DisNES II "A Twist of Fate"

[BananaLee]

Try getting on board MSN too, bro.
Orders half ready - only need some things from NPCs before I can send them..

 

[Oruc]

So can we send orders yet? well I doubt I can get orders in today anyway, I'm too busy stressing over a job interview tomorrow. I'm terrible at those things.

 

[silver 2039]

@Dis I need a bunch of things answered before I can send orders.

 

[Disenfrancised]

Sorry guys my kitten chewed through the computers power cord , PM boxed cleared! MSN activated!

 

[Luckymoose]

Aw Kittens. Orders in.

 

[das]

Sorry guys my kitten chewed through the computers power cord

Happened to me all too often last year...

Its probably too late to make any final additions; the last-moment diplo I mentioned appears to have bogged down a bit, but in any case (and this is also meant for the eyes of the person I am conspiring with!) I don't recall putting into the orders anything that might jeopardize the negotiations, so presumably no real harm done.

 

[Wubba360]

alright got orders in

 

[Disenfrancised]

get those orders in people! I will be on and off the internet all night if you have pressing questions (as a great many people seem to)

 

[~Darkening~]

Orders in. Sorry about the delay.

 

[Disenfrancised]

An hour past the deadline and 9 out 20 something order sets - get to it guys!

 

[Insane_Panda]

TO: The United Kingdom of Great Britain
FROM: The Holy Roman Empire
CC: The Imperial Duchy of Savoy, the Imperial Principality of Burgundy, The Kingdom of Aragon

The situation afflicting the realms of France has come to our attention. Noticeably, the English claim to the whole of France. We view such a claim of the whole of France threatening to the balance of power in Europe, and as such, we protest the move on the part of the English, and urge for a more equitable situation for the partition of the former Kingdom of France. We do not, in any way, contest the legality of British claims as it is valid through holy union, but we do contest the practicality of such a move. In securing the whole of France for itself, Britain shall create a situation of animosity between itself and its neighbors, the Imperial Duchies and Principalities of Savoy and Burgundy. Such realms are additionally tied to the Holy Roman Empire, and any acts against them would be acts against the whole of the Habsburg dominion. The act of a complete take-over of the realms of France would put you much at odds with the local French populace aswell and Britain, as a result of her conquests, would face un-ending insurgency towards its rule. We feel the need to voice our concern and the right to due so due to the fact that our participation in the war lead to the ultimate defeat of France. We urgently suggest that you reconsider your claims, and to help in that process we propose the following as the partition of France:

As you can see, such map includes minor gains for both Savoy and Burgundy. Paris, however, as the seat of the French Royalty, Royalty which is now both English and French, shall be transfered to the control of the Plantagenets. We believe, however, that France and Burgundy, fighting much harder than any other power in this war, save Aragon, deserve their slight recompence.

The partion also includes for the creation of a Duchy of Aquitaine. We believe that the creation of a small, but independent and French state shall alay the growing resentment towards the English by some of the more vociferous insurgents. This Duchy would be suzerain to the English Crown, yet English troops would not be allowed within the Duchy unless the Duchy itself was threatened by invasion from a foriegn power. This is done to ensure the independence of the Duchy, separate from greater Plantagenet rule. England still maintains, as can clearly be seen, the key economic regions of France in the north and along the Loire valley.

We eagerly hope that Great Britain agrees to this partition and we do not wish that we should have to come to the aid of our dependencies, yet we are bound by blood to do so should this war continue. This is, in our view, the best, and most practical situation to the problem.

Signed,
Josef III von Habsburg

 

[The Farow]

Dis, in this timeline what would be the name of the colonies? I am curious about it for a story and of course for my orders where I have been using general terms.

 

[Symphony D.]

OOC: Went to bed when the PM problem was still on, woke up post deadline, so, finishing them up shortly.

 

[JosefStalinator]

To Emperor Josef III of The Holy Roman Empire
From King Edward VII of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France

After much consideration, we have decided to accept the treaty with one minor modification. Due to a seperate agreement already reached between Aragon and the United Kingdom, Toulouse is to remain a part of the Duchy of Aquitaine. Otherwise, we have no qualms, and await the agreements of peace from Savoy and Burgundy.

 

[The Farow]

OCC: Wow, I never wanted France to cease to exist in this war just severly limit their military so they could never threaten all of us again.

I guess that is what happens when Fanatical French Monarchs fight to the end. It was an annoying war that ruined much of Western Europe but it will be fun to see how the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France does.

 

[LittleBoots]

TO: The United Kingdom of Great Britain, The Holy Roman Empire
FROM: The Kingdom of Aragon

We applaud this peace and this partition. As for the Toulouse issue, we recognize that a treaty has already been signed and agreed upon between the Kingdom of Aragon and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, however we would be willing to drop the 1 EP payment next year from Great Britain in return for her acceptance of the Empire's proposed boundaries, boundaries we believe will ensure a lasting peace between all parties involved.

 

[Harleqin]

Dang, completey slipped my mind. Bah, my nation is insignificant. Just continue the rebuilding like in the previous turns.

 

[Symphony D.]

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THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW, RUSSIAN EMPIRE
08:36 LOCAL TIME, JANUARY 16, 1707 AD OF THE GREGORIAN CALENDER
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“The Ottomans are possessed of all the apparent advantages; they have superior equipment, superior training, superior numbers, superior resources and manpower, they are in possession of easily defensible positions and through years of warfare, we have bled one another white.”

“Even with the Holy Roman Empire, the United Kingdom, and the Quqonid Khanate on our side, Vasili, it seems to the lay man that at any moment we might topple and fall forever; do you know why this is not so, Vasili?”

Vasili looked down for a moment and put his hand to his chin, contemplating rapidly. The Imperator had never once lost his way of testing questions, and as he thought, Vasili swore he could see Vladimir’s green eyes looking right through him. The war had likewise done nothing to halt the animation or strength of Vladimir; he did not look hardly a day older than he had over half a decade ago, while many others seemed burnt out or old beyond their years. Vasili himself had begun to gray at the temples; none of these temporal afflictions seemed to haunt the Imperator. After but a few moments he looked up and said resolutely “Because this is Russia.”

Vladimir II stared at him coldly for a few minutes before smiling, somewhat like a wolf, and saying “Exactly.”

“You see, for all their advantages, all their strengths, they have a crucial weakness; they have no soul.”

“Theirs is an empty empire, a house of cards built on shifting sands.”

“You see, Vasili, people accuse me of being cruel; they say that I am an evil tyrant – no doubt my methods are somewhat despotic, it is true, but they fail to recognize the inherent reason for them.”

“They grasp only the results, not the motive.”

“Do you know the motivation, Vasili,” inquired the Imperator. Vasili shook his head, saying “No, my lord.”

It was never good to know everything. Vladimir turned to a window, viewing the snow-frosted roof-tops of Moscow. It was the dead of winter right now, and was a particularly cold one. There had been a blizzard that had swept through but the week prior. “Do you know what happens during a particularly bad winter, Vasili?”

There were enough of them frequently enough that the answer was obvious “The old, young, and weak die, sir,” replied Vasili.

The Imperator nodded, stating “It leaves only the strong alive.”

He turned and faced Vasili once more “This war will sweep away the weak in Russia, and will purify its soul, leaving it strong and resolute.”

“The doubters, the traitors, the weak and useless, all will be sacrificed to the terrible war machine that rages to the south; they will redeem their pathetic souls in the name of God and His avatar on earth by their sacrifice and in their blood this land shall be anointed and made holy.”

Vasili felt a chill run down his spine. When the Imperator talked like this, he was never sure if it was honest conviction, refined madness, skillful manipulation of religion or something even worse, but the steel Vladimir’s eyes was always there when the conversation went this route; he was definitely serious, whatever his motivations. Vladimir gestured at the window “It is about these people, Vasili; God is testing his chosen people.”

“He is inflicting terrible suffering and tribulation upon them to test the measure of their souls; to gauge their faith and resolve - if He should have us take on the entire world, so be it, His will be done.”

Vladimir pressed his hands to his chest “I am merely here to lead and guide them through their trial of faith; that is what this war is about, Vasili: who has the greater willpower and conviction, ourselves, or the Turkish or Courlander scum?”

Vasili could find no words that constituted a suitable reply, nor did the Imperator apparently require any. “It is simple, really, Vasili; we will triumph and prove ourselves to be the chosen ones.”

“If we should fail, it is clearly the case that we are not the chosen, but that the Turks are, and such is impossible blasphemy, thus our inevitable victory is assured,” he concluded. Vasili could only find himself nodding, though he was not sure if it was out of fear of the man before him or true agreement.

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OOC: Orders sent. Let the bloodshed continue anew!

 

[Symphony D.]

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UNIDENTIFIED LOCATION, OUTSKIRTS OF STAVROPOL, RUSSIAN EMPIRE
06:09 LOCAL TIME, JANUARY 20, 1707 AD OF THE GREGORIAN CALENDER
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“Alright you damn dogs, this is how your lives will operate from now until you either die in the service of your country or, God help us, assist in leading it to final victory,” exclaimed the Commissar.

He strode up and down the rank of soldiers, regarding each and every one with a baleful glare. They were clad with simple uniforms, and all appeared as though chiseled out of stone under his watch. It was not an ordinary military unit, although these features did tend to be universal. This was a Loyalty Crime Redemption Unit, specifically, First Company, 3rd Brigade of the 26th Battalion; Captain Ivanov’s Last Chancers. Captain Ivanov, of course being the man who was pacing before them and regarding them with focused hatred. He was not a Captain in the military sense; indeed, he was not a military man at all. He was a political officer, and therefore, far, far worse. Redemption Units fell under the category of “irregular” forces and met that description rather quite well; none of the men enrolled were soldiers. That is not to say that they were just average people pulled off the street either, no, many of them were in fact rather quite tough looking individuals; they had to be, since they were all criminals.

The Imperator had hit upon a clever idea; why not use political prisoners who had previously been fighting against you as cannon fodder? Give them some incentive by promising them freedom if they made it out alive. Chances are they wouldn’t, and you’d never have to grant them that promise, and simultaneously, it was perhaps better than spending the rest of your (probably short) life in Новая Проспект working in Imperial Labor Divisions in some coal mine in Siberia or being forced to do other highly dangerous and thankless tasks that would likely get you killed very quickly. If you’re going to die, you might as well have a long shot at freedom and redemption. That was how it had been started, under the Гвардия Императора. It was a good way to dispose of political dissidents. But then the Turks had invaded. So they began the Redemption Units. It was a rule that they were suffered appalling casualties, thrown into the breach of whatever battle needed more men. But they had begun to run out of useful soldiers. So a new policy was started: all crimes, no matter how petty, resulted in automatic sentencing to Redemption Units. There was no love lost for the Turks. They were the sons of Satan himself. So if you have some axe murderer, or rapist, or gangster, what do you care if his crimes are committed against a demon? Let them redeem themselves for their crimes by doing the Lord’s work. Criminals, unlike political dissidents, did not enjoy any popular support, and certainly did not possess a support base capable of attempting to overthrow the government like that which had resulted in Courland. But they were likely to be exceedingly disloyal, as were the political dissidents. And so had been created the Комиссар. They were in all units now, though the number of them varied. Their job was quite simply to ensure loyalty. They were not stupid, however; they wouldn’t shoot a commander for retreating when it was prudent. But they would shoot deserters without hesitation. And that was why Captain Ivanov was here today; they were his charge.

Captain Ivanov, like most Commissars, wore black with red accents, as a rule. They were distinctive precisely so that their presence was obvious to those they commanded. It said to their men “advance forward and face the enemy; whatever they can do to you, we can do worse.”

It usually worked. It was a thankless job, since they were also, like most officers, the target of Turkish or Courlander fire. It didn’t matter how many were killed though; more could always be appointed, and certainly the next one would be no better than the last. Units that had decided it’d be smart to kill their Commissars when they were first introduced had been butchered en masse. It tended to be an exceedingly rare event now, with the conspirator often winding up being the dead one, either at the Commissar’s hands, or those of the unit. Commissars frequently engaged in field executions of disloyal troops too. Their standard operating motto was “a single traitor is more dangerous than ten of the enemy.”

Captain Ivanov almost always had his hand on either the hilt of his saber, or the handle of his pistol. He was also known to carry a rifle and a bandolier of rounds, along with several knives, at all times. The men before him knew by now it was generally not a smart idea to mess with him, particularly as it (ironically) was mostly to his credit that several of them were still alive. He had led the core of the group through absolutely terrible carnage with unwavering resolve, and though many perished, new arrivals appeared all the time. Nobody got special treatment. The whole point of the morning’s review was to indoctrinate the new arrivals. It didn’t matter how long you’d been in, or how often you’d heard the speech, you’d hear it again every morning. A few of them knew it by heart, and when he wasn’t around, could recite it along with his tone to a tee.

“It’s rather simple, you bastard children of brothel whores,” he spat. “You will follow my orders.”

“If you do not, either I will shoot you, or the enemy will; perhaps both.”

“You will not hesitate to do what I say; if I order you to kill the man next to you, you will do so without hesitation; if I give you an order to kill your mother, you would find her and put a bullet between her eyes, or I will do so myself and then bestow the same favor upon you.”

He slid his saber out of its scabbard and pointed it at a downward angle toward their boots. Those of the veterans were shiny, those of the new arrivals dull. “You will adhere to all formal military regulations and codes of conduct.”

“I don’t care that you’re not soldiers by profession, you will become soldiers by necessity.”

“I don’t care if you die tomorrow or fifty years from now, you might either die doing your service to your Imperator and Motherland, or you might die pissing yourself like a coward as I cut out your heart, but you will die with at least the appearances of competency and professionalism.”

“Lastly,” he said, coming to a stop in front of the center of the formation and re-sheathing his sword, “You will obey, and you will kill.”

He glanced up and down the line before shouting at them “WHAT WILL YOU DO?”

“OBEY,” came the united cry.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU,” he shouted, adding “WHAT WILL YOU DO?”

“KILL,” came the cry, even louder.

He gave but the smallest of nods “That’s right, you will kill or be killed, if not by them, then by me.”

“You have precisely five minutes to gather your gear before we move out,” he concluded. All at once the line broke as soldiers streamed in every which direction to pack up.

 

[das]

Oh there you again with your anachronisms. Nice stories; a shame that I have so little inspiration lately...