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6 yrs ago
Current "Out of every hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are targets, nine are the real fighters, for they make the battle. But one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back." -Heraclitus
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7 yrs ago
"I have resolved never to start an unjust war, but never to end a legitimate one except by defeating my enemies." -King Charles XII 'Carolus Rex' of Sweden, 1700
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7 yrs ago
“Civilians are like beans; you buy 'em as needed for any job which merely requires skill and savvy. But you can't buy fighting spirit.” -Robert A. Heinlein
5 likes
8 yrs ago
"The soldier is also a citizen. In fact, the highest obligation and privilege of citizenship is that of bearing arms for one’s country” -General George S. Patton Jr.
3 likes
8 yrs ago
"Wine has drowned more than the sea." -Roman proverb
6 likes

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It's still WIP, but mostly finished.
The Battle at Imud
Grand Emperor Aedrius Derith Irenaeus the Ascendant (0-34)
One could not pry his own mind from the thought, that which lingered. As much as he had respected his better, he could not shake the feeling of doubt as he sat perched, upon his horse, staring down the lines of the cursed Paledunes. Cursed belief, thought he. What vile and sickening feeling it was, that nature of man, the doubt when faced with the cold blade and stubborn will.

“Aedrius?”, asked he, pivoting his own gaze to him, which himself sat upon a fine thoroughbred with iron will. “Some may count nearly one million in their ranks, standing against fifty-thousand. I am ill with thoughts of what may happen were we driven back. Have you anything to say which might satiate these thoughts?”

Irenaeus pursed his lips then, uttering a phrase which forever was stuck in the mind of the General. Aedrius spoke calm, but cold, “One million stand against fifty-thousand?” Aedrius paused. “Ascended help those heathens.” He spoke in regards to the Paledune men which stood opposite of our own columns. He roared seconds later the phrase to battle. “To your flanks, men! May your phalanxes be tight and your sarissas whetted!” Spurring his horse moments later, a great cloud of dust was drawn as his staff accompanied him at double quick towards the companion horsemen drawn up (on the far) right.

As General Sunwalker turned to spur his own steed, his eye was drawn to a figure upon the ridge nearby. Upon examination, the demeanor of General Eriokles became revealed to Dalleio. They regarded each other with the nods of their heads in that moment, and turned their own ways of which to ride, on to battle.
Royal Scribe Eusebius, 33

Some time (it took) for Sunwalker to take his command, a sizeable portion of the right wing of the army, being hoplites and sarissamen alike. He turned his steed rather sharply, regarding his own staff with a hail, and not but moments later did the horn sound. A drumbeat, one might’ve regarded it, but No! ‘Twas but the movement of the lines, a steady pace of which each phalanx advanced, all in step, as if a musical cacophony of war drums were assaulting one’s ears.

And it began. From each flank were hordes of horsemen from both our own lines and other lines alike. And how they streamed! How was it that men with such grace in the saddle could ever draw blades against one-another! Pure beauty, until dragged back to the stifling heat was the General. The clopping of hooves and the thumping of feet was not the only orchestra that filled the air. Wheels! Chariots! Each phalanx called to brace for the blasted vehicles of destruction, and the lines were extended under the cover of slingers and peltasts, an enfilade of fire which was never seen before striking down those golden carriages!

And the men parted the formation, as the Ascended had parted the very seas to create the land! The chariots sailed through, steeds cut down and riders impaled. The very charge broke before Sunwalker, which uttered a prayer to the Ascended as the phalanxes advances once more. Oh! Heard his prayer, had the Ascended! For the cavalry had collided with one another, and the Paledunes broke! The Heathens had turned tail, and left their own exposed! Beautiful chaos ensued, and the main lines began to collide in a haze of glory! Sarissas, blades, and pole-shafts thrusted through, and as if a supernatural force simultaneously directed them away, those Eastern men routed! The most glorious pursuit one could ever see! None could harness the fury of the men under the Grand Emperor! It had to have been a distance of most of the Goldsea the men pursued before they could dare keep calm enough to make camp.

How Holy! The Ascended blessed all that were true to Them that day! The path of conquest was open and prepared for the soles of the brave!
Royal Scribe Eusebius, 33

It's still WIP, but mostly finished.
I'm interested. Hit me with them rolls.
State of Franklin


Ambassador Xavier Connor, The Tops Hotel and Casino
7:51 PM, Month Unknown, 2090
Portrait of Xavier Connor

Connor was sat quite near to Mr. Hemingway, near the end of the table, with the Captain on his right. His every movement was nothing but focus into the presentation at hand as he feasted upon the fine meal provided. His own plate was Brahmin rib roast, soaked in beef broth and seasoned liberally with garlic and parsley. To the side is Appalachian-style green beans seasoned with pepper, and with it was fried okra. While dining, he took the odd drink of California red wine from an ornate glass, all the while proving immersed in the proposition.

"None." Connor commented, a warm smile upon his face as he answered the question of input.



Captain Aldebert Riley, The Tops Hotel and Casino
7:51 PM, Month Unknown, 2090
Portrait of Captain Riley

The Captain was of course sat right of Ambassador Connor, dining on his own meal. In contrast to Connor's dinner, Riley had his own ideas. The main course was grilled poultry drowned in Appalachian-style sausage gravy. On the side was a collection of neat buttermilk cornbread squares, along with a buttered corn-on-the-cob. As for his drink, it was simply fine beer, of no real specification other than its extreme quality. The Captain stayed rather silent during the presentation itself, staying immersed nonetheless.
I like how this is shaping up.
Interested.
This seems rather interesting.
State of Franklin


Envoy to New Vegas, Franklin Camp,
Just Outside of Vegas Ruins
6:45 AM, Month Unknown, 2090
Camp not to scale, only example

The canvas tents were quiet, few awake with fires crackling as the sun peaked over the horizon with its orange-red tinge. 6:45 came soon, and on the dot, the First Sergeant blared the bugle once more, calling 'Reveille', rousing the camp which soon came to life. Men emerged from their tents, packing their blanket bags and re-kindling their fires. They munched on hardtack and heated cans of potted meat and preserved fruits, among other things, as they filled their canteens from the horse-drawn water wagon that followed them all places.

The Captain himself, being so evident, had been up long before the bugle sounded, but had not emerged from his tent, rather now exiting to the sight of the Franklin banner upon its pole, dancing in the rays of light which encroached from the east. The Captain continued, towards one of the fires which housed his adjutant, 1st Lieutenant Nathaniel Hayes, his senior enlisted advisor and bugler, First Sergeant Max Oleary, and his color sergeant, Sergeant Hunter Lund. He bid greeting to them all as he drew a cigar from his pocket. Fine East Tennessee tobacco rolled in fine sun-grown leaves of Maduro shade. Riley bit the end off of the cigar calmly, and rubbed down the wrapper finely. He lit it with the fire quite briskly, waiting for the end to turn cherry red before puffing on the opposing end.

He watched the spire of the Lucky 38 as he smoked, judging its features well, and its visible surroundings additionally. Ambassador Connor approached as well, in absence of a coat and simply wearing a new undershirt and vest connected to his black trousers via suspenders. The two regarded eachother with greetings, and began to converse.

"So what might it be today, Captain?" Connor inquired, with the Captain glancing over with a brow raised, removing the cigar from his lips. "Headin' into Sin City. Might wanna pack your stuff and bring it with ya'." Connor raised a brow in return. "And why might that be?" Connor queried as he looked at the Captain. The Captain replied, but looked on at the spire which stood in the rays of dawn. "You've 'pparently been secured a room at that fancy hotel called the 'Ultra-Luxe'. Penthouse. Real pretty from the sound of it."

"Uh- Well, um- Hm." Connor began, flabbergasted at this apparently unknown detail. "Will you, or your team?" The Captain looked back over. "'Fraid not. We'll escort ya' in, share a few drinks, then mosey on out. Yer security's been ensured by House himself." Connor replied, still apprehensive. "Well.. Alright. I shall be ready within the next half hou-"

"No good." The Captain interjected, puffing on the cigar. "I'll get a few enlistedmen to get it done in ten minutes or so. Horses are bein' saddled as we speak, and we set off at 0700." The Captain added. Connor gazed on, in utter shock, and turned towards his tent which was now occupied by a detail which threw together his belongings at speed, ferrying them to and fro and packing them onto the horse in a manner which was achieved in six minutes flat. All that was left was for Connor to step into his tent and grab his coat, and no sooner than were the stakes of the tent struck down and the canvas and poles packed rather neatly into a tent bag.

Connor fitted the coat abruptly, and began to mount his steed, and the Captain beside him. The two were accompanied by an entourage of two Corporals and five Privates, all strapped down with respective rifles and carbines of varying action and caliber, salvaged pistols strapped upon their hips, and an array of finely crafted sabers and mounting swords strapped into sheathes affixed upon each saddle.

The small column started off and passed a camping group of Privates and Corporal around a fire, of which one had a guitar and leather case which he strummed upon as the exit from the camp was made. Solemn was it, a rendition of a pre-war song- 'Dixie'.


Envoy to New Vegas, New Vegas Strip
7:15 AM, Month Unknown, 2090

They made extraordinary time. Through the slums in a matter of minutes and through a brisk check with the securitrons at the gate in equal time. They made the Strip by 7:15 and awed at the towering casinos and hotels. Businesses bustled as their steeds plodded through, grunting and whinnying at the surroundings.

Connor let the Captain take the lead, and rubbernecked the entire route as he spied it all. The Tops, the Lucky 38, Vault 21, the Ultra-Luxe. It was all there, just as it had been described. He was like a child as his eyes grew wide with every neon light. But it was short-lived, as the call to dismount was there soon. The entourage dismounted and walked to the revolving doors of the Ultra-Luxe and entered, relinquishing the sidearms they carried as they did so. The Captain and his men took respective seats and ordered drinks of varying scope and strength.

Connor, meanwhile, approached the receptionist, briskly speaking. "Ah. I am Ambassador Xavier Connor." He remarked, introducing himself. "I am the current representative of the Franklin government for the assemblies and talks that are taking place here." After a brief series of questions and affirmations, Connor gained his room key, and approached the Gourmand to join the Captain, who had already ordered a stout pint of Guiness, with his men drinking other beverages of various alcoholic content.

"Welcome to Vegas." The Captain remarked, trailing off with cigar in opposing hand.
Interested.
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