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Novira: An Interplanetary Colonization Roleplay

Everyone who has posted thus far is accepted, I like all these ideas.

Also, I added a population section to the nation sheet. I'd like everyone to list that.

Arawak, I also have another person who was interested in playing on Sapia, he's in the process of making a map I believe. Let me know your decision. I'll be allowing a maximum of three nations on Sapia just to keep the action on the main planet primarily.

Novira: An Interplanetary Colonization Roleplay

Alright so what about this:
A Aldabetan squad of soldiers and a couple dozen of armed civilians was moving towards the enemy territory during The Void War when the nuclear weapons was launched. They evacuated using stolen technology then fled to a remote island.

Then yeah resources start dropping they are forced to go out once more and stuff.

@SantosGabriel77

Works for me. Feel free to fill out a nation sheet. I'll probably move the RP over to the proper section soon, as I've got a few people interested.

You can also describe the Aldabetans, and I'll work with that description.

Novira: An Interplanetary Colonization Roleplay

Maps added with some claims people PMed me about.

Novira: An Interplanetary Colonization Roleplay

May I create like a
Aldabetan Remnants sort of nation?
Or well more of a struggling nation with resources rapidly being taken away by disturbed outlaws?

@SantosGabriel77

You could, yeah, some sort of refugee colony on a different continent, but I had some ideas about the Aldabetans as it went into my own storyline, so we would have to reconcile those.
But the second idea sounds pretty interesting and you're welcome to it.

Novira: An Interplanetary Colonization Roleplay

Human history is a history of revolutions. Revolutions against authority, against tradition, against faith, and against their own deficiencies and inabilities. No matter how strong, how entrenched, how powerful an empire, its time has always come for it to fall. No matter how formidable an obstacle, human ingenuity has found a way around it or at least a way to weaken it. This is how nations such as Rome and the Third Reich fell. This is how a man was able to set foot on the moon.

This is not the story of human history. But the lessons human history teaches us are no less relevant in this new world.

~City of Sylvnor, Planet of Cindorya~
December 2056

“Down with the Emperor! Up with Cindorya! Down with the Emperor! Up with Cindorya!”

The crowd made its way forward, brandishing signs and makeshift weapons alike. The sky was orange with both the sunset and the occasional fire. A Molotov cocktail was thrown, adding another orange blossom to the world. Against all this cacophony, a deeper and more menacing sound could be heard. It was the sound of marching.

A wall of men advanced down the street. Riot police, bearing the sigil of the Cindorayi Empire on their shields and guns in their hands. A spotlight pierced through the orangey gloom and illuminated the center of the crowd, as the police commander shouted.

“Imperial citizens, you are hereby ordered to disperse! By Imperial Edict 347, this is an illegal gathering. Put down all weapons and disperse at once or we will fire!”

This warning seemed to only embolden the crowd. Several more blossoms of fire erupted against the police’s shields and behind them, and they surged forward. The police looked at one another anxiously, and then prepared to fire.

In the precise moment when the commander’s mouth began to open, a jet streaked by and a bomb fell right down into the center of the police lines. The police line wavered, then shattered without leadership. Some were beaten, some were pushed aside, but the crowd kept advancing, as a landslide does heedless of obstacles in its way.

Nearby, a reporter, trying to retain some decency as the cold wind gusted past and billowed up her dress, was shouting into the microphone to be heard.

“These are by far the largest protests ever seen in Sylvnor, or indeed on all of the Cindoryan Imperial Colony!” The reporter pointed to the advancing crowds. “Unrest has been rapidly increasing over the Imperial taxation policies and draconian restrictions over the last week, but only now have we seen such a massive public outcry! Protesters are demanding the Viceroy be replaced with a democratic, autonomous govern…” The reporter trailed off as she listened to her earphone. “We have breaking news that the Colonial Army has sided with the protestors and is currently attempting a coup. I repeat, a coup is in progress.”

~Imperial Palace, City of Lunysvet, Planet of Nova Mondial~

The viewscreen powered down and there was nothing but silence.

“As you can see, Your Imperial Highness, the situation is… escalating quickly. The Viceroy reports he’s virtually lost control of the situation. We may have to grant the Imperial Col-“ A nervous Cindorayi civil servant twitched his tail nervously.

“May I ask if you are going to seriously present such a ludicrous proposal to my face? Shall I have you executed for treason right here and now?” A man clothed in luxurious robes leaned forward slightly, his pointed face half-illuminated by the light.

“No, Your Imperial Highness, I was merely-“

“Then enough of this foolishness. The Imperial Colony will be reclaimed, and our empire will continue to expand. This was merely… an unfortunate setback.” The Emperor chuckled and leaned back once more.

---

Greetings, and welcome. This is likely my third attempt at GMing a RP, as I don’t usually come up with concepts that occur so evocative to me as to warrant it. I can only hope that this is the most successful one yet. If you had the patience to read through the above, I welcome you to Novira. The basic premise of this RP is as follows:

Setting: This is a roleplay which primarily takes place on a habitable world much like our own, called Nova Mondial. The primary difference is this: multiple sentient species have developed on the world, and exist in competition with each other. Most species exist as independent, unified nation-states. The RP takes place at a technological level in the near future, with these nations beginning the process of interplanetary colonization.

Style: This RP is ideally very open-ended in terms of how you choose to carry it out. Some people prefer to narrate large-scale events, others to look at everything within their nation from an individual character perspective. You’re perfectly free to do either or both.

Backstory: The world of Nova Mondial emerged after the year 2036 in the Cindorayi calendar from a major war, known as the Void War (2034-36) as it involved the first use of space-based weaponry systems. In this time, the world was split into two major alliances, one spearheaded by the Cindorayi Empire and the other by the Aldabetan Republic. The Cindorayi soundly and completely defeated the Aldabetan Republic, ending with the dropping of nuclear weapons on several Aldabetan cities and the wholesale annexation of their territory.

In the twenty years since, the Cindorayi Empire and their allies, known collectively as the Nova Dominion, consolidated their control over outer space. Having uncontested superiority after the Void War, rival developing nations had no choice but to seek Cindorayi permission to launch spacecraft or colonize, or risk being blown out of the sky on the way up. While the Empire and its allies collaboratively settled Nova Mondial’s habitable moon, Lunoi, the Empire reserved for itself the closest habitable planet, which they named Cindorya. In the last decade, they initiated a massive colonization drive to move a million people over to the new planet via a space elevator, the first of its kind. In order to enforce order and ensure maximum expansion, the Cindoryan Imperial Colony enforced heavy rules and regulations on the populace, as well as taxes to fund its efforts back on Nova Mondial. This, understandably, provoked heavy backlash and in December 2056, the Celestial Republic of Cindorya declared independence from the Empire. The resulting war resulted in the destruction of the majority of the Cindorayi Empire’s space infrastructure. The RP begins on the first day of 2057. The way is now open for rival nations to begin to take on - and potentially surpass them - in the great race for colonization of the rest of the Novira System.

Nation Sign-Up Sheet:

Name of Nation:
Nation Characteristics: (Government, culture, anything you see fit to explain about how your nation operates)
Nation Location: (Feel free to indicate a general place in text and I can add you to the map, or add yourself.)
Nation Initial Population:
Species Name:
Species Characteristics: (Basic physical features, anatomy, etc. Nothing too outlandish or overpowered, please, and preferably no humans)
Side Chosen in Void War: (Cindorayi, Aldabetan, or neutral)
Technological Level: (The baseline for this is like standard modern technology. The Cindorayi Empire is the most advanced at present, with several advanced technologies such as a space elevator, laser and railgun weapons, and nuclear fusion power. Allies would have been given some of these technologies, but not all. Also include what level of space presence your empire has, if any. Most nations should at least have communications satellites and a space station, however Cindorayi allies would have been allowed to arm their stations/satellites and also to have a moon colony.)
Special Resource: (It’s an alien planet, and so correspondingly I’ll allow each applying person to say there’s a unique resource not found on earth that they have large deposits of, provided again it’s not too overpowered. Example: The Cindorayi have Cindor crystals, which are capable of storing much larger quantities of energy than conventional batteries.)

I intend to balance the technological/space advantage given to the Cindorayi allies by being more permissive with the other categories (population, land area, species and special resources) to those who chose the Aldabetan side.

Maps of Nova Mondial:

Political:


Current Claims:
Dark Red: Cindorayi Empire (Mihndar)
Light Purple: Grand Protectorate of Lithla (Predawnia)
Dark Green: Vaspen Empire (Ben1730)
Light Green: Famsidian Union (Aweirdgamer)
Yellow-Orange: Union of Kor (Neruu)
Salmon: New Auslassia (Dinh AaronMK)
Dark Purple: The Gestalt (Arawak)
Dark Brown: Dominion of Isalka (Cheetuhman)
Dark Blue: Rafinid Technocracy

Physical:


Celestial Bodies (in order from the star, Novira):



Irkalla: A desolate, Mercury-like volcanic planet, which is completely uninhabitable on the surface and possesses no atmosphere. An underground colony would be theoretically plausible, but difficult. Roughly the size of Earth’s moon.

Europia: Lying on the inner edge of Novira’s habitable zone, this is a hot desert/savannah like planet which has no oceans, only small seas and lakes. Roughly 1/2 the size of Earth.
---Nachbar: The sole moon of Europia, uninhabitable, no atmosphere and hot, 1/6 the size of Earth’s moon.

Nova Mondial: The home planet, of a similar size to Earth.
---Lunoi: A habitable, temperate moon with a single large sea. Suffers severe tidal effects due to Nova Mondial. Colonized by the Cindorayi Empire and a few other major Nova Dominion powers. Of a similar size to Earth's Moon.
---Edhya: An uninhabitable, cratered moon much like our own, but with ice caps at the poles that could be utilized for water. Approximately a fourth the size of Earth’s moon.

Cindorya: Lying on the outer edge of Novira’s habitable zone, this is a cold, mostly tundra-arctic world with a thin temperate band around the equator. The ice caps consist of nearly a third of the surface, though there are oceans that separate the continents along the temperate band. Approximately 2/3 the size of Earth.
---Duiria: A rocky, uninhabitable moon with a thin atmosphere made almost entirely of carbon dioxide, of similar climate to Mars. Most hospitable of the uninhabitable bodies and potentially able to be terraformed with enough time and effort.

Asteroid Belt: The asteroid belt here is very similar to that of the Sol System’s, essentially the fragmented remains of what could have been a planet, endless rocks drifting in the void.

Sapia: This final habitable planet lies well outside the habitable zone, but possesses an extremely thick atmosphere with a high concentration of carbon dioxide, creating a greenhouse effect that keeps the surface relatively temperate and the oceans liquid. This planet is approximately twice the size of Earth.
---Felinis: Similar to Cindorya in climate, but no oceans, and due to the vertical rotation around Sapia, only one side of the moon is habitable at a given time. As the rotation slowly changes, the habitable side moves circularly around the equator, making one rotation every four years. Approximately the size of Earth's moon.

Kharok: A gas giant at the outer edge of the solar system of similar size to Jupiter. The gas giant has seven small, uninhabitable rocky moons, some of which are closer to asteroids.

Note: I’m considering allowing civilization(s) native to Sapia to apply, in some kind of industrial-era level technology, since it would be very interesting as the RP progresses to see that sort of interaction, as well as to make taking Sapia more difficult as it it is by far the most valuable of the planets.

Please tell me what you think and feel free to give recommendations!

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

~Black Sea Coast, Odessa, Ukrainian State~
June 1960

The sun was just tentatively peeking over the horizon, its rays stretching their way towards the Richelieu Steps where the Hetman and Prime Minister were making their way down to the seaside. Anastasiya was wearing the uniform of the High Commander of the Ukrainian Royal Army her father preferred, with six stars instead of five as the normal highest rank, but stripped of all the decorations that her father had plastered on.

"It was good of you to come out so early in the morning, Vadym Stepanovych."

"Not at all," replied the balding man in his mid-forties, striding briskly to keep up with the tall Anastasiya. He wore a simple but well-kept grey suit with a blue tie, and a hint of concern betrayed itself on his narrow face. "Quite frankly, it was inordinately difficult to get a meeting with your father, even when I became Prime Minister, let alone at five o'clock in the morning. I was beginning to worry that the Solovski dynasty had no intention of negotiating with the Parliament they themselves created."

Anastasiya slowed to a stop, and rested her gaze upon Antonenko. "Everyone seems to view me through the lens of my father, whether that have a good or bad impact upon what they see. I would ask that you at least make an effort to dispel any notion you have of that and instead look at what I am doing with a new light. My father may have viewed you as little more than a populist obstruction to his policies, but I respect your work in the Verkhovna Rada."

Vadym blinked. The reaction he received was so contrary to his expectations that his stop was a little more... abrupt. The royal guards accompanying them looked almost as if they were ready to move to stop him from falling, but he managed to hold himself steady. A couple seconds passed with him meeting her gaze, calculations processing inside his head.

"You've asked me here to discuss cooperation, haven't you, your Highness?" Vadym cautiously let the words out.

Anastasiya smiled, a wide, beautiful smile, her pitch-black hair fluttering a little behind her in the wind. "And freed of that bias, you've figured it out all in one stroke." Soft, light peals of laughter rang out down the stairs, causing a few birds in their trees to flutter their wings a little in surprise. Anastasiya covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed, then continued walking down. "I'm pleasantly surprised. I expect to enjoy our little chat." Vadym dutifully followed, bereft of words for the time being. If only he didn't already have a wife... not that that would matter anyway.

---

"Those steps are... longer than I remember..." Vadym panted. Anastasiya let a slight grin show, nodding. "They are a work of art, but also quite the exercise. Goodness knows how those fleeing the Cossacks down it in 1905 would have felt, but I suppose that that era is lost to time now, so we'll never have a reliable depiction... Ah, here's the High Admiral."

Leonid Ostapovych Kostenko, the High Admiral of the Ukrainian Royal Navy, bowed to each of them in turn. "Your Majesty and Sir Prime Minister," I'm pleased to present the captains of the Ukrainian Royal Navy." Three lines line of well-decorated officers saluted.

Anastasiya strode her way down the front of the first line, shaking each man's hand in turn. She stopped at the end, performed her own about-face, and announced "At ease." The officers relaxed their arms, and she made her way back to the High Admiral and Prime Minister.

"-but so few? Surely we should have more ships," Vadym was concernedly addressing the High Admiral. "Exactly," interjected Anastasiya. "That is precisely what I brought this meeting together for today. But first, after you, Leosha." The admiral smiled, and Anastasiya couldn't help but notice Vadym's look of surprise. When they had taken a walk out of earshot of the officers down the dock, Vadym said, "So I take it you two have some prior acquaintance?"

"Ah, that's an old story. Do you mind if I tell it, Anna?" Anastasiya blushed a little, the first sign of embarrassment Vadym had seen out of her. "Ah... fine, fine, it was nothing really." Leonid chuckled, and went on. "She was a stowaway, this one." Anastasiya went entirely a bright shade of pink. "That was... not entirely-" Leonid waved her off. "Back when I was captaining the Kagul for the Imperials, Anna managed to get onboard and stayed on for a couple of weeks before my men found her rifling through the food stores. Believe me, her father was livid, but the crew was about ready to adopt her as their mascot by the time we got her back. She was a good girl with a good head on her shoulders, and she still is." Anastasiya's blush had faded and she was all smiles. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Leosha. Just as I'm sure that if Ukraine was a nation floating on the sea you would have been Hetman instead of my father." "Aye, your Highness, but I have no children besides my ships so you would still be my successor, no doubt in my mind." Vadym laughed along with them at this exchange, and then let the door close behind them as they arrived at the navigation room of the Kagul, the now flagship cruiser of the Ukrainian Royal Navy.

"However, we must now attend to business," Anastasiya began as they seated themselves. "I have called you both here today in light of the foreign policy agenda called for by the Senate and nobility. I recognize that as a military man, your place is not in the intricacies of politics. But I hope that you will both recognize my ideas and cooperate with me for the sake of Ukraine and its people in the coming years.” Both men leaned forward, seemingly willing to listen.

“The Senate has called for, after the cleanup of remaining East Ukrainian resistance forces, an immediate invasion of Belarus. They believe that it is necessary for Ukraine to consolidate as much of Russia as we can, lest the Imperials take it first, and that we aspire to become the new dominant race in some kind of Ukrainian Empire.” Leonid furrowed his brow, but Vadym looked positively appalled.

“There’s no way that would ever pass in Parliament, even if it goes through in the Senate. Goodness knows the Ukrainian people have had enough of war, after the ten or twenty thousand dead and injured we’re sending back to their families in the next month or two. If all you were asking for was my opposition, you already had it. The Ukrainian National Democrats’ platform is for peace and stability, not more endless conflict.”

Anastasiya shook her head. “Regrettably, that’s not enough. Word has it the nobility are buying MPs from your party. They expect to have a good couple over the majority they need. I would find the ones responsible, but they’re so well networked into the system that it’s like asking a wolf to find the ones responsible for the disappearance of sheep.”

“I’ll get the whip on them. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I’ll do the best I can. They should know better, they’ll lose their jobs next cycle if this goes through. And I’ll report it to Vashchenko if I find out who’s doing it.”

The admiral took the pause to cut in. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t see what I’ve got to do with it.”

Anastasiya’s eyes lit up. “You’re everything to do with my alternative proposal.”

“Alternative?” Vadym looked confused.

“You yourself were puzzled at the lack of ships in the Ukrainian Royal Navy, no?” Vadym gestured for her to continue. “At the time of the secession in 1954, the Russian Imperial Black Sea Fleet was stationed at its usual port of Sevastopol, which as you know styles itself the capital of “Tartaria.” The only ships stationed in Ukraine that were seized by my father’s forces were the Black Sea submarine fleet and a small group of two cruisers and three destroyers. This cruiser, in fact, was one of the two since Leosha here defected.”

“So where exactly are the rest of the ships?”

“Still in Sevastopol.” The admiral gruffly responded with an irritated look on his face. “When the Empire started falling apart once and for all, they docked the ships and all the men went home to their families. They’ve been gathering dust for four years, and it’s a damn shame.”

Vadym turned to Anastasiya, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. “You want my support for an invasion of Sevastopol, no?"

“Excellent, Vadym Stepanovych. I knew I was going to enjoy this little chat.” Anastasiya swiveled her chair to the left, and stood up, the sea roiling out the window behind her back. “I’d like you two to support my plan to invade Crimea instead of Belarus, Vadym in political circles and Leonid in military ones. If we block their vote, they’ll have no choice but to at least support that one, many less lives will be lost, and Ukraine’s coast will be safer against pirates and any naval Russian invasion alike.” She extended her hand towards them both.

“So we both benefit, and you get to show those stuffy old nobles that you have a trick or two up your sleeves. Not a bad job for a little girl.” The admiral chuckled, shaking his head, and shook Anastasiya’s hand.

“Perhaps the little girl has grown up, Leosha.”

“Maybe she has,” he replied, lighting a cigar from his pocket. “I’d better get going hiring up new officers. We’ll need every old sailor we can find.”

Anastasiya shook Vadym’s hand as well. “I look forward to working with you further, your Highness. It’s not every day you get to be the heroic man who averted sending another hundred thousand men to war.”

Anastasiya smiled and nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

~Potemkin Military Base, Poltava, Ukrainian State~

Khrystyna crept forward in the underbrush, the sound of bullets cracking over her head. She gestured toward her comrade to follow, since she had found a safe path through the mines. There were two ones that were awfully close, though, so if she wasn't careful...

Her shoulder twinged, and she fell to one side, hitting the top of the mine.

"Damn it!" she shouted as an alarm rang out, the sound of bullets ceased, and the lights turned back on. She got back up and dusted herself off.

"Khrystyna, you okay?" The other soldier looked concerned.

"Just my chert shoulder bothering me again. I hope it heals up soon."

A new figure approached. "Maybe if you would let it heal instead of training constantly it would."

"With all due respect, Colonel Ruda, no." Khrystyna turned to face her direct superior, the man in charge of the Pryznyach. "I can't just sit here and rest as men keep dying for our country."

"A laudable attitude, but not one that's good for you. Anyway, there is someone important here to see you. They didn't tell me who."

"Some stuffed-up general here to pin a medal on me, no doubt. Roger, I'll go." With that, she slung her rifle behind her back and strode out.

"Has she always been like that? asked the other soldier.

"Can't say she would be her if she wasn't. There's a reason she's the best." The colonel shook his head, but he was still grinning.

---

"Major Khrystyna Antonenko, reporting as ordered." She saluted the guard at the door to the firing range.

"Major, welcome. May I have your weapon?"

Khrystyna raised an eyebrow. "It is a firing range." The guard shook his head. "Just hand it over, Major." Khrystyna sighed exasperatedly, and pulled it off her back. They opened the door.

When she made her way inside, she noticed a woman in a general's uniform taking shots at a target. This cast her off her stride, she didn't think there were any female generals. Maybe she was from the air force? She only just noticed the sixth star when the woman turned to look at her.

"Major Khrystyna, I presume? It's lovely to meet you at last. I meant to earlier, but I had some other duties to attend to." Anastasiya smiled warmly at the dumbstruck officer.

"Your Highness!" Khrystyna instinctively bowed, but a slender hand reached towards hers to pull her back up.

"Now, now, none of that formality is necessary. I greet you as a thankful officer to her subordinate." Anastasiya saluted, more sharply than Khrystyna expected, and she followed suit. "So I'll start with that. Thank you, Khrystyna. With your effort, though it may not have been the most honourable, you have saved many tens of thousands of Ukrainian lives that would have otherwise fought and died, and our country will be reunified once and for all."

"It was an honour, Your Highness." Khrystyna tentavely opened her mouth, then closed it again. Making up her mind, she asked, "If you don't mind, your Highness, where did you learn how to shoot like that?" She gestured towards the target riddled with holes near the bullseye.

Anastasiya chuckled. "Don't tell anyone, but I was always a warrior princess type. It's a good thing the Admiral isn't here to tell that story again." Khrystyna's eyes widened, but Anastasiya waved her off. "Anyway, I have two other duties here. Firstly, I came to ask you something. It would be my pleasure for you to serve as Commander of the Royal Guard, under my personal command. I know that you are passionate about your duties here, but I am in need of a skilled soldier in light of... well."

Seeing the light fade from Anastasiya's eyes gave her all the information she needed. "I would be honoured and happy to accept. You've been an inspiration to me and to all women in the military. I believe that you care for Ukraine, and I will protect you with my life." She knelt and looked up at Anastasiya.

The Hetman smiled and nodded. "Then that leads me to my third and final duty here. She drew the ceremonial saber from her left hip, and then rested it on Khrystyna's right, then left side. "I hereby dub thee knight of the Hetmanate, and I grant you the title of Hero of Ukraine." She took out a small gold medal with the Ukrainian royal lion and pinned it to her uniform. "Rise." Khrystyna rose to look at Anastasiya, a new fire of determination burning in her eyes.

~"Little Vladimir" Refugee Camp, Odessa, Ukrainian State~

Delov Vissarion made his way through the crowded, dilapidated streets. He could hear some Ukrainian men jeering at him from the corner, but he just ignored them. He kicked a trash bag someone had just thrown out on the street out of his way.

"Disgusting. I feel like I've been living in an animal pen."

Delov was the prodigal son of an old noble family. He was pampered and well cared for on his estate near Perm, until the empire collapsed and everything went to hell in a handbasket.

"Damned commies ought to go to hell themselves." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Blowing it for the first time gave him some well needed stress relief. The wind rustled the sheet metal roofs of the nearby temporary dwellings, and Delov felt it through the couple of holes in his ragged suit.

It was hardly the epitome of class, but it was far better than anything else he had on hand. He needed it today more than ever, because he had heard about the opportunity offered nearby. His wife had told him about it. Open lands, plenty of it to farm. Peace and security. A warm and temperate environment. It was far away and alien to him, but it was the best chance his family had to start over. Rhodesia was the name of the place. At the very least he could speak the language to some degree, he had learned English at university-

Some drunken sailor types coming out of a bar interrupted his thoughts. They ambled out into the sidewalk, cheering and laughing.

"Might as well be another bag of trash," Delov mumbled under his breath as he tried to walk around.

"You said somethiiing, mate?" One of the sailors, evidently of a keen ear, called out to him in Armenian-accented Russian. "No. Leave me alone." Delov tried to get away, but an arm was thrust in front of him.

"You got a problem, big shot? Somethin' against Armenians? Too used to pretendin' you own us?" The three men surrounded him, and his escape route was quickly cut off.

Before he knew it, he was on the ground, kicks bouncing off his ribs, his legs, his everything. Other Russians passed by, silently and unsympathetically watching the beating. Delov was close to losing consciousness when he heard a whistle and the sound of hooves.

"On the ground! Stop at once and get on the ground!" were the last things he heard before everything went black.

---

Delov opened his eyes to a cot in what looked like a makeshift hospital tent. He was wearing some kind of gown. He rubbed his eyes and was about to call for someone when a woman in a uniform with the letters MP on her arm walked in.

"So you're awake. You recovered fast, I was afraid you wouldn't be up by tomorrow!" The lady sat next to him. "Good afternoon, I'm Mariya Yevgenievna, Ukrainian Military Police." Delov straightened up. "Were you the one who cared for me? Thank you, I'm-"

"Delov Vissarion, age 32, Russian. Yes, we know. We even washed your suit, figured it was the least we could do." Delov nodded and started changing, but then his eyes widened. "What time is it? I have somewhere I need to meet my family." Mariya checked her watch. "1500 hours." Delov practically jumped off his cot when he finished. "I need to go, now!" He stumbled a bit, and Mariya went to help him up.

"Hey, it's okay, just take it slow, alright?" Mariya walked with him to the door. "Just relax, I'm sure they will still be there." Delov breathed in and out, standing at the door. "Thank you again. I will." With that, he made his way out of the complex.

On the way out, he heard some of the other MPs talking. "Didn't you know they were Armenians? Were you trying to start a diplomatic incident?"

"They were beating a man to death, what should I have done?" 'Did I do that?' Delov wondered to himself, then shrugged. Soon enough he made his way to the building, Rhodesian flag hung over it. He scanned the... absurdly long line. Were they there anywhere?

"Daddy!" A small child's voice rang out, and he followed it to near the very front of the line. His wife was waving to him. He slightly limped over and embraced them. "What happened?" she asked. "Don't worry," Delov reassured them as he smiled. "That's all the past now. We're headed towards the future."

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

-Kharkiv, Disputed Territory, Late May 1960-

Things had not gone well for Khrystyna. At first, she had nimbly avoided the PRU secret police by leaving her rifle and posing as a normal civilian, a decision she somewhat regretted because it would be very useful to her now.

Another bullet cracked past her head, and she hunkered down further, angrily gripping her Tokarev pistol. It was the only thing keeping those Cheka bastards from rushing her position, but it was far too useless for her usual sniper work.

She had hid with some anticommunist sympathizers that she had been relayed information on by her handler for a couple of weeks, but the Cheka was too damn persistent. Ordinarily they would have given up by now, but she imagined someone way up the commie hierarchy had wanted blood.

“Give up, devushka. You’re surrounded. There are only two options remaining for you now. Either you let us execute you the quick and fast way after we get ahold of you, or we shoot you up and let you bleed out real slow. They wanted you alive, but no one has to know.”

“Tch.” Khrystyna let off a couple of rounds at the closest one, and heard a satisfying yelp of pain.

She was hiding behind a tank, not that that was of any use to her because she hadn’t the least idea how to pilot one, and it probably didn’t have any gas anyway. She had chosen this location because the factory had two entrances, but they had gotten to the second entrance before she could leave and she had to lock the rolling metal door. It was only a matter of time before they found something to blow it open with.

“Every one of us you wound means we’ll do something worse to you when we get you. I hope you’re ready.” The taunting call came again, and Khrystyna continued fuming. There was nothing she could do now except wait for the end.

“I can at least say that I gave my life for my country. I hope that whatever they were going to do with that was worth it. That… Ukraine will be free.”

Looking at her pistol, she considered once more. It was a false dilemma they presented to her. In reality, there was a third option. It was disgraceful, it was unholy, but it was the option which offered the least amount of pain and would be most useful to her country.

“They told me I would have a front row spot for this. Liars.” She put the pistol’s muzzle up to her ear, and-

There was a muffled sound, like thunder, but not quite.

“There’s no way…” The pistol’s muzzle fell. “That has to be some storm off in the distance.”

The sound happened again, louder this time, but still not distinct.

And then finally, the sound reached her. The door to her left blew open, fragments of metal mercifully blowing past her harmlessly. Khrystyna raised her gun, ready to engage, but soon realized…

“They’re all dead. This was… artillery fire?” Taking her opportunity, she ran for it. Bullets rang all around her, and just before she reached the door she felt one in her shoulder. She bit her lip from the pain, but she kept going out into the city. Artillery shells started raining from the skies, all around her.

Buildings burst into shrapnel and fire. The city of Kharkiv was beautiful at sunrise, but not only the sky appeared as if in flames. Khrystyna could not mistake it now. The front was already almost here. There was only one thing to do. She took the green flare out of her bag, loaded it into the flare gun, and leaned out of the building she was hiding in to shoot it into the sky.

A couple more shells burst, and then silence.

The Cheka, undeterred, were moving. She could hear them now that the firing had stopped. Picking up a rifle from a nearby commie killed by the artillery, she was now ready.

Khrystyna made her way to the top of a building. “I hate firing on my right shoulder, feels weird,” she muttered to herself. But there was no other way, since her left had been injured.

Peering through the scope, she saw a cluster of them run around a nearby building. Three pops of her rifle, and all laid on the ground in a neat line as they fell. One heard the shots on her side, and tried to sneak towards the building. She fired again, and the Cheka man fell out of the shadows he was attempting to conceal himself in. She heard the rat-tat-tat of machine-gun fire. The front was getting closer.

“Time to change locations.” Khrystyna slung the rifle over her right shoulder slightly awkwardly, and then went to draw her pistol as she turned around-

“Stop right there, assassin.”

She felt the glare of hate even though she hadn’t even seen the man. She lifted her hands as she turned towards him.

“You’re coming with me,” said the man, bedecked in an officer’s hat with the terrible crimson star on its brim that she feared more than all else. It was the same voice that had taunted her the whole standoff in the factory.

“Put down your weapons on the ground. Slowly.”

Khrystyna first pulled the rifle off her shoulder and laid it down, grimacing as her shoulder twinged. She then reached for her pistol, and did the same. If she could just lift the small pistol out of her boot on the way back up-

“Yeah, no.” A shot rang out, and her fingers flinched just away from the gun and the bullet that flew between her and it. The man was looking at her boot. “That one too.”

She cursed under her breath, then placed the tiny gun on the ground. Straightening up, she slipped one of her fingers close to her waist, and then threw a knife from beneath her skirt straight at the man’s throat.

The officer quickly managed to dodge, and fired off two rounds, but by then she was behind an air conditioner unit having picked up the .22 caliber pistol. The man tried to approach, but she shot off a round.

“How many shots can that thing possibly have? You’re certainly good at postponing your demise, but it won’t-“

A shot rang out as a whirring sound came into her hearing range. But this time, it wasn’t hers.

There was no mistaking this sound. It was a helicopter, an Otchestvo Ukrainian variant. That could only mean one thing.

“Chorna, nice to see you in one piece!” The man leaning out of the transport helicopter with a Mosin-Nagant waved.

“Likewise, Colonel. I still see you’re crazy enough to charge into a warzone with a damned transport helicopter!”

Colonel Viktor looked mock offended as the helicopter settled on the roof and several Ukrainian Royal Army troops charged out, Zroya rifles as the ready. “As if I’ve ever done this before.” He stepped onto the roof, smiling.

“Might as well have, sir, considering some of the other things.”

“And you accomplished your mission, didn’t you. Only one question. Why didn’t you take out the whole military leadership as well, then we wouldn’t have taken this long to get to the city?”

Khrystyna cracked a smile for the first time in two weeks, and she felt a tear or two drip down the side of her cheeks. There was a perfect response for this, a word that meant technically “nothing,” but in conventional usage was the usual expression of all of the East Slavic peoples’ hopelessness. In English, the appropriate phrase might be “there is nothing to be done about it.”

But here, crying and smiling, as the soldiers around her began firing at the remains of the Cheka, as artillery shells could be heard in the distance, as the forces of Ukrainian liberation advanced, Khrystyna spoke that word in perfect and complete irony as she winked. “Nichevo.”

-Mariyinsky Palace, Kiev, Ukrainian State, June 24th, 1960-

As the last petitioner left the throne room, bowing, Anastasiya sighed. “Is that all, Yeva?” she asked after her maid had closed the door. “It is.”

Anastasiya quickly dismissed the two royal guards who had been standing on either side, and then spoke up.

“I know I promised to hear petitioners every Sunday, but it gets very tiring very quickly. In principle, it seems like an apt practice. I’m not entirely sure it’s worth the effort, however.”

Yeva nodded. “It’s perhaps not my place to comment, but…”

“I’ve listened to your opinions for what, five years now? You need not mince words now simply because I’m soon to be the Hetman.”

Yeva hesitated for a moment, but then spoke. “The people appreciate when rulers listen to them. They are so used to rulers doing as they wish, and merely surviving under their rule. Your father scorned any appearance of democracy, but… people like when you care.”

Anastasiya carefully leaned back on her throne and lifted her hand to her chin, thinking carefully. “I am certainly not my father.”

Yeva smiled. “You’ve always been much more your mother’s child. You may have the airs and aristocracy of your father, but you have her heart. You love the vitchyzna more than anyone. This is fitting, as you are this land’s mother now. You will have to care for it, to protect it as any mother does her children. That is the best advice an old woman can give.”

Anastasiya smiled broadly and nodded. “Indeed.” But soon the expression on her face grew more wistful. “It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is, your Grace. Are you ready?”

“No. The entire purpose of my education and upbringing up to this point has been to prepare me for this, in case my father did not have a son. I was always trained for this, but I never expected it, but yet here I am. However.”

Anastasiya looked at Yeva, fire blazing her eyes.

“Despite all that, I must.” The smile that never quite disappeared from Yeva’s face returned in full force.

“Do you know why this palace was chosen instead of Klov as the monarch’s residence?”

“I don’t, no,” Yeva replied.

“Because Catherine II stayed here when she visited Kiev. She was the first Russian royal to ever visit the palace. The other one was never visited by a single one.” Anastasiya stood up, and looked out of the window. “Catherine II, though she is not Ukrainian or indeed even Russian, is the woman I aspire most to be like. She ruled because she had to, lest the kingdom fall into peril under her insane husband’s rule, and she ruled justly and for the benefit of the people. I desire to be an enlightened monarch. A monarch ruling on the people’s behalf, not over them.”

“I suspect that you’re overlooking some aspects of her character.”

“Perhaps. But that doesn’t take away from the truthfulness of what I just said.” Anastasiya turned and smiled.

“Have Zoya prepare a bath. I suspect I will retire early today, in preparation.”

“Understood, your Grace.” Yeva bowed, and almost left the room, but then stopped, remembering something.

“The Foreign Minister asked me to give you these two things, a letter and a package.” She pulled both out of a bag, and handed them to the Hetman-in-waiting.

“Oh? Who are they from?”

“The package is from a noble, the Duke Timofij of Poltava, I believe. The letter is from Sultan Osman IV of the Ottoman Empire.”

“Thank you, Yeva.” The maid nodded, bowed, and left the room.

“So the great historical enemy of the Russian and Orthodox people speaks, oh?” Anastasiya opened the letter as she was walking out, and quickly scanned through the contents.

Realizing what an important opportunity this was, Anastasiya resolved at once to attend this conference herself. There could be no important goal than securing the approval and recognition of other European powers. Only that could truly secure Ukraine’s independence, not its own force of arms against the German hegemony.

As she walked back into her room, Anastasiya’s cat Arya brushed up against the side of her dress affectionately. Anastasiya smiled and knelt to pet her. “Hello, dear. How have you been?” Arya rubbed her head on her hand. Anastasiya sat down at her ornate wooden desk and proceeded to open the second package.

Arya leaped up onto the desk and looked at her expectantly. “What, do you smell something, dear?” Anastasiya opened up the embossed tin container inside the package, and was delighted to see Ukrainian cherry bars. “Chereshnyanyk! My favourite! I really must thank the Duke the next time I see him for this.” She lifted up one and was about to carefully bite into it, avoiding her dress, when Arya jumped and snatched it out of her hand and started eating it.

“Arya! You’re such a naughty girl. It’s a good thing nothing in those is poisonous for cats. If it was choco-“ Anastasiya paused mid-sentence in horror.

The cat lay on the floor, convulsing, seemingly having some kind of stroke. Images flashed back to her, of her father doing the same thing, of people rushing about, of him being carried off to the hospital for it to do no good. It was then that she knew what happened. All of what happened.

“Zoya!” Anastasiya screamed towards the next room in sadness and anger intertwined all in one.

-St. Sophia’s Cathedral, Kiev, Ukrainian State-
June 25th, 1960

“We aren’t going to let any of this out, understand? I want the person who did this, alive, and then we can tell people what happened.”

“Understood, your Grace.” The SZR (Foreign Intelligence Service) minister, Valentyn Vasylovych Vashchenko (the alliteration was amusing to Anastasiya upon meeting him, despite the circumstances) nodded. “We can be reasonably sure it wasn’t a retaliatory strike from the Communists. Though Duke Timofij had no knowledge of the package and it appears nothing actually originated from his office at all, the attack seems to be from someone inside the country, likely amongst the high nobility.” “Whoever it is, the poisoning of the Hetman-in-waiting the day before her coronation deserves the greatest punishment imaginable.” Valentyn shook his head disapprovingly. “I can’t even imagine what they were trying to accomplish, unless they were some sort of radical.”

Anastasiya looked dark. “I can begin to imagine.” Valentyn looked questioning, but she waved him away. “We will discuss at the Secretariat of Ministers meeting.” Valentyn bowed, and then backed away. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Valentyn Vasylovych.”

With that, she looked one final time at the crowds that surrounded the cathedral, cheering. It seemed all of Kiev had come out on this summer day. Huge Ukrainian flags and flags bearing the coat of arms of the Solovski house were waved, and she could almost hear her name being called by a thousand voices.

She looked at her two maids, Yeva and Zoya, who looked sympathetic for what had happened yesterday but also excited. They dipped their heads slightly at her glance.

“Let us begin,” she pronounced.

The Metropolitan Bishop of Kiev, Joasaph II, met her at the door. He offered her a cross, which she kissed, as another bishop sprinkled her with holy water.

With that finished, the doors were opened, and in full royal dress, Anastasiya Solovski, the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Ukraine, began to stride down the hallway toward the iconostasis. She felt a thousand stares from inside this cathedral, but these were… different. These stares were not those of approval, but those of judgment. The nobility, the members of the Verkhovna Rada parliament, the upper echelons of industry and finance, and finally her family, the remaining members of the Solovski dynasty. Among these, the reception was most varied. Some, like her cousins, did look at her with love and approval, but some looked at her jealously, as if they wished to be in her place. Was her potential assassin amongst these people?

Anastasiya cleared her head, blinked, and continued on. Now was not the time to think of such things. Now was the time to show these people who looked on at her in judgment that she was everything she claimed to be.

The crown princess, as she remained for a little while longer, proceeded with the ceremony that her father had laid out before her, which imitated those of the ancient Grand Princes of Kiev and the Tsar of Russia alike. She venerated the cathedral icons three times, then proceeded to sit in the throne set in the cathedral dais.

First there was singing, and then she rose to recite the Eastern Orthodox Nicene Creed, as she did robotically as it had been drilled into her in every religious class since she was five years old. The prayers continued, but Anastasiya fell into almost a supernatural daze at her situation. The time had come at last, for the fate of a nation – a people – to fall upon her.

“"O Lord our God, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who through Samuel the prophet didst choose…”

Her eyes rose to heaven. She was never the most devout of Christians, but now she asked God for one thing, if nothing else. She desired the strength to carry out her mission. To carry the weight of Ukraine itself on her shoulders. To save her people from oppression and injustice, and to preserve their dreams. Noticing the time approached, she bowed her head once more.

"To Thee alone, King of Mankind, has she to whom Thou hast entrusted the earthly kingdom bowed her neck with us. And we pray Thee, Lord of All, keep her under Thine own shadow; strengthen her kingdom; grant that she may do continually those things which are pleasing to Thee; make to arise in her days righteousness and abundance of peace; that in her tranquility we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and gravity. For Thou art the King of peace and the Saviour of our souls and bodies and to Thee we ascribe glory: to the Father and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen."

With that, the prayers were finished. Anastasiya looked up, and at the Metropolitan, who looked at her with quiet approval. “Grant me the crown.”

The Metropolitan delivered it to her hands, and so she, with no more hesitation, placed it down upon her head.

"Most God-fearing, absolute, and mighty Lady, Hetman of all Ukraine, this visible and tangible adornment of thy head is an eloquent symbol that thou, as the head of the whole Ukrainian people, art invisibly crowned by the King of Kings, Christ, with a most ample blessing, seeing that He bestows upon thee entire authority over His people."

And so Her Majesty, Hetman and Queen of Ukraine, Anastasiya Artemivna Solovski, rose.

“I humbly accept.”

The coronation continued according to plan, with the investiture of the regalia, the Divine Liturgy, the coronation oath, and finally, the presentation of communion. This final thing was the most amazing for Anastasiya. She paused at the Royal Doors of the cathedral, the boundary none but anointed clergy were allowed to cross… except for monarchs on the day of their coronation. The Metropolitan nodded at her, in approval, and so she crossed the threshold. She was amazed at the art adorning the walls, of angels climbing up to heaven, and couldn’t help but look before proceeding to the Metropolitan, fully conscious that only a handful of people had witnessed before what she was seeing now. After the communion, the service was finally over, and an era of Anastasiya’s life with it.

---

After the assembled congregation had followed her out of the cathedral, they assembled before her in front of the doors, where she was scheduled to make her coronation speech. One could almost be forgiven for thinking she had just underwent a medieval coronation, except for the camera flashes and television camera lights in the crowd. She walked up to the podium, almost more terrified than she was walking into her coronation. This thought amused her enough to make her loosen up a little. She took a deep breath, raised her head, and began.

“To all gathered here today, to those watching and listening around the world, I present to you myself: the Hetman of all Ukraine. To those of you who are Ukrainians, wherever you may be, and to those who live in my country, regardless of whether you be Russian, Byelorussian, Tatar, Pole, or anything else: I present to you your monarch, Anastasiya the First.”

“My father’s death and my coronation have come at a troubling time for the people of Ukraine. We are beset by enemies, rivals and crises on all sides. The reanimated corpse of the empire that once oppressed the people of this land rears its head in the north. A refugee crisis floods this nation with Russians and some of even our dispossessed people from the east, and even Austrian humanitarian aid combined with our own has not proven enough to feed, clothe and shelter all of them. As my reign begins, I intend to address these issues and preserve the security and safety of not just the Ukrainians, but all those who desire to live within our borders. It is our responsibility, as the first and most secure of the post-Imperial nations, to light the way to the future of all East Slavic people in this time of troubles.”

“The last and greatest issue is the war between us and the fragmentary remnants of a revolution that failed, the People’s Republic of Ukraine.

Some are concerned that the war began opportunistically after the assassination of the General Secretary, and believe that we are responsible for this. The truth of the matter is that we are. I did not order the attack, but I do not believe it was wrong. With this, the bandits in red clothing who have stolen our people’s spirit have been shattered, and Ukraine will be free from their oppression just as they have become free from the oppression of the Russian Empire before them.”

With that, the Hetman gestured to a secretary, who began rolling a film reel. The film cut through pictures of conflict: old Russian tanks commandeered by the Ukrainians rolling through Kharkiv, soldiers loading artillery, and finally soldiers raising an Ukrainian flag above the Politburo building. The crowds could not help but cheer at that, and the film ended.

“As of two days ago, Kharkiv, the capital of the so-called People’s Republic, was captured by Ukrainian Royal Army forces. The remaining forces in the east have moved their provisional capital to Donetsk and dug in, but victory is assured within the next month.

With this effort, the specter of communism will be driven from Ukraine for good and the country will be reunited in peace and prosperity. Now I speak to the forces of communism and of imperialism alike: Ukraine is not yours to take! We will stand proud and independent… until there is no longer anyone who calls this land their home. I myself will stand as its shield against all enemies, so long as I still live. I look forward to the task before me, and I intend to take it on with every skill I possess.”

“Long live the Hetmanate! Long live its people! Long live Ukraine!”

The crowd cheered again, two more times, and with that, Anastasiya waved her hand in farewell.

In the front row of the crowd, Khrystyna, shoulder bandaged, was cheering alongside everyone else.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

This NRP is an entirely statisticless one. Everything you say about your country, you do so in writing and in storytelling. You don't need insanely long posts (like Vilage or Aaron) but what you do needs to be of fairly good quality.

We only just started about a month back, so there isn't much history as of yet. Read people's nation sheets on the character tab and you've got most of all the background.

Shyri is the German Empire, you'll have to discuss that with him if that's what you want to do.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Dropping it here, too.

playdiplomacy.com/games.php?subpage=j…

Diplomacy game for the PoW group. If you want in, PM me for the password. There's 5 slots left! Countries are assigned randomly, and player identities are hidden, so it should be a fun session.

If you like... well, diplomacy, then give it a try. It's all about conquering Europe while forming alliances, and backstabbing said allies at the right moment to take the win.

@Shyri

"There's 5 slots left" also known as "me and Shyri are the only ones that have joined" lmao

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

I made it onto the second page, you guys. Huzzah.

Wanted to add more but it was delayed enough as it was.