Discussion in 'Imperium OffTopicum' started by Ahigin, Aug 7, 2017.
Signed Empress Isabel I of Portugal and Brazil
Signed, Lord-Protector Strange of the British Royal Commonwealth
Signed, Queen Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India.
Signed, President DeLuna of the United Communes
Signed Porfirio Díaz, President of Mexico
Espiridion Hector Lobo, Secretariat of Foreign Affairs
Signed, President Schönberg of the Free Boer Republic
The Office of President Watie congratulates all signatories to the Treaty of Montreal, and strongly hopes that this is a sign of greater things to come. Peace in our age and in the next is something to which one must aspire, for the sake of the living and the unborn.
Truly this is a lasting peace with honor.
Jagers, Part 3
Here's something Benedict Neuman knows how to say:
I'm going to kill that one. Yes, I got him. Say it like this: "I see him. Target down."
And the man in his sights, raised in some other country by hands not unlike his own, breaks apart under lead hammer. Cloud of blood. Scream in the air. Behold Benedict: a lightning maker. (In a clear day, you could occasionally tell where the man was hit by observing the blood splatter).
Benedict made his first kill in Lothringen, in an engagement against a group of partisans who maybe thought that bravery and valor could replace discipline and well-guarded supply lines. Sometimes, rookies fall apart after the first kill, eaten up by guilt. Benedict's seen this, but the cry-scream-puke cycle never hits him, even though up to that moment, he had been afraid of his own compassion. Even though the nicknames his comrades gave him was almost: Flower Boy.
Instead he feels a high.
There's a chaplain waiting at the barracks, prepared to provide support for post-kill trauma to soldiers. He waves him away. Twenty years of being raised by humanist parents and academies, cherish all life hammered into his very bones. All meaningless. All wasted.
The high says: a born killer.
Who is Captain Roland? Benedict thinks about this question often, puzzles and probes. Sometimes, it's a joy. Sometimes, it hurts. Sometimes he doesn't think about the question at all--mostly when he's with the Captain, patrolling, and killing.
Maybe that's what Roland is to Benedict. A moment. A place where Benedict never has to think, reflect, or be anything other than a laughter and a killjoy. That's a selfish way to look at it, though, isn't it? Roland is his own man: impatient, ferocious, and profane. Benedict shouldn't go around making an icon of him. He's not a lion, not some kind of war-god, and not some kind of oblivion that Benedict can just crawl into.
A conversation they have, halfway into the war:
"I've heard you moved like **** today," Roland says to him, waiting in line to use the barracks showers.
"You got sloppy. Exposed yourself twice to enemy fire. You do realize you are the only one with marksman training?" Roland continues.
"I wanted to identify where the fire was coming from, sir. It was a calculated risk."
"Not much good if you get killed before you can brag about it."
"Yet here I am, sir."
"You'll spend a few hours with the staff sergeant regarding the use of effective cover and concealment before I let you in the lines again," Roland says, with a little crack of authority at the end of the sentence. Then he grimaces as if he just noticed the fear-stink of all the soldiers waiting in queue for cold water. "He assures me they were good kills, nonetheless."
Benedict grins toothsomely at his captain and Roland, exasperated but grinning back (!), shakes his head. "You love it, don't you?" he says. "Being out here in this war. You are happy here."
Benedict puts his hands on the back of his head--an improper attitude towards a superior officer, and holds the grin.
Near the end of the war, on leave in Belgium, officers and a few of the enlisted men decide to put on an exhibition for all the oddities, inventions, and improvisations for the army. They decide to make Lieutenant Kriegsmesser a promotion girl.
"What? Why the hell?" he calls out as somebody thrusts his outfit into his arms.
Because he was the only one who looked effeminate enough in the officer corps and were of low enough rank, thought Benedict, although he didn't say it out aloud. "Because you have a very convincing high voice," he says instead.
Kriegsmesser sighs, and moves to the dressing rooms.
Few hours later, Benedict sees him again at the entrance to the exhibition, collecting entrance money while dressed as a nurse. Yellow straw hair, pink cheeks, very red lips, and a false bust decollete gave the him a very meretricious appearance. When Benedict drops a rather generous donation, 'she' throws 'her' arms around him and kissed him on both cheeks to the riotous laughter.
"Not a word of this later," 'she' says.
'She' collected almost a thousand marks that day alone.
It's one of the last months of the war. It's nearing Christmas, and the soldiers are pissed in a way only soldiers can be.
On route to a rendezvous location, they come across a section of a city heavily shelled by artillery fire, and find a group of French military engineers trying to access a collapsed building. The Germans immediately disperse and take firing positions. The French repeat the gesture.
But then they hear someone crying from within the building. Lieutenant Kriegsmesser immediately order a ceasefire. Neither the French nor the Germans have enough gear to save those inside the building. The light infantry Germans don't have the equipment or the engineering expertise (ironically enough) to mount a rescue without risking further collapse. The French engineers are not carrying medical supplies.
Captain Roland negotiates a truce with the French commander, symbolically lighting each other's cigarettes as the medics and engineers try to work out a plan of action.
Benedict doesn't move an inch from his sniping position, fingers on the trigger, quietly looking through the scope at the uneasy truce. Some of the soldiers shout insults at the French, and they shout back in French, their humanity still plain.
Lieutenant Kriegsmesser seem amazed by the female soldiers of the French engineering battalion, and wanders over to them, seemingly cooing over their uniforms and exchanging buttons. He shows his prized officer pistol to a rather unimpressed looking group. Say what you want about him--he always seemed to fit in fine wherever he went.
One of the enemy soldiers--a rather boisterous and tall Frenchman, struts out, asking for Benedict by name. There's a bounty on Benedict's head--as part of the Enemy Marksman Initiative. The smartass French wants to talk to him and live to tell the tale. Benedict tunes him out as his gaze wanders over elsewhere.
When he stops to think about it, he thinks that this war isn't really necessary. So it's quit--or, don't think about it. That's what Roland taught him: always pack and move light. You throw away everything about yourself that doesn’t help you kill. Strip down, sharpen up. Weaponize your soul.
Another Federation squad, wondering why Captain Roland's platoon have not shown up at the rendezvous show up. They have no idea about the civilians or the truce. They assume the worst. When they show up, they immediately open fire on the French, and everything goes back to being very simple.
Benedict gets the smartass, he's pretty sure.
Lieutenant Kriegsmesser immediately shoots the French soldiers with the very pistol that he was showing off.
Say what you want about him, he always fits in.
One night in the gym, the platoon gets to sparring and Benedict's in the ring with Roland, nervous and half-fixed on quitting until they get into it and slam into the sand, grappling for the arm-bar or a joint lock, and something inside Benedict clicks. It's just like sharpshooting--predicting movement and waiting for the perfect moment to cut in and shoot.
He gets Roland in guard, flips him, puts an elbow in his throat. Feels himself grinning down with pressure while everyone else circles and hoots. Benediiiict! Look at him! He's got it!
Roland looks back up at him and there's this question in his wary, wonderful eyes, a little annoyed, a little curious, a little scared. What are you?
He rolls his shoulders, lashes his hips, and throws Benedict off sideways. Benedict's got not breath and no strength, but he figures Roland must be feeling just as tapped and the rush feeds him, sends him clawing back for the finish.
Roland puts his finger up, thumb positioned like firing hammer of a revolver. Before Benedict reaches him, he says: "Bang."
Benedict falls on his belly. "Oof, aargh."
It's important that Roland don't laugh too hard. He's got to maintain command presence. He's been careful about that since their first mission.
The British Royal Commonwealth is pleased to announce that we have reached a peace agreement with the members of the Thale Noi Treaty, ending hostilities between our nations and bringing peace to the world.
Signed, V.G. Lakshmi, minister plenipotentiary of Indostan
Signed, C.K. Singh, minister plenipotentiary and Ambassador to China
Signed, Grand Vizier Bhajan Singh of Indostan
From Third Burmese Empire
The Treaty of Hong Kong is signed by High Adviser of His Majesty Konbaung Emperor, Kinwun Mingyi U Kaung
The Treaty of Montreal is signed by Prime-Minister of the States of His Majesty the King of Sardinia, Luigi Federico Menabrea, 1st Count Menabrea and 1st Marquess of Valdora
All stats are up now!
Map will come next (and it will be capturing the status quo at the end of the Second Atlantic and Great Colonial wars, just prior to the treaties of Montreal and Hong Kong).
Bugyō Ōta Ieyasu, director of Shogunate Foreign Affairs, signs the Treaty of Hong Kong
OOC: I updated my previous message with President Schönberg's signature. Sorry for the late formal edit, irl caught up with me.
The map has been updated in the second post of this thread.
I will respond to people's PM for trade on Monday.
Now that everyone has everything they need, the deadlines for the next turn are set:
Early orders deadline for Update 9, i.e., all economic, domestic, and diplomatic orders are due by: November 12, 2018, 9 am CST
Late orders deadline for Update 9, i.e., all military orders are due by: November 19, 2018, 11 pm CST.
Due to my work schedule, I extended the deadlines for orders by 2 additional days. I recommend not waiting till the last moment, still.
Early orders deadline for Update 9, i.e., all economic, domestic, and diplomatic orders are due by: November 14, 2018, 9 am CST
Late orders deadline for Update 9, i.e., all military orders are due by: November 21, 2018, 11 pm CST.
The Order of the Tower and Sword
The Order of the Tower and Sword was originally founded in 1459, under the name of the Order of the Sword, inspired by the legend that Arab rule in Africa would end when a Christian prince would besiege the fortress at Fez. Though it came into disuse after the conquests in Africa, it became revived with the exile of the Portuguese monarchy to Brazil following Napoleon's conquests; the first recipient of the order was British Rear Admiral Thomas Westerman, for his aid in escorting the Royal Family to safety.
There are six ranks of the order; from highest to lowest, they are the Grand Collar, the Grand Cross, the Grand Officer, the Knight Commander, the Officer, and the Knight.
The Order of the Tower and Sword is the highest honor of Portugal-Brazil and is handed out solely at the discretion of Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress. Foreigners and imperial subjects alike are eligible for the honor, and it is both a civilian and military honor; however, it is rarely given. Generally, the recipients of this medal would include particularly successful generals or admirals of Portugal-Brazil, and of allied nations who fought with Portugal Brazil, including their heads of state. For instance, Lord Strange of the Royal British Commonwealth, received the Order after the First Atlantic War, as did two British Admirals. Other important dignitaries may receive The Order of Christ, The Order of Aviz, or another royal honor from the Empress herself.
Most Portobrazilian and allied soldiers are more likely to receive the Medalha de Valor Militar (Medal of Military Valor) than a chivalric order. It should be noted though that the Medal of Military Valor is second in Order of Precedence (only trailing the Order of the Tower and Sword).
The Medal is intended to reward "heroic deeds of extraordinary selflessness and bravery or great moral courage and exceptional ability to make decisions, whether in war or in time of peace, but always in circumstances where there is proven or suspected danger to life". It comprises three grades - Gold, Silver, and Bronze. Award of the Medal in Gold confers entitlement to wear a fourragère. As opposed to the Order of the Tower and Sword (which is intended to reward more strategic service), the Medal of Military Valor is seen as a 'front-line' achievement; it is an honor that is highly sought after, as it shows the bravery and prestige of the wearer. Though still difficult to earn, it is an honor that many Portobrazilian soldiers won in the Second Atlantic War; unfortunately, many will be awarded posthumously.
Separate names with a comma.