Yukon Begins Pt. II [IC | Region Only]

[Promethius Prime]

The Celestial Empire of
Trodenhiem

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Government Communique
Formal Statement of Recognition

His Supreme Imperial Majesty the Emperor, Konstantin IX, and his Chancellor, the Markgraf Welhelm von Adenaur, have discussed at length the recent change in government within the state of Columbia and have agreed that, in line with existing foreign policy towards said nation, the government of Trodenhiem shall forthwith recognise the state and government of the Empire of Columbia as legitimate. In addition the Guild of Heralds and Genealogy has been instructed to formally recognise as fact the legitimate claims of Emperor Charles I to royal and imperial status and has been granted the honorary Troden appellations 'Legate of Thedes, and Imperator of Arcadian Merea'.

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Government Communique
Regarding the New Economic Order

His Supreme Imperial Majesty the Emperor, Konstantin IX, and his Chief Minister to the Foreign Office, the Markgraf von Ulrics have met with numerous advisors, ministers, and civil servants - as well as with Columbia's diplomatic delegation, and have discussed at length the agreement that the Empire of Columbia has proposed. It has been decided that the Celestial Empire of Trodenhiem shall participate in talks to the effect of establishing such an organisation in good faith, within a reasonable timeframe. To this effect a diplomatic team lead by Herr August Neiur is to be dispatched to Columbia to begin preliminary talks on the terms of said summit and ultimately to participate in talks when they take place.

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All Communications Signed And Sealed
Imperial Foreign Office & Office of HSIM Konstantin IX
His Supreme Imperial Majesty, Konstantin IX, Autocrat of Arcadia Once Great; King of the Troden, Promethians, and Zues; Tyrant of Thedes and Emperor and Autocrat of the Four Cadias, and Prince of the Ruhr; Elector of the Crimson Throne; By the Grace of the Thirteen, Emperor of Trodenhiem and Defender of the Realm.

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Foreign Affairs Update

"Diplomatic Gala in Geddon Begins!"

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The Northward Advance

"The Troden City of New Vierne is
formally recognised in the northern
territories."

Welcome to the ZetaResh News Corporation Hub, where you can read all the latest news from the Celestial Empire of Trodenhiem. The ZetaResh News Corporation has been broadcasting and publishing since the twelfth era and has remained one of the principle Arcadian and Troden news corporations ever since, publishing the most widely circulating newspaper in the country as well as the most watched 24 hour news channel. The ZRNC is incorporated in the IMA of Geddon, and operates out of its headquarters within the city; for more information about the ZRNC and its parent company ZetaResh Incorporated you can visit us online or contact us directly via telephone, post, or email.

Foreign Affairs Update
Diplomatic Gala in Geddon Begins!

The Kaiserpalast Ball Room in Geddon,
where much of the gala will be taking
place.

The long awaited Diplomatic Gala officially began this morning with the foreign delegations arriving in full ceremonial fashion at the gates of the Kaiserpalast in the capital city of Geddon, where they were granted entrance through a ceremony traditionally held for the welcoming of royalty, but which in recent years has been extended to other high officials and heads of state due to the rise of democracy and republicanism. The formal ceremony began at the Lienstolv Gate where a Guard of Honour escorted each delegation through and then down the Königenstrasse towards the Kaiserpalast which lies at the far end of the ceremonial avenue.

Each delegation's honour guard has been drawn from a different regiment or unit within the Celestial Empire's military; the Columbian honour guard was drawn from the 1st Royal Dragoon Guards who rode alongside the motorcade on horseback dressed in their regimental ceremonial uniform, a sky blue doublet with silver frogging over black trousers; the regiment was chosen to honour the recent ascension of Charles I to the Columbian throne, as the 1st royal Dragoon Guards have also traditionally escorted and accompanied members of the Troden royal family on state occasions. The Midgari delegation was escorted by an honour guard drawn from the 23rd 'Black Brigade' Grenzers, dressed in their black ceremonial greatcoats with silver buttons and trim; the regiment was originally founded by the consolidation and conscription into the regular army of mercenaries from the lands now held by the Grand Duchy following the end of the Troden Civil War. The Airatanian delegation was escorted by the 20th 'Marcher Brigade' Grenzers who have ceremonial patrolled and held the border crossings between Trodenhiem and Airatania since their regiment's founding three hundred years ago; the Marcher Grenzers were dressed in black cavalry doublets with silver frogging and are distinguished by their green and blue bicolour sashes tied about their waists which indicate their border posting. The Onzan delegation was escorted by the 2nd Airborne Division who were selected because they were originally recruited from among the ethnically Onzan black minorities during the regiment's founding, prior to the abolition of segregation in the military; they marched dressed in their traditional ceremonial dark blue tunics with black trousers and each bearing the traditional Janbiya curved combat knife at their waist. The Saratogan delegation was escorted by the 82nd Marine Division, some suggesting they had been selected as a subtle diplomatic snub to the Saratogans following their rejection of the Mutual Recognition Treaty as the 82nd is a newly formed regiment with no history.

Following the ceremonial arrival and entrance to the Kaiserpalast the delegations were settled into their rooms and given time to prepare before the gala itself was to begin; after a light lunch the events of the afternoon and evening began with various entertainments of cultural significance being put on for the guests before the opening of the ballroom where delegates were invited to join festivities to which the major aristocrats and members of the royal family of Trodenhiem had also been invited to attend.

[46566]

Grand Duke to head to Columbia
Midgar- The Grand Duke has agreed to the proposed meeting held in Columbia and will be heading to the country personality to get involved in the meeting. This would be the first foreign tour outside of the Grand Duchy for the Grand Duke. Members of the Imperial Senate are worried that only being a Grand Duke may hurt the Duchies standing with the two Empires and Emperors.

Imperial Senate proposed elevation of Grand Duke
Midgar- The imperial Senate has passed a resolution to ask the Grand Duke to elevate his standing to that of a King or Emperor. This is in the hopes that such a move would make sure 46566 remains on Paris with the Empires politically and not a eastern Duchy. No word has come out from any of the Grand Dukes representatives or the Grand Duke himself.

[Onza]

III

In the quiet of the setting afternoon sun stood a dilapidated warehouse just outside of the Kigali docks. On the outside, the metal structure was nothing unique or unusual - the buildings surrounding it matched it almost precisely in terms of architecture, but were also seemingly abandoned altogether by civilization. Telling someone that anything other than rats and other nocturnal vermin inhabited the structures would likely be met with surprise on the best of days and ridicule and disbelief on the others.

The warehouse only gained significance around dusk when the golden rays of the sun were cast under the neighboring overpass and onto the front wall of the structure, which gave the structure a sort of rustic opalescence. Inside, however, the warehouse was quite different than its neighbors, for sitting at a rusting metal desk right in front of the window of the top floor was a younger man, whose yellow skin was densely populated by many tattoos. On his head was a white bandanna, and his button-up shirt was oversized to the point of hanging well below his waist. In his hands was a manila folder - one that had been subjected to much folding and handling, as evidenced by the crinkles and folds left from poor care - which contained several pieces of copy paper inside. The man used his right middle finger, which, like his other fingers, was adorned with jewelry that seemed to contrast the rest of his outfit in terms of monetary value, to gently skim through the papers, taking care to examine each one at least for a moment, and stopping to ensure that none got stuck together in the process.

As he continued to skim through, paper after paper had the logo of Patatas Bravas on them in the top left corner, usually with a bold title along the lines of "FINANCE REPORTS," or "STOCK AND INVENTORY REPORTS." He seemed uninterested in all of these as he continued to search carefully but quickly for a particular paper, one which he found about 3/4ths of the way into the stack. It was a letter, this time without any sort of official header or symbol. It was simply a white paper with a few lines of text printed on it in the format of a business letter without the appropriate components. Satisfied, the man removed the paper from the stack. He slouched back in his torn leather chair and began to read it to himself.

After several moments, the man placed the letter down on top of the folder and grabbed the phone that was on the desk. Like the rest of the building, the phone appeared to be several decades old. He dialed a number and listened patiently as the line rang. "Yeah?" said a deep voice after an audible click. "Consider it done," said the man behind the desk after a brief pause. Another click was heard on the other line and the man replaced the phone on its base.

Several hours later

The darkness of the night provided an entirely new feel to the set of warehouses that populated the area outside the docks. While the sun provided them with their only bit of beauty, the moon alone was able to create a frightening ambiance that undoubtedly factored into the gangsters' decision to use the building as a strategic office. The man behind the desk still sat just as he did several hours ago, but he appeared to be revived from his trance whenever the faint, but distinct sound of engines being shut off could be heard outside. He sat in the desk, perfectly still and without measurable reaction, as the voices of the new arrivals grew louder and louder as they climbed the stairs. Finally, the door to the office sprang open, and the man behind the desk jumped to his feet.

"Hey-hey, if it isn't the strongest muscle in the city, eh?" he bellowed loudly and proudly to the men entering the office, who were dressed similar to himself, much to the amusement of the new guests. "Well you asked for the best, so that is why you see us here," responded one of the others, again arousing proud laughter and cheers. The men spoke with accents that were distinctively Meridian.

"So, what do you have for us, then, huh?" asked one of the new arrivals, who composed himself as though he were the ringleader. "It's a simple hit job on paper," replied the man behind the desk, waving the letter he had searched for earlier in his hand. "But who we're hitting has me thinking that we're going to need a lot of muscle, because things can get hairy."

The new arrivals looked at one another, although the ringleader remained still and intrigued. "We have three targets," continued the man behind the desk. The men behind the ringleader began to laugh. "Entienden lo que estoy diciendo?" asked the man behind the desk with a more assertive tone. The men grew silent. "Bueno, porque yo pedi la mejor. Espero que esto significa que la mayoría de los profesionales también." The men looked at one another and nodded collectively.

"Three targets," he reiterated.

Around 3:00 AM

"Recuérdame, ¿por qué nos estamos aquí a esta hora de la noche?" asked a man in the black van. "Es la forma de los otros carteles quieren hacer su negocio, así que vamos a respetar eso," responded the driver.

Suddenly, the revving of an incoming engine startled the men in the van, and galvanized them to action, but they were too late. The other van slammed into the side of them, tipping the vehicle over on its side. "We're under attack!" yelled a man stationed nearby as he began running towards the tipped over van. Immediately, the men working for the man behind the desk disembarked and began shooting the van on the ground relentlessly, but not before shooting the approaching man. The sound of gunshots resounded loudly for what seemed like an eternity to those in the neighborhoods nearby who were awoken.

"That's enough," said the ringleader. Keeping his rifle pointed straight ahead, he began to approach the sideways van. "Boss, everyone that was in there is dead now, I guarantee it," said one of the militants. The ringleader nonetheless maintained his caution as he approached the side door of the van in the hopes of opening it. As he went to take another step, however, several gunshots began to fire out from the bottom of the van. "Agh! Get down!" the men shouted while scrambling and firing back. The ringleader was wounded with a shot to the leg, but two of his own men were shot dead by the stream of fire coming from the van. After exchanging gunfire with the van, the retaliation from inside finally stopped, and the ringleader limped over to the van and opened the side door. Inside laid the bullet-riddled corpses of all three targets. The van's driver was also dead, but two of his men had died in the process as well. Without hesitation, the three that remained got back in their van and sped off, narrowly escaping the flood of sirens and blue lights that descended upon the docks.

Nearby, however, was the man behind the desk, sitting in a black SUV parked to blend in with other vehicles. He watched with binoculars as police examined the scene for nearly an hour. Finally, the last officer on the scene was preparing to leave when he seemed to become suspicious of the man behind the desk's vehicle. He calmly but quickly cranked the car up, pulled away and sped off, knowing the officer wouldn't bother pursuit.

---

[Croxoco]

The Empire Of
COLUMBIA

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Official Government Dispatch and Communique
Proposing a Treaty between Columbia, Onza, Laurentia, Trodenhiem and Airatania

It is the proposal of His Serene and Glorious Majesty, the Emperor of Columbia, upon the advice of his Ministers, that the trading agreements between the Empire of Columbia and the Empire of Trodenhiem be extended into a multilateral trading and customs union between the Empire of Columbia, the United Democratic Emirates of Onza, the State of Laurentia, the Empire of Trodenhiem and the State of Airatania. This C.O.L.T.A. Treaty would be comprised of the following terms:

- The signatory nations undertake to abolish all tariffs on the import and export of resources between themselves and the other signatory nations. Each signatory pledges to encourage their merchants and purveyors to import resources exclusively from the other signatory nations. This agreement shall replace the previous agreement between Columbia and Trodenhiem.

- The signatory nations undertake to allow freedom of movement for COLTA citizens between COLTA countries. For this purpose, the signatory nations undertake to issue COLTA passports to facilitate such freedom of movement between the COLTA nations. COLTA citizens shall equally enjoy the rights and obligations of citizenship of each of the COLTA nations.

- Columbia and Trodenhiem shall retain their free trade zones, while Onza and Laurentia undertake to establish free trade zones in their own territories. Each of the COLTA nations shall have the right to trade freely in these free-trade zones, and undertake to allow all of the other COLTA nations to trade freely in their free trade zones.

- Onza and Laurentia undertake to recognize the Tri-Straits Treaty between Columbia and Trodenhiem, and shall, in return, have freedom of passage through those waters, unless a state of emergency be declared to exist in those waters by both the Columbian and Troden governments.

- Columbia, Onza, Laurentia, Trodenhiem and Airatania undertake to form a non-agression pact with one another, pledging never to engage in hostile action against each other unless provoked. They also pledge not to ally with any nation which undertakes policies hostile to any of the COLTA nations.

- Columbia, Onza, Laurentia, Trodenhiem and Airatania undertake to cooperate on matters of foreign intelligence, communications intelligence, military intelligence and national security. Their respective foreign intelligence services, communications intelligence services, military intelligence services and security services shall fully cooperate on issues affecting the security of the COLTA union or the member states thereof.

- For the purposes of making laws pursuant to this treaty, there shall be a COLTA Parliament which shall be comprised of an Assembly and a Senate. The assembly shall be comprised of 500 members, apportioned among the member states proportionally according to population, which shall be elected for fixed four year terms. The method of election shall be determined for each national delegation by their respective national governments. The Senate shall be comprised of the relevant ministers for each policy area. For matters concerning national security, the ministers responsible for the security service of their country shall be present; for matters concerning trade, the ministers responsible for trade shall be present, and every year, the political leaders of each nation shall meet to discuss the annual programme for the Union. In the senate, each member state shall have one vote. In ordinary sessions, a decision may be reached by a simple majority of votes cast; for extraordinary sessions convening the political leaders of each nation, a unanimous vote shall be required to approve the annual programme. The COLTA Parliament shall only have competence over trade between COLTA nations, freedom of movement between COLTA nations and COLTA citizenship, the COLTA non-agression pact, and the cooperation between the COLTA nations' various intelligence and security services.

- For the purposes of implementing and executing the laws and decisions made by the COLTA Parliament, there shall be a COLTA Commission, comprising the following positions:
-- President of the Commission (Chairman of the Commission and Head of COLTA Government)
-- Commissioner for Trade (overseeing trade between COLTA nations, including free trade zones)
-- Commissioner for COLTA Citizenship (overseeing COLTA citizenship and freedom of movement)
-- Commissioner for Non-Aggression (monitoring the non-aggression Pact between the COLTA nations)
-- Commissioner for Foreign Intelligence (coordinating the foreign intelligence cooperation of the COLTA nations)
-- Commissioner for Communications Intelligence (coordinating the communications intelligence cooperation of the COLTA nations)
-- Commissioner for Military Intelligence (coordinating the military intelligence cooperation of the COLTA nations)
-- Commissioner for Security (coordinating the security service cooperation of the COLTA nations)
The COLTA Commission shall be nominated by the COLTA Senate during the same session the annual programme is agreed upon, and be approved by the COLTA Assembly. To be nominated, a candidate must have the unanimous support of the COLTA Senate; to be appointed, a nomination must be approved by a simple majority of the COLTA Assembly.

- To apply and enforce the laws and regulations made by the COLTA Parliament and COLTA Commission, and to remedy disputes between COLTA member states, there shall be a COLTA Court of Justice, comprised of 10 judges appointed by each member state, to give 50 judges. Disputes shall be remedied by benches comprised of 5 judges appointed from the Court.

- The Empire of Columbia shall declare the City of Manhattan as an Imperial City, and shall fund the construction of a new COLTA district within, in which the COLTA Parliament, COLTA Commission and COLTA Court of Justice shall be based, free from the interference by the individual COLTA member states. The COLTA District shall be accorded full diplomatic extraterritoriality by the Empire of Columbia.

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All Documents Approved And Sealed
Office of the Emperor of Columbia

His Serene and Glorious Majesty, Charles I, by the Grace of God, Emperor of All Columbia, Lord of the Seven Provinces, Legate of Thedes, Imperator of Arcadian Merea, Protector of the Realm and Defender of the Faith

The Empire Of
COLUMBIA

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Official Government Dispatch and Communique
Proposing Bilateral Agreements with Vvarden, Saratoga and Midgar

His Serene and Glorious Majesty, the Emperor of Columbia, upon the advice of his Ministers, is pleased to propose individual bilateral agreements with the States of Vvarden, Saratoga and Midgar, which would be comprised of the following terms:
- A non-aggression pact, in which the signing nations would pledge not to engage in hostilities with one another unless provoked, and would further pledge to make no alliance with states hostile to the signatories of the pact.
- An intelligence cooperation pact, in which the signing nations would pledge to cooperate on matters of intelligence and security where either party of the pact was affected by intelligence obtained by the other.
- A trading agreement where import tariffs on all goods, products and resources between the signatory nations are limited to 5% of the value of the same goods, products and resources imported, and where the tariffs on all exports are hereby abolished.

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All Documents Approved And Sealed
Office of the Emperor of Columbia

His Serene and Glorious Majesty, Charles I, by the Grace of God, Emperor of All Columbia, Lord of the Seven Provinces, Legate of Thedes, Imperator of Arcadian Merea, Protector of the Realm and Defender of the Faith

OOC: Edited at 10: GMT, 30th July 2016, to include Airatania in the COLT, now COLTA proposals. Airatania was meant to be included instead of Laurentia (to unify the four straits nations into an economic and political union); alas, I confused the location of Airatania for the location of Laurentia. And since i'd already invited Laurentia to join the COLTA Union, I could not very well revoke the invitation, despite it being an oversight on my part. Therefore, this post has been edited to retain the invite given to Laurentia, and to extend the invite intended for the Location of Airatania, to Airatania. Sorry for any issues this may cause.

[Vvarden]

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Ezekwesili. I do wish the circumstances of our meeting were different and we met in a peaceful incident rather than this diplomatic one." The Grand Speaker spoke warmingly in his scratchy and rough Vvardeni accent. The Samakian Prime Minister was grinning with his teeth clenched in order to keep the cigar that lay between his grinning lips from failing from his mouth. His defence minister standing beside him flashed a slightly odd gaze whilst smiling to the best of his abilities.

"So do I Mr. Speaker, so do I. We are not here to lay blame, only find a solution." Ezekwesili smiled.
"I'm glad you feel the same way. In reply to your question, I am settling in rather well despite some very minor issues."

Ezekwesili's face was curious. "Issues Speaker? What issues trouble you?"
The Grand Speaker turned to his foreign minister, speaking in a friendly tone. "My colleague here can't stand art. Yet the halls here are filled with it."

The Samak Prime Minister let out a short chuckle.
"That is unfortunate. We too have some issues. My Comrade sees this place as too posh." He gestured towards his Defence Minister.

"Well I'm glad that two minutes in we've already found a similarity. Maybe we can indeed forgive the past to look to the future."

"A commendable goal, Grand Speaker, for both our races."

"Shall we move on to the conference?" The Vvardeni Foreign Minister Luaosi Tenaaldil asked.
"Yes, why not, the sooner we get this done the soo we we can go home, aye?" Ezewesili said before chuckling in a jesting tone. The Grand Speaker smiled and they walked off as a group, down the halls of Rogerbei.

[St Saratoga]

(OOC: I'm really bad at character dialogue.)

“It is better to live one day as a lion than 100 years as a sheep.”
- Benito Mussolini


“Is this the right move we should be making right now?” Deputy Chairman Mark Wright stats with slight confusion. “We are under the microscope of a federal investigation which is just a complete witch hunt but if we are even caught meeting we would be imprisoned.”

“This is the change that Saratoga needs whether they realized it or not. Our government is doing more damage every day to our nation. We need to find away to distract the federal authorities for the time being.” Chairmen John Roberts (OOC: Conservative Alliance Party)

“Well I trust you on this then. Shall I go speak with the general?” Wright asks as he puts on his coats and proceeds to a backdoor.

“Yeah, we need to get these gears moving.” John starts making phone calls

Few hours later
Saratogan High Command, Rogerbei, Saratoga -

“General, Hello!” Wright tightly closes the door behind him. “How are you today?”

The men shakes hands, “I’m good.” General Johnson Caldwell utters, “You hear to talk to me about your proposal?”

“Ah yes, Roberts must have reached out to you. “We need your cooperation general, I understand this puts you in a serious situation but who is going to oppose you? You are the Commander in Chief of the military, if you think there is one or two officers who might resist, then replace them. When we take over, you will remain commander and chief under the Chancellor but you will also be our Secretary of Defense & Armaments. You are the last and most important piece of the puzzle to pull this off.”

“You’re asking me to commit to treason. What if this fails?” General Caldwell (OOC: Caldwell aligns with the Fascist Party)stats.

“General, only an act of god would be able to stop this and I promise you many will get it worse than you if this fails.” Mark stats confidently

“Fine, I’ll support you but the moment this goes bad your going down.” General Caldwell stats resentfully. “Tell me the plan.”

“Next Month, Chancellor Durr will be in Trodenhiem and Deputy Chancellor Syed in Onza we will only have Prime Minister Templeman anywhere close to Saratoga. We will strike then. We hired an operative to carry out an attack on a local mall, the operative will be “loyal” to the left wing alliance, while the nations attention is focused there, you general will send troops to the Senate Chambers, The Prime Minister’s Office, and the Proletariat Mansion to arrest the current monarchs and head of government. Once this is done, Roberts will address the nation to confirm his position and calm the public, blaming the liberals for the violence.”

“All right, ill be ready.” General Caldwell says, nervously.

“Great, next time we talk will be action time!” Mark Wright says excitedly.

[Forthampton]

David Kavanagh, Laurentian Prime Minister, stormed down the corridors of the Leodis Palace, home of the executive branch, in the direction of his offices. As he passed portraits of previous leaders he couldn't help but feel they were judging him, how had his country gotten into such a state. The thought only made him angrier, if he'd have known the mess being Prime Minister entailed, he wouldn't have bothered.

Upon reaching the heavy oak doors of his office he threw them open with the strength of a much younger man. One of his staff looked up, clearly about to say something, but then thought better of it once she had recognised his mood. He didn't care however, he was solely focused on getting to his phone and shouting at people on the other end of the line. Sure, he had his personal comm-link on him, but there was something more satisfying about being sat behind a desk shouting down a phone he could hold in his hand.

For you see, the reason for this rather irate mood, was that due to either incompetence or neglect somewhere down the line, the government had forgot to pay for it's own comm-links to the outside world. Needless to say, the megacorp responsible for supplying it hadn't thought twice to cut the government of the country off from the grid. That, and due to the wonders of the bureaucracy no-one had really noticed for two weeks. A rather embarrassing start to a new term in office, no doubt the press were already aware.

* * *

A few hours, and a few changes to staff, and some new ministers later, David finally leant back in his chair away from desk, relieved to have got that stress off his chest, although now suffering a slight headache. After a pause to rub his temples and summon a glass of pain relief he spun his chair around to take in the view from his office. His office was high enough to see most of the forested green of the Governmental compound, scattered about were a few of the various administrative buildings and monuments.

However, glancing beyond that revealed it to be nothing more than a green island for the great skyscrapers of Tynbury towered all around. He could see clearly from inside this prison why the capital had been nicknamed The Sprawl, although any Laurentian citizen knew why anyway; most of them lived inside the city. Of a national population of approximately ten billion as of the last census, six of them lived in the boundaries of Tyebury. The other four billion were spread out amongst the other megacities further along the coast.

As one of the more prominent billboards overlooking the compound changed to advertise the latest must-have electronic device, David was reminded that he needed to attend a meeting with the Corporate Council tomorrow to 'discuss' his new formed government's plans for the term with the megacorps represented there. He wasn't looking forward to it, because by discuss, it was actually meant that they were going to remind him to stay out of their affairs, and leave the regulations as they are, in other words, none existent. But still that was for tomorrow he sighed.

Now that the various diplomatic parties sent to Laurentia over the last two weeks had been rounded up and safely escorted to the ambassadorial building, he now had to play the diplomat. Well, a supervised diplomat at least, both from the Foreign Office, and representatives of the Corporate Council.

* * *

After such a long day David practically collapsed into the back seat of his car. Finally ready to be taken home, he was disappointed to notice it was dark, or with all the light pollution, what passed as dark. He was annoyed he missed the sunset, the lack of air quality really gave it such a fiery glow like nowhere else in the world. However, he was pleased with the progress that had been made diplomatically. All representatives from Trodenhiem, Columbia, Saratoga and 46566 had been made to feel welcome, and their respective governments reminded and reassured of the friendly and positive Laurentian relations. He'd also made sure to start off the processes for increased co-operation and relaxed trade agreements, but these would take to time to establish and work out, especially with the megacorps wanting to ensure they get the best deal.

Just as his eyelids surrendered to sleep, David was awoken by a noise on his comm-link, another message came through from the Foreign Office. Apparently Columbia had invited him to a diplomatic summit, finally he'd get to see some of the world!

(OOC, sorry it took me a while to start, don't judge too harshly, I'm a little rusty)

[Airatania]

Sec. Tierney: "Very concerned, disappointed" over snub from Columbia
State Department troubled by Airatania's non-involvement in southern nation's treaty package
GEDDON, Trodenhiem -- Secretary of State Meredith Tierney issued a harsh criticism to the Empire of Columbia today over Airatania's lack of involvement in a series of treaty proposals made southern nation several days ago. Secretary Tierney, who is part of the Airatanian delegation attending the diplomatic gala in Geddon, Trodenhiem, said that she was "very concerned and disappointed" by the snub from Columbia.

"We truly would like to keep every diplomatic door open to Columbia as we continue to attempt to build connections with all nations of the world, but to have such a public rebuke of our best efforts to foster that relationship with Columbia is quite frankly rather insulting," Secretary Tierney said during her impromptu remarks to the media.

Secretary Tierney went on to say that they are still "very much open" to the idea of beginning formal diplomatic relations with Columbia, and that the State Department would like to enter treaty negotiations with the Columbian Empire at once.


5.8 magnitude earthquake rocks Amana Island
Minor damage reported in Amana City; 11 people injured
AMANA CITY, Airatania -- A 5.8 magnitude earthquake rocked Amana Island late last night, according to the Airatanian Seismological Research Agency (ASRA). The earthquake, which was centered approximately 3 miles off the coast of Amana City, did not cause a tsunami, but did cause some minor damage to buildings in the city, and injured 11 people.

Amana Island, the largest of Airatania's coastal islands, sits east of the mainland, and is home to nearly one-sixth of the country's population. The ASRA says they have no reason to necessarily believe this earthquake is a sign of any to come, but stress that the fault line where this earthquake occurred is one of the nation's most active seismic regions.

[Vvarden]

"In the Deep Halls, far from Men
Forsaken Knowledge, Twisted Kin
Hail the Mind, Hail the Stone
Vvardeni Pride, Stronger than Bone"
- Ancient Riddle of the Library

The thunderclouds rolled over the grassy steppe, bringing heavy rain and lightning to the Vokun of the Zul-Pylk clan, the Farseers. Scattered trees rose among the rocks on the green fields were but a shadow of their former glory, nature having been worn down by nature in the form of cold and rain. Everyone in the Zul-Pylk clan camp took cover quickly, aside from a lone individual walking through the inundated campground. It was a Vvardeni covered in ornate blue robes that covered his entire body, aside from his shoulders; there the Vvardeni wore ornate pauldrons in the ancient Vvardeni style. The Vvardeni's face was hiding under a silver mask, sculpted in the shape of a face, with large eye-holes that were somehow not showing eyes, instead showing darkness. There was definitely a man under there, or so most of the watching Vokun hoped.

He walked past the guard to the Vah's tent, the chief. The tent was open with an awning covering the first several meters in front of the doorway. It was when the Vvardeni entered the area did he see the Vokun Vah, sitting on a chair, looking at the rain. The Vvardeni walked up to him and then sat down on a chair beside the Vah.

"Si rib sur sen si sa sari daim, si haat buris si sun, si sun et naim... The Vah spoke as the Vvardeni sat down. His face was old and worn, wrinkles etched across his gray face, giving him a wizened look. His graying hair was tied back into one large knot, stretched back, almost looking as if he was trying to stop his forehead drooping over his eyes. He had a long beard, ornately trimmed and then organised into several plaits, some of which still showed hints of the red of the Vah's past. He wore the robes of his people, with a few pieces of the traditional Vokun armour every now and again.

"The wind that blows the dry steppe dust, the rain parching the grass, the grass in lust..." The Vvardeni replied, staring out to the direction the Vah was looking, before the Vah turned to him.

"Ah, you know our tongue, smart yerushpal." He slowly stood up off of the chair and walked off into the main tent itself, stirring an unknown mixture in a cauldron hanging over a small fire.

"You know, I thought all you Subdani were evil, only out to help your own selves. Now I see you are an exception. You are helping the sirran, the tribes. That is kenorudni. You have done good." The Vah remarked. "For that, I will join your tashi, your cause. I thought you were like other groups of Subdani, living in your mighty tibiutluban, giving no help to those outside your walls. I see I am wrong. So, now that you have united the other sularashshi, the nomadic tribes, what is your plan?"

The Vvardeni stood beside the Vah and uttered in a noble tone, which surprised the Vah when he heard it. "We will continue expanding our reach through the Vokun, including the non-nomadic ones. It is still somewhat hard. Several of the nomadic tribes have sided with the Senate, and the city-Vokun are being watched closely. Nevertheless, we will expand. And then, when we are powerful enough, we will perform an uprising."

The Vokun Vah, looked on, nodding slightly as the Vvardeni in the cold, expressionless mask continued to speak.

"We will have our own shares, our organisation will lead Vvarden, replacing the Senate and purging the outsider influences. Then it shall return to a traditional land, a return to traditional goals. A Vvarden for Vvardeni. And what you, and the other tribes will get, is the establishment of a Vokun country of your own, slightly a vassal but more an equal. Think, the two mortal enemies allying with each other against the pox that invaded our lands."

"It sounds an admirable goal, in theory, Subdani, but what will stop the outsiders from attacking you?" The Vokun replied, raising a ladle to his lips to test the contents of the cauldron.

The Vvardeni smiled, though the Vokun couldn't see his face under the mask. "That is why we are searching for it, the Library."

The Vokun's expression turned to one of severe seriousness and almost wonder. "The Library, that tairarussi, that medderib? That old Vvardeni myth-"

"It is no myth." The Vvardeni interrupted. "We have people who have infiltrated the Restorers, and they believe they have discovered the entrance. The legends include that the Library contains all the knowledge of the Old Empire, and a great many more. Apparently there is knowledge of extremely advanced superweapons, taken from a meteor that fell from the heavens. I know what it sounds like, and I am taking no chances, we are taking no chances."

"How do you know these super weapons are real?" The Vah replied.

"We know. The Restorers have found...things...things too advanced to be from this world, and already they can tell they used weapons of massive potential. But they will not use them, the Restorers are too pacifistic, they seek only knowledge, not power. With these weapons, we will usher in a new age for Yukon." The Vvardeni spoke.

How they could ever hold such beliefs was beyond the Vah...but for now he would wait and see, wait for the Garlas Malatar to finish their goals, and then he could perhaps find out. The Vvardeni was wise beyond his years. Maybe it was worth it.

"My tribe is yours, kenorudnani saeraedal". The Vah spoke. The Vokun stretched his arm out and the Vvardeni replied, meeting it in a forearm handshake. "Good." The Vvardeni spoke, and just as soon as he arrived, he left, his mission complete.


The Deep Sewers, Zoroshthurvan

"How much longer must we walk though this river of literal hli?" Came the female voice of one of the two robed disciples as they waded through the Deep Sewers. Their robes were a crimson red, which now at the bottom was stained with the sickening colours of a sewer.

"We must walk though until we find what we are looking for." Said a male voice, the other disciple. He carried a torch and seemed less troubled by the fact they were in a sewer.

"And what are we looking for? Why did the other disciples send us this way, far from the actual ruins?" The first voice replied, shifting uncomfortably as she walked. She looked behind her.

The second voice responded, shining the torch onto the nearby walls. "They sent us here to ensure the size of the ruins is not bigger than expected."

"But why us? Why- Oh gods something touched my leg." The first one sloshed around, turning around and kicking the water near her in the hopes of finding something.

"Relax, Dinarue. Why are you so scared anyway? It's just a sewer."

"Just a sewer?!" Dinarue remarked in suprise. "We're in a sewer, Vondals, a sewer deep underground, far away from any help, surrounded by darkness!"

"I thought you wanted a field job" Vondals replied.

Dinarue sighed heavily. "I did. I thought I'd be looking at old ruins, above ground, or looking in archives or something with space, not trudging though a river of excrement to find something that may not actually be there."

"Wait, what was that?"

Dinarue sighed again "I told you, I thought I'd be-"

"No not that. I heard something." Vondals interrupted, raising his finger into the air in a gesture to keep quiet."

Sure enough, strange sounds filled the air, sounds of chattering almost, and sounds of deep groaning, almost like as if it was coming from the ground under them.

"I don't like this, Vondals." Dinarue said.

"Don't you want to find out what it is?"

"No! No I don't! I want to go back, please."

Vondals shushed her again and paused before speaking. "Fine then. I'll go. You take my spare torch and the spare map of the sewers. Best of luck to you." And then he started to wade off.

"You can't be serious!" Dinarue exclaimed.

"I am serious. Being part of the Restorers means you have to do things like this, get into uncomfortable situations, investigate serious things. If you don't like that then you can go back right now and ask for a job back in the libraries." Vondals tuned around. "Good luck. Any more than ten minutes, head back, I mean it."

Dinarue sighed and embraced Vondals. "You've been a good friend. I just can't come with you, not now."

Vondals nodded. "I was once like you, crippled with fear. You'll overcome it. Now," Vondals turned away from Dinarue and started to head off into the darkness. "I'll be off. Remember, if I'm gone for more than ten minutes head back as fast as you can."

Dinarue nodded, and within several minutes she was alone in the dark.

[Croxoco]

Secret Intelligence Service Headquarters, Vauxhall Cross, London, Columbia:
His Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service was in uproar, with encrypted cables travelling back and forth between MI6 (the popular name for the SIS) and an Intelligence Officer, assigned as a Special Attache to the Columbian Embassy in Saratoga, at quantum speeds. Despite having had an established embassy in Saratoga for less than three months, already a sizeable intel network had been established, headed by the Special Attache and comprised of several locally recruited agents, ranging from civilians, to civil servants and to the rank and file of the Saratogan military. It was the same affair in all the other countries in which Columbia had an embassy; the Empire had the largest economy in the world; it had the money to create the very best intelligence networks.

The Intelligence Officer at the Columbian Embassy was first alarmed by rumours, picked up by some of his agents in the Saratogan military and the Saratogan Conservative Alliance. Upon investigating these rumours, and obtaining intelligence suggestive of mass 'underground' movement within both the Conservative Alliance and the Military, the Officer had requested Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ, the Communications Intelligence Agency of the Columbian Government) to pry into communications between the Conservative Alliance and the Military. Apart from rumours and suspicious phone calls, the Officer could not find anything other than confirmation of mass movement within both the Military and the Conservative Alliance, and suspected movement within the Saratogan Civil Service.

There was no concrete evidence suggesting cooperation between the Military, the Conservative Alliance and the Civil Service, though MI6 were now monitoring Mark Wright, John Roberts and Johnson Caldwell as persons of interest. Further analysis of gathered intelligence, along with observations of the movements and communications of these persons of interest, had caused the Intelligence Officer to suspect a possible coup d'etat was imminent in Saratoga. This was reinforced by the fact that the mass movement which had been detected, was happening at the same time the Saratogan Chancellor and her Deputy were outside of the country.

The Emperor of Columbia and his Prime Minister had been briefed at every stage of this intelligence operation. There was nothing concrete to confirm a conspiracy to stage a coup in Saratoga, thus the Columbian Government could not take any action without damaging its international reputation or drawing any unnecessary attention to its intelligence operations in Saratoga. Rumour within Whitehall (the seat of the Columbian Government) itself however suggested that after the pending general election, the Emperor was to begin a policy of containment towards Communist countries, in order to protect Columbian trading interests. While this could not be confirmed, if this was the case, then it would be just as easy for the Empire of Columbia to work with a Conservative Saratoga as it would a Liberal Saratoga. Any and all intelligence with regard to Saratoga was thus vital to secure a lasting treaty with the Saratogan Government.

[Onza]

Chief of Staff Mavuto Kwasi addressed the National Assembly on behalf of the President

Kunta, Onza - Onza is slated to join Columbian-created international treaty group, COLTA, following a successful vote in favor of the proposition in the National Assembly. The vote was called at the request of the President, and Chief of Staff Mavuto Kwasi stood in as the President's representative in the discussion.

While some Liberal Party Assemblymen were hesitant at first, the vote's outcome showed a strong consensus amongst both sides of the political spectrum, with all but 12 Assemblymen voting in favor of the treaty group.

"This deal will, without a doubt, go a great distance towards strengthening our nation and encouraging the development of international friendships and affinities," said Kwasi.

Kwasi being present on behalf of the administration comes right after the Senate announced that it would hold an investigative panel to determine if Vice President Desta Tendai "intentionally misled the public" when declaring the city of Kigali to be drug free. Neither Tendai nor Kojo have responded to requests for comment.

Kwasi, however, responded to reporters when he was asked after the National Assembly vote. "I don't think Kigali is drug free by any means, but I also don't think that the Vice President intended for his statement to be interpreted as a public declaration," he said.

[The Landfish Colonies]

Ezekwesili smiled, masking his disgust for the Vvardeni speaker as they made their way down the halls together. Something about them, the entire Vvardeni race, didn't sit well with him. Point ears, skin that was somehow dark and pale at the same time, they were unnatural, inhuman. Though he wouldn't let his feelings reveal themselves, they were all to present in the Prime Minister's mind as he walked through the Mansion's corridors.

"Ah, where are my manners?" The Prime Minister Chuckled softly to himself. Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew his carton of cigars, offering one to each of his Vvardeni companions. He grunted as he held them out, raising an eyebrow, smiling invitingly. "Take one, I've got more than enough..."

The speaker raised a hand between himself and the Samak man, "As much as I appreciate the offer, I'd rather not."

Ezekwesili shrugged, stuffing the cigars back into his pocket, removing his own from his mouth as he pinched it between his index finger and thumb. A thick cloud of smoke floated out ahead of him, drifting from his open mouth and nose, "I understand. My Comrade here doesn't smoke either. Given up all for a dull and long life, aye?" He grinned slyly at the old man, who simply sighed, carrying on down the hall. "It's the fear of sickness, isn't it my friend?" Ezekwesili called out, before in a softer tone towards the speaker, "He really needn't worry. Old bastard'll long dead before he comes down with anything... can't say I'll be much different in the end." Another heavy grey cloud blew out before the group.

"Now of course, I would rather meet under more favorable circumstances, but the fact is... This is it. This is the situation under witch we have met, and as regrettable as that may be, it is my job to find the best possible outcome. What has already happened is now behind us, the future has yet to be determined. When generations look back on this day, they will remember it as the beginning of an era of piece," The Prime Minister paused, inhaling and exhaling one final puff of smoke before he extinguished the cigar on a mahogany side table, "Not as the start of a war." The approached the end of the hall, and a large set of doors. On the other side, the murmur of the press could be heard, awaiting the leaders arrival.

Kofi Ezekwesili placed a firm hand over the doorknob, but paused before he turned it. The Prime Minister looked the speaker in the eyes, expresionless, speaking in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "I don't know what you think our party stands for speaker, but we don't like rolling over like shamed dogs. Know Speaker, that it is the Wolf once cornered, who has the worst bite." He opened the door to the sound of camera flashes and a flurry of reporters all shouting to be heard, "After you, Mr. Speaker."

[Promethius Prime]

The Celestial Empire of
Trodenhiem

---

Government Communique
Regarding COLTA

His Supreme Imperial Majesty the Emperor, Konstantin IX, and his Chancellor, the Markgraf Welhelm von Adenaur, have discussed at length the recent change in government within the state of Columbia and have agreed that in line with the Empire's desire to foster firm relations with those nations included by Columbia in the treaty, formal talks shall be initiated with the express aim of agreeing to and implementing the terms of the treaty as proposed. However the Emperor feels that it must be made clear that Trodenhiem is an independent and sovereign nation and will not be interested in allowing this treaty to form a federalist super state either now, or in the future. As far as His Supreme Imperial Majesty is concerned this is a multilateral treaty relating to trade and foreign relations and nothing more.

---

All Communications Signed And Sealed
Imperial Foreign Office & Office of HSIM Konstantin IX
His Supreme Imperial Majesty, Konstantin IX, Autocrat of Arcadia Once Great; King of the Troden, Promethians, and Zues; Tyrant of Thedes and Emperor and Autocrat of the Four Cadias, and Prince of the Ruhr; Elector of the Crimson Throne; By the Grace of the Thirteen, Emperor of Trodenhiem and Defender of the Realm.

[Vvarden]

Whoops! Turned out I accidentally edited a post rather than creating my own!

[Vvarden]

The Grand Speaker turned to Mr Ezekwesilli after they left the press conference and seeing the corridor to be empty of press, the smile vanished from his face and his voice clear and fast, every syllable pronounced in rapid-fire speaking.

"I am not trying to corner you Mr Ezekwesilli. I am fully aware of the power of the Samakian military and I sure hope you will not use it. I know you and many other races of our greater species on Yukon have shown uncomfortableness and even hostility towards our race, but that will not allow me or the senate promote agression with express purpose. Even if the discussions go into your favour completely with the entire isles going into your fat hands then I personally will consider it a victory, for not even a single drop of Vvardeni or Samakian blood would be shed or a life lost. I would much rather choose a peaceful solution then the death of hundreds if not thousands of young men sent off to do what they were told by angry old bureaucrats who are out of touch of the people and their own economy, taking every protest, every incentive to do more as an attack on their livelihood, such a greater case of overestimation would never have ever occurred in the Universe. Hear these words and know where I stand. I will not move against you or desire to conquer you, now a question Mr Ezekwesilli; How many people would you let die for a simple line drawn on the map?"

The look on Ezekwesilli's face speaked of hidden anger and surprise, and the Grand Speaker could see the gears in his head working to think of a reply. The Speaker denied him that by walking away along with his Foreign Minister to lunch. The lunch was uneventful besides from the few angry looks from the Samakian delegation, which the Speaker said to his delegation to smile in reply.

The native food was served to the delegations and Foreign Minister Luaosi Telaandil spoke to the Speaker as lunch started.
"It seems you managed to shut up the Samak." She spoke before taking a small mouthful of roasted meats with rich Vvardeni sauces.

"That was not my goal Luaosi, if they had something intelligent to say in reply to my little...statement, then the discussions would be over by now." The Speaker smiled before looking at the Samak and smiling, trying to give a good impression to the rest of them.

"Well, they seem pretty spooked by us, whether that's because of our food, our clothes, our skin colour or just the things you said, we'll never know." Luaosi replied.

[Promethius Prime]

Old Palace, Vierne
"Do you not understand the drudgery of it all Felix?" The old man sat in his chair in front of the fire, which had burned low in the grate leave nought but grey ash, black flakes of carbonised wood, and flickering embers. It was dark within the room, as night drew in outside the window and the only source of light came from the dying fire; no-one turned on a light within the room for it had not been commanded, clearly the growing shadows and steadily diminishing flames were what the man was after and his servants dared not intervene in that. As Felix stood, his back to the door through which he had just entered, he saw that the old man had moved his chair in front of the grate so as to look directly into it, and so the chief feature of the room was the long shade of the high backed chair which stretched out from its feet across the carpet; its shape constantly dancing and shaking as the flames and embers shifted about. All the decorations and finery within the room were obscured, great works of art, masterworks of craftsmanship, all were diminished by the shadows and the dominating presence at the centre of the room.

Within his chair the old man looked small and shrunken; he had been a tall and proud man once, in his prime, but years of constant care and constant work had left him worn down with little physical presence left. But his physical presence was not what made this man dominating, nor was it the circumstance of his birth, nor the nature of his life; no it was the sheer magnitude of his emotional and mental presence which radiated from him like an aura. Even while he had his back to Felix, and the back of a chair between them, he could feel those bright penetrating eyes which lingered over the flames. He stood within the range of his majesty and it felt as though he were standing facing a great bonfire on a frozen night; his front, the side which faced the flames felt warm and comfortable - soaking in the waves of heat and shifting air currents coming from the pyre; meanwhile his back felt cold, sweep by harsh fingers of icy wind. It was enough to draw any man in, and enough to turn him away; such a presence was fierce and terrifying, and Felix had never met any other man who had such a thing about him - and he had met many great men in his lifetime.

"The drudgery? I do not understand the nature of the question... to what are you referring?" Felix was not a small nor weak man, though not exceptionally large, he was average enough in that regard, yet his will was stronger than most and his mind a good deal sharper; yet when he spoke with the old man h could not help but feel inferior. Outmatched in intellect, in wit, in wisdom, even if the old man was increasingly frail. The ageing painting of him on the wall about the mantle showed the old man, old, yet still enjoying his prime - straight backed with arms folded across his chest, and his hair iron grey - he had been an old man when it had been painted, and the painting was considered old even now. Yet though his age was extraordinary the old man's body was not, time had ravaged it, shrinking away his musculature to leave his flesh soft, wrinkled, and papery - even so it had aged well all things considered - the old man was mobile after all and surprisingly tough.

"You and I have known each other many years, and yet still you always open your side of our conversations by asking to what I refer." The old man sounded slightly amused, though neither smug nor arrogant, it was the kind of innocent and genuine mirth that one experienced and expressed when dealing with a subject one found endearing and Felix could not help but love the old man for it. The words were true enough though; the old man knew so much, pondered such a breadth of subjects, and spoke with him about it all at such great length that it was difficult to immediately grasp what the old man was talking about. Not in the way of some hermit rambling incomprehensibly, no in the manner of a brilliant professor lecturing a class of young students ill prepared to face him. So the question was one which needed to be asked, otherwise the old man was liable to leave Felix behind and sink into himself, holding the desired conversation within his own mind while letting Felix or whoever else was there trip up on the basics. "I am talking about life. I suppose you will have less of an understanding, not that this is a bad thing, but I find it so dull. This constant back and forth, the constant work and effort, the never ending march of time; you would think that being so vast and with so many variables existing within it that the world would be awash with originality and random events - yet it all seems so cyclic from my perspective."

"Von Stalhardt said the 'What has happened once shall happen again.' And I believe it was George Santayana who said 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'" He hoped that the quoting of first a great Troden philosopher, followed by a renowned essayist on a global level would be sufficient; the quotes seemed relevant enough, yet somehow he got the feeling that the old man was smiling at him, the form of his amusement changing to a different sort. Of course he could have been misunderstanding the old man's point entirely, he did that from time to time, and more often than he liked to admit, yet the old man did not seem to mind - he took a genial and helpful view to everything in that regard - once more like a brilliant professor he seemed only to want the best for his students and educating them was the key. Of course he sought intelligent conversation, who wouldn't, but he never shied away from explaining things to others, or trying to help them along when they fell behind; Felix supposed it was all a part of that character.

"Apt enough statements to be sure, and by men of great intellect no doubt. But that is not quite what I am talking about, though in some measure I suppose it is relevant." Felix gave an inward sigh of relief, he had not misstepped, he had simply aimed a little wide of the mark, yet still the target was struck and a good score achieved. Though the old man never expressed disappointment or anger over such things Felix set his own standards and preferred not to fall short of them. He wanted for the old man to think well of him and to consider him a worthy protege and conversant, yet his mentor had never yet set out any clear criteria on how this should be measured, so Felix had had to apply his intellect to the subject of creating his own framework for achievement based upon what he could discern of the old man's moods. Right now based upon past experience he felt he was doing reasonably well, after all the old man was responding in good time, and continued to sound satisfied enough with the conversation. "But I am talking about my own observations; perhaps it is simply that, by living for a long time I have had time to remember which others have not; or perhaps I am simply a better student of the world than most - I cannot say - but it does all seem rather repetitive."

"I... you mean to say world affairs? I suppose I too can see a degree of repetition. The nations jostle for power, send one another messages, and form agreements. Power is brokered, wars are fought, sport is played. Deception, self interest, greed... it may be unpredictable at the time yet hindsight sometimes makes me question how we didn't see it coming." Felix sometimes thought that the old man was intentionally vague as a means of forcing him to think; he did not truly know why he was summoned every now and again to talk with him, but he was, and had judged from their interactions what was expected of him. But then again perhaps these conversations were intended to be whatever Felix chose to make of them, it was all down to perspective and interpretation and he wouldn't have at all been surprised if, like some sort of educational theoretician the old man was trying to make Felix expand himself, and teach himself. It was impossible to say; Felix certainly looked up to and respected the old man, but he was never entirely sure what to make of him, nor what his intentions were; but he no more understood him than anyone else did. Perhaps that was what had allowed him to survive for so long - the circles in which the nobility and royalty of Trodenhiem moved were lethal and vicious, and people within those circles who trusted anyone, or took them at face value were fools who soon fell afoul of some plot or other. Yet the old man had dominated it all for decades, and it seemed had never been touched by the intrigues himself because he was never really tied to anyone. That was another lesson Felix had learned; in politics it was best to be mercurial. "Still I struggle to empathise - even if there is a pattern it is still fascinating to watch, if only to see how the small details pan out."

"Ah the shattered glass approach; I can understand that, and why that helps you take an interest. A stone is thrown, the window breaks, this happens again and again, and though the result is the same - the window breaks - the shards fall where they may, and differently each time."

[Vvarden]

Gathered around the large table in the dimly-lit center of the hotel were the most powerful individuals within the organisation of Garlas Malatar. The hotel, which bore a sign out front that read Si Saer Sis, or The Great King, was owned by a seedy arms dealer and a sympathiser to their cause. Regardless of this, several guards were stationed around the doors and windows, along with two on the roof. The regular rooms were mostly for the guards and the small army the organisation controlled. The most lavishly-adorned rooms, of course, were reserved for the leadership, which now sat around the conference table in the former management wing of the hotel.

Already seated was a Vvardeni cloaked in blue with a silver mask over his head and beside him was a friend and advisor, Innas Odin-Ahhe, the General of the group, who trained the soldiers and devised strategies as well as being a former guerilla who fought off the Senatorial forces when they first refounded Vvarden, and Salvi Omaren, who handled the process of recruitment and infiltration. The trio did not wait patiently for the arrival of the other two expected guests, Vah Massisitun and Vah Ududnabia, commanders of major clans, who reported directly to the blue cloaked Vvardeni. At a glance, it would appear as though the group had planned to have a simple party, which wouldn't be too far from the truth. However, the stated purpose of the meeting was to address the group's next move against the Restored Oligarchic Senate.

"How long will those Vah take?" Bemused General Innas, scratching his plaited hair.

"They will arrive soon, unless they have been compromised, in which case we would've heard of it." Salvi Omaren said, slightly bored and annoyed as well, shrugging her shoulders.

The large mahogany double doors separating the room from the rest of the hotel swung open to reveal two Vokun with scarred faces and hair braided and plaited. The red haired one wore pieces of cloth wound tightly and spirally around the legs, akin to the putees of the first of the Great World Wars of the other races of humankind on their ancestral homeland. He also had large ear piercings and greyer skin than most normal Vvardeni and Vokun, wearing a large brown poncho with a bandolier over his left shoulder, and a sword in its sheath on his right. The brown haired one next to him had at least some sense of modernity with his clothes, with dark purple trousers and a green traditional shirt under a bulletproof vest, also with a sword, as well as a pistol. His hair was retreating under his baldness, having now reached halfway to the back of his head.

The blue cloaked Vvardeni sat up and greeted the two as they found there seats. "Ah, Vahs Massisitun and Ududnabia. It is good to see you. What took you so long?" He spoke the last sentence with an ounce of annoyance.

The red haired one spoke. "We had to go by a different route," His voice was scratchy and hoarse, like most Vvardeni, but he had the accent of a Vokun, meaning a new layer of roughness in his speaking. "The original route was watched, even then we had to wait to see if they had seen us."

"Very well then Vah Massisitun," The cloaked Vvardeni gestured to the seats across the table from him, and the two Vahs sat down before the Vvardeni turned and spoke to the members of this party. "Shall we begin? Good. Salvi, tell me the latest recruitment numbers, how many new recruits?"

"We have good news. Only yesterday we have had close to three thousand new recruits to our cause, even more since the Senate is out of touch of the Vokun, and their campaigns to dissuade them are doing nothing." Salvi explained skillfully. "We have support among key politicians, even two senators who we have contacted via secure channels. Even if they are double agents, it will do nothing, they cannot trace our messages. The Vokun people have grown tired of seeing the riots and the repression. They want to be free, and we will give it to them."

"Well, based on the new findings, we are progressing better than expected, despite the strong resistance put up by the Senate. They have already arrested close to two thousand Vokun, one hundred of which are key memebers of our organisation. They will never reveal their secrets because dead men do not speak, and we shall progress as planned."

The Vvardeni stood up and put both hands on the table, speaking to his companions in a stern tone. "It is now time. Based on Salvi Omaren's new numbers, up to a third of Vokun are now sympathizers, with half being fully fledged numbers. We must act fast, we are only half a step ahead of the Senate. Already they are cracking down, arresting supporters. They are smart, I will give them that, but we have surprise. Outside of the city, thanks to the nomadic Vokun clans united under Vahs Ududnabia and Massisitun, and the city Vokun under General Innas Odin-Ahhe, the Steppe Demon," The Vvardeni stretched his hand out towards the Vahs who remained as stern of face as they always have and General Innas, who smiled slightly upon hearing the nickname bestowed to him by Senatorial forces. "We have an army. We will take Draahran first, gain more support among the Vokun by use of propaganda, build up more armies to take other cities and towns and conduct terror attacks in the western cities. Then it will start to get hard, we must not be bogged down, we must remain mobile and quick to strike. By a year's passing Vvarden will be ours by thanks of the Library. That is our plan, ladies and gentlemen, now, shall we get started?"

The hotel exterior was just as cracked and disused as the inside, the fine granite slowly breaking away with the passage of time. It was not the tallest building in Draahran, but provided a view nevertheless, with twelve stories, and carved Sararraem, the creatures that the Vokun of old rode, four legged scaly animals with large heads and legs, before their numbers diminished by over-hunting, of which now close to a thousand remain, mostly bred by the nomadic tribes. The roof had an overgrown garden, with moss starting to climb down the exterior, and the ground caked with dirt. The party stood, and watched as the artillery from behind the many rolling hills around the city fired, like great spears of light illuminating the darkness, crashing down onto the many police stations and army barracks into the city. Now was the time. Almost instantly, tens of thousands of Vokun soldiers descended from the hills to take the city.

The army slowly walked down the hills, before seeing their objective closer, they split into small teams and ran into the outskirts, with jeeps and tanks providing covering fire, quickly taking control of small factories and foundries. The armies advanced and began to fire their weapons on the policemen and the soldiers that were deployed across the city, who fell quickly despite their riot gear. Suddenly, a raid siren sounded, and thousands of soldiers began pouring out of the city barracks armed and ready for conflict. The attackers continued to shoot and pick off as many as they could, eventually reaching the outer edge of the city with minimal casualties. As the soldiers inside of the city began their efforts to push the attackers out of the city, however, small groups of Vokun civilians ran through the city, shooting the soldiers in tense and bloody urban warfare, allowing the attackers, some in jeeps and tanks to descend into the inner streets. The police and soldiers put up a fight, but were then outnumbered by their foes and quickly were pacified. The bands of militia and armed civilians swept through the city, looting shops and raiding police stations. The airport was seized with the help of missiles and rockets fired from beyond the hills, shooting down the runways and the military aircraft taking off, to prevent immediate word of their attack. Throughout the night, stretching into the early morning, the city was seized, and all roads and exits out guarded fiercely. It was the first city under their control, and quite possibly not the last. The sun rose on the city, the first city of the new Sirrumm Hallaidnin Vokun, the Tribal Republic of the Vokun, for now a vassal, a puppet state of Garlas Malatar, but soon, if the Garlas Malatar gets their way, a fully fledged nation.

[Vvarden]

Zoroshthurvan News Service: Foreign Edition

Archaeological Survey Begins


Archaeological surveys have begun on ancient
sites across Vvarden as the Senate accepts
the new Cultural Preservation Program
proposed by Speaker for Citizen's
Affairs, Relns Aradingi. The Program
is estimated to help piece together
lost parts of Vvarden's past."

Garlas Malatar Militants and Vokun seize Draahran after hours of fighting

The Senate today has commenced bombing operations on the city of Draahran after it was seized by a Vokun paramilitary force thought to be under control of the infamous terrorist organisation Garlas Malatar. The group has now established what it claims to be called the Sirrumm Hallaidnin Vokun or the Tribal Republic of the Vokun, led by a newly installed leader, Sirrumvah Ohjin-Ahadabal Massisitun. The group, now establishing a stronghold in Vokun populated areas is of high risk, and the military led by Speaker for Defence, High Major Thorval Mavadil along with High Generals Favaasu Felrom and Trelphas Varyoran are currently seeking ways to recapture the city and so send Garlas Malatat back to an underground presence. The military is also pursuing an investigation of footage claiming that various Vokun mobs rose up inside of the city, helping the attackers seize critical areas, without which it is likely the attack would have failed. There is also several reports of mass violence against Vvardeni in the city, with reports of small fires breaking out in Vvardeni areas in the city, and beatings along with alleged claims of enslavement, which, according to the Garlas Malatar group's ideals of a traditional Vvarden is tolerated.


Bomb detonates at Royal Vvardeni Military Academy, Garlas Malatar blamed

BREAKING NEWS: A bomb has been detonated in the foyer of the Royal Vvardeni Military Academy, which has currently claimed close to a hundred lives, and approximately two hundred injuries. The explosion is thought to have been orchestrated by the terrorist group Garlas Malatar which hours ago seized the town of Draahran in Draahran State, bringing the group out of the underground and
establishing a military force within Vvarden. The bomb is believed to have been detonated via car,
claiming the lives of many new recruits who were leaving the Academy after the lectures had finished.

More news updates will occur shortly.

[Promethius Prime]

New Vierne, the Tavari Coast
"The Troden have invaded our homeland, slaughtered our soldiers as they righteously defended our homes, and now they settle here and build great cities to honour their own glory while mocking our defeat. There can be no peace sisters, none, this has gone far enough. Our menfolk failed us in the plains and on the highlands, when the Troden tanks came, and the weapons the aa-ahai sold us proved worthless. But what does this prove? Not that we are beaten, no, we are not whipped dogs to lie down and submit. We have strength left, more than the oppressors know, and we shall use it. The Troden may have taken our land and enforced their rule upon us, but that only shows us their strength - we should use that. If we are to defeat them and win back this land then we must arm ourselves with their weapons - we should rely upon the aa-ahai no longer, let us instead look to the aa-oshok and use their own labours against them." There were nods and murmurs of agreement in the crowd, this was good, agreement and unity was what they needed now if they were to stand a chance. All of them were women, none had fought a war before and none were warriors, for that had not been the Tavari way; but the old ways had left them homeless and husbandless - the old ways had had them see their sons and brothers and husbands off to war, never to return, that or they returned broken men. It was not that they had been weak, no, they had fought with strength and valour, but they had fought to old way - using the weapons of the aa-ahai and engaging the Troden military in open battle. It had been a strategy doomed to fail - the Troden were too numerous and too well equipped, but now, now Methera had found a man willing to supply her people with the weapons they needed, weapons which could match those of the Troden. An unscrupulous aa-oshok trader had approached her, he had offered her weapons which had been meant for his own country's military, yet which had been rejected in favour of the produce of another company. He wanted to teach his people the error in their decision.

So here she was, in this warehouse surrounded by the sho-okuun's wares, which were now hers, surrounded also by her sisters. It would be war she knew. The Tavari were not a warrior people, but they had honour and pride, they did not beg for war, yet they accepted it when it was called for. Never in their history had her people invaded the lands of another, except to strike back and a foe which had struck them first, as far as she was concerned they never would. The Troden were invaders, they were aa-oshok to be punished and thrown from the lands which rightfully belonged to the Tavari, her husband had led her people against the Troden for years, he had fought well, but he had died two years past now and could lead no longer. After his death organised Tavari resistance had crumbled and the Troden had steadily rolled northwards, seizing land, good land, and turning it to their purposes. This city she was in, New Vierne they called it, was a modern city and comfortable, it offered everything a person could ask for and more, yet it was not Tavari and it sickened her. It was a monument to her people's defeat and a festering wound in the side of her nation. The factories spewed out foul air and foul water, the mines raped the earth stripping it of its wealth without giving anything back, and its farms enslaved the land so that it served only coin and nothing more. All of this might have been forgiven, except that it served to enrich small cabals of men and women they called 'corporations', the only reason they existed was because their was monetary profit in it - not because the people needed what they produced. Certainly the farms grew the food that the people ate, and the factories the good needed to live a comfortable life, but that was not their true purpose to those who controlled them such things were incidental and that went against all that the Tavari stood for.

Her sisters stood around her as she stood upon the makeshift podium of crates and boxes; they were not warriors, not yet at least, but they would be in time. Preparation was key - she had the materials she needed and she had the manpower, but she needed to acquaint one with the other and blend them into something new. Water and clay, as the Tavari saying went. Methera would have these women trained in insurgency, sabotage, infiltration, and guerrilla warfare; they would strike swiftly and surely and make the Troden bleed, each blow a stab wound from a hidden blade, striking in rapid succession so as to inflict constant damage before the previously inflicted wounds had time to heal. But the time for those strikes was not now, first she needed to teach her warriors how to wield the knife and that would take time.

[Promethius Prime]

New Vierne, the Tavari Coast
"Our tactics must be those which deny the Troden their greatest advantage. With their tac-net and vast numbers it is vital that we attack them in such a way that minimises their ability to employ these things, and which minimises their opportunity to strike back against us. These aa-oshok have faced guerrilla tactics before so simply copying the efforts of the past will not suffice; we must start small and simple, and then work our way up to greater things." Methera reached into one of the metal arms crates beside her and took from it an assault rifle, these were a gift from her backers and they would form the basis for their revolution against the Empire which now ruled their lands. It was a simple thing really, not so ultra-modern as the ICAR used by Troden troops, but still effective and reliable; these were the best assault rifles available on the export market from Trodenhiem which was saying a great deal - they may be vile oppressors but Methera was not ashamed to acknowledge their skill at manufacturing instruments of death. It was but more proof she had said, that they lacked any sort of real morality. "This is the Type 23 assault carbine, pretty standard stuff and the long line of weapons that Trodenhiem has used to pollute the world with violence for years. Many of you will have heard of the Mace 18 or 21 which are often seen in their movies and television shows, but this is the 23, the newest and best of the bunch. It has a short maximum range, and is lighter than most weapons of its kind, but it hits as hard as any rifle and has a low spread pattern. It is ideal for spraying indiscriminately, or for carefully placed shots at close range, and it is at close range that we shall be fighting our war."

"This will be your sword and your shield in what is to come, and before we train in anything else we must learn how to use this, how to look after it, how to break it down and repair it. You must be able to do this yourself, without tools or help, and in this manner each of these carbines will become a knife in the Empire's back." She reached forward and pulled back the bolt, the chamber was already empty, as was the magazine which was fitted into it, but this was fine for a first demonstration. Taking a full magazine she slotted it into place and drove it home before racking the bolt manually to ready the weapon. "To use this properly ignore what you see on TV. Guns are more complex than just pointing and shooting. Without bullets they are useless in battle, so make sure you are fully loaded before you start firing - this weapon holds 30 bullets in a magazine and if you fire of full auto that gives you about 8 seconds of shooting time before you have to reload. 8 seconds is not very long so you will need to carry more than one magazine. Also this weapon can have as many bullets in it as you need, but it will not fire so long as the safety is engaged; when you load or reload the weapon the safety catch automatically engages itself so before you start trying to shoot anyone you need to flip it into the fire position like so." She thumbed the safety as she spoke. "At this point the gun is ready to fire, but you are not. So take care. This may look dainty and feel light in your hands but when you fire it it kicks and jerks around like a horse, so you should brace yourself. This stock is not just for show, use it, raise it to your shoulder and aim down the length of the weapon, you're much more likely to hit your target that way. I will go into more detail about this later - for not grab a carbine and try loading and reloading it - spare empty magazines are int he crates over there."

[Vvarden]

Zoroshthurvan News Service: Foreign Edition

Decision Reached at Dulo Isles Summit

After several hours of negotiating and debating between the two sides, the Government of Saratoga has reached a solution on the controversial Dulo Isles claiming issue:

Dulo Isle Agreement

1. Vvarden cedes the island of Shamballe to Samakia but in return Samakia & Saratoga vows to not support 46566 in any way whether directly and/or via proxy in the event of Vvarden presses claims on traditionally Vvarden land currently occupied by 46566. Violation will result in severe sanctions by other two parties.
2. Samakia makes a onetime payment for the economic loss of the island to Vvarden. Total Amount being $1,000,000,000.
   
   1. The integration of Samakia into the Eastern Gulf Federation, where it will become a primary member alongside Vvarden and Saratoga
      
      1. The creation of a highway & rail line (Passenger & Cargo) system between the 3 nations
      2. Educational Exchange
      3. Joint Research Program (Where all 3 nations share education, health, historical, and economic research)
      4. Non-Aggression & Free Trade Pact between Samakia, Vvarden, and Saratoga with a joint-protection agreement of all waters form 25 KM north of the Dulo Isles down through the entire coast
      5. All 3 nations agree to limit the amount of agreements with western nations in internal and external affairs of each nation.
      6. Bi-Annual War-games collaborated and limited to Vvarden, Samakia, and Saratoga

Several Vokun towns rise up in uprising; want to be part of the newly proclaimed, Garlas Malatar controlled Vokun Tribal Republic

Land now controlled by Garlas Malatar

Several towns, inspired by the Garlas Malatar groups' quick seizing of the city of Draahran have rose up in various towns across isolated and Vokun areas of the country. These towns run by militia seek to become part of the Vokun Tribal Republic that was proclaimed a matter of days ago. Bombing operations are already being carried out on Vokun army convoys and troops moving out of Draahran, possibly to expand into the other cities and towns in the vicinity. Armed soldiers have been dispatched to the towns of Saerussarumm and Kershassen, who have been seized by armed paramilitary groups seeking to become part of the Vokun Tribal Republic. Already a siege is underway in the town of Bereral, near Draahran, where the occupants have erected makeshift barricades in the street out of bricks and furniture. The group is currently expanding at an increasing rate and shall soon be stopped by Vvardeni forces.

More news updates will occur shortly.

[Promethius Prime]

New Vierne, the Tavari Coast
The first attack had begun, Methera had sent out a hit squad consisting of four of her best women, backed up by six rookies; she only hoped that the good fighters kept everything in line. None of her women had fought a real battle, or pulled off a real attack yet, so though the squad eladers she had sent had proven themselves skilled and willing in training they were still untested. It was a nervous time as she sat in the warehouse where they had made their base, a few others were around here and their training with their weapons or carefully maintaining them, but they had no idea a hit squad was out there making history - better that they not know, for morale purposes and for security. The target was a small precinct police station in the docks district, it was a minor target really, but they had to start somewhere, the station had no more than ten officers on duty in it at a time and at least half of those were desk staff. They might have a small armoury with enough shotguns and handguns to arm every man inside with, but they weren't military grade weapons, and the officers inside could have no idea what was about to hit them - with luck that would mean that at best her women would be facing a handful of police offers armed with pistols. Still any number of things could go wrong, if someone had talked that station could be fortified and protected, inexperience could lead to mistakes. The police officers inside were well trained too; police training in Trodenheim was as intensive as Army training, though with less focus on combat and more on the civil protection aspect, that meant that every police officer in that building knew fully how to use their weapons and how to react in a combat situation. There was little she could do now though but sit by her radio and wait for the squad to report in.

Docks District Precinct Station
Ilya had been chosen by Methera to lead the hit squad, all of the hand picked group of women agreed that she was the best choice because she was a crack shot and because she had taken to the training of tactics and combat strategy much more quickly than anyone else in the group. She had initially wondered why Methera was not leading the squad herself, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense that she stayed behind - she was after all the leader of the whole organisation and if she was killed or captured it was all over; she was the link with their arms suppliers and with their financial backers, and she was the one with the experience of commanding an outfit like this. Not many of the others knew this but before she had become an insurgent Methera had been a boss in a large organised crime syndicate; Ilya knew and maybe three or four others did too, but that was it - the skills it seemed had proven transferable since Methera seemed to be running a very tight ship. Ilya had never been involved in anything like this before, prior to the Troden expansion into the territory she had been a backwoodsman and hunter, so she knew how to survive in the wild and hunt animals - but fighting a war against people, that was different.

Each of her fighters was equipped well for the task, between them they were carrying more firepower that Methera's intelligence indicated the police had in their armoury; for herself she had taken one of the Type 23 carbines, and most of the fighters were carrying them too. However two of the rookies were too young and slight of build to handle the carbines, which fired a full sized rifle cartridge, she wasn't really surprised since both claimed to be eighteen - to her eyes though they couldn't be any older than fifteen or sixteen. With a bit of training the pair would be able to lug around a carbine just like the rest, but they weren't there yet, so instead they were each carrying a Walther MPL, the lighter rounds should mean less recoil and in training both of them had managed well enough. Between them the hit squad also had a cache of petrol bombs and a single RPG-7; a bit extreme but Methera had insisted on its inclusion 'To get the point across.'

The night was damp, a summer rain had made the concrete and tarmac glisten softly in the light of the street lamps; Ilya pulled up outside the station in the unmarked van and tapped the roof of the driver's compartment to indicate to the women in the back that it was time. The side door rolled open and out dropped her squad, weapons ready. They hardly looked like a professional hit squad, but then they really weren't, they had a heavy shemagh covering their faces and wore combat webbing with spare magazines on it over casual clothes; some were wearing jeans, others combats, all were wearing boots. There was no uniform, no body armour, no rank insignia. The only thing that visibly united them were their boots, those sturdy practical boots which Methera had bought them so as to ensure everyone who went out was wearing the right things on their feet so that they could run like hell if things went sour.

They had gone over the plan a dozen times before setting out and as Ilya climbed out of the driver's seat she passed the keys over to Tabra, one of the rookies, who would be their getaway driver; the others were loading the RPG and Gina had the weapon mounted on her shoulder ready to fire. On Ilya's order Gina fired, and with a satisfying whoosh of noise the RPG launched its warhead straight at the rolling garage door, punching through it and into the garage itself where it exploded in spectacular fashion. That was the signal for the rest to move in, Gina would remain outside with Tabra and two others to guard the van and cover their exit; meanwhile Ilya led the remaining seven women inside, disengaging the safety on her carbine as she went. The police officers inside hadn't even had time to figure out what was going on when the eight fully armed women burst in through the door. The man behind the desk was the first to die, his chest perforated by at least five bullets...

Some Time Later
Manfred stepped lightly around the crime scene, if you could call it that, the damn place looked more like a warzone with spent bullet casings littering the floor and holes everywhere where the rifle rounds had struck them rather than the intended target - and then there was the blood, the typical bloodspatters were in evidence, but so too were the pools of congealing red which spread for the bodies of the terrorist's victims. They were police officers, just like him, though lower in rank - even so the thought was hard to dismiss, these guys could have been him. Seven police officers had been in the Station when the attack happened, of those only one had had a chance to fight back before being gunned down; by the looks of it he'd managed to hit at least two of his attackers with his sidearm before they had reduced him to a bloody ruin of the floor with fully automatic rifle fire. Of his wounded attackers however only a discarded carbine and a couple of pools of blood were in evidence - they had clearly managed to get in do their dirty work and get out before any other police officers had a chance to respond.

The whole thing stank; a small precinct station which had no detainees in its cells had been hit with everyone inside massacred, the armoury had been left untouched and nothing else had been taken. Not only that but a rocket launcher had been used to blow up the garage so as to prevent anyone from escaping by car. It made no sense, the attack was more like a military raid than a criminal operation, but who was there with sufficient hatred for the police, or the system to launch such an attack. The old Tavari military had been completely dismantled, most of their soldiers were dead or severely maimed and besides the Tavari leadership and signed an unconditional surrender agreement. Perhaps it was some other group looking for justice... but the thought of an insurgent or terrorist threat on the newly integrated Tavari Coast was a worrying one.

[Promethius Prime]

New Vierne, the Tavari Coast
Methera's small band had evolved, after the first attack their profile had suddenly increased; at first no-one had been sure what had happened at the precinct station, but soon enough the Troden detectives had realised what they were facing and Methera had released a press statement anonymously revealing her and her organisation's existence to the world. After that the number of fresh recruits had boomed, and what followed was attack after attack of everything from Troden police stations to Troden owned businesses - with a few raids on banks and money transport convoys in order to provide much needed funding for their efforts. Now they had grown beyond the small single cell they had started with into a series of cells all over the province, but Methera had been careful, each cell was independent of the others, knew nothing of their membership and organisation, their only link to one another was her and a small band of computer techs who ran and maintained their servers and communication lines. She was no fool, a boost in their numbers raised the risk of betrayal exponentially so keeping the cells separate was crucial; if one was infiltrated it could be contained and their losses could be mitigated. Probability and the skill of their enemies meant that the loss of one or two cells would be inevitable; Methera had hardened herself to the fact that many of the women she recruited would end up dead or worse.

At first their strikes had hit hard, the Troden weren't prepared for them, but now it was becoming more difficult; they had fortified their police stations and increased the military garrisons - the cities were divided with checkpoints everywhere and full searches mandatory. Martial law had been declared meaning that any soldier or police officer could search anyone without a warrant, provided that reasonable suspicion could be proved; this had severely sapped her ability to keep her cells supplied and had also hobbled their range and effectiveness. Her response was to create a cache system - weapons and supplies would be smuggled into secure locations and left there, then the manpower would cross checkpoints unarmed and equip themselves at the nearest cache to their objective. It wasn't perfect, but it help - and with all of the sewers and subterranean tunnels firmly under the control of their enemy it was the only option. The cache system also meant that she was able to maintain strict control and discipline among her cells; since each one only had minimal supplies of its own they could not take significant actions against the Troden without first stopping at a cache, and the caches were under her control so that the cells did not know where they were until they were assigned their orders.

Several of her women had died already, mostly casualties of their attacks on the Troden authorities, but that was set to change...

Ora Nova District, New Vierne
Mags gripped her assault carbine tightly, as if it were a lifeline and she were lost at sea; she had only two magazines left for it, the one currently loaded included and she had already fired off two bursts with that. Clinging to the cover of a large steel dumpster she could here the loud pings as round after round struck the other side, or one of the trucks they had come in on; their objective had been to hit one of the busiest Troden nightclubs, Sora Sorvalkin, two blocks away - it should have been easy, a massacre since the club had only its doors and bouncers for protection. They had never reached the club though; as soon as they had reached the cache they had been ambushed by about twenty Troden soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms, carrying unfamiliar weapons and speaking an unfamiliar language. When they had gathered at the cache Mags had been one of thirty women, most of them sixteen or seventeen year old students - now she could count barely twelve left, usually the Troden police and soldiers tried to take them alive and shot only to wound, but not this time - these black uniformed and black armoured soldiers were ruthlessly gunning everyone down and if someone fell wounded then a fresh burst would strike them to make doubly sure that they died.

Nothing had prepared Mags for this; she knew the police and military tactics now, and these unfamiliar soldiers fought and thought differently in every way; each seemed to be armed with a drum fed assault rifle or sub machine gun - not that she had been able to get close enough to tell for sure, this in itself was unusual. But what was more these soldiers seemed unconstrained by moral qualms or any sort of desire to conserve ammunition or resources. They threw grenades and flashbangs freely, they sprayed bullets at anything that moved and they weren't afraid to damage property. Clearly this was what happened when the Troden lost their patience - whoever these guys were they weren't regular soldiers or police. They weren't mercenaries either, they all bore Troden insignia or their uniforms, but that was the only familiar thing about them.

There was a lull in the gunfire, what was left of the cell was nearly out of ammunition and their foe must have realised that for they had stopped shooting too - however Mags knew better than to pop her head out for a look. After a moment, when it became clear that the gunfire showed no signs of starting again unprovoked a voice called out in plain Troden - the first understandable word she had heard from them. "You can't win ladies, that much should be clear by now. We know you are running low on ammunition, we also know that you have lost more than half of your numbers, we have yet to suffer a single casualty. You are outmatched. Now I know that fighting to the end may well seem heroic and a good way to go, but know this, we have just received confirmation that our support team is in position with long range White Phosphorus shells, and they have your positions zeroed; think on that for a moment if you would. Surrender now and I'll cancel the strike - fight on and you'll burn. Its a slow and painful way to go, and their is nothing heroic about screaming like a banshee while your flesh cooks on your bone."

Mags looked over to the remained women of her cell unsure of what to make of this development. White Phosphorus was not usually permitted by the Troden military, in fact it was outright banned for military use so either this man was lying or he wasn't military - the Troden were like that, always manipulating their stated rules. These men weren't military and they weren't fighting an enemy army, so for all she knew White Phosphorus was something they would not hesitate to use. But the fact remained that this Troden man could be lying... she agonised over the decision trying to gauge the opinions of her comrades; finally she came to a conclusion. "Lay down your weapons and surrender, or take your own lives, I leave it up to you; I lead here so I must die but the rest of you have the choice. Please do not burn for the sake of nothing."

Eight of her women nodded and placed their weapons on the ground before putting their hands on the back of their heads and stepping out slowly from cover; the other three set down their rifles and reached for their handguns.

IAA Squad 16
Serge kept his SMG raised; he did not expect much having issued them with the ultimatum - these Tavari terrorists had shown how ruthless they were when they had slaughtered innocents in restaurants and bars over the past few months, so he had hardly expected them to come meekly, even at the mention of White Phosphorus. That said he was glad that they had surrendered, he had no desire to witness the use of Willy Pete's on a group of unarmoured women, shooting them down in cold blood was bad enough and he was not a psychopath - dutiful, loyal, and disciplined in carrying out his orders, yes, but a monster he was not.

Eight women stepped out, more than half looked like they couldn't have left school yet, children, yet they fought like lions even if they lacked the skill and training to deal with his squad. Of course their weapons likely had something to do with it - they were Troden made it was true, but they didn't have the benefit of thousands of spare rounds of ammunition or advanced sights and attachments to boost their effectiveness; plus they had only intended to strike a nightclub if their intel was on point which hardly require heavy duty equipment. One of the women looked at him as her group approached and spoke in a hoarse but ultimately defeated voice; "The others have chosen not to live. If you hear gunshots please do not shoot." True to her word four shots rang out shortly thereafter, one after another. Serge motioned for his squad to cautiously move up and take the surrendering terrorists into custody while he took two operators into to backalley where the women had made their stand.

Inside the alleyway was carnage, eighteen bodies lay scatters about in large pools of blood, riddled with bullets and shrapnel. Some had been mauled and partially dismembered by the blasts of grenades. Stepping over them he advanced further, past the cover of a pair of dumpsters which had been severely mangled by the number of bullets which had struck them; beyond he found four more bodies, each with a pistol in hand - they had clearly pressed the muzzles up to their necks at such an angle that the rounds had blasted into their skulls and exited leaving huge craters in the back of their heads where the bullets had exited. Serge sigh and spoke into his comm comm box; "Cell neutralised, eight prisoners taken, twenty two dead. Situation report requested, over."

"Overlord copies all; Squads 8 and 9 have completed their objectives, Squad 12 is still under way. Return to Delta Hotel Quebec with prisoners - maintain full caution. Retaliatory strikes expected, over."

[Promethius Prime]

New Vierne, the Tavari Coast
Retaliation was swift, the terror cells throughout the city and the surrounding province had carried out their most expensive attacks yet seeking vengeance for the elimination of three cells in New Vierne itself only days before. The move was not unexpected but the sheer number of attacks still concerned the command staff at the Command Centre; every Troden city had one, a permanently manned and fully operational bunker staffed by men and women brought in from elsewhere in the nation so as to avoid facility compromise through hostage situations or the like. The New Vierne CC was led by Grand Marshal Volkoff who had assumed command following his predecessor's dismissal for failing to contain the outbreak of terror in the new colony; he was a hard and uncompromising man who gave the impression of being chiselled from granite and he embodied the traditional Troden ideal - tall, muscular, with bright blue eyes, and in his youth blonde hair. Age had not withered him, at least not yet, at seventy his mind was as sharp as it had ever been and his body would have put most younger officers to shame - some said it was his sheer force of will which had granted him this amazing constitution and fortitude, while others whispered of secret government experiments in eugenics and genetic manipulation undertaken during the reign of the present Emperor's father though of course such claims were generally taken with a pinch of salt.

Volkoff looked at the tactical display at the centre of the Control Room, it was a holographic projection of the city from above which was in full 3D and allowed angular manipulation so that every aspect of the display could be viewed directly and from whichever angle was necessary. Right now the Grand Marshal viewed it from the simple top down perspective, watching the locator pips for his units as they moved around and monitoring the red smudges where attacks or unrest were occurring. There were even a few red pips marking the known locations of tracked hostile units; such was the marvel of the Troden Tac-Net, a highly classified piece of technology which required enormous processing power just to function; every Troden city was saturated with sensor hubs and relays which in times of peace lay dormant, yet in times like this they were activated and scanned for heartbeats, firearms, and other tactical information - they also fed back regular scans of the surrounding area providing the Command Centre with up to the moment information on terrain and the state of the city in physical terms. Not only were there static sensor hubs, but each Troden soldier and military vehicle had similar hubs as well as audio-visual feeds which allowed the command officers unparalleled access to battlefield data. Every confirmed hostile was logged by the troops on the ground and once logged the static sensor hubs would take over and track them from there, so long as the hubs remained intact the net worked flawlessly and the beauty of it was that they were disguised or hidden in plain sight, so even if the terrorists had known of their existence they would struggle to find them.

The first attacks had sprung up in the outer districts, in residential areas, they had been small and had taken the appearance of raids on local businesses and the homes of police officers; from there they had bled inwards attacking police stations, government buildings, and major economic buildings. An early attack of one of the city's two radio stations had succeeded giving the terrorist forces access to a radio transmitter, however last minute sabotage by the staff there had allowed the Troden authorities to override the signal and take it off the air after they had secured the city's other station. Once the scale of the attack on the city had become clear Volkoff had begun establishing hardpoints, with troops and equipment deployed to hold this points while other units moved through the city and evacuated the citizens to the safety of these areas; schools and hospitals were the principle structures used for this purpose, but sports centres and the local stadium also served. Once they had realised what was happening the terrorists had tried to attack some of the hardpoints, but they apparently lacked modern anti-tank or anti-air weapons, so when the Air Force and Armoured Corps had responded they had been forced to fall back. The result was chaos outside the hardpoints, the terrorists had started to wantonly destroy as much of the city as they could while raiding and looting homes and businesses owned by Troden citizens; all the while innocent Tavari locals were left to fend for themselves until the next stage of the defence operation was enacted. This stage was the establishment of controlpoints, locations where Tavari could be safely housed and contained separately from their Troden neighbours - the risk of infiltration was significant so it was a sad necessity that these controlpoints had to be guarded both inside and out.

The battle was now entering its fourth phase, with the hardpoints and controlpoints established Volkoff now started to move troops into the city to exterminate the hostile forces, led by the elite IAA squads placed under his command the army and air force had moved in in tandem striking at identified hotspots and any location suspected to be a terrorist safe house or supply dump. The RoE was clear, move in and neutralise any hostile or suspected hostile personnel by whatever means necessary; the government and High Command in the capital had authorised unrestricted military operations within the province with the aim being to secure the city of New Vierne before moving out and restoring law and order in the province as a whole. All was going well so far, his troops were highly trained and extremely well disciplined, with good equipment and support units; the terrorists were relying mostly upon light infantry with a few mortars or aged RPGs for backup; in a raid or hit and run situation this could be highly effective, but in a face to face battle they didn't stand a chance. Areas of the city confirmed as clear of civilians were mercilessly shelled by artillery and rocket batteries or strafed from the air, any locations were they tried to hold and defend were swiftly annihilated by precision air strikes, all the while troops swept the streets and sewers methodically, moving one block at a time, securing the perimeter and then moving up in a huge drag net. The city would be left in ruins Volkoff knew, but it was of little consequence to him, he had his orders and besides the government had the money to rebuild.

Methera's Cell, New Vierne
Everything had gone to hell; she had known it would, she had known better. In an all out war with the Troden military her cells could not win; they were built and trained for guerrilla war, not conventional combat, but after three of her cells had been very publicly wiped out by Troden hit squads within the space of three days her cell commanders on every level was baying for blood and she had had no choice. Yes she had had control over the distribution of weapons and equipment, but when the women she had managing the cells responsible for distribution were demanding action too there was little she could do - discipline had broken down and she dared not speak out too openly against retaliation for fear of losing control altogether. But now it was too late and there was nothing more she could do; fortunately she had convinced her own cell to hunker down and stay off the grid on the understanding that they were now needed to coordinate the fight, but at this stage there was very little coordinating left to do - their cells were being wiped out, hundreds of women being slaughtered all over the city by a government and a military which had little patience and no compassion. It vindicated her, reinforced her hatred of them, and her conviction that they were a blight on the world, but at the same time it crushed her that theyw ere being broken so easily.

[Onza]

"So, tell me again, how much are you looking to invest in that area?" asked a man whose only defining feature was the exotic line design that had been sculpted into his haircut. His suit was obviously an expensive one, but the people that he and his company passed as they walked through a series of lobbies and rooms were dressed similarly and therefore he hardly stuck out.

"A couple million should be a good head start for now. Once I can see the area starting to flourish, I don't mind pumping a bit more into the pipe," replied the man's company. This man was taller than average, and had an imposing figure overall. His voice was not one commanding of authority, however, and the manner in which he interacted with the other man suggested that he was the lesser of the two.

"That's understandable," the other man replied, as they entered an empty lobby. "I know you're not comfortable with running this sort of investment through me, given that this is your first major project and all. I want to reassure you that you're doing the right thing here." The lesser of the two seemed to interpret the other man's reassurance as an invitation to be candid, as his face displayed a look of slight worry.

"I appreciate that you can acknowledge where I would be nervous," he said. "Consider it more of understanding than mere acknowledgement," the other man replied. "After all, I was once in your position before," he said.

Suddenly, two quick flashes and muffled pops dropped both men to the floor, blood pooling from the gunshot wounds at the dead center of their foreheads. A man in a leopard blazer stepped out from the dark corner of the lobby and hovered over their bodies for a moment before wiping the barrel of his handgun with a black cloth and holstering it within his jacket. He removed his sunglasses and crouched down, examining the motionless bodies of both men closely. His gloved hand reached in the breast pocket of one of the men and removed a cigar case. A plastic card fell out when he opened it - it was the man's ID. Seeming pleased, the assailant stood back up, put his sunglasses back on, and exited the scene.

Outside, some moments later, the same man embarked a sports-style motorcycle. He checked his phone for a few moments and watched the exit to the building's parking garage. He watched as several cars entered and exited. As a particular black luxury sedan left, however, he put on a black helmet and began to pursue the car.

The world was dark due to the setting of the sun, but the streets remained illuminated by a variety of colorful, vivid lights. The opalescence of the city by night made it no easier to commit an act requiring anonymity than it would be during the bright hours of the day, but the iridescent glow from the neon signs were tantalizing enough to seduce any man tempted by acts of sin such as this one. And so the man continued his speed-limited pursuit of the black sedan, whose driver was apparently unaware of the character that shadowed behind them.

In the oncoming lane, a few police interceptors zipped by blaring sirens and adding their lights to the array of colors that already gleamed the city. This did not seem to phase the black sedan nor the assassin on the motorcycle, as both continued their routes without alteration. The sedan's elegant appearance communicated importance and wealth to outside observers, but the interior activities painted an image that many would find to be in stark contrast to expectations, at least in the day time.

In the back passenger area, three suited men clashed their champagne glasses together, laughed, and snapped photos together. Every slight turn by the driver was met with an overreaction from the passengers, whose conversations seemed unintelligible to anyone other than the inebriated. The driver, however, was stone faced, and at this point had begun to glance into the rear view mirror at an increasing frequency. His eyes weren't on the men behind him, however, they were locking on the motorbike behind them, which accelerated up until the distance between the two was a matter of inches.

"Boss, I think we're being followed," he said, with a thick accent. Of the three men in the back, only one was obviously Onzaian, and it was this man who responded to the driver. "Speed up until we shake him," he said as he resumed his rambunctious behavior with his companions. So the driver complied, and the vehicle rapidly climbed in RPM and MPH until the driver found himself running red lights and maneuvering erratically around the vehicles parked outside of the various clubs and restaurants. The men in the back reacted with nothing but joy as the vehicle swerved in and out of lanes, throwing them around and only furthering their amusement.

Before long, however, the skyline and glow of the city had begun to fade, and the bright light of the headlight that was in pursuit was still on them. The driver began to sweat a bit. "Boss, I don't think we're going to lose him." The men in the back did not respond. "Boss." No response. "Boss!" His call was met only with cheerful hollering from his passengers. "Bo--" His call was cut short this time by the vehicle hitting a rail guard and flipping over the road. The expensive vehicle rolled several times in the desert sands before finally stopping on its top. The driver unbuckled his seat belt and looked to the back. The Onzaian was obviously injured, as blood was running from his head and he was unresponsive. The other two passengers seemed sobered by the accident, and climbed out of the vehicle from their doors before plopping into the sand and laying in pain. The driver pulled out his phone to dial for emergency services, but the screen was instantly shattered and the phone flew out of his hand.

As he turned around, a quick shot killed him, followed by two more for the foreign passengers. The assailant in the leopard blazer crouched to look into the vehicle, but there was nobody else inside. He walked around the car and scanned the horizon, but seemed satisfied with his perception of the scene. He used his phone to dial a single number. "It's done, both of them," he said, before hanging up the phone. He removed the ID from one of the men in the sand and then mounted his bike and sped off back in the direction of the city.