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Address to Gholgoth, June 8, 2016 (Open)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Drakonian Imperium
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Address to Gholgoth, June 8, 2016 (Open)

Postby Drakonian Imperium » Wed Jun 08, 2016 10:59 am

"Confitentur se nosse Deum, factis autem negant, cum sunt abominati et inoboedientes et ad omne opus bonum reprobi."
"They profess that they know God; but in works they deny him, being abominable, and disobedient, and unto every good work reprobate."
-- Epistle of Paul to Titus 1:16, Bible, Vulgate Translation, 405 A.D.

__________________

Once, more than a century ago, the Press Room of the Grand Praetorian Palace was nothing more than a storeroom in the basement. Built in the 12th Century the Palace had seen much change. However, for most of its life, the Press Room had seen very little. That is, until the invention of the radio. The story went that when the room had been converted to serve as studio in the 1920s, so that the Queen could address the Imperium, several massive ceramic storage jars, dating back several millennia, had been found. Since then the radio room had become, with the advent of television, a television studio and finally it had been converted to a full Press Room.

The Press Room was, itself, somewhat less lavishly decorated than the rest of the Palace. It did not feature the decorative ornamentation of the rooms above it, but was rather simply plastered a clean white with a line of gold molding running the perimeter along the walls at waist height. At the far end of the room stood the stage, slightly raised, flanked by curtains woven from fine silken thread, colored a deep rich purple. The stage was framed by a pair of marble Corinthian Columns, inside along the back wall, perfectly centered was the Great Dragon Seal of the Imperium, flanked on either side by flags, on the left was the black and red flag of the Drakonian Imperium, on the right the black and red flag of Gholgoth. At front the stage stood a simple, unadorned, podium. There was seating for some several dozen reporters or officials, along with cameras and teleprompter at the back, where a window showed the recording booth.

It was full of both officials and reporters as Praetor Augustus Valens Drake entered. The Praetor was a tall man, dressed sharply in a finely-tailored, jet black, three-piece suit. An imperial purple sash, trimmed in gold hung across his chests and medals were pinned upon the left breast of the jacket. Normally, he walked with a cane--an item he acquired after an assassination attempt had nearly succeeded--but, on this day he was without it and stood pillar straight; tall, proud, and unhindered by pain or infirmity. He still possessed some of his old youthful vigor and virile appearance that was only beginning to fade with age as streaks of light brown and grey broke on a head of dark brown hair. Blue-violet eyes betrayed an age and the cares of forty-seven years. He bore the skin of a Drakonian, almost fair, but still possessing the olive or bronze hue born from millennia under a tropical sun.

The Praetor took the podium with skill borne from decades of oration. As heir to the monarchy, Augustus Drake had learned to speak and address and audience before he could drive an automobile. He fixed those assembled with a stern assessing gaze. The room was quiet when he began to speak with the authority of his station:

"Nearly six years ago, we, a coalition of Gholgothic States, acting under the authority of the Gholgoth Regional Alliance did censure one of our members for acts of wanton aggression, and heinous crimes against its own and the citizens of other nations. A blockade was formed, intended to limit the traffic of slaves and of war materiel.

"However, we did falter in our purpose. Through a malicious and merciless campaign of propaganda and lies and through the actions of pacifistic and opportunistic representatives in Drakonia, we allowed that blockade to end.

"And now, once again, we are challenged by that very same problem we did, then, set out to solve. We see, again, a Gholgothic State that acts selfishly only toward its own interest and not toward the interests of the region as a whole. A nation that sows discord and strife in Gholgoth and the world wherever it acts. A nation that intimidates and warmongers, conquers and enslaves. The Empire of the Scandinvans has so threatened its neighbors that we must act aggressively and militarily to end the threat it poses to regional peace and stability.

"Our crisis does, however, not end with the Scandinvans. The Reich of Kraven continues to occupy the territory of its fellow Lords of Gholgoth. It has only been nine years since the armies of the Reich mercilessly attacked the Imperial Republic of Tersanctus as it settled Nova Castra. And in that nine years it has repeatedly marched to war; against Dephire, against Milograd, against any regional power that would oppose its backstabbing expansion.

"I say to you now, that we will not accept the occupation of Shen Almaru. We will not accept the attack on Citadel City. We will not accept the continued occupation of Vetalia and Milograd. These nations shall have the right to self-determination guaranteed them as part of the Regional Alliance.

"Once more, we faced before us the unthinkable conflict: Gholgothic Lord against Gholgoth Lord. War after war have we fought amongst ourselves. The unspoken oath of Pax Gholgothica, the Gholgothic Peace, has been broken by greed. Our disagreements have not been settled. The arguments started in the Council of Lords have not been resolved. We have seen and we now are threatened by conflict which could tear apart the very fabric of our Alliance. A conflict which threatens fire and suffering for all of Gholgoth and Varathron. A conflict in which we face not foreign invaders, but domestic aggressors.

"Under this reality, many of the nations of Gholgoth have abandoned, or do believe that, the Regional Alliance has failed, fractured, or ended.

"I say this to you now: We must not give up on the Regional Alliance. We must not give up on the ideals that have brought us together and brought us so very far. The Alliance has not failed us. The Alliance is not dead. If anything, then, it is we who have failed the Alliance.

"If our solemn oaths are to mean anything, then we cannot compromise our values, we cannot be silent in the very face of injustice, we cannot for one moment surrender to what is clearly and plainly wrong or invalid. We must as Drakonians, as Gholgoths, as Varathrians, as Humans, as Sentient Beings stand for what is right, what is true, what is righteous.

"We must remember the principles which have made this Alliance extraordinary. Gholgoth was meant to be a region where exceptional nations, paragons of empires with unrivaled power and unquestionable reputation, gathered as equals with equal voice and equal authority. NationStates who defended one another unquestioningly and who honored their diversity of government and culture. Giants who stood astride the whole world and strove together to improve upon it.

"And yet, we have wavered; we have faltered in those ideals. And now, we make war against ourselves, our oaths and honor forgotten. Some seek to tear apart our union, to sully our reputation and darken the honor of the greatest nations of our grand alliance, our glorious region, our massive world, and our mighty multiverse.

"We must not be held hostage by these individuals! We must not allow Gholgoth be held hostage to lies and manipulations! We must not submit to factionalism! We must instead unite.

"We must not forsake our like ideals; the reputation for excellence, our honor bound duties and obligations to one another. Gholgoth must once again unite under common goal: To bring together in union our wayward brothers, to justly punish their arrogance, and then to restore their honor and equal place among us. And to, doing so, restore the honor and reputation of the Gholgoth and the Regional Alliance.

"Brother Nations, Brother Empires--diverse in thought and culture--and yet united in common cause: To strive toward excellence, to stand as giants among mere mortals, immortal in ideal, in reason, and in justice. To exemplify all that is great, grand, and powerful in the world and to use that power evenly and justly.

"We are Brothers. We are Gholgoth. We are united. Our wrath is mighty, our power immense, our example peerless.

"We must remember and do our utmost to strive toward those ideals which made this region, this Alliance, great. Do not abandon it.

"Semper Certans*, Gholgoth."

The Praetor gave one last nod, a slight bow of the head, a Drakonian show of respect, and then left the podium.

__________________
* Drakonian Latin, meaning "Ever" or "Always Striving".

Author’s Note: This speech was originally written for Great Gholgothic War in 2012, but not posted and has since been greatly revised to fit current circumstances.

OOC: Despite being addressed to Gholgoth, this thread is OPEN, all are encouraged and welcome to participate. Please, also feel free to contact the author via telegram or through IRC at Gholgoth's Public Channel on Esper.net: #Gothic_Santum. This thread is related to the events of Never the Twain shall meet [Closed; Gholgoth] and due to request is being duplicated there.

Please, direct all Out-Of-Character (OOC) content, questions, and comments to telegram or IRC to keep this thread as uncluttered as possible. Thank you and enjoy!
Last edited by Drakonian Imperium on Wed Jun 08, 2016 11:59 am, edited 1 time in total.

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The Kraven Corporation
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Psychotic Dictatorship

Man-made Man

Postby The Kraven Corporation » Thu Jun 09, 2016 3:33 pm

Millie Mortifere
Central Gholgoth
Spur Island Chain
Island Number 131 under Reich Designation Protocols
18:00 Standard Imperial Time


It was a cool evening, the wind was blowing a gentle breeze as people went about their business, young couples giggled and laughed as they playfully walked arm in arm full of hope and happiness despite the sudden creation of Fortress Arcadia not less than 100 km's to the North, the talk was of worry that an invasion would be imminent, but still even in the climate of fear, they all found time to enjoy life, as though it was the ultimate defiance of The Reich to not be afraid, bars and cafes were opened later than normal so that people could enjoy the peace and tranquility they currently enjoyed, they lived for today as if it could be their last, knowing that only a short distance from them death waited, bombers, artillery, weapons of death created in a realm of nightmares, were just a stone's throw away, the smell of hot food filled the streets, families enjoying meals in fancy restaurants, mothers buying daughters new clothes, if anything the area had seen a rise in prosperity as people who had been saving money for a rainy day now chose instead to spend it on luxuries...

One man walked through the streets, he wore a dark blue pair of jeans and a light grey shirt, he walked with his hands in his pockets and paid little heed to the busy street that he made his way through, he passed another bar where music pumped out into the street, he paused for a moment and looked at the direction where the music came from, his head turned a little to one side, as though this noise confused him slightly, he paused for a moment longer and then as if he remembered that he was a person a slow smile crept across his face before he gave an almost mechanical turn and continued down the street, this was Peter Jenkinson, he had recently gotten a job for local security firm and moved to the area a couple of months ago, he was settling in nicely, but other than his colleagues thinking him to be a little odd he had no problems at work, however Peter wasn't an ordinary person, he was a Kraven Replicant, he looked and acted every bit a human but was a Capitol Police Trooper, an agent of death, the only way the Reich could perform surveillance on another nation was to specially create a being who's sole existence was to infiltrate and gather intelligence on another state, occasionally called on to perform a kidnapping or an assassination, they were masters at their art, deadly in hand to hand combat, masters of subterfuge, they could merge almost seamlessly with the local populace only occasionally getting funny looks from time to time from people who thought their weird quirks were odd or passing them off as being on the autistic spectrum...

Unit 18-17 known as Peter walked through the streets, passing more bars, more people enjoying the cool evening air, until he had reached his destination, The Regional Office of the Navigators Guild, this was his target, he approached the gates where a guard stood watching the street for any signs of trouble...

"Good Evening, I am Peter Jenkinson, I work for Enigma Security, I hope you are well" Peter spoke in a quiet, well spoken voice, though the slow smile that crossed his face could almost be thought of as creepy..

"What can I do for you, Mr Jenkinson..."

Still smiling Peter continued...

"I understand that this is the Navigator's Guild, Am I correct in my assumption?" Peter smiled once more, his gaze never leaving the guard...

"That is correct Sir, this is the Navigator's Guild.." The Guard looked around for a moment thinking this could be a wind up or something else...

"What purpose does this office serve?" Peter asked again his gaze only leaving the guard for a moment to look at the building, one entrance at the front, one guard at the door, two windows on the top floor at this side, flat roof with a four foot drop to the window below...

"It houses various bits of data for the Navigators Guild, its only a regional office though, they mostly handle this area of Mille Mortifere"

"That is most interesting, Thank you for your time, I must be on my way, I do so love the architecture of these buildings..."

The guard shrugged his shoulders and moved back into his guard box, leaning on the wooden panels and taking some of the weight off his feet, Peter however continued down the road but ducked into the doorway of a closed shop, he spent the rest of the evening watching the traffic coming and going from the large building until it became dark where he headed home avoiding the building and its guards so as not to bring attention to himself any further, it would take a few more days of observing the building before a suitable time and target could be identified...
Last edited by The Kraven Corporation on Thu Jun 09, 2016 3:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"If you want a vision of the future, Winston, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever." - 1984
Scand: No one beats you Kraven for largest number killed a day.
Scand: Your nation is a glorified death camp after all.
Tiurabo: WTF Kraven.
Tiurabo: You are the last person who can tell me to be calm.
Tiurabo: You're a goddam psycho.

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


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