AFTERMATH: A Faction RP (IC | OPEN)

[Sarejo]

The White Pine Republic, January Week 1

Prime Minister Turner sat at his desk going over the weekly briefing, looking at reports from all edges of the Republic, including reports from Southern Fleet, who'd had another engagement with Roman ships off the coast of New Hampshire. Neither had suffered much damage, but PM Turner was worried about a possible escalated conflict and wrote a note to be sure to write a letter to all naval commanders to evade Roman ships from this point forward. He then turned to the army reports, and found that the First and Second Infantry Companies and the Republican Artillery Company were on standby and ready for deployment. PM Turner sighed heavily, and made a note to sign a deployment order to send them south to Skoldsharl and pay them a visit for their raids on trading caravans, and also taking advantage of their inter-clan warfare that seemed to be constant and also a perfect distraction if only for long enough to make an alliance with someone.

PM Turner then turned a few more pages and came across the continued reports of the Plague afflicting more and more frontier towns, slowly moving farther and farther inland to the capital. He had his best doctors working on some method to deal with it, however currently the only option they knew of that worked at the moment was the slightly barbaric method of keeping them comfortable, and then just burning the bodies and burying the ashes to hope and not spread the disease, but so far that was only marginally effective. PM turner sighed again, and turned past statistics so he wouldn't have to acknowledge them, and began writing orders to his officers.

Movement Orders
First and Second Infantry Companies; Republican Artillery Company (250 men, 5 Catapults) --> Cumberland County (5 Weeks)
Southern Fleet (40 men, 4 ships) --> Cumberland County Coast (2 Weeks)

[Beiarusia]

K A M I A H

---

Republic of St. Helens

President Bethany Tash
Kamiah, Lewis County, ID
Week 1 | January

To her surprise the boat captain agreed. Bethany was honestly expecting some difficulty, and so stood a bit dumbfounded as the man continued to speak. Upon his introducing himself, however, the teenage girl snapped back to attention. “Bethany,” she replied, and with a curt nod towards the little town behind her, “and that’s Kamiah.”

The man then compared her to his own daughter, to which Bethany offered a low grumble.

Hunt’s tone seemed a bit too nice, as if he was talking to a child, and although younger than him by a lot Bethany didn’t quite take too well to being looked down on. She was, after all, president of the town and had done a good job keeping most everyone alive thus far. As for the supplies, “You can bring it out. Don’t take it personal, but we don’t know you, so we’ll stay off the boat for now. And I’m the president here, so don’t think I’m too young to know what I’m doing” – Mathew would no doubt scoff at such a statement – “so let’s keep things professional, okay?” Bethany was getting back into the swing of how she usually handled troublemakers now that the initial shock had worn off. Was she a fearless and almighty leader? No, but she knew how to be firm when need be. Grownup or not, she had to make it certain that she, as president, was ultimately in charge so long as they were staying docked just outside their town.

Boat aside, so long as the adults were in town the kids were in charge.

[New Minahasa]

---

Novgorod Dominion

As the raids were conducted, several troops of the Dominion were mobilized south to expand the Dominion's grasp of power. Commander Nestor Ivanovich thirsted for more power and territories, justifying his actions by overcoming "overpopulation" in one place. First, outposts and small bases were erected in the northern portions of the Skagit County, directly south of Whatcom. Soon, citizens would be transferred from Whatcom to Skagit to populate the county, and make the Dominion's presence known in there. Nestor's visions of a glorious communist empire had only started. This expansion would mark his first official accomplishment as the commander of the Novgorod Dominion.

"Commander," a Dominion officer greeted Nestor as he closed his fist and slammed it against his chest; the Workers Militia's sign of salutation. Nestor replied with a salute, nodding his head slightly to his officer. "Privet, Colonel Maxim. What is it do you have for me?," replied Nestor with a question. "We have begun our preparations for the annexation of the Skagit County to our south, sir. Military outposts and bases have been built along the northern side of the county. Soon, more of our soldiers and our citizens will flood through the place, and we shall claim it as our own!," stated the officer enthusiastically.

"Da. That is good news indeed, comrade. Make sure that you proceed your good works until the Dominion has successfully occupied the place wholly. Washington will soon be ours. I promise you, we will free the capitalist citizens in the south from their oppressive authoritarian capitalist government. We will teach them the glory of anarcho-communism, and bring equality to all!," stated Nestor as he shook hands with the officer, before they both departed to their own personal matters.

---

Actions: Beginning expansion south into the Skagit County.

[Beutarch]

Jefferson County, Louisiana
Nikolas Smith

The craft made landfall, edging onto the beach. Crewmembers ran around the deck, gathering weapons and supplies for their excursion. Finally, they all jumped down onto the sand. Smith revealed a hand drawn map of the area, jabbing a finger at where they were located currently and where they were ment to go. He plotted out the route and marked a tree for insurance. 3 seamen would accompany the guard, the negotiator and the Captain up to the city whilst 2 others would stay behind. Between the six men there were 2 single-shot pipe rifles, 1 lever action, a service revolver and a multitude of metal rods and makeshift machetes. The group hacked their way through the overgrowth onto a dirt path, presumably one leading to the Bayou stronghold. "Boss, I ain't feeling too good about this.. I feel like we're bein' watched.." said a crewman."We come in peace, no need for the locals to hurt us." the man looked unsatisfied with this answer, but shrugged and focused back on the path ahead.

After around half an hour of walking, the city gate was in sight. Smith motioned for the party to huddle up. "Holster your arms and let me do the talking." suggested the negotiator. "An arrow in the leg is a nasty way to go out." The other nodded nervously and slung their weapons on their backs. The negotiator lept to the front of the group, holding the box full of trading goods like a baby. "People of the Bayou, we are traders from north of here! We wish to speak with your leader!" he yelled up at the village. The other exchanged wary looks and took out their weapons once again.

Eastern Naval Central, Norfolk VA
Kathleen Withers

Despite all attempts to clean the disease of the lower employs, it had reemerged. Employs started showing up at the clinic with bumps as large as golf balls on them. Attempts had been made to cure them, but once all had failed the bodies were burned and the operating room doused with vinegar. Dogs and other house pets were slaughtered and then burned on suspicion of spreading the disease. Not even the CEO's green parakeet would be spared, it being tossed into the fire. Every possible way to stem the disease would be taken. Withers had even heard of assembling a flamethrower and burning the entire south end of the base. Most of the shots were called by Petrov, but lately, no one knows exactly what he's going to do.

[Apror]

The Kingdom of the Bayou, Jefferson county, Post-Collapse Texas.

“Where have they gone?” The admiral asked. He, along with the General and the King himself talked outside the ONI building. “Well, they must be near the city.” The King said two his officers.

At the wall, a guardsmen of the name of Jonathan stood guard on top of the wall, near the gate, but soon saw a group come out the forest. They carried weapons on their backs, and holsters. In the wall tower, an archer took aim.

“Johnathan! You see them too I reckon? The ones we spotted earlier?” The archer called to him. “Yeah! Oh, and ease up! Keep a look out, but they are a small group, and couldn't cause much trouble.” Jonathan went to a fellow guard and said “Fetch the king! I'm sure he's interested as to their presence.” The Guard nodded, and went to the king.

As the small group came near the gate, Johnathan prepared to show himself to them. The group's leader called out “People of the Bayou, we are traders from north of here! We wish to speak with your leader!” Jonathan chuckled to himself. They're lucky the king wants to see them as well, or they would never be let near him.

He was intrigued though. Traders? They were in need of certain things such as Iron. “Say you! Traders! Wait there! I'm coming out! Weapons on the ground. It's your lucky day! The King has taken interest in your little party! I hope what you have to offer is good! Your appearance is not only unexpected, but caused a little commotion!” As he neared the gate, he saw the King riding up along with two members of the King’s guard on horses.

“Guardsmen. Check them. Make sure they pose no threat, or they will regret coming here. We will then talk to them, and see if they have something to offer us. I must say, they've sure come at an opportune time.” The king told Jonathan. He nodded, then had the gate opened. He on ground, and two King’s guard rode beside him on their mighty horses.

As he walked up, the King’s Guard stopped. They stopped a couple yards behind him, but their presence alone should be enough. He's heard stories what Kings Guard and the King himself have done to tribes who dared hurt the people of the Bayou. A shame the Traders hadn't.

Using his spear, he pointed it to the ground. “Weapons on the ground lad if you want to meet the King. Forgive us if we're not at least a little skeptical.” Jonathan said waiting for their reply. "Soon as you do, the King will come out. Might I add, you're being watched by our Marksmen. If nothing else, know people here never miss. Never."

[Biscaria]

“You can bring it out. Don’t take it personal, but we don’t know you, so we’ll stay off the boat for now. And I’m the president here, so don’t think I’m too young to know what I’m doing so let’s keep things professional, okay?”

Captain Jeffrey Hunt
Kamiah, Clearwater River
Week 1 | January 100

Upon Bethany's rebuttal, Captain Hunt quickly resumed the more reserved tone he had taken earlier. He chided himself for talking to her like a child; in a town of children, she was practically an adult. To survive in a hostile environment like this, he thought, you'd have to grow up fast. It didn't matter that the girl reminded him of his own dear little girl back in Kelso, that it reminded him of his dear sweet Cathy attending school, playing with her friends, having nary a care in the world. The girl in front of him differed in the fact that she had every care in the world on her shoulders, and thus he knew he should treat her with all due respect from then on.

The captain cleared his throat, and went on perhaps a bit embarrassed, "Ah yes, of course, we must be professional in our dealings. Quite right you are... Madam President." He eyeballed the crowd and then, to break the awkwardness, he called for his men to bring out "a half ton" of foodstuff from the storage compartment, and they proceeded to do as ordered. There was more than this on the boat, however the captain didn't want to completely overwhelm the straggly children and they of course wanted to keep some for themselves.

As the men unloaded a few crates of foodstuff, the captain spoke to Bethany in a more dignified manner than the informal manner he had adopted before and also adopted a more confident tone.

"Well, you seem to have a fine town here, Miss Bethany." He squinted at the rundown town again. The navigator and the first mate still uneasily stood by the captain, knowing that they were being stared at by hundreds of tiny eyes.

When the ordered crates of foodstuff were unloaded onto the riverbank, each one weighing 100 lbs, the captain looked at Bethany with a cordial yet stiff glare. "Well, that seems to be accounted for." In the crates were mostly canned preserves and dry grains, essential items for survival in the long cold winter. One of the shipmen also brought out a personal box of particularly large candy bars. Not noticing the shipman's initiative, the captain continued to talk to Bethany.

"Well Miss Bethany... you wouldn't happen to have a surname, would you? It's no matter; its simply a formality in regular negotiations. But of course, this isn't a regular negotiation." He peered at all the children surrounding the area, persevering in his effort to not let them get to him. "Now tell me, Miss Bethany, does Kamiah have a primarily subsistence economy or do you produce trade goods for the regional market? Now let me assure you that my intentions in asking this are strictly forthright; I only ask in the case that you wish to do more commerce with us in the future."

[Sarejo]

The White Pine Republic, January Week 2

An aide rushed into Prime Minister Turner's office, out of breath and his uniform in disarray. The patch on his shoulder designated him as a corporal, and his grey pressed uniform was half-tucked and wrinkled. The Prime Minister looked up over his reading glasses at the young corporal, who looked barely old enough to serve. He set down the reports he was reading, and let the young boy catch his breath before speaking to him, gesturing to him that he should take all the time he needed.

The corporal finally gained his breath, and taking one last big gulp of air, began to deliver his message, saluting before speaking, which the Prime Minister returned, a former major in the cavalry and a war hero himself, "Mr. Prime Minister sir, it's an honor to meet you," and the Prime Minister acknowledged him with a nod, and gestured for him to continue, "uh, yes, right... Well sir... Apparently our scouts were wrong. The Nords... They're stronger than we thought. Their 300 men? Turns out to be about a thousand and a half more than that. General Blair says he will march on regardless of the outcome if you order as much, but he strongly recommends we do not continue to march on the Nords, and even recommends we make amends and try to parley with them for an alliance..." the corporal said, pausing for a long second before continuing, "You orders, sir?"

The Prime Minister took off his glasses and looked down at his desk for a long moment, as the corporal stood at attention. He sighed very heavily, and ran his hands through his dark brown hair that was beginning to be streaked with grey. He said nothing but wrote up a quick order that General Blair return at all possible haste and Admiral Harris instead return sail under white flag to parley with the Nords. He sealed the letters and gave them to the corporal, but held on for a second longer to speak to the young man, "What's your name corporal?" PM Turner asked, and the young boy looked almost surprised for a second, "Ah, my n-name is Jenkins sir. Michael Jenkins," the corporal stammered, and the Prime Minister nodded, "Take this to General Blair with my complements, and take the other to Midshipman Martin down by the harbor to dispatch to Admiral Harris with all due haste. Good luck and God speed Corporal Jenkins," he said, and released the letters when the corporal nodded. The corporal saluted, and the Prime Minister stood and saluted him in return. The corporal turned in disciplined military fashion, and exited the Prime Minister's office to quickly deliver the dispatches as to avoid a possible military incident that they could not deal with yet.

Movement Orders
First and Second Infantry Companies; Republican Artillery Company (250 men, 5 Catapults) --> Hancock County (1 Week)
Southern Fleet (40 men, 4 ships) --> Cumberland County Coast, Dock and Disembark (1 Week)

[Ormata]

Sergeant Eloise Deleon
52nd Militia
Mojave Desert, San Bernardino County, 20 Miles inside Fang Territory
Week 1 | January

The wind whipped about her and her men. They’d been ordered to move-in to San Bernardino, to engage the Fangs. They’d been taking-out the traders, with the Angel’s Trading Company, and Vegas wanted the place secure and safe. Eloise hadn’t any personal connections with it all; she was from Coconino, where the biggest issues was Phoenix, Cedar, and maybe Moab. Savages, some of them, religious fanatics who hadn’t the tech and hadn’t the balls. Some of them. She’d talked to a few others; the Cedar guys were alright, if a bit inexperienced. Phoenix guys were fucking crazy, though.

They’d just screamed at her. All in the past, now.

She’d hear these Fangs had some unholy number of troops. A lot, more than the 52nd. After hearing that Eloise had asked the LT if it was true. He’d said yes, but that they were going to be supported by some other units. Some bullshit if you asked her. Made her on edge. Made her tense.

Sergeant Deleon cradled her rifle in her arms, trudging through the hard, rough sand. Smelt like sand, too. Smelled like shit. She pulled her handkerchief up, farther on her face, to keep the dust out. Behind her strode a few others, her squad of good ladies and gents from the 52nd. They weren’t a crack unit, but most of them were from places like Eloise was: hard, rough places where you didn’t rely on the army. Places where you held tight when the raiders came. By God they’d held. They had indeed.

“Put your backs into it!”

The roar barely went past the fierce winds. They were digging in, and her squad were to cover them. Something like that. A line of men, from one end of the dust cloud to the visible other, worked their asses off, bending backs into the dirt with their shovels and cutting into the earth. Trenches, they’d always said, trenches will bring the savage to his knees. Cut down enough and all he sees is your head, if he’s lucky. Cut down enough and all he knows is your bullet going into him. It’d been proven before, in Lincoln, where the 108th stood against a coalition of savage tribes. Two hundred green militiamen against a good thousand tribesmen from central California, and they’d held, too. Not fifty of the 108th could stand after that, but the ground was red with blood. That story had been told so much it was nearly legend, even if the men who’d stood there were still alive.

Told you how many legends Las Vegas had, Eloise supposed. The wind roared again, drowning out something the Lieutenant said. She shook her head, looking out into the shifting mass that was the distance, out into the dust. She could see...shapes. Shapes? Yes, they were shapes indeed. Damn her if they weren’t.

“Halt!” The Sergeant screamed, rifle raised and cocked. The rest of the men heard her shrill scream, the bastards, and they jumped into their half-cut ditches, crouching against the dirt in an attempt to become one with the ground.

The shapes approached, and she could see ‘em. They weren’t Vegas, she could tell that much, and each of the ten held rifles. “Fucking HALT!” She screamed again, and two dozen bolts cocked. The Lieutenant stood, straight-backed and behind his meagre line, his revolver drawn and pointed. Eloise could give him one thing, and that was that the bastard feared nothing. Then a shape raised his rifle.

A dozen shots rang-out, and none from the shapes. They, each as though moving so slowly, fell to the ground. Eloise paused, shocked almost, breathing deeply into her handkerchief and tasting the fabric. They hadn’t halted. They hadn’t halted at all. Fuck. She moved slowly, cocking her rifle again and not hearing the empty casing hit the ground. Finding a corpse, Eloise looked the thing over. Definitely a Fang; he had the tattoos to prove it.

“Fucking Fangs,” was all the Sergeant could say, and by some miracle the Lieutenant heard her. He started to bark orders.

“Get back to work! More of ‘em will be coming! Jason, Albright, get those bodies out of here! Damn vultures will start to circle!”

Lieutenant Reggie Gardner
3rd Cuirassiers
Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest, Nye County, Unclaimed Territory
Week 1 | January

They moved quick. Damned quick.

That was the way the Cuirassiers worked. Gardner had heard that they were named for the French, whoever they were, and their cavalry. As far as he knew cavalry just meant men on horses. But these cavalry, no sir, they were armored men. Men in armor with swords, riding down their opponents with not a care for the enemy bounced their shots from the armor. Those Cuirassiers must’ve also shat gold and farted giggles or some bullshit, as far as Gardner was concerned, but it gave him a nice image. Made him imagine riding down his foes, their eyes filled with terror because they don’t know what the hell to do.

Made him feel powerful, and Gardner got drunk off of it. He smiled, leaning against his gun. It was a fucking M2. An M2. It was the hammer of god and Gardner was Thor. He’d mowed-down natives when they started to charge, kept at 500 meters and just spewed away at the pricks. Their rifles never could touch them. It was a damn powerful feeling. Made Gardner feel empty, now that he could feel it and not be using it. He was empty in other ways.

The 3rd Cuirassiers had been in Vegas, you see, and Reggie didn’t waste any time there. Prostitutes were on every street corner and he took his sweet time getting from one block to the next. Man felt so tired after a day all he could do was crack-open a beer and lay spent on the bed, wishing he had a warm body next to him. Reggie might have had a few problems, but out in the wasteland? Nothing. All the women were in the Army, same as him, and as such they were all she-hounds and bitches, every last blessed one of them. They’d sooner slit his throat then lie with him, though that might have just been because Reggie had a reputation.

It sometimes hurt to be famous. Well. Infamous, that is.

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- (Sergeant Eloise Deleon) 52nd Militia deployed to San Bernardino County to engage Fang Raiders
- (Lieutenant Reggie Gardner) 3rd Infantry, 121st Militia, 3rd Cuirassiers deployed to Nye County to secure Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest (2 weeks to secure Forest)
- (Archivist Erik Gutierrez) Archivists at Alameda County to secure engine designs

[Anowa]

Senior Courier Harrison Dover
Embedding himself with the Vegas 52nd Militia
Mojave Desert, San Bernardino County, 20 Miles inside Fang Territory
Week 1 | January

He'd been scouting for a few days now, picking up on Fang camps, harvesting water, noting good deployment positions. Him along with nine others, the 1st Courier Militia. Their job was to observe, and if necessary and possible, strike.

Both of which he did well.

“Get back to work! More of ‘em will be coming! Jason, Albright, get those bodies out of here! Damn vultures will start to circle!”

Especially considering the lack of trigger discipline and situational awareness of the group of Vegas soldiers in front of him. The tactical rigging and equipment on his form included several clips for his M1917, a knife, a canteen, and several packages of salted meat, as well as painkillers and anti-biotics. Of course his goggles and bandana kept him from dying in this storm, and his duster was doing a damn good job of keeping the dust out. But it didn't include the ability to teach these men and women everything he knew... Or even common sense.

Hell he was less than six feet away from a few of them, "Ma'am, In this Courier's opinion. Y'all are fucked."

---

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(Senior Courier Harrison Dover) 1st Courier's Militia deployed to San Bernadino in efforts to remove Fangs combatants.


[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Red Guardsman Leon Parker - Committee for Party Discipline
Prolegrad (Formerly the University of California Berkeley), Alameda County, The Prolegrad Soviet
Week 1 of January of 2045

Leon Parker was an average member of the Committee for Party Discipline. He was modestly tall at 5' 6'', had short trimmed black hair, and brown eyes. He wore the standard uniform for the Red Guard which was consisted of a red arm band, a baseball cap with a red star sown into it, black work boots and a belt with a hostler for a baton. The Red Guard and the Committee for Party Discipline were essentially the security and police forces in the whole Soviet. Their job was to ensure the safety of the Soviet and to protect its members, collections, and research with their very lives.

He had been listening to the speech from inside the First Archivist Library which was the Doe Memorial Library back in the day. He was assigned to patrol the shelves and collections of the library for the duration of the speech. Just as the speech ended, he could hear the sound of books shuffling and pages being turned. He quietly walked towards the sound baton in hand. But when he saw the figure as an old man, he sighed and returned the baton to its holster.

"Hey, Comrade. Are you looking for something?" He said aloud, "Everyone was supposed to be at the gathering. What are you looking for that is so important to miss the announcement for this year's plan?" The section they were in was the physics section of the library which also contained all the supposed engineering books as categorized by those in the Committee for Book Keeping.

[Tayner]

Captain Vapules
Off of the New Hampshire Coast
Week One

"Sir! A White Pine Ship, straight off or bow!" The lookout called from the crows nest of the ship, the GRV (Greater Roman Vessel) Red Runner. The first mate withdrew his eye glass, and scanned before handing it to the captain. "They're changing course!" The lookout hollered back down.

"An intercept course?" The first mate hollered back up. "It is not uncommon to face off in these waters, my captain. Shall we raise the colors?" The first mate asked.

"No! They're sailing away now!" The lookout answered.

"There's your answer." Vapules said. "Orders are to preserve our ships, Caesar may call upon us at anytime to help ferry troops across the Bay. I'll be in my cabin, writing a report. Helmsman, stay your course. Do not interrupt me unless the situation escalates." Vapules said, before leaving the bridge.

"You heard him!" The first mate yelled, getting the crew that had frozen in it's place back to work. "Steady, and smooth. Whoever is on watch, I want two pairs of eyes on that ship at all times, in case she tries something creative." The first mat continued.

---

Caesar
Massachusetts State House
Week One

"Hmmm." Caesar hummed, as he read over the Navy's recent report. While the navy wasn't as much of a priority as the army, they still try to keep a stretch of the coast under their control. The fact that a scenario where another naval power would usually meet one of Caesar's ships in combat didn't happen when it should've. Either a sign of weakness or a shoe of good faith.

"Bring me my highest Fumintarii, Lucus is still across the bay." Caesar said. "I want them dispatched to The White Pines, have them portray an enlisted man in their army, and have him gather as much info on their state." Caesar ordered the runner who stood before him, waiting.

"Yes, my king." He said, as he wrote down the orders. Once he was finished, he ran out of the throne room and went to, well, run the orders to the highest Fumintarii available.

---

Centurion Levectus Regrn
Southern Border
Week 1

Reinforcements had arrived, the troop buildup signifying the soon battle over the bandit controlled territory to the south. The First Calvary Century as well as the 12th and 13th infantry Centuries were ready to push south, but the original force of 300 was already suffering from the plauge. Fifteen dead, left behind on the roads to avoid spread.

Measures were being taken to try to cull the disease, maditory use of restrooms in lateran tents, followed by more heavily enforced hygiene standard like using soap and water. Legionnaires handling the food were required to use utensils to move the food instead of their hands, as well as to cover their mouth when serving food. Decanuss were going from tent to tent, inspecting the cleanliness of each tent. If enough people failed, there would be extreme punishment, but thankfully only one tent group of eight legionnaires were disciplined with heavy physical training.

Rumors were that next week they would launch their attack.

[Parcia]

Bear Claw
40 miles out side of Fang territory
San Bernardino County

The band had ridden some hundreds of miles at that point. Tired Horses trotted at a slow pace through the haze of the sandstorm, each rider in a protective skin to keep them safe from the elements. Black Bear rode up front, flanked by two braves armed with Rifles, him self caring one as well.

When the call came in for reinforcements from their allies to the South, Bear Claw volunteered his own Warband. Chief Red Horse was reluctant, but the winter had been un-eventful, and with Red Tail and the Riders in the north, he agreed. Now a hundred mounted Anasazi braves rode through the sand storms to the aid of their Vegas allies. They were armed mostly with bow, spears, and tomahawks, though 25 of the veteran braves rode with 1884 rifles.

They had started with good progress, passing through the Vegas land once their intentions became known, although the commander that had stopped them just south of the Strip was skeptical a small group of mounted tribals could do anything other then get in the way. they had gotten hit by the Sand storm some 100 miles behind them, and their progress slowed steadily as the storm picked up. He knew why, why the storms were here, it was because of the unbalance of the land caused by the Snake worshipers.

The Anasazi despised snakes, the evil creatures that ate children, so naturally, despite the horrid weather, most of the braves were eager to scalp them.

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Movement orders:
Anasazi Brave x100, mounted, 25 rifles, 25 bows, 50 war spears. All have tomahawks.
ETA to Fang territory, beginning of Week 2 of January.

[Altito Asmoro]

Caliphate of Virginia

Caliph Hassan Ali Bayezid III
Buchanan, Virginia
Week One | January


They heard of a story about a confederation of tribes across the unclaimed lands between Virginia and West Virginia. They also heard of spots for coals and metals, profitable in the long run with whatever technologies they could claimed so far. The fact that there is another nation far intrigued the Caliph and gave him an incentive to funded the deployment of scouts to scout the border of the confederation of the tribes at the West Virginia, as well as the discovery efforts of this mines and depots. Caliph Hassan realized that with the disease, his military scouts will be affected.

But if they want to survive longer, they have to do any means necessary. Risking outbreaks outweigh the benefits, but the benefits outweigh in the long runs. Industrial capacity had been slowed, so time is of the essence. Once the disease ends, Caliph had planned for mobilization to conquered more at the east of his lands, or perhaps to directly claim one of the lands in West Virginia first.

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MOVEMENT :
Caliph's Royal Scouts (40 men, mounted) to West Virginia, ETA Week Three of January
Caliph's Royal Scouts (40 men, mounted) to Tazewell County, ETA Week Two of January

[Imperial Idaho]

Spokane, Mayor Reznov's Holdings, Inland Empire

Mayor Reznov of Spokane had a unique task from the emperor, namely to repair and restore a train to fully functioning condition. The few engineers he had were sent to look at the ones they had from the Spokane Train Station. Many parts were rusted, though the good condition they were stored in helped, and they began to consolidate parts from them all onto one train with the most intact body.

Cars and other useless junk were melted down back into steel and iron and forged into metal panels that were used to reinforce and patch the sides of the train back together. The more delicate and precise parts were turned into schematics and ordered from the skilled Smiths of Silver Valley, though there were several parts that blacksmiths gave a blankstare when asked to make, too complicated for the smiths and out of supply. The Sandpoint train station had been looted years ago, and perhaps the parts were somewhere within the Empire, but that would take too long to find.

Mayor Reznov had permission to request envoys from the emperor sent to the other nations in Washington, and so requested one be sent to Novgorod. They would rather ask a minor nation than the great power next door. The crew of 10 set off from Spokane, trading Silver as a gift and as money to Novgorod. The Old Steamboats that rode across the Lake Coeur D'alene were also examined and had parts logged and even some taken for consolidation on the train.

The entire reason for the endouver was for trade, while the Columbia river was a solid trade route, St. Helens had a monopoly on it, having working steamboats while the Inland Empire did not. If they could exploit the land south of the Rockies along the Railroad they had a chance at making a fortune. They would have to prepare to maintain chunks of the railroad, largely by cannibalizing on useless track that went to nowhere, but they could make money off of it.

[Drangavik]

Abequa Tribe Camp

Suletu Abequa
Houston County, Texas
Week One | January

It had been a regular day within the Abequa tribe. Various men moving into the nearby forests to hunt for game, women tending to crops, and children running amok in the blighted streets. Suletu would turn from his distrusting balcony, moving back inside the converted space center. Of course, whenever it was discovered, it was seen as just another home, everything within the halls was destroyed long ago though the building itself stood uneasily strong above the rest within the ruins of a once great population hub. Before reaching for the curtain, a lone horseman would ride into the village, multiple people screaming as he shouts orders to them. Suletu furrows his brow, moving inside the center and walking down the stairs as his cohort of four men follow him, a messenger would burst through the front doors.

He'd be visibly tired from traveling speaking in between short breaths. "Leader, oh leader!" he'd cut short from a gasp. "Hold your breath. Somebody get him water!" Suletu shouted, as multiple people would rush outside, before walking back through the doors with a cup. The man would straighten his back, gulping down the liquid. "I thank you, leader. We've recently discovered another land to the south! They hold great canoes, much bigger than those we've ever seen!", Suletu lightly frowns, rubbing his chin. "Do they seem to act similar to the bandits that threaten our society of peace?" he'd question. The man would quickly shake his head, "Oh no, they're much better than them! We've even witnessed another ship sail into their harbor, like trade!", "Wonderful news!" Suletu exclaimed. "We should send emissaries as soon as we can. Gather ten men, and ride to their kingdom upon horseback." The man bows, turning and moving from the great hall.

Code: Select all

Movement:

x10 Horsemen riding to The Kingdom of the Bayou's Western-most border. (Armed with six Conventional Bows with bola, and four Metal shields with Spears.) ETA: 2nd Week of January.

[Ormata]

Sergeant Eloise Deleon
52nd Militia
Mojave Desert, San Bernardino County, 20 Miles inside Fang Territory
Week 1 | January

"Ma'am, In this Courier's opinion. Y'all are fucked."

“SHIT!” screamed out one of the antsier soldiers, a young pup who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He leaned on his shovel, deep breaths coming on and out, while wheezing laughter came from his comrades. If anything it highlighted precisely how unknowing he had been. In all reality, he might have still had the ears ringing from his earlier rifle-fire tutorial. Recruits shot a bit, but most of it came before training, in all honesty.

“God fucking dammit. I thought one would be here tomorrow,” breathed the young soldier, before digging into a pocket and withdrawing two coins. The kid tossed the duo to another, who caught them deftly. The other soldier, Corporal stripes on him, nodded confidently. He wasn’t new to the Mojave, just to the damn dust. Couriers liked to hang-about some movements, troop movements. You could sell a helluva lot of charms to ward-off disease and bullets to the young soldier, despite how many warnings from the higher-ups were given. Make a quick buck off of a young man who didn't know better, that's what some of them did. Well. Some of the more free ones, that is to state.

“What’s your name?” Asked Deleon, ignoring the man’s comment. Whether they were fucked or not wasn’t her concern; they weren’t the bulk of Vegas forces, not by a long shot. Just a knife’s blade into the Mojave, into San Bernardino. "And as for them being fucked, well..." she thought over whether or not she wanted to dignify that with a response. "Well, in this soldier's opinion, greener men have done big things, Courier. You know how it goes. We're no 108th, that's for damn sure, but we're a start." The diatribe was delivered with little enthusiasm; the thing was stated like a mundane charm, something one did because they did it before and will again.

The commotion drew that same Lieutenant over, the man walking with a characteristic gimp on his right.

Archivist Erik Gutierrez
Prolegrad, Alameda County, The Soviet of Archivists
Week 1 | January

"Hey, Comrade. Are you looking for something?" He said aloud, "Everyone was supposed to be at the gathering. What are you looking for that is so important to miss the announcement for this year's plan?"

The damn Communist thought he was one of them; that was rich. Erik sympathized with the poor sods, that was true, but to think him Communist? That was rich. That was rich indeed. He was asking on the gathering, on that little delegation of pure ideology. Erik had heard that, somewhere. Read it, more like. He smiled a bit, didn’t much turn around.

“Looking for a design, young man. I haven’t a moment to lose, you know. Too damned old for this.” He paused, taking a drink from his cup of coffee. “So what did Der Gute Herr Haden say you were doing this year? Making Ration Cards for the Soviet?” Erik chuckled lightly to himself, setting the tin cup down before leaning back into his book. “I haven’t the best hearing, ja?”

Der Gute Herr. Ja. It was jargon to most, but Erik had learnt some of the old world languages. Well, not a lot of them. He found a half-burnt copy of a dictionary, entertained himself by learning the words and confusing others. It was a little game one could play with themselves, at least to pass the time. Sometimes it was a deadly game; the paranoid did not play it well in any sense of the word. They were always so twitchy. Always.

Code: Select all

Las Vegas Overview
- (Sergeant Eloise Deleon) 52nd Militia deployed to San Bernardino County to engage Fang Raiders
- (Lieutenant Reggie Gardner) 3rd Infantry, 121st Militia, 3rd Cuirassiers deployed to Nye County to secure Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest (2 weeks to secure Forest)
- (Archivist Erik Gutierrez) Archivists at Alameda County to secure engine designs

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Red Guardsman Leon Parker - Committee for Party Discipline
Prolegrad (Formerly the University of California Berkeley), Alameda County, The Prolegrad Soviet
Week 1 of January of 2045

Great, it's one of those people. Leon thought to himself as this old man just chided him and just mocked the Soviet. The first week of classes for any Archivist just joining the Soviet were political ideology and Soviet history classes so that they could know the culture and the people of the Soviet better. However anyone could guess that the local Archivists were much more loyal and in-line with the Soviet's ideology than the foreigners. Of course there were debates about letting such people into the Soviet, but it has been been grudgingly accepted as a "necessary evil" since the Soviet could not sustain itself and relied heavily on foreign imports. While this meant more specialization in their skills, it also meant they were dependent on people like this man for supplies.

"If you got one thing right is that there will be rationing. Have you felt the heat outside? The whole state is probably in a drought." He walked over to the old man and glanced at the book he was reading. "May I see your identification?" He asked. "Besides if everyone is listening to the speech, that means that whoever is in charge of this section of the Library would be gone as well. So whatever you are looking for will be harder to find or you refused to attend because you are doing something suspicious and don't want the attention."

Every member of the Soviet was given a set of identification papers in a single pocket-sized booklet. The information displayed in the booklet showed the person's name, their birthday, their place of origin/citizenship, the committee they are in, the classes they have taken, and such. Each booklet has a special id and is made locally in the Soviet. If someone were to forge it, a Red Guardsmen could confiscate their booklet and give it to the Committee of Records (CR)which had all the records of each ID booklet made. If the number cannot be found, then it was considered a forgery and invalid. If someone is caught with a forged booklet, the penalty was severe. There were other anti-forgeries methods in the booklet such as the intricate pattern of the symbol of the Soviet which was printed on with red ink using a special machine which made the booklets or cross-referencing things said in the booklet with the records from the CR.

[Ormata]

Archivist Erik Gutierrez
Prolegrad, Alameda County, The Soviet of Archivists
Week 1 | January

"If you got one thing right is that there will be rationing. Have you felt the heat outside? The whole state is probably in a drought." He walked over to the old man and glanced at the book he was reading. "May I see your identification?" He asked. "Besides if everyone is listening to the speech, that means that whoever is in charge of this section of the Library would be gone as well. So whatever you are looking for will be harder to find or you refused to attend because you are doing something suspicious and don't want the attention."

“What am I going to do, have a heart attack when no-one’s looking?” Shot-back Erik in his grating tone, as he leaned-back from his book. One hand delved into his vest, fishing-out the book. He got up, slowly, too, turning about to see his harasser. The man was normal Red Guard, tall with a baton in his belt. The normal crop of bullies who liked to enforce their own brands of justice. Erik didn’t like them much. “You know, not even in Vegas am I hassled as much as here. At least the prostitutes stay away from old men like me.” The truth was that he hadn’t been on the Vegas street in years, not been in a casino in two decades and even then it was only to meet a benefactor.

“Ah, here it is.” He took the thing out, his little booklet, handing it to the Red Guard. The book was authentic, patently so. Vegas had told him he could try to get such a thing forged, if it decreased the time spent, but he preferred the normal way. Less of an issue if everything went wrong, like now. Much less of a chance of a guard deciding to beat him for being there illegally. At least, that was the hope. Erik came across a particularly paranoid one, every once in awhile.

“As for it being harder to find, I seriously doubt it. Been in this section for a good few years. I know the system.” Erik shook his head, before leaning heavily on his table. Gods where was his cane...there it was, right where he left it. One hand reaching over, he grasped the simple stick, bringing it near and leaning on it a bit. It was annoying to get old. Quite annoying.

Erik leaned forwards, ever so slightly, to bring the boy’s features into view. He could hardly be called a boy, though everyone seemed to be a boy in Erik’s eyes. Everyone younger. “What are you, new? Don’t recognize you.”

Code: Select all

Las Vegas Overview
- (Sergeant Eloise Deleon) 52nd Militia deployed to San Bernardino County to engage Fang Raiders
- (Lieutenant Reggie Gardner) 3rd Infantry, 121st Militia, 3rd Cuirassiers deployed to Nye County to secure Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest (2 weeks to secure Forest)
- (Archivist Erik Gutierrez) Archivists at Alameda County to secure engine designs

[Olthenia]

Levy County, Florida
Week ? of January, 2045
Bad Moon Rising

A haze of woodsmoke misted the air above the little township.

“They’re called ferals, these folks.”

“I know that, Sadie,” Donna told her markswoman with rather less patience than she would’ve liked. “It’s just the way they are. They even know God as a man – God the Father.”

Sadie rolled her eyes as though that was the silliest thing she’d ever heard, and her nose wrinkled in that peculiar way it always did – as though she’d smelled something foul. “That’s ridiculous,” she declared. “God isn’t a father! God is... the Line. Like the sky. Or the sun.”

“I know that, and you know that, but they don’t,” Donna explained patiently. “Look: it’s their name. And the Council says it’s a name from way, way back in the Long Ago. So who are we to disagree?”

Sadie made a profoundly unhappy noise deep in her throat. “All right. So they’re called ferals, and they think God’s someone’s dad, and that’s fine. I suppose. And we are here…” The sentence trailed off into a questioning silence.

“Because we’re here to gather the year’s first tithe," Donna repeated. "It's what they owe us for keeping the law and holding the cannibals from their door,”

“Yeah, I know that,” Sadie replied irritably. “Er – miss. But what I mean is, why are we here? Why not somebody else?”

Donna considered how to reply. Sadie was a good girl, but the lanky young woman had hardly been cursed with an overabundance of brainpower. Do I tell her that I owed Lucky Strike a favor? Do I tell her that my ma died when I was two, so that nothing seems more natural to me than the rule of men? Do I tell her that I've walked the Rubble Road between Jackson and Tallahassee for - by the Line! - nigh on a decade now? Or do I tell her that Warmother Curry almost had me banished when she found me in bed with one of the Water boys, and that I had to find a reason – any reason – to get out of camp for a spell?

In the end, Donna shrugged, and said: “Well, I suppose it’s because I volunteered.”

Sadie made a uniquely Saddledog noise – a groan of helpless Floridan dismay not dissimilar to a dog's snort – and shook her head. “And if I get my cheek cut for making eyes at any cute fellers in that town, miss, then it is on your head.”

Donna chuckled, more relieved than she would like to confess at the conversation’s end. “Fair enough, Sadie. Fair enough.”

And so it was.

Ever since the Saddledogs had sieged the Mudfather and his ‘gatormen out of their shrine deep in the ‘Fenokee swamps, the wastes of what had once been Florida had been holden to the Pact. The pact that said the Saddledogs kept the law, and that any folks that lived or travelled therein owed a tithe to them for doing so in peace. That’s why Sadie and Donna were there now, amongst the lush, kudzu-choked trees of Levy County – to take the tithe and let even feral folks know the law was still there. And it was a heck of a thing, that law. It kept folks safe out on the Rubble Road, just like it kept’em safe in their tents at night. Most importantly, perhaps – it banned cannibalism from the land. That staple of the Mudfather’s queer cult was gone, gone, thrice gone from Florida now – and would be, forever more. Singers and Blues Men still sang songs about it to this very day.

Now, Donna had to admit, Levy sure was a wonderful land. The folks here weren’t fortified the way they’d done it down in Orange, where walls and camouflage netting covered a dim, grey compound on all sides. But maybe that was for the best, in a way. There was something about high walls and sniper’s nests that made folks forget the law, Donna knew. That’s why the Saddledogs didn’t take tribute from Orange county. Oh, no. And besides; the turquoise skies above Levy looked all the prettier for lack of walls and pillboxes anyway, Donna thought.

The Saddledogs and their getup were a unique sight in Levy, but not an unfamiliar one. Every few turns of the moon, armed posses of latter-day amazons paid visit to the folks there. Feral folks owned neither rifle nor pistol – and although some hefted wicked-looking mauls or recurve bows – they still paid the Saddledogs’ tribute. Grudgingly. Whether or not that had much to do with the hundred or so Saddledogs that rode up to their doorstep in sun-scorched leathers, guns at their shoulders and spears at their sides, was any man’s guess.

---

- The Saddledogs extract tribute from the Feral colony in Levy County, Florida.

[New Minahasa]

---

Novgorod Dominion

Whatcom-Okanogan Borders

"This winter is really cold, comrade. I can't wait until we finish our shift and get ourselves back in the base. I could use a vodka or two," spoke a Dominion soldier in Russian.

In the Novgorod, Russian was the nation's primary language, although English was also taught as their secondary language. Two soldiers were overlooking a small portion of the eastern border from a small outpost, accompanied only by a small bonfire in the middle of the outpost. The cold winter they were experiencing had got to be the harshest out of all winters they had ever been through.

"You're damn right. My balls are freezing to death. Fucking hell," the other replied with a mix of Russian and English vocabulary.

"Why were we even stationed here? It's not like bandits and raiders are going attack us in this godforsaken weather. Not to mention we have walls all over the damn place, as well," the soldier complained.

Both men stood their grounds even though they were freezing to death. Each would switch position as one went to warm up at the bonfire, and the other overlooking the empty surroundings. The cold was playing mind tricks on them. One of them swore he saw a silhouette crossing through the piles of snow, but the other just dismissed him. They gripped onto their improvised M1 Garands as tight as they can.

Then, he saw it again. Silhouettes, at the distance. But this time, it wasn't a mind trick. They were real people who had ventured through the cold winter, all the way into Dominion territory. The strangers didn't seem like a bunch of raiders, but both men prepared themselves for the worst. They raised their improvised rifles at the strangers; there were ten of them, all carried what seemed to be pre-war weapons.

"Hold it right there, fellas. Who are you, and where did you come from? And what do you want in here?," asked one of the guards, the other asking the same thing in Russian, in case they were Novgorod personnels.

[Imperial Idaho]

Fort, Novgorod

The group of ten stopped in their tracks, seeing the fire illuminate the two mens faces, and being told to stand down.They were confused when one of the guards spoke Russian, they heard it as oddly organized gibberish. A few of the men raised their rifles in turn. The leading envoy stepped forward. "Don't worry, we mean no trouble! I am an envoy from the Inland Empire, we are on ourway to speak withthe leader of Novgorod."

[Forest State]

The Heyes Clan
New Green Bay, Brown Tribe Territory

In the north, beyond the plains of the lower midwest and to the west of the great lakes, on the banks of one of those lakes, actually, there were a people who withstood the cold and braved the wild forests, rising from a humble beginning as raiders and bandits to become one of the more prominent powers not just in former Wisconsin, but in the entire midwestern region. They had survived a lot, through the recent years of expansion, when they ascended from a local to a regional and then national power. War had been one big thing that they had survived, but the environment was a constant struggle for them, too. The north wasn't the most favorable of places to live, and that was the double edged sword of their empire. It was hard to invade them because of the area where they lived, but that also meant that it was less comfortable for them in their own home.

This winter was one of the harder ones that they had faced, however. Things were colder than usual, and the snow seemed to come down harder and longer. The people were extra hungry as a result of the extra long winter, which had hurt the food supply, and the tribes of the Lake Nation were already hurt by rebellion. That rebellion was coming to an end, though, and soon, their only problem would be the cold. Not their own people. The effects of winter could be easily seen on the main road in New Green Bay, as a group of hard faced soldiers rode on horseback, towing a wagon through the snow behind them that contained an extra special prisoner. They were taking that prisoner to the Heyes Palace, at the northwest end of the city, and they arrived after a longer than usual transport time because of the snow on the ground.

The 'trial' was already set up when they arrived there, but the decision had already been made. The trial was a formality for show, before they executed and replaced the traitorous leader of the Kewaunee Tribe. Another group of hardened soldiers were waiting at the Palace with pikes and axes, removing the prisoner from the wagon and taking the man inside, towards the inner halls of the building and to the throne room, where a large group of nobles were gathered. The Rex wanted everyone of importance to be here, to get the message that he was sending. Once the man was there, the 'trial' was short, run by a kangaroo court comprised of some of the Brown Tribe nobles.

"Zak Sandches, for the crimes of attempted treason, attempted secession, and conspiracy, you are sentenced to death by execution," said the military commander that was in charge of the proceedings. "Your possessions will be redistributed to the rest of your clan, and your titles shall return to the Heyes clan. The gods will it..."

"The gods will it," repeated the other nobles, affirming the decision.

"No, no, no!" the man shouted, as Even Heyes, the executioner and the heir to the nation, drew his broadsword and stepped towards him. "You don't understand, I never meant to start this conspiracy, I was pulled into it by-"

The two soldiers behind him held the man still, and Even brought the sword up and then cut downwards into the neck area of the man. The blow was enough to be a killing one, even if it wasn't the prettiest execution. Even had never cared about looking good while doing a dirty job; the only thing that mattered was that it was effective. "He's dead, father," the twenty one year old stated, brushing his long hair out of his face and sheathing the now bloodied broadsword. "Who will rise to the throne in Kewaunee in his absence?"

"I appoint Kori of Clan Auguste to the throne," said Brayden Heyes, from the throne of the Rex. "May her reign be longer than that of her predecessor."

"Thanks, m'lord," replied Kori Auguste, the twenty eight year old woman who had been the protege of Brayden Heyes for some time now. She now had her chance in the spotlight, to prove that she was just as capable as someone from a higher regarded clan. "May I bring a couple hundred soldiers back to Kewaunee with me, to ensure that the supporters of my predecessor don't cause trouble?"

"It will be done," Brayden nodded. "Now, I believe that this little ceremony is done. We have more important matters to attend to, so could somebody get this body cleaned up and have the room returned to how it was before the trial? It's time to decide how we'll go about dealing with this long winter."

[Biscaria]

President Bill Burnett
Capitol Building, Centralia, St. Helens Republic
Late Week 1 | January 100

It was Friday morning, and President Burnett had just received his morning briefing in his personal study. His secretary of defense, Mark Fournier, and CIO, Lynette Foster, stood before him. From them, he recently received word of an increasingly hostile action coming from a peculiar communist quagmire of starvation and despair in the north, the Novgorod Dominion. According to cavalry scouts under the command of Foster's subordinates, the small state had been ramping up raids in the last few weeks and had begun to establish bases and outposts in the terra nullius of Skagit County. With this expansion, the state became concerning to the Republic. This concern was felt by President Burnett as his department heads briefed him.

"We must take precautions," stated Burnett, after a long pause filled with pondering. "The Novgorod Dominion poses no threat to the Republic as of now, but if their expansion is left unchecked then they could very well eventually reach our borders. As their way of life is directly contrary to our own, we must take action. Not imperative action, but precautionary action."

Burnett looked up at Fournier. "Mark, we're going to need to send a small expeditionary force up to Thurston County. I've talked it over with the legislature, and I actually got them to agree. It's acquisition would provide more of buffer zone for the capital, provided an added layer of defense. The area's pretty flushed out too; the ruins of Olympia have laid empty for years. The farm and logging communities south of the city can I'm sure be convinced to join us as; make sure to bring ample supplies of food. Its necessary in this winter rampage outside and you can use it to bargain for allegiance." As he said this he wrote down the directive on an official form, along with another. He gave both of them to Fournier when he finished writing them up. "And here are the necessary forms. Give the second one to Elise Messner (Secretary of Agriculture and Food Administration) and she'll give your men the extra supplies they need."

Fournier smiled and gave a quick salute "Thank you Bill, I'll get on it right away." He then walked out of the study and into the hall, where he was helped out of the house by Burnett's secretary Mary Lewiston. Burnett smiled to himself as Fournier left; even though they were on a first name basis, Fournier still couldn't help but salute to his superior.

With Fournier gone to do his duty, President Burnett turned to Foster. "Now Lynn, we are going to gather more intelligence about what that place is doing up there. I want you to send a couple of diplomats up to the Novgorod Dominion in order to deepen our contacts with the country. Perhaps we could even establish an embassy, though the way they've been talking it likely won't happen. Make sure to send your best men; they aren't likely to get a warm welcome."

Foster nodded at the presidents verbal instructions, and candidly took the written directive of the order that Burnett subsequently wrote up. "I'll get on that right away," said Foster, and Burnett sensed a hint of disgruntlement. With her many years as a spy for the Republic, Foster knew the ins and outs of diplomacy and espionage and thought the plan was a bad idea. They had to send diplomats though; it was official, and official was the Republic's way.

Foster left the room soon afterwards, helped out of the house like Fournier by Mary Lewiston, and Burnett was soon left alone in his study. With the pressing affairs of the day mostly take care of, President Burnett turned back to his daily paperwork and proceeded on.

---

Actions:
- Begin expansion efforts in Thurston County.
- Send diplomats to the Novgorod Republic for intelligence and relation-affecting purposes.

[New Grestin]

YEAR ONE HUNDRED

FEBRUARY | 2045

NEW CRISES

COMET SIGHTED
Peasants are always superstitious, and the appearance of a comet in the sky has caused panic among our people.
They are convinced that this is a sign that the end of times is near or that something bad is going to happen in the near future.

Lose 1 Stability. A Vase falls over.

Affected States: All States

[Beiarusia]

K A M I A H

---

Republic of St. Helens

President Bethany Tash
Kamiah, Lewis County, ID
January

Captain Hunt must have caught wind of his patronizing manner as he quickly dropped the grownup-speaking-to-a-child tone of voice for one that was more professional in nature if not tinged with a tad bit of embarrassment. Bethany kept as much a straight face as possible but was pleased with the change, even more so with the added title of Madame President. The boat captain gave orders to his men to begin unloading the foodstuffs. A half ton, which may well have been a mountain as far as the hungry town was concerned. As the men worked Captain Hunt pressed on with the conversation, complementing the small town and sounding truly genuine despite the town looking all the worse for wear – Kamiah was a rundown sort of place, but it was home.

Several children had edged closer to the riverbank as the stack of boxes grew ever higher. A few of the younger ones had even gone over towards the shipman with the candy bars despite the reluctance of the others. Bethany, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the situation was under control, and in no way about to turn south as far as she could see, motioned for the older teens to collect the boxes and to take them back to the civic building where most of the winter stores were kept. The teens, almost adults themselves, didn’t show the same reservations but were attentative nonetheless.

“Well Miss Bethany… you wouldn’t happen to have a surname, would you?” Captain Hunt began before segueing into a question about Kamiah’s economy, of which he assured his intentions were forthright, whatever that meant. More importantly the boat captain had mentioned potential future business.

Bethany, again, remained as impassive as she could be as she answered. “Tash, but don’t call me that. You may like your family name but I wouldn’t mind forgetting mine. And Kamiah is pretty much isolated. Whatever we make we make for us. Get a few traders maybe a few times a year depending but that’s about it. Otherwise, we’re on our own.” The teen girl cast a sidelong glance towards the group of children standing not too far off. Many were still wary of the grownups, so openly speaking about a long-term engagement was out of the question. Lowering her voice so that the boat captain could hear but not the others she said, “We’re talk about the future later.”

Most of the group had gone back towards the town proper with the food, and though it would feed them well it would still need to be rationed to some extent until winter gave way to spring. Elizabeth had gone to make sure that it wasn’t eaten all at once while Bethany and a few stragglers lingered behind, mostly the very young or the almost-adults – the smaller children were generally carefree even around the outsiders whereas the older teens were keeping watch on the younger kids.

Bethany was there to answer any more questions that Captain Hunt may well have.