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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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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Madrigal » Tue Jul 31, 2018 1:01 pm

High Queen Lothane
Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus

The High Queen inclined her head to the two in gratitude for their gift, her hands clasped within her lap. It felt so...lonely. Sitting here, on her own. Without her husband at her side to steady her spirit. Perhaps after this meeting, she would bring her child out into the gardens. The throne room was no place for an infant, and it would be unsightly in the eyes of the courtiers. A High Monarch, entertaining her newborn in the most hallowed hall of earthly power. But the garden sounded splendid. She would enjoy her tea, nurse her child. Perhaps afterwards she would visit her husband's tomb...

Her face rose again, an expression of serenity upon her ladylike face. For all her melancholy thoughts, her face was as stately and ladylike as one would expect of the High Queen. "I thank you for your consideration and kindness. May my son grow to share my regard for you and your clan."
Cirwen Village, One Hundred Miles from the Aidelian Border
"Oh yon lady 'pon the tower with the curled golden hair,
Won't you grant to your knight your ribbon and your prayer?
Oh how the heathens roar! But how my heart glows warm! Oh so warm.
Oh Knight, tip your lance, and charge into the breach!"

It was a beautiful day in the border regions. The perfect day for a parade. The kind that young Hir Paellorn used to fantasize about when he was a child. The lines of glistening tanks, the infantry in their crisp dress uniforms. The cheering adulation of the common citizen, and the admiring gazes of untold numbers of maidens. It made his heart swell with excitement and pride. And one could tell too. The smile on the young gunner's face was wide enough to swallow a tankshell of sufficient caliber. And as the brass band began the next stanza and the voice of the male singer surged, he knew that he couldn't be happier.

His commanding officer however was less than pleased.

The shirtless tank commander straightened himself, a bucket of water in hand as his subordinates scrubbed at the side of their tank. He and his crewmen had been attending to their tank's weekly maintenance. The last part was always a rubdown. Some might think that excessive. The tank was hardly cleaner when they next took it out for exercises, patrols or even a parade. But pride in one's work was earned, not given.

One reason the snoozing Hir was annoying him so.

Tank Commander Val Quirin strolled to where the younger man lay napping on the tank's hull. The tingy sound of the radio's speakers occasionally turned into a squeal as reception got worse. It would get even worse in a moment. Val strolled beside the young man, shifting his considerable mustache beneath his nose as he did so in irritation. The kid was just lying there. without so much as a care in the world. So Val hefted the bucket overhead, and slowly poured its contents over Hir. The gunner's first mistake was opening his mouth when Val was pouring the bucket directly on his head. Hir raised either arm to try and block it out, without much success. Knocking the radio onto the ground as he did so. His second mistake was trying to escape his commander's attempts to rouse him by rolling off to the side. A low *thump* came from the opposite side of the tank as Hir hit the ground, a small cloud of dust rising from the other side of the tank. The other two members of the tank crew raised their eyes, took in the spectacle, and then returned to washing the tracks. Hir for his part stood indignantly, his uniform soaked and coated in dust.

“Hey! What’s the big idea? Why I...”

Hir’s protests died as he caught sight of who had actually decided to wake him. His mouth moved up and down ineffectually. Giving his commanding officer a chance to shove the bucket into his hands.

“Private, why don’t you make yourself useful and fetch some more water for the tank? The big day is only a day away. I want this old girl to be shining like the belle at the ball.”

Hir stood rigid, holding onto the bucket as though afraid to drop it, then his shoulders slackened and he stalked off, clutching it to his chest. “...We’re just moving up to take our rotation at the border. Its not like its anything more than the last fifty-three times.”

“HA! That’s where you’re wrong Hir.” The musclebound tank officer barked at him with a laugh. “Any posting along the border means there is the slightest chance we might get caught up in a war, or are the Border Troubles already a distant memory to you, lad? When the day war with the Aidelians or the Orientals break out, do you want them to point and laugh at us, or to fear us? Get four more buckets--I want her extra clean now.”

“Yes sir...”

“Don’t let the mustache fool you! I'm no noble--I work for a living."

“Yes Staff Sergeant Quirin!"

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Ninmast » Sat Oct 06, 2018 6:28 pm

Oram Northlands, Divine Dragon Empire Expeditionary Force
Brittle stone cracked under the bow of the large ship as it forced itself into the bay, carving a trench ten feet into the beach before coming to a halt. The front of the vessel folded down to crash into the rocks, and even as the ship's engines quieted to an idle, other engines started up. Metal boots crushed the weak stone underfoot as they strode onto the ancient land.

A man of early middle age and a stern demeanor in granite gray samurai armor stood out in the front, staring ahead to the battle on the horizon, seemingly unfazed by all of the empty death around him, but as vehicles began to disembark and two more ships impacted the shore in the same way as the first, a foot soldier with an anti-materiel rifle on his back took a moment to gasp on the stale air.

“I've only breathed air so thin high in the mountains,” the soldier noted, “and even then, it wasn't so … dead.”

“It's as the seers expected it to be,” the samurai replied. “They made sure we were prepared.” He raised a hand and his voice to the rest of the deployment. “Get the ships unloaded. I want Base Team starting water and seed by the time Forward Team moves out, and I expect grass growing around the fortifications by the time reinforcements arrive!”

Another soldier ran up to him as he walked away from the shore, this one bearing an engineering badge on her shoulder, and she had an ornate greathammer on her back. “Commander Nori!” she greeted, throwing up a salute he dismissed with a nod. “The seers were right about the ground here. It's been stripmined so thoroughly, there's nothing but soft stone as far as our stone senses can reach!”

“Use super compression,” he instructed, “and do the best you can, but try not to damage any surviving structures, the scribes will want to learn what they can. If you absolutely have to, you can scuttle one ship, but I want that to be a last resort.”

“Aye, Commander,” and the younger noble was away again as he resumed his walk toward the gathering VHTs and soldiers checking their weapons and supplies.

He spotted one of the squad commanders and made a path for him. “Lieutenant,” he addressed as he arrived, “what's the ETA to the combat zone?”

“Triangulation puts it at several hundred miles distance, Commander,” he replied after a salute. “The elephants are slow going, but we'll need to take them all the way for their heavy cannons until we can get into position to coordinate strikes from the SBS, then for their supplies as a forward base until we establish a line with Base Team. Standing estimates are ten to twelve hours before we hit their back flank, depending on terrain.”

Nori Daichi nodded at this. He didn't like it, but he learned long ago the virtue of patience. “We set out the moment the VHTs are loaded, your men will have plenty of time to check their gear on the way. Make sure they grab rations and find a crag to piss in before we go, they'll have a long wait.”

“Aye, sir.”

Open Sea, Vireal Flagship
Despite her oath to work on her tan, Dahlia had spent very little time on the journey outside of her cabin. When she did emerge, it was with the prototype rifle, to fire several shots from the rear of the vessel, then, still displeased with whatever she was checking, turning to head back below deck once more.

When a mother came down with her evening meal instead of one of the other gynoids, she rightly suspected she was about to get an earful, and set down the tools she had been using to turn and face the automaton. “Is ALICE calling?”

“No, ma'am,” the droid replied, and she was immediately reminded of how much stiffer they were to interact with than her assistant was. “However, she has instructed us to inquire as to your well-being.”


“Because she requested updates on your activities and found our reports displeasing.”

“Interesting.” Dahlia crossed a leg, touching her chin in thought. “Who applied displeasing as a descriptor?”

“She did, ma'am,” the advanced gynoid replied, still dutifully holding the tray.

“What is your understanding of the nature of her displeasure?”

“I have none, ma'am.”


The mobile operations manager hung for a moment, and to be honest, Dahlia worried she might have locked it up, but new better than to jump to that conclusion. Instead, she remained silent and waited for the gynoid to finish the process. Sure enough, after a few moments, it raised its head again and met her gaze. “I have cross-referenced biological health with seafaring and have several likely options. Least likely, she suspects you may develop scurvy, but the journey is not long enough and there is sufficient Vitamin C in your diet. She may suspect that you are not getting enough sunlight to generate sufficient Vitamin D due to your long periods inside, but you have sufficient light from your windows. Finally, you may be expressing symptoms of depression or anxiety through your behavior. This final scenario would meet the literary definition of displeasing.”

Well, it wasn't quite critical thinking, Dahlia supposed, and the thought process had stopped abruptly at its conclusion, but at least the unit deduced a correct, if entirely surface level, understanding. Perhaps when this was all over, she'd bring the newest models into a classroom and spend a few days just conversing with them, see how they did. For now, she cleared a spot at the table next to her workbench for the tray and motioned for the gynoid to set it down. This time tomorrow, her homeland would be on the horizon, after all, and she was determined to have this weapon ready.

Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
”Such an outcome would honor us greatly,” Aiko replied as the two bowed.

When Akio spoke next, however, it was with a much graver seriousness. “Unfortunately, we come now to the purpose of our visit. Your Highness, the desire for cessation comes from the revelation of Drak'Mar. The Divine Dragon Empire would be honored by your allied presence in addressing this threat, but even if this is not an option, we would be better able to focus on the battles ahead without also waging a war here. Already, our father heads an exhibition to that land, as the Emperor deemed the threat too great to wait.”

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Madrigal » Tue Nov 06, 2018 1:07 pm

Throne Room, Imperial Palace of Jordeus
The High Queen drew in a breath, low and soft. She was silent and still before them, lost in thought. This was her last chance. The final opportunity she would have, to lead her people in a crusade her nation had long neglected. War could only be declared with the Conclave's approval, of course. If she rallied the Royalists, Loyalists, Church, Vigilants and Neo-Imperialists, she would have enough sway to pass the call to arms. And perhaps, if she plead with her people, they would accept the war. The Empire's first conflict, since their northern neighbors were driven into the icy waters of the Veralisne after a bitter five year war...

Yet within herself, she knew she could not ask this of her people. Their last war, justified as it was by the discovery of insurrection within the Empire's borders by the Nuruin, had been at great cost to her people. At the war's end, there had been over a million graves filled, burying honorable men. And dozens of hollowed ships at the ocean's floor, tombs for hundreds in the deep. Even now, she knew there were millions who had never again had the chance to see their father again. Their husbands and sons. She could not ask them to give a million more.

"You are well aware, my friends, that I am known as the 'Peacelover' to my people. While other nations might consider such a name crude and insulting, my own kin see it as a kindly term. One meant to reflect my benevolence towards my people. I would be remiss, were I to cast aside such a title to attack our neighbor. I may reassure you, that no such act will happen."

Her declaration complete, the queen took in a breath of air to steady the firmness that had risen in her voice. Her hands returned to her lap from the rests they had been placed upon. Perhaps it was her age catching up to her, or simply her own mind eagerly awaiting it, but she felt in quite the mood for an early lunch after her audience with the two. Perhaps she would ask them to join her, though they might take that as an overly friendly token on her part.
Last edited by Madrigal on Fri Nov 09, 2018 2:40 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by The_Legion_Ex » Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:13 pm

Solitarian Exploration Report 2
"Slight tremors detected. Due to possible earthquake, all members have safely left the area without any wield."

[Report Concluded]

Da'Murans spotted near Ex-Arcadia
NEWS FLASH!: A swarm of what appear to be illegal immigrants from Da'Mura attempting to meditate in would-be claimed territory of Ex-Arcadia. Whatever this odd action this is for, all attempts to claim the area must be temporarily halted. Extremely heavy military action from 'The Redemption' is reported in this area. It is yet to confirm the connection of these events for this moment, for the news have yet to reach the Masked Lord himself.
Research on Mysterious Object found at Arcadian Depths
"Research has been done after we have received the object in question... This object, with its metallic hue and its shape, may point to being a part of a ship. Despite this, small traces of radiation might give us the conclusion that it might have involved some use of radiation of some point. Due to our findings, the possibility that this object is actually part of a bomb might be considered and it is highly recommended not to recycle it until further research says so."

-Dr. E
The Ex Legion: A squad of underlings under one mind.

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Re: Your Nation, Your Rule: World of Evermore

Post by Skummy the Kitty » Fri Mar 01, 2019 10:27 am

Amenia: 50% Under enemy control, 10% contested, 40% held by remaining Amenian forces (Vireal)
They had broken past several positions, beginning to learn to stop closing in at solid intervals to become less of a hazard if a chain reaction were to occur. However they were only at the halfway point of destruction, more Ancestors had been shifted from Da'Mura and pulled from services elsewhere to aid in the siege. The Guardian continued overhead ensuring that the grid stayed wiped, however it's influence did not extend towards military hardware and so the battle raged-the country was far too widespread for it to exert that much power. Though any aerial based countermeasures and indeed long distance ordinance was rendered useless as it hovered to its soldiers. They had moved ever forward like a devouring maw of energy and stone, never stopping but being held at the line as they still had not figured out how to engage in modern military tactics. However that would slowly change as they learned.

Those unfortunate enough to die, they were being harvested and their essences were being plucked up by the alien Oram for use in a new creature. By design this new golem would be a representation of Amenia's modern disciplines as well as the fear and wellspring of human emotions these creatures had felt as they were destroyed in mere days by an oppressive legion of monstrosities the world had not ever seen.
Oram Northlands, Sky Island Ruins (Dragon Empire)
The landing parties would not understand it fully but amidst the broken soft shell of clay and sediments were the ruins of not simple cities, but great floating castles that once housed exotic beings of thunder and lightning. Their ornate golden utopia now withered husks of base material deemed unfit for collection leaving massive mounts of broken city components, what could be identified as rudimentary turbines or at least the shadows of them, and mysterious glimmers of unmelding static orbs that spilled out of what once could have been known as a temple or, even, a tomb.

Outstretching hundreds of miles was the same scenery but it would variate from the ruins of a once unfounded nation into what could be seen as the wastes of many thousands of villages. These were a race nobody in modern history would even know about- gone forever with all records of their existence effectively wiped clean save for some few missed scraps in the endeavor to move on forwards to the next jewel. If you pushed south the long spires were still there, of what ancient records would state was the summoner nation of Neromasa, what was once a bastion of powerful magics now reduced to standing pillars of unbreakable stone. The tombstones of a fierce and developed nation that had quite a lot of influence in the western world and era ago.

This entire trek one would take would simply cement that whatever the adversary happened to be it was not of this world, not of here as nothing alive could strip the world of all that it was meant to be and still survive. The fact that these civilizations hadn't been heard of for an eternity would only allow for one to think that this plague was something that needed nothing to survive but would take everything for its own malicious purposes.

Back in the northern most part, if Scribes were to scan across the ruins they'd find no hint of a written system, predating all semblance of written language the stories of what this place could be lost. However if one were to come across the outspilling of orbs, flowing with some sort of weak static current, they would shimmer with greater frequency the closer one would become to their vicinity and change the frequency and pattern of their static current. As if fully aware of others being there.
Da'Mura, Heart of Stok'Vai
The Knowing One sighed and looked to The Many who seemed to be distantly looking back upon the barren horizon they had only managed to be rid of a short time ago. He could not fathom why he looked so longingly at it, as he had relished in his core of selves the eradication of a historical adversary and prison keeper in this civilization. The resulting golem would be a fantastic addition of turmoil and magical expertise to be sure, and The Knowing breathed a deathly cold breath in anticipation to see the Oram work towards it. Contrary to the Oram, the Ancestors, and Stok'Vai- the golems did not have a link to the hivemind, but were still built for loyalty even though they could feel in their selves that they would rather not. A tortuous existence as Oram thought they were in harmony.

No you little mongrels, it was a position of pure agony every moment, and since one would never slumber it was eternal. The Many knew this more than anyone, taking all creeds and races into himself simply to attain more power. A corrupted version of Oram that couldn't feel or speak to the others because he put his life down first. The two golems shared an interesting relationship of mutual understanding that one was to feed and grow- the other was to siphon away magic to summon new monsters and make greater hell.

"Stop looking out there as if you lost a favorite tome Many" Knowing hissed out in an interesting tone of whisper and rasp "It is most disturbing that you would even consider that barren scape as a home, twas a prison of most devious design- one that failed most spectacularly"

"You know not of anything Knowing" Many's voice was, as his name suggested, a conglomeration of tones and inflections that seemed to mold into a soft upper pitch with subtle variations due to mood. This was his base speaking however, and he was being courteous enough. "The Da'Muran Hero I devoured was strong, so strong, and his emotions boil even now above the others- a hero till the end it would seem. He looks not to the wastes as prison but as impending doom he was desperate to stop. Now we are released upon the world and he bears sadness"

"Do you think the rest of these races have a chance? According to Oram the Ancestry already has seen steep resistance- almost as it was back in my time. It could be a fluke?"

"No, not a fluke, but a message that we must grow and overcome the challenges that face us, the golem needs to be made soon as we must have many more generals to overtake this land and we cannot simply spread ourselves infinitely. Guardian is so busy with his task he's diverted too many resources away from here and made our progress slow for the wish to devour more" The Many was now staring back at the priest monstrosity as it tapped it's fingers along.

"The golem will not solve all out problems, first it must be properly coerced into function and set to task learning, until then they shall just have to suffice with the two of us as it is" Knowing turned and left, collecting its thoughts on something possibly and glaring at steadfast Oram as they worked non-stop in clockwork to digest this landscape and everything in it. Like a living stomach.
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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