored you have come."

Behind him, an aide was quickly radioing back to the Citadel to make arrangements for the Praetor. The Skyans had prepared, of course, for anything. They were surprised to see them, but it was seen as good news. The presence of the Drakonian Royals here would add weight and heft to the deliberations.

A further figure disembarked the SkyEmbassy. This one too was tall and dressed in same red-trimmed uniform as the Princess, including the gold-wire aiguillette. His posture was reminiscent of the Guardsmen standing at attention. His hair was closely cropped, salt and pepper and as he exited the plane he pulled his cap from where it was tucked under his arm and placed it upon his head. The Skyans would know this man, it was Marshal Ambrosius Brittius, who had established the Imperial Army presence in Milograd and is the chief architect for the Drakonian military strategy in Gholgoth.

"Greetings, Secretary Atticus," said Augustus Drake. "I do hope my impulsiveness is not an inconvenience, but I wanted to see the wonder you have built in the wild." He gestured to the city as way of an explanation.

Augustus Drake’s impulsiveness was somewhat infamous in Drakonia. During his youth he was well-known for escaping his security detail. He and the future Queen had been on a private ski vacation in Lavenrunz, sans their details, when his grandfather had retired from the Praetorship. This time he had the aid of that detail.

"De Nada (It's nothing), your highness. We are honored by your presence. I'm sure the Governor-Mayor would be happy to show you and your staff the city if time allows."

"Excellent!"

The Praetor seemed quite interested in the greeting of bread and salt. He accepted the offering readily.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said, eating the bread, before also quaffing some grape juice. "Long flights can leave one so thirsty."

His daughter also offered her own thanks as she partook of the ritual. And Lord Argentius and the Marshal soon followed suit.

As the assembly moved toward the motorcade, Gaia Calpurnia looked back to the Honor Guard. Sometime in the interim, the Major had ordered them back to Slope Arms and their rifles once again rested on their shoulders. The Guard had reacted quickly to the Praetor’s disembarkation, she wondered if they had known ahead of time of his arrival.



Augustus Drake looked out upon the crowds as the armoured limousine made its way through Citadel City. With the cameras gone and in the relative privacy of car, his face had turned somber. Those who knew his biography might guess as to the reason. He held a personal dislike of parades. His parents had died in a car on parade in Tersanctus. The victims of a madman’s suicide bomb.

It had been nearly a decade since last the Praetor had travelled outside Drakonia and despite owning considerable holdings in Mille Mortifere this was his first visit to Gholgoth.

On a previous state trip, the Royal Couple had gone to the Lavenrunz Winter Ball. They had ended up on a cargo ship full of heads of state and government while a coup was thwarted and a gun battle played itself out in Lavenrunz Royal Palace. So it was perhaps understandable that the Praetorian Guard would be nervous to have the Royal Family out of their direct care. It thus spoke considerable measures that the Praetor was visiting a City that had been so recent the victim of war.

The crowd, who had been alerted by news media texts that it was now a royal visit, let out cheers as the motorcade drove by. The red flags of the Imperium joined the sky blue Skyan ones being waved by those in the crowd. People were waving and snapping pictures. Kids were pointing at the Legionaries as they lined the streets in a protective cordon.

When Augustus and Liliana emerged from the car, father and daughter both turned to the crowd waving and smiling. They were practiced in this, it was a theatre they had both played their entire lives.

Augustus glanced over to the flagpoles as the flag of the Imperium was raised. He watched it briefly before letting his eyes pass over to the flags of the other Gholgothic States.

So few of the old powers remained, he thought. Damien Dreadfire's Gholgoth Regional Alliance had been built upon personal relationships between the Lords. Those relationships had waned as time wore on. Now Dreadfire was gone. So many of those Augustus had known were dead or gone.

After his parent’s death, his grandfather had Augustus fostered in Tersanctus with family of the Executor. He had grown up with the future monarch, Edmund Dantes. They were brothers and it was that close relationship with Tersanctus that had brought Drakonia into the Blood Pact with Automagfreek, Pantera, Crimmond, and the other founding states of Gholgoth. But Dantes too was long dead, he had fallen even before Drakonia was ushered into that august relationship.

The Lords of Gholgoth, Augustus and Liliana would meet today, they knew now as only faces on files.

Augustus looked to his daughter. The fires of his youth had long since been spent in death, war, and heartache. Her fire still burned bright. Perhaps, it was time to use that fire to build new relationships. Perhaps, it was well time to insure for a new generation, the stability of the Regional Alliance.



As the Drakonian Royals and their entourage moved to begin to ascended the stairs and enter the Citadel, Lady Vesta quickly advanced forward to make their introductions to the Skyan Royal Couple. The Skyan Royals were already outside, awaiting them.

"Your Majesties," the ambassador declared. "May I introduce, His Imperial and Royal Majesty, Augustus Valens Drake, Praetor of the Drakonian Imperium by the Grace of God, Representative of the People before the Senate by their Will, Monarch of the Realms of Drakonia, and of her Protectorates and Territories, Lord of Gholgoth.

"And Her Imperial and Royal Highness, Liliana Alexis Glorianna Bellona Drake, Princess of Drakonia by the Grace of God, Princess of Mons Regalus, and of Trinitia, Lieutenant of the Imperial Drakonian Army.

"I believe you may also know, His Excellency, Caius Paulus Octavius Argentius, Prime Minister of the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere, Dux of Argentia, and Lord of various holdings throughout Drakonia and Gholgoth. Honored Representative of Drakonia before the Gholgothic Council of Lords. Lord Argentius was present at a previous meeting of the Gholgothic Council of Lords in Krytopia."

Jessica Heart, Queen of Havensky and Lord of Gholgoth, flashed a wide smile as she descended down the stone steps alongside her husband Lucas Ironwing.

"Your highnesses, what a pleasant surprise," she exclaimed. "We are honored! We were just expecting the Prime Minister - which of course we're always happy to welcome you to our halls. Come come, let’s head upstairs before Nathan drinks up all the liquor."

Augustus bowed his head slightly in a Drakonian show of respect. "Greetings, your Majesties" he said. "I seized by the desire to see what you have done here."

"Lady Burnham will be flattered! I'm sure Atticus has already offered up use of the Lord Mayor's airship. He loves to bring visitors up for a tour and the views are simply fantastic."

A Legionary captain gestured for the group to proceed up the stairs into a large gilded elevator to be taken to the north tower to join the rest of the party. As the party arrived, an aide announced their arrival.

"It well past time for my daughter to leave her helicopters for some proper diplomacy," he said as the group entered.

"Oh, you're a pilot, lieutenant? My pilot will have to show you our helijet. We keep a small hangar adjacent to the North Tower. How long have you been in the service?"

"I am, your majesty," Liliana replied. "I take after my father. Though he prefers fixed wings." She blushed ever so slightly. "The rank is honorary. I am still at the Imperial War College, but my royal duties require an appropriate military rank. I'll be graduating next year."

"Well, you have our congratulations in advance."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

A waiter brought the party drinks and appetizers. The party would find that their favorite drinks were waiting for them on trays. The Skyans had done their homework and despite the late warning had managed to locate and mix the proper drinks.

"I have gifts for you and your family," Augustus said. "And indeed Havensky, or at the least Citadel City." He gestured to the Praetorian Guard Colonel who had accompanied them from the plane. The Colonel quickly ushered another Guardsmen forward. He carried an ornate hardwood case with gold fittings. When it was opened, four jewelled daggers were revealed in metal scabbards.

The Praetor took one out slightly unsheathing it to reveal a blade that shone bright as if made of silver. The blade was double-edged while the dagger appeared to be of a medieval style. It had a wide crossguard and was over a foot long. On the hilt and the scabbard gold enamel over silver, and small rubies, amethysts, diamonds, and pieces of jade were set as adornments. "I had these commissioned by our very best metalsmith. You will note the blades are not steel, but a very rare and valuable metal, known as Mithril. It is stronger and lighter than steel, and will hold an edge through far more difficult use. There is one for each member of your family."

He sheathed the dagger and gestured another Guardsmen forward. This one bore a large basket. It seemed a simple enough basket at first glance, but upon closer inspection would reveal it to be hand-woven. Such was the intricacy of the weave that small threads of red silk and gold had been added to provide color. The inside pile high with some of the wealth of Drakonia; varieties of fruit, the best citrus, oranges, grapefruits, and limes, as well as an array of chocolates, a bag of coffee beans, and a bottle of Imperial Drako Vineyards 1889, the personal vineyard of the Drake family.

"And for Havensky," Augustus continued. "I have personally arranged the transfer of a number of animals from Drakonia to your city's zoo. Among them the Disian Monitor Lizard from the jungles of Varathron, a Gholgothic Mammoth captured in the far north by the Gholgoth Arctic Survey, and an Essan Panther, a favorite of Liliana’s."

Both King and Queen bowed accepting the gifts. Lucas took the dagger and removing it out of its sheath to inspect it, admiring the lightness of the blade. An aide took the basket for safe keeping.

"These are very fine gifts," said Lucas. "The quality of this blade is magnificent and our head chef tells us legendary things about your vineyards. I'm most excited about the additions to our zoo. This will bring a great joy to the children of this city. We thank you very much for each of them."

"I am glad." Augustus smiled. "It is a rare pleasure of mine to give such gifts to a fellow monarch."

"If you'd like, I can introduce you to the other Lords your Highness," Jessica remarked as they made their way into the crowd of Lords.

"Yes, please!" Augustus looked to his daughter. "That would be greatly appreciated."

__________________

OOC: This post was co-written with Havensky.

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Fri Mar 24, 2017 4:08 pm

Atticus’ car was pulling out from the Citadel’s private drive when his wristglass began vibrating incessantly and flashing.

Again.

His staff had been told that he’d been out of pocket for most of the day and that he wouldn’t be answering his phone. However, it seemed that this caller really wanted to get through. He pulled out his earpieces from his coat pocket and tapped his wrist.

“This is Atticus.”

“Sir, we have Captain Skaro on the line for you. He’s quite insistent.

Hold on, I’ll pick up on the secure line seven.”


Atticus hit a button on the console of the car and the windows tinted dark and the space between him in the driver sealed shut. The soft music from the radio reverted to static as every signal shorted out. The outside world become completely silent. A handheld phone inside the car began to ring.

“Captain?”

"The operation has already begun, The Jagites are being rounded up as we speak.... Dietrich has agreed to the terms"

“Thank you Captain Skaro, we are pleased by this show of cooperation. We shall dispatch a Humanitarian Fleet immediately as previously discussed. We’ll talk further soon. Goodbye.”


Atticus hung up the phone and immediately picked it back up.

“This is Control; Go ahead Secretary Atticus.

“Send a priority message to the SRS Heartknight Consular; Alcestis is a go.”
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

The Gothic Reforms

Postby Havensky » Mon Apr 24, 2017 7:42 pm

At the appointed time, after everyone had arrived, the hostess began to walk around and gently tell the guests that it was time to make their way towards the Gothic Chamber. The wait staff gracefully excited the lobby area and the bar closed up shop.

The Gothic Chamber in Havensky was a church like building on the roof of the Citadel. It was only accessible through a hallway which bisected a garden area with two rows of Crimson King trees seen through the clear glass of the hallway. The leaves of the trees retained their dark maroon color despite it being early summer. The trees were almost the same shade as the Gothic flag and so the designers had thought it appropriate to align the entrance of the Gothic Chamber with them.

As each guest walked down the red carpet, they would see the windows transitioning to stained glass. They would be greeted by two Iron Guards who would open the door as each delegate walked through. The Sergeant of the Guard would then direct each delegate to their assigned seat at a large round table. Their staffs would be directed to desks just behind their leader. The delegates gifts had been laid out in a welcoming letter that was placed on their table. The first was a twin of the throne they now sat on, inlaid with the seal of their nation. The second was a barrel of Sky Marshal Whiskey - a sampling of which was on the table in front of them. The third was a sapling of the Crimson Maples they had just passed on their way in with the hope that it would be planted as a sign of friendship. The last thing at their seats was not a gift, but a packet that included the meeting agenda and the proposal of several Gothic Reforms.

The concept of calling the batch of papers a proposal was selling the documents short. In truth, it had been Lance Atticus’ magnum opus. It had taken months and weeks of diplomatic talks between a dozen nations. The document contained the hundreds of staff hours from countless staff at all levels of the Skyan Diplomatic Corps. It was simply, the best possible effort the Skyans could possibly give towards breaking the Gothic habit of either doing nothing or going towards full scale war.

The document contained traces of all the frustrations of the Milograd, Hab Centre Six, and countless other pointless scuffles had comprised recent Gothic history. The document tried to present a hopeful tone against the tide of impossibility. A plan for peace even as Skyan warships moved towards slaver holdings.

The first proposal: The Gothic Praetor

Section A: The Gothic Praetors

Gothic Praetor are extralegal agents with diplomatic immunity accountable only to the Gothic Council and are charged with maintaining stability and security in the region. They are afforded diplomatic immunity and the right to enter any nation in Gholgoth as part of missions authorized by the Gothic Lords. Praetors are not trained, they are chosen by the Gothic Lords based on an individual’s service record, character, and trust.

Gothic Praetors serve at the pleasure of the Council and their status can be revoked at anytime. A Praetor Mission must have the approval of the Council before deployment. This is seen as a measure that’s above a sanction, but below a full military mobilization.

Praetor may act alone or assemble their own teams. They do not receive funding through the Council, but must raise their own funds. In practice, militaries of their home nations often provide salaries and equipment.

Praetors are only activated during times of declared crisis. Praetors may be inducted into the ranks at anytime, but the Gothic Council decides which Praetors to activate during a crisis. When the Lords declare a crisis over; the Praetor is deactivated. Praetors maintain their rank and resources in order to stay at a constant state of readiness.

The enactment of this reform would be as follows:

- Each Gothic Lord submits two names from their nation for consideration to become Praetors
- Initially, one Praetor per nation is selected.
- Upon a crisis, the Council may authorize a Praetor mission
- Whenever possible, a Praetor from a third party will be assigned
- Praetor would be granted offices Gothic Embassies located in each nation.
- When deployed outside the region; they act with the authority of the region and not just their nation. This is a preferable option than mounting an invasion fleet or dealing with an invasion fleet.


The thought was that the deployment of a Praetor would be a step between taking no action and going through to a full scale war. In theory, Atticus has written out in a memo to his counterparts, a Praetor would have been sent to deal with Scandinavians supporting pirates in The Golden Throne. The team would have helped defeat the pirate threat - thus making The Golden Throne whole again. This would have eliminated the need for The Golden Throne to invade Gholgoth. Additionally, Atticus had suggested that a third party would be optimal. So, Havensky’s Squall wouldn’t be selected to settle a conflict between Kraven and Havensky. However, Squall could be authorized for the Macabees/Scandinavian conflict.

If a Gothic nation was unwilling to cooperate with a Praetor, there was always the next step up in escalation.

The next reform idea had come from Caesar Silvier Catherina Silvanus IV.

Section B: The Executor of the Gothic Alliance

The Executor of the Gothic Alliance, traditionally, had always been the ruling member of the Dreadfire Dynasty of Automagfreek. The Freekish, and the Freekish alone, were the only nation in the whole of the region who could enforce their will over all others with the threat of force. Thus, the system - as simple as it was - worked. However, the Freekish have now fallen silent, and the Alliance has become decadent and unruly.

A new shepherd is needed to lead the flock, to serve as a voice and a face to rally behind when the Alliance is under threat.

The Executor of the Gothic Council is responsible for chairing the meetings of the Gothic Lords during emergency sessions and for executing the will of the Council. Upon arrival of the Lords at the designated time, the Lords will first vote to declare a crisis. If crisis is declared, the Lords will nominate and elect one member to be the Executor. This Executor will serve for one year or until the majority of Lords declare the crisis over. Additionally, A vote of no confidence can be passed against the Executor through a two-thirds majority of the Lords, which will then convene an Emergency Session and elect a successor.

During meetings; the Executor does not vote nor argue for/against positions. The Executor is considered a neutral authority. This implies that Lords whose nations are directly involved in the crisis are not eligible for nomination.

During a Crisis; the Executor manages the operation of the Praetor program including mission assignments, routing intelligence reports, parameters, and briefing the other Lords.


Naturally, Atticus assumed that the Caesar would be put up for a vote. The Skyans wouldn’t contest the election due to the next proposed reform.

Section C:The Gothic Capital: Pax Gothica, Dreadfire Isles

Currently, all Lords must meet in ULE City despite the absence of a Dreadfire.

The Skyans propose constructing a new city at the center of the region that would serve as the capital of the region. This city would be extranational territory - funded and managed by the designates of the Gothic Lords. Every nation in the region would have a mission district that would be the territory of their nation. At the center of this city would be the Dreadfire District - which would hold the offices of the Gothic Lords, the Council Chamber, and the Airport/Naval Ports.

Location & Geography
The location would be in the center of the region using the Dreadfire Isles created by Novacom during a previous conflict. The islands are small, being roughly the size of Manhattan. The central region runs through the center of the island, with square shaped districts being on either side. The airport is at the end of the island.

The Castellan of Pax Gothica
The Dreadfire District would be administered by the Castellan of Pax Gothica - An administrative agent appointed by the Gothic Council charged with maintaining the city, the Council Chambers, and ensuring the ability of the Gothic Lords to meet whenever they desire. The Castellan shall be provided a budget from each Gothic Lords in order to maintain the city including the hiring of staff and funding of infrastructure. A portion of this budget will come from sales tax charged by the various districts in Pax Gothica. Castellan’s serve a term of four years unless retired by the Council earlier.


The Skyans would lobby for the appointment of the Castellan. It was a technically a non-political position, but the Skyans had a small army of city builders who needed employment and never would pass an opportunity to build another big city of great import.

Section D: Phelgethon, Gothica and Pandaemonium
Phelgethon and Pandaemonium are two fortresses that serve to coordinate regional forces from both external threats and to aid in the enforcement of actions mandated by the Gothic Council. They also serve as training facilities for Praetors.

Phelgethon will be located in Gholghant. The other deep within the Tartarus Mountains in Kylarnatia. Gothica would be located in the center at the Dreadfire Isles.


These were necessary actions to help affirm the commitment to regional defense. This would also give the Ghantish something to point to in terms of their own security - something that indirectly would also benefit the Skyans as well. Gothica would end up being a neutral territory and the closest thing to a unified Gothic Command structure. At the very least, the hope was that by having staffs working closely together in Gothica it would open up back channel communications next time tensions flared up.

Of course, the entire plan would only work if all the Gothic Lords believed that it could be enforced. So, while Atticus was the open hand there was another force at work. Task Force Hell, full of righteous rage at the unprovoked attack upon Citadel City, was heading straight towards Vismer to mete out retribution. Atticus hoped that the Lords would talk the Slaver Empire into backing down before it came to that, but history had a habit of disappointing him.

Still, with so many gathered here, there was cause for cautious optimism. it was odd that having so much work put into the document, that he wouldn't be the one presenting it. Instead, he pulled back the chair for the Gothic Lord of Havensky Queen Jessica Heart. As she sat down on her throne, Atticus took the seat just behind her at her right hand.

Atticus took a sip of water and pulled out his tablet and began to fidget. There was nothing more he could do for the moment but wait for everyone to sit down and for the Queen to welcome them all.
Last edited by Havensky on Mon Apr 24, 2017 7:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
The Scandinvans
Senator
 
Posts: 4898
Founded: Oct 09, 2004
Capitalizt

Postby The Scandinvans » Fri May 19, 2017 10:27 am

"I do not seek out the righteous for their way to paradise is clear. I do not hunt the dres'Erid for their commitment to the path is absolute. I seek those who have embraced the habits of the dres'nalar for their souls have been compromised. I purge the dres'nalar for they are unworthy of mercy and whose very existence is an insult to the one on high. In his name do I act and if need be die." (The Invocation of the Faith Militant Inquisition)


As the dawn breaks the darkness the heir of Erid is bound to greet the sun thanks to the Almighty. By basking in the first rays of the day does the ambasaddor between heaven and earth become reforged by the liege lord of the Scandin daily. Through this was the faith of the Empire renewed each day. A reminder of the need to constasntly seek to combat one's own sinfullness and that each day represented another chance to bring one's self closer to the will of the Almighty. The rite additionally serves as a means by which the dreams, which are viewed as maninfestations of one's innermost fears and desires in Scandinvan culture, of the night were held to be appealed to the Almighty.

By performing these duties did Crown Prince Fenric manage to attain a better sense of purpose each. Especially in these tainted foreign lands where these things required so that the influences of the sinful would be erased with each day. These rites further served the need to add a mystial quality to the daily life of the sovereign of the Scandinvans. As the morning rituals helped to provide a basis for the unique identity of the reigning monarch Something which made the throne more aloof and seperate from the daily affiars of both the world without the imperial palace and within it.

After finishing his dawn bath and putting on his prayer garb Fenric consulted with a number of his personal staff on the situation with the Council. Whilst nothing of important had happened as of yet, mostly due to the covert method that the Scandinvans had used to prevent public attention in Havensky from being turned on them, there was still a deep need to turn the attention upon the Scandinvan cause. The proposals being discussed at the meeting threatened what the Scandinvan Empire actively viewed as an attempt to curtail the traditional rights of lords to operate largely free from the constraints of the other Gothic nations so long as it did not provoke war. However, Havensky's contious harboring of alien forces hostile to the Scandinvan Empire had forced their hand. They had turned from being an ideological nusiance to being a knife at the back of the Scandinvans within the region. A force which sought to destroy the status quo and supplant the old order with a region solely conssiting of liberal democracies. The very type of scheme which so many had tried to force Gholgoth to accept over the years.

With such a framework it became easier to establish the course that would be needed to directly confront the menance that Havensky posed to the long term health of the region. Using proper arugments the Scandinvan Crown Prince hoped to be able to sway ciritcal voices against the proposed reforms. Whilst noting the ongoing efforts of the Skybound Republic to bring more unwanted alien intrigue into the region. Inteference which would ineviablty attempt to wrangle away the accpeted identity of the Gothic Lords.

However, in an effort to have a bit of fun with the press of Havensky. Frenic deicded to have a simple note leaked to them. One designed to make the 'freedom loving people of the Republic" better understand the worldview that they sought to eradicate One which would remind them that their world was based off of lies and petty utimately meaningless concepts. Though the exactname of the source would remain hidden as it would just be submitted by Scandinvan diplomatic staff through offical channels.

"You cannot understand what we are for you, despite wearing the flesh of humans, are still fundamentally animals. You fight not in the name of the sublime, but merely for survival and the chance to earn access to ever greater resources in a unfettered environment. Your freedoms, your hallowed rights, your commerce, and your equality are all abstractions created in pursuit of this. The ideals you espouse are no more than excuses for your excess, justifications for your blindness, and rationales for your depravity. In the end you are nothing more than clever creatures who lack any truly worthwhile purpose and will yield to the sheer willpower of those who fight for the sublime truth."

All the while he and his entourage departed for the Council meeting. Before leaving he made sure to put on the crimson/black garb of the Inquisition and the flowing indigo imperial robes. Things designed to make the Crown Prince seem more aloof and deny his enemies the chance to put a face onto him as the crimson hood of the Inquisition garb had the effect of hiding his face entirely.

With him he carried a hollow full size silver cross which Fenric hoped would mark him as a devout figure unconcerned with human desires. He additionally aimed to give the airs of a fanatic so that the delegation of Havensky would be put at unease.

In his company he dragged along a single female slave. The sister of the now condemned traitorous lord who had defected to Havensky. A move he hoped would cause a bit of rancor when it was announced to the public and put Flicker into such a state that he would be unable to properly help analyze the Crown Prince's behavior from a Scandinvan noble's point of view. Thereby removing expert testimony on the culture cues being given by the Crown Prince.
Last edited by The Scandinvans on Sun May 21, 2017 7:17 pm, edited 2 times in total.
We are the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvans. Surrender or be destroyed. Your civilization has ended, your time is over. Your people will be assimilated into our Empire. Your technological distinctiveness shall be added to our own. Your culture shall be supplanted by our own. And your lands will be made into our lands.

"For five thousand years has our Empire endured. In war and peace we have thrived. Against overwhelming odds we evolved. No matter what we face we have always survived and grown. We shall always be triumphant." -Emperor Godfrey II

Hope for a brighter tomorrow - fight the fight, find the cure

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Fri May 26, 2017 5:48 pm

The air still held the smell sawdust from the newly constructed wooden beams overhead and long wooden panels that ordained the upper balcony. The architect had taken care to hide the eponymous city skyline behind stained glass so that the venue felt neutral than Skyan. The designer had taken cues from the original Gothic Chamber in ULE City. It was the intent of the designer that when you stepped into this room you would be in the heart of Gholgoth. That you would forget that one was standing just above the heart of Skyan government. The red accents, the heavy stone, and the organ that played the most serious of melodies.

However, it was the newness of the building that gave it away. The room lacked dust, the scratches and dings of use, the history that gave ancient rooms their distinct feel. There were lights and cameras throughout the room to help record the proceedings. On each side of the organ, there were large screens that could display the speaker. The entire building was wired for secure internet at the highest possible speed. The acoustics of the room were perfectly balanced. Despite the ancient styling, there was no doubt that this room was part of the new world.

As Crown Prince Fenric walked through the doors, they brought in the air of the old world wearing the regalia of ancients and flanked by guards.

The Skyan Queen stood on the other side of the room and might as well have been on the other side of the world. Jessica Heart, Gothic Lord, was dressed in a simple white pantsuit and flanked by no one.

The old world and the new. These worlds would clash. It had already been written. Time seemed to flow differently here as if to pause as the ancient monarchy stood across the elected representative of only democracy in Gholgoth.

The Skyan Queen looked down upon Fenric as she stood behind the dais.

She could see he was wearing a mask. She didn’t need the hear the voice of Flickr, a Scandin lord who had defected to the Skyans, to guess that the young woman in the emperor’s entourage was a slave. She did not show her deep resounding anger at the insult of bringing a slave to the free city. By law, the slave could simply cry out for refuge and the White Guard would swarm in to protect her. However, for now she simply smiled. She knew that Fenric was here to make trouble. Tradition stated that she had to make one last gesture for peace - no matter what.

“Crown Prince Fenric… we welcome you to the Skybound Republic. I take this as a sign that you have seen the error of your ways and have come to talk of peace. We welcome this development even at this final hour. Even now, Knight Marshal Richard Bexar has been named Supreme Allied Commander by the forces that are arrayed against you. You may not care for your men, but you can save their lives. Even you must see that the actions of the Sons of Erid have done your nation no favors. Come, sit and we shall prevent their actions from dooming your empire.”
Last edited by Havensky on Sat May 27, 2017 6:20 am, edited 2 times in total.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
Ghant
Minister
 
Posts: 2443
Founded: Feb 11, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Ghant » Sat Jun 17, 2017 3:43 pm

“A Mind for Reform”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky


The Emperor of Ghant’s conversation with the Aldarminian Empress Katya was a pleasant one. They discussed their respective families and explored ways that they could bring the two closer together, though naturally any such marital arrangements would be years off. Fortunately, time was an asset to them, as they each had many children, and thus, plenty of potential matches that would reveal themselves as the subsequent years rolled by.

After some time, a hostess found Nathan and Katya in their secluded conversation and informed the two of them that the time had come to make for the Gothic Chamber. To this the Emperor nodded, and offered to escort Empress Katya back to her party before reuniting with his. The Skyans certainly do keep a mind for business, the Emperor thought with amusement as he observed them close the bar. A shame, I would have wanted to get something to drink…

It didn’t take all that long to find the Aldarminians, and the Emperor returned Katya to them with all the proper etiquette. It was here that he reunited with some of his children, those being the Crown Prince Nathan, Princes John and Victor and Princess Valentina. The four of them had been mingling with their Aldarminian counterparts, with a few guards keeping an ever watchful eye upon them. “Let’s go,” their father instructed them passively. “To the Gothic Chamber.”

The three boys made their way in a small cluster ahead of their father, while Valentina hung back with her father, as she often did when she had such an opportunity. “The Aldarminians are odd,” she told her father. “They have numbers for their princes even if they didn’t rule. That’s not right, father! They should only have such numbers for regal names.”

Tell me about it. “…You have to remember, Val, that the Aldarminians are different from us,” the Emperor told her with a gentle hand atop her long, silky red hair. “Their ways are peculiar, but that doesn’t mean that they are wrong. It just means that they are different…like many of the Gothic nations.”

“Many of the Gothic nations are either bad or stupid,” Valentina frowned. “Or both!”

The Emperor grunted slightly and tightened his mouth as he looked around. “You shouldn’t say things like that. They are our allies…”

“Why, just because they’re close to us on a map?” she asked pointedly. “The Kravenites aren’t our allies, they’d carve us up like Christmas hams if they thought they could get away with it!”

At this point, Nathan looked around the room to see who might have heard his daughter squawk about such things. “That’s enough of that, Val. Mind your tongue, lest I have Rolli take you to your room.”

She nodded, but not before making a baby face and embracing her father’s leg. Ahead of them, the princes walked through the glass hallway and admired the Crimson King trees flanking the path towards the chamber. The only way to the chamber was through this hallway that ran through a garden consisting of these crimson leaved trees. He looked on purposefully as they made their way into the Gothic Chamber. The chamber itself was at the top of the Citadel, something that the Emperor tried to think little of, for while he wasn’t afraid of heights, they could give him a feeling of vertigo.

The floor of the glass hallway was lined with a red carpet that ran its length, and the emperor took great strides upon the fabric as he took note of the glass walls of the hallway changing into stained glass as the distance to the chamber entrance was closed. Two Iron Guards opened the closed doors of the chamber first for the cadre of princes, and then for the Emperor, his daughter and his immediate retinue.

The Sergeant of the Guard welcomed them, and directed the Emperor’s children and guards to desks behind the Emperor’s assigned seat at the large round table of the Gothic Lords, in the form of a throne. Each of them did so, though the Crown Prince’s eyes lingered upon his father’s throne as he walked slowly towards his desk. The exception was Valentina, who took her father’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t want to go over there,” she said meekly. “I want to stay with you. Let me sit with you in your Gothic Throne, father.”

Nathan smiled somberly, and turned his eyes from his chair, to his daughter. Would that I could, my child, but the eyes of the Gothic Lords are upon me now. “I can’t, Val, believe me that I would if I could.”

“Yes you can, father,” she embraced him tightly. “You’re the Emperor of Ghant! You rule Zahaghant, Gholghant and Dienghant! You can do anything.”

If only that were so. “Amongst the Lords of Gholgoth, I am but a small man, my child. The weight of expectations and the demands of conformity are greater than even I.” he pulled away from her, but bent down to put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll just be a few feet away. Now go, it’ll be alright.”

She frowned, but obeyed, slinking off in the direction of where she could sit. Satisfied with that, the Emperor approached his chair at the table. It didn’t take him long to find his assigned throne, where gifts awaited. There was a copy of the Emperor’s assigned throne with the great seal of the two-headed eagle of his house, a Crimson Maple Tree sapling that the Emperor could plant wherever he pleased within his lands, and a barrel of whiskey with a sample nearby for the Emperor’s pleasure. Oh, thank the Gods for that…

Besides the gifts, there was a packet that contained the meeting agenda and a list of the proposed Gothic Reforms, which the Emperor began to read over carefully after he threw back his glass of whiskey. He glanced back at the desks behind him, giving a reassuring look to his red-haired daughter, and shifting his eyes between his sons and the recently arrived Lara Jarasa, who nodded to her Emperor as she thumbed through a dossier.

Emperor Nathan turned his eyes back towards the proposals that he held in his hands, and began to examine each one in turn.

Section A: The Gothic Praetors

Gothic Praetors are extralegal agents with diplomatic immunity accountable only to the Gothic Council and are charged with maintaining stability and security in the region. They are afforded diplomatic immunity and the right to enter any nation in Gholgoth as part of missions authorized by the Gothic Lords. Praetors are not trained, they are chosen by the Gothic Lords based on an individual’s service record, character, and trust.

Gothic Praetors serve at the pleasure of the Council and their status can be revoked at anytime. A Praetor Mission must have the approval of the Council before deployment. This is seen as a measure that’s above a sanction, but below a full military mobilization.

Praetor may act alone or assemble their own teams. They do not receive funding through the Council, but must raise their own funds. In practice, militaries of their home nations often provide salaries and equipment.

Praetors are only activated during times of declared crisis. Praetors may be inducted into the ranks at anytime, but the Gothic Council decides which Praetors to activate during a crisis. When the Lords declare a crisis over; the Praetor is deactivated. Praetors maintain their rank and resources in order to stay at a constant state of readiness.

The enactment of this reform would be as follows:

  • Each Gothic Lord submits two names from their nation for consideration to become Praetors
  • Initially, one Praetor per nation is selected.
  • Upon a crisis, the Council may authorize a Praetor mission
  • Whenever possible, a Praetor from a third party will be assigned
  • Praetor would be granted offices Gothic Embassies located in each nation.
  • When deployed outside the region; they act with the authority of the region and not just their nation. This is a preferable option than mounting an invasion fleet or dealing with an invasion fleet.

…seems like a good idea, the Emperor thought as he scratched his chin. Could probably settle a lot of problems this way instead of the clusterfuck we have right now. Nathan thought of at least a few people he’d consider nominating for Praetor, though other questions lingered in his mind. For instance, how would this system work in wide-spanning empires, such as Ghant? Would the Praetors have jurisdiction in all Ghantish lands, or just those in Gholgoth? Such questions would be ones he intended on asking later when it was opportune.

The second proposal caught the Emperor off guard, and it was something that he was a bit more concerned about than the first. I think I know where this one is going…

Section B: The Executor of the Gothic Alliance

The Executor of the Gothic Alliance, traditionally, had always been the ruling member of the Dreadfire Dynasty of Automagfreek. The Freekish, and the Freekish alone, were the only nation in the whole of the region who could enforce their will over all others with the threat of force. Thus, the system - as simple as it was - worked. However, the Freekish have now fallen silent, and the Alliance has become decadent and unruly.

A new shepherd is needed to lead the flock, to serve as a voice and a face to rally behind when the Alliance is under threat.

The Executor of the Gothic Council is responsible for chairing the meetings of the Gothic Lords during emergency sessions and for executing the will of the Council. Upon arrival of the Lords at the designated time, the Lords will first vote to declare a crisis. If crisis is declared, the Lords will nominate and elect one member to be the Executor. This Executor will serve for one year or until the majority of Lords declare the crisis over. Additionally, A vote of no confidence can be passed against the Executor through a two-thirds majority of the Lords, which will then convene an Emergency Session and elect a successor.

During meetings; the Executor does not vote nor argue for/against positions. The Executor is considered a neutral authority. This implies that Lords whose nations are directly involved in the crisis are not eligible for nomination.

During a Crisis; the Executor manages the operation of the Praetor program including mission assignments, routing intelligence reports, parameters, and briefing the other Lords.

Please, for the love of the Gods, let this not be Silvier, the Emperor thought as he rubbed his forehead. The last thing that woman needs is an ego boost. Then again, Silvier could very well have been the least worst option of any possible Gothic Lord to serve as this Executor. Better than any of the Scandinvans or Kravenites, and hell, at least it won’t be me. The last thing Nathan wanted was to be Executor, given the responsibility of the post. I have a hard enough time being Emperor of Ghant, and I’ve been doing that for thirty years…

The third proposal seemed far less troubling, and like the first proposal, rather ordinary by comparison.

Section C: The Gothic Capital: Pax Gothica, Dreadfire Isles

Currently, all Lords must meet in ULE City despite the absence of a Dreadfire.

The Skyans propose constructing a new city at the center of the region that would serve as the capital of the region. This city would be extra-national territory - funded and managed by the designates of the Gothic Lords. Every nation in the region would have a mission district that would be the territory of their nation. At the center of this city would be the Dreadfire District - which would hold the offices of the Gothic Lords, the Council Chamber, and the Airport/Naval Ports.

Location & Geography
The location would be in the center of the region using the Dreadfire Isles created by Novacom during a previous conflict. The islands are small, being roughly the size of Manhattan. The central region runs through the center of the island, with square shaped districts being on either side. The airport is at the end of the island.

The Castellan of Pax Gothica
The Dreadfire District would be administered by the Castellan of Pax Gothica - An administrative agent appointed by the Gothic Council charged with maintaining the city, the Council Chambers, and ensuring the ability of the Gothic Lords to meet whenever they desire. The Castellan shall be provided a budget from each Gothic Lords in order to maintain the city including the hiring of staff and funding of infrastructure. A portion of this budget will come from sales tax charged by the various districts in Pax Gothica. Castellan’s serve a term of four years unless retired by the Council earlier.

Seems pretty agreeable. The Emperor found nothing objectionable about the third proposal, and found the notion of not having to deal with ULE City anymore. His thoughts on that proposal were fleeting, however, given the fourth and final proposal. Nathan’s face lit up as he read through it, until a look of glee swept across his face upon completion.

Section D: Phelgethon, Gothica and Pandaemonium
Phelgethon and Pandaemonium are two fortresses that serve to coordinate regional forces from both external threats and to aid in the enforcement of actions mandated by the Gothic Council. They also serve as training facilities for Praetors.

Phelgethon will be located in Gholghant. The other deep within the Tartarus Mountains in Kylarnatia. Gothica would be located in the center at the Dreadfire Isles.

Yes, absolutely, Nathan thought with a nod as he set the final proposal down. The Scandies nor the Kravenites would dare mess with Gholghant if we housed a Gothic Fortress there. Naturally, there would have to be a discussion with the Steward and the Great Lords of Gholghant about where the fortress would go, though of course Nathan had his ideas. Centrally located, perhaps in Jarasa. Lara’s father would no doubt be chomping at the bit to have such an asset in the mountains that formed the southern boundary of his province.

Though, I shouldn’t be putting the cart before the horse. There were many Gothic Lords present and yet to arrive that would undoubtedly have their own opinions and ideas about these four proposals, and besides, the meeting had not even begun yet. In light of this, the Emperor sunk back into his throne and made himself comfortable, as he waited for the other Gothic Lords to arrive and for the meeting to officially commence.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Ghant
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Factbook | IIwiki | RP Resume | IIwiki Admin | Recipient of the Greater Dienstad Roleplay Reward
"Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" - Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias
XX XXX
XX XXX

User avatar
The Scandinvans
Senator
 
Posts: 4898
Founded: Oct 09, 2004
Capitalizt

Postby The Scandinvans » Sun Jun 18, 2017 10:05 pm

Hidden behind his robe and his mask the Crown Prince smirked a bit. He comprehended that he succeeded in planting a negative thought in the mind of the Queen. This development, regardless of the context, benefited his short term agenda at the meeting. He wanted to make the people of Havensky feel uncomfortable as if they were perturbed they would be more likely to act irrationally.

The reason for this type of tactic was relatively straightforward from a Scandinvan worldview. The daily regulations imposed on each Scandin caused them to develop a great deal of capacity to regulate their emotions in nearly every situation. This trait in turn made the normal Scandin seem overly dour when in public. However, among hearth kin (members of an extended clan) there was no compunction to hide emotion as canon law prohibited blood relatives from betraying the secrets of their relations for kin right deemed all such testimony tainted as it was believed that only the debauched would betray their family save on accusations of treason im which their duty to all was to act. A situation which would be difficult for dres'nalar to properly understand to any reasonable extent and thus served to Fenric's advantage in his mind.

From the reports about the Skybound Republic their people were largely a much more base civilization. People who knew nothing in life but the drive to satiate their petty lusts with no higher purpose guiding them. These sentiments, despite seeming to govern their Queen, certainly could not rule her. They nonetheless could be used to force her to give less calculated and therefore more honest answers. Yet, this approach would be best employed later. For now he would simply indulge in his own little games.

Turning his head towards the Queen he examined her for a second. He took note of her appearance first. He simple attired marked her as one who did not fully live up to the title she held. In effect the Queen was a peasant pretending to be something much greater, An upstart peasant who presumed to be equal to those who had spent every day since their birth preparing to lead their people.

Finished with his assessment Fenric said," Your grace, I am afraid you slightly misunderstand the context under which I have deigned to attend this summit in person. I come to represent the sovereign rights of my people. I have come to defend the ancient prerogatives of the Gothic lords. I have come to offer you a chance to drive out the foreign invaders that you contentiously harbor in violation of the ancestral customs of our region. We Scandin have only acted in a manner designed to defend the legitimate of our region. By our occupation of Shen Alamru we sought to prevent the development of a bastion for a government which had submitted to the influence of Allanea, the enemy of all true Gothic peoples. By our attack on Citadel City we hoped to remind your people of their obligations to not constantly host enemies hostile to other Gothic nations.

None of us actively seek to do harm. We Scandinvans merely were partaking in the traditional privileges of Gothic nations to deal with outside powers as we see fit. The only reason that the Golden Throne currently can project power into our region is due to Havensky serving as the center of their regional operations. Thus it is ultimately they and not the Scandinvans who invited war onto our shores. It was never out intent to potentially risk the peace of the region.

The Sons of Erid are a reform movement merely aiming to restore the national ethos of the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvans. There designs have never involved plans to, in the foreseeable future at least, aimed to potentially harm other Gothic Lords who did not seek to do harm to the sovereignty of the Scandinvans. Even now we would accept peace with Havensky on the condition that they withdraw all support for Maccabees and expel all their armed forces from their Gothic holdings."
We are the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvans. Surrender or be destroyed. Your civilization has ended, your time is over. Your people will be assimilated into our Empire. Your technological distinctiveness shall be added to our own. Your culture shall be supplanted by our own. And your lands will be made into our lands.

"For five thousand years has our Empire endured. In war and peace we have thrived. Against overwhelming odds we evolved. No matter what we face we have always survived and grown. We shall always be triumphant." -Emperor Godfrey II

Hope for a brighter tomorrow - fight the fight, find the cure

User avatar
Emperor Pudu
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 163
Founded: Aug 24, 2007
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Emperor Pudu » Tue Jun 20, 2017 2:33 pm

Chamber of the Gothic Lords
Citadel City, Havensky


The retinue of the Pudite Emperor was extensive. Many of their number had been seen in the parade from the airfield earlier today, though a great deal of those had returned to their respective accommodations outside the Citadel. Even still, dozens of attendant servants, guards and advisers still accompanied Emperor Jilang Dengmu Pudu in his preparations in the private rooms the Skyans had provided for them. When the time came finally to decamp for the summit hall Dengmu had to pare down the number of followers for comfortable accommodation of the hall the Skyans had purpose built for this meeting. Some he chose were government professionals, like Xian Longji the Imperial Academian and Lucius Salvias Otho, the Special Representative to Gholgoth who brought along his own small staff; others were tokens of the Imperial rank, like Chai Sang the Emperor's valet and a senior monk in an order sworn to the throne, or like Kaeso Vorenius a castrato and the First Voice of the Imperial Choir; the remainder were guards, typically the Emperor would be accompanied by eleven of the elite power-armored Palace Scholars though today only one, Caius Cominius Victricius the Captain of the Life Guards company of Scholars, would appear alongside his liege. The Emperor and his seven attendants began their march through the long white marble corridors to the top of the Citadel.

In the gardens of red-leafed trees outside the meeting room the company took pause, following the lead of their Emperor. Dengmu had stopped to admire both the foliage and the view from the large windows overlooking the city below. Otho was at his side, the rest of the party behind. It was the closest the two men had come to a private meeting since they had arrived in Citadel City. After a brief silence Dengmu spoke, "Lucius. It has been a long time." Speaking deferentially, Otho answered softly, "It has. You, Prince of Daram and I a lowly foreign office functionary." Dengmu stifled a laugh, "With your last name, Lucius, you were never lowly. I'm happy to find you here, to know that good men still do good work for the Empire." Otho felt a momentary swelling of pride, "Thank you, your majesty. It is an honor to serve." Dengmu gave him a knowing smile, "Well, I'm glad you still feel that way. When we knew eachother back in Daram I don't think either of us would have chosen this life. For two men without aspirations we certainly have come a long way." Dengmu then turned back to the windows, "I find myself savoring moments like these more than I used to. Quiet moments of beauty to hold on to when things are worse."

Otho said nothing, appreciating the Emperor's words and keeping the quiet in the moment alive for a bit longer. Dengmu spoke again, more solemnly this time, "Worse times are coming, Otho. For some, they are here already. It falls to me to initiate this new tumult. We will make war, Otho. Are you ready for a war?" Otho stood quietly and still, his mind turning over thoughts of those he left behind in Shen Almaru, thoughts of destroyed cities and of the pain of the last war. "I don't think I've ever been ready for war, your majesty. This one less than most." Dengmu nodded, "Honesty. Good. I'd like to thank you, Lucius, for all you've done and all you will do in the days to come. This will not be easy. Gird yourself now, for it all begins here." With that Dengmu strode ahead toward the pair of Skyan Iron Guard posted at the door to the hall and entered. Otho hesitated a moment, watching his Pantokrat lead the way. For better or worse, Otho would follow him.

The Emperor entered first, still replete in his dark blue Horseguard uniform pinned with his many ribbons and medals of service, the jeweled sword he had been gifted clasped to his belt and Chai Sang the plain robed monk standing just behind him. These two made for the throne that had been decorated in the Imperial Crane sigil of Dengmu's rule. Chai standing behind, the Emperor seated. Xian Longji and Lucius Salvias Otho took the nearest desks behind their lord, and their staffs behind. At the edge of the council chambers, finding a place among the crowd of press and Skyan security, was Captain Victricius in his amber and gold colored armor and flowing red cape. The photographers positioned around him would find him hard to jostle as they maneuvered to get their shots. Of course, the Pudite journalists in the pool wouldn't be flashing cameras, as it was considered improper, but they had their notepads out and were scribbling frantically, even now, catching every detail of the delegations as they came in, and recording the exchanges between the Scandin lord and Skyan queen as it happened. A camera crew from Channel One, a Pudite television network, was also set up and rolling.

The first thing Dengmu noticed was the gifts their hosts had laid out for them. He began to parse the dossier on the Gothic reforms while indicating for Master Chai to pour him a whisky. Otho similarly dispatched one of his staff to fetch them drinks as well. As Dengmu read through each proposal one of the pool reporters in the back approached Korinna, Otho's press liaison, and handed her a page from his notepad. She scanned it quickly, underlined a passage, and made a face like she had smelt some sour milk. She passed it up to Otho. The ambassador looked down, it was the reporter's transcription of a conversation that had just happened between Prince Fenric and Queen Jessica. The underlined portion was Fenric's comment about Shen Almaru. Otho grunted and took a long swig of his whisky. He wouldn't be passing this up to Dengmu.

The intrigues of his attendants unknown to him, Dengmu sipped on the whisky and finished his assessment of the proposals before the council. They were interesting, to say the least, but they were not what Dengmu was here to address. War had been made on his people; he was here for only one reason. The Pantokrat spared a single glance for the Scandin prince, his outlandish garb and accouterments only solidifying in the Pudite's mind the man's identity as a zealot and one beyond reason. There was no way of dealing with men like this other than force. Even as they sat here that force was descending on Vismer and Shen Almaru. Soon, all the cunning words spoken here would be behind them and the matters of the day would be decided by strength. Dengmu would drink his whisky and wait for that day.

User avatar
The IASM
Senator
 
Posts: 3598
Founded: Jan 01, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby The IASM » Thu Aug 03, 2017 8:02 am

Chamber of the Gothic Lords
ULE City
Automagfreek
Gholgoth

HULANG


Gholgoth was a place which had a certain grim feeling to it, one well suited to the brutish reality it faced. The Akai had always treated very carefully and ever cautiously among the ranks of the Gothic Giants; their foothold of Yahashi was their main seat of power in the halls meant for nations like them. Yahashi was founded by one of the Ditu’s Hulang’s ancestors, the Qiangbi Emperor, Yaha. From him with the Akai carved out of its most prosperous domains, only rivalling Lazinato in terms of its splendour. When the Akai first set sail from Lazinato with the goal of finding new lands away from the local empires, they set sail again and again. It took a short decade but, eventually the Akai found their way into Gholgoth. Here, they found the freedom they carved in the kingdom of Isgur — which they conquered with ease and settled. Then the Akai realised that this land they found was filled with other cultures and kingdoms to claim, but they were greater to the Akai in numbers. So they bided their time, waiting for a chance to claim a realm for themselves. In the meantime the Amon dynasty had taken hold in its fortress

It was built upon the exploitation of Targosa and its rather pathetic relationship with the Akai — those who had effectively been reduced to a mere puppet under the Akai’s continuous and relentless abuse of the poor thing. The Ditu almost pitied them — almost being the important word there. He found their predicament to be nothing more than a nuisance, one which serves them right for challenging the Akai and his father.

Nowadays his main focus was the preservation of the Akai presence in Yahashi and its various assets there. He had grown much more accustomed to ruling than most would have expected. He seemed to change the more and more things moved on, and it warped him. He was a father now, of quite a few potential heirs, more than Jieke had ever through legitimate means for sure. Yet even now there was a distance to him. He felt increasingly detached from the various things which haunted his holy duties.

Now he focused on the matter at hand before him today, he quietly sat alone aside from a few attendants at this table before him. He had watched Atticus introduce the meeting, with some considerable contempt for a man he saw as ultimately weak. The Skyans lacked strength which he saw as necessary in operating in an environment. It was one of the lessons which his father taught him so long ago, that leaders who are weak in their conduct have a weakness to be exploited. This is why the Scandinvan were able to so effectively exploit this and survive despite the considerable opposition facing them.

The Scandinvan to him were a destabilizing agent and a threat to the Akai, however they were rational creatures… despite their barbarian nature. There was an innate Irredentism to the Scandinvan’s efforts on top of the ultimate goal of the self sustenance of their slaving society. Their society was fundamentally alien to that of the Skyans and to a lesser extent of the Ghantish, and through their isolated preservation of all that was old and venerable about them. Their hierarchy was tens of centuries old, their faith preserving many aspects of their society even when others might be better to adopt. They to an extent fascinated the Ditu, whose own society held a character deeply alien to all but the Puduites perhaps. He saw them as the result of isolation, where the only judge of themselves was themselves. And this was supported with vast systems to crush heretics and those who presented an unproductive change for the system. To this end it reminded him of an evolutionary mechanism, and to this end this conception of the Scandin helped you understand their natural response to conquest as well. Their nature requires growth and expansion due to their perpetually amplifying population pressures. Good ways of dealing with them would be forcibly containing them on their island of theirs, and then creating a quasi-sterility plague could either destroy or weaken the Scandin to the point they cannot be a threat long term. Such ideas were common in Hulang’s mind, like they always have. Hypotheticals unfiltered by the usual chains of polite conduct.

Hulang was not so complimentary of The Imperial Fortress Reich of The Kraven Corporation, quite the opposite actually. He saw the thing for what any sane character would, it was a perversion of all that was reasonable. Stability in the Reich was maintained through the practical lobotomy of its population, who were merely husks without any greater potential as servants of a higher cause. It was no better than a von Neumann machine out of control; a glorified amoeba which self perpetuates itself for no real purpose. It was a pure thing, one unfettered by any sense of justification other than itself. It was somewhat refreshing to know of such a beast, because he knew it could… should be slain without consequence.


Speaking of the Ghantish, Hulang was bemused to recognise his long acquaintance Nathan IV of Ghant a man who he came to increasingly solidify his veiled loathing of. He recalled his so called legitimate bastard nephew, born of him and his half-sister Lilisi, the utter loathing he had for that child was one only rivalled by his potential usefulness. Pengfei, he who bore the claims of several great families whose ancestry flowed through his veins. His parent’s union was one spoken about in esoteric matters among the intricate words of Lazin mystics. The Gentry was the eternal enemy of Clan Lazin, one whose presence haunted the works of the Lazins and their attempts to do good. Despite this Hulang and Lilisi remained on good terms with those among their ranks, in Hulang’s case it was Amelia Kindaro and for Lilisi she seemed well acquainted with the Gentry’s as a whole.

The Puduites were other people who held the Ditu’s intellectual intrigue. They were a people who were like the Akai and Ghantish, extra regional in character. Their presence was always close to that of the Lazins, with the old Shan dynasty being well acquainted with the Yahashian lords. And when the revolution came, the Lazins adapted as they always did and came to deal with the new dynasty. They feared that their fate at the anti-slavers was one which could haunt the Akai, given their own peculiar institutions which were preserved by the Akai legal habit of never properly reversing old laws in their entirety. Instead,Instead, they favoured adding amendments and repurposing them. There were also hints of various ties to the monarchy of the Puduites given the various simultaneous historians and anthropologists had observed between the two peoples. It was a curiosity, for sure and one possibly worth raising.

The Ditu observed the meeting with his studious eyes and analytic presence, one which he had refined to be less overt and subtle in its character — unless he sought otherwise. He watched as a package was brought forth towards him, before it was intercepted by his servants, with their robotic demeanour masquerading a sense of politeness. Their eyes were cold and dispassionate as the Ditu’s own, a reflection of what the man had become as the years waded on by. The gifts were examined carefully before being placed before the Ditu, where he could study them.

Section A: The Gothic Praetors

Gothic Praetor are extralegal agents with diplomatic immunity accountable only to the Gothic Council and are charged with maintaining stability and security in the region. They are afforded diplomatic immunity and the right to enter any nation in Gholgoth as part of missions authorized by the Gothic Lords. Praetors are not trained, they are chosen by the Gothic Lords based on an individual’s service record, character, and trust.

Gothic Praetors serve at the pleasure of the Council and their status can be revoked at anytime. A Praetor Mission must have the approval of the Council before deployment. This is seen as a measure that’s above a sanction, but below a full military mobilization.

Praetor may act alone or assemble their own teams. They do not receive funding through the Council, but must raise their own funds. In practice, militaries of their home nations often provide salaries and equipment.

Praetors are only activated during times of declared crisis. Praetors may be inducted into the ranks at anytime, but the Gothic Council decides which Praetors to activate during a crisis. When the Lords declare a crisis over; the Praetor is deactivated. Praetors maintain their rank and resources in order to stay at a constant state of readiness.

The enactment of this reform would be as follows:

— Each Gothic Lord submits two names from their nation for consideration to become Praetors
— Initially, one Praetor per nation is selected.
— Upon a crisis, the Council may authorize a Praetor mission
— Whenever possible, a Praetor from a third party will be assigned
— Praetor would be granted offices Gothic Embassies located in each nation.
— When deployed outside the region; they act with the authority of the region and not just their nation. This is a preferable option than mounting an invasion fleet or dealing with an invasion fleet.


Seems like the creation of extrajudicial executions is not beyond even the highest of paragons, the Ditu thought to himself, amused by the concept. “I have a few enquiries which this humble one, wishes to make,” the Yinmi Ditu began putting down the first proposal. “How would a Praetor with a small team likely make a difference? While one is aware of the potency of assassins, and SOF forces on top of diplomats, in our particular day and age it seems that the presence of a Praetor would merely inflame sensitive situations for no discernible gain. Less they field their own impressive forces, capable of matching the colossi, they will be crushed and the humiliation with follows will be most unpleasant this orphaned one can assure you.” He then decided to add something else: “this also neglects the particularly interesting characters of our respective civilisations and given it is subject to seemingly the wishes of whatever plurality dominates the council could easily be manipulated to weaken ourselves. Given that we all represent our own self interests and our varying civilisations, One imagine it could be easy to abuse such a system. Could, the fellow Lord please address such concerns? Perhaps a form of veto could be wielded?”

He then read the second proposal, with his usual characteristic speed to formulate his judgements on it.

Section B: The Executor of the Gothic Alliance

The Executor of the Gothic Alliance, traditionally, had always been the ruling member of the Dreadfire Dynasty of Automagfreek. The Freekish, and the Freekish alone, were the only nation in the whole of the region who could enforce their will over all others with the threat of force. Thus, the system — as simple as it was — worked. However, the Freekish have now fallen silent, and the Alliance has become decadent and unruly.

A new shepherd is needed to lead the flock, to serve as a voice and a face to rally behind when the Alliance is under threat.

The Executor of the Gothic Council is responsible for chairing the meetings of the Gothic Lords during emergency sessions and for executing the will of the Council. Upon arrival of the Lords at the designated time, the Lords will first vote to declare a crisis. If crisis is declared, the Lords will nominate and elect one member to be the Executor. This Executor will serve for one year or until the majority of Lords declare the crisis over. Additionally, A vote of no confidence can be passed against the Executor through a two-thirds majority of the Lords, which will then convene an Emergency Session and elect a successor.

During meetings; the Executor does not vote nor argue for/against positions. The Executor is considered a neutral authority. This implies that Lords whose nations are directly involved in the crisis are not eligible for nomination.

During a Crisis; the Executor manages the operation of the Praetor program including mission assignments, routing intelligence reports, parameters, and briefing the other Lords.


“His Holy and Exalted Perfection, takes no issue with this proposal,” one of the eunuchs who in their peculiarly boyish voice, “The dragon’s face also wishes to add that, how should one pursue contesting this particular position in times of crisis - so proper conduct may be formalised?” The Ditu had little belief he could succeed in ascending to such a post however he was more than capable of getting the networking to demonstrate the flaws in such a system being implemented.

Section C:The Gothic Capital: Pax Gothica, Dreadfire Isles

Currently, all Lords must meet in ULE City despite the absence of a Dreadfire.

The Skyans propose constructing a new city at the centre of the region that would serve as the capital of the region. This city would be extranational territory — funded and managed by the designates of the Gothic Lords. Every nation in the region would have a mission district that would be the territory of their nation. At the centre of this city would be the Dreadfire District — which would hold the offices of the Gothic Lords, the Council Chamber, and the Airport/Naval Ports.

Location & Geography
The location would be in the centre of the region using the Dreadfire Isles created by Novacom during a previous conflict. The islands are small, being roughly the size of Manhattan. The central region runs through the centre of the island, with square shaped districts being on either side. The airport is at the end of the island.

The Castellan of Pax Gothica
The Dreadfire District would be administered by the Castellan of Pax Gothica - An administrative agent appointed by the Gothic Council charged with maintaining the city, the Council Chambers, and ensuring the ability of the Gothic Lords to meet whenever they desire. The Castellan shall be provided a budget from each Gothic Lords in order to maintain the city including the hiring of staff and funding of infrastructure. A portion of this budget will come from sales tax charged by the various districts in Pax Gothica. Castellan’s serve a term of four years unless retired by the Council earlier.


The Ditu had nothing to particularly comment about the location of a new Gothic capital nor their its. He was curious about its architecture and what potential it could have, he pondered on whether the introduction of new forms could be first experimented with this. He also mused whether the possibility of exploiting the position of Castellan could be attainable, either y advancing his family or his subjects into such a position.

Section D: Phelgethon, Gothica and Pandaemonium
Phelgethon and Pandaemonium are two fortresses that serve to coordinate regional forces from both external threats and to aid in the enforcement of actions mandated by the Gothic Council. They also serve as training facilities for Praetors.

Phelgethon will be located in Gholghant. The other deep within the Tartarus Mountains in Kylarnatia. Gothica would be located in the center at the Dreadfire Isles.


The Ditu was intrigued with regards to the fourth proposal, although he had his concerns. He did not desire such an extraterritorial entity in his own lands, and he imagined the Ghantish would be rather pleased with the arrival of one of these forts in their own lands. Yet he did notice that these forts were placed in areas which were members of a singular faction. The Ditu internally amused himself, watching the small dispute between the Crown Prince of the Scandin and the Skyan Queen. He tolerated the Scandinvan as some of the better barbarian polities, however they were still that… barbarians. They were not equals, merely vassals in waiting like all children of the Ditu. Their rejection of modernity was refreshing to see, and reminded himself of the Akai’s own approach in many ways.

“This Holy and Exalted One, believes it may be the case that there is a considerable issue at hand here, that requires addressing,” Hulang began as he in particular addressed the Skyans. “While some may be more than content with this agreement of yours, one should note that the considerable empowering of the council in this situation to the point it is given authority over other members should certain votes go certain ways. One find this particularly dubious given the current situation, that the more barbarian societies whose various dysgenic uncivilised natures have led them to wage war against those who refrain from descending into such barbarity. One would advise caution against providing mechanisms which could be useful in preventing a descent into chaos and the rule of the most noble of mobs.” It was a quiet jab against the Skyans and those who saw it fit to reshape the world in their image through blunt means. The Ditu was more ambitious than that… far more, and he knew where his threats lay — all around him and everywhere. However he was prudent enough to realise that in this sea enmities, one could find opportunities.
HUN-01

20:22 Kirav Normal in Akai is nightmare fuel in the rest of the world.
11:33 Jedoria Something convoluted is going on in Akai probably.
Transoxthraxia: I'm no hentai connoisseur, but I'm pretty sure Akai's domestic politics would be like, at least top ten most fucked up hentais"
18:26 Deusaeuri Let me put it this way, you're what would happen if Lovecraft decided to write political dystopian techno thriller
20:19 Heku tits has gone mental
20:19 Jakee >gone
05:48 Malay lol akai sounds lovely this time of never


User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Thu Aug 03, 2017 8:00 pm

“Yet, you have harmed the region...Your Grace.”, a voice came from the back of the room growing louder as Secretary of State Lance Atticus walked towards the salver Emperor and the Queen of Havensky.

“Again, we’re in the midst of a crisis with wars on our shores. It’s one of the reasons we’re here.” Atticus began as he addressed the entire room now. The effect was also to exfiltrate Queen Heart from her showdown with Fenric.

“I beg the pardon of the Lords. I’ve been in touch with many of your diplomatic staff and I thought it might be easier if I were here to answer questions as the chief author of the document.”

Atticus swung around the room to address the concerns of The Ditu.

“I acknowledge the concerns about the Praetor’s being a small force. That’s intentional. The Praetor position was designed to be a half-step between doing nothing and an all out conflict. If people are already amassing armies then it’s too late. They are designed to, if you’ll pardon the phrase, nip these problems in the bud before they get bigger.”

Atticus continued to pace around the room.

“As an example… take our current situation. The Scandinvan Empire sends military grade vessels to pirates and slavers in Greater Dienstand directly provoking The Golden Throne. This Council has been ineffective in policing the actions of our members. What we propose is a half-step to allow the Gothic Council an option that’s not war and not doing nothing. In this scenario, the Council could have sent a Praetor… probably a naval captain… to hunt down the military grade vessels and eliminate them. With the Gothic interference in Maccabean affairs eliminated; casus belli is also eliminated.

It is not a perfect system, but at least this gives this council options that don’t involves full scale war. It’s less bloodshed.”

Atticus walked towards the other side of the room.

“I also recognize the concern about the tyranny of the majority. This proposal does ensure certain safeguards. For starters, all missions must be approved by the Council. Additionally, the Praetor selected must be a third party. The Council, in its wisdom, wouldn’t send the Skyan Praetor into Kraven or vice versa. Praetors must have their status granted to them by the Gothic Lords. I doubt you would approve of people deemed untrustworthy or nefarious.”

Atticus turned again to The Ditu.

“The position of Executor is fairly simple to contest. At the start of a crisis, you would move to express interest in being nominated for the position. If more than one people run for office we take a vote. If there’s already an Executor you can wait until the end of term - or if the Executor is doing a bad job.. Move for a vote of no confidence.”

Finally, it was time for Atticus to address the last concern. It was hard as the single true democracy to try and sell what was a democratic reforms to the council. The Skyans had been a democracy since before they were even a nation. The transition of power from one party to the other was always smooth. It was often frustrating for Skyan diplomatic staff to convince others of the advantages of democracy because this it required compromise.

“The Skyans recognize that these are big steps. If we pass these reforms this Council and the region will be different. We will have a common capital for the region on neutral ground. We will have common fortresses for our defense. Finally, we will have a common framework for policing ourselves without resulting to bloody wars all. the. damn. time. Arn’t we, as a region, sick of this warfare?”

This time, Atticus turned again towards Fenric.

“The Skyans have been clear in what would result in peace between us. Leave Shen Almaru. Withdraw your support of slavers in Maccabean territories. Pay reparations for your damage to Shen Almaru...and the Sons of Erid must step down from power. Their actions have created this crisis and they can no longer remain in power.”
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
Dephire
Envoy
 
Posts: 233
Founded: Sep 06, 2005
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Dephire » Tue Aug 15, 2017 3:01 pm

Tristan looked up from the list of proposals in his hand, "I have read through your proposals, Atticus. They lack substance and strength. The praetor's will not be able to hold any more significant influence than over-glorified ambassadors. I am sure that the intention would be a mirror of Heartbreak, but I need more convincing before I can even consider this proposal. An Executor will only add more bureaucracy and slow down the process for our mutual defense. I am not willing to sit back and wait for people to drag their feet and make a decision if our livelihood is on the line. You, Atticus, should know what happens when people sit on their ass and wait for someone else to decide if you should defend yourself." He looked back to the third proposal, "I can agree that we should build a new Gothic City. I am sure us western folks would appreciate the savings in fuel and time from having to travel to Automagfreek every time a meeting is called." The Briskan looked up to the other men and women in the chamber, "I must also express my frustrations over the placement of these 'fortresses'. I do not see any such proposed fortress that will protect our western border. Are you truly considering only yourselves in this matter, Sir Atticus?" Tristan threw down the proposals. "I will have no part in this. If you choose to once again forsake my people for your own bullshit, then I shall leave you to your own devices. I do not care for your people as you have not cared for mine.

The Dephirian Empire will hereby withdraw from this selfish council and our military forces will return home. We will protect the west as it is in our best interest to do so. I no longer care for your squabbles with the Slavers nor the Reich. I shall treat you the same way you have treated my country, by "

The man stood up and stormed out, leaving behind his shocked entourage. Minera chased after him, "What the fuck was that?" She yelled as soon as the doors closed behind her.

"Those people are not the same people I stood by these many years. We have bled for them and they have given us nothing but smiles and words. We gave them swords, and they abandon us to our own demise."

"Not but two hours ago were you happy to be here. What has changed you so much to outright denouncing them?"

"Those proposals were geared towards increasing power to Kylarnatia. There were no provisions within them to actually increase Gholgoth's defenses as there were more holes than Wilhelm's corpse. I have on countless occasions came to their beck and call, but the only thing we've gotten is a statue of a fallen friend and consolation prizes. Yet others who haven't done shit get the most praise. It's time for us to make due with our own kin." Tristan noticed his other generals entering the hallway. "Come, Generals. We must go home before more incidents occur."

"Well, that was... Interesting. Hey, Tristan, what's the plan?" Darius chuckled. "I mean, it's not like they will change their minds or anything. Seems like they really don't care one way or the other..."

Tristan stopped and turned to Darius, "Nothing is on the table at the moment. They will debate and squabble over their selfish plans. The armada will withdraw from their approach of Scand shores. Kraven will be left unscathed. Simply put, if they want to exclude us from their agendas, then we'll exclude us from ever giving them any more assistance. We have lost too many good people for their wars."

"Alright, Plan 'Fuck it' shall commence." Darius shrugged and laughed. "I'll notify the troops."

"I'll send word to the admirals." Minera said quietly.

"Good. Now can we please get out of here? We have a funeral to attend."
Last edited by Dephire on Thu Aug 31, 2017 1:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"My nation was forged by the blade of a sword and so it lives on through the sword." -Tristan Skragg, Emperor of Briska.

User avatar
Ghant
Minister
 
Posts: 2443
Founded: Feb 11, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Ghant » Sat Dec 16, 2017 12:24 pm

“The Bristling Briskan”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

Like poppies flying in the wind
Like wild roses entwisted in strands
Like blood in veins of human kind
Like fire burning down the lands

Mixture of all shades of red
Tis a wonder to have it upon the head

Copper and crimson and gingerly sweet
rubies could borrow its flame-like heat

When having hair as red as wine
You can never just fall in line

The girl was bored. She usually was in situations like this. Valentina only came because her father and older brothers and sisters were going, and she didn’t want to feel left out. But this is stupid, she thought from her seat in the back of the newly minted Gothic Chamber of the White Citadel. She twiddled her thumbs, wrapped her long red locks around her index finger, and tapped her feet under the table. I need to do something…

A thought came to her head. What are these proposals about, anyway? Valentina watched her father pour over the documents, the Emperor of Ghant showing great interest in their contents. When does he ever do that? He never does that! the young Princess of Ghant just had to know what they said. Maybe there’s a plan to do something about the Kraven Reich and liberate Cydonia! Valentina then recalled dreams she sometimes had, of going to war in a suit of power armor, wielding a flaming sword on the slopes of Cydonia, slaying soldiers of the Kraven Wolf Brigade and eventually putting the “vat women” out of their misery. Because nobody should have to live like that…

Once she was confident that nobody was watching her, Valentina slowly and carefully began to slip out of her seat and went beneath the table. Like a burglar, she dexterously maneuvered along the low areas of the chamber until she arrived at her father’s seat. Valentina watched and waited until her father was done with the papers, and set them aside in order to do something else on his tablet. That was when she reached up, and slid the papers off the surface and pulled them down to her. Oh yeah, I got em!

The papers made mention of Praetors and Executors and Fortresses and Cities. Woah. Valentina wasn’t completely sure of what it all meant, but she did know that it was all pretty serious business. She read over them again in an effort to get a better idea of what it all meant. She was only ten years old, after all, and statecraft was not her forte, having struggled that during the course of her formal education. Unlike like Sara…

Just as carefully as she had taken the papers, Valentina put them back where she found them. A few moments past where she thought about what she wanted to do next. I don’t wanna go back to my seat just yet, Valentina decided. Not wanting to go back to her seat, the princess endeavored to sneak off in order to see what she could see, and hear what she could hear. For better or worse…

Once again maneuvering through the tables and chairs of the Gothic Chamber, Valentina eventually happened upon a choice conversation between individuals that she didn’t know, and listened carefully to what they were talking about. "I have read through your proposals, Atticus. They lack substance and strength. The praetor's will not be able to hold any more significant influence than over-glorified ambassadors. I am sure that the intention would be a mirror of Heartbreak, but I need more convincing before I can even consider this proposal. An Executor will only add more bureaucracy and slow down the process for our mutual defense. I am not willing to sit back and wait for people to drag their feet and make a decision if our livelihood is on the line. You, Atticus, should know what happens when people sit on their ass and wait for someone else to decide if you should defend yourself."

Valentina thought hard in an attempt to figure out who Atticus was. Some Skyan probably. She knew the King and the Queen, and their children, but none of the others. She still couldn’t figure out who was talking, though, or what the heartbreak was that he referred to. Maybe somebody dumped him and he’s sad about it still…

"I can agree that we should build a new Gothic City. I am sure us western folks would appreciate the savings in fuel and time from having to travel to Automagfreek every time a meeting is called…I must also express my frustrations over the placement of these 'fortresses'. I do not see any such proposed fortress that will protect our western border. Are you truly considering only yourselves in this matter, Sir Atticus?”

The man revealed that he was from the west at least, though angrily, Valentina assumed, the man through his papers down. “I will have no part in this. If you choose to once again forsake my people for your own bullshit, then I shall leave you to your own devices. I do not care for your people as you have not cared for mine. The Dephirian Empire will hereby withdraw from this selfish council and our military forces will return home. We will protect the west as it is in our best interest to do so. I no longer care for your squabbles with the Slavers nor the Reich. I shall treat you the same way you have treated my country, by.”

He’s from Dephire! They are the Reich’s enemies too! Abruptly, the man departed the chamber in some haste, leaving his delegation in a state of surprise. A woman went after him. I need to do something, the young princess felt something deep in her chest. Maybe I can save the day. Taking a deep breath, Valentina began to move swiftly in an attempt to catch the Dephirian man before he was too far gone.

The princess could sense that others would notice her, and that one of her father’s men would go after her, but she didn’t care. I just need a little time, is all. Valentina moved as fast as she could, as fast as her tall boots would carry her, the skirt of her dress and her red hair flying behind her. Eventually, she caught up to the Dephirian, who was now speaking to the woman that went after him. "Those people are not the same people I stood by these many years. We have bled for them and they have given us nothing but smiles and words. We gave them swords, and they abandon us to our own demise."

"Not but two hours ago were you happy to be here. What has changed you so much to outright denouncing them?" the woman asked him.

"Those proposals were geared towards increasing power to Kylarnatia. There were no provisions within them to actually increase Gholgoth's defenses as there were more holes than Wilhelm's corpse. I have on countless occasions came to their beck and call, but the only thing we've gotten is a statue of a fallen friend and consolation prizes. Yet others who haven't done shit get the most praise. It's time for us to make due with our own kin." The rest of their delegation entered the hallway, tall imposing men that Valentina hoped wouldn’t block her out. "Come, Generals. We must go home before more incidents occur."

One of them spoke. "Well, that was... Interesting. Hey, Tristan, what's the plan?" The man chuckled. "I mean, it's not like they will change their minds or anything. Seems like they really don't care one way or the other..."

Their leader, apparently named Tristan, turned to the man and replied "nothing is on the table at the moment. They will debate and squabble over their selfish plans. The armada will withdraw from their approach of Scand shores. Kraven will be left unscathed. Simply put, if they want to exclude us from their agendas, then we'll exclude us from ever giving them any more assistance. We have lost too many good people for their wars."

"Alright, Plan 'Fuck it' shall commence." The other man shrugged and laughed. "I'll notify the troops."

"Good,” Tristan said. “Now can we please get out of here? We have a funeral to attend."

“Wait,” called out Valentina as she drew near. “Mr. Tristan,” she addressed him, not sure how else to do so, “I heard what you said, and I think my father can help. He’s the Emperor of Ghant…he’s in the chamber. We already have an Executor who does nothing, and the proposal would replace him with a new one.”

An idea entered her mind just then. “You could support my father becoming Executor, he would help you. He doesn’t like the Kraven Reich either, and takes their threat seriously. You seemed concerned about increasing the power of Kylarnatia. Silvier will try to become the new Executor, which you don’t like, yes? My father doesn’t like her either!”

I don’t have much time. “Also, the proposal is for three fortresses, but I think there should be four…one in the north, south, east and west. My father will agree with me that we should amend it that way, and have the western fortress in your country, because then, you’ll have the protection that you need.”

Valentina could sense that her time was running out, and that one of her father’s men was drawing near. “Please, Mr. Tristan, come back and listen to what my father has to say. He’s always looking for new friends and allies, and it sounds like you could use some too. When old friends turn their backs on you, why not make new friends? He’s not like the others…he’s a man of honor. Talk to him and he will listen, I know it!”

The Princess then felt a large hand wrap around her slender arm and grip it tight. “My apologies,” Ser Artur Ordosa told the Dephirians as he pulled Valentina close to him. “This one likes to run off and cause mischief. I hope that she hasn’t caused you any trouble or insulted you. Rest assured, the Emperor of Ghant takes such offenses very seriously.”

Ser Artur began to step back and away from the Dephirians, with the princess in tow. “Excuse us please, your excellencies.” Valentina’s move opened, but words could not escape her mouth. Instead, she looked back at Tristan as she was escorted away back in the direction of the Gothic Chamber. Hopefully he will think about what I told him, she thought, but she doubted it. Nobody ever listens to me…
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Ghant
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Factbook | IIwiki | RP Resume | IIwiki Admin | Recipient of the Greater Dienstad Roleplay Reward
"Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" - Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias
XX XXX
XX XXX

User avatar
Dephire
Envoy
 
Posts: 233
Founded: Sep 06, 2005
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Dephire » Mon Dec 18, 2017 9:08 am

"Stop." Tristan had listened to the young girl and turned as she looked back. "Your father will have my ear. However, not here. I am sorry, young princess, but I must lay my wife to rest and seek the comforts of home before I lose my temper. Extend my invitation to your father. He is welcome to attend the ceremony. I expect you to be there as well." Tristan smiled, "There will be cake and partying in celebration of life!" He nodded to the man escorting the young princess to signal the end of the conversation, then returned to his departure. A sleek vehicle sped up to the entrance and the Godsends entered, but Tristan hesitated.

"Tristan? What's wrong?" Jane asked with a concerned expression on her face.

"I think my temper may have gotten the better of me just now. It could destroy our plans if I were to leave. Go ahead without me. I'm staying in Havensky until the summit is over. Continue on with the funeral preparations."

The trip back was not as joyous as the trip to Havensky. Everyone knew the future will be grim. The nation would survive, but its allies would be left to the unknown. It would be less than a week from now for all of Dephire's naval armada to return home. Some ships have personnel that have not been to shore since the fracturing of Milograd. It will be an interesting time for many to adjust after being in a state of war for so long. Then there was the war at home as those with ties to the Reich were being mercilessly filtered out of the population and removed. The latest count had over twenty million citizens removed from the population of Dephirean naturals. Inquisitor Dramman was very efficient with his task. Though, Tristan now felt that the people of Dephire and her enemies understood what it means to defy their Emperor.

"Inquisitor Dramman, in light of the Empress of Dephire's passing I believe we have made a significant wound in the efforts of all who would choose to betray me. Have your men stand down and return to Hell's Gate as soon as you are able so that I can properly address your future."

The Inquisitor smiled and bowed, "Yes, your majesty!" He relayed the order to his troops and so ended the inquisition.

So began Dephire's withdraw...
Last edited by Dephire on Tue May 29, 2018 7:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
"My nation was forged by the blade of a sword and so it lives on through the sword." -Tristan Skragg, Emperor of Briska.

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Tue Dec 26, 2017 2:28 pm

The Citadel

The kindly grandfatherly figure of Admiral Mohammad Moonwing was waiting for the Jagite ambassador in one of the hallways of the Citadel. Moonwing was practically ancient at this point having served as commander of Havensky’s Humanitarian Armada for more than a decade.

Next to him as a tall lanky dark haired man in a dark black suit with a large messenger bag. This was Stars and Signals Commander Mathias Willow. While Moonwing’s face was a calm and amiable demeanor; Willow was a nervous and fidgety.

As the Jagite Ambassador Gim Manevron walked by, Moonwing put up a hand and then motioned to a conference room that had previously been blocked by two rather large members of the White Guard.

“Mr. Manevron, if you will please come with me for a moment. This way please.”

They were led into a sparsely decorated conference room with a large glass table. There was pot and glasses for chai tea and a tall bottle of whiskey, just like Manevron enjoyed.

“Please Gim, have a seat. I apologize about the lack of notice for this meeting, but you’ll soon see why we didn’t communicate earlier. This is my college, Commander Matias Willow whom serves in our intelligence service.”, Moonwing said motioning to Willow. Somehow, his words disappeared into the walls. Willow, out of habit, pulled out his tablet which was complaining about the the lack of connectivity in the room. Willow shook his head and put it in his bag instead bringing out a stack of papers. The table itself was glass and there were no windows in this room. Anyone who had been inside a secure room would recognize what this room really was. A place for secret talk.

Moonwing began the conversation.

“Gim. We have been approached by representatives of the Kraven Reich with an offer. They claim that there are 39,406 Jagites alive in Cydonia. In exchange for a promise of non-aggression between my forces and our allies during this conflict...They will release them into our custody.”

Moonwing waited for the Ambassador’s response expecting shock, disbelief, and possibly anger.

The words washed over the ambassador and he sat stunned for only a handful of seconds. He was not, by birth, an ethnic Jagite. His hair was not solid or even streaked with the trademark silver nor did his eyes glimmer like platinum. He was a Callorcian (ethnically Scandivan) by birth, ironic considering the ongoing Slaver War. Of course he’d been briefed about the Jags past with the Reich and the possibility, the yearning hope, that one day they could visit vengeance upon them.

Willow spoke this time laying out several high resolution pictures out on the table. The intelligence officer guiding the ambassador through what they Stars and Signals Command had found.

“We have satellite imagery from this morning showing several thousand prisoners being rounded up. This activity has continued and we estimate that the full number will be in place before nightfall. They are, as to be expected, being very efficient which leads us to believe that these efforts are genuine.”

Gim looked over the photos carefully, his mind beginning to realize the immense importance of this moment. He glanced over at his cell phone which he had absent mindedly placed on the table and noted it had no connectivity. No windows either. This was serious, and as he set each photo aside his mind whirled with the conversation he knew he would have to have with Fostoria. Gim Manevron, son of the Patriarch in Callorcia, decided to pour himself a glass of the whiskey and take a entire gulp before continuing. The posting to Havensky wasn’t meant to be difficult -- it was a democratic, secular nation north of the Empire who was practically the poster-child of good behaviour.

“Such an exact number,” said Gim timidly, “Like they have been carefully controlling the population.”

“There are a few twists - aside from the obvious one where nobody can attack Kraven. Your citizens will be turned over to us immediately, but our task force will not be able to leave Cydonia until the Slaver War ends. This must also be kept secret until we leave Cydonia; as public opinion on the matter might be severe on our side.”

“They’re keeping you hostage,” asked Gim, starting to gain some spine back.

Moonwing spoke.

“In a sense, that is correct. I will be taking the Heartknight Consular and four hospital ships. We will begin treatment of your citizenry immediately. We will then wait for the war to end.”

All the briefings began to come back to Gim. The hours upon hours of droning from the lecturers at the collegium came back to him in a rush. The Reich could never be trusted. It didn’t function as a normal nation-state it didn’t have economic depressions to exploited or cultural norms that could help smooth out minor differences. It existed only to crush everything under an iron boot.

“Admiral Moonwing,” he began, his voicing now coming to a normal tone, “Fostoria will not like this plan, the Reich will turn on you. Then we will have them holding you hostage and they may demand more from us, such as territorial concessions. The Empire will not negotiate with the Reich...”

“I have faith in young Atticus. If there is anyone who can reconcile the troubles in the region; it’s him. I am aware of the dangers if I am wrong, which is why I will lead the mission personally. Moreover, this is our best chance to save the lives of your people. It is a risk we have to take. Now please, speak with your leaders. Time is of the essence, but we understand that this decision is important. Feel free to use this secured room for your discussion. When you are ready, let us know and we will inform the Kraven Reich. If you agree to our plans, an advance team will depart immediately.”

Gim Manveron left the room immediately and made his way through the corridors of the Citadel, knowing all the while that he couldn’t contact Fostoria from this location. He quickly called his driver and met him outside near the diplomatic drop off and delivery lane before ordering him to make his way immediately to the Heart District, and to the embassy.

The embassy for the Gharsashian Empire was rather large and ornate with a Euphontonian designing the structure as apart of the Empress’ unity initiative. Once inside the embassy Manevron made his way to a small room, similar in appearance to the one he’d spoken to Admiral Moonwing in, it held no windows and almost all communications was jammed. Inside this particular room existed only a small desk and a phone. Gim picked up the phone and waited patiently.

‘Ambassador Manevron,’ said an older, deeper voice than his own, ‘Go ahead.’

‘The Skyans have been contacted by the Reich, they are being offered the surviving Jagites,’ replied Gim.

‘In return for …’ said the other voice.

‘The Skyans, and presumably, us from not attacking them for the duration of the conflict with Scandivan.’

‘How many ambassador?’

‘A little over 39,000,’ he replied, not remembering the exact number and cursing himself for it, ‘The Skyans are also required to remain with their rescue fleet as hostages of the Reich until the end of the conflict, then they are allowed to come home.’

‘What demands were made by Havensky?”

“None, except that we keep this secret since it’ll cost them public support.”

“Did you explain our protocol with the Reich?”

“Yes.”

There was dead silence for fifteen seconds.

“Ambassador Manevron, you have authority to accept this deal. Your authorizer is High Lord Elovin Valin, of the Collegium of Foreign Affairs. Pay my respects to the Queen.”


* * * *


“Tell me again, slowly this time.”, said Atticus.

“The Empress of Dephire has passed. She died from complications in her recovery after her attack by Ki’lan. I didn’t realize the Emperor would react to the proposals so badly.”

“It’s as if… as if somehow he wasn’t aware of them. Something that should never have occured since you’ve been stationed in Briska specifically to communicate such things to their government.”

“I told their foreign minister!”

“But something has gone wrong!”, shouted Atticus clearly frustrated. He took a deep breath as he paced the room.

“Perhaps he’s been spending most of his waking hours with his ailing wife and didn’t read up on the proposals. Whatever happened, it’s done. What’s more, this complicates Operation Resurrection.”

Atticus paced.

“You will be transferred to the home office until I can sort out a new assignment for you. In the meantime, we’ll need to send King Ironwing to Briska for the funeral. I’ll send Glitch as an interim Ambassador. She might be able to patch things up with the Emperor. In the meantime, Hagane can you sync up with the team and see if there’s a proposal out there on the table we could support to address the concerns? If not can we draw one up? There’s too much at stake here.”

Atticus sighed.

“I need to speak with Skaro. Vaal, can you get in touch and arrange a meeting? Right away.”

OCC:
Co-written with Jagada. All conversations should be presumed to be secret in character.
Last edited by Havensky on Wed Dec 27, 2017 8:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
Ghant
Minister
 
Posts: 2443
Founded: Feb 11, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Ghant » Mon Jan 15, 2018 4:34 pm

“Pelion”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky


Ser Artur Ordosa gently, though firmly gripped the young Ghantish Princess by the arm as he escorted her back to the Gothic Chamber of the White Citadel, while the Princess went along feebly, unable to resist. She didn’t think she’d get in trouble with her father, but at the same time, she was afraid of his disappointment. The whole walk back she thought about what she would tell her father once she was presented to him, though she understood that once she came before him, whatever she planned to say probably wouldn’t come out.

The Emperor of Ghant was where Valentina last saw him, sitting at his designated seat in the Gothic Chamber, looking bored on his tablet. Probably playing some stupid game or reading up on some useless information, she thought as the distance between them was closed. Rather than get his attention from afar, Ser Artur walked up to the Emperor and touched him gently on the shoulder.

Setting the tablet down, Nathan turned his head and met eyes with Artur, and then Valentina, giving her a long, curious stare. “What’s going on?” he asked the two of them. “Why aren’t you at your seat?”

“She was,” Ser Artur began. “Then she wasn’t…I found her sneaking off and bothering the Briskans, who appeared to be leaving.”

“What do you mean she was and then she wasn’t?” Nathan gave Ser Artur a cold stare. “You’re supposed to be watching her…”

Ser Artur his lip. “I was. One moment she was there…the next she wasn’t. She’s very fast, your Majesty.”

“Faster than you are apparently,” the Emperor let out a quick, course laugh. “What’s done is done…and she’s back now. Thank you for returning her to me. Be more watchful next time, as I wouldn’t want the wrong person snagging one of my children while you’re not looking. You’re dismissed.” Ser Artur inclined his head and walked back to his post behind the Emperor’s seat.

Valentina looked at the floor and rubbed her arms. “I told you to go sit down…why did you get up and wander off? Why did you disobey me?”

“I got bored,” Valentina shrugged. “I’m sorry father, but this is no place for children…that’s what the Empress said.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. “I know what the Empress said, Valentina…and you got bored? No, I’m not buying that. You’re not that listless. Now tell me why.”

“…I wanted to see what was going on,” she answered him pleadingly. “I wanted to learn more…about everything. I wanted to help…you.”

Laughing quickly, the Emperor shook his head and ran a hand through his daughter’s orange locks. “Okay, so you wanted to help me. Help me then…the Briskans,” Nathan probed his daughter with a curious expression. “Why the Briskans? Is this about the Kraven Reich?”

Valentina shook her head. “No…I saw them talking with Ser Atticus. They seemed angry about the proceedings and they left abruptly. They were angry about not feeling taken care of by these proposals, that their concerns were going unaddressed. They feel vulnerable against the Kravenites.”

“Everyone feels vulnerable against the Kravenites,” Nathan laughed again. “Okay, so they left abruptly in anger, and you followed them? Why and what did you talk about?”

“…I felt like you could help them,” she answered candidly. “I believed that you and Tristan could be friends and that you’d take their concerns seriously…since you share those concerns. I told them that I agreed with them, and I offered them…solutions that they’d find agreeable to address their needs.”

Looking around the room and exhaling, the Emperor turned his eyes back to Valentina. “Like what?”

“…Look at the map of Gholgoth,” she answered her father swiftly. “See how the fourth proposal is for three Gothic Fortresses, in the north, south and east. Well, what about the west? What if there was a fourth fortress in Briska, which would be the fortress of the west? Shouldn’t there be a fortress in all four directions, to safeguard the region from all frontiers? And it would be a deterrent against the Kravenites, as they’d think twice about attacking Briska if there was a Gothic Fortress there.”

Nathan considered this carefully, stroking his chin and furrowing his brow. “Alright…and what did they have to say about all this?”

“Tristan said that you’d have his ear later on at some point, but not now because he had to leave on account of his wife’s funeral. He invited you to attend, and expected me to be there too.” Valentina smiled, and added that “he said there’d be cake.”

“Cake,” he chuckled. “At a funeral…how strange. Anyway, I think this Fortress thing is a good idea. I’ll bring it up, but not until it has a name. Since it was your idea, I’ll let you name it. Try to keep it in theme…I wouldn’t want to mess up the fengshui.”

Valentina tapped her chin, trying to figure out what to call the Fortress of the West. Something Greek, like the other ones…something starting with a P… A few ideas came to mind, but one stood out. Yes…let’s go with that one…

“Pelion,” she finally told her father after thinking for several seconds. “Pelion is referred in the Greek mythology as the pass of Gods and Heroes, and the home of the centaurs.”

“Fortress Pelion,” Nathan grinned widely. “I like it.” Patting his daughter on the head and ruffling her hair, he told her “I’ll get right on it. Now go sit down and don’t go sneaking off again.”

“Understood.” Kissing her father on the cheek, Valentina ran off and went to sit down at her seat again, making herself comfortable and watching her father with great anticipation. I should have told him about declaring himself a candidate for Gothic Executor, she frowned when she realized she forgot. Oops…

From his own great Gothic Chamber seat, the Emperor of Ghant wrote a couple things down before clearing his throat and speaking loudly in the direction of Atticus. “Ahem…I would like to propose an amendment to Section D: Phlegethon, Gothica and Pandaemonium,” the Emperor called out to the Skyans and the other Gothic Lords present. “I would like to change it to read as follows. Phlegethon, Pandaemonium and Pelion are three fortresses that serve to coordinate regional forces from both external threats and to aid in the enforcement of actions mandated by the Gothic Council. They also serve as training facilities for Praetors.”

The Emperor paused as he went over his notes before continuing to speak. “Phlegethon will be located in Gholghant. Pandaemonium deep within the Tartarus Mountains in Kylarnatia. Pelion located in Briska. Gothica would be located in the center at the Dreadfire Isles.”

Turning his head to look at his daughter, the Emperor smiled before turning back to the rest of those present in the chamber. “The logic behind this amendment is that there should be a Gothic fortress in all of the frontiers of Gholgoth, in the north, south, east and west. Fortress Pelion would be the Fortress of the West, Phlegethon the Fortress of the South, Pandaemonium the Fortress of the North and Gothica the Fortress of the East. Does anyone have any thoughts about this?”
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Ghant
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Factbook | IIwiki | RP Resume | IIwiki Admin | Recipient of the Greater Dienstad Roleplay Reward
"Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" - Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias
XX XXX
XX XXX

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

The Short Flight

Postby Havensky » Sun Jan 28, 2018 1:24 pm

The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky


Atticus had rejoined his seat as the chair just in time to hear the proposal from the Emperor of Ghant. He took the gavel from He breathed a sigh of relief that somebody had worked out a plan and that it was pretty straightforward.

“The chair moves to vote by acclamation. Any opposed?”

HRA Ironheart
Over the Gothic Sea


“And with this Letter of Credence, with the advice and consent of the Skyan Senate, we hereby name you - Lady Regina Raven - the Skyan Ambassador to Dephire.”

King Lucas Ironwing, dressed in full armor with a black cloak, handed the letter to a darkly dressed Glitch and shook her hand. A photographer flashed a photo. The small contingent of press left the airship cabin.

Ironwing’s black cloak was the one he wore as a member of the military academy cadre. The power armor he wore had been painted black in preparation for the funeral of the Empress of Dephire. During which time, Atticus had convened an emergency vote of the Senate in order to credential Glitch as the Ambassador to Dephire. It had been a good move by the Prime Minister to keep the Senate close at hand during the Gothic Summit. Atticus had hoped that by naming Glitch as Ambassador it would help smooth things over with Dephire’s Emperor. It had helped that she had known the Godsent Knight Wilhelm well and had his trust while he was alive.

Ironwing and Glitch sat down in two large chairs as an attendant brought over coffee and left the cabin quietly leaving them alone.

Glitch eyed the King for a moment before speaking.

“Your Majesty, Would you mind telling me what is going on?”, she said.

“Please, I’ve told you before you can call me Lucas when it’s just us. All this pomp and formality around the Gothic Summit has almost made me forgotten my own name.”

Glitch took a sip of her coffee.

“Your Majesty, I am the Lord Commander of the Astral branch of the Heartknights. I have a Class One Security Clearance. I have been involved in operations at the highest levels of the Skyan military. I get pulled from a meeting at 10:30 and the Senate has scheduled a vote for my ambassadorship at 11:00. Lo and behold, I’m on the royal airship just after lunch. Now, I’m willing to accept that it was important for me to attend the funeral - and I would have regardless. However, y’all have gone through a lot of trouble to make sure I’m an ambassador when I get there. This is more than just smoothing things over. There’s something bigger at stake here and I think I deserve to know what.”

Ironwing grimaced, “Glitch you know..

“Class One… which means the only reason you’re not telling me is that it’s been deemed need to know. I asking, respectfully I might add, that I be read in.”

Ironwing stated to argue, but he knew that it would be more trouble than it was worth. Glitch was correct, she did have proper clearance. The cabin was already secured from signals intelligence. It might also be good for her to know.

“After the slavers attacked the city, the Kraven Reich offered us a peace deal. Despite being allies with the slavers, they would stay out of the conflict. They also would support the Gothic Reforms.”

“And you believed them? These reforms would equip the Council of Lords to take greater action before a bigger war starts. These reforms would hurt their ability to misbehave in the future. There's no way they go along with this. ”

“No, but then Skaro showed Squall something that changed our minds.”

“WAIT, Squall knows!? He’s involved!? How the hell did he not tell me!? I’m the Best Lady at his wedding!”

“Squall is a good soldier. He was told to forget it. He’d never talk about something this important.”

“Spill it Lucas.”, remarked Glitch now clearly annoyed at being kept in the dark.

“The Kravenites have been keeping thousands of Jagites citizens alive in Cydonia. They offered to turn them over to us and allow them to leave after the war is over.”

Glitch face changed only slightly as her mind turned over what Lucas had said. The lives in the balance, what it would mean, and the possible motivations of the Kraven leadership.

“The cappers don’t want to pick a fight so soon as Hab Center Six. They’re still consolidating. They need time to finish their work. Getting into a region wide conflict would be...impractical from their point of view…. Which is why Atticus pushed so damn hard for these reforms now. He won’t have another chance to do this without Reich interference. We can’t win a two-front war and they know it. At the same time, they know that we can’t keep our allies focused on an obvious threat right outside our borders without some leverage. Wait.”

Glitch calculated the exact words Ironwing had said.

“You’re giving them hostages. This keeps us very interested in making sure they get left alone. The death of the Empress complicates this plan because it’s the murder of the Empress’ wife. He’s already killed Ki’lan for what he’s done, but if he decides he needs more than that? That’s why you called me…you're leveraging my friendship with… with my dead friend...hoping that that tie keeps the whole damn region from tearing itself apart more than we already are? Hoping that that Tristan trusts me just enough not to start another war and kill the Jagite hostages as well as our own humanitarian task force? At the same time, I'm supposed to make sure he agrees to the reforms that we only have one shot at so that the next time the region goes into crisis we have the tools to deal with it before it explodes into a wider war? Did I miss anything?”

Ironwing sighed, “Don’t be mad, I didn’t like this plan either.”

“And I imagine I can’t talk about this to anyone. A deal like this would send shockwaves around the region. It would be a scandal. Worse, it might derail the whole plan. So, I have to smile and wave and act like I don’t know. It’s lying, it’s the devil’s work and I don’t like this one bit Lucas. Not. One. Bit. As soon as this is done, I’m out. Understand?”

“Your country thanks you for your service.”
Last edited by Havensky on Sun Jan 28, 2018 1:42 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
Dephire
Envoy
 
Posts: 233
Founded: Sep 06, 2005
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Dephire » Thu Feb 08, 2018 6:40 am

Hell's Gate, Capital City of Dephire
Several hours after the summit...


The massive airship, Defiance, approached the definitive mountain range which outlined the ocean-side of the massive metropolis. Much of the eastern and northern coastline of Dephire is part of the same monstrous mountain range. Hell's Gate was situated in the northeast corner of Dephire where a small break in the mountains leads to a natural harbor large enough to build and maintain a large fleet. In ancient times this break was highly sought as it was the only accessible pass to the ocean without having to travel thousands of miles. Over the years inhabitants of the city built and developed the pass so that large armies can embark from the port. Several mountains had been brought down to their feet to become part of the city itself. From the sky one could see the city's growth over the years as massive walls were built after each age like the rings of a tree stump and going on for several hundred miles from the pass until there were no more. A single structure remained in the oldest circle, taller than all other structures of the city, stood the new capitol of Dephire. It was towards this building that the Defiance veered toward, with escort aircraft in tow. The final descent began.

Tristan stood aboard the bridge, looking toward the airstrip he saw hundreds of thousands of dots congesting the airfield, "It appears news broke out of the empress' death. I hoped to make an announcement to give me time to grieve, but there's no time for that it seems."

"We could investigate the leak, sir. This was an absolute breach of privacy," Darius offered.

Tristan shook his head, "No, the people know and it is much easier this way than having to stand in front of a camera to address the nation. At least this way lets us head home to say our final farewell." He took a long drink from the tankard next to him, "it will be a rough year. Have my admirals and generals accepted their new orders?"

"Yes, sir. The entirety of your sword is returning to its sheath. Some expressed minor disappointment with the change of heart, but are happy to return home," Minera answered.

Jane Romanov, who had been largely absent since departing the summit, was standing near the door. "I have ten thousand paladins to receive us at the air strip. A convoy will then take us into the keep. I understand the time to grieve, young emperor, but we must also discuss the next set of trials for Wilhelm's and Ki'lan's replacements. There's also the continuation of our discussion from earlier..."

Tristan swirled the liquid in his tankard and took another long gulp, "Right, I should address those soon. We are down two heads of the hydra. Giving you three their responsibilities is a great burden. Now I must appoint two more to join your holy rank. I can't ask the Skyan to go through naturalization, that would be wholly unfair to Lucas. We also must not commit to the old ways. Having thousands of appointees battle to the death in the arena seems more barbaric for my tastes. No, we need more modern rules for a more civilized and sophisticated society."

"This.. Coming from the same man who condemned millions of Reich loyalists to their deaths..?" Darius mused.

"The very same," Tristan finished his drink and motioned for another, "We must be civil to those who've earned our civility. Those sympathizers led to far more deaths and destruction than I. The people should celebrate that a darkness has been lifted and we will never again live under a veil of deceit."

"So, you want two Godsends that are like you, only more saintly? Heroes of battle with great leadership? Clean records?" Minera smirked.

"Nothing of the sort. Well, mostly... Kind of," Tristan shrugged and picked up the freshly filled tankard, then took a sip. "I want a good spirited person with wonderful strategic prowess with the fortitude and resolve to get things done, like yourselves. You three would be better and finding colleagues than I could. Sure, I have these three AI buzzing in my head with potentials, but people who sound perfect on paper are rarely the same in person."

Darius clapped the back of Tristan's back, "We'll find you two more friends! Any preferences on lass or lad?" Minera firmly grabbed Darius by the shoulder and threw him to the back of the bridge. Slightly dazed, "W-What did I say?" Darius groaned before passing out.

"Minera, please kill one of my Godsend Generals... I can only imagine how much more of a pain obtaining three generals will be." Tristan sighed after letting out a soft laugh. He downed the rest of the tankard and began to walk out of the room. "You know where I will be, Jane. I wish not to be disturbed until we land." Jane nodded and Tristan left.

The emperor made his way towards the makeshift funeral chamber that his men put together. Tynsei's body was being prepared for burial. Clean white linen was carefully wrapped around her body with small flowers inserted in the folds, as was tradition for one from the mountains. He looked upon her and took in her pale face and black hair. The clergymen finished wrapping moments after Tristan arrived, bowed their heads to the man, then gave him a few more minutes alone with his wife. "Tynsei... You told me upon those steps to not grieve. You had me swear not to shed a tear. You made me promise to not avenge your death. I, however, broke all of these promises. I should have been there sooner. You would have been able to convince me to not swing the sword that unleashed death upon the wicked. You would have been able to hold me back from swearing off our allies. You would have been able to keep back the rage and hatred that have manifested since I stepped foot in that city. You... You are finally at rest. No more pain. No more suffering. I love you. Wait for me, wherever the afterlife will take you." He stumbled out of the room as the alcohol and his grief took their hold. Eventually he ended up bent over the trashcan in his bedroom as the airship softly landed.

"There there." Darius patted Tristan's back, "Let it all out and brush your teeth. They are about to put the empress in her coffin, but are waiting for you."

Tristan let out one last hurrah before getting cleaned up. Darius stood in the hallway as he awaited his friend to get changed. The emperor finally emerged from his room wearing a black formal suit, his hair groomed back, beard trimmed, and a patch over his bionic eye. This would be the first time he has ever worn such attire and felt uncomfortable. Darius' muffled laughter did not help ease his discomfort. The pair walked towards the loading bay where they caught up with the others.

"Are you alright?" Jane asked with a maternal tone. "Will you be?"

"I am fine, Lady Romanov. However, the sooner we get through with this the better." Tristan and company moved toward the coffin. "She seems unnaturally peaceful. Please, continue." He motioned to the clergymen. They closed the lid of the coffin, lifted wooden box, and placed it into an obsidian sarcophagus. "It is tradition for those from the mountains to be cremated as the soil is usually too hard to dig in for most of the year. I have only kept half of the tradition. Obviously."

"It's time," Jane looked to one of the captains. He whistled and the soldiers on the airship filed into the bay, getting into formation and saluting. The bay door opened to a silent crowd and flying petals from the ash rose. The sarcophagus was wheeled down the ramp, followed by Tristan, then his Godsend, and finally with the soldiers exiting the plain to join formation with the paladins awaiting outside the airship. Hundreds of thousands crowding the airfield kneeled as their empress was being loaded into a large vehicle. They remained until the emperor and his entourage left. The convoy traveled for over an hour before arriving at the keep. Once the entourage entered, Tristan immediately left for his chambers, leaving behind the Godsend Generals to facilitate the rest of the day's events.

"I have no idea where to start from here. Leviathan? Ragnarok? Colossus? Either of you have some insight on the matter?"

"No. You see, while we three may have been built as super-intelligent AI, human emotions really were not part of our marketing." Ragnarok joked.

"I figured as much," Tristan stepped onto his balcony, looking out across the city, "I regret many things, most of which I had no control over. You three will always be a part of me. It must be difficult and strange to be tied to one human. Once I perish, where would you go? What would you do?"

"We go to where and do what you command us to, Tristan Skragg," Leviathan replied.

"Even in your death, we will be compelled to fulfill your orders. That is how we were designed," Colossus added.

Tristan closed his human eye, "With the new parameters added from the conversation earlier, can you assist me in reducing the search results for GG candidates?"

"Calculating..." The trio replied in unison. "Yes, the results will be better refined after adding the additional filters. Please allow up to forty-eight hours for querying to complete."

"That much data?" Tristan groaned. "Alright, 48 hours. I need good candidates. The best. Understood?"

"Understood," the three replied in unison.

A knock at the door brought a much needed distraction, "I wonder who that may be." He whispered.

"It's Godsend General Minera Volthe." Ragnarok responded.

"Well, so much for mystery. Thanks, Rag."

"You're welcome, you're majesty!" Tristan could swear he heard amusement with the AI's tone.

Another knock followed by the soft voice of Minera, "Tristan, please let me in." She knocked for a third time, then a fourth. Finally, admitting defeat, she let out a sharp sigh and stormed off.

"Oh thank goodness, I am sure that woman wanted to try to take advantage of me." Tristan laughed went to lay on top of his bed covers then closed his eyes for a quick nap.


The chamber of ivory and marble was blackened from the battle between the traitor's fire and the emperor's lightning. The room was scarred from the bullet, sword, and rumblings of a crumbling building. Blood pooled here and there, near and far away from bodies that littered the floor. Two men were in the center, one with his gauntlet above the other's head. The gauntlet gave off powerful electrical arcs between the man's fingers, "...I sentence you to death by electrocution!" The man closed his hand onto the other's head and the electricity surged into him and through him. Sparks shot off in every which direction as hidden microchips and wiring exploded from the immense power. The man lifted his hand and watched as the other fell to the ground, bits of charcoal and dust flying off from places where flesh once existed. He turned around and walked back to the chamber's entrance where he knelt down to pick up a frail and severely wounded woman, "I am here now, Tynsei. Please stay strong." He looked over her body and the pool of blood on the ground to see the extent of her injury. What the man saw caused him to tremble both in sadness and in anger, but he held the woman close and walked out of the chamber into a bright white light.

A loud knock at the door woke Tristan up with a start, his clothes soaked with sweat. He noticed that the sun had gone down, "Shit, just slept the day away." Knock! Knock! Knock! "One minute, please!" Tristan hurriedly changed into dry clothes and answered the door. "Yes, what is it?"

"Guests have arrived, sir." Jane Romanov was the one knocking.

"Ah, I will greet them in the... Erm. This would seriously be the first time being here in Hell's Gate and I have not finished with the remodel to make any room appropriate for guests. I guess I could meet them in the reception hall and hope they are not put off by the skulls..." Tristan seemed to have drifted into a mind fog.

Jane looked into the room and could tell something was wrong, "You had the dream again, didn't you?"

Tristan looked behind him to the mess of clothes and pile of bedding, "Yes. I can't seem to shake it from my mind. That was the last time she could hear me. The sight of my unborn..."

Jane hugged him tightly, "It is alright for an emperor to have sorrow and for the nightmares to linger. Do not be so hard on yourself. You will love another woman in your future and have another litter of babies. You must heal first. Gods forbid if you collapse in the middle of some public event because you re-injured a healing organ. Which, just curiosity, but has anyone said why the nanites haven't been doing their job?"

"The only person with some expertise on them was Wilhelm. I'm sure most just found their way out of my system one way or another. His lab for which those marvels were made was lost in the Temple's destruction. Though, the triumvirate have hinted that the research and data, along with a few prototypes, may have been or could be recovered. They informed me that several hundred personnel with the highest security clearances have been working their way through the rubble. They have reported that much of the potential destruction had been alleviated or otherwise lessened due to the fact that it was built from a mountain. There's some speculation that I could have the Temple rebuilt with relative ease, granted it would still take a long time."

"It will also be shorter," Jane remarked as she remembered much of the summit of the Temple collapsed. "I'm sure the outer districts will appreciate the extra sunlight."

"They most certainly do. The extra hour or so has made those districts a bit happier. More fun in the sun." Tristan then realized that there were guests to welcome as his eyes widened suddenly, "Oh shit, the Skyans!" He rushed out the chamber without another word.
Last edited by Dephire on Tue May 29, 2018 7:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
"My nation was forged by the blade of a sword and so it lives on through the sword." -Tristan Skragg, Emperor of Briska.

User avatar
Havensky
N&I RP Mentor
 
Posts: 877
Founded: Jan 01, 2008
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Havensky » Sat Mar 10, 2018 3:07 pm

Hell's Gate, Dephire

The stark white triple-hull of the Skyan airship Ironheart began its descent into the Briskan airbase as it’s escort fighters peeled off. The airship rotated into a proper landing position as it’s turbines directed the craft downwards.

As it landed, the ramp came down and six members of the Iron Guard marched down carrying the Skyan and Gothic flags. As they reached the ground the six stopped and affixed a black banner to each of the flags. The two lead Legionaries the stood at attention as their partners affixed a black cloth concealing their unit insignias on their shields. They then stood on each side of the ramp for Ironwing and Glitch to step off the aircraft.

The rest of the normal pomp and circumstance that would normally surround a state visit was put aside. This was a somber affair.

Ironwing and Glitch had arrived for the funeral of the Empress.

Citadel City Gothic Council Chambers

They had decided to take a short break before resuming the proceedings. Atticus took this time out to make his rounds to all the representatives to make sure he had all the votes that he needed.

Specifically, he wanted to speak with the remaining delegation of Dephire just to ensure their concerns were met.

OCC:
If anyone from Gholgoth has any further concerns about the proposals - let Atticus know! I’m going to move to a vote next.
The Skybound Republic of Havensky
(Pronounced Haven-Sky)

Territory held in
Texas - Gholgoth - Sondria

N&I RP Mentor Specializing in PMT, Character Development, Worldbuilding, and Diplomacy - TG me for help!

User avatar
The Kraven Corporation
Diplomat
 
Posts: 501
Founded: Apr 24, 2005
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby The Kraven Corporation » Sat Mar 17, 2018 5:23 am

Fortress Cydonia
Southern Command Tower
+1:00 Hour Into Jagite Operation


The Capitol Police Officers looked down from the towers command area, it loomed over the area giving them a view of the southern sector, vast spotlights illuminated areas below as Capitol Police moved to and fro, moving Jagites from their makeshift homes and barracks and bringing them to a central area, The Officers watched impassively, their faces showing no signs of emotion, this is how they were created, devoid of emotion, designed to carry out their tasks with no question, no fuss, no mistakes, they were indefatigable at their tasks and the task they had been given was unfolding below.

A Kraven-SS Officer walked in, followed by two men in white lab coats, The Reich Science Division, some of the only men in The Reich that had emotion, an almost sick glee in their work, butchers, all of them, their perverse science a travesty to humanity, countless men, women and children mutilated in the pursuit of attempt to further the Reich's goals, to improve the breeding process for Capitol Police or somehow to enhance the cognitive behaviour of its citizens to make them more pliable more obedient...

"ObersturmFurhrer Horst, preparations have been made, as planned" The Kraven-SS Officer spoke

Horst turned to look at the Officer and the two science men...

"These are undetectable?"

One of the science men stood forward with a sick grin spreading across his face...

"Yes, they are undetectable, they are Replicants of the original Jagites, around Fifteen percent of the group below are made up of Replicants, we refined the process and used their DNA stored on file, every test The Skyans have will fail, they are for all to see, Human..."

"And you are absolutely certain, The Reich cannot afford for the Skyans to discover the ruse, it would set The Reich back considerably..."

"No, these are new, they have not encountered these Replicants before, they are grown in vats, genetically engineered"

Horst turned back to look out the window, The Capitol Police Officers surrounding him continued to watch impassively, they cared little for the conversation or the Machinations of Dietrich, they were simply following orders...

"If this fails and the ruse is discovered, it could have serious consequences for The Reich..." Horst spoke to himself as he looked at the people being herded into military trucks below
"If you want a vision of the future, Winston, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever." - 1984
Scand: No one beats you Kraven for largest number killed a day.
Scand: Your nation is a glorified death camp after all.
Tiurabo: WTF Kraven.
Tiurabo: You are the last person who can tell me to be calm.
Tiurabo: You're a goddam psycho.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wT0uR5wB76M The Updated National Anthem of Imperial Fortress Reich
Resistance is Futile... We Are The Kraven Reich

User avatar
Lamehk
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 11
Founded: Nov 24, 2005
New York Times Democracy

Postby Lamehk » Sun Mar 25, 2018 8:42 am

The Gothic Chamber, The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky


'You know, I don’t think they really like us here,’ Lorkahn mused as he led the Lamehken delegation in a casual stroll from the lobby bar to the Gothic Chamber. He spoke quietly so as not to permit anyone nearby to overhear, though his tone was one of amusement and not concern.

Kaiden shrugged in response as they entered into the garden area. 'They all seemed amicable enough.'

'After all these years, you still think like a Yallakian.’ Lorkahn shook his head and sighed quietly. To rise to a position even remotely close to Lorkahn’s required an extra sense, to look past the words, expressions and actions of a person and see their true feelings hidden deep inside. Trusting the wrong person in Lamehk could get you killed. ‘They need us to side with some proposal they intend to make, it is as simple as that, so they are all smiles for now, but can you not feel it, the unexpressed outrage, the disdain. It’s a miracle we can breathe with the air clogged so full of self-righteousness.’

The Governor-Consul shrugged again. Lorkahn did not appeared phased, indifference to foreigners was a typically Yallakian trait.

‘Idiots’, hissed Serana, 'And who cares what they think!'

'Something the matter, daughter?' queried Lorkahn. He could feel the glare upon his back and when there was no answer he stopped, turning to face her.

Serana merely glowered back in silence. Lorkahn waited, allowing the barest hint of a bored appearance onto his face. It went without saying that he knew exactly what was irritating her but had no intention of scrambling to explain himself to her. In the silence, Kaiden observed with veiled curiosity and Aliyah looked intently at her feet desperately avoiding any eye contact. The two House Malus guards that accompanied the party remained expressionless, their glaive's planted upright on the ground.

'Use your big girl words now,' prodded Lorkahn, taking some effort of will not to smirk.

Serana released a growl that was half frustration and half violence. The sound finally defeated Lorkahn's resistance and the smirk appeared across his lips.

'You owe me an explanation. What are you playing at?' she demanded, before adding with enormous venom and sarcasm, 'Primarch of all Lamehk.'

'Probably,' Lorkahn agreed without further resistance. 'I am playing for the future. But now is not the time and certainly not the place. So come, and we will speak of this further tonight.'

Lorkahn turned away and resumed walking through the garden. Serana's silver eyes smouldered at the indignation, one made worse by the fact that Lorkahn's slave appeared to know more than her, but she saw no way to press the matter now. Aliyah, as if sensing Serana's thoughts, moved quickly to put distance between them, scurrying off after her master. Finally, Serana did as she was told and followed too.

'Did you notice that these trees are a perfect match of red to our House colour, Father?' asked Serana as she caught up, her mood shifted back to that of the sweet princess in an instance. 'I might steal one or two before we leave.'

'Or, you know, perhaps not?' offered Kaiden, even as he tried to think what the diplomatic ramifications of digging up a neighbours official gardens and absconding with some foliage might include.

'Enough, we're here' commanded Lorkahn as the group approached the chamber and the guards opened the doors for the party. They allowed the Skyan Sergeant of the Guard to lead them into the chamber itself and show them to their designated seats, exchanging only perfunctory conversation and greetings.

Stepping up to his assigned throne, Lorkahn gave a cursory look over the items awaiting him on the table and couldn't help give a rare smile as his gaze fell onto one particular object. Ignoring the other items, he picked up the sapling, recognising instantly that it was the same as the trees that grew just outside, studied it briefly and then stepped back to the staff tables where the others had taken seats, depositing the small plant onto the table in front of his daughter. 'There, problem solved.'

'Oh,' said Serana in surprise, not entirely able to keep the disappointment out of her tone. 'Good, I suppose that will do'.

'Indeed. I hope your hadn't got too far into planning your tree heist.'

Lorkahn returned to his throne and sat, holding his cloak to one side so it was out of the way. He brushed a loose strand of hair aside and then examined each of the other items. He started by picking up the little chair but it held little interest and was placed aside after a passing inspection. Next he took up the whisky sample and gave it a try. Ok, not bad. And then a second try just to be sure, before he finally opened up the meeting package.

Alright, let us see what warranted all of those fake pleasantries. Lorkahn skimmed through the meeting agenda and then began to read through the proposals. He was less than pleased with some parts of the proposals but by the end found himself to be largely disappointed by how droll and common the propositions were. Well, that's all a bit anticlimactic really.

Summoning Aliyah, he sent the proposals back to his advisors with the instructions to read it. When they had done so and notified him, he returned to their table.

'Thoughts?' he queried.

Serana scoffed. 'Ridiculous. Why would we let any foreign agent enter our nation and give orders? And to pay for some new capital city's upkeep? Absurd'

'I tend to agree,' interjected Kaiden, causing him to receive a brief glare from Serana, which quickly disappeared as he concurred with her assessment. 'This all sounds very much like the 'Mediterranican Union' that Yallak joined many years back. Almost the same policies, which were fairly useless when it was working and worse when it ended.'

'How did it end?' asked Serana, her curiosity piqued.

Kaiden frowned. 'In blood of course. An all out regional war.'

Serana raised an eyebrow and grinned. It was not grin that suggested pleasant thoughts or brought any warmth. 'Maybe, not such a bad idea after all then!'

Ignoring the comment, Lorkahn looked to his kaltor. 'And you?'

Aliyah took a moment to think before replying. She didn't wish to earn any additional ire from Serana by contradicting what she had said, but neither would she speak anything other than the truth to her master. 'I agree that the cost of funding the city brings us no benefit, but the other sections are of little consequence. The Executor has no real power, the fortresses are of no import and the praetors, well, if they were ever a problem they would hardly be the first to be killed in Lamehk for interfering in business that didn't concern them. Still, doesn't really seem like it brings us any value in return.'

Lorkahn nodded and Aliyah looked away quickly, a faint colour in her cheeks. Serana scowled and looked to her father. 'It's settled then, we can return home now?'

'Soon,' answered Lorkahn, returning to his throne.

After a few minutes, when there was a lull in other discussions, Lorkahn address the Skyans. 'I congratulate you on some eloquent and well-thought proposals and applaud their noble goals. At this point I have no concerns and would be pleased to support the implementation of all four proposals.'

Kaiden, Serana and Aliyah listened in stunned silence as they heard Lorkahn praise their hosts documents. They stoically hid the disbelief from their expressions but exchanged a few questioning glances.

Aware that she was under the eyes of all Golgoth, Serana casually crossed to her fathers side and sat down on the arm of the throne, whispering into his ear. 'What was that? Did we not all just agree how pointless those things were?'

'I told you...' Lorkahn paused just short of dismissing his daughter without an answer but then changed his mind. 'Let's just say that anyone with decent intelligence would assume we would be opposed or at least contradictory about these documents. Funding a city is a small price to pay to have every lord in this room questioning what they really know about me and the decisions i'll make. Now go, we will discuss plans tonight.'
The Infinite Empire
Yallak | Lamehk | Greston | Horenburg | Laysley

"My enemy’s enemy is a problem for later. In the meantime, they might be useful."

PreviousNext

Advertisement

Remove ads

Return to International Incidents

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Russian States of Eurasia

Advertisement

Remove ads