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Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

The realms where science and sorcery tend to exist in equal focus. This may also includes settings with only a few major differences from our world such as the existence of the supernatural. Examples: The Marvel Universe, Vampire the Masquerade, Supernatural (Series)

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Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Skummy the Kitty » Mon Jan 08, 2018 3:38 pm

So it Begins: (Versian, Ex-Arcadia)
The Da'Mura were exceptional magic users, they used their skills to bring their cousin race, the Var'Rik whom were far more deadly in the ways of necromancy and poison, to heel and cement their spot on the world stage. Sure they were resource whores, handing out anything and everything in exchange for favors, money, and industrialization. They couldn't have foreseen the kinds of devastation that would occur in the past two years though.

They knew the story of Neromasa's defeat at the hands of monsters, and how in a pyrrhic victory they used their mastery of the arcane to bind the northern stretches with a spell so mighty it drained them and left them defenseless as they were set upon. They had sealed themselves inside to ensure that nobody could ever come upon this place. However two weeks ago Da'Mura was ready to unseal it for its resources, being ruled by the Skeptics party it was easy to devise a technology to interrupt the flow of the magic. Not to dismantle it but to create an unsustainability in the process, meaning it would be a small tear just for their kind.

When they entered, it was a barren wasteland devoid of all life, devoid of everything honestly. There wasn't anything there in the more literal of terms. Except for the monsters who looked upon the new invaders and set upon them viciously before the spell was resealed and the expedition was deemed lost. However,once the creatures knew of the fact they were trapped.....

The sound of all encompassing negativity filled the air as their monstrosities for weapons began a barrage of energy in a focused point where the expedition had come from. They had the information on how the field could be disrupted somehow due to possibly eating the expedition, and thus they knew what kind of resonance would cause fracturing and allow them to begin spouting forth. Originally it was tolerable, managed by sheer firepower and defensive command. Then their mana reserves started to deplete, and it was over. Some fell back, and were even now in other countries hiding from the creatures, envoys and diplomats, far off aristocrats who could afford safe passage even if it meant everything they owned.

They wouldn't explain why, only that the country was imploding in on itself, in reality it was a plague of new nightmares that unceasingly marched forward. This was the sight from the deck of the Versian Empire's lead warship sitting a mile out form the old port of the crumbling nation's capital,
Aro. The sight of strange demon statues tearing civilians apart or blasting buildings into fine powder, Da'Mura was not built for war they were built for commerce and they had an outdated military structure that relied on simple blackpowder weaponry and magic. However that magic power had been enough to put them on par with other nations in terms of military strength.

Now even as the Knights of Arkresh were trying to surround a horned statue, a new creation stepped forward glowing with the reek of arcane being carried off the port. In a moment they were vaporized, and their essence confiscated. If they wanted to they could try and bombard the coastline,
try to obliterate this new threat but for the time being the whole of them seemed incapable of touching down onto the water or causing any damage,
so why bother? Why not just observe what was happening to thousands of years of history. What came behind these destroyed were four armed alien creatures.

Their hands burned away the material they began to gather and they flung massive stocks of rubble to and fro at one another breaking off components mildly and with no shift in behavior tot he chaos around them.....Monsters, truly so.

To the south others were not faring much better, bordering nations were quarantining the threats, and trying to retain order. Among those bearing witness were reconnaissance forces from Ex-Arcadia. It was clear that total destruction was occurring just a few scant miles to the horizon as ancient monolithic temples were bombarded into crumbing ruins. Women children, elders, soldiers, priests, all were running, screaming, and find themselves under the machinations of some sort of twisted malevolence that spread out a spell of sheer agony upon them. With them bent over in indescribable mental torment they were quickly harvested and dragged screaming back into the madness of the fall of Da'Mura.
A Shift, Of Destruction: (Vallume)
One could be forgiven in excusing the weather religion of Vallume as pagan natterings, however that wouldn't stop it from being a very present force in how the Top Walkers interacted in the world or what some of the more premier of the nation could feel in the flow of the wind and the taste of the earth beneath their feet. The Dwellers would be bale to feel the slight tremors of a great and terrible evil and the Jumpers would feel it rattle through their cores. Everyone from the youngest tot he oldest would feel the dark and depressing pressure, the feeling of war on the horizon even if it was far removed from them it was out there and it was the taste of brutality and domination.

Not int he sinister sense which was odd, but the air felt of the annihilation of all; as if this was greater than a fight of good and evil and more of a base fight for existence itself. The reek of desolation upon the earth finally reached them all. Those attuned more in the studies of the world and its capabilities of weather would be bale to feel the brunt of the cry of the now stripped apart landscape far fro themselves, however all Nedril would be able to recognize the cry of their gods in agony as the world of Evermore was under assault by alien concepts.

Whether they would prefer it or not, something was out there and could feasibly pose a threat to their very existence as a species on their precious planet.....
A Home Destroyed: (Vireal)
The shock and awe of it all was tremendous in a horrific kind of way, the city was falling down as something wicked beat its terrible wings and unleashed a shockwave of power. Or that's how it felt at the very least, there was no way the woman would or even could escape. In the stretch after the powerful shockwave, the streets were full of citizenry running for their lives as automatons of an undisclosed nature fired out bolts of kinetic energy that shattered old stones and splintered the streets.

Above there really was something beating its wings, it was a creature of great an terrible design, of a large size and charged with electrical pulses that it continued to belt out rendering local power inert....or maybe that was power plants being assaulted and overrun. However it was striving for its goal, it was succeeding in spreading an outlash of panic, it was also firing out orbs of pure plasma which burned away anything it struck. This was a great and terrible evil.

The screams, the smells, the feeling as the building began to crumble with the frightened woman inside......

However Dahlia awoke, safely inside her bed and protected by ALICE within the confines of the artificial city-state of Vireal, so the visions of her homeland under siege were but that....visions, nightmares, imagination. Perhaps not however as far off along the coast the homeland of Red Heart burned under the oppressive onslaught of The Guardian's Ancestor forces.....
Visions of Despair: (Aedilian, Uprea)
This....isn't a place anyone should be, its beyond the surreal and almost makes the senses go numb. Like there's more to it all but you just can't perceive it through your mind's eye. Endless mountains, completely encompassing, with a bright burning sky ahead the color of a pastel pink but radiating differing spectrum of light as well which gives it a subtle vibrancy. No sun, but all the light one could ever need.

Below is a sprawling ancient city, that intertwines and encompasses, burrows and raises, stretches throughout the mountains forever it would seem. Made of golds, silvers, grays and reds and rainbows of living colors that move and shift. Everything would bring rational minds close to vomiting from the sensory explosion. You can hear light, smell sounds, and taste emotions, up is foreign, down is forgotten, all space is everywhere.

This is a truly alien place that you only perceive through a limited spectrum of fundamental undertaking, and in a flutter its over. But you are not yet free; however the two of you can now see the other in this place. Chairwoman Drusilla, the Fenerox of Uprea; Eliza Viel Aelas III, Monarch of Aedilian. Before you sits a massive creature of around sixteen feet tall, and what originally appears to be armor is actually his body, the two horns acting as sensory organs as they glow to your appearance. IT says nothing, but stand upright looking downwards as it lifts an arm, and the three are flung back into the strange landscape, only too see it overrun by entities more horrifying than any bomb and more deadly than any army. They're everywhere, filling the mountains, the city, and feasting on denizens running scared while their god and their leader try and protect them as best they can.

Suddenly the darkness returns and the entity has returned, he speaks, but is not truly heard. However he is felt, and through that feeling there is meaning in what he says, it is not that you can perceive his words but that you can endure his intentions. "We....shall.....return" With that a whiplash occurs almost, and he recedes into the darkness and thus the nightmare seems to have ended.... for now, the last visage you see is the fading of the other in accompaniment of yourself.
That Old Sinister Feeling: (Lydren, Dragon)
There was a time, back in the ancient days, when those who rules did so by way of great conquest of the savages. Neromasa was that ruling body for the northerners of the continent Drak'Mar, at least that's what it was called in those days now it just seems to be the West. However in its prime Neromasa was a massive trade empire with routes all over the world that helped to seed the world with writing, culture, and discipline. They didn't rule over others but took a more civilized approach after they had brought their neighboring barbarians to heel through sheer might, most fo their influence on the world has been lost but in some small ways there are still those who revere their teachings on intelligence.

This was not to be lived out, something came upon them at their peak and sent ripples through the old world. Monsters, four armed and multi-eyed were rampaging through with statues of demons. While the ancient empire did battle their trade and dedicated outposts were overrun by rivals and so their empire crumbled by both sides. Had they been able to garner the help of more peoples perhaps the threat could've been eradicated and finally dispatched.

But it wasn't, and the Neromasa used an advanced technique to seal themselves away in the desperate hope they could at least safeguard the world even as it turned its back on them. But the Dragon Emperor and the High Queen knew, quite well, that the plan had finally fallen. Such secrets were held only by their office as a matter of grave importance, that if the threat should come alive again then something would have to be done about it or risk destabilization and possible ruin.

It wasn't possible to grasp how widespread the influence was but there was a hunger behind the echos of chaos they could both feel course through them. It was dedicated and loud, ravenous almost. They were many, perhaps billions of souls, all screaming out for more. Intermingled were those screaming in agony and then heard no more. It was time to act, but what direction was upon the rulers and perhaps the other territories as they must have also become aware of this threat as well.....
A Rivalry: (Cogs)
They could sense its presence and thus they knew what it was, creatures that would steal from everything and leave no resources left to harvest and grow. Thus they were to be enemies, destined for conflict as both ate of the world. They could feel each other, two hive creations, interlocked on a line of fate unbeknownst to others. Stok'Vai could feel the enigmatic 'Artificer', and it too could feel Stok'Vai's overbearing presence at its gates. While neither 'entity' could truly see the others for what they were they both knew the other one would have to be dispatched if the other were to survive- or risk total collapse of all that was dutiful.

The Cogs could sense the many hives within Stok'Vai's control, millions of souls encompassing several bodies, each one in a sense of peace and contentment. Stok'Vai could feel the cold lifelessness of the Mechanarcy, their efficiency displeased it- it reached out a tendril of though and prodded but found that their metallic forms gave little. So to the Cogs would only observe the other minds that their own reach in this odd linkage of minds was limited to the receptors known as 'eyes'. The anomaly shifted and faded away, but each creature knew the other's intents and purpose, and both knew the onther could not survive if their purpose was to become resolved
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Credit to Sammy and Nicodemus; one created my set for me, the other drew the source image as a request.
Thank You Both!

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by ChaosShadoWolfe » Tue Jan 09, 2018 12:42 am

Western Expanse - a click out at sea from Aro
Lord Ultzer von Kopf
The captain gazed in awe at the destruction of the port town. He had heard of sealed away entities being on the continent, but to think the greedy nation of Da'mura would actively seek riches in its confines was beyond the young lord. It had lead to their inevitable downfall. The turrets of his war fleet turned, the regular naval guns shifted and dialed in for a bombardment of the coast, but the order never escaped his lips. There was nothing worth doing against these entities; as far as he could tell they had no ability to cross onto water so there was no direct threat to them, and the lords that had made landfall with their armies would surely have enough firepower to deal with any trouble that would come their way. For now, all that was needed was containment and for this event to be reported to the count, and land was not their priority.

The captain turned to face the bow of the sheep, straightened his back and began to yell commands. "Ahead Flank, New course, one-eight-four. Radio operator, forward message to main fleet; New threat emerged, Returning to the fleet. Will brief upon arrival."
"Aye captain. Ahead Flank, new course One-Eight-Four." The bridge began to echo with command.
------------------
Capital city Voluntia
Empress Lura La Versai
A yawn echoed through the war room as the young empress sat in her seat at the opposite end of the large table.
"Your excellency, are these talks boring you?"
"No." The young girl responded, "I just had far too little sleep." She got up out of her chair and leaned onto the table.
"Alright then. So our Western Expansion is going quite astonishing. Count Von Hürnern has reported the initial invasion of the city state Palintia went fortuitous, and his landing forces met little resistance after the first bombardment of the city." One of the advisors informed, "He had Lords Karl and Rolf Brechenhoffen move their armies to the North and South respectively while lords Fabian and Orlain pushed further East. They have reported firm resistance but little that our forces couldn't handle. Casualties so far have been under two hundred for lords Karl and Rolf, while Lords Fabian and Orlain have just over three-hundred dead and an additional sixty wounded. Their armoured division has also taken a fair beating, with a tenth of their tanks having been destroyed."
"What about the Northern Reaches?" Lura looked over to her other adviser.
"Count Glauer has made a firm foothold and his forces have expanded quite a bit. His territory at this moment is spanning several countries and he has recruited locals to bolster his ranks. He has also sent this report a few weeks ago," The adviser handed a piece of paper to Lura, "Requesting additional ground forces."
"He has always been one for ground battles." The other adviser joked.
"It says here that he would also appreciate development of the new prototype tank to be hastened." Lura raised her eyebrow in confusion.
"Ah, yes. He is speaking of the experimental tank that he was informed of. One of the design bureaus has been making developments in creating thicker and more sturdy armour. The Gungnir is lacking in several sectors, including durability. Anything larger than a rifle round already pierces its hull, and its cannon is not optimal for anti-armour purposes."
"So it's practically useless and a waste of resources."
"Yes, your highness. It is for a lack of better words. However, there are already plans on making a much better tank to provide Count Heinrich with the ground armour that he requires."
"Understood. Have a carrier deployed to his fleet along with an escort of three Zeuses. Tell him to focus expanding to the West and East along the coast until these new tanks are being mass-produced. Additionally, he is to maintain order in his territory. I'll grant him an additional three-hundred infantrymen to facilitate this. Have him report in on important events, such as riots or rebellions. I won't accept troublesome elements in my empire."
"Very well, milady."
"And have the head of that design bureau come here later this afternoon. I wish to see how much of a concept he has for a new main battle tank."
"Understood, your excellency. I'll have a messenger depart immediately." The adviser bowed and left the room.

"Southern Reaches?"
"Countess Von Abrisia had nothing noteworthy to report."
"What about the countries to our direct North and East?"
"They seem to be part of a greater empire."
"Send envoys out. I wish to know more about these Empires."
"As per the nation's policy of Expansion?"
"No. For now to see how large their territory is and to gather information. Once we know what we are dealing with, we'll know whether we can take it for our own or not."
"What if there are hostile towards us?"
Lura chuckled at the notion, "I'd like to see them try. We have yet to encounter a foe that we cannot defeat."
"Your majesty, I feel the need to utter a word of caution with that mentality."
"I know, Herr Grüntel. You needn't worry." Lura straightened her back, "If this is all there was to discuss. I want a status update on the Demeter-class battleship. As well as that designer in my throne room later today. Meeting adjourned."
Last edited by ChaosShadoWolfe on Sat Jan 13, 2018 6:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by DaughteroftheFlame » Tue Jan 09, 2018 9:05 am

Blue Capital Iragos
Chairwoman Drusilla
With a start, the head and face of Uprea shot up in her bed, panting slightly as if she had recently jogged, even though she hadn't moved from her room since last night. That dream...what was that? An omen, to be sure, and she would have dismissed it if not for two things. One, the other woman, Eliza, was in that same dream, and she could recall her face with perfect clarity. She also saw out of the corner of her eye within the dream various symbols that you would find within a book on the art of Mysticism, the main magic school here in Uprea.

If she was right, and she hoped she wasn't, then something was happening somewhere in this world was coming, and it was a danger to the well being of the people of Uprea and what lie in their seas. She needed to prepare, and to start, perhaps crushing their pirate problems once and for all would be needed. They needed to be unified to face this threat. If she was to be sure about her vision though, she would have to visit the Grandmaster, who was hopefully still within the city itself. If anyone else could feel what she saw, it would be him.

She didn't question why she felt as this was the right decision, nor why she received the vision, and not one of their practitioners.
--------

The Septry of Iragos
The Grandmaster
Dark things stirred, endlessly consuming everything that was deemed valuable to all living things. It would not stop, it would never stop, until all were broken before them and they had enough power to-

An old Fenerox opened his eyes, blind as they were, and slowly stood, facing the sea that hit the sides of the Septry. Where he looked, only he could see the collections of energies that were slowly stretching, coming for all. He saw one such tendril touch the capital building, and knew that someone would be visiting him soon. With a sigh, he grabbed his cane and slowly hobbled back into the Septry, aiming to prepare some tea for his visitor.

He could do nothing, despite what he saw, but he could at least provide comfort for those who could.
Last edited by DaughteroftheFlame on Sun Feb 18, 2018 9:08 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Madrigal » Fri Jan 12, 2018 11:40 am

Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
High Queen Lothane

The glistening white marble tiles seemed to stretch in all directions. A sea of burnished pale stones, its surface as still and unchanged as a windless ocean. The High Queen knew these flagstones well from her own childhood. The serene gardens that flanked the open concourse leading to the throne room itself. A happy battle ground for aspiring children-turned-knights, and a perfect place for a cup of tea on a midsummer's evening. The high walls that lined the entryway, washed in blue dyes and gilded leaf alongside towering white columns. The golden rays of the all-seeing sun painted along the walls, the better to remind the approaching courtier of the magnitude of their every footfall. High stained glass windows awash in light and mosaics overhead beneath high vaulted ceilings. Gentle reminders of the expectations of civilization, as she joined her betrothed here for the first time.
This entire hallway was laden with memories. Filled with thoughts and experiences of childhood, wifedom and finally motherhood. But no matter how familiar this hallway ever seemed, nothing felt so alien as her throne.

High Queen Lothane Ithe Fraine il Angemon sat properly in her golden throne, her solemn eyes gazing out over the royal guards standing at attention throughout the grand hall. Though seated upon the highest symbol of earthly authority within the Empire, she sat much like any lady in waiting might be expected to. Her knees and feet were drawn together, her hands placed calmly upon her lap. Hardly the commanding stature of her predecessor, or the decisive posture of her niece Augrim. But her composed posture had a presence and majesty all its own. If only her own thoughts were so serene.

The High Queen watched as the Divine Dragon Empire's envoys made their way from the gardens, silken curtains hanging from the arches overhead shifting in the winds. Their arrival was unusual, though not unexpected. She was certain of why they had come. Her answer would surely be disappointing to the Dragon Emperor. In truth, she found her own expected answer dissatisfying. She knew, as all who shared the blood of Angemon, son of the Prophet, that the western lands of Neromasa had fallen eons ago. Becoming little more than a hive of some undefined chaotic force. An energy that frightened men of the cloth and decendants of the Prophet alike. However this fear was not shared by their Empire at large. The lands of Drak'Mar, savage and untamed as they were, had been untouched by the Empire ever since the Lydran colony of Kultherin failed for want of funding. The starving colonists had boarded a fleet of galleons sent by the crown, in what was known as the Flight of Kultherin. A stark reminder of the perils of settling in the West. Which made it all the more shocking when the Orientals had arrived at her palace, with word from their monarch. An entreat to join the Divine Dragon Empire in an expedition to Drak'Mar.

She knew well the danger that awaited them. But the Flight of Kultherin had been centuries ago. Since then, the terrors of Drak'Mar had been forgotten, consigned to legend and myth as so much beyond their lands. While she and the Church Ecclesiarchs knew the truth of what waited across the sea, few shared her wisdom or trepidation. Among those who lacked her foresight were the members of the Conclave, whose authority was required for the Lydran to mount an expedition to the west. While she was sure she had the authority enough to move the Royal Coalition, the Party of Loyal Citizens, the Church and perhaps even the Vigilant Union of Veterans and Volunteers, she was doubtful the votes of these political groups alone would be enough to sway the Conclave and secure the votes required to approve of the expedition. Were she to issue a royal decree or attempt to force the issue, her prestige would suffer, eroding her control of the Empire. What monarch ruled for thirty years of peace, before sending her soldiers to die across the world at the behest of a foreign power? One whom the Empire shared far from cordial relations with.

"Emissaries of the Dragon Emperor. You may approach Our throne with your petition."

Perhaps the situation would change. Perhaps the Divine Dragon Empire could offer more than barren sands and ghost stories to her people. Perhaps as their expedition proceeded, calls for one of the Lydren Empire's own would follow. For now though, all that could be offered to their Eastern rivals were prayers to Quidditas and wishes of goodwill.

She only hoped they could accept them graciously.

Saint Daelin Hill, 25 Miles from the Village of Ormon, the Northern Frontier
Grand Duchess Augrim shal Ormon

The banner fluttered in the breeze before the marching soldiers, scarcely visible amid the swirling smoke. Now and then though, once could see their uniforms through the sulfurous fog. Black were their helmets and uniforms, with golden trim adorning their lapels and haughty spiked helms. They were known as a 'Colored Regiment'. A fancy term to describe a force of soldiers deemed too prestigious to be given modern military uniforms. Though it seemed a terrible waste to the Duchess, it was true that no regiments were more prestigious than the Kingsbridge Grenadiers. Named for the heroic defense of the city of Maelin over a century and a half before, they were well regarded as the vanguard of the Empire. Like a glittering remnant of a past age, the men in organized lines marched on. Bursts of white smoke arcing to the side would rise now and again, mines or artillery that would send the soldiers falling to the ground. The cry of rifles from the hill overhead would echo out over the fields and farms below. More men in their pristine uniforms fell at their sound. Left to die in the mud. And yet the Grenadiers marched on, singing with one terrible voice as they marched.

"High King Hildruin, our noble King and Lord
Called for every soldier to gather at his word.
Two hundred battalions made half a dozen corps,
And every Grenadier has sixty shots or more!
Two hundred battalions made half a dozen corps,
And every Grenadier has sixty shots or more!

'You rough, blighted men' Thus spoke his majesty.
'In battle, I expect each of you to stand by me.
Our lands have been invaded! Defend your own birthright!
Come, let us show them all how Lydran men do fight!
Our lands have been invaded! We will defend our birthright!
Come let us show them all how Lydren men do fight!

How our cannons roar! What a force to contend!
And every Grenadier is faithful to his end!
The Orientals to the east have the worst of fields.
Who knows if the Aidelians have any better yields?
The Orientals to the east have the worst of fields.
Who knows if the Aidelians have any better yields?

Our steeds do stir, and our sabers are drawn.
The field to be cleared by the first light of dawn.
The Versian pirates lurk far from the western coast,
And Vallume's conscripts have scant glory to boast!
The Versian pirates lurk far from the western coast,
And Vallume's conscripts have scant glory to boast!

Rifles bark, bullets whistle 'round our heads,
And yet we do march on, for to duty we are sped!
The Nuruins to the north dare to challenge our might!
Yet upon our approach their levies are put to flight.
The Nuruins to the north dare to challenge our might!
Yet upon our approach their levies are put to flight.

Fasten bayonets men, let us show them our worth!
And extend the Empire's dominion o'er all of the earth!
With voices like thunder and wills yet unspent,
Who doesn't know the Kingsbridge Grenadiers yet?
With voices like thunder and wills yet unspent,
Who doesn't know the Kingsbridge Grenadiers yet?

To the High Monarch, whom the laurel wreath doth adorn,
To whom every single solder has his loyalty sworn!
By all the elements and God's thundering word,
Let the Prophet's will for the mortal world be heard!
By all the elements and God's thundering word,
Let the Prophet's will for the mortal world be heard!"

The Duchess gazed up at the line of men, slowly thinning as shot and shell sent them to the ground. They had already cleared most of the hill, and had neared the summit of the bloody hill. Saint Daelin's. Then with a final terrible roar like J'hielas loosed from their cage, the fearless remnant charged upwards. Bayonets and polished helms glittered in the bright midday sun as they lunged up the muddy hill and threw themselves over the embankment. A manservant shifted the umbrella, the better to shelter the Duchess's pale face, though with an idle hand she brushed aside the impediment. Though she knew well how this battle ended, she wanted to watch it for herself. A gasp rose from the hilltop, laced amid the shouts, shots and cries of war. Then, minutes later, the battle seemed decided. With a solemn mourning that seemed all too fitting given the bodies strewn about the slope, the banner of the Nuruin 16th legion slowly lowered, replaced by the black and white banner of the Kingsbridge Grenadiers. Three cries of victory rose from the top of the hill, before the fallen soldiers slowly rose to their feet, brushing themselves off. The general however continued watching the faux battle until a voice stirred her from her thoughts.

"I am pleased to see you attending the local reenactment by the common citizenry, Duchess shal Ormon, but wouldn't you have preferred to watch from the top of the hill?"

The pale beauty turned to the attaché who had spoken. While one passing her by would have been glad of a smile offered by her fair visage, the soldier knew better than to expect so much from a face so bereft of feminine comforts or common joys.

"Lieutenant, we are here not to entertain some simple pageantry by the village people here. We are here to observe the anniversary of the Battle of Rnemes, and to observe the tactical errors of our predecessors. Let us take this hill for instance. Defended only by a detachment of the Nuruins 16th Legion, several injured soldiers and two old howitzers. Yet in the ensuing battle, nearly half the Kingsbridge Grenadiers were wiped out in a frontal assault on the hill. A superior approach would be to surround the hill. They had little food, and would surely have starved soon. A more cautious strategy would be to whittle their defenses with artillery from a distance, or even assail the hill from multiple angles simultaneously. Instead, over two hundred men were killed or wounded, for high ground the commanding marshal made little use of."

"Tsh." The attaché scoffed. "That was long ago, General. Over thirty years. What can--"

"Precisely the attitude that cost us two hundred of our finest soldiers, lieutenant. Time does not alter the strategic and tactical obstacles that face us as soldiers of the Empire. It only provides us with new tools to face these obstacles. If we fail to use our tools correctly, it can result in harsh consequences. The Marshal in command of the Kingsbridge Grenadiers assumed that because it had been a hundred years since they suffered a route, the Grenadiers were as impervious as their legacy. That their approach would be enough to intimidate the enemy into surrendering. He did not think as a commanding officer, but a historian who presumed to know the end of the battle before its start. Be careful not to emulate his example, lieutenant. The Church has historians and priests enough for their purposes."

The Grand Duchess gave a sigh, before she set aside her tea. A butler quickly began setting about the duty of collecting her things. She nodded to the second manservant who closed the umbrella, before she tucked it under one arm. The day's diversion was over. "Hurry back to the Grenadiers. Inform them I want a small force to accompany me to the capital. The High Queen Has given birth. The Court will expect me to give her my congratulations."
Last edited by Madrigal on Thu Feb 08, 2018 3:36 am, edited 5 times in total.

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by The_Legion_Ex » Fri Jan 12, 2018 10:20 pm

Maritime Patrol.... Report from Reconnaissance planes near Da'Mura...
" Report to Ex-Arcadian all trade boats planning to make trade with Da'Mura! Da'Mura is under a one-sided war. I repeat, a ONE-SIDED WAR! All travels crossing Da'Mura shall be canceled or rerouted! This report is urgent and must reach the Masked Lord at this instant. The threat is too horrifying to believe."

" ...... Copy. "

The security marines at the Calm Coast at the West received the news. They now proceed to spread the warning to all nearby officials, gradually making their way towards the Masked Lord. A great trading nation, now turned into a slaughterhouse for terrors worse than those of Solitaria and the Eastern Arcadian Vortex.
Later after the report.... In the Neocrat Palace of Neopolis.
"Sir!" an armed messenger said, "A great disaster has attacked the trade nation!" whilst he runs towards the great ruler himself in a tired hurry after hearing the dreaded news in a shantytown while eavesdropping a couple of officers who just finished flogging a thief to death. The great leader, whose back is turned from the young servant turned towards him, an eternally twisted smile decorating the full face mask. The ruler then paused in pure silence to make up a plan......

"I see, call the army. We need to see if anyone is willing to become sacrificial troops. Volunteers are strictly required to use recon planes in case of potential reverse engineering capabilities of said threats. Remember, the Eagle Squad can do such a feat quite swiftly." the supreme ruler announced calmly to the messenger who then fled to the Military. This will take some time before the messenger can contact the military before the recruition for sacrificial testing is required. An undercover agent is also sent to deceive members of the Redemption to carry out a sacrificial terrorist attack at the unknown entities. Said measures will also be monitored by a well-place AEW&CS. This is to measure the potential strength of the unknown monsters.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by McGenty » Sat Jan 20, 2018 8:14 am

The Mechanarcy
The Mechanarcy clicked, whirred, rattled, and hummed with its usual mechanical din. Cogs rolled, crawled, walked, and flew across the massive clockwork construct in execution of their assignments, heedless of date, time, or season in their work. Here there was no calendar, only the constant, steady rhythm of ceaseless work. One day was like any other, with only the slow, steady progress of the Mechanarcy’s construction to mark the passage of time. What functions of memory the Cogs possessed – generally only as much as needed to keep track of tasks assigned – provided no record of work ever stopping since the Mechanarcy’s inception…until this day.

On this day, which until this moment had been utterly indistinct from any other, the Mechanarcy stopped. All at once, in a single instant of time, every gear, cog, sprocket, spring, and motor ceased its motion with one gigantic CLACK.

Deep within the enormous construct, the Artificer stirred. As its presence moved from the heart of the Mechanarcy, gears spun, arms protruded, and rods, plates and panels were produced, clothing the Artificer’s presence in a metallic body for the first time in many, many cycles. The body moved more rapidly upward as its form came nearer and nearer completion, finally integrating into the top of the highest spire in the center of the Mechanarcy.

There, the Artificer perched, staring Westward with unblinking lenses. There, far the to the West, was a Threat. Not a nuisance, like the humans that had long ceased attempting to interfere with the construction, nor an obstacle, like the stones, fauna, and flora that were constantly being churned, ground, and flattened in the march of progress, but a Threat. This was a consuming force, not unlike the Mechanarcy, in that it seemed unstoppable in its march on surrounding territory. Of course, it was a baser thing, consuming for its own simple continuation rather than assimilating raw materials into a grander form, so there could be no real comparison to the Mechanarcy.

For the time, the Threat was far and faint. There was no immediate cause for much diversion of resources. The greater need remained completion of the Project. But there would need to be, eventually, a response. Moving too soon would mean wasted time and resources on construction. Moving too late would mean allowing the Threat to grow. Neither was acceptable, any more than inefficiency in any other time. The Artificer’s metal form gave no outside indication of the millions of computations happening, every watt of energy available to Mechanarcy focused on the singular task of calculating the path forward.

Finally, after nearly a full cycle of runtime, a conclusion:

The other denizens of this world would surely perceive the Threat and move against it of their own accord, and in their own way. Left to themselves, their responses would be chaotic, without coordination, focus, and efficiency, and ultimately as futile as if they were to come against the Mechanarcy itself. Most calculable scenarios indicated the organics would even become Obstacles to the Mechanarcy’s own response. Among the billions of potential outcomes, three overruling scenarios presented:

The Mechanarcy moved unilaterally against the Threat. Efficiency would be maintained, at the cost of potential long term failure in neutralizing the Threat. Additional risk presented in allowing the Organics to perceive vulnerability while resources were diverted to the Threat. Nuisances could present as Threats, resulting in conflicts on multiple fronts. Inefficient, with negative benefit to risk ratio.

The Mechanarcy maintained current operations with no change, allowing the organics to respond without interference and diverting no resources of its own to neutralizing the Threat. Organic response would be disorganized, yet with the overwhelming majority of resources at their combined disposal, success was possible, if not probable. Those organic societies that did not survive could be assimilated at a more rapid pace, with their war resources diminished. While the risk to benefit ratio was largely neutral, with potential to skew positive, there were too many variables.

The Mechanarcy moved to coordinate threat response among the organics. A significant increase in processing required would necessitate moderate diversion of energy, with additional material resources required to mount what military response would be needed to appease the organics’ inevitable demand for equal representation on the field of conflict. However, proper coordination could practically guarantee neutralization of the threat. Supreme coordination could lead to organics being left vulnerable to the Mechanarcy’s expansion. Significant resource usage could be offset by ensuring organics expended at a similar rate or higher. Risk to benefit ratio positive, with potential to become overwhelmingly so.

Gears began to rotate again. Cogs resumed their functions in one, perfectly synchronized moment as energy returned to exactly the flow needed for the moment’s work. The Artificer’s form lowered and was decommissioned, as other units more urgently needed were assembled.

Among them: Ambassadors.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by ChaosShadoWolfe » Fri Jan 26, 2018 9:35 am

Capital city Voluntia
Empress Lura La Versai
The hallways were long, dressed lavish and serene with stone floors and drapes in the colours of the Versian royal family. The clacking of heels on the tiles resonated between the walls, as Lura, two of her guards and one of the advisors walked down the path, heavy in conversation. One of the many servants approached the empress, bowed his head and held out a file which the empress took into her hands. She didn’t slow down once, constantly moving with her escort back to the throne room. She opened the file and looked through the documents within. She hummed a little as her eyes swiftly crossed the documents lengthy wording. She flipped through, before closing the file again and sighed.

“Milady?” The advisor expressed. “Unwanted news?”
“No news is unwanted, Cassian. It’s just unfortunate news.” Lura replied swiftly. In a swift gesture, the file was tucked under her arm and her attention returned to her surroundings. “It seems the reason for the lack of reports from the Countess is due to rebels in her territory.”
“Milady? Did you distrust the countess’ loyalty?”
“On the contrary, I trust the countess explicitly. That doesn’t mean I enjoy being kept in the dark. So, I’ve instructed an individual from Ilse’s section to go and figure out what is going on there. One that is quite familiar with the Southern Reach.”
“You mean to say you sent an assassin to investigate…”
“Would you stop using that word? I find it quite belittling. I sent an assassin to confirm my interests were being upheld. And Risa is well aware of her presence as the assassin has been assigned to her after her report.” The guards opened the large double-door leading into the throne room, The two guards standing next to it tidied up their stature; they straightened their backs and slammed their left fist against their right collarbone, their rifle’s handguard resting against their shoulder.
The throne room was enormous, vast pillars with wooden struts running between them held the room in place, all while lamps illuminated the room. The guards in the room saluted before stepping off to the sides of the room. It was a much more sober appearing room, with just regular coloured stones placed intricately to form the floor, with on the sides balconies and benches. Lura walked straight for the large seat in the back of the room, placed the files on a small table next to her throne and took her seat, placing her hands on the edges of her armrests, her back straightened and her legs cross. The two guards stepped up just in front of the raising that she was seated upon, and looked out into the room themselves. The advisor took his place on her side.
“Your grace. Do you truly think it wise to put one of the few experienced assassins that we have in the hands of that woman?” He whispered, reaching for the file itself.
Lura slapped the man on his wrists as he reached. “I’m well aware of what you are suggesting. However, currently Risa is in the most need of one with such skills, we both know her temper well enough to anticipate what she does with the rebels that she captures.”
“What is your intent then with this girl?”
“You will see as the reports come in. Don’t forget that the assassin is still under my authority. Now, onto the most boring aspect of my job. How many are currently waiting?”
“Approximately thirty-seven, with two having been removed for disorderly conducts.”
Lura sighed loudly. She always hated this part of her role; the eternal begging and complaining of the common citizenry. “I wonder how many complaints I’m going to receive from my citizenry today.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Baltazar, “Hades”-class battleship. Flagship of the Southern Expedition Fleet
Risa von Abrisia
The seas were calm, a light breeze over the otherwise motionless water cause waves to ripple across its surface effortlessly. Large chunks of metal plowed through the serenity of the sea, one of the segments of the Versian Southern expansion fleet made their way to a distress call. The fleet was relatively small for their standards; a single battleship with two destroyers, an Epimethrus-class and an Aegis-class Cruiser taking up the rear.

“Countess Abrisia!” One of the officers called out, “Supply ship, bearing four-nine. On the horizon!” He peered through a pair of binoculars, “Four pirate ships alongside it, they’re using old warships of some civilization.”
The ornate yet practically dressed countess stepped forth from her position, gently placing her hand upon one of the many computing posts in the middle of the bridge. Her wavy golden hair rounded her face, while her long -and sharp- nails gently tapped the top of a workstation. Her piercing blue eyes gazed at the horizon. “Gut.(good)” She voiced, a sense of nobility resonated in her voice, “Attention all ships, prepare main guns. Target? The pirate ships! Be sure not to hit the supply ship.”
“Ma’am! About two miles out!” The officer added. He kept peering through the binoculars, only to see brief flashes coming from the turrets on the pirate ships. “They’re opening fire on us! They’ve seen us!”
It took a few seconds before the rounds impacted. The sprays of water that erupted ahead and next to the ship reached several meters in height, dwarfing most of the superstructure save for the bridge itself. Impact after impact was seen hitting the water.
The countess smiled devilish, “They are too panicked to properly aim. How adorable. All ships, fire main coil cannons!” With a single motion of her hand, and a direct broadcast between them, all ships fired their opening volley. The ships rocked from the sheer force behind the projectiles, only to be mused over under the sound of the coils regaining their charge. For onlookers, the sound the cannons made was not an explosion, but more of lighting curving through the air. It took less than half a second for the shells to meet their target; the balls of fire that erupted from the visible pirate ships, their main deck guns were torn apart while the holes in their superstructure destabilized it and the holes in the hulls made them take on water. Pieces of debris was flying around and Risa simply looked on with glee. Usually, pirates were a thing to be handled by a single battleship, though in this case the Countess wanted to teach any of their pirate friends a severe lesson; One does not tamper with Versian supply routes at sea. “Bring us closer to them and start boarding. Have the crew man all guns just to be safe.”
“Yes, milady.”
--------------------------
The fleet had encircled the pirates after a short travel. All their weaponry was aimed at them before the vast battleship came in close. On its bow stood a small group of soldiers, and a plank was placed between the two ships. It didn’t take too long for the remaining pirates to have been rounded up and forced into submission. When Risa made her way to them, she was accompanied by a slender girl, with long black hair, partly done in a single braid from the back of her head. She wore -rather than a uniform- a pair of army jeans with a tanktop on her torso. On her leg was a holster for her sidearm as well as one of her knives, and a sheath for her other knife around the other.

“Well,” Risa stepped up to the line-up of pirates, each with their hands cuffed behind their backs. “schwanzgesichter, what do you think I am going to do with you?” She voiced, her heels tapping on the floor as she paced left to right.

One of the pirates spoke, vile and foul sounding words but a language that none seemed to speak. The girl who accompanied the countess however frowned upon the man who spoke those words.

“Ilya, do you understand them?”
“Yes. I understand them.” The girl voiced. “It’s the language my parents taught me; Tcharitjian.”
The man looked up at the girl, a glare was shot at her while she remained unphased. “gryaznaya shlyukha!” He spat at her.
Risa looked over her shoulder at the young girl, “Translate it then.”
“He called me a filthy whore.” Ilya’s voice was void of emotions, her speech was severely regulated and concise.
“Did he now? Does he understand me?”
“Most likely, countess.” Ilya bowed her head courteously. The stark difference between the girl and the pirates was astonished. The pirates were brutish and cruel in appearance, but they lacked the sophistication to pose a real threat. On the other hand, Ilya appeared to be a civilized young lady apart from her expressionless feature.
“grafinya? Ha! Kak ona mogla kogda-libo byt', suka.” The pirate spat at Risa, “Yedinstvennoye, chto tebe podkhodit, eto sosat' moy-” The top of Risa’s boot broke the pirate’s jaw and made him spit a few teeth.
“Ilya? I don’t need a translation to know that he said something foul, but please indulge me…”
Ilya gulped, “He said he doubts your claim to nobility and that the only thing that suits you is to”
“That’s… far enough. Thank you, Ilya.” Risa took a knee in front of the man and placed her fingertips underneath his chin. Her nails scratched the surface of his jaw as she forced his head to turn towards her. “Translate for me; You will die a very pathetic death, but one of you will squeal on your friends. That person might get a less severe punishment.”
The girl began reciting the translation into their language, a cold and hollow emotion fitted to the words. It sounds harrowing, bone-chilling and terrifying. Risa knew the girl would make it sound as she meant it to, knowing that she did a much better job at it than her.
Two of the pirates looked at the girl in shocked, while the others just bowed their heads to the ground and cussed under their breath. Risa on the other hand had a grin on her face, “One of the advantages of being broken at an early age.” She began signing the soldiers around them, “Bring these idiots to the brig. The first to squeal will be let off easy.”
The soldiers picked up the pirates off their feet, one by one and escorted them back onto the battleship, until the fifth suddenly started screaming. “Podozhdi podozhdi! YA pogovoryu, ya pogovoryu! Prosto ne ubivay menya!”
The others started scolding, “Zatknis'! Pridurok!”
The soldiers stopped, all confused as to what to do.
“Ilya?”
The girl simply pointed at the man who had screamed, “He, wants to help you out.”
“Da!” The man nodded, “YA rasskazhu, gde moi sputniki.”
“And he will tell where his friends are.” Ilya added, looking at the countess for an indication of what was about to happen, but all she saw was the same grin she already had.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by The_Legion_Ex » Tue Jan 30, 2018 10:08 pm

A Redemption Meeting Place, Insurrectio
Here, a fairly large group of people stand in a slightly crowded circle, facing each other as if in a meeting. They are discussing for their next attack... And that attack will be on the "Eastern Side of the World".

The Executioner, standing at the middle of the circle silently turns his head towards some of his comrades, unaware of the undercover agent hiding within their ranks. " Where should we strike?" said he as he glares at the person two feet from the left of the undercover agent.

" There is a territory there in the SouthEast... It is quite full of riches they said and it is easy to attack.. " And there came the undercover who said " I refute to that. There is a more vulnerable target than just any territory.. Da'Mura is currently in a state of destruction. We can just kill the fleeing citizens there and loot all destroyed places. "

The latter has been agreed upon. According to them, it is better to add insult to heavy injuries than to cut a fresh one from a well-armed person. Troops are assigned.... " 70 units, 15 aircraft, five UMVs. That is the deal. " "Yes." Strategies are planned.... " Where should we attack?" " From where the fleeing ones go. The attackers can strike us back if we arrive from the direction closest to them. We kill the helpless then use the steals to strike the stronger. "

All is done, the undercover silently disappears into the crowd and out of the place as the meeting is dismissed.
Report from Ex-Militia
"No Volunteers. I repeat, No VOLUNTEERS."
???
A man in a coat and falcon-resembling suit silently sits at the silent corner of the complex... Looking at a old tv screen, reports arrive that Da'Mura is taken over by a massive threat. " Not that threatening looking when faced alone... But numbers destroy all. " He then leaves the scene, hidden from everyone else.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Ninmast » Sat Feb 17, 2018 6:01 pm

Vireal, Basilicom
Dahlia snapped up into a sitting position with a sharp gasp, peering incomprehensibly at the walls and features that swam before her eyes without accompanying recognition or focus. It was a long half dozen rapid heartbeats before she calmed enough to process the room around her.

The room around her was relatively new to her, less than three years old, the building it was in designed and donated by the citizenry. Though the room, itself, was generous and part of a full suite, it encompassed only a small portion of the full structure. When she first came to the island, she had assembled a crude shelter that was replaced in time with a cabin as the city-state found its feet. The cabin still stood just outside the city proper on the mountainside, but five years ago, she had started shopping for an apartment downtown to cut down the commute on her increasing duties. The people were appalled at that notion, however, and deemed it unacceptable. They insisted she should have her own place and decided it should be in the same location as the official offices of government. Construction and furnishing of what would be the tallest building on the island took two years, and when she first saw what was taking shape, she inadvertently gave it its name.

Now, she was tied up in linens from her thrashing, one of her pillows and a Drone plush on the floor, and a gynoid stood at the foot of her bed. Of course, it wasn't just any gynoid, but the unique one built in the image of ALICE's avatar that was only used as her personal interface.

"Your sleep was violent," the blonde seemed to passively observe, though Dahlia thought she almost detected a hint of concern in the droid's mien.

Dahlia rubbed her forehead with her palm, finding it sweaty and stuck with brown hair. "Just a bad dream, Alice. A very bad dream, but nothing to worry over." She gave a groan and then hauled her feet around to come down on the room's plush carpet. A quick oscillating rub of her face made her look more disheveled, but feeling more awake. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"It is field test day for the month," the machine answered, "then you have breakfast with the council. After that, new modifications to the pulse rifle are ready for your review."

Dahlia waved that last one off. "I couldn't care less about the weapons, Alice. I'd rather hear where we are on ranged telescreen manipulation."

"Understood, ma'am," ALICE conceded dutifully. "Forgive me, I thought that, given the situation, you might have different priorities."

That immediately caught the brunette's attention. "What situation?"

"The attack on Amenia." It was stated so simply that it seemed almost unimportant coming from the blonde girl's artificial mouth, but Dahlia's blood ran immediately frigid as her mind flashed through the scenes from her nightmare.

"Overnight?"

"That's the one, ma'am."

Dahlia was completely awake now, lunging from her bed as she threw on clothes like she was attacking an assailant. It wasn't a dream. They had been calling for her. In their hour of need, her people had reached for her whether they knew it or not, and she was halfway across the ocean instead of there to protect them. "Cancel the field test and the breakfast," she ordered as she went. "Ready the rifle review and prepare a military contingent sufficient to hold resources on foreign soil. Plot a target zone with accessible factories we can repurpose to our needs. Schedule an emergency public address to all of Vireal for noon."

"Yes, ma'am," and Dahlia had no doubt it was all already done. "May I ask what you intend?"

She threw her jacket on over her shoulders as she story for the door. "To win the first war of our nation's life."


Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
The Boulder Twins
Nori Akio and Aiko

Noble twins identical to each other in all but gender, who excel at joint tactics with their supernatural synchronicity and their house’s special iai combat style, the Lethal Blow. Though promising, they are yet young enough to not have outgrown the shadow of their legendary father, Nori Daichi, better known as The Mountain and said to be named for cleaving his namesake with a single Lethal Blow and the inability of his opponents to move him once he has planted his feet. Each twin bears one blade based on one of their father’s twin katanas, and are said to have inherited his ability to be aware of all that touches the earth.
Only two figures formed the diplomatic envoy, each clad in identical ornate bronze-colored armor in the style of the Dragon Empire, heralding back to a past era with deceptive accuracy. Despite looking like what one might have seen on battlefields centuries ago, there was no doubt it was built with modern military grade materials. Such noble armors spoke to the skill of the empire’s craftsmen, and not so much as a single plate clinked as the two approached in perfect synch. Between the two of them, they carried an ornate ivory box with gold filigree. The greatest differentiation between them was that the back of their helmets let out their raven hair, one in a braid, one in an unbound tail, probably to aid their allies in differentiating them when in full armor as they were now. The oddest thing for one who knew their culture was that neither was armed. Turning over their sidearms had been simple enough, but because it was such a faux pas for anyone to so much as touch a noble’s weapon, it had required more creative solutions and extra willingness to both sides. If touching it was faux pas, trying to take a noble’s weapon required force, and was considered grounds for self-defense. Instead, they had left them in a designated chest at the gate, with each of the twins putting their swords in there, themselves, after wrapping them, so that no other hands touched them. It was a technical exception only, but one they were willing to make for this meeting.

They approached the throne, but stopped flush with the last guard at the foot of the steps to the throne, and in one perfect motion, both simultaneously knelt and removed their helmets, the box touching ground between them and their helms gently setting to the side of their outside foot. Their fists clasped over their hearts as they announced themselves, and only in the absence of their helms could the keen-eyed queen distinguish the subtle differences even adolescence had struggled by which to separate the twins.

“Nori Akio,” the one to her left introduced.

“Nori Aiko,” the one to her right provided.

“Your Highness,” Akio, the one with the braid, proceeded, “we come on behalf of the Dragon Emperor to proffer a cessation of hostilities between our people.”

“But first,” Aiko, the one with the loose tail, and with a higher octave voice, followed, “we come bearing gifts.” She motioned to the box between them as her brother made an identical motion. “If you would permit us to continue?”


Uprea, Eastern Coast Airspace
The Wind Demon
Leigong Feng

A boisterous noble physically in his late twenties. He has a fondness for an old culture of a western continent, and has modeled himself after one of these “cowboys,” at least as one might if they knew nothing about them outside of entertainment media. He’s also fond of hunting, and will often fund his entire unit going along with him. He treats every member of his unit as brothers, commoner or not, but closest to him above all is his childhood friend, Lian Guang. He’s famous for his twin revolvers, Tornado and Typhoon.

The Azure Dragoon
Lian Guang

Guang’s solemn facade contrasts strongly with the volume of his childhood friend, Leigong Feng. His armor is far more traditional, and is fashioned after blue scales. It was fashioned by his father, a master smith who also crafted his two-pronged spear after the same design. His long black hair is french braided and capped with a seashell clasp. Despite their seemingly vast gulf in personality, Guang and Feng are tight friends and they made sure that their units were under the same command.
The roar of the engines nearly deafened all other sounds, but the man shouted anyway. “Everyone ready for a hunt?!” He threw his fist in the air with all the others, save one, who merely nodded. He nodded back, then grabbed his helmet, resembling a cowboy hat, and strapped it on so it wouldn’t fly off. “Let’s go grab us a haul! Yeehaw!” And he slapped a switch on the metal wall.

The noise only increased as the bay of the plane opened to the blue sky around them, and the men gathered around the gate to stare down at the coastline below. Then the man grinned to the others. “Last one to touch down sets up camp!” And threw himself right out into the sky. Moments after, more than a dozen men filled the air behind him. The one that nodded soon closed before spreading out his limbs to slow down next to him, and he gave him a thumbs up.

As the ground rushed up to meet them, it might seem like the time for someone to realize that no one was wearing a parachute. Instead as it closed in, the two nobles threw their hands down toward the ground as if to force it away by sheer will, and the winds pushed against them, slowing their fall until they hit ground and rolled, coming up in a run with the extra momentum.

“Alright, Ping, I saw that landing,” he barked while grinning. “Git!” As the soldier he addressed took off to start setting up tents for the base camp, he turned to the rest. “Alright, you boys know the drill. Mine on the land, Guang’s on the sea, let’s move! If you want furs to bring home to your girlfriends, we want a perimeter immediately!”
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by DaughteroftheFlame » Sun Feb 18, 2018 9:07 am

Uprea, Eastern Coast Airspace
Clanker-class "Defiant-Sentinel"

The first of the trio of experimental airships, it has recently been cleared for active duty whilst the other two are still in the testing phases. It has been active for only a year, but has seen plenty of combat against pirate incursions on this particular piece of airspace, as it is near an outlying village. As such, it has much experience in making every shot count, and the small but visible collages starting to appear on it's sides attest to this accuracy. Its captain is a Selachi named William F. Halsey, an experienced captain to be sure, but as he is the first captain of a Clanker, he will most likely be the admiral of the coming air fleet.
The "Defiant-Sentinel" was far from pretty like her naval sisters down below, "Ghost of the Isle" and "Last Bastion". It was very robust, with hard edges and corners, and was mostly colored a bland gunmetal gray. It had a few spots of color thanks to its yearlong lifetime, but they were small and on the outside of the vessel. The crew didn't mind much, as it was their ship. It would eventually develop a legend of its very own, like the ole' Blue and Maker themselves.

Captain Halsey also loved this ship. It has been a rough year, with the pirates growing bolder by the month, but they pulled though. Although, judging by one of the crew running up to him, it wasn't going to end just yet. The young OA (Ordinary Airman), was panting, likely from a lack of excercise. Going to have to fix that later. "What is it, young one?"

"W-we have...a...plane on...the horizon sir!" The young crewman managed, before standing up straighter at the Captain's look. "It doesn't seem like a pirate either!"

"Doesn't seem like it? Be more specific." Halsey began having some thoughts as to who this plane belonged to, but he wouldn't be sure unless-

"T-the flag of the Dragon Empire is visible sir!" The crewman continued, confirming his worries.

"...was it a dropship young one?" If it was, they would have to look out for escorts. Unless the Dragon empire was so confident in their power that they wouldn't send any, which would be better for them. "And if so, was it leaving or coming in?"

"It appeared to be a dropship sir! And it was heading out of our space sir!" Even worse, they already dropped off their cargo. No use in firing on the dropship, it wouldn't do much other than put a flaming carcass in their seas.

"...tell the lower gunners to begin looking for a landing party. They dropped off some poachers." As the crewman adopted a mix of shock and anger on his face, the Captain inwardly sighed as he ran off, the ship slowly responding to the searching order. As he went to inform the ships below to look out for them, he thought that it was bad enough that the pirates loved to 'poach' their citizens.
Uprean Eastern Coast; Red Forest
Uprean Eastern Coast Ranger Division

The Rangers of this division are the most skilled in defensive tactics, as the Eastern coast is subject to more pirate raids than most areas due to the lack of naval bases in the area. As such, they often have tapestries with abilities that benefit them, such as magic-resistance, cloaking, speed, and sometimes full on protection, but such equipment is expensive to make. They are also the lowest in number among all the branches of Rangers, but arguably the most skilled among them.
The Forest was quiet, and this was a rare thing. Usually there was some natural wildlife moving about, and migratory birds making mating calls, or even the occasional pirate scum that wanted to poach their kind. Only once they got away with it, the first time. Never again. So when the forest is quiet, it means that something was off.

It never was this quiet, thought the young recruit Kitani Tanak. She has been fully integrated into the ranks of the esteemed Eastern division fairly recently, and this was her first patrol. She was nervous, the young Fenerox having grown used to the sounds of nature. She didn't find the reason until she head a sound. A familiar sound that she heard often; The pitching of a tent.

Now, Kitani knew that no one but her and her assigned veteran was patrolling around here, so unless Tamaki was around, this was a stranger. Creeping closer and sticking to the uppermost branches of the trees, she released a small amount of her inner energy into her cloak, muting her noises and rendering her invisible to the naked eye. Upon seeing the source of the noise, she was confused at first.

A soldier from all appearances, Kitani didn't know to what nation he was pledged to until she recognized the design of the armor he was wearing, as all Fenerox have a natural affinity for. A 'Commoner' of the Dragon Empire was the name that came to mind, the quality of the armor being only matched by the artists of her homeland.

Her mind raced to conclusions as she counted the number of tents in the area. A small group, but with plenty of supplies. Likely highly skilled in nature, and this would be her only chance to strike. Little noise accompanied her as she jumped down, a blade slowly being drawn as she crept closer.

In the surrounding forest, a small sound of leaves blowing in the soft wind would cover her lunge, the blade aimed at a chink in the armor.
The Septry of Iragos
All things came to those who would wait. The Grandmaster was a patient one, with tea on the table and the room empty. Slowly he turned his head to the door, the door itself soon opening after he looked there. The Chairwoman, an albino Fenerox with many clashing emotions raging inside, slowly entered the room.

"Ah, Drusilla, welcome! Come, have some tea. I imagine we have much to discuss..."
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by ChaosShadoWolfe » Tue Feb 20, 2018 11:35 pm

Capital city Avulern
First Count Heinrich Glauer
The port capital of the former city-state of Avulern, it was a city rich of history and culture, with many beautiful plazas and buildings, including the royal family’s estate upon the mountain top. When Count Glauer first arrived in this part of the world, he initially decided to take the city by brute force; destroying most of its aesthetics and plunging the country and its military into a state of decay, ruled by anarchy and whim. It would’ve been a state perfect for conquest, and with it quickly turning winter it would’ve been a perfect moment to strike.

However, despite the major advantages it would provide him, there was one thing that Heinrich was more concerned about; Public opinion. There was little in ways one could go about a conquest, but the public generally decided whether you’d have a hard time staying in power or not. Heinrich knew this, and ignored a prime moment to strike to instead try things a little differently. He would still conquer his prey but it would be done on his terms. He set out personally, with a single lightly armed bodyguard, and met with the royal family of the city state. They were lovely people; sociable and kind, especially hospitable. But when push came to shove, Heinrich would be more inclined to the no-nonsense way of doing business. He informed the royal family that his fleet of a solid seventy fully-armed warships, and numerous troop transport ships, were waiting just outside the harbour waiting for the go-ahead. Would he be unable to return, they would level the city with enough firepower that people would wonder what swallowed it whole. He played on the royal family’s sentiment for their city, even the count had to admire the impeccable mastery of architecture and city planning and he would freely admit this. After a short negotiation, Heinrich put up a soft ultimatum; He would receive an answer within three days, after which in case of no answer being given, he would view that as a rejection of his offer and thus will proceed to invade, though he would try to prevent needless destruction. Were they to stand down and surrender, it would merely be an occupation and they would remain in their current place but this time as Nobility rather than royalty. Unfortunately, were their answer to be a rejection, he would be obligated to protect his men and thus would begin bombardment of the port city.

It didn’t take long before the noble family cracked, and Heinrich had drawn up a document. Within three days, his soldiers marched through the town and the Versian banners were draped from the flagpoles. The Royal Family was moved out of their palace and into an accomodation fitting their new standing in society.
--------------------------
The Northbound reconnaissance fleet, under command of Lord Von Kopf, had docked in the port of the ever-expanding Northern capital. The sailors were busy loading and unloading the vessels, its food supplies moved off the ships and towards the market if it was still usable while new supplies were transferred onto the ships themselves. Under control of the Versian Count, the city had flourished into a economic strongpoint, with trade coming in from all directions. Lord Von Kopf stood at the end of the dock, observing the soldiers and sailors work.
“Lord Ultzer,” Count Heinrich called out as he stepped towards the docks, a cane gently tapping the ground. “I see you have returned safely from your voyage.”
The Lord turned on his heel, tapped his heels together and saluted, “Yes, my count. I have.”
“I assume you have seen ample opportunity for our prosperity?” Count Heinrich voiced politely as he walked over, two Reich gardisten at his sides. They were obviously on bodyguard duty, though they were still armed for regular combat.
“No, my count. I have returned to bring urgent news.”
The count laughed a little and looked over his shoulders to the two soldiers. They just shook their heads in disappointment. “And what,” he turned his head towards the Lord, “Would this dire news be?”
“The city of Aro has been occupied and, absorbed by some nightmarish creatures. A whole legion of them.” The Lord explained.
“A legion, you say? And this, Legion… Did it seem to be able to reach your ships?” The count stepped closer. He was a head taller than the blond haired lord, and about half as big. An intimidating man indeed, even to those most familiar with him.
“No, my count. They seemed to be incapable of cross” The cane slapped the man in his stomach, causing him to arch forward a little in response. Ultzer ceased speaking, usually this meant the count had little interest in excuses.
“Then why didn’t you just open fire?” Heinrich circled the lord slowly.
The words seemed to refrain to exit his throat, and with pain he uttered, “Because there was no imminent threat to our forces.”
The cane struck again, this time on the inside of the noble’s knees forcing him onto it, “No, instead you gave the enemy resources and assets.”
“My count, I do not even-Ahh” the cane struck the man in his back this time.
“No, excuses. Anyone that takes our territory for themselves while we are on the verge of taking it, is to be considered an enemy. And you spoke of Nightmarish creatures, so I presume that you have been dealing with non-human creatures.”
“Yes, milord.”
“Then you should’nt have had any qualms in delivering a quick and decisive death to them.” The Heinrich remained standing in front of Ultzer and turned to face him, slowly putting the cane underneath the Lord’s chin and forced him to make eye contact, “You, are a disgrace to our glorious nation, more precisely to my name. But, you may yet be redeemed. There is a citystate to the south of our current occupied area in the Western expanse, not too far away. Lord Edelburg reported his forces are still recuperating so I want you to take your fleet there, and proceed to conquer it.” Before the lordling could even respond, Heinrich continued, “I have no interest in excuses. You are going to take that country, and you will take it properly. Do I make myself clear, Lord Ultzer?”
“Yes, Count Heinrich.”
“Good,” The count lowered his cane to before his feet and looked down on his subordinate. “Now, Take your ships, and get out of my port.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Capital city Voluntia
Empress Lura La Versai
“Your grace, I would wish for a cease of this endless war.” The last of the peasantry requested, kneeling before the mightiest figure in the entirety of the Empire. “My son, he has been serving your armed forces with pride for the larger part of a decade now and I would wish him to return home.”
Lura leaned forward a bit, intrigued by this request. “I see.” She voiced, her eyes locked onto the woman pleading. A soft humm could be heard from the empress’ throat, before she got out of her seat. “Mind you, there’s little I can do to force your son to remain in the army.” A swift gesture of her hand made the guards suddenly spring into motion, swiftly moving towards the people in the room. While her status as Empress was well-known throughout her empire, nobody would say so from the way she looked. Her appearance was relatively normal, with a few more ornaments here and there but nothing excessively out of the ordinary.

She stopped a few feet before the woman, and looked over her towards the crowd eagerly awaiting her words. “Let this be a reminder to any, with loved ones in our glorious army, that I do not force them to be in it. It is entirely voluntary after their first tour, anyone that wishes to leave, leaves. But many understand that serving our empire with their lives is the lifeline that our nation possesses. Not giving them the opportunity for this would be to restrict their freedom of choice.” She turned her head towards the woman. “So no. I will not grant you your wish.” She turned around and walked back to her throne.
“But, your grace,”
Lura stopped, slowly turning her head to look over her shoulder. “I will have no objections. You don’t know half of what keeps this nation afloat.” With those words, Lura sat back down on the throne. The commander of her personal guard stepped up from the sideline, stepping just inside general view.
Lura locked eyes with the venerated man, and softly nodded. The man took a deep breath and began to bark orders. “Get the peasantry out, immediately! Her highness has concluded this week’s hearing, so all are to leave this estate if one does not belong.” The guards swiftly ushered the commoners out of the room, leaving but a handful of guardsmen and the Empress in the throne room.

She sighed. The experience always drained her mentally. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, pondering what to do. A few of the commoners wished for additional tools for their work; something that could be delivered though its a plea on a regional governor's level. Which reminded her. “Cassian,” she voiced, straightening herself up again. “What is the purpose of our regional governors again?”
“A regional governor is a noble bestowed the rank of lesser Count, given a region, usually the size of two small countries, and possesses control over this region. He decided taxation, levies, crop rotation and more of the more region specific tasks. In addition, they have a small garrison to keep order in their section of the empire, however there have been instances of a regional governor being unfit for their role.”
“What happens then?” Lura inquired quite intrinsically, her interest peaked as she felt something looming over her like a dark cloud.
“They had increased the taxes to such heights that the commoners were dropped below the poverty line. This led to a famine amongst his people and subsequently a rebellion. This is what happened in the South.”
“Wait, under countess…”
“Yes. The countess had appointed this individual to the region, and when she realized what was going on, the ship had already left port with most of the coin. Said coin is now resting somewhere on the ocean floor, the countess is known for”
“A rather short fuse, yes. I’m well aware.” Lura diverted her attention back towards the doors. Two men had just appeared through it and were walking straight to her. One of the men was the adviser that had set off to fetch the scientists, and judging from the lab coat the man behind him was the scientist. She got up out of her throne and casually stepped down the stairs. The advisor took a knee and bowed, the scientist swiftly doing the same.
“Your grace. I present you, Herr Runkel Grümberg. He’s the head of the Grümberg Research Bureau.”
“Ahh, you made quick work of it, herr Überhausse.” Lura stopped a few feet away from the scientist and extended her hand, a noble gesture as she offered the back of her hand to the scientist. The man looked up and gently supported her arm as he kissed the hand. “You may stand now.” Lura permitted, taking a step back.
“Thank you, your grace.” The scientist returned to a stance. “Herr Überhausse explained to me that you have heard of my advancements in ground tanks.”
“Indeed, and that is why you have been summoned as well. Please, let us walk as you explain your concept.” Lura beckoned the commander of her guard to follow suit, as she stepped past the scientist.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Madrigal » Sun Feb 25, 2018 9:21 am

High Queen Lothane
Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus

Had the twins thought to gaze up at the guards to either side, they might have seen the shifting eyes of the royal guardsmen, scrutinizing the two closely. A not unexpected reaction. Magic, or at the very least magic as understood by the Lydren Empire's neighbors, was an alien concept to the pious citizens of the Empire. While the art of summoning fire or controlling the currents of wind might have been seen as normal by their neighbors, such things were seen as the domain of witches and demons by the Lydran. Their folktales were full of stories of treacherous wanderers from neighboring lands, entering the Realm of Truth to spread suspicion and apostasy. And their religious texts were thick with stories of demons, spirits and angels, each with powers rivaling even veteran sorcerers. Yet for the worry in their eyes, they simply stared out from their posts vigilantly. High Queen Lothane herself merely smiled acceptingly.

"You may proceed."

Princess Lorien Ithe Fraine
Somewhere in the Jothrevir countryside

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Find the mischievous spirits, consecrate the grounds, and hope she impressed her mentor and the four other officials who would grade her performance. It was a simple job, her last challenge before she rose from a Daughter in the Church to a Sister, and claim the rank of Invoker. Common household spirits, that soured milk and threw dirt on the floors of meticulously clean houses, were far from a challenge even for a novice Invoker. She hadn't thought to prepare herself beyond the most rudimentary of preparations. If only she knew what awaited them...

The village had seemed a serene place when Lorien had first seen it. A cluster of small houses around a town square, with a town hall and a chapel facing one another. Its steeple seemed to tower over the hamlet, the white stone of the carved platform it was placed upon glistening by the light of dusk. Farther from the town itself there had been farmhouses, with their rich fields and pastures. The Princess-turned-Priestess had never seen cattle before. As the clergy rode on by, she turned her head to stare. With perhaps a little more curiosity than was befitting a former heir in line for the throne of the Empire. As her eyes fell adoringly on a calf nuzzling against its mother in the first chill of the evening, she couldn't help but let out a feminine sigh. A sigh that was cut short as a short, sharp pain gripped her left ear. Even as the fingers pressed against her skin, she knew who was responsible for the reprimand. No one quite pinched ears quite like Father Ansen.

"Ow! Owowowowie--stop it!"

Despite her protests, the pain did not subside. Instead, she was met rather with a chastising sigh. It was about then that the laughter began. Derisive comments, indistinct but familiar filled her ears. To the side, she could see Father Ansen turn his gaze towards her. His spectacles flashed in the fading sunlight, though his keen eyes did not flinch under the glare of the setting sun, or the knowledge that he would now have to chastise his pupil. "Lass. This is your first mission on behalf of the Most Holy Church of Quidditas. On an errand of the utmost spiritual importance. Now's not the time to be gawkin' at livestock."

His admonishments complete, the old stubborn priest released her ear. Nearby, she could hear her fellow priests--exorcists and invokers all--laughing to themselves. Lorien herself simply turned her head forward, pouting to herself. In her heart of hearts, she had to admit he was right. A Daughter of the Church, especially one hoping to become a Sister Evoker, had no business staring like a child on her first mission outside the monastery. If only the old priest wasn't so mean about it. Then maybe she could be Sister Evoker Lorien and keep her ears symmetrical...they were still symmetrical, right?

As she raised one hand to make sure they were still even after years of Father Ansen's discipline, she at last saw it. On the summit of a hill, illuminated with the last blood red rays of the sun there stood a large farmhouse, likely belonging to a family with no shortage of money. While it might have seemed a warm and welcoming place in the daylight, at this hour the twisting shadows of the evening gave it an unearthly appearance, as if it were a temple to a pagan god. Only a single oil lantern stood outside to dispel the eerie atmosphere. The group marched up towards the house, passing field after field of corn. While it was easy to make out the stalks when she looked at them, out of the corner of her eye, they seemed to shift into something more ominous. As if she were strolling towards a black ceremony prepared by otherworldly hands. Lorien almost sighed in relief as the fields gave way to the rocky slopes to the farmhouse. Six pairs of boots could be heard against the cobblestone underfoot, until at last they came to a beautifully carved ornate wooden door. The Father raised one hand, knocking loudly at the door, before it creaked open, to expose a woman. She was very pretty, with lush green skin and silky long yellow hair surrounding fine, petite features. Yet even Lorien could sense something was wrong. Her hair, though beautiful, was disheveled, and her skin was almost waxy, as though she had not had enough sunlight. Her eyes peered furtively out the crack in the door, before she almost flung the door open for the assembled clergymen. Father Ansen removed his hat, before offering a faint bow.

"Young Lady Maren, I presume? I am Father Ansen. The Monastery of Saint Alessandra sent us."

"Please, come in."

Almost desperately, the woman gestured inside the house. Lorien couldn't help but feel a shiver up her spine as she did so. The woman in front of her seemed well-bred, or at least so she would have judged based on her clothing and the home she found herself in. So why was she so eager to throw away the etiquette expected of a young woman and simply invite them in? Father Ansen seemed equally disturbed, judging by the stony expression on his face. She recognized it. He had the same expression once before, when she asked him about his own experiences as an Exorcist of the church. The Father started inside, the others following after him, their mirth now gone at the grim atmosphere around them. Lorien waited by the door, as expected of a novice in the presence of her masters. As her eyes wandered over the surrounding fields, she thought she could see something in the rows of corn. A tenebrous shape, indistinct against the black rows of crops. Small and feeble against the darkness, it must have been a child.

"Lass."

The words were soft, yet stern. Unlike the prior commands the Father had given her. Still, she had been so focused on the figure that this was enough to make Lorien jump in surprise. She offered a bow in apology to where Father Ansen was standing, before hurrying inside the farmhouse.

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Ninmast » Mon Mar 12, 2018 2:24 pm

Vireal, Basilicom
Under Dahlia's orders, ALICE had kept a lid on the invasion of the main continent that had occurred overnight until a proper announcement could be made. That time would be soon, as notices had gone out over the television network and radio stations for the island that an emergency announcement would be made at noon. Such announcements were few and far between, reserved exclusively for events that could only be called crises. No doubt every announcer was preparing to cut to the broadcast just a few minutes away.

Dahlia stood outside the door to the media hall, dressed only in her casual attire despite the occasion. It may have seemed odd, but what she had on at this moment wouldn't matter in the next. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, releasing the breath slowly as she mentally prepared herself one last time for what would happen on the other side of the door. Then she set her face in determination.

"Engage!" she commanded as light flared around her form, seemingly immolating her existing attire.
Vireal, Radio Screen, Live Broadcast
"We're just a few minutes out from noon now, and our cameramen are reporting that Red Heart has entered the media hall. We're cutting to their feed now. Yes, there she is now, shaking hands of staff and the media. There's ALICE nearby behind her. They're moving slowly toward the podium, likely giving words of encouragement to those people there. There's the transportation manager, and next to her is the CEO of Ruby Electronics. Now she's talking with the mayor, I understand she did have a breakfast scheduled with her and her staff, but it was cancelled on short notice this morning. Probably to do with the same matter as this announcement.

"The cameras are flashing even more now as she and ALICE break away from the crowd and move up the steps to the podium. The entire island now waits with waited breath as she moves up to the microphone ..."
Vireal, Basilicom
Red Heart looked over the crowd, knowing that they were only a mere fraction of those actually watching at this moment, all of them falling silent and desperate to hear her news. But there was no good way to deliver this kind of thing. So she closed her eyes and stood there at the microphone, praying for a few more moments to gather her words, and then a few more, and just a few more after that.

The bells of the Basilocom broke into a cacophony announcing the noon hour, and Red Heart waited until the last one had faded to open her eyes, leveling them with all gravity on the entirety of the City State.

"My friends ... my family," she stressed as she gripped the side of the podium and leaned forward, "our life on our island has been our reality for a decade. And it has been a wonderful decade. Wonderful enough that we have all but forgotten that before then, we were in other lands. Other homes, other families, other loyalties. For me, and for the vast majority of you, that home was Amenia. That Mother Land taught us all of the national values we hold important today. Freedom, democracy, equality. We will continue to build Vireal in the image we wish the world to see, but for me, and I know for all of you, it will be a long, long time before I cease to be a child of Amenia."

There was a pregnant pause in the room as Red Heart stood up straight again, eyes closed as she gathered her words once more.

"Overnight, Amenia, and every other nation on the continent, was attacked and invaded by an unknown force. As far as can be determined at this point, every such nation, including Amenia, was overrun, and for all intents and purposes, has been destroyed."

Gasps, cries and all sorts of other noises exploded throughout the hall, and Red Heart remained silent as it roared throughout, drowning itself into dull, frantic nonsense. This continued until a rising whine split through the air, increasing in penetration and dropping in tone until it filled the air with a deep, nearly inaudible but palpable thunder-like rumbling, finally reducing the hall to silence.

"What you hear," Red Heart finally continued, "is the Wall of Air. Effective immediately, Vireal is under a state of emergency. Any news of an enemy attack against us will be directed to your emergency radios. At such an alert, you should proceed to the nearest designated shelter. As a reminder, a designated shelter is any building that has been officially certified to be sealable against water and reinforced against stresses, equipped with stockpiles of emergency supplies in the event of their use. If you do not know where the nearest shelter is located, you will be able to ask any gynoid or at any ALICE kiosk. Gynoids will assist in guiding and sheltering the civilian population. I repeat, this is only in the event of an enemy attack. Even now, we are widening search patterns to give as early a reading as possible, and we have no guarantee that they will even come this far."

She stopped again, and again gripped the sides of the podium. "But we have no reason to believe they won't come eventually, and far more pressing, the extermination of an entire nation is difficult and slow. I have no doubt that survivors remain in Amenia, even now struggling to live." Again, she laid her stern gaze on the crowd, and on the cameras, as if in one sweeping gaze, she saw the whole of the island. "It is not in my nature to shelter in place, to wait for the battle to come to me. I want to save them, and I want to retaliate against these invaders." She clenched her fist before her so sharply that the air cracked. "I want to make them pay for assaulting my mother!"

There were no cries of anguish or panic now, only a roaring agreement from the crowd, and she didn't need to know the same response came from those watching remotely.

"I intend to personally lead a gynoid force to the mainland and secure a foothold against these invaders, so that we can rescue as many people as possible and make it clear that such intrusion will never be tolerated again!" This time, she had to wait for the noise to fade for her to be heard again. "But this is a matter of your security, as well, and I will only leave with your blessing, and will return with all due haste once a suitable defense has been secured."

Red Heart threw her arms wide, symbolically at the mercy of the masses. "I exist for your benefit! If you say to me, stay and protect us, I will not waver in your defense. If you say to me, go and liberate our brethren, I will not lose to any force. Command me, and your will shall be done."

She could feel it, like a growing inferno in her heart, and she closed her eyes to focus on it. Everywhere, from across the island, she could feel ever more people joining a single chorus matching the one in the room. She could feel herself stretched over the whole of the artificial island, encompassing every heart, every will feeding back into her with a single desire.

Red Heart's eyes snapped open once more, and the cameras caught a flash of ruby energy flaring through them. "I have heard you," she said, and the room fell still even as her arms lowered. Some distant corner of her mind said that this was going to be really hard to downplay later, but this was too important. Her right fist shot into the air like a cannon. "For Amenia! For our mother! FOR VIREAL!"


Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
"Your Highness is generous," Akio replied as his sister removed the lid from the ornate case they had brought with them. He turned in perfect harmony with her sliding it away to pull from the box what was immediately recognizable as a sword and sheath, though he held it so that it laid in his hands and could not be easily drawn without giving the motion away. Immediately noticeable was the blue and white land coral used in both the sheath and the sword's hilt and cross, though there was some sort of clear resin over it that kept it smooth, as if the coral had grown up within it to lovingly embrace the steel. White gold filigree and a fine matching chain trimmed it all, with the filigree forming eye-catching designs that gathered into Mercy's Tear blooms at major central points. The steel could be glimpsed between the tendrils of coral, and seemed blindingly white when light reflected off of it, as if glimpsing the sun itself within.

Rather than carry the weapon all the way to the High Queen, he laid it with bowed head upon one of the steps below her, very ceremoniously. The reason soon became clear as a respect for the Lythren beliefs. "Our finest craftsmen thank you for this opportunity to work on a blade so different from our traditional styles. It is the finest work we are capable of, and has further been enchanted by holy spells to protect Your Highness. May you never need draw it, and it will protect you from harm and disease, but on the dark day you need it to defend yourself, may its light guide your hand truly."


Uprean Eastern Coast; Red Forest
The wind betrayed her. It was obvious the moment she lunged, and far too late to do anything about. Instead of tousling the leaves to cover her, the wind fell instantly silent, and instead, the crunch of her foot against the loam sounded like a gunshot by comparison.

Ping turned and yelped, lunging back and falling down, but avoiding the lethal surprise attack as he grabbed for his wakizashi and scrambled to find his feet again.

"Well, you must be some kind'a rookie, miss, if you're making an attack like that." It wasn't the soldier who was setting up the tent, but someone behind and off to the side of her. Had he been there before? Had she somehow not noticed his presence? He was dressed oddly, and he tipped a cowboy hat helmet to her as he twirled a very fancy long-barreled revolver idly around one finger. He might have even looked charming in another context where the threat of facing a Noble in combat wasn't the most immediate thing to come to mind. "Don't you know anything about Imperial border patrols? Sorta like your pack hunters, no soldier's ever alone."
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by ChaosShadoWolfe » Fri Mar 30, 2018 7:52 am

Harbor city Voluntia
Klaus Schrei
A man of grander status, Klaus Schrei is a diplomat hailing from the Versian homeland of Isla Murinia, in particular the capital city itself, Voluntia. He is the heir to one of the former great warlords and clans that had been united under the Versian banner, ever since functioning as the envoy of her Imperial Majesty to form new relations, preferably on better terms. He is an attractive gentleman of a more mature age, having roamed this planet for the past thirty-six years. He is a man with blue eyes and blonde hair, a fair complexion and a vast knowledge regarding his home country, though he always acts on the best behalf of the nation he represents.
It was a hefty wind that rushed over the airfield. Klaus embarked a plane heading east,alongside a small bodyguard contingent, spanning a small fireteam in size. It was a regular occurance; The Versian Empire had been eagerly expanding westward, and it was not an uncommon occurrence at which an assassin made a foolish attempt to disrupt these diplomatic talks. The plane was as modern as the Versian Empire could muster, leaving little to be desired in terms of comfort and technology. The diplomat took a seat near the window, his bodyguards spreading their presence over the entirety of the craft. The plane taxied onto the runway before taking off, and what only could be described as a relatively bumpy ride awaited the emissary.

Once clearance was given, the diplomat's plane landed upon the nearest airport. The diplomat disembarked along with his envoy, most of whom left their less conspicuous weaponry on the plane and relied upon their concealed small arms in case of a potential threat emerging.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Capital City Voluntia
Empress Lura la Versai
"Your majesty, let me first express my gratitude that you have taken an interest in our project. With adequate funding, we should be able to produce the first prototype in a few weeks." The scientist verbally grovelled towards Lura, who rolled her eyes at the clear attempt at favoritism.
"Yes. I have heard very little about your project. Simply one of my generals has taken a liking to your design and supported its development, so I wish to know what would become of this... Tank of yours."
"But of course, your highness. Well, would you like to see the schematics?"
"No. That is for a later stage. First, lets talk the original concept. What is it, and how do you intent to realzie it."
The scientist got a bit of a grin on his face. "Well, your highness. If such talk doesn't bore you too much, I would happily oblige. Might I say, you have a beautiful decorum in your palace."
Lura looked around as she walked through the courtyard. "Yes. It was actually planted by my father. I personally only roam these parts when I am entertaining a guest, though even then I usually restrict it to the confines of the palace itself." Lura stopped and turned towards the scientist. "However, what I dislike is your stalling."
"Oh, my apologies, your highness. You wished to discuss the concept. Well, the current main battle tank the glorious empire has in service is the S-42 Light battle tank. With the emphasis on Light, considering its paperthin armour. For the time of its conception, namely during the reign of your late father, it was most definitely a formidable weapon. But alas, technology hasn't stood still for the past thirty years, and thus the design has become obsolete. Can you imagine if we still used those crude ships of ten years ago? Oh, preposterous."
Lura entertained the man as he explained his vision, longwinded as he was she had to persevere.
"Anyways. My design incorporates the most modern of armour, in combination with one of the cannons utilized in our grand fleet and a very powerful engine to have it keep up with the other modes of transportation."
"So, what are we talking in terms of the cannon?"
"Unfortunately, while we have managed to scale the energy production down to a size that allows us to use Gauss weaponry on our ships and embattlements, it is yet to reach a sufficient size to be utilized on anything but those. So we are unfortunately limited to conventional weaponry. However, for now we wish to use the Gungnir's arnaments, its a tried-and-true system, with it being sufficient to puncture most armour on its own. I'll tell you that in my design, we shall improve the armour to the maximum that we can use. At this point, we speculate it is around 80mm thick, and we are currently running tests with the 88mm cannon, armour penetrating rounds to find the optimal angle of deflection. While its firepower remain the same, we will improve on the Gungnir through its mobility thanks to a much more powerful engine and a thicker armour."
Lura hummed a little, considering the proposal. The air around them turned quiet, only the bird could be heard chirping as the pair strolled back towards the palace. "I see. You wish to aim for just an improvement on the Gungir. Here I thought you had a revolutionary idea to improve our ground forces in its entirety."
"But, milady. I do. Unfortunately, that's a development that is still very early on. We have little tests to show for the concepts. I think it would be best, if you were to visit our Bureau in a few days. It would allow me to demonstrate our current most interesting concept, and you can see the test results in person. Considering it is only an improvement we are currently planning, it can enter prototyping in a few weeks once we figure out the optimal ranges and after the successful fieldtest, it can enter full production within a few months. Would that satisfy your General's immediate concern?"
"I believe it should. Talk to Constance to schedule an appointment for me to visit, it will be towards the end of this week."
"Thank you very much, your grace. I promise, you will not be disappointed."
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by The_Legion_Ex » Sat Mar 31, 2018 12:30 pm

Solitaria
Troops have been sent to hunt in the Solitarian Depths. Our own goal is to find a source of natural explosive chemicals in case the military production force is unable to produce any for the bombers. The expedition will last as long as possible until it becomes too dangerous to stay in.
Report on a recently finished attack near Neopolis
Members of the Deathcore Shades had attacked the areas. 20 citizens and 10 soldiers are killed, 32 citizens and 5 soldiers injured. The attack started when 50 units have raided a building and secured its outskirts. The use of Shadow Muskets, "Combat Motorbikes" and Shadow Grenades are reported to be used by the Deathcore Shades in the attack. The construction team is currently trying to repair the insides of the building; cleaning up any dirt trail left by the bikes and using the assistance of a light-magic specialist to clear out any stray darkness, especially strains that managed to kill five members of the construction team and injured one. We are looking forward to wiping out the Deathcore Shades. We are currently researching on the properties of an unused Shadow Grenade and are researching on how to develop a counter for this illegal weapon whenever it is used in combat.
News from the Dangerous Side of the Arcadian Depths
A massive scrap of steel was fished out by an armored fisher-ship. Said metal is said to be from another ship that never survived an expedition. Plans to recycle the scrap metal is still being debated.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Madrigal » Mon Apr 09, 2018 12:13 pm

High Queen Lothane
Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
“A most generous gift. You have my thanks, and that of my realm.”

The queen inclined her head in a bow from her high golden chair, her long formal robes shifting beneath her. Her long curled golden hair shifted as she raised her head to offer them a matronly smile. Already, a pair of attendants in matching uniforms advanced to the foot of the dias, to be inspected for the many things that could reside in such a gift. For poisons and venoms, curses and fell magics. Or perhaps even a spirit of evil. Though if she had any such fear, the twins would find no sign of any such fears on her face as she offered them the same serene smile.

“You may proceed with your petition, noble Akio and Aiko. May your words do Clan Nori justice.”

Princess Lorien Ithe Fraine
Somewhere in the Jothrevir countryside
In that instant, Lorien knew that she would rather be anywhere but here.

From the road below, the cottage had a sweet quality to it. Poised with class, yet tinged with a certain quaintness that was only found in the countryside. She was not sure how she could have thought any such thing now. Perhaps it had been her own naivety, or the chortles of her elders ringing through her head. Gazing inside, the house seemed to have a palpable atmosphere of oppression. Seeing the grim chistled faces of their hosts, huddled close near the entrance, was reason enough to suspect as much. Already, she found herself regretting her scant preparations for the exorcism and evocation that she knew awaited her.

Reluctantly, Lorien stepped inside the cottage. Her white boots, purchased for her by her aunt before Lorien’s return to the Church, tapped against the wooden floor. Though she stepped slowly, her footfall seemed to resound against the floor, and the planks moaned in protest. The air here was thick, bitter. With every breath, she found her breath catching in her throat. Ahead, she could see Father Ansen sitting by the fire, near to the family. She might have thought them the perfect family, were she to meet them in less unnerving circumstances. The woman to let them in was the eldest of three sisters, all with lush green skin and long blond hair. They were probably considered quite the beauties in town. Their mother was much the same, though her face was now more haggard and pale. The yellow-tinted father of the group stood behind the four and his son, holding them comfortingly from behind. The soft murmurs between them and her master were scarcely visible from here. She had to get closer to hear…

*Crunch.*

She set down her foot, the familiar sound of the floor beneath her replaced by a hideous sound, that sent a chill running up her spine. Her eyes cast themselves downward. She could see her noble boot, resting on the floor, a small oozing green puddle emerging from the sole of her shoe. As much as she did not want to know the source of this puddle, she slowly raised the toe of her shoe, pivoting it to the side to reveal a large spider, easily the size of her hand. It was black in color, its innards crushed beneath her, yet its dead eyes seemed to gaze up with a crimson-hued malevolence that sent a shiver up her spine.

“Lass.”

The Father’s voice was low. Calm. Though not as reassuring as she might have hoped. Still, it was enough to shake her from her thoughts. With a bow, she hurried over to join Father Ansen, doing her best to forget what was now on the sole of her shoe.

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Ninmast » Tue May 15, 2018 7:50 pm

Vireal, Navy Docks
"I again must recommend travel by aircraft," ALICE repeated for what must have been the sixth time as the gynoid remained standing on the dock, surrounded by HI-GD model infantry gynoids (Heavy Infantry - Garrison Defense, often called High Guard by the citizenry) in their armor that resembled Dahlia's transformed state in design and color scheme. Though symbolic, the AI's personal gynoid would be staying in Vireal as the head of state in Dahlia's absence, and given the tumultuous announcement and event that had spawned this voyage, it was decided it would help give a sense of stability to the populace to see her well-guarded.

"And I again must remind you that what we know of them indicates a strong air presence," Dahlia answered for as many times from the boarding plank.
She dropped her pack to the deck as she stepped on and turned back to her artificial assistant with a puzzling look. "What's gotten into you, ALICE?
It's not like you to go so against reason like this. Do you know something you haven't told me?"

The gynoid blinked her blue orbs. "No, ma'am, nothing. I know nothing. I do not know their numbers. I do not know their units. I do not know their strategies. I do not know their deployment patterns. I do not--"

Dahlia raised a hand to stop her. "I got it. You know nothing about them."

"Yes, ma'am," ALICE reconfirmed. "Thus, the only mathematical certainty is that the longer you remain away from Vireal, the greater danger you are in due to the exponential potentialities of unknown variables. The aircraft will deliver you to the continent and return you to Vireal much faster than by ship."

"Uh-huh," she intoned. "So what you're saying is that you don't know what's going to happen over there, and that makes you insecure about the outcome, so you want me back where you know I am safe as soon as possible, is that correct?"

ALICE blinked again, and after a brief pause, answered, "Yes, ma'am, that seems a succinct shorthand."

But then Dahlia just grinned. "Congratulations, ALICE. You've learned to worry."

The blonde had a small change of expression that was a somewhat successful attempt to form a frown. "I do not believe I like worrying," she surmised. "It is inefficient. I would rather have knowledge."

"And if you're going to get it," Dahlia finished, tossing the gynoid a two-finger salute, "I have to get there, and do it in one piece. We'll know what we're dealing with in three days! And in the meantime, I'm going to work on my tan!" She gave ALICE a wave and turned away to head further onto the ship populated otherwise entirely by gynoids, trying to ignore that ALICE was still practicing her frown.


Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
"Actually, your highness," Aiko replied, "if we may be so bold, we have one further gift. This is not from our kingdom to yours, and is not related to these proceedings. It is a gift from my brother and I to you."

She turned and knelt beside the box to lift out a smaller one, and instead of approaching in unison, her twin brother stayed behind this time, much as she had when he brought forth the sword. Like the sword before it, she set it on the step and knelt. "We have heard with great joy of the coming of your firstborn, your highness, and we wished to bring a gift for a mother and a new life in this world. Within are a collection of toys for young children of various ages that are popular in the Divine Dragon Empire, including a few of our personal favorites that we recalled with fondness from our own childhood. We hope it brings the young prince great enjoyment."
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by The_Legion_Ex » Wed May 16, 2018 10:39 am

Solitarian Exploration Report 1
[Report Initiated]

"In this moment, the exploration team is still in good condition. We are now 20ft below ground, tons of razor-sharp stalagmites down here. We have a lot of resources gathered and we are planning to get up before anything else tries to kill us."

[Report Concluded]
Shadow Grenade Testing Results
"Something is wrong. The Deathcore Shades is clearly using smuggled material in order to house darkness. This currently unidentified material is responsible for safely housing the darkness thus might also be used to house light. We currently cannot reproduce said material without having to go through dangerous processes. For now, we will consider an attempt on a molecular level of analysis"

-Dr. E
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Skummy the Kitty » Thu Jun 28, 2018 5:42 am

Death of a People-
Anyone of Da'Mura left were those who were not in the country to begin with, out worrying about diplomatic relations or some such and not present when Oram's army stormed them. As such the collected material from the excursion was great, but not in totality, however Oram did not care and set itself upon the destruction of millennial structures and long held holy relics to use up the power inside of them for their purpose. The gathered souls would be fused within a mobile holding unit until such time as their essence could be made of use, with only the mightiest and most powerful being claimed by The Many for it's desires.

Oram could feel the persistence of the Ancestors to the west, something was halting them, and thus is halted Oram. However duties could not be ignored and thus the only thing to be done was to allow for The Many to leave for these westward lands while Oram continued to make use of the material.
Besieging a Nation (Vireal)-
It was by sheer fluke that the Ancestors had made it through one third of this country, they were using archaic strategies learned from races long since dead who had not been working alongside the growth of humanity. They were set up in groups of ten, in a line, firing bolts of energy at the structures and anything that happened to move. However they were also encountering heavy resistance from this place's security forces, while artillery was intercepted by The Guardian, flying high above and expressing its control through waves of static, it could not repress the explosive ordinance that was managing to afflict the Ancestors with damage and cause chain reactions as they were readily formed into tight phalanx rather than spaced far enough apart to avoid their cores detonating in chain sequence.

It was unknown how large the Ancestor army was, but it was enough that there was no current way to push them back out, not without encountering those who waited like a bedrock wall to the east for their turn. But for now everything had ground to a halt on the invasive front
Fleeing for their Lives (Ex-Arcadia)-
Those that had managed to flee were now in a no mans land between Ex-Arcadia, their burning homeland, and the sea front. There was no real chance of true escape form this nightmare and they knew it. Only a few Knights, and many civilians to safeguard. With mana pools expended and fatigue settling in if they were pursued they would be easy to dispatch of. If those of Ex-Arcadia wished to do so, they'd be dispatched of. If they tried to escape tot he sea even more dangers. They were sandwiched and with no true alternatives, so they chose to be seated and express themselves through meditation in these dark hours and pray that no more destruction would befall them.
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Credit to Sammy and Nicodemus; one created my set for me, the other drew the source image as a request.
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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by The_Legion_Ex » Thu Jun 28, 2018 9:50 pm

The Redemption's Attack
A large triangular formation of aircraft patrolled the sky, ten attack helicopters forming an arrowhead that protects the five transport aircraft which are armed with machine guns and filled with silhouette troops and UMVs. These, at first, appear to be members of the Ex-Arcadian airforce, that is until the logo of The Redemption became clearly visible.

As the formation begins to align with the group of Da'Murans, a flurry of bullets began to rain upon the with no halt, the attack briefly stopping as the formation prepared to make a turn and slowly made a circular formation as the five transport aircraft comfortably fitted in the circle began to slowly lower at an abseiling-safe height. The transport aircraft then fired their machine guns aimed towards the victims once more as incendiary rifle-wielding troops rappelled down ropes that emerge from the exit of the aircraft opposite from the line of fire with one additional UMV dropping down from each transport craft. While the transport craft are lowering their contents, the attack helicopters rapidly spread out of their formation to surround the Da'Murans and open-fire from multiple directions.
The Ex Legion: A squad of underlings under one mind.

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