Osmowstroyer
Warlord
- Joined
- Aug 10, 2012
- Messages
- 253
The Mastermind will send gifts to the golden medal winner.
OOC
eru, winning in nordic combined? Hell yeah!
OOC
eru, winning in nordic combined? Hell yeah!
Multipolarity II - Game Thread
- Thread starter Tani Coyote
- Start date
Well that does solve the problem of what I would have to do with the extra money.
Awesome McCoolname prowled down the steps leading off the plane onto American soil. It was her first visit to the Americas in months, and she was glad that the long journey was finally over. She was greeted at the bottom by Lord Arthos, the American Foreign Minister. "Good afternoon Ambassador McCoolname, I trust you had a pleasant flight?"
"Of course Lord Arthos," she smiled at him "although it was fairly long."
"Always the case when travelling a long distance I'm afraid."
"I suppose you would know that as well as I do, although perhaps not with quite such a recent reminder."
"Not quite, no." Arthos Chuckled slightly, guesturing to the car that drove up. "Unfortunately It's not quite over yet."
McCoolname settled herself in the inordinately comortable diplomatic vehicle, with Lord Arthos Placing himself next to her. "It's a shame" Awesome began "that such a thing would happen at such a time. To have that moment of celebration cut short so tragically must have been quite a shock." Arthos nodded, obviously not happy to be discussing the subject so quickly.
"It was indeed quite a shock, as you say. The Emperor was a friend of mine as much as a leader, and we were all very fond of him. To see him end so early was a harsh blow."
"I heard the Empress took it quite badly, is she alright?" McCoolname was in no hurry to be forced to comfort some manicly depressed teenager, no matter how important it was to the country. They always seemed to be a trial on her patience.
"She took it suprisingly well for somebody so young." Arthos reassured her "The Empress has a certain steel in her that seems to have become quite pronounced, but in times like this that's what's needed." McCoolname nodded. She remembered all to well the horrors a country might suffer without a string government in place, and had no desire to see it repeated even so far away from her homeland.
OOC Disclaimer: Any statements made by Americans in this RP in no way reflect the thoughts of the American Empire. Their use in this work was permitted by the player of the American Empire, but he takes no responsibility for their words, which may be de-canonified at any time.
DT
"Of course Lord Arthos," she smiled at him "although it was fairly long."
"Always the case when travelling a long distance I'm afraid."
"I suppose you would know that as well as I do, although perhaps not with quite such a recent reminder."
"Not quite, no." Arthos Chuckled slightly, guesturing to the car that drove up. "Unfortunately It's not quite over yet."
McCoolname settled herself in the inordinately comortable diplomatic vehicle, with Lord Arthos Placing himself next to her. "It's a shame" Awesome began "that such a thing would happen at such a time. To have that moment of celebration cut short so tragically must have been quite a shock." Arthos nodded, obviously not happy to be discussing the subject so quickly.
"It was indeed quite a shock, as you say. The Emperor was a friend of mine as much as a leader, and we were all very fond of him. To see him end so early was a harsh blow."
"I heard the Empress took it quite badly, is she alright?" McCoolname was in no hurry to be forced to comfort some manicly depressed teenager, no matter how important it was to the country. They always seemed to be a trial on her patience.
"She took it suprisingly well for somebody so young." Arthos reassured her "The Empress has a certain steel in her that seems to have become quite pronounced, but in times like this that's what's needed." McCoolname nodded. She remembered all to well the horrors a country might suffer without a string government in place, and had no desire to see it repeated even so far away from her homeland.
OOC Disclaimer: Any statements made by Americans in this RP in no way reflect the thoughts of the American Empire. Their use in this work was permitted by the player of the American Empire, but he takes no responsibility for their words, which may be de-canonified at any time.
DT
hoplitejoe
Top fun-poster
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Messages
- 5,470
Wasn't it my winter Olympics?
Lighthearter
President of the United States
3010 Winter was American Empire.
-L
-L
Javier was nervous. No one argued that the young mountain native had been the one with the most endurance when it came to sports, and so he earned the spot to go to the Olympics from the region. He had been skiing in high mountains in Switzerland, and Nueva Brazil had a ski tunnel installed for practice. He spent most of his time there. But this was no longer a race against the fellow people in Brazil- this was the Olympics.
Javier had enjoyed riding on the plane, and even saw a few off-world sentinets. After landing in America, and being put up in a hotel, he was amazed at the variety that existed in other countries. How could there be so many different beings? And what if they were naturally more talented than him? He shut out those memories, and concentrated on the task at hand.
The other sentinets were prepared. Some even seemed to be able to sense what was in the future- an ability Javier would of like to have. Suddenly, the whistle blew, and they were off. Some of the humans and aliens flew off at maximum speed, while others got of to a steady start. Javier tactfully stayed in the middle...
10 hours later, Javier was pushing for the finish line, only 1 mile away. The other person contending for first was someone from the Formatting Crew. He had a large B on his chest, and his skiing style was smooth and pushy. Javier thought he was quite bold, the way he had been staying ahead of Javier the whole race. Javier pushed as hard as he could- this was it! The other racer smiled and sped up, only to hit into a small snow bank. Javier rushed past and saw the end. He slowed down, only to see the other racer speed up right beside him. This was it- would his hard work pay off?
OOC: Any and all representations of other empires and/or their citizens are purely fictional and not representative of the interests of these nations. Blah... Blah... Blah...
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2010
- Messages
- 8,873
The Formatting Crew officially congratulate our Olympic medal winners. Unfortunately, we couldn't send more athletes, as there is a war on. When we are freed for war, then we will send more athletes.
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
Enemy armour, 10 oclock; 300 metres.
Target locked; ready.
Fire.
Confirmed hit. Reload.
Ready.
Fire.
Confirmed hit. Target neutralized.
The gunner swung the turret forward as the tank rolled on through the valley, the commander scanning for new targets. Superior officers observed from the hills above as the steel chariots manoeuvred, releasing occasional flashes and bursts of smoke as they continued their quick dance. At first glance, the performance could be taken for an actual skirmish; but the longer one watched, the more clues emerged that it was, at least partly, staged. Wayward shots never registered on the terrain; there was smoke, but no fire; there were no actual wrecks of any kind. What was taking place was akin to a sophisticated game of laser tag. The tanks on the field were specially-modified and covered with infrared sensors, wired to computers that calculated with immaculate precision everything from armour integrity to engine conditions to cabin humidity, then adjusted the vehicles performance accordingly. The trainers could simulate hull breaches, onboard fires, track blowouts, even predicted deterioration of the forward gun to an uncanny degree. Paired off with similar systems for infantry, aircraft, and once-upon-a-time, the navy, the result was a training and practice regimen that allowed for a depth and intensity too dangerous for live-fire exercises. It was the most realistic experience the soldiers could receive outside of actual combat.
The so-called live simulations were a particularly popular way for commissioned officers to practice wargames, pitting regiment against fellow regiment to hone both strategic acumen and the grunts experience. This particular session, however, was more structured, OPFOR comprising remote-controlled drones piloted by operators re-enacting a previous battle from some decades ago, before the Fourth Cataclysm. As one officer watched, another drone halted, hull seeming to settle, emitting a stream of dark blue smoke signalling it was out of commission. He lowered his binoculars and turned to his partner.
A rather interesting choice of tactics on the part of Honghui, he said, Charging the line head-on. I wouldnt have thought it prudent, but the results seem to speak for themselves.
Remember that the Falangists army was already on the ropes, replied the other. By this time, the tanks they had left were so outclassed it mightve been more cost-effective to use them as roadblocks.
He turned his gaze back toward the valley. Oh, somethings up. One of the tanks had attempted a salient, but found itself outmatched. The ground around it exploded in a grey-white shroud before the vehicle could be seen in full reverse. It didnt get away fast enough, and a flanking shot from a drone was followed by a faint bang, a brief flash, and red smoke billowing up into the sky.
Whose unit?
He zoomed in on the turret. Cant see yet, he muttered. After a few seconds, the smoke dissipated enough to make out the registration. 0632, he replied.
Damn it, he spat, I warned Fan against advances like that. He keeps jeopardizing unit cohesion for a quick kill.
With any luck, hell get the message before he lands in any real danger.
By Our Lady, I hope so, he sighed, Because it might be sooner than we think. The officer turned to his comrade; answering his inquisitive expression, he explained: Turns out the arco vandals arent as haphazard as previously thought. There was another attack on the complex in central Sichuan; they brought tanks.
Tanks?! he repeated, dumbfounded.
Older models, fifty years out of date. Local militia repelled them, but only just. The administration in Hubei says its not fit to deploy its own forces that far afield, so naturally, brass is petitioning the government to accelerate the reclamation project.
It could just be scavengers, he offered, not believing it himself.
The Ministry of Intelligence say the marauders are acting up all across the board. Either theyve cracked open some armouries with uncannily convenient timing, or someones coordinating their actions. Since the arcos are the target, odds are the Ministry of Defence will begin deploying companies into no-mans land to reinforce the militia before theyre completely overrun.
The first officers radio had crackled in toward the end of the statement, and he dutifully picked it up to reply. Receiving; go ahead, over.
You are requested back at the main base, over.
I believe we specified we were on exercise at this time, over?
Copy, but its Priority A-0. Over.
A-0? he mouthed. Alright, tell them were on our way. Out. He exchanged a nervous look.
The second officer picked up his own radio. Watchdog 3, this is Watchdog 2. Weve been called back to base; not sure why, over.
Copy that. Well cover your post. Watchdog 3 out.
Having transferred observation duties, the men made their way to the jeep and headed back to base. As they pulled through the gate, a subordinate jogged up alongside and directed them to the helipad, where they were met in turn by a liaison. The officers had barely debarked when the air was filled with a loud buzzing as a passenger Shikra appeared in the sky above. With one gunship reporting a top speed of 653 km/h, the Shikra was the fastest helicopter design known. The Silver Dart project was supposed to have replaced it within the past century, yet the Shikra remained more agile and fuel-efficient than its jet-powered counterpart. It was capable of some truly astounding aerobatics, and skilled pilots could execute incredibly tight manoeuvres even at high velocity. The Fourth Cataclysm had halted further development of the Dart and drastically reduced the number of operational craft, meaning even once manufacturing picked up again, the Shikra could be expected to remain in military service for some decades into the future.
The officers held onto their hats as they approached the tarmac, the helicopter touching down with the speed and precision of a bird alighting on a tree branch. The pitch of the rotors slowly dropped as the engine cut out, passenger door sliding away and its VIP quickly disembarking. The officers snapped to attention and saluted sharply.
Gentlemen, please, at ease! laughed the man, raising his hands in mock surrender, Im only the deputy.
We were told this was A-0 priority, sir, said the first officer.
He rolled his eyes playfully. Theyd class it A-0 if I was coming for tea. But, he clapped his hands, I am here for a reason, so lets make my intrusion as short as possible.
The man and the two officers withdrew to a vacant room in the command building and seated themselves around a small desk, the VIP on one side, the officers the other. Both of you served in Siberia, and both of you fought during the Schism, the man began.
Thats correct, sir.
My question, then, is who would like the longer journey.
Sir?
By now you are probably aware that marauder activity has increased in the past few years, to levels even higher than during the immediate collapse. You are also probably aware of the recent turmoil in the American Empire.
Yes, sir.
To put it as simply as I can, I want to send one of you to Siberia, and one of you to America. Foreign Affairs has devised a couple of goodwill missions to strengthen our ties internationally. Weve been negotiating with Siberia in the hope of gaining its support in the recovery of the arcos. Mongolias already onboard, and if we can get Siberias help, we should be able to secure the northern regions until formal control is re-established. You would be leading a delegation to help co-ordinate their activity.
The second assignment is to provide counter-terrorism advice to the Americans. Granted, we are at odds with elements of their political ideology, but given recent international events, the government believes them to be a priority ally. Not to mention, your influence may help deter them from a complete massacre.
How soon would we be expected to leave?
Dependent on when Foreign Affairs actually contacts the countries. They wanted to make sure the army was willing to volunteer first. Either of you interested?
I could go to America, said the second officer, after some thought. Is it a joint op, or just advisory?
Advisory for now, and from what weve heard of the Americans reprisals, I strongly doubt Parliament will want to involve our men directly.
OK, Ill take it.
And Ill handle the Siberian mission, said the other officer. Its been a while, but there might be some brass who still remember me.
Alright then, said the man, rising to his feet, quickly joined by his hosts, Ill pass the memo on, and you should hear an official reply in... Ill say two or three weeks. They shook hands. Ill see myself out.
------------------------------
The Chinese Union is happy to announce a joint project with Guangdong to begin reconstitution of the Federal Navy. Through mutual co-operation, we hope to strengthen both economic and military ties between our states.
We also announce the ratification of an economic and non-aggression pact with the Swahili Kingdom
In an effort to fortify the historical friendship between China and Siberia, the Union invites the Siberian District to participate in a joint initiative to provide protection for the remaining arcology complexes in northern Asia that are currently outside the recognized jurisdiction of any state.
The Union sends its condolences and moral support to the American Empire during its period of crisis. In addition to a pledge of non-aggression and formalized propositions for mutual trade, we offer our services in advising the government's current counter-terror initiative.
And because I'm running out of creative ways to say the same thing, NAP+Trade to Nepal, Uttar Pradesh, Philippine Republic, Siberia, PUBAD, and Takrur.
(Still waiting on replies to NAP+Trade with Turkistan & NAP with 501st.)
Target locked; ready.
Fire.
Confirmed hit. Reload.
Ready.
Fire.
Confirmed hit. Target neutralized.
The gunner swung the turret forward as the tank rolled on through the valley, the commander scanning for new targets. Superior officers observed from the hills above as the steel chariots manoeuvred, releasing occasional flashes and bursts of smoke as they continued their quick dance. At first glance, the performance could be taken for an actual skirmish; but the longer one watched, the more clues emerged that it was, at least partly, staged. Wayward shots never registered on the terrain; there was smoke, but no fire; there were no actual wrecks of any kind. What was taking place was akin to a sophisticated game of laser tag. The tanks on the field were specially-modified and covered with infrared sensors, wired to computers that calculated with immaculate precision everything from armour integrity to engine conditions to cabin humidity, then adjusted the vehicles performance accordingly. The trainers could simulate hull breaches, onboard fires, track blowouts, even predicted deterioration of the forward gun to an uncanny degree. Paired off with similar systems for infantry, aircraft, and once-upon-a-time, the navy, the result was a training and practice regimen that allowed for a depth and intensity too dangerous for live-fire exercises. It was the most realistic experience the soldiers could receive outside of actual combat.
The so-called live simulations were a particularly popular way for commissioned officers to practice wargames, pitting regiment against fellow regiment to hone both strategic acumen and the grunts experience. This particular session, however, was more structured, OPFOR comprising remote-controlled drones piloted by operators re-enacting a previous battle from some decades ago, before the Fourth Cataclysm. As one officer watched, another drone halted, hull seeming to settle, emitting a stream of dark blue smoke signalling it was out of commission. He lowered his binoculars and turned to his partner.
A rather interesting choice of tactics on the part of Honghui, he said, Charging the line head-on. I wouldnt have thought it prudent, but the results seem to speak for themselves.
Remember that the Falangists army was already on the ropes, replied the other. By this time, the tanks they had left were so outclassed it mightve been more cost-effective to use them as roadblocks.
He turned his gaze back toward the valley. Oh, somethings up. One of the tanks had attempted a salient, but found itself outmatched. The ground around it exploded in a grey-white shroud before the vehicle could be seen in full reverse. It didnt get away fast enough, and a flanking shot from a drone was followed by a faint bang, a brief flash, and red smoke billowing up into the sky.
Whose unit?
He zoomed in on the turret. Cant see yet, he muttered. After a few seconds, the smoke dissipated enough to make out the registration. 0632, he replied.
Damn it, he spat, I warned Fan against advances like that. He keeps jeopardizing unit cohesion for a quick kill.
With any luck, hell get the message before he lands in any real danger.
By Our Lady, I hope so, he sighed, Because it might be sooner than we think. The officer turned to his comrade; answering his inquisitive expression, he explained: Turns out the arco vandals arent as haphazard as previously thought. There was another attack on the complex in central Sichuan; they brought tanks.
Tanks?! he repeated, dumbfounded.
Older models, fifty years out of date. Local militia repelled them, but only just. The administration in Hubei says its not fit to deploy its own forces that far afield, so naturally, brass is petitioning the government to accelerate the reclamation project.
It could just be scavengers, he offered, not believing it himself.
The Ministry of Intelligence say the marauders are acting up all across the board. Either theyve cracked open some armouries with uncannily convenient timing, or someones coordinating their actions. Since the arcos are the target, odds are the Ministry of Defence will begin deploying companies into no-mans land to reinforce the militia before theyre completely overrun.
The first officers radio had crackled in toward the end of the statement, and he dutifully picked it up to reply. Receiving; go ahead, over.
You are requested back at the main base, over.
I believe we specified we were on exercise at this time, over?
Copy, but its Priority A-0. Over.
A-0? he mouthed. Alright, tell them were on our way. Out. He exchanged a nervous look.
The second officer picked up his own radio. Watchdog 3, this is Watchdog 2. Weve been called back to base; not sure why, over.
Copy that. Well cover your post. Watchdog 3 out.
Having transferred observation duties, the men made their way to the jeep and headed back to base. As they pulled through the gate, a subordinate jogged up alongside and directed them to the helipad, where they were met in turn by a liaison. The officers had barely debarked when the air was filled with a loud buzzing as a passenger Shikra appeared in the sky above. With one gunship reporting a top speed of 653 km/h, the Shikra was the fastest helicopter design known. The Silver Dart project was supposed to have replaced it within the past century, yet the Shikra remained more agile and fuel-efficient than its jet-powered counterpart. It was capable of some truly astounding aerobatics, and skilled pilots could execute incredibly tight manoeuvres even at high velocity. The Fourth Cataclysm had halted further development of the Dart and drastically reduced the number of operational craft, meaning even once manufacturing picked up again, the Shikra could be expected to remain in military service for some decades into the future.
The officers held onto their hats as they approached the tarmac, the helicopter touching down with the speed and precision of a bird alighting on a tree branch. The pitch of the rotors slowly dropped as the engine cut out, passenger door sliding away and its VIP quickly disembarking. The officers snapped to attention and saluted sharply.
Gentlemen, please, at ease! laughed the man, raising his hands in mock surrender, Im only the deputy.
We were told this was A-0 priority, sir, said the first officer.
He rolled his eyes playfully. Theyd class it A-0 if I was coming for tea. But, he clapped his hands, I am here for a reason, so lets make my intrusion as short as possible.
The man and the two officers withdrew to a vacant room in the command building and seated themselves around a small desk, the VIP on one side, the officers the other. Both of you served in Siberia, and both of you fought during the Schism, the man began.
Thats correct, sir.
My question, then, is who would like the longer journey.
Sir?
By now you are probably aware that marauder activity has increased in the past few years, to levels even higher than during the immediate collapse. You are also probably aware of the recent turmoil in the American Empire.
Yes, sir.
To put it as simply as I can, I want to send one of you to Siberia, and one of you to America. Foreign Affairs has devised a couple of goodwill missions to strengthen our ties internationally. Weve been negotiating with Siberia in the hope of gaining its support in the recovery of the arcos. Mongolias already onboard, and if we can get Siberias help, we should be able to secure the northern regions until formal control is re-established. You would be leading a delegation to help co-ordinate their activity.
The second assignment is to provide counter-terrorism advice to the Americans. Granted, we are at odds with elements of their political ideology, but given recent international events, the government believes them to be a priority ally. Not to mention, your influence may help deter them from a complete massacre.
How soon would we be expected to leave?
Dependent on when Foreign Affairs actually contacts the countries. They wanted to make sure the army was willing to volunteer first. Either of you interested?
I could go to America, said the second officer, after some thought. Is it a joint op, or just advisory?
Advisory for now, and from what weve heard of the Americans reprisals, I strongly doubt Parliament will want to involve our men directly.
OK, Ill take it.
And Ill handle the Siberian mission, said the other officer. Its been a while, but there might be some brass who still remember me.
Alright then, said the man, rising to his feet, quickly joined by his hosts, Ill pass the memo on, and you should hear an official reply in... Ill say two or three weeks. They shook hands. Ill see myself out.
------------------------------
The Chinese Union is happy to announce a joint project with Guangdong to begin reconstitution of the Federal Navy. Through mutual co-operation, we hope to strengthen both economic and military ties between our states.
We also announce the ratification of an economic and non-aggression pact with the Swahili Kingdom
In an effort to fortify the historical friendship between China and Siberia, the Union invites the Siberian District to participate in a joint initiative to provide protection for the remaining arcology complexes in northern Asia that are currently outside the recognized jurisdiction of any state.
The Union sends its condolences and moral support to the American Empire during its period of crisis. In addition to a pledge of non-aggression and formalized propositions for mutual trade, we offer our services in advising the government's current counter-terror initiative.
And because I'm running out of creative ways to say the same thing, NAP+Trade to Nepal, Uttar Pradesh, Philippine Republic, Siberia, PUBAD, and Takrur.
(Still waiting on replies to NAP+Trade with Turkistan & NAP with 501st.)
Kinich-Ahau
#JustGoomyThings
OOC: Sorry for the delay; didn't notice.
IC: Grand Moff Whatever-his-name-is accepts the Chinese Union's offer of trade and nonaggression. May the 501st Legion and the Chinese Union both stand tall as bastions of freedom & stability for many years to come.
IC: Grand Moff Whatever-his-name-is accepts the Chinese Union's offer of trade and nonaggression. May the 501st Legion and the Chinese Union both stand tall as bastions of freedom & stability for many years to come.
Tani Coyote
Son of Huehuecoyotl
- Joined
- May 28, 2007
- Messages
- 15,195
We have 20 more minutes. I'm locking orders for everyone except Caribbean, Louisiana, Prussia, Rome and The League, who have until those minutes are up. In the likely event they don't make the window, it will be automation time.
As a note: RP is still doable during the 2-3 days it will be until the actual update.
As a note: RP is still doable during the 2-3 days it will be until the actual update.
SamSniped
DJ Goodboye
Please, just a few more minutes so i can get them in!
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2008
- Messages
- 14,928
Julius Dyson took no joy in overthrowing the Emperor. He merely sat at his desk while the firefight outside the Patriarchal Palace took place. Shuriken catapults and cannons didn't bang like regular guns. Their projectiles hissed, like burning cats Dyson figured. There were a lot of burning cats in London tonight.
It hadn't be hard. Don Felipe? He was in on it. Lucille Huddleson, after being promised her authority would be expanded over to all London Research, was more than glad to put her latest weapons in the hands of Dyson's troops. This wasn't just a battle.
The military sided with Dyson, and so had the Inquisition. They had been the hardest to placate but it was apparent that Arkos I wasn't in the best of health. Dyson promised a more stable form of government, and promised the Inquisition would retain its power as the state security apparatus of England. An explosion punctuated the thought. The palace troops were crumbling under the weight, discipline, and firepower of Huddleson's new weapons. Zero-Point Energy Rifles she called them. The Zepers were put into the hands of the best troops. Unlike the shuriken catapults, Zepers were accurate and still tore through infantry like butter. Yes, once the government is recreated, the Zeper will be the main battle rifle.
"A lot of changes will be made, Felipe." Dyson said. Felipe looked up from his book and nodded. "Neo-London will be more profitable, more powerful than ever."
"As for the Formatics," Felipe asked.
"Lucille seems like a smart woman. We clearly need to keep them under watch," Dyson laughed. "We can send them on their way once their gods are dealt with. Say what you want about Oz and Katter, they know what to do with gods." Dyson's bombardier blue eyes turned to steel behind the iron frames of his glasses.
Felipe put the book down on the table in front of him. "And what is that?"
Dyson tilted his chin up, "Kill them. The 31st century will be the century of humanity, Felipe." The sound a Zeper makes when fired is beyond rational description, but Dyson heard it when Lucille, bless her beautiful Irish heart, demonstrated the weapon against a test subject a few days ago. In practice, the Zeper was a miniaturized Wraithcannon made to be carried by ground troops. It was a lot less power, but when the projectile hits....it isn't good looking for the target, to say the least."
Cheers erupted throughout the city. The traitor is dead, cry havoc!
It hadn't be hard. Don Felipe? He was in on it. Lucille Huddleson, after being promised her authority would be expanded over to all London Research, was more than glad to put her latest weapons in the hands of Dyson's troops. This wasn't just a battle.
The military sided with Dyson, and so had the Inquisition. They had been the hardest to placate but it was apparent that Arkos I wasn't in the best of health. Dyson promised a more stable form of government, and promised the Inquisition would retain its power as the state security apparatus of England. An explosion punctuated the thought. The palace troops were crumbling under the weight, discipline, and firepower of Huddleson's new weapons. Zero-Point Energy Rifles she called them. The Zepers were put into the hands of the best troops. Unlike the shuriken catapults, Zepers were accurate and still tore through infantry like butter. Yes, once the government is recreated, the Zeper will be the main battle rifle.
"A lot of changes will be made, Felipe." Dyson said. Felipe looked up from his book and nodded. "Neo-London will be more profitable, more powerful than ever."
"As for the Formatics," Felipe asked.
"Lucille seems like a smart woman. We clearly need to keep them under watch," Dyson laughed. "We can send them on their way once their gods are dealt with. Say what you want about Oz and Katter, they know what to do with gods." Dyson's bombardier blue eyes turned to steel behind the iron frames of his glasses.
Felipe put the book down on the table in front of him. "And what is that?"
Dyson tilted his chin up, "Kill them. The 31st century will be the century of humanity, Felipe." The sound a Zeper makes when fired is beyond rational description, but Dyson heard it when Lucille, bless her beautiful Irish heart, demonstrated the weapon against a test subject a few days ago. In practice, the Zeper was a miniaturized Wraithcannon made to be carried by ground troops. It was a lot less power, but when the projectile hits....it isn't good looking for the target, to say the least."
Cheers erupted throughout the city. The traitor is dead, cry havoc!
bestrfcplayer
Steppin' up!
Joining as East Russia
Government: Communist (Stalinist dictatorship)
Language: Russian
Currency: Stalin
Economy: Command
Capital: New Siberia
Religion: Stalinism (all other religions persecuted without mercy)
Social Situation: Communist.
claims:
Government: Communist (Stalinist dictatorship)
Language: Russian
Currency: Stalin
Economy: Command
Capital: New Siberia
Religion: Stalinism (all other religions persecuted without mercy)
Social Situation: Communist.
claims:
Spoiler :
Patriotic_Fool
The Mitt ©
*whistles*
Erhm..
I am the true Stalin, and I don't appreciate someone imitating my great leader.
Erhm..
I am the true Stalin, and I don't appreciate someone imitating my great leader.
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
Kill one-kill one-
A tragedy,
Ten million-million
Ten million- statistic.
"Will the real Joe Stalin please stand up?
Will the real, Joe Stalin, please, stand, up?"
My name's Joe Stalin!
The real Josef Stalin!
All you other Joe Stalins
Are rapidly pálin'
Will the real Josef Stalin
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
'Cuz my name's Joe Stalin!
My tanks are all ballin',
Yo Stavros, Greece be fallin',
Hey what's up? Gulags' callin'
Will the real Josef Stalin
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
Gradenko, he lost the gas,
Atom bomb the Allies' ass.
Chrono-failed 'cuz Kukov's wrong,
Bangin' Nadia all night long.
My name's Joe Stalin!
The real Josef Stalin!
All you other Joe Stalins
Are rapidly pálin'
Will the real Josef Stalin
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
'Cuz I'm Josef Stalin
You're in for a maulin',
Mammoth tanks are a-rollin',
Iron Curtain be trollin'
Will the real Josef Stalin
Please stand up?
Please stand up?
PLEASE STAND UP?
Kill one-kill one-
A tragedy,
Ten million-million
Ten million- statistic.
STALIN: I am going to start hurting you, Kukov. I'm not sure when I'll stop.
KUKOV: AW CRA—
GenMarshall
High Elven ISB Capt & Ghost Agent
Chancellor Hanna sat at her desk, pondering on the world's events. "There's just no end to the Formatics Question, It's like there's always some pseudo-science that crops up to justify the Oz-Formatic War."
"At least there is piece talks on the table" Foreign Affairs Secretary Isakawa stated as he hands Hanna her tea.
"But, for how long?" Hanna said just before she sips her tea "We've already have our eyes on the Chinese Empire in case they do anything drastic or stupid. Hell, already the 'State's Rights' camp and the 'Internationalists' camps sprung up overnight onto our lap."
"What should we do about this, Ms. Chancellor? We are technically on the side of the Internationalists."
"That is true. If it weren't for the contact with the Asari Republics, having us introduced into the greater galactic community, and uplifting us diplomacy. We would simply screw Earth and never give it a second chance. Even the Republic was skeptical about their offer. The last time we opened up to the international community..." Hanna paused for a moment "...well needlessly tarnished our national image." Hanna sits up from her chair "The Second Galactic Civil war has, given us a tougher skin and a more realistic view of the world. Not just casting off the negative image of an Empire. To answer your question Mr. Isakawa, we may have to keep a close eye at the situation before jumping in. Our power base may be based on Solitude, but on Earth we are all struggling together."
"Now that you brought that up, what should we do about our own space program?"
Hanna places her arm on the chair "I'd suspect that the nations of Earth would worry that we'd make the space around Earth the 'Republic's Domain'. We've yet to develop our own self-sufficient space program here on Earth. I'd like to one day cooperate with our neighbors to jointly develop a space program that not just benefits the Republic, but our neighbors." Hanna sits down and pulls a document from a folder "I've been working on a bill for the Senate and the House to effectively render the space in the inner planets to be an international neutral ground, analogous to the concept of international waters here on Earth. I'd figure it would help put our neighbors at ease at our presence."
"Is this going to be a UN proposal or mainly in our nation."
"At first, I want to see how it works with us and announcing to the world that the Republic recognizes and declares the space around Earth as international space. If it bodes well with the rest of the world, I'd move it to a UN proposal."
(Note: Well, Not sure how I could make this spoilerless without spoiling my For the Republic series)
"At least there is piece talks on the table" Foreign Affairs Secretary Isakawa stated as he hands Hanna her tea.
"But, for how long?" Hanna said just before she sips her tea "We've already have our eyes on the Chinese Empire in case they do anything drastic or stupid. Hell, already the 'State's Rights' camp and the 'Internationalists' camps sprung up overnight onto our lap."
"What should we do about this, Ms. Chancellor? We are technically on the side of the Internationalists."
"That is true. If it weren't for the contact with the Asari Republics, having us introduced into the greater galactic community, and uplifting us diplomacy. We would simply screw Earth and never give it a second chance. Even the Republic was skeptical about their offer. The last time we opened up to the international community..." Hanna paused for a moment "...well needlessly tarnished our national image." Hanna sits up from her chair "The Second Galactic Civil war has, given us a tougher skin and a more realistic view of the world. Not just casting off the negative image of an Empire. To answer your question Mr. Isakawa, we may have to keep a close eye at the situation before jumping in. Our power base may be based on Solitude, but on Earth we are all struggling together."
"Now that you brought that up, what should we do about our own space program?"
Hanna places her arm on the chair "I'd suspect that the nations of Earth would worry that we'd make the space around Earth the 'Republic's Domain'. We've yet to develop our own self-sufficient space program here on Earth. I'd like to one day cooperate with our neighbors to jointly develop a space program that not just benefits the Republic, but our neighbors." Hanna sits down and pulls a document from a folder "I've been working on a bill for the Senate and the House to effectively render the space in the inner planets to be an international neutral ground, analogous to the concept of international waters here on Earth. I'd figure it would help put our neighbors at ease at our presence."
"Is this going to be a UN proposal or mainly in our nation."
"At first, I want to see how it works with us and announcing to the world that the Republic recognizes and declares the space around Earth as international space. If it bodes well with the rest of the world, I'd move it to a UN proposal."
(Note: Well, Not sure how I could make this spoilerless without spoiling my For the Republic series
)
Patriotic_Fool
The Mitt ©
Very nice, Thorvald. 
How's about them trade agreements? ^_^
Also, check out my newest proposal in the UN thread. <3 you!
How's about them trade agreements? ^_^
Also, check out my newest proposal in the UN thread. <3 you!
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2008
- Messages
- 14,928
The body was impaled against the wall with spikes. One of the killers had tied a rope around the soldier's neck with a piece of cardboard dangling down his front, covering a gruesome stomach wound that, while nasty, probably did not kill him. Written in black marker, the sign screamed "SUFFER NOT A TRAITOR TO LIVE." The Dangerous 33, thirty-three soldiers thought to be organizing a counter-coup, were all low-level soldiers with little chance of success. This didn't mean retribution wasn't swift and brutal.
Rory didn't let his vision focus when the bodies were in sight. The smell of decay lingered heavily, but the sight could not process in his mind to make him sick. To Rory, all the bodies were were blurs in the corner of his eyes. He drove pass the bodies like he did every morning on his way to work in the new factories springing up across Southern England and was stopped at a fresh military checkpoint.
Rory leaned out, papers ready. The checking guard grabbed the papers, leafed through them, and took a long look at Rory's face. The man waved at the other guards and the arm swung up and soon, the papers were back in the passenger's seat and Rory's vehicle was back in motion, on the way to the factory. Rory would need to pass through another checkpoint and then a special one before being allowed to park in the parking lot of the Norwich Chemical Factory.
Hospitals, research laboratories, chemical factories, and a strange new energy source were popping up all over the place. No doubt, Dyson is behind this all. Arkos was known to all, but Dyson was a newcomer. He wasn't King Dyson. He was....Dyson. He wasn't your father like Arkos, but more of a brotherly figure. One who also came with rockets and other strange aircraft.
For years, it was known something strange has been going on in the north. Ever since Dyson came to power, however, the sightings of phantom rockets have, for lack of a better term, rocketed. Rockets that would seemingly vanish in and out of sight when streaking across the day sky. At night, they were impossible to be seen, powered by whatever powered the Zepers and the factories. Sometimes, a large rocket would be sighted. It would reach a high point and then a part of it would fall of, and then another, leaving only a bell-shaped object which continued higher and higher into space until it vanished. A satellite, perhaps, but it was new.
And for Rory, new was better. For the first time, being Protestant was ok in England. The Inquisition has turned into a more pragmatic tool of the state, going after political dissenters rather than religions. Rory still avoided the Formatics and their red armbands marking them as contagious. Twenty-seven Formatics died in the week following the Death of Arkos to mob violence before Dyson restored order with the Zepers and other exotic weapons designed to control a mob rather than kill it.
Dyson expects every man and woman to perform his or her duty to England. Hard to do that dead. Rory no longer dwelled on memories of the Norwich Republic. It was never coming back, but Dyson gave him hope that maybe things won't be as drab and grey anymore. He wouldn't need to fear, too much, the Inquisition knocking down his door simply because he was a Protestant.
Dyson was trying his best to turn London into a high-tech exporter of biotechnology, chemicals of all stripes, and consumer goods tended towards the high middle-class of industrialized countries. However, it is clear he has something...bigger in mind. Something in space.
They said that Dyson is like a bigger brother. He wanted London, so he took down Arkos. He wanted to make London great, so he is. What will he do if he looks up and says "that is mine"? Maybe he already has. Rory let the idea of a human empire stretching across space and amongst the stars fill him with ideas. He imagined wars for planets and star systems, the Inquisition being used to purge rebellion, economies that took computers to run and account for.
As he stepped into the chemical factory, he couldn't stop thinking about the idea. I'll need to write this down when I get home! Rory thought. Heh, maybe he could be an author. In Neo-London, anything is possible.
Rory didn't let his vision focus when the bodies were in sight. The smell of decay lingered heavily, but the sight could not process in his mind to make him sick. To Rory, all the bodies were were blurs in the corner of his eyes. He drove pass the bodies like he did every morning on his way to work in the new factories springing up across Southern England and was stopped at a fresh military checkpoint.
Rory leaned out, papers ready. The checking guard grabbed the papers, leafed through them, and took a long look at Rory's face. The man waved at the other guards and the arm swung up and soon, the papers were back in the passenger's seat and Rory's vehicle was back in motion, on the way to the factory. Rory would need to pass through another checkpoint and then a special one before being allowed to park in the parking lot of the Norwich Chemical Factory.
Hospitals, research laboratories, chemical factories, and a strange new energy source were popping up all over the place. No doubt, Dyson is behind this all. Arkos was known to all, but Dyson was a newcomer. He wasn't King Dyson. He was....Dyson. He wasn't your father like Arkos, but more of a brotherly figure. One who also came with rockets and other strange aircraft.
For years, it was known something strange has been going on in the north. Ever since Dyson came to power, however, the sightings of phantom rockets have, for lack of a better term, rocketed. Rockets that would seemingly vanish in and out of sight when streaking across the day sky. At night, they were impossible to be seen, powered by whatever powered the Zepers and the factories. Sometimes, a large rocket would be sighted. It would reach a high point and then a part of it would fall of, and then another, leaving only a bell-shaped object which continued higher and higher into space until it vanished. A satellite, perhaps, but it was new.
And for Rory, new was better. For the first time, being Protestant was ok in England. The Inquisition has turned into a more pragmatic tool of the state, going after political dissenters rather than religions. Rory still avoided the Formatics and their red armbands marking them as contagious. Twenty-seven Formatics died in the week following the Death of Arkos to mob violence before Dyson restored order with the Zepers and other exotic weapons designed to control a mob rather than kill it.
Dyson expects every man and woman to perform his or her duty to England. Hard to do that dead. Rory no longer dwelled on memories of the Norwich Republic. It was never coming back, but Dyson gave him hope that maybe things won't be as drab and grey anymore. He wouldn't need to fear, too much, the Inquisition knocking down his door simply because he was a Protestant.
Dyson was trying his best to turn London into a high-tech exporter of biotechnology, chemicals of all stripes, and consumer goods tended towards the high middle-class of industrialized countries. However, it is clear he has something...bigger in mind. Something in space.
They said that Dyson is like a bigger brother. He wanted London, so he took down Arkos. He wanted to make London great, so he is. What will he do if he looks up and says "that is mine"? Maybe he already has. Rory let the idea of a human empire stretching across space and amongst the stars fill him with ideas. He imagined wars for planets and star systems, the Inquisition being used to purge rebellion, economies that took computers to run and account for.
As he stepped into the chemical factory, he couldn't stop thinking about the idea. I'll need to write this down when I get home! Rory thought. Heh, maybe he could be an author. In Neo-London, anything is possible.
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