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Sins of our Fathers [IC | Alitheia Only]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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New Roma Republic
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Ex-Nation

Sins of our Fathers [IC | Alitheia Only]

Postby New Roma Republic » Sun May 12, 2019 8:56 am

Sins of our Fathers
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It was a situation which was years in development. Gileanas was a theocratic state that followed the Religion of the One. They worshiped a single God, who was called “the Eye” because he watched over Followers of the religion. It originated on the Roman Island, during the time of the Old Empire, around 520 BCE. The leadership of the Old Empire persecuted the worshipers of the Eye, forcing them to either leave or go underground. Leading the persecution were the religious heads of the empire: the Vestal Virgins and the Pontiffs. The Followers of the Eye settled on the mainland for many years, making a life in untamed lands outside of Roman control. Their book of worship, The Word of the Eye, taught that it was the duty of the Followers to convert all who they met in order to save them from themselves. The only way to achieve eternal peace was through the Eye. Should one refuse to convert, they could still be saved in the following manner: they were to have their eyes gouged out as they could not see the truth, so they would not be able to see. Then they were to be burned at the stake, for the fire would wash away their sins, allowing them the find rest and eternal peace. The conversions happened whenever they made contact with new groups. The Eyes were soon ostracized.

After the collapse of the Old Empire in 326 CE, the worshipers of the Eye wished to return to their homeland; a holy land of sorts. They gathered their forces and made plans. Ships were built and launched. The people would go island to island, stepping toward the main island: Insula Indigena, the Roman’s home island. The plan nearly failed from the start. A storm scattered part of the fleet and drove the rest off course. The landed on a different island than originally intended with 75% of the original force. They fought the current residents of that island, Insulum Longus. The war was brutal and long. After an initial push, the Followers of the Eye were stopped about halfway across the island. There the fighting grew to a stalemate, and eventually ended all together. The Followers of the Eye began to rebuild what had been destroyed. They attempted to convert the captured combatants. Those who wouldn’t were burned on the border, as an example as what would happen to the rest of islanders in due time, should they not convert. In response, the islanders erected crosses across the border with captured Worshipers of the Eye on it.

The Worshipers of the Eye set up their headquarters in the town they landed in: Gileana. They took the name of that town and named their nation after it: Gileanas. They believed the Eye caused the storm, which guided them to that town, so to honor that, they named their state after it. On the other half of the island, those islanders set their leadership in the village of Sicilon. In due time, they became known as Sicilonians, and the nation Sicilonia. As the years wore on, the two sides began to grow less suspicious of each other, and a status quo fell over the island. Many of the Followers of the Eye who had gone underground during the Roman Empire moved to Gileanas. In the 1500s, a secret law enforcement group was set up by religious/national leader. This was a combination of a secret police and an inquisition as all the laws came directly from the Word of the Eye. They enforced the religion and routed out any individual whose heart was not truly for the Eye.

The peace continued until the 1820s. The newly formed Novus Imperium Romanum (NIR) had found opposition in the Vestal Virgins, who claimed the NIR was suppressing their thoughts, and using the Cultus Deorum (Roman Paganism) falsely, and to their advantage. Because a purge of the Vestal Virgins would have looked bad to the Romans, they were instead banned by the Senate, and sent into exile. The Vestal Virgins moved to Sicilonia, where the Prince there had invited them. Upon arrival, the Vestal Virgins marched into the Palace, and demanded the Prince had total power to them. A religious man, and slightly timid, he gratefully handed all power, abdicating his throne, and retiring in comfort. The Virgins then began to build up the military. They would not abide by neighboring those who did not worship their Gods. To them, the idea of a single God was an abomination. Gileanas were alarmed by this change to the status quo and began to do the same. Tensions rose for the next 80 years. The Sicilonian invasion came in 1900. The initial push was brutal, with many deaths on both sides. Soon both sides dug trenches and the fighting lulled. In 1901, the first peace was signed as the trench lines became the new border. Several years later the Gileanian counter invasion occurred, which resulted in the sacking of several border towns.

Several more border wars were fought between 1900 and 1930, with both sides committing atrocities, largely burning and crucifying of POWs. These wars also featured one of the first uses of chemical weapons, used by the Sicilonians, then quickly followed by the Gileanians. In early 1930, the two nations came to a tentative peace until 1953 when Sicilonia attempted to capture the Gileanian half of the island. The invasion was repulsed and, once again, an uneasy peace returned. The NIR develop relation with Sicilonia in the 1960s, stationing troops on the border to discourage a Gileanian invasion. The Gileanians feared this buildup was a prelude to invasion and fortified their own side of the border. The expected by the Gileanians invasion never came, and thus was the status quo for the next 40 years. The two sides had several skirmishes, mostly artillery duels, but nothing major. In the early 2000s, after the ascension of Caesar Inbellis, the government of Gileanas began using aggressive rhetoric against the NIR. The threats levied by the Gileanians included the use of WMDs, chemical and biological weapons, on the Roman people should the military forces in Sicilonia not be removed. The Caesar relented and pulled all forces from Sicilonia. Unknown to the Caesar, the Gileanian’s WMD program could not hit Insula Indigena. The Medium Range Ballistic Missiles (MRBMs) were fake; the only capabilities for WMD they had were through artillery. At this point in history, the NIR was underfunding their intelligence services, and they were unable to properly investigate the Gileanian WMD program; they were stretched too thin.

So, another threat came, and more appeasement, all in hopes that the chemical and biological weapons wouldn’t fly. The NIR stopped their naval patrols around the island. Flight lanes were changed so they wouldn’t go over the island. They lost economic capital. They lost political capital. The appeasement continued, even after Caesar Inbellis was removed from office, and the current Caesar ascended.

All this time, Gileanas built up their forces, showing the world how strong they were. They made the great NIR cower. They were invincible. Rhetoric against Sicilonia was ramped up. Weapons were acquired and built at fast speeds. In late 2018, a Vestal Virgin went to the Caesar pleading for help. She presented evidence of an imminent Gileanian invasion. The Caesar refused to help, despite being given the same evidence by his intelligence services several days prior. When word reached the Gileanian leadership, the final decision seemed obvious: invade. If the NIR wouldn’t come to the aid of their religious sisters, then the Sicilonians would all convert or burn. So, early on December 24, 2018, Gileanian forces invaded Sicilonia, quickly overrunning the defenses, and reaching the end of the island by nightfall on December 25. The burnings and stonings quickly began. The Vestalis Maximus was found in her office, where she quickly surrendered. Unknown to those soldiers, she had ordered much of her government escape on boats toward the NIR. The Vestalis Maximus was the first to be burned alive. Many others, government officials, soldiers, and civilians soon followed. The temples were sacked and burned. Military Missionaries began enforcing The Word of the Eye.

When Vestal Virgin survivors were picked up by NIR naval and home guard ships – not all made it – they relayed the horror of what was happening. Gileanian news broadcasts quickly confirmed the accounts, and intelligence officials also confirmed.

The Gileanians had played into the NIR’s hand. The intelligence funding issues were solved in the early 2010s, after a terror attack in the stock trading center. When a proper team was assigned to track the Gileanian WMD program, they were surprised to find that what they had thought was the truth was wrong. The MRBMs were dummies. They did not have a ballistic missile capable of delivering a warhead to the NIR. When this fact was brought to the Caesar, he elected to sit on the information. The NIR continued their cowering. This Caesar was hoping to reestablish the empire of old. If he were to crush the Gileanians, the other island would hopefully fall in line. The Romans had expected an invasion of Sicilonia by the Gileanians for several years since the Gileanian build up began. They hoped the aftermath would be as brutal as previous wars had been (the Gileanians never swore off their eye gouging/burning beleifs). All this would provide the public support the Caesar needed to invade and restart the empire. In the prelude, the Caesar even sent envoys to Sicilonia to whisper in the ears of the Vestal Virgins, telling them that if they ramped up crucifying non-believers, criminals, political dissenters, and showing the strength of their religious resolve, the Gileanians would back down. In truth, that only angered the Followers of the Eye more, and made a goal of their war to save innocent people being sent to Under After without being saved. So they moved up their timetables to save the citizens from the pagans.

The Gileanians appeared to have a powerful, well trained and armed force. All the better for the NIR to crush. And so, early January 4, 2019, the NIR began a bombing campaign on the island to soften up Gileanian forces. NIR naval forces quickly defeated the Gileanian navy and cut the island off from the outside. In the sky, the Imperial Air Force shot down plane after plane, establishing air superiority, and enforcing a no-fly zone. Even a civilian jet liner that had taken off from Gileanas right before the air strikes began was shot down. It was carrying citizens to the far side of the island to begin a colonization and assimilation effort.

In March, the island was invaded with 4 Legions. The Legions made quick work of the inferior Gileanian forces. Two Legions landed in Sicilonia, the other two in Gileanias. Both began to push inward, hoping to meet in the middle. By May 6, 2019, victory was called with all resistance collapsing within a day after the invasion and mop up operations nearing completion. NIR flags were raised on both sides of the border. The military governor took up residence in the old capitol building of Gileanas.

Back in the NIR, the Vestal Virgins struck a deal with the NIR. They conceded control of Sicilonia for their old college. There, they began the process for selecting the new Vestalis Maximus. Though they lost the leadership of their nation, Sicilonia, the Vestal Virgins regained the religious leadership they lost in the 1820s.

As the sun rose over a smoking island on May 7, 2019, the NIR military went to work rebuilding what was destroyed, burying the bodies of the murdered, and rounding up any Gileanians who resisted the occupation and placing them in the hastily made POW camps with the captured soldiers.

Last edited by New Roma Republic on Sun May 12, 2019 8:56 am, edited 1 time in total.
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The United Remnants of America
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Postby The United Remnants of America » Wed May 22, 2019 12:03 am

Image Secretary of State JackO'Neal
Olympia, URA, GRCS
5/7/2019 - 8:15


Impromptu meetings were always clusterfucks.

The conference room nestled deep inside the Remnant Capital building was itself nestled deep inside the city of Olympia's governmental quarter. It was packed with bodies, the most important of which were seated around the rectangular conference table. The table was oak, and it was heavy as hell. The legs had long ago sunk into the blue carpet of the room, and the top, while still polished, had the deep scratches and faint coffee stains of decades of use by decades of politicians, advisers, and military officials. At the center of the table on the side opposite the wall of computer monitors and TV screens was the biggest chair, currently filled by President Drake himself. From that point, depending on how far away your seat was from Drake usually noted how important you were. Of course, there were the extra chairs stuffed in between the normal seating that were filled with assistants or other officials who had been brought in.

Jack was the Secretary of State, and denoting this fact, he was the second chair down on Drake's right. By all accounts, he was the fourth most powerful man in the URA, and his position on the Oversight Committee proved this. That's why the only man who sat between him and Drake was Benjamin McAffee, the Commander in Chief of the Remnant Military, while the man immediately to Drake's left was Nathan McGee, the Speaker of the Senate. Of course, the other Secretaries were here as well, as well as directors and chairmen of military and intelligence organizations, various Governors-Generals who'd been called in, and even representatives of the CPD and the Big Three corporations. For each representative, there were usually two or three assistants, experts, or some other minor official either stuffed next to their charge, or sitting behind their charge. The less important people had chairs against the walls of the conference room, and the least important were standing. O'Neal thought that was an ironic way to think of these "least important" officials, when they had to be extremely important just to be here on an impromptu meeting. Either way, the most important people in the room were the members of the Politburo, an unofficial yet very real collection of the powerful elite of the Remnant government.

Across from Drake on the long wall of the conference room, a dozen monitors were lit up. Most were set to a news station or live satellite feeds. Seven of them were secure video feeds to similar looking rooms throughout the GRCS. They were wide angle views, but the collection of people at each similar conference table were much the same as here, and in the center of each of those tables was a person similar to Drake. From his seat, Jack could see the faces of Zhanguanese President Zhupan, Nongean Chairman Ji-hoon, Canaamese President Anh, Namavarian King Satou, Pragmatan Governor-General McCabe, Alenterran Chancellor Reid, and Modenian Chancellor Ball. Those six men and one woman, along with President Drake, made up the leading council of the Greater Remnant Cooperation Sphere, but only Drake, Zhupan, and Reid were the current three voting members. The feeds to those sets were currently muted, but they'd been set up ahead of time as each minor nation met with their officials before the leaders themselves met with only their closest key advisers.

Again, Jack thought this was a clusterfuck.

The Remnant SecState sat quietly as muted conversations flowed all over the conference room. Everyone was trying to inform everyone else of positions and news as it came in. Jack really only listened in to Drake's conversation with George Simmons, who was the Secretary of GRCS Relations and essentially Jack's counterpart; While Jack oversaw the Remnant relationship with the worlds' governments and institutions, George oversaw the Remnant relationships within the GRCS. It was a recent addition, and Jack knew George only headed it up because of his family connections and his fame from being a war hero when he was in the Army, but the fact of the matter was that not only did his department step on the toes of Jack's departments, but it stepped on the toes of Secretary of Interior Bagola's departments as well. But that was politics in the GRCS. Everything had layers and the byzantine bureaucracy had taken on a life of its own years ago.

Jack blinked and tuned back into the conversation. Only two days ago, the NIR had finished off a months-long campaign that had started earlier this year with bombing runs and air interceptions of the wayward island nations of Gileanas and Sicilonia. They'd finished it off with a land invasion that took only two months, even though it had really been over in days. Jack assumed the Romans had just hedged their declaration of victory by a few weeks in order to insure they'd fully crushed the militaries of the two nations and had put the boot on any organized resistance.

Of course, through the bombings and interceptions, there had been some snafus, but the GRCS had largely looked the other way on the whole ordeal, taking the Roman statements of "peaceful interventions" at face value while at the same time acting as a buffer between Rome's little island war and the world at large. Even when the ground invasion had begun, the GRCS had accepted the Roman statements that it was just a peacekeeping and intervention force to stave off the religiously-charged acts of violence that were occurring. Of course, nobody in the GRCS believed that lie, since even from news footage and satellite feeds it was plainly obvious this was a war of conquest, but the GRCS wasn't about to strain the relationship between the Luscios Three and the RVR at large. Rome was too valuable an ally, and disagreements in the past had only served to damage both nations grievously.

Besides, Rome had looked the other way when the URA had begun building the GRCS by questionable means. Why should the GRCS now object when Rome surreptitiously began doing much the same thing with the area that the ancient Imperium Romanum had ruled?

Of course, with the official announcement of victory today, and the very public reports of POW camps now all over the news being filled with captured soldiers and civilians alike, the GRCS had to make some kind of statement about their neighbor and enemy-turned-ally. Most of the Remnant, and the wider GRCS circle of governments seemed to be of a mind to let the Romans continue without comment, while at the same time keeping the prying eyes of foreign interests out of the affairs Luscios. A small minority, however, wanted something to be done, even if it was backroom pressure on the NIR to lessen their treatment of civilians and to avoid a humanitarian crisis, or worse yet, a series of war crimes.

Drake, however, was apparently of the former opinion. He was going to wait to offer a weighty public comment on the situation until it developed further. Until then, he was only offering token support of the Roman ability to lessen the lose of life and their ability to stabilize a growing hotspot of religious extremism and terrorism. Good guys get a win, bad guys get a loss, the RVR and Luscios as a whole win.

Personally, Jack was getting more and more surprised that the Aegaeon Pact membership hadn't accosted Drake, him, or his Diplomatic Corps representative about the situation. Maybe they'd ignored the relatively minor conflict or were waiting with held breath to see what the GRCS did about it first? Maybe nobody really cared about Sicilonia or Gileanas or their national sovereignty?

The mumbles were ongoing. Jack leaned back in his chair and awaited the time when the lesser advisers were dismissed and the GRCS meeting began. He would remain along with Secretary of Defense Conrad and SecGRCS Simmons. That's when a real decision would be made, anyways. For now, this meeting was just inflating egos and careers through elbow-rubbing.

Jack let out a sigh, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. He hoped Drake would call this meeting soon, or else he was going to scream.
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New Roma Republic
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Postby New Roma Republic » Fri May 24, 2019 8:50 pm

The announcement came 3 days after the ending of hostilities on the island that housed Gileanas and Sicilonia. It was broadcasted from a press conference in the Imperial Palace, the home and office of the Caesar. The conference was short, and the Caesar did not stay for questions after. The entire statement was:

“Ladies, Gentlemen, fellow Romans, I come before you today to announce that our brethren in Sicilonia have been freed! As we have agreed with the Vestal Virgins, control of Sicilonia has been transferred to the NIR, with the Vestal Virgins being given back a spot at their old college. I am very happy to be able to correct the mistake made two hundred years ago by our ancestors. It was not beneficial to our religion by separating it for political purposes. Undoing this mistake is a historical achievement.

“Sicilionia is currently in the process of being integrated into the NIR as a province. They shall have elections in the coming months for Senate members. A governor is being chosen from the active military until next national election cycle. Sicilionians are now full citizens of the NIR with all benefits and responsibilities thereof.

“Finally, military forces shall stay in Gileanas for the forceable future. They are preparing to and will quickly begin distributing food, clothes, and other humanitarian supplies to the Gileanans. I am handing jurisdiction of the Gileanas to the governor of the Sicilonian Province. In addition, IRSCS Clementia has been deployed to Gileanas to provide medial aid to the nation. I also invite other nations to bring humanitarian aid. We are happy for any and all help with getting the Gileanans back on their feet.

“I would like to thank you all for your time. No questions.”
Cnaeus Caepasius Marsicus was sitting in the back, where all the civilian reporters sat. Citizens always got preferential seating at press conferences. He didn’t even jump up shouting a question like everyone else did. He had been at these long enough to know there was no point in trying. Even if the Caesar was going to take questions, he and the other civilians would not be called on. He slipped out before the Praetorian Guard started to herd people out. He walked down the hall, turned left, right, into the staircase, down 3 floors, and came to the cube farm that were the Press Offices. He walked all the way to the back where his desk was. Sitting down, he unlocked his computer and begin drafting a report for his boss. He had a two- or three-minute advantage over the other reporters who waited yelling questions, trying to get the Caesar to turn around.

He sighed as the silence was broken by the others returning to their desks. Ten minutes after returning to his desk, he sent his report to his boss. It wasn’t his best work, but this called for more a timely report than a perfect one. Not that it mattered since most people didn’t even pay attention to his article. And why should they? He was just a civilian. Nothing more. It was an issue he had to deal with his whole life when he decided to not join the military. Though not technically a second-class citizen – he had all the same rights as Citizens – there was a lot of prejudice built into society against civilians. And now the Sicilonians will be subject to the same thing.

Cnaeus began looking through his emails. One was encrypted and marked ‘CONFIDENTIAL’. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get emails like that. He ran his decrypted and opened the attached file. He gasped. The file contained pictures from a Roman POW camp. And they weren’t the pictures being shown on the news. There was also a note attached that said “The lies will end soon”. Interesting. He had no way to verify the pictures at his office at the Imperial Palace, so he forwarded the email to his boss, saved the pictures to a flashdrive and external hardrive. You could never be too sure. Pocketing the flashdrive and storing the hardrive back in it’s hiding place, he left to talk to his boss. This could be a major break for Cnaeus, and possibly a promotion. He didn’t even think much of what the note meant.
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Empire of Donner land
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Postby Empire of Donner land » Mon May 27, 2019 5:56 pm

Image Major Secratary Aloviehn Dort
Bogt, Donner Land
5/8/2019 - 1:30 AM


The cold rain pattered as Aloviehn leaned against the November Street Building next to one of its exits underneath an outside roof to protect himself from the water, the formal center of Donner Land's Military and Intelligence Administration was here. The white chalky exterior of the building was uncomfortable to lean on, and there were no seats to deter loiterers and smokers like him. The street lights were bright but focused, this exit was only lit by a dim red lit sign that read the word "Lehv" over the door, the Donnish word for exit. Occasionally cars would swing around a corner and blind him momentarily with their headlights, lighting him and the entirety of the exit for a short while. His cigarette was more of a dim orange glow. Aloviehn looked around him to see that he wasn't the only one that frequented this spot, he could see cigarette butts dotting the ground around him, stomped. or in the trash.

Donner Land wasn't all snow, because of the wind blowing in from the west, they impacted the Mountains causing a lot of it's known snow precipitation. But during the Summer, and mostly the transition from Spring, most months up north would become cold rainy days due to the higher temperature, all this before fall set in and the familiar snowfalls begin. He checked his phone, the temperature in his area reading about 7 degrees celsius, which was about right if a bit lower than average. A light wind blew in from his right.

Aloviehn wasn't standing here to watch the rain or to be on a smoke break, he was here to wait for someone about something important. The Military Council was convening with elected military officials, numbering fifty individuals, about the ongoing situation in Luscious with Rome, who had just annexed a large portion of what was its boundaries some millennia ago. He was merely a Bureaucrat in the Military Council, not a politician, and so wasn't obligated to go. But he did know someone who was who would meet him here sometime soon, he had to, his Car was parked out this way. A black four door Sedan with a Donnish Flag on it's dash.

Soon enough, he heard a click and the creaking sounds of a push door being opened to his right, he stood up from the wall and dropped his cigarette into the soaked ground. "Bareh, I'm over here," he spoke, walking around the metal door. In front of him was a smaller man, around five foot eight inches tall in a black coat, the Donnish Flag on the right breast pocket. His eyes were blue and his face was wrinkled with stress and age, bald.

"Ah, yes, Alohvien. I forgot about our meeting, I was so tied up with the proceeding in there, forgive me," General Secretary Bareh Ghoren spoke. He was only one of the fifty that were debating and speaking about the situation as well as the only one he could get a hold of in these busy days.

"It's no problem, again I just want to know what's going on. They didn't allow any of us, y'know, Bureaucrats in for whatever reason. Have the Military Council decided on what to propose to the Civilian Council about what the course of action is?" Aloviehn asked.

"The news is rather grim," Bareh assured to him, the old man wore a face of discontent.

"Haven't reached a decision?"

"More so that we cannot reach a decision, the Aegaeon Pact has decided to Condemn Rome for their actions as the war with Sicilonia and Annexation of it, of course, was deemed Illegal. Both by us and everyone else, except for Vanquaria and the GRCS but that's just obvious. Whatever action we want to take, be it aggressive or not regardless of this Condemnation, must go through our allies in PACT and that will take time, as you know the Valaran Empire gets rather... grumpy when we don't communicate with them correctly. In the meanwhile, you know the situation developing in the Sarrukh Vale," Bareh explained slowly, stopping to pull out an umbrella from his coat and unfurl it, a street salting truck roared past as he did so, flashing its headlights past them.

Bareh continued speaking, "the long story short is that most of my Colleagues simply see dealing with this situation with Rome as rather a waste of time when we have tensions rising so close to us here. Even those from the Navy exclaimed such a thing, despite this situation being of the very reason we need a stronger Navy. Besides, the Aegaeon Pact has already given them a slap on the hand, and since our discussions today has solidified our stance, it's unlikely that our Allies will do very much either themselves, that was what most of us think anyway." Bareh explained further, before in finality giving a shrug, and a look that said: "it can't be helped".

"So we're just going to let them get away with it uncontested?"

"For now, probably."

"Let me put in a few calls for a few favors with the CIB, then..."
Last edited by Empire of Donner land on Wed May 29, 2019 12:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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New Roma Republic
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Postby New Roma Republic » Sat Jun 15, 2019 7:06 pm

Caesar’s Office
Imperial Palace, New Rome, NIR
5/9/2019

“So the Aegeon Pact decided to condemn our liberation of our Roman Brothers” said the Chief of Staff for the Roman Military. The men were arrayed around the Caesar’s office, all turned so they were facing, at least in part, to the North wall, where the Caesar sat in his desk, looking over the condemnation for the 5th time that day. He was expecting this, at least in part, but it still stung a little. It was his job to do what he saw as the best for his citizens, and the leading nations in the world disagreed. Except the GRCS and Vanquria, but that was unsurprising. GRCS was an ally that liked having some attention taken away from itself, and Vanquria had similar aspirations as the NIR. It would’ve been bad form to condemn the NIR.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs cleared his throat before replying “Yes, though that doesn’t really mean much. A slap on the wrist, though some nations would love to do more. Cooler head have prevailed, and we only get this condemnation. What we should be more worried about are our allied in the RVR. Our representative there has informed me that they are not happy that they were not informed of our invasion and plans.”

The Chief of Staff grunted in disgust. “Fuck them,” he growled. “We don’t need to tell them of every military operation we make. And what our nation does is our own business. The GRCS is too nosey for their own good. It’ll get them in trouble one day.”

“Though I don’t agree with all of that, I understand where you are coming from” replied the Minister of the Interior. “That being said, we mustn’t piss off our allies, especially ones as close – both physically and metaphorically.”

“Yes, plus Arktic, which houses some of our soldiers and an important space launch facility was not happy as well. We would do good not to repeat these actions again” added the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The Chief of Staff looked as if he were about to say something when a look from the Caesar shut him up.

“Opiter is right. We shouldn’t keep our allies uninformed of actions like this. That was a mistake on my part, and I will draft an apology to the RVR” said the Caesar. “Now, as for this condemnation, there’s no reason to be worried by it. They will not dare strike us or our island. They will not act against us.”

“What of the prisoners we have i-“
“We cannot do anything with prisoners that do not exist Sextus. Do not imply such things again.” The man who mentioned it, Sextus Cincius Lupicinus shrank back into his chair. It was bold for an executive assistant like him to speak up, but the Caesar didn’t mind. Still, he thought I should have the Praetorian Guard investigate him. Don’t want a security risk to know something like the POWs that don’t exist. The room had an awkward quiet after the executive scolding. The Caesar looked at his desk clock. 1534. They had been in the meeting for 2 hours already. It was probably time to adjourn.

“Gentlemen, thank you coming today. You all have your assignments, and I have some work to do. I am adjourning this meeting until,” he checked his calendar, “two days.” As they filed out, the Caesar opened his computer and began drafting his message to the RVR representatives.


Cnaeus Caepasius Marsicus was at his desk at the office. He hadn’t been to the Imperial Palace cube farm since he got the strange email. His boss pulled him from there and had someone take his place – a temporary thing so Marsicus could relax a little. That was what the boss had told the Imperial Palace Press Corps, at least. In reality, Marsicus was investigating the email. He hadn’t gotten far. He visited the POW camp at Fort Minotaur Army Base and Security Compound. The Imperial Army was very welcoming of press, even civilian press, which struck Marsicus as odd. Usually they drug their feet in letting civilians on base, while Citizen press companies could come and go as they pleased.

The POWs seemed strange too. They didn’t seem dejected or defeated. They seemed almost…happy, maybe content? They didn’t seem like prisoners, not ones that were just crushed and had their nation destroyed.

He was looking at his cork board with strings attaching photos to other photos when another email came in. Same as last time, it was labeled CONFIDENTIAL, and was sent from a different generic email address. Marsicus opened the attachment, and his jaw dropped. All it was a location. It was a military base, one that was designated a “Hot Zone”. Biological agents were researched there, for cures, the government claimed, but many assumed it was actually for weapons research. And the sickly men in the pictures he was sent matched the descriptions of some of the diseases that were researched there.\

Marsicus gathered his things and left in a hurry. He had to see a man who could get him onto the base. It would be a risk to his own life, but in the pursuit of the truth, it was worth it.
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Empire of Donner land
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Founded: Jun 28, 2015
Democratic Socialists

Postby Empire of Donner land » Wed Jul 03, 2019 7:03 am

Image Field Agent "Socrates"
United Remnants Waters, Patriot Sea
5/10/2019 - 12:00 AM


Socrates stood on the deck leaning on the rail, looking east to the Remnant coast. The waters of the Patriot Sea glimmered in the midnight Moonlight as the fishing vessel gently rolled and rocked to the small waves of the water. As the ship moved gently, the coast ahead stayed still with the motions, the skyline of a large City stretching out and falling, the buildings becoming shorter and shorter until the outer reaches devolved into but suburban areas and rural reaches. The light produced by the City reflected off the sea itself if only just a little at the distances the boat was, the City and it's light dancing with the waves. It was all a little more familiar than the Arctic they were crossing to get to the Patriot sea. Additionally, when going through the canal, he couldn't help but feel that their ship was being watched or something, the anxiety of not yet knowing their mission yet had also set in.

Behind him, he heard the sound of boots on metal deck, turning he saw the ship's captain walking towards him, carrying a folder in one hand. He wore a yellow raincoat, overalls, and a wool cap, it was a stereotype to be sure, and he seemed nothing like a real fisherman, but this wasn't a real fishing boat either. The middle-aged man, about 35, was scruffy and looked like they hadn't seen a wink of sleep in maybe about a week judging by the bags under his eyes, Socrates hoped it was apart of his cover. The moon illuminated the deck with its white glow, their shadows inky black. Socrates spoke first with a question, "are you going to give us the details now after dragging us all this way to the Patriot Sea?"

The Fisherman's accent shifted from his mock "Old Fisher" one to a proper Donnish accent as he spoke his reply. "Aye, I had to run the ship's course that I logged to avoid suspicion and five people on the deck of a fishing vessel at the dead of night isn't all too subtle either. File has the details of your operation in Occupied Sicilonia and Gileanas. Information is shaky since it's mostly from satellites and rumors, but they spotted what looked to be a POW Camp, the CIB want's pictures and intelligence on the place." The Fisherman explained, handing the File to Socrates.

"Intel on a POW Camp? What's so important about knowing so much about it, they just finished the war, you'd think this would be self-explanatory enough to not need to send in a DARE team," Socrates asked and spoke, he expressed confusion at such a relatively mundane task from the C.I.B.

"They believe there's something..." the Fisherman paused, bringing his hand to his chin before continuing, "...off, about the one you're investigating."

"Off... how?"

"Pictures in the news depicted the Prisoners as almost delighted to be destroyed and annexed. You're probably being sent in to debunk this." The Fisherman replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Should be pretty simple, in and out."

"Eh, never really pans out to be that way," Socrates spoke, leaning against the rail behind him, crossing his arms. "What's our equipment going to be, standard kit?"

"You're landing in Roma with civilian garb as tourists, not a good cover, but good enough for the time you'll be there. Your arms and ammo have already been dead dropped by one of my associates in the forest outside the port that you're going to in Roma as well, it's geocached and your OSS equipment will have its coordinates." The sailor finished, somewhat out of character for what he was wearing and what his job was supposed to be, though Socrates was happy enough to have this insertion this well planned out. It was usually more brute force than this, and something told him there was a reason for it. "We'll head out in the morning to the Port here where you'll meet your contact with the GRCS, get some sleep."

Socrates could feel something not right when the Fisherman said they'd be stopping in this port, he thought they just stopped here to refuel for a short while then head on, he opened his eyes and shook his head in bewilderment upon hearing "contact with the GRCS?" Socrates then repeated.

"Right, they left that part out too, spooks negotiated what appears to be some kind of cooperative deal. I don't know anything about that, I just run the Boat, sure your friends over in the city there'll get you straightened though," the Fisherman pointed at the skyline, explaining.

Socrates looked to the skyline and shimmering sea one more time and sighed then shrugged, "Alright... I'll brief my guys and we'll get some shut eye. Wake us in the morning when we're supposed to head out."
Last edited by Empire of Donner land on Fri Jul 05, 2019 1:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
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New Roma Republic
Minister
 
Posts: 2579
Founded: Mar 31, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby New Roma Republic » Sat Jul 20, 2019 12:13 pm

Roman Biological Research Complex, Front Gate
Daedalium, Caesarium Province, NIR

Marcius drove up in a black sedan. He was wearing the uniform of an Imperial Army Optio Centurion, equivalent to a Captain (O-3). Though he had never been in the military, he had impersonated soldiers before. Sometimes it was the only way to get information. Many Citizens were unwilling to talk to Civilians, especially reporters.

Marcius’s contact had a way to enter the ID he was using into the database of military personnel. Hopefully that would be enough to get onto this base. With it being a biological research facility, this base would be more difficult than most to get on, but he had to try. He pulled up to the guard house, and rolled down the window. A guard walked up, while another stood in the house, TR-14 in hand.

“Good Afternoon, Sir” greeted the Guard.

“Good Afternoon, Decurion” replied Marcius, noting the rank on the man’s sleeve.

“What can I do for you, Centurion?”

“I’m looking to get on the base. I have a meeting with a scientist about some disease research he was doing.”

“Can I see your ID?”

“Of course” Marcius handed over the fake ID. Similar forgeries had gotten him onto other bases, and this quality was just as good as the others. The guard walked back into the house, went onto his computer. The other kept watching Marcius, who waved. The guard didn’t react. The first one came back.

“Your ID checks out sir, but I don’t have you on any lists for entering this facility. Which scientist was it you were meeting with?”

shit Marcius thought. Keeping his cool he responded “Dr. Nero, of infectious diseases. He said he would call me in, though,” he voice dropped down “between you and me, he is a bit forgetful of things not pertaining to his research.”

“Dr. Nero…I see. Standby Sir, I will verify.” The guard walked back into the hut, tapping the other guard twice. The guard’s eyes narrowed, and he hefted his gun, but kept the muzzle pointed toward the ground.

Fuck, shit. Mother of Iupiter, I’m going to die. After a couple minutes the guard walked back, tapping the other once as passing. The guard relaxed.

“Sir, Dr. Nero apologizes for troubling you. Please follow the signs for guest parking.” The guard saluted, and Marcius returned the salute.

“Thank you Decurion” and he drove through the open gate.


Marcius was worried as he walked in. He should’ve been arrested back there. He didn’t actually know Dr. Nero, so how did he know him? He received and returned several salutes on his way in. The receptionist directed him toward Nero’s office. On his way there, he slipped down a side hall, where he found the lunchroom. Sitting on a table unattended was an ID badge for someone in infectious diseases. He pocketed it as he brushed past the table toward the water fountain.

Back in the hall, he continued to the cleanrooms. The cleanrooms had windows that observers could look in at them. The glass was thick. It is said to be thicker that the windows that protect the Caesar in the Imperial Palace, for if these windows break, there could be an outbreak of a very deadly disease.

He found the Level 1 rooms; the “Hot Zone”. This is where the most infectious diseases were. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a lab, with lab equipment. Why did that email direct me here Marcius wondered. He continued around the halls, trying to look like he knew where he was going, when he noticed a door that was unlabeled, but had a card swipe next to it. On a whim, he took the card he found out and swiped it. The door unlocked, which surprised him. He entered, went down a flight of stairs, and stopped cold. There, behind glass, were men. They were separated into several rooms. One looked sick, the others looked healthy, though worried and stressed. And the last was empty. As he passed, no one reacted to his presence. Looking at a screen in a corner, he saw that these were one way mirrors.

There were clipboards at each window. Picking up the one at the room of the sick, it read “Level 2 subjects introduced to virus when half of Level 1 subjects had died. Level 2 began showing symptoms 3 days after introduction”. Each clipboard showed that each group had a different level. Oh my Gods, they’re testing diseases on them. He found and sat at a computer monitor in the corner of the room. It was locked. Not wanting to trip any alarms, he didn’t attempt to log on. Instead, he began looking for any hard copy documents around. He found some in the desk. Mission outline, project goals, etc. As he read them, he began to feel sick to his stomach. He took pictures of each page, plus of the clipboards and prisoners. That’s when he realized clothes they were wearing. They were tattered, but there was no mistaking it: they were Gileanian military uniforms.

He set up an email to his boss, and 2 other associates, then checked is phone. No reception. I need to get these pictures out asap. He ran upstairs and opened the door a crack. He didn’t see anyone. He opened the rest of the way walked out and opened his phone to hit ‘send’. As his thumb went down into the touch screen, his body seized and he fell to the floor. He convulsed or several seconds until a clacking noise stopped. He was dazed but looked up just in time to see a boot land on his face.
IC call me NRI, Novus Romanum Imperium, or the New Roman Imperium; OOC call me Roma or New Roma
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New Roma Republic
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Roma Republic » Sun Jul 21, 2019 2:26 pm

Roman Biological Research Complex, Security Office
Daedalium, Caesarium Province, NIR

A splash of water woke Marcius from the darkness. He looked around wildly. He was sitting in a chair, with his wrists bound to the arms of the chair, and his ankles bound to the legs. A single bright light was shining into his eyes. There were a few figures around the room, and a mirror in front of him.

A figure walked forward. He was holding some sort of instrument. “Mr. Marcius, or are you going by Centurion Flavious now?” He smirked. “This certainly is an interesting situation you have put us in.”

“How do you know who I am?” asked Marcius. The man punched him.

“I will be asking the questions. Your phone is being searched as we speak. I need to know how you knew to look on this base. Who is your informant?”

“I don’t know” whack Blood flew out of his mouth as the punch connected.

“Wrong answer. I ask again, who told you to come here? Who is your contact?”

“I told you, I don’t know.” whack, whack these punches landed in his stomach, making Marcius double over.

“I see that just asking isn’t going to suffice.” The man motioned and two others came from the shadows. One carried a cloth and the other a bucket filled with a liquid. The man with the bucket put is down, and moved the chair so Marcius was on his back. The man with the cloth covered it with the liquid in the bucket. The original man picked the bucket up and walked over. “Last chance Mr. Marcius. Who is your contact?”

“Pluto shall give you what you’re due” Marcius spat back.

“So be it.” One man held Marcius’s head, another put the cloth over his mouth, and the man who asks the questions began pouring the water into Marcius’s mouth.


The zipper of the black bag hid the view of the black and blue face of dead man. “He was weaker than some of the other civies” commented one of the interrogators.

“I pulled his medical file as soon as I found out who he was” replied one of the medical personnel. “Turns out his heart was weak. The electric shocks were what did him in. I’ve told you guys to cool with the interrogation of civilians.”

“Ha! That’d take the fun out of it” commented another interrogator.

“Won’t help much now” added the head interrogator. “We got some of what we needed. I’m convinced he didn’t know the contact. Now only if we could get if he told anyone…” The man walked out of the room. His job was done. Now he had to file a report that would never see the light of day.

He sat at his desk. As his computer booted, his desk phone rang. He looked at the number. IT Security. He picked up the phone and asked “What is it?”

“We just got done looking through the phone of…Marcius, the infiltrator. He took several pictures of the experimental chambers, and paperwork. We also checked his email. It appears he was able to get an email with the pictures off. We have the recipients, but they seem to be burner accounts. We can kick this up to state security so they can check out the IP addresses.”

“Do that. We need this hole plugged asap. I will be sure to include that in my report.” He hung up the phone. Fuck, he thought, just what we need. The man picked the phone back up and called his boss. “Sir, there’s been a development…


Iupiter News Complex, Executive Editor Office,
New Rome, Roma Province, NIR

With his VPN on, the chief editor checked his burner emails. Each one would only be used once before discarded. One of them had an email. He checked who it was from. Cnaeus Caepasius Marsicus? He didn’t send it on a burner email? He should be better than this He checked out the email, and saw it had a file attached. He ran an antivirus scan before opening. When the file opened and the pictures loaded, he gasped. Oh my Gods…this can’t be. He quickly saved the pictures to an external hard drive and sent them to a few burner emails and a couple contacts, one being a Senator who has sentiments against the current governance.

Two other reporters, contacts of Marcius took similar actions. They spread to pictures among contacts, who would spread them among theirs. That way, even if State Security would track down the initial recipients, others could continue the work.

Journalism isn’t supposed to be clandestine. For most of the reports, citizens and civilians alike, it isn’t. But for the few who wish to seek the truth, it is just a part of life.
IC call me NRI, Novus Romanum Imperium, or the New Roman Imperium; OOC call me Roma or New Roma
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Urran
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Founded: Jan 22, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Urran » Tue Jul 23, 2019 10:02 pm

Undisclosed Location, Urran

Two sets of dress shoes clacked against the marble floors of Central Intelligence Bureau HQ. One was a slow, calm, yet purposeful pace. The other was rapid, more urgent as it approached the other set of shoes. The first set came to a halt and turned around.

A young woman, not much older than a high school girl, freshly recruited probably, scurried up to a much older man. Her bright eyes and near perfect skin contrasted greatly with the cold, calculated eyes and wrinkled face of an elder spy master, a veteran of the Cold War and head of the 6-10 Office, the branch of the CIB tasked with monitoring digital media world wide, and, if necessary, taking steps to eliminate digital leaks, going so far as to be responsible for several known cyber attacks against foreign outlets.

"Director Akihibe!" the young woman stammered, nearly tripping in her high heels, stumbling and grabbing up the manilla folders she was carrying.

This is what happens when you recruit them right out of high school. Great with computers, these new kids, but lacking the poise of a true agent....for now anyway. The Director thought to himself.

"Yes, Miyuke San, what is it?" he asked calmly, taking the folder from the frazzled new recruit as she caught her breath. It was hard enough to run from one wing of the building to the other, let alone in heals.

"These photos have been spreading like mad amongst reporters in the NIR." The young woman explained, still panting as her boss opened the folder calmly. There was the distinct crinkle of picture paper as he looked at each one in turn.

"They appear to show a bio weapons facility using human test subjects. Military uniforms seem to indicate prisoners of war." she explained, straitening herself out and wiping some loose lint off of her nicely pressed suit.

Her elder took a moment or two with each photograph, looking at them from multiple angles before placing them back in their folder and holding it to his side.

"The leak?"

"Unknown origin, Sir. Possibly someone on the inside. One of our field agents in a news agency first discovered them. No story has been published as of yet, but you can bet it is only a matter of hours...perhaps minutes. We are behind the curve for the moment. Our team is still trying to trace the email streams and backdoor what we can. As far as we can tell, the pictures are authentic."

"They certainly look that way...." There was a pregnant pause. "These will be on the Prime Minister's desk as soon as possible. Thank you, Miyake San. Keep me updated." The Director replied, stroking his chin as he turned and walked away, pace as slow and deliberate as before.

The young agent bowed deeply and turned away back in the direction she had come, a little slower this time, but still at a hurried gate as their footsteps grew fainter and fainter until.....silence.
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The United Remnants of America
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Posts: 17599
Founded: Mar 09, 2013
Democratic Socialists

Postby The United Remnants of America » Fri Jul 26, 2019 7:18 am

Co-Written by The United Remnants of America and Empire of Donner Land
Image Socrates|Image Sage
Gulf of Beilei
5/11/2019 - 9:00 AM


The unmarked fishing boat had arrived late under the cover of night at the docks of Rain. Rain was a peculiar town, nestled at the foot of the southern mountain range on the border between the Patriot Sea, Canaam, Zhangua, and the United Remnant Avtarkiya. Being in its unique location, the town of Rain was so creatively named as it experienced almost daily rainfall, an extreme of the rest of the URA, which was already mostly a marine climate with heavy precipitation and cool temperatures.

Waiting at the predetermined dock along the quay where the four CIB agents offloaded from their fishing boat was an unmarked van with two figures standing about. It was decidedly cliche, but they weren’t going to not bring a van to load the Donnish agents and their equipment. That would just be inefficient. The CIB Agents were hesitant at first, before Socrates pushed them forward with a few words to get whatever this was over with.

The first to greet the Donnish on Remnant soil was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his head and a week’s worth of beard growth giving a shadow to the features of his face. He spoke with an Olympian accent and introduced himself as Sage. The younger woman with copper-colored hair didn’t introduce herself, and neither did the younger man who drove the van. They actually never addressed the Donnish directly, but Banshee and Cross had been working with Sage for years now, and they were more than familiar with the Donnish, their intelligence services, and their language. This was probably the first multinational carload of people that all spoke fluent Donnish to ever exist in the GRCS.

The four CIB Agents themselves, Socrates, Diogenes, Plato, and Aristotle, sat down in the van uncomfortably and readied themselves for this international Road Trip of sorts. Socrates wasn’t all too excited to suddenly have the Remnants involved in their Operation, but sadly, it appeared that they didn’t exactly have a say in whether or not they did. If it were up to him, they would already be in Gilneas by now.

Sage and the woman helped the CIB agents move their equipment into the van while the woman got into the passenger seat and Sage got in the back of the van to ride with the Donnish. Sage explained the ride was going to take several hours. “We’re only stopping for gas, so you better eat and piss when you get the chance, friends,” Sage had said in Donnish with a paternal smile on his face.

Sage had realized early on why his team had been picked. They’d been a three-person operational unit for a few years now. They had all learned Donnish for a previous mission where they’d had to go into the country in order to accomplish a very specific set of tasks that might or might not have led to an eventual coup of the country. Needless to say, that experience had positioned them as the pointmen in an odd working relationship between the black sides of operations of the Donnish and Remnant intelligence services.

They’d driven a direct route, through the south of the URA, and into Zhangua via a highway border crossing nestled into a mountain pass. If the Donnish CIB agents were tense about the crossing into a different country, then the Remnant Marshals were their mirror reflections. This was a major crossing, and the Remnant Border Guard at this major crossing had an armored vehicle sitting off the side of the road near the squat office building that served as the crossing’s administrative center. But as the van got to the booth and the young man flashed something at the booth attendant, the attendant nodded and waved them through without saying another word. The armed and armored Border Guard agents mulling around the crossing watched the van intently as it rolled into Zhangua, but whatever the driver had shown the attendant them a free pass, and assumedly it gave them that sort of freedom anywhere in the GRCS, which was true.

This strange handwave had made Socrates nervous, they could be working with some “high roller” types that had a blank check from the Government. Or they were just unusually high up on the food chain given a Road Trip Escort mission and their status just so happened to give them a free access pass to wherever they wanted. Either possibility was possibly good for them if the Remnants really were here to help them, but he couldn’t shake the cautious feeling that this was a trap, and they were unarmed with nothing but their own hands should the worse come to worse.

The drive across Zhangua was the longest leg of their drive, and as the van descended from the mountains and into the mottled landscape of Zhangua made up plains, subtropical forests and cities, the driver turned the van’s air conditioning up. Anything hotter than 20C was too fucking hot for the Remnant personnel, and Sage decided the Donnish appreciated the artificial cold air as well, and they did.

In the back of the van, the four CIB Agents had remained silent since the van left Rain. Socrates and his team were sitting on benches against the walls of the vehicle, waiting, listening and watching. Their business wasn’t supposed to interact with the GRCS’ own intelligence network, but somewhere along their way through the Arctic Sea, someone back in Donner Land must have made a few additional calls supposedly to make the team’s mission easier. Socrates could only feel that this had only made things more complicated, though he should have felt this looming bad luck since they entered the Arctic Sea, rather than head south through the Atlantic directly to the Roman Strait where they could get to their job.

He eventually gave up on this being easy and decided to make the best of it by, at the very least, trying to get some communication working between his team and theirs if they would be doing this together. “Your Donnish is good, but the accent needs some work, where’d you learn it?” Socrates spoke in plain Common, attempting to make talking a bit more comfortable with everyone, everyone in DARE teams knew at least two additional languages including Common so operations like these wouldn’t be hampered by language barriers.


“I wouldn’t be surprised if they got training specifically just to be able to listen in on us speak, rather than actual communication,” the Agent named Diogenes spoke up in Donnish next to Socrates. “We’ll just have to whisper like prisoners,” Diogenes said offhandedly, turning to his left to look out the rear windows, the Jungle and landscape of Zhangua.

Socrates turned away from Diogenes back to their GRCS counterparts, “Due to security concerns, I’m afraid we can’t use our real names to introduce ourselves. I’m Socrates, the Team Leader. The little shit o’er here is Diogenes our auto-rifleman, guess how he got that name, the two across from us are Aristotle, the Medic, and Plato, our techie,” Socrates introduced them one at a time.

“Diogenes” looked pretty young for being in an Intelligence Special Field Agent, at least 26, his case of baby face didn’t help either. Aristotle, Socrates and Plato however were all looking at least in their 30s or late 20s with varying degrees of signs of age, with Socrates himself looking the most stressed. Aristotle wore a beard, while the others were more or less clean shaven, and it was no secret that Donner Land kept a strict cleaning regime in it’s Soldiers unless they were a Captain, Aristotle, for whatever reason, was exempt.

Socrates went back to business, “Did the GRCS tell you, you’d be working with us? Because we only learned this as soon as we were going to leave the boat.”

Banshee and Cross ignored the talking in the back. Cross was focusing on driving, while Banshee kept her eyes on their surroundings. Just because they were in home territory didn’t mean there couldn’t be threats present. Banshee had heard rumors that it wasn’t past the Marshals or the National Intelligence Agency to purposefully put twists in a basic mission like this in order to further test the agents. Obviously things like that were rare on actual missions, but this was just a babysitting job.

Sage, on the other hand, smiled and responded to Socrates in Common. “Obviously it’s not like there’s a large Donnish minority here, but every so often there’s a Donnish academic or transplant willing to teach at a Remnant university or be a business liaison for some reason or another. They’re usually willing to teach Donnish as well for governmental officials and diplomats.” Sage gave a knowing smile. “But we didn’t learn it just to spy on you… Well, not you four specifically.” Another smile. Sage certainly wasn’t giving any privileged information away. Even the realization that immigrants being hired by the government for the language skills was a common practice in the GRCS in order to train personnel that could be better translators, so it was a passable explanation.

“I understand the names. It’s part of the business. But we’d known about this for maybe a day or so. Just long enough to plan the route we’d take and get our affairs in order for the trip. We’re only a part of this operation, but Cross up there driving will be accompanying you on the next leg of your journey, only because you’ll need a translator unless any of you speak Creole.”

Socrates nodded, “Right… well I’ll try and get some shut-eye until then. Wake me when we’re there,” he said, closing his eyes and trying his best to get some sleep while sitting up.

The uncomfortable quiet had persisted until the van had arrived on the east coast of Zhangua in the early morning. The village they rode into was right on the ocean. Compared to the largely urbanized URA, Zhangua was a backwater country, and this fishing village was an extreme. But it was quiet, out of the way, and a fishing vessel large enough to fit the CIB team comfortably wasn’t entirely unheard of here.

The van pulled to a stop on a quiet wharf, as if the van had stopped where it had started. The Remnants spilled out to stretch their legs and Sage smiled at the Donnish team leader. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but this is where our participation stops, at least mine and Banshee’s. Mr. Cross, however, will be coming with you as a liaison. The boat is crewed by some special boys from Zhanguanese Navy, and they only speak Creole and broken Common, so you’ll need Cross to translate. They’ll be taking you off the coast of Rome to your drop-off, but from what I understand, you get to pick the time and specific place, just tell them where to go and where and when to grab you, otherwise-”

Banshee came up and spoke quietly to Sage in Creole and Sage’s brow burrowed and responded, to which she kept talking. Sage’s mouth drew into a thin line and he looked back at Socrates, “There seems to be some issue. Our computer friends at the NIA have intercepted some troubling information about biowarfare. They didn’t tell us everything, obviously, but they bumped it down to us to ask if you could alter your mission to take you near Daedalium at best, or New Rome at worst. I’ll have Banshee write up a quick summary of locations on paper for you, I guess. Gotta love the game, eh?”

A younger man dressed in plainclothes that didn’t hide his military background in the slightest stepped out of the wheelhouse of the fishing boat and yelled to the group of agents in Creole. From here, the sweat on his face was visible, partly due to the stress of the mission, but also likely due to the increasing humidity of the morning. It was going to be a hot day in Zhangua. Sage yelled back and waved his hand, and the Zhanguanese man shook his head and ducked back into the boat.

Sage nodded to Socrates, “They’re getting impatient, so I guess we should help load you up and send you off. I hope those idiots packed some extra food for you. I’ve had Roman cuisine, and trust me, it’s not the best. They try to add olives to everything.”
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Urran
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 14434
Founded: Jan 22, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Urran » Wed Jul 31, 2019 9:28 pm

Situation Room, Prime Minister's Residence, Sakura City, Urran

"So" began Prime Minister Hanajima, still in her pajamas and slippers, "NIR is testing biological weapons on supposed prisoners from the most recent regional conflict." She was tired and had not even bothered dressing before making her way down into what was quite literally a nuclear bunker used for all top secret meetings and the like. It was comfortable, but not exactly luxurious and being awakened in the middle of the night to be confronted by a situation that did not directly affect Urran was slightly annoying.

Only those with the highest security clearance and relevance to the issue at hand were present physically and virtually. They included the Minister of Health, Minister of Defense, Director Akihibe, the Foreign Minister, Director General of the CIB, and a few high ranking military officers.

"The intelligence seems to suggest that, yes." Director Akihibe replied stoically, passing her the hard copies of the photos that were currently being displayed on a few screens on the walls in slideshow format.

"And this could not wait until morning?" the Prime Minister replied, putting on her reading glasses and lifting each photograph in turn to examine it. She had seen war, but seeing people being experimented on was still a little bit sickening to say the least. Why had families not raised more concern? Or had they and been silenced? There was something fishy.

"I'm afraid not". replied the Urranese Foreign Minister addressing the room from an office in his own abode. He was actually dressed in a suit, at least from the waist up. "The results of the UN vote are in. Urran was the only nation to vote against the ban on biological weapons. Our ambassador followed the policy of denial to the letter, however, it would not go well for us if their current investigation found them."

"Ma'am." began a shadowy figure on another monitor. "there are no procedures for what to do in this scenario and a vote in the parliament would expose our program's existence. We have to move quickly."

"Who is he?" The Prime Minister asked, taking a moment to glance at a personnel roster she had been given prior to the meeting. Very specific procedures were in place for who could attend meetings, especially if they were called without the PM's prior knowledge. Obviously this person had to be there, but why their face was hidden and voice distorted was unsettling.

"Part of Project Grima, Madam Minister". replied the Minister of Defense. "He is broadcasting from a secure facility, however, he is an active agent, so for reasons of security, he is using a scrambler."

"Very well." began the PM, clearing her throat and straightening her back in her chair. "This is what I put forth, we must distract the rest of the world of the bio weapons argument by admitting to the ownership of our chemical stockpile and allowing inspections to go forward without interruption. However, effective immediately, I am putting our bio weapons program on ice and mothballing Project Grima. Bury 10%, including our most effective weaponry, in the desert and destroy everything related to weapons production as quickly as possible. Beginning tonight, without delay. Reach out to the NIR, ask them to take the rest."she sighed at that part, but there was little choice. "Share research, they will not be able to use it once word gets out. They can destroy what's left of ours with theirs.....all in favor."

She looked around the room, no response was given, nothing but sullen faces stared back at her.

"You are Commander in Chief Madam Minister, all nonexistent projects are directly your responsibility to kill." replied the Director General, pyramiding his fingers together on the table.

The PM took a pregnant pause at looked to the Director General, Health Minister, and Defense Minister in turn. "The three of you share joint administration of the WMD program. This is a democratic nation, I will not be held entirely responsible if Urran's past sins leak out." Hanajima replied sternly, looking at the faces of those around her. "And I see three faces that do not know what to do. Man up and make a decision, or I come forward and tell the public what their tax payer money has truly been spent on."

There was another pregnant pause as the three men looked at each other. This lady was serious. "Aye." all three replied in unison.

"Excellent. Now, before I go back to sleep, I'm authorizing a cyber attack against....whatever news agency these pictures came from. Hack their network, release a worm, crash it, delete their data, whatever you need to do, just make sure you delay the story for as long as possible. Make their lives miserable for a few days. I expect a result at my morning briefing."

"It will be done Madam Minister." replied Director Akihibe with a deep bow.

"Now, if that will be all." replied the PM, wrapping her robe tightly around her frame and getting to her feet. "I will be going to bed. Good night."
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New Roma Republic
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Roma Republic » Wed Aug 21, 2019 11:36 am

Chief Editor Caselius
Iulius Brutus Memorial Roman Superhighway, Northbound
2239, 5/11/2019


Caselius was driving slightly faster than traffic. He left the office late, but instead of going home, he was leaving New Rome. With him being a recipient of the message, he began to fear for his life. The Imperial Security Bureau, the Roman government’s secret police, had agents everywhere. Working in conjunction with Imperial Intelligence Agency, they had most likely figured out that he had received the message. He had to get the news story out, but first, he had to ensure he stayed alive. It was only a matter of time before the IIA and ISB figured out who Caselius forwarded the email to. He needed to get that article out soon.

He turned off the highway after three hours of driving. He had a safe house here. He didn’t notice the black truck that turned off the highway several yards behind him.


Situation Room
Imperial Palace
0142, 5/12/2019


“As you see here, sir, ISB agents are following the Chief Editor of Free Post Civilian News Group. He is in the New Rome suburb of Ad Pontes. Might have a place to stay” reported the Chief of the IIA. The Caesar sat in his usual spot, unhappy to be roused from sleep. The job didn’t afford him much time to sleep, and the little he got was always precious.

“That’s great. So this…man…is the security breach?” asked the Caesar, stifling a yawn.

“He’s…part of the breach sir,” replied the IIA Chief. “My cyber agents are tracking down who he sent the images to. And…who they may have sent them to…”

That comment earned IIA a glare from the Caesar. “How deep does this go, exactly?”

The other man at the table, the head of the ISB, spoke up: “We are not entirely sure. As you know, my agency has been tracking a couple members of the Senate who sympathize with the civilian cause. Several agents believe that some of them may have been a recipient of the images. We are trying to confirm that as we speak. Teams are being readied to disappear them, just in case.”

“Gods help us” muttered the Caesar. “Can the IIA independently verify the traitors in the Senate?”

“Aye, sir. We are working to figure out if they have the pictures.”

The Caesar sat back in his chair, hands steepled. He thought deeply about what he was about to do. Sighing, he ordered “Kill the Editor. Make it look like an accident. Plug all the holes by any means necessary.”

The two men nodded and left, so begin plugging the holes.


Chief Editor Caselius
Ad Ponta
0200, 5/12/2019


Caselius drove along a cliff. It was a dark night, overcast. He still hadn’t noticed the truck behind him following him from the highway. Rain started coming down, splattering on the windshield. Before he could turn on the windshield wipers, bright LED lights blinded him all the sudden, catching him off guard. He panicked for a second, but in that second, the wheel was jerked, and the car started to skid, then flipped, and flew off the side of the cliffside road.


Elsewhere in the NIR
While the ISB and IIA agents were attempting to figure out who to arrest, several Senators and reporters were forwarding the email they received. A few sent them to contacts in other nations, namely Onderon, Romulia, and Macenae.

While several reporters were killed that night, and others arrested, the story still hit the air in time for people to be waking up in this part of the world. As people began to eat breakfast, they were assaulted by images of bio weapons being tested on Gileanians.

Though not as big of a story, attentive viewers would see that several Roman civilian reports had died the night before. Most were ruled suicides, the rest accidents. Even a couple Senators killed themselves.

The Caesar had no stomach for breakfast. Neither did the IIA and ISB chiefs as they received messages from the Caesar stating that he expected their resignations by the end of the day.

In the streets of the cities, protests started, then turned into riots as military units were deployed. In other nations near the NIR, Roman embassies and consulates were being blocked by protestors.

Change was coming.
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Empire of Donner land
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Empire of Donner land » Thu Aug 29, 2019 3:21 pm

Image Field Agent "Socrates"
Gileanas, Daedalium
5/12/2019 - 6:00 PM


"I told that Fisherman that things would get complicated," Socrates complained, inserting a plate into the front of his plate carrier. Then put it on, attaching the velcro straps together around his waist, he placed magazines into the pouches. Finally, he put his helmet on, securing it around his chin. Socrates rolled his shoulders and checked if his knee or elbow pads were loose before finally turning around to his team, who were also just about done with getting ready. He grabbed his rifle out of the three others in the black duffel bag. Meanwhile, Diogenes was filling in the hole they dug the bag up from with a shovel, finishing, and throwing the spade to the side with a clunk. Around them were a quiet dense forest, the one that had their geocached weapons and equipment, and a four-door black sedan rental car parked on a narrow dirt road near them. In the distance, they could just hear the buzz of the city they had departed from not long ago.

Aristotle sighed through his balaclava, "so, what's next. We get blindsided by another Black Operations team that just so happens to be operating in the area and get given a tertiary objective? First, it was just taking pictures of the place, now we have to free the Prisoners. What's next, capture the lead Scientist that is directing the project and smuggle him to Donner Land?" Aristotle complained, bitching and moaning to Socrates as he himself was putting on his plate carrier. "Fucking Remnants, wish they never told us the news."

"We would have figured it out anyway, better to know beforehand than be surprised when we get there," Plato remarked as he chambered a round into his VAR-19, then letting it hang by its strap around his shoulder as he stood up.

"He's right, as much as I hate to admit that the Remnants have done any good for us," Diogenes noted, leaning against a tree. To anyone that was seeing them, from a distance, they just looked like campers in assorted casual wear. Though someone with a scope or binoculars could easily identify that they were well-armed.

Socrates hushed them and butted in with his briefing. "Regardless, our objective now is to find out where exactly this POW Camp is and how to get to it and inside of it. Luckily for us, Command has a good lead for us. Sattelite photos have identified military cargo trucks that go to and from the Camp, likely moving supplies and personnel. They take a highway nearby to and from, we'll stakeout in the woods ready to chase soon as we see it and finally commandeer it, then hide in the back inside the cargo. Should be easy, relatively speaking, just threaten the kid driving it with a bullet. Soon as we're done and inside the base, plug 'em and get to work. We'll adapt as we go long once we're inside."

Aristotle gave a small joyous chuckle, "sounds fun, always like a good car chase. But I've got a few concerns about this plan," he said cautiously then gestured with his hand hypothetically, "say we find that truck and chase after it, what if the Driver isn't compliant and we end up having to kill them, or worse yet, the truck gets trashed and the plan is ballsed up."

"Let us not forget that bullet holes aren't very inconspicuous," Plato noted.

Diogenes turned to Plato and shrugged, "well... this place was a warzone, not long ago. It's entirely possible that a few of the trucks might have gotten shot up."

"Let us suppose that's true man, but what if a truck comes back nicked to high hell, but when it left it was clean? Surely that'll be a dead give away that something happened," Plato retorted.

Aristotle butted in, "It's our best shot, and the quickest way."

"Then it's settled," Socrates spoke, "let's do some grand theft auto."
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The United Remnants of America
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Posts: 17599
Founded: Mar 09, 2013
Democratic Socialists

Postby The United Remnants of America » Thu Aug 29, 2019 6:50 pm

Image Ȗ̵̬͒͗n̵̮̳͎͍̑k̶̥̐n̸̢̢͚̄͝o̸̧͉͈̙͗̏w̷͙̠̜͙͛n̷̩̼͉̋
Daedalium, Gileanas
5/12/2019 - 6:00 PM


A kilometer away, a slight rise in the ground covered the position of a single figure laying prone in the grass.

The team wasn't moving much, but that's why the binoculars helped. The team had shown up, and then they'd prepared right next to the car that had most likely been left specifically left for them. Was the car and the cache a dead drop? That would need followed up on and addressed at some point, but not now. It was a moot point for now.

A slow movement as a cellphone was brought up, a speed dial number drawn. The screen showed the phone was answered, but no one spoke.

"They're here," the watcher spoke in Latin.

A pause on the other end of the line. "Good. Don't contact them, but don't lose them."

"Understood."

The line went dead. The entire call had lasted six seconds.

Through the binoculars, the wetwork team was casually standing around, either as if they were trying to blend in, or they didn't give two shits about opsec. Probably the former. Hopefully the former.

At least that made the figure's job easier. Stationary targets always made surveillance easier. Once they got to moving, though... Well, a car was nearby to keep an eye on what the team did, where they want, and how they did it.

The watcher imagined gears turning within gears turning within gears.

"Welcome to Gileneas, Donnish"
Last edited by The United Remnants of America on Thu Aug 29, 2019 7:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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New Roma Republic
Minister
 
Posts: 2579
Founded: Mar 31, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby New Roma Republic » Sat Sep 14, 2019 3:40 pm

Senator Sextus Accius Curio
Imperial Senate, New Rome
1539, 5/13/2019

Senator Curio sat in his office with several other Senators. The yells and shouts of protestors could be heard from outside. “Are we certain that the Senators were killed by the government?”

The Senator who was looking out the window nodded “We’re pretty certain. There is no way all of this is a coincidence.”

Curio stood up, opened his wall safe, and pulled out a packet of papers. “This packet is the bill we wrote up a while ago, to give civilians the rights they had in the Republic, before the Empire. Now might be the time to push this through.”

“There’s no way we can get enough Senators to go for this. And the Caesar will never approve it.”

“Senators is no issue. If we act fast enough, we can get enough to pass. The Caesar we will need to remove from office. It’s the only way.”

“Impeach…and remove…the Caesar? It’s never been done”

“No one has tried”

The Senators shifted uncomfortably. “Who will bring it to the Praetor?”

“I will” replied Curio. “I swear, by the time this is over, we will be in power, the civilians will control the military, and the Caesar will be in prison.


Caesar’s Office
Imperial Palace, New Rome
1600, 5/13/2019

“The protestors are calling for your removal, sir” said an Aide.

“Aye. I still cannot believe this got out. We were supposed to have the situation under control.”

The New ISB Chief leaned forward “Unfortunately, the email was more widespread than my predecessor had thought. We will have to lay low, most likely”

“Are we expecting anything from the Senate or Court on it?”

“Nothing from Court. Senate has the normal civilian sympathizers, but they won’t be able to push anything through before everything dies down.”

“You better be right. It’ll be your head if you aren’t.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Keep me updated”
IC call me NRI, Novus Romanum Imperium, or the New Roman Imperium; OOC call me Roma or New Roma
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Empire of Donner land
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Founded: Jun 28, 2015
Democratic Socialists

Postby Empire of Donner land » Mon Sep 16, 2019 2:51 pm

Image Field Agent "Socrates"
Daedalium
5/12/2019 - 6:10 PM


The sedan was packed, both with people, gear, and weapons. The vehicle was parked in some shrubbery on a dirt road, that lead onto a large road. The Road itself went north to south, and a had 2 onramps and 2 offramps going to and from the road onto the Highway in question they were watching. Outside the front windshield, cars occasionally passed by, but their attention, for the most part, was on the highway proper for incoming Military Trucks. Socrates tapped the steering wheel impatiently as the radio blared news reports at a muted volume in a language they didn't know, presumably Latin.

Soon, their prayers were answered, Diogenes pulled up his binoculars to his eyes and alerted everyone as he began watching intently what he saw, then whispered a yell. "Truck coming up the Highway!" Diogenes could see the silhouette of the truck against the highway lights past its blaring headlights, sure enough, as it got closer he could Identify Roman symbology upon it.

Socrates put the Sedan into drive and stepped on the pedal, the Sedan zipped out of the brush and off the dirt road onto the avenue with dust being kicked up behind them, the engine loudly growling and stopping as it shifted into gear. Aristotle, Plato, and Diogenes began readying their rifles and waiting in anticipation with their guns rested in their hands.

The Sedan zipped up the on-ramp as the truck drove past, Socrates shifted up and accelerated to catch up, and before long, matched speeds with the truck and the distance between the truck and sedan began to shrink. Socrates took the lane to it's left, signaling with the blinker to not arouse suspicion, but with the intent to conduct a pit maneuver and cause the truck to spin out.

Diogenes, Aristotle and Plato all waited impatiently as the sedan caught up, their hands on the doors handles to immediately get out and take the truck as well as the driver.
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Urran
Postmaster-General
 
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Founded: Jan 22, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Urran » Mon Sep 16, 2019 10:22 pm

Former New Azenyanistan, Now Guangdong Province, Urran
Undisclosed Location
00:15


There was a bustling in the normally quiet desert outpost. Usually nothing moved larger than a desert fox or the occasional group of ungulates. Heck, most of the time the only thing that moved were the tumbleweeds, those, and the scorpions, so many scorpions. Dear God why were there so many scorpions!?

At any rate, tonight was different. The normally impenetrable darkness and silence of the desert now clashed and clanged with activity. Bright lights lit up what was usually an almost deserted installation. Officially it was used by the Department of the Environment to study desert wildlife and find new ways to grow food for the ever increasing population of Urran's colonies. However, it hid a much darker purpose.

"Back those trucks in! No! Over there! And for fricks sake cut down on the lights! Last thing we need is satellites looking at this place!" bellowed a certain shadowy figure, a suit with no discerning features other than a badge that labeled him as part of "Project Grima". Who he really was, no one left there could say. They'd all been moved out as soon as darkness fell. Soon it all would.

"We can't work in the dark, Sir." replied a soldier as the last of the trucks backed up to what to the untrained eye looked like an ordinary utility shed. However, it was hidden under a tarp suspended by massive PVC poles to hide it from the air. Most of the facility grounds now were, save for the airstrip and a few buildings that really were associated with the cover story.

"You can and you will." scoffed the suit. "At least this is the last of it." He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Axing the project? PM might as well have ripped his heart out. F*cking UN.

Soldiers and agents were loading unmarked crates from the false utility shed into a series of military transport trucks. This was really the last of it.

"That's the last truck, Sir. Time to go."

The suit scoffed and tossed his ciggy aside. "Right." He replied. Next stop, Roma. He heard the weather was nice this time of year. Hopefully they had enough wine to drown himself in.

Thirty minutes later the diesel engines faded into the distance. The only sounds were the whispers of the wind and the distant call of a hyena and then....nothing.
Last edited by Urran on Mon Sep 16, 2019 10:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
A lie doesn't become truth, wrong doesn't become right, and evil doesn't become good just because it's accepted by a majority.
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New Roma Republic
Minister
 
Posts: 2579
Founded: Mar 31, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby New Roma Republic » Fri Oct 18, 2019 6:24 pm

Senator Sextus Accius Curio
Imperial Senate, New Rome
1214, 5/16/2019

Curio smiled as the votes rolled in. Somehow, more Senators than he had originally thought would were voting for his reform bill. The constant rioting probably helped. He sat in his office, looking at the vote tally. Naturally the only communist, democrat, and five independents voted for the reform bill. The toss up were the 113 other Senators. Several were allies, but the majority were set in the current order. Apparently recent actions by the current order were too much for them to allow it to continue. Or they wanted to look good with voters.

The final votes came in. The final tally was 65 for, 46 against, 5 abstentions, and 4 not voted. The bill passed. Curio leaned back in his chair. Holy shit he thought. I did it, I actually did it. The military is no longer in power. 193 years of control, over, like that. His door burst open, and he was showered in expensive sparkling wine. The men that entered were all smiling. Curio started laughing “Gods damnit guys, this is a new suit!” The others laughed too. It was a large weight that was taken off…only to have another placed on them. They now needed to effect the change, including impeaching the current Caesar and removing him from office. The bill, now a law, included the following provisions:

- The current Caesar is to be arrested for crimes against humanity
- The current Caesar is to be charged with murder
- Military service is no longer required for citizenship
- Citizenship is defined as anyone born or naturalized
- Those who serve in the military are not allowed to hold governmental office
- An official apology will be sent to the Gileanian Province, and the remains of the POWs returned
- Misc officials from the Caesar’s administration are to be arrested for various crimes
- The Imperial Security Bureau is dissolved, effective immediately
- The current government is to be dissolved and elections to be held within the next few days.
- Police will no longer be military
- Praetorian guard is transitioned from the MoD to the MoJ
- Etc.

The Praetorian Guard will have to arrest the Caesar. That might pose a problem as they are thought to be more loyal to the Caesar than the law. They will see soon how peaceful this transition of power will be.


Caesar’s Office
Imperial Palace, New Rome
1600, 5/13/2019

Vel Pupius Quiricus was new to the Praetorian Guard. He joined to protect those who led the nation he loved. The last week has made him question if his loyalty was misplaced. He was contemplating that while standing guard in the Caesar’s office, with the Caesar watching the television, visibly worried. A few days ago, he didn’t think what had just happened to be possible. Yet, here he was, watching in shock, as his Senate voted to brand him a criminal, and have him arrested. By his own guards.

And here Quiricus was torn as to what to do. On the tv it said he should arrest the Caesar, yet no order had come down. He was accustomed to following orders. The radio in his ear crackled ”Stand down, do not arrest the Caesar. I repea-ugh”. The radio fell silent. Quiricus felt uncomfortable with the order. All the sudden, muffled gunshots sounded. The Caesar whipped his head around

“What’s going on!?” he demanded.

“I am not sure, sir.”

“Find out!”

“Aye, sir”. Quiricus raised his cuff to his mouth, speaking into the radio’s mic “This is Quiricus; Sword is requesting information on the gunfire.” Nothing. He repeated his request. Still nothing.

“Caesar, I have no-” his earpiece crackled again. “Dissenters against the law have attempted to rebel; they have been neutralized. This is Praefectus Manius Sepunius Fidelis. The Caesar is to be arrested. Reinforcements are heading up to you, Quiricus. Do not move until they arrive.” Holy Pluto, Fidelis is the Master of the Guard.

“Understood. Thank you, sir” he replied. “Caesar, I just received word. Everything is alright, now. Some rebels tried to make a run to arrest you, but they have been neutralized.”

The Caesar visibly relaxed “Good, good.” He turned back to the television. Quiricus thought of the pistol holstered under his jacket. [i[]It would be so easy to kill him here and now…but no, I have my orders[/i].

After five minutes, which felt like an eternity, the door burst open. There were a group of guards, some in the ceremonial uniform for the tourists, and some in suits, all with guns drawn. They spread around the room as Praefectus Fidelis walked in, his purple cape flowing behind him. “Quintus Oranius Octavian, former Caesar and criminal of humanity, you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and crimes against humanity. Your rights are given to you as is guaranteed by the law.”

The Caesar looked shocked. He stared at Fidelis. Then Quiricus. Then Fidelis. Then the TV. Then he looked down, dejected. He offered out his hands. A Praetorian Guard cuffed him, and brought him out.


Citizen's Independent News
"Senatus Populusque Romanus"



Caesar Octavian Arrested


New Rome, NIR – An hour after the Senate passed their unprecedented landmark reform bill, Caesar Octavian was reported to be arrested by the Praetorian Guards. Reports are not conflicting, however, it appears that there was a small struggle in the Imperial Palace between Guards that were loyal to the Caesar and those who wanted to arrest him.

Senator Curio, the spokesman for the Interim Government, said that he will be contacting the United Nations and offering Caesar Octavian to the International Court for trial on the charges of Crimes Against Humanity.

Octavian is currently being held in the Imperial Palace holding cells. He is awaiting transport to Imperial Supermax.
IC call me NRI, Novus Romanum Imperium, or the New Roman Imperium; OOC call me Roma or New Roma
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