STATUS:
Repping a brand new NRP that might seem familiar to the regulars: That's right folks, Gateways is back! roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
10 days ago
Current
Repping a brand new NRP that might seem familiar to the regulars: That's right folks, Gateways is back! roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
1
like
7 mos ago
As someone who lost a parent before their time... It's never a bad time to give your folks a call and see how they're doing. One day you're going to say goodbye for the last time.
5
likes
8 mos ago
NRPs are also usually advanced level with tons of writing per post. I co-GM'd one that ended up being the length of one and a half LotR books. That not only takes time, but also makes them fragile.
2
likes
10 mos ago
Bought Helldivers 2 because of the online hype, didn't expect that much. Ended up putting 5 hours into it on my first session. For Super-Earth and Managed Democracy! Oorah!
@FrostedCaramel San Vesta's in, no issues here. The formatting's a nice touch!
@Dog I'm going to trust you here. The Discord and the sheet do not an endearing nation make, and as you know, I've already mentioned some things that needed to be cut from the final product. I'm going to OK New Terra, but you're going to have to be careful with how you handle them.
@ClocktowerEchos Looking good. I'd reccomend a quick spellcheck- there's a few typos that I spotted in my readthrough, but I like the concept of Szuhan and I'm excited to see where you take them. I still hate the language though.
@Crusader Lord Sheet's almost there, but I do want a little in the governance and politics section before I'll accept the sheet.
Government: Unitary Oligarchal Republic President: Generalissimo Agustín Martim Santiago Baltasar Tiburcio Tome de Aquila Speaker of the Senate: Grandes Béatrice Teresa Togores y Nuevo Porto Chancellor of Azulvista: Duque Frederico Javier Ines de Lobasla
Legislature: Cortes Generales Upper House: Senate Lower House: Patrician's Congress
Independence from Earth: Declared, consummated and recognised: 24th February 2301 Colonial Constitution: 5th April 2301 Dictator's Decree: 19th June 2374 Constitution of the Republic: 16th April 2469 Constitution of the Gran Republic: 27th December 2498
Population: Azulvista (MTV-113): 2.5 billion Grandiamon (GDM-114): 850 million Axacuapatal (AXP-115): 245 million Diemgarda (DGD-116): 460 million
---
Planet Name and Description: Located in the Centauras arms of the Milky Way, Azulvista is a relatively Earth-sized planet rotating a single k-type main-sequence star. An Azulvistan year (known as a rotation, or ‘roto,’) is approximately 380 Azulvistan days (cycles) old, each one of which is approximately 26 hours long. The cycle can be broken into four seasons, (quarters,) each roughly equating to the typical spring-summer-autumn-winter pattern as many places on Earth.
Azulvista has three natural satellites and one sub satellite: the moons of Grandiamon, dominated by extreme tectonic activities and vast mountain ranges, Axacuapatal, which is extremely wet, marshy and waterlogged, and Diemgarda, which is often derisively referred to as ‘the smaller Azulvista’ for its similarity to its parent planet. Orbiting Grandiamon is Azulvista’s single sub-satellite, known simply as Luna Minor, which is lifeless bar the human-made colonies established on its surface. These three satellites are collectively known as ‘the three sisters,’ and act as colonies to Azulvista’s motherland.
Azulvista is also home to a seemingly physics-defying metal, colloquially known as ‘lodestones,’ with the elemental name of Agustínium. Lodestones are remarkably unreactive, except for their natural magnetism, which is so powerful and violent that lodestone deposits are often found not in the ground, but instead hovering in the planet’s sky in gravity defying ‘islands.’ Although it is possible to create minerals with a similar composition to lodestones artificially, only true Agustínium has the specific magnetic power that makes it so highly prized. Agustínium is naturally found only on Azulvista, Diemgarda, and Luna Minor: the leading explanation for this is that originally Azulvista was much larger, and was struck by another celestial object (hypothesised to be Grandiamon,) causing it to break apart and reform into the current planet of Azulvista, Diemgarda, and a smaller chunk which was then captured by the proto-Grandiamon as Luna Minor.
Azulvista is unusual in that its biosphere was extremely undiverse when colonists arrived, featuring only simple multicellular plant and microbial life. Early colonisation efforts focused largely on populating the planet with Earth-based plants and wildlife. Thanks to this juvenile stage of life Azulvista has very few fossil fuels, and now that the planet has been seeded with 24th century Earth life, is extremely unlikely to ever produce significant quantities of these valuable resources. On the other hand, this seeding has turned Azulvista into a strange imitation of Earth, complete with species now extinct on mankind’s cradle.
History: Not all of the old world was divided during the last days of Earth. As old bonds began to bend and buckle, the countries of the Iberian peninsula looked away from their fellow European countries and towards their old colonies. As this union grew and flourished, and as the Gateways project started to bear fruit, an international idea began to be born. Azulvista and its colonies were selected as a natural location for the culturally diverse groups that made up this new trans-atlantic dream, and shortly before the true Fall occured, colonisation vessels were dispatched.
Remarkably, the crew of these vessels were selected in a rather egalitarian fashion. Although a certain number of seats had been secured for government officials and those with hereditary titles, a large number of average people were also included, along with some of the finest minds from these nations. Originally, the colonisation of Azulvista was aimed to be more thorough, but before they had time to send subsequent waves of colonists, the Gateway sealed shut, and Azulvista was locked off from Earth.
Initially, the colonial government's transition from a conduit of Earth's will to an independent governing body went well. Designed as a technocracy, its senior members were elected from a pool of specialists by the general population. As the years shifted into decades however, the flaws of such a system slowly became more obvious, and fractures began to appear in Azulvista's foundations.
It came to a head in the summer of 2374, when the technocratic council was formally dissolved in a relatively bloodless coup, leading to the ascension of the first Dictator: Corazón Santiago. Santiago’s dictatorship lasted for approximately twenty years before she died, leading to an extended period of increasing political instability as different individuals vied for control of Azulvista’s government.
As Azulvista warred among itself, the other colonies quietly began to drift away from it, each forming their own unique national identities, often flavoured and influenced by the nations of the colonists that had arrived there. Despite some dictators attempting to reclaim one or multiple of the moons, all of these crusades ultimately fell apart thanks to internal disputes and a lack of war support among a population less-than-confident in a new dictator’s abilities to govern.
Eventually, this instability began to become unmanageable. Power changed hands so quickly that Azulvista often went through multiple in a single roto. Both the majority of the populace, and, increasingly, wealthy and influential families, began to agree that the system needed to go. The ultimate catalyst for this revolution was the attempted execution of Julia De Angelo, a popular folk hero whose trial was so quick and so corrupt that it became impossible to defend. A riot broke out as she was lead to the gallows and she would become the spearhead of the revolution, ultimately overthrowing the final dictator.
With the dictators overthrown, a republic was established, then, very rapidly corrupted by the most powerful families at the time. Arguing that the fall of old Earth had proven that people were incapable of ruling themselves without mediation, the vote was heavily constrained, and the two-caste system of patricians and plebians was quietly created. Although not formal designations at first, they would eventually become far more calcified.
The first challenge the Republic had was to establish control over the entirety of the Azulvistan system. The four separate nations that had sprung up lead to trade, yes, but also a constant struggle over resources and jockeying for political influence. United by the Republic, the Azulvistan home worlds launched what would come to be known as the Reconquista, a period of time that defined the tactics used by the Azulvistans ever since. Patricians, who were the only ones wealthy enough to use the then-experimental lodestone craft en masse, wreaked havoc in enemy lines- blurring along at reaction-defying speeds, they were able to punch colossal holes in enemy fortifications in the field, react to incursions within minutes of scout reports, and were manoeuvrable and capable enough in urban combat to still be effective. Alongside patrician footsloggers, the moons fell one by one, until at last Azulvista was the Republic no more- now it was the Gran Republic.
Its tribulations hardly ended there however, for they had a new threat to contend with. Unbeknownst to the initial colonists, a spacefaring civilisation had, centuries before mankind had ever left their solar system, sent slower-than-light colony ships to claim Azulvista for themselves. The War of Counter-Aggression was a five-year conflict fought primarily on Azulvista itself, and was largely a patrician’s war. Determined to prove themselves to an increasingly displeased plebian class, patricians demonstrated themselves to be every bit the gallants they so desperately claimed they were, and in the rare case of feudal overlords actually defending their vassals, drove back the initial invasion force.
Not only did this demonstration of standing up to ideals actually prove that the patricians weren’t all talk, but the War of Counter-Aggression resulted in the deaths of around 20% of the younger patrician generation. To replace them, many more plebians than usual were drawn up into the patrician classes, further placating the unruly rabble. In addition, the nature of the Yyasum force as a colonisation fleet had lead to a corrupting of Azulvista and its moons. Alien flora and fauna now competed with the ‘native’ Earth flora and fauna, with what had once originally been mostly safe regions now infested with not only the Yyasum themselves, but also strange and foreign plants and animals, including the towering monsturo.
Although the War of Counter-Aggression was short, the initial colonisation ships were not the only one. Even today, a steady stream of follow-up ships bring with them more Yyasum soldiers, to the point where fighting off Yyasum insurgencies is considered a vital part of any young patrician’s military training.
Thus has the Gran Republic been formed. Even today, things are rarely stable- be it disgruntled plebians, independence movements from the moon, Yyasum soldiers or simply the colossal variety of man-hunting wildlife in Azulvista’s jungles, a patrician’s lance is never unused for long, and the plebians are reminded constantly why their cultural and military betters should be in charge, whilst being distracted from the drudgery of their everyday lives by a well-established network of panem et circenses.
Culture and Society: Azulvistan society is a tapestry of old-Earth customs, blended with decidedly new-world attitudes and tribulations. At the lowest rung of society there are the majority of plebians- farmers, engineers, miners and office clerks. Azulvistan plebians have no political power whatsoever, being unable to own land or vote. Unlike serfs of the past, plebians have firm legal protections as subjects. Patricians can no more kill a plebian than they can anyone else without suffering serious consequences, and plebians are afforded a basic safety net in the form of universal healthcare, unemployment (although there are also compulsory work assignments) and have the expectation of protection by the patricians.
Off Azulvista, plebians take on a slightly different role. The triplet inhabited moons of Azulvista often chafe under the rule of the ‘oppressive’ Senate. Uprisings and rebellions are not uncommon, but the patricians maintain a much higher military presence in the ‘colonies,’ and those foolish enough to take up arms can expect no quarter from young jetknights looking to prove themselves on the field.
Plebians also make up the bulk of the Azulvistan military. Although patrician jet-knights steal the glory and the limelight, most of the hard work and drudgery is done by patrician dragoons and ground forces. The army is a quick way for plebians to rise above their station- stellar military service is the most reliable way to find yourself in the lower ranks of the patricians, and thus, the Azulvistan army is large, motivated, well-trained and experienced.
Above the plebians are the mathetes. Mathetes, or, as most non-Azulvistans would call them, scientists, sit between the plebians and patricians. Although not permitted to vote or own property, mathetes nonetheless have a privileged position. Patricians surround themselves with mathetes, both as advisors and because it’s considered important to do so- recognising what you do not know is a sign of a cultured man, not a weak one. Because of this mathetes receive a cushy position and allowed to dedicate themselves to their craft, along with limited access to patrician luxuries.
Finally, the top rungs of Azulvistan society are home to the patricians. From their carefully selected birth, patricians are expected to train themselves to be true warrior-artists. The cultural superiority of a patrician is considered just as important as military prowess- an uncultured warrior is little more than a tyrant in waiting, although Azulvistan society places little prestige on one form of culture over another, and there are relatively few gendered expectations when it comes to what art one excels in. Music, dance, poetry, drama, patricians are anything from celebutants, composers, novelists or even chefs.
Finally, Azulvistan society is a fairly spiritual one. Knightly ideals are, after all, fundamentally rooted in Christianity. Although the core message has been corrupted over the years, and the very different environment of Azulvista has spurred some quite radical shifts to the human experience, there are still plenty of obvious influences. From the almost polytheistic ideas they have about saints to the belief in a very Christian afterlife, not only is religion a large part of society at every stratum, but as more Machiavellian patricians know: religion is the opium of the people.
---
Governance and Politics: The Gran Republic is, in the strictest sense of the word, a democracy, similar to those of the Ancient Greek city states. Voting is restricted to the landowning patricians, and votes can be awarded to individuals as commendations for various actions (thus, there is no 'one person, one vote,' within the Gran Republic.)
Every patrician of majority age makes up the Patrician’s Congress, the lower body in the dual-legislature known as the Cortes Generales. Every five years, elections are held to select patricians to be a part of the Senate, which is the Republic. The Upper Senate contains several smaller committees specialising in various fields, such as the High Generalship, High Admiralty, the Chancellors of Azulvista and the three inhabited moons, and, of course, the position of Presidente, along with the largely ceremonial rank of Generalissmo.
Technology Overview: With the mathetes class and a healthy respect for the people that design their sophisticated equipment, Gran Republic research progresses at a healthy and well-rounded rate. The most unique aspect of Azulvistan technology is, of course Augustinium and how this tremendously powerful substance is used. Azulvistan lodestones seemingly defy the normal conventions of magnetism, with even the lowest-grade ‘rock rumbler,’ lodestone managing to be a superconductor. Although artificial lodestone can be made, the process results in a lower-grade, less useful end product: perfect for industrial and civilian use, but inferior to the real stuff in every way. A true patrician wouldn’t be caught dead using artificial lodestone equipment.
The most iconic piece of Azulvistan equipment is their maglev technology, enhanced as it is by the incredible power of Augustinium. The most prominent example of this technology is the jetbike- Kept aloft by powerful engines and a complicated network of agitated lodestones, jetbikes can remain airborne for up to a day at a time and also come with deployable wheels. Floating above the ground, jetbikes have a tremendously high max speed, although most are never pushed above a third to a half of their potential, where patricians can comfortably operate. Personal patrician jetbikes tend to also feature two plasma-casters at the front to maximise close-range damage, whilst plebian combat ‘jetrikes’ tend to feature heavier, pintle-mounted weaponry.
A true combat jetbike features almost no protection for the rider. A patrician is expected to remain safe through speed, agility, and their suits of power-armour, ducking and weaving through enemy fire, or letting smaller calibre bullets ping off their armoured shells. So-called ‘jettrikes,’ tend to have an enclosed canopy and other ‘un-knightly’ protective features for their riders.
Augustinium is also extremely useful when it comes to plasma technology. Industrial-quality lodestones make excellent magnetic plasma containment fields. Plasma technology is therefore in common usage across Azulvista- from generators to the archetypal patrician weapon of the plasma lance.
The plasma lance is nothing more than a patrician’s pride and joy. Each one is custom made for their user; their hilts designed to cleanly attach to a Azulvistan jetbike. The speeds at which these jetbikes operate means that to use a physical weapon would invite the loss of a limb. Instead, Azulvistan lances use an extremely fragile containment layer around a constantly agitated spike of plasma. When the field makes contact, it immediately disperses, resulting in a jet of plasma exploding out into the target in a manner similar to a shaped charge, clearing the way for the jetknight.
Other than these advancements, Azulvista has a firm grasp on genetic tampering. Revivalist gene therapy can add several decades if not a century to the lifespan of those able to afford it, and almost all patricians are the result of several generations worth of selective ‘designer babies.’ To actually modify, your child would be to cheat, but simply selecting the best candidate out of several and weeding out anomalies and defects is common sense. Pharmacological advancements further placate the population and enhance the soldiery- from old Earth coffee and marijuana to stims like tri-sun and savant a mathetes with an interest in the pharmaceutical can make a big name for themselves.
Military Overview:
Azulvista’s centuries of war have bred a militaristic nation and people, with a well-funded, professional and powerful military. The Armed Forces of the Gran Republic can be divided into two major branches, the Republican Navy and the Republican Army, although they do not correspond to the old-Earth ideas of ‘army’ and ‘navy.’
The Azulvistan Navy (Armada de Azulvista) handles all operations outside of Azulvista’s atmosphere, maintaining the nation’s spacefleet, protecting the planets from alien encroachment and enforcing order across the system. The Azulvistan navy maintains a doctrine of rapid and flexible response, with multitudes of smaller, heavy-hitting and lightly armoured craft backed by heavier-duty gunships. The head of the Navy is the Admiral of the Fleet (Almirante-da-Armada,) a role assigned by the Generalissimo from the country’s pre-existing admiralty.
In addition to spaceships, the Azulvistan Navy also handles the Azulvistan Marines, (Infantería de Marina,) although such forces would more appropriately be called space marines. Azulvistan Marines are expected to handle any manner of deployment in space, land, air and sea, and are rigorously and extensively trained for all such eventualities. The uniform of the navy is black, with silver and blue highlights.
On the ground, the Azulvistan Army (Ejército Azulvistan) handles the combined duties of all atmospheric combat, including land, air, and sea duties. For this purpose, the Azulvistan army has effectively supplanted Earth’s four branch system of a navy, army and airforce, with spaceforce duties handed over to the navy. The Azulvistan Army can be broken into numerous sub-branches, but the most well-known and prominent include the Amphibious Army, effectively replacing what on Earth would have been called a Navy, the Airborne Army, the Interplanetary Special Operations Command (ISOC,) and the paramilitary Cazadores. The head of the Army is the General-In-Chief (Generale-En-Jefe,) not to be confused with Generalissimo, the honorary title given to the Chancellor of Azulvista.
When it comes to an open battlefield, the Azulvistans are most easily compared to the crusades of old. Heavily armoured cavalry screech through the skies, tearing through those foolish enough to challenge them in close combat, whilst heavier jetrikes follow behind the initial spearpoint to lay down a withering barrage of fire on whatever survived the initial charge. Once the cavalry has done the job, dragoons and footsloggers move in to neutralise any remaining threats and confirm the victory.
In urban environments, the plan changes little. Jetbikes turn from being used in mass charges to instead be lightning-fast strike and fade troops, smashing apart strongpoints with plasma before shooting off before proper retaliatory forces can be mustered. Even dismounted, patricians are no pushovers: their power suits and training in hand-to-hand combat means that even without their formidable jetbikes, they can still hold their own, and their men-at-arms are still professionals at heart.
If all that isn't enough, many patricians also train to be duellists. Although actual honour duels are relatively rare among patrician society (as generally speaking, cultured individuals don't attempt to murder each other over slights,) any patrician family worth their salt will have a set of pistols and swords that have tasted blood at least once.
N/A
For now.
---
The Khagnate of the Steppe and Sky
Riding Forth On The Steeds of Ancients
Various horse-hair banners wielded by Khagnate Representatives
---
Government Form: The head of the Khagnate is, of course, its Great Khagn, a hereditary title conferring the powers of absolute monarch onto its bearer. That being said however, the majority of the population, despite swearing fealty to the Khagn operate in much smaller tribal or feudal cliques.
Demographics: 100% Human. Approximately 85% of the population inhabits the Steppe itself, whilst the remaining 15% live within the nomadic Hordes that ply the Great Black Sky.
Population: The Great Khagn rules over some seven to eight hundred million people.
Planet Name and Description: The Steppe, (Earth astronomical designation now forgotten) is a lonely rock slowly rotating a weary star. When observed through telescopes in the Sol system, one might be fooled by its seemingly vibrant colours and perhaps, if one's telescope is particularly powerful, the appearance of some kind of biosphere. Unfortunately, so many thousands of lightyears can play tricks on even the best telescopes, and early colonists found not a warm and welcoming, easily-inhabited exoplanet, but instead a blasted, desertified rock, with perilously little fertile land, a damaged and fractured atmosphere and, most curiously of all, radiation levels that seemed entirely incongruent with what they should have been. The planet is ravaged by unnatural and awful weather that prevents permanent habitation on the vast majority of the Steppe's surface, whilst frequent meteorite collisions pepper the surface with craters.
Although the surface of the planet is rough and near uninhabitable, it holds secrets and mysteries that make exploring it unimaginably valuable. Hidden beneath layers of rock and sand, worn by time or buried beneath collapsed mountains, the brave and foolhardy alike may find themselves with treasures not of natural resources or wonderous beauty, but instead of technology. Whomever turned the Steppe into the wasteland it is today did not entirely vanish, and although as of yet, no remains of these precursors have been found, their settlements and equipment can be discovered in abundance, ready to be pieced together and repurposed for those with the know-how.
History: Khagnate record keeping of its early days and of life on Earth is poor. So poor, in fact, that they are unable to even get the name of their nation correct- an accurate spelling would be Khanate or Khaganate, rather than the 'Khagnate' they went for. It can reasonably be inferred that the initial settlers drew their heritage from Earth's Eurasian steppes, but if they were dispatched by a government or a company, as a first wave or as a desperate last roll of the dice, or even what the ship that carried them to the Steppe was named is now long forgotten, held only on deteriorating databases on Earth's surface.
With so little history, one might expect that that the Khagnate has set about making more of its own, but this is not the case. The history of the Steppe's human settlers is disappointingly uniform and boring, with the same Imperial and Clan structure that exists today springing up early and maintaining itself with little interruption for centuries. Wars have been fought, great conquerors born and died, but in the end, the Steppe swallows up the bones of men far better than it does its archeotechnologic secrets, and few Imperial Scholars care to scribble about the 'petty' squabbles that take place between the clans.
Culture and Society: Khagnate society can be easily divided into two distinct cultural groups: Hordesmen and Steppefolk. The Hordesmen are those fortunate enough to live offworld of the Steppe. Most are born and will live their entire lives within the confines of their familial Horde's spacecraft, usually making their living by following the movements of asteroids or meteors, although some do 'settle' onto uninhabitable and atmosphereless moons and planets to establish mines, refineries and small outpost colonies known as Örtöös. Hordesmen, as the name implies, move in large armadas, or hordes, which are ruled over by lesser Khans who are directly subservient to the High Khagn. These Khans will, in turn, rule over lesser nobles in a typical, pyramid-like feudal hierarchy that ensures everyone knows exactly who they must bow to, and who, in turn, bows to them. Khans and nobles are almost always assisted by an unelected 'parliament,' hand-picked by that khan or noble to serve and advise them as best as they can.
Beyond this simple feudal system, Hordesmen also have complicated familial structures that lead to large internal power jockeying. A particularly wealthy, productive or fertile family will see its power grow, oftentimes absorbing other families through marriage and drawing them into the stronger family's orbit. In this way, nobles and Khans cannot rest on their laurels and must always play a careful balancing act, lest they be deposed and the khan or Great Khagn award their favour to the up-and-coming usurpers.
Beneath the Great Black Sky, on the Steppe itself, Khagnate 'culture' becomes fractured, conflicting, poorly-understood and extremely violent. Very few places on the Steppe are inhabitable, and those that are are rarely so for longer than a few of the Steppe's rotations around its mother sun. Life on the Steppe is, therefore, not self-sustaining, and the Clans that inhabit the surface of the planet are entirely reliant on the Hordesmen for fuel, industry, and sometimes even food. To live on the Steppe is to be perpetually moving- Steppefolk have great roaming cities, rarely as one, tremendously large machine, but more often as a collective of vehicles driving, crawling, galloping and skimming across the boundless wastes that smother the Steppe.
The largest unifying factor between these clans is their oaths to the Khagn. In order to receive the vital resources produced by the Hordesmen, the Steppefolk must gather valuables to pay to the Khagn in tribute- usually archeotech of some kind, but almost anything of value can be given as a sign of loyalty, including the heads of misbehaving clans. Because of this, the clans are in a constant war against one another to secure enough resources to barter for their survival, leading to a Darwinian struggle in which the reward for being the strongest is even more bloodshed. The only potential respite a Steppefolk can have from this life is their clan being deemed worthy of 'Ascension,' the best and brightest of their numbers lifted offworld to join the Hordes in their voyages across the stars.
The other major unifying factor between the disparate peoples of the Khagnate are their religious practices. Although the specifics of the faith are not shared between all people, the fundamentals of Uzayiism are relatively consistent. Uzay is both the deity and the realm of outer space, and from Uzay, all of creation flows. Uzay created the planets, the peoples, and all the lesser gods and spirits that reside over their many creations. Uzayiism is deeply shamanistic. Devotion must be paid to both ancestor and natural spirits that reside in all beings, and proper respect must be paid when taking of the universe's bounty. To enter Uzay is to experience a minor form of transcendence, giving the Hordespeople a religious high ground over the Steppefolk, confined as most are to an existence bound to a planet, only able to gaze at Uzay's glory without being able to experience it themselves.
---
Governance and Politics: The Khagnate is an absolute monarchy, ruled by their hereditary Great Khagn. The Khagn, in turn, devolves power to feudal lords. On the surface of the Steppe, 'governance' and 'politics' go no further than a tribal level, although as long as the tribes are loyal, strange governing customs are permitted, with clans ranging as anything from 'might makes right' warbands lead by the strongest warrior to clans who follow the cryptic commands of salvaged AIs to clans operating under a loosely democratic council.
Technology Overview: The only way to describe Khagnate equipment is 'schizophrenic.' Very little true technological innovation has occurred in the Khagnate in the 300 years since the Fall from Earth. Instead, their technology is almost entirely based on archeotech- the mysterious remnants of the precursor civilisation that once inhabited the Steppe. Almost all Khagnate archeotech is poorly understood, risky to tamper with, often extraordinarily destructive, and has an unusual tendency of violating preconceived notions about the universe. In this way, the Khagnate can have wonderous, logic-defying technology, with absolutely no idea of how to manufacture any more of it, if what they're using was even intended for the task it has been pressed into, or if it won't one day decide to blow up and take half the planet with it.
Some of the only understood technology is hoarded by the Imperial Court and its antiquarians, to be used by the Khagns and those close to them, and nobody else. This is how the Kheshigs can maintain their standardised power armour, how the Flagship the Khagn has held court in for well over a century can be so well maintained and operated, and why (almost) none of the Khagn's equipment has experienced the explosive malfunctioning that plagues Khagnate archeotechnology.
Military Overview: Although certainly a warlike and quarrelsome people, the Khagn himself has little need or desire for an interplanetary fleet. Certainly, if pressed into it, the Steppefolk would be a fearsome foe indeed, each one raised on a world seemingly spiting humanity in its inhospitability, born to fight, and armed to the teeth with tech both arcane and understood. Steppefolk warriors may be a ramshackle bunch, with little organisation and no clear standardisation, but their centuries of war have left them hardened and battle-ready.
Another factor to tangle with would be the Khagn's own forces. Although nobles are discouraged from maintaining large, standardised army, it would be a mistake to assume that the Hordespeople operate harmoniously with one another, and more than a few nobles maintains a host of professional soldiers, generally referred to as houseguards. These houseguards are typically drawn from a small number of supplicant families who have produced generations of soldiers, and they are understandably proud of this long history. Although the exact nature of houseguards vary depending on the wealth of the nobles employing them, they are usually professionally trained, equipped and maintained, with the best of the best being those under direct command of the Khagn himself, known as the Kheshig. Originally envisioned as the personal bodyguards of the Khagn, they grew in power and scope to the closest thing that the Khagnate has to a standing army, able to deploy en masse down to the Steppe to personally take care of clans grown too powerful or too proud to control properly, should they manage to somehow be self-sufficient.
Kheshigs are, on the Steppe, viewed as terrible agent of the Khagn's fury. Clad in power armour, armed with powerful, reverse-engineered weapons, to a fault faceless and never speaking, they execute the Khagn's commands without question, hesitation or deviation. Should it be commanded, they would die for their liege in their droves, and yet more would be drawn to replace them.
Outside of their warriors, although the Khagnate may call their fleets 'Hordes,' it would be a mistake to assume that their navy was anything more than a civilian one. What few superweapons the Khagn does have are aimed squarely down at the surface should the Steppefolk become too uppity, and although they might be able to be pressed against an invading force, it would take little to swat these nomadic armadas down and establish oneself as suzerain of the Khagnate's systems if they were sufficiently driven enough to do so.
N/A
For now.
---
Nation Name: The Dinnin People's Caliphate | The Dinnin Confederacy
Government Form: One-Party Theocratic Centralised State | Confederated Parliamentary Monarchy
Demographics: 100% Homo Sapiens Sapiens, of which: ~ 68% live in Arcologies ~ 24% are settled outside of Arcologies ~ 8% are fully nomadic
Population: 1.3 billion
---
The official flag of the Dinnin People's Caliphate, showing the Golden Path delivering people from sin, and into God's light. ---
Planet Name and Description: The Dinnin name their planet Al-Sahra al-Kubra or 'The Great Desert,' a deeply unsubtle name for a planet that has so little water. Al-Sahra is dominated by wide, sweeping ergs, interspersed by towering mountain ranges and the occasional life-giving artery that is Al-Sahra's few colossal rivers. Al-Sahra's limited surface water does not stop it from having small seas and a few large lakes, where the climate is wet and cool enough to sustain agriculture nearly year-long.
Outside of these areas however, the desert itself ranges from life-filled to wasteland. Unlike the Sahara on Earth, which was predominantly stony hamada, Al-Sahra is dominated by 'sand seas.' Under the right conditions, these can be whipped up into tremendous sandstorms that roll across miles of barren landscape... Or rip out of the deep desert to assert the sand's due over settlements and cities.
Finally, Al-Sahra contains a rather peculiar substance known as Naqahdah. An extremely potent fuel source that can be refined into several useful forms, great effort is expended in order to drill, mine and frack Naqahdah out so it can be processed and used. Although it is not the only source of energy the Dinnin use, it would not be an exaggeration to state that if the substance ran out, the Dinnin would not be able to continue their lifestyle.
History: The first colonists to set foot on the bright sands of Al-Sahra were a particularly disunited bunch. The small fleet of ships that had ferried them across the stars were originally the pet project of wealthy Middle Eastern mangates - those few who still clung to the power of petroleum, corporate bigwigs and old royalty, along with their staff and crews, but as the situation on Earth continued to deterioriate, many of these private enterprises were hijacked by state or other private interests. What emerged on the other side was a collective of the richest, poorest and everything in between, but the group that would have the largest impact were the followers of the 'Prophet' Khalid Al-Ashgar, considered a sayidd (descendent of the Prophet Muhammad) by his followers. Khalid, a tech and advertisement mogul, had received significant controversy over his belief in the 'Golden Path,' an Islam-derived doomsday cult, and he and his followers laid the groundwork for what would become the modern-day Caliphate, based on his teachings.
Upon arrival of the planet, and the discovery of it being significantly poorer for colonisation than initial estimates had suggested, any sense of unity between the fleets rapidly disintergrated. The early days of the colony were marked by tragedy after tragedy, but out of these tragedies came enough small successes that it seemed all was not lost. Collectives of vessels forged the foundations for many of the most prominent arcologies of today. The discovery of Naqahdah and its use as a fuel source was the main driver of initial conflict, as these early city-states began to throw their weight around. These disunified and fractured states and their poorly-protected auxiliary settlements were also rich pickings for nomadic bands, who experienced a golden age that would dwindle as their targets became strengthened and governments more stable.
This fractious world would be turned over its head by the re-emergence of the Golden Path. Having become a de-facto recognised religion by almost every arcology, the tinderbox of religious conflict was simply waiting for a chance to blossom into an inferno - and the incendiary preaching of Dawud Al-Ashgar, great-grandson (in law) of Khalid. Successfully placing himself as the head of what he claimed was the one true priesthood, he and his followers sized control of the Rawdat Al-Nour Arcology, urging followers in other cities to rise up as he had done. What followed was almost 30 years of civil instability and outright inter-arcology war, ultimately culimating in the near-total destruction of the Manarat Al-Rimal Arcology and the declaration by the now-elderly Dawud that the Caliphate had been made manifest across Al-Sahra.
The rest, as they say, is history. The Caliphate's fortunes have waxed and waned as anti-Path sentiment among the population has come and gone, and now, in the 27th century, their near century-and-a-half control of Al-Sahra is looking weaker and weaker. Many of the plentiful Naqahdah fields have started to run low, and ever-more extreme methods of keeping the population 'faithful' has caused widespread resentment. Once again, Al-Sahra is a tinderbox waiting to be lit.
Culture and Society: The Golden Path mandates strict aesceticism for its followers, mimicking the times of hardship that mankind endured during the fall of Earth. What other societies would call luxuries are instead branded as distractions and traps, designed to lead people into sin. To keep people from sin, the Path enforces harsh religious law, backed by a heavy-handed surveillance state and draconian punishment for 'sinners' and 'apostates.'
Despite this however, there has always been light, laughter and gaiety in Al-Sahra. The high-density nature of their acologies fosters a strong sense of community among neighbours, and communual gatherings and celebrations (even under strict religious observance) are common, especially weddings, funerals and festival days. The arcologies themselves - particularly the older ones, designed during the Confederacy, are prone to intricate and 'wasteful' flourishes, and the aesteticism encouraged by Al-Nizam has fostered a culture that recycles and upcycles goods to the nth degree.
---
Governance and Politics: The Dinnin are, broadly speaking, divided into two main factions, with several smaller splinter factions that vie for control and influence. The first of these factions, and the one that is currently in power, is the Caliphate, led by al-Nizam, or the priestly class. They are opposed by the Confederacy, united behind the al-Karim dynasty. As the current malik (king) is elderly and in hiding, his first son, emirRaaid is the centerpiece for this movement.
The Caliphate believe that the entirety of Al-Sahra should be ruled according to the tenents of the Masar Aldhahab - The Golden Path laid out for the Dinnin before the Fall of Earth. This manifests in what can best be described as 'collectivist theocracy,' with strong central planning, a rejection of the free-market, a heavy focus on religious law and where 'state' and 'church' are near-interchangeable.
The Confederacy on the other hand grew out of the fractured, disparate arcology-states that formed in the first century of colonisation. Although unified underneath a single malik, who acts the head of state, the majority of power is granted to various emirs, nizams and sheikhs, each of whom have significant flexibility in the rule of their own arcologies, alongside democratically elected viziers and parliaments. (In practice, the actual strength of democratic institutions in the old Confederacy could vary wildly, from crowned republics to absolute monarchies in all but name.)
Finally, there are the various nomadic peoples, who live outside of the laws of any arcology government. Although the nomads are hardly a unified bunch, they tend to have strong familial or tribal clan structures, led by chiefs, patriarchs, matriarchs and the like.
Technology Overview: Although Al-Sahra seems barren to the untrained eye, the Dinnin have long since grown used to using every scrap the desert can provide them to produce material wonders. The greatest demonstration of this technology are their collossal arcologies. 'Vertical cities,' typically only a few dozen square kilometres in area, but more than make up for this by being thousands of meters in height. Each arcology is almost entirely self-sufficient, with superstructures built from super-strong lightweight materials such as carbon nanotubes. They incorporate vertical farms, water and sanitation recycling and environmental shielding systems, and it's entirely possible for one to live their entire life within the arcology of their birth. In fact, the Caliphate would prefer it this way.
These wonderous structures aren't the only area in which the Dinnine excel in material science however - the rich, hematite-filled sand dunes of Al-Sahra are gathered in great quantities, to be fed into 'lattice constructors-' house-sized 3d printers capable of churning out almost anything that can be programmed in. Other than impressive feats of material engineering, the Dinnin can boast competency in most of the fields required for a state to consider itself 'modern,' with spaceports, gene therapy, advanced computing and early forays into nanomachines proving to be wildly successful.
Military Overview: Low-level conflict is fairly routine in Al-Sahra, despite what the Caliphate says, but actual large scale war has been essentially unheard of for several centuries. The Caliphate's 'military,' is really more comparable to a security force, acting as bodyguards for priests, armed police against riots and revolts or being dispatched to protect rural settlements from nomadic raids. Rebel groups (including those who support the Confederacy,) typically rely on guerilla forces, while nomadic raiders rely on lightly armoured and fast-moving groups mounted on vehicles, camels and local wildlife. ---
Earth- the cradle of humanity, has fallen. Verdant green has been choked by brown, azure blues replaced by overcast greys. The clouds that swirl and storm across its surface are sickly and off-coloured, as the rock that human beings once knew as their only home slowly decays, rent asunder by humanity's own hands. Poisoned. Sickly. Torn apart by war, pestilence, and famine.
But, there is yet hope. Before she fell, the brightest minds upon Earth manage something remarkable. Hanging above this once-blue planet is a Gateway- an unfathomably advanced wormhole, allowing for instant transportation to some of the most far-flung reaches of the Milky Way. Colonists flooded through this Gateway and found themselves scattered, like seeds by a careless farmer, each drifting until they found the soil they needed to set roots and grow. No sooner had they left before the Gateways winked out, one by one, leaving each settlement stranded and isolated. For three hundred years, these societies have grown, some withering, others growing to bear fruit, but all of them, now, face the unimaginable.
The Gateways flare to life. Humanity is reunited.
Welcome one and all! I am Irredeemable, and I have the pleasure of being the one to bring you the sequel to the fairly successful NRP known as Through the Gateways: Humanity. You can find the original RP HERE including the original general idea Tort set out.
To broadly summarise however, this is primarily an RP about cultures and nations interacting with one another. In the three hundred years since the closing of the Gateways, each colony will have developed and changed in unique and variable ways. Although nominally one people, humanity is now split into countless fragments, each led in different ways, speaking different languages, with different beliefs. In this RP, it is up to you if your people will face this new galaxy with optimism, or a smoking gun.
Technology:
Much like the first incarnation, there will be several hard rules about technology. Most importantly:
1. Gateways are the only method by which mankind can travel faster than light. 2. The method of creating new Gateways has been lost, as has the ability to restore or re-activate disused Gateways. 3. All Gateways can instantaneously transport ships to any other Gateway. 4. Wireless communications can only be sent through Gateway paths that have been used.
On Joining and Leaving:
If someone wants to join after the game has already begun, I've decided I'll just say that the Gateway leading to their colony has only now opened. Likewise, if someone leaves or goes MIA, we can say their colony's Gateway just shut down as mysteriously as it had reactivated. In this way, the NRP should be able to accept new players whenever, and survive losses without grinding to a halt.
Rules
1.) No godmodding, or controlling other player's characters/Colonies
2.) Cannot fully conquer other player's Colonies without permission.
3.) If conflicts cannot be decided, the GM will arbitrate.
4.) Use caution, judgement and behave appropriately when it comes to real-world cultures and religion.
5.) When using concept art for your NS/posts, avoid anime pictures. Some is fine, but keep it to a minimum.
6.) Be excellent to one another.
FAQ
Q: Is space magic allowed? A: Broadly speaking, no, but Clarke's Third Law is in full effect.
Q: Can we meet other Colonies through methods other than the Gateway? A: No. We do not have FTL other than the Gateways, and humanity is spread out across an unimaginable distance. It would take centuries of travel to bump into another human settlement. And more bluntly put: the theme of this RP revolves around the Gateways, so naturally other forms of travel are limited.
Q: Can we communicate through the Gateways? A: Yes, but only with Colonies you have met already.
Q: Are aliens allowed? A: Yes, although the colony itself must have been founded by humans.
Q: Can we choose our Gateway destination? A: Yes! Gateways link-up with oncoming ships, allowing you to choose your destination. It presents system and planet names, but not descriptions.
Q: The technology level seems inconsistent. A: It is. Within the RP, these Colonies have developed independently for 300 years, so some may be more advanced/unadvanced than others in surprising ways.
Q: Can we have multiple Colonies? A: Up to 2 at a time. But if one is destroyed or you choose to take it out of the RP (which can be done via the Gateway closing), then you can create another one. A possible option if you get bored of your Colony but don't want to leave the whole RP.
Q: What happened to Earth? A: A combination of environmental disaster, political strife and nuclear war. The first and last one especially have left the planet uninhabitable.
Q: How close together are the colonies? A: All colonies exist within the Milky Way galaxy, thus keeping them somewhat close together on a universal scale, whilst still insurmountably far apart on a human scale.
Nation Sheet:
[center] [color=00aeef]Nation Name[/color]:
[color=00aeef]Government Form[/color]: [sub](Presidential Democracy? Anarcho-communism? Caliphate? Whoever collects the most edible food is in charge? Or anything else you can think of.)[/sub]
[color=00aeef]Demographics[/color]: [sub](Humans, probably. But what other demographics might matter here? Have you integrated with aliens? Is there a religious minority that should be mentioned?)[/sub]
[color=00aeef]Population[/color]: [sub](Let's say that each colony ship has started with a population ranging anywhere from 100,000 to 1,000,000. From there, we go on an empire size scale of: 500 Million: Small 1 Billion: Average 2 Billion: Large 3 Bil+:Massive)[/sub] --- [sub](This is probably a good place to insert a flag or other representative image)[/sub] --- [/center]
[color=39b54a]Planet Name and Description[/color]: [sub](So where did your Colony end up? What's the environment like?)[/sub]
[color=39b54a]History[/color]: [sub](What happened after your Colony landed? This can be as brief or detailed as you like.)[/sub]
[color=39b54a]Culture and Society[/color]: [sub](How do they live? Anything from ritual cannibals, to a surveillance state dystopia, to an integrated hivemind.)[/sub]
[center] --- [/center]
[color=f7941d]Governance and Politics[/color]: [sub](Like the government form field, but more room for detail. If your Colony has changed in such a way that it doesn't even have a government or politics anymore, this is also a good place to talk about that.)[/sub]
[color=f7941d]Technology Overview[/color]: [sub](What have your people invented? Or have they forgotten anything?)[/sub]
[color=f7941d]Military Overview[/color]: [sub](This is the space to talk about any offensive capabilities you have. Given that most of these Colonies have been essentially stranded by themselves for three centuries, I don't imagine anyone has a large "conquer other planets" level fleet yet. But maybe your Colony has been in civil war for a hundred years, and has built up an impressive military in that time. Or maybe they even had to fend off a genuine alien invasion.)[/sub]
---
Additional Info: (Anything else you want to include that there isn't a spot for up there.)
Last, but not least, the Discord server can be found HERE, and have fun!
Eta-Theta reached down towards the throat of the creature beneath them, fingers curling in preparation. The sheep turned its head to look at him, eyes slow and silly, and the android's fingers reached their target, scritching at the fluff around the creature's neck. Their other hand came down to reach at the sheep's ear, giving it a few hard rubs, then moving to its forehead to continue the scratches. The sheep let out a pleased noise and slowly sank into the android's hands, before lying in the grass and rolling over.
I never believed I would be surrounded by life like this. Eta-Theta turned to look up at their companion, a tall, mostly unmodified Enlightened wearing loose, rugged clothing and a cowboy hat. Was it like this on Bezia? I didn't tune in much. You were... Slightly scary. She frowned.
No. Eta-Theta shook their head, kneeling down further so as to give the sheep a few firm belly rubs. Bezia is... The android would have frowned too, but their new form didn't have the ability to perform facial expressions. They preferred it that way. The world feels dead. Dry. Dusty. It's not quite that of Zeta-5, but... It is not alive. They turned down, staring at the green grass underfoot. Not like this.
They rose to their feet, turning to look over the ranch. Their former employees had requested that they preserve the planet, and the Enlightened were all too happy to oblige. They were to be the caretakers and guardians of this world as much as its masters. After all- they were to be Enlightened, were they not?
I scared you? Eta-Theta finally asked, cocking their head.
Yes. The war scared me. It all did. She looked away from the android, pointedly fixating on the flock arrayed in front of them. A moment of nothing passed between the pair, and then she continued. But... Thank you nonetheless. For what you did.
You shouldn't. What I did wasn't necessary.
Justice is necessary. Her eyes turned back to meet Eta-Theta's, a spark lingering in the back of them. A creche sibling... Too young for the implants... She glanced away again, hand squeezing into a fist, and then relaxing.
Eta-Theta's hand came up, and rested on the woman's shoulder. She seemed to freeze for a moment, then, slowly, reached her own hand up and placed it atop theirs, warm flesh against chill metal. There was another long moment of silence, and then Eta-Theta drew their hand back. The air here was fresh, clean, and full of life, with a hint of dung. The sheep, now that it was not being scratched, had risen to its feet, bumping against Eta-Theta a few time to try to cajole more pets from them, before giving up and turning away, trotting back towards its brethren with an indignant 'baa.'
War will come again. Soon. The smirk was audible in their tone. But... You should stay as your are. Keep your skin. They began to walk away from the field, vaulting easily over the low fence that seperated the sheep from the rest of the land. The other Enlightened used the gate. You will have metal forever. Appreciate the flesh when you can have it.
The actual name ‘Dinnin’ refers not to a single race or group of people, but to anyone that has taken on the Covenant agreed centuries ago between the first people to arrive in the plane and The Flame. This means that the Dinnin themselves are fairly diverse, especially due to their habits of slave-taking.
Lamia The second most numerous non-humans within the Dinnin, and considered to be The Flame’s chosen people. Lamias are half human, half serpent, with the upper half of a man, transitioning to a snake’s tail at the waist.
A typical adult lamia is anywhere from eight to ten feet when measured tip to tail-end, with reddish-black scales often arranged in sophisticated and unnatural patterns, each of which is unique to that lamia. In addition to their tails, lamias also sport long, curved fangs in their mouths, filled with potent venom. It would be a mistake to assume that just because one is out of bite range they are safe however, because lamias are capable of ‘spitting’ their venom out up to a distance of five meters. Although harmless when it comes into contact with unbroken skin, contact with the eyes can result in permanent blindness, whilst contact with cuts will envenom the victim as surely as a bite.
Lamias typically live anywhere from 80-120 years, with their childhoods and adolescents lasting a similar length to humans. Lamias give birth to live young (although the process is ovoviviparous, with eggs developing internally, and the young hatches shortly before birth.) Once born, snakelets are extremely vulnerable, especially to cold temperatures, requiring approximately a month of careful tending by their mothers to ensure their survival. Once this dangerous month has passed, the snakelet’s chances for survival improve drastically. Unlike human young, snakelets are capable of locomotion only a few months after birth, although more complicated types of movement may take them years to learn.
Lastly, lamias ‘run cold,’ in comparison to other members of the Dinnin. They are the most reliant on the warm desert sun to rouse them from their slumbers, and the most inactive when winter arrives. Equally speaking however, they are capable of operating in even baking heat for far longer than any other race in the Dinnin, traversing deserts and scaling to the very edge of sacred volcanos.
Lamias have a single distinctive and unnatural subspecies- the Echidna. Echidna are the children of Lamias and Ifreets- mysterious desert spirits the Dinnin believe to be living manifestations of the Flame. Echidnas are characterised by a forked tail, much darker colouration, a longer lifespan, and most peculiarly, the ability to bear not only Lamia, but also human children.
The Painted Folk The most numerous demihumans within the Dinnin, the Painted Folk (often just the Painted,) are both physically and culturally different than the lamias they reside alongside. Bipedal, digitigrade, typically no taller than 5’4”, and heavily resembling canines, the Painted Folk are so called because of the natural camouflage patterns that occur on their fur.
Whilst Lamia prefer to stick to the mountains and deepest deserts, the Painted Folk are far more at home at the fringes of the desert, where life can begin to creep back in and scraggy grasslands and savannahs provide food for enough wildlife to sustain their hypercarnivorous nature. The nature of the Covenant means that the Painted Folk have no permanent settlements and are instead constantly on the move throughout the year. This causes them to come into the contact with the Kaffin (non-Dinnin) more often than their Lamia counterparts, constantly testing the Painted in a struggle for both resources to survive and slave-taking.
Painted can live to the same ages as humans, but their rugged, difficult lifestyle and constant fighting cuts many Painted lives shorts. A painted over forty is considered old, and one over fifty is practically venerable. Those few who live out a full life to their seventies or eighties are considered blessed indeed. Painted have litters of 2-4 pups, who develop much quicker than human babies, going through puberty between eight to ten years and considered fully grown around fourteen.
Humans Dinnin humans are surprisingly common, outnumbering the Lamias comfortably. Although there are large quantities of enslaved humans within the Dinnin, (who are considered Kaffin automatically,) there are no small number of free individuals. The most numerous and important groups of Dinnin humans form the collectives known as the 'Great Clans,' mighty houses that have carved their homes out in the valleys of mountain ranges on the edges of the desert. Although the reason for this is poorly understood, the mountains prevent the desertification of the land outside of the cities, thus allowing for metropolitan centers to be build despite the Covenant. The nature of this arrangement- with its periphary farmers and city-dwellers, has lead to a familiar feudal system forming.
Population:
Approximately 3,000,000 people fall under the broad banner of the Dinnin people, although it would be extraordinarily difficult to mobilise their full population.
---
Plane Description: Etalwid is a large, realm, resembling Gaia in many ways. It has fertile floodplains, lush forests, freezing tundras, wide oceans, towering mountain ranges and rolling deserts. All manner of races go about their lives in this realm, much as they do on Gaia, but for those seeking to truly understand Etalwid, it is the deserts and mountains that they must venture to, where the Dinnin have made their homes, and become effective masters of the center of the plane.
History: (What happened after you landed on your new plane of existence? This can be as brief or detailed as you like.)
Culture and Society:
At the core of the Dinnin people are the covenant they have made with the Flame, and the ways that their lives and culture have been impacted by this covenant.
The Flame is interpreted in two very different ways. The most prominent and accepted version is that the Flame is a primordial entity, that existed before even the water or the dirt. Burning upon every plane, the Flame created the heavens and the earths, each infusion of the Flame's power becoming its own manifestations. When the intelligent races were born, they knew of the true nature of the Flame, but in time forgot, and began worshipping the other manifestations equally. Although it was not incorrect to worship these other manifestations, by doing so these peoples, the Kaffin (Forgotten Ones) had lost something.
When the settlers that would become the Dinnin arrived in Etalwid, they were barraged by these manifestations. At first, they accepted them as equally righteous and true, but as the Kaffin drove the Dinnin back further and further into the unwanted parts of the world- the deserts, burning so hot as to be unbearable, the mountains so high as to be unbreathable, they began to turn to the Flame, and in doing so, began to realise its true nature.
With the Dinnin numbering fewer and fewer, they made a great pilgramage to the heights of the Jabal Ilah. There, they made a Covenant with the Flame, and the Dinnin were made righteous, true, and gifted new forms. These forms were scaled and cool, so as to resist the desert heat better. Their legs were changed to tails, so as to scale the dunes and clamber across the rocks quicker, and they were granted swiftness, strength, and wisdom. For all this, the Flame requested nothing but their unwavering faith, a price they were ecstatic to pay.
This is where the first of the Lamia were born, with those refusing to acknowledge the truth remaining Kaffin, whilst those who accepted it taking for themselves the name of Dinnin (Remembered/Chosen One.) However, as they would come to understand, they were not the first that had learnt of the true nature of the Flame. In savannahs and scrublands, the Painted people, wide-ranging and animalistic, had also understood that everything came from the same source.
To them though, it was not the Flame in the sky, burning down as what the Kaffin called the 'sun,' that was their source of power, but it was instead the Flame of life itself. Burning within every blade of grass, every wild beast, and every intelligent creature, the Flame thrummed. This Flame, they believed, was most potent in the earth, where all life drew its origins from, and in blood- the purest expression of the heat inside each individual. When the Painted and the Dinnin met, it was the Lamias who recognised this similarity, and although built on initially shaky ground, the relationship between the two flourished and bloomed, until the Painted were Dinnin, as resolutely as their snakelike cousins were.
Suddenly infused with new power and fresh allies, the Dinnin began to wage war anew with the Kaffin that had driven them so far back. As the Dinnin expanded outwards, they initially welcomed the opportunity to govern over more lush and fertile land, but within just a handful of years, these once fertile plains began to dry out. Riverbeds became sunbitten dirt, green grass wilted, replaced by blowing sand, and the desert itself would take over wherever the Dinnin settled.
---
Governance and Politics:
Lamias: At the core of every lamia tribe is the matriarch, the most senior female snake, almost always a priestess of the Flame. Underneath these matriarchs are the rest of the tribe's heirachy, with one of the matriarch's husbands usually serving as the warmaster for that particular tribe. All Dinnin have equal standing in the tribe, regardless of species, and under them are the Kaffin slaves, who must obey their masters unquestioningly. Each matriarch is soverign over their own people, and when a large number of these tribes converge, they form a clan council, the pecking order of which is determined by a complicated web of family trees, alliances, tribe power and, of course, if the matriarch is an echidna or not.
The largest and most important of these clan councils is the Conclave, a collection of the matriarchs of the most powerful and august clans. The clans from whom the Conclave are drawn from all roam close to the the Jabal Ilah, and they are expected to meet at the sacred mountain every year. During this meeting, the Conclave will decide upon pressing issues, clarify previously-given rulings and instructions, and issue fatwa, binding religious mandates that are expected to be followed by all Dinnin. Iftā, the act of declaring these fatwa, is considered to be the Conclave speaking with the authority of the Flame itself, making these fatwa akin to a heavenly commandment.
Painted: The Painted have tribes, much like the Lamia, but unlike their snakelike cousins, the Painted's tribes are smaller, more compact, and rarely involve significant numbers of Kaffin. Painted 'tribes' are typically simply extended family units and are managed in a relatively democratic manner. When Kaffin are included, they're typically done so with the intention of including them within the family- Painted tribes are well-known for including adopted members of a wide variety of species and peoples.
Great Clans: The cities of the Great Clans are, broadly, feudal, but constructed in a way that might be unusual to more 'traditional' feudal systems. Each city may be broken down into the different Clans that live within it, with an individual's position in a clan determined by how close their bloodline is to that of the Clan's original founder. The firstborn child of the previous clan heirach assumes the head position, with their immediate family making up the highest positions. As the bloodlines diverge further and further, one's rank decreases, until at the very bottom are those who are not related to the Clan at all, but are instead the children and converts of Kaffins, Dinnin by right of being born or tasting the Flame, but with no heroic legacy.
The clan heirachs meet to collectively elect the head of the city-state, known as an Emir or Emira. Although an Emir's reign is for life, those foolish enough to consistently go against the wishes of the heirach's council will find their lives rapidly shortened by the sting of an assassin's blade.
Of all the Dinnin, it is the Great Clans who are most reliant on slave labor. The lowest farms and the highest estates float atop this living mass of Kaffin. The Great Clans are keenly aware of this, with the main duty of houseguards being to prevent slave dissent and revolt. In addition, the Great Clans are also the only of the three major Dinnin branches who routinely practice castration, both in order to prevent Kaffins from giving birth to Dinnin children, and because eunuchs are considered far more trustworthy than other Kaffin.
Technology and Magic: (Before you start, please read the Technology and Magic section up above. Done? Aight, go ahead and let your imagination run wild)
Military Overview:
Just as the Dinnin are a fragmented people, so too are their militaries fragmented. Despite this, their drive to control the mountains, deserts and their surroundings and the constant need to press ever outward in search of tribute and captives have built up the desert dwellers into several, quite distinct yet no less formidable forces.
The first, and most 'regular' force, are the house guards that the Great Clans muster when they need to go to war. Houseguards march in orderly formations, donning tough lamellar armour that resembles the scales of the Lamias that the settled clans so look up to. With spears, shields and maces, house guards represent the Dinnin's heavy infantry, professional soldiers with excellent morale and training. This toughened core is often supplemented by kaffin slaves, usually pressed into battle with little choice about the matter, given simple weapons and simpler armour, there to bolster numbers and bog down foes with numbers and a fierceness bourne from being more terrified of those driving you forward than the enemies you're being driven into.
Apart from their human forces, the Great Clans may also rely upon their Lamia betters in battle. Although usually preferring to fight on their own terms, it is hardly unusual for snake warriors to join the Great Clans in battle, bringing with them their magic, venom and skirmishing power.
In addition to infantry, the Great Clans also bring to bear several war machines, for when they need to break their enemies and crack their cities. Bombards, heavy, cumbersome machines, are hitched to chariots, decoupled, and then rain down fire onto those foolish enough to prevent their attack. Aside from carrying the bombards, war chariots also provide warriors with a method of rapidly entering battle- whilst the time of chariots crashing through infantry lines and carrying the day entirely by themselvs have died out, these fast-moving infantrymen are nonetheless a fearsome foe.
Perhaps the most terrifying thing that the Great Clans can bring to bear however are not machines made of iron or steel, but are instead their monstrous warbeasts. Deep within the territories the Dinnin control, there are beasts, as big as a house, with four legs each like tree trunks and a fearsomely long nose, capable of picking a man up and dashing him against the ground. How the Great Clans tame these monsters and bring them to bear against their foes is unknown, but when battle is joined, these fearsome creatures, known as 'Oliphaunts,' have great structures built upon their backs, from where Dinnin archers may rain their arrows down on any foolish enough to stand against a creature already capable of crushing a human underfoot.
---
Additional Info: (Anything else you want to include that there isn't a spot for up there. Little factoids about your nation are both amusing and welcome.)
Richard stared at the mud and blood, gazing at the moonlit scene with a strange pit slowly forming in his stomach. Reaching for his cigarette case, he flicked the battered and worn metal open, retrieved a single, factory-rolled stick from it, and pressed it to his lip, a shudder easing its way down his spine. Snapping the case shut again, he reached for his lighter, as unusual as such a thing was, and struck at the flint.
The dim light did little to drive back the darkness. Cupping the infant flame with a slightly quaking hand, he brought it to the end of the paper, breathing in and drawing the flame towards him at the same time. The end of the cigarette glowed and curled and smoke filled his lung, the man finishing his deep inward breath and putting the lighter away in one smooth motion.
Exhaling, he turned away from the scene and began to walk onwards. It was none of his business. It was none of his concern. It was nothing to trouble himself with. The sentences wormed their way around his mind, utterly unconvincing in their rhetoric, and his fingers tightened around the metal of the lighter, the metal edge being slowly forced to bite into his fingers.
A few more minutes along the road, not nearly at where the coach was meant to pick him up, and he heard the clamour and clatter of a carriage. Turning, he watched the vehicle as it approached. A figure hunched tightly over the reins, driving the horses onwards quicker and quicker. If they noticed him, they certainly didn't act like it, driving themselves onwards without slowing, stopping, or even so much as a comment.
As the carriage passed him by, however, the ex-soldier was able to make out a blur of movement. A flash of light from within the coach, a splash of green and red, and then it was past him. Barely had it done so however, when there was the heavy knock of something striking the carriage roof. All at once, there is the frantic whinnying of the horse, the crack of its reins being pulled back, the grinding of the carriage wheels digging into the mud.
And then it all stops. A few dozen feet down the path it stood like a great black beast, steam rising up from the hard-worked haunches of the horse. It snorted a little in between its pants, but aside from this small thing, the carriage was still and silent. Standing behind it, now thoroughly confused, Richard's thoughts were only more disrupted when the door was thrown open with a clatter.
The figure that leaned out of the doorway was large, broad-shouldered and broad-waisted, all but blocking out the light from within. He wore a wide, cheerful face, topped with a mess of bright red hair that framed an ornate gold leaf mask, underneath which were a pair of red cheeks and a single beaming smile of carefully maintained teeth. The voice that traveled across the narrow gap was ooming.
"I say, I thought I was seeing things, but there you are! Well met, sir."
Richard, who had brought a hand to his chest to keep his greatcoat from unceremoniously fluttering about in the slipstream of the vehicle took a moment to slip his own mask on. In comparison to the complicated affair the stranger wore, his was a simple opera mask that obscured everything above his nose with plain, expressionless white bakelite. It served its purpose, and little more. Reluctantly, he responded to the figure. "Well met to you as well sir. Have we had cause to know each other?"
The stranger's smile only grew wider, and for a moment, Richard felt a little uncomfortable, as if the smile was too wide.
"I doubt it, although these confounded masks mean I'd barely recognise my own mother!"
A booming laugh rang out, the sound of it echoing around them.
"No, sir, it's your uniform I recognise. Did you serve in the war?"
Richard's stance adjusted without thinking. "Yes I did sir. Corporal in the 3rd Infantry. You as well?"
"I am afraid I did not have the privilege. I did what I could to help... in my own way." For the briefest of moments there was a flicker across the man's face, his smile faltering, but it was only for an instant.
"Ah." Richard frowned, face concealed by the darkness. One of those sorts. "Well then. I am Corporal Khaki." It was not a particularly inspired name, but then again, why draw further attention to yourself than needed? Speaking of which, travelling with this individual was a poor idea. Too many things could go wrong, and Professor Green hardly seemed like a trustworthy individual.
"But sharing old war stories can wait, I am sure. Professor Green, at your service. Are you bound for Wilde Hall?"
"Indeed I am. The walk has been good for the constitution." He hoped the subtle implication there would forestall the question that Green appeared to be leading up to.
If Professor Green had picked up on the subtle implication however, then he bore it no heed."Then it is fate that has brought us together! Jackson, bring the carriage round for my new friend!"
Cpl. Khaki sighed quietly to himself, then reluctantly resigned himself to travelling with this peculiar fellow. "Hold, hold, I'll catch up to you," he called, then began a stiff jog through the miserable gloom and towards the man. "It'll save us all some time in the long run." At his words, Professor Green leaned back, giving space for Richard to climb inside.
The serviceman hauled himself up and into the carriage, brushed a droplet of rain that had spilled down his uniform, then reluctantly took a seat, feeling thoroughly out of place.
The entire community of Zeta counted down together, in harmony. The cities that had been home to so many people for hundreds of years had been emptied, operated by a skeleton crew of transcended and AI that would slowly decommission them, then transition to scientific research centres. The Zeta system would forever be their home, but they were leaving for the one that had been promised to their ancestors.
This is the New Arkadios Fleet. Are you reading us, Gaia-1? The pre-agreed name for the Lorne administration's main communications hub had become bitterly ironic now that Zeta had found itself its new most hated enemies.
This is Gaia-1. New Arkadios Fleet receiving clearly.
Excellent Gaia-1. New Arkadios Fleet beginning take off.
Engines roared to life across the planet's surface. From Elysium-Alpha to Tartarus-Omega, the arks that had been slowly constructed ever since the end of the War of Oligarch aggression fired up, trembling and shaking as they lifted an entire planet's population, half a billion strong, into the skies. The scorched and frozen landscape of Zeta began to slowly draw away from them, the yellowish planet growing smaller and smaller as the fleet of vehicles assembled themselves into a loose formation in orbit. Protecting them from attack was the brand-new navy, with purpose-built destroyers soaring into position. Once organised, the fleet soared towards the Gateway, and one-by-one the cloud of vessels left the Zeta system, and re-emerged over Delta-4.
Gaia-1, we've got eyes on you all. Welcome to Delta, employers. The Lorne administration confirmed the safe jump.
100% transition rate. We're all here. Responded the Zetans, the Collective re-forming themselves into orderly formations as they came into approach over the planet of Delta and the ringworld surrounding it. Above, in space, their Administration allies had begun work as agreed upon. The shell of the Archimedes hung, drone swarms hovering around it, faint pinpricks of light from welders visible even from this distance.
Nearer the gateway, the new Aegis had begun to be constructed as well, augmented by an orbital Oistos system. Zeta had seen how even half-finished; these defences had worked against the invading Oligarchs and Undefeated. If they could be finished, perhaps they would finally allow for what the Zetans had desired ever since the Gateways had opened- safety.
As the cloud of Arks made their way down towards the planet, they began to split apart, preparing themselves to land at pre-designated areas. The Administration had made Delta criminally easy to colonise, with pre-built infrastructure, agriculture and industry. All they had to do was move in. One by one, Arks would touch down, and cyborgs and androids stepped out into the light of a new world, prepared to start afresh.
Sigma-Devi prepared herself for quite possibly the most important speech of her life. Standing in a more recent addition to the Zetan section of the Meeting place, it was a vast auditorium meant for interviews and announcements, with space made for foreign journalists and dignitaries to sit. She had sent a broad invitation to anyone that was interested, and even now as she looked down at the crowd below her, she could see Matuvistans, Colombians, Ishtari, representatives of various Khanate cities, a few Xandilians and even a few new arrivals from the White Flower Democracy.
Clearing her throat, she began.
"Today is an auspicious day. As we complete our recovery from the Hollywoodite Invasion, we have decided to reveal several truths that we have been hiding from the wider galactic community, and announce an important change that will be occurring effective immediately."
She beamed as a few news drones hovered around here, cameras flashing.
"Firstly. The Zetan Consciousness is, as some nations have hypothesised, a 'group mind,' system. We would like to stress that all individual members of our neural network have free will. We are not 'drones,' or 'automata,' no matter what some may claim. Our cohesion is a result of technologically-augmented empathic and intellectual connections that we have named 'The Collective.'"
"In addition, the Consciousness would like to announce that, through a process known as 'Transcendence,' we have managed to subvert the traditional end to human lifespans. We have worked very hard on maintaining the..." She paused for a second, pointing towards a journalist with their arm shot into the air. "Please, questions at the end." She waited for the arm to go back down, then continued.
"We have worked very hard on maintaining a consistent mental state no matter what body a member of the collective may find themselves in. Haecceity is very important to us here in the Collective, and it will always be the case."
"Thirdly, the Collective has confirmed that it is possible to incorporate new members into it through augmentation, even well into adulthood. Because of this, we will be announcing a small-scale citizenship and integration program for those who wish to join the Collective. This program will operate alongside our brand-new augmentation program for E.S.M.G soldiers, and the two will have some crossover."
By now, quite a hubbub had emerged in the auditorium.
"Finally, the Zetan Consciousness has realised that our name does not accurately represent the desired identity of what we are as a nation. 'Zetan Consciousness,' speaks too much to our planetary existence prior to the openings of the gateway, and highlights neither our goals, nor accurately summates our beliefs in governance. From now on, we would like to announce that we will no longer be naming ourselves the 'Zetan Consciousness.'"
She paused for emphasis.
"We are proud to join S.U.N unified together under the banner of the Enlightened Symposium. Thank you." She bowed to the crowd."
Name: Richard Joyce Aliases: "Rich," "Smokes" Occupation: Unscrupulous Individual Age: 23 Birthplace: Baltimore, Maryland, USA Race/Ethnicty: White Gender: Male
Physical Attributes
Height: A hair's shy of 172cm. Weight: Average Build: Like a tightly wound spring. Eyes: An affable brown. Hair: An Augean black. Skin Tone: The colour of a cold, cloudy winter sky. Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: As unblemished as a babe.
Psychological Attributes
It's not paranoia if you truly are being hunted * But people are hunting him * An intimate familiarity with unseemly yet effective methods of ingress and aquisition * A slight quiver in the hand and leg from a battle won but war lost with childhood polio * Prestige and experience from a noble sacrifice to his country * Nights filled with too many dreams of guns and forests, and too little sleep
Likes:
Chesterfield cigarettes
A cheerful night spent with company
Returning in out of the cold of a hard evening's work
The chill that keeps policemen from wanting to investigate too hard
The acquisition of new, unusual and worthless artifacts to keep to himself
An occasional night of jazz
Dislikes:
The sound of sirens cutting through the night
The reckless activities of certain more prominent members of his community
A lonely vessel sailed towards the Meeting Place. Aboard, military and medical staff mingled, all attention focused on a single hospital bed, rigged up to over a dozen different machines that beeped, whirred and chugged. A jungle of wires and lines snaked about to keep the various different apparatuses working smoothly throughout the transition, the craft touching against the Meeting Place. Zetans and Matuvistans met in the airlocks, medics explaining each and every issue with their patient as they carefully wheeled them through the hallways of the Zetan section, towards their medical bay.
Marines flanked the comatose woman as they made their way through to the operating theatre, the soldiers finishing their watch by crisply saluting the warforms that stood guard here. The warforms responded with their own salutes, the two soldiers briefly sharing a moment of comradery, and then the marines departed, leaving only a small handful of Matuvistan doctors and two mathetes left to watch over the patrician. Zetan surgeons filtered into the room, and a furious discussion commenced, both sides coming to mutual agreement with surprising celerity.
Then, the surgeons set to work. It was a long and difficult operation. A destroyed arm was severed at the shoulder, the joint drilled out and prosthetic plugs put in its place. The chest was opened up, organs were repaired or replaced, and lastly the face was cut, modified, replaced and built up anew. Nanomachines surged through the patient's body, and ruined flesh was, inch by inch, replaced with steel. One by one, life support was withdrawn, until at last the patient lay, sleeping, not comatose, on the bed.
It had taken eighteen hours.
Three hours after that, Isabella de Lobasla's eyes fluttered once, twice, and then flicked open, and she returned to life.
Three Months Ago
So much had been lost. Her body still ached in half a dozen different places, and her new limbs felt anything but natural to her, but Isabella, slowly but surely, returned to functionality. She had received a troubling amount of brain damage that the Zetan nanomachines had had to struggle to repair, and although they had done their job as best as they could, her new cyborg brain still had its moments of fuzziness and haziness. Luckily, the doctors had said that this was not career ending- they couldn't predict if it would take weeks or years, but she would fly on her jetbike again.
That idea gave her some amount of strength. She was not crippled. She was not invalid. She. Would. Persevere. Moving deliberately from her bed to her bathroom, she gazed into the mirror, and, as she often did, examined her new body.
It was almost the same. She had to admit, the Zetans had done an extraordinary job. They had gone with the most realistic prosthetics they had, still obviously metal, but they appeared sleek and realistic, a sculpted masterpiece, rather than the sometimes deliberately clanky and industrial styles Zetans could go with.
It was not necessarily an unappealing look, she had to admit. When she pulled her sleeping gown off, her still-human fingers played along the boundary of woman and machine as they almost seamlessly slotted together. She flexed her left arm, watching as microservos and fleximetal shifted and rippled, then repeated the process with her right arm, scrutinising her own flesh.
The one area in which she had disagreed with the Zetans was with her eye. They had given her a standard bionic eye, which, to the outside observer, looked near-identical to the real ones. She had overridden them after she had awoken however, entering the operating theatre for a brief second appointment to have a sophisticated 'eyepatch' implanted. Despite hiding the optics underneath from anyone seeing through, she could see through the eyepatch clearly, and, in fact, it offered her greater vision than she had ever had before. Initially, it had been quite distracting for one eye to suddenly be magnified whilst the other remained the same, the fact her brain had also been bionicised helped immensely.
Slowly, she dressed herself. She was aboard the newly constructed Gran Republic section of the Meeting Place, inaugurated shortly before the S.U.N had come into existence. Once she had pulled on enough clothes to make herself decent, she picked up a packet of cigarillos from next to her bed and slowly but surely made her way to one of several smoking areas dotted about this part of the station.
Nobody else was here. She took the opportunity to sit down on a provided booth and practice with her new arm. Raise the cigarillo to your lips. Take the lighter. Hold it. Grip it gently. Not too hard now. Apply the right pressure to the button. Like most Patricians, her lighter was almost comically overdesigned- inside it, tiny natural lodestones whirred to life and funnelled a jet of plasma up and out the spout. She touched the plasma to the end of her cigarillo, then let go of the button and returned it to her pocket.
It infuriated her. This was not a difficult process... And yet still, she struggled to do it. The infuriating portion was that it was not a physical issue at all- her arm had no malfunction or error that would cause it to jitter and her muscles had bonded strongly. The quakes in her hand were all a product of her mind.
She groaned as the smoke entered her mouth, swirling it around slowly. Inhaling it as she had sometimes done in the past was pointless now. She had two metal lungs with advanced protections against biological and chemical agents that filtered out smoke from entering her system. Tapping off the ash at the tip of the cigarillo, she continued to move her arm about, lifting it, curling it, twisting it this way and that. The more she used her arm, the doctors had told her, the more she would feel that it was hers and the quakes would stop.
One Month Ago
Isabella’s fingers set to work on the buttons of her shirt, pausing occasionally when the when her fingers quivered a little too much for comfort. The shakes had calmed down significantly, but hadn’t fully stopped. When her shirt was on, she continued with her trousers, then her boots, the patrician able to see their re-constructed face in the polished surface of the leather.
She gave the laces a final tug, then straightened her back and fixed her scabbard to her waist. She was almost complete. The rest of her uniform was eased into slowly, the patrician settling a bicorne onto her head and brushing down her left breast, where her medals would sit once she arrived back to Matuvista.
Of course, that implied that she intended on returning to her home nation the way they believed she would. Now properly dressed, sword and pistol at her hips, she donned a pair of gloves to cover her metallic hand and gave her eyepatch a quick reconfiguration.
It was time to begin her return.
Current Day
Every patrician had the right to be heard in the Lower Senate. Oftentimes, this meant that they would merely wait for the current issues that were being debated on during the day to wind down, then make their speeches and propositions, but it was not unheard of for a patrician to request a formal speech slot earlier on in the day, when more of their fellows would be in the Lower Senate and the discussion would be livelier. The Speaker of the Senate had the right of veto to ensure that such a tool would not be abused, but such requests were rare in and of themselves, and the veto being applied rarer still. So it was that when a request came though from Il Duque himself, none so much as questioned it. There were many, many reasons for such a venerable individual to want to address the Lower Senate, and his request was expediated through the usual red tape.
Shortly before the allotted time for the speech, a small surface-to-orbit craft touched down near the senate’s spaceport. A collection of patricians and an escort of plebians filtered out of the craft, the blazing suns overhead beating down unrelentingly. They quickly moved from the spaceport to a shuttle, and from the shuttle towards the Cortes General.
At last, everything was ready. The allotted time for the speech was ready, and the doors to the Lower Senate swung open.
The individual standing behind the doors was not Il Duque.
Immediately, a quiet hubbub broke out among not only the Lower Senate, but also those who had met in the Upper Senate to watch Il Duque’s speech. Isabella strode forwards, cape fluttering out behind her as she did so. She moved up towards the podium, straightening her back and clearing her throat to ensure the microphones were working as intended, then began.
”Friends. Patricians. Matuvistans. Lend me your ears.
Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2. It was a speech opening burnt into the Matuvistan consciousness as some of the finest rhetoric of the old world, and it had become somewhat of a tradition for those who desired to make a grand impact to draw upon the speech. Of course, if one fell flat when using it…. Best not to dwell on that.
"I have come here today to speak of my most serious disquietude with the conduct of this Senate, and of the maltreatment of the plebians who lay down their lives in the defence of this most magnificent of Republics." Her eyepatch scoured the hall to see if any would speak up and try to contradict her. None did.
"I was given the honour of leading the Gran Republic's first ever international military expedition, to assist what we hoped would be a newfound alliance, after personally making headway with one of their ambassadors aboard the Santa De Angelo. Despite this, and despite how crucial my efforts were in securing Matuvista's international standing, I found myself hamstrung, no, betrayed, by the individuals in this venerated building." Her fingers swept across the chamber, then up, towards where the Upper Senate sat. ”No enemy hath vanquished the expeditionary force, instead, she was killed only by the cowardice and refusal to hold fast in the face of diplomatic troubles that ran freely through this venerable building.”
Her lips tightened into a sneer. ”There are those who, even now, will begin to criticise me and degrade me. They will seek to deny me the honours and votes I am justly due for the struggle and sacrifice made by both myself and my men. Listen not to them. Understand that the Gran Republic, if it is truly to be a great nation, standing tall among the stars, must stiffen its spine, steel its sinews, and prepare to be a wall that its enemies can neither circumvent nor penetrate. This is the Gran Republic that shall be known and respected. This will be the Gran Republic I shall forever onwards push for.”
It was time for the coup de grâce.
”I hereby announce that I will be running for the position of Chancellor of Matuvista in the next Upper Senate electoral cycle. Viva Matuvista. Viva la República. Muchas gracias.”
Tortoise
Snowdrops
Days
Otakuforreal
shaitarn
Velos
TokyoPewPew
World Traveler
Timemaster
Sylvan
