NATION

PASSWORD

Life, Death, and Dreams [Achesia's MT Anthology Thread]

Where nations come together and discuss matters of varying degrees of importance. [In character]
User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Life, Death, and Dreams [Achesia's MT Anthology Thread]

Postby Achesia » Sat May 12, 2018 7:11 pm

Image



Here will be the one-off stories and snippets not necessarily associated with one and other from my MT nations such as Rhynovia, Lieuaban, Achkadia, Achkland, or Achesia. These stories will serve to advance a narrative or idea of these nations, and not for certain be connected, though they may somehow be tied together. Pretty much just a place for me to jot down IC thoughts and give an image of what life is like in these places.



Image
Nations RPed by Achesia featured in this thread.
Last edited by Achesia on Sat Apr 06, 2019 6:06 pm, edited 5 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sat May 12, 2018 7:13 pm

Image
Rhynovia










RHYNOVIA: Defense News Release Regarding Multi-Role Fighter Replacement


Image




In a joint statement at the military headquarters in Rhynovia today, the Foreign Expeditionary Force and Royal Territorial Army commanders announced the release of requirements for a new multi-role fighter procurement slated to replace the aging MiG-29 fleet in service with both branches today. This after several training incidents this past spring led to the death of 3 pilots flying these aging airframes that were first built by the Rhynovian Worker’s Republic in 1979. Since then the MiG-29 has been the workhorse of the Worker’s Air Force, the Republican Air Force, and now since the restructuring under the monarchy, the FEF and RTA.
Image

This latest move to modernize its multi-role fighter capability comes as the latest iteration of force modernization and increased defense spending over the past decade. Rhynovia’s military at the turn of the millennia suffered greatly at the hands of aging and obsolescence, some observes skeptical of its ability to complete the mission-set the Worker’s Republic had laid out for it. Largely due to economic troubles under the communist regime, the modernization woes of the country’s military were quickly addressed under the new democratic government with their proposed increase in spending to address issues across all branches. As the monarchy came to power in 2011 it swiftly set out in both reorganization and procurement to reform the military into an effective fighting force.

As we have seen with the development and selection of the Sukhoi Su-35 to replace it’s obsolete counterpart the Sukhoi Su-27, Rhynovian officials place a high degree of practicality on the forefront of their requirements for procurement of these fighters. Part of the reason stated for the selection of the Royal Air Yard to produce the Su-35 was the degree of commonality it exhibited with both its predecessor and other aircraft in the FEF and RTA’s inventory. Some of those same statements were released today, as cost effectiveness is vital to commanders who are seeing harsh restrictions placed on their budgets as the modernization pains of all branches and areas trying to come into the 21st century at once are realized.

There is also a great deal of emphasis placed on the need for a 4++”+” generation fighter, an almost quirky way of the Rhynovian military command saying they want something beyond the newer fourth generation fighters but not quite at the cost of a fifth generation fighter. Stealth is talked about in the requirements documents but not at the level that it is a end-all-be-all of the Rhynovian commanders for the contract to be won.

As usual the requirement exists for the fighter to be able to take off from shorter runways, even dirt runways throughout the Rhynovian country side. Largely a requirement of the RTA, which routinely practices and trains its crews to operate out of rural bases in defense of aggression by a much larger force, some of the larger multi-roles may suffer at the hand of this requirement, but whether commanders are willing to let this slide is yet to be seen.

One of the biggest requirements outlined in these documents is the need for the MiG-29 replacement to be able to network with the rest of the Rhynovian arsenal. This is a relativity new ambition of the Rhynovian military as countries begin to make use of modern communications technologies to have fighters, ships, land forces, and even munitions talk to each other in the battlespace. One speculation is that through Rhynovia’s large use of SSGNs in the Royal Navy is that future aircraft in all services will be required to network with cruise missiles launched off of these SSGNs and guide them to their targets while effectively evading enemy fire.

Several contenders for this project come to mind, and one domestic, Royal Air Yards has already submitted the Mikoyan MiG-35, the spiritual successor of the MiG-29, as their bid to win the contract to produce Rhynovia’s newest multi-role. Whether Rhynovia will choose to domestically produce this fighter aircraft or not remains to be seen. There have been several upsets with domestic companies in this large modernization push, the most notable of which was the row over the procurement of the AT-802L Longsword from the Federation of Belfras over the M-68 Manuela from Manuela defense, a domestic favorite to win the contract. This demonstrated willingness to allow foreign competition to insert itself on what for decades has been an exclusively domestic market continues to leave the Rhynovian defense industry on edge. Until the full list of contenders is available it remains to be seen what direction Rhynovian officials will take the MiG-29 replacement.

Bronislav Valentin
Editor for Rhydefensenow.com
Image
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Thu Oct 25, 2018 9:45 am

Image
Rhynovia











Image



First Me-550 Multi-Role Fighter Delivered to RTA


Image



The first delivery unit of the Rhynovian Royal Territorial Army Me-550 arrived at Chiga airbase today. It is the first of 72 such aircraft that were purchased from the Tarasian aerospace company Falcus Designs. After the Rhynovian Future Multi-Role competition concluded two years ago in late 2016 observers were surprised to see the selection of theMe-550 over the much favored Vanosian Rafale. The Me-550 which was previously only in service with Tarasian Air Force and Nekorian Air Force is now becoming a popular air frame amongst experts with other potential operators watching it closely.
Image
A Nekorian Me-550 on flight test.

This first delivery will be one of many over the course of 2 years as the Me-550 designated by the Rhynovian Armed Forces as the "Me-550 Dark Duke" replaces aging airframes such as the MiG-21, MiG-23, and MiG-29 currently in the Rhynovian inventory. This capability has been long sought after as for years Rhynovian forces suffered from a distinct lack of modern capability in it's air power, setting it behind many of its counterparts and adversaries in the region. But no longer as the new Su-35 Air Superiority Fight and the Me-550 patrol the skies over Rhynovia with their advanced avionics and stellar capabilities.

Many within the Rhynovian government and military celebrated the arrival of the Armed Forces' latest weapon, a sign of Rhynovia's struggles to modernize as a nation coming to fruition. Yet not all within Rhynovia were happy with the selection of the Me-550, with several high profile investors in the Royal Air Yards, and other nationalistic groups protesting the purchasing of foreign defense goods. The newly appointed Defense Minister, Alexi Volodymyr however seems bent on reforming the Royal Armed Forces into a modern fighting organization and has done much to change many of his predecessor's policies in regards to doctrine for the newly returned monarchy.

What the result of these reforms is remains to be seen.





Bronislav Valentin
Editor for Rhydefensenow.com
Image
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:01 pm, edited 2 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:43 am

Image
Rhynovia













Image



Rhynovian Family of Five Killed in Ashkelon Blast
Their vacation at the Hotel Goldman cut short by terrorism
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Nadejda Arisha (@NadeArisha)
29 May 2018 | Rhynovia, Rhynovia




Image



Ashkelon Yisrael- a coordinated terror attack by the Christian Defense League rocked the streets of Ashkelon yesterday claiming 90 lives of both natives and foreign tourists. The Hotel Goldman, the premiere foreign hotel in the city was the primary target of the strike where a car bomb exploded that morning. Among those mourning throughout the world, the ripples of the sorrow and loss have been felt at home here in Rhynovia. The Zhidkov family was on a vacation to Ashkelon that day and was staying at the Hotel Goldman at the time of the attack.

The Chiga natives were on their way to visit some of the cities many holy sites when they were caught outside as the attack commenced. All five including their 3 children who were 14, 7, and 4 years old were killed instantly. Their family in Chiga were informed of their deaths by members of the Foreign Ministry just hours after the their bodies were identified by Yisraelian authorities. While they declined an interview with Rhynovia News Today, neighbors of the Zhidkovs expressed their shock and sadness upon hearing of their deaths.

"The children were so beautiful, Sanya (the 14 year old daughter) had the most beautiful voice."

“It is crazy to think they were simply on a family vacation, not knowing they wouldn’t return home to Rhynovia.”

“When I talked to them before they left, they seemed so excited, the children were excited to go.”

Memorial services are scheduled to be held over the weekend with the endorsement of the family, these will be closed to only family, neighbors, and friends of the family. Un-sponsored memorial services have cropped up across the nation as many morn this tragedy. Many calling on the Lord-Governor to take measures to protect Rhynovia's citizens abroad. So far this year there have been a total of 20 Rhynovian victims (including the Zhidkovs) of terrorism, and over half of these have been so abroad.

No official statement from the Lord Governor's office has been made, however the Foreign Ministry has announced as part of a partial press release that it's security service will be cooperating with Yisraelian authorities to ensure that current security measures around locations frequented by Rhynovian visitors are secured and that the perpetrators of this horrific act are brought to justice.

It is certain that one should visit the volatile region of northern Scipia, including Yisrael at their own risk. Over 85% of this region is marked with warnings for travelers by the Foreign Ministry due to ethnic and religious violence frequently felt there.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Rhynovian Media Capital. 2018


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Sports: Chiga wins 5-3 against Surad Thursday. [ 9715]
  • International: Is Estoni a legitimate state?. [ 8005 ]
  • Music: Singer Viktoria Kristina (aka Little V) dies at 19 years of age from drug overdose. [ 11394 ]
  • Defense: MiG-35 proposal by Royal Air Yards riddled with problems. [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:45 am

Image
Rhynovia














Image



Minister of Defense, Alexi Volodymyr Announces Major Reformation to Armed Forces
Focus of Rhynovian Officals Influencing Scope of Armed Force's Mission
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Nadejda Arisha (@NadeArisha)
10 October 2018 | Rhynovia, Rhynovia




Image
Defense Minister Alexi Volodymyr Sitting With International Counterparts at Defense Panel in Ghant.


Rhynovia, Rhynovia- Gavrilov Palace today with major announcements regarding the organization of the Rhynovian Royal Armed Forces. Since his appointment by the Assembly of Ranks, Defense Minister Alexi Volodymyr has made his feelings clear that the direction he envisions taking the Royal Armed Forces is in stark contrast to that of the direction Grand Duke Emil took them during the formation of the new monarchy and it's military. Both the Chancellor and the Grand Duke have had their very public differences on matters of foreign policy, despite both being nationalistic figures for the nation which has seen much turmoil over the past two decades. The announcements made today however by the Defense Ministry are a departure from a government solely based off of the vision of Grand Duke Emil and into what many experts say is a more realistic and sensible organization that suits the RRAF.

In the announcement today, what was at its inception the brainchild of Grand Duke Emil, the Foreign Expeditionary Force will be disbanded and folded completely into the Royal Territorial Army. While aides to the Defense Minister have clarified this does not mean Rhynovia will give up any sort of force projection to protect its interests abroad, but rather the expenditure and redundancy of a force completely organized to fight abroad is against the interests of Rhynovia. The announcement goes into detail that many of the former FEF formations will be retained as they are and folded into existing command structures as "first to fight" units which can be called upon at a moments notice. Observers at RhyDefenseNow.com expressed that this makes sense due to the FEF's more advanced equipment and training compared to regular RTA units [1].
Image
RTA T-84 on display during Rhynovian Home Guard Celebration.

The FEF as it stood before this announcement consisted of 3 divisions of combined arms troops, each division with a different role in an expeditionary fight and with different logistical needs on the modern battlefield. One heavy division which consists of Armor and Mechanized Infantry units is slated to be incorporated into the 1st Army (West) as three combined arms brigades. These units will most likely retain some of the more advanced pieces of equipment such as the T-84s and the Belfrasian BMS Harma and be the spearhead of the newly revitalized RTA.

The second and third divisions of the FEF stand as the aerial forces division and rapid reaction division, a mass force of paratroopers, helicopter, and amphibious soldiers skilled in high mobility combat. In the limited conflicts Rhynovia has been involved in since the RRAF's inception, these soldiers have been known to operate on conjunction with the Royal Navy basing themselves on the two flagship LHDs. Unlike many militaries in the region ministry aides have clarified that amphibious units will still remain apart of the Territorial Army vice being folded under the Royal Navy as dedicated naval infantry. This follows traditional Rhynovian doctrine of keeping forces within their own wheelhouse and encouraging branches to cooperate vice building their own fiefdoms.

Air forces of the FEF will be separated and given to both the Western and Eastern Armies to bolster aerial defense in their regions.

5 brigades of support units for the FEF will be some of the few units that will disband and integrate into existing structures within the RTA. Officials at the ministry highlighted this cost saving elimination of redundancy as one of the reasons this reorganization was made. This coupled with the reduction of administrative organizations is expected to save the RRAF a estimated total of 1.4 Billion USDs a year. This is a stiff blow to parties within the government such as the Chancellor who argued that a reorganization of the RRAF of this nature would not make a significant difference in cost savings.
Image
RTA MiG-21s fly in formation over eastern Rhynovia.

While the division between the Chancellor and the Defense Minister grows by the day (as viewed from an outside perspective) many insiders view this as healthy for Rhynovia as a whole. Grand Duke Emil is highly respected as a man who lead Rhynovia from the dark and squabble of democratic poverty to the formation of the new monarchy as Lord Governor. At the time in 2005 the Grand Duke saw this new renaissance as a nation as a chance to make Rhynovia a true international player, one of the many reasons the Foreign Expeditionary Force became its own concept apart from the Royal Territorial Army.

Yet since 2005 the RRAF has suffered from lackluster equipment left over from the Worker's Republic days, poor training, and funding too spread out over the three branches to meet the needs of the fledgling force. With the combination of the FEF into the RTA many in Rhynovia expect to see improvements in areas of readiness, soldier care, and equipment through much of this cost savings. While Grand Duke Emil has not officially denounced this move to integrate his brain child into the larger RTA, (which many see this silence as a sign of respect for the military mind of the Defense Minister) sources within the capital say privately the Grand Duke sees this as a slight to his vision.

Minister Alexi Volodymyr, formerly known as Duke Alexi of the small but respectable House of Volodymyr, has been outspoken during his time in the assembly of ranks about the state of the RRAF. Upon his appointment as the Defense Minister after spending nearly a decade as part of the special forces, many within the government were not surprised to see many of these reforms coming to light. While this reorganization is major, it is not unfounded.

With March of 2020 as the target date for the reorganization to be completed, many hope that good things are to come for the Royal Armed Forces.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Rhynovian Media Capital. 2018


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Sports: Team Rhynovia moving on to Ice Skating World Finals [ 9715]
  • International: Row Over Straits of Tarsas [ 8005 ]
  • Music: Young Up and Comer Taking Over Rhynovian Scene at Opera House [ 11394 ]
  • Defense: Abysmal Living Conditions for Soldiers at Northern RTA Base. [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:45 am

Image
Rhynovia















Image



FOUND

The Grand Duchess Karina Aristov Alive and a Myth No Longer
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Nadejda Arisha (@NadeArisha)
2 October 2016 | Rhynovia, Rhynovia




Image
A photo released with the announcement of the Grand Duchess In the Garden of the Grey Palace.


Rhynovia, Rhynovia- A astonishing and unexpected announcement yesterday from the Lord Governor, Emil Medved proclaiming that the long lost Grand Duchess Karina Aristov has been found and is in his safe custody within the Grey Palace. It had long been a folk tale that the long lost granddaughter of the last sitting monarch of Rhynovia Prince Anatoly Aristov the III survived the fire that claimed her family's lives in Thessalona, Belfras 12 years ago. 4 years old at the time, rumors have persisted since that day the toddler had been swiftly taken to safety as the Communist Worker's Party agents sought to end the Aristov line.

She is 16 now, and judging from the picture released of her in the gardens of the Grey Palace she is the very picture of Aristov beauty and many have remarked the spitting image of her grandmother, Princess Vera Aristov at that age. It is not being released where the Grand Duchess had been kept during these 12 long years before being taken into custody by the Lord Governor, however the Grey Palace has stated it was against her will with no knowledge being given to her exactly who she was. This frightening picture that has been painted for us tells us that the young Grand Duchess is surely in shock to learn that an entire country has been praying, dreaming, and passing along her story for over a decade, but truely the Rhynovian people are behind her.

In Fact since the announcement of the return of the Grand Duchess Karina, thousands have lined the lawn of the Grey Palace waving flags in celebration of her turn, while congregations have gathered to pray for the young monarch's fortitude in the coming days as she adjusts to her new found destiny. The Grand Duchess Karina is not expected to be making appearances publically in the near future as the Grey Palace has stated she is still recovering and adjusting to her surroundings. Yet as an aside they have announced that the Grand Duchess has expressed her gratitude for the support her people and the people of the world have shown her in the media.

Given the circumstances of the Grand Duchess' condition it is speculated that she will be kept behind a veil for quite some time. Mental health experts chiming in across media outlets that for a young girl of her age kept against her will for 12 years after the murder of her only family, absorbing the fact she is the heiress to a country is going to be allot. But surely the heir to the Rhynovian throne is receiving the best care money can provide as she is looked after by the top experts within Rhynovia. The experts have also agreed that keeping her behind such a veil is the appropriate approach.

The Grey Palace has also released the DNA results for thr Grand Duchess, a test they said was compared against a DNA sample of Claude De Clermont, the Grand Duchess' first cousin. While to the lay-man these results may not mean much, experts have said that they do check out and the Grand Duchess is who the Grey Palace claims she is.

For now as our monarch recovers, the country's thoughts and prayers are with her as she recovers from whatever ordeal she has endured. While the nation patiently waits for her to emerge, we will surely have plenty of time to get to know the young monarch as we see her blossom into adulthood and the crown.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Rhynovian Media Capital. 2018


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Sports: Team Rhynovia moving on to Ice Skating World Finals [ 9715]
  • International: Row Over Straits of Tarsas [ 8005 ]
  • Music: Young Up and Comer Taking Over Rhynovian Scene at Opera House [ 11394 ]
  • Defense: Abysmal Living Conditions for Soldiers at Northern RTA Base. [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:46 am

Image
Achesia












Image

Acklius Alexandra Talks to Girls About Pride

Image


FAWNNORTH- Always in the spotlight and ever so more an epitome of Achesian beauty and womanhood, Acklius Alexandra talked with us today about how she as been talking to numerous young girls around the country about their pride and importance to the Realm.

"I think girls sometimes forget they are the apple of our nation's eye." Alexandra the daughter of the Ackular Julian the XII stated to me during our interview last week in our Fawnnorth press building. "Girls and women are the backbone of this nation, we raise its children, we teach it's morals, we support our men, we really represent the purity of this nation and what it stands for." Alexandra has been an ambassador to young girls lately in making sure they are growing to be the standards of what women should be in Achesian society. She has toured numerous schools giving advise to young girls who couldn't be more excited to see their favorite role model and beauty of Achesia. She has talked to them about always looking their best. "It's important for an Achesian woman to look their best at all times." She expressed. "We are a reflection of the true nature of Achesia and that is an important role to bare."

Achesian society as arguably the most morally society within the region studies have shown. Everyone has their roles in it and the royal family has done an excellent job of upholding these roles constantly. Alexandra has not been afraid to express her views on what women role in society is. "We are the backbone of the home. Our role is to raise the children and teach them our cultural values, there is no more important job than that."

Other more liberal organizations within Septentrion have criticized Alexandra saying her views on women are subjective and backwards. Most of these groups however have been shown to be those organizations that support the prostitution of women and even the support of women not having children or raising families. "Its scary." Alexandra commented when asked about some of Achesia's neighbors in the region. "They don't have the strong values we do. Without strong women like us to raise the children, their offspring are left to be raised by the streets." She cringed as I showed her a picture of an advertisement for women's bathing suits from Sylva. "She's barely clothed, and they call that women's freedom, its more like enslavement of sin." Alexandra was too much of a darling to look at the photo long. She politely smiled as and averted her eyes to her tea before I put it away. "Things like that fighter me for what could happen to our great nation if we let these foreign influences into the lives of young girls. I hope that my life can be an example for them."

She truly is a great model for Achesian girls, and as most interviews with Acklius Alexandra have been going for the past year, I couldn't help but ask her if there were wedding bells in the future. "I don't even know who I would marry." She laughed at the question. She did however express her desire to one day bring little Ackliums and Ackliuses into the world. A day that we are all truly looking forward to.


Reporter- Lily Ferrtheroth
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 8:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:50 am

Image
Achesia










Image




Achesia Makes A Move


Image


Achesia to Round Up Sylvan Koso




Economists today taken by surprise as the recently quiet Realm of Achesia began buying large amounts of Sylvan treasury securities during a unprecedented week of hardships for the Sylvan economy. Many observers of Achesian political economics however; predicted this move would come, but with the recent decline in the Ackular's health any movement from the Realm has come at a snails pace. Prince James Requient is believed to be leading the country while his father is attended to by a team of doctors on a constant basis. Working closely with some of the brightest economic minds within the Realm, Prince James is surely making this move to buy up large quantities of Sylvan debt to save their trade relationship and surplus on Sylvan imports from Achesia.

To understand the important relationship between Achesia and Sylva (as well as Achesia and many other nations within the region) it is key to note the large manufacturing economy that Achesia boasts on an international scale. It is important for the Realm in this situation that the value of the Sylvan Koso does not diminish as its ability to buy Achesia goods would follow suit. The economic actions of both the Republics of Westervelde and Gauliscia selling off of the Sylvan Koso from their reserves, has created a difficult situation for Sylva and its trade allies. By flooding the market with the currency it has therefor begun diminishing its value. Achesia evidently hopes to reverse this process by buying up what Westervelde and Gauliscia sells.

It remains to be seen if Achesian officials will do anything to either condemn or aide the Sylvan assault on the Kingdom of Aemen. Thus far no official statement has been made on the matter of the numerous Sylvan Army units crossing the boarder and skirmishing with Aemen forces. Some critics of the Realm point to the previous conflict in Aurde- in which Achesia intervene against the Organized States-Sylva invaders that sought to overthrow the monarchy- as a precedence that Achesia will back up her allies in any sort of conflict. However the obvious answer to this is that the invasion of Aurde from OS aligned forces was a blatant aggression on OS' part and Achesia acted in the most just fashion, despite the rest of the region turning a blind eye. This evidence clearly shows that Achesia's next actions, in this writers opinion, will be to work through diplomatic channels to get their trade ally, Sylva, to stand down. But with the slow and quiet pace that the Realm has been operating at in recent months than it remains to be seen what the next move will be.

Prince James has proven himself a capable diplomat and statesmen as he oversaw a large part of the conflict in Aurde. His ability to handle such a situation in Sylva, as it begins to march the whole region towards large scale war, will be tested. The situation for Achesia in this conflict is a complex one. The Realm can not intervene on its allies behalf, as the actions of the Sylvan government between the invasion of Aemen and its overthrow of elected democracy, has caught the ire of the region. However; if Achesia lets OS aligned nations within the region overthrow the Republic of Sylva in install a pro-OS government, then Achesia would be out a key ally. This after it already has lost Murovanka in recent months to a new Islamist government, another issue feather in Achesia growing cap of problems.

Needless to say Achesia has its work cut out for it in the coming months, as the situation begins to deteriorate.
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 8:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Nov 18, 2018 8:50 am

Image
Achesia












Image




NEW PARTNERSHIPS YEILD NEW HOMES FOR RAAF





FAWNNORTH- The high command today in a news conference announced that a partnership with three regional nations: the Republic of Nasaria, Unified Balkin States, and the United Realm of Gauliscia, have yielded agreements to base both assets and troops in various bases that have yet to be disclosed. This is only the second time that Achesian forces Have been based outside of the Realm, with the first being the Republic of Valencia. "Unprecedented is this military cooperation." The Supreme Commander, General Seplich said during this speech today. He continued to outline the military and economic opportunities that this sort of forward deployment of Achesian soldiers brought to not only the Realm but to those host nations. He further outlined the role that the RAAF has in securing trade routes and keeping the peace within the region as various other nations such as the Organized States and Republic of Westervelde continue to destabilize it with hawkish interventions.

It was not announced what sort of units were to be deployed to those nations for security reasons, but it is within our limits to speculate that a large amount of naval assets would be present in the Gaulicisa and Nasaria as both of those locations are in the heart of very crucial areas that have seen large amounts of conflict in past years. "A vantage point for swift response." Is another highlight from the Supreme Commander's speech as he spoke of the great importance of having Achesian troops close to these conflict zones.

"We keep them in check." He referred to the Columbian/Westervelde bloc. "It is important that Achesia is there to ensure the peace, to ensure that the conflict doesn't go to far." And supremely important it is for the Achesian military to be at the forefront of many of these conflicts to ensure hawkish champions of "freedom" do not try and take advantage of a destabilized state, in attempt to prop up their own form of crony government. Ever since the conflict in Aurde when OS/Sylvan forces attempted to take over the country by fabricating evidence that the government there was killing minorities- a untruth that turned out to be only a rogue unit with leaders connected to OS inner circles- Achesia has been stepping up its game to counter such blatant imperialism. Today, great steps were taken to prevent the next Aurde, with Achesian forces now on watch throughout Cassaterra within arms reach of any location a savior is needed.

-Brian Vox is a reporter for the Achesian National and frequent contributor to various Defense forums.
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 8:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Mon Nov 19, 2018 9:15 pm

Image
Rhynovia











Assembly of Ranks, Grey Palace, Rhynovia, Rhynovia
23rd of June, 2017


“Rise for her majesty the Grand Duchess Karina Aristov of Rhynovia!” The sergeant at arms bellowed from deep within his throat as he flanked the entryway behind the throne in the great hall of the Assembly of Ranks. The chatter and deliberating ended as all landed nobles who gathered rose in respect to their monarch-apparent as the young girl stepped across the threshold at the front of the room, an entryway reserved for her, the Lord Governor, and their staff.

Lord Governor Emil Medved bowed his head as Karina walked past him where he stood leaning over the grand oaken podium bearing the seal of Rhynovia. The Grand Duchess had just completed one of her twice weekly appointments with the palace counselor. While it had been a year since she was taken from the custody of Dunet Vasile and dropped suddenly into the life of being a royal and national leader, it was still important to those caring for her that her mental health be attended to less the new-found pressures she faces be too much.

Of course, this concern or the existence of her regular appointments with mental health counselors, priests, or women’s health experts were kept veiled from the public view and the view of the Assembly. Ever did the nobles of Rhynovia thirst for a weakness, a foothold to gain power. Karina’s guardian the Lord Governor Emil Medved knew this much, playing his cards with the Grand Duchess ever so close to his chest. He surveyed the crowd of power-lusting nobles, families as old as Rhynovia itself and each still vying to control her. His eyes scanned for the hidden snarls or ill-felt looks at the Grand Duchess, ever sensing who her enemies in the Assembly may be.

Karina took her seat on the goldened and red velvet throne that dominated the dais in the front of the assembly, she looked out over her noble subjects awaiting the session to continue with its deliberations. However, the young duchess got the sudden feeling the assembly was in fact waiting on her… a suspicion that was confirmed as she looked to her Lord Governor who seemed to be muttering something to her and signaling with his eyes.

“Oh… please continue.” Karina waved her hand gracefully just as her lessons had taught her. Although she got the sense from her guardian she didn’t quite call the session to continue correctly as he shook his head ever so slightly and kept his eyes closed for a moment longer than a blink. It had only been a year so the ways of courtly decorum had not quite settled with her.

The Assembly of Ranks sat down in unison as Karina settled back in her throne. An overly thin and frail looking Duke in red military dress was left standing alone, presumably the assembly member speaking before the sergeant of arms charged the room for the Grand Duchess’ entrance. Karina prepared for another long day of deliberations amongst tired old aristocrats. This was the third such session of the Assembly of Ranks she had attended at the behest of the Lord Governor. She was to sit and watch as the governance of her nation unfolded so that one day she would have a good understanding of how the heart of Rhynovia beat.

While Karina had the utmost respect for the man who became her guardian a year ago, the request to watch quietly upon her throne as others deliberated about topics she had little knowledge of reminded her of the days Dunet Vasile would parade her in front of his business compatriots as they wined and dined over the latest industry gossip. Karina grew tired of being silent, yet the topic of water rights between two neighboring Duchies held little interest to her. She twiddled with her golden bracelet that Emil Medved gave her for her 17th birthday, a fine golden chain from far away Ghant. Karina lost herself in its shimmer as the droning of old men continued. It wasn't until the Royal Scribe bellowed the next topic and presenter did Karina perk up and sit back upright in her seat while she adjusted the hem of her maroon A-line dress at the knee. She proudly had her knees crossed just like she learned in “princess lessons”, a lesson the members of her staff were relieved to finally have sink in, the Vasile household being a modern and rather untraditional one not to have taught Karina the proper way to sit like a lady.

“Now comes forth Grand Duke Valdimir Rozhkov of Surad, with his proposal to the crown to construct the forthcoming industrial processing plants within his Duchy.”

Lord Governor Emil Medved nodded to the Royal Scribe and to the Grand Duke Rozhkov who approached the podium before the dais. Rozhkov was a major player in internal Rhynovian politics, and since being turned down as Lord Governor in favor of Emil, a major thorn in the Grand Duke Medved’s side.

“Approach Grand Duke.” The Lord Governor bid him forward.

“Thank you your Majesty” He nodded to Karina. “Your Grace.” The Grand Duke almost snarled at having to address the Medved Grand Duke in such a way, while he may be Lord Governor the Medved lands palled in comparison to that of the Rozhkov estate.
“I would like to propo….”

“Excuse me one moment.” The Lord Governor held up a finger before turning to The Grand Duchess. “I’d like to fill in the Grand Duchess as to the background of this proposal as she was not here when it originated.”

Emil Medved smiled politely as he turned towards the Grand Duchess, leaving Rozhkov mid-sentence still as the Grand Duke of Surad thought first to lose his temper as he would have a year ago. But with the arrival of the Grand Duchess the members of the Assembly had been on their best behavior so he thought it unwise to do anything to bring ill feeling towards his house.

“Your majesty.” Emil Medved looked to his ward who sat high on the throne above the assembly. He motioned to her with his eyes to sit up straighter, ever the tough love from Emil Medved as he trained his pupil the Grand Duchess for her time to rule. “The industrial complex the Grand Duke is referring to is one from an Tarisian company that has proposed investing in Rhynovia and until now has been waiting on the assembly to decide as to its location. The complex is quite large but will bring much needed investments and taxes to Rhynovia. Many have proposed the complex be built on their land but we hope to come away today with a decision. At your leave we may continue this discussion.”

“Oh… of… uh… of course.” Karina still was not used to EVERYTHING having to be “at her leave”.

“Thank you, your majesty.” The Lord Governor smiled at his ward and turned about. “Continue Grand Duke Rozhkov.” He gave his political rival a smirk.

“Thank you, your majesty,…” Rozhkov bowed his head to Karina again. “Your grace.” He bowed his head once again reluctantly to Emil. “Surad being the ideal location for such a complex as the proposed land gives easy access to sea terminals and many able-bodied laborers in the surrounding area.”

Karina cringed at how Rozhkov referred to her subjects, as if they were just a cog in his machine.

“The complex can begin construction immediately once it is approved here by Royal Charter and our esteemed investors Anacom Industries give the ok to proceed. At that time those residing on the land will be moved and construction can then begin.”

As Rozhkov fell silent so did the room, it was almost a shoe in that the industrial complex would go to Surad, so no one had doubt that his proposal would go through, or objection to give.

“Excuse me, Grand Duke Rozhkov.” The room went deathly quiet as the Grand Duchess spoke up in a soft and squirrelish manner.

Lord Governor Emil turned to Karina with furrowed brow wondering why she all the sudden decided to speak up. For a moment he debated internally as to whether he approved of her sudden outspokenness, but in the end decided that if she is to rule one day she better find her confidence in situations such as these at some time. He cleared his throat and waited to hear what Karina had to say.

“Yes your majesty?” Rozhkov stood to attention as his monarch addressed him. This was the first time Karina had spoken up beyond the normal courtly pleasantries since she began attending the Assembly, and all within the hall intently listened to what she had to say.

“You said those living in the proposed area would have to move. Tell me, how many subjects live in the proposed area?” Karina’s tone told Lord Governor Emil Medved exactly where this was going. A chill went up his spine as he could see this going south swiftly, but he could not rebuke her in front of the assembly aside from conveying signals with his eyes which Karina at the moment ignored.

“Your majesty, I believe.. uh.. something like ten-thousand live in the immediate area.” Rozhkov sounded unsure.

Karina did not know what made her more furious, the fact that Rozhkov was so ready to displace ten-thousand people who had lived in the area for generations or that Rozhkov was making this proposal without event being sure how many lived in the area. But perhaps he would surprise her and already have a plan in place for this displacement.

“Am I to assume these ten-thousand be compensated for their displacement with either money to find new homes or jobs at this facility?” Karina leaned forward with anticipation of Rozhkov’s answer.

Beads of sweat rolled down Grand Duke Emil’s forehead as he too hoped Rozhkov had the right answer. He did not prepare Karina just yet for the delicate nature of the landed noble’s sense of pride and face, and if Karina were to wound either of those for Rozhkov she could upset the internal political balance of the assembly.

“Your majesty, thousands of decent paying jobs will be created with this complex’s construction, surely those displaced will find employment within it.” Rozhkov deflected in hopes of his use of words getting past the young Karina.

But he would be wrong.

“So you mean to tell me there are no such compensations in place. Only the empty promises they may get employment in this complex?” Karina’s tone had turned from that of a soft 17-year old girl to that of a sharp knife as her bright and beautiful brown eyes, that the nation had collectively fallen in love with, stabbed down at Rozhkov.

“Your majesty… It is not that simple this complex could mean increased tax revenue which could allow us….”

“Taxes, money, land, investments. It is clear to me Grand Duke that you have determined all the ways in which you can do this thing and forgot to ask yourself if you should do this thing and why.” Karina stood up from the throne, the collective breath of the room fleeing with haste as those peers of Rozhkov watched what was a shoe-in proposal be torn to shreds by the young soon-to-be monarch. Karina remembered a year ago when she visited Rhynovia with Dunet, the day that Jae found her in the streets to try and get her DNA, the impoverished children running in the mud as they peddled used books in the market for spare change. Surely with such men as Rozhkov representing the people of Surad as merely tools to collect taxes such conditions for the children of this nation would never improve. It was despicable to the young Grand Duchess who resolved herself to not stand by and listen to such madness cross her assembly.

Her assembly… maybe she was destined to rule after all, Karina thought to herself as she never pictured herself standing up to the finely dressed aristocrats in such a way since coming to Rhynovia. Such fealty, envy, and fear in their eyes as she stood above them in her righteous anger.

“No Grand Duke, I will not hear of such a travesty being committed to my subjects, this complex will not be built on your land, or any land for that matter until an appropriate location can be found in which minimal impact is made to the people of Rhynovia.” Her glare was heated as she waited Rozhkov’s response.

“Your majesty, might I educate you on my rights as a landed noble and what I may do with my land as I please and…”

“Your rights…” Karina pounded her first on the gilded railings of dais. “Your rights… what of your people’s rights Grand Duke?” Her tongue snapped with the words flowing from her pink glossed lips. “No Grand Duke, let me be clear. While I may not yet be coronated I am your monarch-to-be, and while I draw breath I will not hear of such indignant and dishonorable proposals in MY assembly. From this moment this complex no matter the circumstance will never be built within your lands, and I command you and the rest in this hall to take this as a lesson… that if the well-being of the citizens of Rhynovia is not at the forefront of your proposals then to keep them to yourself.” Her lashes of the tongue furious as she turned and stormed from the Assembly, her normally porcelain cheeks red with fury.

Lord Governor Emil Medved had been looking on in abject horror at Karina as she rebuked Rozhkov, unsure if he should be afraid for Karina and the trouble she courts with her brazen (and what some might call tyrannical) demeanor, or to be afraid for the landed nobles of this country who will forever be accountable to their subjects and not their wallets. At the former Emil Medved found peace and pride, as truly a new day for Rhynovia was dawning.

He looked down to Grand Duke Rozhkov whose face was red with embarrassment and anger. The Grand Duke of Surad crumbled his proposal papers between his lanky fingers before throwing them to the ground in anger, the whole assembly in an uproar of mixed emotions at what they had witnessed.

Nevertheless, they rose when commanded, if not faster and more obedient then when Karina entered, now feeling more accountable to the Aristov throne then they had in years…

“All rise for the Grand Duchess Karina.” The sergeant at arms was a little late with his call as Karina had stormed from the hall many moments before.

The Lord Governor gave pursuit.

The hall behind the Assembly of Ranks was long, and many meters in front of him he could see the maroon dress of the Grand Duchess and two of her guards walking swiftly towards her suite.

“Your majesty! Your majesty!” The old man called as he struggled to catch up, huffing and puffing as a man of his age and girth could not keep up with the young girl.

Karina finally turned around, hip to one side, arms crossed, and a sour look on her face. For any other girl her age this would be a normal adolescent attitude to be exhibited. But for the heir to a throne, it was something to grow from.

As the Grand Duke approached her, he could see a small glistening tear in her eye.

“I’ve made a right mess of this one haven't I?” She asked as she nervously twirled her glistening gold bracelet.

The Lord Governor who at first felt a bit frustrated at Karina’s righteous outburst felt a sudden shift in his understanding of the young girl. She was still naive in ways, a 17-year old girl at heart who beyond the frame of her sheltered life with Dunet Vasile did not see anything beyond the lens of her ideals. But in the same aspect she had a spark of commanding presence that he had not seen since she met her grandfather in exile many years ago. She truly was an Aristov, ever idealistic and compassionate for her people. Emil Medved believed that if those in the nobility and commoners listened to her grandfather in the days of the Red Revolution that the war could have been stopped before it began. But not always do we get a chance to be heard, or express our ideals. While the Lord Governor would have preferred he be consulted on his experience with the Assembly before her outburst, he was proud to see that she had no problem speaking out, a power that he now had to teach her how to control for good.

“I thought you gave old Rozhkov a good lashing if I may say my dear.” Emil placed his hands on both her shoulders as he smiled at the girl. “You have the tenacity of your grandfather.” He gave her a big smile, a look that only could convey the pride he felt towards her.

“Really?” Karina sniffed as she too smiled. While she did not know anything beyond the rage she felt for her ideals, something in her heart told her she could not stand by and listen to such a thing pass by while she had the stage to stop it. “Do they not think of the power they wield and who stands to be hurt by it?”

Karina’s eyes were large and naive, Emil always forgot she had not been raised in Rhynovia in the pits of the landed nobility.
“In an ideal world the landed nobles are to represent the interests of their subjects.” The Lord Governor could hardly say that with a straight face. “But often their own interests cloud their judgement.” His tone said he regretted the truth of it.

“Why don’t the people have a voice in the matter? Like other nations?”

“Rhynovia tried democracy for a short time, but elected officials can be just as corrupt and self-interested as nobles. So, they turned back to the monarchy for guidance, they turned to you for hope and direction.”

Karina still felt odd about a whole nation looking to her for guidance when she was hardly old enough to read or know she was a monarch. But if destiny had brought her here then it was because she had the ideals and the reason to guide her people.

“Do the two necessarily have to be mutually exclusive?” Karina said quizzically as she wondered why some sort of compromise couldn’t be met, so the people themselves did not have to solely rest their hopes on stuffy old aristocrats.

The Lord Governor was taken aback by this question, it was not something he considered as his ideals and experiences always leaned towards noblesse oblige. What would happen should a democratic voice be introduced. The absoluteness of the monarchy was a steadfast way of ensuring the best decisions were always made implemented by the leader of Rhynovia. The Lord Governor reflected a moment about what the country would have been like if the people had a voice, and the nobles had the ears to listen back in the 1960s.

“I don’t know Maria.” He called her by her insisted nickname, a name she grew up with for 12 years of her life. “But I know one day you will be Grand Princess, and you will have the power to shape Rhynovia for the future. I trust with the tenacity in your blood and the righteousness in your heart you will do the right thing for the people.” He rubbed her shoulders in an assuring way as they smiled together.

Karina thought ahead to the day a little over a year from now when she would be coronated as Grand Princess, and the power would be hers to shape Rhynovia for the betterment of the people… those who look to her with hope.
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:03 pm, edited 3 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Mon Nov 26, 2018 7:16 pm

Image
Rhynovia










[Unknown], Rhynoiva, Rhynovia

It was a cold and uninviting door painted so long ago that even the oldest could not remember its original nature. Now the flakes of time fell to the withering of ages, felled by forces none have yet to conceptualize. It was for these dark insights that the man standing before the door hesitated to take the knob, for all his assurances in life he had little gall to test time. While most people would think little of a flaked door in the squalor of Rhynovia's oldest quarter, today the man faced forces beyond his based existence and that scared him more than anything he had faced prior in his middling life.

Would a man of his position fear such? He repeated this question in his head over and over as he thought of men he felt greater than he in his own history, mirrors of what he wished to be and what he had built his earthly empire of riches and titles upon. But as he continued to stare at the corroded knob he could not find the answer. As of week hence when he opened the letter he never thought the things he saw possible. The letter haunted his every turn, strut, smile, feeling, and breath. The letter had been the essence of his mortality this week, a man of responsibility and position reduced to bowing before a dated method of communication. Yet this blade the postmaster brought was not of their mastery and nor his. Little in this land did not come under his mastery or within his reach, yet in times such as this powerful men are challenged with things they can neither control nor usurp, and more often than not it is their bane. An unscalable wall where walls crumbled before, the letter than reminded him of his mortality.

“Sir..?” A second hand took the knob and twisted it, it was rough and stuck to the frame as it was grasped and tugged. But finally, it yielded to the second man who stood watching the first, a puzzled look exchanged between the two as the respect placed in a man so taken aback by a doorknob was questioned.

The man only tugged at his clothes, fine suit and slacks, and nodded with authority. It was as if to remind his subordinate that no words were needed to be exchanged beside nods between lord and servant.

“Wait here. Do not follow.” The man took a delayed but confident step across the threshold, the musty air of the antiquated and unkept building wafting into the outside like a cloud. Without much heed as if the air had some answer to him the man walked through the shadowed room where only torn curtain yielded light. When out of sight of his compatriot he turned to make sure he was truly not being followed, and upon assertion that he was alone in this must he scratched the scruff on his chin, recalling the letter. Aside from the horror of uncertainty it brought the true words on the parchment spoke of stairs.

A man of his position was used to being met at the door, his coat taken as a pleasantry by the master of the household's staff. Yet the first fear he felt in this dim manor was that he was so low unto the master of this estate that he did not warrant a guide to the stairs. He cleared his throat as if the sound of its gruffness and his own life would sooth him. But as he listened to the stillness and staleness of the air around him, the uncouth nature of it all, he found little solace in that place. And further shaken was his fortitude when the voice grabbed him from the shadows.

“Sirrr.” A long drawn out and throaty greeting came from down the hall. The man fixed his gazes through the darkness until he could make out the shape of a cloaked figure waiting in the dark, hands folded before his abdomen as he stood in respect of the guest.

The man got ahold of himself as he felt the sudden fright might drive him mad when coupled with such queer surroundings. He furrowed his brow at the strange individual dressed in black robes, a vestige of something dark and unbidden.

“Well.” He shook his head and spread his arms out, as if silently calling attention to his lordly arrival. “I'm here.” He stated the obvious as little else was obvious to him other than he had arrived to this estate he cared little to visit. It was not by curiosity or want did he happen there, but rather requirement.

“This way…” The hooded man spoke to him before descending the first step of the stairs. The creaking of the wood gave life to the otherwise deathly silence. The man looking around to see if others would be joining them in their descent further down into some mad revelation he surely had reading the letter. His fine leather shoes collecting dust as he walked across the crusted carpet floors while batting away cob webs that tied him as he moved. Looking down the stairs all was dark, except for the faintest of lights beyond his vision, only shadows dancing assured him he was not vanishing into the night. The robed man had all but disappeared yet he knew there was only one way he could have gone, down.

Where he wished to hesitate and find resolve he only continued his descent down the stairs as if it was down his own soul. Every creaking of wood reminded him of how far he was straying into the hands of the letter, the call he was given a week ago. Would this week have been a primer for him, a ceremonial conditioning of his hubris which needed to be disrobed? Or was it showing him that should he not take the knob in his hand and descend the stairs that his life would be one of doubt and torment, his mind turned against him as he was bludgeoned with fear and mania?

But he only had to see, he only had to come and listen, to witness. The bottom of the stairs while dark led to a stone basement, the contents of which while covered in dust and animal droppings were none the more noticeable. But what he did see was the brick wall bashed open, laying in crumbles along the north end revealing a passage deeper into the earth. The robed man stood there at the mouth of the bash in the wall, saying nothing until he turned and walked through, not even a nod of understanding passed between the two men as the lordly man had given his subordinate minutes ago. He was clearly the subordinate here.

It was not far along the passage did they find a light, a circle of wax candles along the floor that flickered in a flame far brighter and more clear than their wicks would naturally give. The man stopped to question this but was beckoned forward, closer to the ring of candles where others awaited. Before him stood a half dozen robes, all filled with shadowed faces ungiving in peasantry, respect of his position, or response. They each stood the same, hands folded except for his guide who now held his arms open, as if welcoming him.

“You come to attest your witness to the letter?” The robed man craned his neck, still unyielding to the shadow that covered his face. This guise that covered him and the others did not even succumb to the dance of queer candlelight below them, something most disheartening for the out of place lord as he watched the light play around their hoods, but their faces from the lip up, black!

“Yes…?” It was the voice of a man confidently losing his resolve to remain in reality. Never has he lost his words to a shake of his throat, yet he soon learned fear while the candlelight began to dance higher along the walls.

Hands grabbed him on either side, the robed figures suddenly like shadows appearing as they ushered him towards the circle, their grips tight and cold.

“Witness to you my lord” The robed man's tone curt towards the noble pleasantries. “Witness to the fire, to the salt of this earth, the ichor of this country.”

As he was brought forward, he could see what lay at the center of the circle, a bundle of wheat freshly shorn, five river stones wet, a bone that he could not ascertain its origin, and around them all sand made to draw a symbol he did not understand. Yet at the center of it all sat an obelisk, not half a man high made of black stone, glimmering in the candlelight as the fire seemed to show its black surface above all other more naturally welcoming surfaces in the chamber.

“Light of black, dark of white. We gather to witness this lords’ plight.” The robed man turned from them as he chanted, facing the obelisk with arms wide before him, calling out to something beyond that the lord could not even see, yet he knew it was there, because the man in robes knew it was there. While he kept his arms forth, the lordly man thought he saw a glimmer on the black stone, yet the candlelight surely played tricks with him.

“Summer to thee who hold him close to their personal darkness summer to thee who come before this ceremony in reverence, our own vessels bearing witness to the blood offered today.”

The man ended his chanting and turned.

“Witness.” The robed man pulled a simple knife from his cloth, the metal shaft was corroded like the knob and the wooden grip flaking in its dryness. “Witness.” He said again, motioning for the lord to hold out his hand. He knew what was next, a toll of blood to be paid for passage through this ceremony. The man now more unsure of his life than he had ever been held out his hand, a cut from a dull blade did not scare him. As he held it out fingers outstretched the two who held his arms pushed him forward, towards the black obelisk and over the sandy symbol. They took care not to trample the wheat or stones, yet they now kept his hand forward, above the glimmering black obelisk for a long moment until the knife wielding man appeared once more, this time his robes now red. The lord knew this impossible, yet the candles grew hotter and brighter. Surely, he could have borne the madness for the rest of his life over this?

“Witness…” The robed man took the corroded blade above the other's hand. The restraint given by the others was stiffened before the cut, yet as the lord stood there waiting, he squinted his eyes, hoping to be free of sight of his own crimson.

“No…” The red robed man said as he held the knife above his palm. The annoyance could be conveyed even though his brow was shadowed.
“Witness!” The lord drew his eyes wide as the knife was drawn higher. The red robed man plunged the blade straight into the yielding man's palm, before drawing it back out and stabbing it in again while the lord cried out in affliction.

“Witness us oh dreaded one, summer be upon us while we take heed, bring us the wheat of this land and the stones and the sand, while the bone of this child shall be basked in this lords’ hand!”

The red robed man cried out loudly as he let go of the grip of the knife which protruded from their congregation of one’s hand. He grabbed the bundle of wheat and placed it next to the blade in the blood red palm while the cry of pain filled the chamber. Next was the wet river stones, their water mixing with the blood, then the sand of the earth of this land sprinkled over the wound. But it wasn't until finally that the red robed man placed the bone of the child in the lord's hand did he close his palm around its contents, forcing him to hold on to his blood and country.

“Now steal him away towards your night, show him black, show him certainties that only can be revealed with your sight!”

And with that the red robed one took the handle of the knife again, slamming the lord's hand down onto the fulcrum of the black obelisk. But just as the pain would have accumulated, the lord found himself alone in a field of soot, the ashes falling around him while distant fires bellowed out psalms of widowed sacraments.

The lordling babbled in fear as he stood in a land he did not recognize, a land of other existence. He saw nothing on the horizon before him only an eternity of hell and ash. But as he spun around he was brought to silence and dark adoration while he stood lifeless and frozen before It… no a him… the Mass!

The mass of dark flesh and many eyes towered over him as his hand beckoned the lord to turn his gaze. To the east lay a field filled with beings that looked like lost souls each planted in the ground in rows of five as they shrilled in terror that beset by scythes. While the planted souls cried out cackling imps curtailed their bounties with hateful screeches of joy. With each new row they reached their terrifying song of bloodlust and the shrillness of the souls growing louder.

But without a word the Mass took an ewer from the ground, pouring fourth an ichor that bubbled and sprouted fourth. Soon the black ichor grew into the shape of a begin not unlike the lord. Moments of bubbling and shill cries manifested in then the blackness receding to reveal its nature, a young girl dressed in white who stood facing away from them, in one hand a golden mace while her other chained her to the Mass.

“Glorify him.” She said. The Mass cackling as it twisted the chain around her wrist. Yet instead of yielding to the Mass the maiden strut fourth wielding the mace high as the flames behind her gave it a glint so bright the imps cowered. Striking them down the souls planted in the field sung praises: “Glorify him!” They called out over and over. It was not until her white dress was soaked in red lust of the imp’s flesh did she finish, and the dripping crimson maiden turned to the lord.

“Her eyes!” He cried, the brown eyes haunting him as the imp blood poured over her face. She stared at him, mace in hand as the chain the Mass held now wrapping itself around her neck. Just before the snap of her bones did she call out to the lord.

“Witness me!” Her neck snapping under the links while he lost his mind in that ashen field. It was all too real, a dream not meant to be…. “HER EYES.”

“My lord… sir…”

He heard suddenly, above him stood his servant who he last told to wait at the door. The lord lay on his back in the dim estate now, staring at the cracked ceilings and missing floorboards of the second story.

“Sir are you alright?”

The lord sat up, his head pounding and heart still racing. It couldn't be… all that he saw. Nothing but a stupor, a drug they used to poison his mind.

“I'm fine…” The man meant to say. But before he could, he felt something in his palm, the palm the man in red had so deftly driven a knife. There he found a small yellowed paper, and upon opening he read. “Glorify him.”

And with a loud sheik that deafened his servant's ear he understood it all, and there the symbol that the sand made was writ in pen under the message.

The servant retracted at his lord’s sudden yell. His brow furrowed as he was concerned.

“My lord we need to get you outta here. Ingot 3-3 code bla-”

The lord grasped his collar firmly.

“No….” He said angrily. But when he looked up to his servant standing over him, he saw his face drenched in blood! The servant's eyes opened wider, they were brown like the maiden’s.

“Glorify him my lord.” He saw the servant say without sound but the motion of his bloody lips.

But as time passed so did the blood and eyes.

“My lord?” The servant questioned as he felt the tight grip on his collar.

“No… I'm fine.” The man stood up from his position on the crusted carpet. He looked around the estate once more heading for the door.
“Bring the car around.” He strutted towards the flaking entrance. With one last look he turned to peer down the hallway into the darkness, and there the robed man stood in black hands folded and face shadowed, only a smirk giving away the mystery.

“Ingot 3-4 pull around.” The servant said as he shook his head wondering what could possess his master such.

But his master silently stood on the curbside, he wondered what would possess him to continue this madness. A madness that began before time. A madness that was his life.
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 9:03 pm, edited 2 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sat Feb 02, 2019 10:19 pm

Image
Achkland











Amongst the Crystal Waters... Trouble

The ear-piercing screech quieted the crowd for a long moment as the dual Ai-10 multi-role fighters flew low to the airstrip before pulling up and out over the ocean, their bright orange turbofans glistened off into the distance. But as soon as the rumbles of the jet fighters subsided, so to did the growing fervor of the crowd erupt again as the Achklandish military jet’s charge taxied across the small airports runway to the detest of those who gathered there on the picket line. The white Endo E195 marked with the Achklandish violet and red flag on it’s tail turned towards the awaiting crowd as its engines whined and moaned before the power was struck from them all together. Ground crews rushed to bring the executive Achklandish aircraft to rest while the jeering crowds of gathered Achklanders shouted their antipathy for its arrival.

Between them she could see the thin green line of Achklandish Army soldiers armed with black riot helmets and glass shields, backs towards her plane in silent distance from any feelings they might have towards the issues that plagued this nation. Their form of professionalism was so foreign to The Youth, that she almost hated their lack of empathy for these people. Their glass shields the more visible of the two barriers they carried with them, the second of which being their phycological barrier towards their fellow human.

Murders
Occupiers
Achklanders go home
Yamatain pigs
Free Mongwau


All the banners, signs, face paint, and slurs they carried with them that day were all justified in the mind of Aimi Takahashi, better known as the Youth of the Haikade of Achkland. She had sung many songs similar to the words these demonstrators were saying, ballads of peace, resistance to violence, and homage to the disestablishment. Ironic now she looked on at this sentiment from her plush leather chair and sleek white government jet as a visiting head of state to Mongwau Autonomous Island. The young faces in the crowd be it Achklander, Yamatain, or native all wanted the same thing… peace and freedom. Surely the famous young singer and actress “9ine” was the best person on the Haikade to come and diffuse the violent situation on the small island of Mongwau. As the plane jolted forward and then rested at the stop Aimi was sure of her own ability.

Mongwau was an island that few beyond the university students and the native populace knew about. It was one of hundreds of autonomous regions within Achkland set aside for native Valeyans since the establishment of Achkland as an independent nation. More recently however it has become known for more troubling events such as acid attacks on female Yamatain students, stabbings on campus, and the most alarming bombing of the Mongwau Native Studies University student union building. It was the unsurprising product of years of built up tension between the Achklander and Yamatain migrants to the peaceful sub-tropical island and the natives who found too much success in marketing their small tourist/college destination. The creature within their community now growled at the encroachment of the bigger beast of Achklandish culture, and its territory would soon find it’s mark with youth of this foreign blight. While the crowd assembled at the small Mongwau Airport was made up of many natives, some of the people whom they considered foreigners joined them in solidarity, perhaps much to their surprise and distaste.

What interest the Haikade has in such a small part of their humble nation, was to prevent the boiling over of anger and resentment amongst all the native minorities of Achkland. Terrorism and violence from these groups is ever the topic of discussion amongst the body of eight whom make up the head of state of Achkland. If Aimi had to listen to The Soldier proceed on one of his lengthy discussions about counter insurgency and the military tools available to them, she might just hurl during session, weapons of war being talked about so freely a huge distaste. Many of its members were all too ready to deal with this situation quietly and with force. Herself and The Mother however insisted that a dialog with the Mongwau people could be reached. Thus, this small minority of thinking among the ruling body of the nation was given a small chance to make this right before a much heavier handed solution had to be found. With a small military contingent already present on the island, Aimi would surely have her work as diplomat cut out for her as the people might see her as the veil of the Haikade’s true militaristic intentions for them.

“Madam Youth, we have arrived at Mongwau Airport, the local time is two-o-clock.” The Air Force commander piloting the plane came over the speakers of the cabin. Aimi’s own security detail was already on their feet, communicating with those forward deployed on the ground preparing for The Youth’s entrance. Behind her she could hear the press corps being released ahead of her, setting the stage to make this attempt at peace a national headline. Aimi was certainly not previously a politician, coming from the ranks of A-pop’s rising stars and thrust via popularity amongst her demographic to be one of the ruling members of the nation. But if politicians and popstars had anything in common it was the fact they loved to be seen making an entrance, so Aimi doubly so.

“I am ready to go down.” Aimi stood up into the aisle of the plane, waiting for the security detail to open the cabin door.

“We are still currently securing the area ma’am, we can not let you out at this time.” A stiff Yamatain man in black suit fluttered his palm before her as he also carried a conversation on with his headset.

Aimi’s very vocal facial expressions were the ire of the Haikadian Special Service, much more characterized and contrary than the rest of the older Haikade members. Her codename “Burning Star” almost gave a hint as to her outlook as a fiery head of state who knew she was much more than just a Haikade member, she was an Achklandish icon.

“Excuse me, firstly do not wave your hand at me…” Aimi mockingly fluttered her own dainty hand around at her chief of security. “… and secondly you have a whole divisions worth of soldiers out there, if you haven’t been ready for my arrival, then that’s on you.” Her eyes tossed him aside like no muscle could as colorful and trendy dress fluttered along the aisle while shoving past him. What she did not see however was his own eye roll as he flexibly accounted for her cavalier exit from the plane.

“The fire rises.” He said into his earpiece, Aimi knew once again she had gotten her way.

Without more of a struggle, her staff and detail opened up the cabin door, the rise in the crowds fervor erupting even more as they saw the stairway being moved up and The Youth emerging. It was a bright day so Aimi shielded her eyes to the sun as she took the first step out of the plane. It felt nice and cool here, compared to the warmer southern areas of the Achklandish mainland. With a big smile like she was coming on the stage for the first performance of the night, Aimi waved to the crowd who showed her no fanfare. While she knew the situation was tough in Mongwau, she did not expect as much anger in the crowd as she found at the top of those stairs. Looking down upon them it almost sank her heart and ego to see the jeering mass of slurs, spit, and vitriol that stood before her. But if she ever wished to succeed in her posting on the Haikade and the many opportunities that followed that, she knew she must endure. Surely the people of Mongwau would endure with her as they come to see it is peace that is their best friend. Peace with their fellow islanders, peace with the Haikade, and peace within Achkland.

Aimi ventured down the steps, continuing to wave as if these protestors that yelled hate at her and shoved against the shields of the Achklandish soldiers were her adoring fans. It was a much tougher crowd being a politician, but given her almost universal likeability as a A-pop star she had little trouble deducing that as a diplomat she would see the same success.

Reaching the ground Aimi skipped the standard salute to her military honor guard once again, something The Soldier scolded her for in closed sessions of the Haikade, but militarism was a very negative subject for youth in Achkland. The corps of reporters that had either flown in with her or were local to the island met her there and began to flash their cameras, an all too alluring sight and sound for Aimi that she immediately was attracted to. Publicity was her specialty on the Haikade, and if there was anything the rest of the members of the Haikade came to her to ask, it was how to deal with their new-found life in the spotlight.

While her security attempted to push back the reporters and give The Youth space to walk, Aimi began to hear their questions, though it was only minutes since she had arrived.

“Madam youth, what is the situation here in Mongwau?” One of the reporters she recognized from Fawnnora asked while holding a silver microphone over the shoulder of one of Aimi’s security agents.
Aimi smiled, she was quite a lovely girl and her black hair even as it blowed in the island wind was perfectly placed from any camera angle whether she sang for a music video or spoke to the press.
“The situation here is, that we need to respect each other. Something I’ve been hard at work reminding the rest of the Haikade.” Aimi’s voice was singsong even when she was not singing, its feminine tones and pitches always perfect for each word. “Hate is artificial. We can overcome it. I am confident being here we can show each other that there can be peace for all of us. Which I know in our hearts we all desire.” Aimi so fittingly covered her own left breast with her palm as she smiled, oblivious to all but the god called aperture.

“ACHKLANDER WHORE!” The shrill scream lifted her senses and just as qucikly dropped them to the pit of her stomach. From behind it seems the security net for The Youth’s visit was not tight enough, the dark-haired star caught a glimpse of a Mongwauan man charging towards her from behind, machete in hand.

CRACK

Almost as soon as she caught a glimpse of him in full tilt and violence did she then see him dead upon the tarmac. Just beyond a green digital clad Achklandish soldier held his smoking battle rifle high, charging towards the scene where The Youth stood frozen before the would-be attacker.

Unfortunately for Aimi the god called aperture often catches us in the times we are most vulnerable as well. But unlike being caught in compromising positions or at indecent times by the paparazzi, standing before the bloody body of a minority man where you just seconds ago talked about peace in your country has a different visceral affect across media. So too did the image of Aimi being carried off like a sports ball by her security detail back up the stairs to the white plane, the diplomatic mission Aimi so lauded failed after only ten steps from her aircraft.

As she was carried between her security agents, she could see the scene devolving around her, the crowd that was previously only half-assed shoving at the line of soldiers was now in full riot, fists, batons, rocks, signs, teeth were now being used in this war of anger. Cries and screams as soldiers beat down choice targets, and protestors banded together to take on the formation of green were all Aimi could hear as the engines of her white plane began to whine once more. Below the last thing she saw just before being pulled into the hull of the plane is a large chunk of pavement being hurled towards her, but falling ever so short into the skull of a reporter. Not even the fellow members of the press stopped to help their bloodied comrade while trying to save themselves from the chaos. Yet as Aimi was shoved back into her leather plush chair in the cabin of her VIP plane, she could not help but cry. The fire was rising, but it was not hers, yet she had caused this blaze.

She was surely a blazing star, the bringer of death.
Last edited by Achesia on Sun Mar 10, 2019 10:38 am, edited 3 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Fri Feb 22, 2019 8:17 pm

Image
Achkadia










Image



SLK Raids GLA Associated Terror-Cell
Stopping terrorists before Dùn Sgiobar happens here
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Rachel Pfaff (@WNPfaff)
15 February 2019| Warezen, Achkadia




Image



Meine, Achkadia- blue alerts throughout the metropolitan area of Meine today as the Achkadian Liberty Army Air Force's Spezielle Luftkommandos raid a GLA associated terror cell in the heart of the city. With less than a week since the horrible shooting on Gainheach Beach in Dùn Sgiobar, authorities have warned the public that extra security measures would be in place to prevent the unthinkable from happening on the streets on Achkadia. With this has brought increased numbers of investigations, questionings, and raids on terror associated groups/individuals, authorities warn the risk level for attack is high.

The Statevotary has authorized FAL to remove major threats to public safety, including the Meine-Cell which has been dubbed an associated group with the Goremtalamh Liberation Army, attempting to advance their ideological of monarchism and cultural degeneracy. Seven men were taken in to custody during this raid, four of which had to be taken to Meine District 5 Hospital for treatment before being transferred to military holding facilities. These seven men were all Achkadian born, each with an extensive criminal backgrounds and past degenerate activity that includes unlicensed prostitution, drug possession, theft, and degenerate religious activity. According to the SLK, in their possession was a cache of illegal deadly weapons such as ultra-rapid rate machine guns, military-grade explosives, digital hacking devices, illicit drugs, and a slew of illicit political pamphlets meant to spread disinformation among inner-city youth. These items have all since been destroyed with the raid, and unmarked prostitutes found on the premise are being questioned regarding their relation to the terrorists and what the group was planning.

It is unclear what their motive or goal was as a cell, but authorities have told us that the group had gathered a variety of information on inner-city Warezen targets that are frequented by high-volumes of people. Should this group have been left to carry out their attack, there is no telling how many could have been killed. While the media has not been given any more information regarding the terrorists or their motives, authorities have stated that Blue-level restrictions will remain in effect till at least the end of the week, shortening curfew for Meine residents as both FAL and the national police sort through the terrorist's intentions and whether other cells are hidden elsewhere in Achkadia. It is noted that citizens should expect to see an increase in the amount of checkpoints within the cities and to have their national citizen cards on them at all times.

The Directorate would like to remind citizens to report any suspicious, illicit, or degenerate activity to the nearest authority. Even the smallest sign or activity, however unrelated to terrorism, could be a clue to help authorities close another cell like the one in Meine. Rates of such activities have been on the rise, with some of these groups being aided by foreign states in an attempt to undermine the public safety of Achkadia.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Ministry of Communications, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Son of God Sect raided by police in basement. [ 9715]
  • Row after Brothel opens up next to State Children's Facility [ 8005 ]
  • Statevotary's granddaughter to marry. [ 11394 ]
  • Defense: SLK to procure new helicopter. [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Feb 22, 2019 8:57 pm, edited 6 times in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Fri Mar 01, 2019 8:43 pm

Image
Achkadia














Image



Hephsat Religious Gathering Raided by National Landespolice
Pastor Killed by Police After Resisting Arrest, Charged With Conspiracy to Conduct Mass Orgy
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Alwin Fiedler (@OBSAlwin)
1 March 2019| Aatream, Produzland




Image



A Hephsat pastor was killed by the National Landespolice in the Romont district of Warezen yesterday. The incident occurred Sunday morning as the Religious Police Division executed a raid in Romont Block 52 in an occupied apartment complex. There a gathering of nearly fifty Hephsat worshipers was being held in the basement without an assembly license that legally permits gatherings of 15 non-blood relatives in a single location. Early reports indicate that upon commencement of the raid, Father Yannic Baptiste resisted attempts at detainment by authorities and was shot following what has been labeled by Achkadian officals as an assault on several officers.

In total, thirty individuals were arrested, but what is most bizarre about this instance of Warezen's crackdown on illegal religious gatherings is the charges levied against the worshipers. All fifty persons were charged with 4 counts of gathering in an unlicensed grouping, however 20 such individuals, including the deceased Father Yannic, were also charged with conspiracy to perform mass-orgy. Explanation of the charges by authorities is that seventeen individuals attending the religious gathering were licensed prostitutes, making the already illegal gathering now classified by the law as an orgy, with more than 6 prostitutes in attendance. All women charged will lose their license as a result and the two other men aside from Father Yannic will additionally be charged with Seventeen counts of lewd sexual acts with no intent of compensation.

This is not the only such gathering that has been broken up by authorities in Achkadia recently. A string of National Landespolice raids has been at the forefront of an initiative to crack down on illegal gatherings that Achkadan officials warn as a concerning trend towards radicalization and invasion of foreign cultures into the domestic tranquility of Achkadia. However, due to its unusual nature and the death of Father Yannic the Block 52 incident is the only such raid that has attracted the interest of non-government sanctioned press agencies who have classified this as yet another miscarriage of justice on behalf of the National Directorate. While laws within Achkadia prohibiting gathering in groups of 15 or more and banning non-Achkadian Church of Verro worship in groups are not new to the Armed Republic, such strict enforcement is a disturbing trend out of Warezen.
Image
Father Yannic in 2017

As for the most unusual charges of conspiracy to perform mass orgy, The Observer through its local contacts in Warezen have learned that the congregation Father Yannic lead the worship of was particularly catered towards ministry to sex-workers who frequent Block 52 of the Romont District. It is not unusual, specially of these recent raids, for Achkadian officials to find additional charges to levy against individuals found to associate with illegal religious groups. Most persons found at these gatherings have been sentenced to 10+ years of prison and/or regulated state labor where as individuals who are charged with assembling in unlicensed non-religious groups typically see 6 months volunteer work. While Achkadian officials maintain that sentencing has been in strict compliance with the legal statutes set forth by the Assembly of Free Citizens, The Observer and its sources have noted an inconsistent application of charges when it comes to religious groups, where a far wider multitude of sentences are applied to such individuals.

With regard to the Block 52 incident, little news is being shared by the National Media with regard to the death of Father Yannic or the heavy-handed charges placed on the remaining participants. The Warezen National reporting simply “A raid against religious dissidence conspiring to distribute radical literature and performing lewd unlicensed acts has been conducted today, removing such criminals from the Romont District.” This typical glossing over of such human rights abuses by the state-run media is a normal occurrence within the Armed Republic, where the National Directorate of the Defense and Liberty of Achkadia controls all news outlets on the basis of maintaining the peace, calm, and liberty of the nation. Little foreign outlets have reported on the incident as Warezen ensures it keeps its diplomatic missions abroad running point on disruption of such news within foreign policy circles, using vast networks and relationships to control what information comes out of the Armed Republic.

In the honor of such individuals like Father Yannic who have died under the totalitarian and brutal regime, The Observer will continue to report on such information. Despite efforts by the Achkadian government we will continue to tell the story inside Achkadia, using information given to us by brave citizens who will not be intimidated by such tactics. Until a day when such information can bring change in this regime, raids like this will continue, and more will die or be forced into unjust punishment by the Achkadian legal system.

Until a new day.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©The Observer, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Ardalites targeted in 2 raids last week. [ 9715]
  • Prostitution, the Backbone of the Warezen Service Industry. [ 8005 ]
  • What vaccines really do to your children. [ 11394 ]
  • Chem trials, new facts emerge. [ 5181 ]

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Fri Mar 08, 2019 8:42 pm

Image
Lieuaban










Image



Air Curonia A340 Shot Down Over Lieuaban
Rebel forces down passenger plane en-route to Sangkor, hundreds killed.
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Faustine Charpentier (@OBSFaus)
8 March 2019| Sangkor, Lieuaban




Image



A tragedy struck 30,000 ft above Lieuaban this morning as an Air Curonia Airbus A340, Flight 3720 was shot down. Hundreds are presumed dead as the airliner was brought down by what early reports indicate was a rebel fired surface to air missile. Lieuaban since its inception has been a constant hotbed for the atrocities of war, but until now such acts of violence have been exclusive to the ground within the troubled nation. Eyes witnesses in contact with The Observer via satellite phone describe the scene as alleged Army of Vitharan Freedom troops launched the attack at the unknown aircraft in the skies above Lieuaban. At the time it is unclear if the AVF fighters knew if the aircraft was a Lieuaban military target or a civilian plane. No organization has stepped forward to claim responsibility for the attack at this time, although such atrocities within the conflict in Lieuaban are rarely claimed by either side.

In a statement from Air Curonia there were over 250 passengers on board Flight 3720 which was making it's final approach into Sangkor Louise Sévérine International from its origin in Curonia. Families of passengers who originated both from several Ordan countries (to include Curonia, Notreceau, and Tarsas) and Lieuaban have already begun to gather in vigil of the lost passengers of Flight 3720, mourning their alleged loss as there has been little hope observed that any survivors will be found. This is the first such attack on a civilian aircraft over Lieuaban and has already had wide reaching affects on air travel to the struggling nation. Flights from all carriers scheduled to fly over the Lieuaban mainland have been suspended, leaving thousands stranded in terminals across the globe. Currently the only routes operating to Sangkor are those coming over sea and stable landmasses from Anikatia, making an already long journey to Lieuaban longer. Regional flights within Lieuaban have also been suspended pending investigation into the proliferation of anti-aircraft weapons within the non-government controlled areas.
Image
A rebel fighter with a Mistral missile, similar to the one used in the attack.

To make matters more complicated during this tragic string of events is that the wreckage from Flight 3720 crashed deep within Army of Vitharan Freedom controlled territory. Authorities thus have been unable to reach the crash site to make an assessment of the damages or continue their investigation of the events leading up to the downing of the Air Curonia A340. It also remains unclear to international observers when authorities will be able to reach the crash sight and begin assessments. The Lieuaban Minister of Interior, Matthieu Pascal, today released a statement about the incident, in which he expressed full confidence in the Armée Territoriale that they will be able to push into AVF controlled areas and secure the crash sight. Experts have told The Observer that the key window for investigators to reach the crash sight and survey the damage to what remains of the aircraft is a small one. Given the Armée Territoriale‘s struggles in dealing with the AVF, it is unclear if they will be able to rise to the occasion in this harrowing and high visibility time.

Calls from international organizations to hold the government of Lieuaban accountable for this incident have already begun to surface. Some groups even stating a tragic turn of events such as this could have been prevented should the Lieuaban government previously addressed the corruption within the Armée Territoriale that has been widely attribute to its ineffectiveness. The Minister of the Interior along with senior Armée Territoriale officers rebutted such claims saying that no such intelligence had arisen from Lieuaban or international organizations that weapons of this type were being funneled into the war-torn country. Many mocked such a statement as admission of their own failure in obtaining information critical to keeping those passengers 30,000 feet up safe from such attacks, and a huge warning sign as to the Armée Territoriale’s ineffectiveness.

Previously focused on gaining ground against the government forces, the AVF and other groups seem to now be pushing to make their cause heard throughout the world. And with so many now mourning the men, women, and children who died on Flight 3720, they certainly have caught the ear of the international community.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©The Observer, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Tarsas, a government asleep? [ 9715]
  • Murder in the mountains of Temuair. [ 8005 ]
  • What vaccines really do to your children. [ 11394 ]
  • Chem trials, new facts emerge. [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Mar 08, 2019 8:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sun Mar 10, 2019 10:38 am

Image
Achkland









Image



Youth Calls Out Haikade Militarism
Artist known as 9ine outspoken about martial mindset of fellow Haikade members.
SHARE Image Image Image Image
Noburu Jun'ichi (@GoodMorningJun'ichi)
10 March 2019| Deltai, Achkland





Image



In a fiery interview today with the Achkland Morning Digest Aimi Takahashi, famous for her career as the singer/songwriter 9ine and acting in such movies as Because You Were Gone, Love Rush, and Hop Into My Heart, spoke out against the rising military ideals of the Haikade. Aimi was known to be one of the most famous stars in Achklandish pop culture before her election to the governing body of the United Republic. While speaking to her today she relays her surprise that she was even nominated by the citizens for the role of The Youth on the Haikade. Since her election just months ago Aimi has made it her mission to promote such causes as humanitarian work, women's rights, poverty, and diversity initiatives. But what has The Youth energized to take on the ideals of the Achklandish establishment today is the flagrant militarism that Aimi says "has wrapped itself around the day to day decision making of the Haikade".

Many have expressed concerns of the influence by the military industrial complex on Achlandish politics. From numerous exposes about former members of the Chamber of Peers finding themselves in high paying jobs at defense contractors such as Achkland Industrial Dynamics, Itou Defense, or Ryouichi Arms to numerous campaign contributions from the same few companies to members of the Diet. Links between the Achklandish government and the defense industry/military are numerous and evident even to the layman studying the dynamics of the scene inside Fawnnora, and Aimi Takahashi says enough is enough.
Image
Achklandish Peacekeepers in Jyugoku

"... for us to grow as a society, to truly develop beyond such tribal notions as war or conflict, we need to look at ourselves first as a nation instead of blaming other countries. When I go to schools or to colleges and speak to students there, the pressure to militarize is huge on those campuses. Like, the recruiters for the Republican Armed Forces are right there in the audience. They have whole postings for soldiers to be assigned to these schools to try and drive these kids into military service. I look on the walls and see so much propaganda and miss information that the military is the best option for these kids…. And its just not.”

Recruitment for the Republican Armed Forces is a huge priority according to latest Defense Ministry Reports. While most of the demand for personnel is to relive those retiring and receiving hefty sums of incentives for their service, a big strain on personnel within the service is numerous peacekeeping mission around the globe at the behest of the Ordic League in war torn countries like Jyugoku. Over 20,000 troops from Achkland are deployed around the globe either in-country, on a military ship, or in the air at any given time performing various missions. While it is true that many of these missions include providing, distributing, and ensuring humanitarian aide from OL is given to peoples in need around the world, Aimi Takahashi says that it is a veil for Achklanidsh toxic military culture to spread abroad, conducting violence in our nation’s name.

“When we meet during our sessions of the Haikade, the prevailing attitude to squash any sort of problem using the military is just so great. When I first sat as The Youth during my first session, I was just flabbergasted at how much the military was mentioned. The Mother (Sayuri Kitae) who was my biggest mentor when I started on the Haikade told me, like crying, about how much the military was always thrown around as the first option for like everything. Everything from distributing humanitarian aide to dealing with terrorists it was just military, military, military. I at first just couldn’t believe it, but then I began to see that the masculine need by allot of the men on the Haikade to throw around such strength and power to just squash things was there, and it was in power. This toxicity was real, and so many within the government are ignorant to it and how much it was seeped into every day thought within our society. We have to take a step back and truly give peace and dialogue a chance when we approach things. My mission to Mongwau was about that, but sadly the way it ended the military complex ended up winning that day. No one had to die….”

Aimi’s tears were very real in this moment as she recollected the harrowing moment the Achklandish military soldier opened fire on a civilian during a protest Aimi was attending.

“I apologized to the family so much... of that man the soldier just… cut down.”

The soldier in question (who has remained unnamed by the Republican Armed Forces) was not charged with any crimes in what some say was the murder of a passionate man speaking out against neo-colonialism present with Achklandish culture today.

Aimi went on to outline her plans to reform the Haikade during here tenure as The Youth and how she intends to lessen the influence of the military and military industrial complex on decision making at the very top of the national structure. While she is just one of eight voices on the governing body of Achkland, Aimi does not let that curtail her motivation to see a more peaceful and accepting society in Achkland prevail over those who strive for constant war.

“I won’t rest until we don’t have soldiers in foreign lands committing war against other peoples. Until we don’t need a huge complex of hyper masculine men running around in uniform playing guns. It’s my mission.”

The Haikade is set to begin sessions this months on the first of April, unclassified sessions are open to the public, however seats are limited. Aimi also detailed how she is working to limit the use of the “veil of classification” used to shroud such sessions from public attendance.

Aimi Takahashi has 5 years left in her term as Youth.


Image Comments[ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Achkland Morning Digest, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Effects of Militarism in Yamatai [ 9715]
  • Mongwau Aflame [ 8005 ]
  • "Blood Prophet" says he will strike again in latest video [ 11394 ]
  • Traffic in Deltai, a broken system [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Sun Mar 10, 2019 10:39 am, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Sat Mar 16, 2019 8:06 pm

Image
Achkland






"Hark how the bells,
Sweet silver bells,
All seem to say,
Throw cares away

Christmas is here,
Bringing good cheer,
To young and old,
Meek and the bold.

Ding dong ding dong
That is their song
With joyful ring
All caroling.

One seems to hear
Words of good cheer
From everywhere
Filling the air."


As the choir sang she waited for the right moment, the moment to slip out unnoticed from the crowd of churchgoers congregated on the pews of the massive tabernacle in central Deltai. Kumiko Baumgarten had been called away from her family gathering for this so it better be good, though the prospect of taking a break from the drama, sound, and fury of such gathering was not awful. The job of a big-time reporter was never over if her mentors were to be believed. If she wanted to be the Michiko Schwanhild of her time she needed to find more to sacrifice on the alter of good press, including sacrificing time with relatives whose only conversational topic with her is when she was going to find a man. Sometimes when she looked into her grandmother’s eyes she thought she could see even the hopes that Kumiko would find a women so long as she got married and maybe adopted a few children. A feat that her other siblings had not failed to accomplish and bring honor to the family name.

Kumiko shifted in her seat, the hard-wooden pews were not to her ass’ liking. She never attended a Christian church except once with her friend in college, her family was Kando after all. While the low hums and high pitches of the rhythmic children’s choir grabbed her, she soon needed to break away. Nervously checking her watch every so often to see if the time had arrived to meet her contact. The jingling of silver bells by children neatly arranged on the stage spooked her somewhat as she watched from the crowd. There was something uneasy in her about all of this, something that didn’t feel right about why her contact called her here in the middle of a church on Christmas eve.

The frantic phone call she received from him as her nieces and nephews fought loudly over a video game put her reporting instincts into action, an ill tone deserving and ill turn. She had thought long and hard about leaving this one alone, the proverbial unturned. But if she did that then why be a reporter at all? This could be the biggest break in her career, she just had to have it handed to her by someone who sounded deranged.

The choir picked up their volume for the vamp, and that was her time to slip off to the side. Sliding down the hard wood pew she only had to squeeze past an older couple in red knit sweaters.

“Sorry.” She smiled and bowed her head as she squeezed between their unjudging knees and the pew in front of them. The older grey-haired Vandish woman scowled, looking around Kumiko impatiently.

She did her best not to click her heels too much on the stone floor as the red exit sign loomed before her and to not trip in the dark aisles of the church before reaching the side wall, hoping few others saw her leave. What she was hiding from she did not know, but sometimes one gets a feeling that a lead on a story might be more than a headline to some.

Checking to make sure the service door would not alarm if she opened it, she pressed in and closed it shut nice and quiet. The service corridor of the tabernacle was warm, and just barely had more light than the sanctuary she just left. She wondered if he would be here in time, or if he changed his mind in fear of those he worked for. On the phone he seemed uneasy, the sort to just bail on her leaving her with nothing to give to the editor. Kumiko would not live that down again if it was the case.

But for what he spoke of, it was worth the try. Corruption at the highest levels looked great in bold typeface, but before she could get too excited, she reminded herself that political insiders singing stories of corruption was nothing abnormal. Sure there were leaks here and there, Achklandish government officials known to be public whistle blowers, but there was always a motive behind it and Kumkio couldn’t figure this one out as she trotted down the service corridor for dozens of meters.

Finally as she turned a corner, conspicuously sitting on a trolley with his head in his hands was the contact.

“Hey.” She approached him, despite the fact she was not trying to be very quiet he didn’t seem to notice her nearing. Yet as she announced herself he shot to his feet, his eyes wide and face moist. “Whoa, hey its… just me.” Kumiko stood back a few paces, holding the strap of her satchel.

The contact breathed a fluttering breath as he turned around and ran his head over his head, his hair uncouth.

“Oh.” He nodded up and down an unusual amount of times.

Oh? Kumiko felt uneasy.

“So I came, like you said, Kumiko Baumgarten, Achkland Morning Di….” She stopped short as the man who looked to have been wearing his suit for multiple days sat back down on the trolley and cupped his hands over his face. “What is it you have? You look like someone who has seen some things.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a pen and notepad.

The man laughed, she could see him a bit clearer now as she came a step closer. He was about her age in his late-20s, handsome profile of a well-to-do man of means. Most likely a Yamtain boy from a rich family who found his way to the Representative’s office by daddy’s business contact.

“What have I seen,,,” He tsked and gave her a wide eyed smile. “Too much, enough to know my days are numbered.”

She took note that he was definitely as deranged as he sounded on the phone.

“Seems a bit dramatic.” She tried to be calm in hopes he would match her. “Representatives take bribes, bang their secretary’s, launder money all the time.”

“It’s more than that.” He looked at her, his eyes told the story of a thousand horrors his dreams had been filled with.

Kumiko nodded soberly. “What then.”

He held his head between his hands, his eyes darting back and forth.

She wrote on her pad: Drugs?

“I can hear them singing.” He sobbed as he rocked back and forth like a child.

Kumiko took a small step back, she didn’t feel safe here with him a mad man who was on his last thread of sanity. Clearly he was just crazy, political insiders sometimes had the wildest parties, perhaps too wild and explicit.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful concert.” Kumiko turned to go the opposite direction, the sound of children’s voices filled the whole of the church to the rafters.

“NO.” He blurted as he looked towards her. She was not sure if he disagreed to her leaving or her statement.

“You don’t look well… go get some rest, or enjoy the concert...” She turned her back and began to walk towards the churchgoers again, where there was safety in the crowd of strangers.

“NO!” He grabbed her arm, his palm notably sweaty. Kumkio had half a mind to scream then, the man’s face illuminated to her. His eyes were bloodshot and skin pale, but his features looked almost normal. He had the stress lines most in political aides did, but nothing to say this man came from the loony bin full time.
She stopped and turned, yanking her arm from his grasp.

“What then?” Her expression and tone annoyed.

“The Kagehaikade.” He swallowed.

“Kage….Haikade?” She was interested, jotting in her notes again.

“Yes.” He nodded, she understood him now… at least he felt. “The ones who truly run our government, the ones who are in control. They manipulate everything from behind the scenes, the Diet… the military… the people!” He rambled, still the presence of insanity on his breath that Kumiko could not get over.

As she scribbled in her notes, she nodded affirmation to him. “Sure, there is always conspiracies that big business or some bank that runs the show behind the scenes. What makes this different?..... er?” Kumiko realized she had not asked the man his name yet, all she knew of him is that he worked with Representative Kotone Tsubasa.

“No… it’s not like that, this is bigger, more sinister.” The tone turned from crazed to an even more uneasy whisper.

“What is it like then? What’s your proof?”

His hands shaking and grasping within his coat pocket, producing a small USB stick.
“It’s all on here, the Representatives correspondence, travel records.” A small bit of hope was in his eyes that Kumkio could do this, something she could not decipher, especially as to why he decided to give up this information.

“Who are these people, why are you doing this?” She took the stick in her palm.

There was nothing but silence for a long moment, the man reluctant to answer the questions as his yes darted from her to the hall behind her.

“No.” He whispered again with unease.

“What?” She got that feeling of danger again, that something was not quite right.

“No… no.” He turned, walking away from her briskly. Kumiko did not have the inclination to follow, instead grasping the USB and her notes hoping that the records he provided her made more sense that his babbling about a Kagehaikade or some grand conspiracy. Surely this was nothing more than a case of a few business men buying some votes of Diet members, getting rough when they feel the need to cover up the plot. Her contact soon disappeared around a corner, his footsteps drowned out by the singing of choir tunes by the children within the church a far more relaxing sound than the thoughts of a troubled man. Kumiko had what she wanted, she could analyze it back at her family’s home that evening after prayer.

She turned to leave, walking back down the dark corridor towards the sanctuary she had disappeared from. But in transitioning from tense interaction to relaxing walk, she met another blocking her path. Face to face with her was a man, dressed similarly to her contact but much more Vandish looking with his square jaw and brown hair. He had a dark omen to him that Kumiko made a mental note of, the situation she found herself in growing more uneasy than she had been willing to take on when Kumiko took that phone call just hours ago.

“Oh. Sorry I probably shouldn’t be in this corridor, I got lost trying to go out and have a smoke.” Kumiko’s smile fermented as he stood over her straight faced, not showing any willingness to move. “Excuse me.” She made to squeeze past him, but his hand grabbed her shoulder to stop her.
“Excuse me!” She now exclaimed. Her mouth was prepared to protest more but her mind silenced it when she saw the gun. The man shoved her against the cold concrete wall, his eyes still emotionless and expression sober.
Short-winded she sank to the floor, looking up at the man as her whole body turned numb from fear.

“A…aree you… Kagehaikade?” Her lips blubbered staring down the long cylinder that jutted off the barrel of his semi-automatic.

“I just sing.” The statement so matter-of-fact, followed by the twang of brass hitting the concrete floor and her body slumping over.

His exhale was long and strained, the product of extended discontent. Depositing his handgun back into his coat the man leaned over the burnt in expression of fear and awe still painted on the woman’s face. There was little time to linger over this one, just a moment to spare and make it look clean. Grasping her hand, he peeled each of her dead fingers apart to obtain the thumb drive, looking it over just a second before pocketing it. Taking her notepad he crumpled it and pocketed it as well. Anything with words he put on his person, nothing could be left behind.

Now all that was left was a dead reporter in the corridor of a church. She did not look very religious to him, out of place in a hall full of songs of the season. Perhaps Ms. Kumiko needed a god that night, but the god of this house clearly did not have a moment to spare, and the god of her choosing was the wrong one.

He took her blouse in his hands and ripped it randomly, same with her skirt. This needed to look messy, not like a professional did this. Ms. Kumiko Baumgarten died at the hands of a thug is what the headline needed to read. Certainly it was not the one she was after, and most likely it would be glossed over just like all the other murders in the nation’s biggest city were. The more horribly mundane the better he thought as he took out her purse from her bag and dumped its contents onto the floor. Grabbing a few bills and important looking plastic cards he decided his job was complete just as if he were an artist, the horror painted on her face telling the story of a women shot for the contents of her purse while she struggled for life. As he stood he did all but sign it as his own piece.

He “hmmed” in irony, they always tell you to just give the robber what they want. Unfortunately you cannot give up from your mind things you hear.

It was time to leave, a short walk towards the exit was ahead of him. But before then, he needed to see how the other loose end was coming along.

Turning the corner, there Mr. Naoki the senior assistant to representative Kotone Tsubasa, lay with a tie around his neck and blue tone to his face. Above him stood a co-worker, her expression just a sober as his looking down at the business she had handled.

“Clean.” He nodded at the senior aide who looked more at peace now that he was not conscious to the horrors that perused him.

“As you told me brother.” She smiled, but he disapproved of her demeanor with a glance of his own. Her face turned back to soberness just as quickly as the thought of her first clean kill brightened her.

“Come, we must remove Mr. Naoki from here. A dead senior Diet aide and a dead reporter in the same corridor is not clean.” Shaking his head to reiterate the fact that this needed to look like it was two separate incidents. Diet aides and those close to the political circles often have wild drug and sex crazed parties, one or two ending up strangled was not out of the norm, but being in a church while doing all of the above was. They would take his body a few blocks down outside a highly frequented topless bar known for its depravity and indecent incidents.

They would take his body a few blocks down the street and leave his body in the alley behind a frequented topless bar known for its drugs, booze, and accidental overdoses. As their car peeled away they left the scene of Ms. Kumiko’s death behind them. It was a story they wrote together, a song of sorts that foretold of whispers and what silenced them. This chorus would continue as long as those who whispered continued to try and tell their song to others. This undying process would repeat itself until more and more mundane headlines of murders and bloodshed filled the news outlets of Achkland.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Tue Mar 19, 2019 7:44 am

Image
Achkadia






Image



Cult Gathering Busted, Child Abuse Ring Uncovered
8 Children freed from deviant bondage cult, forced to wear BDSM gear.
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Rachel Pfaff (@WNPfaff)
19 March 2019| Warezen, Achkadia




Image



Warezen, Achkadia- In a stunning scene of bravery by National Police agents today, a cult of twenty persons was foiled, leading to the capture and punishment of 6 deviants in Block 25 of Warezen. These deviants who have been named in a report by the National Police have been charged with (among other heinous crimes) performing bondage acts on children as young as 13. Sewing needles, barbs, and spikes placed on the inside of their everyday clothing for some 8 minors. These children were reportedly relations of the deviants, making this the most shocking example of child abuse rings uncovered in Achkadia since the 1999 bust of the Lunderfrau Sex Trafficking Tunnel where young boys were being smuggled to the degenerate northern Monarchy to work as slaves.

They belong to a cult known as Revisionists, ones who believe in Beo, but according to the Arch-Bishop of Warezen, are completely without god:

“These heinous acts are far from the Grace of Beo. The abuse of children is of the most principle criminal sins imaginable in the eyes of our Lord. Those who practice such sickening things on children are destined for damnation.”

The children themselves have been taken into custody by the state and are recovering from malnutrition, exposure, abrasions, and several other internal injuries. Thankfully all will be able to make full recoveries and hopefully leave this horrific past behind them as wards of the state. There they will be afforded the best in care and opportunity to assimilate with the rest of Achkadian society.

As for the deviants, the so called Revisionists, who perpetrated such a perverse crime, they have been executed on the spot by order of the local magistrate. Thus this cult of sexual and religious deviancy is at an end. In a statement from the National Directorate for the Liberty and Freedom of Achkadia, Minister-General Bair outlined new provisions that are being set into place in Achkadian law to ban such sickening practices such as Revisionism. This form of heretical religion will join the Ardalites and others which have previously been banned for immoral practices.

It is our hope that the children and innocents affected by this crime will be able to recover and lead normal lives. Minister-General Bair had strong words of condemnation at the end of his statement:

“We in Achkadia do not subscribe to the hate, sin, and sickening nature of the rest of the world. As a nation we will continue to strive for a purer society in which all will live in peace and liberty without fear of such grave perversions treating Achkadian children in such a fashion.”

As always thank you for reading Warezen National… In Faith, Defense.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Ministry of Communications, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Son of God Sect raided by police in basement. [ 9715]
  • Row after Brothel opens up next to State Children's Facility [ 8005 ]
  • Statevotary's granddaughter to marry. [ 11394 ]
  • Defense: SLK to procure new helicopter. [ 5181 ]

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Fri Mar 22, 2019 8:07 pm

Image
Achkadia







Image



Parthnopian Magi Calls for the Destruction of the Achkadian People
Fallen religious leader inspires violence against the Armed Republic
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Rachel Pfaff (@WNPfaff)
21 March 2019| Warezen, Achkadia




Image



Warezen, Achkadia -"Expunged from the earth and all existence"

The words of the Magi yesterday as he openly condemned Warezen for its crackdown on child abuse rings in the capitol. The Magi of the Verro faith making strong statements about the destruction of the Armed Republic of the Achkadia while detailing his support for heretical faiths in the nation that openly subject children to torture. Within his statement he also announces he has sanctioned our own Arch-Bishop of Warezen and stripped him of his title “Warden of Beo's” light.

Many of the faithful in all parts of Achkadia woke up to this shocking news of a Magi openly supporting such degenerate acts while persecuting the Achkadians striving the rid the world of such evil. Calls for the destruction of the republic while not uncommon in the divisive times we share living in Lira, but stunning coming from one considered a religious leader of our nation.

"because Beo wills it, I justify and carry out what must be done in His name."

The disturbing words of the Magi as he preached destruction of Achkadia to those within Parthonopia, a nation known for its hatred of our freedoms.

During an address today, a visibly shaken Arch-Bishop of Warezen conveyed encouragement to the faithful outside the Tabernacle of Warezen.

“For such a strong man whom I have known to be of great faith it is disturbing to see him fall.” He remarked about his relationship with the Magi whom he visited a few short weeks ago. “I know not how such a man should succumb to the sin of this world and become a puppet of a corrupt government's earthly plan of destruction.” The Arch-Bishop referring to a report by the Directorate that Pathnopian Commonwealth officials have been seeking ways of undermining Achkadian culture by using religious leaders as cultural weapons to destroy the unity of our nation.

“time realign to the true and righteous path."

Fears are now that this Magi sanctioned violence and terrorism could soon rear its ugly head within our nation, the Directorate ordering National Police and the military to step up security both along the border and within cities to counter.

“This man is not the Magi, he is not of Beo.”

The Arch-Bishop concluded his address by saying for now, until a true vicar of Beo can be found, the Achkadia Church of Verro will be separating from the corrupted devil in Parthnopia. Many are mournful for the lost faithful who follow this earthly and sinful man, praying for the salvation of Lira in such dark times that even those who appear to be most faithful to us, could inspire such hatred.

But if there is one thing Achkadia always will have it is: In Faith, Defense.

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©Ministry of Communications, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Son of God Sect raided by police in basement. [ 9715]
  • Row after Brothel opens up next to State Children's Facility [ 8005 ]
  • Statevotary's granddaughter to marry. [ 11394 ]
  • Defense: SLK to procure new helicopter. [ 5181 ]
Last edited by Achesia on Fri Mar 22, 2019 8:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Thu Apr 04, 2019 1:56 pm

Image
Achkadia











Image



Condolences and Censorship
Warezen offers regards to Arideo after death of King Wilbert the XI while silently ending official celebrations of Lavendel Day
SHAREImage Image Image Image
Alwin Fiedler (@OBSAlwin)
4 April 2019| Aatream, Produzland




Image



King Wilbert the XI of Arideo is dead, and as thousands in the southern Liran nation mourn, Warezen plays smoke and mirrors. In a statement from the Directorate, the nation of Achkadia expressed its "deepest" condolences to the people of Arideo over the death of their monarch. "A truly trying time in the life of a nation" the memo goes on to state as it was released this morning to the press as Warezen continues its push for better relations with its southern neighbor. However, what the people of Lira have not yet forgotten is Achkadia itself used to have a monarch, though Warezen would rather that chapter in the nation's history fade away until its forgotten.

In a rare leaked memo from the Home Ministry today, the Directorate has issued quiet direction to all of its departments to stop official observation of Lavendel Day, a holiday as old as Achkadia itself. Lavendel Day traditionally was a time when Achkadian monarchs observed the first blossoming of the Lavender flowers surrounding the Residenz de Glöckner. But since the Achkadian Subjugation when King Klemens Glöckner was murdered by Lunderfrau agents occupying the capital, the holiday was rededicated in memorial to the Royal House of Glöckner, a celebration of the life and history of Achkadia under the fondly remembered monarchy. However, it seems that the Directorate found the people of Achkadia’s feelings towards the old Monarchy too fond, perhaps growing jealous their government took a back seat to a dead King in the people’s hearts. Since 2013 official celebrations of this holiday have lessened in their scale, until now just a month before the holiday, official observation of it has been scrapped.

While we can speculate to the motivation for such action, it is truly part of the ever encroaching scope and demand for reverence from the people for the military regime, there is little telling while such a staple in traditional Achkadian culture is being removed. More and more each year such aspects of Achkadian culture that tied its people back to the old way are being stripped, one of the many ways the Directorate employs its reach to suffocate free thought within the nation. While there are enough despotic monarchs in Lira, it seems the celebration of this one (long dead) monarch does more harm than good for a people who still struggle day-to-day under the brutal regime.

All of this being said of the Armed Republic, condolences to the people of Arideo at the passing of their monarch. While King Wilbert has been much criticized even in his dead, he is loved by his people. The circumstances of his death do not make this much easier as story of his possible assassination is beginning to spread, a troubling tale that could end up causing tension south of the Achkadian border…

Image Comments [ 2713 ] | Image E-mail
©The Observer, 2019


Image 6391 comments

Image
MORE HEADLINES
  • Ardalites targeted in 2 raids last week. [ 9715]
  • Prostitution, the Backbone of the Warezen Service Industry. [ 8005 ]
  • What vaccines really do to your children. [ 11394 ]
  • Chem trials, new facts emerge. [ 5181 ]


User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Mon Feb 03, 2020 4:30 pm

Year Earlier….


“Papers please.”

The traditional greeting one Achkadian, typically who is armed, says to another Achkadian before they pass through their makeshift wall of concrete barriers, steel wire, and orange cones.

“Here you go.” A more polite way of responding to such a greeting, while simultaneously handing over your identification for what could be the third or so time since you set out from the front door of your dwelling.

It was a normal day for any Achkadian, the maze of color coated zones and police checkpoints ensuring only those with the correct color-coded access could pass through. Bullpup rifle in one hand, her Achkadian Citizen Identification Credentials (CIC) in the other, the officer who more resembled an urban infantryman with his black kevlar helmet, vest, knee/elbow pads eyes her up and down as if a dozen or so authorities have not already today. He alone dedicated to ensuring Katherine Lamb is truly who she says she is and her crossing from one zone to the next is not a risk to the security and tranquility of Achkadia.

“Blue coded, Sr. Soldier Lamb, Katherine.” The padded armored officer read to his partner. A grave tone between the two of them as they examined the threat level of a five-foot-five-inch red haired girl as she stood ever so patiently in her white knit sweater, plaid skirt, and stockings.

“Checks out, carry on Ma'am.” The officer handed back her CIC before returning his gloved hand to rest on the stock of his rifle. Casually the girl continued much as she did past every checkpoint during her day-to-day, a law-abiding citizen with little to fear from the extra security.

As she carried on down the road the ever-vigilant officers kept a close eye on her, their sentinel like gaze surveying her stride as she carried on past their post. Even risking the pause of their queue of citizens waiting to pass their checkpoint they watched her. However, their motives for such were less than official, their eyes instead tracking the playful sway of her hips as her plaid skirt fluttered in the wind giving them passing glances at her bare leg just above her stockings. Just as they thought their leering was unnoticed, the unsuspecting Sr. Soldier looked back over her shoulder with a playful smile to boot.

Both officers quickly looked away as if it absolved them the guilt of looking.

“Well slap me sideways.” One said to the other. “They ain’t look that good where I trained.”

“If you both are quite ready will you check my CIC?” A prudish less than courteous tone stopped their unofficial daydreaming of red-headed junior solders. Creased and with terse expression a middle-aged woman held out her Green card to the officers, the annoyance at how long she had been waiting apparent.

The officers were not impressed. One took her CIC and examined it halfheartedly.

“Why dont'cha step over here Ma'am, we are going to need to perform a search of your person.” One motioned with the barrel of his rifle to the corner where a portable and partitioned enclosure was set up to allow officers to perform thorough searches without prying eyes.

“A what? Excuse me?!” The notion not well received by the prudish woman, aghast at the thought she of all citizens needed an extra search.

“Let’s go ma'am.” One officer took her by the arm towards the enclosure, his barrel sticking into her side.

A hundred or so paces off from the checkpoint Kathrine continued on about her day willingly oblivious to the unpleasant scene unfolding at the checkpoint. While being a tease is not something Katie was proud of, it was part of her past that never really left her.

It was not long before she arrived at the government medical clinic her orders demanded she visit. Being just a block or so down the road from her government issued apartment which could hardly be called more than a closet, it was only a short walk for her on her off day to fulfil the tests required. Kathrine held her manila folder in her arm tightly as she pushed through the smudged glass door into the clinic.

Inside it was a desperate scene of waiting, dozens of people young and old, sick and healthy waiting to be scene by the medical staff. The clinic itself was not in the best of shape, but it certainly was not the worst Kathrine had ever seen. It was just one of the victims of high demand on inner city clinics in areas where populations boomed unexpectantly. Only a few smears of strange goop on the wall and posters half hung by office tape, a quality establishment when compared to its peers.

Katie stood in the door for a long moment, examining the scene as she assessed whether it was best to just come back on the morrow, early in the morning to queue up before the sun even crests the horizon. Yet just before she meant to turn and leave she noted the piece of paper taped to the inside of the bullet proof glass enclosure the receptionist sat in, a hand written instruction written in marker “military priority line”. Katie smiled for a moment, but as a small child coughed in the corner of the waiting room, she felt regret. The sickly-looking toddler without energy laid his head on the mother’s shoulder, his eyes telling the story of illness without relief.

Beyond the depressing scene she witnessed, Katie signed a few papers and handed over her records to the receptionist. Not long after she was ushered back into a small private medical room where the nurse told her to wait, rolling out a fresh piece of paper to cover the ripped and stained leather examining table.

Katie sat atop the table, her back straight, knees together while patting the tops of her thighs impatiently. It would be several minutes before anyone had time to come see her, the understaffed clinic over taxed for the demand they had. It was evident in their faces they would rather not be dealing with the military’s routine medical work on a busy day like this, but given who truly had the power in the world that was Achkadia, they knew better than to bite the hand that feeds.

“Ms. Lamb.” A stubbled, baggy eyed, grey accented hair nurse walked into the examine room with a smile only the dead reanimated could summon. “I see we are performing some tests today for you?” He adjusted a pair of glasses on his nose as he looked over her file. “Flight test packets… you must be excited.”

Indeed Katie was, having placed so well on her initial aptitude tests Katie had elected to travel down the route of becoming a Air Force pilot. While Katie could not put a finger on what drove her to work so hard for this, the thought of having that much power beneath her driving fighter across the skies at break neck speeds gave her a shiver just then sitting on the table in the dirty clinic. Fighter pilots were the literal knights and heroes of Achkadia, a country known for its aircraft and air forces. Ever since they were given a demonstration by the Liberty Army Air Force upon initial conscription, she wanted nothing more than to strive to be in the sky.

“Very.” She pushed back a strand of red hair as she smiled a beautiful white smile.

The nurse who conversely did not have perfect white teeth looked back down at the paper in shame, her teeth being so perfect that she must be of some high status to receive such good oral care. A quick look over the packet would show she was indeed a Blue, a step above the nurse’s Green.

“Great…” He said with a tepid tone. “Well Ms. Lamb we will be performing a few bits of blood work today, it looks like…. Six?” He fumbled with the paper a bit. “Let me ask you a few standard questions though. Have you ever had yellow fever?”

“No.” Katie shook her head with a smile, she rarely lost her cheeriness.

“Trypanosomiasis?”

“No.”

“Malaria?”

“No.” Katie felt as if she answered these types of questions a million times before.

“Have you ever been exposed to toxic chemicals like mercury?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been pregnant?”

“No.” Katie knew what was coming next.

The nurse cleared his throat a bit, they always did.
“Have you ever been a sex worker?”

Katie lost her cheeriness and smile.
“Yes.” She looked to the side and nervously fussed with her hair. While the military already knew this of her, she did not like to admit it. It was a part of her past she wishes she could forget. While the majority of orphan girls in Achkadia end up in prostitution at some point in their life, Katie wished she was the statistical minority who didn’t. But she couldn’t change the past, nor the battery of questions he now had to ask.

The nurse exhaled before going down the list.

“Let me save you the trouble… no to all.” Katie cut him off. “It’s not like they let people with S-T-Ds into consideration for the flight program.” Her tone was more annoyed that she had to talk about this than her usual casual and upbeat charm.

The nurse closed the file and looked over to her.

“Ok, and… I don’t think you are lying, but so you know the blood tests will show if you are.”

Katie wiped a tear from her eye, she was not lying, yet the fact she always ended up in this game of 20 shameful questions summarized her frustration in life. But if she was ever to achieve her goal of flying 30,000 feet above this mess with her life in-between the sheets of sleezy old men’s apartments far behind her, she had to resolve to go on.

“For what its worth.” The haggard nurse stood near the door, his hand on the knob. “It inspires me you have come from that world to where you are now.” He passed her a smile more genuine than Katie had seen in many months. “The nurse should be in shortly to take your blood samples.”

As the door closed behind him more tears began to run down Katie’s face. She sniffled while internally clawing to regain her composure, an armor thicker than any policeman’s that she wore on the inside. While trying to hold back the tears Katie could only think to herself…. “But what if I fail?” A fear so intense that the sum of Katie Lamb would be the life she left in the brothel.




Present Day… The Nest


The twenty-second floor of the Achkadian military headquarters known as “The Nest” was entirely dedicated to internal intelligence, an agency purpose built for the gathering of information within Achkadia. This chaotic part of the building was always in a frenzy, but today was even more so due to numerous raids ongoing against an alliance of affiliated terrorist groups within Warezen. Analysts, operations directors, and communications experts all dashed around as information was uploaded to their office from the numerous raid locations. The intelligence officers of this harrowed department known as the Homeland Intelligence 6 frantically analyzed each bit of intel as it came in to determine if there was more cells out there deep in the shadows of Warezen.

All attention was on this operation, but for a select few officers on other projects there was some more pressing concerns.

“Sir, do you have a moment.” The young man pressed his glasses to his nose as he tapped the shoulder of one Vice General Ebner, director of HI-6. He was flanked by both his group chief and deputy director, each with an expression of the utmost severity.

As the general turned around from monitoring each raid from a separate flat screen, the expression on his face looked like one of murder. But the analyst knew he had one saving grace in his effort to peal his director from this ever-evolving situation of harrowing field work.

“You are going to want to see this sir.” The deputy director confidently reiterated why they were all standing there before Ebner.

With little other explanation they managed to draw the director to a classified room, away from the chaos unfolding outside on the twenty-second floor.
The Vice General sat on the corner of the conference table as he looked to the analyst holding a folder to his chest. He raised his eyebrows with a “let’s hear it” expression. His arms crossed over the ribbons and medals on his dress uniform as he waited impatiently to hear what was so urgent he needed to be interrupted in the most chaotic day of HI-6 since the Menno bombings.

Nervous, the analyst spouted off his story. “Sir, a multi-layer analysis of inter-department data has been in the midst of being conducted over the past several months to asses different threat packages across media, citizen information, records, intelligence footage, and micro-data to gather profiles of persons of interest…”

“Bottom line…” The Vice General had little patience for verbose downloads of information, nor did he care about such details. There was obviously something underlying this boy was trying to say, a glance over to the deputy director would tell his subordinate he wanted to arrive at the point quickly.

The deputy director raised a hand to his analyst, he would take over from here. Grabbing the folder from the timid boy and handing it over, a turse look of impatience was passed between the two department heavy hitters. Deciding if this was worth his time, Ebner opened the file to find the picture of a young redheaded girl in uniform paper clipped to several papers with medical gibberish painted all over them.

“This girl, Cadet Kathrine Lamb popped up on one of our D-N-A analyses during this project. Her data is stored in military medical records due to her flight training packet.” The director swallowed before giving the bigger news. “We’ve done double… triple checking, and without a doubt Cadet Lamb is blood relative to King Klemens Glöckner. After further assessment she is most likely his great granddaughter.”

A long silence filled the room, suddenly the chaos of field operations outside felt far less important.

Rubbing his face to try and wake himself up from what was obviously a dream, Vice General Ebner tried to process this revelation.

“Who knows?” He looked between the three.

“Outside of those in this room, our medical analyst downstairs.”

Ebner’s hand was shaking at this point as he pointed his index finger between the three of them.

“Nobody else, no one else hears about this.” He wiped his face nervously again, his skin paler than when they started. “Make sure to take care of the analyst downstairs, and anyone else who heard of this. Your necks are now on the line… got it?” His tone sober.
The Vice General folded up the file and slapped it on the table.

“Go out there and tell Brigadier Messner to take over for me. Tell him something emergent has taken my attention.” He spun a leather chair away from the table and sat down with the file before him, intent on absorbing every bit of information he could on this Kathrine Lamb. “And then get your ass back in here and get Director Albrecht on the line now…”

An already hectic day only now became interesting. Afterall, what are a few hidden cells of violent terrorists compared to lost princesses hiding in the shadows, waiting to topple the whole regime.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Mon Feb 03, 2020 4:31 pm

Jax knew she was scared, her hand was trembling as it caressed his cheek, her other fidgeting with the trim of her blouse more so than her typical tic. While she put on a brave face he knew that it was only skin deep, and the girl he knew as his sister was frightened, more so than he had ever seen. Guilt overcame.all other emotions for him, the uncertainty of their future together in limbo.

“Dont…” he knew as soon as he saw the tear fall from her eye that she was forcing herself to hold back the real thing she wanted to say. Avery wanted to tell him to stay, stay with her and not go where she could not follow.

Since the day he came home with her favorite treat of a box of two chocolate covered cream puffs in hand and the words of his reenlistment on his lips, Avery had turned cold to him. Where once he enjoyed the warmth and comfort of a sisters love, he now scarce was worthy of a word from her. The mere sight of him cause for her to turn the other way. Avery's condition seemed to worsen to. Where once she had control over her emotion bouts, now was a frail girl at the mercy of irrational fear and paranoia. It burnt his soul to see her like this, where once his strength held her in comfort from the demons of her mind, now she drowned in them.

It was not until the day he was ordered to deploy did she let him touch her again, her embrace something withheld for so long Jax could not bare to think he was about to be without it even longer.

They both knew this would come however. Too long had Avery held Jax back to the benefit of the others, never letting him grow for himself, keeping him within the confines of that dusty and grimey block of housing they had known for so long caring for her emotional needs. But the thought of Jax moving on with his life did not heal the wound of their worlds separating for the first time in their lives.

Her fingers grabbed, tugged, and rifled with her clothes, she would do this till her fingers were raw. Beyond having Jax with her it was her only coping mechanism, their citizen status keeping them from getting her to an actual mental health doctor. Instead she lived with a stigma of being “crazy” in a world that was not understanding of people like her. While on the outside she was a beautiful Achkadian girl whom most assumed was well rounded socially. But inside she was just afraid.

Jax grasped her bare upper arm and caressed it, his rough gloved hand not as warming to the touch as she would have liked one of her brothers final acts of affection before leaving on orders to be. Yet for all the years the pair grew up alone on the streets of Warezen, absent their parents guiding light, the two in this moment felt the wall grow steeper. While together embracing they were both alone, the siblings only remembering love and times past as if they did not still live within it.

There were no guarantees in life in this time and age. War had been made just another stage in one's life, either you became the soldier or someone close to you was. The state in which Lira existed did not make any promises that Jax would return to his sister again, nor did life in Warezen promise Avery would be there to receive him.

“Hey….” He lifted up her head, her soft cheeks moist with the sweat from cooking the morning meal. He took a long pause as he reflected back on the time together growing up, how many times he had been there to protect her over the years. Whether she was being bullied by bigger kids in the park or singled out by seedy characters in the dark alley between school and home, Jax had always been there for Avery. He would be lying to himself he he did not feel in the least bit worried now as he held her softly with his hand on the back of her neck watching the tears roll down her cheeks.

“Jaxy…” Her head found his chest as she sobbed. His dark green digital uniform wet with her tears.

He grabbed her hand away from its fumbling, holding her still there, trying to hold her in the moment of them being together.

Outside shouting of some sort broke out, National Police fighting with disgruntled citizens or perhaps a brawl Jax sid not know. The sounds of this city were mechanical and cold, little warmth or kindness to them, Jax thought hard about how leaving his sister here alone with no family would be the one thing he feared. If only he could take custody of her legally, bringing her along with to his station to live as his ward. However they were both nothing but street rats to the government, wards of the state. Only by bribing the bureaucrat assigning them this government furnished closet they called an apartment with money Jax spent weeks pickpocketing did they get to live together as siblings. Within the wardship program who knew where they both could have been assign, opposite ends of Warezen most like, coupled with curfews they would never have been able to see each other.

Letting go of her hand, she relaxed it to Jax's surprise. Perhaps she had forgotten for just a slight moment he was leaving that day.
Running his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair as she nestled in his chest Jax burned the smell of her perfume into his mind. The perfume he saved up money for months for her birthday a year ago. She cried when he gave it to her, much like she did now.

“Remember the time Claire and her friends had cornered that dog… errr the mangy looking one in the part just down Block 23.” He smiled, pushing her dainty shoulders back and looking into her striking green eyes.

Avery sniffled and nodded.

Jax recalled the day, it had been… maybe 3 years ago he found Avery in the park barking loudly at the other girls. As small and frail looking she was, his sister certainly had a projection to her voice when she believed in herself.
“I remember you shoving that one girl… you know pox face…”

“Félicie.” Avery whispered.

“Ya, Félicie, I remember you pushin’ her right into the mulch after she hit that dog. I swear she was picking shit out of her mess of a hair for weeks.”

They both shared in a small laugh. For as little light that he saw in her eyes recollecting that moment from years ago, Jax wanted to keep that fire growing in her, so that one day… he could be warmed by it again.

“You’re strong Avery.” He placed his hand atop her head. “You'll be fine, when you are old enough to go out on your own, we'll be together again.”

Her eyes darkened just then, somehow Jax knew she didn't share his optimism of this situation. He worried she resented him for leaving, a regret he would carry with him wherever he went.

“But, uh… I wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small card from his chest pocket wet from her sobbing. It read Citizen Identity Card, and had a thick green band just under the bold lettering. Below all this was Avery's mug from 2 years ago when she first got a Yellow CIC. Her face was much younger and had more of a baby face back then, he almost shed a tear thinking about how she morphed from that into the woman before him now.

“A green?...” Avery's hands reached for the card but froze as if she felt unworthy to hold it.

“Yes…” Jax blubbered a bit, the emotion of it hitting him. Clearing his throat, he tried to keep his composure as he placed the small plastic card in Avery's palms. For their entire lives they had been Yellows, the lowest class that were not some sort of criminals or degenerates. Orphans were just too high risk of a demographic to be allowed freedoms that Greens had. But with that they also lived in worse conditions, less security, and without the medical attention Avery needed.

“I made it a condition of my enlistment.” He held his fist to his mouth as he faux cleared his throat again. “To have you promoted to a Green.”

Avery's eyes welled up.

The noises outside subsided, restarted, and quieted again all within the span of disbelief Avery lingered in as she looked at the thick green band with her picture affixed under it.

“You could prob get a better job than working at that dive.” Jax referred to the dusty cafe Avery waited tables at on the corner. His eyes turned upwards to the stained ceilings and rusted pipes of their “apartment”. “You could prob move out o'here as well, get yourself to a better block.” He took in the sight of her, short and slender. “When I can, perhaps I save up enough money to get you a permit to travel and come visit me sometime?”

She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

He kept that feeling with him for a long time, the warmth of her lips. But it did not outlast the guilt of leaving her in Warezen.




”Up in the morn’, outta the rack
Greeted at dawn with an early attack
Crest Sergeant rushes me off to chow
But I do'n need it anyhow

Hail Hail Autonomo’ Infantry
Fury of battle follow me
An airborne soldiers life for me
O’ nothin in this world is free

From a big bird in the sky
All will jump and some will die
Off to battle we will go
To live or die, hell I do’n know”


The column of soldiers ran across the wet road as the wind beat them with its frigid breath. Their boots smacking the pavement as if it were a pair of moist lips, the wet morning rain drenching them on their morning run as their cadence and echoes kept up despite the conditions. Jax in particular gripped his bullpup rifle close to his chest as his breath tasted of blood. He hated running in the cold like this, nothing worse than the bloody taste in your mouth and your legs locking up. It had been six miles since they stopped, running at a slow pace in full gear was hell on the knees while certainly their standard issue boots did not provide much support.

They turned a corner, Jax second behind the squad leader as he held his rifle to port and leaned with the turn, as if momentum at such a slow jog meant anything, but it was the mentality that was important. Ahead the large black top of the company mustering area was insight.

“Compan….”

Their platoon sergeant cut off by the whirling of two Kempfcopter K70.S above as they made for the airfield. Jax managed a smile as he thought of bolting through the air with his legs off the side one of those beasts, comin in hot for a raid on an unsuspecting target. Watching the dark silhouettes of the helicopters against the dark blue night sky distracted him for a moment from the misery of their bull-run

Close enough to the platoon sergeant who ran to the left of their formation he could hear the crusty old NCO muttering under his breath.

“Beo, fuckin fly boys and their god-damned noise.”

His head turned to the formation, his tight cut grey hair that only covered half his scalp shimmering in rainwater.

“Company! Release!” His smokers’ lungs bellowing out the command with significant phlegm.

It was then the formation broke, the soldiers of 3rd Platoon, B Company knowing the routine. They had about 3-tenths of a mile to the mustering grounds, and the first bastard there would get released for weekend liberty at lunch today.

Jax was tired, but not of running. He was tired of the short pace, the near vertical motion his legs had to make as to not kick his squad leader in the ass as he strided out. The platoon leader hardly coughed out the “lease” before Jax was at full tilt, his long legs shooting out as he pushed his body forward.

He certainly felt weighed down by the boots, but he still picked up significant speed compared to the rest of his subordinates in his team or even his squad leader. There were few ahead of him as he crept up the leader field, his heart pounding in his chest as he fixated on the prize ahead of him… the platoon guideon.

Every Friday 2nd Soldier Kent, a lanky ginger from Blumd, and his red banner beat him to the finish. While over drinks Kent swore the guideon was harder than a rifle to run with because of “flag in the wind like a sail” or some BS. Jax had his doubts.

“Not today Kent.” Jax said out of breath as he barely passed him.

The two came neck and neck as the cheers from those who gave up winning behind them increased. Bets for drinks were being placed that Kent would shut Jax out again. But Jax was motivated this time, maybe a girl in town he was sweet on?

They crossed into the mustering ground, Jax just a boot ahead of Kent as they both fanned out and slowed to a stop. Jax had his hands atop his helmet as he looked over to Kent who did the same, waiting to hear arguments about how he took the prize yet again.

“Aye, you hadit.” Kent panting nodded his head, surprising Jax at his willingness to relent. “Asides, I'm tired of being bored Friday afternoons now, I don't have a pussy to smack like you do Jaxy-boy.”

Jax furrowed his eyebrows skeptically.

“Jax, get over here.” From the dark distance a pair of NCOs stood in their grey berets watching the platoon pull in.

“Roger moving!” Still panting from their miles long run he did his best to jog just a few meters over to the pair, his boots still smacking.

Closer he recognized the two faces of the NCOs, both members of the special training unit who drilled all soldiers of the Autonome Aktionsgruppe (Autonomous Action Group) in elite soldiering skills.

Sergeants Kunckle and Kundert were rough looking characters, each with beards, scars, and tattoos to boot. They didn't talk much about what they did before coming to the Aktionsgruppe, just mutterings of “shit you hope not to see.”

Kunckle, about a head taller than Jax grabbed the young soldier by the back of the neck and pulled him closer.

“You grew up on the streets?” A sober question.

“Yes sergeant.” Jax had a nervousness to his tone, it wasn't something he bragged about, but he was sure it was on his file somewhere.

The two NCOs just looked at each other and “hmmed”

“You pick pockets, sneak around, steal shit?” Kundert asked.

Jax went pale, he only got caught once doing anything as a kid on the street and he didn't think it ended up on his record, just a sock to the gut from an officer's baton. He worried for a moment that his rough past was catching up to him, and they were pulling him from Aktionsgruppe.

He figured with as many eyes were in the streets of Warezen that there would be no use lying.

“Yes Sergeant.” He looked ahead a thousand yards, hoping his honesty would mean something.

They both nodded.
“Good.” Kunkle said.

“Good?” Jax pondered.

They did not leave him much time to think about their line of questioning, Kunkle pulling him in closer till he could almost feel the man's beard on his cheek.

“When we come and get you in the next couple days, don't ask any questions, aye?”

Jax kept the thousand-yard stare, not knowing what any of this meant. He nodded his head out of compliance.

“Good.” He let Jax go. “We didn't have this conversation.” He wagged a finger in front of Jax's nose.

“Yes Sergeant.” He began to feel like a broken record.

After the mysterious pair left and Jax stood alone, a few of his platoon mates wandered up out of curiosity.

“What was that about? You puke on their boots?” One slapped him in the shoulder.

“Hey Corporal, they weren't ya know, askin about your sister were they?” One of Jax team members said with a shit eating grin. “Cause ya know, she comes in to town I call dibs to spending the day… the night… the day… and then the night again with her...oof”

A punch in the gut is all Jax had to answer that with. He still regretted showing his platoon mates a picture of Avery that day, an innocent gesture of trying to show where he was from and what he was about. Unfortunately, with a platoon of hot headed men it turned into something else entirely, and sadly nary a sock was spared that night.

Jax paid no more attention to their banter as he headed back to the barracks for a shower, all the while wondering what Kunkle and Kundert had planned for him.

User avatar
Achesia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6400
Founded: Sep 26, 2009
Father Knows Best State

Postby Achesia » Mon Feb 03, 2020 4:33 pm

“The Cisparranian Republic is at peace, the Commonwealth is bringing peace to the lands of greater Parthanopia, joining such a commonwealth shall secure the peace we hold dear for decades to come, less we become the puppet of a foreign power.. or worse, its slave.”

The voice on the radio crackled after echoing so loudly around the walls of the Tiapolo street. An old man wrinkled took the wooden pipe to his mouth for a long drag before emotionlessly letting it go, the smoke rising as his foggy cataract filled eyes stared into the distance. Others gathered around him and his small table were he typically sat alone people watching during most of the daylight hours, retired to witness the comings and goings of young Cisparrans.

While the small crowd did not gather to hear the musings of old wrinkled man, they listened closely to the words of his radio as candidates for their elected leader debated fiercely about the future of their small Liran nation. One such topic that proves to be the most divisive in Cisparra was whether or not to join the Parthnopian Commonwealth, a most polarizing decision which would determine for many decades to come the future of the nation. At the border of Achkadia and the Commonwealth they sat between two ends of a divided Lira, and no matter which democratic decision they made, they would certainly be taking sides in a conflict they would simply be the appetizer of.

“Mr. Baptist, your party has made it clear that the only concrete path for our Republic is to join the rest of the Parthnopian nations, united as one front. What do you say to the thousands of Cisparrans who took to the streets just yesterday in demonstration opposed to this?” The moderator pointed out the elephant in the room, referring to the massive riot yesterday in the capital which only someone trying too hard to be objective could call a demonstration. Tensions between fellow countrymen ran high while the decision to stay independent or join the Commonwealth quickly became a polarizing topic, often causing violent clashes between supporters on either side.

For those stuck in the middle much like the silent wrinkled man taking long drags of his pipe, listening to the radio as they stood on the brink is all that could be done. Many felt resigned to the fact that either way the Cisparra they knew would change, and for the worse.

“I would say that the ideals they showed that day are not in keeping with the ideals of our nation. We must not raise hands to our fellow countrymen, the 4 dead-” The radio crackled louder as Baptist was interrupted with loud boos, parts of the crowd keeping with the other side of the debate not fond of this line of thinking.

“Representative Marcel..” the moderator tried to bring the debate back under control by handing the questions over to the other side. After a few more moments of crackling and boos the radio calmed and the moderator continued. “We are at a crossroads for our nation, you have been outspoken about remaining independent, and some would say fond of aligning with Warezen. What say you to the demonstrations yesterday here in Tiapolo?”

“I think they spoke loud and clear to the wishes of a people who not want to be subjugated under the elites such as Carlo and Parthnopia.” A younger man's voice said firmly, a charming nature with how he articulated his points. Some booing from the crowd could be heard, but as the old man adjusted the knob on the radio the voices became clearer again. “Cisparra is a proud nation, one which can find its own peace outside of the Commonwealth or Achkadia.” A mix of cheers and boos could be heard in response.

“Representative Marcel, the latest polls show that Mr. Baptist's lead over you has grown almost double digits, some say because the lines of how much independence you want from Warezen are blurred what do you say-”

Taking a puff from his pipe the old man by the radio shook his head at the whole thing. Looking over to a trio of young well built men whom he had not seen before he addressed the nearest, youngest looking one.
“Back when I was a young man, politicians had honor and when they said a thing they meant a thing.” His frail frame shook as he brought the pipe back up to his dried lips, other older men nodding their heads in agreeance.

Jax “hmm'ed” as he stood closest to the man. While he did not respond to the elder's musings he thought about his retrospection. Was it the politicians who lead Lira into OW1? Or the ones who oversaw the collapse of the Kingdom of Parthnopia that he was referring it? Jax may only be pretending to be Cisparran but he knew enough to know the old man was looking at the past through rose tinted glasses.

Hours would pass like this as Jax, Kunkle, and Kundert listened to the debate raging across the airwaves of the Cisparran Republic, followed by political speculations about the country's future and who would lead it thusly. It certainly did not look good for Representative Marcel's Independence Party as polls favored Mr. Baptist's the Verro Democrats platform of joining the Commonwealth heavily. But as night fell over the capitol city, they prepared to make waves of their own.

“Alright this is it.” Kunkle looked over his shoulder in the dark of the side ally to see what watchful eyes could be observing. Thankfully most of the city seemed asleep as he played his knife in the lock before with a snap he managed to pry it open.

Looking around the street again, he opened the door wide enough to let Jax and Kundert slip in, a suspicious eye for the shadows as he too then crossed the threshold.

Jax lowered his skit mask and clutched his P2SF handgun close to his chest, he could feel his heart racing as they turned corners in turn. A few days ago Jax wouldn't have imagined the Special Strategies Group selecting him for a mission like this, nor did he know they did anything other than training Achkadian troops. While he wasn't sure if it was because he could run fast that they chose him, he had a feeling having a younger looking male around made it less suspicious for them to sneak into Parthnopia without question as to their intentions. As to how Jax felt about his participation in this, he would never of dreamed Achkadia would directly try to influence foreign politics, but it only made sense they would want to undermine the Commonwealth here, so close to home. Jax kept to this line of thinking, best to carry out his orders and not think of the international repercussions.

They slipped into the villa undetected, their objective to be unseen and leave no trace, a suspicious death could not be linked back to Achkadian actors so failure or capture was not an option. The pistol he clutched was not to be used except at the most dire of need, occupants of the household were to be incapacitated or neutralized without leaving evidence like that of a bullet casing, gunpowder, etc.

“Hold.” Kundert whispered while holding up a fist.

Around the corner soft footsteps came, a woman barefoot appearing as she stepped down the dim hall, hair damp and towel around her breasts. She was humming a tune while blissfully strolling through her house, unaware she had an audience. Jax held his breath, hoping she would continue on with no care for her surroundings.

There was always little truth to Jax’s hopes, the woman certainly seeing them as her eyes which looked so relaxed suddenly grew wide in terror. She dropped the towel that she held in modesty, looking to scream should she inhale air fast enough.

Acting quickly Kundert pulled her in to him, holding her by the neck against his chest and placing a small cloth over her face. Only a few muffled protests left her before she went limp, Kundert dragging her small frame to the side and propping her up in the shadows. Jax watched her limp nude body slump against the wall, her eyes closed in a deep sleep that surely she would wake up without recollection of much of the past day. He caught himself looking too closely at her before remembering where he was and where his mind needed to be.

After their close call they continued flow through the halls of the villa towards their target, the hallways dark or dimly lit as the estate of Mr. Baptist slept through the covert intrusion by the trio of Achkadians. Each of the men watched their sectors of fire carefully, prepared to subdue those they came across as fluidly as Kundert had the woman just moments before.

Coming up to an archway that lead to a large den they stopped, crouching on either side while peering around to survey the occupants.

“You're up Jax.” Kunkle whispered, his eyes conveying a seriousness about what the younger man was about to embark on.

He had trained for this several days straight. After they met him on the parade ground that day after the run, it was some time before they came and grabbed him out of his bunk, telling him to grab all of his things and clear out his locker. From there he was brought to the SSG Building, the home of the Special Strategy Group, the elite trainers of the Achkadian Liberty Army. He didn’t fully comprehend it at the time, but being pulled from his unit he was now part of something deeper and more elusive than he imagined was happening in the world. Now more than just another commando of the Kommando-Brigade der 3. Aktion, Jax was drilled on this mission day in and out. Every waking moment was spent with Kunkle and Kundert preparing to deliver the final blow against their target Mr. Baptist, their superiors within the SSG feeding them real time mission details as the situation within Cisparra developed. As he learned more and more about the situation, it began to sink in to Jax that this was not just training, and that soon he would be expected to perform just as if he was on the battlefield.

But what really hit him is how he would execute this mission. Not using a gun or knife, Jax would be delivering the blow with something wholly different than he had handled before. Just hours before they met outside the villa Jax was given a small syringe full of amphetamines, a way to make it look like Mr. Baptist suffered a heart attack.

“Just one jab Jax.” He recalled Kunkle telling him as he mockingly brought his fist to Jax’s neck as if he had a needle.

“Just one jab.” Jax muttered to himself as he moved forward.

He could see the Cisparran politician’s bald head resting on the back of the couch as he lurked around the corner, waiting for the best time to move in. Sitting nearly on his haunches Jax soundlessly crept into the living space flanked by large bookcases and filled with political papers, correspondence, and books of all genres. Only a single lamp illuminated the man as he rested, his breathing labored from the long strenuous debate televised across his small nation.

Mr. Baptist was a well-respected man in Cisparra, and the weight of the county’s expectations was not an easy thing for him to bear the lines of such stress showing on his labored expressions. Such a labor was allot, and thus he often lounged as such in his den after long days of political work. For Jax it was good, the less he moved around the easier this would be. He slinked across an open area of the floor before huddling behind the very couch his mark sat on. But just as he was to lean over and inject the poison into Baptist’s neck, little footsteps stopped him.

“Papi, reeeeee reeee.” A little girl who looked to not even be 3 passed right by Jax, not noticing the threat in her family’s home. She held a story book aloft, exclaiming to her Papi as she waved it around enthusiastically. “Reee reee papi!” She said over and over, until finally Mr. Baptist relented with a chuckle, grabbing child and book into his lap.

“My my little girl, it is far to late for you to be out of bed.”

“Reee reee.” She would not surrender her request.

Jax could hear Mr. Baptist thumb though the pages of the small children’s book. “Ok ok, I will read, sit in Papi’s lap and I’ll read.

Jax looked back towards Kunkle and Kundert, his eyes wide through his black ski mask as he did not know how to proceed. Kunkle pointed at the bald head of their target authoritatively, Jax knew he was demanding him to do it now, no matter the change in situation. Though Jax had seen many a child on battlefields across Achkadia and beyond, this time his hand remained steady, unmoving as Mr. Baptist began to read the story before him.

Jax and Kunkle’s eyes locked, they didn’t need to say words to know Kunkle wanted it done, and Jax wouldn’t do it… not yet.

“One bright evening as the sun was sinking on a glorious world a wise old Cock flew into a tree to roost. Before he composed himself to rest, he flapped his wings three times and crowed loudly. But just as he was about to put his head under his wing, his beady eyes caught a flash of red and a glimpse of a long pointed nose, and there just below him stood Master Fox.

"Have you heard the wonderful news?" cried the Fox in a very joyful and excited manner.

"What news?" asked the Cock very calmly. But he had a queer, fluttery feeling inside him, for, you know, he was very much afraid of the Fox.

"Your family and mine and all other animals have agreed to forget their differences and live in peace and friendship from now on forever. Just think of it! I simply cannot wait to embrace you! Do come down, dear friend, and let us celebrate the joyful event."

"How grand!" said the Cock. "I certainly am delighted at the news." But he spoke in an absent way, and stretching up on tiptoes, seemed to be looking at something afar off.

"What is it you see?" asked the Fox a little anxiously.

"Why, it looks to me like a couple of Dogs coming this way. They must have heard the good news and—"

But the Fox did not wait to hear more. Off he started on a run.

"Wait," cried the Cock. "Why do you run? The Dogs are friends of yours now!"

"Yes," answered the Fox. "But they might not have heard the news. Besides, I have a very important errand that I had almost forgotten about."

The Cock smiled as he buried his head in his feathers and went to sleep, for he had succeeded in outwitting a very crafty enemy.”


It was a short book but Jax felt like he had been holding his breath for far to long. Soon the plop of a book being closed up would signal that story time was over, and as goodnight kisses were given soon the babe crept back off to bed.

“Ok now, go back to bed. I’ll send your momma in to check on you.” Mr. Baptist gave the child another kiss before setting her down.

“Nigh nigh!” She mumbled, waving her hand awkwardly as a toddler would before slipping past Jax and out of the den. The room lay quiet once more, the sounds of distant street dogs barking the only disturbance to Mr. Baptist’s rest.

Kunkle’s gaze was piercing now, they had a limited window to do this, and there was no telling if there would be more interruptions.

Jax did not want to crouch there any longer either, instead standing upright above the man, their eyes meeting for a half a moment before Mr. Baptist could process what was happening. Yet it would be too late for him to cry out, or at least he chose not to so as to not bring his granddaughter into harm’s way. Jax’s hand held his mouth regardless as he plunged the needle into his neck, ensuring all of the drug was injected into him before pulling it out. Mr. Baptist’s eyes widened, his body convulsing as his heart could not bear the strain of the amphetamines. The deed had been done, and it was time to leave without any trace of being there.

Swiftly moving back towards his companions, they turned to leave from whence they came. But before Jax could go too far Kunkle grabbed him by the jacket, his large arms holding him there as he stared at the boy for a long moment, finger authoritatively in his face as Jax knew the displeasure for his hesitation was thick. Pushing him forward Jax knew it would be a tense conversation for later back at the safe house. But the trio had bigger things to worry about as they exited the villa, leaving the scene behind them in hopes that their influence on Cisparra was now felt, the double-digit lead of Mr. Baptist and his party surely sundered.


Advertisement

Remove ads

Return to NationStates

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Britonisea, Champagne Socialist Sharifistan, Imeriata, Llalta, New Chilokver, Silver Commonwealth, The kingdom of Lebanon

Advertisement

Remove ads