by Max Barry

Latest Forum Topics

Advertisement

Search

Search

[+] Advanced...

Author:

Region:

Sort:

«12. . .8,1858,1868,1878,1888,1898,1908,191. . .8,2698,270»

Twilight Sparkle wrote:Blinded by the searing light and bleeding profusely from its now fatal wounds, the Tatzlwurm made one final attempt to enter the cathedral, which felt like trying to enter an oven. It forced the hole it had made in the roof larger. With its one remaining eye it could see three Ponies standing nearby, two Unicorns and one large Earth Pony. Somehow it knew that the Unicorn mare standing in the middle was its target. The presence at the back of its mind knew, and the certainty seeped into the tortured mind of the dying Wurm. With one final roar full of rage and agony, it pushed its head inside the cathedral, maw open and ready to swallow the mare and her companions alive.

Pearlescent had only ever seen Tatzlwurms from afar during the Imperatrix's military parades when the Beastmaster Division had made their myriad mind controlled monsters stomp, stride, slither, fly and hover past the Imperial Palace in order to make an impression on the spectators. Now one of those monsters was only a couple of dozen feet above her, staring at her with its single remaining eye.

And yet she didn't feel like she was in danger. She didn't even feel the need to back away from the Tatzlwurm.

Without fully realizing it, she had begun to walk towards the monster.

"Little Miss, no!" Shield Wall shouted in horror and tried to tackle her, but somehow she slipped past him like she had never been there in the first place.

Pearlescent placed a hoof on the burned, cracking shell covering the Wurm's head. It made no attempt to grab her.

"It's alright," she whispered, her voice somehow audible despite the chanting of the other Ponies in the cathedral. "You did well, but now it's time to let go. They can't hurt you anymore. It's time to let go."

The Tatzlwurm let out a long, relieved sound that reverberated in the cathedral. Its head, now little more than a mass of burned flesh, went limp as did its entire body. The pain from its wounds and the searing light faded away as the monster's enslaved spirit left its ruined body and was finally free.

It was dead.

*

Gasping for breath, Ruby Pinch fell on the floor. Her head was pounding and her horn felt like it was on fire. The horrible, burning light still flashed in her eyes every time she closed them.

Dying was painful.

"You disappoint me, Ruby," a deep mellow voice said above her. It was dark, but she could make out the silhouete of a tall, elegantly built Unicorn stallion. "You had a single task and you were too weak to accomplish it."

"Gaahh... please, Duke Silver..." she managed to groan. "It was simply too much. Those Ponies... they used some kind of faith-based magic that disrupted my connection with the Wurm... Nopony could have done better! Nopony! But I saw her! I saw your daughter. She was among them and she..."

"I know what she did, Ruby," Duke Silver said calmly. "I know what they all did. They think they have won, but they have just given me an idea."

Ruby managed to get back on her hooves. She still felt weak and her head was spinning, but at least she could stand again.

She asked, "You mean we're going to try again?"

The Duke laughed.

"No, Ruby. I mean I will try again. You, however, have become a liability. There is now a chance they might use your connection with the Wurm to track you... and me, by extension. I'm afraid you'll have to go."

Ruby felt her heart sink to her hooves.

"P-please, Duke Silver!" she pleaded. "There's no way they could do that! The connection was thoroughly broken and there's no way anypony could..."

"I can't take any chances, Ruby. I'm sorry." He didn't sound like he was sorry at all.

He stepped fully into the light. Ruby saw his face. She saw his mouth. She saw his eyes.

She screamed.

Black watched as Pearlescent saw the Tatzlewurm expire, reporting it over the radio as the Everfree and Elysian soldiers surrounded the cathedral started to cautiously move in. “That thing is dead, yes?” He asked the Equestrian as most of the other ponies continued to pray while others moved to clear the rubble and retrieve the fallen and others still gave Pearlescent suspicious looks, whispered amongst themselves as the Priest hoisted up a flag bearing a rendition of the Divine Sisters. “Our Glorious God-Empress and the Eternal Crusader have helped us seen off the Witch-Queen’s pet monster. Let us give thanks.” He bellowed as he recaptivated his audience. “Let us not forget the fallen, we shall pray for their souls. Let them bask eternally in the light of the Sisters.”

Twilight Sparkle wrote:Rainbow still had many questions about the Avenger Factory, but Alula's demeanor made it clear she wouldn't get any useful answers out of her. Rainbow's old self would have have persisted in trying to get more information from her counterpart, but over the years she had learned when to drop an issue. She followed Alula to the hospital wing.

Watching the exchange between Alula and Legatine Waters, Rainbow made an observation.

"Wait," she said. "Maybe I'm mistaken, but most of these medical devices look purely technological in nature. Most of our doctors are Unicorns and also healers. We use mainly magic, backed up by some technology, to heal our wounded. It seems you have chosen the opposite, at least in New Elysium."

Alula glanced back at Rainbow as did the Legatine who then stepped up to the foreign general. “It’s true, we do favour a more mundane method to healing in the Diarchy but we have our reasons for it.” Soothing Waters started taking a lecturing tone she usually reserved for noviciates. “Magic represents a quick fix which may be useful out in the field where one more gun firing or another set of eyes watching can help turn a battle but gives the wounded no time to learn from their mistakes like here in training. Cadet Sabre made a mistake that her instructor capitalised on and so must learn. These lessons are better learnt here at the Schola rather then out there among the heretics, heathens and xenos.”

Veradax wrote:

Swabian Airspace,
Southeastern Region

“Mantis eight through twelve, on Mantis two, secure that crate. Mantis three through seven, on me secure the escape of Mantis two’s team from the meadow.” He ordered, the squad broke up in accordance with his wishes. One group heading farther down the meadow, the other moving to the tree line to secure their exit.

OOC: The details of this post were discussed extensively over private channels, and conform to the wishes of Swabia. As for timing, this RP is set sometime during the Swabia/Westbeech war, though exactly when is ultimately for Swabia to decide. It is a continuation of the old Bioweapons RP where a Swabian strike team managed to secure samples of a deadly virus that was in transit to another facility with the help of a corrupt officer.

Duchy of Ostschwietz
Elpen Mountains
Near Malform Ski Resort

Much to the Veradacians' luck, there were no such things as Swabian patrols or the like patrolling random remote meadows up in the mountains, making their landing a fairly safe and undisturbed one. Even in better times, when cattle herders and farmers would lead their cows up here, they likely wouldn't have run into anyone, not at this late time when anyone and everyone would be asleep.

But these weren't better times, as the distant cracking of artillery, its echo magnified and transmitted through mountain valleys all the way to their position, showed. The war was coming ever closer to Swabia, with reports already coming in of fighting at the feet of the mountains further in the east, sparking hysteria among the swabian population. The foul Westbeechians, traitors to their race and in league with the devils from Vespergale were coming and even those who weren't still high on the religious indoctrination of the previous Grand Duke had reasons to fear for none had any illusions concerning the behaviour of the Grand Duke's men in the war and the vengeance burning in the hearts of the Westbeechians. Even now the Mantis Team could look down from the meadow into the valley below them, the sole street through it hopelessly clogged with vehicles coming from the east on one side and the occasional vehicle coming from the west on the other. Everyone who could was getting out.

The crate was also in excellent condition, save for a mouse or two that had come out of their holes to see what had just dropped onto their homes, trying to climb the thing and see if there was anything to it, anything edible.

Westbeech and Insert here name

Insert here name

OOC: I BECOME IRON FIST CONSUMERISTS

Hadian and Yi bd

Collectivist germania

Reconquista
2021-02K.CE:4:27 | 2000h

The past 12 months have passed in the subterranean bowels of Streitkräfte High Command in a blur of military exercise data, virtual projections, TV screens and graphs; ration supplies for the upcoming Crusade, sustainable military quotas from each of the Kingdoms and Duchies, regularly updated lists of estimated casualties, estimates of disease once the war pushes into the cities and civilian casualties are too great to be handled efficiently -- types of disease, symptoms, severities and risk of contagion. Kaiserarmee force estimates, regiments, officers, accuracy records, victories and defeats. Kriegsmarine coastal defences, Floating Fortresses and spots of land reclamation projects housing rows of anti-ship missile systems, estimated disruptions to coastal trade routes, estimated guild complaints, projected diplomatic responses, the list went on and on.

The objectives was straightforward but the reasons numerous and entangled in their own various nuances: the Reisch had put the Viennan government under a strict blockade for their support of Rushen Communist elements within Talarus, the coast guard diligently turning away any ship leaving the coastal ports and even taking it upon themselves to seize contraband where and when possible. Though the world had seemingly enjoyed the absence of Germanian intervention of the conflict so far, a far less visible proxy war was being waged in aid of the Reykh; and although Reinhardt himself wouldn't openly admit such a thing, he was indirectly aiding Swabian interests as well. However, the narrative according to the many assembled analysts, Generals and the rest of the inner circles of government assembled was that Vienna had in fact defeated the unannounced sanctions that had been imposed, through the aid of Lenspheria and their ports.

Many more questions were put to the fore as the months drew shorter. How deeply would this affect relations with the neighbouring Ecclesiastical Meritocracy, and could strengthening ties with Khovezzem mitigate the shortfalls this would potentially create? What was the likelihood of foreign intervention? Would the former Germanian territories under Lenspherian control still swear fealty to Berlin has they had done before? How many civilian casualties would be expected during the course of the war? Would imperial taxes be administrated by neighbouring Rugaria, or was the more culturally aligned Emirate of Sharkir a wiser liaison? What would happen to the rest of the country, if the Reisch was only after former territorial holdings? Many of these important factors weighed on the minds of a divided High Command, eventually put to rest only when the usually silent voice of the Imperial Throne gave a holy sanction for the operation to go ahead -- from there, full enthusiasm was put to the matter as though it was ordained by the Heavens themselves.

The final six weeks of full mobilization was accompanied by impassioned sermons and proselytizing to Rugarian and Chernoyskistani Germanians by both the Inquisitors of the Imperial Church and state-sanctioned clergymen of the Reisch-administered Islamic territories, firing up the soldiers spirits for the Al Qahrias Crusade. Heavy militarization of the Radnitz River between Rugaria and Vienna was hardly an anomalous sight, nor was the copious amounts of runways situated along that strip of fiercely defended land that safeguarded Imperial Christendom from the woes of renewed Bolshevik occupation. How soon, some wondered, would Lenspheria notice that those many kilometres of artillery guns would be quietly pointed at them instead, ready to pummel any first-line anti-air defences into pitiful submission along with anything else the whizzing shells happened upon as their numbers blackened the sky.

They had to wonder no longer, as once the jets were scrambled from the Germanian AFBs and the first barrages of artillery were launched, that the heavily armored push into Quari'Zash began, the first proper war entered into by the Holy Reisch since... well, forever. Already, other orders were being given to Kriegsmarine ships as they shot off across the Katharos on a uniform heading towards Talarus. The northern powers would soon have company.

Khovezzem wrote:Nasira nodded respectfully to Sven as he greeted her.

Once all passengers had been accounted for the VTOL lifted off from the landing pad and quickly entered the sky. It was a tight fit as the vehicle was for military use and not a luxury aircraft. Few luxury vehicles existed in Khovezzem, as a matter of fact. A fact reinforced by the spartan look of the city of Arzimo. The city was black and grey all over; a hideous abomination of metal and concrete. There was nothing in the way of plant life or water and the dark, looming clouds overhead made the whole metropolis a depressing sight. The city was massive, though. Large residential, commercial, and industrial sectors were easy to spot. Massive, sprawling factories and enormous skyscrapers and tenement towers dotted the landscape. Occasionally a 'park' could be spotted, complete with foliage and grass so obviously fact that even from the sky it was easy to tell. Statues adorned every hilltop of this 'park', each one more brutalist than the last.

Another common sight along the flight was Nasira's face, which seemed to adorn zeppelins and giant screens on the sides of skyscrapers and posters and billboards as her voice could be heard all over the city's loudspeakers that were scattered across the city. These pre-recorded messages spoke of the Autocrat's love for His people, reminders to the citizenry to be on the look out for crime and treason, notices of impending holidays, and so on. Most of it was state-sanctioned propaganda, though whether the Germanians could understand any of it depended entirely on their grasp of Khovezi - which was likely lacking if known at all.

One building, however, stood out among them all. It was a large oval-shaped structure that hovered high up in the sky above any other building, maintaining a stationary position directly above what looked to be a large, open area that was seemingly designed to house the currently-floating structure. The VTOL slowly altered it's original course so as to intercept the large building. Once it drew closer to the structure a landing pad retracted followed by armed, power-armored soldiers bearing unique insignia. Said insignia seemed to be the same one found on the flag of Khovezzem. Once the VTOL touched down, the soldiers stood at attention and guarded the landing pad's bridge. Nasira departed first, the Pale Man following with the priest closely behind him.

"Welcome to the Metropolitan Administrative Facility of Arzimo. This way, please."

Nasira guided the Germanians into the building. It's security was quite impressive. Energy shielding, fingerprint and retinal scanners, magnetic locks on reinforced steel doors, armed guards at every door and patrolling every corridor, security cameras in every corner, and on the railings outside the building were heavy machine guns emplacements with anti-air cannons on the decks and rooftop. Armed gunships seemed to patrol the skies around and near the MAFA. It was clear that security was taken very seriously here. The building was obviously the Khovezi equivalent of a city hall, yet clearly more defensible.

The doorways, much like the building--and the city in general--were quite spartan in appearance. The Khovezi clearly weren't ones for luxury. Though this changed once Nasira brought the Germanians to what looked like a conference room with a large round table in the center and 12 chairs around it. This room was far more luxurious and well-lit. Though there was only one door into this room with a window on the wall directly opposite, there were a total of 8 guards in the room - not to mention the two stationed outside the room at the door. The ones near the door and the window were adorned in power armor, while along the other two walls stood two soldiers--each--in what appeared to be unpowered combat armor with attached combat exoskeletons. All the guards in the build appeared to be armed with fully-automatic weapons. In the case of the power armor units these were light machine guns while the other soldiers either had SMGs or assault rifles.

The room was quite luxurious without being tacky, with a chandelier hanging over the table and velvet curtains near the window, fake plants in the corners, very real marble statues that look centuries old, and paintings of various figures adorning the walls. Most of the painted figures were unrecognizable strangers to the Germanians, mostly Khovezi historical figures, but three figures did stand out. One was Nasira herself in a lovely painting of her in a fetching red dress displaying both affection and class. Another was a younger version of the Pale Man; the Right Hand of the Autocrat--though judging by the state of his eyes in the painting, clearly from a time when he was not blind--in his usual attire. Unlike Nasira's painting, where the name plate held her full name and position, the Pale Man's name plate appeared to be blank. Another painting sat above the doorway to the room. This one was different from the others. Where the other paintings were in the realist or naturalist style, this one was much more impressionist. It was larger than the other paintings and clearly depicted masculine figure in a military-style uniform. He was neither young nor old, and had chiseled features. Also unlike the other paintings--which were in full color--this painting was purely in black and white. The man in the painting looked straight ahead at the viewed as if he was patiently expecting something; his expression was not purely blank, but almost irritated. The left side of the painting favored black with line outlines of the man's features and figure. On the right the painting favored the inverse: white with black outlines. The figure appeared to be holding a sheathed saber in one hand and a globe--centered on Khovezzem--in the other. The name plate at the bottom merely said "Our Autocrat" on it.

"Please, take a seat. Refreshments?" Nasira asked as she and the other two Khovezi took their seats at the conference table.

"None, thank you." The Lord-Cardinal responded to Nasira's offer mildly, almost absently as his mind had been busy at work taking in all the sights and sounds of everything he'd just seen on the way into the Administrative Facility. Arzimo was uncannily like home, like Welthauptstadt Berlin, though mostly in the respect that the latter was something of a 'rapture city', one built to last even nuclear armageddon and efficiently build mankind out of its charred ashes; with previous nuclear launches from the likes of Western Caracoran and Valcouria having tested this theory on more than one occasion to provide practical proof to the concept. The Khovezi likewise thought ahead, they concerned themselves not of the temporal luxury of the present but of the future, and they built their city as though it depended on that future. It lacked the culture flair of Saxonia, but at least some of them had style. Nasira could easily pass herself off as an east Vallysian with a taste for classy Burgundy fashion if she so desired. If granting political asylum was even heard of in Germania.

"The long and short of Germanian interests in this meeting," the Lord-Cardinal then began as he sat down with his entourage opposite the Khovezi, none of whom chose to remove their helmets and show their faces during this whole discussion, "...is that it is our desire - yours also perhaps - that we wean ourselves off the the Halkuon trade networks and pursue other opportunities in the Katharos Ocean. The recent, shall we call it... expression of militant enthusiasm on Caryton's Rainfall Harbour happened to coincide with the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and it appears they took a religious debate a little too much to heart. The point being-"

He then interjected over himself, brushing a hand in front of him as though swatting away this irrelevant approximation of the turn of events.

"-Is that Khovezzsem has a potential market waiting for them in southern Aurelia, and with its soon-to-be allies elsewhere, assuming they can provide the essentials we would lack from Carytonic trade... Sven."

The Lord-Cardinal snapped across to the Vindicatus seated at the far end, whose unblinking stare of entrancement could be felt on Nasira even from behind his own helmet. The youth stiffened to attention, panned his head around the room for a few awkwardly silent seconds, before then blurting out a few words himself as though it were somehow his turn to speak.

"Uh, yes, it is the express aims and desire of His Imperial Majesty that a Khovezi vicarate be established in the country, the Autocrat being the Patriarch-Militant of his own Imperial Church with the help and support of the Fortress Monastery to spread the good Word and, ahmmm... provide monetary assistance in the construction of some number of cathedrals, one of which will be consecrated in his honour, ahuh-"

"-Thank you, Vindicatus." The Lord-Cardinal cut him off with gritted teeth, as the last two of those points were absolutely not what they'd agreed to offer, but he felt that the Khovezi weren't the types to take backpedalling in light humour. "Yes, the Imperial Church has... ways with the various guilds within the Reisch that would prove very lucrative for a people with a generous attitude towards tithes and the right kind of apprehension towards dog worship, just the kind of elbow room one might like to receive some favourable trade agreements. The kind of infrastructure on Aurelia that can orchestrate ten Rainfall Harbour incidents a week if one so desired."

Grossschwaben and Khovezzem

Collectivist germania wrote:Reconquista
2021-02K.CE:4:27 | 2000h

The past 12 months have passed in the subterranean bowels of Streitkräfte High Command in a blur of military exercise data, virtual projections, TV screens and graphs; ration supplies for the upcoming Crusade, sustainable military quotas from each of the Kingdoms and Duchies, regularly updated lists of estimated casualties, estimates of disease once the war pushes into the cities and civilian casualties are too great to be handled efficiently -- types of disease, symptoms, severities and risk of contagion. Kaiserarmee force estimates, regiments, officers, accuracy records, victories and defeats. Kriegsmarine coastal defences, Floating Fortresses and spots of land reclamation projects housing rows of anti-ship missile systems, estimated disruptions to coastal trade routes, estimated guild complaints, projected diplomatic responses, the list went on and on.

The objectives was straightforward but the reasons numerous and entangled in their own various nuances: the Reisch had put the Viennan government under a strict blockade for their support of Rushen Communist elements within Talarus, the coast guard diligently turning away any ship leaving the coastal ports and even taking it upon themselves to seize contraband where and when possible. Though the world had seemingly enjoyed the absence of Germanian intervention of the conflict so far, a far less visible proxy war was being waged in aid of the Reykh; and although Reinhardt himself wouldn't openly admit such a thing, he was indirectly aiding Swabian interests as well. However, the narrative according to the many assembled analysts, Generals and the rest of the inner circles of government assembled was that Vienna had in fact defeated the unannounced sanctions that had been imposed, through the aid of Lenspheria and their ports.

Many more questions were put to the fore as the months drew shorter. How deeply would this affect relations with the neighbouring Ecclesiastical Meritocracy, and could strengthening ties with Khovezzem mitigate the shortfalls this would potentially create? What was the likelihood of foreign intervention? Would the former Germanian territories under Lenspherian control still swear fealty to Berlin has they had done before? How many civilian casualties would be expected during the course of the war? Would imperial taxes be administrated by neighbouring Rugaria, or was the more culturally aligned Emirate of Sharkir a wiser liaison? What would happen to the rest of the country, if the Reisch was only after former territorial holdings? Many of these important factors weighed on the minds of a divided High Command, eventually put to rest only when the usually silent voice of the Imperial Throne gave a holy sanction for the operation to go ahead -- from there, full enthusiasm was put to the matter as though it was ordained by the Heavens themselves.

The final six weeks of full mobilization was accompanied by impassioned sermons and proselytizing to Rugarian and Chernoyskistani Germanians by both the Inquisitors of the Imperial Church and state-sanctioned clergymen of the Reisch-administered Islamic territories, firing up the soldiers spirits for the Al Qahrias Crusade. Heavy militarization of the Radnitz River between Rugaria and Vienna was hardly an anomalous sight, nor was the copious amounts of runways situated along that strip of fiercely defended land that safeguarded Imperial Christendom from the woes of renewed Bolshevik occupation. How soon, some wondered, would Lenspheria notice that those many kilometres of artillery guns would be quietly pointed at them instead, ready to pummel any first-line anti-air defences into pitiful submission along with anything else the whizzing shells happened upon as their numbers blackened the sky.

They had to wonder no longer, as once the jets were scrambled from the Germanian AFBs and the first barrages of artillery were launched, that the heavily armored push into Quari'Zash began, the first proper war entered into by the Holy Reisch since... well, forever. Already, other orders were being given to Kriegsmarine ships as they shot off across the Katharos on a uniform heading towards Talarus. The northern powers would soon have company.

"None, thank you." The Lord-Cardinal responded to Nasira's offer mildly, almost absently as his mind had been busy at work taking in all the sights and sounds of everything he'd just seen on the way into the Administrative Facility. Arzimo was uncannily like home, like Welthauptstadt Berlin, though mostly in the respect that the latter was something of a 'rapture city', one built to last even nuclear armageddon and efficiently build mankind out of its charred ashes; with previous nuclear launches from the likes of Western Caracoran and Valcouria having tested this theory on more than one occasion to provide practical proof to the concept. The Khovezi likewise thought ahead, they concerned themselves not of the temporal luxury of the present but of the future, and they built their city as though it depended on that future. It lacked the culture flair of Saxonia, but at least some of them had style. Nasira could easily pass herself off as an east Vallysian with a taste for classy Burgundy fashion if she so desired. If granting political asylum was even heard of in Germania.

"The long and short of Germanian interests in this meeting," the Lord-Cardinal then began as he sat down with his entourage opposite the Khovezi, none of whom chose to remove their helmets and show their faces during this whole discussion, "...is that it is our desire - yours also perhaps - that we wean ourselves off the the Halkuon trade networks and pursue other opportunities in the Katharos Ocean. The recent, shall we call it... expression of militant enthusiasm on Caryton's Rainfall Harbour happened to coincide with the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and it appears they took a religious debate a little too much to heart. The point being-"

He then interjected over himself, brushing a hand in front of him as though swatting away this irrelevant approximation of the turn of events.

"-Is that Khovezzsem has a potential market waiting for them in southern Aurelia, and with its soon-to-be allies elsewhere, assuming they can provide the essentials we would lack from Carytonic trade... Sven."

The Lord-Cardinal snapped across to the Vindicatus seated at the far end, whose unblinking stare of entrancement could be felt on Nasira even from behind his own helmet. The youth stiffened to attention, panned his head around the room for a few awkwardly silent seconds, before then blurting out a few words himself as though it were somehow his turn to speak.

"Uh, yes, it is the express aims and desire of His Imperial Majesty that a Khovezi vicarate be established in the country, the Autocrat being the Patriarch-Militant of his own Imperial Church with the help and support of the Fortress Monastery to spread the good Word and, ahmmm... provide monetary assistance in the construction of some number of cathedrals, one of which will be consecrated in his honour, ahuh-"

"-Thank you, Vindicatus." The Lord-Cardinal cut him off with gritted teeth, as the last two of those points were absolutely not what they'd agreed to offer, but he felt that the Khovezi weren't the types to take backpedalling in light humour. "Yes, the Imperial Church has... ways with the various guilds within the Reisch that would prove very lucrative for a people with a generous attitude towards tithes and the right kind of apprehension towards dog worship, just the kind of elbow room one might like to receive some favourable trade agreements. The kind of infrastructure on Aurelia that can orchestrate ten Rainfall Harbour incidents a week if one so desired."

The Khovezi remained silent while the Lord-Cardinal spoke, with Nasira maintaining her standard warm and welcoming smile while the Archbishop retained his similarly fake, nervous grin and the Pale Man's expression remained stuck between apathetic indifference and seething hatred yet was directed at no specific person in particular. When it was Sven's turn to speak, however, this changed. The nervous sound of his voice seemed to have stirred the Pale Man from his trance as he began to slowly shift his gaze toward the young man as he followed the sound of Sven's voice due to his lack of eyesight. The Pale Man rested his gaze on the boy, fixating a soulless stare on the Germanian with his greyed and unseeing eyes. Despite his obvious blindness it felt as if the Pale Man was staring into the boy's very soul itself. One could almost feel the rage emanating from the Pale Man, even as his expression remained the same. He was clearly not impressed. Even the Archbishop, who sat outside the gaze of the Pale Man, felt nervous and began sweating more profusely and looking away.

Nasira, meanwhile, maintained her usual externally pleasant demeanor. Whether it was genuine or simply phenomenal acting on her part wasn't clear, but she seemed to perk up as Sven began to speak and her smile brightened as she glanced at him warmly for reasons that weren't quite apparent. It was obvious she knew he'd been staring at her, perhaps she was using this against the poor boy? Playing some kind of mind game, psychologically torturing the poor lad? It was clear she wasn't interested in him, that much was obvious. Though she maintained a youthful appearance her motherly voice was clearly that of a woman in her mid 30s at most, making the boy a bit too young for her. The ring on her finger also suggested she was already taken at any rate, and if her demeanor was anything to go by she was clearly not the unfaithful type. Most likely she was toying with the boy, likely for her own amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse - though this was likely far more innocent.

"A fascinating offer." Nasira said when both Sven and the Lord-Cardinal had finished, taking her eyes off the young boy for a moment as her amused expression returned to normal. She seemed to genuinely ponder the offer in silence for a few moments before rising from her seat and walking toward the window, looking out over the city of Arzimo for a moment. The flash of lightning outside seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she'd been in as though she remained facing the window she turned her attention to the reflection of the Lord-Cardinal within it. "Tell me, Lord-Cardinal, what you see when you look at Khovezzem. Be honest; the only wrong answers are well-meaning lies." The Pale Man cocked an eyebrow at Nasira's words. He was clearly not pleased.

Nasira turned around to face the Lord-Cardinal, her pleasant expression fading as it was replaced by a more genuinely inquisitive look. She was clearly interested in his answer, and awaited it patiently.

Collectivist germania and Grossschwaben

what is the rp here and can I join

The grand authoritarian empire of juu

Hello, iam the creator of The Grand Authoritarian Empire Of Juu and The Supreme Communist Republic of Juu, i am just here to say that i have stopped playing the game. It’s mechanics are to simple and i don’t have the time to figure out what all this roleplay stuff is. I hope this message meets you well, keep the order.

-Joe A.

Yi bd wrote:what is the rp here and can I join

OOC: Hello! We don't have much of a specific lore, most of the time our folks do random things with one another. We're also open to pretty much all technology levels. Of course you can join, we don't have any prerequisites to do such.

If you do join, I strongly recommend hopping onto the region's Discord server and introducing yourself there!

Vistulange wrote:OOC: Hello! We don't have much of a specific lore, most of the time our folks do random things with one another. We're also open to pretty much all technology levels. Of course you can join, we don't have any prerequisites to do such.

If you do join, I strongly recommend hopping onto the region's Discord server and introducing yourself there!

OOC: Thank you my g

Collectivist germania

Khovezzem wrote:The Khovezi remained silent while the Lord-Cardinal spoke, with Nasira maintaining her standard warm and welcoming smile while the Archbishop retained his similarly fake, nervous grin and the Pale Man's expression remained stuck between apathetic indifference and seething hatred yet was directed at no specific person in particular. When it was Sven's turn to speak, however, this changed. The nervous sound of his voice seemed to have stirred the Pale Man from his trance as he began to slowly shift his gaze toward the young man as he followed the sound of Sven's voice due to his lack of eyesight. The Pale Man rested his gaze on the boy, fixating a soulless stare on the Germanian with his greyed and unseeing eyes. Despite his obvious blindness it felt as if the Pale Man was staring into the boy's very soul itself. One could almost feel the rage emanating from the Pale Man, even as his expression remained the same. He was clearly not impressed. Even the Archbishop, who sat outside the gaze of the Pale Man, felt nervous and began sweating more profusely and looking away.

Nasira, meanwhile, maintained her usual externally pleasant demeanor. Whether it was genuine or simply phenomenal acting on her part wasn't clear, but she seemed to perk up as Sven began to speak and her smile brightened as she glanced at him warmly for reasons that weren't quite apparent. It was obvious she knew he'd been staring at her, perhaps she was using this against the poor boy? Playing some kind of mind game, psychologically torturing the poor lad? It was clear she wasn't interested in him, that much was obvious. Though she maintained a youthful appearance her motherly voice was clearly that of a woman in her mid 30s at most, making the boy a bit too young for her. The ring on her finger also suggested she was already taken at any rate, and if her demeanor was anything to go by she was clearly not the unfaithful type. Most likely she was toying with the boy, likely for her own amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse - though this was likely far more innocent.

"A fascinating offer." Nasira said when both Sven and the Lord-Cardinal had finished, taking her eyes off the young boy for a moment as her amused expression returned to normal. She seemed to genuinely ponder the offer in silence for a few moments before rising from her seat and walking toward the window, looking out over the city of Arzimo for a moment. The flash of lightning outside seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she'd been in as though she remained facing the window she turned her attention to the reflection of the Lord-Cardinal within it. "Tell me, Lord-Cardinal, what you see when you look at Khovezzem. Be honest; the only wrong answers are well-meaning lies." The Pale Man cocked an eyebrow at Nasira's words. He was clearly not pleased.

Nasira turned around to face the Lord-Cardinal, her pleasant expression fading as it was replaced by a more genuinely inquisitive look. She was clearly interested in his answer, and awaited it patiently.

The Lord-Cardinal's eyes met her reflective stare for a moment before then eyeing off the brutalist concrete towers that pockmarked the panoramic view of Arzimo, taking a moment to search deep for whatever words might best suit what it was he actually saw.

"Concrete, Nasira." He jested quietly as his brain still ticked away to find an answer befitting to the question. A short moment passed before he opened his mouth to continue, "I see air that is not fit to breathe, food that is unfit to eat. I see pain, I see renegades wandering a shattered nuclear wilderness, killing and looting whenever and wherever they see fit. I see them stealing police ordinance and leaving them next to the homeless while they sleep. I see people stealing extension ladders, going up on various store rooftops, and pulling the disconnects on their heating and cooling devices, costing the store owners thousands. I see people leaving threatening graffiti outside the news stations. I see people using the payphones to call ambulances to places, over and over. I see them running through the expensive car dealerships and smashing the windshields when nobody's looking. I see them applying for jobs and then immediately quitting... and I see them learning how to make homemade explosives to disintegrate local power substations. Anger, to sum it up, that's what I see when I look at Khovezzem; a nation that feels cheated out of its destiny, and nonetheless, a nation that persists. That is, perhaps, why it all feels familiar."

Half of what he said, he didn't actually know whether it was true, though it was as though he had actually seen Arzimo in some kind of fever dream and his brain painted the images of what life could possibly be like beyond the glass window. As he was speaking however, Sven had been nervously fidgeting in his seat whilst the Pale Man glared right at him with his pale blind irises; he knew he'd messed up, but why did this have to be the treatment he got in return? It didn't take long for him to shift slightly in his seat and lean across to murmur to the Battle Chaplain, who in turn turned his invisible stare right back at the Pale Man. Sven was, for all his clumsy blunders, still Emmerich's squire and his responsibility and the two had developed something of an almost fatherly relationship during their training. If there was anybody who didn't so much as even have the slightest change of pulse in the presence of this intimidating figure, it was the Onyx Martyr's very own champion warrior -- one in a thousand and worth his weight in gold. Emmerich's thumb toyed with the hammer of the sidearm tucked by his belt, the conversation between Thalmann and Nasira occasionally interrupted by the audible 'click's that emanated from it, wordlessly chastising the Pale Man.

Grossschwaben and Khovezzem

News Bulletin

Prime Minister Lambert Faulkner announces tax reform

Addressing the House of Commons this afternoon, Prime Minister Lambert Faulkner announced an ambitious tax reform programme designed to overhaul the old tax regime left over from decades of Conservative government. Expressing his view that the current tax regime was "too regressive and too bottom-heavy", Mr Faulkner detailed his plans to vastly increase income taxes and other forms of taxation upon wealth, up to 80% beyond a certain threshold, in order to finance an overhauled and streamlined welfare program. Earnings beyond £1 million are expected to be taxed heavily within this tax scheme, while value added tax is expected to decrease significantly. In addition, large tax breaks and benefits were revealed to be a part of this reform, encompassing high-tech manufacturing, post-secondary education, and start-up companies in the fields of logistics, data processing, finance, and renewable energy.

This may represent Mr Faulkner and the National Party's first significant disagreement with the Artarumen Chamber of Commerce. The government and the ACC had been on good terms up until today, with many prominent members of the National government being invited to address the ACC on a number of occassions. However, after Mr Faulkner's speech to the House of Commons, the Chairman of the ACC delivered a scathing criticism of the program, stating that the reforms would only drive entrepreneurs and businessmen out of the country into more business-friendly areas.

Chancellor of the Exchequer Elizabeth Prater opined that the reform plan as well as the large-scale welfare, education, and investment overhaul was perfectly sustainable and while it would be deficit spending, the Artarumen needed to do the exact opposite of running a very tight ship. Ms Prater reminded the House of Commons that the Artarumen economy had falling inflation, risking falling into a deflationary spiral, and as such, deficit spending would generate the necessary inflation to prevent this from occurring.

Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary Matthew Herzog optimistic on Artzharutan democratisation

In a meeting with the House of Commons Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs Commission, Foreign Secretary Matthew Herzog detailed his optimism on Artzharutan democratisation and opening. Mr Herzog clarified that while there was no realistic expectation for Artzharut to transition into a fully-fledged liberal democracy soon, he stated that Artzharutan State President Galit Halevy appeared to be genuine in her efforts to open up Artzharut to the world. While he expects the Moledet party to remain in power for the "foreseeable future", Mr Herzog expressed his view that the strength of the opposition parties to Moledet was commendable, and that even if Moledet—and Ms Halevy—do not give up power in Artzharut, the existence of a real opposition was something that he regarded as healthy for the future of Artzharut and the Hebrew nation.

From the opposition, however, the Labour and Christian Democrat parties pointed out that without any real chance of victory—by Artzharutan election law, Moledet is automatically granted 150 seats out of 300 in the Artzharutan legislature—the opposition is practically a window dressing, and that Artarum was doing the wrong thing by rewarding mere shows of democratisation with actual normalisation of relations. Mr Herzog countered that normal relations would lead to deeper relations, and without that, Artarum could not encourage Artzharut to democratise further without risking complete deterioration of diplomatic relations.

Sofaville, Judith County, Caryton

Collectivist germania
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5MzoUG0vYA

The small town of Sofaville sat smack dab in the middle of Judith County. With a small population of just under 2,150 people, the town was an unconventional place to hold a county capital, but in a place as agrarian as Judith County was, one would be lucky to have a settlement over the population of 500 in abundance. The name Sofaville, aside from being absent from the knowledge or cares of the foreign world- now lovably nicknamed "couch town" for its single furniture factory which provides most of the county's non-agricultural income- would be a hotbed of petty disputes.

In the midst of the beautiful small-town suburbia would be a conservative-looking black cadillac carrying David Bethel, still in his minty green shirt and seabreeze dress pants. It was a day where he would thankfully be away from the capital of Georgine. In the midst of petty church bureaucracy and another report of economic stagnation, he accepted the fact that a country like Caryton is not a country that has interesting affairs to discuss or significant change to promote. While that meant a quiet, simple, and predictable life free from corruption, it also meant that political affairs were a lost cause in the Carytonic government.

The black-painted car drove around a traffic circle, taking him into a suburban residence. In the midst of the beautiful pastel colors of colonial houses, David Bethel lamented the jet lag of his personal life. In between the farm, his Sofaville home, and his residence in Georgine, it seemed even his personal life was convoluted.

David Bethel was not a poor man by any means- he could very well afford to pay off his bills based not only on his political career- but the valuable history of being a relatively successful advisor for a defunct Altan Regime. It was a past most people preferred to forget, and the gravestones were still being visited- but if Bethel were to thank Alfred Hindenler (the despot) for one thing, it would be the material wealth he accumulated before the collapse of the regime. Unlike many others in his time, the young advisor knew the situation Alta was in, and thus stored as much surplus as he could rather than foolishly spend it on living out the last bits of luxury he could or trying to escape the matter. That combined with fiscal responsibility in the modern day made David Bethel an untapped gold mine. Maybe Lady Louise knew that and wanted to get her share- or maybe, she was too rich for him and just preferred him for either his body or his key to political influence in Germania's quiet and devout sister-nation.

Regardless, when the regime collapsed- Bethel gained a unique insight. He had personally seen Cary the Golden Retriever in the highly controversial yet undisproved "selection ceremony", in which their potential prophet chose universally christian symbols with no prior training- a formerly feral-like stray who avoided people save for performing miracles had chosen to come unto capture- and resigned herself to the newly formed Gospel Church of Caryton. No matter how many people mistakenly believed that they worshipped a dog, he knew that angels were real and that Jesus Christ's mission was restored. That was when he converted into the GCC and transferred his services to them to avoid the scandal of being (albeit loosely) associated with the old regime.

Bethel let his front door close behind him and his suitcase hit the floor. His footsteps softly traced along the tile floor as shoes were kicked off and socks transitioned to the welcoming texture of the carpet past the foyer. Having a sporadic long-distance girlfriend and no kids or pets meant that David Bethel's best friend at home was the television set. The Sofaville-made retro-quality floral couch sat in its rough yet satisfyingly scratchy texture, letting him flop into it. With one flick of the remote, the nostalgically grainy 80s-quality television began a broadcast of the local television channel- it beat the repetitive programme of the TNBC. Just this moment, the "farmers' insight" informational was in its end credits, the glorified almanac's white-on-green credits rolling by to the hum of stereotypical banjo music. Next up would be a... telenovel. Finally, a break in the wind! The program would be titled "Take Your Clippings", a small-scale production about the front lawn rivalry between two neighbors over whose grass is cut cleaner, whose flowers are brighter, and whose berries are plumper. It wasn't the sex, drugs, and rap music of the modern world- but there was a certain wholesomeness to the organ introduction that lured Bethel deep into the fictionalization of the common evil of the homeowner's association.

Just as an overall-clad bald man began to stare proudly at his freshly painted picket fence in the morning sun much to the dismay of his coffee-drinking jewfro-scalped middle aged robe-bearing neighbour, the hollow-sounding landline began to ring. It was his personal phone on the kitchen island rather than the work phone in his office. Maybe his mother had forgotten something, maybe an old friend needed a pep talk. Still disgruntled, David Bethel tore himself from the unconventional comfort of his couch and trekked towards the kitchen. He mulled over a bowl of golden delicious apples before he picked up the phone.

"Bethel Residence, David speaking."

OOC: Map updated.

-Apophria added.
-Zhongwangguo removed due to CTE'ing for a prolonged duration of time.

Yerushalayim, Artzharut

"It pleases me greatly that ahead of our general elections to be held, I can announce that we will finally be beginning negotiations with Artarum for a final and lasting peace treaty between our two nations. Our Father of the Nation, Amnon Shelef—may his memory be a blessing—had stated in his wisdom that peace with the Artarumen Empire ought only to be conducted in the nature of two equal nations, not in the context of a coloniser and a subservient people.

Today, thanks to Amnon Shelef's endless efforts and self-sacrifice, with the will of the Hebrew nation behind him, and our party to guide the people, we have achieved that status of equality in Artzharut..."

Thunderous applause erupted in the Knesset as all three hundred Moledet members of Knesset clapped their hands at State President Galit Halevy's speech.

Meanwhile, in a flat in central Bethlehem, Artzharut's largest city, a tired-looking man came inside, to the equally tired gaze of his wife. "No," he shook his head, "no pay today, either," he complained. "The firm said they had no money. They're waiting from their contract money from the state, apparently, and they're also delaying. Boss said they had no money in the coffers." He looked beyond the corridor into the small room at the back, where two children were playing. "That's five days we've gone hungry."

"Today, in 2021, with Moledet at our backs, the government of Artzharut is more than prepared to face the world," Halevy declared, her voice loud and somewhat charismatic, in contrast to the late Shelef, "our economy is booming, our military is prepared, and our nation—ready!" A bit of doubt crept into her mind as she spoke those final words, but she had to maintain an image to the party. "We, my brothers and sisters, are prepared to sit with the Artarumen on equal terms, and finally cease our state of war. We can truly rebuild Artzharut, as Shelef would have wanted, and reach ever-higher levels of prosperity!" More applause followed, as the State President drove the single-party parliament into a frenzy.

"I love you," the man muttered as he went into one of the house's tiny rooms. His wife did not think much of it, but when he did not emerge for several minutes, she was increasingly worried. "Yosef? Yosef, is everything alright?" When no response came, she entered the room.

The woman's anguished and agonised screams echoed in the cramped apartment, drawing in all the neighbours, some trying to calm the woman down, while others lowered the man's corpse from where he had hanged himself.

Tyrannia imperialis

that's it I'm abandoning my natiojnnow

United peoples of google

Hi I just moved here.

Collectivist germania wrote:The Lord-Cardinal's eyes met her reflective stare for a moment before then eyeing off the brutalist concrete towers that pockmarked the panoramic view of Arzimo, taking a moment to search deep for whatever words might best suit what it was he actually saw.

"Concrete, Nasira." He jested quietly as his brain still ticked away to find an answer befitting to the question. A short moment passed before he opened his mouth to continue, "I see air that is not fit to breathe, food that is unfit to eat. I see pain, I see renegades wandering a shattered nuclear wilderness, killing and looting whenever and wherever they see fit. I see them stealing police ordinance and leaving them next to the homeless while they sleep. I see people stealing extension ladders, going up on various store rooftops, and pulling the disconnects on their heating and cooling devices, costing the store owners thousands. I see people leaving threatening graffiti outside the news stations. I see people using the payphones to call ambulances to places, over and over. I see them running through the expensive car dealerships and smashing the windshields when nobody's looking. I see them applying for jobs and then immediately quitting... and I see them learning how to make homemade explosives to disintegrate local power substations. Anger, to sum it up, that's what I see when I look at Khovezzem; a nation that feels cheated out of its destiny, and nonetheless, a nation that persists. That is, perhaps, why it all feels familiar."

Half of what he said, he didn't actually know whether it was true, though it was as though he had actually seen Arzimo in some kind of fever dream and his brain painted the images of what life could possibly be like beyond the glass window. As he was speaking however, Sven had been nervously fidgeting in his seat whilst the Pale Man glared right at him with his pale blind irises; he knew he'd messed up, but why did this have to be the treatment he got in return? It didn't take long for him to shift slightly in his seat and lean across to murmur to the Battle Chaplain, who in turn turned his invisible stare right back at the Pale Man. Sven was, for all his clumsy blunders, still Emmerich's squire and his responsibility and the two had developed something of an almost fatherly relationship during their training. If there was anybody who didn't so much as even have the slightest change of pulse in the presence of this intimidating figure, it was the Onyx Martyr's very own champion warrior -- one in a thousand and worth his weight in gold. Emmerich's thumb toyed with the hammer of the sidearm tucked by his belt, the conversation between Thalmann and Nasira occasionally interrupted by the audible 'click's that emanated from it, wordlessly chastising the Pale Man.

The Pale Man remained unphased by Emmerich's thinly-veiled threats, serving no purpose other than to draw his attention away from Sven and toward Emmerich. Nasira, however, had noticed the subtle rising of tensions. As she considered Thalmann's words with a ponderous expression brought herself to the edge of the table, tapping her finger on it for a moment as she looked at the floor. Once, then twice, then a brief pause before the third and final time. It was a subtle thing that might have escaped the notice of most people, but the Pale Man reacted. His posture straightened and he directed his gaze away from anyone in particular and went back to simply staring off into the distance with his unseeing eyes as a barely-audible grumble emitted from his mouth. It had happened so quickly it would have been easy to have missed it all entirely, but a sly smile formed at the edge of Nasira's mouth as she turned to Thalmann. "Not entirely accurate, but close enough." she said in response to his honest comments.

Nasira began to encircle the table, pacing behind the Germanians and observing them first and then behind her countrymen, before stopping at her own seat. She rested her hands on the back of it but she did not sit down. "You were right about one thing, at least: our future was robbed from us. And yet we have forged a new one which, perhaps one day, may become a better one. But this first requires the removal of certain obstacles. There are the usual evildoers--the naysayers who believe we are headed down the wrong path--but there are also those who wrongly believe that their hindrance is a 'help' and that they serve the best interests of Khovezzem and of our mighty Autocrat." She paused for a moment, directing her attention to the large portrait of the aforementioned Autocrat that hung above the door. She stared at it for a moment, her expression changing over time. First admiration, then scorn, then disappointment, then respect. Whatever these gestures meant she did not share them. She looked back at Thalmann, and then took her seat. "I'd like to share a story with you. There is very little information that survived the apocalyptic devastation of our great country, but this story has survived that and so much more. Perhaps for good reason."

Nasira sat in silence for a moment, then cleared her throat. "Khovezzem is named after the mythological figure Kho, the Dragon Warrior God. An ancient figure representative of our country and our people. Both a pagan deity and a national figure. He--or she, depending on the story--alone stood as the only god in the old pantheon that did not view mortals with apathy or scorn. A friend of all mortals, and of the Khovezi in particular, he often spent time among them; dwelling in their societies and protecting them from supernatural threats. In one story he befriends a mortal named Horiik, who Kho names his brother-in-arms. The two grow close becoming inseparable companions, but being a god Kho has duties that take him outside the mortal realm to places his friend Horiik cannot follow. One day while Kho is absent a demon--sent by Rhoii, the God of Evil and rival of Kho--attacks Horiik's village. Horiik and the other warriors fight bravely, but are overwhelmed by the demon's sheer power. Kho returns just in time to witness his friend's Horiik's demise. Enraged, Kho charges the demon and strikes it down; sending back to oblivion. Though he is victorious, it is Rhoii who wins the day as he has succeeded in his goal: the murder of Horiik, friend of his rival Kho, and thus the wounding of Kho himself. In despair, Kho weeps over the corpses of his fallen friend. By some miracle Kho's tears fall on Horiik and bring him back from the dead, making him immortal in the process. An overjoyed Kho embraces his best friend and the two continue on as brothers-in-arms. It was Kho's love for his dear friend that brought him back to life." Nasira paused for a moment to allow Thalmann to digest the information before continuing. "The lesson of this story is the power of love itself. A cliche moral, perhaps, but useful for times such as these - when love is a rare sight. Just as Kho's love was strong enough to bring Horiik back to life, so too was the Autocrat's love strong enough to bring Khovezzem back to life. I know of your Lord God, and if I am recalling correctly he suffered and died an ignoble death because his love for humanity was so great that he was willing to subject himself to such indignity in order to save them. The power of love, once more, prevails. Your Lord God--this 'Christ'--loves Mankind. Your Kaiser, surely, loves your people as well. Kho loves all mortals. The Autocrat, naturally, loves His people and cares for them deeply. I, too, love my people. Your Kaiser, if I am not mistaken, is guided by your Lord God? There are some who say that Kho favors, or even is, the Autocrat. Some others say that Kho is Christ and vice versa. A strange few even assert that Kho, Christ, and the Autocrat are all one. I am no theologian; I won't comment on such beliefs. Love, it seems, has the power to empower. Perhaps one day I, too, will be deified for my love? Who is to say?"

Nasira chuckled a bit. "You have come here seeking to make us a brother-in-arms, so that we might together slay great demons sent by evil. Such a friendship begets love, and love begets respect. You have, so far, not been disrespectful. Not in my eyes, at least. But..." she subtlely glanced at the Pale Man, a wicked smirk growing across her face. Taunting him. "It I, and no other, who serves as Voice of the Autocrat. It is I, and I alone, who speaks with His authority on all matters." Nasira began to raise her voice, her caring and motherly tone fading into something more commanding and authoritarian. For the first time since he sat down the Pale Man was visibly displeased. The Archbishop, who had been rather silent this whole time, likewise seemed a bit nervous. "And if you say you have come here in friendship, then as the Voice of the Autocrat I say that you are welcome here as friends. Your offer is, for the moment, accepted without conditions and we are eager to begin cementing a bright and prosperous future between our two great nations." The Pale Man fidgeted in his seat, clearly upset about something though it wasn't clear what.

Nasira continued. "We will, of course, need to vet the teachings of this church of yours in order to ensure that it compliments official government stances on anything but I doubt that will be a problem. If any theological issues arise the good Archbishop here will surely be more than happy to sort out any issues, isn't that right?" she turned to the Archbishop, who seemed both surprised and nervous to be put on the spotlight. "Ah! Y-yes, of course my lady! No problem at all!" he said, a bright toothy grin forming from his fat cheeks. Nasira turned back to Thalmann. "Will that be all?" she asked inquisitively, her soothing and motherly voice returning along with her usual bright smile.

Sanctuary Point wrote:Black watched as Pearlescent saw the Tatzlewurm expire, reporting it over the radio as the Everfree and Elysian soldiers surrounded the cathedral started to cautiously move in. “That thing is dead, yes?” He asked the Equestrian as most of the other ponies continued to pray while others moved to clear the rubble and retrieve the fallen and others still gave Pearlescent suspicious looks, whispered amongst themselves as the Priest hoisted up a flag bearing a rendition of the Divine Sisters. “Our Glorious God-Empress and the Eternal Crusader have helped us seen off the Witch-Queen’s pet monster. Let us give thanks.” He bellowed as he recaptivated his audience. “Let us not forget the fallen, we shall pray for their souls. Let them bask eternally in the light of the Sisters.”

"It's definitely dead, yes..." Pearlescent said, turning away from the carcass of the Tatzlwurm. "Whatever you did... Whatever they did," she waved her foreleg in an arc that encompassed the congregation in the cathedral, "almost literally pushed its soul out of its body. But it's gone now, as is the other one... the one who was controlling it and forced it to attack us."

"What the hay were you thinking, Little Miss?" Shield Wall still seemed upset by Pearlescent's reckless actions. "You... you almost got yourself killed!"

"I'm sorry, Shield... And Major Black," Pearlescent said in a slightly confused voice that made it sound like she didn't fully understand her actions herself. "Somehow I knew the Wurm wasn't going to hurt me or anypony else. The moment it entered the cathedral, it became unable to hurt any of us. (I think.) It didn't want to hurt anypony in the first place, but someone made it do it. Didn't you sense it when it came closer? There was someone... um... piggybacking on its soul, directing it and sometimes forcing it."

"So it was indeed mind controlled?"

"I think so. I don't know for sure who was behind this attack, but the Beastmaster Division of the Equestrian Army is known for its ability to use magic to dominate large and dangerous monsters and use them as instruments of war."

Shield said, "I think its clear that it was after you, Little Miss. This was no ordinary raid. That creature headed straight for the cathedral the moment we came here!"

"You're probably right, Shield," Pearlescent said and turned to Major Black. She continued, "If the attackers worked for my Father, as it seems likely, they apparently had some way of tracking me. My cover is probably blown. What... what should we do now?"

Sanctuary Point wrote:Alula glanced back at Rainbow as did the Legatine who then stepped up to the foreign general. “It’s true, we do favour a more mundane method to healing in the Diarchy but we have our reasons for it.” Soothing Waters started taking a lecturing tone she usually reserved for noviciates. “Magic represents a quick fix which may be useful out in the field where one more gun firing or another set of eyes watching can help turn a battle but gives the wounded no time to learn from their mistakes like here in training. Cadet Sabre made a mistake that her instructor capitalised on and so must learn. These lessons are better learnt here at the Schola rather then out there among the heretics, heathens and xenos.”

Rainbow wasn't sure whether she agreed or not, but she did see some merits in giving cadets time to reflect on their mistakes along with some well deserved pain to act as a reminder.

She nodded.

"Fair enough. I'm not so sure that more brutal training methods automatically make better soldiers, but I see your point."

She permitted herself a small, dry smile. If nothing else this visit would at least give her some new ideas to implement on the training regimens of Equestrian elite forces...

1984 but even worse

f, my economy went up

New welmarica

Hello fellow dictators!

I’m new here, could someone show me the ropes? Any lore or anything I need to get caught up on?

New welmarica wrote:Hello fellow dictators!

I’m new here, could someone show me the ropes? Any lore or anything I need to get caught up on?

Hello, welcome to the region!
This is a very old RP region that dates over a decade back. I haven't been a part of it for a very long time, but there are people who have. I would suggest joining the Discord server (invite located in the World Factbook Entry) to learn more.

Abridged Summary of the children's Song of the Dawn, English Translation

In very ancient times, the unpurified, tribal ancestors of the Apophrian people were driven from their lands by all manner of war, strife, and calamity. Pushed ever northward into increasingly cold, inhospitable lands, many perished, taken by hunger, by the cold, and by the war-like peoples that dwelt in those savage lands, they were much reduced when, at last, they were compelled to flee across the land bridge that is no more, into the uttermost dark and cold of the primal north. Deprived of the vegetation that formed their livelihood, and only moderately acclimated to fishing and the hunting of the dangerous game that populated the north, the pre-Apophrians cursed the animistic totems that had abandoned them to despair, privation, and fear. They cried out in their hearts and with desperate voices for a god of abundance, of joy, and of ease to deliver them from their suffering. And the Great High Spirit heard them.

His descent was first felt by the pre-Apophrians, as the hand of his spirit was felt in their hearts and souls, and in the suffusion of their bodies. The living light of his majesty took its rest within them, soothing their souls and filling them with the joy of his partiality. So too did their bodies abandon their weakness, and their corrupted shapes, adopting instead the sacred form pleasing and reflecting the uncorrupt Sovereign One. Rising in height so that they would tower over their foes, yet they bowed to the earth before the God of Apophria, kissing the holy ground with the maws of dragons, and clutching it with claws from their trembling awe. It was then that Aaipophrekai, the hallowed soul of our race, descended from on high. Perfectly balanced and beautiful was he, of tyrian scales that shown with inner light, and his prismatic robe caught his inner light and shown it upon the scales of the Apophrians. Upon his head was a crown of majesty, in his right hand a shepherd's crook, and in his left a scepter of dominion, all in iridescent gold.

In his presence the stormy clouds that shrouded the land in perpetual darkness dispersed, and the light of the skies was as that in the far south, casting aside the snow, and round about where his feet touched the ground, the rocky ground was softened into fertile soil, and swiftly brought forth fruit and grain of all goodly varieties. And our Great God King delivered our ancestors from despair, and their women he took as maidservants, and their men he took as menservants, who worshiped him with great reverence. Apophria was fruitful and multiplied, and no Apophrian is without descent from our Everlasting Lord. This tale has been told to the children of Apophria for millennia, and the Mighty One reigns over us still.

"The war may be decided on these fronts, even without the Vespergalian garrison."

"Even so, I heard more troops were coming. One side continues to walk forward while the other begins mobilizing more men. This war could be decisive in determining the future of our nation."

"You think? Our nation is split in half. Elita's daughter, Lilie, against Maxene's daughter, Marlene. They are certain to be two of the most powerful people on the continent. This war simply determines what direction our nation goes in."

"I myself would prefer this war end now. I make my money off of the commercial sales of new and modern commodities for the people. I know you wish that this war would just never end, though. You have already made plenty off the selling of energy cell replacements for the new weapons."

"If you think I'm making money, you're horribly wrong. I've just invested 40% of my net worth into ensuring that each and every thing we produce is the highest quality and in good quantity. My people are working on the cooling system for some of the newest experimental weapons. The rest of what I make goes directly from me to the dictator, and that's not for my gain. I have gotten nothing from the dictator except her thanks, and that is enough for me to continue going forward for our nation. You should consider offering more of yourself to our dictator and nation." The man then walked down the stairs of the Smit Engineering and got into a car with the label of his own company, Conrad-Froslam Corporation.

As the car pulled away, the man who still stood on the stairs put his hands in the air, as a police vehicle pulled up to the building. Two policemen got out and grabbed the man, bringing him to their vehicle. Later that day, it was announced Smit Engineering was now renamed Municer Engineering under Smit's successor.

Island Zero wrote:Hello, welcome to the region!
This is a very old RP region that dates over a decade back. I haven't been a part of it for a very long time, but there are people who have. I would suggest joining the Discord server (invite located in the World Factbook Entry) to learn more.

Understood, thanks!

Yerushalayim, Artzharut

Applause echoed in the press hall as the Artarumen Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs Minister, Matthew Herzog, walked up to the small podium that had been set up. Beside him was the Artzharutan State President Galit Halevy, who had succeeded the late Amnon Shelef after his assassination on the 1st of January. Unknown to much of the world, the assassination had been a collaborative effort between the Artarumen Secret Intelligence Service, the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and segments of the Moledet party led by Halevy. Now, with Halevy at the helm and peace between Artarum and Artzharut coming into view, the two posed for photographs.

Herzog cleared his throat. The reason him being here was not only because he had good relations with Halevy, but also due to his native-level Hebrew fluency, which the Artarumen government sought to use as a means to further alleviate hardliners within Moledet. Impressions mattered. Taking a drink of water, Herzog began talking, in fluent Hebrew.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "it is indeed an honour here to be here in Yerushalayim, the eternal capital of the Hebrew nation, for a cause that is the most just in the world: Peace. The state of affairs between the Artarumen Empire and the State of Artzharut is untenable, and at a moral level, unacceptable. To that end, the Artarumen Empire is prepared to finally make peace with the State of Artzharut, to repair broken bridges, and to rebuild trust that has deteriorated. We, for our part, greatly appreciate the steps taken by Her Excellency State President Galit Halevy towards our country, aspiring to do so. I have little doubt in the sincerity of State President Halevy's noble intentions towards peace in our time.

It is impossible to ignore the great steps Artzharut has taken in joining the world in the modern world. Under State President Halevy's leadership, the Hebrew people are destined for greatness, that much is clear. As such, Artarum stands prepared, and more, is eager to welcome Artzharut into the new international order established by it and its erstwhile partners in the international sphere. The Artarumen government is confident that a lasting and permanent peace settlement, more than the armistice of 1998, will be reached in due course. From then, the future only holds sunshine and prosperity for both of our nations. Thank you."

«12. . .8,1858,1868,1878,1888,1898,1908,191. . .8,2698,270»

Advertisement