Pandemic! [Open]

[The Macabees]

[OOC thread here.]

Village of Colota, Northeastern Satrapy of Holy Panooly
Day 1

The gunfire that always sounded in the distance, precedent from the sprawling ruins of Guamlumpeiron, didn't scare Kijana Jakande anymore. Neither did 'the others.'

He trudged on the narrow forest path, carcass slung over his right shoulder. It was a big one. It would feed many and these were troubled times, where people like Jakande and the other villagers didn't always have enough to eat. The war had killed many, but the sickness had brought many more deaths. With these plagues came the soldiers and the quarantines, and for those remote from civilization — in an impoverished country where the remote was forgotten — it meant famine.

Many of the animals had been killed, as well. It left the hunters with less to stalk. These animals hadn't been killed or scared away by the war, though. Neither was it KN755, 'the sickness,' that drove them away. Not directly, at least. Rather, it was the product of 'the sickness,' the 'survivors.' Of course, those that had 'survived' had not done so in a different sense than most would assume. These people had become monsters. There was no better way to describe them. Although they looked similar to their old selves, this was only true in a very abstract way. Most 'survivors' were larger and stronger, their facial characteristics had morphed into something beyond recognition, and they had lost their ability to speak, their cultural values, and the spirit that had connected them to their families, their community, and the nation. They were nothing more than monsters who fed on the animals...and humans in the forests around them.

The quarantine had been broken by the war. Kijana knew that the intellectuals called it the Panooly War of Reunification, but he preferred to call it the war between the imperialists. After all, it had been fought between the Golden Throne and the Fourth Reich for supremacy of Holy Panooly, a country that had been broken for a long, long time. Which was not to say that Panoolies were unaffected. The war and the interruption in the quarantine meant the release of thousands of 'others' into the wild. The post-war quarantine had not been good enough. Many of the 'others' remained in the unknown.

Alas, the lack of food and surplus of monsters made for an interesting opportunity. Too heavy to carry for long, Kijana dragged the carcass the rest of the way into the village...


...Doctor Anjen Berhoova looked at the villagers who had gathered at the ceremonial grounds just outside of Colota. The sun was coming down and on most days that would bring misery, the cold mixing with the hunger. Today, though, tColota was feasting. After days of failed hunts, a hunter had finally brought something in. The man named Kijana Jakande glowed against the fire, as he proudly stood near the pit over which hung the cooking carcass.

The 'animal' was long, had two arms and two legs, a head and a long torso. It didn't look quite human, but it could have been. Its face had been distorted and burned by the flames, but even beforehand it was hardly recognizable. It wouldn't make for good food. There was more muscle than fat, which was hardly a recipe for flavor. The doctor shuddered. He knew exactly what this was: a KN-755 survivor. The villagers had come across many of them in the past months. Some did not come back from those encounters, others came back with their prize.

The scarcity of food affected Anjen, as well. He was supposed to receive standard supply packages every week, but sometimes these didn't come. He suspected that the trucks had been intercepted, by rebels or 'survivors.'

Hungry, he ate a stew made from the meat of those...creatures.



North Point, Northeastern Territory of Theohuanacu
Day 8

Anjen was recalled to Beda Fromm to report to the university staff on his findings while living among the indigenous of northeastern Holy Panooly. The university wanted to know whether the program was worth funding. What had been found? What were the results? What would come from spending more time in Colota? Should he visit other communities?

He was excited to report, having learned a lot during the past month of his visit. But, it was a long flight back to Beda Fromm and his first stop was at North Point, the capital city of the Territory of Theohuanacu. The expansive international airport, one of the city's four, was bustling and full of live. There must have been tens of thousands in the terminal Anjen landed in and tens of thousands more in the other terminals, which he passed by as he took the airport's electric SkyTram. They were connecting to flights headed every which direction. He heaved a dry cough, beneath a clenched fist.

Strange, he hadn't felt sick. He must have been catching a cold.



Glensbury, Territory of the Questerian Freestates
Day 8

Landing in Glensbury the same day he had arrived at and left North Point, Anjen took a rideshare from the airport to his friend's house. Knowing that he would pass through the city, he thought it an excellent opportunity to catch up with old acquaintances. A lot had changed, especially in Glensbury and the surrounding areas. The Freestates had been separated from the rest of Guffingford for the first time in centuries. While they remained a territory of the Golden Throne, the tripartite partition of Guffingford afforded the Freestates a degree of autonomy they hadn't had in a very long time. Anjen's friend, Manfred Lublin, was a politician and would have much to say about current events.

He was planning to stay in Glensbury for the next four days, maybe taking the time to visit the neighboring town of Trogenborough, where the famed Hergohozen Distellery produced it's equally as famous, and infamous, Hergohozen whisky.



Beda Fromm, Province of Beda Fromm
Day 13

"How do you feel?" she asked, her coffee-colored hair flowing over her shoulders. Anita looked beautiful as always.

"Well! I have so much to share with you," responded Anjen. He had just landed in the city and she had offered to pick him up. He was relieved. He loathed most of his coworkers, but Anita was different. She was smart, he enjoyed talking to her, and as far as he could tell she enjoyed him. He was also forming something of a crush. Anjen coughed into his hand.

She frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yea, why?" he asked.

"You haven't heard?" she replied.

It was his turn to frown. "No. What should have I heard about?"

"Colota. That's where you were conducting your research, right?" They were walking toward the baggage claim. Screens hanging from the ceiling were playing the news. There were some clips of jungle or forest, then of indigenous people that could have come from anywhere, but it was nothing that Anjen was paying attention to. His attention was fully on Anita.

"Yes," he answered. A worry crept into his voice, although he wasn't quite sure what he was worried about. Had something happened? Had they been attacked? "That's right. What's up?"

Her right eyebrow popped up. She said, "I'm surprised, I thought you would have come with some more information about this. There's been a viral outbreak in northern Holy Panooly and they've traced it back pretty quickly to the village of Colota. Wasn't there anyone sick when you were there?"

"Probably," he said. "But, nothing major. Viral outbreak?"

Anita nodded. "Yea, it's bad."

"How bad?" he asked.

"Very bad," she replied. "Very, very bad. Get your bag, we'll talk about in the car. It's nothing to be worried about, I was just curious."



Barbakán Ismael Lobo, Satrapy of Holy Panooly
Day 16

"Tell them there's no gods damn medicine for them here," shouted the commander to the soldier. The general wheeled away, muttering, 'what a shit show' under his breath.

The soldier repeated the commander's words through the radio, to the perimeter guards that had been approached by a large mass of locals seeking shelter and medical care within the base. Hundreds more came by the day, congregating outside. They slept in tents and feasted on the wild. There were thousands in total now. The virus had spread quickly and the scant medical infrastructure in the country was insufficient to treat so many of the sick. Ismale Lobo wasn't the only military base affected. Thousands of them, and Aboma police stations as well, were being flocked to by the desperate.

It wasn't just the locals who were falling ill. Some of the soldiers had gotten sick too. More and more were piling into the infirmary, although not yet enough to send alarms throughout the various military installations. Not enough for anything drastic. It was just a standard pick-up of the flu during its prime season, nothing more.

"Thank the gods I'm going home tomorrow," said the soldier to the other one sitting next to him.

The other frowned. "Lucky you," he said, "I still have another four months here."

"They'll probably shave a few days off of my vacation in Theohuanacu. You know how it is. They always get you with the 'processing.' They say the administration at Terma Hevera is the worst. Try to screw you on overtime is what I've heard," he said, with air quotes around 'processing.'



Barbakán Odinson, Satrapy of New Empire
Day 20

Frigid and cold, in many ways New Empire was a world apart from the rest of the empire, indeed from the rest of the world, even.

But, it was as connected to the empire as ever. Since the expulsion of the peacekeepers and the beginning of the imperial occupation, hundreds of millions of imperial troops resided in New Empire each and every day. Hundreds of millions more passed through, traveling to the far reaches of the region and beyond. Hundreds of millions of soldiers were returning from Gholgoth, where peace had been agreed to with the slave-trading Scandinvan Empire. Tens of millions were gathering for an invasion of Krasnova, where the Triumvirate battled the Fourth Reich for control of that shattered country. Many went to bases in Mokastana and Haishan, and ultimately the soldiers who passed through New Empire would go to places as far west as Barjaanistan and Potthan. That without mentioning where they would go throughout the empire, whether that was the provinces, the satrapies of Nicaro, Holy Panooly, and Pezlevko-Rubino, or the territories of Theohuanacu and Indras, the Pan-Guffingfordi, Pan-Havenic, and Pan-Zarbian territories. Most corners of the region were touched in some way by the Golden Throne's military and those that weren't were easily connected by means of trade and commerce.

In fact, Odinson had just received a contingent of soldiers precedent from southeastern Theohauancu — Barbakán Terma Hevera, to be exact. They were destined for Pezlevko-Rubino, into which they would be shipped the following day. Strangely enough, this group had come with an abnormally high number of ill, although it was mostly cold symptoms and nothing to be alarmed about. Nothing like the Panooly Virus that the news was now always talking about.

After all, these soldiers had come from Theohuanacu, not Holy Panooly. Right?



Panooly City, Satrapy of Holy Panooly
Day 20

The open cadaver lay on the table. Six doctors were hunched over it, peering into the inside of the dead body.

"Inflammation of the soft tissues around the lungs," said one. "Inflammation of the tissues around the throat. Shit, it's affected almost every major organ in the body. Heavy damage to the heart, liver, and kidneys. The reports suggest the subject suffered from acute organ malfunctions. It makes sense given what we're seeing."

Another doctor nodded. "Look at the muscle. Some of it is rotting. This is no ordinary flu virus."

"Then what is it?" asked another.

Yet another doctor, this one standing on the other side of the room looking through a microscope, suddenly looked at them. "Come look at this," she said. "Look at this virus, look at the proteins. This looks familiar. Very familiar. But how? The symptoms are very different. Severe coughing, sinus pressure around the nose, eyes, and mouth. But, a lot of them are similar. Inflammation, frothing around the mouth, loss of memory and ability to think. There are physical mutations, too, though less acute. How could it have mutated? How could it have mutated like this?"

One of the doctors around the cadaver looked at her. "What are you talking about?"

She answered, "Come, look."

They did.

"KN755? A mutation?" wondered one, aloud. "Have we studied any survivors?"

"No," said another one. "We haven't had the bandwidth here. We focus on the ones who are sick. There's been no news of survivors like the last ones, though. No 'undead,' if we want to call them that. Just normal survivors."

"For now," the one who had been looking through the microscope said. "Still, this is very bad. We need to get this information out."



Beda Fromm, Province of Beda Fromm
Day 24

Almost a tenth of the department staff was ill. The virus had spread quickly. Apparently it had been in his own body the whole time. Anjen was no longer worried, though. His mind was too far gone to worry. Laying on his bed, his hot and feverish, foam coming out from the sides of his mouth, his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head and seconds later he was dead.



Huerta del Lobo, Territory of Levante [Pan-Havenic Territories]
Day 24

For Ana de la Cueva, the ongoing violence and murders within the Marshite communities were the primary concerns. Since His Imperial Majesty's visit and the escalation of frustration among the Guffingfordi veterans, the attacks on the coastal Marshite communities were getting worse. And to think that it started with the attack on Lanzarote, as gruesome as that was.

But, the threat was shifting and it was threatening her investigation. Thousands of Marshite expatriates were falling gravely ill, with high fevers, bad coughs, and mental breakdowns. Thousands was growing quickly into tens of thousands. Territorial authorities were warning of hundreds of thousands, millions of infected through the territory. Tens of millions more throughout the Pan-Havenic area, and similar proportions everywhere else. Ana was being told to stay away from the Marshites. But that was impossible. How was she going to continue with her investigation if she couldn't interview the witnesses?

She coughed dryly into her hands.



Carribino, Mokastana
Day 24

Arturo Delago was a young Zarbian of no more than 22 years of age. He had joined the Ejermacht as an auxiliary three years ago, at the age of 19. Having fought in Holy Panooly and Gholgoth, he was enjoying his time in Mokastana. The drugs were excellent. The women were beautiful. And he had over two years of pent up soldier wages to spend on hookers, blow, and gambling, all things that could be done in Mokastana.

He was doing those things well, in fact. With an arm around a honey he had met an hour ago, he was on a hot streak on the craps table. He rolled the dice again, throwing them against the back wall.

"10!" cried out the dealer. The table cheered.

He played for twenty more minutes. His cough was getting worse, it had just started yesterday. "I must be coming down with something," he muttered.

"Huh?" asked the stunning, but stupid, girl under his arm.

"Don't worry about it, baby," he answered. "What do you say we get my winnings, go back to my room, and celebrate with the best bottle of champagne this hotel can offer?"

"Hell yea, baby!" she said.

He coughed on the chips as he grabbed them. He coughed on his hands. His nose was starting to get stuffy. Most of everything he touched was getting some part of his illness or another. They laughed all the way, as they exchanged chips for money, shook people's hands, and kissed each other on their way to his room.



Fedala, Imperial Province
Day 25

The kríerlord's image flickered on to the screen. His image was being watched by billions everywhere.

"Good morning, citizens and peoples of the empire, and our fellow human beings throughout Greater Díenstad and the world. What we have all feared the most has been confirmed. A new viral infection, one previously unknown to us, has been silently spreading throughout the empire and from here to the rest of the world. We are a great center of commerce, our footprint can be seen anywhere, and where that may be a good thing ninety-nine percent of the time, this time it has acted against us. The virus, confirmed to be a mutation of the KN755 virus that afflicted Holy Panooly two years ago, has been tested for and found throughout all provinces, territories, and satrapies in the empire. The known KN755 vaccine is not effective as a treatment against the new virus, classified as the KN755-B1."

"As a result," he continued, "His Imperial Majesty Fedor I has announced a Decree of Imperial Emergency, the first since The War. Execution of the decree has been devolved to local authorities to quarantine and restrict their citizens as seen fit by those who know the local situations the best. Regardless, despite the ongoing war in Krasnova and, fortunately, aided by the return of our boys and girls who so bravely fought in Scandinvan Drana, the Fuermak will be deployed in force to aid in the enforcement of imperial, territorial, provincial, satrapical, and municipal authority. Furthermore, the Imperial Beauracracy will make available a Ŗ20 billion emergency fund to distribute test kits and invest in the development of a vaccine."

"We are exploring further funding. His Imperial Majesty reaffirms His commitment to His people and guarantees that this viral threat to the integrity of the Golden Throne's security will be contained and defeated, like all others," the Kríerlord elaborated. Ŗ20 billion would not be enough, truth be told, but with the Ŗ15 billion emergency fund package toward the relief of western Theohuanacu, struck by a tsunami not more than a month ago and the costs of the Gothic War, there was not much funding to go around. Not without draining the imperial treasury to unacceptable levels.

"We must remember," continued the kríerlord, "that although this new virus, the Panooly Virus as many are calling it, is spreading very quickly, it is not the same as what struck Holy Panooly two years ago. The known survival odds for peoples within the empire for the Panooly Virus are 97 percent. Two years ago, it was 20 percent, of which most we can hardly call surviving at all. This new virus is less deadly and survival is real."

This was only half-true. In Holy Panooly, where many did not have access to adequate medical attention and where the authorities were hardly able to contain movement, the death rate was near 10 percent. It was actually more in areas with no medical infrastructure at all and known diet deficiency problems. The virus' toll was variable, depending on the response to its spread.

"We are Willed. However, we warn the world of what is coming. Containing virus KN755-B1, the Panooly Virus, will take a concerted effort by all nations," finished the kríerlord.

[The Technocratic Syndicalists]

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Arcaenia To Close Borders in Response to KN755-B1 Virus Outbreak

Effective immediately all flights to Arcaenia will be halted and all non-citizens denied entry

HYPERIA - The Arcaenian Government has declared a state of emergency and will close its external borders effective immediately in an effort to prevent the spread of the KN755-B1 virus , Chancellor Sebastian Hayden announced tonight in a televised address to the public.

Effective immediately all flights to Arcaenia will be prevented from landing and all non-citizens deemed inadmissible. Travel to foreign countries will also be prohibited and all Arcaenian airlines are to immediately cancel all international flights and will refund customers for their tickets. As part of the border closing all outgoing flights departing Arcaenia which have already taken off or are airborne will be redirected back towards Arcaenia and permitted to unload their passengers and/or cargo while all aircraft currently in flight towards Arcaenia will be redirected back towards their departure airports. All Arcaenian citizens who have returned from overseas flights within the last 30 days will also be put into mandatory quarantine until they can be tested for the KN755-B1 virus. No other quarantine procedures or restrictions on the public will be enacted unless persons inside the country test positive for the KN755-B1 virus.

"The utmost priority is protecting our citizens and executing proactive measures before the virus reaches our shores" said Hayden as part of his address.

Arcaenian soldiers and other military personnel deployed to Holy Panooly or other overseas locations are being instructed to immediately begin NBC procedures and to immediately seal off bases from all external entry, a spokesperson for the Arcaenian Military announced alongside the address from the Chancellor. All soldiers currently deployed or stationed overseas will be tested for the KN755-B1 virus and put into mandatory quarantine if necessary. All Arcaenian personnel will be retired to wear NBC suits when leaving designated zones and all vehicles and personnel entering bases will be required to pass NBC decontamination checkpoints to prevent any Arcaenian military personnel from contracting or further spreading the virus.

Lastly the Arcaenian government has confirmed that a team of civilian and military doctors, virologists, and other scientists are being sent from Arcaenia to Holy Panooly to study the viral outbreak and further advise the Arcaenian civilian government and military leadership on further steps to combat the KN755-B1 virus.

[Stevid]

Caliban
Adaptus Astrates
Day 8


Justine Marche heaved quietly and uncomfortably in his seat as his plane made its final approach to Caliban International Airport from Theohunacu. His cough was dry and persistent, much to his irritation and that of nearby passengers – not because of the potential consequences, but because it was a damned annoying noise. Justine was self-conscious enough to be aware of this and he forced away every wave of coughing with big heaves. It had been a good business trip to Theohunacu, albeit a miserable flight back.

His time away had been almost exclusively travel based; living out of B&Bs and roadside hotels, train rides and taxis. The improved relations with the Golden Throne had brought many benefits to his accountancy firm that, before the cooling of relations, had been relegated to work within the borders of Adaptus Astrates. Now it had gone international, albeit very localised. However, it was still enough for him to have to travel to see big cliental abroad. His trip had centred mainly on North Point, the capital of Theohunacu on one of the largest hubs of trade, commerce and tourism outside the Golden Throne and Holy Empire – and certainly one of the biggest. He must have been in and out of the airports around that city half a dozen times catching local regional flights. He deduced he had gotten this wretched cough during one of his spells there.

“No matter.” He thought as his flight gently kissed terra firma in Caliban. A few days in bed recovering is what he deserved as much as required, and he would do just that.
Moving was unbearable, every breath drawn a chore as a wave of coughing threatened to overwhelm him. He kept it at bay long enough to exit the aircraft, and as he walked along the connecting tunnel he let out a torrent of dry, chesty coughs.


Stevid Capita
Stevidia
Day 20

Sister Ophelia of the Order Blessed Chalice crept up between the pews of Saint Edmund’s church. It was in the more affluent mid-level of the fortress city’s northwestern quarter but was popular with the lower classes of society that enjoyed a Sunday trip up from the dank sprawl of the lower levels.
It was late in the evening now, almost ten o’clock, and the parish priest Father Cavnar had been holding confessional sessions since Mass ended at six. This was unusual, Ophelia had thought, as he had missed dinner and an engagement with her Mother Superior from the Blessed Chalice – furthermore he was quite advanced in age, about eighty, and needed his rest.

Sister Ophelia was one of the orphans of this wretched city’s under world where the meek and destitute endured their simple, petty lives. To be raised in a Sisterhood was an honour, though one of the utmost piety and devotion. However, it was better than starving on the streets below. Now, at seventeen years old, she was attached to a parish to look after the more elderly priests too frail for the more arduous tasks of life. She had prepared his dinner and bed, but his non-attendance was slightly out of the ordinary. Father Cavnar never held confession sessions for more than two hours, moreso these days having developed a rough cold that had persisted for over a week, so it was most unusual for him to work so late.

She made her way up to the wooden confessional both that had a candle lit by the door indicating the priest was inside. The parishioner’s door was open so he had no audience, so Ophelia gingerly rapped a knuckle on Cavnar’s door.

“Father?” She asked. “Father?”

No answer.

“Father it’s late… you must eat and come to bed…”

Still no answer. It was entirely possible he had fallen asleep in there. Ophelia rolled her eyes at the thought of having to haul his body to bed. She knocked one more time, forcibly, to wake the priest up.

“Father!” She said loudly, but no answer. She grasped the door handle and pushed it down and open, then staggered backwards in shock and horror. Slumped in his chair, head craned back, was Father Cavnar. Around his mouth was a white froth and spittle, flecks of dry blood spotted the front of his vestment. Ophelia fell to her knees sobbing, her right hand crossed her head, heart and chest in a Sign of the Cross and she whispered, “Requiesce in pace, Father.”

She heaved him up off the chair and shuffled through the church to the sacristy where she would then notify the authorities.


Panooly-Astratii Border
Day 26

It was like a scene from a film; Imperial troops armed and helmed, respirators donned and contact gloves worn. Had it been any other day it would be seen as a punishment to wear such equipment in this sub-tropical environment. Now it was a necessity and this border was quickly becoming a flashpoint in this developing crisis. The Panooly-Astratii border was one of the most fortified in region, albeit lightly defended. This stemmed from the original Holy Panooly civil war and Stevidian-Astratii participation in it, then war between the Empire and Guffingford, then the curtailing of the drug trade from the dark jungles in Holy Panooly, and finally the latest conflict therein involving the ever-enveloping tendrils of the Fourth Reich.

But this was different. The Astratii government had closed this border between the two Imperial dominions of large Empires. Anyone attempting to cross found themselves tested for the new and disturbing virus that had manifested in Holy Panooly. Dubbed the Panooly Virus, or PV, the effects and potential for death had whipped up public hysteria. Holy Panooly was practically third world when compared with Adaptus Astrates and many people struggled to get access to the medical care they needed to endure infection.

This was all after the Keirlord of the Golden Throne’s announcement of this new virus. Authorities in Stevid knew of the originator virus, KN755. A pathogen so grotesque and abhorrent in nature it was added to the Empire’s Reanimation Directive. Its mutation to a supposedly more mundane strain did not fill Imperial Officials with much hope. Containing the virus was out of question, cases had been reported throughout the Empire from Adaptus Astrates New Providence, from Valvidia to South Greal. Preventing the masses flooding into Adaptus Astrates was a paramount concern for local authorities. Despite the seriousness of the virus, and the dangerous primogenitor strain it came from, the Reanimation Directive was not enacted – placing faith in Macabean ascertains it was not as bad as that. Without that assurance, Imperial troops from both sides would be gunning down civilians running the border. Astratii hospitals, both state and church, were being stretched to breaking point as higher than normal complications involving this new virus added to the usual winter maladies Astratii citizens endured - that last thing the country needed or wanted was thousands of foreign carriers inundating in the healthcare system at a time like this.

There was some comfort though, local authorities on either side of the fence the separated the two states were in talks to establish a joint operation to run a large field hospital at the border’s main crossing point, with a refugee quarantine camp on either side of the border. This was not supposed to be a solution to a problem but prevent people from spreading the contagion further, isolating and controlling them in one area.

[Erythrean Thebes]

POLITIC | WORLD | NATION | SPORT | ART | OPINION

Beloved Demetrian Shrine to be Closed Amidst KN755 Fears


The Temple of Mother Demeter is famous for its longstanding tradition of allowing
visitors to kiss the hand of the Goddess for good health


CITY OF THEBES - Among other eerie scenes of fear and desolation in the anxious City today, the normally crowded Temple of the Mother Demeter on Long Street appeared entirely empty, after the City's High Council voted 7-2 to close the popular shrine following reports that the Temple may be contaminated with KN755. The closure is just the latest in a series of major quarantines and cancellations over the last 3 days, after it was announced that a 75 year-old schoolmaster from the City's 12th District had become the first official fatality of the virus. Officials say there are no definite dates for when the Temple might reopen, cautioning that it could be more than a month before effective countermeasures have brought the contagion under control. Priests and acolytes of the Temple will continue to offer regular sacrifices, and special equipment has been brought in from the Royal Academy's Anoxius Institute of Medical Science to assist in scrubbing the complex. The City's Special Plague Commission is asking anyone who has visited the Temple in the last 14 days to report themselves for testing and a possible quarantine.

The closure is an especially ill omen for the Demeter Temple, as the shrine has been associated since Republican times with the qualities of longevity, fruitfulness, and good health. As early as the 1st Century BC, the philosopher and natural scientist Ulipssidus devoted a passage of his Physiological Treatise to the health-boosting properties of the Temple's fresh air and "naturally sweet-smelling waters." The brook which he mentioned has been replaced by a road since the 12th Century, but the Temple's reputation for safeguarding wellness and curing ailments has proved timeless. Arguably the cult's most popular ritual is the Demeterian Kiss, in which petitioners kneel before, lay their hands on or, yes, plant their humble lips upon the outstretched figure of the Goddess Demeter. The Kiss reportedly ensures at least another full year of life, and is said to have the power to dispel chronic ailments - one of the legends which was fiercely debated in Amadonner's classic treatise Philomania. Belief in the magical properties of the Demeter Temple has dwindled since the Scientific Revolution, but a strong following remains nevertheless among those who seek the assistance of a higher power.

But City health officials are now criticizing the Temple's ancient ritual, saying that the unsanitary practice has risked exposing untold thousands to the deadly KN755. The virus' intense concentration in the infected's phlegm and bodily fluids means that open-mouth exposure, like the kind deliberately practiced at Demeter Temple, stands a very high chance of spreading the disease. And now, just 3 days after the City's first confirmed KN755 fatality, there are emerging reports that people exposed to the virus may have taken part in the ill-fated Kiss.

"We do have a number of cases currently of people who have definitely been exposed to carriers or afflicted of the virus, whose travel patterns over the last week does include a visit to the Mother Demeter Temple," said Deputy City Health Commissioner Manitobos Glauchyides. "For that reason, we're taking the risk of contamination extremely seriously and we're going to advise anyone who has been to the Temple since last Sunday to come forward to Plague Officers and have themselves checked." But Manitobos and other officials fear that, with so many visitors to the Temple each day, many of whom are destitute or even homeless, the potential contagion might prove impossible to contain. "It definitely is one of the worst possible things we could have imagined."

Manitobos says that the next step is to completely scrub and sterilize the Temple. Epidemiologists from the Anoxius Institute will reportedly deploy a massive 300000 sq ft tarp over the complex, bombarding the Temple with hydrolitic steroids, before washing every square inch of the Temple in a sterilizing acid. Officials from the City Historic Buildings and Monuments Department fear that the procedure may damage some of the historic sculptures and frescoes still preserved inside the Temple, but Commissioner Manitobos says, that's just what it's going to take.

"We have to value the lives and safety of our Great City ahead of, frankly, some old paintings and sculptures."

The Temple's Synod of Priests have yet to comment on the unfolding developments. As for followers of the cult, reactions range from sadness, to anger, to disbelief.

"All things that happen here, whether they're good or bad, [they ultimately] have a heavenly cause," said one patron of the Temple who made the journey 400 miles from Ilimmea seeking relief from severe migraines. "So if this virus is infecting the Temple, it means that deeper things have gone wrong with us spiritually and morally. That's why I'm going to pray too, and hopefully our society will wake up to how blind we've become to ourselves and to our inner consciousness."

If you have information related to the spread of the Plague, whether you or people you know, H.M. the King and the National Plague Commission ask that you come forward immediately. Prompt and effective reporting of cases is the only way to prevent death, madness, and grief for many thousands. The Plague is a national emergency of the highest magnitude. With questions or concerns, please contact your local Plague Officer, or you can call the Special Hotline 87-5558-20.

[Holy Marsh]

Huerta del Lobo, Territory of Levante
Day 24

Marshite Shrines were large, oftentimes imposing structures. It housed not only the worship services of an international faith but also the nerve center of Church operations in any given area. Being a faith with many accepted Shrines many cities were home to many such structures. Huerta del Lobo was not different in this regard, though the artistic bent of the faithful Post-Shift had made the Shrine of the Star Maiden's Ascension- one of many Experience Shrines in the Empire- a prototypical example of new-age Shrines. It was beautiful to look at. Tapestries and art pieces of all kinds were found in even the tiniest crack, each one unique, each one part of the larger work of art that was the Shrine itself. The message was one of peace with strength, inviting and comforting in the many ways Marshism could be

Sister-Superior Tasara was more than pleased to work at the Star Maiden's Ascension, even if it was not of the Female Shrine. It was the oldest Marshite structure in the land and was the beating heart of Marshism in the Levante. Most Shrine leaders took their marching orders from the Star Maiden Ascension's leadership, and it was one of the Shrines that had been safe and secure, away from the growing centers of petty violence. Most importantly, Tasara was happy to be in a place where she could do the most good. This city was the hotspot of the region's KN755-B1 outbreak and her medical expertise had been used well. Or so she hoped. It was hard working with as few resources as the Marshites could scrounge up in this atmosphere of distrust. With the threat of this virus exploding by leaps and bounds, it was difficult getting everything she needed or wanted. So she had done what she could, and hoped that the System would in time provide the answer.

Time was not something Praetor Marcis believed they had. The virus had become a primary concern but they could not afford to be entirely blind to the violence being committed against them because of it. The so-called conquerors had proven to be poor imitations of real warriors. It had started in Lanzarote but had spread far and wide, though with far fewer dramatic demonstrations. Marshites were Martyred for their faith and that was no great shake, but to do so as passively as the Grand Artiste had demanded? The Warrior Shrine was at a breaking point. Every Praetor and every congregation burned with a desire for vengeance. They had worked with others as well as relied on their own connections- they believed they had a good handle on some of the groups involved. They had the skills, the experience, the armament, the drive to punish the wicked. Yet they were not allowed to do so. They were held back by the Grand Artiste.

Now they were being used to guard the growing mass of ill that had flocked to the Shrines for aid. Many had the instinct to go to local hospitals but violence had driven a lot of Marshites deeper into their communities and therefore deeper into the medical facilities that lay under every Shrine, alongside armories where allowed and bunkers for defense. It was all being used. As he walked the halls of Star Maiden's Ascensions secure underground he saw the stress of the situation. He had to step over the sick who crowded the hallways while those who were showing worse symptoms were being herded into whatever space was available in bunkers or secured holding. Many had willingly allowed themselves to be taped up or otherwise held in position. But they were running short on restraints of all kinds, and the incinerator had been running hot for a few days. His Shriners were securing the area but a number of them were falling ill. Time was not on their side, and he didn't want to hear that he needed to pull even more guards from the action groups to guard more ill people.

So Tasara told him just that as he walked into the stainless steel white sanitized room that housed the Medical System's Miracle Machines.

"Sister-Superior, I do not have time for this mewling of yours," he growled in anger. He knew the truth of what she said but that did not mean he had to like it.
"This mewling regards the wellness of our people, Praetor," Tasara snapped back. She had been up for nearly three days straight ensuring the machine's success. She wasn't about to let it fail because some of the more violent survivors started causing a panic.
"It interrupts our defensive preparations!" He barked back. Marcis knew this virus in time would burn itself out, no matter the losses incurred. This feeling of weakness? If that continued, then the attacks would grow only bolder. If-

"Preparations that go against Our Will, Marcis."

Both of their heads snapped in practiced rhythm as a new voice joined them. A tall woman dressed in a flowing robe that concealed little of her top aside from her breasts and carrying a staff with the symbol of the Experience Shrine on it walked past the guards, who bowed in reverence. They were not of the same Shrine but so did Marcis and Tasara. They might not look to her for religious guidance per se, but they all acknowledged that it was she who ran the church organization in the Levante. Her word carried material weight in ways their Shrines did not Post-Shift.

"Apologies, Grand Artiste Diasma. This has been...trying," Marcis added lowly. The Grand Artiste nodded. She had spent the last twenty-one days in her annual self-imposed artistic exile in the mountains. Tragically, she had learned of this outbreak only when she returned. The Artistes and other Shrine leaders had done an admirable job but she had arrived at the turning of the tide, as drawn by Brushstroke.

"How goes it, my dear?" She asked Tasara, her soft voice worming their way into her target's ears and setting Tasara at ease. Somewhat.

"Progress has been made."
She walked over to the central console in the room, bringing up a digital readout that floated holographically above them.
"As you can see, it shares many similarities with KN755. It lacks some of the essential elements in terms of late-stage symptoms, but there are enough similarities. But there are enough small differences that the machine refused to use the KN755 response. We had to spend a few days identifying the genome and interfacing a solution with the system. The machine accepted our latest disease model and synthesized a counter-action. It has erased the virus, repaired the damage done by it, and given users a clean bill of health. We can confirm that the System can respond," Tasara responded, showing the disease strands and the impact of the machine. To no one's surprise, it was effective. This virus was nothing like any number of other devastating ailments that the System had dealt with. So why was the situation not being improved?

"How artless. It has no place here. Why have we not removed it from our canvas-flesh?" Diasma asked with a furrowed brow as she looked at the disease strands with disgust.

"The System Provides answers, Grand Artiste," Tasara began before Marcis intervened.

"But it does not provide time. There are only six machines capable of curing this virus in Huerta del Lobo," he began, a fact which proved critical. They were surrounded by thirty-three machines, but each one was specialized within a task. Removing the man whose limbs were being restitched and repaired after a cat accident would not open up additional space for a viral victim. Preventing someone from using the machines designated for non-emergency use would not save anyone from infection. The System was impossibly advanced but also very constrained.
"Even at its quickest, we can cure thirty-six an hour. Operating twenty-four hours a day, we will cure fewer than nine-hundred. This does not outpace the rate of infection," he began as he held up a datapad and began showing the exploding rate of infection. He then brought up the attacks and violence Marshites were undergoing in the region.

"Which is why it is a waste of time guarding the growing number of Artists who have lost themselves. They are mutated. We are hard-pressed between the veterans who loathe us and this illness that destroys us. The Warrior Shrine can guard one and present a unified front to prevent violence against the other but it cannot do both. We are being bled dry. If only you would authorize counter-attacks-"
"Never. We will never resort to killing the Sona Emperor's loyal soldiers in an offensive manner. Sister-Superior, how many more machines would be needed to slow the bleeding?"

A short spell of silence as Tasara took a deep breath, her mind long having run the numbers but the heart bleeding for a better answer.

"Three times what we have, Grand Artiste, perhaps five."
"To reverse it?"
"Ten. That would be nearly nine thousand cured in Huerta del Lobo daily."
"That would also require a wide expansion of protected zones. And it would invite attacks."

Diasma knew the truth of this. She was not blind to the Praetor's concerns. They existed in trying times. Despite official support from the Emperor and Cassandra, the leader of Marshism in the Empire, they were in a dire position. They were trying desperately to show deference and respect to the soldiers that had earned themselves an Empire. They were proud citizens of that Empire. She did not want to draw the blood of those men and woman who had shed blood gloriously in the Sona Emperor's name. But she knew that even her influence had its limits. It was Marshite right to defend themselves, and they had done so when possible. But defense did not mean passively waiting for an attack. By religious writ, they had the right to launch strikes against those who had harmed them.

It would only get worse if they did that, but they were being left no choice. This weighed on her mind as she walked with them towards the incinerator. In front of it was a line of six patients being loaded onto the belt that led to the incinerator. Five had died. One was still alive, and it was her vacant eyes that the Grand Artiste find herself stopping on.

"This...this woman was one of the Artists who canvassed the Eternal Monument to the Glory of the Sona Empire," she let out barely above a whisper. The woman's raven hair had thinned and her razor-sharp eyes had been reduced to a blank void. There was a green-grey fluid seeping out of her ears and a slight mutation of her features but Diasma would recognize the tattoo that the artists who had worked on the Monument had received afterwards. It had faded under cracked and broken skin but was still bold enough to make out.

"She worked tirelessly on it. Brilliant woman, working among other brilliant Artists," Diasma said as she played with the woman's arm, safe from her slowly grasping fingers. The monument was truly stupendous. Ten thousand of the greatest Marshite artists worked in absolute unison near a vast series of rock formations deep in the interior. They had created a thousand works of art that told the story of the Empire that when viewed from any angle told the story of the rise of Fedor, the Sona Emperor. Every brushstroke was aligned perfectly, specks of dust positioned correctly, every color, shape, and word created with a vast multiplicity of interconnected works to craft one story from any angle. It was a proud achievement and one that was speckled with irony now. No matter that now though. Such concepts were...beyond this woman.

"Why is she tied down?"
"She lost herself on her way to quarantine. She committed-"
The Grand Artiste flew her hand up dismissively.
"She would not want to know what she did. Neither do I," She said, playing the part of equally stern and devastated mother in measured tones. She waved to the attendants, who pressed the button and sent the incinerator in motion. One by one the dead and dying were sent into the fires. Finally, the woman, whose legs only weakly kicked against her restraints now, was sent into the fire.
"We commend her soul to a better place. Sister-Superior, start curing. Start with the worst cases first. I will see to it we get those machines. Praetor, prepare to guard the locations in Occidental Ortega."


--------------------------------------------------------

Mar'si, Holy Marsh, Romani-Mar'si Union
Day 26

Knowing when patient zero for the Theocracy arrived proved impossible. Travel was easier than ever for Marshites and more did than ever before, especially with the increasingly positive relations bred with the Golden Throne. Hundreds of millions, even billions, went to and fro as the society's ceaseless work continued unabated. Society valued hardship and it valued putting the Church and faith beyond one's own concerns. It was a cramped, packed society. Many shared capsule spaces with others in twelve-hour shifts and even larger living spaces found themselves little more than the studios of other nations. They knew they could rely on the Medical System and society was pretty free and clear of most stigmas, as long as they didn't go against religious law or upset others. And it took a lot to upset a Marshite.

When it became a going concern for the Theocracy it became one quickly. In over thirty cities a mass crush of cases seemed to spring up out of nowhere every night. Most officials were quick to activate any number of local security and health contingencies and this was working for now. After all, the dead weren't coming back to life nor was in The Flesh That Hates. This would not lead to a societal collapse. In any case, they put a number of restrictions and laws in place. Quarantines, social-distancing (as much as could be done), better work rotations, priority in the System. A lot of elements would come together but everyone recognized that it was impossible to stop at this stage through such simple actions. One-hundred and sixteen Medical Governors requested guidance from the Church. Hearing this plea, the Arch-Bishop convened the highest health officials from multiple Shrines at the Great Medical Complex in Mar'si.

The meeting itself was held on the sixty-fifth floor in a large conference room. Eight chairs, three to a side and one at each head. The desk had digital readouts and holographic projects, with clear lines drawn for each occupant. One by one they entered, surrounded by a small army of attendants who watered them, got them food, and heeded the call to serve as the meeting continued. When all were seated the blinds drew themselves and the lights were turned on slowly. Then they started as any real Marshite meeting began: With prayer.

"The Most Holy Marsh, may Her Blessing be Eternal," started the woman at the north end of the table. Well-formed, hale and hearty. She was Lady-Superior of the Medical Arts Samantha Caine of the Female Shrine, and was chosen to lead this meeting.

"Your Blessings are Eternal," everyone, attendants included, replied.

"The Most Holy Marsh, may our Judgment in Your Name be sound," started the man to her left. His piercing blue eyes belayed the fact that he was once blind. The Shift may have altered his entire body but it gave him sight. He had already been the Fleshist of the Primitive Shrine before his eyesight had returned. Now there were few, if any, who could match his hands-on medical skills.
"Your Judgment is perfect. Only flesh is flawed," everyone, attendants included, replied.

"The Most Holy Marsh, we beseech you for aid to become worthy of Martyrdom," the prayer continued clockwise. Claw Stevak was a wonderfully skilled medical theorist. Few had come as close as he to discovering the secrets of the System. As cunning as foxes could be he was a special breed of Panthera, it seemed.
"Through deed and word are we found worthy or wanting," everyone, attendants included, replied.

"The Most Holy Marsh, we beseech your Holy Sword so that we may be martyred if found worthy," Sister-Superior Faish'as added. No one at this table had seen as much blood as she had, having been waist-deep in the threshing fields of the Long War as a mere elder child. As a medic-cum-medical prodigy, she had spent her lifetime stitching together emergency casualties before the System ever had a crack at them.
"In Your Service Eternal, in life and death," everyone, attendants included, replied.

"The Most Holy Marsh, may your Justice for Incompetence and Heresy be crushing in both life and death," Lord-Professor Stannis Lotherias spoke curtly, his words tinged with the natural arrogance that came with eight decades of medical teachings. The Shift may have given him his youth back, even if he was chagrined by other things, but that meant his bruising intellect would have decades more to educate the medical community. He had written most of their books before the System was put into place, after all.
"Death to the wicked. Death to the foolish. Death to the Vile Lard," everyone, attendants included, replied.

"For the Holy Marsh, The Great Claw who birthed our eternal souls."
"For the Holy Marsh."
"For the Holy Marsh, The Endless Warrior who leads our souls through the firmament of eternal war."
"For the Holy Marsh."
"For the Holy Marsh, The Eternal Teacher who guides us and moulds us."
"For the Holy Marsh."
"From now until the end of all things and even beyond, Death to the Vile Lard."
"Death to the Vile Lard."

They took sips of water as they all brought up their own data displays and holographic projectsions.

"Claw Stevak, you have the update," Lady-Superior Caine began, beckoning the Panthera to begin.
"I do, Madame," he said as he swiped at his data display. Within moments the information was sent to the two-hundred and sixteen action groups listening in on this meeting. The data also took up the entire holographic display.
"As you can see, KN755-B1 has rapidly expanded across much of the nation. Over six-hundred and eighteen cities have reported outbreaks approaching stage three levels, with thirty reporting stage four levels," he started. The cities that were most concerning were Alserta and Mar'si itself. The number of confirmed infected was rising by the second. They were the most vital cogs in the Eternal War and the worst-case scenario did threaten to destabilize elements of their contributive nature. And Marshites hated it when their contributive natures were disrupted.

"We have confirmation that the Holy Medical System can cure this disease. We have updated the network itself- this cure should be operable globally as of this moment," Stevak continued. Everyone nodded. That was expected. The System had never met an injury, wound, disease, virus, or bio-organic weapon it couldn't overcome. Curing this virus wasn't the real issue, however.
"We are currently placing this at Viral Threat Level Octavia. It does not represent a major risk to the normal operations of the Church just yet. However, it does threaten the stability of the region."
It was true. The Theocracy planned to operate as normal as possible even during long nuclear exchanges and survived annual zombie outbreaks to the point that it wasn't even front-page news. The region wasn't that way, however. They foolishly hoped for more than the eternal pleasure of service to the Holy Marsh and death in Her name.

"This means we have two competing demands placed on us. We must reduce the rate of infection and handle the cases that exist here while also answering a growing number of calls from abroad for transport of the Machines to Shrines across the globe to respond to their own growing crisis," he continued as the details of requests from more than six-hundred and fifteen nations flashed on screen. Each one was home to Marshite communities requesting the dispatch of machines. Thousands of viral infection machines would need to be safely transported globally.
"Based on these projections, we do not have the ability to handle both of these adequately without activating one of the Viral Contingencies."

"I see. Thank you Claw Stevak. Sister-Superior Faish'as, outline what Viral Contingencies you believe are adequate that would allow us to answer calls abroad."

A tall, blonde woman whose formal attire consisted of combat fatigues and body armor stood up. She quickly moved to share the various detailed plans with those here. The details of the plans shifted even as she spoke, as dozens of working groups focused on certain aspects, fine-tuning details in the final proposals until they were locked in.

"I shall do so. First is VC-Gamma. The package includes an emphasis on quarantines and social distancing while the system does it work. We start some Crusades to open up military facilities for quarantine purposes. The rest of the proposal is in the details, submitted here," she said to murmurs of approval. A few dozen Crusading targets were listed as were the likeliest bases for quarantine and a number of projections based on local factors.

"We've used this before, against the Simian Flu. It worked well then. It should work well here."

"In theory, yes. We would need to ensure that we launch enough Crusades to open up enough quarantine space for the likely growth in the short term. And if we fail to get a handle on the situation, we would need to continue many of these programs long term. This will have a negative impact on our ability to conduct long-distance wars. We estimate that it may lead to a total net combative loss rate of two days per five-term," she said with a hint of hesitation. There were growls of disagreement from the assembled delegates. Sustaining a combative loss rate to anything short of the Flesh That Hates was incompetence.

"Patently unacceptable."
That was accompanied by some solemn nods.

The Sister-Superior continued. "Agreed. The second plan, VC-Tango, takes this into account. We aggressively enforce social distancing where possible as well as quarantines, but we also mandate every Marshite get screened at a local Shrine. Since any machine can screen, we should be able to get results quickly. Quarantine and social distance when necessary, cure who we can. But if the rate of infection is too high, we can open up the Ill-Martyr program," ending on a hopeful note, she brought up the location of local mass incinerators and their proximity to outbreaks in the Mar'si Capital Region.

"Good, good. That proved wise during last year's undead outbreak. We can reactive it relatively quickly. I assume...?"

"Yes. We will first approach the ill-elderly and those who can no longer work or fight and are infected, and give them the honor of choosing their place and involvement in the Ill-Martyr program. We will likely have to turn away the vast majority, so we should only approach those who have nothing left to give than their lives," the Sister-Superior affirmed, excited at the prospect of giving them a chance to become Martyrs long after their military and service careers dried up. Old age was a right cock a thousand different ways but the worst fact about it was the fact that you died without being a martyr. At least this gave them something noble to die for.

"Blessed be the Martyrs."
"Blessed be the Martyrs."

"In the worst-case scenario, the Militia can activate their defense drills and cull the infected alongside the program. We can consider it preparation for this year's undead outbreak," she ended hopefully. Nods all around. The Militia would appreciate the training if it came to that. Hopefully it wouldn't.

"Death toll ranges?"
"Hard to imagine it passing into the seven or eight digits. Even six digits, honestly."
"VC-Tango it is. Implement it immediately, on the order of the Arch-Bishop. We will answer foreign calls for aid alongside our internal response based on priority order. This meeting is finished. For the Holy Marsh."

"Death to the Vile Lard."

[Eitoan]

Republic of Eitoan
Department of Health

Notice of Health Watch

A Health Watch is announced with regard to the virus known as KN755-B1. The provisions of this Health Watch as detailed in this Notice are in effect immediately in all territories of the Republic, under the auspicies of the Department of Health.

As understood through news coverage, and in discussion with authorities in effected states, this recently discovered strain, commonly known as The Panooly Virus is a fast spreading and dangerous pathogen, requiring top priority of treatment and mitigation in the Eitoan health system. Measures to be implemented under this Notice include provisions for testing, evaluation, and quarantine. Collateral issues of research, development, and pharmaceutical distribution will be covered in less detail, to be amended as the pattern of viral distribution develops.

Specific actions under this Notice of Health Watch are:

A) Prohibition of Entry to All Non-Citizens
All land borders are closed to entry for non-citizens. This will be enforced at all airports, seaports, and land border crossing points. This provision is in effect for 30 days, subject to extension or revision by the Department of Health.

B) Testing and Quarantine of Returning Citizens
All citizens returning to Eitoan will undergo testing and potential quarantine for 12 days upon return. Testing will be performed by the Department of Health, and those citizens requiring quarantine will be hosted in facilities designated by the Department of Health.

C) Import Cargo
All imported goods will be decontaminated upon delivery at the border, airport, and seaport facilities, and certified by the Department of Health. Inspected products determined to be insufficiently processed shall be destroyed in a sanitary manner by the Department of Health, at cost to the shipper.

D) Testing of Individuals
All current patients at both Primary and Specialty Hospitals will undergo testing under Department of Health Guideline QV-6. Those testing positive for KN755-B1 will be quarantined at designated facilities until testing negative for KN755-B1. Patients visiting clinics will undergo similar testing, and will receive notification of test results and quarantine instructions. This also covers inmates of jails and prisons, and patients in custody at insane asylums. This also covers dental patients.

E) Quarantine at Home
Those clinic patients notified under Provision D above will quarantine at home for a period of 12 days. This provision is enforceable by all local authorities.

F) National Testing Program
The Department of Health will roll out as soon as possible home testing for the KN755-B1 virus. Families where a member has a positive result will quarantine at home for a period of 12 days.

G) Military Coverage
All branches of the military will perform testing and quarantine under the direction of the Department of Health. This includes forces posted overseas.

H) Pharmaceutical Resources
Pharmaceutical manufacturing and distribution channels are directed to prioritize development and provision of medicines related to the KN755-B1 virus under the standard licensing agreements of the Department of Health

I) Research Task Force
The Department of Health establishes the Panooly Virus Research Task Force. Chair of the Task Force is Bertram Wyvag M.D., of Divernon Territorial University. The Task Force has authority under this Notice to requisition personnel, facilities, and resources as it determines necessary.

J) Cooperation With Foreign Research
The Department of Health will approve and compensate foreign entities, including research institutions, individuals, government agencies, and private businesses for research, development, and distribution of remedies as deemed appropriate by the Research Task Force and the Secretary of Health.

K) Social Distancing
We recommend that work teams, classes, and social gatherings be limited to 25 or fewer participants.

L) Local Conditions
The Governors General of each territory may institute further restrictions on activity under this Notice.


Cari Keir
Secretary of Health

[Erythrean Thebes]

OSC Safe Zone, Ganjali City
Democratic Republic of Pratulia
Day 40


The Safe Zone wasn't so safe anymore. Blood, death, and the chaos of battle were making a terrifying spectacle all around. In spite of the OSC's multi-battalion COIN sortie into the city red zone just days before, intelligence' fears of a weekend attack on their base had come true. Insurgent mortar teams had advanced to positions a mere 200 meters from the perimeter, likely overnight, and now explosive shells were streaking through the soft fabric surface of the base's tents and shelters. The panic was so intense that it was easy to slip unawares of the attacking gunfire, clacking out of cheaply produced assault rifles and the barrels of old marksman's guns. The mostly unprepared force of international peacekeepers now had to scramble their way through a hailstorm of destruction to try and fend off the oppressors embedded in dense jungle foliage and rocky outcroppings that faced the base from across painstakingly flattened grass. Several IFVs tore across the yielding terrain of the outpost, swerving, blaring their horns, and starting and stopping as they tried to hasten to the rescue through crowded mobs of disorganized soldiers.

"Private Parchos!" his voice was flickering in and out against the pounding mortar shells but across the madness the Lieutenant still managed to make eye contact with the frightened Theban peacekeeper, pumping his arm to try and get the soldier mobile while a huge bulbous artery was pumping inside the left-hand surface of his temple. "Over here son!"

Parchos wasn't feeling too good. The sudden cold he'd gotten after a night of drinking had turned into something worse. His limbs felt weak and his joints ached like he had spent the entire day at PT. A nasty headache exacerbated his blearying vision and the feeling that he couldn't concentrate. He gasped for breath as he trundled through the whizzing lines of traffic to get towards the perimeter where his company was massing their firepower against the menacing terrorists. "Sir, I-" he started but was prevented from finishing by a rush of dizziness that took out his legs and dropped him onto one side.

"Pineapple Company!!" the Lieutenant facing away from Parchos bellowed his well-conditioned voice into the flood of soldiers, looking for the other stragglers. Suddenly he noticed the apparent casualty, grimacing to himself as he lay beside the officer's feet. "Parchos, what the hell is wrong with you soldier!?" his face was practically disgusted at the display of incompetence.

The Theban moaned with his face looking paler than ever. "Oh Lieutenant, urp!" his hand shot to his stomach and clenched at the coarse material of his armored vest as if he had just been penetrated. "I feel sick!" Bleeting a high-pitched whine an enemy mortar flew down from the sky and pounded the grass not 15 meters from where they stood. The Lieutenant's ears rang with blinding pain and uncovering his arm from his face he looked again at the flagging soldier with a face of confusion. "Duncan!" he yelled to his corporal who was standing nearby with binoculars fixed on the hostile treeline. Waving with his arm he brought the Corporal over to the sudden casualty.

"Ohhhh!" Parchos heaved and he weakly turned his head in time to cough out a slimy green puddle of bile that dribbled down his chin and disappeared into the crevices of the tropical grass. His eyes, lacking focus, looked psycho as if he could be about to scream with sheer horror. Then they closed as the private was wracked with agony.

"Corporal, help me...yeah, there we go." Duncan took the man's feet while the Lieutenant hoisted Parchos up from the shoulders and together they began to trot off to the medical tent, steadily making their way through a dwindling race of combat and support personnel. Parchos' pale face regarded the battle scenes around them with a dreamy gaze that seemed immune to the adrenaline-fueled chaos consuming their base. "Oh my god I feel sick..." he sighed and closed his eyes again.

"We've got one coming in!" Corporal Duncan yelled over his shoulder and got the attention of the triage staff who quickly wheeled a bed over and joined hands to plop the infected peacekeeper onto his back. "What's his condition?" the physician calmly began to attach a cuff and IV to Parchos who appeared to be clenching his entire face.

"I don't know what happened to him," grimaced the Lieutenant. "One minute he was heading towards the perimeter and then all of a sudden he fell down and started puking."

"Sir his blood pressure is 83/47, temperature is 103.8." The note of apprehension in the assistant's voice was poorly concealed. "Pulse is 112."

With gloves on his hands the physician carefully grasped the back of Parchos' head and turned his face from side to side, very tenderly checking his complexion and his pulse. "Parchos can you hear me?" he asked in a clear voice and the soldier moaned in response. "Parchos are you in pain right now?" he asked urgently.

"Ohh, my stomach..." the Theban sighed, opening his eyes to look down at his heavily swaddled belly.

"We need adrenaline in case his heart rate declines," the physician snapped to his assistant. "Get me a calcium solution for his taychardia and bring me the methadone." Thinking to himself he remarked out loud "we need to get him out of his equipment. He has some kind of serious infection," he said to the two officers, "he appears to be going into septic shock."

"Food poisoning?" Corporal Duncan asked perplexed.

"His in your hands doctor," the Lieutenant nodded curtly. His hard eyes flashed at the medic and for a single moment they seemed to weaken. "I need to get back to the fight. Corporal," he saluted his compatriot, "bring me an update as soon as you can." He turned and hastened out of the tent.

"It's something much more serious than food poisoning to be causing him shock." The supplies were brought and the doctor immediately began hooking a bag of painkiller into the IV. "Here, Parchos, can you open your mouth for me?" The Theban's cracked lips seemed to release a foul stench as they yawned apart and the physician stuck a white capsule into his mouth and closed him back up. "Here, I'll get you some water," he nodded to his assistant.

The Corporal frowned as he looked down on their suddenly incapacitated companion. Something about the way Parchos' gently wriggled in pain made the officer's skin crawl. "Something that could spread around the base?" he asked of the doctor, who shot him a dark look.

"We have to assume that it's contagious." Gently he once again tilted the soldier's head to the side, raising up the chin where dried green bile remained spewed across the surface. "If I were going off of this, I would suspect organ damage because of the bile - there also seems to be some blood mixed in. But then he should have a much lower heart rate..."

"Doctor..." the assistant looked up dreadfully from funneling the patient water. "There is one thing that it could be. If it were KN755..."

For a few moments, Parchos' electronic pulse on the cardiogram was the only sound between the three of them. "It will definitely show up on the blood sample." The doctor sighed a weighty sigh and his countenance drooped. "But how was he exposed?"

It was Duncan's turn to feel a sudden rush of dizziness and fever as his brain almost literally jolted recalling the memory of their foray into Ganjali City just a few days before. In several of the houses they visited they had encountered sick and elderly who were lying in bed. In one home there had even been a room of several people ill and resting together. In the moment and doing their duty they hadn't thought anything of it. But now Corporal Duncan felt a terrible foreboding as he saw his squad-mate lying before him on the hospital cot. "Doctor," he said, interrupting the two men's conversation. "I may know where he got this virus. On Wednesday he and I were together when we went out into the city for the COIN op. There were a couple houses we visited that had sick locals inside..."

"Did you notice anything about them that seemed like it would be the zombie virus - incoherent, mumbling, restless, tremor, or cough-"

"I mean..." Duncan tried to recall. Most of them had just been lying or sitting in bedrooms, and it wasn't that out of the ordinary for them to stare or even glare at them as foreign soldiers. But he did recall one house where the man had been pacing back and forth in his bedchamber. The man who let them inside even said that his father was not to come out because he was sick. And the others they had seen, they too looked pale and disheveled. "They seemed a little off, yeah."

The doctor frowned. "Parchos? How are you feeling?" The soldier opened his eyes and squinted at the medic. "Is the pain any better now?"

The Theban sighed. "It's a little better but it still aches all over..."

"We're running tests on your blood sample right now. It's going to tell us what's going on with you so that we can find the right medication and get you well again. Just try to relax..." Outside of Parchos' vision the doctor looked at the cardiogram and frowned. 89/40 was a low blood pressure.

"You think it's the zombie virus?" Parchos looked pitifully at the medic who could only keep a straight face. "There's a vaccine for it now so you'll be just fine. There's nothing to worry about." Everybody knew about the new B1 mutation already. Nobody said anything.

"What should I tell the Lieutenant?" Duncan asked of the medic, and privately he urged him with his face not to hold back the truth. The doctor grimaced sympathetically. "We won't know much until we get the bloodwork back. For now his vitals are stable and that's how we're going to keep them. Now if you'll excuse me I need to see to other patients."

It went without saying that Duncan was scared for himself, potentially infected with the deadly virus. It went without saying that he was afraid of a pandemic, concerned for how helpless they would be and what they could possibly do to protect themselves if there was an outbreak in their little base far from their homelands. But in that moment, he was mostly just despaired of how unfair it was, being attacked by something smaller than you could even possibly see.

[Eothasia]

[Strala]

Village of Wēi shān, Northern region of Dōnghǎi province
Day 1

The birds always sounded far in the distance, coming from the sprawling forests of Wēi shān made Liú Bǎo Ruì smile. It had been years since he had come home.

A car trudged on the narrow and steep mountain road, a suitcase tied over the top of the hood. It was a bright day. Inside the suitcase were many books which were precious for a small village like his, where families fortunate families like his cousins and most of the other villagers didn't have any formal education. The Chairman had sent out many teachers, but many remote and small villages were neglected. With these teachers came the soldiers and schools, and for those remote from civilization — in a diverse country where the remote was destroyed or changed — it meant loss of tradition.

Many of the surrounding forests had been destroyed, as low land farmers began to expand their fields. It left the hunters and his people with less of their traditional lands. These lands had been protected by his people for generations, yet in recent years much of the younger generation had left. This mass migration hadn't caused the forest to be destroyed by farmers. Not directly, at least. Rather, it was the product of 'the mass migration,' the younger generation. Of course, some had stayed and had attempted to protect their lands. Those who stayed, however, were those that couldn't do well beyond their small village. There was no better way to describe them. Although they looked similar to others in their generation, this was only true in a very abstract way. Most of those who stayed were either crippled or didn't do well in school. They were nothing more than simpletons that had stayed due to no other choice.

He had been lucky that he had scored high enough in the Gāokǎo to apply for a foreign college. He knew that the others had been jealous of him for scores. After all, he had been accepted by a foreign college, which was superior to most of its Stralian counterparts. He knew that the wealthy would pay obscene amounts of money to ensure their children could enter a foreign college. His brother had offered to pay off his debt, as he had made a fortune in day time trading.

Alas, his thoughts were ended as the car stopped and he was told to pay his driver 20 denarii. He exited and untied his suitcase. Too heavy to carry for long, Bao Ruì dragged the suitcase into the village...


...Yu Yan looked at the villagers who had gathered at the wooden bridge just outside of Wēi shān. The sun was coming down and on most days that would bring misery, the cold mixing with the lack of light. Today, though, Wēi shān was celebrating. After years of waiting, Liu Bao Qí had finally arrived back home. Liú Bǎo Ruì was the pride of the village as he was the first to enter college among their tribe, and she couldn't help but smile as she saw him.

Yú Yàn was tall, had black hair, warm brown eyes, a pretty smile and was considered desirable by many of the bachelors of the village. It didn't take long for Liu Bao Qí to look at his childhood friend. His face brightened considerably and flashed her a warm smile. He had become more handsome She thought to herself as he became closer. It was true, Liú Bǎo Ruì had changed from his lanky self to a somewhat good looking man. The villagers had come from all across the town. Some had food and clothes in their hands, others had just come to check on the commotion.

The years had changed her, as well. The last time Liú Bǎo Ruì had seen her, she was still going through her changing period. She had become more beautiful and confident.

Eagerly, she ran forward and embraced Liú Bǎo Ruì. In this eagerness, they never heard the sneeze of another returning student



Village of Wēi shān, Northern region of Dōnghǎi province
Day 3

Liú Bǎo Ruì was writing a letter in his parent's house, though it was difficult for him to concentrate as Yú Yàn was lazing around in his room. He had been accepted for an orthopedic surgery residency at the Stralian First Hospital, located in Dōngjīng, the capital of Dōnghǎi province. It was a metropolis of over 30 million in population.

He was excited to go to his residency, having enjoyed urban life a lot during the past four years. But, it was a long drive from Wēi shān and he needed to write to his brother, who had set up an apartment for him and his family, to inform him of when he would arrive. He planned on bringing Yú Yàn along with him. His parents were fond of her and her parents had accepted him, so it shouldn't have bothered her family that much.

It was noon by the time he was done writing, yet there was still time for him to explore the village with Yú Yàn. The village hadn't changed much over the years and there were many familiar faces, and he waved and greeted them as he walked past them. There was an outlier, however, among the crowd. There seemed to be several men in hazmat suits, standing near a coughing man. This reminded him of the KN755-B1 being reported in Holy Paloony. It sent shivers, and he rushed back home with Yú Yàn. Once he reached the safety of his house, he immediately told his family and Yú Yàn to start packing. Once they finished he took out the family's car and began driving away from the village. What he didn't know, was that in a day the village and the surrounding regions would be locked down and quarantined.


Village of Wēi shān, Northern region of Dōnghǎi province
Day 6

Arriving at Wēi shān from the Ft. Yingtan of Dōnghǎi, Lǚ Bù, and his comrades formed a ring around the village. They were the last to arrive since the 1st special warfare battalion had been ordered to form a ring around this village ago. Knowing that he would have to stay here for at least two weeks, he hadn't thought much of it. After all, it was common for a platoon of the SPLAGF(Stralian People's Liberation Army Ground Force) to have training missions or propaganda visits in rural areas. They weren't told much about this operation, though they were told to stop anyone attempting to leave, and if they didn't comply they were to open fire. They were also forced to wear Hazmat suits or facemasks if they weren't given a Hazmat suit.

He wasn't planning on anything serious happen, though it was strange how many people were coughing and sneezing. He had seen medical records, and no one had any serious ailments and they were told by the doctor that treated this town that everyone had gotten the flu shot. What exactly was causing them to be this sick?



City of Dōngjīng , Southern region of Dōnghǎi province
Day 7

"How have you been?" he asked, as he helped him carry his luggage. Liú Jiā Jiān looked imposing as always.

"Brother! I have so much to share with you," responded Liú Bǎo Ruì. He had just arrived in the city and his brother had already been there ready to pick him up. He was relieved. He was afraid that his brother hadn't received the message yet. he was smart, he enjoyed talking to her, and as far as he could tell he enjoyed spending time with his family. He was also somewhat of an inspiration for him.

He smiled. "I'm glad that you've arrived. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"No, why?" he asked.

"You haven't heard?" he replied.

It was his turn to frown. "No. What should have I heard about?"

"You went to Wēi shān when you came back from college, right?" They were walking toward his brother's house. Screens hanging from the ceiling were playing the news. There were some clips of soldiers holding guns, then of a town that could have come from anywhere in rural Strala, but it was not thatLiú Bǎo Ruì was paying attention to. His attention was fully on His brother.

"Yes," he answered. Worry crept into his voice, he was quite sure what his brother was talking about. It had to be the sick villagers, right? Was there an outbreak of some disease? "That's right. Can't you tell with our parents and Yú Yàn with me."

His smile changed to a frown. He said, "I'm sure you already know, but the village of Wēi shān and its surrounding regions have been locked down. There have been rumors of a KN755-B1 outbreak in the village, the government, however, hasn't confirmed whether or not that is true. Wasn't there anyone sick when you were there?"

"Yes," he said. "But, it seemed they were displaying signs of the common cold, but KN755-B1? How did it get there?"

Anita nodded. "I don't know, but there have been rumors of bodies being burned on the spot."

"Burned? How bad could this be?" he asked.

"Very bad," his brother replied. "Very, very bad. Now gather your things and let's head inside my house. Tomorrow I'll send someone over to help you get your new apartment set up."



Barbakán Village of Wēi shān, Northern region of Dōnghǎi province
Day 10

"Tell them they must return to their homes," shouted Lǚ Bù to one of the privates. Lǚ Bù was eyeing the crowd with his hands on his weapon, muttering, 'what a shit show' under his breath.

The soldier repeated theLǚ Bù's words, to the perimeter guards that had been approached by a large mass of locals seeking to leave the village in search of medical care. It started with a few families, but it ended up the entire community was congregating outside. They went back home to sleep and eat. The soldiers forming the quarantine had been reinforced by the 3rd Stralian Mechanized Infantry Battalion, to ease the burden. The virus had spread quickly and the scant medical infrastructure in the county was insufficient to treat so many of the sick. It wasn't just this village acting this way, hundreds of other small communities in the region were reacting the same.

Thankfully it was just the locals who were falling ill. None of the soldiers had gotten sick yet. The high command had heard about what had happened in Holy Paloony and had ordered all soldiers to remain ten feet away from any villagers. There were special units that were separated from the rest of the battalion, that were tasked with dealing with locals and burning dead bodies. There was a pay boost for those willing to do those tasks though it wasn't anything drastic. It was a slight pay increase of 4000 denarii, nothing more.

"Thank the snake I'm going back to base tomorrow," said the soldier to the other one sitting next to him.

The other frowned. "Lucky you," he said, "I still have to be here for another two weeks."

"They'll probably shave a few days off of my break at Dōngjīng. You know how the party does it. They always get you with the 'processing.' They say the administration here is the worst. Try to screw you on overtime is what I've heard," he said, with air quotes around 'processing.'

Xījīng, Capital of Strala
Day 11

The premier of the State Council of the People's Republic of Strala's image flickered on to the screen. His image was being watched by billions everywhere.

"Good morning, comrades and citizens of Xījīng, and our other comrades throughout Strala. The rumors of what you have all heard and feared have been confirmed. A new viral infection, the one that had originated from Holy Paloony, has silently spread throughout the northern regions of Dōnghǎi province. We are a center of commerce and industry, our manufactured goods and planes can be seen anywhere, and where that may be a good thing during normal times, this has acted badly for us. Our patient zero is a comrade from the village of Wēi shān, who has caught this dread disease during his stay at Holy Paloony."

"As a result," he continued, "our glorious chairman has announced decree of emergency, the first since the War against Imperial restoration. Execution of the decree has been given to the central committee and all local authorities must quarantine and restrict their citizens as seen fit by Central Committee. If the situation in the local region won't be benefitting in the Central Committee's plans, then local authorities are encouraged and authorized to act as they see fit. The Stralian People's LIberation Ground Force will be patrolling all highways and will enforce the law in remote areas. Furthermore, the People's health department will make available 40 billion denarii emergency funds to distribute test kits and invest in the development of a vaccine."

"We are exploring further funding. Our glorious Charimain reaffirms His commitment to His people and guarantees that this viral threat to the integrity of the People republic's security will be contained and defeated, like all others," the Primer elaborated. 40 billion denarii would be enough, truth be told, the reason the government was pumping more money into the development of the vaccine, is for the prestige that would come along with it. It was also to ensure that the workforce would still work at acceptable levels.

"We must remember," continued the premier, "that although this new virus, the Panooly Virus as many in other nations are calling, is spreading very quickly, it is not the first time that we have faced such outbreaks and won. Thirty years ago, we faced the snake flu, which had a fatality rate of thirty percent, and killed twenty million. In two years, we had completely eradicated the disease. This new virus is less deadly and the chances of it killing you are minimal."

This was true partly true. In the rural areas, where many did not have access to adequate medical attention and where the authorities were hardly able to contain movement, the death rate was near 20 percent. Though the SCP won't ever admit it, as it would make them the international laughing stock. They also wouldn't state how soldiers are ordered to mercy kill those that aren't recovering.

"We are Strong. However, we warn the people of Strala of what is coming. To contain this virus, all citizens are ordered to wash their hands carefully for at least 20 seconds. Lockdown might happen if the situation worsens" finished the premier.

[/quote]

[The Macabees]

Tunaya Bisa, Satrapy of Holy Panooly
Follows from Stevid's post, here.

Mr. V, as the people of Tunaya Bisa knew him, looked over the dozens of camps that dotted the Astratii Frontier around the town. His job had never been as difficult as it was now. Even in the very beginning, when he and his fellow contractors from Tarn Defense Solutions had first claimed this land in the name of their sponsor, Navitek. Since then, managing this land had been easy. The construction giant had created an immediate demand for labor with its enormous canal project that cut right through the isthmus, and the living communities built for the workers from coast to coast were new thriving centers of commerce. Content with the stability in the area, the Golden Throne had left Navitek and its private army to its own devices, as long as they all acknowledged the Imperial Bureaucracy's supreme authority. That authority had always been relatively lax.

The situation had changed. These camps had never been here before. Tunaya Bisa was a long ways from the canal and, although there was a boom in infrastructure investment throughout Jumanota, this town was not exactly known for its hot job market. Its main purpose was as a minor entry point for local Astratii goods to come in from the north, while local Jumanotan goods were moved north. Tunaya Bisa was nothing like the larger border cities, which dominated the trade routes between Jumanota, the Satrapy, and Adaptes Astrated. Yet, there were tens of thousands of newcomers piling into poorly planned tent camps every day.

Mr. V sighed. There were not people interested in making a life in Tunaya Bisa or contributing to it in a meaningful way. Most were here temporarily, waiting to cross the Frontier into Astratii. On the other side, Astratii officials had closed the border. There was a rising tension and Mr. V knew that the recent murders and the escalating thievery was only the start of the troubles that were to come.

Standing atop a hill from which he could see the town, the outlying camps, and much of the countryside on either side of the Frontier, Mr. V turned to look at a cloud of dust following a convoy of trucks and armored vehicles approaching from the southwest. It was a Tarn Defense Solutions column, sent to reinforce the small garrison that was becoming quickly overwhelmed with the task of securing the refugee communities.

It wasn't just that there thousands of new refugees. This trend produced problems, some of them very grave. Crime was up. Violence of all sorts was up. The Astratii refusal to allow refugees to cross the border added tensions of its own. But, it was that many of these people were sick and that there was now a great fear of illness that caused the most critical problems. Those who coughed or sneezed, those too weak to move, were ostracized and stealing. Some were coming up dead. Many of the dead were murdered, others were typical of ritual killings. Local customs and myths were still deeply believed by the majority of Panoolies. Human sacrifices, especially among the ill, were common. In societies like these, that had gone without modern medicine for so long, that sort of ritual murder could prevent more widespread outbreaks. But, it went against what the civilized world considered moral.

Understandably, a lot of pressure had come on him in recent days. Command in Limpaxa, the local municipal capital, had started looking over his shoulder. Other local 'project managers,' as people like Mr. V were known, had come under a similar degree of scrutiny. Navitek was growing restless as the costs of maintaining stability were growing. They had started to refuse to foot the bill beyond a certain point. Tarn Defense Solutions had decided to increase the intensity of its patrols near the Frontier and expand its personnel operating in the crossing points, but TDS had bottom lines like any other business did. And both them and TDS were concerned of greater imperial involvement.

Mr. V had to make sure Tunaya Bisa didn't become a flashpoint, or it could be his job on the line.

As he pondered how exactly he was going to survive this outbreak, and wondering whether to be taken by the virus was better than losing his job, he groaned as he saw a group of hundreds of Panooly refugees approach one of the border barriers en masse. Bringing the radio to his mouth, he gave one more sigh before issuing orders to his men waiting for approval to intercept below.



Panooly City, Satrapy of Holy Panooly
Follows from the OP, here.

"Joao Bagamba has tested positive for KN755-B1," said the man, as he read the newspaper's front-page headline.

The small crowd around him had fallen silent. Bagamba was beloved by most of the people of Panooly City. He had survived the first outbreak, had been a known commander during the revolution, and had been hand-picked by the Macabéan emperor to rule his people. The love for him had not significantly wavered even as the war against the Hakara Hunters was getting worse.

Conditions in the city had deteriorated significantly, even in the past few days. The new 'sickness' had spread quickly, almost as quickly as the first one. It was less deadly, less horrific, but it still caused its own chaos. Those with their own homes shut themselves in when they could, while those who lived in the shanties huddled together beneath their flimsy metal walls, and those with no homes at all were left abandoned in the streets. Few volunteers worked the soup kitchens any more. Any spirit the community had started to build in these troubled times was quickly unraveling. The only thing people did anymore was fight, as the Hakara Hunters intensified their attacks on the shanty towns on the city's fringes.

To escalate matters further, the Macabéan emperor had ordered his soldiers in the country to assist the Aboma in enforcing the laws. There were already millions of foreign soldiers on Panooly soil, but now they were manifesting themselves in the peoples' everyday lives, manning roadblocks, administering tests, and taking on law enforcement contracts. It wasn't just the capital that was living under this new order, but all of the municipalities in both the northern and southern prefectures of the country. These soldiers hid behind suits of armor that protected them from the 'sickness,' much like these same suits had during the first outbreak. And, just like the first time, with them also came misery, as Panoolies were subjected to quarantines, curfews, and all sorts of hindrances as they tried to navigate a terrible life as they always had. The only good they did was defend the people from the Hunters.

In these times, the death of their beloved leader would make cause for great mourning. But, as of now, he was only ill. The ancestors would surely spare him, thought those people standing around the man with the newspapers. They and the gods could never take such a man from them, not in this era of need.

For, if they did, there would have hell to pay.



Huerta del Lobo, Territory of Levante
Follows from Holy Marsh's post, here.

Sweat rolled down Ana de la Cueva's forehead, but it wasn't from working hard. She had started feeling sick days ago and the illness was getting progressively worse. The detective was sure she had a fever, but she was ignoring the facts for as long as she could. Alone in her car, she closed her head and took a deep breath. Then, she put the mask over her head and stepped out.

Her employer, Autoridad Santomago, had sent her to the city's Experience Shrine to facilitate permission for access to vital information and intelligence related to hundreds of outstanding hate crimes under the contractual jurisdiction of Autoridad Santomago. It was the shrine itself that had this data. Rather, it was held by the various Marshite defense organizations that had formed to defend the Marshite communities in Levante. They operated within the same realm of Autoridad Santomago. But, whereas de la Cueva's employer took more of the criminal contracts due to their relationship with the imperial government in the territory, the Marshite organizations took on civil claims issued by the same victims. Frustrated at the slow pace of the criminal investigation and from feelings of helplessness, the civil contracts were a loophole that allowed the Marshite communities to pursue the arrest of the defendants.

Above certain financial thresholds, civil contracts gave the enforcers legal permission to restrain the defendant by means of physical means. The law, however, required the enforcer to take on the costs of contracting the defendant's holding to a third-party specialist. Autoridad Santomago, a company large enough to operate four jails, twelve holding blocks, five luxury holding blocks, and Huerta del Lobo's sole maximum-security prison, was one such specialist. Still, there were some wheels to grease. The Marshites were growing defensive as the violence against them escalated. Ana didn't blame them, she would be doing the same.

The mask she wore helped to protect her and, at this point, others. She figured she had already contracted the disease. Her cold was getting worse. Her head burned. Ana walked precariously.

Walking inside the Shrine, she was approached by an attendant. "I'd like to speak to someone who can help me regarding several crimes committed against members of this shrine," she said, holding up her badge that read S.A. and displayed the organization's aggressive logo. "I'd like to solve these cases as much as your community would, believe me."

Her head was becoming increasingly cloudy. She swayed a little and coughed loudly, bringing up her hand despite the mask that covered her face entirely.



Monte del Pastor, Territory of Nuevo León
Follows from Eothasia's post, here.

The single HIM-TAC followed the narrow, muddy road through the dense jungle brush toward the small cluster of buildings not too far in the distance. There was a collection of perhaps six dozen homes, as well as some other buildings belonging to the local administration and other organizations. All of them stood inside a tall double-layered metallic fence interrupted only by two gates, each of which was controlled by guard stations armed by imperial soldiers. This was a Pueblo Nuevo, as the government called it. Thousands of these dotted the landscape, along with towns and cities in which the territory's population was accounted for and separated from the guerrilla forces who lived in the deepest crevices of the jungle.

Reaching the gate, the HIM-TAC's driver presented papers to the soldiers there. After being allowed through, the vehicle drove to one of the smaller buildings. Its sign read 'Amaria Aid,' one of the various foreign aid organizations that come to help the civilian population of Nuevo León affected by the ongoing counterinsurgency campaign in the region. The war was no longer as bad as it once was and it was increasingly restricted to the area directly along the southeastern border with Guffingford, but around the Nuevo Pueblo of Monte del Pastro the violence was still bad. The village's people relied on aid stations like this one, waiting outside the various aid organizations' small offices here, where they distributed a limited number of ration cards administered to them by the imperial garrison. These cards gave villagers permission to leave the Pueblo Nuevo in the morning to visit Amaria's camp in the hills.

The HIM-TAC wasn't here for matters that concerned the guerrilla conflict, though.

Parking in the small lot next to the building, three soldiers stepped out of the vehicle. One, the driver, waited by the vehicle. The other two, an officer and his attendant, went inside. Both wore uniforms with the insignia of the Golden Throne, including badges distinguishing them as military police.

"Good morning," greeted the officer, speaking to the person manning the station's front desk.

"I'm looking for Carina..." he had trouble pronouncing her last name, hoping the Amaria employee could help.

"Anyway," he finished, "I come on matters of imperial importance. Have her called into town. Tell her to find me at the local garrison."

[Eothasia]

^{Follows from Macabee's post, here}

---

[Main Nation Ministry]

"The year is now in a reality that differs, but is similar to ours. In this universe, there are times where the gods or goddesses are real to some nations of regions beyond imagination. However, there are still life's questions that are ambiguous. One of these mysteries is a threat to humans and other mammals. A virus or plague, which many would not see coming. In the beginning of the year, we had conflict between two powers and raging fires at another part of the world. It was only when life's mysteries had decided to pose a threat to us. It isn't a man or entity for all many can see. But rather, it's invisible to the eye. It's spreads with the purpose of breaking down the life of many.

Today, this threat has caused panic. Even with the lowest morality rate it has, one must remember about the poor souls who had perished to this. Even in a world that has been grasped with fear, the more that we stay together, the more we can survive for our well-being." - Main Nation Ministry (OOC: Read this speech in the voice of Rod Sterling for fun.)

Somewhere in the oceans of Main Nation Ministry, it came from the sky. A bright light in the middle of day. No one in sight. It came from the cosmos, protected in a shell of materials that would weaken when on impact. In a sudden movement, it impacted the waters. It sunk to the bottom. There, it would wait.

Raffia, Outskirts of Main Nation Ministry, Ministry of Regions
Day 8

Ray Campion was on the plane away from Theohuanacu. He wasn't a globethrotter. Just a man who had business to attend to from his home in Raffia to other nations in the multi-verse. The plane had just passed through the rift and he saw Ministry of Regions from his plane window. He had a family he needed to be with in Raffia. Raffia was going through a lot of turmoil. A lot of civil unrest. Now, that he was home, he could help them. The flight unloading was going to be delayed, but he went to a bar in the concourse, where he drank a French 75, while minging with some other tourists. An insurance salesman gave him a business card and agreed to shake hands with him. Campion gave a tip to a cute waitress, who reminded him of his daughter, as he finished up.

As he got his baggage from the baggage claim, he took a look at the screens on the ceiling on the airport. It was the Leader. The Leader of Main Nation Ministry. He gave a patriotic speech, which was being covered and predictably condemned by those outside of the nation by newscasters and commentators. As long as the Ministry didn't declare to have a "democratic" takeover on Raffia, Campion didn't have to worry. Though, the thoughts of the books that many in Raffia would read would be burned with others would still worry him with the lack of information and knowledge, since they carried "ideas of a rebellious nature". Campion was about to head outside to find a taxi, until with a fist over his mouth, he let out a dry cough.

Odd? He thought, as he eyed around for a water fountain. He was fine at Theohuanacu, but he was starting to develop a cough. He had a wheat allergy, but he didn't take anything that had gluten. Maybe it will past?

Victory Square, Main Nation Ministry, Ministry of Regions
Day 10

For many around the nation, things have matured and changed. The Leader was practically ageless. He was a pyschotic teenaged dictator who had a hatred for humanity fueled by mental illness. He hasn't always been like this. He been trying to show compassion towards certain people. Yet, it doesn't seem to matter in the end. He was casually in the middle of looking over issues for his nation in his fancy office. For a dictator with purple hair, it was a common trait that many would use to describe him. A soldier knocked on the door, where the Leader let him in.

"Leader, sir?"
"Yes, what is it? And clean yourself up! You have granola bar on your mouth!"
"Sorry, Leader, sir." the soldier immediately brushed aside the crumbs on the side of his lips. Snacking on the job was visible to him.
"Now, what is it?"
"I have been sent a message to you, concerning some field results in Forest Sector 37." the soldier gave the Leader some paperwork, which the Leader started reading.

"Let me see. Ah. Perfect! Our mosquito population is dwindling at perfect rates, without disturbing the denizens. Good to hear. You may proceed back to your duties." The Leader said, as the soldier exited the room. It wasn't until General Emmanuel Jones entered the room, unannounced. "Leader, sir?" Jones still looked young, though for being in a general uniform and hat, the Leader wondered why no one wanted to ask Jones on a date. Maybe they prefer him in the pink causal jacket? "Yes, Jones? What is it?"
"There has been reports of people in Raffia-"
"Is it the online casino thing that's happening?" The Leader asked, since many people were engaging in illegal gambling with chips from Main Nation Ministry and digital currency that was made from the nation.

"No, Leader. Reports of many in Raffia for having colds. It's some sort of flu season." Jones explained to the Leader, where he raised an eyebrow. "Flu season? No one is getting sick here? Our healthcare is top-notch."
"Raffia is the type of place where it could spread easily. The humid conditions are a major factor."
"Jones, make sure to send news about Raffia to our Ministry of Foriegn Relations, so Truman can sort it all out. "If someone gets a cold, have them go to the hospital. We managed to stop a flesh-eating virus, so this should be child's play." The Leader told Jones, as he adjusted himself in his chair.
"Yes, Leader." General Jones said, as he allowed himself out of the room. To be fair for the Leader, he has been longing for some adventure, but at what cost?

Harrington's Residence, Main Nation Ministry, Ministry of Regions

Princess Keller Harrington was a college freshman at this day of age, but she was her usual self, shaped by the beauty of her mother and the ability to show power by her late and former General Winston Harrington. Winston now lives in her memories as still pictures in frames and shards of the past. Keller had been noting that the Leader had been trying to be a father figure to her, but she simply sees him as a crazed lunatic. She was reading over some books to help with an essay relating to the paranormal, when there was a knock on her door. She moaned in annoyance, making sure that it wasn't the Leader or some lackey of his. When she ended up opening the door, she was caught off-guard to see that it was her boyfriend Jason Masami, a race car driver who happened to be friends with Jessica Madden, along with being
a boyfriend with Harrington. However, Keller's relationship with Masami was more of a tsundere style relationship, despite the fact that Masami didn't seem to care.

"Masami? What are you doing here?"
"Uhh, Keller. I don't know how to say this, but I need some place to stay." Jason said, a bit down on his luck.
"Place to stay, why?"
"I didn't text you this, but some random demon set fire to my house. I was trying to shave, then I smelled smoke from the living room window. Been misbehaving or something for that guy."
"I'm actually feel bad to hear that, Masami. I could let you here, if my mother permits you, though it's only for...reasons not relating to our relationship. Not that it has something to do with anything!" Keller said, showing her nervous side to Masami.

"Don't worry about your mother, Keller. I was going to head back to Madden's place, though both her and her girlfriend was trying to stay avoid attention." Masami said, since some stuff was posted a bit in the news as celebrity-styled gossip. "It's only been two weeks, though."
"I know. But I going to see, if I can stay a bit at some relatives for the month. I heard they might have a race championship in the nation, so I gotta prepare."

Madden's Residence, Main Nation Ministry, Ministry of Regions

Jessica Madden is a woman who has been on the Leader's watchlist for years. She's a musician who attended WorldVision with her band, where while she wasn't the strongest musician, she had shown the nation that overall passion was still all that was needed. Then again, she was someone who was probably one of the sanest people in the nation, even if her weaknesses lived with her. While she was mania depressive (some doctors had said they were unable to diagnosis her as bipolar, despite showing typical symptoms), she lived a comfortable life and made sure to keep herself in check. However, her mood was flaring, due to things that had been happening.

Jessica Madden decided to publicly announce to the public, with the approval of her girlfriend, that she was a lesbain. Response was mixed, though her family on the other side of the nation took it well at the funeral parlor. Some of her die hard fans didn't, especially the fanboys who had a crush on her. Her ex-boyfriends Colin and Brad reacted with surprise, though the latter was trying not to disturb Madden or do something that would upset her by revealing private information. But it's the secrets that she felt were creeping up her that was causing some pain. Especially her girlfriend Charlie.

For both, each of them knew the other's secrets, but they were afraid of discussing it without alienating the other. They were in a loving relationship, so to do something to strain it was harmful. Jessica was in the kitchen, serving some salmon tartare to some party guests for a brief promotion of a new single she announced she was starting. Her overall persona was still there. Even in home, she still wore that pink outfit. She was still young as an idol, even if she was around her early 20's still. "Anyone has one? Alright, it's nice to have you all here. Gerald, you got the cider?" Jessica said, scooting over so that Gerald, her bassist, can pour some cider into some glasses. "Cider, coming through!"

Charlotte Huxley was in the living room, talking with some of her demon friends. For anyone who wasn't aware of what a demon was in terminology in Main Nation Ministry, a demon is usually a creature or a reincarated human being who had arrived from Hell itself. The portal in the forest sector can cause it. Demons are made to look like human beings. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. They can be werewolves, vampires, zombies, squid people, anything that the Ministry can name and make sure they weren't a threat to the human population. Charlotte (who prefers to be called Charlie) was a demon, who appeared as a young woman that shows kindness to Madden. For Madden, Charlie had her own personal scars, though she was more protective towards her. Gerald gave her some cider, which Charlie thanked her.

After the party, Jessica and Charlie were cleaning up at the kitchen, where Charlie had some salmon still left over. "Still some fancy fish for maybe dinner. I hope everyone enjoyed it. I'm not one to do expensive catering like ordering some salmon." Jessica said, as Charlie shallowed a piece of orange flesh from the sea. "You think recording will be good for tomorrow? We might have hyped up the single a bit, even if we hadn't started recording."
"Charlie, it will be fine. The band knows how the song should sound like. We not going to be on a crunch schedule."
"I hope not, because I don't want to pressure you, if we have plans on doing some stuff together." Charlie said, being a bit nervous.
"Charlie, what's wrong?"
"Well.." Charlie's face started to flare up, but she was too nervous about what to say.
"Go on?"
"How about I make it a surprise?" Charlie immediately calmed down, where she wondered if Jessica didn't notice. "A surprise? Is it a gift? Or is it another one of our shenanigans in the bed?" Jessica said, knowing they didn't have sex in a while. "Uhhh..something like that. I just don't want to stress you out, that's all!" Charlie said, checking up the excuse. "Well, I got to get myself ready later-"
"Not today! Uhhh, later this month. Maybe as a reward for a night after you get the single up?" Charlie said, as Jessica was being flirtatious towards her.

What Charlie wanted to do was propose to her. The next step. Show her a fancy diamond ring from a jewelry store in Victory Square, knowing she would like it. Charlie wanted to marry, though there was still so much to get off her chest, even if it pains her.

Somewhere in the Ocean, Outskirts of Main Nation Ministry, Ministry of Regions
Day 18

Among the month, word of KN755 had reached the Ministry, which were linked to cases in Raffia. It was terrifying. However, another form of horror was being uncovered at the waters.

The Captain Trips was sailing on the ocean, as a fishing vessel to get more fish to take back to port. It was today was when the net managed to get something large that had the crew get rid of the fish in the net to see what was so heavy. "The hell is that?" a fisherman said, as in the fishing net was a large spherical meteorite of a grey-black color. Several burly fishermen managed to get it out of the net to see what it was.
"What is this thing? Some sort of space rock?"
"I don't know, but we shou- WATCH OUT!"

In an act of clumsiness, one of the fisherman dropped the rock onto the deck of the ship. It was surprisingly hollow, as it cracked open like a stone egg in front of a worker. Unknown to them all, an invisible threat was exposing the fisherman who was near it. The fisherman let out a cough, as he inhaled it by accident.

"You ok?" a fisherman asked.
"Yeah! -cough cough- Nothing in that rock. I don't see anything in there? Is anyone getting seasick?"

The fisherman was now patient zero of another virus. TSSK-78.

[Mokastana]

Departamento para Control de Enfermedades
(Department for Disease Control)
Cancun, Aztlán, PUF
Day 26

Just yesterday the kríerlord's announcement was heard across the world, but the DCE had been watching the virus for weeks before then. Given the amount of foriegn troops passing through Mokastana at any given time, it was in their best interest to be mindful of the pathogens passing through their visitors. One of their parent agencies, the Biological Division of the Bureau of Secret Affairs, had more intelligence resources to throw at the issue, especially when it came to multiple reports across multiple fronts. The DCE had to use publicly available knowledge to track outbreaks, but the Bureau had “other” ways of learning what was going on. They were able to confirm what was being publicly released, often a few days before it was published. This meant the CDE had some time to prepare for the KN755-B1 outbreak. Prevention was mathematically impossible, especially with how many Macabeean service personnel passed through Mokastana on any given day. Test kits were few and far between, given how new this virus was and its rapid spread rate. The only question now was when, not if, would it hit Mokastana.

---

International Disease Control Organization
Bogota City, El Sur de Gran Mokastana, PUF
Day 26

The IDCO was far from being anything close to an influential regional governing body. Born in the aftermath of the Varathon Blood Fever outbreak, the IDCO was a joint project between The Techno-Induscracy of Haishan and the People's Unified Federation. It was originally introduced as a supplement to the East Dienstani Trade Organisation, but had mostly fallen under the radar. It's members were limited to only a few states spread across the region, who mostly used it to trade basic information on trends and patterns. Up until today, they had no real notoriety, much less political power, but that was all about to change. If the outbreak of KN755-B1 was not the exact scenario it was created for, then it might as well cease to exist.

Yesterday one of the many Kríerlords of The Golden Throne called upon all nations to cooperate to contain this virus. Within hours agencies from the various member states were contacting the IDCO with their own updates and requesting information on what the international response would be. IDCO Director Timothy Medina realized that the world would soon be watching his Organization, and it was up to him to help guide the world through this pandemic, or be left behind. He had to bring the IDCO up to par with its international agency partners, and that would take time. For now, they needed to know what the damage was. The IDCO server banks collected data from member nations, built models, and created an easy portal for agencies from member nations to access the information. The numbers were grim. If the estimated rate of infection was accurate, and it was left unchecked, the virus could infect billions within weeks, while killing millions. It was time to find labs to begin working on treatments, but more importantly, a vaccine. The Salvador Allende School of Medicine was the best 'public' ran government lab he was aware of, but there was one private institution that could easily provide a major lab for the international efforts, a pharmaceutical company just down the street by the name of Montana Incorporated. Within hours, Director Medina was meeting with Antonio Montana himself asking for their help.

PRESS RELEASE FROM THE INTERNATIONAL DISEASE CONTROL ORGANIZATION

Greetings, my name is Timothy Medina, Director of the IDCO. Up until a few days ago, the IDCO was relatively unknown. Even in the last few days the most public we've been is by releasing sanitation guides, and coordinating efforts to provide adequate medical supplies, such as masks and disinfectants, to our more troubled communities internationally.

Traditionally, the job of the IDCO was to coordinate the efforts of health agencies around the world, providing an online web portal for doctors and researchers from across Greater Dienstad to share data and results with one another in real time. A discovery in The Holy Marsh could instantly be aiding efforts in Mokastana, and vice versa.

Today, our goal remains the same, but it's time we expand our partners. I am here to announce a new partnership, between the IDCO and Montana Incorporated. The IDCO will be working with Montana Inc. to use their labs and scientists to create a central laboratory for IDCO efforts. This central lab will not be used to direct the efforts of our member states, but will instead give the IDCO a place to verify and contribute to, the growing efforts of our international community. In addition, upon discovery of any treatments or vaccine, our partnership with Montana Inc will ensure production begins immediately. To dispel any concerns… as this is an international effort, any treatment or vaccine discovered while in partnership with the IDCO will be made available for anyone to produce, as soon as possible. No single nation, or corporation, will have sole rights to produce any IDCO treatments.

---

Salvador Allende School of Medicine
Mokastana City, People's Republic of The Islands, PUF
Day 30

Decades ago, when the Socialist took control of Mokastana, they promised two key things: education and medicine. The Salvador Allende School of Medicine, located in downtown Mokastana, was the pinnacle of both of those promises. Talent from around the world was hired at rates one would not expect from a socialist government, but companies like Montana Incorporated had taught the Socialist how to leverage capitalism to their benefit. The University had tough entrance requirements, ensuring only the best and brightest attended from both local and abroad. Yet, it’s entrance exams were not what made it unique today. The Salvador Allende School of Medicine was one of the key government medical research laboratories in the Federation. All sorts of academic, and practical, research went on inside these walls.

Normally, extremely dangerous pathogens, such as Varathon Blood Fever and its derivatives, were not stored on site. Given the school’s location of being in downtown of the Federal Capital, just a few dozen kilometers from the Government District and next door to the Embassy District, it was an important security measure. However, KN755-B1 was quickly becoming an “all hands on deck” scenario. The first cases were already being reported on various Mokan Islands, with a few possible cases already in Saint Alvido, on the south side of the main island. The infection was spreading far more quickly than initially thought. The first samples were flown in via 'burn boxes' and the school's labs began to work on treatments and tests.

---

Parlamento de La República Popular
Mokastana City, People's Republic of the Islands, PUF
Day 31

So far, the majority of possible cases were located in the People's Republic of the Islands, just one of the five member nations that made up Mokastana. It just happened that the RPI was home to the largest tourist sector of Mokastana as well. Thousands of beaches, hotels, bars, nightclubs, brothels, opium dens, and more were potential hot spots. The local socialist government had been planning for the eventual market crash now that the Macabean war was over and their service personnel returned home, but that plan was to ease the transition to more civilian tourism. A full collapse of the tourism industry was never considered a realistic possibility. At least until now. That night, President Pedro Alverez went on TV and radio to make an announcement:

"As of tomorrow, the People's Republic of the Islands will be closing ports and airports on all islands with significant infections. As part of this measure, I am issuing quarantine orders to the affected tourist locations. International visitors will be not be permitted to travel, however you will be permitted phone access to contact your respective embassies. Cost of food and housing during this crisis will be taken care of by the People's Republic Emergency Fund and the Federation's Economic Disaster Fund.

In addition, any RPI Reserve Guard units not previously mobilized due to the Morridane Crisis will be mobilized to provide security and enforce quarantine during these times. As of tomorrow, medical suppliers in the RPI will be temporarily nationalized to ensure supplies continue as needed. Although food resources have not been nationalized, I would advise all grocery and meal providers to enact limits to ensure food imports can continue to provide for us during these times.

Lastly, after speaking with the Mokan Heads of State Council, and the Security Council, the Federation will soon be ordering all foreign service personnel stationed in the People's Republic to be quarantined on the artificial islands in the Mokan Sea. Foreign bases and supply centers on the mainland and Mokan Islands would be required to evacuate within 36 hours of this coming notice. The Federal military and RPI Reserve Guard can assist in temporarily securing these locations if needed.

For now, we are attempting to contain the current outbreaks, the situation does not call for further nationalization of our nation's recourses. If it did, it would be the Federal government, not myself, speaking to you all today. We have made it through worst, and we will make it through this. Viva la revolution!"

[Blinte]

Blinte would be happily willing to harbor any peoples that must be quarantined.

[Holy Marsh]

Huerta del Lobo, Territory of Levante
Day 24

Ana de la Cueva's entrance did not go unnoticed, though it did go unheeded for a few minutes. Frankly, the few attendants in the first floor were busy, and the Shrine's scanners had labelled her a serious threat or part of a known anti-Marshite group so the guards had noted but otherwise maintained their positions. In time she found herself an attendant who was not as crushed with the demands of the moment. A petite thing, he would normally be one of the more chopper Marshites to meet upon entrance. His bagged eyes and ragged demeanour was instead reflected in his speech.

"I see. Well, we'd like to help you as best as we can. As you can see, however, we are rather...busy. Come with me," he said quickly, noting her organization and story. It was one that checked out with what they had been expecting to happen and the Guards would have had better ideas as to her opposition if it were true. He could trust her.

He led her down into the sub-basements of the Shrine. There were masses of Marshites up top but down here they grew tighter and tighter. So many crammed so close, almost all of them ill. It was a petri dish of impossible illness that near-guaranteed infection, but those who could help were doing so regardless. Supplies were tigt and the situation was grim, but so be it. No cost was too high. In time they made their to the main medical wing, where the Machines were located. Praetor Marcis and Sister-Superior Tasara were there. The Praetor took note of them and approached as the first few Marshites were being led into the Machines to be cured.

"Ana de la Cueva, here to meet you regarding the crimes against us," The attendant said before bowing and heading off. The Praetor looked at Ana and then folded is arms as he leaned against a wall.

"I see. Mrs. Cueva, you'll excuse me for not meeting you topside. We are all hands on deck below here due to this...accidental outbreak, is it?" He scoffed as the Machines whirred to life, fogging up instantly as a faint hum overtook the din. "You don't look well yourself. Infected, I take it?"


-------------------------------------
Thebes

The Shrine was difficult to see if you were not looking for it in particular. It was built into a rockface near the sea, looking very much from a distance like a strange but not entirely unusual raised rock formation near the sea. It was only when you wandered past the private walled-in area, owned by some manner of local preservation society, that you noticed anything strange as you walked along the one marble path. Ponds filled with edible fish in areas linked to the sea, ripe for fishing. A small plot of land that was being farmed- by who, one cannot say. Strange statues that could pass as Hellenic gods but betrayed their foreign nature upon closer inspection. This winding path eventually leads into the single ground entrance to the rockface. Instead of a cave, however, around fifty feet in, one is confronted with a door built into a marble artifice. The door was etched with the symbols of the Marshite Pantheist Shrine, and this was its home.

The main hall of the Shrine was all marble and contained rows of pews facing one God or Goddess or another. A series of side rooms and boarding rooms existed on either side, as did kitchens and open spaces. The same could be said of the second and third floor, though they were increasingly used for administrative purposes. The real action lay below. Like all Shrines regardless of aesthetic intent, the basements were built for a purpose. Medical facilities, armories, command and control centers, bunkers for those who needed protection, food and water supplies, and even incinerators for the dead. It was these factors and not the aesthetic of the Shrine that would matter in the coming weeks. High Priestess Salandra knew so as she peered out from her balcony that overlooked the sea.

This disease had not come as a surprise them. After The Shift, they had been given the gift of foresight to some degree, though it took medication and training to truly handle and understand such power. They had used this power very conservatively, as was their entire lifestyle here. They had come to Thebes as observers and historians, wishing to record as much as they could about the actuality of this place. Their vast histories, recorded in dozens of tomes and re-recorded digitally a dozen times over, had perhaps been the impetus behind the Shift's choice of Gift to them. It had proven prophetic. About a month ago they had started to get visions of a future plague that, in time, would ravage Thebes. It would turn them away from their Temples and in time away from their Faith. As High Priestess of the Pantheist Shrine, this horrified Salandra.

Luckily this did not necessarily need to come to pass. A number of Oracles had honed their gifts to the extent they believed they could find those infected early on, as well as find those who would suffer the most from the viral outbreak. If they worked with the government they could try to halt the spread as best they could and use their system to cure the worst off, should it come to that. They could save Thebes and ensure its history would continue unmolested by interference from abroad. They would retain the strength of their Faith and the Gods would smile upon these efforts.

This was an opinion not shared by all, however. A large number of believers had balked at this. They were intended to be neutral observers documenting Thebes. Interfering with Thebes meant altering the arc of their history directly. Who were they to prevent the will of the Gods, as unknowable as it may be? Not to mention the personal cost involved. The Oracles who would be asked to search using their powers for so long were being damned to immaterialism. They would not live, they would not die. They would be and not be, from now until the end of the immaterial plane as well. There was no Martyrdom for them, only a void they could not properly pierce.

And so the sides had bickered. She had called for a vote a multitude of times as the situation grew worse. She had stated that if one camp had sixty percent of the vote or more, they would assign to it the will of the Gods and move on it immediately. All adult Marshites in the Shrine were required to vote. The first time it had come up, it had been 133-157. Then it was 144-146, 150-140, 16-130, and as of the last vote it had been 170-120. She knew it would be a positive vote this time, even as the door opened and one of the Low Priestesses walked in.

"High Priestess, it has passed by a total of one-eight-seven to one-zero-three. Shall we-" she began before the High Priestess raised her arm in interruption.

"Yes. As agreed upon. Send ten teams of two to local hospitals. Tell them to use the lists the oracles have prepared, Marsh Save Their Souls. Get me King Isandros in communication, so we may speak. I will offer our services in Thebe's time of need," she spoke calmy. Salandra believed they could do a great good even if the cost was high. And was it not their base duty as Marshites to spread the Word and Glory through Deed as well as Word? Their mandate as observers would pass for now. But in time it would return. History was long after all. Any real historian understood that. An observer understood.

"What if the King declines?"
"King Isandros will not. But if the tides speak incorrectly, we will do so anyway until we are forced by them not to. It has been written in the stars that this is our path," Salandra replied. The King was wise and would certainly agree to their aid. If he did not, so be it. They were beholden to forces greater than any mortal.
"Indeed, High Priestess," the Low-Priestess finished. She started walking but stopped, leaving the door open as she cast a glance behind her.

"Speak."

"I agree with our plan, but we only have two machines. Surely that will not be enough."
"No. It will not. We will receive help in the long-term. In the short-term, it is we who will suffer my dear."

---------------------------------
Mar'si, Holy Marsh, Romani-Mar'si Union
Day 27

Mar'si General 33 was one of many hospitals currently overflowing with patients. Staff pushed themselves to the brink and then over, more than a few collapsing from sheer exhaustion. They were replaced by their colleagues and those summoned from other districts and hospitals. This was no different on the sixteenth sub-floor or the first floor or even the fifty-third floor. Many had wards set up for a pandemic, and they were more than a little fully. The twenty-fourth floor was one such area and it showed. In amidst the hustle and bustle were two distinct lines separate from all others. One contained the dead strapped into their gurneys, being led to one of the elevators heading towards the incinerators. The other line was full of patients being herded off to use the Machines, to be freed from their affliction.

The lobby of this floor played host to many different groups of people and a large amount of hustle and bustle. A group of two men and two women sat in the middle, datapads out. They were the Martyrdom Judgment & Deliverance Team, Team 65, dispatched by the Church to enact the Martyred Ill program. Their responsibilities were the 24th, 30th, and 32nd floor, where the largest amount of elderly who qualified resided. In order to qualify, one must be retired, alive, having or about to be having the worst of the virus' effects, and considered a drain on resources. Per their own agreement they were at this point being given only the most meagre of attentions. Medical resources were being spent on the ill who would recover normally so that they may return to their services as quick as possible. The Machines would be used to cure those who would be best served by being cured.

The goal was two-fold. Give the elderly who were about to die anyway a chance to become Martyred, giving them the honorable death that all Marshites lived for. Secondly, they could spend their resources- medical and System related- on this who had more to offer the Church. They had conducted interviews with the lucid and completed their investigations on this floor and sat with cold glasses of water in the sweltering, blazing floor that only promised to get hotter as the first of incineration continued across the city.


"Here are our options on floor twenty-four. We have thirteen candidates, eight who we can Martyr currently. Start at the top? Bottom?" Bhasin, the leader of the four, started. The tallest of the quad this wasn't his first time leading the team into action. They were all opinionated and he let them say their piece. Even those they were planning to say no to deserved their time in their thoughts and prayers. They weren't allowed to Martyr them all. It was a grave thing to choose to Martyr someone who had an entire life to do so and failed. It was considered by some an affront to the Holy Marsh- to send up in glory those who had not earned it. That was for the great theologians to discuss. Bhasin had his orders.

"I say at the top. There are some easy ones, I think," Mishra chimed in positively. Of the four she was the one who looked at this the most idealistically. They were doing these people a great favor, one bullet at a time.
"The former General?" Chatterjee asked. The oldest of them all he was probably excited to ensure his own place in the program should it become a going concern in the future.

"Yes. Yakuda Agate. Sixty service years, multiple commendations. Sterling service record. Led Central Army A-7 in Crusade Group-Mechanized 133 during the Tenth Siege of the Tri-City Blood Harvest."
"Disagreements?" Bhasin asked roundly, but really only to one person.
"No." Raghavan added bluntly. He took his job very seriously. That meant he was the most likely to say no to anyone. They all had turned to him out of instinct, after all.
"Good. Next?"
"I think we can all agree on Sabara Chandra. Excellent service record. Threw herself on a grenade in combat thirty-three years ago. Was severely wounded but was not yet martyred. The System healed her, continued to serve. Was given a medal for heroism and competence, then post-service joined the militia. Respected officer during the Undead Outbreak."
"Objections?"
"No."
"Good. Next?"

"Tasa Sunder and Loria Tectona. Good, clear records, excellent service. Loria has several Cult Priest kills to her name, Tasa is the only known survivor of the Three Rivers Exchange and Siege. She was most desperate to see her comrades."
"Sunder has a good service record but she showed signs of instability a few years after the event. Who are we to say that she deserves Martyrdom when so many around her were chosen instead? Maybe she is not mentally fit enough to truly become Chosen," Raghavan interjected with dissention, as was his want.
"Noted. Vote on Tasa Sunder?" Bhasin asked as he looked around. Only Rhagavan voted against her and Bhasin agreed with the majority.
"By three to one, Sunder is added to the list."

Some time passed as they discussed a few more candidates, including the only non-human on the list. Sadly a few names were crossed off. Dying without Martyrdom was the truest of all tragedies. They weren't damned. They weren't punished. They weren't rewarded for their lifetime of devotion, which was awful enough. Also, Team 65 ran out of water. That was another tragedy.

"Okay. We have one spot left." Bhasin
"Tinus Yadav and Jakorum Levsha. Good men, good solid histories."
"Stanikus Thakur. A few small criminal convictions post-service but look at his service record. Multiple commendations for competency and success. An excellent candidate for redemption."
"Sola Mitra. A deformity and membership in the Primitive Shrine meant she only served a little later in life. However, his farming organization was responsible for much larger yields than the quota demands."

"Yadav and Levsha are wholly unremarkable. If they were worthy of being Martyred they had a military service career, no? Not everyone becomes a Martyr. That is a sad fact. They will have their place in the afterlife. Stanikus makes more sense. His record is amazing. The Khaskhan Star has sat on is chest so long it has probably hurt his spine."
"You're right, but they are flawless and faithful. Stanikus was an excellent soldier for many years, true. But his crimes marred him. There are manye excellent soldiers, but not that many criminals. He is unique more so for his crimes than for his service record."
"And what about Mitra? Her life is not shrouded in glory nor is it the prototypical one, but she has strived her whole life. She is well-deserving of some recognition."
"Is she, though? You were there when she admitted to being angry at the Holy Marsh as a child, when she was unable to join the military due to her condition. Those who lack such firmament are not truly worthy of Martyrdom."
"Well, sir?"

---------

Jakorum Levsha breathed through the pain. The church rang with hymns and once in a while there was the sound of one of his roommates being wheeled off to the incinerators. The pain was unbearable. He could take the pain. His memories seemed to collapse along with his brain but he still had his faith, and that was enough for him. He still had his life and that was the cruellest gift of all. Some officials had come by and spoken to him about his life. They seemed to know everything, including history that this disease had eaten from his mind. They had offered him the chance to become a Martyr. He was hopeful. He had forgotten some of the finer details but he knew that he wanted to be one and that it meant his death.

A gunshot from the next room. He perked up as much he could in his strapped position. "Blessed be the Martyrs," came a small cry from the room. Another gunshot. Another. Each time, "Blessed be the Martyrs."
From the room on the other side- gunshot, gunshot. "Blessed be the Martyrs."

A minute or so passed. The hustle and bustle of nurses had subsided almost entirely. The door opened- he couldn't see them through the sheets, but the sound of their boots was unmistakable. Please, please let them choose me. Please let them choose me.
A gunshot- if his failing memory could place the pieces, was it Loria? "Blessed be the Martyrs," the officials prayed. The patients replied as best they could through their ruptured bodies, "blessed be the martyrs."
They walked past his sheltered position. His heart raced- and then dropped as he felt their figures moved past. Was he not chosen? Please, Holy Marsh, don't let it be true.

A gunshot. "Blessed be the Martyrs," they said and in reply came one fewer voice. The figures walked by him again- they were passing him- and one moved halfway is as several attendants ran by to retrieve the bodies. Jakorum started crying softly, as much as his body would allow. The figure turned, her youthful features obscured by a surgical mask and gloves. She pondered him for a second and drew close, taking his hand in hers and with another gently trailing on the top of his shaking hand. One more gunshot. She looked at him and in unison with the others said, "Blessed be the Martyrs," and he replied through his gentle sobs, "blessed be the Martyrs," the last one in his room alive as Chandra joined the Martyrs. She held onto him a few moments longer before both she and her face let him go and vanished behind the curtain.

Jakorum Levsha was not martyred. He would weep for a while before his body grew too weak. In an hour or two, his mind would be too far gone to really comprehend why he may not have been Martyred. All his mind left him with were the prayers he had uttered throughout his life. The prayers he heard pumped in by the hospital. His eyes would fade, his ears would rot and Jakorum would forget his own identity. But he would not forget his prayers and two days after Team 65 had judged him unworthy, he died with the remnants of prayer on his lips. And minutes afterwards, Jakorum Levsha would be burned unmartyred.

[Erythrean Thebes]

Firebase Hedwig, OSC Safe Zone
Day 41

The EKG beeped out the patient's pulse steadily, the glow of the LCD screen softly radiated out across the columns of cots and stretchers packed into the darkened tent. A layman could have maybe noticed that the beat was fast, the number on the screen would have revealed to many who were familiar with their exercise science that Parchos' heart rate was a brisk 137, well over 40 bpm higher than a healthy adult. His blood pressure showed another clear irregularity at 20 points under 100. But only a specialist would have noticed what was truly disturbing about the patient's EKG. His lack of electrical signal from his left and right atrium and over-pronounced ventricular feedback indicated a serious dysfunction of his sinus node - meaning, in the case of his serious tachycardia, before too long he was likely to have a heart attack.

Only there was one thing that was puzzling the medic who had attended to his case for the last 14 hours with increasing bewilderment. It had now been about 9 hours of abnormal sinoatrial feedback combined with an elevated heart rate of over 120. And in spite of this, the patient was still mysteriously alive.

These developments were alarming to those with the responsibility to care for the man's health, but none of them were apparent to the diseased soldier himself, whose name tag "Pvt. Orechdymies Parchos" heaved mightily up and down with the heavy breathing of his chest, propelled onward by natural forces more instinctual than the Theban's comatose mind. The steady beeping of his imperiled heart rang into his ears but Parchos' didn't notice it. It was part of the scenery just like his native town's grasses, trees, and cirrus clouds that he took warmth and comfort out of seeing all around him yet something about them blended into his journey down the road and nothing really caught his eye. He was riding his bike out toward the farmlands like he was wont to do but suddenly his father was talking to him as they pedaled down the road together.

"Haven't you got into the Royal Academy son, the leadership program?"

He was biking down the road but he wasn't sure where he was going even though his dad and he were headed there, they were turning down the path. He was trying to get his point across to his dad. "I don't have the job they're going to pick for," he said; what he was thinking was that he didn't think Melinda was going to be there, wanting to see his crush from back home again. He wanted there to be a dormitory at the Academy with mahogany furniture where they met instead. He wanted them to have dated for awhile at school and they would probably fall in love and get married. He didn't like the dormitory that much because he was fixated on a copper inkwell on the writing desk and he didn't like it. He never did his homework but it was exciting to go to school.

The headmistress from prep school came into his room but she was dressed like the goddess Hera. He was sorry immediately but he just wanted to be out of trouble and he wanted to explain that he was innocent. He saw the tassels in her hair and the beautiful features of her face that was about 50 years old even though it was dark in the room with only a small window. "There are a lot of mysteries and some of them happen when we're not looking. You've done things that are special without knowing it when you stand by your father and you're loyal to him." He felt like he was tight in his throat like he had lost his voice. "It's not easy. Orechdymie, listen to me. If you give in to fear you are going to die. Hold on to where you are, which is safe. You'll feel better when you're not so worried about getting rid of your innocence." He knew what she meant because he was looking over the hill next to his house and it was that time when he was younger when it was night time and he saw the constellation Kirpithicus. He lost track of what he was doing again.

Then it began. Parchos wasn't aware and nobody knew at the time but this was actually going to go down in history as a turning point in the entire 13 year peacekeeping mission in Pratulia. It began with a rush of coordinated suicide bombings against the base camp's three entry points and just moments after there was another mortar attack and waves of terrorists began rushing the compound with other comrades supporting them from a distance with marksman rifles using thermal rangefingers. The assault was partly a cover for a second wave of suicide bombings that crashed against the compound barricades opening breaches in the chain-link fence ideally which would be large enough to get technicals inside. The advance warning of the attack which had existed was bungled, primarily because the assailants had used an influx of rural refugees streaming into the city to mask their preparations and as cover for the suicide bombings. The OSC forces sprang into action to repel the attack but they were hard pressed, and compared to the previous day's onslaught they were outgunned and in danger of being overwhelmed.

"Doc..." a wounded Oseatoan sporting dark red bandages around his thigh moaned out softly for relief from the camp doctor but the physician and his assistant hustled past the cry for help, headed down the row of infirmary beds to the cot at the end that was cordoned off from the other personnel by an orange colored plastic screen with a biohazard symbol on it. The agonized soldier with his voice choked with pain was just one of many in the tent now who were wide awake and in the grips of fear and discomfort, trapped helpless to do otherwise than listen to the pounding of the mortar shells and the furious clapping gunfire. The fireteams on the perimeter had radioed in the startling ferocity of the enemy assault and in response an assault helicopter had been fueled and put into the sky to drive off the Communist insurgents before they could overwhelm the imperiled defenders. Its blades thumped overhead of the medical tent and it was not the only helicopter that would take flight that evening, as teams raced to prepare a second Black Hawk as a MEDEVAC for the infected Theban soldier whose only hope of survival was expert treatment back within the Commonwealth mainland. The medic rushed over to Parchos and pulled away the plastic partition while his assistants disconnected him from the EKG and prepared to make the transfer onto a medical gurney that would bear him airborne back to the nation of Thebes.

"Orechdymies, can you hear me?" the medic raised his voice as some mortar shells landed rather closely and filled the air with their exploding and whistling. "Private Parchos, can you hear me!?" he said again louder, but there was no hopeful sign of cognizance as there had been earlier before the onset of this fateful night. "We have to get you on life support!" he yelled as many of the wounded now were growing visibly alarmed and restless at the tender proximity of the sounds of screaming, shooting and war. "There's a hospital in Thebes that can get you the help you need! We're going to put you on the MEDEVAC and get you out of here! Just hold on!" His fumbling hands helped the other two medics with the last of their preparations and left Parchos tightly belted onto the stretcher. "Get him to the helipad, now!"

It was a perilous scene outside as the intense volume of the enemy attack was pinning down the OSC forces and keeping them from disrupting the mortar teams that succeeded in lobbing projectiles deep inside the encampment with impunity. The allied Apache was seen as a streak of blinking lights and flashing muzzles in the dark evening sky as it bore down on a stretch of the terrorist positions raining molten death against the concealed hostiles. Parchos felt confused and angry. He was running down the stairs of his apartment taking the steps two or three at a time but still he wasn't sure if he was going to get away. He felt like he got to the bottom of the stairs but he couldn't seem to get there. The two other peacekeepers hoisted his cot into the Black Hawk and it took off into the night, seeking the heading of the OSC's primary airbase in the region.

[Mersdon]

Conte di Mazzaro Memorial Crossing
the Free Associated State of Holbourne, Mersdon
3:05 AM
Marco vansch Guiderland stood in his rickety steel guard tower, twenty-five feet above the snowdrifts that covered the usually wet, gluey mud during this time of year. His fingers felt numb; the fingerless gloves he was issued as a member of the Holbourne State Guard was better suited to the warmer, muggier summer months of the year than the frigid depths of the winter season, but they were what he had on station at the moment. Marco kicked himself mentally for forgetting to bring up the pair of cashmere mittens his girlfriend had shipped him three weeks back or so, second class postage, like the water-stained card he'd received from her and the small cash stipend of 30 guldenmarks that his father had slipped into the front cover of that new farmers' almanac in the other package to arrive that day. He then dreamt of the venison and herb minestrone the camp mess had served up just before his company was shipped to their positions across 15 miles of this desolate frontier hours ago; the sweet scent of the meat could still be smelled on his breath, although soured from the half-thermos of coffee he'd drank on shift, and his greatcoat and smock still had a few droplets of the meal on them as a testament to the hurried manner in which one of Private Guiderland's squadmates had devoured the meat char and vegetable gristle at the bottom of his bowl.

Marco forced himself to look ahead. It was all and well to dream about food and gifts, but he, cold fingers or not, still had to act as if he was performing his job. The thin steel paneling surrounding Marco at waist height proudly declared that the tower was the property of the Imperial Customs Service, not as if they were even within fifty miles of this desolate place. The only sign that humans were, in fact, present within the immediate area was the longstanding wire-topped fence along the frontiers between the remote wastes of the Satrapy of Panooly and the even more remote wastes of one of the Unified Empire of Mersdon's land border to the rest of the world. There was also Marco's guard tower, with a high-beam searchlight (it had been powered off because the backup generator couldn't be bothered to start in the -60 degree weather registered just outside the border post's walls) and a small, five-room squat border checkpoint made of concrete and glass, which six other squaddies and three quite large customs officials were managing. A single two-lane asphalt road, recently salted, carved a path between the massive snowdrifts and the birch forests near the border, where it abruptly halted and turned into a potholed dirt lane fifty yards beyond the tower. This was as far as one could be on assignment with the State Guard; the next ethanol station from the post would be about three hours down the road, and the next town with a decent inn and eating establishment (a quaint village of 500-something people, Marco knew; he went there sometimes to buy caribou jerky for his townie family) another two. Even though Camp Cantoni dei Mareischi was the closest place to the one border crossing the Empire had with the more impoverished satrapy, they still had to truck them in what was usually a half-hour commute but that generally took over two.

About one hundred paces west from Marco's location (where he then proceeded to check his weapon for the fiftieth time that night), his squad leader (and, unfortunately, unrepentant skinhead) Julies de Meercke and three of the other territorials sent to guard the post were slowly lowering a cumbersome, striped red and white wooden beam across the road. It took a bit of elbow grease, but in twenty seconds, the beam was horizontal to the asphalt-covered earth, and a reflective sign advertised the closed status of the frontier to all those approaching on the road. Caporaal de Meercke thumbed his shoulder strap by force of habit, glumly watching, as he always did when the squad pulled the equivalent of the short straw for border patrols here, for any would-be smugglers or illegals nearby. The soft clinging of his beanie to his bald forehead was welcome, as was the familiar weight of his submachine gun. Leaning aganist the frigid concrete side of the station, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket (one of the cheaper, hand-rolled ones from the PX; the government had banned his favorite Gold Topics from the store in yet another fit of bureaucratic overreach last week) and lit it, the glow at the end of the poorly-packed tobacco and paper shining some light on the ice crystals resting under the cold blue light of the moon.

He trudged over to the three wooden flagpoles standing right outside the border checkpoint's front door and service window, and took shelter within the striped guardhouse a few meters away from the half-rusted fence. Caporaal de Meercke could see, through the soft but steadily increasing snowfall coming down around him, the yellowish glow of the electric bulbs the old diesel generator could be bothered to power inside the building, although not in Private vansch Guiderland's overwatch tower. 'Good for the lad', he thought. The boy was too soft to deal with the realities of life as a soldier, even as a glorified customs and wildlife officer like the Holbourne State Guard. Signing bonuses were attracting too many kids from the cities with no idea how to survive outside without a coat being handed to them. Hopefully that'd change eventually, but for now, he had to deal with politically unreliable and heretical dunces like the ditzy boy from out-of-state who was currently six meters above him. The Imperial, State, and baronetcy's flags fluttered wetly in the strong winds buffeting the region, lit by three solar-powered lights that dimly illuminated the colors of those banners. On the other side of the river channel, the same could be seen, although the buildings and tower there were made of wood and had an actual steel gate covering the only route north.

Inside the building proper, Provisional Officer (Junior Grade) Bruno Havill typed away at the battered PC that had sat on the station chief's desk since before his son had been born; despite the fact that the area rarely received visitors, much less legal ones, there was always paperwork to do, fill out, complete in triplicate, bear witness to, and send to some myopic bean-counter's office in the depths of some subcommittee's under-secretary's subsidiary department's cubicle-filled offices in the endless halls of Benedict-on-Sea. At this hour (the clock had struck 11 at least forty-five minutes ago), he was supposed to be filling out the Friday ledger for customs duties and excise taxes collected at the post, but was instead using the building's spotty internet to play Minecraft from a VPN that he wasn't exactly supposed to be using at that moment.
Training Officer Alven Uitland, PO Havill's supposed understudy, came in with his field coat covered in a light dusting of snow. He stood awkwardly in the cream-colored doorway, the paint peeling off of the walls, and waited for his nominal superior to look up.
He grumbled mentally, but still found the mental strength to divert his eyes from his smelting operation to the smooth-faced man in front of him. "Well? Out with it, please."
Alven creased his forage cap in his hands carelessly and stood up straighter. "Caporaal de Meercke wants to see you. Says that the lieutenant commanding the satrapy's border post on the other side of the river crossed the bridge and wants to talk to you."
"You're sure it's not that Nazi's sick excuse for a joke?"
The lanky blond shifted his foot across the floor, then leaned again on the doorframe. "I guess not. Can't hurt to check. He could be bringing us some butter curry chicken right about now."
Bruno heaved his beer gut over the desk and stood up uncertainly, smoothing down his blue shirt and tie clip and throwing on his greatcoat and cap. "I could go for some of that. I just wish that we had some hand sanitizer to offer to him. That stuff's gotta be worth its weight in gold, the way the Herald's front page was blowing up about the news of that overhyped 'zombie'-flu virus." He guffawed, in a deep, harsh belly laugh that caused his subordinate to flinch. "Lead the way, shrimp, and tell Caporaal de Meercke that his mall cops better be paying attention in case anything fishy goes down."
"-can I come-"
Bruno grunted. "No, Conrad, you're staying here. The last thing I need right now is your lard-ass bogging us down. Keep the radio net open and the door shut until we come back, dude."

With that, a shout went out from the Caporaal, and Marco switched on his searchlight after a perfunctory flick of the switch. Slapping his rifle's 20 round magazine into place, he picked it up from where it was leaning against one side of the wall, and unsteadily held it in his hands. Below, the squaddies did much the same, two staying back to watch for any trouble while the other three guardsmen lazed over to the wooden barrier to see what was the matter.

===

Groot Hoep University Hospital
Special Isolation & Intensive Care Wing
2:50 AM Eastern

"How'd she die?"
Doctor Willem de Vangelis, the assistant resident pathologist at the Great Hope University Hospital nestled in the center of the Empire's capital, leaned over the freshly deceased patient, goggles and protective gear on. The corpse, that of a greying old woman with large blemishes on her cheeks and forehead, was already unnaturally stiff from rigor mortis; the doctor could feel that quite easily through his thick rubber gloves.
"We don't know exactly. We checked up on her fifteen minutes ago, like we do with all the other suspected cases of KN755-B1, and she was already dead, frothing at the mouth and with bloody bile strewn over her surgical gown. We heard nothing, and the protective gear means that we can't hear or see much in general. We suspect cardiac arrest, followed by total organ failure, based on the pattern that we've seen in reports from abroad. Of course, if you want to slab her and send her for a necropsy before putting her into the incinerator, that's your call doc." said the head nurse for the ward, a visibly tired 50 year old woman named Martha Winsomes. "If you don't need me, I'll prepare the unit for the next patient that might come in."
"I think that the unit will be fine dealing with that without you for the next five minutes. I would like to talk to you, but that can come later, if you so wish," Dr. de Vangelis said. "I don't have enough time to hear about every patient in this hospital's symptoms and travel history, Nurse Winsomes, nor read the reports about that after the fact. However,since this is our first suspected death directly caused by KN755 in the past three decades, I want to hear about the patient entirely from you and log it before I send in her tissues for a confirmation lab analysis."
The two parted the sterile white curtain partitioning that particular bed off from the other 120 or so beds in the room, while two nurses covered the body and waited for a body bag to be delivered so that the woman could be wheeled to the slab without infecting other patients when passing them by in the hospital's corridors. A radio call was briefly heard in the decontamination area set up outside the wing's main entrance and exit; three suited-up janitors, armed with bleach, acids, and de-naturing agents breezed past the doctor and the head nurse as they reached the first set of UV lights under the entryway.
"The patient presented at the hospital three days ago with a 105 degree fever, constant vomiting, and at least three necrotic growths on her face and torso. Upon further inspection at the screening clinic set up at the front entryway, she was promptly isolated and interrogated by three men claiming to be from the Federal Government. They took her travel information, the people she'd been in close contact with over the past few days, and her daily routine down, and left. From the notes they emailed us, as her caretakers, we learned that she was a Franciscan missionary, an abbess basically, who'd been on a mission to Panooly City's more poverty-stricken and poorly kept shanty-towns. They didn't give us her name, apparently out of fear that her name would be leaked to the public from here, due to the notoriety of this case, but she did return on a WestStream Airlines 575 jetliner-"
The Doctor interrupted briefly. "The one that holds 400 people?"
"Yes-"
"That's not good. I'll have questions about that for you after you're done telling me about this case."
"Sure, I'd be happy to answer them. Anyways, she returned on a flight from the Satrapy, with a stopover in Carribino City, a somewhat seedy vacation town within Greater Dienstad. It's expected that she transmitted the disease to some unfortunate souls on the flight itself and in both Carribino's and Benedict-on-Sea's terminals and lounges. She then took a taxi to her home in Eastern Arbor, a ride of about thirty minutes, and the driver was infected during the ride as well. He's actually the patient three beds down from her. Anyways, she went out occasionally for food or just to walk her dog, and on one occasion, went to visit a Christian children's primary school as their special visitor for the day."
Doctor de Vangelis wanted to slam down five shots of the coarsest rotgut he could find within the first floor janitor's cleaning closet just from the thought of the contact tracing that'd be needed to slow or halt the virus's spread. He put on a brave face and asked gently, for fear of causing more damage to his already teetering mental state at this point, a question that needed to be asked. "And were all of her contacts traced and isolated? How many infected resulted from her contacts here? Was everybody at risk informed?"
Nurse Winsomes sighed tiredly. "The government tried, and the airlines and customs and every authority and public body we could find that she even had a minuscule link to cooperated extensively, but in the end, two gentlemen who sat three rows away from her on the flight over- who disembarked in Carribino City- next to five other confirmed cases in the two rows around them were unable to be found. We have at least 43 infected people just from her visit to the grade school alone. All of them, save for two TAs, are currently being treated at the military hospital in Dale's Landing, thirty miles upriver. As for disinfecting, you've probably seen the news, right?"
"No, not for the past few days, unfortunately. Did they close and disinfect the aircraft and the airports she was in?"
"Yes, but they only performed a perfunctory sweep and cleaning with rubbing alcohol for fear of damaging their seating or the metal surfaces."
The Doctor peeled off his protective clothing, as did the nurse, and hung them up on a rack, where they promptly retracted into the wall and were dropped into a vat of denaturizer and bleach. Dressed in their underwear, both picked up their coats and surgical wear from the end of the decontamination booth and walked out after receiving a nod from the intern manning the entrance.
"That's tragic."
"Yes."
Nothing more needed to be said, but that night, the blue glow of ambulance lights and the wails of police sirens rang throughout the streets of Mersdon's capital, and just as the last charred bone from the victim scattered in the flames of the cremating oven, Dr. de Vangelis finally got the written report and file he wanted to see from the hospital admin.

===

Osbourne House, Printing Press Floor
A sample of an article on the morning edition of the Benedict-on-Sea Herald
7:55 AM

The Benedict-on-Sea Herald

Health Special- First Patient Infected with KN-755 (B1) Dies in Capital

by Leona Wickersham, The Herald's staff writer for health and the medical field

The first person infected with the new necrotic flu-like virus KN-755 (B1) in Mersdon died in Benedict-on-Sea early this morning, government sources have confirmed.
The deceased, a religious figure of some significance within the wider Franciscan community, apparently traveled to the Satrapy of Panooly two weeks ago, where the viral strain first emerged, on a religious mission, where she is suspected to have contracted the virus. Upon her return to Benedict-on-Sea, the woman passed beyond the government's then-optional temperature screening checkpoint set up at the car park exit and headed home, where she remained for a few days until she fell greviously unwell.

According to officials within the Home Ministry, the woman was taken to the Groot Hoep University Hospital's intensive care and special isolation wing, where despite the staff on hand's best efforts, she expired around 2:30 in the morning. Her next of kin have been notified, according to those same sources, while at least 450 potential contacts are being monitored or are under preventative quarantine until at least forty days have passed.

Two more cases have been publicly confirmed, one of whom was a taxi driver that drove the index case to her house from the airport, and the other of which was a foreign national who tested positive for the virus after Imperial authorities carted her off her arriving flight (pictured). Both are in serious but stable conditions, according to Department of Public Health spokesperson Morgan Laufman. She urged the public to remain calm, and the Chief Medical Officer in charge of the nation's pandemic preparedness has stated that risk to the public from the virus remains low.

In what appears to have been an overdue change, however, the Foreign Office has imposed a ban on all persons with documents issued in Panooly or who have recently been in the area from entering the country. The Defence Ministry has also ordered the deployment of the Holbourne State Guard's B Reserve Brigade to the 15 mile wide frontier with Panooly to reinforce the company already on guard there. Discussions are underway in the Prime Minister's residence involving the leading members of all major parties regarding the situation in Panooly and Mersdon's efforts against the virus around the world, whilst the subject is expected to come up in Prime Minister's Questions come Monday.

*note: The Prime Minister's Office, the Office of the Emperor, the Governor of Holbourne's Office, the Parliamentary Chairs' Offices, and the Public Health Service, which runs most of the nation's public hospitals and clinics, were all contacted for comment but either declined or had not responded by the time of print.

[Erythrean Thebes]

The Apsistonian Palace, City of Thebes Day 41
(Joint post with The Holy Marsh)

Night was the domain of many things. Under its darkness, there was leave for evil and thievery to go loose - those deeds which reason could not sustain in the open surreptitiously transpired in the deceit and secrecy of night. It was also a vulnerable time, when the hapless individual, blinded and reduced in the cold, found their world shrunken and unfamiliar to the senses. Thus had myth and legend built up the reputation of the night as a time of chaos, when malicious forces counter to civilization ran rampant upon the unfortunate little human being and their vain desire for safety.

Men, however, gained strength from their numbers, and their instinct was to gather together. And through their society, a teeming city of millions had arisen that stood with lights blazing and proud citizens unafraid wandering to and fro. Civilization had given the human race the power to harness night. It was no longer a menace waiting to interpolate after meager hours of threadbare scavenging. The night was established as a time of rest and relaxation, when citizens could lay their weary heads and recover from their toils. For those who choosed, it was even available to extend their lives, giving them access to more work, more entertainment, more society than they ever had before.

Yet the night remained unlike the day. It was cooler in the air. There were stars in the sky above. Light emerged only from windows and lanterns, casting shadows across an otherwise inky black landscape. Regarding such a thing, it was the human instinct to feel a sense of otherworldliness. It was for good reason that the philosopher Iocliges had theorized that the darkness of night bewildered the mind’s natural senses and induced them to stray suggestively into flights of fancy. In old superstition, it was even thought that the future could be told from the alignment of the planets in the night sky.

And Isandros could use that power, if it were at all possible for him. For he faced a weighty crisis in which any King would long to know the future. As he sat on the palace balcony with its scones and firepits, and reposed beneath the billowing awning high above the city’s historic heart, looking over the glittering streets and towers beyond he felt his instinctual concern for their lives and welfare crunch into a knot of fear and anger foreboding the danger that this great imperial city contained. For the city’s great strength and majesty was also its achilles’ heel. In such cramped and crowded confines, the KN755 would cut swathe like a tidal wave.

He drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders, just as if he were sinking deeper into his troubles and cares. He looked up at the shining moon, and at the same time a party of strange looking foreigners were being received inside the front doors of the palace.

Sandals clapped loudly on concrete, which were the feet of Isandros’ bedchamber attendant (the word ‘servant’ was still typically used though it had a euphemism in modern times). He stood at the landing of the balcony steps with the warm glow of the bedroom behind his form. “O King. You have special visitors here to see you.”

Isandros sighed as he wondered who they could be. Delegates from the legislature were unlikely as it were impolite for them to call at this hour and an urgent matter would hardly fit this leisurely tone. It could be a member of his royal family but the most of them were abed or away. “Someone I’ve neglected?” the aging king asked, donning a quizzical squint.

“It is a rare visit, lord.” The servant replied cheerfully to the king, and his voice contained a soft touch of slight wonderment. “Envoys from the shrine of the Marshites.”

Though Isandros’ wizened face remained impassive, he was quite taken aback. The Holy Marsh was a secretive nation in the first place, and doubly so to the Thebans who were, as the saying went, on the other side of the sun from far Dienstad. Their presence in Thebes was a secret to most, much to the loss of the nation’s scholars and social scientists, who could have profited much from the knowledge of this ancient part of the Commonwealth’s past. Sadly there were forces in society that were dismissive and contemptuous of the interests of foreigners, and especially during times of war. But Isandros balanced the question of the Pantheist Shrine with characteristic aloofness to sympathy. He neither meddled with the Marshites and threatened them, nor allowed them to feel that any transgression by their Cult would go without an...embarrassment to the Pantheist shrine. For the most part, he knew little about the Marshite race and had few good means to learn more. So why they would approach him now, at the time of the Plague, he could only guess.

But he was hopeful. With their advanced technology and broad knowledge of the world, their wisdom might have assistance to offer to his nation which was teetering on the precipice of a great tragedy. “Do have them sent in.” Isandros rose up in his seat. “I will speak with them out here.”

The chamber attendant came back outside into the hallway and retrieved the Marshite party. He brought them inside of the bedroom and gestured out upon the windy balcony. “His Majesty the King is outside. He will speak with you on the balcony.” He remained in an alert pose as he remained in the bedroom and watched them go out.

The High Priestess smiled and gave the attendant a courteous bow of the head. “Our thanks,” she said softly before leaving the chamber attendants and both of the Low Priests behind, entering the balcony where the King made his presence known. Like much of the Palace he was grand, wizened only by the deceitful nature of his forced body language. He was troubled and worried as all good leaders would be in these times though he did not allow such worries to ease into his features as readily as a weaker man may. This was good. He would need his strength, or even the illusion of it, in these times.

“King Isandros, an honor. I am High Priestess Salandra. I bid you greetings and warm tidings in these dark times,” she said with a practiced and respectful bow, returning to her large height afterwards with a characteristic sharpness to her eyes that suggested she pierced more than the material world.

The thoughtful interlude which passed after the High Priestess had made her greetings lasted just a moment long. In that time the Theban king’s face was studious and lined with caution. Beneath his cloak, the movement of his shoulders betrayed a heavy breath that rattled with the monarch’s weary anxiety. And when he did speak, his usually hard voice was soft. “And to you as well.” Her Theban Greek was remarkably polished and natural sounding. “When I heard the Pantheists had come, I was much hopeful. You must perceive that these are difficult times…”

“I do, King Isandros. These are times that will test a nation’s faith terribly. It is now but a whisper and a worry but it will change and evolve into an event worthy of true tragedy. I come to aid in the prevention of this outcome, and to ensure the everlasting safety of faith and the history of Thebes,” she replied as she moved closer, joining him in the fullness of the night sky’s radiance.

He turned his head, though he was not successful at hiding the moment of weakness which flashed the ghost of despair across his face. He knew that he could not dissemble, nor remain clung to the vain concerns of power and politics at such a critical time. “This is a city which has survived much. As I think, never moreso than in these last twenty years.” When he turned his head back, his expression had cracked. His was a sad smile that was only glad for the hope offered by friendship. “We have always come through by the virtue of doing what needs to be done, and through devotion to what is good and right under heaven. I feel we share that, O High Priestess.” A truly sad crease crossed his aging face. “And yet I feel my faith tested by this pandemic more than ever…”

“Indeed your faith is tested and will be tested. And the time for action that can do great work draws near. If we do not contain it now, the future is written and known to us. This plague sweeps this great city and it will force the closure of one temple after another. Thebans will at first be driven from their places of worship. Their faith will waver but remain at first. But in the fullness of time, as the plague entrenches itself, they will come to question the Gods. Then they will damn their Gods before finally abandoning them in time. Comes then a darkening future as even the Cult of Apollo falls into shambles and then vanishes man by woman. And when man has no faith, when he worships nothing but the material, he will come to be cruel and vile. This is the future of Thebes, King Isandros. Even if Thebes physically survives, it will be as a vile mockery of what it is now,” she spoke at length, her eyes glazed as she looked at the stars that bathed them above. She was sad and that came through, but there was a weary matter-of-factness that came attached to it that was even more alarming.

Her appearance, which was so enchanting for both its beauty and for its otherworldliness, for a second was as if transfixed in Isandros’ eyes, but as she sounded her dire prediction his heart called out to him in defiance and he suddenly recoiled, stepping back from their meeting with wide and fearful eyes. “No, it cannot be. This city of Thebes has a great destiny!” he cried out with the fullness of his voice. “It is promised a life eternal - so long as we may be obsequious to the will of the Gods!”

“Indeed, if left to its own devices, such is the destiny of Thebes. But this virus is an interloper. And it is one you are ill-prepared to handle. That is why I have been authorized by the Arch-Bishop of the Grand Theocratic Empire, long may She Reign, to approach you and offer the aid of the Pantheist Shrine in Thebes. We have the means of aiding you in forestalling the darker future we have seen,” she replied calmly, attempting to allow the King a moment or two to regain himself. He was a noble man who cared deeply for his city. He would now need to decide just what style of sacrifice he deemed worthy of the city’s future.

The king could not contain himself. Though he was not judgemental by nature (he had never begrudged the Marshites their insular and secretive ways) under the pressure of the crisis now he snapped - and he stalked back in upon the High Priestess. If he could have, the aura of martial valor and manly duty that he wore upon himself like armor might have sharpened into an effect of darkness. “Indeed, you have the means but you prefer to talk in riddles,” he threw his arm out flippantly, “and sit in your cave spying on this nation and the struggles of the human race! While you look down on us!” he spat, himself looking up and down at the High Priestess in a pitch of frustration.

If the High Priestess was capable of being truly surprised anymore she would have shown it. Indeed, the King was proving to be a duality. There was clear concern for himself behind his words. He was the King fighting an enemy that martial ability and good conduct in warfare could not defeat. He was a King upon whom the future of his proud city would pivot yet he did not know where it would end. Or even how to start. She did not take offense at his words. He was the one facing the future with uncertainty, not she.
“We speak in riddles because we perceive in riddles. We record because we observe, as is our duty, the glory of this city unmolested. We do not judge. Judgment is for forces far beyond our knowledge. King Isandros, do not allow the dark clouds of my proclamations to turn you against yourself. I speak of a future that we can prevent. A glorious Thebes is one you can rule. A glorious Thebes is one you can secure,” she said as she did not give up an inch.

“Our aid comes without conditions, King Isandros. Do you wish to know what the tides of time declare for our forces combined?”

His head fell to his chin. Like most mortal anger, his went limp and flickered out when he realized it was nothing more than grief and fear. He felt foolish. He was forced to contend with how little he could do to help his people. And he was not accustomed to placing his nation at the mercy of foreigners. “I think you had better tell me what we must do,” the king sighed, and his expression to the High Priestess admitted his mortal failing, even if it did not quite apologize.

“Our Oracles can perceive not only those who will catch this disease but also those who will suffer the most dramatic of symptoms far before they show anything. Our medical system can also cure this virus completely, though we are limited in how many we can treat. Combining these efforts, we can respond to cases swiftly and save many Theban lives. At worst we can slow the rate of infection down dramatically. In the best case scenario, we secure Thebes long enough for the virus to be killed in this land,” she offered, then settled on him with some fixed concern. “There is a risk involved for our Oracles. A deadly one. And those whom we cure will be forever changed. Our aid comes without conditions, but not consequences, for us and those we can save.”

“Oracles?” Isandros asked. It was not the same word as it was in Greek. He frowned, “leaders among your people?”

“Those amongst us who have mastered the art of foresight and can hone their gifts in specific ways. They suffer for it, but they are accurate.”

“And you fear they will suffer, attending to this virus?”

“They will suffer for using their gift. Such power withers the physical form, rendering them insubstantial in time. They are willing to sacrifice their physical forms. Their souls remain inured against threat.”

Isandros spent a moment lost in thought. Such a strange and yet beautiful, even tragic people were these Marshites. They talked about life like it was a distraction from some higher pursuit. He nodded to himself. “I would never ask you to sacrifice your people lightly. Nor can I ask this of you, madame, but only humbly accept as one destitute and in need of charity. But before I can make this pact with you, O High Priestess, I must ask you what are these consequences which you say might befall the Thebans?”

“The System that can cure this disease was also the one responsible for The Shift- an event you must know of, seeing as it made global news when it happened. It is the event that changed our bodies and gave us the Gift and Curse of Foresight. Anyone who uses the System will be cured. They will also be feminized and gain the Gift and Curse of Foresight.”

“What???” the king retreated in shock and alarm. It must have looked like quite a scene to the High Priestess, a mortal man heaped with worldly beliefs and pretensions, stunned and offended by contemplating the effects of the System. “That is no cure at all!”

“It is the only cure, King Isandros. They will adjust. Remember the story of Hermaphroditus, the story of Caeneus. You will prosper once secure. They will prosper once accepted,” she spoke evenly, not allowing the King’s less than noble disposition and reaction to affect her. He was a mortal man with mortal concerns, no need for her to pile on the accusations of weakness that could be levied at such reaction.

“But they will lose who they are, Sopheie,” he said using the Greek word of a woman of wisdom. “How can you not feel some attachment to that?” His voice began to rise with emotion, “how can you not see what it means to be a person??”

“A person is their soul. Nothing else matters. That they will have no matter what else.”

“I - we are our souls!” Isandros choked out in frustration, head spinning and gesturing frantically with his hands, “it comes through as what we look like!” As he fixed her with a pained expression, he appeared wounded, almost betrayed. “What you propose would be to trade the life we know for a different one entirely…”

“Is not Faith Itself inundated with stories of the pleasant-looking and noble-bearing hiding the souls of cowardice and brutality, or tyrants and traitors? Are the stricken of form not often the most noble of spirits? And indeed, the opposite is true as well. This is because one’s physical form is not tied to their spirit. It is a vessel of expression but such things change. The young man’s youth and vitality may wither away and he will become wiser with experience, but his spirit remains the same,” she said as she came close and kneeled, seeking to calm the beleaguered King.

“One form or another, a soul is a soul. Their lives will change, yes. Many may be able to operate mostly the same as before. Some will have much more powerful variants of the Gift and Curse and they will have to learn to live anew. But they *will* live, and Thebes will survive.”

Isandros capitulated to his terrible helplessness and indecision, and he learned on the railing of the balcony peering his head out across the illuminated city expanse. Still he saw little, but remained trapped in the prison of his own thoughts. “As long as I have lived, I have lived with an oath to protect my people and serve them. I have guarded them fiercely in my time. To do my duty, I have gone to extraordinary lengths. I have always honored the principles of our belief, and preserved for Thebes liberty, democracy, and reason. Yet oftentimes have I had need to take actions that would create risk for some people, keeping knowledge from some, or lying to others. These are the necessities of statecraft. But I have never thought lightly of my responsibilities, nor have I ever treated it as trivial to act in secret when the handmaiden of justice is truth and knowledge. And this,” he scoffed, looking grimly sidelong at the High Priestess, “this question of the System, is weightier than any I have ever had to consider.” Sighing he turned away from the metropolis of Thebes. “It is not a decision I can make without consulting my people. My friends, family, confidants, advisors - I will need all of their input on this matter. As I think, it may even have to go before the Great Council to seek the verdict of the electorate. At any rate, I am sure that I alone cannot be qualified to decide.” He smiled sadly, knowing that all of this was like a folly to the Marshites. “I pray that you can understand…”

“I do. But you must understand the following: You do not have months, weeks, or even days before even our help will prove incapable of fully responding to this crisis. You have mere hours. You do not have time for a vote. You may not have time for much consultation, or to convene the Great Council and handle their debates. Even as we speak, the interloper spreads its influence. This city,” she said as she spread her arms to give it the fullness of its character, “is damned by the minute. You may not believe yourself qualified alone. But you are never alone, King Isandros. You stand with the Gods.”

Isandros bowed his head. “I thank you for your confidence. We will not fail to hasten in light of this emergency. The appropriate bodies will meet, and we shall have all the consensus that we need to act upon your offer of help, and give a firm response to this terrible contagion.” The flames in the torches and sconces burned low. “And now I am afraid I must ask you to leave. We will meet again so soon as there is a resolution to act.”

“Understood, King Isandros. May you react swiftly. Τα πολλά λόγια είναι φτώχια,” she said with a bow and a curtsy before turning upon her heel with practiced grace and departing. The King had done as was foretold, which meant she felt all the wiser for dispatching the teams and starting the process anyway.

Nothing was more mysterious about fate than the fact that there was also free will. For how could it be, that men were masters of themselves, yet events could have a fixed course that only played out by design? Perhaps the answer lay in the concept of consequences. For not all things were possible at any one time, not all were realistic, or feasible. Just like a great building or a work of art, the present was the culmination of many steps in the past that led to just one given moment out of potential billions. Or was it true that the present dictated the future, and in the same way that the present had been constrained by the past? Then perhaps, if influences on men’s judgement and reason determined how they would act, it was unavoidable what would unfold from the motions of time.

Only time would tell.

[Main Nation Ministry]

The Spread
Day 22

"I'm sorry....Ugh..I'm very sick. I don't know what.." one of the fishermen from one of the voyages towards out of sea said on the phone to his boss, as he was lying in bed with his girlfriend. "What!? You were healthy when I last saw you? I'm getting similar calls from our other co-workers. I need men on the seas!"
"I can't.. I could barely get out of the bed.." the fisherman explained, as his boss demanded that he get better as soon as possible. As soon as he hung up, his girlfriend put her hand over his forehead. "You don't have a fever? You can't get out of bed?"
"I...Iiiiiiii.." he tried to response, but his speech started to slur.

Helping her boyfriend, she drove him to the hospital to see what was wrong with him. As a matter of fact, some other people had some similar cases happening to them.

Audio Tape #1
Day 24

"This is Doctor Isaac Robins for an examination of the specimen that had arrived on a fresh cavadar. Subject is a male in his mid-30's. In the process of extracting samples from my colleagues here, I'm analyzing a sample of bile. Subject was found unresponsive in his own home in Raffia. Family was experiencing similar symptoms of this...flu? Colleagues are now opening up the subject. May I see that, Harry?"
"Stomach is emptied of any substance. Organs show heavy damage and cases of necrosis around the inside of body. Possible cases isn't a strain of Rot Virus. This virus is attacking organs, rather than consuming flesh. Possible case is septic shock, however most of these damaged organs are inflammated. Lungs espeically."
"Examining the mouth and throat."
"Saliva is present. Possibly contagious. Obtaining sample."
"Sample taken. Continue."
"Possibility of a mutated form of rabies is likely, but area of inside of the mouth shows classical signs of severe illness by the flu."
"Strange.. Samples are to be analysed. A live subject shall be examinated with some cooperation to see how this virus works. Ending audio tape #1."

New Research
Day 25

"This is Doctor Isaac Robins, where news have appeared from the Imperial Providence have reached intel, concerning this new outbreak in Raffia. This virus, which matchs the symptoms of what we are investigating is called KN755-B1. So far, the morality rates varies from person to person. The elderly and those with weak immune systems are to be the first to die out. However, one is still able to die from KN755-B1, due to the rapidly mutating nature of the virus. The samples I have examined show something unlike the Rot Virus. For the Rot Virus, we had to extract samples from a main source. However, since this virus here is airborne to a certain degree, the only ways to manipulate it's changing structure and defenses is to find actual parts of the viruses. Another thing that I had noted was from a second autopsy we conducted on a subject's brain. There is severe signs that the virus has managed to cause a form of dementia, regardless of age. It's important to know that the virus manifests itself in a form of the common cold and flu. It wouldn't take a simple month or two to make a vaccine or cure. This will require strong caution and a heavy schedule. What I will now do is have the Secretary of Foriegn Relationships, Dorbi Truman, send out this information about this new virus and a message towards the Imperial Providence that we have confirmed cases near Main Nation Ministry. Ending audio tape #2."

The news reached the Leader. Of course, the nation had been through, much worst. Though, things had been happening, elsewhere in the nation.

---

"I don't get it! We have cases of KN755-B1 happening outside of the nation, but there are still early and confirmed cases of a virus that been appearing in some of our hospitals in several sectors of the nation!?" Isaac Robins said to another researcher from the Ministry of Science, as they had put on some hazmat suits, as they were examining a patient covered in sores and cysts. "So...is this KN755-B1?" researcher Marcus asked Robins, as they were testing the reaction time of the patient with the standard tap with a mallet on the knee. "This patient has ataxia. It's not one of the symptoms of KN755-B1, unless the virus had mutated."
"And all of these marks on the body?"
"Sores and cysts. This isn't KN755-B1. This is another virus strain, though of what origin?"
"We will have hospital records examine early cases to see if we can find a connection."
"Bring in this patient and another one with early symptoms. It's going to be a long day..."

"Ahem! This is Isaac Robins again. This audio tape is going towards a new virus which I'm labelling as TSSK-78. This strain of virus doesn't appear to be based on the KN755-B1 strain of virus that is occurring in cases outside of the nation in Raffia. The incubation period is similar, but symptoms are different. The early symptoms appear to be immediate. The body develops weakness in parts, along with uncontrolled sweating. An early red flag is this projectile vomiting that causes the patient some pain. Some interviews can confirm this. The next stage is the body being drained of it's energy in fatigue and nausea. Another red flag is diarrhea, though some patients have claimed to have been defecating blood."

"These symptoms suggest that this is either a case of severe food poisoning mixed with an actual virus, or the virus is hiding it's true intent via common symptoms of the former. Most of the early patients are now in their 3rd stage. They are suffering from pulmonary edema and require oxygen to breathe, but the body is suffering through hypersensitivity, so the immune system is literally killing the body. Ataxia is another factor that is making the host's body immobile. Some future stages have been confirmed. The body is growing sores and cysts, due to the immune system going haywire. The mental state of the host would be the most likely cause of death. Hosts and patients are expressing severe and heavy depression, along with insanity. Some of the more severe patients in this hospitals have been attempting to commit suicide. This virus, TSSK-78 is something that is affecting the nation itself. Likely spread is similar to KN755-B1 by bacteria on the body to other things, like a handshake or sharing an object with such. This information will be urgent towards the Leader and everyone in the nation. I know Hell is real, but... please let us up there.. Ending audio tape."

A Televised Speech

"Ahem.."

"My fellow citizens of Main Nation Ministry! In this day of age, we are currently suffering from a threat that seeks to destroy our pride that makes our nation great among the others that dare defy us! This threat isn't an individual, but rather an invisible entity in a form of a contagion that is infecting our innocent civilians without mercy. We cannot let this stand! For that reason, the Ministry along with both the Ministry of Health and the Ministry of Science to enact severe guidelines that is harming our children, our future, our pride, our love for the nation!"

"For the Ministry!" the crowd cheered. For Princess Keller Harrington and other similarly sane people watching, things weren't so great. "I can't believe this. They might shut down this one place I was thinking of bringing you to lighten your mood." Keller said, wanting to bring Masami to Joe's for some food. "Ughh..I need to try to see if a friend would be interested in providing his place for me.." Masami said, as he was getting the news also.

At the Madden's house, Charlie was watching the news on the TV, where she did have something else in mind for Jessica. "Damn it.." she silently cursed to herself, as Jessica saw the news. "What's the Leader saying?"
"A virus or something. I think it will just pass..?"

[The Macabees]

Panooly City, Satrapy of Holy Panooly
Follows from my last post, here.

"It's best you do not go inside, Krierlord," said the guard, who spoke Díenstadi with a slight accent. "With all due respect."

Angiko Bas frowned. "Very well," he said, after a brief moment. "How is he doing?"

The guard shrugged. "I don't know, Your Excellency. Those things are outside my wheelhouse. My expertise lies in making sure anyone who's not equipped in medical gear doesn't walk in, lest they get infected with the virus. I'll be honest, I think they could hang a sign on the door and it would do as good a job as I could. I don't think anyone wants to go in there, not even the doctors."

Bas' face could not hide the frustration. "Well, then call out the fucking nurse, then. Gods, man. Where are you from?"

After calling the nurse out through the speaker in his ear, the guard replied, "Monzark, Your Excellency."

"Huh," said Bas, "I thought your lot would produce better men."

The guard fell silent at that. Luckily, the nurse opened the door just then and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Before it closed shut, Bas saw the tent-like canvas they had hung on the other side of the door. "An isolation chamber of some kind?" he asked. "Is it that bad?"

Sighing, the nurse replied, "We're not sure. The patient is experiencing severe symptoms, more severe than we've seen with other patients even. Of course, Mr. Bagamba has gone through quite a lot and he is older, not to mention the underlying health conditions that have compromised his immune system. A shame, really."

"You will address the kríerlord as Your Excellency, woman," said the guard.

"Quiet fool," snapped Bas. To the nurse, a local, he said, "Continue, please. Will he survived."

She looked toward the floor. "At this point,...Your Excellency,...I'm not sure. Others in better conditions have died. Some have survived. We are doing what we can to improve Mr. Bagamba's situation. He is the heart and soul of this nation, sir. If he were to pass, I don't know if Holy Panooly can survive that."

"You have survived a lot more," said Bas.

The nurse nodded. "I must go back inside, Your Excellency."

"Of course, be on your way," he replied. "Tell Mr. Bagamba that I am here. I will remain in Panooly City for the next two nights, after which I will return to Fedala. He can reach me at the Waldensart Hotel, on Tiergart Boulevard. And before you lose hope, miss, I assure you that He will not let Mr. Bagamba die, at least not in spirit and memory."



Guamlumpeiron, Holy Panooly
Follows from the OP, here.

To call Guamlumpeiron a city was to call it a memory, nothing more. In its center, there was hardly anything left standing. On the outskirts, however, most of the structures remained in one sense or another, but they were hollow and empty. No human life remained here, at least no human life in its traditional form. There were 'others' here, hidden somewhere. They attacked looters and other small parties that braved the ghost city, but tended to left heavily armed parties, like the one walking through its empty streets now, alone. The 'others' were bestial, but they held a certain primal intelligence that made them adept at survival.

Their kind, the 'others,' was a dying one. Even those left to do their own bidding, trapped in Guamlumpeiron and dozens of other towns and villages in northeastern Holy Panooly, were becoming scarcer. When they ventured out, in search of food, they were easy to hunt and kill. If one of the Macabéan soldiers didn't find them, then a local would. Those 'others' who stayed within the confines of the quarantine slowly starved, killed each other, or otherwise died of some bestial disease.

But, the Golden Throne no longer had the time to allow the 'witnesses' of KN-755 whither on the vine.

They had to be eliminated, in one fell swoop.

From the mouth of a long barrel that extended well in front of the imperial soldier suddenly came out a perpetual and hellish flame. The lick of fire extended into one of the buildings and came out from its windows, cracks, and doors, smoke pouring out after it. A monstrous scream came from the inside and the soldiers beside the one with the flamethrower poised themselves, rifled pointed toward the building's door.

When they were satisfied that whatever was inside was dead, they moved on to the next building.

It was like this throughout the outskirts of Guamlumpeiron, where three infantry divisions of Zarbian auxiliaries operated in independent platoons to 'cleanse' Guamlumpeiron from the 'survivors' of KN755 once-and-for-all. The city where it all started had to finally be cleared. For, if the international world asked to see the origins of the virus from which the current malady stemmed from, the Imperial Bureaucracy would make sure there was not a shred of evidence to connect them with the disease that had broken the Panooly soul and given reason to their occupation of the country.



Fedala, Imperial Province
Follows from the OP, here.

The imperial city, the capital of the Second Empire of the Golden Throne, was loud and busy. Perhaps not as lively as usual, but it was as if there wasn't a regional, nay worldwide, pandemic. There was not thought of shutting down. No, to force a lockdown, to stop people from producing, from having a purpose, from accomplishing what they were Willed to achieve, that was un-Macabéan.

And while the virus was causing global anxiety, to most Macabéans it was nothing worse than what they already had experienced. War was another typical aspect of life for most. While the provinces had been relatively peaceful since the end of The War, it must be remembered that that occurred little more than a decade before. And how could you compare a virus to the threat of nuclear war? Something that seemed close to a reality mere months ago, when the Fourth Reich attempted to bombard military installations along the northern coast of the empire and was responded to by nuclear means. At night, in their nightmares, some people still felt the regular tremors from the cadence of nuclear blasts. And if most of the provinces had seen some sort of peace in the last decade, few other territories or satrapies of the Golden Throne could say the same. This pandemic did not produce the same level of fear here that it did elsewhere, and it would force a closure of borders or a shut down of society. Worse had been survived before.

Still, that the Imperial Bureaucracy and local governments would not take as drastic of measures as other governments had did not mean that nothing would be done. The Fuermak had been ordered to deploy its medical personnel throughout the empire, aided if necessary by other soldiers. The Imperial Bureaucracy also extended financial support to local governments to pay for additional security personnel to help man roadblocks and enforce mandatory testing. These tests were administered in the tens of thousands throughout the provinces and territories, and those who resulted in positives were swiftly quarantined.

Robots, already a frequent sight in the empire — from human-like hospitality androids to self-driving cars and automated care-takers —, were deployed enmasse to complement the military and security deployments. These robots helped administer tests, deliver food, water, and other essentials to those under quarantine and in isolation, and tens of thousands more explored the streets to disinfect the city from one corner to the other.

While most enjoyed their freedom, those who were tested positive and forced into quarantine were exposed to harsh measures. An attempt to leave one's home resulted in a fine of Ŗ5,000. Multiple offenses could result in a prison sentence. Most were under heavy guard and surveillance. But, security personnel were instructed to check-in via phone screens, giving the sick some degree of human interaction even during times like these. The infected were also guaranteed the essentials at the state's expense, including medicine and medical treatment.

Of course, things were changing on the margin. The metros were almost empty, as were the busses. Most movement was done by automobile now, causing traffic and congestion. Those who walked kept a distance from each other. And few turned down the opportunity to test. But, even so, few Macabéans thought of shutting themselves into their homes to wait out the storm. It was better to face their problems without fear.

[The Macabees]

Huerta del Lobo, Territory of Levante
Follows from Holy Marsh's post, here.

"I-I'm okay, Mr. Marcis. Just a cold," replied Ana, to the Shrine's Praetor. It didn't feel like just a cold, but she could not risk being turned away. "You don't look too well yourself. Tired, I mean. I hope the community has been coping well with this new disease and all the craziness around it. You look busier than I would have thought, truthfully. You've had a lot of sick?"

Then, after looking around, she added, "And what are these machines?"

She glanced, for a mere moment, at her phone as its screen flashed alive and read the notification's headline. 4 Marshites injured in Garzobal in an attack, it read. Ana tried not to scowl. The news of the pandemic and the growth in cases was causing more discontent within the veteran community, and not the unity that was needed. She focused on Praetor Marcis, the only person who could help her close the divide by persecuting those who sought to widen it.


While most of the other cars parked on the sidewalk opposite of the Shrine in Huerta del Lobo, there were a few that hadn't moved since the morning. One, in particular, hosted a young, blonde-haired man who was looking at the Shrine's entrance while he chewed on a wooden toothpick as if he were waiting for someone to come out. There was a gun holstered on his belt. Next to him, in the back's long seat, there was an assault rifle hidden from view.

Following Detective Ana de la Cueva here hadn't been difficult. In fact, Klaas Brinker had been on her tail for the past three days.

He sat back in his seat and relaxed, playing the waiting game. This kind of stuff thrilled him. It reminded him of the good 'ol days in Theohuanacu, where they hunted for pirates in the streets of Tlaloc like cats killing mice in the attic. Klaas smiled. He liked doing things he was good at.



Monte del Pastor, Territory of Nuevo León
Follows from Eothasia's post, here.

"A pair of officers?" asked the soldier manning the front desk at the main garrison building. He looked bored, with an open laptop on one side and a radio system on the other. He thought for a moment, and then said, "Oh, you must be with Amaria Aid. Yes, Koronel Dans Lukil said to expect someone from Amaria."

Flipping through a stack of papers clipped to a brown clipper board, he finally looked up and then back down, comparing her to a photo. "You must be Carina Peláez."

He pronounced her name well, but he was not a local of Zarbia or Nuevo León. The insignia on his uniform belonged to the regulares, which meant he was a citizen, someone from the empire's core provinces. If regulares were deployed to the Pan-Zarbian Territories at all they were disproportionate of Rezhegi and Sarcanzan descent, which were both cultures closely intertwined with Zarbia, sitting on western and northern borders of the former country. Anyone who had been in either Zarbia or Nuevo León for some time was accustomed to just how culturally eclectic the people of the empire truly were.

"Follow me," he said, standing. The soldier took her down a corridor to an elevator, which they took to a third floor. There, they went down another set of corridors until they arrived at a frosted glass door at the end of one of the halls. You couldn't see into it, not even a shadow.

Then, someone inside said, "Come in."

The soldier opened the door and stood at attention, saluting. "Ms. Carina Pelaéz, sir."

"At ease, soldier," replied the person inside. He must have stood then because he soon came to the door, bowing slightly, and extending his arm to shake Carina's right hand. "Ms. Pelaéz, thank you for coming here. I have matters to discuss with you. Please, take a seat. And I apologize for being unprepared, I had asked Soldat Ferzales to notify me by phone upon your arrival so that I could fetch my attendant, Komandánt Lokus. Apparently, even that instruction was far too complicated for his little mind. Soldat, why don't you go fetch Ms. Pelaéz some water. Would you like anything else? Don't be shy. I will call Leutnant Lokus here while we wait."

It took only a few minutes for the soldier to return with the water and other items, and only a minute more for the leutnant to make himself present. "Koronel," he saluted upon entrance.

"Sit, leutnant," said Dans. To the soldier, he snapped, "You may return to your station, soldat."

A few moments after the other officer had sat down, Dans started, "You may be asking who I am and why I called you here, Ms. Pelaéz. Well, let me introduce myself. My name is Koronel Dans Lukil and I am the garrison commander here at Monte del Pastor. Under my authority is an harka, over three thousand soldiers whose responsibility it is to maintain order in this sector of the Nuevo Leonese jungle. We oversee the security of over one hundred communities, from New Villages of mere hundreds to large towns, like Monte del Pastor. That job we have been completing very well. The war here is ending, Ms. Pelaéz. The guerrillas are being defeated. But, that's not why I called you here."

"There is a new enemy upon us and it is not dressed in the flesh of man," he continued. "Rather, it is a disease. A disease that could ravage both Zarbia and Nuevo León, especially here, where the people are poorest. In fact, it already is. We have few means to test these populations at this point in time. The virus could be anywhere and it is probably already everywhere. With the insurgency in its death throes, it does not behoove us to lose a victory that is within our grasp to the destabilization caused by this new pandemic. That brings me to my point. Look, Ms. Pelaéz, the equation is very simple. The spread of the virus must be slowed and the people here must be treated, even those who fight against us. Everyone must be accounted for and brought to health, if possible. There's just one problem."

He looked at his attendant, and said, "Leutnant, why don't you explain?"

The junior officer smiled, and answered, "Of course, sir."

Looking at her, Leutnant Lokus explained, "Understandably, our human connection with the insurgency is limited. There are...agents embedded among the remnants of the guerrilla groups, but we cannot reveal their identities for obvious reasons. We have no other method of supplying our enemy with the drugs and expertise they need to combat KN755-B1. That's where you come in."

"Yes," Dans spoke. "I want you to join a team that I am assembling under the leadership and command of Leutnant Lokus here. You two and six others will penetrate the jungles east of Monte del Pastor and make contact with the insurgents hidden in the depths there. You will assist Leutnant Lokus in brokering a deal, a temporary ceasefire with the offer of medical aid, by making available your knowledge and skills to the guerrilla population. You will do this as Leutnant Lokus sees fit. You would be paid for your service, Ms. Peláez. Eight thousand ríokmark, to be exact."

"What do you say?" he finished.

[Petroslovania]

deleted]

[The united American-Isreali empire]

the uaie offers the services of its medical and pandeimic containment teams and will be pleased to bring in speclized security forces to help limit the damage.

[Eothasia]

^{Follows from Macabee's post here}

---

[Imperial Majapahit]

Aboard carrier vessel KKM Sriwijaya
The Java Sea
27th day of global KN755-B1 Outbreak

---

Just a few weeks ago, the entirety of Majapahit was rattled by the announcement of the outbreak of KN755-B1, a strain of the KN755 virus which originated from Holy Panooly, a nation situated in Greater Dienstad, a region far, far away from the Majapahit archipelago.

The government of Premier Sri Indra Thohir had maintained its calm, collected approach to handling the situation. The Foreign Ministry had issued travel warnings to countries with suspected cases of the relatively unknown virus, which was later reviewed and modified into a complete travel ban outside of Imperial borders. The Health Ministry had been allocated several billions of dhanas (nearly doubling its previously allocated budget for this fiscal year) for preventive measures, such as research for the cure and vaccine, production and distribution of face masks, and screening points in many strategic locations. Regulations on the media were tightened by the Enlightenment Ministry to ensure that false or misleading reports on the outbreak do not get leaked to the public.

Many civic groups had pushed the government for more drastic measures, including a total lockdown of the country and complete transparency on the government's attempts in taking care of the outbreak. Several political, economic, and security factors had been taken into account and it seemed like the government preferred to maintain the current status quo.

At least, until yesterday.

Batam International Seaport authorities and officials from the Health Ministry detained a foreign national from a nation within the Dienstad region after he disembarked a passenger ferry on a regular 35-minute cruise from the city of Bandar Singa to Batam. Health inspectors noticed the man had shown the symptoms of the KN755-B1 virus and decided to isolate him in one of the rooms that had been specifically prepared to isolate people suspected to have been infected. He was later diagnosed KN755-B1 positive by the doctors. That was one part of the issue taken care of. The other was to recheck every single one of the 248 passengers that had been cruising aboard the same ferry, and most of them had left the seaport for their respective destinations several hours ago. The officials rushed to contact these passengers, but it was going to take some time before they can be identified, brought to a safe detention centre, and checked thoroughly for any signs of infection.

Meanwhile, the reports had been filtered and announced to the public media, which in turn had published the news a mere couple hours after the foreign national was confirmed to have been infected. The news had also arrived to the office of the Premier and immediately forwarded to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Jayanagara VII, who unfortunately at the time was in the middle of an inspection aboard KKM Sriwijaya, one of the Imperial Navy's three conventional aircraft carriers sailing back to its home port after a joint exercise mission. The decision was made that the Emperor would stay on the carrier until further notice, and that Premier Thohir had been granted the authority and the resources necessary to handle the outbreak. The Emperor later released a live televised statement to the general public in regards to the recent turn of events from the conference room on board the vessel.

. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR OF MAJAPAHIT OFFICIAL PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT Good day, citizens of Majapahit. I hope you are safe and healthy, wherever you may be. I have been monitoring the news for updates regarding the KN755-B1 outbreak from time to time, constantly advising the Imperial government to take the necessary precautionary measures to prevent the spread of the virus strain here in our beloved Empire. Therefore, I would like to assure you that every decision made by the Imperial and regional governments shall hopefully be the most effective in handling this disheartening outbreak. I would also like to emphasise that a lockdown is currently not necessary and that the government is not currently planning to enact that decision. A special joint task force has been created by the government to better coordinate prevention efforts. The B1 Task Force shall from this point on provide up-to-date information about the current domestic and global situation, prepare all medical facilities to proficiently handle the outbreak, and ensure the security and wellbeing of each and every Majapahiti citizen. Your health and safety is the Empire's utmost priority. Lastly, I would like to advise each and every one of you to take extra care of yourselves. Please routinely maintain your personal hygiene according to the official instructions released by the Health Ministry and affiliated international organisations, avoid crowded spaces as much as possible, and never forget to constantly pray to our Gods and Goddesses for the best of health and safety. Good day, and may our Empire forever endure. .