Hands in the Night (War/Horror; OOC/Open/WB)

[Cylarn]

IC.

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Our story is that of the struggle of an oppressed population against tyrannical rule. The year is 2008; the location is the Kingdom of Volkavia, the last remaining monarchy to be found in Europe. The people of this European backwater have long been subject to the rule of the ruling House of Marius, a putrescent and selfish dynasty with no regard for its people. The new millennium has brought with it more sanctions, economic stagnation, costly foreign wars, rampant corruption - and where might the monarchs be? Indulging their tastes for the finer things, and guarding over their bank accounts as if they were great dragons of old, perched over a pile of gold and jewels. Dissent is punished harshly by the state security apparatus, and midnight abductions of political opponents have deprived many a son, or daughter, of a parent.

How much more use and abuse are the people expected to take until enough is absolutely enough? Ask yourself that; your character is one of those forced to answer that question; for them and many others, the answer is obvious. The people of Volkavia have set themselves on the path for revolution in their nation. Civil protests in the cities have grown exponentially from the handfuls of demonstrations in the past, backed by exiled opponents of the regime. Volkavia youth and veterans of the foreign wars alike have joined the factory workers and underpaid civil servants to resist the police pushback forced against them. In the shadows, weapons and equipment are being prepared, and dice are being cast. Soon, Volkavia shall find itself at war.

However, things are hardly to take place as they should be. As if predestined by some horrible fate, secret horrors of the past are to be revealed. In desperation against what was clearly coming, the regime has sought out the help of dark forces, climbing to the heights of the Volkavia Alps to seek such forces out. A vile compact has been made, in which men have voluntarily surrendered their lives and souls to become vampires. Agile, nigh-unstoppable, capable of powers naught witnessed in the course of centuries, the regime and its new usurping monarch have embraced the vampiric gift as the salvation of their house. In secret, a force of such creatures is being risen for the coming war.

This is what you are not aware of. It has been almost a week since the fighting began. You have been in Borsten, a mountain city in which the local populace has united against the government, with several groups under the banner of the "Free Volkavian Forces." Fighting continues in the city, as the FVF consolidates its hold. Everyone is waiting, expecting a government counterattack, including yourself. What you are not expecting, is to spend the better part of this new war going toe-to-toe with the undead. Yes, you will fight a long way against an opponent thought to be the product of folksy superstitions. Blood and death are the only things awaiting you, done this path of war.

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700s-1200s - The Kingdom of Volkavia is founded, as evidenced by archaeological findings of the students of the University of Karanstar in 1992. The first reported ruler of Volkavia is Marius I, a largely forgotten general of Hungarian descent. Volkavian armies spend the majority of the century locked into a series of regional conflicts, which eventually will establish the modern borders of Volkavia. 1200s-1914 - Volkavia remains a relatively stable kingdom up through to World War I. While the Black Plague, peasant revolts, and attacks on the Jewish, Romani, Muslim, and Greek Orthodox residents of Volkavia took place, the nation hardly wavered under the Marian Dynasty. 1914-1918 - Under the direction of King Luduvic III, Volkavia declares war on behalf of the Triple Alliance, entering into armed conflict with the Russian Empire. A Russian offensive into northern Volkavia brings the nation into a war for its own survival. Almost three-hundred-thousand Volkavian soldiers, and seven-hundred-thousand Volkavian civilians are killed in the fighting, while tens of millions more are displaced by the fighting. Fighting with little support from their allies, the mixture of Royal Army personnel and diverse militias would hold on until 1918, in which Volkavia was able to expel Russian Imperial forces crumbling in the face of the Russian Revolution. 1918-1926 - The Volkavian Civil War is waged, between Royalist-aligned military and police forces and collections of anarchist and Communist militias arising from the devastation of the First World War. King Luduvic III and two of his daughters, both in direct succession to the throne, are killed in an anarchist bombing on the White Palace, bringing Prince Kerlof to the throne in 1923. Under his direction, Royalist forces conduct a successive series of offensives into rebel holdings, recapturing the major cities by August of 1925. By the following years, the remainder of the rebel fighters had either fled elsewhere into Europe, or had been killed by the Royalists. A total of fifty-five thousand people are killed in the conflict. 1929-1940 - The Great Depression hits Volkavia, plunging the nation into economic calamity and dooming almost half of the population. A famine in 1932 claims the lives of one million people. Spurred on by the horrid conditions inflicted upon their country, left and right-wing groups gain traction in the Royal Council, leading King Kerlof to disband the Council in 1938, to reopen it to a pro-monarchist Council in March of 1940. Two weeks after the inauguration of the new Royal Council, Nazi German forces launch an unprovoked invasion of Volkavia, seizing most of the country by the close of 1941. The Marian Dynasty manages to escape to Istanbul, establishing a government-in-exile. 1940-1945 - A myriad of guerrilla groups and surviving units of soldiers wage a long insurgency against occupying Nazi forces and the collaborationist government of Volkavia. OSS and SOE operatives establish a steady line of weapons and supplies to the insurgents, who operate under the umbrella term of the "Free Volkavian Army." A program by Nazi authorities to deport and exterminate the minority populations of Jews and Romani are rebuffed by guerrilla forces originating from those minority populations. The only concentration camp in Volkavia, located outside of the city of Uriju, was the site of a massive revolt and subsequent takeover by prisoners and Jewish-Romani militias in 1944, with the entirety of the SS garrison killed in combat or executed in the post-takeover reprisals. Prior to the Yalta Conference, members of the Volkavian expat intelligencia in London and New York convince President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill to object to a proposed Soviet invasion of Volkavia. Limited Allied air support in 1945, coupled with the growth of a competent fighting force in the FVA, enables them to oust Nazi forces a month prior to the Battle of Berlin. Fearing a Soviet takeover, King Kerlof signs a mandate calling for the forcible expulsion of Communists from the government and military, as the neighboring nations fall into the influence of the Soviet Union. 1946-1966 - Volkavia, despite being left in shambles after two world wars, makes a rebound in the post-war era. Economic prosperity comes in the way of high wages and new, affordable housing for families. Exports by Volkavia, primarily in the form of wheat and valuable minerals, boost the economy. As with the US, Volkavia experiences a "baby boom," in response to this period of peace and prosperity. Attempts by the USSR to influence Volkavian politics are rebuffed by the intelligence services, most notably the Royal Security Service. King Kerlof passes away in 1966, with the crown going to his eldest son, Prince Bolisarius IV. 1978 - King Bolisarius IV authorizes the "Foreign Assistance Program," in which Volkavian troops are deployed worldwide on military expeditions, both legitimate and clandestine. Air, infantry, and armor assets are deployed, in the first implementation of the FAP, to the Yemen Arab Republic in support of President Sallah's regime for a period of two years. A battalion-sized element of troops is also deployed to Rhodesia for two years. 1980 - The first two implementations of the FAP end in success, with the monarchy capitalizing on the national pride by welcoming back the soldiers and airmen as heroes, complete with massive parades of students and soldiers. The payment for the operations is largely pocketed by the royal family, who enrich themselves with expensive foreign vehicles and opulent palaces. 1985 - The AIDS epidemic hits Volkavia, with King Bolisarius IV authorizing a controversial security operation widely condemned by critics as an anti-gay purge. Two-thousand people are detained by the government; five-hundred do not return. The UN responds by issuing sanctions against Volkavian imports. 1986 - Six commandos from the 3rd Special Airmobile Brigade are killed during a clandestine operation in Angola, prompting cries of outrage from the populace when the story was brought to light. A small contingent of combat troops and aircraft are deployed on a contract expedition to Chad, engaging Libyan forces on several occasions at the close of the Toyota War. 1992-1995 - Volkavian troops are deployed to the Balkans in support of Serbian forces, with the action being widely condemned by the international community. On orders from King Bolisarius IV, much of Volkavia's foreign relations are severed, and the nation is pummeled by a series of economic and political sanctions. 1998 - The RSS assassinates Harkon Federev, President of the Council of the Volkavian Republic, a London-based organization in opposition to the monarchy. 2002-2006 - Gaining the permission of ISAF authorities, Volkavia operates a military logistics program in Afghanistan that utilizes truck convoys and helicopters for transport of supplies to remote combat outposts. Volkavian criminal groups exploit this operate to build connections with Afghan opium-farmers 2005-2007 - Volkavian troops are contracted to support government troops in the Central African Republic against rebel forces. Five-hundred Volkavian troops would die in the two years that the VRA was involved in the CAR. 2006 - Reporters from the Shigal Times publish a piece on the FAP and the illegal pipeline of cash flowing to the monarchy. Civil unrest begins in the major cities, with strikes and peaceful demonstrations. The Royal Police Service responds with massive deployments of riot police to crush the protests, and troops are also deployed in "security" operations in the countryside, disarming the local populace. Several organized crime groups in the cities and countryside alike declare their opposition to the government, provoking incidents of armed violence. 2007 - A team of operators from the Volkavian Special Air Service, Volkavia's elite special forces unit, is deployed to the Bagrus Mountains, officially on a training mission. Prince Velkan, third-in-succession to the throne and a Colonel in the VSAS, is appointed as the team's leader. Contact is lost seven days after insertion. 2008 - After three weeks, a search-and-rescue team responds to an emergency beacon activated by the team, evacuating them from a cave nestled in the high extremities of the mountain. Despite having run out of supplies, the four survivors are in remarkable health and transported to the White Palace in Shigal. Shortly thereafter, King Bolisarius IV and most of the royal family are massacred in a midnight purge by Prince Velkan and gunmen under his command. Survivors report witnessing Prince Velkan drinking the blood from his father. As Velkan assumes the throne, a state of emergency is put into place by the new monarch. The border is closed, as are the airports and bus stations, while the nation is put under lockdown. Presently, October 2008 - Armed resistance has broken out, in October of 2008. Civil authorities in the mountain city of Borsten, backed by rogue soldiers and police as well as by private militias, declare the city free of the monarchy, and begin pacification operations to solidify their hold. In the rural south, Jewish and Romani self-defense groups have sprung up and are resisting government troops, as well as criminal groups both aligned to and opposing the monarchy. Government troops are currently massing at various locations in preparations for assaults.	I am the OP, and what I say is law. This will work similarly for any appointed co-OPs. Standard RP rules apply. No godmodding, no metagaming, etc. Now, metagaming is the big one. As for you Precinct folks, we've discussed the RP at length. Some of you assisted me greatly with advice. At the onset of the RP, no one is aware that vampires exist. At the most, you have heard rumors of blood-drinking dervishes organized into special operations death squads. This is an evolving setting, and every character will be adding flavor to the setting and plot. Volkavia is a non-descript Eastern European nation, and you are more than welcome to invent towns, cities, historical facts, and the like. I will do my best to include those things in our Worldbuilding section, and update existing material with your consensual support by addition of content. On the subject of vampire worldbuilding, keep it constrained to ancient history - the story of myth and folklore. Military gear at the beginning of the RP should be kept within a certain level of reason for guerrillas in a fragile backwater state on the verge of collapse.	Code: Select all [floatright][size=200][background=black][color=#FFBF00](SURNAME, INITIALS)[/color][/background][/size][/floatright]     [floatleft][box](Image go here, optional, you can also use Appearance below instead if you want, recommend a pic less than 500 pixels wide or tall)[/box][/floatleft][blocktext][b]+++Name:[/b]     [b]+++Age:[/b]     [b]+++Gender:[/b)     [b]+++Physical appearance:[/b] (Mostly optional if you have a picture, but put in height and weight regardless)     [b]+++Identifying Marks:[/b] (Mostly optional if you have a picture, but describe anything hidden in the image, like tattoos)     [b]+++Ethnicity:[/b]     [b]+++Religion:[/b]     [b]+++Birthplace:[/b] (Where you were born)     [b]+++Criminal History:[/b] (Optional, but nothing too heinous. None of you assassinated a national leader)     [b]+++Military History:[/b] (Optional, but be conscious of this.)     [b]+++Skills:[/b] (Don't go overboard)     [b]+++Occupation:[/b] (Okay, the sky is the limit here, but be sure that you can back everything up)     [b]+++Family:[/b] (If any that are worthy of significant mention)     [b]+++Psychological analysis:[/b] (Personality)     [b]+++Likes/dislikes:[/b] (Optional)     [b]+++Interests:[/b] (Optional)     [b]+++Fears:[/b]     [b]+++Equipment:[/b] (Guns, boots, etc)     [b]+++Biography:[/b]     [b]+++RP Sample:[/b] (If I know you, then you know that I know you. Feel free to insult me, if you have known me for a while)     [b]+++Why Are You Here:[/b]     [b]+++Theme Song:[/b] (optional)     [color=#00BF00][b]#ItWillBeDone[/b][/color] (DO NOT REMOVE)[/blocktext]
Cities, Towns, and Villages Shigal - Capital city of Volkavia, located in the central valley of the nation. A city dating from the reign of Marius I, much of the old infrastructure from its glory days has since eroded and given way to a concrete jungle. Foreboding Soviet-esque tenements and skyscrapers dot the expanse of the city. Shigal also possesses the nation's only international airport, although it sees little usage other than for military purposes. The White Palace Secure District is home to the ruling House of Marius, and boasts several military and police formations for protection. Mining hauls from the Alps are brought to the factories and foundries in Shigal. Uriju - A southern city with a rustic charm similar to Borsten, with its major economic force being that of woodcutting and lumber work. To the south of Uriju is the vast expanse of the Karokand Forest, home to logging operations and roving camps of Romani peddlers carrying on their habits of old. Tensions between these nomads and the state has boiled into incidents of armed violence over the years. Borsten - Located in the northerly Volkavian Alps, Borsten is a city noted for its old-world European charm and rustic architecture. The old narrow, stony streets and connected buildings dominate the city proper, while collections of once-prosperous ski resorts and villages dot the surrounding hills and mountains. Mining and tourism were once major economic forces in Borsten, but with what has transpired, the city is struggling to even keep its head above water. Gromov - A western border city heavily affected by the sanctions and closing of the borders. Despite the end of legitimate commerce for the concrete-heavy eyesore, smuggling and the informal economics of the black market have risen to the challenge. Smugglers from within and without Volkavia brave the hard border closures imposed by the RVBG to transport their goods - luxury items, guns, drugs, and even people - inside and out of Volkavia. Overseeing most of the smuggling are tight-knit "families" of Jewish mobsters. Historical Events Misc. Information	Kingdom of Volkavia - A monarchy of Eastern European origin, and the last-remaining absolute monarchy left on the continent. Ruled by the newly-crowned King Velkan after the usurping of his father, the state has largely been forgotten by the rest of Europe, long before the recent unrest. The landlocked nation was non-aligned during the Cold War, positioned amid NATO neighbors on its western borders, and Warsaw Pact-aligned states on its east. There was once a constant, real fear of foreign takeover, stemming from its experience in the Second World War, but now, Volkavia finds itself isolated from the rest of Europe; a pariah in the new millennium. As of 2008, Volkavia is struggling with rampant corruption, pointless foreign conflicts waged by an outdated military buffed by conscripts, income inequality, and crippling economic sections, while the royal family maintains a formidable series of offshore bank accounts. Volkavia is a nation of thirty million people, with the population increasing becoming urbanized within the population areas of the four major cities: Uriju, Shigal, Borsten, and Gromov. Much of the urban population is housed in inexpensive, yet inefficient, public housing such as apartments and tenements. Factory and manufacturing jobs are the primary source of employment for the urban areas. From the mountainous country in the north, to the fields and foothills of the south, small villages and townships dot the landscape. Primary sources of employment in the mountainous north come from subsistence-based farming, mining, petroleum exploitation, and service jobs localized within their communities. Most citizens possess at least a basic primary and secondary education, although only a small percentage of the population possesses a degree of higher education. Due to economic sanctions as a result of Volkavia's controversial involvement in foreign wars, the average Volkavian citizen struggles to make ends meet, as costs rise and profits drop. Increasingly, citizens are being forced into poverty and eventual homelessness, with roving campsites of homeless citizens seeking refuge around the cities. Volkavia shouldn't be considered to be in vogue with the rest of 2000s Europe. Conservative values in society are actively encouraged by the government, greater in some areas than others. The Slavic population native to the region is by far the largest ethnic makeup in the country, although minorities of Jews, Romas, Muslims, Germans, and other groups make up the rest of the population. Since the late-'90s, Volkavia has been excluded and socially excommunicated from the rest of Europe, although it has conducted the occasional token deal with the United States, namely with an FAP in Afghanistan (thanks, James). Participation in the foreign wars instigated by the FAP, despite the toll taken upon the conscripted population for what little of a reward is to be gained, are pushed by the monarchy as a badge of honor for the average citizen. Your typical "hail the King, mind your labor" mantra. This is also the 21st Century, however. Rebellion is bound to happen. The young generations from the '80s and '90s are growing up and going into a conservative society that they may or may not agree with. Many, especially in the lower classes, see the monarchy as an archaic institution that largely stunts their advancement. The royal family makes no secret of its wealth, much to the dislike of the poor. Young conscripts are being sent overseas to unfamiliar territory, and they have returned home with horrible experiences, to a population that doesn't understand and a government that refuses to acknowledge their condition. Discontent is big in the societies of colleges and universities, where students debate the merits of a reformed state in secrecy from state security agencies. Despite the long-standing travel restrictions and international sanctions, travel into Europe is a common rite of passage. It is the fear of the government that Volkavian expats are the ones most likely to forment a revolution, armed with foreign propaganda. Volkavian Royal Army - The military of Volkavia - the Volkavian Royal Army - is ironic, in that although it is a staple of Volkavian pride, its men and materiel are woefully lacking in comparison to the modern armies of the rest of Europe. This is due to aging equipment, sustained losses from constant overseas military action, and misuses of funding. Its primary purpose, as opposed to being national defense, is for usage as a "mercenary" force, sold off by their King for participation in foreign conflicts, primarily fighting alongside government forces for a hefty fee. Disguised as foreign defense contracts, virtually all of the monetary wealth made through the campaigns is sent directly to the royal family, which maintains a series of "offshore" bank accounts. Very little of this money is put into the economy, or the military. A conscription system ensures a steady stream of young recruits, and many are sent overseas without any sort of warning. While past stories of Volkavian military exploits in the late-20th Century still have resonance with the population, its view is largely soured. The VRA is divided into the Royal Volkavian Ground Forces, the Royal Volkavian Air Force, the Royal Volkavian Border Guard, and the Royal Volkavian Special Operations Command. The VRA, in total, lists over one-million servicemen and women in its ranks. Although it boasts multiple armored divisions and combat aircraft units, their mechanized and aerial units consist of dated Western vehicles, such as M60 Patton tanks and Mirage 2000s - although the F4 Phantom and F-8 Crusader are still largely used by the RVAF. Many of the vehicles are prone to mechanical problems, and sanctions have prevented the military from seeking parts from other nations, instead forcing them to rely on locally-made parts even more prone to breakage than the vehicles. The primary service rifle of all branches of the VRA is the SIG 540 assault rifle, in addition to other weapons such as the M16A1, G3, and other weapons procured from different sources. A number of AK-47s were acquired in the early-'70s from South Vietnam, and many of these weapons were used overseas in the VRA's more illegal military adventures. The primary sniper arm for the VRA is the FR F1 sniper rifle, although hunting rifles are not uncommon to be seen in the hands of Volkavian snipers. The average Volkavian soldier is not equipped with body armor exceeding a helmet or flak jacket, with such protection being reserved for elite infantry units, such as the 21st Guards Light Infantry and the 3rd Special Airmobile Brigade. The RVSOC also equips its units with body armor, and being directly connected to the royal family by way of King Velkan for some time, the RVSOC enjoys a degree of advanced weaponry not enjoyed by the Ministries of Defense or Interior. Most branches make use of olive-drab or woodland camouflage units, while blue and black are commonly associated with urban SF units and police units. Ministry of the Interior - Law enforcement in Volkavia is under the purview of the Ministry of the Interior, and includes multiple law enforcement agencies utilized throughout the country. These agencies are the Royal Security Service, the Royal Police Service, the Royal Gendarmerie Directorate, and the Royal Fire Rescue Service. While each organization is an arm of the central government, these agencies - with the exception of the RSS, are broken down into smaller units and garrisons throughout the country, and are responsible for a variety of different policing duties and emergency duties within their immediate purview. The Royal Police Service is the primary civil investigative policing agency for Volkavia, and also oversees most municipal police duties in the four major cities. The RPS primarily uses itself in a reactive manner; in response to thousands of crimes ranging from simple burglary to murder, the RPS is more than likely to launch a lengthy investigation. Public perception of the RPS is variable; the Borsten Garrison is considered to be in high regard with its citizenry, while RPS in Gromov are considered to be among the most corrupt civil servants in the country. All officers of the RPS are armed, primarily with Beretta M1951 pistols and S&W Model 29 revolvers. Long arms and shotguns are also used. The Royal Security Service is, in many ways, the secret police of Volkavia. Since its inception, the RSS has played a vital role in collecting intelligence on enemies of all stripes, both foreign and domestic. With a strong bond to the royal family, the RSS has access to every iota of information that may pass through any office even remotely associated with the Volkavian government. From state TV viewer polls and grain output projections, to the personal phone records and email accounts of every Volkavian citizen, the RSS sees all. They are much feared among the civilian population. RSS agents tend to dress in well-tailored suits and drive black sedans. The Royal Gendarmerie Directorate oversees all rural police operations, military policing, and is the principal preventative policing agency for Volkavia. Most of the urban riot control and tactical response units are provided by the RGD. Although considered a military police force, the RGD distinguishes itself from the VRA with its navy blue fatigues and black flak jackets. The RGD also operates an air unit that is considered the primary air arm of the Ministry of the Interior. The RGD has a decent relationship with the rural communities that it provides service to, and includes many Romani and Jewish officers. The Royal Fire Rescue Service is Volkavia's primary emergency service, operating fleets of ambulances and fire trucks and aircraft for disaster response. The service has a good relationship with the public, but boasts the highest rate of casualties next to the VRA, due to subpar firefighting equipment and the deteriorating quality of Volkavian housing and infrastructure. Free Volkavian Forces - The umbrella term used by anti-government armed groups to identify their struggle against the ruling dynasty. The FVF has a functional political organ, the Voice of Volkavia, that is administered by exiled Volkavian intelligencia operating from the luxury of their townhouses in London and New York City, while their most visible holding is the city of Borsten. These wealthy exiles have made the largest impact with the sustenance of foreign wealth for anti-government fighters, largely with the facilitation of the Jewish Mafia in Gromov. As a military force, the FVF has no true organization directly representing the VoV; instead, combat on behalf of the FVF is carried out by a diverse group of fighters representing different - and often contradictory - positions about the future of post-revolution Volkavia. The Free City of Borsten is the current hub of FVF control in the country, courtesy of endless civilian protests and a massive mutiny within the city's security forces and executive committee. Only a few days old since the commencement of hostilities, a collection of rogue police officers and army conscripts, backed by youth groups of both far-left and far-right extracts as well as by war veterans and workers, has conducted a largely-successful pacification operation of the city. The final Royalist holding in Borsten is the Polkriz Air Base, and the VRA's defensive lines are being steadily pushed back to the gates of the base. They are primarily armed with government weapons seized from armories, as well as personal civilian weapons and seized stockpiles of antiquated World War II-era weaponry, and utilize both civilian vehicles and captured government vehicles. Currently, the armed groups in Borsten are fearing a government blockade, but the mountainous terrain of the Volkavian Alps has delayed any significant government response, other than resupply missions to Polkriz and air strikes against rebel positions. In the depths of the Karokand Forest, active combat has been taking place since late-2006. In response to heightened aggression from local Gendarmes, Romani groups living in the forest have formed paramilitary self-defense groups, described by the royal government as terrorist organizations. The Kalyi Jag has waged a guerrilla campaign against the RGD, killing a total of five Gendarme leaders and three times as many lower-ranking personnel. Gendarmes have responded by interning suspected insurgents in makeshift prison camps, and by launching reprisal attacks on known KJ locations. Despite fighting with dated gear and precarious supply lines, KJ insurgents have proven themselves capable of wrong-footing government forces. In the eastern part of Borsten, various student-led movements identifying as the Black Tuesday Movement have risen up to confront government forces in Borsten. Although linked to a previous incarnation from the 1960s, the BTM is aligned with the Free Volkavian Forces in their shared goal to fully liberate Borsten from the Monarchists. Many of the fighting groups within the Movement identify as anarchist in ideology, and thus control much of the dictation of operations for the Movement. A schism within the Movement at the onset of hostilities in Borsten also led to the formation of the Red Tuesday cell of Communist fighters.

[Cylarn]

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• NEUMANN, Gavrel - 42. Former legal scholar and political prisoner. Aligned with FVF.
• SAVIC, Istvan - 35. Inspector, Royal Police Service. Aligned with FVF.
• SOLOMON, Ludo - 29. Pilot, Royal Gendarmerie Directorate. Deserter, aligned with Issachar Crime Family.
• KLOCHAK, Evgenia - 35. Teacher and scion of Volkavian expats in Russia. Aligned with expats.
• IONESCO, Mireli - 18. Gypsy stowaway and FVF courier. Aligned with FVF.
• KNADINSKY, Andrey - 24. Volkavian soldier and deserter. Aligned with FVF.
• VLAŠIKŐ, Zsófia - 28. Roma gypsy and trained field medic. Aligned with Kalyi Jag.
• LEHMBRUCK, Marc - 29. Former firefighter. Aligned with FVF.

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• King Velkan of Volkavia - The current monarch of Volkavia, and the usurper of the Throne. Following his act of regicide and linked ascension, Velkan has placed the nation under a state of emergency to purge his enemies from the nation. All but a select few are aware that King Velkan is in fact a vampire, and much is done in the way of smoke and mirrors to protect his secret from the population.
  
• Lord Radim Kotro - Lord-Mayor of Borsten, and Commander of the Free Volkavian Forces within Borsten. His insistence to back the demonstrations and order the police to stand down earned him plenty of credit with the population.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Tagged and bagged.

[Hastur]

Potentially interested in some anarchist block lads.

[Rupudska]

Hello, nerd.

[Cylarn]

Hello, nerd.

Hullo, nerd.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

You son of a bitch, I’m in.

[Cylarn]

(SURNAME, INITIALS)

+++Name: "I am Istvan Savic."
+++Age: "Thirty-five, as of May."
+++Gender: "Obvious."
+++Physical appearance: Istvan measures in at six feet-even, and carries a healthy one-hundred-eighty-five pounds on him. In terms of his build, it would be described as having an athletic musculature.
+++Identifying Marks:

• Burn scar to left hand; caused by exposure to an incendiary projectile.
• Gunshot scar to upper right shoulder; caused by a 7.62mm round.
• Laceration scar to left side of collar; caused by a hunting knife.

+++Ethnicity: "Volkavian Slav. That's the majority of it, but my maternal great-great-great-grandmother was Hungarian. My father's family hails from Serbia, but I can say that both elements of my heritage - maternal and paternal - are native Volkavians. That counts for something, at least to me.."
+++Religion: "I believed once, up until I was eighteen. Orthodoxy, and all that. I don't believe much, anymore."
+++Birthplace: "Borsten, born and raised."
+++Criminal History: "Clean; otherwise, I wouldn't be a cop. To be frank, service in law enforcement is a free pass to commit crime."
+++Military History:

• Conscript-Private, Royal Paracommando Regiment, Royal Volkavian Ground Forces. 1991-1992.
• Lance-Corporal, Royal Paracommando Regiment, Royal Volkavian Ground Forces. 1992-1994. Deployed to Bosnia.
• Sergeant, Royal Paracommando Regiment/External Advisory Group (seconded), Royal Volkavian Ground Forces. Deployed to Colombia. 1994-1997.
• Reservist-Recruit, Royal Police Service. 1998.
• Constable, Royal Police Service - Borsten Detachment, Reserve Patrol Force. 1998-2002.
• Investigator, Royal Police Service - Uriju Detachment, Rural Investigative Support Unit. 2002-2006.
• Sergeant, Royal Police Service - Borsten Detachment, Homicide Unit. 2006-2007.
• Inspector, Homicide Unit - Borsten Detachment, Homicide Unit. 2007-2008.

+++Skills: "I'll get to that when I tell you my life story."
+++Occupation: Inspector, Royal Police Service - Borsten Detachment, Homicide Unit.
+++Family:

• Rosica Savic, formerly Goren (31) - Wife of Inspector Savic. Instructor of Petroleum Science at the General Sobidor Tuchanski Community College, located in Borsten. Presently eight months pregnant.
• Josef Savic (60) - Father of Inspector Savic. Former Chief Inspector of the Borsten RPS Detachment. Currently incarcerated at Sigata Prison for High Treason, as of 2008.
• Zara Savic (58) - Mother of Inspector Savic. Former manager of the Borsten Royal Bank. Deceased in 2006 due to ovarian cancer.
• Milo Savic (18) - Younger brother of Inspector Savic. Volunteer-Private, RVGF Royal Alpine Rangers. Killed in action in 2006, during combat operations in Afghanistan. Officially listed as "missing in action."

+++Psychological analysis: (Personality)
+++Likes/dislikes: (Optional)
+++Interests: (Optional)
+++Fears:

+++Equipment: "I've thrown together a kit for this whole ordeal, the best I could considering that I haven't had need for one since '02. As my primary weapon, I managed to procure myself an M16A1 from the police armory in Borsten, and six magazines for it. I kept my Beretta '51; standard-issue pistol for the Royal Police, and I keep four magazines for it and I wear the piece on my right leg. Got a PR-21 baton for the street-fighting, and I keep a Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife in my boot. An ALICE harness suits me well, with enough pouches to hold an IFAK, map, compass, gauze, two pens, a notepad, lighter fluid, twenty feet of paracord, and a pack of cigarettes. Clothing-wise, I'm wearing a police get-up, mainly because I still consider myself to be a cop. Instead of a suit or light-duty uniform, I've got on a pair of navy blue BDU pants tucked into my winter combat boots. I keep out the cold with a thermal shirt and wool navy blue turtleneck, and over those I wear a navy blue RPS BDU top, and an RPS insulated jacket. I wear a black ushanka on my head."
+++Biography: "My story. It begins in Borsten, in Heyslavi Royal Hospital. I was the oldest of two children of Josef and Zara Savic, born luckily into a decent middle-class household. These were relatively stable days; my youth, I mean. My parents worked for the state, with my dad being a homicide detective and my mom, a banker. We lived in an old townhouse that had been in the family since the 1800s, and my brother Milo and I would play in the yard, or walk down those ancient stone streets to see our friends. We would stay out and explore the city, sneaking into the movie theaters or skipping school."

"I wasn't the worst student in school, but I cared little for studies. Passed my classes, but I was more into athletics, particularly swimming. That was my top skill in my youth, competing on a national and even continental level. It was enough that some schools in America wanted me to go there. At eighteen, I was making moves to join the National Team for 1992 Olympics, which intended me to go through Trials to qualify. As the second-ranked mile swimmer in the whole country, I should have qualified. Instead, I dove off of the block and missed the pool, for almost a thousand people to see."

"When you hit a concrete pool deck, you don't get to go to the Olympics; you get a concussion, and then the government tells you that it's time for service. Competing in the Olympics would have been a worthy equivalent to military service, but since that wasn't the case, I reported before the Conscription Office in Borsten, took my physicals and my psych exam, and off I went to the training camp at Fort Gromov. While I know now that Volkavian troops can hardly measure up to those such as American or British, the camp was hell for all of us. The sergeants broke us down, changed us as people. I took a little more to heart than I should have, grew colder and harder. That's what the Army wants. I was given a choice of assignment out of graduation. Joining with my battle brothers in my choice, I chose the Paracommandos."

"Paras, as we were often called, were shared between the Ground and Air Forces, and considered as elite as you could get without going over to the Special Operations Command. We trained relentlessly for both airborne operations and ground assaults, with our purpose being to utilize irregular small-unit tactics and sabotage to open up gaps for the regular infantry. Despite much of the FAPs taking place in third-world nations against Soviet-armed rebels, Paras represent a counter against the conventional might of forces such as Russia."

"My first deployment changed me. Bosnia, 1993. The FAP in the Balkans was motivated by some sort of Orthodox "union" between us and the Serbs, as I have gathered by now. Our commanders certainly played on our religious convictions as a sign of unity between us and the Serbs. Certainly, having the last name Savic earned me some cred with the RSK and JPA guys we fought alongside. I was with the rest of the Paras in Sarajevo for the duration of my two years there. A brutal, bloody urban struggle over a dead city. We ran through bombed-out flats and open streets under sniper and machine gun fire as a daily ritual, and I grew to grow comfortable with the mud and stink as I dove to avoid the indirect fire of the Bosnians. I count five men in that city, that I know for sure died by my hand. The King gave me a medal for blowing up a Bosnian medical post. I am not proud of it. I do not wish to think of who may have been in that post."

"I carried home horrible things from Sarajevo, but I was more lucky than the others. Kajtek, my battle-buddy from Fort Gromov, lost his legs and eyes to a strafing run by American A-10s, and spends his days in that ugly concrete Shigali tomb known as the General Anatol Lejpia Veterans' Hospital. Others were killed, some killed themselves before they came home. I came home to my parents and brother at Polkriz, to their welcoming embrace. Dad never asked about what I had done. Milo, on the other hand, thought of me as a war hero; his personal idol in a world where he was struggling to figure himself - and everything around him - out. I never tried to dissuade him, only talked him away from the specifics. Maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe he wouldn't have volunteered for service; maybe he would have been given a shit conscript stint in Gromov as a checkpoint guard."

"Anyways, I spent a month at home before the GF called me up again. I was attached to an advisory group of NCOs from the Paras and other combat units, and I was deployed to Colombia. Ostensibly, we trained Colombian soldiers and government-supported paramilitaries in Antioquia against both the Communists and the cartels. The truth was that the ACCU, the group we trained the most, openly collaborated with the cartels and at times, were an extension of the cartels. We asked no questions, and there were few rules for us. We taught them everything from how to properly use and maintain their weapons, to the best way to plant a bomb underneath a car, to snap a man's arm and get information. In return, we received as much alcohol and coke and weed, and women, as we could tolerate. I took to the vices heavily, for the desire to forget Sarajevo above all."

"When I came home from Colombia, my service was up. I shakes the hands of my officers, got my papers, and mustered out. It was time to begin my civilian life. My dad was still a cop, then. He helped me get into the Academy branch in Borsten, where I learned the basics of policing and criminal law. I also attended classes at Tuchansky College, studying criminology. Reserve work with the Police, and security work at the Royal Bank in Borsten helped me to pay my way through school. Upon graduation, I sought out an Investigator's position with the Borsten Detachment. Despite having been with the Reserve and my father being the Chief Inspector of the Homicide Unit, I was instead sent to Uriju as a RISU Investigator, supporting the Gends in the tiny villages and fields and forests of the Karokand."

"I was posted to a village called Bosle, its population divided almost evenly between the Slavs and Jews, with the Roma living in their camps around the outskirts of the village. Bosle is the largest settlement outside of Uriju, but still that's little advancement for a forested hole-in-the-wall place like Bosle. Barely modern. The precinct that I worked in had no running water, hardly any sort of holding cell, and the phone was often on the fritz. And the Gends? I can see why the Gypsies are killing some of them."

"Not all of the Gends are bad, but Karokand attracts some of the worst people into service as Gends. They can become something like robber barons, fleecing the Roma and Jews for money and selling confiscated drugs. Me? I was a detective that was tasked with investigating petty disputes. RISU cops in Bosle got tasked with the menial familial disputes between villagers, or the lost piece of livestock. Lots of driving around in my marked car, listening to Gypsies and Jews and trashy Slavs spit and curse and poke at each other. Then, I would go and ensure the insults of the bent Gends, and watch the good Gends duck on home without a word to anyone at the end of their shifts. It was lonely."

"Then, I got into a collision with a truck on a forest road. To be clear, the truck was marked with the emblem of the Ministry for Fuel and Energy. That's where I met Rosica. She was doing geology work for the Ministry, and focused more on her work than the road. I walked up to her window, to find her scrambling to pick up the papers that she was staring at, which she explained had fallen from her lap. I thought she was cute, and didn't charge her for it. Instead, we talked. Both of us were from Borsten, so we spent almost two hours alone, on this empty forest road, just talking about Borsten, about coming to Bosle, about how much of a drag it was. We talked more, and started going out to do things together. Pretty soon, I was no longer as lonely."

"In 2005, I finally had my first big case. A gypsy girl was found dead in a shallow grave in the Karokand, fifteen miles from her clan's encampment. Myself and another RISU Investigator showed up before the Gends did, having been but three miles off of where some hunters had found the body. It's a good thing that we excavated the scene before the Gends showed up, because the girl had died clutching the torn epaulettes of a Gend captain. We didn't reveal this piece of evidence, and to keep the Gends from interfering, we listed our case as a death investigation, instead of immediately branding it as a homicide. We talked to her clan, and gathered up a roster of every Gend captain operating in Karokand. As 2006 rolled around, we arrested Captain Zhobor Tymeko for the murder. The Courts ordered us to transport Captain Tymeko to Borsten, for trial. Some of us were surprised; in the past, very few Gends ever underwent prosecution. Now, here we were, with a Gend captain in our custody. This was nothing small. I was tasked with driving him to Borsten myself - a six-hour commute with no one to talk to but him. We never talked; never got a chance to, because before we even left the Karokand, the Gypsies were waiting."

"They blocked the road with two trucks and an old, old wagon, with the trucks beaming their high beams on this dark road. I pulled up, and before I could put my hand on my pistol to assuage whatever bad feeling that I felt, twenty armed men poured out from the surrounding bush, all of them armed with old German weapons from the war. They pulled me out and took my guns, but told me that since I wasn't a Gend, they had no use for me. Captain Tymeko on the other hand, was dragged out of my squad car and into the forest, only to be found a week later, hanging from a tree. As for me, they let me pass onto Borsten, where I was ordered to report the loss to the head of the Homicide Unit."

"Dad was impressed, even though I had lost my charge to Gypsy rebels. Rosica and I moved to Borsten once my transfer went through, and she got a job at Tuchansky College. Me? I joined my father in Homicide. Everything felt stable. I felt happy.'

"First, Mom went. Sudden cancer diagnosis, and only ten days later, Dad and I were saying our goodbyes. Milo was in Afghanistan with the Alpine Rangers. He missed the funeral. We talked about it; the next day, we were informed that Milo was 'missing-in-action.' Did you know that most Volkavian combat losses in Bosnia between 1995 and 1996 were written off as MIA? I know how the game is played. What did he die for? What did Kovalz die for? What about Kajtek? I can't console myself any longer by claiming that my friends died for their country. They died in strange lands, away from their home soil."

"Let me get to the end. By 2008, the dissidence was ever-increasing. Protests and demonstrations at Tuchansky broke out every other day, and we were having to bus in the Gends to augment our riot control units. Hell, even I got called to buff the lines. I hated it, didn't agree with what we were doing. Dad stopped agreeing with the government and killed the Deputy Chief of the RSS's Borsten office in cold blood. He snapped. I wanted to snap, partly because I knew that they'd be coming for me. I sent Rosica to her parents' house and kept my pistol loaded. I hadn't had to use it since becoming an Investigator. My eyes stayed trained to my front door, waiting for a team of RSS agents to bust in. I was the son of a political prisoner, after all. I was expected by them to seek out revenge. Truth is, I didn't know where to start."

"They did come after me, but the situation played out like nothing before. The RSS occupied the Borsten Detachment annex with conscripts and dispatched teams to arrest the investigative units. Gunfire erupted, between us and the RSS. I didn't fire the first shot; some GF grunts attempted to disarm the Rapid Response Team of their MP5s, and one of the operators responded by blowing a hole through the head of a poor young conscript. The first government man to die in the Borsten Uprising. A quartet of agents came upstairs to arrest me, but then found themselves being stuck up by the other detectives."

"Through talks between our leadership and the city, our detachment actively began to support the protesters. We took down our own barricades around the royalist buildings and allowed the protesters to do what they would with them. I joined the patrols on the street that night, and took part in the seizure of the GF armory. When the sun began to rise, I found myself at the home of my in-laws."

"Presently, things are tense for me. I want to fight with the Free City. The Mayor and council are mobilizing the protesters into armed factions and welcoming them into the city, regardless of agenda. Some of the other officers have deserted to join the government forces besieged at Polkriz. My wife is pregnant, and due at any time. A war has started, and my daughter will spend her most vulnerable days in it, unless I can get them out. My superiors expect me to fight. What am I to do? Who am I to honor?"4
+++RP Sample: (If I know you, then you know that I know you. Feel free to insult me, if you have known me for a while)
+++Why Are You Here:
+++Theme Song: (optional)
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Reverend Norv]

NEUMANN, G.

+++Name: Dr. Gavrel Neumann
+++Age: 42
+++Gender: Male
+++Physical appearance: 180 cm in height, 78 kilos in weight. He looks older than he is; his skin is stretched tight over his face, with fine creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and deeper lines in the high forehead. The hair is already substantially grey, especially around the temples, and the light brown elsewhere is shot through with silver. The eyes are grey-green: distinctive, watchful, wary. Gavrel's build is strong, trim, well-cared for: the build of a man who works out but doesn't do physical labor for a living. There is something about the nose, the eyes, the set of his features, that will lead the average Volkavian who sees Gavrel to immediately think: "Jew."
+++Identifying Marks: Gavrel wears steel-framed glasses, and keeps his hair in a neat side part. He has scars: five slim white lines from shrapnel on his left thigh and hip. He moves, not with a limp, but with a certain constant caution, a pain made all but invisible by long acquaintance. There are other scars, too, ones that most in Volkavia will recognize: ligature marks on the wrists, small circular burn scars on the belly, weals on the soles of the feet. He has difficulty raising his left arm above the level of his shoulder.

* * *

+++Ethnicity: Ashkenazi
+++Religion: Jewish
+++Birthplace: Borsten
+++Criminal History: Convicted of sedition and conspiracy against the crown, 2/11/1998. Served four years in Sigata Prison.
+++Military History: Two years' conscript service, 1985-1986. Served as designated marksman in Chad.

+++Skills: Gavrel is, first and foremost, a truly great teacher: which means he has an instinctive understanding of what people need, how they learn, and how to meet them where they are. These are, not coincidentally, some of the same skills that make a great leader. He is intelligent and formidably well-educated, capable of quoting literature from Aeschylus to Solzhenitsyn, and deeply versed in Valkavian history. A lawyer by training, he has the practicing attorney's facility with making plans based on limited information, and with developing tolerable solutions that reconcile a variety of competing interests. Gavrel has the typical capacity of non-elite men in stratified societies to improvise simple solutions to mechanical problems: broken engines, broken furnaces, broken radios. While he has no great talent for hand-to-hand combat, he has learned enough to survive four years in the harshest prison in the country. He is, on the other hand, a truly gifted rifleman; while he has no proper sniper training, he is one of the best pure marksmen in the Free City. And he has learned, or perhaps discovered, a skill more valuable than all the rest of these: how to suffer, even believing that the suffering will never end, and yet not be broken.

+++Occupation: Currently, a community-college literature professor in Borsten. He was formerly one of the country's leading legal academics and attorneys.

+++Family: His father, Eliezer, died in 2001, while Gavrel was in prison; his mother Henye lives in a small apartment in Borsten, supported largely by Gavrel's meager teacher's salary. His younger sister, Shayna, lives in exile in London and works as a banker. His wife Flavia fled the country when Gavrel was arrested in 1998, and the two have been separated the last ten years, though Gavrel still wears his wedding ring.

* * *

+++Psychological analysis: Unlike many lawyers, Gavrel is not fundamentally animated by any notion of justice, order, or fairness. He is motivated by care. He goes through life looking after people: students, his parents, his neighbors. The overwhelming impression that most people have of him, on first acquaintance, is of sweetness: gentleness, affection. His passion for the law, for reform, and for democracy springs from this: he cares too much about people to allow injustice. There is nothing of the martyr in Gavrel; the bonds of affection draw him into harm's way mostly against his own inclination. He does not crave danger, or the thrill of standing up for what's right. But he simply, instinctively, cares more for others than he does for himself; and so he stands up for them, because to do otherwise would be unfaithful to his own love for them. Even now - beaten down by torture, plagued by nightmares, aging quietly in a dead-end job, cracking gallows jokes in Yiddish to his cat in his crumbling apartment - Gavrel Neumann remains that rarest of things: a good man.

+++Likes/dislikes: Gavrel loves books, both nonfiction and literature; his apartment is overflowing with books. He is fond of classical music; he was a talented violinist, and can still play some, but electrical torture has harmed the nerve endings in his hands. He loves schools, classrooms, universities; he loves debate, which is a very different thing from argument. He likes animals, especially cats. And he likes - loves - lives for - other people. This means that he dislikes very little; he has a high threshold for annoyance, since his instinctive reaction is to try to understand rather than to judge. Only cruelty, the deliberate denial of another's humanity, has the capacity truly to set him off. And then Gavrel will feel himself pulled out on the rip-tide, obliged to answer the call of his own character, no matter the cost.

+++Interests: Gavrel is, it might politely be said, a man of catholic interests. His apartment is piled with books on everything from early Volkavian history to labor law to string theory to auto engineering. He certainly does not know enough about most of these fields to qualify as an expert, but he is a true intellectual: he is interested in learning itself, and so he never stops searching for information, for answers, for connections.

+++Fears: Very little, at this point, and this is one of the quietly extraordinary things about the man. Gavrel has suffered about as much as it is possible to suffer without dying, until he would have welcomed death. And at some point, he dissociated in a way that has never really gone away: he still has nightmares, still flinches at certain stimuli, but these feel like physical reactions, something his body does but with which his mind and emotions are not really involved. They're not fears; they are more like muscle memory. His fears, now, are almost all for others; for his family, his few friends, for the people whom he so easily comes to love. He has made his peace with whatever his own life might hold.

* * *

+++Equipment: Garvel's weapons are substantially older than he is, the sort of obsolete small-arms hoarded by arms dealers all across Europe: a Kar98k rifle left over from the German occupation, and a Makarov pistol smuggled in by the Jewish mob. He is alarmingly accurate with the former. His other "equipment" - hiking boots, a heavy horsehide coat, and so on - is of substantially higher quality; he bought it before his arrest, when he had money, and his mother hid it for him while he was in prison. His clothes, boots, gloves, and so on are old but very well made.

+++Biography: Gavrel Neumann was born in Borsten in 1966, the very day King Kerlof died and the country's long decline began. His mother was a schoolteacher; his father ran an import business specializing in American home appliances like washing machines. Eliezer Neumann had survived the Nazi occupation and internment in the camp at Uriju; as a child, he had smuggled weapons in to support the uprising there. The family was middle-class, fairly secular but deeply proud of its Jewishness, zealously committed to education and scholarly excellence. Gavrel grew up surrounded by books, competing in chess championships, winning national essay competitions. But he also grew up with his father's warnings: the next pogrom was only ever a sundown away, and the only things you could truly count on were the ones you held inside.

The 1973-1975 recession that gripped much of the Western world proved devastating for Eliezer's business; many of his suppliers closed their doors, and his supply of imports dwindled. In 1978, he was finally forced to dissolve his small company to avoid bankruptcy. Abruptly, the family's comfortable lifestyle evaporated. They sold their house and moved into a small working-class apartment. Eliezer worked as a clerk, then as a salesman; Gavrel and his sister Shayna took after-school jobs. Those years were formative for Gavrel. The family survived with the help of the small Jewish community in Borsten and through solidarity with their equally struggling neighbors; across religious and ethnic lines, they shared food and fuel for the winter. Gavrel would spend much of the rest of his life trying to recapture that feeling: the love and loyalty, the unquestioning fellowship, the certainty that there was always just enough to go around. Forever afterward, he would try to eschew judgment, and instead to embrace as he had been embraced.

Over the next several years, through hard work and ruthless saving, the family climbed back into the middle class; Eliezer ended up as a senior postal administrator. There was enough money for Gavrel and his sister to travel to Antwerp to celebrate their high school graduation and high scores on the university qualifying exams; already, Gavrel was shocked to see how much more freely people spoke and argued and loved in Belgium than in Volkavia. There was enough money for university, too - but conscription and the Foreign Assistance Program intervened.

Gavrel was sent to Chad to kill Libyans, for reasons that - in his whole platoon - only he even began to understand, and that only after having read every newspaper he could find. His brief, inadequate military training revealed an innate talent for marksmanship, despite the fact that he had never before held a firearm in eighteen years of life; something about Gavrel's innate calm and observational skill and fine motor control made him a natural with a rifle. He served his two years as a marksman in the desert, where there were few obstacles to break line of sight and skill at long range could be the difference between life and death. Despite widespread antisemitism, he ultimately formed close bonds with most of his comrades; he was good at his job, and his care for the men around him was unfeigned and stubborn in the face of insults. To the surprise of everyone, including himself, he finished his service as a corporal.

He did not realize, at the time, what a change those years had worked in him. Gavrel had killed, at range and in cold blood, and was not much bothered by it. He had killed to protect the people he cared about. For all the philosophy he had read, Gavrel had few qualms he that. The only thing that troubled him was how easily it had come.

On his return to Volkavia, he matriculated at the University of Karanstar. The law was not initially Gavrel's passion; he briefly wanted to study poetry. But his parents were firm, and they were paying his bills, so the law it was. In the late 1980s, in the midst of the anti-gay purge, the campus was a hotbed of liberal discontent; the law school in particular was in intellectual revolt against the arbitrariness and authoritarianism of the enforced disappearances. Gavrel became involved in the democratic underground when one of his friends vanished from a protest, never to return. Soon he was spending his nights drafting anonymous pamphlets critical of the monarchy, and he had a new group of friends: young men and women who would remain fiercely loyal to him for the next twenty years. Gavrel's political activism made him a better student, and ultimately bloomed into a reason to love the law: it represented a way to defend the people he loved against the power that claimed the right to destroy them. He graduated at the top of his class, with a new mission in life, and a file in RSS headquarters with his name on it.

The legal profession in Volkavia was seriously underdeveloped in 1990, and has only gotten worse since. In the king's courts, as much time was spent trying to deduce the royal will as was spent in the interpretation of statutes or regulation. Corruption was rife and mostly legal, and law firms - such that they were - served mostly as well-paid window dressing for a preordained ruling. These truths coexisted uneasily with the fact that lawyers mostly wanted the law to mean something, and that the bar was a hotbed of reformist sentiment. Gavrel spent two years at a major firm in Shigal, defending Volkavian companies against the futile attempts of Western investors to hold them liable for embezzlement, and moonlighting on the most ambitious of Volkavia's legal-reform projects: the secret drafting of a new Civil Code of Volkavia, intended to be ready to replace the hodgepodge of royal law when the country someday, inevitably liberalized.

His perspective on what law might mean thus broadened, Gavrel made the unusual decision to pursue a doctorate in law at Karanstar. An advanced degree was of little use to a Volkavian lawyer, but the idea of legal reform was gradually becoming more and more central to Gavrel's life; for the sake of all the people who had cared for him and for whom he cared, he wanted to be as well-prepared as he could be for the day when change finally came to his country. He spent months studying, in essence, the loopholes in Volkavian law: the places where the royal courts had failed to set out clear or consistent doctrine. And he finally found a huge one in the field of labor law. Power in Volkavia had so concentrated in the crown that the courts had taken little interest in supporting business leaders in labor disputes, and so it was possible to read the gaps in Volkavia's law as permitting substantial collective bargaining rights. Gavrel sensed an opportunity to build a more democratic base of power in Volkavian society: unions that were independent of the monarchy and committed to protecting ordinary people. He spent four years studying the issue and building a network of relationships in the country's nascent labor unions. Then Gavrel published a hugely influential thesis laying out his exhaustively researched and completely novel theory of Volkavian progressive labor law.

At this point, at the age of thirty, Gavrel Neumann was already widely regarded as one of the leading lights of Volkavia's tiny and deeply unimpressive legal academy. He landed a professorship at the University of Karanstar faculty of law, where he designed the country's first course in constitutional jurisprudence; while Volkavia had no written constitution, Gavrel suggested that the whole sweep of the country's legal history permitted one to induce certain constitutional norms, as much from gaps in the law as from patterns in it. As much because of self-satisfaction and the nagging of his mother as for any other reason, he courted one of his colleagues, Flavia Saverin, a professor of philosophy; the two were more intellectual than emotional partners, but they made each other happy for a while. At the same time, Gavrel was taking his radical theories to court: he represented the national miners' and foresters' unions in court battles over their certification, and made national headlines when he convinced a royal judge to certify the Uriju Brotherhood of Foresters as the legitimate representative of that city's lumber-industry workers. It was the first time in eighty years a Volkavian court had dared to challenge the status quo in its application of the king's law. Gavrel celebrated by marrying Flavia in a spur-of-the moment ceremony at the Shigal synagogue. He would later remember it as the last time he was ever young.

Three days later, Gavrel agreed to represent a group of officers of the Royal Police Service in forming Volkavia's first public-sector union. This was a step too far, the quiet men at RSS headquarters agreed; it was a threat to the exclusive loyalty of the security services to the crown. After almost a decade, it was time to close the file on Gavrel Neumann.

Flavia was visiting her mother in Gromov when the RSS broke down the door of the Neumann apartment in the middle of the night. She fled the country for Berlin less than twelve hours later. A week after his arrest, the same day Harkon Federov was murdered, Gavrel appeared before a national security tribunal, charged with sedition and conspiracy against the crown. He had been beaten, electrocuted, waterboarded. He pleaded with the court to be let go so that he could live a quiet life and take care of his aging parents. Instead, he was sentenced to life imprisonment in Sigata Prison: the black hole of the RSS where no visits or letters were allowed, and whence only one prisoner in ten ever returned. A living death.

Gavrel Neumann spent four years in Sigata. He was tortured regularly, systematically: not to extract information, but simply as punishment. So much electricity was pumped through his hands that the nerve endings in his fingertips burned out all but completely. He was badly beaten by some inmates for a crust of bread, and nursed back to health by others. He learned to fight: viciously, efficiently, like a cornered rat. He learned, in time, to nurse his friends in their turn, when they were brutalized by the other inmates or had their shoulders broken by strappado torture. And as the weeks turned to months, and the months to years, and the sun became a distant memory, and he wasted away until his ribs showed through the shirt he had been wearing that day in court, Gavrel Neumann came finally to understand a shattering truth: he had not broken. Here, even here, he cared for people; here, even here, they cared for him. He sang the songs of his childhood in the darkness of Sigata. His father had been right: the only things you could truly count on were the ones you held inside.

Gavrel was released in 2002. He never knew why; his best guess was that he had simply refused to die for so long that the RSS wanted to replace him with a new inmate. He was dumped by the side of the road and walked seventy miles back to his parents' house in Borsten. His father had died the previous year. His mother fainted when she saw him. He weighed ninety-seven pounds.

It was six months before Gavrel could imagine working again. His left shoulder had been broken so many times that he could no longer lift that arm above his head. His hair had gone at least half grey. When he tried to find a job, he found that he had been disbarred and blacklisted from almost all of Volkavia's universities. Only the General Sobidor Tuchanski Community College in Borsten would risk hiring him, and then only as an adjunct professor of literature. He moved into a tiny, shabby apartment and adopted a street cat, and remembered the days before the law, when he had thought he might become a poet. He spent hours in his office talking with his students about their dreams. He hesitantly did push-ups, and sit-ups, and ran, until he felt strength creep back into him. He slept, and woke, and slept again. For four years.

In 2006, the Shigal Times published its expose. In Borsten, the unions that Gavrel had done so much to organize went on strike. The public poured into the streets. In most cities, the Royal Police Service sent in the riot squads. In Borsten, where the city authorities were already trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, police officers went quietly to the run-down apartment of a quiet literature professor, and asked him to serve as an informal go-between, a back channel for the city government to communicate with the unions and the protesters. Gavrel's credibility with the dissidents could not possibly be questioned. If he mediated, perhaps nobody would have to die.

Gavrel agreed. What else could he do? His students were out on the street. If he didn't try to protect them, none of those dreams of which they'd told him would ever have the chance to come true. He quietly moved back and forth between union halls and City Hall, making sure that police did not block protest routes, making sure that protests did not go too close to sensitive government buildings. No one was happy. But almost no one got killed. And in the end, the city quieted.

It was then that Gavrel bought two firearms from a black-market gun dealer in the local Jewish congregation. In Borsten, this time, there had been almost no killing. He knew it would be different next time.

Two years later, in the midst of the coup and the national lockdown, Gavrel was proven right. Borsten took up arms. His students, his neighbors, his childhood friends were out patrolling the streets. The city government and the police went into revolt. The community college shut down amid the chaos. And Gavrel Neumann took his old Mauser and followed his friends out into the October chill. He is afraid of many things, this wintry autumn day: afraid that these brave children will get themselves killed, afraid that his country will turn its back on the future, afraid even to hope. But he is not afraid to die. He was buried alive once before. Now, for the first time in a decade, he is beginning to imagine that life might move in him again.

+++RP Sample: Thy mother was a hamster, etc.

+++Why Are You Here: "I don't know if I would have had the courage to do this myself. Not anymore. But my neighbors, my students - they did. I'm here to do what I can to help them. Protect them too, if I can. No more or less than that."
+++Theme Song: here
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

SOLOMON, L.

+++Name: Ludu Solomon
+++Age: 29
+++Gender:[/b)
[b]+++Physical appearance: 1.75m, 73Kg
+++Identifying Marks:

+++Ethnicity: Ashkenazi
+++Religion: Jewish
+++Birthplace: Borsten, Volkavia
+++Criminal History: No official records. Multiple counts of misuse of military hardware and trade in narcotics across international borders
+++Military History:
2001-2006: Helicopter Pilot, RVAF
2002-2006: Deployed in Afghanistan, FAP assignment
2006-present: Helicopter pilot, Royal Gendarmerie Directorate, Polkriz Air Base
+++Skills: Ludu is proficient at low altitude helicopter flying and has knowledge of and experience with black market trade.
+++Occupation: Helicopter pilot, Royal Gendarmerie Directorate, Rapid Response Unit (secretly, drug runner for the Issachar family)
+++Family:
Father: Isach Solomon, age 68
Mother: Rachel Solomon, age 69
Sister: Sarah Imonovic-Solomon, age 31
‘Uncle’: Cham Issachar

+++Psychological analysis: Ludu is not one to ask high-minded questions, or to moralise his actions in one way or another. Disenchanted, disillusioned, any semblance of nationalism has been stripped of him. He exists, he wants to live a normal life in relative comfort, and he doesn’t really care how he achieves that. He does not want to hurt other people, but he also does not want to go out of his way to protect others either, unless they are people close to him. He sees the world as unfair, Volkavia most of all. In a corrupt world, a state of nature, he only feels allegiance to G-d and his close relatives.
+++Likes/dislikes:
Likes: Scripture, flying, Wagner, his dad’s cooking, skiing, coffee
Dislikes: Painting, drawing, ideologues, tea
+++Interests: Skiing, aircraft design and aircraft spotting, high-thrill flights
+++Fears: Crashing, death, spending his life in prison and losing his license

+++Equipment: Mil Mi-17 helicopter, Spas-12 shotgun (flechette rounds and slugs), 10 packets of cocaine, gendarmerie uniform, pilot’s gear
+++Biography: Some people wonder all their life what they want to be when they get around to it. Some kids change four dozen times before settling on something, and many people hop around jobs looking for the right one that will make them happy.

Ludu was not one of those people. From the first time his dad took him on a trip abroad, Ludu fell in love with the concept of flight, and it never let go of him. His career path would always take him to the skies. His room was decorated with informative posters and aircraft models. His dad took him to the air base outside Borsten often, where they would try and recognise the various aircraft that took up from there. Since the air force of Volkavia was such a mess of different types and models, this was a fun game, as well as a valuable learning opportunity. Whenever they could, the family would go on overseas holidays, and little Ludu would marvel at the concept of flight.

Once he was done with high school, Ludu immediately got into his pilot training, with his parents footing the bill for the whole venture. He would easily earn it all back when he got into civil aviation, after all. His dream was in the Princely Airways of Volkavia, PAoV, which was a luxury airliner they had often used themselves. While training to be a pilot, however, PAoV stocks plummeted due to the increased isolation of the kingdom. In the end, the company was liquidated and sold to foreign airliners, leaving the country with no flag carrier in civil aviation. Ludu got his license, with flying colours, but he was left doing odd jobs as a helicopter pilot for rich foreigners wanting to do helicopter skiing. As the restrictions closed the country even further, those tourists vanished for whiter pastures. In the end, Ludu was left jobless at home.

This caused a whole new spat of problems for the family, though. Isach Solomon had borrowed a lot of money to fund his trips and his son’s education, and with no revenue to make it back, his creditors came to collect. One of the twelve Jewish crime families, Issachar, had lend Isach a lot of money with his restaurant as collateral. However, it now appeared that the restaurant wasn’t worth half as much as Isach had claimed. In order to save his father’s neck, Ludu offered his services to the crime family, which was in financially dire straits. They accepted. The next year of his life, Ludu spent flying sub-radar routes across the border, picking up packages and persons for transport.

In 2001, Ludu received a demand from the Family. He was to enlist in the air force, which was about to join the coalition of the willing. Unlike most countries, though, the US was paying heavily into the royal coffers to make the country a part of their effort. The kingdom happily complied, and managed to get assigned a large part of the Swat valley in Afghanistan to manage. This was a golden opportunity, as it later turned out. This assignment would later lead to what was known as Operation Bernadotte.

Under Operation Bernadotte, Volkavia engaged in lucrative ventures in Afghanistan, under the nose of the Americans. The American centre point of operations was the end of the opium trade in the region, which was directly funding the Taliban. Under Bernadotte, however, Volkavia engaged fully in the local drug trade. They closed down competitors of Taliban loyalists, in return for the Taliban not causing too much trouble in the regions occupied by Volkavian soldiers. Volkavian troops would help with transport of the drugs, get them out of the country off the books. Then, the Issachar crime family would launder the money, keeping some of the profits while turning most over to the royal treasury. Prince Velkan was heavily involved with Bernadotte, also keeping some of the proceeds before turning over the rest to his father. Ludu was involved as a pilot, both doing internal and external transportation, and doing extraction of some high value Taliban targets when the US was about to catch their most lucrative allies.

Operation Bernadotte was never found out. Instead, when the Shigal Times published their story on the corruption involved in the FAP, the whole operation was scrapped. After all, the State could not know who had leaked to the press, so they had to cover their tracks entirely. What followed was a short but brutal military campaign in the Swat valley, meant to destroy the evidence of any royal involvement with the Taliban. A lot of Volkavians were killed as well, especially those who had worked closely with the Taliban before, but also total innocents. As by a miracle, Ludu survived some extractions under heavy fire, and in the end he survived all the way until the end of Volkavian involvement in the region. The troops had to return home both to save face and to quell unrest.

However, because the Issachar family could not be trusted to remain silent, the Volkavian government ‘outed’ the mob’s involvement with the Taliban, pretending the laundering had happened without their knowledge. Perhaps it was to silence the group, or to get a bit more money out of it, but overnight the credit of the family across the globe was frozen. Prominent members were arrested internationally, with one actually ending up in Guantanamo prison. The remainders of the Issachar family vowed revenge, and when the country turned violent, they rose in rebellion.

Ludu, through the collapse of the Issachar crime family, managed to wean himself off his relationship with them. He could not be assassinated by the government for fear of the media digging deeper, but they also could not risk him falling into the hands of the Issachar. So, they assigned him to his home town, sticking him in the local air base. There, he was to labour under minimal supervision. He continued his own private smuggling ring, using his patrol missions to nip across the border every couple of days. However, when government control of the region started slipping, Ludu began to wonder whether his loyalties would not be of better use somewhere. For days now, Ludu has been waiting for his opportunity to fly his helicopter away to desert, but the opportunity has not yet presented itself.
+++RP Sample: When you can write as well as I can, I’ll give you a sample
+++Why Are You Here: I love your RPs, Cy, and I want you to have my babies
+++Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGU1P6lBW6Q
#ItWillBeDone

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

(KOLCHAK, EVGENIA)

   

()

+++Name:
    +++Age: 35
    +++Gender:[/b) Female
    [b]+++Physical appearance:
Height : 179 cm
Weight : 59 kg
    +++Identifying Marks:
Earrings on her ears. Silver-colored.

    +++Ethnicity: Volkavian-Russian
    +++Religion: Orthodox
    +++Birthplace: St. Petersburg
    +++Criminal History: N/A
    +++Military History: N/A
    +++Skills:
- Financial background -> Accounting
- Well-educated, fluent in English, Russian, and Volkavian
- Well-connected with the exiles, managing the communications of St. Petersburg's exiled community.
- Basic firearms and combag training, nothing too major, she knows how to handle pistol and able to defend herself in combat to a degree.
    +++Occupation: foreign languages teacher
    +++Family:

Family :

Kornilov Kolchak, 70, exiled from Volkavia on 1945 when he was 7, due to his father being a mid-ranked communist-aligned political activist and guerilla. Soviet educated in philosophy, then a member of the Party and a teacher where he accumulated influence among the exiles. After the fall of Soviet Union, established a mid-level business in clothing sector. Not the wealthiest, but one of the first who communicated with the FVF representing the exiles in St. Petersburg.

Helena Kolchak, 60, former officer in the Air Force. Wife of Kornilov. Mother to Evgenia, Sarah, and Sara.

Sarah and Sara Kolchak, both 30, her younger twin sisters.

    +++Psychological analysis: ambitious, helpful and determined, and yet, or perhaps in spite of those three traits, she is not quite willing to sacrifice her morality to achieves the ambitions. Her life as an exile in Russia means she knows almost nothing about Volkavian but from what her father told to herself, and within those tales she began to appreciates the Volkavians and thus will almost certainly willing to help them to achieve the good condition.
    +++Likes/dislikes: alcoholic drinks, mostly vodka and kalashnikov. Dislikes tea.
    +++Interests: accounting-related stuffs, skiing, boxing.
    +++Fears: Ghosts. And dark, but mostly ghosts since ghosts tend to appear in the dark.

    +++Equipment: Gsh-18 semi-automatic pistol. A pocket knife. Some kind of survivalist clothes consist of hiking boots, gloves, winter coat, and a wool hat. A smartphone, and a slightly outdated physical map of Volkavia.
    +++Biography:

Born in St. Petersburg on 1973, Evgenia was the first daughter of the soon-to-be third siblings. Her father is Kornilov Kolchak, whose father, a communist, was forcibly expelled as the result of an anti-communist policy that aimed to expulsed all of the communists in Volkavia to avoid communist revolutions that can topple the royal family. Kornilov was 7 when that happened. When they arrived in Russia, his father settled relatively quickly and consolidated his position among the exiles as one of its representative leader, as well as joined the Party as well.

Evgenia grew normally, in a comfortable situation as well. Her father held position as a teacher and member of the Party, so it suited his life and his family's welfare, getting the better portion of the usual rationed goods.

Of course, if there's anything good that she learned about beside her Soviet-type education, was that how her father told her stories about Volkavia, though mostly from what he remembered from his father. She was 18 when she first entered St. Petersburg State University, the same time Soviet Union collapsed and reformed into many countries, one of which is Russian Federation. In the university, she enrolled in Accounting, and it was the same place where she began to established connections with other Volkavian expats of her age, whose parents were exiled as well back after WW2. She built her reputation as an ambitious and determined student, also established herself as one of the more known Volkavian young expats.

She graduated on 1995, 4 years after she first enrolled. Around the same time, Volkavia was hit by several economic sanctions, and her father, alongside other Volkavian expats in St. Petersburg began to developed smuggling network to Volkavia, mostly aiding the left-leaning and the business-related supporters, seeing that they are the best entry that they can look at. The goal of the Volkavian elites in Russia is, in time, establishing a pro-Russian Volkavia state. They recognized that allying themselves with sympathetic Volkavians will help in a long run.

Evgenia was given combat training by her father, who prepared her as the one who will connect the expats and the locals.

It was a basic one, since he expected there would be little to be fought between FVF and the monarchists, from what he heard of the country has been in a state of backwardness and isolationist, so little modernizations appeared to be the norm. By 2006, she spent years building connections between the Volkavians and the exiles. She decided she need to be on the ground, in Volkavia, to better takes care of the situation. Her father reluctantly approved, though. He didn't want her daughter to be there but she was determined. He made a cover that she was there as a foreign languages teacher

For the next 2 years she spent time in Volkavia, adapting and settling in. Perhaps she would be more receptive of the sudden changes in the country itself...
    +++RP Sample: yes
    +++Why Are You Here: her father established a contact with FVF, supplying them with financial assistance and small arms in the form of pistols, shotguns, and submachine guns. She represented the Russian Volkavian's community on the ground, though practically only exists in St. Petersburg.
    +++Theme Song: I will add this once we progressed in IC
    #ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Monfrox]

IONESCO, M

+++Name: Mireli Ionesco
+++Age: 18
+++Gender: Female
+++Physical appearance: 167cm, 54 kilos. Dull brown hair and eyes. Light build, skinny, pale skin.
+++Identifying Marks: Freckled face

+++Ethnicity: Romani
+++Religion: Orthodox Christian
+++Birthplace: Uriju
+++Criminal History: 3 counts of petty theft
+++Military History: N/A
+++Skills: Nimble, quiet, stealthy, sleight of hand, basic small arms maintenance
+++Occupation: Courier
+++Family: Orphaned at a young age, taken in by her Romani cousins

+++Psychological analysis: Mireli has been known to be a girl of very few words, to the point of preferring to use gestures most times to convey actions and meaning. Always introduced as "the quiet one" or "the shy girl" by her family members. Tends to be generous despite her sheepish nature and generally cares a lot. Still akid with a big, youthful heart.
+++Likes/dislikes: Negative
+++Interests: Negative
+++Fears: Nyctohylophobia

+++Equipment: Hungarian FEG PA-63 w/ spare magazine chambered for 9mm Makarov, AKM bayonet, Czech M85 field parka, Austrian M75 trousers, Romanian breadbag, Czechoslovakian mess tin, basic improvised first aid kit, Soviet canteen, old binoculars, military compass
+++Biography: Mireli was born to Romani parents in the city of Uriju's hospital, or what could pass for a hospital, and taken back to the Karokand Forest once her mother was healthy enough. They paid with the little money they had but also with other things that were desperately needed in a soon-to-be post-Cold War society. Her childhood was spent with the roving camps, moving to keep the government from totally being able to track or respond to them. Clashes occurred here and there, and Mireli was introduced to the cost of war at the ripe age of 9 when an ensuing firefight between militant Romanis and the Volkavian military took the lives of her parents. From there, she was taken in by her elder cousins. The engagement had only reinforced the things her parents had told her about not going into the forest at night. Her cousins tried to scare her as well with tales of monsters that eat children that wander off alone, and from then on she developed a deep-rooted fear for the woods during nighttime.

But her cousins could not always provide for her, and a few times she got in trouble with the local police force for stealing or shoplifting. She was lucky enough to be young at the time, earning at most a scolding for the meek young girl who most officers pitied more than anything. As the years went on and civil unrest grew among the country, the clashes between her family and the military drove her away to seek a peaceful corner somewhere. Living on her own, she worked mainly as a courier around town, being paid in lodging and food. She started collecting little odds and ends of clothes and small things from people she worked for, which mainly consisted of old military clothes. At the time of the present the war had come to call for her, and despite all the bloodshed and horror, Mireli had an instilled sense of morals that told her that she had to do something. She met up with the FVF in August of '08 and was quickly selected for a Scout role, being given a pistol and some other essentials and told to find and report in on enemy troop movements. Her experience as a courier was an immense help at that time, and it kept her largely away from firefights.
+++RP Sample: [Witty Response]
+++Why Are You Here: "I just want a peaceful life again at home."
+++Theme Song: A Stray Child
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Sudbrazil]

Kandinsky, A. F.

+++Name: Andrey Fyodorov Kandinsky
+++Age: 24
+++Gender: Male
+++Physical appearance: 1,80 meters, 72 kilograms.
+++Identifying Marks: Brown hair

+++Ethnicity: Slav
+++Religion: Christian
+++Birthplace: Uriju
+++Criminal History: Two counts of public intoxication
+++Military History:

2002-2008: VGF conscript

2002-2004: Posted in Uriju
2005-2007: Tour in the CAR (FAP)
2007-2008: Deployed to Northern Volkavia

+++Skills: As the son of woodsmen, bushcraft has been into him since his childhood. He is also a decent marksman, and is familiar with platoon-level tactics.
+++Occupation: Volkavian Ground Forces soldier
+++Family:

Fyodor Kandinsky - Father, 68
Ana Kandinsky - Mother, 67
Kolya Fyodorov Kandinsky - Brother, 22

+++Psychological analysis: Andrey is a simple man without much ambition. Once a careless, proud man, he has been recently beset by much doubt which taught him to be patient, humble and logical, but failed to strip him of his glib tongue and friendly attitude.
+++Likes/dislikes:
+++Interests:
+++Fears: Being crippled.

+++Equipment: SG 540 rifle & accessories, PASGT vest, bandolier, lighter, multitool, ALICE webbing with 20 m of 550 paracord, a set of binoculars, canteens, compass, entrenching tool, flashlight, IFAK & olive drab poncho.
+++Biography: It was on a calm summer night that Andrey Fyodorov was brought into the world. He was raised, much like the men before him, to be a simple, honest man, who loved God and his country and his family. And so, he grew up to be a simple and honest man, who cared much for the land and God and his family, following the familial roots that grew in the depths of time. Never would Sociology dream of such a case of determinism, of such an unremarkable, average man.

But the Monarchy had no interests in preserving this scientific specimen, and unlike his ancestors, Fyodorov was unable to dodge the draft. After a few uneventful years, he was volunteered for a position in a FAP, and cast away from the woods dear to him and sent to the dusty lands far over the sea. It was new, exciting, but most of all, deadly. His superiors thought he would not last one year. He lasted two and was transferred out to a domestic post. It was a desolate northern village near Borsten, where the glory of the army didn't shine, nor did the reenlistment benefits promised so often. Nevertheless, it was better than Africa.

In this stagnation a storm of feelings boiled under his unremarkably simple shell. The army was a dead end, the country was a dead end. He no longer wished to remain there. With the threat of another tour looming over his head, Fyodorov set out to study, to eat up as much knowledge as he feasibly could. He besieged the libraries and bookstores, teaching himself Economics, Politics, History, Philosophy. It was all so convoluted, and not much made sense to his simple mind. But slowly and surely he inched forward. It wasn't enough though, and he wished to leave the Army, yet this request to leave was denied when the protests broke out. Filled with rage and fear from the rumours whispered from the south, he abandoned his post with some comrades. He does not wish to fight another banker’s war, to spill his blood for an ungrateful country.

+++RP Sample: Just to be sure.
+++Why Are You Here: Just to suffer. At least his conscience suffers less than on the other side, or sitting idly by.
+++Theme Song: Rising Dawn
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Ihsalihna]

This looks cool...

[Torrocca]

Alright, this is one of the first RPs I've been excited for a while given the premise, not gonna lie. I hope there's not a character limit, because I've got quite a few ideas for character apps that I'm gonna start working on ASAP :3

EDIT: Actually, before I start working on my apps, I'm somewhat curious about what the social situation in the country's like, and how things like gender, ethnicity, citizenship status, etc. would affect a person's standing/relations in this country. Unless I'm missing something in the OP, I don't really see much on that and I'd love to know a bit more before I get started on apps (I'm fine with making up stuff too, since the rules say there's some degree of freedom to building the world, but a baseline or something to work with would be much appreciated) ^_^

[Rudaslavia]

Dracula Untold meets the War in Donbass. Very, very interesting Cy.

[Cylarn]

Looking at the apps, and I am liking what I am seeing. I'll be updating our existing information from the posted apps.

Alright, this is one of the first RPs I've been excited for a while given the premise, not gonna lie. I hope there's not a character limit, because I've got quite a few ideas for character apps that I'm gonna start working on ASAP :3

EDIT: Actually, before I start working on my apps, I'm somewhat curious about what the social situation in the country's like, and how things like gender, ethnicity, citizenship status, etc. would affect a person's standing/relations in this country. Unless I'm missing something in the OP, I don't really see much on that and I'd love to know a bit more before I get started on apps (I'm fine with making up stuff too, since the rules say there's some degree of freedom to building the world, but a baseline or something to work with would be much appreciated) ^_^

Volkavia shouldn't be considered to be in vogue with the rest of 2000s Europe. Conservative values in society are actively encouraged by the government, greater in some areas than others. The Slavic population native to the region is by far the largest ethnic makeup in the country, although minorities of Jews, Romas, Muslims, Germans, and other groups make up the rest of the population. Since the late-'90s, Volkavia has been excluded and socially excommunicated from the rest of Europe, although it has conducted the occasional token deal with the United States, namely with an FAP in Afghanistan (thanks, James). Participation in the foreign wars instigated by the FAP, despite the toll taken upon the conscripted population for what little of a reward is to be gained, are pushed by the monarchy as a badge of honor for the average citizen. Your typical "hail the King, mind your labor" mantra.

This is also the 21st Century, however. Rebellion is bound to happen. The young generations from the '80s and '90s are growing up and going into a conservative society that they may or may not agree with. Many, especially in the lower classes, see the monarchy as an archaic institution that largely stunts their advancement. The royal family makes no secret of its wealth, much to the dislike of the poor. Young conscripts are being sent overseas to unfamiliar territory, and they have returned home with horrible experiences, to a population that doesn't understand and a government that refuses to acknowledge their condition. Discontent is big in the societies of colleges and universities, where students debate the merits of a reformed state in secrecy from state security agencies. Despite the long-standing travel restrictions and international sanctions, travel into Europe is a common rite of passage. It is the fear of the government that Volkavian expats are the ones most likely to forment a revolution, armed with foreign propaganda.

[Torrocca]

Looking at the apps, and I am liking what I am seeing. I'll be updating our existing information from the posted apps.

Alright, this is one of the first RPs I've been excited for a while given the premise, not gonna lie. I hope there's not a character limit, because I've got quite a few ideas for character apps that I'm gonna start working on ASAP :3

EDIT: Actually, before I start working on my apps, I'm somewhat curious about what the social situation in the country's like, and how things like gender, ethnicity, citizenship status, etc. would affect a person's standing/relations in this country. Unless I'm missing something in the OP, I don't really see much on that and I'd love to know a bit more before I get started on apps (I'm fine with making up stuff too, since the rules say there's some degree of freedom to building the world, but a baseline or something to work with would be much appreciated) ^_^

Volkavia shouldn't be considered to be in vogue with the rest of 2000s Europe. Conservative values in society are actively encouraged by the government, greater in some areas than others. The Slavic population native to the region is by far the largest ethnic makeup in the country, although minorities of Jews, Romas, Muslims, Germans, and other groups make up the rest of the population. Since the late-'90s, Volkavia has been excluded and socially excommunicated from the rest of Europe, although it has conducted the occasional token deal with the United States, namely with an FAP in Afghanistan (thanks, James). Participation in the foreign wars instigated by the FAP, despite the toll taken upon the conscripted population for what little of a reward is to be gained, are pushed by the monarchy as a badge of honor for the average citizen. Your typical "hail the King, mind your labor" mantra.

This is also the 21st Century, however. Rebellion is bound to happen. The young generations from the '80s and '90s are growing up and going into a conservative society that they may or may not agree with. Many, especially in the lower classes, see the monarchy as an archaic institution that largely stunts their advancement. The royal family makes no secret of its wealth, much to the dislike of the poor. Young conscripts are being sent overseas to unfamiliar territory, and they have returned home with horrible experiences, to a population that doesn't understand and a government that refuses to acknowledge their condition. Discontent is big in the societies of colleges and universities, where students debate the merits of a reformed state in secrecy from state security agencies. Despite the long-standing travel restrictions and international sanctions, travel into Europe is a common rite of passage. It is the fear of the government that Volkavian expats are the ones most likely to forment a revolution, armed with foreign propaganda.

Righty-o, that's actually pretty much perfect for both my curiosity and for my general ideas for my character apps, actually! Thanks! :3

[Cylarn]

-snip-

De nada. Lemme know if you need anything else.

[Cylarn]

As for a review of apps...

Dr. Neumann is all good in my book, thus far. All I need is the app. Despite being a simple rifleman on the outset of hostilities, his presence in the ranks of the FVF leads some to believe him as a suitable candidate for a command position in the group.

LT Solomon, one of the few defectors to possess a helicopter, is just as important. I will be adding a section about Volkavian operations in Afghanistan.

Ionescu avoided conscription, but not the eventual war. Looking good in my book so far, but keep in mind that the Romani-Volkavian internal conflict has only recently escalated to post-World War II levels of violence.

SGT Kandinsky should tell us some more about his time in Africa, which was likely something consisting of patrols, training ops, and the odd offensive operation. Other than that, aight.

Evgenia, the scion of the Volkavian expat elite, is progressing well.

Keep it up, fellas.

[Ihsalihna]

(VLAŠIKŐ, Z.K.)

+++Name: Zsófia Vlašikő
+++Age: 28
+++Gender: Female
+++Physical appearance: 165 cm, 49 kg (5'5", 107.8lbs)
+++Identifying Marks: Missing left pinkie finger. Romani tattoos on back, upper arms, ankles.

+++Ethnicity: Lovari Roma
+++Religion: Syncretic Romani-Christian beliefs
+++Birthplace: Ratykosht encampment, Réngetég krajina, Karokand Forest
+++Criminal History: No convictions. Multiple accusations of theft.
+++Military History: Two years, Army reserve.
+++Skills: Medicine, trauma care, decent marksmanship, extensive family ties among the Romani
+++Occupation: Unemployed. Doctor among the Romani.
+++Family:

• Tamara - Zsófia's mother, a chovihani.
• Gáspár - Father. Currently in prison for anti-government sedition.
• Miksa - Adopted younger brother; parents killed by security forces.
• Erzsébet - younger sister.
• Dezső - Zsófia's older brother, fugitive militant.
• Dr. János Vlašikő - Gáspár's step-brother, and Zsófia's step-uncle. A doctor in Uriju, currently in London.
• Éva - Aunt. Works for a Jewish Mafia as a smuggling overseer.
• Kristóf - The Rom Baro - "Big Man" - of the Vlašikő clan. Prominent Romani leader and Zsófia's grandfather, son of a WWII partisan.
• Hajdú Gabriella - Phuri Dae - a Romani "Wise Woman", advisor to the Rom Baro in addition to spiritual and accounting duties. Zsófia's grandmother.

+++Psychological analysis: It is very likely Zsófia Vlašikő was the one to coin the name Kalyi Jag for the Romani self defence group that rose suddenly from Karokand's eastern district, the aptly named Rengeteg county. A darkness hangs over her, though there is a fire burning in her heart - one only has to look her in the eyes to notice the tired gaze and the flicker of hope. She has all the appearances of a died in the wool revolutionary - gun at her side, often up to her elbows in blood giving combat first aid, clad in scruffy, faded olive drab army surplus jackets that contrast sharply with a colourful dikhlo headscarf and kishti sash around her waist. But while there is much anger in her, she seems to be motivated primarily by hope - a dark, pessimistic hope, one that has long known bloodshed was coming and knowing she would have to fight. She has a bad habit of guessing the future with unfortunate accuracy, having begun preparing early on for civil strife that now has reached Volkavia in earnest. She has a hope that one day she and her people may be able to live free, happy lives - that the people of Volkavia can somehow come together again as the Free Volkavian Forces against the monarchy just as their forefathers did when they cast aside ethnic differences to fight the Nazi invaders, lighting a candle in the darkness and blood of the Second World War. She believes wholeheartedly that, while the non-Romani gadje may not be trustworthy and unity is unlikely in such a fractured society, Volkavia can once again become the kind of country that largely liberated itself from within and defied the Shoah and Porajmos. It's hard to tell sometimes, however - despite her charisma and looks, she rarely draws attention to herself except when a bright smile briefly reappears on her face. She is quiet, pensive, and spiritual, cynical at times, mistrustful of outsiders and very loyal to family and close friend alike. There seems to be a good chance that if she judges the Free Volkavian Forces unable or unworthy of living up to the partisans of the past, she will simply return to the dark depths of the forests to fight in isolation with her Romani brothers and sisters.
+++Likes/dislikes: Enjoys music, reading, wine, dancing, spicy food, warm showers, knives, football and rain. Finds chicken, busy cities, drunkenness, gendarmes, baths and cigar smoke distasteful.
+++Interests: Medicine, science, history, religion, old stories, photography, ancient legends.
+++Fears: Death, losing her family, exile.

+++Equipment:

• Mannlicher–Schönauer 1903 hunting carbine (6.5×68mm, five-round clips)
• Gerlach folding hawkbill knife
• Medical Supplies (Individual First Aid Kit, tourniquets, emergency trauma bandages, gauze, hemostatic agents, burn dressings, blanket, splints, Catastrophic Bleeds Kit (haemostatic gauze, field dressings, 2 abdominal field dressings, 2 tourniquets, etc.), Airway Management Kit (large gauge catheter, chest seal, nasal trumpet, oropharyngeal airway, surgical cricothyrotomy kit) tampons, ductape, morphine, tylenol, imodium AD, naproxen, antibiotics, medical shears, flashlight, ear-plugs, extra batteries, disposable rubber gloves)

+++Biography: It's useful being a nomad when nobody wants you around. Romani are born lucky, it seems - Volkavia was full of people who preferred them living their way of life. Never around for long.

Zsófia is the daughter of a man jailed for smuggling and anti-government activism, and a one-armed woman with a pretty smile and long curly hair. She grew up in a big, warm extended family, exploring the dark quiet woods she called home, learning the ways of her people and the ways of the outsider alike. She never went to school - the Romani have always preferred a "hands on" approach, and while Zsófia was clever enough to have been a straight-A student she never understood how sitting in a stuffy room all day ever taught anybody anything; there was so much more to learn in the world beyond. She went to church once, with her father when she was young and he was free, and had very much enjoyed the singing and the beautiful art but not very much the sitting around and lectures. God wouldn't be found in a book for her, nor in an old building or an old man's words. God was always in the soul and in the beauty of the world. Something about the Goddess Kali Sara and spirits and omens also managed to sneak in there along the way, though the conflicting messages never bothered her much.

Volkavia was never kind to young optimists like Zsófia Vlašikő, though.

She lost a father to the Gendarmerie, and having watched as they beat him and knocked out his teeth, gaining a deep, bitter anger in exchange. Two years later the Gendarmerie also gifted her an adopted little brother, his birth parents killed by a drunken policeman. And while her childhood was spent roaming, struggling, and working to survive, it was warm and intimate enough that it stabbed into her soul when her mother sent her away.The police and the clan feud had grown worse - something foolish about a smuggling deal gone wrong and a distant family member betrayed set off a brief but bloody period, enough to convince Zsófia's mother that it was time to try and get her daughter a useful education, in case their worst fears came true and had to flee the country one day. Her father's father had remarried and had a son - a step-uncle she never met - so she went to live with him in the city.

Her uncle was a gadje, an outsider no matter how much blood they shared, someone who had abandoned their Romani heritage and culture. He and her father hadn't spoken for years... but in the dingy, dated hospital of Uriju she met a man who looked strangely like her father. It wasn't just that he looked like him - just like the man he was skilled with his work, quick to laugh and smile and put people at ease; a well-liked doctor, who most people would never suspect of being of Romani blood. Initially, they got along poorly. She resented him for many things when she was younger; turning his back on his people, doing so well while they lived impoverished, itinerant lives in the forest, keeping her away from her family outside of the city and making her hide her Romani clothing - but as she grew older, and after a few visits back to her family when tensions calmed between stays with him, she learned the reasons for his actions.

He had abandoned his people to serve his people, helping them when they were sick and supplying them with medicine under the table, and hiding her origins to keep her safe from distrustful eyes that would have targeted her for her ethnicity. And he knew how to teach her in the Romani fashion - not telling but showing - proving to be surprisingly knowledgeable about his people's ways and folklore. She picked up quickly, and as the years passed she grew acutely perceptive and quick to pick up on things. Soon she was helping him discretely treat the gunshot wounds of smugglers, traveling to isolated villages to aid in childbirth or ailments, even helping in emergency surgeries. On days when things were quiet and there was nothing to do, he'd tell her stories about her great-grandfather's history in the Free Volkavian Army, fighting the German invaders alongside Slavic, Jewish and Roma brother alike.

It was 2005 when her dual lives intertwined once more, and the peace was shattered. Her uncle was discovered harbouring a Romani fugitive, and he was forced to slip away before the secret police descended on him. Leaving behind Uriju, where her face was too well known, she declined to follow her mentor to London and exile with the Council of the Volkavian Republic. Instead she made her way into the countryside for weeks, finding work and shelter as a traveling doctor, before slipping into Sárske, a sleepy border garrison town.

For the past five years she had been watching slowly as the country crept slowly towards the abyss of revolution. She had never stepped foot in a schoolhouse, but in between struggling to survive in Karokand's darkness and devouring every book in her uncle's shabby Uriju apartment, she had learned to read the writing on the walls remarkably well. In the hospital, in the forests, in the countryside she had seen every kind of person - happy, rich, scared, sick - and she had learned how to read their eyes and in between their words. Something dark was coming.

Something told her it would be useful to know how to handle a gun. So she joined the military, a rare volunteer no one would turn away. It was punishing to say the least - and while she suspected she'd be targeted for being a woman and having slightly darker skin, she endured more than one beating among the harassment and slurs. She performed just well enough to earn some extra training as a medic, her eye for details marking her as a potential designated marksman - but just intentionally unassuming and under-performing enough to pass under the radar.

Eventually she passed right under the barracks guards' noses and deserted with bags full of medical supplies.

When she reached her family again, they had difficulty recognizing her at first until she smiled - she had been known for having a beautiful smile, but after all these years it is rarely seen. All the songs of her youth, full of life, had taken on a sharper edge and deeper passion. Her mother saw the same anger in her that she had seen in her father's eyes, and in the eyes of her eldest son who had taken his own stand against the government and was now on the run because of it. Soon word of her returned passed among the Romani camps, and she often graced the firesides of all the families and clans, singing, dancing, healing and listening to their stories of hardship. And when she did speak, it was whispered words of soft outrage, provocative and incensing to a people that had for so long been kept on the run and spat upon, seen as pests and vermin by all they met.

The scandals that rocked Shigal and the ensuing massacre of protestors conveniently overshadowed the beginning of a series of killings. Across the countryside, gendarmerie officers notorious for their treatment of "gypsy pests" were found hanged from trees along lonely country roads on foggy afternoons. Among the Romani, and in the files of the RSS, there was talk of a group calling themselves Kalyi Jag - "Black Fire".

Just over two years later, a woman named Zsófia Vlašikő slipped quietly into the newly independent town of Borsten, her collar turned up against the cold October air.

+++RP Sample: Here on NS, though mostly elsewhere.
+++Why Are You Here: "This isn't something we can run from. I saw it coming a long way off, and one day, it was going to come for me. For all of us. It will come for you, sooner or later. All I did was act first."
+++Theme Song: Ando Drom - Matyilem
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Ormata]

I gotta few questions that have floated up in my mind.

1. When was conscription enacted?
2. To what extent do you anticipate characters to be in control (For instance, would you be willing to allow a platoon-size group of NPCs to be under control of singular players)?
3. Does the CIA hold any ties to any of the groups currently in existence (engaging dictatorial forces to secure a democracy, so on so forth) in material, training, and intelligence terms? If so, would the CIA be forced into an Afghanistan situation with supplying insurgent forces with weaponry reasonably acquired locally, in order to avoid an escalation of hostilities, or would such aid be more 'overt' with more modern equipment? Will you allow contact with the CIA once the game starts?
4. Do soldiers from abroad receive re-indoctrination training / reconditioning in order to keep them silent and submissive or are foreign experiences allowed to be in the open?
5. What nations are usually employers for Volkavian soldiers in regards to foreign deployment?

[Dayganistan]

In regards to a Muslim minority group would they be Turkic, Slavs who converted, or something else entirely? And would they probably lean more towards the religious or secular side?

[Cylarn]

I gotta few questions that have floated up in my mind.

1. When was conscription enacted?
2. To what extent do you anticipate characters to be in control (For instance, would you be willing to allow a platoon-size group of NPCs to be under control of singular players)?
3. Does the CIA hold any ties to any of the groups currently in existence (engaging dictatorial forces to secure a democracy, so on so forth) in material, training, and intelligence terms? If so, would the CIA be forced into an Afghanistan situation with supplying insurgent forces with weaponry reasonably acquired locally, in order to avoid an escalation of hostilities, or would such aid be more 'overt' with more modern equipment? Will you allow contact with the CIA once the game starts?
4. Do soldiers from abroad receive re-indoctrination training / reconditioning in order to keep them silent and submissive or are foreign experiences allowed to be in the open?
5. What nations are usually employers for Volkavian soldiers in regards to foreign deployment?

• 1946, as a response to their experiences in two world wars.
  
• Platoon might be too big for what I am intending. My intention is for the player-characters to be in a degree of contact on the same battlefields, in the same scenes. I might be open to a fire team or squad.
  
• Nope. i'm wanting to avoid the interference of foreign nations, at least for now. Despite Volkavia meddling in other nations and even doing some secret dealings with various groups, such as in Afghanistan, I don't want foreign intelligence teams bringing in arms just yet.
  
• People are going to talk about what they went through, and the government can be surprisingly negligent of this - as long as it doesn't reach print. Keeping realistic war portrayals from the public mediums is something that the government is very good at. Volkavian participation in Chad and Angola, for examples, are portrayed in propaganda as the ideal of the Volkavian soldier; an eager, loyal servant of the state who saddles up to fight foreign adversaries. As long as the veterans don't act out and accept their public medals, the government will tolerate the drunken ex-commando weeping to his fellow bar patrons about his six months in a Cuban-run prison camp in Angola.
  
• I'm going to amend the timeline, in regards to Volkavian military participation. Volkavian troops have publicly participated in military operations in Chad, Angola, Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, Afghanistan, the Central African Republic, and Yemen. In secret, Volkavia has also leased its special forces to train, advise, and even fight alongside certain paramilitary groups, most notably to the Colombian right-wing militias in the '90s.

In regards to a Muslim minority group would they be Turkic, Slavs who converted, or something else entirely? And would they probably lean more towards the religious or secular side?

Converted Slavs, with some Turkic roots mixed in. I would say it's safe to assume that Volkavia endured the wrath of the Ottoman Empire on many occasions, and despite outliving the Empire, there are still reminders of Ottoman influence, most notably in the Slavic Muslim and Turkic minorities. They're definitely dwarfed by the Orthodox Christian Slavs, and outnumbered by the Romani and the Jews.

-snip-

Gotta say that I like this app.

[Rudaslavia]

-snip-

Ihsalihna, I was also thinking of applying as a prominent member of the criminal underworld within the overarching community of Volkavian Roma -- an escaped convict of Ursari descent who once led a racketeering syndicate known as the Pralipe, or "Brotherhood," before being sentenced to ten years of hard labor after being implicated in the murder of a Gendarmerie NCO. Up for a little collaboration? Perhaps a distant familial connection, or a loose association between the Pralipe and the Kalyi Jag?