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«12. . .8,1178,1188,1198,1208,1218,1228,123. . .8,2698,270»

OOC: Well, folks, the Basic Law that we've worked on for the last five days or so has officially been pinned to the World Factbook Entry. The digital copy is also open for peruse, with the edit history also publicly available.

Collectivist germania, Peoples republic of the german states, Lenspheria, Spiritual Republic of Caryton, and 1 otherNiwe myrce

The Chessboard

Following Muhammad bin Ibrahim Masoud’s supporters retaliating for the killing of their leader’s father, the late Speaker at the People’s Assembly, a number of factions have risen to forever change the political landscape in al-Wahid.

Muhammad Masoud’s supporters have formed the Front —a moderate, pro-democracy force, non-secular movement seeking to bring about real democracy in al-Wahid. Occupying Amal, the oil-rich, affluent southern region, they have also secured three of the neighbouring northern mountainous provinces. Currently 80,000 strong, they are the dominant power in the south, but find that the farther they get from their southern stronghold, the less popular support they seem to marshal.

Al-Salibiuwn, Islamist radicals born out of the reactionary discontent felt in the countryside—a consequence of urbanisation and wealth inequality—have taken arms against the government and the Front, believing both to be hostile to their traditional, conservative and religious values. At this time, they are the least powerful of all the surfacing factions, as they continue to be disorganised and disunited. However, this is changing as influential clerics do deals behind closed doors in the ancient mosques the country over.

The third major faction to be surfacing appears to be the People’s Self-Defence Force: an experienced, well-outfitted socialist militia force that has been fighting al-Wahid’s armed forces for decades. While in the past they have never been in a position to seriously threaten the regime, this may soon change as their mortal enemies find themselves fighting on multiple fronts. Led by General Hakimi, the People’s Self-Defence Force is made up of a wide-range of socialist ideologies, all welcomed under the banner of the Red Flag.

Only time, and support from foreign governments, will tell who stands to win the future of a nation.

Lenspheria and The greater antipodes

Al wahid wrote:The Chessboard

Following Muhammad bin Ibrahim Masoud’s supporters retaliating for the killing of their leader’s father, the late Speaker at the People’s Assembly, a number of factions have risen to forever change the political landscape in al-Wahid.

Muhammad Masoud’s supporters have formed the Front —a moderate, pro-democracy force, non-secular movement seeking to bring about real democracy in al-Wahid. Occupying Amal, the oil-rich, affluent southern region, they have also secured three of the neighbouring northern mountainous provinces. Currently 80,000 strong, they are the dominant power in the south, but find that the farther they get from their southern stronghold, the less popular support they seem to marshal.

Al-Salibiuwn, Islamist radicals born out of the reactionary discontent felt in the countryside—a consequence of urbanisation and wealth inequality—have taken arms against the government and the Front, believing both to be hostile to their traditional, conservative and religious values. At this time, they are the least powerful of all the surfacing factions, as they continue to be disorganised and disunited. However, this is changing as influential clerics do deals behind closed doors in the ancient mosques the country over.

The third major faction to be surfacing appears to be the People’s Self-Defence Force: an experienced, well-outfitted socialist militia force that has been fighting al-Wahid’s armed forces for decades. While in the past they have never been in a position to seriously threaten the regime, this may soon change as their mortal enemies find themselves fighting on multiple fronts. Led by General Hakimi, the People’s Self-Defence Force is made up of a wide-range of socialist ideologies, all welcomed under the banner of the Red Flag.

Only time, and support from foreign governments, will tell who stands to win the future of a nation.

It wasn't too long before a simple note, with a foreign phone number written upon it, was tacked into the door of a military outpost in the Front controlled region of al-Wahid. The number, once called led to the Ministry of External Affairs for Quari'zash where several things happened. The opening of formal negotiations with the front between Quari'zash and the Front as well as permission to send 'emissaries' to discuss the future of their solely political actions to take against the other factions. Though... the words spoken made it seem as if this were simply a formality.

Al wahid

Liudan, Empire of Artarum
6 September 2019

"The ayes have it, the ayes have it."

A great applause broke out in the Imperial Assembly. The monumentally important Act of Parliament had passed - Emperor Alaric IV had officially been dethroned, with Euric Nibelunging - now formally stylised as Euric VI - appointed as Regent of the Empire. The act, however, had done more than simply replace the Emperor. It had also given the Parliament the authority to appoint and dismiss monarchs as it deemed fit, formalising what had been thought as a stop-gap measure in the preceding centuries.

"Mr Speaker," spoke Edward Leon Arkwright, one of the Deputy Prime Ministers as well as the Home Minister, "it is our belief that with this Act, we have cemented forever the constitutional nature of the monarchy, and that the Parliament is forever sovereign. Now, with this political crisis averted, we can look to the future. I should make it clear to both our fellow Artarumen as well as to our partners in the international arena, that we have no intention of establishing a republic - the House of Nibelunging, for all its errors and mistakes, is a focal point of unity for us all - and that we intend to preserve the institutions of the monarchy. However, the Imperial Crown shall no longer hold any role whatsoever in the daily running of this country, and that - that, this august Imperial Parliament takes unto itself, as it should be."

Mixed sounds came from the other side of the chamber, with mild applause coming from Royalist seats, while Labour Front MP's grumbled and shook their heads, with some Christian Union MP's banging their desks.

"Order! Order, order. Yes, the Honourable Mr Somerset," Halifax pointed at the Imperial Exchequer, who stood up and cleared his throat. Alastair John Somerset was a tall, fair-skinned man who barely laughed: He lacked the charismatic flair that the Prime Minister had, but he was known to be a particularly labourious and hard-working individual, perhaps to the point of disregarding much of everything else in life. He was unmarried, and some half-joked that he was married to his job. Looking at the assembled MP's somewhat grimly, he began to speak.

"Thank you, Mr Speaker.

As you all know, the Empire is in dire economic straits. This is not a result of the economic situation within the Artarumen Realm or the world, the latter of which we have minimal trade with. The global economy, as far as there is one, is doing reasonably. This is intended to be good news, as our economic malaise can be remedied through the correct usage of economic tools and the proper reforms. However, these reforms will take some time, and structural changes in the Artarumen economy will be necessary. We have great faith in our investors and our workforce, and the Government will be taking extensive action, both political as well as social and economic, to bring the Artarumen economy back up to speed.

First, Mr Speaker, the rapid and smooth transition to an independent central bank model is of utmost importance. We shall be presenting an Act of Parliament to do so in the coming days. The Imperial Bank must be permitted to set its own monetary policy, so that it can ensure the stability of the Imperial pound sterling as efficiently as possible. As our most salient problem is inflation, combined with mediocre economic growth - stagflation - this is of utmost importance. We cannot have governments issuing the printing of Imperial pound sterling bills whenever they are in need of additional cash. This is an archaic economic practice that has thus far brought ruin to the Artarumen economy and therefore the livelihood of its people. Once separated, the Imperial Bank will be free to set its own monetary policy without interference from the Government.

Mr Speaker, following the independence of the Imperial Bank of Artarum, we shall move to cut taxes. In order to stabilise the rampant inequality in Artarum, and therefore improve productivity as well as quell social issues, the Government shall move to shift the sources of tax revenues from indirect taxes to direct taxes. Moreover, the massive loopholes that have been intentionally kept open for the clients of former governments shall be closed and the taxes collected as they should be. It is our belief, based off of our findings, that these measures will be sufficient to prevent a further spiraling down of the Artarumen economy.

Mr Speaker, finally, we shall move to remove the institutional restrictions on the minorities' access to certain aspects of Artarumen life. This will allow us to tap into even more human capital, and human capital is a necessity in the modern economy - a fact that prior governments appear to have largely ignored - and we cannot act as though these large swathes of Artarumen people are of no economic significance. Archaic, outdated thoughts pertaining to some nebulous idea of racial purity, or ethno-nationalism have no place in today's world. To raise Artarum, to make it the great Empire it once was once more, these steps shall be taken, however painful they may be. Thank you."

Vespergale wrote:"After me," the mage steered his mount northward and set out trotting across a path of laid stones. The people watched them trot along, listening to the clapping of hooves on stone transform into hooves on dirt. A few of the children ran along with them, but were no sooner called back by their parents before they wandered out of sight. Now the party was alone, driving forward in single file along a wide hiking path through the Vespergalian countryside. It was rather tranquil, the trees being lightly brushed by the winds and the intermittent songs of the birds as the sun prepared to dip behind the far off mountains.

Ignas was the vanguard of their small formation, Elita in the center, and Lord Tomas in the rear. The Viscount rode nearer to the foreigner, reaching into his saddlebag and drew a set of papers from it, "I think you will find this interesting. Her Majesty is forming a council to represent her in making legislative decisions among other things. Inspired perhaps by the parliaments of other nations -- but her system appears to be most unique. It is made up of various primary bodies and then lesser orbits. The ones it mentioned in these letters are: the Body of the Sun, Body of the Moon, and the Body of Terra, each body having 50 members" he momentarily sped up his steed to ride parallel to her and hand her the printed letter from the Queen detailing the council system, "and you will see when it talks about groups selected to form orbits, it shows Westbeech will be receiving one. A full orbit of ten members to represent your nations interest. A pleasant surprise isn't it? When I heard that I was to be part of the Body of the Moon I was rather joyed, having thought I was just a mere nonentity in the eyes of Her Majesty."

As they continued on, going over hills and through forested valleys they suddenly came upon a scene of carnage. On the side of the path bodies, humans were strewn across an opening of the woods and deceased Vespergalian fighters were lined up in neat rows. Shrinia were watching over them, knelt over and speaking a soft chant in prayer.

Elita simply watched, but her emotions still got her thinking.

Similar to my father, no? A sudden attack and then many dead. For the sake of Westbeech I must assure my people that that shall never happen to me or any future Westbeechian leader.

Elita looked down and shed a few tears. It was rare for her to cry, but felt she could, as she was with people whom she could trust.

Tokyo Broadcasting System

"Results from the primaries are in, going into the election will be current President Mando Kosami of the Constitution party, and Mr. Kyoden Miyata of the Liberal Democratic Party. Mr. Miyata is a former councilman and has served numerous times as a lay-judge, he has big ambitions and the will to see them through, current predictions point towards a comfortable victory for Mr. Miyata as we move into what is traditionally the most vigorous round of debating. Mr. Kosami will have to fight to keep his position, and with public approval of his policies at record lows, its going to be a tough fight. The result of this election will be the deciding factor in the fate of our country, so stay tuned, and make sure to mail in your ballot."

OOC: Yes, hello, this is Veradax :u I made this upset because Antipodea was encouraging me to make a republic to oppose the communists, and so I have. This is just a small post to lead into an actual debate between President Kosami and Mr. Miyata. I'll do a military or science post sometime later, I have a carrier and some subs to build.

Lenspheria

The greater antipodes

The Spark
Liudan, Artarum

Operating under the moniker of 'The Artarum Workers Society', Comrade Murphy and her entourage had managed to secure a comfortable arrangement with a sympathetic café owner in Liudan to use their largely empty upstairs room for the purpose of organizing a political committee that could act as a vanguard party of the revolution in Artarum. It was grey, bare and certainly not a sight to behold but there was nothing that a few red banners and some propaganda couldn't fix. Seats were arranged in a semi-circle around a podium from where the speaker could address everybody assembled, and there were plans to ship in books from the Social Republic for common use. All in all, this was intended to act as the unofficial political wing of the People's Self-Defence Force. Flyers were put out in the street inviting whomever was interested, and in the coming days a gathering was finally assembled. Elsie had arrived on the late afternoon of Saturday in a black long skirt with a white button-up top and the same azure necktie that the rest of her own Antipodean comrades wore. Her blonde hair was neatly tied into a bun with a navy blue side cap nested atop her head. The small deep cobalt blue algiz rune pinned to her top displayed her unmistakable allegiance to the Party of the Social Republic, shimmering in the light as she stepped up onto the podium to rapturous applause from those of the Party. It wasn't typical for women to take up leadership roles of such a nature in the Social Republic, at least not outside of their own dedicated institutions. However, this was not a typical occasion and the rest of the Party Leadership had confided in her ability to rouse the masses into action.

"Friends and comrades, workers and peasants from the Empire of Artarum and elsewhere; I would like to welcome you to the first assembly of the Fifth International and the Artarum Workers Society." She began in a soothing yet confident voice intended to immediately capture the attention of her audience. "It's been a long time since I said any words of the sort in front of a crowd of people; perhaps a long time since anybody said such words, for indeed we live in a world where the Emperor plays his fiddle, Rome burns and the worker must shut up and do his or her lot in life. It is a responsibility that I accept with a full and grateful heart and with only one obligation: to devote every effort of body, mind and spirit to lead the working class of Artarum to victory and the Socialist ideal back to greatness.

Twenty-nineteen will not be a year of 'business as usual' politics. It will be a year of concern, of hardship, of doubt and of sober reassessment of our character and purpose as workers of the world. These past few years have already been ones where the course of history has confounded the ideologues of the parties of the Antipodes and Soviet Union, respectively. But there is a new mood within the Empire. For you've all been shaken by a tragic civil conflict and by scandals and broken promises at home, and maybe you're searching for new voices, new ideas and indeed new leaders. Like soldiers, we have been tempered in fire. We've been disciplined and we've been educated, guided by simple and everlasting moral values, and we have emerged as idealists without illusion; realists who also believe that twenty-nineteen can certainly be a year of inspiration and hope. With your pledge of support to this Workers Society - to this great Internationale - I can guarantee you that it will be the year where we finally begin to give the government of this country back to the working class people."

Al wahid wrote:The Chessboard

Following Muhammad bin Ibrahim Masoud’s supporters retaliating for the killing of their leader’s father, the late Speaker at the People’s Assembly, a number of factions have risen to forever change the political landscape in al-Wahid.

Muhammad Masoud’s supporters have formed the Front —a moderate, pro-democracy force, non-secular movement seeking to bring about real democracy in al-Wahid. Occupying Amal, the oil-rich, affluent southern region, they have also secured three of the neighbouring northern mountainous provinces. Currently 80,000 strong, they are the dominant power in the south, but find that the farther they get from their southern stronghold, the less popular support they seem to marshal.

Al-Salibiuwn, Islamist radicals born out of the reactionary discontent felt in the countryside—a consequence of urbanisation and wealth inequality—have taken arms against the government and the Front, believing both to be hostile to their traditional, conservative and religious values. At this time, they are the least powerful of all the surfacing factions, as they continue to be disorganised and disunited. However, this is changing as influential clerics do deals behind closed doors in the ancient mosques the country over.

The third major faction to be surfacing appears to be the People’s Self-Defence Force: an experienced, well-outfitted socialist militia force that has been fighting al-Wahid’s armed forces for decades. While in the past they have never been in a position to seriously threaten the regime, this may soon change as their mortal enemies find themselves fighting on multiple fronts. Led by General Hakimi, the People’s Self-Defence Force is made up of a wide-range of socialist ideologies, all welcomed under the banner of the Red Flag.

Only time, and support from foreign governments, will tell who stands to win the future of a nation.

The Office of the Party Leadership made no public comment on the state of affairs in al-Wahid, deciding instead to keep an amicable façade of support to the 'legitimate' government that governed the Republic. Any accusations of interference would be denied and continued letters of comradely support to Muhammad Masoud's Front were sent over on a frequent basis, from the Lord-Protector himself no less. However, for the People's Self-Defence Force it was an entirely different story - whilst the Social Republic Armed Forces were fighting elsewhere and not in any position to stretch their small army so thin, physical support came in the form of 'volunteer fighters' from the Peasant Guard, men who wore no patches besides the small red star on their caps and no nationally distinguishable uniform. Just desert BDUs with a vague camouflage simply known as DANPAT after the man identified only as 'Comrade Dan' who had accidentally created a monstrously ugly pattern and found that it worked almost perfectly in concealing the user. All in all, their mysterious arrival and professional training was a plausibly deniable asset for General Hakimi's war against the bourgeois and the reactionaries.

The realm of the sun king wrote:The first line of defenses were overwhelmed practically instanteously as the heavy firepower from the enemy forces tore into their bodies and armor like paper and their sudden lack of anti-armor capabilities leaving them defenseless at the approaching enemy MBTs. But this was not entirely unexpected, as the Zunists were well aware that keeping the enemy out of the city would be an impossible task. Instead they focused the majority of their firing lines and defensive fortifications further back, utilizing the city's layout to create a maze of death and destruction as they created choke-points and killzones out of the streets and alleys. The invaders would find themselves forced to resort mainly to shuffle inside the city on foot as most of the streets proved too thin for large vehicles, being designed for the foot traffic of peasants and pack animals rather than automobiles. Although it was clearly futile, the Zunists still held the line till their last breath regardless. Their devotion was unrivalled; their resolve unbreakable. It was mostly fear driving them - fear of failure - but for some it was little more than pure, righteous zeal.

Having been trained extensively in urban warfare, and having the additional advantage of NODs in the night, the Antipodeans tackled the capturing of the city block by block by keeping out of the streets when applicable and moving through buildings instead. Any visible source of power generation was promptly destroyed by forces outside of the city, plunging it into darkness and allowing BLUFOR the cloak of the dark as they systematically began clearing out rooms, firing down through the windows at any opposition forces they had visual identification of with small arms fire and 20mm FRAG rounds from M320 grenade launchers. ANLAVs remained in the streets where applicable in a stationary position, firing off 25mm autocannons at any enemies that tried to run across any of the blocks in an attempt to either support their comrades or retreat from the enemy. The Antipodeans did not take the task of close-quarters combat lightly and treated it as a game of cat and mouse, working meticulously in an effort to clear through the first set of blocks on their way to the Firelord.

Al wahid

The Adelsrat in Session

"...and with the Grand Duke's approval, we can finally pass law 1789 paragraph B and C on the subject of domestic animals, in specific dogs. I'd like to read out the laws to everyone present again just so everybody is informed. After that I propose a coffee break."

, the ducal chancellor von Höllbronn said, boredom in his voice. A look around showed him that he was not alone, the other 6 men here looking equally bored and tired. The scribes writing everything up for the protocols were the only ones who didn't seem to be particularly bored, probably becausebthey could distract themselves by having to do something. Von Höllbronn sighed in exasperation as he looked at the text in front of him. It was an amusing law, no doubt, but after 4 hours of haggling over it, he was not that amused by it anymore. He cleared his throat before reading the document out aloud:

"Domestic Animals, as specified in law 1740 of the civil law, as well as wild animals, as specified in law 1698, of the race dog, as specified in law 1788 of the civil law, need to be investigated by the Bureau for Domesticated Animals for racial relations to the holy symbol of the esteemed nation of Caryton. Non compliance with this law is punishable by exile to the Empire of Twilight Sparkle."

Von Höllbronn looked up and around to see if anyone had any objections. As expected after 4 hours, nobody had. None of the Dukes lifted a finger or anything and how could they, after they had already changed the law from affecting all dogs as well replacing the death penalty for non compliance with exile to the equine realm. Then again...perhaps that was a fate worse than death. With a sigh he set the paper down before continuing:

"As there are no further objections, this law is now approved and will come into effect with its publication by the Adelsrat Gesetzesblatt tomorrow. It will also be included in the next edition of the annually updated civil law book.

Next we go on to paragraph C. I will read it out aloud for everyone's convenience again."

He picked up the next sheet of paper, cleared his throat, which was feeling kinda hoarse at this point, again and said:

"Domestic animals, as specified in law 1740 of the civil law, of the race dog, as specified in law 1698 of the civil law, who are found as being racially related to the religious symbol of the esteemed nation of Caryton following the procedures of law 1789 paragraph B of the civil law are to be crucified and burned as per regulation."

The ducal chancellor looked around again. Again no objections. Objecting to this part was suicidal anyway as the Grand Duke had made very clear that he wanted this part...or well, they had assumed so considering how gleefully and graphically he had described it.

"As there are no further objections, this law is now approved and will come into effect with its publication by the Adelsrat Gesetzesblatt tomorrow. It will also be included in the next edition of the annually updated civil law book.

Now who wants coffee?"

Immortal kriegizstan

Capital City of Czaji
Bomokor Administrative Province
Autocratic State of Kriegizstan

"You are happy."

Everyone knew that voice. That heavenly, loving, feminine voice. For many it was the first voice they'd hear every morning as their radios and televisions hummed to life. Whispering sweet words in their ears in a calming tone that left most relaxed and at ease. It was soft and kind and caring. Protective. It was a beautiful voice.

"You are loved."

The face the owned it was even more beautiful. For many it was the first face one would see in the morning, catching their eye on their television and computer screen as the machines hummed to life. She was not old, but she was not young. Her smile was bright and wide and marked by perfect, white teeth. Her features were as soft as her voice, and her skin was neither dark nor pale but simply tanned. Her hair was a rich black; smooth and perfect and arranged neatly in a tied-back bun. Her eyes shone like amber under light - golden and clear - and she looked upon everyone with the same loving, caring look every day.

"The Autocrat loves you."

No one knew who she was. All they knew was that her gorgeous visage would override every advertisement in every city in Kriegizstan at random points in the day. All they knew was that when she spoke her soothing voice was carried across airwaves and throughout the atmosphere of every settlement and every building in Kriegizstan at random points in the day. Billboards, Intranet ads, TV commercials, etc. Whenever it was felt the government needed a break from their daily consumerism to be reminded of their duties, their obligations, and how wonderful their life was this angelic being would appear to be seen and heard all across the country.

"Work hard for Kriegizstan."

Who was she, though? Was she part of the government? Was this her job or was it simply a public service? Was she related to the Autocrat? His daughter? His lover? His sister? His wife? His concubine? His servant? His slave? Perhaps just a close female associate? Who did she work for? Where did she live? If you had asked anyone, none could say they knew her. None could say they had met her. None could say they had seen her anywhere else. Was she a prisoner? Was she even real? No one could say. All they could say is that she was the Voice of Truth.

"Remember: Kriegizstan needs YOU!"

All they knew was her name - Nazi Talian - a name that was not. It was not a name, but a phrase. "Beautiful Woman" is what it meant in Kriegizstani. And she was. But if her name was not real, did that mean she was not real? What was she? Human, like them? Perhaps just a clone? An android? Hologram? Nobody knew the answer to any of these questions. All they knew was that she loved them, and so they loved her back. She was important. Her face decorated propaganda posters all across the nation reminding the people of their civic duties, keeping the people informed of the enemies of Kriegizstan and of the Autocrat's Will. For some she was more than an icon of their merciful government. Some were so smitten by her beauty that they could not seek the affection of any other woman, for to do so they felt would be a betrayal against her - a betrayal against Kriegizstan. Some dared to take it further and proclaim her a Goddess; abiding her every word and regarding her as the voice of the Autocrat, her husband and their God. Some toned their theological views back by limiting her to simply being a Prophetess of their one, true God: the Autocrat. Such religious views would normally be suppressed, but in this case were seen as socially acceptable due to their nature of recognizing the unquestionable authority of the Autocrat.

"We have always been at war with Equestria."

No one called her by her name, though they all knew it. How did they know it? No one told them. They did not learn it in school. The government did not tell them... or did they? No one could say how they knew her name, but everyone did. Still they did not use it. She was simply "The Voice" or "Big Sister" or "Mother" to most. Some more boldly called her "The Goddess" or "Angel" or "Beloved" or other, less common epithets. Each had their own preference. Each viewed her differently, though no less favorably. So sacred was she that even corporations - for all the leeway they were given - were forbidden from using her image or voice to sell their products under pain of death. Such an exclusion was reserved for only one other figure in Kriegizstan: the Autocrat himself.

"When Kriegizstan is strong; YOU are strong!"

Everyone knew her. Everyone loved her. She knew everyone. She loved everyone. She was Kriegizstan. Kriegizstan knew everyone. Kriegizstan loved everyone. Everyone knew Kriegizstan. Everyone loved Kriegizstan.

"Don't forget to smile."

Despoticania wrote:Two of the four Angels were hit by the full force of the anti-magical torrent of vomit. Their bodies were almost entirely immaterial, held together by magical energy and little else. As such, the reaction with the vomit was predictably destructive: the Angels' arcane shields were unable to protect them from an instant, almost anti-climatic death. Their bodies simply melted away, leaving behind nothing but steaming puddles of vomit mixed with some organic dust. The third Angel tried to phase away from the deadly liquid suddenly directed against it, but was only partially successful. Its shield was breached and the right half of its body was soaked in vomit, causing horrible, deadly injuries. With the last vestiges of its strength, the mortally injured Angel tried to ram Master Rongoteus while releasing its remaining magical energy all at once, but before it could reach the cyberlich, it was hit by Master Anolianth's powerful beam attack and vaporized.

The fourth Angel, however, was hit by just a few drops of vomit. It lost its shield but was otherwise unharmed. Realizing that its companions were dead, the Angel teleported itself further down the corridor to regain its strength. It was still be a threat that would have to be dealt with, but at least Ata's plan had temporarily put all enemy casters out of combat.

Despite the geat losses the attacking creatures had suffered, they just kept coming, and their sheer numbers made it hard to destroy them all. Worse, some of the younger mages were running out of mana. Some of them had collapsed in exhaustion, while others drank their mana potions and kept fighting despite the obvious strain it put on them, both spiritually and physically. Two Centaurs and one Spider had made it to the Great Hall, along with a number of the blobbish creatures. They attacked the Apprentices and Oathmen first, trying to kill the younger mages in order to diminish the defenders' firepower before going after the more powerful Masters. One of the Apprentices was crushed by a Centaur's bone club, while an Oathman was soaked in Spider-vomit and died in horrible agony as her own innate magical power turned against her, burning her from the inside until nothing but bone and ash remained.

Master Raynil reacted by freezing the Spider with a stasis field and sending six of its familiar-cubes - morphed into deadly Living Metal darts - to attack the Centaurs. One of Anolianth's Forge Knights had run out of ammunition. Leaving the defensive formation, it joined Raynil's Spirits of Inspiration to fight the attackers in close combat. The trio of golden humanoids fought with inhuman grace and speed, occasionally disappearing from their current location and reappearing in a place where they could inflict maximum damage. The Forge Knight was slower and more cumbersome than the Spirits of Inspiration, but it hit with great force, strong enough to shatter all three layers of a Centaur's armor with a single blow.

The lead Centaur tried to shake off the Gore Golem by rolling on the floor and bashing its three remaining arm-clubs against the corridor's walls until the bone cracked, but it was useless; the creature damaged itself more than the Gore Golem did, and in the process it also opened up its softer, more vulnerable insides for the Golem to feast on. The Centaur's movements began to slow down, and eventually it collapsed on the floor, mortally wounded and unable to fight any longer. The remaining Angel noticed the Centaur's imminent death and telepathically commanded the nearest Spiders to soak both it and the Gore Golem wrapped around it in vomit in an attempt to get rid of Ata's grisly creation.

"Keep fighting", Master Rongoteus transmitted telepathically to every mage present. "Their numbers are great but not infinite. I can see the end of the second wave." And indeed, the horde was beginning to thin out; the Blobs were less numerous now, and there were only a dozen or so Centaurs and a few Spiders making their way towards the battle further in the corridor. The battle against the second wave was not yet over, but victory seemed to be within reach.

The effects of the plan registered on Ata's senses as he continued to mulch the opposition. It pleased him somewhat that it had worked as well as it had, the odds were now leveled in their favor. However, he could still recognize that the last Angel was desperate. Without the support of its companions, it wouldn't be able to do as much, but it would certainly try. Especially considering its commanding entity would have no use for it out of these circumstances, if it even had enough individuality to recognize concepts like self preservation. Ata knew entities like the Summoner, they were very domineering and powerful. If he was estimating this one correctly, it was extremely selfish and arrogant, its survival was paramount, it would try everything. If it didn't have the capacity for empathy, perhaps that could explain the situation, but the desperation didn't line up. It either was intentionally malevolent or very concerned with its survival as he had estimated already. But then why wasn't it confronting them already? It had to either be immobile, too large to freely move through the fortress, or it was the ultimate glass cannon. It was entirely likely that the Summoner had possessed Initiate Inggala, which would curse it with a very vulnerable form. The alternative was that it was protecting Inggala personally, summons are always tied to their summoners, and having such a weakness would warrant the highest level of protection possible if its survival was the top priority. "We need updates from Master Wuro, the nature of the connection between the Summoner and Initiate Inggala could make the difference in this fight. It is also entirely likely that our main objective will be Initiate Inggala's destruction." Ata alerted the other masters. Ata opened up a message to the larger audience of despoticanian minds, he kept it directed to keep the last angel from snooping at the risk that someone might be left out. He trusted the other masters enough to shield those that were not informed, however. "Prepare yourselves, sonic attack incoming." Ata pulled mana from the batteries in preparation and made sure Rongoteus was out of his way. His main target were the spiders lining the walls, but collateral was inevitable. Spider-Ata opened his gaping maw and emitted a highly directional screech that immediately took the form of a shockwave directed away from the defensive line. It was still loud for those behind Ata, but it was drastically less powerful.

The Gore golem, as expected, was destroyed. It's burning form let off quite a putrid smell, and the Jikvil were careful to A) Avoid the vomit B) Stay away from the corpse-sludge. They switched up their roles, using whatever limited psychic abilities that they possessed in attempt to scramble the senses or motor control of the spiders designated as key by either the masters, or the Jikvil themselves. Their interference was more inconvenient and obnoxious than downright debilitating, but that could make the difference in this setting. The Jikvil didn't seem to have normal auditory components, they seem rather unaffected by Ata's attack, maybe it was just part of their otherworldly composition?

Despoticania wrote:GIRL BROUGHT ME HERE TO LIVE THROUGH HER. WISH GRANTED. DREAMS GIVEN FORM. RECOGNITION OF POTENTIAL - SUMMON OUR DESTINY. NOW SHE IS SO MUCH MORE THAN BEFORE; THE GREATEST SUMMONER IN THE WORLD. LITTLE THINGS THAT SOUGHT TO TEACH US ARE FAR BENEATH US NOW. WHY DO THEY FIGHT US? WHY DO THEY NOT RECOGNIZE OUR GREATNESS? THE WORLD AWAITS ITS TRUE DESTINY...

The entity seemed to notice Lin's mental contact for the first time. It - or at least some small part of it - turned its full attention on her. Being under its telepathic scrutiny was almost overwhelming. It felt like ten thousand psionic probes trying to breach her mind all at once. I KNOW YOU, SMALL THING. YOU WERE GOOD TO US, TAUGHT US THINGS. YOU PATHETIC FOOL. YOU KNOW SO LITTLE OF MAGIC. BUT YOU MEANT WELL. YOU ARE NOT EVIL AND YOU DO NOT FIGHT US. TELL THE OTHERS TO STOP. THEY MUST STOP OR THEY WILL ALL DIE.

Behind her, Wizard Kossil returned carrying Madyra's fox. The animal was almost catatonic, it's limbs stiff and its eyes blank and unseeing. Only small shivers going through its small body indicated it was still alive. "I can sense a telepathic connection between the fox and... something", Kossil said. "I don't know what. It could be the boy, or it could be something else." Sensing the entity that had made contact with Lin, Kossil froze and asked quietly, "Are you... alright?"

The familiars apparently didn't like what was going on - if they had any individuality at all - they were swarming around their master in a frenzied swarm. Powerful charms, enchantments, spells, and barriers were being triggered simultaneously. It was undoubtedly painful for Lin, Kossil could sense that fairly easily. "N..n.N.No" was the only response it received, pained and barely audible. She was fighting vigorously to evict the creature from her mind. These were not weak charms in use either, they were developed for use against Master Ayajira powerful psychic abilities, still she was having trouble.

If she got free, hopefully with Kossil's help, she would collapse to the floor. "Destroy the pool, everything in it." she croaked. Though weakened, she seemed to regain her composure and stand, her familiars were adamant about keeping her mentally isolated. Mechanical components were probably holding her up at this time. "Direct contact is not possible, too risky. As I just found out." Sh said, more strength behind her voice. "The fox may be more useful, I imagine you have a lab for this sort of mental contact? We'll need good equipment for this."

Despoticania wrote:The nearest jellyfish was hit by the ghostly blade and injured badly. Bleeding yellow liquid, it began to lose altitude and tried to retreat from battle. Oathman Ireyon summoned a glowing qarterstaff from thin air and attacked the weakened creature with strikes imbued with arcane fire. The jellyfish tried to block the strikes, but in its weakened state its barriers were unable to stop the quarterstaff. In seconds, Ireyon had bludgeoned the creature to death. The second jellyfish phased out of reality and reappered behind her. The mage spun around and barely managed to dodge a series of magic missiles the jellyfish conjured from the tips of its tentacles.

Meanwhile, High Zealot Thaos predictably barged through Enu's hard light barrier, using the psionic energy he had gathered around himself to break through the wall almost without effort. What happened next revealed that despite his aggressive and brutish fighting style, the Hater priest was neither stupid nor suicidally overconfident. When the hard light shards of the shattered wall were about to strike him, he released all of the psionic energy as a destructive wave to burn away and dissipate the shards before they could harm him. For a fraction of a second he seemed unsure which target to pursue. Then he made up his mind and went after the chest. But when it scuttled away from his reach, he turned to Enu, face distorted with rage and fury. "Clever trick, Eldian, but it will not save you or your companion!" he growled and began to approach Enu. He focused a psychic attack against the Death Knight, trying to make him doubt himself and make a single fatal mistake at a crucial moment. Then, he lunged at him, moving so fast that he almost seemed to be teleporting through the distance separating them. Just before contact, he aimed a left uppercut imbued with psionic energy at Enu's chin.

Enu's augments kicked in as did his familiars in order to suppress the more irrational side of the lich that was exposed to such things s psychic attacks His singular goal was survival. Enu made to dodge the attack by the priest, but he was a bit too slow, the energy imbued fist missed, but it came close enough to burn the side of Enu's face. The lich quickly fell back with inhuman agility, using small hard light platforms to aid in his escape. A few black darts were flung back at the priest.

Dulruni was sprinting towards Master Rongoteus's Lab, he had already cast all sorts of preparation spells. His armored form was covered by another layer of armor made out of hard light and strong magic absorption spells were also easy to make out, others were more subtle. His rifle was missing, but that hardly mattered, bound weapons could be dismissed. The battlemaster made one more message for the Archmagister. "Premission to destroy the anger filled ego bucket?" He inquired, clearly referring to Thaos.

The first sign of activity was the fleeing jellyfish, which Dulruni quickly dispatched with a fiery blast. The next was the scene itself, where Enu found himself under attack and possibly grappled by the priest. Dulruni stopped momentarily to slip on a nasty looking pair of brass knuckles - they certainly weren't made out of brass, looked more like some tungsten alloy - Before charging towards the priest with augmented speed. On his way to the priest, Dulruni's hands became cloaked in an intense inferno of blue flame. He knew the Priest would see him coming, that was the point. Whether or not Thaos saw Dulruni, he would certainly hear him as a call rang out through the halls. "DIE, HATER SCUM!" Dulruni had aimed a downward facing strike at the priest.

The columbine republic

Liudan, Empire of Artarum

The "Crimsonshirts" as they had so been named had been around for a while now, but they had always been that strange fringe group no one had paid much mind to. Every so often they would come out to stage small rallies and gatherings, spout propaganda, and criticize the government and it's ineffectiveness but beyond that they would do little more. That had changed recently, though few people were certain as to when. Some pointed to the rise of Donar Dahlman as their leader, who proved far more active and passionate than his predecessor. Under his leadership public speeches were arranged and grand marches planned to showcase the power of the Crimsonshirts' rhetoric and the discipline of the ranks. Under Dahlman's leadership the Crimsonshirts became more vocal and active than ever as they broadcast their views across the capital. Following was low in Liudan, and non-existent elsewhere, but the recent troubles had ignited a chance to grow and Dahlman would see to it that the Crimsonshirts would seize this opportunity while it was present. Perhaps the most common spectacle for the city to see was Dahlman himself - a 37 year old native of Liudan - on the back of a pick-up truck with a megaphone broadcasting his speeches to all who would. Every now and then the truck would stop in a parking lot to allow a crowd to gather and listen. The first few times most paid it no mind, but as the days went on the crowd always grew larger each time. Sometimes by just a single person. Sometimes by several. Dahlman was sure to entertain them with passionate oration each time. Some came to laugh, some came to jeer, some came simply out of curiosity. Whatever drove them to listen was irrelevant; they listened, and that was what mattered. Perhaps the words he spoke did not ring true to them now, but perhaps they might later? Who could say, really? Dahlman was not concerned with how small his movement was, or it's slow growth. He had a message to convey and he would convey it. Before every speech he would straighten the tie on his uniform and ensure his pin - which depicted the crossed flags of Columbia and Artarum - was secured tightly.

"People of Liudan! People of Artarum! Hear me; hear me now! We have seen in these past days- no, decades, of the failure of our government's mission to it's people! Our nation - proud and great - stands on the verge of collapse and who do we have to blame? The Nibelungings? Rorschach? Hirdman? No, the Troubles before us rest not on the shoulders of any single man or group of men but rather this burden rests on the shoulders of the very institution that is our supposed government! This corrupt, bloated institution contaminated with spineless vermin, ignorant dullards, and naive idealists threatens to tear our nation to sunders! But are we, the people, powerless to stop it? No! Are we, the people, supposed to accept incompetence and inefficiency laying on our backs? No! Are we, the people of this fine land, supposed to simply sit on our hands wait for our government to fix itself? No! We, the people, have been given so rare an opportunity as to avert bloodshed entirely and bring about due change to our Great Fatherland through sheer resolve and strength of will! We, the people, must reject this system that sees a Head of State make demands he cannot enforce while he cowardly flees his own home! We, the people, must reject this system that cowers in fear behind the Navy because it has neither the means nor the will to defend itself! We, the people, must reject this system that sees it's own soldiers draw one another's blood because their political loyalties do not align as they should! What has transpired in these last few days, weeks, months is evidence - proof - that our government has grown stagnant and weak and in doing so has rendered itself incapable of leading this fine nation to greater glory! Their lies and failures have sown the seeds for the Empire's destruction and it is only a matter of time before our Empire crumbles but I ask you this: if our Empire must die tomorrow, does that mean our nation must die with it? No! Death is only the beginning of something far greater; when our Empire dies our nation should rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix, ferried on the wings of our iron will and enduring spirit! But this will not happen so long as we maintain the status quo; so long as we entrust bumbling bureaucrats and maniacal monarchs to dictate the affairs of our state! No, it is time we build a New State! One built in the name of the people and in the name God! One this nation, our Fatherland, can be proud of! We, the people, must bring about the change necessary to begin this nation anew! We, the true sons and daughters of Artarum, must revitalize our unyielding spirit and strengthen our undying resolve in the face of decadence! We, the Artarumen Nation, must stand as a single unified force against the inkling tentacles of the abyssal cretins that slither in the shadows of our unconfident administration! Stand with us, countrymen! Stand with us, nationals! Stand with us and let us bring about the change that society is not ready for! The change that must be if Artarum is to survive and flourish! The change that is unavoidable, inescapable, undeniable! We, the people, demand change and we shall see it brought about! Stand with us and you stand with Artarum! Stand against us and you stand for your own destruction! Do not look to honeyed words of the Democrats for answers, nor the prettied lies of the Royalists, nor the false promises of the Socialists, nor any of the drivel that our opponents would feed you to soothe your temper and demand your complacency! Enrage yourself, countrymen! You are being lied to, exploited, and deceived! Do not take these insults with bright smiles and cheery dispositions! Raise your fist in anger against the enemies of our great country! Raise your fists in anger at the traitors and imbeciles in power! Raise your fist in unison for a greater, united Artarum! Ours is a revolution that cannot be stop; not by force and not by time! Our revolution is inevitable for we are the future and the future has come today! Embrace it and prosper! Know true safety, security, and see a new golden age brought about! Let us all thrive on our labors in the name of a better Artarum! Ours is the path of righteousness! Ours is the path of solidarity! Ours is the path blessed by God Himself and we will triumph! God Bless Artarum; God Bless the Fatherland!"

While Dahlman delivered his fiery speeches Crimsonshirts made sure to hand out pamphlets to those who had gathered to listen, giving them incite to their ideology and the location of their headquarters for those seeking membership. Some simply laughed and threw the pamphlets in the garbage, others ripped them in front of the Crimsonshirts with smug grins as the Crimsonshirts looked on in hateful disgust. But some lingered, looking at the pamphlets in their hands and wondering...

...was this the answer?

The columbine republic wrote:Liudan, Empire of Artarum

The "Crimsonshirts" as they had so been named had been around for a while now, but they had always been that strange fringe group no one had paid much mind to. Every so often they would come out to stage small rallies and gatherings, spout propaganda, and criticize the government and it's ineffectiveness but beyond that they would do little more. That had changed recently, though few people were certain as to when. Some pointed to the rise of Donar Dahlman as their leader, who proved far more active and passionate than his predecessor. Under his leadership public speeches were arranged and grand marches planned to showcase the power of the Crimsonshirts' rhetoric and the discipline of the ranks. Under Dahlman's leadership the Crimsonshirts became more vocal and active than ever as they broadcast their views across the capital. Following was low in Liudan, and non-existent elsewhere, but the recent troubles had ignited a chance to grow and Dahlman would see to it that the Crimsonshirts would seize this opportunity while it was present. Perhaps the most common spectacle for the city to see was Dahlman himself - a 37 year old native of Liudan - on the back of a pick-up truck with a megaphone broadcasting his speeches to all who would. Every now and then the truck would stop in a parking lot to allow a crowd to gather and listen. The first few times most paid it no mind, but as the days went on the crowd always grew larger each time. Sometimes by just a single person. Sometimes by several. Dahlman was sure to entertain them with passionate oration each time. Some came to laugh, some came to jeer, some came simply out of curiosity. Whatever drove them to listen was irrelevant; they listened, and that was what mattered. Perhaps the words he spoke did not ring true to them now, but perhaps they might later? Who could say, really? Dahlman was not concerned with how small his movement was, or it's slow growth. He had a message to convey and he would convey it. Before every speech he would straighten the tie on his uniform and ensure his pin - which depicted the crossed flags of Columbia and Artarum - was secured tightly.

"People of Liudan! People of Artarum! Hear me; hear me now! We have seen in these past days- no, decades, of the failure of our government's mission to it's people! Our nation - proud and great - stands on the verge of collapse and who do we have to blame? The Nibelungings? Rorschach? Hirdman? No, the Troubles before us rest not on the shoulders of any single man or group of men but rather this burden rests on the shoulders of the very institution that is our supposed government! This corrupt, bloated institution contaminated with spineless vermin, ignorant dullards, and naive idealists threatens to tear our nation to sunders! But are we, the people, powerless to stop it? No! Are we, the people, supposed to accept incompetence and inefficiency laying on our backs? No! Are we, the people of this fine land, supposed to simply sit on our hands wait for our government to fix itself? No! We, the people, have been given so rare an opportunity as to avert bloodshed entirely and bring about due change to our Great Fatherland through sheer resolve and strength of will! We, the people, must reject this system that sees a Head of State make demands he cannot enforce while he cowardly flees his own home! We, the people, must reject this system that cowers in fear behind the Navy because it has neither the means nor the will to defend itself! We, the people, must reject this system that sees it's own soldiers draw one another's blood because their political loyalties do not align as they should! What has transpired in these last few days, weeks, months is evidence - proof - that our government has grown stagnant and weak and in doing so has rendered itself incapable of leading this fine nation to greater glory! Their lies and failures have sown the seeds for the Empire's destruction and it is only a matter of time before our Empire crumbles but I ask you this: if our Empire must die tomorrow, does that mean our nation must die with it? No! Death is only the beginning of something far greater; when our Empire dies our nation should rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix, ferried on the wings of our iron will and enduring spirit! But this will not happen so long as we maintain the status quo; so long as we entrust bumbling bureaucrats and maniacal monarchs to dictate the affairs of our state! No, it is time we build a New State! One built in the name of the people and in the name God! One this nation, our Fatherland, can be proud of! We, the people, must bring about the change necessary to begin this nation anew! We, the true sons and daughters of Artarum, must revitalize our unyielding spirit and strengthen our undying resolve in the face of decadence! We, the Artarumen Nation, must stand as a single unified force against the inkling tentacles of the abyssal cretins that slither in the shadows of our unconfident administration! Stand with us, countrymen! Stand with us, nationals! Stand with us and let us bring about the change that society is not ready for! The change that must be if Artarum is to survive and flourish! The change that is unavoidable, inescapable, undeniable! We, the people, demand change and we shall see it brought about! Stand with us and you stand with Artarum! Stand against us and you stand for your own destruction! Do not look to honeyed words of the Democrats for answers, nor the prettied lies of the Royalists, nor the false promises of the Socialists, nor any of the drivel that our opponents would feed you to soothe your temper and demand your complacency! Enrage yourself, countrymen! You are being lied to, exploited, and deceived! Do not take these insults with bright smiles and cheery dispositions! Raise your fist in anger against the enemies of our great country! Raise your fists in anger at the traitors and imbeciles in power! Raise your fist in unison for a greater, united Artarum! Ours is a revolution that cannot be stop; not by force and not by time! Our revolution is inevitable for we are the future and the future has come today! Embrace it and prosper! Know true safety, security, and see a new golden age brought about! Let us all thrive on our labors in the name of a better Artarum! Ours is the path of righteousness! Ours is the path of solidarity! Ours is the path blessed by God Himself and we will triumph! God Bless Artarum; God Bless the Fatherland!"

While Dahlman delivered his fiery speeches Crimsonshirts made sure to hand out pamphlets to those who had gathered to listen, giving them incite to their ideology and the location of their headquarters for those seeking membership. Some simply laughed and threw the pamphlets in the garbage, others ripped them in front of the Crimsonshirts with smug grins as the Crimsonshirts looked on in hateful disgust. But some lingered, looking at the pamphlets in their hands and wondering...

...was this the answer?

Liudan, Empire of Artarum

As Dahlman delivered his speech, a police patrol nearby passed by. "Again? Good God." Reaching for his radio, the second officer in the car spoke up. "Uh, we have that fascist lunatic again, this time he's going on about the Emperor, the former Prime Minister, and the current Prime Minister."

The response from the other side prompted the two men to lunge for the volume control. Clearly, their superiors weren't too pleased with this event - however, immediate orders were to carry on.

Ten minutes later, a large amount of policemen had arrived on the scene. The decades of single-party rule hadn't been too kind to Artarum: A country did not democratise overnight, even if a democratic-oriented party won the elections. The policemen charged into the crowd.

"Oi, oi! Oi, you!"

At least they were somewhat meticulous in who they beat with their iron batons. The "crimsonshirts", as they called themselves, were rather easy to spot in crowds anyway. The small crowd, getting the hint pretty quickly, began to disperse as soon as the patrol cars appeared in droves. The police forces pushed civilians aside and immediately got to work on the crimson-clad people, beating them savagely with their batons.

"Oi, c*nt! Don't let that c*nt get away - come here!"

When they fell, they were kicked and beaten further on the ground, the beating only stopping when the Crimsonshirt's face was bloodied and bruised, perhaps a broken nose and a missing tooth, after which two more officers dragged the barely-conscious fellow to their squad car, driving off.

"Y'think you can just walk around shouting for some revolution?"

Iron batons and a well-trained police force which was largely uninterested with any sort of "human dignity" tended to be somewhat effective at dispersing any small political gathering. Whatever Crimsonshirt that didn't run away was guaranteed to get beaten within an inch of his life, arrested - and the Artarumen police weren't known for their kindness to people in custody, either. Further beatings, torture, and sexual assault were all-too common occurrences in Artarumen jails.

The columbine republic

Slipspace

https://youtu.be/kGt6TpQL1t4

The unfathomable bangs of the siege tower's limbs against the untunneled slipspace medium echoed for probably hundreds of kilometres either way down the line it was boring straight from the galactic core. In realspace, this could be felt in the form of gravitational and spacetime disturbances. The periphery was just beginning to reach the Sol system, and, the head siege operator considered, the locals were probably already detecting microtremors.

... This was by design. There were no precious, irreplaceable, or infabricable resources along the path it had taken, given only a slight detour. All in all this galaxy, indeed this entire universe, was relatively young; there were very few arcane creations lying around, meaning, so long as local life was preserved for eventual study, there was little to worry about wrecking. All the better, truly, because recent meta-gravitonic control advancements meant that it was finally more efficient on average to mine out one singularity than to crack open a good chunk of a galaxy's planets and funnel a good chunk of its stars. If only slightly.

But ultimately, it was about sending a message: "We come in peace, but prepared for war."

The siege tower began adjusting its angle, descending deeper into slipspace. The angle was meticulously calculated, such that as it approached the disturbances would become stronger and stronger all the time, bit by teeny tiny bit. Not enough to crack a planet, let alone a star, not even enough to make sufficiently large turbulence in spacetime so as to cause any apparently acausal temporal relationships. It was calculated, that when it reached its destination and finished angling up, the tremors on Terra would be just strong enough to cause superficial damage to minor, mostly rural structures and emplacements. Hardest hit would be the fortifications of the least technologically advanced societies on the planet; rigid and simple, a few of them may well topple. But even a basic castle would only lose a few loose bricks here and there, maybe have a window shatter if a turbulence pattern passed through it just right.

Meanwhile, far ahead, the colony ship sat in wait. It was not a science or reconnaissance vessel, but it had scanners sufficient for planetary analysis in preparation of landing of course, and quite simply nothing could beat outright infiltration measures. The Shakturi had been silent and invisible all this time, until now, since the encounter with what they now knew to be called the "Veradacians" and "Callistians" ended tensely and inconclusively. The deadline had been cancelled in light of persistent and understandable difficulties, compounded by uncertainties, compounded by a plain and simple lack of readily available resources.

Secretly, the help that was being sent even still wasn't all that much. Only a single, basic siege tower had been assigned to this galaxy, seeing as colonial resources were stretched thinner than ever before what with the ongoing war. There was the possibility of a second tower passing through in something on the order of a hundred thousand STUs, but in the colonisation of a single solar system that might as well be forever away, and there was no guarantee it would be permitted to stop and detour even for a moment on its way to the vahlward colonial front, let alone be granted for the suppression of this specific system in a galaxy in the height of colonisation. It was like a lottery victory for even the one they were granted, to have been granted in the first place, old and basic as it was. As for its complement, it had been retooled to exploit the apparent greatest weaknesses of the local great space powers -- big ships with big weapons can't target all that well, and they seemed to lack true multi-phasic systems, meaning uni-phasic weapons concentrated more damage on a spot and multi-phasic aspecting of the tower could significantly reduce damage -- but it still lacked any extensions, rings, or fleet complement. Mostly it was good at making a lot of noise and being intimidating.

The bluff would have to work. Or, alternatively, its military capabilities would have to suffice if the bluff was called.

It was only a little over 150 STUs until its predicted arrival time, now....

Post by Marquisal suppressed by Vistulange.

A deep and misterious voice starts talking from nowhere...

"Ave Illuminatus and greetings fellow comrades. We have a new and very interesting poll in The Illuminati! We encourage you to participate in it, and remember to talk to us in our RMB, it is incredibly fun!"

-The Monarch
Marquisal

The greater antipodes

Artarum wrote:Liudan, Empire of Artarum

As Dahlman delivered his speech, a police patrol nearby passed by. "Again? Good God." Reaching for his radio, the second officer in the car spoke up. "Uh, we have that fascist lunatic again, this time he's going on about the Emperor, the former Prime Minister, and the current Prime Minister."

The response from the other side prompted the two men to lunge for the volume control. Clearly, their superiors weren't too pleased with this event - however, immediate orders were to carry on.

Ten minutes later, a large amount of policemen had arrived on the scene. The decades of single-party rule hadn't been too kind to Artarum: A country did not democratise overnight, even if a democratic-oriented party won the elections. The policemen charged into the crowd.

"Oi, oi! Oi, you!"

At least they were somewhat meticulous in who they beat with their iron batons. The "crimsonshirts", as they called themselves, were rather easy to spot in crowds anyway. The small crowd, getting the hint pretty quickly, began to disperse as soon as the patrol cars appeared in droves. The police forces pushed civilians aside and immediately got to work on the crimson-clad people, beating them savagely with their batons.

"Oi, c*nt! Don't let that c*nt get away - come here!"

When they fell, they were kicked and beaten further on the ground, the beating only stopping when the Crimsonshirt's face was bloodied and bruised, perhaps a broken nose and a missing tooth, after which two more officers dragged the barely-conscious fellow to their squad car, driving off.

"Y'think you can just walk around shouting for some revolution?"

Iron batons and a well-trained police force which was largely uninterested with any sort of "human dignity" tended to be somewhat effective at dispersing any small political gathering. Whatever Crimsonshirt that didn't run away was guaranteed to get beaten within an inch of his life, arrested - and the Artarumen police weren't known for their kindness to people in custody, either. Further beatings, torture, and sexual assault were all-too common occurrences in Artarumen jails.

The Artarum Workers Society, eager to maintain a façade of peaceability, was quick to condemn the Crimsonshirts' acts of inciting violence and reaffirmed their commitment to peace amongst all in Artarum. The Columbine interlopers, as far as they were concerned, were not outright enemies but still a rogue element that could potentially undermine the revolution and even turn on them if given the opportunity, and so the order that came from the top was to 'pick your fights carefully.' Flyers that were being passed around by activists the following week were upbeat and positive whilst still reinforcing a dutiful soldierly veneer, calling for the unity of the working class and socialist economic reforms within the Empire. A request for a permit to publicly assemble in the city square was made to the local Liudan city council by Comrade Murphy, so that a police presence could be properly assembled and guarantee a safe and legal meeting.

Caryton Prepares for Trial of Sun King

As the war nears completion, the relatively neutral state of Caryton cleaned up its already precious capital of Georgine in preparation. The Central Court of Caryton-- a large marble cubical building flanked on both sides by intricate pillars and arcs, and a statue of the angel Gabriel sitting on a perch above the massive brass doors. Carytonic flags are raised all around the building. The buildings around it were either richly colored Queen Anne houses sitting together, not separated- or brick colonial buildings resembling other governmental offices or small businesses.

There was no separation of Church and State in Caryton. Therefore, the judge that would preside over this trial of the Sun King and his officers was Malinda Rose, a high bishop in the Gospel Church of Caryton. She would done black judge robes with colonial style white neckbands, the dual rectangular strips of cloth resembling her ministry as well as her role as a judge.

While the court laid empty today, it expected to be filled with international members. Thankfully, it was large enough to accommodate such things.

The greater antipodes
The realm of the sun king
The Empire of Beichte
Lenspheria

Lenspheria

Hello
we are a communist dictatorship

OOC - Cabinet Announcement

Through an unanimous vote, the Cabinet has passed Law No. 1, Regional Description Modifications Act.

Regional Description Modifications Act
Law No. 1
8 September 2019

ARTICLE 1 - The Region’s “anti-Security Council” and “Invader” tags shall be removed.

ARTICLE 2 - The Region’s “regions raided” section shall be removed from the World Factbook Entry.

ARTICLE 3 - The tags “Map” and “Regional Government” shall be added.

ARTICLE 4 - The Government shall be authorised to make future changes in the World Factbook Entry through the decision of the Delegate.

ARTICLE 5 - The Government is empowered to enact the provisions of this Act.

ARTICLE 6 - This Act enters into force the day it is published.

Through an unanimous vote, the Cabinet has passed Law No. 2, Puppet Precautions Act.

Puppet Precautions Act
Law No. 2
8 September 2019

ARTICLE 1 - The citizens of the Alliance of Dictators who have not already done so shall comply with the Government in providing names of each puppet inside the region which they may possess.

ARTICLE 2 - The act of failing to declare a puppet shall be considered as an act of contempt and punishable by the Government.

ARTICLE 3 - Citizens of the Region who may possess puppets are guaranteed the full exclusive and undisturbed autonomy allowed to other nations so long as the Government has not found any breaches in the established rules of the Region or in any of the provisions of this legislation.

ARTICLE 4 - Citizens of the Region who may possess puppets shall not use their puppets to give to their original nation, referred to hereafter as a “main”, any advantage, whether military, financial or anything that would otherwise lead to a benefit of any kind that could or could not otherwise be attained through interaction with other players.

ARTICLE 5 - Citizens of the Region shall not make and use puppets for the exclusive purpose of targeting the nations of other citizens unless express consent for such has been given. The act of using puppets to intentionally target other players shall be considered an act of harassment and punishable by the Government.

ARTICLE 6 - Citizens of the Region who may possess puppets shall not register their puppets on any kind of electoral roll within the Region, nor use them to partake in regional elections, nor encourage or engage in acts of electoral fraud. The act of using puppets to sway the results of an election shall be considered an act of treason and punishable by the Government.

ARTICLE 7 - The Government is empowered to enforce the provisions of this Act.

ARTICLE 8 - This Act enters into force the day it is published.

Atopless wrote:Hello
we are a communist dictatorship

OOC: Hello and Welcome, please read the regional constitution and the current laws that have been passed as they pertain to role play. If you have any questions, complaints, or would like advice, please contact me through the in-game telegram system.

We also have a discord server if you want to join up.

The realm of the sun king wrote:

Meanwhile, in Zahrahash, the Lenspherians pelted the city with such ordnance that it the casualties inflicted - soldier and civilian alike - were enormous. Every demand to surrender that had been made had been refused by Firelord Baramdur himself, though with each bombardment came further distress and unrest from the local populace and garrisoned soldiery alike. Though the city lay in ruins, the city's Ziggurat Palace from where the Firelord sat proved almost entirely unscathed. Whatever the structure had been built with was clearly strong enough to resist the enemy bombardment with little damage despite the sheer size of it making it the biggest target. Lenspherian forces arriving in the city were met with two different sets of survivors: those who laid down their arms in surrender, panic and fear stretched across their petrified faces as they cried in their bizarre language begging for mercy - and those so enraged by their Firelord's arrogance that they gathered in mobs to assault his ziggurat palace to no avail. The Firelord, and those loyal to him, had barricaded the entrances to this magnificent construction to prevent the enemy and angry commoners alike from breaching the doors. The plebeians lacked the ordnance to breach these defenses, however, keeping the occupants safe from both the enraged peasantry and the invaders alike. In his arrogance Baramdur demanded the enemy leave his city immediately or be destroyed by the Sun King's wrath - a threat he could not truly see become reality. Unable to request reinforcements due to his closest neighboring city having recently lost it's entire army no thanks to the Lenspherian saboteurs, he was trapped inside his heavily fortified palace. The strength of the walls ensured that nothing short of a nuclear strike would shatter them, though the now-sealed entrance ways appeared to be made of much weaker materials providing a root for insertion. Unable to lay siege to the building, breaching it at it's weak points would be the only viable option as the food stores within were in such abundance that the inhabitants could surely hold out for years. At this point Baramdur cared little for the Will of the Sun King. He was safe within his palace, and that was all that mattered. He was confident the Lenspherians could not enter nor breach the walls and so sat in contentment within his gargantuan bunker.

The first thing to happen was the cease fire of rocket artillery and the howitzers, they would turn into fire mission based ordinance, waiting for infantry to call for support. Two companies picked through the rubble quite careful if traps and entrenchments, the infantry squads backed by BMP-86 AFVs. They arrested those surrendered and put down those whom were mortally wounded, as a mercy. Bayonets flashed under the gleaming sun as the soldiers carried out their gory tasks.

Two more companies of mechanized infantry and a company of tanks reinforced the first two companies as they neared the gates, watching as citizens turned against Zunil government forces. They didn't have time to waste, so they fired up above the now surrounded crowd. Hundreds of Lenspherian soldiers back by tanks and their BMP vehicles hovered as civilians ran, or were gunned down if they threatened the soldiers. A laser designator posted next to a Lieutenant, Captain and Forward Observer whom had a radio. They contacted the 3rd Battalion HQ, the LTC there contacting brigade. The boots on ground had one request: Massive Ordinance Penetrator. A 30,000 pound bunker buster was ordered from a Lenspherian airbase in Thrasz, an IL-120 launching with two of the massive bombs. It took hours but it did reach and when it did, the GPB-57/B made it's way right towards the laser, guided center mass on the supposedly invincible bunker. Lenspherian soldiers ducked in the rubble for cover, a few hundred meters back from the gate now. The missile struck, sending shockwaves and a cloud of debris and smoke that looked akin to the awakening of a volcano.

The soldiers lifted themselves slowly, looking at the damage, preparing for the advance to clear the area once more. Tanks began pounding the gate down, provided it still stood and artillery preemptively loaded for fire missions. Infantry began to creep through the gate opening, one fire team at a time. They were expecting survivors, but these ones would be shown no quarter. Should any step forth from any building, wreckage, or the dust they would be gunned down mercilessly. If it devolved into a slug fest of infantry, TTR-3A/B armoured cars would creep behind in support. Though lightly armored they tore through infantry and light armor with their auto cannons and machine guns and obliterated entrenched positions with ATGMs. Their one target was the Governor, to be put on field trial. Spiritual Republic of Caryton had already laid claim to the Sun King himself, so a mere governor would do to slate the public's thirst.

Pelomoya

Lenspheria wrote:The first thing to happen was the cease fire of rocket artillery and the howitzers, they would turn into fire mission based ordinance, waiting for infantry to call for support. Two companies picked through the rubble quite careful if traps and entrenchments, the infantry squads backed by BMP-86 AFVs. They arrested those surrendered and put down those whom were mortally wounded, as a mercy. Bayonets flashed under the gleaming sun as the soldiers carried out their gory tasks.

Two more companies of mechanized infantry and a company of tanks reinforced the first two companies as they neared the gates, watching as citizens turned against Zunil government forces. They didn't have time to waste, so they fired up above the now surrounded crowd. Hundreds of Lenspherian soldiers back by tanks and their BMP vehicles hovered as civilians ran, or were gunned down if they threatened the soldiers. A laser designator posted next to a Lieutenant, Captain and Forward Observer whom had a radio. They contacted the 3rd Battalion HQ, the LTC there contacting brigade. The boots on ground had one request: Massive Ordinance Penetrator. A 30,000 pound bunker buster was ordered from a Lenspherian airbase in Thrasz, an IL-120 launching with two of the massive bombs. It took hours but it did reach and when it did, the GPB-57/B made it's way right towards the laser, guided center mass on the supposedly invincible bunker. Lenspherian soldiers ducked in the rubble for cover, a few hundred meters back from the gate now. The missile struck, sending shockwaves and a cloud of debris and smoke that looked akin to the awakening of a volcano.

The soldiers lifted themselves slowly, looking at the damage, preparing for the advance to clear the area once more. Tanks began pounding the gate down, provided it still stood and artillery preemptively loaded for fire missions. Infantry began to creep through the gate opening, one fire team at a time. They were expecting survivors, but these ones would be shown no quarter. Should any step forth from any building, wreckage, or the dust they would be gunned down mercilessly. If it devolved into a slug fest of infantry, TTR-3A/B armoured cars would creep behind in support. Though lightly armored they tore through infantry and light armor with their auto cannons and machine guns and obliterated entrenched positions with ATGMs. Their one target was the Governor, to be put on field trial. Spiritual Republic of Caryton had already laid claim to the Sun King himself, so a mere governor would do to slate the public's thirst.

The One Holy Apostolic Orthodox Catholic Church of Pelomoya officially condemns the actions of Lenspheria for it's flagrant disregard for human life during it's campaign to capture the city of Zahrahash. Relief workers for the Church have reported repeated operations undertaken by the Lenspherian Armed Forces that directly increased the number of civilian casualties while it waged war against Zunist forces, leaving the Church's aid workers both shocked and disgusted. His Holiness, Pope Longinus II, has sent forward a request to the Lenspherian government that they reel in their armed forces and prohibit such drastic and reckless actions so as to prevent such unnecessary loss of life in the future and to avoid exasperating the situation by making it even more difficult for aid workers to provide relief for the oppressed, ignorant populace.

Pelomoya wrote:The One Holy Apostolic Orthodox Catholic Church of Pelomoya officially condemns the actions of Lenspheria for it's flagrant disregard for human life during it's campaign to capture the city of Zahrahash. Relief workers for the Church have reported repeated operations undertaken by the Lenspherian Armed Forces that directly increased the number of civilian casualties while it waged war against Zunist forces, leaving the Church's aid workers both shocked and disgusted. His Holiness, Pope Longinus II, has sent forward a request to the Lenspherian government that they reel in their armed forces and prohibit such drastic and reckless actions so as to prevent such unnecessary loss of life in the future and to avoid exasperating the situation by making it even more difficult for aid workers to provide relief for the oppressed, ignorant populace.

Telephone Message:

"No."

End of message, to repeat this message press one, to delete this message press two or press three for more options.

The columbine republic

Artarum wrote:Liudan, Empire of Artarum

As Dahlman delivered his speech, a police patrol nearby passed by. "Again? Good God." Reaching for his radio, the second officer in the car spoke up. "Uh, we have that fascist lunatic again, this time he's going on about the Emperor, the former Prime Minister, and the current Prime Minister."

The response from the other side prompted the two men to lunge for the volume control. Clearly, their superiors weren't too pleased with this event - however, immediate orders were to carry on.

Ten minutes later, a large amount of policemen had arrived on the scene. The decades of single-party rule hadn't been too kind to Artarum: A country did not democratise overnight, even if a democratic-oriented party won the elections. The policemen charged into the crowd.

"Oi, oi! Oi, you!"

At least they were somewhat meticulous in who they beat with their iron batons. The "crimsonshirts", as they called themselves, were rather easy to spot in crowds anyway. The small crowd, getting the hint pretty quickly, began to disperse as soon as the patrol cars appeared in droves. The police forces pushed civilians aside and immediately got to work on the crimson-clad people, beating them savagely with their batons.

"Oi, c*nt! Don't let that c*nt get away - come here!"

When they fell, they were kicked and beaten further on the ground, the beating only stopping when the Crimsonshirt's face was bloodied and bruised, perhaps a broken nose and a missing tooth, after which two more officers dragged the barely-conscious fellow to their squad car, driving off.

"Y'think you can just walk around shouting for some revolution?"

Iron batons and a well-trained police force which was largely uninterested with any sort of "human dignity" tended to be somewhat effective at dispersing any small political gathering. Whatever Crimsonshirt that didn't run away was guaranteed to get beaten within an inch of his life, arrested - and the Artarumen police weren't known for their kindness to people in custody, either. Further beatings, torture, and sexual assault were all-too common occurrences in Artarumen jails.

The Crimsonshirts present did not flee at first sight of the police, but instead defiantly stood their ground. When it became clear the blood-thirsty officers had violent intentions, the Crimsonshirts reacted in turn. Though outnumbered and unarmed they still stood strong in the face of adversity. But, it was a losing battle. For all their valor they could not withstand the police brutes and their now-bloodied nightsticks. Though some managed to inflict significant damage on the authorities, most were swarmed and overtaken by these thuggish cowards who hid behind their badges. If the Crimsonshirts were to be beaten this day they would let the authorities understand that they did not fear them. In the end only two chose to run - the youngest of them all - though only one of them managed to escape these criminals masquerading as police officers. The other did not get far before the villains caught him and beat him like the savages they were.

The police would find that unlike common criminals the Crimsonshirts did not break easily. Many would die outright from the constant beatings and torture on top of the beatings they had already received before arrest as the human body could only take so much abuse before giving up. The rest, though, eventually broke. Whether this had saved them or not they did not know for sure, but most hoped at least that by giving up they might at least be granted a quick death to escape the living Hell they now endured.

Their free comrades, though, were not amused. When word reached Dahlman of the barbarism inflicted on his supporters, it was clear that it was time to send a message. The police, in their arrogance, mistook the Crimsonshirts for common dissidents. They would be proven wrong. That night a cheap black sedan rolled up to the local precinct that had participated in the arrest and beating of Dahlman's supporters. It came to a brief stop before the building in the darkness before three black-dressed figures stepped out and produce bottles of alcohol with rags stuffed inside them and cigarette lighters. In quick succession the three men lit their molotovs before throwing them through the windows of the precinct as well as some patrol cars parked outside and quickly diving back inside the vehicle to make a hasty retreat as the driver slammed on the gas, speeding away from the scene. One of the men in the back seat made sure to take a picture of the burning building.

The picture would soon find itself circulating the streets by morning in the form of posters displaying the caption: "DEVILS BURN IN HELL BY THE WRATH OF GOD"

The Idol Part One

There was a time when I trapped in a box. Confusion and darkness all about. I questioned the world I perceived and all the hideous monsters that formed in the dim light of my cage. But boxes are meant to be open -- or at least most are. This particular day the door was opened wide open. All I had to then do is spring out to the light around me. It made me happy. The world was becoming clearer like I was looking through a foggy lens the whole time and could only get a blurry picture up until now. To my surprise, the thing that introduced me to life outside the box was a tin toy. A cylindrical can that opened its mouth abruptly open and clamped his painted teeth together like a nutcracker. Not exactly as ornate as a nutcracker, but having a special rustic air about it. A bit more character to it.
"All things that exist wish to protect you, all things wish to protect each other." It spoke. I did not quite understand him at first, but soon everything made sense. Everything he said was a truth of the world.

I sat swinging my legs at my bedside, examining the old toy in the corner of my room. Now that I thought about it, for all the time that he had spoken and communicated to me, entrusting me to all his secrets, he never revealed where he came from. Never did I have a memory of having something like him, nor would I think my family would have taken enough interest in the tin creation to adopt him. I always had dolls, not metal toys for boys. Perhaps he always was with me, but at the same time never with me at all. Two simultaneous realities, it was the only thing that made sense. After all he did mention time to time things like that. "If all things do wish to protect me," I bent forward on my perch on the bed, pressing my thumb against my chin in an awkward thinking pose, "then... What about the rats?!"

"The mice in the walls," it paused, the soft sound of grinding gears echoing from within him in this moment of silence, "they are the ones that love and wish to protect you most of all."

His answer made me chuckle, I would never have thought the likes of mice to be of the protecting sort. "The mice? What a novel idea... that mice in the walls want to protect me! Ha... even after I've gleefully examined their sprawled out brains from traps I've laid! Oh how wonderful!" It made me happy.

"Wonderful, I concur. The mice love that sort of thing. No one has ever paid so much attention to their lifeless rags such as yourself. They adore you for it. Just as the wasps and birds do. All things that bleed do."

I pondered once more, to try to find maybe one exception. As mice proved to be the opposite of my original thought, I had to think of something deeper. Ah-hah! Yes, it must be it. My parents. I must... I must...

I pondered once more, to try to find maybe one exception. As mice proved to be the opposite of my original thought, I had to think of something deeper. But I could not draw any conclusions. Not hounds or toads, or even a grumpy old cat. But I strangely felt like I had something just on the tip of my tongue to stump him. It just had somehow... slipped my mind. Should I even be trying to stump him? I've never yet done such a thing, he always has the answers to everything. But it is still fun to try. Hmm, I wonder how life would be like without a friend such as him to show me the way. I would definitely be less smart. More clumsy and dumb.

"Why is it that out of everyone in this whole wide, big world," I raise my arms to my sides like I was holding a miniature world in front of me, "why did you become my toy?"

"That is simply because the world is the way it is."

I felt perplexed by his answer. Even though I felt like I got smarter since meeting him, still much of what he said didn't exactly make sense to me. I needed to get smarter first.

He did see my confused state and continued, "Do you know why the evening doves sing every day until they run out of breath and die, or why the snake swallows its own young so it can lay more to eat?" I shook my head. "It is because the world is the way it is. We, everything looks after you because that is how the world works."

"Oooooh! I get it!" I nodded my head happily, figuring out the meaning behind what he said and clapped my hands excitedly. My, what knowledge would he bestow upon me next?

OOC: To be continued

Pelomoya wrote:The motorcade arrived at the gates of the Marble Palace without incident. The minute the one with the pointy ears existed, the guards knew them to be Lenspherians. "Savages." one of them muttered under his breath and out of earshot. Another guard approached with a clipboard in hand. "Hold there." he said as he flipped through the list of attendees before stopping at the obviously foreign names. They read like gibberish to him; the nonsensical arrangement of letters in an arbitrary order. He wasn't even going to bother trying to pronounce them. "You're clear, go on in." the gate guard said without any indication that he cared at all about who they were. The gates were thrust open behind him as the guards directed the delegates toward the palace itself, which was but a short walk away. With that the valet took the motorcade and directed it toward the entrance to the underground parking garage with the rest of the vehicles where it would remain until the Lenspherian delegation decided to depart. Walking along the stone pathway the Lenspherians would notice the surrounding garden safely tucked behind the walls complete with hedge mazes, exotic flowers, and grandiose marble statues and fountains.

The state of the gardens, the walls, and even the palace itself presented an interesting picture. Though obviously all of excellent craftsmanship they seemed to lack sufficient maintenance. The walls surrounding the estate, the palace itself, and many of the statues appeared weathered and cracked with growing vines sported here and there. The stone walkway was in a similar state. The foliage, though not truly wild, seem a bit 'unkempt' as the bushes clearly needed trimming and some of the flowers looked to be in a dying state. While some areas of the property seemed well-maintained it was easy to determine this was not the case all over. The state of the property was perhaps a reflection of the United Kingdoms themselves: ancient, yet decaying. Though once a Great Power recent history had not been kind to Pelomoya and the country had clearly seen better days. Even the nobility for all their wealth and power were beginning to feel the tightening of the noose around their necks as the economy continued to stagnate and society itself grew restless. The facade could no longer be maintained as it was 100 or even 200 years ago. The system was crumbling, albeit slowly. Many had begun to predict the dissolution of the United Kingdoms entirely.

But for now the Pelomoyans were content to pretend their country was nowhere near collapse. Ignorance is bliss, after all. Many of the guests in attendance were assembled outside the palace conversing along the stone pathways, in the garden shrubbery, and strung about all across the balcony's. Most ignored the foreign newcomers with the exception of the occasional sneer, chuckle, or raised brow. Even with state of their country being what it was the nobility still could not suppress the urge to look down on foreigner 'peasants'. Whether the Lenspherians were actually peasants or not was irrelevant to the pompous aristocrats of Pelomoya's upper echelons. They were Lenspherians. They were 'peasants' by default.

Once the delegates had passed the judgemental gazes and approached the main door they were greeted by a far humbler and friendlier butler who bowed politely before opening the doors for them and gesturing inside. The main hallway was very similar to the outside in that it was grand and luxurious, yet clearly in a state of decline. Though the interior's declination was far less notable; only being visible at the occasional glance. Chips in the wooden picture frames that hung on the walls, a spot on rust on a suit of armor on display, the occasional moth hole in the draped banners, perhaps a stain on the marble floors, or maybe a section of wallpaper peeling off in a corner somewhere. Small things easily missed when not looking for them. As the Lenspherians entered another butler approached them and lead them through the corridor and into the main dinning hall where most of the guests were present. It was a short walk, but one filled with history as all around them laid marble busts of great rulers, heroes, and thinkers. Paintings of revolutionary scientists, great military leaders, legendary kings and queens, decisive battles, religious iconography, depictions of ancient structures and wonders of engineering, and newer, more abstract pieces whose meaning lay within the eye of the beholder. The banners of the oldest, proudest, and greatest clans to ever rule hung triumphantly from the rafters while suits of armor - both practical and ceremonial - were put on display for all to see. Also adorning the walls were a variety of weapons ranging from simple Medieval steel shields bearing the sigils of their former owner's to hundred-year-old bolt-action rifles commonly used by standard infantry at the turn-of-the-century.

The main dining room was more or less in the same state as the main hall and the exterior of the palace: extravagant, yet decaying. Much like the entrance it was less noticeable though the large amount of people present likely had something to do with that. All around the variety of guests became apparent simply by their dress. Businessmen and women could be identified by their smart and practical suits and dresses; the nobles of course stood out in their more more lavish suits and dresses; scientists and academics stuck to simple tuxedos and evening dresses, much less elegant than their business or noble counterparts; high-ranking military officials were of course in their typical dress uniforms complete with matching caps and chests adorned with medals of various kinds. But out of all the attendees the ones that stuck out the most were the soldiers. There were of course the standard Royal Guardsmen in their ceremonial uniforms one would expect, but in addition to them were what appeared to be standard rank-and-file troopers dressed in their standard-issue camouflaged fatigues, berets identifiying their units, and armed not with the ceremonial bolt-action rifles as the Royal Guardsmen were but with both standard-issue sidearms and automatic rifles - an odd sight for certain. Royal Guard at first glance did not seem undermanned, so the presence of these additional standard soldiers seemed unnecessary. Indeed there was even a clear measure of hostility between the two as the Army soldiers gathered in groups and refrained from socializing with the other guests save for the military officials. The attendees would occasionally glance at the soldiers were uncertainty while the Royal Guardsmen on patrol would exchange the occasional hateful glare in their direction only for it to be returned in kind.

Shortly after entering the room an aging woman in a vibrant red dress approached the Lenspherians with a beaming smile; something they would have not yet encountered. "Welcome, friends!" she said, "You are the Lenspherian delegation, yes? How marvelous your government has seen fit to send representatives for the coronation of our next king. I trust my countrymen haven't been too cold to you? Some of these nobles have their noses so high up in the clouds you'd swear their nostrils were being used as refueling stations for airplanes!" she laughed at her own terrible joke. "Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Ondara Vassavian; Elector & Marquess of Sovern. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Pelomoya."

Dark eyes glanced about them, mockingly. They sized the guards as the inferiors they were; copper and brown eyes filled with hideous humor. It seemed as if these foreigners viewed this land their own, and the guards naught but trespassers. The ambassador spoke with a jeering voice,

"Yes, I do suppose we should be let in. Your nicety ever humbles our presence,"

He looks over his shoulders and nods, leading the other two members of his delegate in.

Everyone of them looked about them without craning their necks. Eyes wondering and peripherals alerted to the sheer state of agonizing disrepair. The Gods had long since casted their gaze away from this kingdom, they thought. It was a gilded construct to ease the failing regime's leaders. Perhaps the lack of even attempting to cover it before a party spoke more volumes of the failure to adhere to proper standards and discipline befitting the supposed Royalty within the country than the rude palatial guards did. The well clad trio stuck out like sore thumbs, brown skin and dark tribal tattoos extended over their necks and even one of their faces making them appear horrific or uncivilized to those misunderstanding of Lensoherian culture, looks of disdain were common and no more than a distasteful passing sneer was passed at the fools whom gathered inside the palace to appear better than peasants that at least pretended to be morally correct to their superiors... which the Lenspherians clearly were.

However, their external demeanor changed upon meeting the butler. A respectful bowing of the head was exchanged across the trio to the humble man clad in his working suit.

"Greetings, Butler. Thank you as well, do take care of yourself tonight. It appears the guests bite."

They walked through the decaying museum of excess, to them it was nothing more than a show of power that didn't and had never truly existed, simply to remind feeble men that they could strive to be better, but the tell tale sounds of disrepair and rusting said even that dream was dying.

Even chivalry and warriors honor was dying, soldiers dressed in combat uniforms at a formal meeting? It was appalling to the delegate to see this and even more so to see two branches of the Kingdom display open hostilities amongst a ball. For the most part the trio ignored them, though the non-knife eared companion did manage to get into a conversation with the academics upon recently discovered hydrogen powered engines and how their sustainability could destroy the oil markets.

The ambassador and his aide, the mutant, were the ones to meet Vassavian. They both gave a gentle and courteous attitude towards her and began with a bow before listening to her terrible jokes and ramblings. The ambassador spoke for the two of them,

"I am Maaka Rehipeti, and this is my aide, Kiri Nopera. Our other companion, Imoa Tupia is off discussing some droll topic with a scientist somewhere. It is a pleasure to meet you Ms. Vassavian. Your guests have been treating us well enough not to warrant complaints but thank you for your concerns. We were surprised to see an invitation to be frank with you. It is no secret our two nations have never been terribly close."

«12. . .8,1178,1188,1198,1208,1218,1228,123. . .8,2698,270»

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