NES2 VI - Last Semblance of Order.
- Thread starter das
- Start date
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
OC: Well well well, alright have it your way storm. I'll play by your rules... I just hope some support will be coming my way, rebuilding a country requires resources and all.
Also I'd like to add that I'd be willing to take Karkow if stalins not around...
Also I'd like to add that I'd be willing to take Karkow if stalins not around...
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Lord_Iggy said:
Yes, but send orders this time!
. Have another go at rebuilding...Wubba360
Emperor
I'm Bulgaria!Stormbringer said:
God get your geography right. Jesus Christ
Anyway, I know. So you can stop treating me like a child. I know what will happen if I take Serbia. Can't you see Serbia is our friend.
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
I think Stalin is still around, talked to him just two days ago.
Wubba360
Emperor
I doubt Stalin would drop out. After that huge conquest he wouldn't just stop.
Insane_Panda
Deity
Whoever is the Ottomans needs to talk to me ASAP.
Insane_Panda
Deity
Conehead, get on AIM soon. I want to know if you accept my proposal to clear your name. If not, France is forced to assume the worst.
conehead234
Braves on the Warpath
to: France
From: Spain
We will agree to you inspecting our documents, but us paying you even though we are innocent does not make sense. If you happen to find something, which I doubt, we will pay you.
From: Spain
We will agree to you inspecting our documents, but us paying you even though we are innocent does not make sense. If you happen to find something, which I doubt, we will pay you.
Chapter I: First Impressions
Lieutenant Prosballo Panta found himself in the wilds of a desert whose location had only ever been theorized by any Byzantine soldier, priest, citizen, or bureaucrat. The hot strip of sand on which he stood separated a dirty trail from a long ditch, eked into the unfogiving Earth by some enterprising Spanish soul. His eyes were glassy, his head raging, his uniform dusty and wrinkled, faded by long days and nights of unbroken use. For the life of him he could not remember how he came to be here, alon, unaccompanied by the few soldiers under his command, and without even a rifle. Confused and befuddled, he walked over to the dusty road, trying to fix his location. He had never seen this place before, but it seemed familiar, as though it came from a distant dream: unclear, hazy, and ominous. Where could I be? Why am I here?
Aside from the tumbling tangled buses that rolled through his field of view, there were no signs of life anywhere. The road stretched away to infinity on the horizon, but nary a bird, jackrabbit, or snake broke his solitude. He was alone, utterly and completely.
The relative shade of the ditch, looking for all purposes like an unfinished railroad cut, beckoned to him. For a moment he paused as his eyes adjusted to the small shadow. He saw a sign stuck into the wall of the ditch, with strange, English-looking words that he could not understand. They were scrawled with an uneven hand with gaudy, Day-Glo colors, reading, "Welcome to the Twilight Zone. Abandon all hope, yada, yada, yada."
"Good evening, Lieutenant." A voice in Greek startled him, but with habit formed by four years in the service, first as a guerilla in the Pindus, then as a Regular Army soldier, he snapped to attention and focused on the source of the words. "Are you Lieutenant Panta?"
"Yes, sir, I am." The speaker looked to have strange insignia on his clothes, clothes that blended into the desert beyond. "Who are you, please, sir?"
"Lieutenant, I am Major General Kounabi. I have been expecting you for some time now."
"You have?" Panta forgot the sir as he tried to regain his composure. Here was some hope that he might discover just what was going on. If a Greek-speaking general was in this godforsaken place waiting for him, then there must be some logic as to how he came to be here.
"Yes, Lieutenant, ever since you fell asleep." So this is a dream. "By the way, there is no reason to call me 'Sir': I'm not, technically, in the Byzantine Army. Rather, I am from one that does not even exist in this Universe, mainly due to the French, wearing a battle dress uniform that has seen service on every continent that has seen war's scar. Anyway, no reason to stand on formality. Since Greek is probably most comfortable for you, we will converse in that language."
"If this is a dream, can you pinch me, so I can get back to the Army?"
"Ha! There is no need: it wouldn't work anyway. You're having this dream because the Chief knows of something coming, and that something is going to tax the military of the Empire to the utmost. You need small-unit training, Lieutenant, and He's told me and my allies to give it to you." Now all hopes of rescue from this desert were dashed.
"Look, General, I've had a hard few days," in more maneuvers in Thrace, he reflected, "and I would appreciate you refraining from any humor."
"Sorry, Ell-Tee. I didn't mean disrespect, but I assure you that what I say is true. You are in fact in a dream and even now more Lieutenants, Captains, and Majors are arriving in this neighborhood, lovely as it is. The garden spot of the High Mojave, eh, Lieutenant?"
Mojave held no meaning for him. "Well," said he, trying to make the best of this unexpected training, "if that's true, why are we here?"
"This would be, in another reality, the entrance to what would be known, in another 250 years, as Fort Irwin, the National Training Center. I am to be, in some ways, the Vergil to your Dante, if you've read those books. We will be moving up the desert road a couple of dozen miles. They are expecting us there."
It was all coming too fast for the hapless Lieutenant. What did the National Training Center have to do with anything, and who was waiting for him forty miles away? He'd been a professional soldier since his adult life began not long ago, and not a bad one at that. For the most part he had lived a decent and respectable Orthodox life.
"So what, exactly, are you, General?"
"Me? I'm a man who's been helping the nascent Greek nation through its birthing pains. Not just you, though: Basileus Constantine, Strategos Venizelos, the owner of the C & O Company, and even more enlisted men and officers like yourself."
"And does that, General Kounabi, give you any insight into what this is all about?"
"Yes, it does. I know this isn't all clear to you yet, so perhaps I should do a little more explaining instead of being as enigmatic as I am. The first thing I would like to make clear is that I asked permission of the Chief to come down here, specifically to be your guide."
The word down gripped him in an icy vise, his breath escaped him, and his knees began to buckle. For a moment he thought that, like Dante, he would be forced to undergo the rigor of a journey through Hell itself. Had it really come to that?
Noticing his expression, the General said, "No, Lieutenant, you didn't quite make it into the Heavenly course."
As Panta blanched at the words, the other picked up his mood quickly and went on. "Now don't go jumping to any hasty conclusions. It's not as bad as you think. If you didn't make it into the easy course of Heaven, you didn't quite hit Hell either." A sense of déjà vu hit the Lieutenant as he remembered his last evaluation by his commanding officer. "The truth of the matter is that you've gone into a sort of Purgatory, as the Catholics would call it. You see, you don't exactly have an unblemished record, so the System has decided to allow you this little stopover before you prove yourself in combat. Just how long that takes you is up to you."
"What did I do to deserve this? I mean, Purgatory," his mouth had to fit around the weird word, "and all."
"Well, Lieutenant, I thought that might be a thing you'd want to know, so I checked with the Chief before heading out here, and I did get a feel for your particular situation. You see, you apparently began to believe in your own propaganda."
"What exactly do you mean, General?" Panta did not like the word propaganda, pejorative as it was.
"Yes, but that's just my own word for it," -here the General got a faraway look in his eyes- "and I can see that it wasn't the right choice. Maybe I can explain it like this. The Byzantine Army's recruiting slogans encourage joining the army to fulfill your potential, to be all that you can be. You started to think that you had a corner on that market. Not that being infantry, and a former freedom-fighter, and a Varangian didn't matter. In fact, that helps your ledger quite a bit. But you've started to thump on that stuff a bit much, and, well, you put down a lot of people doing it, and when that happened, they didn't think that they were being all they can be, or if they were, it wasn't something to write home about."
As the General elaborated, Panta began to realize what he'd been doing for his entire career. Deriding the regular infantry as "legs", the "softie" staff officers, the supply personnel as "remfs" or "wimps"...it was all true. How he coveted his "Freedom" medal! How heroic it had been to serve as the Emperor's Reserve, the Final Line of Defense after the war! He'd begun to realize that he'd been propagating the whole thing, too: he and his lieutenant buddies were like carbon copies.
The Lieutenant decided to seize the initiative. "So, General, what I recall from the Catholic faith is that Purgatory is something of a waypoint, a transitory post, until I can complete my business and move on elsewhere."
"Yes, and this dream is exactly that. You've got tonight to straighten yourself out and learn what you need about a real war, not some dirt-a$s guerrilla campaign in the backwaters of the Balkans. Your terms of duty are simple: win a battle. You've got your troops, the ones that serve under you in the real world, in your little dream with you, up at the NTC. You'll be thrust into situations where you rely on others - the remfs, softies, and legs - to get you through. By morning, you'll have a better understanding of the men and the Service enough to fight the good fight."
"Well, General, I hate to sound like a bloody cliché, but let's go to it."
"Here, grab the reins. Have you ever ridden a horse before? Excellent mode of transportation, very fast and all. Too bad they'll only be around for a few more centuries. Hup!" With that somewhat discouraging thought, the two horses - mysteriously appearing by the General's side, now loaded with their riders - began to canter off toward the National Training Center.
OOC: "Panta" is a Greek word, not a homage to a certain NESer or his ursine supporters.
Lieutenant Prosballo Panta found himself in the wilds of a desert whose location had only ever been theorized by any Byzantine soldier, priest, citizen, or bureaucrat. The hot strip of sand on which he stood separated a dirty trail from a long ditch, eked into the unfogiving Earth by some enterprising Spanish soul. His eyes were glassy, his head raging, his uniform dusty and wrinkled, faded by long days and nights of unbroken use. For the life of him he could not remember how he came to be here, alon, unaccompanied by the few soldiers under his command, and without even a rifle. Confused and befuddled, he walked over to the dusty road, trying to fix his location. He had never seen this place before, but it seemed familiar, as though it came from a distant dream: unclear, hazy, and ominous. Where could I be? Why am I here?
Aside from the tumbling tangled buses that rolled through his field of view, there were no signs of life anywhere. The road stretched away to infinity on the horizon, but nary a bird, jackrabbit, or snake broke his solitude. He was alone, utterly and completely.
The relative shade of the ditch, looking for all purposes like an unfinished railroad cut, beckoned to him. For a moment he paused as his eyes adjusted to the small shadow. He saw a sign stuck into the wall of the ditch, with strange, English-looking words that he could not understand. They were scrawled with an uneven hand with gaudy, Day-Glo colors, reading, "Welcome to the Twilight Zone. Abandon all hope, yada, yada, yada."
"Good evening, Lieutenant." A voice in Greek startled him, but with habit formed by four years in the service, first as a guerilla in the Pindus, then as a Regular Army soldier, he snapped to attention and focused on the source of the words. "Are you Lieutenant Panta?"
"Yes, sir, I am." The speaker looked to have strange insignia on his clothes, clothes that blended into the desert beyond. "Who are you, please, sir?"
"Lieutenant, I am Major General Kounabi. I have been expecting you for some time now."
"You have?" Panta forgot the sir as he tried to regain his composure. Here was some hope that he might discover just what was going on. If a Greek-speaking general was in this godforsaken place waiting for him, then there must be some logic as to how he came to be here.
"Yes, Lieutenant, ever since you fell asleep." So this is a dream. "By the way, there is no reason to call me 'Sir': I'm not, technically, in the Byzantine Army. Rather, I am from one that does not even exist in this Universe, mainly due to the French, wearing a battle dress uniform that has seen service on every continent that has seen war's scar. Anyway, no reason to stand on formality. Since Greek is probably most comfortable for you, we will converse in that language."
"If this is a dream, can you pinch me, so I can get back to the Army?"
"Ha! There is no need: it wouldn't work anyway. You're having this dream because the Chief knows of something coming, and that something is going to tax the military of the Empire to the utmost. You need small-unit training, Lieutenant, and He's told me and my allies to give it to you." Now all hopes of rescue from this desert were dashed.
"Look, General, I've had a hard few days," in more maneuvers in Thrace, he reflected, "and I would appreciate you refraining from any humor."
"Sorry, Ell-Tee. I didn't mean disrespect, but I assure you that what I say is true. You are in fact in a dream and even now more Lieutenants, Captains, and Majors are arriving in this neighborhood, lovely as it is. The garden spot of the High Mojave, eh, Lieutenant?"
Mojave held no meaning for him. "Well," said he, trying to make the best of this unexpected training, "if that's true, why are we here?"
"This would be, in another reality, the entrance to what would be known, in another 250 years, as Fort Irwin, the National Training Center. I am to be, in some ways, the Vergil to your Dante, if you've read those books. We will be moving up the desert road a couple of dozen miles. They are expecting us there."
It was all coming too fast for the hapless Lieutenant. What did the National Training Center have to do with anything, and who was waiting for him forty miles away? He'd been a professional soldier since his adult life began not long ago, and not a bad one at that. For the most part he had lived a decent and respectable Orthodox life.
"So what, exactly, are you, General?"
"Me? I'm a man who's been helping the nascent Greek nation through its birthing pains. Not just you, though: Basileus Constantine, Strategos Venizelos, the owner of the C & O Company, and even more enlisted men and officers like yourself."
"And does that, General Kounabi, give you any insight into what this is all about?"
"Yes, it does. I know this isn't all clear to you yet, so perhaps I should do a little more explaining instead of being as enigmatic as I am. The first thing I would like to make clear is that I asked permission of the Chief to come down here, specifically to be your guide."
The word down gripped him in an icy vise, his breath escaped him, and his knees began to buckle. For a moment he thought that, like Dante, he would be forced to undergo the rigor of a journey through Hell itself. Had it really come to that?
Noticing his expression, the General said, "No, Lieutenant, you didn't quite make it into the Heavenly course."
As Panta blanched at the words, the other picked up his mood quickly and went on. "Now don't go jumping to any hasty conclusions. It's not as bad as you think. If you didn't make it into the easy course of Heaven, you didn't quite hit Hell either." A sense of déjà vu hit the Lieutenant as he remembered his last evaluation by his commanding officer. "The truth of the matter is that you've gone into a sort of Purgatory, as the Catholics would call it. You see, you don't exactly have an unblemished record, so the System has decided to allow you this little stopover before you prove yourself in combat. Just how long that takes you is up to you."
"What did I do to deserve this? I mean, Purgatory," his mouth had to fit around the weird word, "and all."
"Well, Lieutenant, I thought that might be a thing you'd want to know, so I checked with the Chief before heading out here, and I did get a feel for your particular situation. You see, you apparently began to believe in your own propaganda."
"What exactly do you mean, General?" Panta did not like the word propaganda, pejorative as it was.
"Yes, but that's just my own word for it," -here the General got a faraway look in his eyes- "and I can see that it wasn't the right choice. Maybe I can explain it like this. The Byzantine Army's recruiting slogans encourage joining the army to fulfill your potential, to be all that you can be. You started to think that you had a corner on that market. Not that being infantry, and a former freedom-fighter, and a Varangian didn't matter. In fact, that helps your ledger quite a bit. But you've started to thump on that stuff a bit much, and, well, you put down a lot of people doing it, and when that happened, they didn't think that they were being all they can be, or if they were, it wasn't something to write home about."
As the General elaborated, Panta began to realize what he'd been doing for his entire career. Deriding the regular infantry as "legs", the "softie" staff officers, the supply personnel as "remfs" or "wimps"...it was all true. How he coveted his "Freedom" medal! How heroic it had been to serve as the Emperor's Reserve, the Final Line of Defense after the war! He'd begun to realize that he'd been propagating the whole thing, too: he and his lieutenant buddies were like carbon copies.
The Lieutenant decided to seize the initiative. "So, General, what I recall from the Catholic faith is that Purgatory is something of a waypoint, a transitory post, until I can complete my business and move on elsewhere."
"Yes, and this dream is exactly that. You've got tonight to straighten yourself out and learn what you need about a real war, not some dirt-a$s guerrilla campaign in the backwaters of the Balkans. Your terms of duty are simple: win a battle. You've got your troops, the ones that serve under you in the real world, in your little dream with you, up at the NTC. You'll be thrust into situations where you rely on others - the remfs, softies, and legs - to get you through. By morning, you'll have a better understanding of the men and the Service enough to fight the good fight."
"Well, General, I hate to sound like a bloody cliché, but let's go to it."
"Here, grab the reins. Have you ever ridden a horse before? Excellent mode of transportation, very fast and all. Too bad they'll only be around for a few more centuries. Hup!" With that somewhat discouraging thought, the two horses - mysteriously appearing by the General's side, now loaded with their riders - began to canter off toward the National Training Center.
OOC: "Panta" is a Greek word, not a homage to a certain NESer or his ursine supporters.
LOL, i am not active for a couple of days due to final exams and now everyone thinks i am dead? 
IC: yeah Yeah, Serbia will have its independence Restored according to a treaty i need to get hammered out W. russia concerning mostly other details not connected w/ the Serbs.
IC: yeah Yeah, Serbia will have its independence Restored according to a treaty i need to get hammered out W. russia concerning mostly other details not connected w/ the Serbs.
Insane_Panda
Deity
We must be also allowed to inspect Spanish commisioned vessels of war, to see if the captured Ship we have obtained bears any resemblence in design to Spanish naval design. Other than that however, we are glad that you see the light of our proposal, and will be sending separate attaches to both Madrid and the base of the Pacific fleet to do our inspections of both the Fleet and the naval archives of your government.
Insane_Panda
Deity
So US military agents are aiding the Byzantine empire!
*purges officers in America*
*purges officers in America*
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Panta= Panda 
Major General Kounabi=General Kenobi
KILL THE GREEKS!
Major General Kounabi=General Kenobi
KILL THE GREEKS!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TREATY OF VIENNA:
Section I
~Concerning Serbia~
Article I
Union oF Krakow is to leave the Territories of Serbia as of Borders of the Year 1744.
Article II
Russian Forces are to arrive, restore and maintain control of Serbia after the Withdrawal of Krakow forces.
I- This Treaty restricts Bulgarian MIlitary forces from Entering and administering any of the Serbian Territories.
Article III
The Russian Government is to stablish a governent in Serbia as it sees fit best.
I- This Treaty restricts the Stablishment of an Independent Serbian State prior to Krakowian Withdrawal and Russian Intervention.
II-The population that Supported Krakowian interventionism are to be allowed to Immigrate to Krakow or maintain full citizenship and good treatment under the law.
Section II
~Concerning the Creation of The Eastern European Trade Block~
Article I
A state of Free trade is to be declared between The Union of Russia-Lithuania-Romania & The Union oF Krakow.
I-Tariffs & other Trade Barriers are to be lifted between both nations
II- Both nations are to maintain their currency, however it will be manipulated so both units have the same value. This is to simplify commerce between the States.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TREATY OF VIENNA:
Section I
~Concerning Serbia~
Article I
Union oF Krakow is to leave the Territories of Serbia as of Borders of the Year 1744.
Article II
Russian Forces are to arrive, restore and maintain control of Serbia after the Withdrawal of Krakow forces.
I- This Treaty restricts Bulgarian MIlitary forces from Entering and administering any of the Serbian Territories.
Article III
The Russian Government is to stablish a governent in Serbia as it sees fit best.
I- This Treaty restricts the Stablishment of an Independent Serbian State prior to Krakowian Withdrawal and Russian Intervention.
II-The population that Supported Krakowian interventionism are to be allowed to Immigrate to Krakow or maintain full citizenship and good treatment under the law.
Section II
~Concerning the Creation of The Eastern European Trade Block~
Article I
A state of Free trade is to be declared between The Union of Russia-Lithuania-Romania & The Union oF Krakow.
I-Tariffs & other Trade Barriers are to be lifted between both nations
II- Both nations are to maintain their currency, however it will be manipulated so both units have the same value. This is to simplify commerce between the States.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Iosef von Dunkelheit
Grand Chancellor of The Union of Krakow
(awaiting the Russian Delegation to sign the Treaty)
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
Okay most of that's fine with me, forget my objections. I don't really care which way so long as I get an intact country, the treaties fine with me.
