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The Continental Cotillion Debutante Ball (IC)

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Atlantian Dominions
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Founded: Sep 04, 2012
Moralistic Democracy

The Continental Cotillion Debutante Ball (IC)

Postby Atlantian Dominions » Mon Mar 30, 2020 8:46 am

OOC thread here.

The city of Grand Harbor was the busiest, wealthiest port city in the entire Confederation of Atlantian Dominions. That wealth showed on the docks, where steamships and sail-powered clippers were tied up in the dozens along the wharfs. Those leaving the city were being loaded with foodstuffs, textiles, steel, and other products of the Atlantian Dominions’ vast farmlands and burgeoning industry. The smokestacks of the Factory District testified to this industrial growth, belching smoke into the air throughout the day as a legion of workers, most of them laboring under contracts of Indenture, toiled away within. At the end of their long shifts the workers would depart the factories for the slums of the city, where the Owners who held their contracts provided shoddy housing and ran company stores that offered cheap food they could buy with company scrip. The wealth and power of the Atlantian Dominions was built on the bent backs of these men, women, and children.

That wealth was on display on the other side of town, the neighborhood commonly known as Uptown, where the streets were lined with the luxurious city mansions of the Owners and the high-end department stores frequented by Owners’ wives and the servants they employed to do the shopping. If Grand Harbor was represented by a seesaw, then the end that represented Uptown was firmly planted on the ground under the weight of the wealth and power concentrated in this area. The offices of the city and Dominion governments were in this neighborhood, along with corporate headquarters for a number of major Atlantian companies. Between Uptown and the slums was a buffer in the form of the neighborhoods where various immigrant groups congregated, with names like Little Pagon, Khemedtown, and New Marusany, and the townhouses and apartment buildings of the Leasing class. This buffer also served as a gradient: the further from Uptown, and the closer to the slums, one got the lower the quality of the buildings dropped.


From the Continential Hotel, of course, very little of this was visible. All one could see around was luxury, wealth, and ostentatious displays of status. The Continental, always a place known for sophistication and class, was on its highest level today for the biggest, and first, event of the social season: the Continental Cotillion. Hotel staff had spent the preceding days rushing around to complete the final preparations, supervised by members of the Atlantian Benevolent Society. These luminaries of high society, many of them women eager to exercise influence and political power in one of the few ways permitted by Atlantian society as a whole, were not so benevolent to the lower-class hotel staff. They berated waiters, bellhops, and cooks for the slightest imperfections or flaws, backed up by nodding, appeasing managers who had no interest in taking the side of their employees over their patrons. Through hard work and haranguing the hotel’s Grand Ballroom was transformed into the venue for the Cotillion. The Grand Ballroom was decorated in three colors: gold (for wealth), silver (for sophistication), and pink (for femininity). A large stage was erected at one side, with ramps on either end. This would be where the debutantes and their escorts made their entrance for all the guests to see. Another platform had been erected in one corner for the band.

As guests arrived at the Grand Ballroom, either from their rooms in the Continental Hotel or via carriage from wherever else in the city they were staying, ushers in black tie checked their invitations. All those whose applications to attend had received a formal invitation to the Cotillion, signed by the Social Committee Chairwoman Bethany Pope and the Executive Chairman of the Society George Templeton. Debutantes received “the golden ticket,” an invitation on pink paper with gold lettering, while other attendees received a less elaborate invitation on plain paper. The ushers directed non-debutante attendees to enter the Grand Ballroom through the main doors, where waiters in black tie were moving about with trays laden with glasses of champagne, though they were asked to refrain from drinking until after the presentation of the “debs.”

Debutantes and their escorts were directed to enter through another set of doors, where a line was formed. Each young woman was given a bouquet of pink roses, a gift from the Benevolent Society, and told what to do. Once the Cotillion officially began, Betty Pope would read out the names of the debutantes and their escorts one by one. When called, they would walk onto the stage while the band played a small sample of the anthem of their nation, or a song associated with their Dominion if they were Atlantians. The debutante would curtsy to the room and then walk off the stage on the other ramp and join the crowd. Once all the debutantes had been introduced, there would be a toast and then they were free to mingle, dance, and socialize. The band would play throughout the night to provide music for dancing; the most common and popular dance was the waltz.

In the line of debutantes, the Ashby sisters could hardly contain their excitement. Alice and Mary Ashby were beautiful women in resplendent dresses. Alice Ashby wore a gown of white, while her sister had gone for a more daring dress which blended hues of pink with white. They both happily chatted with the women near them in the line, and with their escorts. Mary Ashby was on the arm of Mason Lockwood, who had a surprisingly rugged look about him for the son of a shipping magnate, and it became clear from conversation that the two of them were long-time friends. Alice Ashby, on the other hand, was evidently infatuated with the dashing young officer Frederick Lawrence who escorted her. Lawrence was fresh from the west, where he had earned some deal of renown for heroics in battles against the indigenous Kialagee people.

Farther down in the line, Calala Klark was feeling nervous. She was the daughter of Justin Klark, the latest in a line of half-Marusan Owners of sugar plantations on the island of Darianna. The other half was muddled, and Calala felt very aware that her skin was just a shade darker than the other women from the mainland. Her escort, John Kabrini, seemed unconcerned about the matter. The sugar barons of Darianna were looked down on in some circles, seen as half-native, but their wealth was vast. One of the families that could match the Klarks and Kabrinis were the Reeds, who were the Owners of one of the largest railroad corporations in the Confederation. John Reed’s daughter Eliza was near the front of the line, with the son of the Governor next to her. The two spoke to each other very little, and apparently there was some disagreement between them. It was not all that surprising: Governor Wilson was a known supporter of the Liberal Party, which was making its political success through attacks on the monopolies of the railroads and other corporations.

The crowd which applauded every debutante as they were announced was equally packed with big names and big pocketbooks. The wealthiest man in the room was likely Orren Boyle, the rotund man who owned Associated Steel. Boyle was the ultimate success story, a man who worked his way up from being a Leasing man, albeit a wealthy one, to being at the top of the Owner class. He had done it through ruthless business acumen and a willingness to play as dirty as necessary to undermine competition and protect his own business, and he reveled in the way that this upset the Owners who traced their wealth back generations to colonial gentry. Boyle was in a very one-sided conversation with Carlos d’Anconia, whose father Francisco was a major business partner of Associated Steel. There were rumors that the government of Honduragua might nationalize all or a part of the copper mines, and Orren Boyle was railing against such an infringement on business.

Observing this tirade with visible disgust were Bertram Scudder, the arbiter of the fashionable and cultured in Grand Harbor and the eastern Dominions, and the author Randolph Eubank. Scudder was a man who looked like a miser and dispensed his praise and approval with such an attitude. Orren Boyle, a classless man with the unfortunate possession of immense wealth, disgusted him not because of the many Indentured workers who died in the steel mills or choked on coal smoke from his factories but because he lacked properly blue blood. Eubank was humoring the magazine writer’s frustrations while observing the room. At one point he waved over Priscilla Raymond, a wealthy and pretty widow, but she quickly found reason to leave the conversation.

There were dress uniforms aplenty, most of them worn by the foreigners who had showed up in larger numbers than ever this year, but two of them were worn by General Henry Tilney and his younger half-brother Frederick. General Tilney wore the dress uniform of the Regular Army: he had served with distinction from a young age, though his last taste of battle had been years ago. Frederick, born to his father’s second wife and eager not to serve in the shadow of his accomplished older relation, had “run off” and joined the Navy. He was a lieutenant now, aboard the ironclad Cawthorne, and thought to be of great potential as an officer. The General and his wife were here to mingle and, to the embarrassment of Fred Tilney, to see about getting him set up with a young woman for a wife.
Last edited by Atlantian Dominions on Mon Mar 30, 2020 1:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Confederation of Atlantian Dominions
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My nation can be referred to as "the Atlantian Dominions" or "Atlantia"

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Kuronami
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Founded: Nov 04, 2016
Father Knows Best State

Postby Kuronami » Mon Mar 30, 2020 10:56 am

It had taken many hours of preparation and work thanks to her handmaid, Anastasia. Just a shame poor Ana couldn't attend with her, she'd probably have more fun with her than with her older brother but rules are rules in high society and those rules dictated the servants remain behind and only the debutantes and their escorts attend. A confident "Milady, you'll knock them all dead!" came out of Ana, just as Sasha and her brother left their state room to make way to the continental hotel where the main event would be. On her arm, her older brother a young military man, it seemed many of the other men here were military as well. Just as well, it seemed logical, high society families sending their daughters to this far flung place who better to send along than a strapping military man. Well the strapping man in her case was her older brother so obviously that rule him out as any kind of escort.

Despite many fine gentlemen being presented, Sasha couldn't really find a man she honestly said she liked a lot. Some of the boys who felt more earnest towards here were actually the lower class, everyone else always felt like sycophants just looking for a way to her family's wealth. One by one each young lady was introduced by the party hosts, and finally it was her turn. Hearing her name Miss Sasha Braxton meant it was time to strut and show her darling charm. A polite curtsy and nod of her head and smile to show her happiness of being here. Actually, this was pretty fun. Travel from Caloris in Kuronami to Grand Harbor in Atlantian Dominions, exciting trip of ups and downs, literally, on the churning seas and a strange new town she'd never seen. Honestly this was exciting for a young woman.

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Brettenwald
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Founded: May 03, 2019
Father Knows Best State

Postby Brettenwald » Mon Mar 30, 2020 5:12 pm

Note: Dialogue in Brettain is italicized.
"I'm surprised you wanted to come along, Joh. This doesn't strike me as your sort of scene."
"Oh, I'll take this fine establishment over some cheap flea-bitten garret over a pub any time, Commander. I had to get off that damned ship, so why not do it in style? Reminding Captain Heurich about our shore leave was a stroke of genius. You wouldn't know, but the men tell me you're the one officer they can stand."
"I'm flattered, really. Here for anything beyond social formalities? Any of the ladies catching your eye?"

Johann cast an eye around the room. Ye gods, the decor. Ribbons, flowers, excessive amounts of gold leaf. You didn't get anything like this back "home" in the Low District, that's for sure. "No, don't think so. Got my Natalia back home waiting for me."
"Smart man. Not worrying about you, but the other men are a cause for some concern. Months at sea, cooped up on a big ironclad, and then you get dumped out in a foreign port with little supervision. You'd know, of course. Remember Lisbon?"
"Not likely to forget, and neither are you. By the way, the lads down below say the starboard boiler's going to take at least three days to fix once they get the metal, which should be tomorrow."
"Good to know."

Their dark gray dress uniforms trimmed with gold contrasted sharply with the light, festive decor and colorful uniforms and dresses. They stood out in physical appearance as well: Daneel, tall, ghostly pale, and handsome, with athletic build, and Johann, suntanned, shorter and thinner, with mischievous green eyes and curly brown hair. Daneel was certainly more at ease in this environment, Johann thought enviously but without a trace of malice. Totally at ease, wearing the uniform like he was born in it. One of the many perks of being born rich and upper class. Meanwhile, he himself was a little itchy and acutely aware of his upper-crust surroundings.
"Hey. Daneel. She your type?"
"Mmm. Not bad at all. Maighread Scrymgeour- hell of a name to say with this accent. If you'll excuse me, I believe I have a dance waiting for me."
He strode off towards the center of the room. "Miss Scrymgeour, a pleasure to meet you, and you look beautiful if I may say so. May I have this dance?"
Johann was halfway through his second glass of champagne by now, and made his way to a corner where a visibly irritated middle-aged man was complaining to an artistic-looking gentleman with a mustache. "Forgive me for being blunt, my friend, but you don't look like you want to be here."
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Voxija
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Voxija » Mon Mar 30, 2020 5:53 pm

Princess Nerea and her escort Eneko Ydaverri, the Duke of Xirroni walked from their rooms in the Continental Hotel to the Grand Ballroom. They talked about the cotillion. "Remember not to embarrass yourself," said the Duke of Xirroni. Although he was Princess Nerea's escort, he harbored no romantic feelings for the lovely princess. The Duke was like a second father to Princess Nerea, and the only man who wasn't family that Princess Nerea felt that she could put her trust in fully. "I won't." Princess Nerea smiled. "I plan to enjoy myself, possibly meet a nice young man, and to make Voxija's presence known." Voxija was a medium-size island that had mostly remained isolationist until the mid-19th century. Now was the perfect time to court alliances, and maybe court men.

They entered the Grand Ballroom. Princess Nerea was introduced, and she heard the audience murmur about the "exotic island princess". Nerea smiled sweetly. She would probably get gossiped about, especially "she and her escort!" type gossip, but she didn't care. Princess Nerea enjoyed these sorts of social events, and she knew she would have fun.

Eneko Ydaverri felt stiff, and more nervous than the princess probably was. Although the Dukes of Xirroni were some of the more prominent nobles in Voxija, they, like most Voxijan nobles, had declined in power and money. Eneko Ydaverri had adopted the profession of a lawyer, and he didn't go to many parties. But there was something in the cotillion to distract the Duke. The beautiful debutantes, these lovely women from every corner of the globe.
The Republic of Voxija (pronounced: Voshiya)
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Folaisia
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Founded: Oct 17, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Folaisia » Mon Mar 30, 2020 6:04 pm

First Image: Left dress, except pink, and the center item on the breast is the medallion
Second Image: Left man


Both Scrymgeours exited out of their carriage that left the port, displaying their unique formal attire that can draw immediate attention. Maighread wore a pink shoulderless evening dress that embedded a medallion depicting a symbol of her clan, and her top laced with white frills. She also had a hairband decorated with three running buffalo clovers that gave her hair a bun at the back. Gillebrìde wore his military officer's uniform draped in a tartan of red, yellow black, blue and green, symbolizing his clan. His tartan was also draped over three medals that exhibited his achievements: the Order of the Royal Crown, the Order of Merit, and the Belestan War Medal. They walked in, with Maighread receiving applause after being introduced.

Brettenwald wrote:Note: Dialogue in Brettain is italicized.
"I'm surprised you wanted to come along, Joh. This doesn't strike me as your sort of scene."
"Oh, I'll take this fine establishment over some cheap flea-bitten garret over a pub any time, Commander. I had to get off that damned ship, so why not do it in style? Reminding Captain Heurich about our shore leave was a stroke of genius. You wouldn't know, but the men tell me you're the one officer they can stand."
"I'm flattered, really. Here for anything beyond social formalities? Any of the ladies catching your eye?"

Johann cast an eye around the room. Ye gods, the decor. Ribbons, flowers, excessive amounts of gold leaf. You didn't get anything like this back "home" in the Low District, that's for sure. "No, don't think so. Got my Natalia back home waiting for me."
"Smart man. Not worrying about you, but the other men are a cause for some concern. Months at sea, cooped up on a big ironclad, and then you get dumped out in a foreign port with little supervision. You'd know, of course. Remember Lisbon?"
"Not likely to forget, and neither are you. By the way, the lads down below say the starboard boiler's going to take at least three days to fix once they get the metal, which should be tomorrow."
"Good to know."

Their dark gray dress uniforms trimmed with gold contrasted sharply with the light, festive decor and colorful uniforms and dresses. They stood out in physical appearance as well: Daneel, tall, ghostly pale, and handsome, with athletic build, and Johann, suntanned, shorter and thinner, with mischievous green eyes and curly brown hair. Daneel was certainly more at ease in this environment, Johann thought enviously but without a trace of malice. Totally at ease, wearing the uniform like he was born in it. One of the many perks of being born rich and upper class. Meanwhile, he himself was a little itchy and acutely aware of his upper-crust surroundings.
"Hey. Daneel. She your type?"
"Mmm. Not bad at all. Maighread Scrymgeour- hell of a name to say with this accent. If you'll excuse me, I believe I have a dance waiting for me."
He strode off towards the center of the room. "Miss Scrymgeour, a pleasure to meet you, and you look beautiful if I may say so. May I have this dance?"
Johann was halfway through his second glass of champagne by now, and made his way to a corner where a visibly irritated middle-aged man was complaining to an artistic-looking gentleman with a mustache. "Forgive me for being blunt, my friend, but you don't look like you want to be here."


As they settled themselves, Maighread and Gillebrìde were approached by a tall, handsome officer with a stern, nonchalant look on his visage. Maighread was flattered at his introductory compliment, and bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"I'd be honored, Mr. Tamlin," she then replied, her smile widening.

After letting her hand be taken, she danced.
The Scottish kingdom in North America.

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The Frozen Forest
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Founded: Sep 12, 2016
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby The Frozen Forest » Mon Mar 30, 2020 11:14 pm


"Come on! let's go already!" Emilia pulled Crown Prince Alexius by the sleeve towards the line of debutantes and their escorts. She pulled but had little effect, Alexius was simply too big to be yanked around by the young Princess. Not that it stopped her Emilia from trying. "Stop being such a slug! Aren't you excited for all that food? When was the last time you had Atlantian cuisine? Never!" Emilia scrunched up her face like she'd swallowed a lemon. It was an ugly face that would turn few heads, which is precisely why it made her brother so angry.

"I'm not here to stuff my face. What would father say if i spent all day thinking about food like you. Besides i hope you haven't forgotten why we came here in the first place. You may not care but this trip didn't come cheap, neither did that dress you're wearing." Crown Prince Alexei scolded her. She hated when he did that, why couldn't he relax just a little? "Of course i haven't forgotten! Especially with you constantly reminding me." Emilia glanced in the other direction to avoid her brother's inevitable scowl of disapproval. "Look! It's almost our turn!" She dashed forwards with Alexius and joined the shortening line of debutantes and their escorts

She was accosted by a friendly looking girl. She was told exactly what they would be expected to do as they came to the entrance. Butterflies fluttered up her chest as she and Alexius made their way onto the stage. The Bjorks were introduced to the others of the Cotillion amid the beautiful sounds of The Frozen Forestrian National Anthem. That was exciting! Emilia felt relieved nonetheless as the pair left the stage and joined the crowd.



Alexius stepped off the stage with a sigh of relief. He didn't particularly like the way that he had been sized up by the Atlantians and foreigners in the room. It was necessary so that those around him knew exactly who they were talking to and Alexius turned to do quite the same thing others had done to him. He was curious who would make their way onto the stage behind them. Perhaps a foreign Princess? The daughter of a wealthy oil baron? Or maybe there was no one behind them and they were the last one. As the curtains opened and someone new stepped onto the stage Alexius felt himself pulled away. "Hey, what are you doing?" Alexius looked to see that Emilia was taking him towards the serving table. Typical.

He allowed himself to be led to avoid the embarrassment of scolding his sister in public. They turned as the smell of spices hit him. Emilia pulled him in front of another couple several paces from the serving table. Why is she all red? Alexius followed her eyes to the man standing in front of him. He was tall and wore a dashing military uniform. It was actually a uniform that Alexius had seen before when he was younger. It was a Kuronami uniform, which meant that the escort and his escortees were almost certainly Kuronamian.

Emilia's cheeks were a curious shade of light red. Alexius supposed that the uniform was what caught her eye. Alexius turned towards the man and offered a hand. "I'm Crown Prince Alexius of The Frozen Forest. This is my sister Princess Emilia. I recognize the design of your uniform, you're from Kuronami are you not?"
Well Hi, i joined NS on Feb 1st, 2013 under the name Aztec of america and have been on Nationstates since. I tend to frequent the Portal to the Multi-universe (Nowadays i spend a lot of my time in Nationstates (the sub-forum)). Recently i've been trying to develop The Frozen Forest (I'm still developing my history, culture and relations with other nations), so if you want a historical, trade or diplomatic relationship, shoot me a telegram.

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Folaisia
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Folaisia » Tue Mar 31, 2020 2:10 am

Meanwhile, as Gillebrìde gazed at his youngest sister dancing away with another officer who was taller than him by a mere inch, he turned and sought to converse with other persons of interest. After sifting through, he caught sight of one individual wearing a military officer with what seems to be bestowed upon it insignia signifying a general officer. Gillebrìde meandered through the crowd to meet him, of whom was called General Henry Tilney, and say a few words of introduction to garner his attention while displaying a respectful confidence in posture and tone.

"That must be a general's uniform isn't it," greeted Gillebrìde, his Gaelic accent being somewhat audible, "I'm Gillebrìde Conall Scrymgeour, Major General of the 3rd Division, Second Corps, Army of Kinmore, and son of the late Chief Raghnall Scrymgeour. Might I say it's pleasure for me to see that I'm not the only one wearing a military uniform on this occasion."
Last edited by Folaisia on Tue Mar 31, 2020 2:21 am, edited 2 times in total.
The Scottish kingdom in North America.

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Kuronami
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Founded: Nov 04, 2016
Father Knows Best State

Postby Kuronami » Tue Mar 31, 2020 8:55 am

The Frozen Forest wrote:Emilia's cheeks were a curious shade of light red. Alexius supposed that the uniform was what caught her eye. Alexius turned towards the man and offered a hand. "I'm Crown Prince Alexius of The Frozen Forest. This is my sister Princess Emilia. I recognize the design of your uniform, you're from Kuronami are you not?"



After getting their chance to grace the floor on their announcement they took to the side a moment as the other lovely ladies and their escorts could take stage. Sasha admired how many beautiful young ladies there were not to mention the various young men who also were in escort. Surely whoever she might get to share a dance or conversation with would be great. As if God had answered her prayers just this moment they were approached by two from The Frozen Forest. The Prince offering his hand and of course he shook it. "Your Majesty, good evening to you, you have a good eye for uniforms of the world it seems, I am from Kuronami. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Andrew Braxton, 125th Calvary Regiment of His Majesty's Imperial Army. My younger sister here is Sasha, freshly turned 18 this month."

Sasha held the edges of her dress to curtsy with a "My Liege it's a pleasure to meet you. As it is a great pleasure to meet you, Milady Princess."

Andrew offered his own hand to the Princess to give it a gentlemanly kiss to it "A fine pleasure it is, Your Grace, might I say how lovely you look this evening."

Amazing, here they were in the presence of Royalty. "And you, Milord." Sasha replied then blushed, he was in his dress uniform of course he did!

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Camelone
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Founded: Feb 20, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Camelone » Tue Mar 31, 2020 9:15 am

"Eh, it seems like your father can kill a man with a look Maon." Solas stated from their position at the back of the dance hall, both men had decided to wear the dress uniform for the Expeditionary Marines, Solas' being a tad bit different due to his position as the batman of Maon so his coat had a bit of a tail to it as well as his trousers tucked into his boots. This was contrasted with the simpler black shoes and trousers combo that was normal for a regular soldier and of course Maon had the officer sword at his side and a grey sash with what Solas always calls random rope hanging across his chest. Both men were thankful though that the strap that had once gone with their hats was removed last year, it was not the most comfortable thing to wear.

"You say that every time you see him Solas, and you have mentioned it to me several times these past few days. Truly he can not scare you that badly?" Maon said with a small laugh, he knew that his father's reputation proceeded him as well as the fact that when he was being even the slightest bit protective of his only daughter the aura of the Iron Lion could freeze boiling water.

"Truly though the Iron Lion has killed a man with a look has he not?" Solas retorted with a laugh of his own knowing full well that a signal for an ambush does not exactly count but was close enough for Maon to concede the point in good fun.

As the two young men conversed Catriona and Ceallach were talking between each other as well, mostly about the usual things they talked about when at these events, any men that she took notice of and the importance of finding a good man to take care of her. These also included with semi-rants from Ceallach that any man who dares harms his little girl will wish he had been killed by an elephant's foot. Catriona was more amused by these rants and ramblings than anything else because even though the exterior of her father was that of the feared and respected Iron Lion the inside was that of a warm and family loving man who cared deeply for his family and especially for her. She always knew that he was there to protect her and push her to be her best and even though at times this could be horribly annoying at least now it felt okay, the great military governor was a mess of nerves on the inside even if the outside did not show it. Catriona was wearing a dress which was all the rage back in Camelone and she was internally praying that it to would find support among these Atlantians.

With these thoughts raging through her mind she took her steps onto the stage tentatively, she did not like the fact that so many strangers and people in general were staring at her. Thankfully it seemed like a few were looking at her simply dressed father who wore grey military trousers with perfectly shined riding boots, a greyish blue double breasted military jacket and a blood red belt. The only thing distinguishing him as a military governor was the gold sash that went across his chest. His presence gave Catriona the confidence enough to do the curtsy and calmly walk off the stage to join the crowd, instead of sprinting off which she wanted to do.

"You did excellent little one." Ceallach told her off the stage with what counted as a smile across his face causing Catriona to give a giant smile of her own and jump up and down in excitement before she recomposed herself. This caused a small chuckle and an actual smile to form on her fathers face making it even better.
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Atlantian Dominions
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Founded: Sep 04, 2012
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Atlantian Dominions » Tue Mar 31, 2020 11:21 am

“Well Freddy, see any that you fancy?”

General Henry Tilney and his half-brother Frederick stood watching the procession of debutantes, along with the general’s wife. The younger man felt his face flush at his older sibling’s words. It was embarrassing to have his brother, a General in the Army, doting on him like a pushy mother. He had joined the Navy to get out from under this shadow, damn it! Yet he couldn’t feel that much anger towards Henry. He had paid for Fred’s ticket into the Gala, and it was admittedly handy to have someone more well-versed in polite society around to help him avoid the pitfalls. The last thing he wanted to do was look like a classless fool.

“Maybe one or two,” he answered. In fact, he saw one of the young ladies who had caught his eye, Mary Ashby, standing among the debutantes who had not yet been asked to dance. He began walking towards her, disappearing into the crowd with a brief goodbye to the smiling General. The band began playing the music for the first dance, a waltz, and pairs of men and women began moving to the cleared part of the ballroom floor to move about in synchronized motions. It was not expected that everyone spend the whole evening dancing - there would be pauses between dances to allow the guests to converse and rest.

Alice Ashby and her escort, the Regular Army Lieutenant Frederick Lawrence, went out for the first dance. The lieutenant’s dancing skills were rusty, and he apologized profusely for each misstep, but Alice Ashby had been preparing for society life since she had been old enough to know what that meant and assuaged the young man’s nervousness with assurances and some guidance. The lieutenant was a military hero, after all; she could accept a little inelegance on the dance floor. The Yukonians, who were a fairly expected component of the Cotillion every year, also began dancing. Elizabeth Wickham and her escort, the young heir to Causton, both displayed the ease that came from years of schooling. Nearby, Minerva Cloves had found a partner in Robert Locke, the son of the Baron of Gimmerton.

Brettenwald
Brettenwald wrote:Johann was halfway through his second glass of champagne by now, and made his way to a corner where a visibly irritated middle-aged man was complaining to an artistic-looking gentleman with a mustache. "Forgive me for being blunt, my friend, but you don't look like you want to be here."

Randolph Eubank barely stifled an audible sigh of relief as someone came over to distract Bertram Scudder. The magazine writer looked the newcomer up and down, almost like a butcher examining a carcass hanging from a meathook.

“It is not that I don’t want to be here,” Scudder replied finally. “It is that there are far too many people who are here who, frankly, should not be. This is supposed to be the beginning of the Atlantian social season, and those airheads on the Social Committee have, against my advice,” he wagged a finger for emphasis, “chosen to open it up to all sorts of foreigners.”

“Such as the gentleman you are talking to, Bertram,” Eubank said, trying to remind the other man.

“Exactly!” Scudder seemed to have gotten the entirely wrong point. “Now, young man, I don’t mean to be rude. But, judging from the look of your uniform, you’re probably off one of those foreign warships that are always stopping by for port visits and causing such a fuss on the dockside bars. After this, you’ll be back onboard and gone away. All these foreign types are just here to show off. How is a young woman supposed to find a man to court for the season if half the men here are off the menu, so to speak, after tonight?”

Scudder threw his hands up in evident frustration. Eubank stepped in.

“You’ll have to forgive Mr. Scudder,” the author said. “He’s paid by the magazines to have strong opinions. I’m Randolph Eubank, and you are…?”

Voxija
Voxija wrote:Princess Nerea was introduced, and she heard the audience murmur about the "exotic island princess". Nerea smiled sweetly. She would probably get gossiped about, especially "she and her escort!" type gossip, but she didn't care. Princess Nerea enjoyed these sorts of social events, and she knew she would have fun.

Eneko Ydaverri felt stiff, and more nervous than the princess probably was. Although the Dukes of Xirroni were some of the more prominent nobles in Voxija, they, like most Voxijan nobles, had declined in power and money. Eneko Ydaverri had adopted the profession of a lawyer, and he didn't go to many parties. But there was something in the cotillion to distract the Duke. The beautiful debutantes, these lovely women from every corner of the globe.

Mason Lockwood was fixated on the Voxijan princess. He imagined that “exotic” was a term she was used to hearing thrown around, but she was different than any of the women he had met in Missama. Mary Ashby saw her friend’s gaze lingering and giggled.

“Go, ask her to dance,” she insisted. Mason looked unsure, so Mary gave him a gentle but firm shove towards Nerea.

“Alright, alright,” Mason said, raising his hands in a brief gesture of mocking surrender. “But I won’t be taking any blame from Alice for leaving you alone.”

Mary laughed. “I can look after my own affairs. Go!”

Mason ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and smoothed out a crease in his jacket as he passed through the crowd to where Princess Nerea stood. He took a deep breath, let it out, and then stepped out. A last minute panic seized him: should he bow? She was a princess. But it wasn’t like he was at her court or anything. And maybe she didn’t want to be treated with that royal deference here. His mind raced through half a dozen terrible scenarios in the few moments that it took his legs to carry his body across the distance to the two Voxijans.

“Princess Nerea,” he said in greeting. He decided that any kind of full bow was unnecessary, but he did bow his head for a moment in what he hoped was a gesture of restrained deference that acknowledged her royal rank without overdoing it.

“You look lovely,” Mason continued. “May I have this dance?”

Folaisia
Folaisia wrote:"That must be a general's uniform isn't it," greeted Gillebrìde, his Gaelic accent being somewhat audible, "I'm Gillebrìde Conall Scrymgeour, Major General of the 3rd Division, Second Corps, Army of Kinmore, and son of the late Chief Raghnall Scrymgeour. Might I say it's pleasure for me to see that I'm not the only one wearing a military uniform on this occasion."

“Yes it is, General Scrymgeour,” General Tilney replied. “And it is a pleasure to meet you.” The Atlantian General extended a hand, and then indicated the woman standing next to him wearing a ballgown made of sunflower yellow-colored fabric. “This is my wife Eleneaor.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman said with a nod of the head.

“I would introduce my brother Frederick, but he’s run off to try his luck with the ladies,” Tilney continued with a laugh. “You know, I was in your country not too long ago. I was just a colonel then, of course. Sent off to observe your army in the war against Belesta. That was bloody, bloody business.”

“I met your father you know,” Tilney said. “Briefly, before Faldarleith. My condolences.” The general seemed uncomfortable, groping for words to supplement the rather banal expression of sympathies. “I understand his rearguard saved the whole army.”
The Confederation of Atlantian Dominions
Past Tech/Steampunk RP
My nation can be referred to as "the Atlantian Dominions" or "Atlantia"

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Voxija
Diplomat
 
Posts: 508
Founded: Jan 17, 2019
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Voxija » Tue Mar 31, 2020 1:55 pm

Atlantian Dominions wrote:Mason Lockwood was fixated on the Voxijan princess. He imagined that “exotic” was a term she was used to hearing thrown around, but she was different than any of the women he had met in Missama. Mary Ashby saw her friend’s gaze lingering and giggled.

“Go, ask her to dance,” she insisted. Mason looked unsure, so Mary gave him a gentle but firm shove towards Nerea.

“Alright, alright,” Mason said, raising his hands in a brief gesture of mocking surrender. “But I won’t be taking any blame from Alice for leaving you alone.”

Mary laughed. “I can look after my own affairs. Go!”

Mason ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and smoothed out a crease in his jacket as he passed through the crowd to where Princess Nerea stood. He took a deep breath, let it out, and then stepped out. A last minute panic seized him: should he bow? She was a princess. But it wasn’t like he was at her court or anything. And maybe she didn’t want to be treated with that royal deference here. His mind raced through half a dozen terrible scenarios in the few moments that it took his legs to carry his body across the distance to the two Voxijans.

“Princess Nerea,” he said in greeting. He decided that any kind of full bow was unnecessary, but he did bow his head for a moment in what he hoped was a gesture of restrained deference that acknowledged her royal rank without overdoing it.

“You look lovely,” Mason continued. “May I have this dance?”


Princess Nerea smiled. Back home, people would have given her a full bow or curtsey, but she decided that Mason had introduced himself properly.

"I would be delighted," said the princess. She took Mason in hand, and they danced. Princess Nerea was graceful as always, but Mason might have been too distracted to focus on the dancing! Princess Nerea didn't feel a spark... yet, but Mason Lockwood at least seemed nice.

After some dancing, Princess Nerea said, "So, tell me about yourself. What do you do?"
The Republic of Voxija (pronounced: Voshiya)
I'm female.
A self-quaratined zoomer. Oddly Jewish. Trying to learn French and failing. An American who wishes the US would switch to the metric system. Stroppy cow and proud of it. Secret pyromaniac?

my politics are confused and muddled | Love is love!
My flag is the Basque flag ICly too.
I'd rather be fishing.
I think that by now I've created more lore for my nation than most real-world nations have.
I actually don't speak Basque. I just think it's a cool language.

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Folaisia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1454
Founded: Oct 17, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Folaisia » Tue Mar 31, 2020 6:18 pm

Atlantian Dominions wrote:“Yes it is, General Scrymgeour,” General Tilney replied. “And it is a pleasure to meet you.” The Atlantian General extended a hand, and then indicated the woman standing next to him wearing a ballgown made of sunflower yellow-colored fabric. “This is my wife Eleneaor.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman said with a nod of the head.

“I would introduce my brother Frederick, but he’s run off to try his luck with the ladies,” Tilney continued with a laugh. “You know, I was in your country not too long ago. I was just a colonel then, of course. Sent off to observe your army in the war against Belesta. That was bloody, bloody business.”

“I met your father you know,” Tilney said. “Briefly, before Faldarleith. My condolences.” The general seemed uncomfortable, groping for words to supplement the rather banal expression of sympathies. “I understand his rearguard saved the whole army.”

After Gillebrìde greeted the General's wife and letting off a chuckle at Frederick's absence, he was hooked on listening when Tilney mentioned that he was dispatched as a military attaché to the Folaisian Army. Then came his father.

Gillebrìde gazed off into space for little while, before finishing with a sigh. Hearing Tilney's condolences, he thanks him before the General mentioned the defensive stand of his father's Second Corps.

"Indeed, the Second Corps prevented the Army's retreat from becoming a disastrous one," he recounts, "When the rest of the Army was retreating in a state of close disarray, my father managed to gather his Corps and elements of the other Corps, namely the Third and Fourth, to form a defensive perimeter around the city and secure the escape route of Fhaolagain Road. I myself was at the southern end, commanding three regiments against the onslaught of General Pugin's XV Corps. It was hell that evening. We kept a strong defense, but the Belestans threw in everything they got, even to the point of savage close combat. Eventually, we couldn't hold out for much longer, and made our retreat. If not for our defense, our Army would have been worse off. That's about that," he then nods his head for a short while.

"Anyways, I take it my father was a good man? Didn't give you much trouble, at all?"

When Tilney was done conversing his experiences, Gillebrìde had another question in mind.

"Since I know you're a General, have you military experience?"
Last edited by Folaisia on Wed Apr 01, 2020 2:49 pm, edited 4 times in total.
The Scottish kingdom in North America.

* * * * * * * *
Other Nations: Avraland | Belesta | Joyonghea | Quen Minh

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The Frozen Forest
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1643
Founded: Sep 12, 2016
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby The Frozen Forest » Tue Mar 31, 2020 10:03 pm


Emilia couldn't help but notice that the newly introduced cavalryman just so happened to be familiar with proper customs and courtesies when dealing with royalty. It was a start wasn't it? It seemed like a lot of foreigners that she'd met didn't quite know how to handle someone like her. They would blubber and stutter or they were graceless and direct. That didn't seem to be the case with this Andrew Braxton. Now that she was so close to him though Emilia noticed his age a bit more significantly. He had to be at least a decade her senior. It didn't bother her-on the contrary she found herself even more interested.

Emilia curtsied as Andrew conceded that she looked lovely. "Thank you for your kind compliment Sir Braxton." Emilia looked towards Andrew's sister and noticed that her attention seemed to be wholly focused on Alexius. Interesting. Is she interested in my brother or was she just honored to be in the presence of royalty? Emilia tightened her posture and turned back to Andrew. "Sir Braxton, I've never danced with a soldier before. Would you do me the honor?"



Crown Prince Alexius met and held the gaze of the young Sasha Braxton. She had long silvery hair reminiscent of a Frozen Forestrian and attractive red eyes that burned into him. He couldn't help but think that she looked almost doll-like. In fact her and her escort didn't share much of a resemblance at all despite being siblings. While the elder Braxton was muscular and tall, Miss Braxton was petite, fragile-looking and shorter.

Alexei looked out at the ballroom floor and then back at his sister and Andrew Braxton. "It would be best to dance now if you intend to. Right now the floor isn't crowded but i expect that it won't last once the other debutantes and escorts start to pair off."
Well Hi, i joined NS on Feb 1st, 2013 under the name Aztec of america and have been on Nationstates since. I tend to frequent the Portal to the Multi-universe (Nowadays i spend a lot of my time in Nationstates (the sub-forum)). Recently i've been trying to develop The Frozen Forest (I'm still developing my history, culture and relations with other nations), so if you want a historical, trade or diplomatic relationship, shoot me a telegram.

I don't bite, so don't be afraid to say hello.



Royal Marriage with Camelone! (Queen Freja Krieger and High King Frederick Krieger)

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Kuronami
Minister
 
Posts: 2637
Founded: Nov 04, 2016
Father Knows Best State

Postby Kuronami » Wed Apr 01, 2020 11:13 am

The Frozen Forest wrote:Emilia couldn't help but notice that the newly introduced cavalryman just so happened to be familiar with proper customs and courtesies when dealing with royalty. It was a start wasn't it? It seemed like a lot of foreigners that she'd met didn't quite know how to handle someone like her. They would blubber and stutter or they were graceless and direct. That didn't seem to be the case with this Andrew Braxton. Now that she was so close to him though Emilia noticed his age a bit more significantly. He had to be at least a decade her senior. It didn't bother her-on the contrary she found herself even more interested.

Emilia curtsied as Andrew conceded that she looked lovely. "Thank you for your kind compliment Sir Braxton." Emilia looked towards Andrew's sister and noticed that her attention seemed to be wholly focused on Alexius. Interesting. Is she interested in my brother or was she just honored to be in the presence of royalty? Emilia tightened her posture and turned back to Andrew. "Sir Braxton, I've never danced with a soldier before. Would you do me the honor?"



Crown Prince Alexius met and held the gaze of the young Sasha Braxton. She had long silvery hair reminiscent of a Frozen Forestrian and attractive red eyes that burned into him. He couldn't help but think that she looked almost doll-like. In fact her and her escort didn't share much of a resemblance at all despite being siblings. While the elder Braxton was muscular and tall, Miss Braxton was petite, fragile-looking and shorter.

Alexei looked out at the ballroom floor and then back at his sister and Andrew Braxton. "It would be best to dance now if you intend to. Right now the floor isn't crowded but i expect that it won't last once the other debutantes and escorts start to pair off."



"Milady, it would be a great pleasure to share a dance with you. And yes if the conditions are right we should." he agreed. He adjusted his dress gloves a bit and gave a polite bow for his new dance partner. "Milady, let us dance together." He escorted her to the dance floor to being the steps "Oh I hope I'm not too out of practice. Afraid they don't teach much dancing in the army." He joked but he seemed to be doing fine.

Sasha looked at her big brother in admiration "To be honest, Milord I didn't know Andrew could dance. I suppose mother taught him. Or maybe Ana or maybe Miss Sylvee." She rambled on a bit "Oh but, um....Milord.... Uh would you also like to dance with me? I have been practicing."

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Brettenwald
Attaché
 
Posts: 99
Founded: May 03, 2019
Father Knows Best State

Postby Brettenwald » Wed Apr 01, 2020 6:47 pm

Atlantian Dominions wrote:“Well Freddy, see any that you fancy?”

General Henry Tilney and his half-brother Frederick stood watching the procession of debutantes, along with the general’s wife. The younger man felt his face flush at his older sibling’s words. It was embarrassing to have his brother, a General in the Army, doting on him like a pushy mother. He had joined the Navy to get out from under this shadow, damn it! Yet he couldn’t feel that much anger towards Henry. He had paid for Fred’s ticket into the Gala, and it was admittedly handy to have someone more well-versed in polite society around to help him avoid the pitfalls. The last thing he wanted to do was look like a classless fool.

“Maybe one or two,” he answered. In fact, he saw one of the young ladies who had caught his eye, Mary Ashby, standing among the debutantes who had not yet been asked to dance. He began walking towards her, disappearing into the crowd with a brief goodbye to the smiling General. The band began playing the music for the first dance, a waltz, and pairs of men and women began moving to the cleared part of the ballroom floor to move about in synchronized motions. It was not expected that everyone spend the whole evening dancing - there would be pauses between dances to allow the guests to converse and rest.

Alice Ashby and her escort, the Regular Army Lieutenant Frederick Lawrence, went out for the first dance. The lieutenant’s dancing skills were rusty, and he apologized profusely for each misstep, but Alice Ashby had been preparing for society life since she had been old enough to know what that meant and assuaged the young man’s nervousness with assurances and some guidance. The lieutenant was a military hero, after all; she could accept a little inelegance on the dance floor. The Yukonians, who were a fairly expected component of the Cotillion every year, also began dancing. Elizabeth Wickham and her escort, the young heir to Causton, both displayed the ease that came from years of schooling. Nearby, Minerva Cloves had found a partner in Robert Locke, the son of the Baron of Gimmerton.

Brettenwald
Brettenwald wrote:Johann was halfway through his second glass of champagne by now, and made his way to a corner where a visibly irritated middle-aged man was complaining to an artistic-looking gentleman with a mustache. "Forgive me for being blunt, my friend, but you don't look like you want to be here."

Randolph Eubank barely stifled an audible sigh of relief as someone came over to distract Bertram Scudder. The magazine writer looked the newcomer up and down, almost like a butcher examining a carcass hanging from a meathook.

“It is not that I don’t want to be here,” Scudder replied finally. “It is that there are far too many people who are here who, frankly, should not be. This is supposed to be the beginning of the Atlantian social season, and those airheads on the Social Committee have, against my advice,” he wagged a finger for emphasis, “chosen to open it up to all sorts of foreigners.”

“Such as the gentleman you are talking to, Bertram,” Eubank said, trying to remind the other man.

“Exactly!” Scudder seemed to have gotten the entirely wrong point. “Now, young man, I don’t mean to be rude. But, judging from the look of your uniform, you’re probably off one of those foreign warships that are always stopping by for port visits and causing such a fuss on the dockside bars. After this, you’ll be back onboard and gone away. All these foreign types are just here to show off. How is a young woman supposed to find a man to court for the season if half the men here are off the menu, so to speak, after tonight?”

Scudder threw his hands up in evident frustration. Eubank stepped in.

“You’ll have to forgive Mr. Scudder,” the author said. “He’s paid by the magazines to have strong opinions. I’m Randolph Eubank, and you are…?”

Voxija
Voxija wrote:Princess Nerea was introduced, and she heard the audience murmur about the "exotic island princess". Nerea smiled sweetly. She would probably get gossiped about, especially "she and her escort!" type gossip, but she didn't care. Princess Nerea enjoyed these sorts of social events, and she knew she would have fun.

Eneko Ydaverri felt stiff, and more nervous than the princess probably was. Although the Dukes of Xirroni were some of the more prominent nobles in Voxija, they, like most Voxijan nobles, had declined in power and money. Eneko Ydaverri had adopted the profession of a lawyer, and he didn't go to many parties. But there was something in the cotillion to distract the Duke. The beautiful debutantes, these lovely women from every corner of the globe.

Mason Lockwood was fixated on the Voxijan princess. He imagined that “exotic” was a term she was used to hearing thrown around, but she was different than any of the women he had met in Missama. Mary Ashby saw her friend’s gaze lingering and giggled.

“Go, ask her to dance,” she insisted. Mason looked unsure, so Mary gave him a gentle but firm shove towards Nerea.

“Alright, alright,” Mason said, raising his hands in a brief gesture of mocking surrender. “But I won’t be taking any blame from Alice for leaving you alone.”

Mary laughed. “I can look after my own affairs. Go!”

Mason ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and smoothed out a crease in his jacket as he passed through the crowd to where Princess Nerea stood. He took a deep breath, let it out, and then stepped out. A last minute panic seized him: should he bow? She was a princess. But it wasn’t like he was at her court or anything. And maybe she didn’t want to be treated with that royal deference here. His mind raced through half a dozen terrible scenarios in the few moments that it took his legs to carry his body across the distance to the two Voxijans.

“Princess Nerea,” he said in greeting. He decided that any kind of full bow was unnecessary, but he did bow his head for a moment in what he hoped was a gesture of restrained deference that acknowledged her royal rank without overdoing it.

“You look lovely,” Mason continued. “May I have this dance?”

Folaisia
Folaisia wrote:"That must be a general's uniform isn't it," greeted Gillebrìde, his Gaelic accent being somewhat audible, "I'm Gillebrìde Conall Scrymgeour, Major General of the 3rd Division, Second Corps, Army of Kinmore, and son of the late Chief Raghnall Scrymgeour. Might I say it's pleasure for me to see that I'm not the only one wearing a military uniform on this occasion."

“Yes it is, General Scrymgeour,” General Tilney replied. “And it is a pleasure to meet you.” The Atlantian General extended a hand, and then indicated the woman standing next to him wearing a ballgown made of sunflower yellow-colored fabric. “This is my wife Eleneaor.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman said with a nod of the head.

“I would introduce my brother Frederick, but he’s run off to try his luck with the ladies,” Tilney continued with a laugh. “You know, I was in your country not too long ago. I was just a colonel then, of course. Sent off to observe your army in the war against Belesta. That was bloody, bloody business.”

“I met your father you know,” Tilney said. “Briefly, before Faldarleith. My condolences.” The general seemed uncomfortable, groping for words to supplement the rather banal expression of sympathies. “I understand his rearguard saved the whole army.”

"Well, sir, I beg to differ. What better way to show off Atlantian wealth and influence? As well as the enlightening presence of luminaries such as yourself, of course. I'm just along for the ride with Lieutenant Commander Tamlin, so don't worry. I won't be leaving disappointed girls behind or getting my name, rank and serial number on an enraged father's bullet. He has something of a reputation 'board the Minerva as a ladies' man, but I don't think Miss Scrymgeour need worry. He's a complete gentleman. (Narrator: Miss Scrymgeour should probably worry.) He turned to the author and shook his hand warmly. "Lieutenant Johann Rao, Brettain Imperial Navy. I'm honored to meet you, Mr Eubank. I've read most of your work."
_______
Meanwhile, Daneel and Maighread continued to dance. I really shouldn't have talked to Joh about her like that. She's attractive, kind. He was beginning to like Maighread, and the night was young. Who knew what the evening held? "So, Maighread. Tell me about Folaisia. What is it like? I'm afraid I have only seen the coastline from a distance, I have never traveled there. Are all the ladies as attractive and charming as you?" Internally, he hoped to the gods he was pronouncing his English correctly. Aristocratic Brettain accents tended to have more of the cut-crystal harshness that the language was said to have, and linguistic minutiae often got lost in translation (pun intended).
Last edited by Brettenwald on Thu Apr 02, 2020 8:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
This nation generally doesn't represent my political views IRL.
BERNIE 2020 RIP
An insane mix of the British Empire & the British aristocracy, the Roman Empire, Dune, Game of Thrones, Imperial Germany, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Harry Turtledove books that came into existence at three in the morning during a sleep deprivation-fueled creative writing frenzy.

A Class 1.142 Civilization according to this index. Brettenwave(プモ)

Relevant IC info: Brettenwald does have its own conlang, I just need to get around to making it in its entirety. In the meantime, I'm using German for pretty much everything except place names, people's names, titles, and honorifics since it's just easier that way.

User avatar
The Frozen Forest
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1643
Founded: Sep 12, 2016
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby The Frozen Forest » Wed Apr 01, 2020 10:30 pm



This is so much fun! Emilia allowed herself to be led in the dance with Andrew Braxton. He seemed skilled, a natural dancer and if she had to guess she would have thought that he'd been doing that sort of thing his whole life. How many girls had he asked to dance before? Did it even matter? Emilia looked up at the cavalryman and wondered if he had come merely to escort his sister or if he was here seeking a debutante. Surely there was no shortage of women interested in him being that he was serving in his countries military. She was a Princess but even she was susceptible to the allure of a uniform. "I don't imagine you-"

A sharp pain shot through Emilia's foot. Her face twisted into a cringe but she managed to hold back any audible sign of distress. She glanced down to confirm that Andrew had indeed accidentally stepped on her foot. Perhaps she had overestimated his ability. She offered a small smile and gestured away from the others around them "Maybe that's enough dancing for now? Wait. Alexius?" Emilia stepped to the side to see that her brother and Sasha Braxton were dancing together. Her brother didn't seem to notice her or anyone apart from Sasha. Emilia couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into him. Her brother hated dancing. "You brought your sister to the Cotillion to introduce her to potential suitors?"




Alexius watched his sister get pulled off to dance with Andrew Braxton. He had to admit that at first he was impressed with how coordinated the aristocrat was on his feet. It was rare to see a soldier who also knew how to dance-typically those who could were among the nobility. It seemed that whatever rustiness Andrew had it washed off as the music began to pick up. Alexius noticed that a few eyes had even turned to watch them. He almost laughed when he noticed that most of them were young men-probably unmarried escorts from foreign nations. None of them had a chance with Emilia though, especially if she was focused on Andrew.

Alexius looked over at Sasha and ended up meeting her gaze. "It would be my honor to dance with you my lady." Alexius gently took Sasha's hand and guided her onto the ballroom floor. He pulled her close and swayed her with the rhythm of the music. She was apt enough that their dance moved along smoothly. An idea came to mind and he capered along with her towards the center of the floor. His motions became more playful and he swung around with her care-freely. He hadn't gone out with the intention of stealing the attention of the other dancers but he wanted to make a good impression.

He pulled gently on the small of Sasha's back and brought her close to him. The people in the background melted away and they were rocked gently as the music began to slow.
Well Hi, i joined NS on Feb 1st, 2013 under the name Aztec of america and have been on Nationstates since. I tend to frequent the Portal to the Multi-universe (Nowadays i spend a lot of my time in Nationstates (the sub-forum)). Recently i've been trying to develop The Frozen Forest (I'm still developing my history, culture and relations with other nations), so if you want a historical, trade or diplomatic relationship, shoot me a telegram.

I don't bite, so don't be afraid to say hello.



Royal Marriage with Camelone! (Queen Freja Krieger and High King Frederick Krieger)

User avatar
Atlantian Dominions
Envoy
 
Posts: 235
Founded: Sep 04, 2012
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Atlantian Dominions » Thu Apr 02, 2020 10:25 am

Voxija
Voxija wrote:Princess Nerea smiled. Back home, people would have given her a full bow or curtsey, but she decided that Mason had introduced himself properly.

"I would be delighted," said the princess. She took Mason in hand, and they danced. Princess Nerea was graceful as always, but Mason might have been too distracted to focus on the dancing! Princess Nerea didn't feel a spark... yet, but Mason Lockwood at least seemed nice.

After some dancing, Princess Nerea said, "So, tell me about yourself. What do you do?"

Mason Lockwood might not have had the years of training in dance and etiquette that some of the Yukonian nobles could boast, but this wasn’t his first dance either. He was admittedly somewhat distracted; he could all but hear Mary’s voice in his mind, playfully calling him smitten, but it wasn’t that, at least not yet. Nerea was different, well outside the sort of people he’d met accompanying his parents to the gatherings of the rich and powerful in the Dominion of Missama. Still, fascinated or smitten, he could at least avoid trodding on the princess’ feet while they moved around the ballroom floor.

“I’m...my family is in the shipping business,” he said, with a brief pause and a restart before he said I’m William Lockwood’s son as a complete answer to her question. “My father sponsors International Trader ships. He helps a captain buy and maintain a ship and fill it with cargo, and then he gets a portion of the profits from each voyage. I help where I can, with going over the ledgers and such. It can be boring work, but everyone keeps telling me I’ll be taking over one day so I better learn how to run things. I’ll admit sometimes I get jealous of the Traders,” Mason said. “They get to visit so many places.”

“What about you?” Mason asked Nerea. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Voxija on any ledger. What is it like there?”

Folaisia
Folaisia wrote:Gillebrìde gazed off into space for little while, before finishing with a sigh. Hearing Tilney's condolences, he thanks him before the General mentioned the defensive stand of his father's Second Corps.

"Indeed, the Second Corps prevented the Army's retreat from becoming a disastrous one," he recounts, "When the rest of the Army was retreating in a state of close disarray, my father managed to gather his Corps and elements of the other Corps, namely the Third and Fourth, to form a defensive perimeter around the city and secure the escape route of Fhaolagain Road. I myself was at the southern end, commanding three regiments against the onslaught of General Pugin's XV Corps. It was hell that evening. We kept a strong defense, but the Belestans threw in everything they got, even to the point of savage close combat. Eventually, we couldn't hold out for much longer, and made our retreat. That's about that," he then nods his head for a short while.

"Anyways, I take it my father was a good man? Didn't give you much trouble, at all?"

When Tilney was done conversing his experiences, Gillebrìde had another question in mind.

"Since I know you're a General, have you military experience?"

“He was a fine man,” General Tilney answered. “Of course I only met him very briefly, but he struck me as a fine soldier and leader. Yes, definitely a good man.” Tilney looked over to where Maighread was dancing. She must have been only a child when her father died…

“Thankfully, we’ve been blessed with peace here in the Confederation for many years,” he continued. “My last real taste of battle was that business with the Hondies a few years back.” In 1867 the Confederation had launched a “punitive expedition” into Honduragua, its southern neighbor, in retaliation for cross-border bandit attacks and Honduragua’s sheltering of Kumanch raiders fleeing the Cavalry in Abrasoka.

“My division was at Manzanita,” he said proudly. “General Rayling gave us the toughest assignment, storming the old fort that overlooked the city. It was a nasty fight, came down to bayonet, but we got over the walls and took the high ground. That was the key to the whole battle.”

“Since then it’s been nothing but the usual,” Tilney concluded. “They put me in command of Fort Mercer, and I spent my days sending Cavalry chasing after indijans until I was transferred back east.”

“It was terrible,” Eleanor chimed in with a laugh. “It was hot, and dusty, and there was hardly a town to speak of. The other wives and I went mad trying to stay civilized.”

Brettenwald
Brettenwald wrote:"Well, sir, I beg to differ. What better way to show off Atlantian wealth and influence? As well as the enlightening presence of luminaries such as yourself, of course. I'm just along for the ride with Lieutenant Commander Tamlin, so don't worry. I won't be leaving disappointed girls behind or getting my name, rank and serial number on an enraged father's bullet. He has something of a reputation 'board the Minerva as a ladies' man, but I don't think Miss Scrymgeour need worry. He's a complete gentleman. (Narrator: Miss Scrymgeour should probably worry.) He turned to the author and shook his hand warmly. "Lieutenant Johann Rao, Brettain Imperial Navy. I'm honored to meet you, Mr Eubank. I've read most of your work."

“Well thank you,” Eubank replied. “I’m always happy to meet a fan. So,Imperial Navy? You must get up to a fair bit of swashbuckling yourself, then.”

Scudder spoke up at this. “Randolph, the common man who reads your work might not know it, but I’m sure the lieutenant here,” he added some emphasis on the man’s rank, which he considered far too low to be attending a prestigious event like the Cotillion. “Knows that the real world isn’t like what you write in your novels.”

“Ah, but there’s a bit of truth in every story, Bertram,” the author replied. “I was a newspaper correspondent during the Honduraguan War, when we took Lemoyne and Abrasoka from the Hondies. I may embellish for drama,” Eubank admitted. “But the world out there is just as exciting as my books. You’d know that if you ever left Grand Harbor.”

Bertram Scudder scowled. “Fortunately for me, my profession doesn’t require trooping all over the continent.” He turned to Lieutenant Rao. “I write for the magazines here, you see. I cover all the social happenings of the town: who’s there, who’s not, and who they’re with. So Miss Scrymgeour and your Lieutenant Commander Tamlin need not worry. I write for Atlantians, so I only write about Atlantians. Or at least I did,” he amended. “Until they opened the gates here.”

Camelone
Camelone wrote:Catriona was wearing a dress which was all the rage back in Camelone and she was internally praying that it to would find support among these Atlantians.

With these thoughts raging through her mind she took her steps onto the stage tentatively, she did not like the fact that so many strangers and people in general were staring at her. Thankfully it seemed like a few were looking at her simply dressed father who wore grey military trousers with perfectly shined riding boots, a greyish blue double breasted military jacket and a blood red belt. The only thing distinguishing him as a military governor was the gold sash that went across his chest. His presence gave Catriona the confidence enough to do the curtsy and calmly walk off the stage to join the crowd, instead of sprinting off which she wanted to do.

"You did excellent little one." Ceallach told her off the stage with what counted as a smile across his face causing Catriona to give a giant smile of her own and jump up and down in excitement before she recomposed herself. This caused a small chuckle and an actual smile to form on her fathers face making it even better.

Catriona and Ceallach were soon approached by a pair of men, both a few years older than Ceallach and accompanied by a young woman in a white debutante dress which was evidently made of fine materials but rather plain in terms of decorations. The young woman seemed less eager than the two men to approach the Cameloneans.

“Governor Ui-Aogan,” the man on the left said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Senator Philip Shay.”

“Senator Charles Dade,” the other man said by way of introduction.

“And of course my daughter Chelsea,” Philip Shay said. Chelsea smiled and said hello as well. “I wanted to come over and meet you. We see ships from Camelone in Grand Harbor all the time and it’s nice to put a face to the flag.” Senator Dade nodded in affirmation; he represented the Dominion of Missama, which supplied large amounts of cotton and indigo to the High Kingdom.
Last edited by Atlantian Dominions on Sat Apr 04, 2020 12:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Confederation of Atlantian Dominions
Past Tech/Steampunk RP
My nation can be referred to as "the Atlantian Dominions" or "Atlantia"

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Kuronami
Minister
 
Posts: 2637
Founded: Nov 04, 2016
Father Knows Best State

Postby Kuronami » Thu Apr 02, 2020 10:42 am

The Frozen Forest wrote:This is so much fun! Emilia allowed herself to be led in the dance with Andrew Braxton. He seemed skilled, a natural dancer and if she had to guess she would have thought that he'd been doing that sort of thing his whole life. How many girls had he asked to dance before? Did it even matter? Emilia looked up at the cavalryman and wondered if he had come merely to escort his sister or if he was here seeking a debutante. Surely there was no shortage of women interested in him being that he was serving in his countries military. She was a Princess but even she was susceptible to the allure of a uniform. "I don't imagine you-"

A sharp pain shot through Emilia's foot. Her face twisted into a cringe but she managed to hold back any audible sign of distress. She glanced down to confirm that Andrew had indeed accidentally stepped on her foot. Perhaps she had overestimated his ability. She offered a small smile and gestured away from the others around them "Maybe that's enough dancing for now? Wait. Alexius?" Emilia stepped to the side to see that her brother and Sasha Braxton were dancing together. Her brother didn't seem to notice her or anyone apart from Sasha. Emilia couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into him. Her brother hated dancing. "You brought your sister to the Cotillion to introduce her to potential suitors?" Alexius watched his sister get pulled off to dance with Andrew Braxton. He had to admit that at first he was impressed with how coordinated the aristocrat was on his feet. It was rare to see a soldier who also knew how to dance-typically those who could were among the nobility. It seemed that whatever rustiness Andrew had it washed off as the music began to pick up. Alexius noticed that a few eyes had even turned to watch them. He almost laughed when he noticed that most of them were young men-probably unmarried escorts from foreign nations. None of them had a chance with Emilia though, especially if she was focused on Andrew.

Alexius looked over at Sasha and ended up meeting her gaze. "It would be my honor to dance with you my lady." Alexius gently took Sasha's hand and guided her onto the ballroom floor. He pulled her close and swayed her with the rhythm of the music. She was apt enough that their dance moved along smoothly. An idea came to mind and he capered along with her towards the center of the floor. His motions became more playful and he swung around with her care-freely. He hadn't gone out with the intention of stealing the attention of the other dancers but he wanted to make a good impression.

He pulled gently on the small of Sasha's back and brought her close to him. The people in the background melted away and they were rocked gently as the music began to slow.




Braxton broke off the dance when she requested "I am truly sorry, Milady, I didn't realize I was that out of practice. I hope you're not hurt if I stepped on you. Anyway to answer your question, I suppose it's an either-or-situation. Our family is in business and we would hope a party of many other socialites especially those overseas would make for some fine connections. If Sasha does manage to find a suitor that would be an added benefit. She is of age and ready to be wedded and has finished her service commitment to her country as I have. Oh that is, all males must serve in the military by the time they are 20, well I've made a long carer out of it as you can tell. All women must commit to helping the nation in some way. Could be helping orphans, widows, clerical duties. Well the list can go on and on to be honest. But with Sasha having committed her due duty to her nation and to His Majesty her life is ahead of her."


Unlike her brother, Sasha had more than enough practice to dance. Honestly the observation of her was correct, she was rather frail and petite. Doctors reckoned she was born just a little wrong they guessed. In the days before proper maternal and natal care were well known it was the best they could assume. But dancing was something she could do. Ballroom dancing, a little waltzing . She'll never be an étoile ballerina but she could enjoy a fine dance with anyone she liked. Perfect steps in time with the music and with her partner's motions too. Sharing this graceful dance was rather exciting and enjoyable.

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Oulympos
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 21
Founded: Mar 06, 2020
Father Knows Best State

Postby Oulympos » Thu Apr 02, 2020 1:03 pm

OOC: Much like a previous post, dialogue in Hellenike (Ancient Greek, heavily Thessalian accented) is italicized.

"Will you bloody get on with it!?" Enyalios shouted at the lagging crew as their clipper entered the grand harbor. They were already late as it was, and forcing them to wait even longer on the ship was not going to be tolerated to an officer in the British Army. Striding across the deck, Enyalios furiously whipped the men into action and helped them moor the vessel and draw into the harbor so that they could immediately disembark. The Clipper, Adonis, was the personal possession of Cytherea, the lady in which traveled for this great ball. Her fortune had allowed her to purchase the thing off the government when they'd shifted to more industrial forms of transport, several years before. While not Adonis's captain, Enyalios was a man who took command, and could be whipped into a fury by incompetence. His time with the army abroad had left him with no patience for civilian complacence.

Below the deck in the luxurious apartments (as much as one can be luxurious on an old boat), Cytherea worked with great diligence in putting together her dress for the debutante ball. Placing and tying each tress and lock of hair, pinning the right piece of cloth here and there, and applying the best makeup in the correct way. All were painstaking, and all were an art in which the girl had mastered in her time in England. A matchmaker and socialite must be taken seriously, and must be diligent about her own appearance. Besides the handsome Enyo, shouting across the deck above her, her mirror was her greatest companion. Taking leave of her cabin, Cytherea went to the deck to calm Enyo and make their way to the ball.

"Took you all long enough!" Enyalios yelled. "Can't you do it right the first time? You're seaman, for god's sake!"

"Enough, Enyo. We've made it to Atlantis alive. There's no need to treat our crew like animals." Cytherea said with a soothing voice.

"You really ought to discipline your men, Cypris." Enyo said with a smirk. "Then again, what man doesn't become a pliant and obdediant subject when they see you?"

Slapping his arm with her hand fan, they left immediately for the ball. Paying extra money to the locals to borrow a rather drab carriage (and even more extra to send their things ahead to the hotel), they raced to the ball as soon as they possibly could. During her ride, Cytherea eagerly read through what reports she'd gathered about the notable people attending. Especially the debutantes. Already imagining pairing them with bachelors in her mind, she smiled knowing she'd need to confirm by meeting them in person. This sort of event was just good for business...even though she never actually took money from it. Enyalios on the other hand fiddled with his dress uniform, making sure his few medals were in place and all proper. He looked upon the locals with both admiration and suspicion...a soldier's lot in life it seemed.

When people saw the drab carriage pull into the building where the ball was being held, none assumed it contained foreigners foreign to the land in which they came from. Yet all would likely know them by the time the ball drew to a close. Later, as the society called them on to the stage, Cytherea allowed Enyo to go first. It seemed polite to her at least. Enyalios was an actual soldier and a man, after all. Standing tall and fierce, Enyo bowed politely to the crowd. Unlike most of this time, he was clean shaven and long of hair, golden and at shoulder length. He looked more a man of the time of Wars of the Coalition than that of the Age of Victoria. His olive skin shone in the light with eyes of deep blue and a very aquiline face. His eyes contrasted with his bright red uniform cut with the striped of white, the mark of pride of The British Empire. Yet British music did not play as he entered, rather and instrumental of a song of the Greek war for independence.

When Cytherea walked on to the stage, she swore she heard some gasps...though her own prideful mind was one that would have made up that sort of thing. Following the guidelines of the ball, she wore a dress of light pink and ivory, of silk and satin in its make. Following the fashion of the time her dress revealed the shoulders and was covered in ribbons, tufts, bustles and drapery. Around her waist, wrought in gold and pearls, was a girdle that had sections shaped like seashells and squares of emeralds between them. Unlike the fashion of the time, and due to her Greek roots, Cytherea did not wear her hair short nor tied up in any complicated form. She left it loose, and long, down to the small of her back and only held together by one satin ribbon in the back. It flowed like the waters of the Aegean, and blew in the windows like the gentlest of feathers. Fiercely red, it caressed in a round and gentle face, faceted by two beguiling eyes of of emerald. Curtsying in the politest of ways, she left the stage to mingle with the crowd.

"You have stunned them all, Cytherea." Enyo said, taking her arm and leading her into the ball. "As you stun me every day of our lives."

"I try my best, dearest Enyo." Cytherea said with a smile. "You shall ever be the closest to my heart. Yet I must do my good work. Have you not any desires for this event?

"Possibly. There are several here that I wish to make acquaintance." Enyo said, bowing and kissing her glove. "Try not to destroy your prey too much, dearest."

"And you with the young soldiers, Enyo. She said snidely and walked off.

Separating, Enyalios and Cytherea mingled their way through the crowds. Enyo took interest and was casually keeping up with the non-important soldiers for now. Cytherea walked, chatted casually, and observed those around her. None seemed to draw her until she saw Carlos d'Anconia trapped in a conversation with what seemed to be an older gentleman. She'd read somewhat of Carlos's possible misfortunes...but she'd not seen how handsome he was in person. Drawing back her hair and opening her fan, Cytherea walked over and politely interrupted the two. Realizing that it was wealthy magnate Orren Boyle, Cytherea curtsied for both and smiled kindly. She spoke in fluent, albeit greek accented, language to both men. Her words were smooth but bold.

"I completely agree, Mr. Boyle. That sort of move is truly tyrannical. Should not men be the arbiters of their own fortunes? Should business not be shackled by the tyranny of the state? First it will be your industry and then like my Greek forebears, your children will become janissaries to foreign tyrants. It is not just not right. And you are Mister d'Anconia, no? I should hope you'd not suffer too much at the hands of your government. I apologize for not introducing myself in full, gentlemen. I am no great baron nor lady of title, so I'm merely Cytherea Anadyomene, born of Cyprus and resident in London. It is wonderful to meet you both."
"If any man obeys the gods, they listen to him also."

If the RP is Fantasy Tech: These are legit the Twelve Gods of Olympus, of Greek Myth, not anything like DC or Marvel Comics. RP rules will be obeyed and limitations on their awesome powers will be given accordingly.
If this is a real RP (rare) this nation is nought more than a microstate of "crazy" cultists living on Mt. Olympus in Thessaly in Greece. Any weird happenings are purely explainable through reason and science, and those conclusions are up to the OP in question.
There are no NS stats for this nation, as it is only the deities of Olympus and their retinues...and those change a lot.

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Voxija
Diplomat
 
Posts: 508
Founded: Jan 17, 2019
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Voxija » Thu Apr 02, 2020 2:11 pm

Atlantian Dominions wrote:Voxija
Voxija wrote:Princess Nerea smiled. Back home, people would have given her a full bow or curtsey, but she decided that Mason had introduced himself properly.

"I would be delighted," said the princess. She took Mason in hand, and they danced. Princess Nerea was graceful as always, but Mason might have been too distracted to focus on the dancing! Princess Nerea didn't feel a spark... yet, but Mason Lockwood at least seemed nice.

After some dancing, Princess Nerea said, "So, tell me about yourself. What do you do?"

Mason Lockwood might not have had the years of training in dance and etiquette that some of the Yukonian nobles could boast, but this wasn’t his first dance either. He was admittedly somewhat distracted; he could all but hear Mary’s voice in his mind, playfully calling him smitten, but it wasn’t that, at least not yet. Nerea was different, well outside the sort of people he’d met accompanying his parents to the gatherings of the rich and powerful in the Dominion of Missama. Still, fascinated or smitten, he could at least avoid trodding on the princess’ feet while they moved around the ballroom floor.

“I’m...my family is in the shipping business,” he said, with a brief pause and a restart before he said I’m William Lockwood’s son as a complete answer to her question. “My father sponsors International Trader ships. He helps a captain buy and maintain a ship and fill it with cargo, and then he gets a portion of the profits from each voyage. I help where I can, with going over the ledgers and such. It can be boring work, but everyone keeps telling me I’ll be taking over one day so I better learn how to run things. I’ll admit sometimes I get jealous of the Traders,” Mason said. “They get to visit so many places.”

“What about you?” Mason asked Nerea. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Voxija on any ledger. What is it like there?”


Princess Nerea smiled. The shipping business, huh? Princess Nerea had lived a rather sheltered live, and all of her friends didn't work in something so mundane as a family business, even a very successful one.

"Voxija is a beautiful country", said Nerea, who felt like she had to be the representative of Voxija and uphold her country's reputation. "An island in the middle of the sea. On the coast, you can gaze for miles and all you can see will be clear blue waters. There are forests and plains and rivers and lakes and cities and the most beautiful palm trees—we call them "pali". You should visit someday, but my country is really very remote. I love traveling, but it takes so much time to sail from Voxija to anywhere important." Nerea remembered how long it took to come to the Atlantian Dominions. Thankfully she never got seasick.

Princess Nerea left out some details about Voxija that she felt was sharing too much information. How the religion was an almost heretical Catholicism, with a significant minority of the (pagan!) indigenous religion. How the population was so mestizo it was practically homogenous. How Voxija harbored, and even encouraged, gypsies. Maybe she would reveal those slightly alarming traits if Mason asked more about her country.

Princess Nerea hoped she and Mason would become friends. Nerea imagined writing long letters about court politics, Voxijan news, or just her adventures to Mason Lockwood. He seemed nice, but not romantically. However, the princess remained guarded, just in case.
The Republic of Voxija (pronounced: Voshiya)
I'm female.
A self-quaratined zoomer. Oddly Jewish. Trying to learn French and failing. An American who wishes the US would switch to the metric system. Stroppy cow and proud of it. Secret pyromaniac?

my politics are confused and muddled | Love is love!
My flag is the Basque flag ICly too.
I'd rather be fishing.
I think that by now I've created more lore for my nation than most real-world nations have.
I actually don't speak Basque. I just think it's a cool language.

User avatar
Folaisia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1454
Founded: Oct 17, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Folaisia » Thu Apr 02, 2020 6:40 pm

Brettenwald wrote:Meanwhile, Daneel and Maighread continued to dance. I really shouldn't have talked to Joh about her like that. She's attractive, kind. He was beginning to like Maighread, and the night was young. Who knew what the evening held? "So, Maighread. Tell me about Folaisia. What is it like? I'm afraid I have only seen the coastline from a distance, I have never traveled there. Are all the ladies as attractive and charming as you?" Internally, he hoped to the gods he was pronouncing his English correctly. Aristocratic Brettain accents tended to have more of the cut-crystal harshness that the language was said to have, and linguistic minutiae often got lost in translation (pun intended).


Maighread was a bit struck by her partner's accent given its harshness. Unknowingly, she skipped a couple of steps after hearing him speak. Nevertheless, seeing him as a man of good character, Maigread continued to give a warming and captivating smile, as well as a chuckle to his question.

"What can I say," she then responds, stifling the last of her discountenance, "Well, first off, Folaisia is a bonnie country, and that's without a drop of doubt. It's filled with forests, snow, lakes, rivers, picturesque landscapes, lively town life and good and hospitable people. Though, city life can be a wee bit unsettling, if you want my honest opinion on that. Speaking of which, I would recommend that you go there in the autumn, where the trees look like one huge painting come to life. And trust me when I say that. You'll love it. One more thing to add is the winter. Make sure you purchase a coat of good quality, as such weather can get very cold and harsh. Now, as for the ladies as you speak, you can find plenty of them over there, "she then giggled,"Anyways, how about your country? I've only heard of Brettenwald whenever my late father has his discussions with friends who are emissaries."

As she continued to flow with the rhythm of the strings, Maighread stared off into space for a little while, but enough for her to prevent attracting his concern. Her eyes still kept attention on his.

Atlantian Dominions wrote:“He was a fine man,” General Tilney answered. “Of course I only met him very briefly, but he struck me as a fine soldier and leader. Yes, definitely a good man.” Tilney looked over to where Maighread was dancing. She must have been only a child when her father died…

“Thankfully, we’ve been blessed with peace here in the Confederation for many years,” he continued. “My last real taste of battle was that business with the Hondies a few years back.” In 1867 the Confederation had launched a “punitive expedition” into Honduragua, its southern neighbor, in retaliation for cross-border bandit attacks and Honduragua’s sheltering of Kialagee raiders fleeing the Cavalry in Abrasoka.

“My division was at Manzanita,” he said proudly. “General Rayling gave us the toughest assignment, storming the old fort that overlooked the city. It was a nasty fight, came down to bayonet, but we got over the walls and took the high ground. That was the key to the whole battle.”

“Since then it’s been nothing but the usual,” Tilney concluded. “They put me in command of Fort Mercer, and I spent my days sending Cavalry chasing after indijans until I was transferred back east.”

“It was terrible,” Eleanor chimed in with a laugh. “It was hot, and dusty, and there was hardly a town to speak of. The other wives and I went mad trying to stay civilized.”

Gillebrìde honed in on Tilney's recount, nodding when hearing of his highlights which reminded him of his times during the War. He was about to speak his mind when his wife's voice came out of the blue.

"I imagine so," Gillebrìde chuckled, "I reckon I've had friends who fought in the Trans-Messouritagh Theater in the last war. They described the same climate as you've pointed out. Speaking of which, how is it that you were able to travel with your husband while he's on duty? Same would go for the wives in general."
Last edited by Folaisia on Fri Apr 03, 2020 11:39 am, edited 3 times in total.
The Scottish kingdom in North America.

* * * * * * * *
Other Nations: Avraland | Belesta | Joyonghea | Quen Minh

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The Frozen Forest
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1643
Founded: Sep 12, 2016
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby The Frozen Forest » Thu Apr 02, 2020 7:48 pm



Emilia listened to Andrew as he began to jabber about Kuronamian laws relating to conscription. It wasn't something that wholly interested her (certainly her brother would love to discuss those sorts of things) but she feigned interest to be polite. The bit that she found interesting was the confirmation that Sasha was likely seeking a partner at the Cotillion. As a Princess it was her job to look out for her brothers well-being and the good of her family in the long term. A tedious task, but less tedious than if she allowed Alexius to bring someone home that wasn't up to the task of being a literal Queen. Thus Emilia turned to Andrew with a look of business and appraisal. Were these Aristocrats worthy of such a long and hollowed bloodline?

"Marrying into my family would bring your household more wealth than contracts with the next ten wealthiest families in this room put together." Emilia said bluntly. She looked at Alexius and Sasha as they'd settled into a more relaxed dance. "My brother seems to be getting along with your sister. As far as i can tell he hasn't even looked at another girl on the dance floor. That scares me a little bit."

Emilia was almost certainly reading more into the situation than she should. Playing matchmaker for her brother without his permission. Somehow she doubted he would go against her, whatever she did. "If you don't mind me asking after her, What is Sasha like? Is she healthy? How does she treat inferiors?" Emilia probed.



Alexius swayed along with Sasha and couldn't help but think that it was a nice feeling. There was a silence between the dance partners but he thought that was alright. Sasha didn't seem to be trying to impress him and he guessed she was enjoying herself. For at least a moment there wasn't talk about succession or suitors or what he thought of his father's decision to outlaw whatever he decided to outlaw that day. The responsibilities of a Prince could be a burden.
Well Hi, i joined NS on Feb 1st, 2013 under the name Aztec of america and have been on Nationstates since. I tend to frequent the Portal to the Multi-universe (Nowadays i spend a lot of my time in Nationstates (the sub-forum)). Recently i've been trying to develop The Frozen Forest (I'm still developing my history, culture and relations with other nations), so if you want a historical, trade or diplomatic relationship, shoot me a telegram.

I don't bite, so don't be afraid to say hello.



Royal Marriage with Camelone! (Queen Freja Krieger and High King Frederick Krieger)

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Camelone
Senator
 
Posts: 3820
Founded: Feb 20, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Camelone » Fri Apr 03, 2020 8:48 pm

Atlantian Dominions wrote:Camelone
Camelone wrote:Catriona was wearing a dress which was all the rage back in Camelone and she was internally praying that it to would find support among these Atlantians.

With these thoughts raging through her mind she took her steps onto the stage tentatively, she did not like the fact that so many strangers and people in general were staring at her. Thankfully it seemed like a few were looking at her simply dressed father who wore grey military trousers with perfectly shined riding boots, a greyish blue double breasted military jacket and a blood red belt. The only thing distinguishing him as a military governor was the gold sash that went across his chest. His presence gave Catriona the confidence enough to do the curtsy and calmly walk off the stage to join the crowd, instead of sprinting off which she wanted to do.

"You did excellent little one." Ceallach told her off the stage with what counted as a smile across his face causing Catriona to give a giant smile of her own and jump up and down in excitement before she recomposed herself. This caused a small chuckle and an actual smile to form on her fathers face making it even better.

Catriona and Ceallach were soon approached by a pair of men, both a few years older than Ceallach and accompanied by a young woman in a white debutante dress which was evidently made of fine materials but rather plain in terms of decorations. The young woman seemed less eager than the two men to approach the Cameloneans.

“Governor Ui-Aogan,” the man on the left said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Senator Philip Shay.”

“Senator Charles Dade,” the other man said by way of introduction.

“And of course my daughter Chelsea,” Philip Shay said. Chelsea smiled and said hello as well. “I wanted to come over and meet you. We see ships from Camelone in Grand Harbor all the time and it’s nice to put a face to the flag.” Senator Dade nodded in affirmation; he represented the Dominion of Missama, which supplied large amounts of cotton and indigo to the High Kingdom.

"Ah, Senator's a pleasure to meet you both." Ceallach returned the greeting to the two men and before he turned to introduce his daughter, he would address their point after this formality of course. "This is my daughter Catriona." To which Catriona gave a meek smile and quietly greeted them before attempting to nonchalantly move behind her father which he easily prevented by adjusting his body to talk to the two senators. He loved his daughter greatly but he was not about to let her hide on the day she should be socializing, sometimes she just needed that extra push to talk with the teasa.

"Yes we certainly have a great many of our ships that stop here, both for trade and refuel as you are most definitely aware of. I pray that my countrymen have proved to be honorable guests when here. Beyond that though I must tell you this is a place of great relief for me compared to the colony, a wonderful place mind you with good people but still to damn muggy or hot." Ceallach spoke, his voice was collected and face was composed and professional as ever.

As for Catriona though she broke off from her father and decided maybe she attempt to talk to this woman, Chelsea. Gingerly stepping over to her to be within polite distance to talk she did her best to speak with her "Um... it's, uh... it's a pleasure to meet you. How, uh, how has the Ball treated you so far?" Even among her own people she was bashful but her it was more pronounced, she knew social mores and norms were different and she was nervous about insulting anyone.
Dissenting High Church Episcopalian, American Jacobite with a Byzantine flair for extra spice
I am... the lurker!
Ave Rex Christus!

Pro: The Social Kingship of Christ, Society of King Charles the Martyr, Corporatism, Distributism, Tradition based Christianity, High Tory, Hierarchy, vanguard republicanism, Blue Laws, Official Nationality
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User avatar
Kuronami
Minister
 
Posts: 2637
Founded: Nov 04, 2016
Father Knows Best State

Postby Kuronami » Sat Apr 04, 2020 12:01 pm

The Frozen Forest wrote:Emilia listened to Andrew as he began to jabber about Kuronamian laws relating to conscription. It wasn't something that wholly interested her (certainly her brother would love to discuss those sorts of things) but she feigned interest to be polite. The bit that she found interesting was the confirmation that Sasha was likely seeking a partner at the Cotillion. As a Princess it was her job to look out for her brothers well-being and the good of her family in the long term. A tedious task, but less tedious than if she allowed Alexius to bring someone home that wasn't up to the task of being a literal Queen. Thus Emilia turned to Andrew with a look of business and appraisal. Were these Aristocrats worthy of such a long and hollowed bloodline?

"Marrying into my family would bring your household more wealth than contracts with the next ten wealthiest families in this room put together." Emilia said bluntly. She looked at Alexius and Sasha as they'd settled into a more relaxed dance. "My brother seems to be getting along with your sister. As far as i can tell he hasn't even looked at another girl on the dance floor. That scares me a little bit."

Emilia was almost certainly reading more into the situation than she should. Playing matchmaker for her brother without his permission. Somehow she doubted he would go against her, whatever she did. "If you don't mind me asking after her, What is Sasha like? Is she healthy? How does she treat inferiors?" Emilia probed.



Alexius swayed along with Sasha and couldn't help but think that it was a nice feeling. There was a silence between the dance partners but he thought that was alright. Sasha didn't seem to be trying to impress him and he guessed she was enjoying herself. For at least a moment there wasn't talk about succession or suitors or what he thought of his father's decision to outlaw whatever he decided to outlaw that day. The responsibilities of a Prince could be a burden.


He cleared his throat, caught off guard a bit by her eagerness to mention marrying into the family. Well she was a lovely woman and it seemed Sasha was taken in by the Prince on the dance floor but still he kept it cool "My, I don't doubt that. In good time I imagine we could talk more about that and whatever God wills is what will happen. Sasha huh? She's long been frail and weak. Uh that is to say when she was born she just didn't seem like she'd be with us long. But now here she is 18 years later. She does all right now but still needs an firm eye on her. As a child she was often cooped up in her room because she was always ill but in spite of that she still she learned to dance as you can see, she insisted and insisted until our parents gave in and hired her an instructor. She's friendly, kind and generous. She insisted her personal maid, Anastasia come along with us on this trip because if Miss Anastasia knows anything it's how to get Sasha to open up."

Sasha kept time in her head of the music's rhythm and tempo once she had a secure grasp on it she spoke out to compliment "Can I say, Milord, you're a very fine dancer. I think my brother didn't get very far with your sister." She noted out of the corner of her eye the two were sidelined already so clearly Andrew was as bad as he warned when he was told he'd be escorting Sasha along.

"Oh well, many men don't seem to get the art of dance. But it's nice to dance with you." When the song ended she stepped back and gave a curtsy of thank you.

User avatar
Atlantian Dominions
Envoy
 
Posts: 235
Founded: Sep 04, 2012
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Atlantian Dominions » Sat Apr 04, 2020 1:12 pm

Oulympos
Oulympos wrote:Drawing back her hair and opening her fan, Cytherea walked over and politely interrupted the two. Realizing that it was wealthy magnate Orren Boyle, Cytherea curtsied for both and smiled kindly. She spoke in fluent, albeit greek accented, language to both men. Her words were smooth but bold.

"I completely agree, Mr. Boyle. That sort of move is truly tyrannical. Should not men be the arbiters of their own fortunes? Should business not be shackled by the tyranny of the state? First it will be your industry and then like my Greek forebears, your children will become janissaries to foreign tyrants. It is not just not right. And you are Mister d'Anconia, no? I should hope you'd not suffer too much at the hands of your government. I apologize for not introducing myself in full, gentlemen. I am no great baron nor lady of title, so I'm merely Cytherea Anadyomene, born of Cyprus and resident in London. It is wonderful to meet you both."

Orren Boyle and Carlos d’Anconia were, at this moment, possibly the two most mis-matched men in the entire Grand Ballroom. Boyle was obese, a trait he carried almost like a badge of honor. The man had lived very well and done little in the way of physical labor for years, and while his suit was finely tailored to slim his figure down in whatever ways it could, he felt no need to feel ashamed of his lack of fitness. His brown hair was greased into position, and he looked at everything with a pair of beady brown eyes. He was smoking a huge cigar filled with Missama tobacco, which he insisted was superior to any non-Atlantian product.

Standing opposite him, the young d’Anconia heir was the model of rugged wealth. His skin, darker than Boyle’s by several shades, was further tanned by many hours out in the sun, riding horses around his family estates or walking around with his father inspecting a mine or another piece of the d’Anconia business. His black hair was washed and combed but it had no product in it, and his green eyes shimmered like emeralds. He had been, for the most part, making noises that sounded like expressions of interest as Orren Boyle ranted about some rumor in the papers about the Honduraguan government nationalizing mines. Associated Steel’s voracious appetite for raw ores meant that it could not content itself with just the product of Atlantian mines alone. In addition, nationalizing the mines could be the first step to a state steel corporation that would use its inside line to underbid for contracts and steal them from Associated Steel.

Cytherea’s arrival interrupted the rant. The two men regarded the redheaded woman as she made her proclamations. Orren Boyle smiled, always happy to hear someone express an opinion that aligned with his own.

“Your thoughts align precisely with my own,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you, miss Anadomennie.”

“Charmed,” Carlos said with a touch of dryness. “As I was just about to tell Mister Boyle,” he continued. “I don’t expect there to be any trouble. It is a rumor, nothing more, and it will come to nothing. A passion strikes one of the liberals in the Chamber of Deputies when he gives a speech, and by the time the news arrives in Grand Harbor you’d think Levelers had taken over the whole government.”

Voxija
Voxija wrote:"Voxija is a beautiful country", said Nerea, who felt like she had to be the representative of Voxija and uphold her country's reputation. "An island in the middle of the sea. On the coast, you can gaze for miles and all you can see will be clear blue waters. There are forests and plains and rivers and lakes and cities and the most beautiful palm trees—we call them "pali". You should visit someday, but my country is really very remote. I love traveling, but it takes so much time to sail from Voxija to anywhere important." Nerea remembered how long it took to come to the Atlantian Dominions. Thankfully she never got seasick.

“It does sound beautiful,” Mason Lockwood said. “I’ve been to Darianna, an island in the Alcazar Sea, that was like you described.” He’d seen some palm trees and tropical forests, but only in the more hilly areas of the island. The flatlands along the coast and into the interior had been cleared of their trees, to make way for vast plantations that produced sugar and other cash crops.

“That was only a short trip,” he admitted. “But by the time we finally reached the port I was ready to run the length of the island, just to get off the ship.”

“But you didn’t arrive by yourself,” Mason added, glancing briefly around to see where Nerea’s escort was standing. “So at least you had someone to talk to on the voyage? Good company makes a long trip pass much more quickly.”

Folaisia
Folaisia wrote:"I imagine so," Gillebrìde chuckled, "I reckon I've had friends who fought in the Trans-Messouritagh Theater in the last war. They described the same climate as you've pointed out. Speaking of which, how is it that you were able to travel with your husband while he's on duty? Same would go for the wives in general."

“Oh, it was perfectly safe for Ellie and the other women at Fort Mercer,” General Tilney answered. “The Kumanch - that’s what the savages call themselves in Abrasoka, for the most part - would never dream of attacking the place. Well, maybe they might dream of it, but they’d never try it. They’re damned good riders and deadly shots from the saddle, but they’re not an army, not in any modern sense.”

“There were some who lived nearby,” Eleanor recalled wistfully. “The women made such lovely little crafts.”

“Those were Cuwalpia,” Henry corrected. “They were the best trackers I’ve ever seen. I swear they could track a man who was walking in a river. Anyway, Fort Mercer wasn’t in danger,” he repeated. “It was our headquarters. I was in command of a Cavalry division. I’d send out patrols and scouts to find the indijans, or if someone reported they were attacking somewhere I’d send out men to go try and stop them. Sometimes we got lucky and we could catch ‘em. But it was frustrating business. Like trying to stop sand falling between your fingers. Manzanita was bloody but at least the Hondies fought properly.”

Camelone
Camelone wrote:"Ah, Senator's a pleasure to meet you both." Ceallach returned the greeting to the two men and before he turned to introduce his daughter, he would address their point after this formality of course. "This is my daughter Catriona." To which Catriona gave a meek smile and quietly greeted them before attempting to nonchalantly move behind her father which he easily prevented by adjusting his body to talk to the two senators. He loved his daughter greatly but he was not about to let her hide on the day she should be socializing, sometimes she just needed that extra push to talk with the teasa.

"Yes we certainly have a great many of our ships that stop here, both for trade and refuel as you are most definitely aware of. I pray that my countrymen have proved to be honorable guests when here. Beyond that though I must tell you this is a place of great relief for me compared to the colony, a wonderful place mind you with good people but still to damn muggy or hot." Ceallach spoke, his voice was collected and face was composed and professional as ever.

As for Catriona though she broke off from her father and decided maybe she attempt to talk to this woman, Chelsea. Gingerly stepping over to her to be within polite distance to talk she did her best to speak with her "Um... it's, uh... it's a pleasure to meet you. How, uh, how has the Ball treated you so far?" Even among her own people she was bashful but her it was more pronounced, she knew social mores and norms were different and she was nervous about insulting anyone.

The two Senators both inclined their heads and greeted Catriona. Senator Philip Shay smiled a tiny, knowing smile as he saw the short dance between father and daughter, but he said nothing to draw attention to it.

“You’re in charge of some territory in Africa, yes?” Senator Shay asked Ceallach. “That must be a challenge. We have a few overseas possessions but nothing so distant.”

The Atlantian Dominions in fact held only a handful of islands, tropical sugar-producing islands to the south in the Alcazar Sea and a few coaling stations in the Magellan Ocean to the west. Colonialism hadn’t endeared itself to a nation which was perfectly content, with a few exceptions, to allow other nations to do the conquering and administering and to reap the profits of commerce with colonial empires such as Camelone’s.

Chelsea Shay smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you too. The Ball is treating me well so far, thought it’s only barely begun. There’s still time for something to go horribly wrong.” She chuckled in self-amusement. She could see that the younger woman from Camelone was nervous, and Chelsea didn’t blame her.

“I was so nervous the first time I attended something like this,” she told Catriona, leaning in slightly to speak in a quieter voice like she was sharing a deep secret. “My father had just been elected to the Senate, and they threw a big gala to celebrate the start of the session. I thought I might say the wrong thing or step one someone’s foot and get him sent home! But of course nothing like that happened.”

Thinking that it might help to get Catriona thinking about something other than the Cotillion, Chelsea asked her another question. “So if your father is a colonial governor, do you live in the colony too?” It might seem a silly question, but Chelsea Shay’s experience with Atlantia’s handful of colonial possessions was that the title of “Governor” was a sinecure given out to politically influential people who hung around the capital city of Cumberland. The telegraph made it easy for them to send important instructions, but delegate the day-to-day matters of running the islands to subordinates.
The Confederation of Atlantian Dominions
Past Tech/Steampunk RP
My nation can be referred to as "the Atlantian Dominions" or "Atlantia"

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