Point of Divergence V 5.0 : It's Alive! (IC)

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Posts: 611
Founded: May 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Point of Divergence V 5.0 : It's Alive! (IC)

Postby Speyland » Fri Jul 09, 2021 9:54 am

Point of Divergence V 5.0 : It's Alive!
An alternate history ISOT RP by Speyland (validated by Democratic East-Asia!)

“If there’s a zeppelin, it’s alternate history. If there’s a rocketship, it’s science fiction. If there are swords and/or horses, it’s fantasy. A book with swords and horses in it can be turned into science fiction by adding a rocketship to the mix. If a book has a rocketship in it, the only thing that can turn it back into fantasy is the Holy Grail.”
-Debra Doyle

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Moderation: Speyland and Northern Socialist Council Republics

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Posts: 611
Founded: May 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Speyland » Fri Jul 09, 2021 1:39 pm

January, Year 0

Strange Event Under Investigation
The Chinese government issued a state of emergency after losing contact with the rest of the world following a strange event with no further explanation. At the same time, citizens went on a brief panic, but Empress Tianzi urged them to remain calm until further notice. The High Eunuchs and Empress Tianzi discussed plans to reestablish communication with the outside world on a global scale to unravel the mystery of this "strange new world." Territories formerly belonging to the Chinese Federation went missing because of the strange event. However, the government and citizens reported seeing a bright red asteroid overhead, and it was approaching Earth, but the planet's fate wasn't heard of since then. Updates regarding the governmental investigation are underway.

Foreign Countries Discovered
The Chinese government recently discovered nearby foreign countries, partially as neighbors via satellite transmitters. The High Eunuchs and Empress Tianzi are considering befriending them for the sake of it. However, due to the Chinese Federation's jingoistic policy, those expectations are unlikely, and it depends on how the High Eunuchs view them. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and Reichskommissariat Japan were discovered. The government will get in contact with two newly discovered countries in the future. More updates are to be expected.

From: High Eunuchs
To: Soviet diplomat

Greetings. We're looking forward to forging a friendship with the Soviet Union despite encountering each other for the first time and having ideological differences. An embassy would be much appreciated to prevent this bloodshed from starting. What will you say?

From: High Eunuchs
To: R.K. Japanese diplomat

The Chinese Federation does not tolerate Nazism. However, we do propose a ceasefire to prevent this bloodshed from growing. We respect our ideological differences more than you do. An embassy is also preferred, but we digress. Will you accept our gracious offer?
Last edited by Speyland on Sat Jul 10, 2021 10:45 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Doje Islands
Posts: 81
Founded: May 27, 2021

Postby Doje Islands » Fri Jul 09, 2021 4:47 pm

January 1, Year 0:
Premier Kalavonost stood before the assembled crew of the aptly-named aircraft carrier D.I.S. Explorer. He took a deep breath, and began.
"Crew of the Explorer, you have been called into service because Doje Islands has lost contact with the outside world. We have lost radio and satellite contact with all known nations. As the situation is such, we must know what is out there in this strange new world. That, men, is your mission. To seek out any civilizations that you can find. To establish diplomatic relations with said civilizations. I am sending Ambassador Freeman with you, carrying letters of peace and information about our country. Do your jobs well, and to your utmost ability. Godspeed."

The aircraft carrier D.I.S. Explorer sets sail from its port in the Doje Islandish capital of Veerburg on a mission to discover what other nations are on the Earth.
Last edited by Doje Islands on Fri Jul 09, 2021 4:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Wasi State
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Founded: Mar 25, 2019
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Wasi State » Fri Jul 09, 2021 6:16 pm

A New Year's Day to Never Forget
"We will go down in history either as the world's greatest statesmen, or its worst villains." - Hermann Göring

Tokyo, R.K. Japan
January 1st, 1956

Today marked the beginning of the 10th year of occupation of the Japanese Home Islands by the hands of the German Heer and Waffen SS, the defeat of the last Japanese defenses being marked by many as official end of WWII. Despite much resistance from both abroad and even internally amongst Göring's bandit fiefdom, the Reich and its many subjects have yet to implode still. Though the bomb was still ticking, and Reichskommissariat Japan was certainly no exception to it, having been the furtherest East that the Reich has reached across the globe. The Far Eastern "Jewel" of the Pacific was anything but stable unfortunately, though with the amount of investments pouring in from Germania, and the complete exploitation of the Japanese Homeland and people having long been commenced by the occupiers and collaborators, everything remained mostly "fine" on paper however. Enough to keep the growing internal crisis beneath notice, until today.

Reichskommissar Rolf Carls has remained the head of the Garrison for the time being for over 10 years, though his position has remained for far longer than he would've had initially anticipated, he had been awaiting his tenure to finally end with his 10 years of reign over the Japanese Home Islands with a single phone call from the Iron Knight himself from Germania, allowing him to leave from his post finally.

However as the New Years Celebrations come and went throughout the night, and the expected phone call didn't come from Germania to congratulate him on a whole New Year passing, Carls started to get concerned.

"Our lines to Germany should be properly connected, right?" He then asked his secretary once it had already been about the equivalent of 9 in the morning in Japan, a 7 hour difference from Germany proper.

"Yes they should be, what's wrong?" His secretary then asked, fumbling with documents in the meantime from the other office over from Carls.

"Huh, something's not quite right. Göring hasn't called..."

"Perhaps we can check with Manchukuo to see if their lines are working properly?" The secretary then suggested.

Carls agreed to the suggestion, however the moment they attempted any communication with their neighboring Reichskommissariat, only dead air could be heard on the other line.

"Something's not right, someone see if those commies in the underground have anything to do with it, dammit! I don't like being played like a fool here. Enforce a new curfew if you need to, and someone get Kishi on the line, right this instant!" Carls then ordered.

Economic Wars

The very moment that the highest authority of the Reichskommissariat has realized that Japan was once again, after a very long time, had found itself to be completely isolated from the rest of the world. Mass panic had started to set in within the occupied country. First with the investors and shareholders of the Zaibatsu (Finanzclique in German) in the Tokyo Stock Exchange, and then among the general citizenry until the Kerberos Panzerpolizist were called in en mass to handle the riots and protests that quickly took place throughout major cities within the country.

Punishment was severely harsh, and blame was quickly placed on the communists, whether actually founded or not in this instance. The office of the Reichskommissar was quick as well to attempt to stave off any mass hysteria that suggested that Japan was no longer in the same world it was once before in, having decided to deny all allegations that assumed that were the case ofterwise. Rolf Carls had essentially decided that plausible deniability was his greatest asset in this scenario, and thus used it to great effect (where he still could) to ignore the blatant supply issues that were now plaguing his fiefdom at a worryingly level along with rampant instability and possible famine.

Additional resources would surely be found in time, right?
Deny Everything

With a harsh backlog of capital punishments to add to just the month of January alone, Kishi and his collaborators have claimed that "This Year would be the Best for the Reich and its Subjects to Date." In anticipation of a full 10 Years or Occupation over the Japanese Mainland. However this was far from reality, as the country was griped with shortages and fears of starvation as supplies have begun to finally dwindled.

The Reichskommissariat cannot keep this charade forever, it needed resources to maintain itself and fast in this strange new world. Occupation of Okinawa, Iwo Jima, and Sakhalin were consider to try and stave off the seemingly inevitable Japanese Famine. But this would've offered little in the way of resources to prevent such a catastrophe fully, and Carls was well aware of that. However with a telegram message from the... Empress of China... Arriving at his office, Carls at least knew he wasn't controlling the only humans on the planet, much to his worry and relief.

He had little choice as far as he was concerned, his Germanized colonies would take years to yield fruit anyhow. (Though he was gonna send ships with troops to claim them anyhow)

From: The Reichskommissariat of Japan
To: The Office of the Empress of China

While we cannot accept your offer of an embassy at this time, however we would prefer to set up trade relations as soon as possible for more pragmatic reasons. We'll additionally accept a non-aggression pact for the time being, in order to ensure a momentary peace between our peoples.
Chedastan Puppet

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Founded: Nov 25, 2019
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Laiakia » Sat Jul 10, 2021 4:54 am

Mosbird, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
December 5th, 1941, Pre-Event

Stalin sighed. The smell of burnt tobacco was heavy in the air of his office as he finished his sixth pipe of the stuff for the day and dumped the remains onto an already half-full ashtray on his desk. Next and under the ashtray were reports from all kinds of bureaucratic areas of the Soviet Union. His eyes wandered the room, examining every detail. On the walls were paintings of both himself and Lenin. There was also some grand windows watching over Red Square, yet those were covered up with blankets and sheets in an attempt to stem any light from aiding Emu bombers in finding their targets. He sighed again and turned his attention back towards the many reports on industry, quotas and potential traitors.

”All of these will have to wait.”, he thought to himself, scratching his beak before pulling out a consolidated report on the results of the recent engagements with the Emus outside Mosbird. The USSR had been on the back-foot practically since June 22, yet it seemed like the soldiers of the Motherland had finally managed to stop the relentless advanced of Hitler’s army even though Leningrad and Sevastopol were both faced with encirclements. It seemed, however, that even Mother Nature herself was taking pity on those fighting against tyranny and had as such gifted the Soviets with one of the coldest winters in the century. This had, much to Stalin’s and many other generals delight, proved to disrupt, slow down and ultimately aid the bloodied Red Army who now held the front only 30km away from the Capital.

As Stalin finished reading the report, a polite knocking came from his office door followed by a polite voice. “Comrade Stalin? Field Marshal Zhukov request to speak to you.” Sighing once more, Stalin called out.

“Ah, yes, send him in, then.”

A few seconds passed in silence until the door opened, revealing one of the USSR’s star generals and field marshals Georgy Zhukov, otherwise known as ‘The Lion of The Union’. This nickname was in recognition of Zhukov’s premier skills within military tasks and his successful defense of Leningrad and Mosbird. The nickname was also relatively unironic as Zhukov was a literal lion.

Stalin motioned him in with a flipper, and the stoic lion, proudly wearing a Soviet uniform and wielding a finely kept mane, stepped in with respect, holding his hat in his hand, or paw if you would like the correct terminology.

“Comrade Zhukov, how nice it is to see you are well. I trust there has been a development on the front?”

Zhukov nodded politely. “Indeed, Comrade Stalin. A good development for once too. Our scouts are reporting that the fascists have stopped their assault on Mosbird, and our spies within the Reich have attained information that Army Group Center is unable to continue at in its current shape. In other words, Comrade Stalin, we have an opportunity for a great counter-attack and for a chance to push them away from the Capital.” The Lion of The Union finished strongly, saying not a word more than necessary.

Stalin answered slowly, deliberating on these possibilities as he toyed with his pipe in his hand. “Then it seems, Comrade Zhukov, that we have worn the Emu out. I give you my authorization to begin planning and execution of a counter-assault. Push those seed-eating, long-necked- feathery fascist pigs out of our beloved motherland. Za Rodina!” He spoke with strong and fervent words, slamming his flipper into the table towards the end to make a point.

Zhukov nodded respectfully at Stalin. “I will alert the rest of the generals and staff. Za Rodina, Comrade Stalin.” The lion nodded again before leaving the room, allowing Stalin to be alone with his thoughts once more. He had a lot to think about.

Leningrad Front, Union of Soviet Socialist Republic
December 5th, 1941, Pre-Event


The white December snow was layered red with blood, both Soviet and German. Bodies littered the war-torn landscape only 10km from Leningrad itself, yet the defenders held on. Craters, trenches and burnt-out tank carcasses were everywhere. Each and every man fought for survival. The defense of Leningrad had originally been relegated to a cohesive front, yet the total encirclement of the city and its surrounding territories had forced a change. Now, the Northern Front had been divided into the Karelian Front and the Leningrad Front. The south-western part of the Leningrad Front was defended by the battered men of the 42nd Army. One of the members of said Army was Maxim Popov, a peasant farmer enlisted to help defended the Motherland. Granted, he had no issue when he first signed up, but the blood, explosions and death he had experienced might have made him reconsider that choice. However now was not the time for philosophy.

The characteristic rumbling of tank treads entered the fray, and incoming was a squadron of three Panzer-4s, spearheading right towards their lines. Maxim cursed under his breath, quickly moving through the shallow trench he and his comrades sat in and moved up to the artillery designator.
“Tovarisch, three German Panzer-4s coming right towards us!”
The artillery-man nodded and moved to his radio pack, activating it and speaking through it.
“Requesting BR-18 support, three PK-4s, 42nd Army, West.”
Maxim could hear no reply over the thundering of rifles and machineguns, but hoped to God, or Stalin, or whatever godly deity that the message had been received. He rushed back to his spot and as if on que, six ungodly booms filled the air, coming from Leningrad. In the next second, two explosions blasted right in front of the leading panzer, causing it to flip over. Another dual set of explosions followed, flipping the second one over, and the two lasts explosions hit their marks, sending the last panzer on its back. The flipped tanks and their crew didn’t last long, as AT shells began peppering their underside, easily piercing them and killing their crew. One show was even lucky enough to hit the fuel tank, causing a bright explosion. Snow, dirt and metal sprouted high into the sky and landed with a thundering clatter on top of the destroyed Panzers, yet the brightness, presumed to be from the explosion, did not die down as expected.

The brightness only seemed to increase until it was blinding. Maxim gasped as he and his compatriots were forced to either duck down or cover their eyes. Simultaneously all across the non-occupied USSR, the same light appeared and became brighter and brighter. The brightness seemed to shift and shimmer, almost like water. If one could bear to look straight at it, one would even consider it to be beautiful.

Non-Occupied USSR

In Mosbird, Stalin ran over to his covered office window, angry at whichever fool had chosen to ignore the blackout order given. Ripping the curtain off its hinges, he quickly gasped at the blinding light and quickly closed his eyes, turning around and opening his office door. Clerks and guards were in awe and in fear at the light, yet once they realized Stalin was watching them, they quickly enacted emergency plans incase of a bombing raid. NKVD guards came quickly and followed Stalin into a bunker inside the Kremlin.

In Sevastopol, the encircled city was in a panicked frenzy at the possibility of a new Emu weapon, and the troops frantically fired their weapons towards the Emu lines which had just moments before begun a mass charge along with armored support. Strangely enough, no reply came. No armor, nor infantry, nor artillery. Only the blinding light.

In the Far East, the Vladivostok Garrison was in chaos as soldiers hurriedly attempted to get themselves dressed as alarms sounded at the light. The Pacific Fleet rotated their turrets to the skies, awaiting bombs or planes from Japan or Germany. Yet none came.

The light shone everywhere, blinding everyone. Its hidden and indescribable shapes molded and split over and over again. The cold air and snow seemed distant as the entirety of the USSR panicked. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the light was gone.

On the Leningrad Front, reports would slowly come in raving about empty Emu trenches and abandoned vehicles. These reports would then be transferred back to Mosbird in a frenzy. The same occurred with Sevastopol and everywhere else along the Eastern Front. The Emus and their allies were simply.. gone.
In Vladivostok, the Pacific Fleet had been scrambled together with the city garrison, while North Sakhalin’s border garrison hastily phoned regional command asking for status reports and for reasons to why the border to South Sakhalin had simply turned into a forest.

Mosbird, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January 1st, 0, 1 Hour Post-Event

Stalin read the freshly printed reports. He read them again and again. It simply didn’t make sense.

”How does such a bright light just appear and disappear? Where’d the Emus go? Whatever happened to the rest of the world? Why did all of our spies just suddenly appear in Red Square?!”, he thought.

Infront of him stood the entirety of Soviet High Command, the best of the best in the Soviet science community, as well as head of the NKVD, Lavrentiy Beria. He had barely managed to fit through the door comically enough, due to his sheer size as a walrus. Still, he was not to be trifled with considering he could order you killed at the blink of an eye and no one would miss you.

“Comrades.”, Stalin spoke. “Field Marshals. Generals. Admirals. Scientists. Ministers.” He stopped, eyeing each and every single soul in the room.

“We are in a unique situation. I will not lie to you. For as it stands, the fascist invaders have disappeared completely from our free land, yet we have had no word from Minsk, Kiev or Smolensk and their reaction. We have lost contact with Baku and the other cities in the southern Caucasus alongside much of Central Asia. Every single one of our spies in foreign countries have somehow managed to appear, simultaneously I may add, in Red Square with no means of transportation and all claiming to be in their assigned nations mere seconds before. This is unprecedented. Surely the men of science currently present might have some light to shed, hm? Speak honorably, like a true Communist!”

One scientist, Andrei Sakharov, spoke timidly. “Well, Comrade Stalin, we.. We honestly have no idea what may have caused this. I am sorry.”

Stalin only nodded in silence, taking a few moments to think before speaking. “The people and workers are worried. Everyone saw the light. They most likely expect an address, and I cannot address them without knowing what has occurred. Therefore, comrades, I request that the current state of preparedness against invaders, Emu or not, be kept until we have fully comprehended our situation.”

Stalin would proceed to grant STAVKA and the Admiralty full authority on border control. As a result, the Soviet Northern Fleet based out of Murmansk would have their 8 destroyers patrol the coast all the way to the border with Norway that existed Pre-Event. The Baltic Fleet would be ordered to consolidate the 2nd Destroyer Division, consisting of 4 Storozhevoy-Class Destroyers, together with the battleship Sovetsky Soyuz to scout and patrol the coast along the Baltics. The Black Sea Fleet would be ordered to remain in port due to their heavy damage, but still be prepared for combat. Meanwhile, the Pacific Fleet would be ordered to simply patrol to the edge of Soviet territorial waters.

The Red Army in the west, meanwhile, would simply be ordered to move their lines up and take position in the Emu trenches, guns all pointed towards the unknown west. In Central Asia and the Caucasus, troops would be marshalled and ordered to be entrenched and ready to defend against anything hostile coming from the unknown. The same would be ordered of the Far East armies, who did not need to fortify very much, considering the border with Japanese-controlled Manchuria and Korea already had been fortified and entrenched some years prior.

As Stalin finished his address to the assembled mass of officials, a fast and hasty knocking on the door came.

“What is it?”, Stalin asked semi-annoyed at the amount of things needed to be sorted out.

“C-Comrade Stalin, we have a telegram!”, a manly voice shouted respectfully. This caught Stalin’s attention together with the rest of the assembled. He quickly marched to the door and opened it, causing the intern to step inside respectfully and hand it over it to him.

The Soviet leader quickly read through it twice. “What? High Eunuchs? What in the name of Lenin is that? Intern, where did this come from?”

The Intern responded quickly. “Uh, the telegram is apparently from coming from China, Comrade Stalin.”

“China? What the bloody hell is Chiang Kai-shek doing with High Eunuchs and why are they acting like they’ve never met us before?”, exclaimed Stalin, rubbing his head out of sheer confusion before handing the telegram back to the Intern. “Get Molotov to draft a response. We need to know what’s going on.”

Intern nodded respectfully and left. Stalin then motioned to the door, causing the rest of the assembled to leave and allowing the Supreme Citizen to have some time with his thoughts. After some moments of deliberation, he moved over to a phone he had on his desk and picked it up, entering the number indicative of the NKVD.

“Yes, get me Richard Sorge.”

From: Minister of Foreign Affairs For The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Vyacheslav Molotov
To: High Eunuchs, Presumably From China

Greetings, Comrades of, presumably, the Republic of China. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics are always willing to forge friendships with nations. Yet we do not understand your indication of never having met us before. You are the Republic of China, led by Chiang Kai-shek, correct? Regardless of this, it would appear that our Chinese embassy in our capital, Mosbird, has somehow become unoccupied. You are free to take possession of it and send ambassadors, and we would be most respectful for the chance to establish an embassy in your Capital. Still, we in the Soviet Union have experienced quite the odd shock due to loss of communication with any other country in the middle of a great struggle against annihilation. We therefore humbly ask that before we establish embassies in each others nations, that we instead send a diplomatic delegation to host a conference on the state of the world and what may have happened to us. We would therefore like to promote Vladivostok, a city near the border of what we call Manchuria, as a potential first interaction in person. We look forward to your response. This message has been approved by Iosef D. Stalin and the NKVD.
Last edited by Laiakia on Mon Jul 12, 2021 4:29 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Chargé d'Affaires
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Founded: Jun 24, 2021

Postby Hanovereich » Sat Jul 10, 2021 5:12 am

Sydney, Australia
January 1, Year 0

It was the day.

The Federal Security Agency, commonly known as Fedesa, was starting a huge crackdown. Armed with MAS-38 submachine guns, they stormed 300 buildings across the capital, and arrested the people inside. This was the once-in-a-lifetime purge of civilians in Sydney. Thousands of them would be rounded up in 24 hours, and sent to the Courtyard- the rumored outdoors court where they would meet their fate.

They were thrown into the vans, each one with the skull and helmet logo of the feared secret police. Sirens wailed as the convoy raced down the city, stopping just outside the doors of the court. The 'criminals' were then hurried through doors, corridors and rooms, until they reached the Courtyard. Already waiting for them was the judge and the executioner.

"You are charged with high treason against the state and the people." the judge roared, before the defendants had sat down. "How do you plead?"

One of the defendants replied, "By talking, of course!" He was swiftly executed on the spot. The rest protested that they were innocent, but the judge paid no attention. These people were either part of the few hundred Australian Democratic Movement spies, or civilians. Fedesa knew that most of them were innocent. So did the judge. But-


As soon as he said that word, all the defendants fell down, as silenced sniper rifles opened fire from rooftops. The judge smirked. The guards dragged them away, either to the deserts, or to the ocean.

Sydney Harbour
January 2, Year 0

This was the day everybody had been waiting for. The National Scientific Association had funded an expedition, supported by the Federal Australian Navy, to the Pacific. They were to investigate the phenomenon that had caused a national lockdown to occur.

5 destroyers, 3 cruisers, 4 submarines, 6 research vessels, 2 battleships and a helicopter carrier were to find what the people had called 'the shooting rocket'. Some said it was red, others said blue, others said every colour in existence. Whatever it was, the country was off to find it. And probably never return.

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Postmaster of the Fleet
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Founded: Sep 16, 2010
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Rupudska » Sat Jul 10, 2021 7:09 am


June 1, 1995
Directus Castle and Presidential Palace, Republic of Ustio
10:21 AM

The castle of Directus had never been a royal palace, but it was no less beautiful because of it. Sitting in the narrowest peninsula of the Crescere River in central Directus and facing the north, the P-shaped building of brick and marble had evolved and been built (and rebuilt) many times over the years (especially during the Baroque and Enlightenment Periods) but each addition was blended expertly with the last by Belka's finest architects. Even to the fiercely independence-minded Ustians, credit was given where it was due, and the Belkan dukes and lords of old knew that a city famed for legendary craftsmanship deserved a palace of equal splendor. It had sustained minor damage in the invasion, and a little more during Operation Constantine to retake the city for Ustio, but nothing a few days more of repair work would fix. And besides the light damage, the only things marring its roof were the expertly-hidden communications antennae and satellite dishes.

Though no dukes lived there now, and hadn't since Belka became a federation, it still served as the home of the ruler of Ustio - well, one of them anyway. President Pavel Linhart was an old man, who had fought in old wars for Belka, and was now fighting one against it. At times he seemed to bear the full weight of his seventy four years of life, as time wore the old commando's body away faster and harder than the exercise he had time for could rebuild it.

He stood on the balcony facing the castle square with his hands clasped behind his back. Once, there stood a statue of a Belkan duke who once ruled what was now Ustio - it had been moved to the National Art Museum's archive building in 1989 to keep it safe from ultranationalists - and up until about a week ago had stood thousands of citizens celebrating the liberation of Directus and consequentially all of Ustio. Now the square was empty even of the usual post-parade detritus, and the city had begun to fully refocus on the war effort as the Inter-United Nations (or the Allied Forces, as the news called it) prepared to bring the fight to Belka's cities, despite assurances to the Assembly of Nations less than a month ago that they would do no such thing. The Osean president, Albert Longstreet, had called it a "nuclear inspection", to ensure Belka wasn't developing weapons of mass destruction, when they launched their invasion of South Belka.

He shook his head, chuckling. What an underhanded move, and he caught himself thinking that it was a very Osean thing to do. The first battle of the Second Osean War was started by Oseans claiming to be involved in live fire exercises. He would know, as he was there, a simple infantry second lieutenant in the Belkan Army, on a day not unlike today.

But the Ustian military would have a day very much unlike the one here in Directus. They wouldn't have a "day" at all. Galm Team - the stars of the Allied forces and the Ustian military, even if they were mercenaries, would have their first mission of the month at night. As Allied forces pushed on northwards to Belka Proper, the Oseans were sending strategic bombers to turn the industrial sectors of the city of Hoffnung to so much rubble and scrap metal. And they had asked Galm Team to be one of the escort squadrons.

He wondered how they would take that. He'd met the two before, to give them medals after destroying Excalibur. Galm One seemed almost apolitical, even despite her Shilagean heritage and the life her parents led, but Galm Two...

He would have to pay attention to that one, he felt. Especially after tonight.

Still, for the moment, he himself had little to do. His next meeting wasn't for another thirty-eight minutes or so, and the last parade in celebration of Ustio's liberation had concluded over a week ago. The plans for the attack on Hoffnung's industrial sector, such as he was involved in designing them, had already finished - to be honest, more with Prime Minister Mesmer's input than his own. She was the one who had been involved in the Belkan Air Force's logistics back when they were both in that nation's military, and she was better at organizing the orders of battle and the initial drafting of plans. He was just the executor, the one better suited to changing and adapting those plans to fit the situation.

A television in the room facing the foyer showed some football match or another. He wasn't sure of the teams, and thanks to the war none in Ustio or Belka were playing, but even a boring match was good background noise. The screen flickered for the barest moment, but Linhart ignored it - all the televisions in the building received via satellite, and an unstable connection was simply how satellite television was at times, even on clearish days such as this. It was a usual event, and the nature of the beast.

What was not usual was for the signal to simply stop, the display changing to the "SIGNAL LOST" screen. He sighed, heading in the direction of the remote control (which was also hidden, to keep visitors from finding it), when an aide burst through the door, looking like he had run all the way from the Lebanyev Manor, serving as the temporary Defense Ministry HQ while the Black Arsenal was under repairs.

"Sir- the- the sa- the satelli-"

Linhart held up a hand. "Calm yourself first; no message is ever important enough that speed is of greater value than clarity."

"Sorry... sir..." he said, panting and wiping his forehead. He stood up - he couldn't have been more than twenty-five, and he seemed about to vomit with fear. No, something beyond fear - and that alone was enough to form a lead ball in the president's stomach.

"A few minutes ago, all our satellites started travelling a new angle - it was as if the entire planet had tilted, sir, based on the speed of their change-"

"A - what do the techheads these days call it - a cyber-attack?" Could the Belkans even pull off something like that? Could Osea, were it even in their interests to do so? And what would possess the Belkans to make a cyber-attack of this nature?

"No, sir, we would have noticed it, and it's too perfectly timed for that. But that's not all, sir -" He handed Linhart a manila folder, which he opened, and his blood ran cold at the image he saw.

They were hasty prints, not the high-detailed ones usually produced by spy satellites, but there was enough detail to show what needed to be shown. The first showed part of the western border - Belka was gone, replaced by... something, but he didn't recognize the geography of where the satellite said it was looking at at all. It looked like someone had cut Belka out with a knife and replaced it with something else. Somewhere else.

The second showed the sea. Right where the Schayne Plains were supposed to be.
The Holy Roman Empire of Karlsland (MT/FanT & FT/FanT)
THE Strike Witches NationState
Best thread ever.|Ace Combat!
MT Factbook/FT Factbook|Embassy|Q&A
On Karlsland Witch Doctrine:
Hladgos wrote:Scantly clad women, more like tanks
seem to be blowing up everyones banks
with airstrikes from girls with wings to their knees
which show a bit more than just their panties

Questers wrote:
Rupudska wrote:So do you fight with AK-47s or something even more primitive? Since I doubt any economy could reasonably sustain itself that way.
Presumably they use advanced technology like STRIKE WITCHES

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Doje Islands
Posts: 81
Founded: May 27, 2021

Postby Doje Islands » Sat Jul 10, 2021 12:57 pm

Transcript of Captains log, Mission date 3.
Exploring from east to west, we've met with representatives from two nations so far. Some kind of government-in-exile in New Zealand, and Australia but it's fascist. At least, that's what I can tell. We found both nations after picking up a whole lot of panicked radio chatter. Both groups seemed shocked by the Explorer, which might mean time-travel stuff or something even weirder is going on. Back to The Future was confusing, but it doesn't have anything on this. To speak frankly, this is all kind of blowing my mind. The meetings seemed to go well. Ambassador Freeman gave them the letters and everything, and the New Zealanders seemed nice enough. Australia is kind of worrying though. Fascists usually weren't nice to their neighbors. Anyway, we're now exploring along the coast of India. We should reach the Arabian peninsula in a day or two. This is Captain Johnson, signing off.

Dear Head of Government and/or State for unknown nation,
Greetings from the Free Land of Doje Islands! This letter is from Premier Jason Kalavonost, the head of state and government for Doje Islands. We run the islands of New Caledonia, Vanuatu, and Fiji. The Doje Islandish people and government wish for nothing but peace and prosperity with your nation, and to that end you can establish an embassy in our capital, Veerburg. (coordinates: 18.1405° S, 178.4233° E) We have dozens of recently vacated buildings, so there are plenty to choose from. If you need to talk to me directly, shoot me an email at Our legislature, the Doje Islands Congress, is drafting free trade deals as you read this, which I hope your country will accept. I have to go now, classified briefings wait for no man.
Jason Kalavonost

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Remnants of Exilvania
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Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Remnants of Exilvania » Sun Jul 11, 2021 6:38 am


1st January 2004
Pražský hrad

The mood within the Prague Castle's ballroom was festive, celebratory and all around very positive, no matter the predatory glances the attendants threw at each other. And neither was a great surprise. The Vlajka cadres had plenty to celebrate, with news of the 1st Croatian Front having entered Rome having come in just hours before. Of course fighting for the city was still underway, British troops from Australia and New Zealand defending the city in grueling urban combat but without backup by troops, tanks and mages from the British Isles they were lost. The conquest of Rome would mark another major defeat of the British Empire, following up the lost Siege of Vienna and the swift Fall of Venice. At the same time there was little love or true loyalty lost between these men and women, mundanes and mages, werewolves, vampires and humans. One did not get into the ranks invited to this celebration without a proper amount of ruthlessness and flexibility and the members of the State Council were always in a constant battle of schemes and intrigues to improve their positions over those of their rivals.

The chatter of the attendants formed a low, pleasant hum to the Countess Carmilla Karnstein, known centuries ago as the Blood Countess Erzsébet Báthory. It hadn't really been her choice to change her name but back then the alternative had been death and so she had accepted the new identity without complaint. And now, centuries later, it had brought her from being a hidden prisoner and secret weapon of the crown to being one of the leading members of the Vlajka. A delicious twist of fate, she thought as she took another sip from her glass. Not that she cared much for the wine but it gave her something to do while they all waited for their host.

Next to her stood Františka Francouzština, the gloomy Director of the Věrnost. Formerly having been a sub organisation within the party tasked with keeping order during assemblies, the Věrnost had risen to ever increasing prominence after the Vlajka takeover some 70 years ago, being the tool of the party most commonly used in sniffing out traitors, spies, rebels and the like. Carmilla knew of course why Františka was lingering here in her presence, the Věrnost Director being quite suspicious of her, which was only natural given her status as a vampire of questionable origin.

"Is the wine to your liking, miladies?"

, a voice suddenly ripped the Countess out of her thoughts. It belonged to a small and very literally round man whose cheeks and nose were coloured in a very bright red while he hid his balding head under a wig. His obnoxiously colourful livery left no doubts about his identity. It was doubtlessly the castellan, who had like set up this entire celebration on orders from above. Carmilla had to admit that she did not particularly like the man nor did she want to waste any time on him, already seeing his eyes travelling anywhere but her own eyes. So she flashed him a smile which showed off her fangs all too well before sweetly saying:

"Castellan, I am sure you know that I prefer a more...distinctly rich flavour."

At the same time she turned fully to him and and approached the small man. With her high heels, she was sure she made an imposing figure, the heels clicking on the tiles as she approached him...untill the characteristic click was missing and instead replaced by a very uncharacteristic suppressed yowl of pain from the castellan, whose face turned even redder as he tried to articulate his pain in grimaces rather than sounds. She had driven her heel directly into his foot and while the shoes had provided some basic protection in the sense that none of his skin had been punctured and he wasn't bleeding, the feeling of his foot being crushed like that was still not pleasant. Her voice had turned cold now as she leaned down to him, asking:

"I hope you will commit this to memory more firmly so that such embarassing mistakes of yours do not have to repeat..."

Františka had watched the exchange with the same gloomy, vaguely disinterested expression she towards everything and everyone. It wasn't uncommon that those of superior rank lived it out fully, especcially when confronted with slimy individuals like the castellan trying to ingratiate himself with them to advance his own career. Speaking of sniveling cowards and careermongers, she thought as she too sipped from her wineglass, she wondered when the Prime Minister of the British Empire would finally fall prey to one of the countless coup attempts that were being planned against the weakling. Lovelace's coup against the government had been thwarted by pure chance because some silly child got in the way. She had personally aided the British Chief of the Night Police, Henry Duvall, in the second coup attempt, supplying him with the necessary components and knowledge to create a golem. Duvall's cooperation had been priceless as he'd have doubtlessly shaken the British Empire to its very core if he had succeeded and his inside knowledge allowed them to eliminate the chief British Spy in Prague, Harlequin. They also almost caught one of the more prominent british mages though he barely slipped through their fingers. A shame as it turned out this mage would go on to foil Duvall's plot and destroy the golem, with Duvall committing suicide after his involvement was revealed. Some cursory investigation brought to light that it was in fact the same prodigy who had foiled Simon Lovelace's conspiracy...a certain John Mandrake, proudly putting his face on all the british newspapers and being promoted to Minister of Information or rather Propaganda as Františka saw it. But not to worry. She knew that a third attempt was being planned. If Mandrake foiled it again...once was an accident, twice a coincidence, attack. He would be taken care of later.

The doors to the ballroom opening and the chitter chatter of the guests falling silent immediately ripped the Director of the secret police out of her musings and distracted Carmilla enough to allow the castellan to escape. Coming through the doors in her usual blue uniform, the heels of her thigh high black boots clicking on the floor as she did so while the following Count Orlok's barely made a sound, was the President of the Czechoslovak Republic, Karolína Rys-Rozsévač. But something was off. Both she and the Count looked like they were in any mood other than celebratory. The Count's face betrayed nothing, a carefully erected and maintained facade of noble indifference and arrogance which in itself already told one enough. Karolína on the other hand appeared to be positively fuming, her face red and her fingers twitching as she gracefully walked into the center before saying in a barely controlled and very quiet voice:

"As of 5 minutes ago, all contact has been lost with the 1st Croatian Front in Rome. The same goes for the 1st Hungarian Front in Piedmont. All communications with Vienna, Budapest, Minsk, Riga, Kiev, Moscow and Novgorod have ceased. Only Warsaw, Krakow and Bratislava have responded to our hails."

Several glasses dropped and gasps echoed through the entire room but Karolína ignored all of that, continuing with barely ignored rage.

"We do not know what kind of last ditch effort Devereux and his cronies cooked up but I will be damned if I will let that stop us. Our vengeance has been in the making for more than 70 years now and all of it was just to see the British Empire brought to its knees.

The Count Orlok will be departing within the hour to the south to inspect the frontlines and see what has transpired there. Countess Karnstein, you are to head north, check on Warsaw and then continue to Riga and from there to Novgorod. We need to figure out what happened to our eastern holdings. Director Francouzština, have the Věrnost clamp down on all information for the time being. We cannot risk a panic at this point in time before we have established what has happened.

Gentlemen, we may have just received a heavy blow by the British devils, but we will persevere and like the Phoenix, we will rise again!"
Ex-NE Panzerwaffe Hauptmann; War Merit Cross & Knights Cross of the Iron Cross
Woodhouse Loyalist & Inactive BLITZKRIEG Foreign Relations Minister
Furchtlos und Treu dem Hause Württemberg für alle Ewigkeit!

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Postby Hanovereich » Sun Jul 11, 2021 6:59 am

Australian Government in Exile


We are delighted that you acknowledge that we actually exist- and, more importantly, offer to let us set up an embassy. We shall send a delegation to discuss whether you can recognise- whether you can assist us in furthering democracy.


Australian Government in Exile.

Australian Federal Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Hello, Mr Kalavonost.

We happily agree to your offer, and we presume that you are happy to meet with us. We shall send the Vice President, and a team of representatives from each of our states, to discuss possible alliances and trade deals that we can establish.


Ministry of Foreign Affairs

And so Fascist Australia and Democratic Australia set out to explore this new nation, and to meet up to find out of each other's existence after 60 years.

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Father Knows Best State

Postby The V O I D » Sun Jul 11, 2021 7:06 am

The Imperial Palace
The City of Carthage, Carthaginian Province
First Day of Tishri, Fifteen Hundred and One Years After the First Coming
January the First in the Zeroth Year

The Imperial Palace was abuzz. And it was understandable why, to Adara. A private discussion before entering the Adirim's main chamber within the Palace told her that Amichai felt similarly. Somehow, after an earthquake that was not an earthquake, no damages had been suffered...anywhere. But the Iberians and Gallic peoples described how they saw the French ports through their spyglasses vanish, replaced by something else entirely. The Romans reported similar things with their Islamic northern neighbors. It was a strange happening, and none of the great Rabbis or few Imams within Carthage had any idea what sign this held. Was it a message from the Lord? Was some terrible power involved? None could say, and it disturbed Adara on a visceral level.

“There shall be order!” Adara noted the cue from Amichai, inclining her head at him as they both called for order as their duties required of them. The Adirim's low buzz slowly quieted down. Adara took her cue to begin: “On this day, the First Day of Tishri, to begin the Fifteen Hundredth and First Year After the First Coming, the Lord has given us a strange sign, a strange message, in the form of our land's movement to what seems to be another world. One where our Gallic brothers and sisters are now gone. But fear not, my fellows. We must be strong, and show good leadership in these trying times for the People of Carthage. And so, my fellow Sufete and I have brought this proposition before you: we shall send envoys by steamship to these strange new lands that have appeared in Gaul, to ascertain the state of our remaining Gallic brothers and sisters as well as perhaps establish peace with the peoples who have somehow supplanted them. The Lord has a plan for us, His Chosen People, His Children. I say that until it becomes clear what His intent is, we try to ascertain our position and who our neighbors are.”

“My fellow Sufete brings up a great point,” Amichai adds, looking suddenly startled, “in that we do, indeed, need to determine what has happened in Gaul... but what of our friends in Islam, in the east? What has happened to they, our fellow children of Abraham and of the Lord? And... and what has happened to our beloved Judea? My friends, my brothers and sisters, we must also send an envoy east to determine what has happened there as well!”

“I second both motions!” a voice called out, and with that, the vote began. With the Adirim having ultimate authority on matters like these, there was no need to gather a Popular Assembly. Not yet. Not until it came time to decide what to do with this information as an Empire. After a few moments, everyone had cast their votes, and they were being sorted by her staff alongside Amichai's in a separate room. An announcer came and whispered to them both. Adara nodded, looking out to the room.

“It is decided. We shall send envoys on steamships both north and east. The envoy to the north will stop briefly on the Roman Isles for resupply and rest, before continuing on to Gaul. The envoy to the east shall only stop at Egypt if there is something there to stop for. If there is nothing, they are to head straight to Judea. So rules the Sufetes, so rules the Adirim in the name of the People of Carthage!” Adara called out. A low rumble of approval answered her. With a smile, she continued: “And, as it is so important that we complete this task as expediently as possible, I shall nominate Alexander Harel to go north; as he is descended of Greeks and Romans, the Romans will take little issue with his representing the Empire and the Gallic peoples, or whoever shall have replaced them, will have little issue understanding him so long as their language is Hebrew or Latin.”

“And I shall nominate Abraham al-Amin, one of our few Muslims among us, to head east to determine what has happened to Judea and to our fellow children of Abraham and the Lord. For as surely as our new northern neighbors must speak Hebrew or Latin, our eastern ones - if they are there - will speak Hebrew or Arabic,” Amichai added out into the brief quiet. Approval once again met their reasoning for their envoys.

And so it was, with that, that Alexander Harel and Abraham al-Amin left aboard the steamships Justice and Honor and Lord's Order to go north and east, respectively. Given the speed of the steamships they took, they should arrive prior to nightfall easily enough.

Adara silently prayed to the Lord that nothing would go wrong. That there would be peace.

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Postby Doje Islands » Sun Jul 11, 2021 10:22 am

This post has been retconned. Thank you for your patience
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Cybernetic Socialist Republics » Sun Jul 11, 2021 4:19 pm

December 31st, 2019, 20:32, GMT+3, Jerusalem, the office of the Chair of the Levantine People's Republic.

President of the Levantine People's Republic, Yago Hadar, has a private meeting with Chairwoman Masira Farman in her office, just before New Years day.

"While you weren't the first chairwoman ever elected, I have to congratulate you on being the first chairwoman to be re-elected" Said the elderly Jewish Dr. Yago Hadar, having himself, been recently re-elected to yet another term in office by the Worker's Council.

"Of course they did, anyone else who wants the spot knows well enough that this next four years are going to be a trying time. We can't go on the way we have, reform will be necessary and once it's completed, they'll lay the blame on me for it's failures while jockeying to take credit for it's successes. Just as happened with our first female chair, I'll simply have had a term before the one in which I become a sacrificial lamb." Said the Middle aged Palestinian woman in a bout of cynicism.

"At the very least you have some control over events. I am but a figurehead, selected to embody the values of this nation when it often fails to stay true to them. They think appointing me term after term absolves them of their insecurities about the shortcomings of our republic." He said with a smirk as he sat down in front of the Chairwoman's desk.

"You underestimate your importance and your influence, Dr. Hadar. After all, you are elected by a body that is directly elected by the people." Farman responded. She was well aware that her power came from her rise as a trusted political technocrat, rather than any charisma or popular legitimacy, not that she couldn't give a satisfactory speech if need be.

"Ms. Farman, you're well aware that in any state, power does not simply lie in the hands of the people, but in the hands of it's most powerful economic interest, in our case, the Megacooperatives. They make up the voting power that selected you for office. It is you who've been entrusted with real power in our republic." Said Dr. Hadar.

"I think you underestimate the potential economic influence of someone with democratic legitimacy beyond anyone else, and through that political power." Replied Farman. She wasn't simply saying this to make him feel better, she always viewed the office as worth more than it appeared to on paper, in a nation so dependent on the opinions of it's people as consumers, the most recognizable person in the republic could play quite a role in deed. but the old Hadar felt his role was more of a politically neutral elder than anything else.

"Perhaps I do, which only makes me even more certain that this should be my last term in office. I'm an old man and as you say, the next four years will be trying times, by then it'll be time for a new face." Replied Hadar, as if reading Farman's thoughts.

"I worry what those new faces might look like, given what we're about to undergo." Farman said, rhetorically gesturing toward what she was as an unsure and dangerous future,

"You'll get to play a role in seeing what that looks like, you'll be chairwoman for that time, after all. Additionally, if you are so sure you will not be winning re-election, it gives you a lot more latitude in how you decide to approach things" Said the wise Hadar, correctly, but while Masira was fine with compaling about what she saw as the oncoming end of her political career, she rather not here that assessment coming from other's mouths.

"That's precisely what I am concerned about. History will look upon the decisions I make here as fundamental to what follows, while my role in effecting it will be limited. We have choices that we could have made before hand and yet we failed to make them." Said the Chairwoman.

"To an extent, I wish that were more true than you say, but based on our policy in East Africa, nevermind the Arabian Peninsula, it's clear enough the direction we're headed." Masira knew exactly what direction the old anti-imperialist was heading him with this reference. Respected the man as she did, she still had to work hard to show that she didn't see this view as naive through her mannerisms.

"We have no choice, or at least, my fellow Board members don't believe we have one. We escaped the crisis that brought down the soviet union, in which decades of delivery of basic needs created a scenario in which everyone wanted consumer goods that the state could no deliver and we did it because our oil slowdown in the 70s against American imperialism in asia increased the value of our exports to such a degree it won us countless billions in foreign currency that we could loan to our cooperatives, who could then go out and purchase equipment, technology and expertise the world over. So productivity could keep up with demand, and our peculiar market socialism could squeeze ever more productivity out of our citizenry to meet consumer demand. A virtuous cycle in which hard work could be feasibly rewarded with increased standards, all while the least labor intensive of the cooperative's saw their growth expand far beyond everyone else." She said, going over a brief economic history of the People's Republic between the mid 70s to the modern day. The Optimistic half being what was taught in the Megacooperative ran schools, the pessimistic half being that which was mostly limited to the understanding of the elite and the cynics. Dr. Hadar began to speak again.

"But now, of course, being a man of science, I've long been aware that there's been a concern that the rate of our technological improvement would not be able to catch up with this organization of consumer demand, at least not within our resource constraints. Something would have to give. So first, no offense to your position, we sold the control of the country over to the Megacooperatives through the reforms of the 90s so we didn't have to go the way of China, or worse, the Soviet Union. Then came the 00s, where, under my presidency, I've had to run interference for our blatantly imperial relationship with Arabia, Persia and East and central Africa." There it was, thought Masira, the complaint that she knew was coming. She cleared her throat for a second, before responding.

"You know, however, that our options were limited. When we reached the tipping point, the wealth of the Megacooperatives wouldn't have stopped growing, they'd have simply started cannibalized the living standards of everyone outside of them. At that point, it'd begin to be in their interests to operate an increasingly repressive state to secure themselves." Said the Chair of the People's Republic, as though describing a natural process.

"Another path of course, would have been the full collectivization of cooperative assets and end the division between the Megas and everyone else. But that'd require the Cooperative Board to approve an action that'd make it's self obsolete. Only in revolutionary circumstances does anything like that happen." Dr. Hadar said, almost professorially. Farman simply shook her head.

"Revolutionary circumstances we couldn't afford anyway. The Americans, the Europeans and the Chinese look greedily upon what we have, any moment of internal weakness and we'll be torn asunder. So instead, we've banked on increasing our access to resources..." She begun, expecting to be interrupted, which she was.

"The exploitation of those outside of our nation." Said the President, curtly.

"Only as far as we need to secure what is necessary to get ourselves the foothold we need to exploit the resources of space." Said Chairwoman, repeating the internal justification that was so common in the Cooperative Board. The LPR had extensive means to get people to space, but not much in the way to establish, say, a long term base on the moon, or begin a project of asteroid mining. Or at least, they didn't have the resources to that and maintain the growth in living standards that were currently being maintained in the People's Republic.

"We both know, to do that with our current living standards and the standards of those around us, would require uncontested control over around a third of the globe's resources. I suppose this is why the Cooperative Board would never agree to the downsizing of our military that we could have done with the fall of the Soviet Union. Why we approved and built the 8 120 man Tethys OMTNC we keep in orbit. It's seen as an inevitability that we'll end up fighting a third world war and we've been preparing for about a quarter of a century. All so we can maintain our system as it is." Said the old man, with a disappointed, though knowing, exasperation.


The Tethys OMTNC (Orbital Missle and Troop deployment Nuclear pulse Craft)

"Unfortunately, yes and as President, we're essentially asking you to feel out who among Americans, Europeans and Chinese we can depend on to fight alongside us when that day comes, which will almost certainly be within this decade." Said Farman as-a-matter-of-factly, as if she weren't describing preparations for a catastrophic conflict.

"While you're being asked to militarize this society enough to win such a war. Ms. Farman, I didn't take you for a partisan of the Altafarud Movement, surely you don't think war is desirable." Said Dr. Hadar, in reference to growing political movement that managed to gain ground in recent elections and also voted against his re-election as President.

"Not Desireable, but barring something unforeseen, inevitable. The Altafaruds don't just want us to prepare for war, they want a. I can assure you, that they have no secret support in the Cooperative Board, those extremists are limited to the Worker's Council. It's just barring a miracle, they'll probably be getting what they want." Said the Chairwoman. Strictly speaking, what she said was true, but she knew, first hand, that it was something that could very quickly change.

"Well, Masira, I hope it doesn't come to that. We're heading into a new decade, let's hope it'll bring us a new world." He said, getting up to leave, before reaching out to shake the woman's hand.

"I hope so, Yago, but I put my faith in trends, not miracles." The Chairwoman shook the President's hand, he then turned and left her office.

January 1st, Year 0, 05:33, GMT+3, Jerusalem, the office of the Chair of the Levantine People's Republic.

It'd been over 5 hours since the event. Chairwoman Masira Farman hadn't spent a single hour sleeping, though the rest of the People's Republic would be due to wake up in a few hours, at least, those that had actually managed to catch sleep during the curfew that'd be imposed across the whole of the country soon after it struck midnight.

Enforcing a national curfew wasn't exactly an easy task, It wasn't simply a case of making a declaration from her office, the only means of doing so was only activated after an official declaration of war and the Republic as far as could be told that the moment, was not engaged in a war, at least now yet. To enforce a curfew, she needed every single locality, all under the control of a variety of cooperatives, to agree enforcing their curfews. For some, with cooperative constitutions that gave great latitude to leadership, this was easy. Others had to frantically contact a quorum of their workers to make the final decision. In still more cases some cooperatives had to be convinced with credit compensations to agree to go along with the curfew.

These were the very inefficiencies or 'freedoms', that Farman knew that her second and probably final term as Chair were supposed to address in preparation for the global conflict that then seemed inevitable. It didn't matter if one had the best military equipment and training in the world if the political structure at home could be easily paralyzed into inaction. At the very least, the recent 'happening' would make it far easier to pass those reforms than it otherwise would have been.

As for what the recent 'happening' was, was anyone's guess. Somethings seemed obvious by now. Within their borders all the infrastructure and sensors spread through out the whole of the country, that carefully measured the health of the environment so as to know how to auction off quotas to cooperatives, had all detected an environment as untouched as it must have been before the rise of humanity. They were clearly in a new world. Additionally, all their foreign citizens, in the same flash of light that everyone experienced at once, appeared in airports, train stations and homes all around the world with all of their baggage. At the very least that mitigated some of the chaos, as the first thing countless millions did was contact family. But those who cared about people that weren't citizens of the LPR were out of lucky as they certainly didn't come along. As for the nation's space infrastructure, it's orbital assets had all, apparently, come along, which was useful, as they quickly were able to inform them that the LPR was certainly not alone in this new world. While it couldn't be discerned with absolute certainty, based on the hetic troop movements of some nations, it seemed probable that they were new to this world, too. Considering of military assets, it was also recognized that nuclear devices above of certain capacity had went entirely inert in this transport. Luckily, the bombs the Tethys fleet used for propulsion were entirely in tact.

It was decided rather quickly that there'd be absolutely no effort to even attempt to conceal the nature of what had happened to the masses. Not only would it undermine trust due to the ease the lie would easily be found it, it would be a wasted opportunity to not use the moment of shock to tell people what they should think about this new world. So quickly the leaderships of Megacooperatives around the People's Republic were drawing up plans for specifics as what they'd tell their workers when they woke up in the morning. Of course, though people were on curfew, that didn't mean everyone was asleep, so quite a few million were discussing among themselves the nature of their current circumstance, piecing together information that the state and cooperatives had published, along with things that had been gathered on a more independent basis.

But Farman was specifically told by the Board that her concern shouldn't be what the rank and file thought, at least not directly. She had a responsibility to focus instead on ensuring the survival of the LPR in this new world, first and it's capacity to thrive, second, but very much intertwined. This, of course, meant coordinating resource acquisition and working with President Hadar to establish productive diplomatic relations. The targets for resource expansion were clear, they'd simply be the same places that they'd been eyeing in the old world, without the pesky concerns associated with having to deal with their being inhabited by sovereign nations. For one, the Ghawar oilfield would be entirely theirs for the taking, along with oil and natural gas in the rest of the Persian gulf. Already she had authorized an expedition to these locations. Engineers told her that it'd take a month to set up drilling in Ghawar specifically. Within that month, a rudimentary highway could be built, alongside a fleet of trucks that could ship the oil up to Kuwait, from which existing infrastructure could be used. It'd however take at least a year to build out pipeline infrastructure back to Kuwait and/or a port in Arabia it's self, along with a permanent military presence. At the moment, the LPR wouldn't be considering much in the way of civilian settlement in the region beyond what was absolutely needed for resource extraction, but currently unforeseeable economic demands could change that in the long run.


The Levantine People's Republicans targets in Arabia for Oil Infrastructure development. Green being Oil and Red being Natural Gas

This oil wouldn't be for their own use, primarily. The Republic was well past fossil fuels as a source of energy, primarily through a reliance on trains and short range electric transit. Even as a means of plastic production it was fading out. This oil, along with that which was still being domestically produced, would used be for the purpose of securing their diplomatic position in this new world, alongside giving them something to trade for rare earth elements. While they'd have little difficulty maintaining food self-sufficiency, the Levantine Beast was an extraordinary consumer of electronics, which all needed REEs, which while replenished in availability within their territory, was still not as plentiful as would be preferred. While they recycled, recycling cost energy and labor, with increased the costs of said electronics, along side the cost of other goods and services that this process redirected energy and labor from, making imports critically important to keeping costs low and the consumer satisfied. While they could set up their own mines in unoccupied parts of the world, that'd take time, far less than the time it took to suck oil out of the ground then ship it to a country that already had labor and infrastructure in the presence of these mining locations, if they didn't already have the mines up and running in of themselves. This meant that whatever was going on in China, Australia and Russia, the Levantines needed to establish ties and shipping routes for oil. It was quite possible it could mean aligning themselves with unsavory regimes while they secured their own mines, but material necessity was material necessity.

Speaking of needs, there still remained the question of security. At the moment, they had no way of knowing if anyone had designs on attacking them or even approaching them, as friendly approach by someone carrying some foreign illness could be even more dangerous than a hostile attack, particularly since such an illness could be nothing like anything seen before, indeed, it might not even be recognized as an illness to it's source. Whatever the intention was, the LPR's forces would be mobilized to protect form such threats in advance. Already the Farman had authorized the Manta Ray Air Wing of the Levantine People's Republic Aerospace Forces to do reconnaissance. They'd been instructed to fly over locations that were putting out wireless signals and scoop up as much information as possible, while doing their best to evade what could potentially be threats or means of detection, but otherwise hover in place.

The Manta-Rays being flown away from their borders and in some cases, on the other side of the world, would be unmanned and rigged with self destruction mechanisms should they be successfully engaged. All attempts at communication with them were to be categorized. Unmitigated threats would be "heeded" by relocation. friendly communication would relayed up to her office and they'd make the final decision on responses. Already they were going over scenarios of what to say if contacted for each unique scenario, as they'd already been absorbing a great degree of information form these efforts, making sure, of course, to publish publicly the least harmful pieces of information to satisfy public interest.


Manned variant of the Manta-Ray, a Fusion Powered Stealth Fighter/Attack Aerospacecraft, utilizes EM-SABRE and anti-grav technology, allowing for extreme maneuvering and LEO insertions.

Those craft on the immediate borders of the LPR would have different instructions, however. They were to be manned. Any approaches that seemed likely to each the LPR's borders would be responded by attempts to communicate a need to seize movement until given further instructions. Failure to comply would lead to light electronic warfare or non lethal directed energy weapons like crowd control microwaves and acoustics, along with aggressive maneuvers meant to signal superiority. the LPR's ground forces on it's northern border were given similar instructions. But lethal force would only be employed on authorization from her office.

She hoped that if it came to that, the authorization would be timely, for she was now about to recline in her chair to take a nap. Her aides would have to wake her back up, should anything need to be urgently addressed.
Last edited by Cybernetic Socialist Republics on Thu Jul 15, 2021 12:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Founded: Dec 11, 2019
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Baharuthia » Sun Jul 11, 2021 8:16 pm

Act 1: Paradise Found

Zimmermann Residence
January 1st, Year 0

“President Zimmermann!” A secretary member crashed into the bedroom of the shaken President, the ink black-haired and eyed man was already suiting up in accordance, his body was shaken by what had happened during his slumber.

“Yes, Altus, I know what had just transpired, I had never known such a thing was possible. That crack of lightning and massive quake.” He spoke hoarsely.

“N-No, sir, not that. W-We were of that, but, there is another subject you need to know of.” The man had an alarmed look on his face. “I...a new town had built itself next to our city, I don’t know if it could be called a town actually.” His face was distraught in shock and awe, not believing what he was saying by the way his face was contorted in.

“And what of the Legions?” The man straightened up with a sigh of relief.

“Nothing on the radar just yet, we have no signs of movements from them either. It appears their behavior has not changed nor out of the ordinary.” The President sighed, the Legions, the mechanical beasts that the Giadian Empire had created, haven’t done anything out of the ordinary just yet.

He bit his lips on remembering the mistake of letting the Empire getting through with its way before it fell. The sins of the Empire live on as the Federacy stands. “Alright then, show me town that had built itself from the ground up.”

“Right away.” A bizarre coincidence was what he told himself, a bizarre coincidence.

“So, we’re waiting out here for quite some time, huh?” A man asked as three others stood beside him.

“Haruki, shut up already.” An older man sighed at him, not wanting to small talk at this time of day.

“What? I’m just asking.” The previous man murmured.

"No need to be harsh on the lil’ man, Tak-kun."

"Shaddup, Kaido." The man, who was referred to as Tak-kun, snapped at the next man, who had a light beard.

"Sure sure."

"Can you two please knock it off for a bit?" A black-haired man asked as he looked a bit concerned about the matters happening.


"Seems like he's coming." The man, named Haruki observed as from a distance. A few pairs of light flashed as they began to slowly move towards them. "Be at your best composure."

"Already ahead of you." The bearded man, Kaido grinned as the car soon pulled over, and out came a man who looked like a servant who came out of the driver's seat. "Man's got a servant? Must be rich."

"Hush, Kaido-senpai."

"Yeah, Kaido, a bit too noisy." The two, Haruki and Tak-kun silenced the man.

"Wha-you guys-”

"Shush." The Driver opened the door and out came an aging man with black hair and eyes, with greying hairs visible on his head. Behind him were several guards, bringing assault rifles of unknown design, being at his more diplomatic persona, Haruki was the first to speak. "Greetings, sir. My name is Kirishima Haruki, a member of the Smart Brain Incorporation. A pleasure to meet you." A smile was laced on his face, one that was made out of diplomacy or so it seems.

"Pleasure's all mine...I'm President Ernst Zimmermann of the nation, Federal Republic of Giad." He introduced himself, looking at the building, he can tell it was a normal highrise building. It wasn't impressive nor anything, it was more the logo, he felt it was deeper than what it is on the outside. "May I meet with the person who runs this...Corporation?"

"That is our intention all along, right this way, good sir." Haruki turned his back as he began to move towards the building, the other three shrugged and followed, while the President and his escorts followed.


Before they entered, the Smart Brain escort looked at the Federacy’s Head of State. “Ah before I continue on, the three of these are my seniors, Inui Takumi-san.” The brown-haired man had a face of annoyance, while not directed at anyone, it was more of the state of the current situations. But still he gave them a bit of a nod.

“Then my other senior, Shuji Mihara.” The black-haired man bowed a bit in signs of respect towards the President.

“And the last, but not least, Naoya Kaido-san.” The bearded man had a grin on his face.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” The man nodded to him.

“Now that’s out of the way, let us proceed into the office.” The moment they went in, Smart Brain’s main building was simply and ludicrously simplistic, the hallways had men and women in black walking through. As the escorts continued, a woman caught up with the group.

“Sorry to bother you, Haruki-kun, but you’re currently being tasked with a few bits of missions for the time being.” The woman explained to the man.

“Really? Of all the times? Damn it, just put them on my desk, Asuka.” The woman, Asuka nodded. “Sorry about that, we’re currently having to make emergency maintenance and overhauls due to the sudden event that brought us here in the first place.”

“It’s no bother, we are all quite shaken as well.”

“Thanks for the leniency, ah, it’s quite painful to be an Overseer.”

“Seems like you have some things to get done, huh?” Mihara smiled at his fellow junior. “But then again you were the one who picked the position.”

“In other words, it’s kinda your own fault.” Takumi pitched in.

“S-Shut up already.” Haruki had a reddening face by that point from the embarrassment. The moment they got into the lift, they realized that there was not enough room for all the escorts. “...Uhhh, can you guys get to the other lift? Like, Kaido-senpai, and Takumi-san?”

“Eh? The two of us?”

“Do we have another Takumi-san and Kaido-senpai?”

“...You owe me a sandwich.” The brunette annoyed man sighed at his junior. “C’mon Kaido.”

“You owe me a cup of coffee.”

“Yeah yeah, go ahead, Kaido-senpai.” Haruki sighed at his seniors as they left the elevator and got on the other one.

“Welcome to Smart Brain Incorporated, I’m the CEO of the Corporation, Yuuji Kiba. A pleasure to make acquaintance.” A brunette with slick back brown hair smiled, as he folded his hands together.

“I’m Ernst Zimmermann, President of the Federacy, thank you for your hospitality.”

“You might be having questions of why we are here, which is the same for us.” Kiba nodded in acknowledgment. “Why we were able to be here is due to a phenomenon that we, ourselves, can’t exactly explain. A flash of lightning, a crack of thunder, and a quake of the land. Currently, we are restructuring ourselves to meet ends meet.”

“I see, then, the small town that was brought…”

“It was a district of our city, Tokyo from the previous world. With the new settlements, understandably our populace is shaken hardly. By the transportation and as well as ourselves.” A moment of silence came and washed the place from the sound.

“...What exactly do you mean?”

“Haruki-san, would you care to explain?”

“I’m not good at history, Kiba-san, you should already know this.”

“Then if not explain, then show.” Haruki sighed. “Promise that you won’t panic and fire out of fright?”

“What are you planning to do?”

“A simple showcase.” Kiba clapped his hands. Haruki took a deep breath, his eyes turned grey before a silhouette of an inhuman’s head showed itself upon his face. Then with a flash, a grey humanoid being with a dragon helmet, claws of grey, his ‘head’ was a grimdark grey with a mask covering his lips. His form was bulky and armored. “Haruki, is an Orphnoch. To be exact, the Upgraded Dragon Orphnoch, we dub the Bahamut Orphnoch.”

“I’m not comfortable doing this, y’know?” The ‘thing’ spoke up with mild irritation. The entire room of people was frozen, never had they seen such a thing. A humanoid in the form of a mythical creature.

“T-Then, you are all…” His hands trembled from fear. Fear of the unknown was quite a thing, and people often act irrationally, thankfully, no one acted as such.

“Not all of us, Mihara here is still human. Takumi-san, Kaido-san and myself are Orphnochs. To explain, this is the next step of variant evolution for humans, after dying, we have a chance of turning into Orphnochs, but if they don't have the potential to, then most humans would turn to ashes.” Kiba explained his side, a calm look on his face. “Orphnochs are evolutions of human forms with animals or plants, this is our next evolution. However, we do not seek eradication, instead, we wish to coexist peacefully if possible.”

“How can we trust you though?”

“We wouldn’t have invited you and killed everyone in the nation before anything honestly.” Kaido shrugged, shaking his head. “Most of our weaponry is enough to take over, but we rather have a more diplomatic relationship for the time being, we ourselves, sure aren’t capable of all the things need for society.”

“...I, fair enough then, what do you want?”

“An agreement to settle in your lands, although, I’m not sure that you have explained your own story.” Ernst took a swallow of his own saliva. That was true in all honesty.

“Then, you’re in the lands of the Federal Republic of Giad, a former Empire that fell and reformed into a Republic.”

“Sounds a lot like Germany…”

“Quiet, Haruki. A fallen Empire and a reformed Republic?”

“Yes, however, we are at war with our own drones, the Legion. They have been tasked to eradicate everything in their path after the fall of the Empire, however as of right now, I’m not sure about them existing here. We might have been transported to another world.”

“That might be true, but that doesn’t exactly...eliminate the possibility of being transported here as well.” Ernst’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped in disbelief.

“T-Then, if that is true, we might still be at war with them! Damn it, just as I thought we were about to be free of their existence...heh, I guess this is the consequence of creating such weapons.” Kiba’s eyes peaked in curiosity.

“Then the fall of the Empire, is inadvertently caused by the Legion, if I might guess?”

“Not quite, the Legion are built by us, but when we were disillusioned, that was why the Empire fell, right now, we are trying to right the wrongs we have done. I apologize if I have inconvenienced you with this revelation.”

“It’s...quite fine, we did have our fair share of rogue Orphnochs, who killed innocents, those still exist, so the Lucky Clover had been reassembled and are dedicated to destroying these threats. So please, if there are reports of them, I wish to know and possibly interrogate them for possible reform, if not then, we’ll kill them.”

“Sir Kiba, you...I see, for the greater good, huh?”

“That is what I had been tasked with, and I’m going to make ends meet, we will supply you with technology that might not be of your time, in exchange, rations would be good, if you’d please.” The Japanese man smiled as he extended his hand. The soldiers that were around looked at the transformed Haruki with weary eyes, not at all trusting of him.

“...We do not have times for squabbles and conflicts, time is up the essence, so we shall have an agreement.” The President shook his hand, Kiba nodded.

“Now with that out of the way, I thank you for your cooperation and for a toast of our deal.” The man took out a briefcase containing a flip phone with a laser pointer.

“And these are…?”

“A Smart Brain Prototype of our Flipphones, as a sign of trust.” Taking the flip phone out, he opened it and bent the screen to the side, and entered a code.

Burst Mode

“Wait wait!” Kiba fired onto a dummy that was behind Haruki with a three-round burst, causing everyone to flinch from the sudden action. “S-Say something before doing that kind of thing.”

“Sorry sorry, I’ll be treating you on that one.” The man gave a smile to his subordinate.

“Geez.” The Orphnoch soon turned back into his human form. “Man, I don’t like it when you of all people do that kind of thing.” He rubbed the back of his head, Kiba simply smiled as he closed the phone and offered it to the President.

“Well, it is Kiba, get used to his attitude.” Takumi sighed at his junior.

“Yeah, and remember, what you owe us.”

“R-Right, s-senpai…”

“So, Zimmermann-san, to our deal.” Ernst simply smiled back, as he took the phone.

“We have a deal.”

“Excellent, we shall begin our mobilization of the Riotrooper and the activation of our conflict protocols.”

Act 2: The Divine Order’s Dilemma

Kaiserin’s Office, Königsberg, Prussia
January 1st, Year 0

“Morning, Karolina, I have brought the reports you asked for.” A man entered the office of a woman who had german grey hair, hair that more or less looks like it was dyed than looking natural. Said hair was tied into a bun for a regal look, the woman’s pair of azure blue eyes lazily glaze over to her subordinate.

“Thank you, Alba, very nice of you to be bringing the reports.” The man, Alba sighed, his silver hair and eyes shone as the light of the sun’s rays shone through the office’s windows.

“I’m only doing this, since Qing had been working all day for this, she needs her sleep after the sudden phenomenon.” He explained himself, Karolina simply brushed it off with a giggle.

“I see, I see, lover boy. But truly, thank you for your assistance.” She nodded as she then sighed. “I’m afraid we have bad news.”

“And that is…?”

“It appears, Genesis’ influence in this world is near nonexistent, but he can still watch over us. So to say, we are quite much on our own.” Alba’s eyes twitched.

“What!? Then what about our food supplies?”

“We are still making contact with outside nations, hopefully they exist, otherwise we’re quite literally going to starve to death...or more accurately, possibly cannibalize each other to maintain our nation’s survival. Which would be on Capital Offense.”

“You’re literally exploiting everything we have at this point, Karol.”

“Shush, I know what I said, but still…get the navy moving, I want a possible contact with another nation, if at all possible.”

“Right away, Karol!”

“That’s Kaiserin, lover boy!” The man spat a curse to her as he exited the room and slammed the door. “...Ahhh, why can’t I ever get to do that kind of thing with my lovely subordinates?” She asked with a bored expression.

“Excuse me, milady.” Another man came into the room, the woman shuffled back to her more composed form as the man had a deadpan look on his face. “...I see you are slacking again, mein Kaiserin.”

“Zero, hold on, let me explain what just transpired!”

“None is needed, milady. I am here to just bring this to your attention, that is all.” The man soon exited the room without uttering another word.

“...Lord Genesis, please I beg for forgiveness of my impudence against you. Truly having my beloved subordinate seeing me in this kind of state…”

“Ah, your Divine Highness-oh, oh my.” A woman entered her office in the moment of her weakness. Said woman had a princess style hairdo with a pair of violet purple eyes glancing over to her.

“Not a word, Therese.” The sharp eyes of the Kaiserin manifested as she glared at her. “Not a word.”

“Aha, I see then, your Divine Highness, had you been doing something weird?” The Kaiserin simply pouted at the moment.

“What’s this I’m hearing about the Kaiserin?” Another man asked, the man in question being a bit of a hunchback. His sickly pale skin was already even more pale than what was the woman’s, Therese’s, own fair skin. “Sorry for intruding, ma’am.”

“Ahhh, don’t worry about it, Schnabel. You’re my only safe zone amidst all the chaos.” The Kaiserin got up of her chair and walked over to him and caressed him.

“...Must’ve been rough, huh, sis?”

“You have no idea…”

“Zero saw you in the moment of serotonin?”

“Always knowing of your sister, huh?” While he did want to answer that he heard what transpired, he rather just kept it within his own thoughts, rather than spilling it to his already despairing unrelated blood sister.


“Ehem, sorry, your Divine Highness, but we have things to be done first.”

“Ah, sorry about that. What about it?”

“We have met up with a nation that is not one of Lithuania nor Livonia in the Baltics, they call themselves the Federal Republic of Giad. We have no idea of what they are, or what they are capable of. So do be careful, when dealing with them.” The Kaiserin looked at her fellow Exterminator. A smile on her face.

“Who do you take me for, Therese?” Her azure eyes prompted the two others to look at each other.

“A stubborn princess?”

“A swooning simp?”

“Urgh.” Twin Critical Strike to the weak point. “...You don’t need to attack me like that.”

“But it’s fun, madam.” Therese interjected in disagreement.

“Well, I’ll let you two sort out your problems and be on my way.”

“Well then, have a good time, Schnabel-kun~” The brunette waved as he closed the door.

“So, have we tried establishing our position and contact outside forces asides from another nation reaching out for us?”

“Currently, we have gotten words of a nation to our West, Germany, and strangely enough, They aren't the Divine Republic of Germania that I saw, they were far cruder and less advanced. It might be safe to say that they are weaker than our Germanic brothers from the previous world.”

“Ah, if only taking a clustered Germany was our only problem. This would be a cakewalk if we have the oil industry to back it up.”

“Livonia’s new biofuel would’ve been very useful by now, but with this new event going on, I don’t think we’re going anywhere.” Karolina looked out her window. “...A brave new frontier, all looks in fear, a new story for you and me, will you walk through damnation and back with me?” She spoke poetically. “What says thou, Therese?”

The woman’s eyes no longer portrayed her previous immaturity, but her more serious side. Therese on the other hand smiled widely. “Of course, ma’am, but your mood swings are rather sudden.”

“It’s not time for those things now, let’s get going. Also, how are my Leviathan pens?” She remembered when Alba and

“Ah, they aren’t loose, if you’re checking on their status.”

“Good, we don’t want Leviathans to rule the waves again, ah if only it were so easy of us to basically just slaughter our way through.”

“Genesis did specify not to, your Divine Majesty.”

“Also stick to Highness or Majesty at this point, your inconsistency is kinda weirding me out.”

“Whatever art thou speaking of, mein Kaiserin?”

“That. That! That I swear to Genesis’ left kidney, I will...Urghhhhh!”


“Laugh all you want, Therese. I will have my part in this!”

“Whatever thou says.”

Act 3: The Undertaker

Republic's 1st Ward, The Eastern Front

“We are Legion, for we, are many.”
-Legion, Mark 5:9

“Oi, Shin! You felt that, right!?” Running could be heard through the hallways as the Processors of the Republic’s Juggernauts ran through their halls in panic. Not at all used to what just happened. “Was it a Legion attack!?”

“Not at all, however…” He could feel something was wrong. The number of Legions that were in the front weren’t as numerous as if they had been overridden and forced to cover a front somewhere else. Somewhere he had no idea of. The Empire that created them had fallen, and they were to the East, but most of the Legion’s movement was more to the South.

“What the hell was that? Shin, any ideas?” The Onyx and Pyrope hybrid, Shin squinted his eyes before shaking his head, he hadn’t felt this kind of thing before, and he was pretty sure that this was abnormal. Nothing of the sort was normal about it.

“I have no idea, however, I can feel the Legion moving away from our Frontlines. They are slowly covering the North and the South, more of them are moving towards our frontlines, but have stopped dead now.” Shin explained the situation.

“Che, nothing really changes even then, huh?” The Eisen, Raiden asked as he looked at the rows of Juggernauts on standby. “So...changes nothing, huh?"

"...No, nothing changes."

"How peculiar...the taste of roaming souls, the feeling of empty tombs, combined with the restless ghouls, is causing mankind's doom. How very amusing to watch…" A voice beckoned, Shin widened his eyes as he looked around. "You intend to find me, child? It is sad to say that you run out of luck, I am here, I am there, I am everywhere. This world appears to be foreign, but it is quite peculiar that few of the new individuals who could hear the cries of spirits and ghouls to be a complete human. Amusing, keep me entertained, boy. You will need it for the fight that is to come."

"Shin? Oi, Shin!?"

"...It's was...just a voice." That voice was smug, very smug. Unlike the Legion, it was aware and it was watching over them, just like a show. It viewed them as toys to be played with, to keep him entertained. "...Don't think much of it, I'll get some rest."

"Yeah, the sooner, the better."

Act 4: Contact

Kaiserin's Office, Königsberg, Prussia
January 2nd, Year 0

"Mein Kaiserin, we have gotten a satellite view of the current continent. It seems we are still on Earth, but...something quite peculiar is happening to this area." A female operator spoke as she pointed at the map. Clouds of silver in enormous amounts. "Should we be worried, madam?"

"Indeed, send a message to the Armed Forces. Keep them ready for mobilization if need be. That is not something that can be considered natural, even if Leviathans and Mythics exist. Call the Sins and the Virtues, actually call the entirety of the Variables that are still in Prussia with us!" The German gray-haired woman barked her orders.

"Roger, ma'am!" Karolina glanced with fear upon the Eastern Front of the Baltics. Electronic signals weren't able to exactly penetrate through the area that was filled those silver clouds. They need to be wary of the situation. No matter the cost.

"Ma'am, I have urgent news." A man barged into the room before realizing the woman was in thought, he quickly bowed in apologies. "Apologies for interrupting."

"Accepted, now the news?" The woman brushed off.

"The Federacy of Giad's President, Ernst Zimmermann, who appears to be in control of the Lithuanian territories, wishes to meet you and talk about urgent matters of a war they are having in the East." The girl raised an eyebrow, a new nation that was not Lithuania? Interesting, something that she herself didn't see coming. But if they were sending the President then it would've been quite urgent. No one else would send their President, but a Foreign Ambassador, there was something suspicious happening and the Kaiserin wasn't about to allow some weird thing to go through without her knowing it exactly.

"Have they no shame? Asking a neutral and foreign nation about this?" She asked, the question did make the man flinch, but he recovered from that and coughed.

"Ma'am, it's more urgent than you might expect it to be." He reasoned with her, most rulers would refuse, but for Karolina, she had to be the best Monarch there ever was, so she had no other choice, but to accept that.

"Spill out the beans then." The man took out the paper and begin reading the report out loud.

"Reading the most relevant to the report. To the East of us are swarms of autonomous drones who are seeking out humans, and would stop at nothing on getting what they want. Total annihilation of their Empire's enemies, that has been designated as unrestrictedly, all living beings that pose a threat."

"...This better not be a waste of my time, otherwise I might as well annex them in a war."

"But we don't have the manpower."

"...Che, I should stop thinking that I have the Livonians on our side as we did for Pommerania and Brandenburg."

"You probably should."

"Che, no matter. Schedule the meeting, we shall not waste a minute of our precious time on deciding what to do with our limited resources."

"Understood, ma'am."

Encrypted Exchange between Giad and Prussia
Code: Select all
Prussia to Giad: Our Kaiserin has agreed to schedule a meeting between her and your President. We shall order our troops to not fire on potential friendly units, due to lack of information we have about you.

Giad to Prussia: We are thankful for your Kaiserin's time and generosity, if there is anything we can do, we shall try to our best of our abilities to fulfill what you need with an exchange.

Prussia to Giad: That would be most welcomed as we are running low on food rations due to unforeseen circumstances and the cutting off our supply lines from allied nations from the previous world.

Giad to Prussia: We can sympathize with your current situation, we shall send aid as soon as possible.

Prussia to Giad: Then might our relationships between nations tie strong. Gott mitt uns.

Giad to Prussia: Glory to the Two-Headed Eagle.

End of Transmission.
Last edited by Baharuthia on Sun Jul 11, 2021 8:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Newne Carriebean7
Posts: 6327
Founded: Aug 08, 2015
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Newne Carriebean7 » Sun Jul 11, 2021 9:15 pm

Wilhelmshaven, Greater Volksrepublik of Germany
January 1, Year Null (0)

"We are a-coming, Von Paulus
To hang you from red square
Traitors and enemies to us
We'll show you no mercy

Enemies to the Tsar
Enemies of the people
Enemies of the State
Will all die under the same blade

Hide while you can Von Paulus
From Samsonov's hunting dogs
You can only hide so long
Before we sniff and hunt you down!

You have made the Russian people miserable
For Four long years of this war
If you dumb enough to start this shit
We'll be smart enough to end it!

We are a-coming, Von Paulus
To hang you from red square
Traitors and enemies to us
You Shall be obliterated!"

Marching song of The all female Battalion of Death , sung akin to "farwell to triblenka"

The Screaming.

Oh the Screaming.

There's not much that normaly would have shaken the 55 year old decorated war veteran. He to his men had been known for his bravery in digging the 6th Army out of the hole he had just so happened to dig it'self in around Stalingrad.

But the Screams of the damned, those that failed to make it home. The Military veteran and commander-in-chief knew all to well the glaring looks he got whenever he ventured outside to the WhereMart supermarket and in public generally. He still had all that guilt on his chest, and it wasn't looking good. He glared at the alarm clock, it's mechanichal lameness and general apathy looming over the shirtless general.

4:52 AM.


Well there wasn't much left to do but capitulate to the needs of his body. The Field Marshall wasn't about to let screaming internally and having the screams of the damned get in the way of a hot shower, change of clothes and a nice, calm, hearty breakfast. Eighteen minutes later on the dot he entered the Preußischer Kriegsrat, taking notice of Tradul Junge, one of the highest ranking females within the Schutzstaffel.

Alright, high ranking was a bit of bullshit, since she was the "General-Secretary of the Schutzstaffel", though she was more of a glorified secretary that had keen details of schedules, getting almost every nitty-gritty detail from that summit with the Polish fascists union in '44 to arranging a meeting with American Presidents Mellon and Sharp. Von Paulus respected organization, in keeping to how merciless the man was with his day to day activities.



"Admiral Fegelein left you a note. Here it is."

"Thank you, Mein Frauline. News from either Soldatenkongress or Seemannskongress?"

"Admiral-Chancellor Augustine Robespierre has ordered an emergency meeting, to be broadcast public."

"I suppose Riechsminister Goebbels has his work cut out for him, having to display this on the surviving radios and telivision sets? He's a good man, that Goebbels. He loves his family."

Junge flashed a polite smile and chuckled to herslelf affably before replying

"I suppose he does sir. Oh, the d.g.s.ü has all assembled."

"Excellent, my dear Frauline. Much appreciated."

Without another word being spoken between his secretary and the de-facto leader of the Volksrepublik, the field-marshall took his leave down the winding corridors of the Preußischer Kriegsrat, only glancing up momentarily at the rows of radios that spoke the confusing, hectic situation that was undoubtably occuring several miles away from Wilhelmshaven proper.

"Order, ORDER! Member Fudd STOP picking your fucking nose! There will be fucking order, as the god Odin as my witness this meeting will come together!"

"Motion to have the chair go fuck themselves! ERRAHGH! *unintelligible screaming, multiple voices* Damn!"

"The Motion is-"

"See, the motion's agreed to, let's knock the old hag over!"

"You dumkoffs, I am not a FUCKING WOMAN, let go of me-arrgh! ORDER! ORDER!"

"Fine, we'll let the bitch go, settle down and let's get this *unintelligible, multiple voices and gunshots*"

"Now, the first order of business is the motion to figure out what the hell is going on. All in favor of forming a Select-Committee to discover what in the hell just happened?"


"With overwhelming majority the motion passes. The clerk will now call upon Mehrheitsführer (Majority leader) Hermann Vöring, who has the floor."

"Danke. Mien associates, veterans, honored soldiers and politicians of the Volksrepublik. We need to look to the traditions of the past. The glorious, knight wielding past that saw Germany at it's greatest extent. We, of course need to give our thanks to Militärpräsident Von Paulen, along with Krebs, Burgdoff, Guderian, Dönitz, Vöring and Direlwanger. For this time of ultimate crisis, along with figuring out who is there. That's the uncertainty of it. We do not know who is there or even why they're there. It's frustrating to everyone within the Volksrepublik.

We absolutely must be vigilant. I surely doubt no man or woman sitting here seriously thinks complacency in our current predicament will yield bountiful results! We all must be on edge and on alert. We still don't know what happened or how it happened. Research will begin immediatly, upon the approval of the Deutsches Generalstabsbüro, of course. I would like to introduce a motion of petitioning the Deutsches Generalstabsbüro for a request with respect to the military's preparedness levels?"

"All in favor of the Mehrheitsführer's motion will say so with an affirmative. All those against will do so with a negative."

*unintelligible, multiple jas, niens and fuck yous heard until it stops*

"With a pluarlity, the motion passes. The Soldatenkongress and Seemannskongress will form a bipartisan committee in order to draft the petition. Hanz Luch, Fredrich Engels, August von Mackensen and Wilhelm The Crown Prince will draft the petition. All in favor of the motion for a petition..."

Von Paulus let ought a slight sigh at the general pararlyzism that had afflicted the legislative branch. This was what the founders, he had feared. In the ultimate crisis those miles and miles of beaurecratic red tape would pile up and up, bringing even the most simplitstic actions to at least twenty different motions, rejections and the establishment of committee after committee.

And all that wasted paper for committee assignments... that poor, poor paper..

The general circus that was Prussian politics lent only more credibility to the une-lected branch of government. Not many within the country even knew many of the faces of the D.G.S.U, apart from Vöring's many publicity stunts in shoving too many goddamned hams in his pie-hole. The gluttony of that man was legendary, in spite of how much Von Paulus disagreed with it.

The light click of the brown, wooden doors as they opened in shut was almost robotic in it's precision. Taken from the very man who was as strict as he was fun at birthday parties for his family members, which was to say, very little. The man stopped abruptly in his tracks as the smell of cigar smoke with cheap perfume permeated the air. He inhaled a little bit of it before stifling a sneeze with his elbow before making eye contact with the rest of the high ranking officials.

To the man's direct vision was Field Marshall Hans Krebs. The man's features shared with many others surrounding the room, (save for one individual). His balding head was very, very shiny, even as his military uniform, one of a Field Marshall.

On his left was Burgdof, with a receding hairline and aged features for a man just fifty. The war seemed to take it's toll on all, the young and the old. His uniform looked wrinkled and he simply acknowledged the commander-in-chief with a brief engagement of eye contact before withdrawing to the stone walls of the Bunker.

Guderian, behind Burgdof, certainly kept up the illusion of professionalism to a T. That was what he respected about the Field Marshall and why he had promoted him, in spite of the reeling defeats near Leningrad. He had been known for saving the Volksrepublik on more than one occassion, and his heroic tactical deeds certainly earned him the eyes of Wilhelmshaven and the political junkers. Guderian simply sat there, hands folded on the table and looking down at the floor, with a completly vacant expression on the man's face.

Dönitz was decorated in the traditional Volksmarine blue and grey mix, to accompany the sharp blue eyes and equally as grey hair that was partially obscured by the Grand Admiral ceremonial hat he wore. The mixture of a couple hundred pounds of man leaned forwards in his chair, scooting away from the large marshmallow in white that had a distinct...odor to it.

Vöring meanwhile had his feet on the table, rifiling through a massive red and white striped bucket of Kaiser Fried Chicken with bare unwashed hands, obviously from the smell alone. The smell, the smell alone could have been worse than all the mustard gas and chemicals warfare weapons developed during all of world war One! His slobering, fat face yanked yet another chicken drumstick out and bit into it akin to a lion catching the leg of a zebra. Bits of fried...whatever was in KFC... flew all over the table until the large lard ass finally finished up with his meal and presented a brightly orange colored, 40 ounce German Keg of frothy, cold, 100 percent all german, Fanta Soda pop to wash down the "chicken" he had just murdered between his rotting teeth and bad breath.

Direlwanger... he's the odd one. The Toothpick of a man would be unassuming to command anything remotely resembling a model clay army, and yet the man held multiple roles within the Volksrepublik. But he did good service in getting rid of the...undesireables that continue to plauge German politics. He had known for his sheer incompetence, but the astonishing efficiency he got at in purging the nation of it's economic mailence. He also had a much, much darker side. A side that Von Paulus had only seen glimmers of. The side of Direlwanger that would be unmerciless in his brutality and cruelty. A Direlwanger, that when spoken, would tremble and cause many of his opponents to break and run or outright commit suicide instead of leaving them in the hands of this...creature.

His personal life was also the sea of a thousand rumors. Some say the man had multiple wives, others dismissed the rumor and instead argued of his certain unorthodox 'tendencies' and favorites within the Riech's SS. By far the most wild rumors were that he and Former SS Riechsmarshall Heinrich Himmler were a couple. Rumors that Himmler had strenuously denied but Direlwanger... he never outright denied the rumors. What happens in the Bunker stays in the Bunker, eh?

Von Paulus took his seat and nodded to the gathered war criminals, high ranking officers and questionably sane individuals.

"Field Marshalls and the condemned. The Volksrepublik has endured many challenges. But as the politicians spout their tomfoolery and general nonsense every which way, we aren't just going to say we're vigillant, but we're going to ensure vigilance remains. Tight fists and steady nerves are needed at this moment- GOD FUCKING DAMNIT VORING STOP EATING AT THE TABLE! GET THIS LARD ASS SOME NAPKINS AND SOME BULLETS!... shit. Now, where was I?"

"Steady ner-"

"Steady nerves, that's right, Field Marshall Dönitz. Do we have contact with our fleets?"

"Many U-Boats have radioed in that they were transported back to naval bases throughout the Volksrepublik."

"Right... What of Heer? Have we dug our graves firmly within Wilhelmshaven against the goddamned british?"

"That's the thing sir." Began Field Marshall Burgdof, "One moment I have reports that the 9th Army is being encircled around Warsaw and the next, there's not a single sign of any movement. Then I lose contact with the 9th Army."

"Encirclement probably cut off communications."

"No sir, we don't know what the hell happened. That's why we've gathered here are we not?"

"I suppose so. Should we send out a message? We don't even know who in the hell is out there. There could be uh, a jewish super-state hell bent on the extermination of the german people!"

"Yes...or it could just be France and Switzerland and Yugoslavia and the like. We've still got contact with Reichskommissariat Franken and Reichkomissariat Norweigan, correct?"


"Militärpräsident? H...hello?"



"WHAT?! what in the fuck is it?! Oh.. my apologies mien feinds. I regret to inform you I have no more information than what we've got from the soldiers on the ground. Which is to say the least, very little. Vöring, Dönitz, Guderian. I want our forces on full alert. Vöring, make sure you don't EAT THE FUCKING PLANES THIS TIME YOU FAT FUCK!"

"No-promishes, Militärpräsident. I'll try notsh-t'eats das planein. I shall enshure the Luftwaffee is fully operational and on full combat alert. Pleash-please pass the salt or I shall devour you. Our airfields also report strange findings, one moment we've got soviet fighters barreling down upon many locat-locashionees and the next moment, fickin' fick all. I'm as baffled as the rest of us."

Von Paulus lights a stubby looking cigarette before taking it out of his mouth and pointing at the Grand Admiral.


"Yes, M-Militärpräsident?"

"Have a few Tigerzerstörers and U-boats embark immediately to patrol the North Sea, Norweigan Sea, Baltic Sea and Ebgkuj- I mean English Channel. I also want the foreign battleships and main Kreigsmarine fleet to prepare to raise steam at a moment's notice, and work with Vöring in terms of scouting what in the hell is out there."

"Militärpräsident, We can spare four Tigerzerstörers, six U-Boats and the hotel Würternburg. That Battleship I mean. We in the navy nickname the Würternburg A Hotel. I shall have them leave as soon as they are fueled and readied to sortie to the North and Norweigan Seas. In the meantime I shall send the T-11 Torpedo Boat, Three U-Boats, Destroyer Z14 Friedrich Ihn and Pantherzerstörers Five and Three respectively to patrol the Baltic Sea for enemy threats."

"Fine fine.. just... do it. Alright, navy's taken care of, army's on full alert, the air force, what am I missing?"

A hacking cough was heard in the back as a skeleton stood up from the back of the room. Another laugh began, with raspy breaths intermitted between each audible thump of the man's heart as he gripped on the oak table for support of his frail bones.

"Militärpräsident, Militärpräsident Militärpräsident... You did not forget about me. We all know it is the.. undesirables fault for such travesty. No need to pray to your gods or mystical demons. We simply need practical solutions for practical problems. If we work the inferior races to death, then god will surely be on our side. Once that's done we can liquidate our unwanted assets. Not a soul will be wasted in this grand endeavour. We stil have much more work to be done....

As for the war effort, I agree we need to be alert, but not so serious. Please, take this..."

Dirlewanger uncovered his pocket and handed Von Paulus a small bag of white powder, with a shit-eating grin on the mad man's face.

"Militärpräsident, think of all you've accomplished. We all know what happens to the tree which stands too tall do we know? You're smart enough to know that fact. W-wi shimply needs to purify the countryside. Purify the factories. Purify the nation. It's not your fault, Militärpräsident that the nation is this way. Those factors are not in your command. You cannot tell time where to march. You simply... need to lead us out of this mess. That's something you can do. I am fully behind you. Everyone here is fully committed to the cause and to your leadership, my dear, Fredrich."

"I...I suppose you're right, Dirlewanger. Maybe I need to chill out slightly."

A cackling of bones that would twist two and fro within the wind rushed out of the man's mouth before he light another cigar and sucked on it as a baby would a pacifier before blowing smoke over the room.

"Of course. I'm always right. Always."

To: All nations of the World

From: Wilhelmina Packard, Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Greater Volksrepublik of Germany

Hello, this is Wilhelmina Packard. I'm the Foreign Minister for the Greater Volksrepublik of Germany. You know, life is kind of hectic sometimes. One minute you're contemplating either a snake bite or having to listen to one of 75 year old grandpa loomis's stories about what he did in the Great Weltkreig again, the next you're blinded by a massive flash of light and now you're all on the back foot trying to figure out what in the flying fuckerdoodles just happened.

So.. if this is a little late now, I'm sorry, I needed my goddamned cigarette.

If you have any questions, please relay them to Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Loomis, who shall get back to you in a timely manner. Any potential meetings with the Head of State Fredich Von Paulus shall first have to be established by Loomis, then approved by me before such actions will be readied.

P.S. Give me a goddamned cigarette.
Krugeristan wrote:This is Carrie you're referring to. I'm not going to expect him to do something sane anytime soon. He can take something as simple as a sandwich, and make me never look at sandwiches with a straight face ever again.

Former Carriebeanian president Carol Dartenby sentenced to 4 years hard labor for corruption and mismanagement of state property|Former Carriebeanian president Antrés Depuís sentenced to 3 years in prison for embezzling funds and corruption

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Founded: May 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Speyland » Sun Jul 11, 2021 10:15 pm

January, Year 0

From: High Eunuchs
To: R.K. Japanese diplomat

Greetings. A trade agreement would be much honored; the Chinese Federation will prosper with it. Also, we don't mind a non-aggression pact as well. We hope we would communicate with each other again one day if something of our interest pops into your head, and we can discuss it.

From: Gao Hai (High Eunuchs)
To: Soviet diplomat

Greetings. I'm Gao Hai as of this writing. A delegation, you say, and an unoccupied embassy in Mosbird? Well, I wasn't expecting you to say strange things as I'm both confused and shocked but whatever. The Chinese Federation will take hold of the Chinese embassy since you gave us your permission which will be agreed upon. A friendship between the Soviet Union and the Chinese Federation would be much appreciated, and we'll meet at Vladivostok for our first interaction. Of course, I'll be there as Empress Tianzi is too young to go alone and having little knowledge of the political spectrum. And yes, the other High Eunuchs won't come too as I'm one of them. I hope to see you there, and I can't wait for the meeting to go well between us if it does. We do indeed are feeling the same way as you do, and we're trying our best to get to the bottom of this calamity and what have you.

By the way, we never have the Republic of China before, but there was a local rebellion dedicated to it back in 1959, which our mighty forces had brutally crushed. However, it happened in Taiwan. Also, who is Chiang Kai-shek? I've never heard of him before. Can you tell me more about him? Farewell for now.

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Democratic East-Asia
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Founded: Aug 30, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Democratic East-Asia » Mon Jul 12, 2021 7:45 am


Refugee Camp N-05, Nancy, French Democratic Republic
January 1st, 1983

As the January snow storms raged throughout Northern France, thousands of people braved the sub-zero temperatures to obtain the essential materials they needed in order to survive. UN peacekeepers and French Army soldiers distributed food, medical supplies, and warm clothes to vast km-long lines of people, all of whom appeared haggardly and hungry. These people hailed from all walks of life: doctors, teachers, factory workers, and even former slaves. All had a single thing in common - the desire to live and to escape the carnage in the east. Camp N-05 as it was designated by the UN was home to over 100,000 refugees, half of whom were Germans. Constant shortages of supplies and at times even food created a desperate atmosphere, and living conditions were unsurprisingly quite poor. Yet despite these hardships, Camp N-05 managed to hold itself together through a combination of sheer determination and the combined efforts of everyone around.

A single UASR army humvee rapidly approached from a hastily-paved road nearby as it entered the outskirts of Camp N-05. Passing by a trio of Abrams tanks and two towering UN M-5 Cataphracts, the humvee quickly slowed to a halt within one of the camp’s designated parking lots. Four individuals stepped out: two fully-armored UN soldiers, an older man who appeared to be a ranking UN officer, and a young blonde-haired reporter in her late 20s. As they strolled along the dirt walkways of the camp, the lady in particular couldn’t help but be disturbed by her surroundings.

“Don’t mind anything around here,” the older officer said nonchalantly, “it’s been this way for the past five years. Goddamn war and that idiot Imbot makes it impossible to fix anything.”

“I don’t know what to say,” the young American shook her head, “the people here don’t even seem like they get enough to eat, let alone have adequate shelter.”

“Well comrade Bridges, what can we do about it?” The UN officer sighed, “so long as the French keep their act up we’re bound to be stuck in this mess till the whole goddamn country is overrun by the BETA.”

The small group continued onwards, passing long rows of shoddy tents and tenements. The local inhabitants paid little mind to the two UN officials, far more concerned with finding enough firewood and gas to heat their homes and enough spare rations to get by on. It was a scene which wouldn’t have been out of place within the deserts of some third-world nation, but this was France for pete’s sake. Not that the rest of the country was much better: it had been six years since liberation but much of the country remained heavily impoverished. Mira remembered her tour through Occitania the prior year. The French government, for all its emphasis on reconstruction and recovery, had spent a majority of its resources towards rebuilding the country’s urban centers and preparing for war. The countryside has been almost totally neglected. Much of the region seemed stuck in the early 20th century, its inhabitants no better off than their grandparents had been. Everything from the roads to the dwellings was outdated while vast swathes of the countryside didn’t even have working electricity. It was a far cry from the high-speed trains, endless highways, and modern city complexes that she was familiar with back in America.

Not that northern France was much better: Mira found it no different from the drab, nearly identical industrial block-city infested regions of Soviet Siberia and Central Asia. The Nazis were never terribly creative when it came to architecture, especially within their colonial territories. Most northern French cities therefore followed a very uniform and rather depressing set of standards: concrete slabs and brutalism was the name of the game. The countryside was desolate as usual, largely empty barring a few massive automated plantations for growing cheap gene-modified crops. Nancy in particular was even worse off than the typical northern French city: heavily damaged during the French Uprising, it had only seen limited reconstruction during the post-independence years. Much of the city remained in ruins yet the civilian population remained incredibly high: nearly half a million when counting the sheer number of refugees in the area.

Mira couldn’t help but feel pity for the French civilians and refugees around her. It was a country that had been subject to horrific cruelties throughout the past three decades, deprived of its independence and stripped of its identity. Almost every single civilian she’d met knew someone or had someone within their family who died due to the past regime. It was hard to think that while America prospered in comparison to the rest of the world, hundreds of millions in Europe slaved away without any future.

The duo walked on, eventually passing the first few sets of internal checkpoints within the camp. Fully armored FRPA soldiers stood at guard as the UN officials passed, making sure to salute when Mira’s companion approached. Their appearance was somewhat disconcerting to the American who had grown up watching anti-Nazi films and propaganda: the French continued to use the same uniforms and gear as their former oppressors, with only slight differences in insignia to separate them from the Germans.

“Well there you have it,” the older UN officer said rather nonchalantly. “The rest of the camp looks basically the same. I’d bore you with the details if I had time but I have to catch a meeting. You’re free to write about anything you see and ask about, but try not to stir up any trouble,” he finished before heading off to a nearby building. “If you have any problems, just call me.”

“Got it.”

It was back to inspecting the refugee camp it seemed. Mira checked her notes and sighed. It would be a long while till she was back in New York. Yet before she had a chance to decide on a plan of action, a white flash illuminated the sky. It was so bright...

Palace of Versailles, Paris, French Democratic Republic
January 1st, 1983

It had been six hours since the event had occurred, and France was in a state of extreme uncertainty. There had initially been fears that nuclear war had erupted, but those fears were soon replaced with a sense of paranoia and isolation. The entire country had been put under a state of martial law, with all borders permanently closed until further notice. Chairman Imbot was quick to rally the country’s national guard and immediately called upon all French reserves to hastily mobilize in case the nation came under attack. While Imbot highly doubted that the Germans would be stupid enough to come barging into his country - especially given the massive number of casualties they were taking fighting the BETA hordes - it was always a possibility that some rogue German units would attempt making their way into the French nation. It had been seven years since France’s liberation, but even then Imbot wasn’t truly sure the Germans accepted the situation as it stood.

“General Imbot, we’ve just received a report from the Northeastern Front. All 40 army divisions are accounted for, as are national guard forces. No movement on the German side of the border.”

“No movement for now, you mean,” Imbot added. “Give it a few more hours and we’ll see some Krauts. The other side of the border is inhabited after all… though it doesn't appear particularly lively. Wonder who the neighbors might be…” the Chairman finished with a loud series of coughs, drawing a few raised eyebrows from his cabinet.

“Someone, mind passing me the RDX-4?” The Chairman shook his head wearily. A secretary grabbed a small bottle of pills nearby and handed it to Imbot, who quickly downed two of the tablets. He seemed slightly more refreshed a few minutes later.

“Anyways, barring the madness that was… six hours ago, errr, how are other sectors of our country holding up?”

“Aside from the predicted effects of losing contact with the rest of the known world, alright,” French economic minister Pierre Toussaint noted. “Alright in the sense that we should have enough food and power to go around, but there will be shortages in… almost all other categories. As much as everyone here hates to admit it, the UN’s international aid was quite beneficial towards keeping our consumer economy afloat.”

“Goddamn UN trying to keep us roped in…” Imbot mumbled, “now everyone’s going to complain once the quotas return. Unrealistic expectations, that’s all the UN’s brought here,” he finished. Nobody was willing to contradict that statement.

“With that aside, inform Marshal Schmitt that we’ll be redirecting 80% of next year’s funds towards his department. If this is indeed a new world then we best be as prepared as possible for possible conflict.”

“But we’ve already redirected 60% of next year’s budget increase towards the military, any more would be unne-” Toussaint interjected.

“Toussaint we do not have TIME to be crying over a few lost refrigerators and televisions!” Imbot raised his voice. “Before you know it, our country could come under assault by hostile foreigners from all directions! A few goddamn TVs isn’t going to save our country if it comes down to that!”

“Comrade, the people are tired and they want change!” Toussaint objected. “Truly they all love this country but this has been the fifth year in a row in which you’ve denied additional funding towards the civilian sectors!”

“You know, I don’t want to hear these complaints anymore,” Imbot yelled. “Get out of here and go back to your number crunching!”

Toussaint didn’t need a reminder, and promptly got out of his seat and walked out of Imbot’s office. The others inside simply stared.

“Well, any other objections?” Imbot asked impatiently. A few other ministers decided to take their leave. Imbot paid them no attention. Those fools were simply getting in the way.

“I would like to add onto the earlier mention of increasing the budget. If possible, would it be possible to divert some of the military funding towards the space force? I believe reestablishing a satellite network would be… highly beneficial towards our strategic operations. Easier intelligence gathering and better coordination with our defense systems, for one,” an American-educated technocrat said with a slight accent.

“Satellites? Approved, no questions asked,” Imbot said without a second thought. “It’s about time we joined the rest of the 3rd Internationale in space… even though none of them are here anymore. Doesn’t matter, we’ll just go on with our part,” Imbot smiled before breaking into another fit of coughs. “That said, this meeting is now dismissed-” he coughed again.

The assorted ministers and generals didn’t wait for Rene to say anything more, and quickly got out of his sight. The French Chairman sighed out of relief before getting out of his chair to stretch for a brief minute.

“Call Marshal Schmitt. There’s something I need to tell him.”
Revolutionary Communist State set in Asia. PMT.
NS stats are not used.
Actively funding left-wing "terrorist" organizations since its founding.

Pan Asia Broadcasting Channel: "We will achieve communism in 20 years." - Chairman Wei Yenwu, Central Government | Automation of industries threatens millions of jobs, says economic advisors

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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Baharuthia » Mon Jul 12, 2021 12:48 pm

Kaiserin’s Office, Königsberg, Prussia
January 2nd, Year 0

The Kaiserin was looking through the report papers once more before the door to her office was knocked on, the sound of the knocking didn’t have her look towards it as she exclaimed. “The door’s open, you can come in.”

The door opened, another secretary came in through the room and uttered, “excuse me, ma’am,” taking his papers up, he coughed into his fist. “A letter just came in, do I read the following or just to-”

“To the point, if you’d please?”

“Formality aside, the Czechoslovak Republic wishes to establish friendly relations, what say thee, your Divine Highness?”

“...Are Carmilla and Krakus free?”

“Why madam Carmilla, if I may ask, ma’am?”

“She’s free for the time being, I’m having the Sins, the Virtues, and the other Four Horsemen to essentially clean up any pests.”

“Isn’t that overkill?”

“Don’t question it.”

“I...fair enough, ma’am. So, ma’am Carmilla and sir Krakus? Are you sure? Might we not send some other men to accompany them?”

A moment of silence engulfed the room as Karolina placed her papers by the desk. “...Send Karna and Arjuna, if you can fetch them for me.”

“I…alright then, I’ll contact the four and have them be our diplomats to Czechoslovakia, have you asked Poland to give us access if they at all exist?”

“Err, ma’am?”


“The Czechoslovaks occupy Poland.” The Kaiserin stood silent.

“Ah, okay then.”

“That’s your only reaction?” The secretary asked as he nearly stumbled on himself. “They are quite numerous and as far as I can tell-”

“Ah, just save that for next time. I don’t want to discuss our war situation with a foreign nation for the time being.” She sighed at the secretary who shrugged it off.

“If that is your wish, then it shall be, ma’am.” The man was about to leave before looking at the great lady once again. “...Have you been getting enough sleep, ma’am?”

“Huh? Yeah, I had coffee like...a day ago?”

“Yesterday? Ma’am, this isn’t good for your health.”

“Yes, yes, don’t mind me, just do your job.” The woman waved off her secretary as he sweatdropped.

“Err, as you wish then, Your Highness.” Karolina was soon left alone in her office, contemplating whether or not she should get more coffee…

The answer was apparently, yes.

2nd January 2004
An old road in the forest

It was a cold, frosty night, as was to be expected in these winter months. Certainly plenty of reason to spend the night inside and use the carefully rationed firewood to warm oneself for the night. Perhaps drink some of that good Czech beer, tell some stories, have some fun with the comrades.

But no, that was not what tonight had in store for Karel. Instead, he had been thrown out of his cozy barracks and told to assemble a party of reliable Vlajka members from his company and then head north to the border with the Prussian provinces. Why? He had no clue.

Or well, at least he had had no clue until he and his platoon, following the road, had noticed that the telephone lines were on the ground, precisely where the sign was informing people that they were leaving Poland proper and entering Prussia. Even worse, the street was...well...not gone but it was most certainly changed.

He had immediately radioed back about this and had been commanded to hold position there and report any suspicious activity...and since then he had been lingering here with his squad, blocking the road, kicking pebbles and jumping at shadows. Mists had come up sometime towards midnight, cold and creeping under their clothes, clinging to their skin and making them feel wet everywhere, forming shapes they levelled their weapons at.

It was then a very thankful thing that the sound of a car engine came from behind, the sound of tires on pavement. Someone was coming from their side, likely a superior that’d tell them what the hell was going on or that they could go home again.

It took a while due to the mist but eventually, with strained eyes, Karel was able to make out the lights of a car, shining through the mists. It almost seemed like the mist was parting before it, the banners of the Vlajka fluttering from the front of the car as it approached. It looked expensive. And old. Likely a literal antique.

He stepped in front of it on the road, causing the car to stop. It had been going fairly slowly, doubtlessly to not accidentally drive off the road or crash in the mist so it was easy for it to stop quickly. Once that was the case, Karel walked up to the backseat windows, one of them already lowering. He couldn’t quite see who was inside, there being no lights turned on in the car but that didn’t matter. Everything screamed at him that he was dealing with some higher up from the party and his sixth sense was tingling that he was dealing with someone very dangerous.

“Captain Houfnice? Anything to report?”

He saluted as the female voice posed her questions before replying:

“Yes, milady. Nothing to report except this fog.”

The lady remained silent for a moment before replying with a clipped:

“Sloppy. Then again, we are not dealing with Prussians. Can’t expect punctuality from these people.”

The next thing that happened, Karel heard a door open and looked away, though not seeing anything. But his eyes heard something, the clicking of high heels on the paved street as someone was rounding the car. He tried to get a good look but the fog obscured his vision...and when he finally saw who was approaching he immediately snapped to attention and took a step backward.

The white uniform, pale skin, and pale blue hair had hidden her almost perfectly in the mist. The famous Ice Witch, one of the most powerful Daemons often in the employ of...his blood ran cold.

The Daemon in the shape of a woman gave him a predatory smile before opening the door to the car like some kind of butler. The first thing to come out was a pair of thigh-high black leather boots, followed quickly by a red trench coat and platinum blonde hair framing a pale face. Countess Carmilla Karnstein, one of the most powerful members of the Vlajka and an incredibly sadistic vampire. Luckily for him, she didn’t seem in the mood for sadism, righting her leather gloves and barely glancing at him and instead into the mist, towards the strange phenomenon.

“Have your men secure the flanks and the road further behind us. I do not want any unwelcome interruptions.”

Karel’s boots snapped together at once with another salute before he scurried off into the mists to give his men the relevant orders. Meanwhile, Carmilla stepped forward, her heels the only thing truly audible in the fog since Karel scurried away. The Ice Witch followed her at a respectful distance, though her steps made no sound, Daemon that she was. Once Carmilla had reached the exact spot where the road...changed...she put her hands into her pockets and...waited.

Mława, Czechoslovak-Poland
January 2nd, Year 0

“Quite the party, no, milady?” A well-built man asked, having worn a formal dress suit with a tie, his short black hair was being combed as neatly as possible, his brown pupils were glancing onto the passenger sitting opposite to him.

“Indeed, I’m not sure if the Kaiserin was thinking soundly and rightly on the matter.” The woman sighed, her blood-red eyes looked away into the foggy and freezing night, the famed Vampire Queen narrowed her eyes. “Considering everything at hand, a Czechoslovak-Poland, well, at least we might be able to start friendly diplomacy compared to what happened before.”

“Hopefully so, indeed, what says thou, Lord Karna, Arjuna?” The two brothers looked a bit pensive as they were asked the question.

“I hope that we don’t go off the wrong footing, considering that our Kaiserin can be quite clumsy and bashful.” Karna simply stated a smile adorned on his face. “The woman is amusing, I shall give her that, especially considering that she had been working nonstop.”

“That reminds me of Alba’s assistant, who works day and night for his paperwork.” Arjuna coined in. “However, the Horsemen aside, hopefully, what awaits us in the South does not wish for war or perhaps, reclamation of olden claims.” The ebony-skinned man shut his eyes with a thought in his mind. “...Do you reckon that they have expert archers?”

“Lord Arjuna, I must remind you that we’re not here for rivalries, but for diplomacy.” The man simply chuckled at the reprimand by the Vampire Queen. His brother simply rolled his eyes upon his lust for excitement.

“Milords, milady, we have arrived on the specified location. Prepare to disembark-I mean to step out.” Their Driver clearly wasn’t experienced in diplomacy and was more of the ones who were sent to drop off soldiers into the battlefield. Considering that diplomacy wasn’t widely done outside of friendly nations, pilots and combat engineers were placed as pilots and drivers for envoys.

“Still not used to this, huh, sir Mikhail?” Karna chuckled at the driver, who laughed nervously.

“Nyet, komrad Karna, I still have much to normalize with the current situation, considering everything.” The man turned off the engine of the car before unlocking the locks. Getting out of his driver’s seat, he stepped out and opened the door of the passenger side.

“Ladies first, gentlemen.” Carmilla smiled as the three other envoys looked at each other with a weak smile on their face. Taking her hand and helping her out of the car, the woman turned to the man and smiled. “Thank you, Mikhail.”

“A pleasure, might you want the same treatment, gentlemen?” The three men contained their laughter as they soon got out on their own. Closing the door behind them, the envoys turned to where the meeting spot was to be held and found themselves looking towards a group of envoys who were waiting for them.

“So, diplomacy, aye?” Krakus grinned as he cracked his knuckles. “Not like I was the kind to do so.”

“That’s why you're not the one who’s doing the talking, Krakus, be sure to remember that.” The hot blooded man snorted at the Hungarian-born vampire.

“Yes yes, Your Highness.” He rolled his eyes to accompany his sarcastic remark. “Fighting Wawel is easier than dealing with women honestly…” He muttered to himself as the vampire ignored his feeble opinions of her.

“Do be respectful, Krakus, we are here for peace, not war.” Karna added in.

“Indeed, it would be very unfortunate if it became like our previous situation. Enemies everywhere.” Arjuna pitched in. “Well, hopefully our Kaiserin is not going to be too unwell for a meeting. I wonder if she’s making a recovery…” A certain woman sneezes in her office as she is drinking her coffee in the middle of the night.

“Typical. Now, ready for diplomacy?” Karna asked with a smile.

“Yes, let us commit to the task at hand.”

The Blood Countess didn’t have to wait for long for the expected envoys to arrive. All was going as planned, though they were still a little late. They were also being rather...uncharacteristic for envoys, she thought as they approached her, the fog obscuring their forms even with her enhanced sight.

When the mists finally stopped clinging to the group, Carmilla’s chin would have hit the ground where she not so old and had seen plenty of Daemons pull the same trick. In this case, watching her exact mirror image walk towards her. She couldn’t see another form though, even on the higher planes and thus turned slightly towards Lilith, a slightly raised eyebrow enough to indicate what she wanted to know. Lilith however only shook her head, the Daemon clearly somewhat concerned.

It was a reasonable concern but one that Carmilla quelled for the moment, instead letting the most welcoming smile she could muster onto her beautiful features as she greeted the group:

“Ah, the envoys of this...strange and...foreign land! I am most pleased to make your acquaintances. Now if I may introduce myself, Countess Carmilla Karnstein, at your service. And you are?”

“The pleasure’s all mine, I am the twenty-first member of the Variables under the Kaiserin of Prussia, Carmilla or Elizabeth Bathory. The designated envoy to the Czechoslovak State. However, do my eyes deceive me? Or is it that…?”

“She definitely looks similar to our dear Vampire Queen, doesn’t she?” A whisper came through from the black haired man of the group, the two other envoys simply nodded slowly at the remark.

“Elizabeth Bathory you say…”

Carmilla trailed off slightly as she looked her counterpart up and down. This was most certainly way more than a ploy by the British. It didn’t matter what kind of magic Deveroux had access to, he did not have the power do this. With a slightly more strained smile she continued:

“I must admit, you are a most...peculiar sight, especially with your...uncanny resemblance of my own person, in more ways than one. It appears some sort of planemelding or dimensional mash-up may have taken place, though as far as I was aware the existence of any other planes but the daemonic planes were little more than...theory.

Variable Bathory, I fear that attempting to explain our situations to each other may be...unnecessarily complicated. Perhaps a smaller explanation of our current needs as well as...favoured opinions could solve the situation much better. Everything else I fear will take weeks of work by a veritable corps of archivists, historians and clerics.”

“Indeed, it is quite...unnerving? Perhaps a better word can describe the situation, but I shall accept what our situation is as of now. To simply explain, our world isn’t at all involved within magic until the New Dawn, passing a few details, I alongside seventy one other legendary figures have been reincarnated from the afterlife. That is to simply put what situation we were having before we are displaced out of our plane of dimension into this one.” The Vampire Queen tried to form sense as she figured her next words.

“Perhaps to elaborate, we are foreigners to this very world, our existence alone is not meant to be here in the first place, currently we are trying to figure out what has happened and we are actively trying to find ways to come back to our rightful plane.” The ebony man with dark hair spoke formally. “And excuse myself, I am Arjuna, the fifteenth Variable of the Seventy Two.” He apologized.

“What he said is quite much our oversimplification of a situation.” Elizabeth sighed, crossing her arms.

“It is charming to think that I have been regarded as a legendary figure in another world, to the point of being reincarnated. Though it does leave the rather troubling fact that I apparently died there as well.”

, she said before her face twisted into a scowl for a split second when Arjuna spoke.

“Please, young man, it is impolite to interject into a conversation had by others. Still, the point you make is good and we hope to hear of you should such attempts bear fruit. Should we come across anything of the sort, I am certain you will be among the first we inform.

However, let us perhaps address the elephant in the room. We do not know how much of a planemelding happened but as appears, your...nation...has appeared right where the former province of Prussia used to be. Given that we are currently engaged in a war with the British Empire, this is obviously a big blow to us and our ability to wage it, just losing an entire province like that.

Would it be at all possible to...renegotiate Prussia’s return to the Czechoslovak fold?”

“I’m afraid that it is quite impossible as all our resources are only within Prussia, giving Prussia would be up our independence of a nation. However, we are willing to negotiate other such things including resources as well as military access. However, that might be up to the Kaiserin for the time being. Again, apologies, but we are trying to make do with our situation as of now.”

Elizabeth tried to tread carefully around what might be a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, behind her was no different as Arjuna was being reprimanded by his half-brother. But that aside, Elizabeth tried to make a continuation of the conversation. “I will try to appeal to her Highness about the resources and a possibility of a technological exchange. What does thy think?”

Carmilla regarded Elizabeth for a long time with cold and calculating gaze, before finally conceding:

“Truthfully, I did not speak of annexation when I requested the return into Czechoslovakia’s fold. Much rather I was thinking of a mutual alliance and entry into the war against the British Empire if it should be found again. Trade treaties would also be most beneficial, seeing as this event has cost as all of our home ports...I am certain this...Kaiserin...of yours would be most delighted at the profits her Prussia could reap if it would open its infrastructure to the gods and transportation of its neighbours.”

“I see…a mutual alliance and the entry into a war against the British Empire…” While it was true that the Prussians did have a navy of its own, it was barely anything to the Royal Navy. But considering that this British Empire does not exist...either way, the Kaiserin would probably be more than ecstatic to invade another country. Just to expand her influence and possibly take some land. “While I don’t doubt that our Kaiserin might seize this opportunity, I must consult her on the matter beforehand before making decisions.”

“That would be for the best indeed. I believe I too will have to consult with my president and the party, given that a decision of such weight cannot be taken by me alone and my mission of discovering what has happened to our northern provinces has been completed. I believe it will be for our leaders to decide what to do in this situation, personally no doubt.

Please, until a formal treaty has been established, refrain from crossing the border in any capacity. Only a few months ago a British Spy caused quite a stir in Prague itself so many of our men are a little...overeager when it comes to...foreign figures.”

“Indeed, I shall inform her Highness of what has been discussed and of the offer, and no Prussians would cross the territories that have been established. That I can promise you, if you want to visit the nation then please, do come and enjoy your time, well, if you ever consider it at least.” The three other Variables bit their lips and Elizabeth cursed at them internally. “It has been a wonderful time to meet and be able to...acquaint ourselves with you. Hopefully, relations between our nations can thrive under these hard times.”

A smile graced Carmilla’s pale cheeks as she curtsied a little before her counterpart, departing with the words:

“It has indeed been a pleasure to get acquainted with myself and I hope that your Kaiserin will feel the same way about my President.

Oh, and one last thing…”

Her eyes suddenly grew hard and piercing, like icicles.

“If you collaborate with the British, you will beg them to take you on your ships.”

, before they returned to their prior state, a soft, innocent smile back on her face.

“So do make sure to make the right decision should Deveroux’s snake-tongued diplomats ever arrive in your beautiful little nation.”

“Duly noted.” Elizabeth nodded, in truth, they barely made contact with the British and were seen as threats by them, but even then they broke apart back home. The only part that existed would be Anglia who were nowhere near the original British, having assumed another Dynasty to rule over as the Head of State. “Do not worry much about it, you’re the second nation we have come into contact with, the first being a form of Lithuania if I were to hazard a guess. Hopefully our leaders are able to have a wonderful exchange, if they were to meet.”

“It will doubtlessly take time and a lot of effort but I am certain the President would be most willing to welcome the Kaiserin in Prague with all honours to sign an official treaty. I would also be honoured if you were to visit me in my castle in Slovakia, dearest Doppelgänger. It would be most interesting to see how much we truly do share in common.”

, was the last thing Carmilla said over her shoulder, already a ways away from the other envoys, her face not visible to them. Which was for the best for her predatory smile might’ve made them rethink the offer. Her companion, the white clad Daemon, shot an amused glare at Elizabeth before vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye, reappearing at Carmilla’s side and opening the door for her. The Ice Witch had a hungry smile on her lips as she lifted her peaked cap slightly before the envoys before getting into the car herself and starting the engine, turning and leaving shortly after, leaving the Variables all on their lonesome on this foggy road.

“That went pretty well, didn’t it?” Karna asked the Vampire Queen, who sighed.

“Who knew that dealing with my own doppelgänger can be quite tiring, but it was also amusing to see how an alternate version of myself is similar to yours truly.”

“Even then, our presence is barely any use, y’know?” Krakus commented before nudging the ebony skinned man. “Asides for a young man here.”

“...It was truly an interesting experience.” Said man smiled jovially. “Perhaps I might look forward to meeting other individuals in this world.”

“One can only hope, Arjuna.” Karna sighed as he shook his head. “Might we go back? We have fulfilled our objectives. No doubt, the Kaiserin might be ecstatic to be able to send her armed forces to do something other than sitting around in the mainland.” He snorted at the thought of the possibly expansionistic Kaiserin being more than exhilarated to do something related to conquest.

“Indeed, I still need to process what had been said before.” Elizabeth smirked to herself. “Well, young man, you better respect your boundaries.” She turned to the Indian Demi-God who smiled in amusement.

“Why, of course, madam. Of course.” The four of them began to walk back towards their vehicle, where Mikhail had been waiting patiently for them. The fog was quite thick for tonight, frosty even, as Mikhail had to put on a jacket and turn on the heater. He was shivering like crazy.

“T-Took you people long enough.”

“Had a good time alone, Mikhail?” Krakus grinned at the Driver who didn’t have an amused look on his face.

“No, definitely would need a campfire at this point.” He mused to himself a bit before looking at the driver’s mirror of the car. “No one left behind this time?”

“Ah shut up, Mikhail.” Krakus muttered in annoyance, the sudden moodswing was something, alright.

“Haha, how does it feel to be at the other end?” The man soon put the car’s gear on reverse before he began to turn the car around, back towards Prussia. “How goes the meeting?”

“It was something, alright, and it was definitely a first.” Elizabeth smiled at the thought of meeting her alternate counterpart once more to see how similar they truly are.

“...Is she also allergic to garlic?”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Just jesting, your vampiric highness.” Mikhail laughed at the queen’s exasperation. The drive back to Königsberg was quite some time, and that time was used to count the endless possibilities of the similarities between two alternate characters.

Co-written with Exilvania
Last edited by Baharuthia on Mon Jul 12, 2021 1:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Mon Jul 12, 2021 1:40 pm

Palace Gardens
Mestor Principality
Day 4, year 1 of the Great Shift
Annum of the Island 5,098

A woman sat knelt amidst the crop of the winter garden, washing off the dirt with the shockingly cold water from the glacier aqueducts. She shivered for a moment as the cold shock traveled through her arms and down her back. For a moment, she felt an icy wind caress her fingers. Then, she quickly dried them again, and continued her kneeling path down a row of winter cabbage, neatly planted next to the irrigating canals. With her shears she removed a few brown and crumpled leaves. Luckily, rigorous policies by Atlantine customs had prevented any kind of weevil from establishing itself on the island, but that did not mean agriculture was entirely without effort.

After finishing that row of cabbages, she stood up, brushing the worst dirt from her knees, and contently observing the neat rows of weedless winter cabbage. Then, she looked southward. The winter garden was situated towards the top of the terraced Mestor palace, which was in turn constructed into the mountainside of Mount Perseverance. The highest terraces allowed a view of a large part of the Atlantine Plain, as well as the flow of both the river Nereids and the river Proteus which glittered under the rays of the eastern sun, slowly rising above the foothills. The plain itself was partly forested, interspersed with large sections of farmland that cut the landscape into geometric shapes. Beyond the plains lay the Great City, Atlantis itself, probably the only place on the island she did not want to be right now.

“Princess…” Came the voice of Aurea, her personal secretary. A neat and orderly woman whose advanced age could only be guessed at, which was reflected by her greying hairs neatly kept in a painful-looking bun at the back of her head. She was a kindly woman, but strict enough to compensate for princess Mestor’s own lax inner voice.

“You said we would leave after you finished the cabbage patch. I note that you have finished” She said, matter-of-factly. She knew she could rely on Mestor drawing her own conclusions.

“Yeah, yeah…” Mestor said, bending down to wash her hands in the ice cold stream again. Then, she walked towards one of the stairs, pulled a robot neatly hidden in the marblework, and pushed a few buttons on its display. The robot, a crab-like device with an array of tools instead of claws, came to life.

“Tend to the rest of the garden for me until I return” she ordered it. The crab robot buzzed contently, nodded with its whole body, and scuttled away to water a dilapidated bunch of red beets. For a moment, Mestor watched it carefully measure the precise amount of water the beets required, but no longer; she could feel the eyes of Aurea burn into the back of her head.

“Milady, it is highly irregular to be late for a meeting with your most esteemed cousin” Aurea added. For her, ‘highly irregular’ was euphemistic verbiage for ‘absolutely disastrous’, and Mestor actually remembered her using ‘highly irregular’ as a step up from ‘apocalyptic’.

“I think cousin Atlas should understand that I’m not in the mood for punctuality” Mestor said resignedly, starting to walk towards the helopad.

“He should, but…” Aurea answered, nodding. She did not have to finish her sentence for Mestor to understand; for all his public patience for professional conduct, Atlas had little in the way of understanding for the inherent flaws of human nature. A report too late because of the need to double-check results? Understandable. An employee late because of a death in the family? Unacceptable.

Upon entering the craft from the passenger doors, giving direct access to the travel suite, Mestor noticed that all her bags had already been packed and neatly stowed. Her writing desk, usually tucked away into a hidden cabinet, had been folded out, and on it lay stacks of paper; reports, reviews, summaries… Everything she needed on her way to Atlantis City to prepare her to resume her official position. She sighed, taking a cup of coffee from a robotic coffee maker. She relished the beverage even more, now that the supply of coffee beans to the island from the former colonies had been completely cut.

“Better savour it while it lasts…” she told herself, reading the first page of one of the reports laid out for her: Star alignment; proofs of a temporal shift.

“Let’s get this out of the way, then…”

Grand Fleet Wharf
Atlantis City
Day 4, year 1 of the Great Shift
Annum of the Island 5,098

It was no coincidence that the Grand Wharf had been built under the colossal structure of the Naval Board. Or rather, that the Grand Wharf had been dug out from underneath the massive pyramid. Not only did that keep a large part from the fleet from sight, it protected the ships from wind and weather, as well as from any aerial bombardments. Now, the ancient peoples of the Past Earth would never be able to reach Atlantis, let alone bomb her harbour facilities, but the Naval Board was one of the only institutions cognizant of the possibility of civil war. And to protect its assets from hostilities both within and without, the Naval Board shielded the Grand Wharf with its very being. The white and blue construction was very different from the smaller recreations built in Egypt and Mesoamerica; it was hollow, and filled with office space, storage, archives and training facilities. It was one of the few buildings of that construction to stand outside the brass walls of the outer city, or even the silver walls of the inner city. The skyline, from the right angle, seemed in opposition with itself.

“Five thousand years?” King Atlas said, gawking aghast at the two constellation maps hung next to one another on a large screen. He was dressed smartly in his dark blue naval uniform, something he only wore on specific occasions, or on visits to the admiralty. The uniform crumpled at his breast as he bent over the table of British oak that formed the room’s centrepiece. Lord admiral Gadeirus, chair of the naval board and commander-in-chief of the admiralty, only nodded, and snapped his fingers. Two robotic arms protruded from the light wall that held the two constellation charts, and overlayed them, showing the minor differences in the shift of the stars that had taken place.

“Between five and seven thousand” Gadeirus said, his silver-grey beard barely moving with every word. He seemed unphased as always, but even for him it was nigh impossible keeping up appearances. Either the stars had moved, or the bright light they had seen had transported them thousands of years into the future.

“We are picking up more and more stragglers too, men and women who served in our protectorates. They claim to have fallen asleep on land, only to wake up on their ships, in the middle of the ocean. We still have various groups missing, but we hope to be able to contact them…” Gadeirus explained, but he stopped when he became unsure the High King was listening at all.

“By Cleito and Poseidon… What happened?” Atlas muttered, still transfixed by the star chart.

“We… We are unable to rule out possibilities at this moment, your majesty” Gadeirus said plainly. This was a navy euphemism which meant they had no idea whatsoever. Unlike Atlas, however, Gadeirus seemed less interested in the hows and whys, and was more curious as how he was to proceed in this situation. The plans to invade Greece had been postponed indefinitely, but there was no clear line on how to respond to the present change in circumstances. Gadeirus exchanged a few glances with the other members of the admiralty, high ranking officers that formed his personal staff. They had discussed possibilities before, in preparation of this meeting.

“One possibility, your majesty, is to grant the navy carte blanche in her operations, to find out what happened. Place me at the head of the investigative commission, and give me access to the other ministries”

The king looked up, a sudden clarity in his eyes. Gadeirus swallowed. Every time he fell for Atlas’ gormless appearance, only to be caught off-guard when the High King regained sudden clarity and force of will. It was not the first time the admiralty had sent him to discuss matters with his cousin, only for him to be chewed out on the spot.

“You want to make this a military matter, cousin?” Atlas inquired, appearing neutral on the matter. Gadeirus knew better than to trust true neutrality, as the High King had always been reluctant in the use of armed force.

“The military has the necessary speed and organisation to quickly deal with threats. That is our profession” he said, the last sentence a little more forceful than intended. He felt that his emotions were taking the better of him, especially when Atlas shook his head.

“The position it far too complex. I am going to leave this to the civilian government, and I am heading the committee personally. In my absence, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs should head our efforts” Atlas declared, much to the chagrin of the lord admiral.

“The trade people? Beads and shiny stones for a few tonnes of cocoa?” The admiral answered incredulously.

“Diplomats, Gadeirus. We need diplomats. We have already had sightings of highly developed civilisations in this new world. We can’t solve everything by blasting it with a dreadnought”

“But that means that…” the lord admiral started, only to be silenced by the nodding of his High King.

“Yes, we are going to work closely with one of our younger cousins” Atlas said, finishing Gadeirus’ sentence. With that, he waved at one of his personal aids, guarding the entrance from the inside.

“Send her in, I believe she will have arrived” he said, and the aid nodded before leaving the room.

“It’s been a long time since I have seen cousin Mestor, I hope she is well. How about you, Gadeirus?”
The name's James. James Usari. Well, my name is not actually James Usari, so don't bother actually looking it up, but it'll do for now.

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Democratic East-Asia
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Democratic East-Asia » Mon Jul 12, 2021 2:16 pm

Southern Ports, Marseille, French Democratic Republic, Jan 2nd 1983.

The winter breeze wafted over the harbors of France’s southernmost city, making the already chilly day feel just a bit colder. On the docks, sailors and laborers could be seen walking about and tending to their ships. It was quiet: nobody left nor entered. After all, the entire world around France had just suddenly disappeared, so naturally all trade had gone with it. A bit unfortunate for the Italians and Americans that found themselves stuck in France, but the French government was more than happy to buy their ships off of them. But for now the Port carried on quietly. Perhaps there would be visitors?

Christopher Barrault lightly sipped his coffee mug while staring mindlessly at a large radar screen inside his office. The French soldier was in charge of monitoring any movement from beyond the horizon, but at the moment this really meant he was busy doing nothing. The seas had been… completely empty - not a single ship in sight within a hundred km. Wasn’t that strange? You’d think that this part of the world would be more busy, but Barrault was aware of the situation at hand and decided not to question it.

Yet as Barrault went on with his day stirring his coffee and preparing a baguette for later, a single dot lit up on the live screen. Barrault lethargically stared at the dot for a second before pushing a nearby red button, alerting the port’s security forces. A few minutes later, a flight of fighter jets took off from a nearby airfield in order to intercept and identify this unknown vessel. Barrault then got on the radio and began broadcasting a message. Maybe these foreigners would get it? The message was broadcast in French, and went as follows: You are now entering territorial waters controlled by the French Democratic Republic. We ask you to reply to this message and identify yourself immediately if at all possible. Did the foreigners on this new ship even understand French?

After a moment, a reply came through -- though there was a minor bout of distortion, the man replying quite clearly spoke Carthaginian: “This is Alexander Harel aboard the Carthaginian Imperial Steamship ‘Justice and Honor,’ looking to dock at the port. Is this the Massalia port?”

The voice stopped speaking. Barrault vaguely recognized the language as something he’d heard a rabbi speaking before, even if he did not personally speak it. Noting that this was the case, he went over to a different radio and called for the local synagogue’s rabbi to be summoned.

After a few moments, the rabbi arrived -- and so, Barrault told him that the ship on the radar seemed to be speaking non-French, and he was hoping the rabbi could translate. The rabbi agreed to act as translator, first having Alexander Harel repeat himself by speaking into the radio.

Translating for Barrault, the rabbi then asks what he should ask Harel.

“Ahh, so he claims to be a Carthaginian?” Barrault looked at the Rabbi in disbelief. “I thought the Carthaginians ceased to exist… 2000 years ago?”

“Well that’s what he said roughly translates to. My best guesses anyways, considering the dialect was unfamiliar,” Rabbi Lustiger shrugged. “Anyways, what should I ask him?”

“Just… tell him what’s going and who we are I guess,” Barrault replied. “If Harel happens to be a god to honest Carthaginian then I’m sure he’ll be quite surprised to see us.”

Lustiger nodded before getting back on the radio and replying to Harel in Hebrew. “This is Rabbi Jean-Marie Lustiger speaking from the French National Radio Station of Marseille. I can’t say that we’re familiar with this… ‘Carthage’ you speak of, outside of our history books that is. And the city you’re approaching isn’t Massalia, though if you seek to dock he-”

“Just tell him that he’s free to dock. I’ve already briefed the higher ups about it,” Barrault interrupted.

“If you seek to dock here then the French nation will be willing to accommodate you. That said, I’m sure you’re probably just as confused about this situation as we are...”

“Indeed, Honorable Rabbi,” replied Harel, “the main concern we have is the lost contact with our Gallic provinces, though according to the Romans and a telegram from Iberia, there are a few small towns still remaining nearest to Iberia that they can see. It seems they would be on your southwestern border, assuming that your… French nation has supplanted our Gallic provinces in their near entirety. We wish to enter diplomatic talks to determine our shared situation, as well as perhaps negotiate trade deals and discuss the fate of our remaining Gallic towns - whether they shall remain under Imperial authority or be integrated into your nation’s own, for a start. But this is not a talk best held over radio; I am hoping to meet with your leaders, or someone empowered by them, as I am empowered by the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim.”

“Hmmm, I see. That is quite the predicament indeed, something our own nation has also suffered from. I can’t say that I speak on behalf of the entire French government, but the superior officer next to me has the authority and will be vouching for everything that goes on here.”

“Well, tell them that they’re welcome to dock in Marseille. We’ll treat them to a little military show and give em a tour!” Barrault added.

“As such, you are free to make your way to Marseille harbor, which should be near the exact location as Massalia. Captain Barrault and I will be there to receive you and your men. We look forward to the coming meeting.”

“Understood, proceeding towards the docks,” Harel answered, sounding relieved.


As the Carthaginian ship approached Marseille harbor, the French military authorities quickly scrambled together a diplomatic team consisting of one Nathalie Philodor (the city’s mayor / regional council leader), Rabbi Lustiger, and of course the good ole’ Captain Barrault. Nathalie was dressed in typical business formal wear, Lustiger wore his traditional kittel, and Barrault showed up fully armored in a Modele-1982 combat suit (closely akin to the heavy armor used by the old Nazi Wehrmact). It was an odd mismatched group, but a fitting one for the occasion. All around them, dozens of fully equipped French soldiers had assembled in marching order by the docks, their assault rifles in hand and at the ready. Likewise, a few tanks had gathered at the roads nearby just in case.

The ship the carthaginians brought… it was hard to describe in words for the French. Seemingly something that had come out of science fiction, the “dreadnought” which now stood proudly in the dock resembled both a factory and a warship of the great war. It didn’t appear armed, but nonetheless was a rather intimidating sight for anyone who’d never seen a warship before. A few of the French soldiers raised an eyebrow after seeing it; Barrault was reminded of one of those Jules Verne novels he’d read as a kid.

The French now awaited the disembarkation of the Carthaginians. Everyone was both excited and slightly suspicious. Hopefully this would go well.

After the ship anchored itself, the side facing the dock for disembarking began clicking and the sound of grinding/moving metal echoed out into the mostly quiet city. The deck wall of that side slid open, and the wall itself also dropped by a few feet, before a stairway ramp began hissing its way open and releasing steam in order to slowly click its way piece by piece open to touch the dock.

Once done, a man at the top of the stairs descended - in front of and behind him were two guards. The man himself - presumably Alexander Harel - was dressed in clothing that resembled a mixture of Ancient Carthaginian and Ancient Roman diplomatic robes, but slightly updated with buttons. He wore a kippah on his head as well, and his hair was styled somewhat similarly to the Rabbi’s own. But at the same time, he wore… not a cross, but a Carthaginian symbol as a necklace.

His guards were in light armor, something else almost out of a Verne novel, that hissed and released tiny amounts of steam every few steps. Their light armor was also themed in a mixture of styles otherwise, and their guns - while strapped around their shoulders rather than at the ready - had strange tubes that attached to packs on their backs.

The guards waited for Alexander Harel to get onto the dock after he stepped onto it, before flanking him at either side rather than standing in front of or behind him. Harel then walked along the dock towards the French diplomats assembled.

The French of course were quick to greet the arrival of the Carthaginians. Captain Barrault gave a brief salute to Harel as he passed by while both Nathalie Philodor and Rabbi Lustiger approached the Carthaginian and each offered a handshake. Lustiger would serve as the translator for the time being, seeing that Nathalie only commanded a rudimentary knowledge of even Latin.

“Nathalie Philodor, Mayor of Marseille and Regional Councillor of the South Aquitaine Province,” Nathalie introduced herself. She was quite young: in her early 30s at latest, in great contrast to the aging Lustiger.

Lustiger himself nodded as he walked up to his Carthaginian counterpart. “Shalom. I hope that your trip to our city went well? It seems like all the ships in the sea disappeared, but it’s good to see that you are here safely.” Lustiger offered his right hand, which happened to be completely mechanical. A number of deep scars ran up through the Rabbi’s wrist while there was a notable scar on his face. It was quite obvious that Lustiger had seen harsher times.

“Shalom, Honorable Rabbi, and good greetings to you, Honorable Sufete,” Harel replied to the Rabbi and addressed Mayor Philodor. Harel, himself, was neither young nor old, but it was difficult to tell if he was in his thirties or forties. The man shook the Rabbi’s hand, before saying, “I am sorry for what has happened to you, Honorable Rabbi. And please, forgive me for asking but… who would dare harm you? In Carthage, only the most craven and vile would dare to harm those who are as Honorable as a Rabbi. I know this is not the talk I came here for, but I should hope that the criminals who harmed you have been punished?”

“The criminals? Well if you ever feel like visiting the Museum of the Eradication of the Enemies of the People - yes I know it’s an utter mouthful - the remains of those… Nazi bastards are on display to anyone who wants to see them. I personally prefer to avoid such establishments… they bring back terrible memories,” the Rabbi shuddered. “It’s been maybe ten years since we drove the Germans out of our nation, yet it still seems like yesterday that they were here. We should get moving, but I have plenty to tell of those days if you’re interested. It’s best we let the world know, after all, about the Holocaust… or the ‘Shoah’ as we Jews call it.”

A few transports drove up to the dock, with a few soldiers disembarking. Captain Barrault was quickly pointed towards them.

“Should we get going?” He asked the assembled diplomats. “There is a more appropriate place for us to be discussing such matters.”

Harel nodded his assent, but looked deeply troubled and concerned. Offering a mutter of ‘refuah shlemah,’ Harel and his guards approached the transport alongside the French diplomats so that they could be taken to where their talks could happen in peace.

Southern Govt. Palace, Marseille, Jan 2nd 1983

Some minutes later, the assorted diplomats arrived at Marseille’s Southern Governmental Palace. Formerly a mansion owned by a rich Frenchman prior to the 2nd revolution, it had been revamped into an administrative center under the French Workers’ Federation and had likewise served as the seat of the German puppet government during France’s long period of occupation. The building bore a number of scars: holes and gashes from rifle fire and grenades used during the 74’ uprising, a grim reminder that freedom in France had not been free. Yet like the rest of the country, the Govt. Palace endured as a sign of French independence.

Inside the palace, Nathalie made sure to reserve a large conference room for the diplomats. Decorated in a simple yet elegant neo-classical style, it was quite different from what the outside of the Palace might make one think. Nathalie made a quick order to get everyone refreshments and snacks, seeing as the Carthaginians must’ve been weary from their trip. Now with everyone settled, it was time to get down to business.

“So, seeing that we’re all here, I guess we shall begin,” she started, “I’d like to first ask Mr. Harel about his specific purpose here, and the country which he hails from. We Frenchmen are familiar with a Carthage, but it is a nation of the distant past that I’m certain has little resemblance to the one Mr. Harel comes from. We are quite interested in what you have to say.”

“I believe a brief summary of our Empire’s history is necessary, here,” Harel replied, nodding as he concentrated on remembering his history lessons, “it begins with the Subjugation of the Romans. The Romans had tried to war with us, but were no match for our navy nor for our armies. The Sacking of Rome is infamous in our history as the day that the Roman peninsula fell under the grasp of Carthage and became the Roman province of the Empire; true, there was some resistance and Rome nearly liberated itself once or twice, but in the end, the Empire was triumphant. It will have been about two thousand years since then in a little under two centuries, for us.”

Harel paused, scratching his chin underneath his beard.

“There was relative peace after that. The Carthaginian Empire reigned over the western great sea from then on, and lent money and assistance and manpower to our allies in Old Phoenicia, the Kingdom of Judea. None could conquer Judea while we supported it - or so we thought. But barbarians from the north and the far east sacked Judea at the worst possible time, for it was at this time that the great Messiah was sent forth by the Lord to complete a number of the prophecies sent to the early Judaic peoples. The King had converted to Messianiac Judaism, and there was much religious debate and a minor crisis of faith among the Judeans; the barbarians took advantage of this and invaded Judea again, leading to the Great Exodus -- where thousands upon thousands of the Judeans fled, and we welcomed them in Carthage and Iberia and Rome with open arms. Over the next century or so, the Empire would end up converting to Messianic Judaism, even as Orthodox Jews were more isolated in their own communities and villages. Nowadays, nearly all Carthaginians are either Messianic or Orthodox - regardless of if they are from Carthage, Iberia, Gaul, or Rome.”

Another pause as Harel took a moment to sip some water from a glass since refreshments had been brought up.

“The Liberation of Judea by our fellow Children of Abraham, the followers of the great and honorable Islamic Sufete known as Muhammad, led to the friendship of the Jews and the Muslims. Peaceable relations existed across the great sea between Carthage and all Muslim states, and we had favorable rights to pilgrimage to Judea. There has even been an effective unspoken agreement that Judea would be freed and granted to Carthaginian authority by the Islamic authorities in the region, for they have granted more and more Jews permanent land rights and allowed the construction of Temples, and Judea is slowly becoming more Jewish than Muslim. Yet we are still great friends, even as the Muslims went on to subdue all barbarians to the north and the east that might yet threaten Carthage and Judea. And now… now, we are here. I can only hope our fellow Children of Abraham came with us, or else that Judea is not under the authority of some barbarian kingdom.”

Harel paused for another sip of water, and then straightened in his seat.

“As for why I have been sent here, the Honorable Sufetes of Carthage, alongside the Adirim of Carthage, have empowered me to speak for the Empire on the matter of trade and diplomatic relations, as well as negotiate what shall be done with the few Gallic villages that remain along your southwestern border - whether they remain part of the Empire or slowly rejoin your nation, seeing as we are loathe to force the Gallic province’s peoples under the authority of the Iberian province unnecessarily if there is another option, out of practical concerns as much as anything else,” Harel finished, before asking, “and… if you don’t mind my asking, you mentioned a Holocaust? A Shoah? What… what is that? I am almost afraid of your answer, yet I must know.”

The answer given by Harel was quite surprising to say the very least. Rome, defeated by the Carthaginians? It seemed that the historical point of divergence between the two worlds must’ve occurred millenia in the past. This likely explained why everything was so unrecognizably different. If what he said was true, then the Carthaginians must’ve been from the 1500s as well? They were certainly well ahead of what the French knew the 1500s to be.

“I see,” Nathalie nodded, “your nation has a long and grand history. It’s surprising how different it is from our own, but I can’t say it’s an unwelcome surprise. In our timeline at least, the Romans historically beat the Carthaginians in a series of three separate wars, ultimately annexing your nation after burning Carthage to the ground. They went on to create a massive empire which stretched across Europe, and though their empire ultimately collapsed a millenia later due to barbarian invasions, their legacy would be forever cemented in history. Our country France, for example, speaks a language derived from old Latin. As for France… our country rose out of the ruins of the collapse of the Roman Empire in the region you’d know as Gaul. Our people are very much the descendants of the old Gallic tribes and Celts who lived here, even if the German Franks ended up uprooting much of their culture. We ultimately ended up adopting Christianity - an offshoot of Judaism that followed the teachings of one jew named “Jesus” - as did much of Europe. History went on, wars were fought, and France ultimately survived into the 20th century CE, as our calendar would put it. From there things went downhill. As much as I’d like to discuss trade relations and territorial purchases, I believe the Rabbi here has something he wants to share with you.”

“You asked about the Holocaust?” The Rabbi began, his face visibly darkening. “If I were to tell you that there were once over 10 million Jews in our Europe just 30 years ago, yet today fewer than 100,000 are left, would you believe me?”

“Your Christianity sounds like it is based on the teachings of the Messiah, Yeshua, albeit it sounds as though Yeshua’s accomplishments and teachings, in addition to the Torah, were altered in some way,” Harel noted, before answering the Rabbi, “and… I would find that very alarming, but considering the Kingdom of Judea vanished almost overnight over a thousand years ago… yes. Yes, I could believe you, but I’d sincerely hope it was a jest.”

“Oh I wish it was just a jest,” the Rabbi sighed sadly as he took out a small fabric yellow star. It was numbered, and had ‘JUDEN’ written on top of it. “This was an identification marker given to all Jews in Nazi controlled Europe. Now as for the Nazis, you may wonder who they were. It’s a long story, but I can cut it down to the important parts. Around 60 years ago in Europe, in my world, a great war tore across the continent. Men mowed each other down with automatic weapons, chemical gas, and endless barrages of artillery. Maybe 30 million died, and it ultimately ended with the defeat of a country called Germany. The Germans were infuriated by their loss: their country was deprived of some of its territories, forced to pay massive reparations, and demilitarized. It fell into great depression during the 1920-30s, and the Germans gradually became increasingly radicalized. It was here that one man would rise and eventually lead his country to glory… or so he thought,” Lustiger said as he passed Harel a set of pictures of Adolf Hitler and his Nazi party.

“The National Socialist Workers’ Party of Germany, or Nazis as they called themselves, rose to prominence during Germany’s hardships in the 30s. They espoused a terrible ideology calling for the establishment of a racially, culturally pure German nation and the eradication of all undesirables from society. People such as the Romani, Slavs, disabled, Africans, and of course us Jews… we were to be eradicated, completely exterminated and wiped off the face of the Earth,” Lustiger continued. “And of course, the rest of the civilized world tried to stop the Nazis after they made it clear that there wasn’t enough space here for everyone. We tried, but we failed. No one even knows how they did it, but Germany managed to obtain weapons and technology beyond the understanding of the world and used them to wage a terrible war of annihilation on its neighbors. My country, France, was overrun within weeks and put under permanent occupation. Then the killings began… the Nazis unleashed their internal ideological forces - the Waffen SS - on the civilian population. People were dragged out of their homes by the thousands and shot, and even more were deported to Nazi Germany’s countless forced labor camps. It was especially bad for us Jews: Hitler ordered that every last one of us was to be killed. My parents managed to save me by handing me off to a few friends, but they didn’t make it themselves. It was only 30 years later that I found the mass grave they were buried in…” Lustiger tried to hold back a few tears.

“This… this… this is a crime unheard of, on an unspeakable level,” Harel sounded shaken, “I assure you, Honorable Rabbi, that you - all Jews left… they are more than welcome in Carthage, our second homeland away from Judea. And if any of these… Nazis remain, if they should try to fight our Empire and destroy all of our people again, we shall meet them, and we will bring the retribution of the Lord Himself down upon them. I promise you. I swear this to you.”

“It fills me with relief knowing that the Jewish people endure in your lands… and on behalf of France’s Jewish community, we thank you for such a gracious offer!” The Rabbi said with a tinge of joy in his voice. “But alas, it is only proper for me to tell you the full story. So that people will never forget… and will always know never to do such a thing again.”

A French soldier entered the conference room carrying a box of files. He took out what appeared to be a disk and inserted it into one of the conference room’s movie projectors. On a large flat screen located on one of the walls, a video began playing. It began with old historical footage: the German invasion of France and fall of Paris, French citizens crying as their flag was lowered from Versaille, the beginning of Nazi oppression and the holocaust. Footage of the old death camps showing half-starved prisoners, mass graves, and of course the gas chambers went on for minutes: it seemed the French had no deficit of material. The video then went onto detail the decades of Nazi domination: the vast forced labor camps, industrial death pits, and the great famine that ravaged France just 10 years prior. Then it showed pictures and footage of the 74’ uprising: the brave French partisans and soldiers who rose up against Nazi rule and cast down their oppressors. The video ended with the raising of the French flag above the ruins of the Eiffel tower.

“It’s an old video… but it’s accurate. Our nation suffered for 30 years under those Nazi barbarians, and they took everything from us. Our art, our culture, our people. There used to be half a million Jews in France before the Nazis… and now there are only 15,000 left. And to think that now we have fellow Jews just across the border… millions of Jews! It is almost surreal! The very fact that our people survived elsewhere to such an extent… it fills me with happiness.”

“It is as I said, Honorable Rabbi, you and the rest of the Jews in your nation, or even your Europe if more of it came with you, are entirely welcome to enter Carthage, our second homeland away from Judea,” Harel answered, imploring, “for ours is an Empire that, while it has been at peace for as long as can be remembered, is ready and able and willing to fight to protect all of its peoples. I promise that the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim would agree that you all should be granted immediate Imperial citizenship, and an immediate place to live within the Empire’s land as citizens. You would be as Carthaginians, just as any other in the Empire. Just… consider this. Speak to the other Honorable Rabbi, if any others are available, when our meeting here is done. Bring this offer to them. Carthage will not shrug off this duty to our fellows. It would go against everything that we know, that we understand, as a people.”

“Once again, I give you my thanks,” the Rabbi nodded, “I will be sure to inform the others of these developments. They should be delighted to hear the news. Anyways, I will let Mayor Nathalie get back to her business.”

“Thank you, honorable Rabbi,” Nathalie nodded, “Anyways, you mentioned the possible establishment of trade relations and the status of a few… southern territories?” Nathalie asked Harel. “From what we can recall, those Gallic territories of yours actually happen to occupy former French land in a rather awkward manner. Assuming that you would be willing to part with them… is there anything in particular Carthage seeks to obtain in turn?”

“If we were to allow for a transitional period as our people get used to your form of governance, or if they were to be granted some level of temporary self-governance for a time, the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim might agree to let what remains of the Gallic province go, if we were assured the people there would be protected and cared for,” Harel answered, “but as for what we would want in return for this cession, our primary concern would be the allowance of free trade to flow between our nations by sea -- after all, the Empire is used to sovereignty over this entire portion of the great sea, so you might understand that we would continue to have significant sovereignty over the seas. We might also like the allowance of land-based trade along your coast, so that our Roman province may freely trade with you via land or reach perhaps even northwards with their trades. If we can be assured that our sovereignty over the sea will not be challenged, and we are granted free trade on both fronts, the Empire will be entirely willing to cede those minor territories over to you so long as those basic assurances are met as mentioned earlier. We are open to some negotiation on the matter of sea-based sovereignty -- such as allowing you basic sovereignty or fishing rights over the sea within, say, ten leagues or so of your coastline barring where that might conflict with our Iberian and Roman provincial waters. But otherwise, this is what we would seek in return and what we seek in terms of trade.”

Harel paused, took one last gulp to finish his glass of water, placing it down gently.

“As for what we can trade… well, we have no shortage of steam-power technologies to offer, and we can also offer infrastructural assistance and materials for support. We also have access to rather large oil reserves, and while we use it rather minimally, it seems you and yours use it a bit more… frequently, and so we wouldn’t be opposed to perhaps setting up a few pipelines to allow exclusive shipments of oil for your nation from a portion of our oil fields. This, among other things, if you tell us what else you might seek that we might have.”

“Free trade and the recognition of territorial waters…” Nathalie mused, “Our current leadership is very much obsessed with the idea of being entirely self sufficient, but anyone with half a brain knows that’s impossible. We’ll have to review proposed trade agreements on a case-by-case basis, but I believe with enough convincing even that hard head Imbot will agree to such. The import of some resources such as oil should be easily arranged. Likewise, possibly connecting our rail and road infrastructure would too be something we’re willing to talk about,” the French lady nodded.

“As for the status of territorial waters,” she took out a map of France’s pre-ISOT EEZs, which weren’t that large, “we’d at the bare minimum ask for these regions, considering our country controlled those prior. It’s not much, and we have no interest in contesting anything as grand as say, the Mediterranean. Now if I may ask, is there anything in France that interests you? I’m sure you’ve had at least a slight opportunity to look around, after all.”

“We would be most interested in some of your technology, as well as perhaps any miscellaneous raw materials you might have that we could refine in our factories,” Harel said after a moment of contemplation, looking at the map, “and while that island and its territorial waters belong to our Roman province still, let me show you the waters we wish to acknowledge as ours and yours.”

Harel stood, and took a pen or marker if one was available, before drawing the EEZs of Carthage and France based on the territories brought with them. France’s new EEZ was a lot wider than the original EEZ, and almost as long, albeit shortened by the fact that Corsica and its waters were removed.

“Within this line would be your waters to do with as you wished, and outside of them would be Carthage’s for the most part, barring going to the… eastern Mediterranean, as you call it,” Harel finally said as he sat back down, “is this agreeable?”

“Seeing as we have absolutely nothing to lose from this, barring an age old claim to Corsica which I’m unsure the Politburo will bother with… this is more than acceptable from my point of view. I reckon a good deal of my higher up colleagues are bound to agree,” she nodded. “As for technology transfers… I’ll consult everyone I know. There are a few things that our government is particularly adamant keeping to itself, unfortunately.”

“That is fair enough,” Harel replied, nodding to himself, “with all of these matters settled, the specifics can be left up to future diplomatic meetings. In the case of speaking with the villagers in the Gallic realms that are to fall under your authority, I would advise bringing an Honorable Rabbi. The highest non-civil authorities in those regions will be the Rabbi themselves, and so communing among their fellows will make things smoother when it comes time for the transition - whatever form that takes. I also think I should note that in terms of civil authorities on such a scale, it is usually left to the people of the villages themselves in such a minor region and at such a minor scale. So you must win the hearts and minds of the people; earning the Rabbi’s blessings will help such move along. Actually, if I remember correctly, the villages there are more Orthodox than Messianic, so you may have even better luck than otherwise. Beyond that, however, I believe the Honorable Sufetes and Adirim must review what I have learned, and we can set aside some territories for the Jews of France and perhaps even Europe to settle in, within the Empire, should they choose to do so.”

“These terms are very agreeable to us. I’m sure Rabbi Lustiger and his compatriots would be more than happy to visit the Gallic people and speak to them,” Nathalie said with a smile, “Of course in the meantime, I would ask that France be allowed to establish an embassy in your capital for the purpose of developing more in depth diplomatic relations if acceptable. Likewise, our own country would be glad to host a Carthaginian one in Paris. Outside of that, we do have a few things to give to you,” she motioned at a French soldier, who quickly brought over a box. It was filled with textbooks, encyclopedias, and other knowledge pertaining to French and International history, publicly available science, philosophy, and other things that would be good to know. Incidentally most of the books weren’t published in France, and instead came from various American Jewish societies.

“Some reading material if you’re interested. Should give you a better view of what France was like and its world, everything from science to political developments and famous individuals. Everything’s written in Hebrew, albeit our slightly different variant, but it should be understandable.”

“Thank you for these generous gifts,” Harel replied, smiling slightly, “I only feel bad that I cannot offer any in return. But perhaps if I am selected to be a more permanent envoy to your nation, I can return with some comparable books and writings. B’ezrat HaShem, we’ll have a fruitful relationship!”

“We too share these sentiments. May the future bring mutual prosperity.”

Written collaboratively with The V O I D
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Speyland » Mon Jul 12, 2021 5:41 pm

A Collaboration Post Between Speyland And Laiakia

Vladivostok, Union of Soviet Socialist Republic
January, Year 0

The city of Vladivostok was bustling. The railways to and from the Far Eastern city were practically clogged with trains filled with diplomats, military officials and, of course, agents of the NKVD. In the outskirts of the city, military patrols were on constant alert. While they had been alerted of an incoming diplomatic delegation, the higher-ups forgot to inform them of how the delegation would arrive, be it by boat, plane, or car and, even though this was expected to be a diplomatic venture, some of the more pessimistic officers had ordered their men to be ready in case hostilities were encountered. Nonetheless, a spot in the Vladivostok Naval Harbor had been cleared and designated for diplomatic use with destroyers of the Far Eastern Fleet positioned outside the city hoisted with diplomatic flags. The small airport of the city had also been cleared of all civilian traffic in case the delegation came by air. A small military escort also waited outside the city if the delegation chose to come by car.

One of the more pessimistic officers that disliked such a diplomatic meeting right off the bat was Iosif Apanasenko, Army General of the Far Eastern Military District. He was currently present at the site of where the diplomatic affairs were to be held, being the Far Eastern District of The USSR Academy of Sciences. The main reason for this was because Vladivostok lacked any official diplomacy centers as diplomacy was usually conducted in Mosbird. Inside, together with Apanasenko, was Vyacheslav Molotov and a team of expert diplomats.

They were currently in the lobby of the Academy, awaiting the arrival of the Chinese delegation. There were also plans to take a tour of the city after primary meetings were considered to be concluded, mainly to give the NKVD better chances to take discrete pictures of individuals considered important.

“Comrade Foreign Minister, all I am saying is that this ‘diplomatic’ meeting is the perfect cover for a hostile invasion! I insist that you-”

“Army General, this meeting was requested by The Boss himself! I don’t think it’d be wise to counteract his wishes if you know what is good for your health.” Molotov said, slightly motioning to the arriving NKVD agents coming in through the main entrance dressed as Soviet press.

Apanasenko grumbled under his breath slightly, moving away from Molotov and towards a large window overlooking the street outside. Everything was in place, now the only thing missing was the Chinese Delegation.

Gao Hai arrived by helicopter, walking to the delegation to meet with the Soviet diplomats. From the look of it, it was his first time visiting a Russian city which marks him as the first person from the Chinese Federation to walk into Russian soil as the High Eunuchs and Empress Tianzi are known to almost isolate themselves from external affairs. He viewed Vladivostok as having a depressing atmosphere. The cool breeze briefly stopped Gao from moving, but he kept going despite wearing cozy clothing. Upon arriving at the delegation and stoic emotion, Gao waited for the Soviet diplomats to appear, standing in front of a covered snow building.

Inside the said building, Molotov would be quickly alerted to Gao’s arrival outside and would quickly walk outside accompanied by three other minor diplomats. Walking up to the Chinese man, his face, previously holding a stoic expression, transformed into a smile of glee and joy, at least so far a beak could represent it. He would offer his flipper to Gao, holding it in front of him and expecting him to shake it.

“Ah, I presume you are Mr. Gao Hai? A pleasure to meet you. I am Vyacheslav Molotov, foreign minister of the USSR. A pleasure to meet you, good sir.”, Molotov said with joy.

Gao laughed hysterically, not expecting to meet a penguin as it was too good to be true for him. "A penguin!? Why am I talking to a penguin? I'm so sorry, but I can't stop laughing!"

Molotov eyed the Chinese man with a very annoyed expression and muttered to himself. ”Why shouldn’t I be surprised that a mammal, and an ape at that, would behave as such during a very important diplomatic event..”. He slightly retracted his flipper before speaking with a slightly confused tone. “I... I do not really see what is funny about talking to me, a penguin. Surely you have others like me and my fellow comrades back in China?”, he said while motioning to the large window and the many penguins and polar bear diplomats eyeing the two.

Gao cleared his throat, no longer laughing. "Not at all. There are no penguins in China. It's mostly humans there."

Molotov raised his penguin-eyebrow. “Hu-mans? Never heard of a hu-man before. Perhaps this has something to do with our current situation of being in strangely changed.. realities, shall I put it. In your telegram, you did mention that you did not have any knowledge of Chang Kai-shek. We can discuss these details inside. Please come, I’m sure that since you, or your species, are lacking fur, you must be starting to get pretty cold.” With that, Molotov motioned towards the snow-covered Academy and trodded forward in a slow pace towards the door, allowing the Chinese diplomat a chance to catch up.

Gao followed Molotov into the Academy. Inside, the interior looked grim and foggy clouds of dust filled up the room. He awaited Molotov to take him to their desired location.

The various other minor diplomats present in the lobby room seemed to almost be frothing at their mouths with questions, yet a stern look from Molotov and the presence of seemingly ordinary press folk seemed to make them freeze up and keep themselves in check.

“Just this way.”, Molotov motioned, walking through an open door on the west side of the room. Inside the room he entered, rows upon rows of seats were present. A huge board was attached to the wall next to the door, indicating that this room served as a classroom. The penguin diplomat walked over to a desk with chairs seated on opposite ends and motioned for Gao to sit before doing so himself.

“Apologies for the.. haphazard preparations, but we weren’t exactly expecting a diplomatic envoy while we are, or were, at war.”, Molotov said.

Gao sat on the chair. He clasped his hands together on his lap, showing how relaxed he was.

Gao said, "No problem at all. It's a pleasure to meet you, Molotov. Surely, we can ensure the friendship between our nations as a long-term goal. Funny to say, I haven't been to a cold place before in my life."

The penguin uttered a mix of guttural noises reminiscent of a chuckle. “Is that so, Gao, if I may call you that. Well, you should know that the rest of our Republics are quite cold, colder even, than the current temperature outside. I am also hoping for this relationship to grow, as I am under strict orders from our Head of State Joseph Stalin to initiate our friendship. So, uh, do you have any questions?”, Molotov spoke modestly and with a smile-like expression on his beak.

Gao smiled. "Yes, I do indeed. If possible, what do you think of the Chinese Federation and the Soviet Union forming a military alliance in the future? Is that acceptable despite our ideological differences?"

Molotov remained silent, staring into the wall and recalling the disastrous Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, before recomposing himself. “Well, our thought on the Chinese Federation is quite neutral, but as far as we can tell you have technologies that we haven’t even dreamt of, seeing that strange flying vehicle you employed to get here. The only thing we view as regrettable with your state is that you have yet to embrace the inevitable Workers Revolution and that you are still under a… monarch.”, Molotov makes a point by slowly finishing with disdain in his voice. “A military alliance would indeed be possible in the future even though we have different ideological standpoints, but I trust you won’t be offended if we are hesitant considering the last alliance we entered with a state of ideological difference resulted in us being invaded and having to rely on yet more foreign powers to survive.”

Gao nodded in agreement. "I see. A mistake with a former ally of a different ideology can sometimes lead to a bad omen. I think we can get along very well. Before something strange happened, the Holy Britannian Empire had the strongest military on Earth than us. If I mean the strongest military, then I meant that it could not be bothered. The Chinese Federation doesn't get along with them, and it'll remain so in all of eternity. But it's a long story since we don't have to worry about them anymore. Sure, our ideologies are different, but we can still get along, do we? It'll be a new beginning for us. Well, as a long-term thing, that is."

Molotov pulled out a pen and a small note block, scribbling while Gao talked. “Holy Britannian Empire? Sounds horrid, and yes, I too do believe that we can get along, but even then, it is up to Comrade Stalin whether or not things are to work out in the long run. One thing I’ve wondered, however, is what year it is from where you came from. For us here in the USSR, the year would be 1941.”
Gao said, "We came from the year 2017. From what I remembered, there was a bright red asteroid, and it was approaching Earth. We don't know what it was heading for, but we panicked a little as if it didn't mean to us at all. It was a bizarre event. We don't know if Earth was already destroyed or not, but we ended up in a different world. Too different for us."

“...the year 2017, huh? That’s far.. Right before we were translocated here, or wherever ‘here’ is, we were engulfed in this bright light of unexplainable colors and shapes and sizes. It would’ve been beautiful if not for our current scenario. As of this very moment, you are the only other state that we’ve initiated contact with, does the Chinese Federation have any other contacts in this world, or are we the only ones here?”, Molotov sat and twirled his pen in his flipper while speaking.

Gao replied, "Recently, we got in contact with the Reichskommissariat of Japan. Interestingly enough, it is a Japanese Nazi state. I know it sounds ridiculous, but so far, they have been friendly with us. Hopefully, you don't have a problem with that?"

Molotov paused his pen-twirling and gained a very stern look. “Nazis in Japan? Bloody hell, what’s this world come to. This is grave news, Gao my friend. You cannot, under any circumstance, trust a Nazi. We’ll need to bolster our numbers of soldiers here in the Far East and get more ships for the Far Eastern Fleet. I do hope that our future military alliance includes coming to each other's aid in case of foreign aggression. And, if you don’t mind me asking, do you think it would be possible to commence technological exchange between our two states. Seeing as you and your people came from 70 years or so in the future, I doubt we’d have much of anything to trade tech-wise, but we do have quite the resource stockpile. Steel, tungsten, and many other metals and rare minerals would be available for purchase in a trade deal.”, finished Molotov, once again resuming his pen-flipping.

Gao went silent for a minute before resuming to speak. "Sure, a trade deal will be agreed upon. I agree with your statement about Japan as we do against Nazism, and maybe we have been too soft on them. But now, we must stand on guard whenever danger arises. I'll keep my promise, Molotov. However, we recently signed a nonaggression pact with them."

“I see. Even with our disdain of Nazis, I trust that they wouldn't be as foolish as to seek conflict as of this moment. Again, we thank you for telling us of another civilization, as we were starting to fear that we were the only ones here.”

Gao said, "Anytime my, uh, comrade. I think that covers everything for this topic, but there is one more I want to point out. There appears to be unclaimed land between yours and Mongolia. Our Mongolia, basically. Should we do something about that?"

At this, Molotov quickly nodded. “Ah yes, that is true. While I am unsure how it was in your world, or reality or whatever, that land belonged to the Tuvan People’s Republic, a small state closely incorporated and associated with the USSR. As it were, before displacement, we were talking with Tuvan officials about officially annexing them into our Union and I am therefore obligated to vouch for Soviet control over that area.”

Gao hummed happily. "Very well. That area will be rightfully yours. I know we're almost done here, but there is one question I want to ask you. If the Chinese Federation and Nazi Japan were to claim Korea simultaneously, and a conflict dispute occurs, would the Soviet Union come to our aid?"

Molotov paused and contemplated the question slightly, before giving an answer. “Comrade Gao, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics will always support those who refuse the tyranny of those who dare call themselves ‘socialist’. If one such claim dispute were to escalate into hostilities, the USSR will support the Chinese Federation all the way to Tokyo.” He ended with a tone of confidence and a slight smile.

Gao gave out a broad smile, chuckling afterward. "That's good to hear. The Chinese Federation would have a powerful ally indeed if our relationship were to go in that direction. Of course, the Chinese Federation is a powerful country, so that's something else. That should be everything for now. Do you have anything else in mind, Molotov?"

Molotov smiled too, giving the same guttural chuckle he gave earlier. “Well, there was one last thing that might be a bit more important currently. In our crusade against the fascists, they took most of the land of which we used to farm. Said land did not come with us when we were displaced, and as such, food is a real issue at the moment. It would make both I, Comrade Stalin, and the entirety of the Soviet people extremely humble and grateful if the Chinese Federation would allow for exports of vital food and medicines into our Motherland, devastated by war already. China would obviously be compensated for this in whatever form of payment you would deem adequate, be that in resources, money or any other type of object form that we can provide. Other than that, I have nothing else to add.”

Gao went silent for a minute, thinking "no" in his mind, but he had no choice but to accept Molotov's humanitarian offer. "Of course. The Chinese Federation will support the Soviet Union through humanitarian means. However, we won't guarantee if it'll be a long-term thing or not, so it depends on the process. But again, I accept your generous offer. Will that be all?"

Molotov let out an internal sigh of relief at Gao’s acceptance of humanitarian aid. “Yes, I think that would be all. As stated in the telegram sent to you, the Chinese embassy in Mosbird is yours for the taking. We will look forward to interacting and learning more about you and the Chinese Federation, friend.”, said Molotov, standing up from his seat.

Gao stood up from his seat as well. "Indeed. Same to you as well. Let's leave, shall we?"

“Indeed. Let me accompany you to your odd flying vehicle. The press would also most likely want a picture of us shaking hands for promotional reasons.” After saying so, Molotov would walk with Gao back out into the lobby, revealing that numerous journalist members with cameras had arrived and were eagerly awaiting the chance to take a picture of the two diplomats.

Gao held out his right hand, waiting for Molotov to shake it. He smiled along with it.

Molotov responded by grabbing Gao’s hand and shaking it as expected. A smile came too. Then came the thunderous shuttering, clicking, and flashing of cameras taking pictures of the pair. After a short minute or two, the journalists were all finished and led out by a military officer.

Once they shook hands, Gao waved goodbye at Molotov before entering back into the helicopter. The helicopter flew away, marking the delegation and their meeting as officially over.

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Postby Artorran » Mon Jul 12, 2021 6:30 pm

Dawn, on the fifth day after the translocation.
In the harbour of New Adurnus(1), half a dozen of the translocated Artorrons' 'SeaHawk''-class Patrol Ships are getting ready to sail. These are two-masted schooners, but also have auxillary engines to turn propellers at their sterns for when the winds are unfavourable, and their streamlined hulls make them among the fastest ships of their general size that rely on these means of propulsion. Each of them carries six quick-firing guns, in individual mounts, but this class's primary roles always been to keep watch at sea for enemy vessels and to suppress seagoing crime rather than to engage in combat with warships.
Starting about half a mile out to sea, banks of heavy fog stretch "solidly" from the water's surface high up into the sky, but here alongside the quay bright-- albeit, of course, wintery -- sunlight streams down. A few supplies are stlll being taken aboard several of these ships, either hoisted in nets or carried up the gangplanks, and the sound of sailors singing rises from several places. The captains of all six vessels are gathered together at the town-wards end of that quay, chatting as they await the command to set sail. By chance rather than by anybody's planning, three of them are Ursines and three are humans. A train approaches along the dockside rail-line, its engine pulling a string of only four carriages, and stops just before it reaches them. They all stop talking, get to their feet, and turn to face this.
A human male of late middle age, smartly dressed in a naval uniform that carries the insignia appropriate for a 'Vice-Count of the Fleets'(3). The captains salute him, and he returns this gesture.

"Sir Garreth?" enquires one of the captains. "I thought that you had retired."

"I had, Captain Arrarn, I had, and was looking forwards to finally having the free time to catch up on some of my other interests, but in the current situation--and with so few other senior officers, active or retired, among those of us brought here -- my return to service was required.
"Now, you've all had the basic briefing already, and although I'm certain that you remember this anyway I have been instructed to repeat the high points of this now before giving you the updated details.
"Your ships will sail on the designated courses, in pairs, until land is sighted. At that time one ship from each pair will close in to shore, while the other stays around a league further out, and you will proceed along that coast -- in whichever direction seems most convenient -- until an accessible settlement is located. The 'inshore' member of the pair will then send a longboat into harbour, carrying one of its lieutenants and an escort of four marines as well as one of the civilian 'contact teams' that we have thrown together for this mission, and endeavour to open peaceful relations with the locals. If that can be managed then the contact team will either wait at that place for diplomats from the nation involved's government to arrive or travel to meet that nation's authorities elsewhere as seems appropriate, while the navy personnel and marines return to their ship: Supplies for the contact party will be sent ashore at that point, as will two Ravens for employment as messengers: These have agreed that they will pretend to be just "dumb" birds, merely an alternative to carrier pigeons. While the lieutenant is away from their ship they may cut short that part of the mission in the face of hostility, and the contact teams have been instructed to follow their orders. If an encounter with a foreign ship occurs at sea then the same guidelines should be followed. Remember that this is an information-gathering mission, not intentionally a combat one, and do not hesitate to break contact with hostile forces: Cut of from home like this, we need your ships and crews intact, and whatever news you can bring back, more than we need battles fought... even if they can be won. Use your ships' engines as much as seems desirable: The fleet base at Port Artorrios had just had its fuel tankerage fully refilled just a few days before this "incident" began, and although we do not yet have a source of fresh supplies sorted out it has been agreed that the importance of your mission out-weighs any concerns about fuel conservation.
"Captains Arrarn and Smith, your mission is initially to the lands directly south from here, with Captain Arrarn in overall command. The 'ANAS Albatross' (4) has carried out some overflights, with an ostrich aboard to 'cloak' their presence of course, and reports that these seem to be occupied by a Human nation that makes noticeably more use of powered vehicles than we do but that seems -- from the condition of its cities and towns -- to have suffered extensively and quite recently from wartime devastation. You will use Human personnel rather than Ursine ones, as much as possible, when making contact there... but the fact that our nation also contains Ursines and members of other 'Talking Peoples" is not something to keep secret, apart of course for that subterfuge about the Ravens. If peaceful contact
can be managed then you will return here for new orders.
"Captains Greene and Hawke,
your ships' mission -- with Captain Greene in overall command -- will initially be to the lands east across the sea from these islands. The 'ANAS Gannet' (4) has carried out overflights there, and reports that after a gap of somewhere over a hundred leagues(5) north-east from the country that I've already mentioned settlement -- again, apparently all-Human -- starts up again. If your first contact there is successful then send one of your ship's Ravens back with a report before continuing either further northwards or into an almost-enclosed sea that lies not far to the east.
"Captains Hrulorth and Redstone, with Captain Hrrulorth in overall command, you will take your ships to basically to the south-west according to the map that one of my staff itll give you shortly: Find out whether there are any people of
any kind along the northern and western coasts of the peninsula there, and then -- unless there are people there, and they recommend otherwise -- pass around the southern end of that peninsula into another almost-landlocked sea which should exist in that direction. Again, send a Raven to report after your first contact with anybody ,and in any case before entering that sea.

Captain Redstone, a burly male Ursine with a patch covering his right eye-socket, had a question_
"A sea that should exist in that direction? If our airships have been exploring along other coasts instead, rather than in that direction, then what is this expectation based on.. if I might ask?"

"It is based on the fact that, by adding what information our aerial scouting missions so far
have brought back to what our surveyors have determined already about these islands on which we are now based, the scholars at Hrrydchern think that this part of this Urrth has the same basic physical geography as the one on which Artos Ursios lived and taught -- with us, in fact, now on its version of Bruttain itself -- and so travelling along that route should take you into the Mediterranean."

exclaimed Redstone.(5)

"I'll admit that the idea rather surprised me, too," Sir Garreth responded, "but the maps that have been put together so far do seem to match those that were brought thence to our own recent home-world.
"Now, do any of you have more questions that you think need answers actually from
me, before I hand you over to my staff for more mission-specific briefings?"

"Yes, sir," replied Captain Arrarn. "Will there be any wizards assigned to our ships for this mission? I can already think of several ways in which they could be useful to us, offpaw... Quick long-distance communication without having to get our radios set-up (6), for example, and perhaps even finding ways of talking to the foreigners."

"No, regrettably, none. For now, having all of them help to maintain the fogs and storms that shelter these islands from outside contact is considered a higher priority. They have supplied some 'crystals of communication' that will let the two ships in each pair remain in contact with each other over distances of between eight and twelve leagues depending on various conditions, but otherwise you'll have to rely on your ships' Ravens--few in number though they are--for quick communication, and hope that the contact teams' skills are good enough to establish some basic communication fairly quickly even if that's only by gestures and drawings.
"Oh, and talking of Ravens, each of pair of ships will be transporting a patrol
(7) from the Special Reconaissnce Service as well. They'll leave you when they consider best, and make their own way home afterwards."


OOC Footnotes

(1) This is on what RL calls Portsea Island, in southern England, and within the boundaries of RL Portmouth.

(2) Basically comparable to , but normally used more against light warships -- & criminals' vessels -- than in anti-aircraft role; pedestal-mounted in low barbettes, with shields that traverse as the guns themselves do, rather than in full turrets; 1 on either side a bit behind the bows (capable of firing either forwards or to the side), 1 gun on either side between the masts, 1 on either side (& also capable of firing rearwards) at the stern.
If close action against numbers of small craft is anticipated then a number of smaller 'swivel-guns' may also be attached temporarily at various points along the ship's sides.

(3) Or, as we in RL would say, a 'Lieutenant-Admiral'.

(4) The local fleet's two scouting dirigibles: Larger than the Goodyear blimp, but still significantly smaller than the 'Hindenburg'.

(5) "Bear-on-a-stick!" refers to the fact that Artos Ursios was killed not by crucifixion but by impalement: It is an excalamation generally not used in polite society. (cf. "Christ on a cross!", but stronger...)

(6) Artorron ships constructed like these ones, with wooden hulls on metal frames, do not keep their radios' aerials permanently in place running up their mainmasts in case this attracts lightning.

(7) 1 patrol = 4 flights, 1 flight = 4 birds.
Last edited by Artorran on Tue Jul 13, 2021 6:52 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Acharybdis » Tue Jul 13, 2021 2:57 am

Day of Transfer
Bang. The doors to the Kievan Rus's command center slams open to reveal a figure dressed as a plague doctor. His outfit was fancier than the duo following behind him as he has a top hat and a snake cane. He has several pouches attached to his waist and a golden locket hanging around his neck. The duo behind dresses themselves in normal plague doctor garb with a cloak. In any case, everyone in the lobby looks toward the entrance with a little surprise before they realize who it is. A few soldiers shake their heads at the commotion before turning back to their work.

The lobby is arranged so that there is a narrow walkway to the central desk, surrounded by numerous workstations. It is a bit bland as the designers went for practicality over looks. The lead plague doctor examines the room and chuckles a little bit at its state. His assistants quickly remind him of the reason why he came into the office today when they see him stalling. He sighs as he approaches an attendant manning the central desk. Some soldiers made obvious attempts to distance themselves from this group, but the leader didn't mind this one bit. After all, to him, these soldiers are simply unenlightened people who haven't realize the true power of magic yet.

His arrival at the central desk didn't alert the attendant as he was busy writing a report for a city's ration distribution. The lead plague doctor clears his throat, which causes the attendant to look up then immediately look away to curse his luck.

"How can I help you, Mr. Glogowski? You don't often come to the capital." The man says with a strained polite voice.

"Well. I'm glad you ask. You could help me with the Tzarina. She is really restrictive with my department. You could also help me enlighten our fellow countrymen on how useful magic is. There is also the chekists problem. I know our headquarters is fun, but to stake it every single day is getting a little out of hand. What else do I need help..." Glogowski spews out.

"I mean, why did you come here?" The attendant interrupts, holding his hand up.

"Ah, that. There is a war council meeting today. I have some pressing matters to bring up."

"Were you invited?" The attendant asks even though he knows the answer to his question.

"Of course not. The day when my faction is officially recognized is when the Tzarina is overthrown, and the Rymes Triarch is kicked out. I could stay here and talk more about my problems if you think that is fun." Glogowski remark. The attendant thinks for a second before pressing the button to allow access upstairs. Glogowski tips his hat toward the attendant before making his way to the elevator.

One of his assistants presses the button for the top floor once all of them were inside. Glogowski hums an old Russian tune as the elevator carries them upwards. After a few seconds, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to a bland hallway with few windows on the left side. As his group gets closer to the double doors on the other side of the hallway, they can hear murmurs through the wall. The voices get quieter as the group approach. Glogowski stops right at the door to listen and presses his whole side against the door. He nearly falls in when the door swings open and is only saved by his two assistants.

The command room is shaped like a court with a giant desk toward the rear of the room where the Grand Director, the Supreme Patriarch, and the front commanders sit. On the sides were several desks holding all sorts of military officers, from Rymes Triarch Chapter masters to elite Black Legion unit commanders. The central area was where logistics sit, and near the center rear, where Glogowski entered, the nonessential factions sit.

"Borys. Why are you here?" Viktor booms from his podium, causing the whole court to look at Borys.

"To bring up a manner to the war council, obviously. Is that not the point of these meetings." Borys replies as he strolls the rear desks for an empty seat. Once he finds one, he plops himself down and kicks his feet up on the desk.

"If you want to press manners..." Viktor begins.

"Submit a request and wait for ten ages for a reply. I'm not here to argue for the lack of my faction's representation. There is something more important I want to discuss." Borys adds with a serious voice, and he even sits up correctly to empathize the importance.

"Something more important than your faction's representation. Is this the same Borys, we all know." Northern Front Commander Ada Wynter laughs. Ada has a white ponytail that stretches all way down to the center of her back. A black eyepatch goes over her hair and covers her right eye. There was an unlit aged cigarette in her mouth.

"Clearly, Ada. He wants to discuss if he could get more resources to funnel to his research." Central Front Commander Masamune Uyeno jokes and wears a pair of black glasses. He fashioned his black hair into a bowl cut.

"Enough, you two, save your banter for after the meeting." Southern Front Commander Otho Bains, next to Ada, orders. His blond hair was a messily-style buzzcut.

"What is it that you want to talk about, Borys?" Eastern Front Commander Panya Baz asks when the room falls back silent. She had organized her black hair into a bun.

"It is a very important matter that I'm sure you are all will be excited to hear about. Maybe excited isn't the right word but interested." Borys answers and waits for a second before continuing. "The recent situation in the southern front is a growing and painful thorn in our side. No one expected the demons to use the Black Sea as a point in their invasion. If that wasn't bad enough, these demons show obvious signs of adapting to the way we operate. It is the reason why our once large navy is reduced only to three destroyers, and the demons took so much territory in the south."

"Get to the point," Otho growls.

"Hey, it is no one's fault why we nearly almost lost Crimea. Who could've expected the demons to evolve after nearly three decades of stagnation? The main point is that these new demons are our salvation. I was able to get my hands on one of them during my deployment, and the results from the examination are extraordinary." Borys pause for dramatic effect. "There are traces of human genetic material in the demons. Our Aelf adversary seems to have been tampering with human's genetic material to create these new demons. The real reason why this news is so exciting is that it seems Aelves aren't aware of corrupted humans' connection to our gods." He finishes by standing up to a room full of blank faces staring at him.

"Which means?" Viktor asks after a few moments of silence.

"It means that we could connect to the demon horde network with the gods' aid, of course. The connection would allow us to control the demon horde and turn it on their Aelf's master." Borys finishes with a flair. This time the room burst into an uproar as people belittle his plan. It became hard for one to hear themself with the cacophony of voices clamoring to be heard. Viktor pounds his gavel a few times to bring the room to silence.

"You mean you want to risk one of our most crucial assets for a chance that might backfire horribly on us. It is not an understatement to say that our nation only stands due to the gods' aid and the Rymes Triarch. What if this is a trap for us to beseech the gods' aid? What will you do if the Aelves turn our gods against us?" Viktor questions. Other people voice their agreement before Viktor silence them for Borys' reply.

"Is this status quo any better than death? We can't just defend forever and sending one or two reclamation crusades every decade. We need decisive action." Borys responds. Viktor pauses for a moment, thinking before looking to his front commanders and the Supreme Patriarch. He looks back to Borys and begins to form a response when a yelp interrupts him.

"What is that!!!" Someone screams and points to one of the courtroom's windows. A giant flash of light was quickly approaching from Kiev's outskirts and engulfing everything in its path. Viktor's poker face shows signs of alarm as he takes a quick look back at the court.

"Get down!" is the last thing the court hears before the light engulfs them entirely.
Last edited by Acharybdis on Tue Jul 13, 2021 3:53 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Postby Rupudska » Tue Jul 13, 2021 7:19 am

Captain Artura Jo Kiraly “Cipher”
[s]June[/s] January 2, Year 0 // Valais Air Base, Republic of Ustio // Scattered Snow // 5:30 AM

The briefing room was in chaos.

Check that, the entire damn country was in chaos.

And it wasn’t hard to see why.

Over the past twenty-four hours, temperatures all across Ustio had plummeted by unprecedented amounts. Even a sudden blast from the Arctic wouldn’t have resulted in snow in Directus on the second of July, let alone three inches. The nation was in a panic - winter clothing, heaters, soup, and other consumer goods for the colder months had become victims of a nationwide feeding frenzy, and only the government’s order for rationing of them had put a stop to it. Making matters worse, just because most of Ustio’s crops were meant to handle cold weather didn’t mean they would be able to handle it during the summer. Agriculture futures were astronomical in the short-term, but even the most smooth-brained commodities trader could see that bubble was doomed to burst - and might take the Ustian economy with it, if something wasn’t done.

Something would have to be done - and something was being done.

In the interim, the Department of Agriculture, the Department of Regions and Tourism, and the Department of Natural Resources were coordinating to design an honest-to-God colonization plan for Ustio, a turn of phrase no one, let alone the ministers, expected to ever need until the Oseans started building moon bases. The Bundestag was working on creating a Department of the Colonies, focusing on what looked like arable land to the west and south, as well as a few mountains in those areas - there was no way to tell what resources were there until surveyors could be sent, but that could take a few days at best.

There were other options, of course. The Ustian military had already detected several nearby nations, nearly all of which were advanced enough to use radio. Some of the messages they detected were… disturbing, and as such classified until the Department of Foreign Relations could release an official statement about what to do about its new neighbors. Perhaps they would know what resources were where, and might even be willing to share with the Republic of Ustio.

One could only hope, otherwise a famine was imminent.

Ustio was still at war, though - if only because the Bundestag hadn’t gotten around to calling off the war on Belka due to a lack of Belkans, and ongoing negotiations with the Belkan military still present around the ruins of Excalibur, suddenly located on the outskirts of Solis Ortus. And in wartime, in a new nation, it was often the case that the left hand did not know what the right was doing.

Thus the current mission plan - looking for Allied forces to potentially rescue in a country no-one had ever heard of, or Belkans to drag, kicking and screaming, to what was likely the closest thing they would ever again have to home.

Needless to say, it was shaping up to be a very bad day to work in administration at Valais Air Base, home to the 6th Air Division - the only division in the Ustian Air Force whose aircrews consisted solely of foreign mercenaries. In fact, the only non-mercenary aircrew on the entire base were the team inside Eagle Eye, who were part of 4th Division’s 53rd Air Control Squadron.

In Briefing Room No. 6, the briefing room for squadrons 61 through 68, the single CRT projector in the room showed a hastily-drawn map of Ustio’s new geography. The landmarks were all there, the cities were all there, but every mountain had been removed from its place, if only a little. Ratio, Sapin, and Belka had all been replaced with something - somewhere - else, and Recta was gone. There was even a stretch of Ustian territory that bordered the water. The fact that it was merely a bay and not a full-blown ocean was miniscule comfort. The CRT was connected by a thick cable to a chunky-looking desktop computer in off-beige at the front of the room, on a fake wooden table.

The base colonel came in in his dress uniform, looking much the worse for wear. He practically slouched into the seat in front of the computer, the last to arrive. Normally there would have been all kinds of banter at his appearance, but today there was silence. Silence that had been preceded by worried whispers, not jokes and small talk.

“I’m sure… by now, I’m sure you’ve all heard what has happened,” he said, looking up.

Nods all around.

“I won’t sugarcoat things. The situation… It's bad. Ustio has been transferred, beyond all logic, sanity, and shadow of a doubt, to another world. Where that is - where here is, we don’t know."

Bad news was usually received with groans, boos, and jeers, but this time there was only more silence. Silence and faces bereft of hope, or at least happiness. In all likelihood, most would never see whatever family or friends back home they had again. One pilot in particular looked especially displeased (by the standards of the individual), and for good reason. Artura Jo Kiraly, aka Galm One (callsign Cipher), was Shilagean, and Shilage was a whole continent away and under Erusea's thumb - and that was when Ustio was back on Earth. The only daughter of a family that fought in Shilage's revolution a few decades back - her father a fighter pilot and her mother a transport pilot, her mother had gone back to the farm while her father became a senator. They were drawn back into the sky for a brief period a short while later, as the Kingdom of Erusea rolled in like a tidal wave and crushed the Shilagean military - even as the Radicals and the Socialists continued to bicker over how to respond. Her elder brothers had fought then. She had joined Erusea's air force academy and had gotten far in training, but was ultimately rejected from fighter school due to her "political connections", despite her own lack of interest in politics. She had bought a Draken and flown to Ustio two years prior to join their mercenary corps, and now she had her own squadron - and an F-15.

The colonel sighed, pressing a few keys on the computer. The image on the screen changed, now showing different colored empty blobs along Ustio’s new northern border - along with gray shapes, most larger than what was now Ustian territory, occupying the spaces on the other side. There was a fourth on a peninsula to the southwest across the water, but the blob over the water there was grey and marked with the 4th Air Force’s symbol.

"But that's part of our job, and that of the border patrol agency. Find out what the hell is out there, what we're up against. Last night, Border Patrol went all along the borders of our new territory, where the boundary markers were. That’s how we got these maps, and that’s how we know who we border. Right now, we know that there’s at least people out there, but not much more than that. We certainly don’t know if any of our forces remain in those areas.”

A hand went up. “Sir, haven’t we been getting reports of Ustian forces deployed to Belka suddenly showing up back on base?”

“We have,” the colonel said with a nod, “but we haven’t gotten reports of that happening to [i[all[/i] of them. With the situation, the brass feels this is information it needs to know. That said…”

He sighed, sinking into the seat a little. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this is mostly a cover story. In reality, this is nothing more than gunship diplomacy 101 for us. The Foreign Affairs Minister wants us to set up diplomatic relations with what neighbors, what nations, we can as fast as possible, to keep from stepping on anyone’s toes over unoccupied land if nothing else. But the Minister of Defense has expressed quote-unquote “deep concern” over what our satellites have shown of some other areas that are occupied, including some of our neighbors. So he’s made this a military matter. We’ll be flying top cover for a military/diplomatic team.”

He looked straight at Artura’s wingman, Larry Foulke - a Belkan himself, he was about as political a creature as she wasn’t.

“I’ll be clear, this is not an invasion. It’s gunship diplomacy, but the key word here is diplomacy. The brass do not want a war, I don’t want a war, and the brass isn’t even sure Ustio can handle a war right now. Certainly not without friends. Anyone fires without being fired upon first, I’ll personally send their sorry asses to the leader of whoever we pissed off on a silver platter.”

“The whole airbase is going up, but your area of responsibility is here -” he pointed to an area north of where Directus was now. It was an extension on Ustio’s area, more northern than the rest of it. “Galm and Amarok will go up first with Galm taking the easternmost of the sectors, followed by Kirkegrim and Cerberus in the same areas respectively, then Fenrir and Warg. Loadout will be mixed air-to-air and unguided air-to-ground, but light - we only have our own fuel deposits for now until we can confirm others, but we have plenty of reserve fuel at the moment, so you'll be going up with drop tanks. And we don't want to antagonize anyone who might be out there. Each squadron will loiter for 3 hours. Any questions?”

A hand went up - Foulke, of course. “Who’re we flying cover for on the ground, and what’re we getting for support?”

“You'll be getting Eagle Eye again as AWACS. Poor bastards will be up there until Fenrir and Warg land, but they have a fridge and a coffee maker. On the ground, you’ll have the guys who retook Directus - units of the 11th Armored “Sobieski” escorting a diplomatic team. BMP-3s and Leopard IIs, mostly. The diplomatic team itself will be in MOWAGs.”

“Anything else?”

No one spoke.

“Galm, Amarok, wheels up in an hour. It’s not a far hop, so it shouldn’t be long before you’re in your racetrack. Dismissed.”
The Holy Roman Empire of Karlsland (MT/FanT & FT/FanT)
THE Strike Witches NationState
Best thread ever.|Ace Combat!
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On Karlsland Witch Doctrine:
Hladgos wrote:Scantly clad women, more like tanks
seem to be blowing up everyones banks
with airstrikes from girls with wings to their knees
which show a bit more than just their panties

Questers wrote:
Rupudska wrote:So do you fight with AK-47s or something even more primitive? Since I doubt any economy could reasonably sustain itself that way.
Presumably they use advanced technology like STRIKE WITCHES

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Remnants of Exilvania
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Founded: Mar 29, 2015
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Postby Remnants of Exilvania » Tue Jul 13, 2021 8:54 am

2nd January 2004
Czechoslovak Army Command Center

The Czechoslovak Command Center in Brno had been a bustling center of activity for multiple years now, coordinating the efforts against the British Empire all across the continent. Now it lay comparably silent, much of the staff having been sent out on various tasks to confirm things with their very own eyes and check in with idle army formations. This left the command center on what could be considered a skeleton crew of primarily high ranking generals and commanders of various branches as well as a number of clerks and officials taking care of business.

Many of these high ranking members of the armed forces were now gathered in one of the many conferece rooms, seated along a long table and supplied with dossiers while the Commander of the Armed Forces, Count Orlok, stood before a white wall, an aide projecting images onto it via an overhead projector.

"[...]and as you can all see,the geography has remained much the same. However, the political borders have changed drastically in what we consider some form of plane melding, multiple dimensions clashing and melding with each other. The fact that all of us haven't ceased to exist yet is a miracle. From Warsaw we have heard that the Prussian Pronvince as well as the Lithuanian Province are occupied by foreign power. Scouts report much the same in the west, with the apparent presence of some sort of german state which has among others appeared to have superimposed itself upon some of our provinces east of the Oder river. We have not heard much yet from the east and in the south...well, scouts report that there is a civilization there in both Hungary and liberated Austria but we are uncertain what that is as of yet."

The officers remained silent but it didn't take long for someone to raise their hand energetically. It was no great surprise that the question was coming from the Black General, Hermína Majerová. Impulsive, aggressive and energetic as she was, she was unlikely to sit still through such a briefing:

"Does this mean that the Lviv and Caucasian oilfields have become unavailable to us? Count, without a steady supply of fuel, I can just as well start scrapping the 1st Tank Army."

The Count threw a glare at her but the werewolf wouldn't back down, his smouldering orange eyes and her red ones locked in a battle of wills for a while before the Count relented and said:

"For the moment we will exercise strictest rationing of all fuel available to us. Only absolutely necessary usage. However, as this appears to be the same Europe as the one we left behind, the fuel sources should remain much the same. We will ensure that oil will flow from Lviv and possibly Ploesti as soon as possible. Since it concerns you this much, General Majerová, I will have you deployed to the east and leave securing the Lviv Petroleum Trail in your hands. By any means necessary.

I personally will soon be heading south. If it is possible that our troops in Italy still exist, then I must make contact with them and return them, possibly through the territory of another nation from another plane."

It was at this point that another aide burst into the room, clad into a sweaty, formerly white shirt and with dirty glasses missing the actual glass burst into the room. He was clutching a stack of dossiers in his arms as he cried out:

"Sir, radar has picked up movement in the south. Daemonic reconnaissance has confirmed it. Ground and air formations are advancing towards the border!"

Almost immediately the conference room drowned in chaos, all of the high ranking generals shouting over each other, with especcially the Black General's high, youthful voice louder than all the others, roaring to grant her the fuel she required and she'd stomp this entire nation out of existence. A troublesome bunch, Count Orlok thought, massaging the bridge of his nose. However, that was to be expected. This sudden event had likely frayed nerves everywhere which was absolutely understandable. Still, these people had to quiet down so he could continue so he raised his own, deep, baritone voice and shouted:

"Silence! Show some restraint! Are you men of Czechoslovakia or British cowards? General Majerová, your orders remain to head to Lviv. Without the 1st Tank Army. I believe this southern incursion is my cue to head south myself. However, I want the 1st and 2nd Tank Corps redeployed to Bratislava by train immediately. The 17th and 23rd Infantry Division are to head towards the border to check this incursion immediately if it is to act in a hostile manner. Since the our southern neighbours already have aerial assets in the air, deploy several squadrons of MiG-21s to cover our airspace.

Gentlemen, this meeting is over. You have your orders."
Ex-NE Panzerwaffe Hauptmann; War Merit Cross & Knights Cross of the Iron Cross
Woodhouse Loyalist & Inactive BLITZKRIEG Foreign Relations Minister
Furchtlos und Treu dem Hause Württemberg für alle Ewigkeit!



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