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A Link to the Past - Archives => The Registry of Things Past - Historic Archive => Roleplay Archive => Topic started by: Violet on October 13, 2017, 10:11:27 AM

Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on October 13, 2017, 10:11:27 AM
Toronto  - December 22nd, 2015

The Carson family SUV pulled up at a North York park, covered in snow. Eight year old Lily saw that it was cloudy and she got excited. She always liked it when it was dark and cloudy. Immediately after the SUV parked and the sliding door rolled open, she quickly took off her seatbelt and zoomed out of the vehicle, much to her dad's dismay. After managing to catch up to her and giving strict orders to stay where he could see her, her dad left her to roam the park while he retired to a nearby bench. He pulled out a Coke and a tablet, while being vigilent to check up on his children every few minutes.

Lily ran around aimlessly, seemingly only with the purpose of exerting energy. Meanwhile her brother Dylan began playing with his Star Wars action figures in an open field, Lily occasionally coming by to try and pressure him to let her play, with increasing insistence as time went on. After a while, Lily harassed Dylan again. This time she wasn't going to take no for an answer. A fight broke out, forcing their dad to intervene.

"Dylan, Dylan! Stop yelling, I said stop yelling. Those are Lily's toys too, we bought those for both of you. if she wants to play with them, then let her play. No, I don't - I don't care if you think that she's a bad player.", her dad then glanced on Lily, and she was totally disinterested in the confrontation and staring off into the distance. Her dad thought for a moment that it could be her ADHD, but then he turned his gaze to what she was staring at: A dirty looking bearded man, coughing violently some benches away from his. How did he miss him? Was he always there or did he just walk up there and he didn't notice? His fingers were a sickly black, her dad initially thought it could be just that they were very dirty, but he didn't know. They almost looked too black. Now all three of them were looking at this peculiar man, coughing constantly and grotesquely.

"What's wrong with him, daddy?", Lily asked
"I don't... I don't know"

Her dad got up and shouted at the man, "Uh, hey! You alright?". The man removed his hand from his face and said with a deep, raspy voice "Uhhhh, Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Don't worry. Just the flu." But the dad saw something on his face now, it was a big, black circle on his left cheek with a red outline. The man kept coughing, while her dad dropped his coke on the snow. He told at the kids "We're gonna go now", he shoveled the action figures and grabbed both of them tightly to the SUV, ignoring their protests. Once they were all seated, the dad flipped out his Iphone and called somebody.

"Um, I'm here to report an individual with ECP. No, I don't know his name, but he's in Earl Baile Park. How do I know? He's coughing violently, both of his sets of fingers are... Uh, unnaturally black, and there's also a black circle on his face. Yeah, me and my family are both in our car, we're about to leave. There's no one else here, it's just him now."

Her dad then started up the SUV. Lily asked again "What was wrong with him?". "Welll... Lily... Um... He is very... Very sick. And he needs to go the hospital." The dad then turned toward the two kids and what they saw, they hadn't seen before and would never forget: A look of sheer terror etched on their father's face. He told them "Listen, if you see anybody like that, who's coughing all the time, who has black marks on them, get away from them immediately and tell mommy or daddy. They are very, very sick, and if they come anywhere near you, you'll become very, very sick too. You'll have to go the hospital, and you... Won't see me or mommy or your friends or your toys for a very long time and you don't want that. Do you guys understand?" They shook their heads in compliance, slightly spooked. "Okay", the dad said, turning back and making a deep breath. He then told the kids "So who wants something to eat?"

Saskatoon - December 22nd, 2032

Lily awoke with a loud gasp, feeling the saliva on her pillow. Lily was wide eyed and frightened, worsened by the darkness and deafening silence of her room. She tugged her wife's shoulder repeatedly, saying "Kate!" in a frantic voice over and over until Kate woke up. Kate awoke tired and annoyed, "What... What is it... Lily, Lily, what is it? What time is it?". Lily saw that Kate was irritated and told her in a somber voice: "Um... I had.. Uh... That dream again." Upon hearing that, Kate shot up fully awake: "Dream... What dream was it this time?"

"Um.... Uh... The fire dream", "Oh, I'm so sorry"

Lily was now on the verge of tears after "fire dream".  "They - They - they were just... Normal... People... They - They were just from - Just - Just from Ohio.... And they just... They just ignored -" Kate then embraced Lily, placing her hand behind her head. "Shh, shh, it's okay. The dream's over", but Lily was still clearly torn up. "They - They were crying, they were just pleading them to sto - To stop. Some of them were... Old, but they just continu - They... They didn't care. They didn't care. They didn't care."

The episode lasted 38 minutes. Once Lily was sufficiently calmed down, her face was red and she felt like collapsing. Kate was tired too, but they both glanced at the clock, which said 5:43 AM and knew they had no choice but to start their day.

Kate draped a red scarf around Lily's neck as she was about to go to work. "You think you're okay now?", "Oh, definitely! I'm fine now... Don't worry!". Lily then smiled at her. Lily then went out the door and told her "I love you", "I love you too" Kate responded. Lily left the building, stabbed in the face with harsh Prairie winds. She went into her beat up 2015 Hyundai sedan and put on a CD of a new experimental rock band she was trying out as she began her drive to work. On her drive, Lily was met with a variety of billboards, very rarely advertising brands, or services or companies. They advertised hope and ideals instead.

One was a picture of a little boy petting a cat, the Canadian flag behind the two while red words proclaimed: IT IS TIME TO REBUILD. She stopped at an intersection. A woman in a bright green uniform gave the traffic signals, while the actual lights were inactive and rusting. While waiting for the woman to OK her side, her attention turned toward a big billboard almost in front of her: It was a crowd of people, of different ethnicities and racial groups and all waving Canadian flags. Behind them was a blue sky dotted by puffy clouds. On their left was red, bold words which said:

WE ARE BUILDING A NEW WORLD

A NEW ECONOMY

A NEW WAY OF LIFE

A NEW CANADA

To their right was Prime Minister Leblanc in her signature gray turtleneck, offering a blank smile to the viewer. Something about this particular billboard unsettled Lily. She didn't know what. Something about those words, the blue sky, Leblanc staring at her, there was just a sinister aura to it that she didn't know how to explain. Before she could figure out what was unsettling about it, the traffic woman signaled green and she was back to her journey to work. Before she could finally park at her work, she had to pull to the side as a military convoy made its way to the border. She took this opportunity to check her social media on her phone.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Arenado on October 13, 2017, 11:15:09 AM
Seneca, South Carolina, New Holy Confederation of America

Governor of Alabama Thad Braddock


"..SO I SAY TO YOU, MY FELLOW AMERICANS, NUCLEAR POWER NOW, NUCLEAR POWER TOMORROW, NUCLEAR POWER FOREVER!"

The crowd before him whipped itself into a cheering frenzy, screams of support so loud his next word were almost drowned out.

"I'M THADDEUS BEAUREGARD BRADDOCK AND I AM RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT OF THE HOLY CONFEDERATION OF AMERICA! THANK YOU SENECA!"

He waved as he stepped of the stage. The crowds cheers were almost deafening. Braddock spoke with a slow, quiet southern drawl but like all politicians knew how to whip a crowd with passion and energy. He was a 48 year old man, clean shaven with the kind of looks that just said "Hi, I'm in command and I know what I'm doing". He also was a former sheriff from Alabama, a state thankfully spared from the worst of the plague.   With his silky grey hair and wining smile the Governor had done well in the primaries and now looked to take the Presidency. Most pundits and, heck, most people knew that this man was probably going to be the next President. His platform was a winner and his opponent viewed as way to conservative, dull and cautious to even stand a chance. Braddock advocated for more Nuclear power (hence the visit to Seneca) a huge revitalization of industry and more social equality.

But his most popular platform was what definitely sealed the deal and what drew crowds to him. It was in his speech and his thoughts and he remembered the highlight of the event.

"...No longer will we be hurt by the negligent and incompetent rule of northern elites! No longer will other countries hurt and control us! No longer will we be known as weak and powerless! We must, We shall, We will build a new country for ourselves, a new superpower, a new great golden city shining on the hill to the rest of the world to see our greatness and strength. Never again will we be the underdogs! Never again will we be weak! NEVER AGAIN WILL WE HURT! NEVER AGAIN!"

A popular sentiment. A winning sentiment. A sentiment that will decide the fate of the New Confederation forever.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Cinciri on October 13, 2017, 03:46:32 PM
Volgograd City, Volgograd Oblast, Volga Federation.

Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

Tsabrov looked over the large group gathered, and nodded. "With these I shall raise our land from the ashes of the old regime" He thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he addressed HIS crowd.
"Товарищи! You have chosen me to rule this nation, you have TRUSTED me with this great nation that we shall create! The people will rise from this terrible tragedy for life, and we shall bring pride back to the name of the Russian people. Old Russia was larger than us, that is true, but one does not need to be large to be STRONG! You have chosen and trusted me to bring us to the forefront of the world, and this is the very thing I shall promise to you. ЗА ВОЛГУ!" Tsabrov raised his arms to end his speech, and the roaring crowd brought with it the ending result to what he had planned. The people trusted him, and that is what he needed to build the nation he envisioned.

Strength, Power, and equality. Thus are the values of the Volga, thus are the basis of the regime that shall rise the Russian people to the world stage once more. 
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Commander_Zemas on October 13, 2017, 11:12:30 PM
22nd December, 2032 - Vladivostok, Transamur Republic

Leonid Yakovlev sat there in the dining room awaiting the rations to come in. The government was playing an old recording of the "Autumn Dream" waltz by Archibald Joyce. Leonid was a citizen of Transamur and barely remembered the events that changed the world. Transamur declared its independence in January 2020, coinciding with the anniversary of the beginning of the Great Siberian Ice March. The 2020s were difficult for the country: a lack of funds, resources, and development caused much suffering among the Transamurians. Last year when he was 21, he got chosen into the Civilian Corps and was promptly thrust into a training camp learning a multitude of things such as engineering and rifle training.

But by 2032, Transamur had stabilised, and experienced its first year of economic growth, albeit it being a tiny growth. Food diversity was still an issue, and the industry in Transamur was lacking, but the nation could finally call itself a modern nation.

Soon, the government announcer came on.

"Zdravstvuyte tovarishchi. The biweekly food rations are being announced. Your stamp books will be available to you this afternoon at your nearest rations office."

The message repeated for a few times until continuing.

"For fish rations: Government officials - 20 points, Scientists - 15 points, Government workers - 12 points, Civilian Corps - 10 points..."

And the list went on and on, and Leonid would record his points even though a ration book would be provided. He would spend the rest of the morning eating breakfast with the remaining rations he had from the previous fortnight and deciding on a plan on how to handle his points and divide it evenly between each day. Then, Leonid would go to work.

Leonid's life would be similar to the other citizens of the nation that is known as Transamur. While not much of economic noteworthiness, the Transamurian people were more than ready to tackle on the century's problems. Its military held a firm grasp on the Trans-Siberian, the Admiralty ready to take on threats from the sea, and a new Prime Minister to lead the nation to turn from a sparsely developed nation to an economic powerhouse that would prove the Heartland theory.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on October 14, 2017, 07:41:17 AM
Ottawa - 7:49 AM

December 22nd 2032

Leblanc was in self denial. Not that she was actively refuting what was before her, but a sort of unconscious, uncontrollable self denial. What your mind does when you can't handle the information before you and so your mind merely acts as if what you are seeing is false, for no reason other than pure refusal to consider the ramifications of what is before you "if" it's real.

Food supplies were hitting severe levels. A shockingly bad harvest in September already spelled bad news for the winter, and now they were seeing the effects. Large regions of the country were dealing with "severely few food supplies" and more worryingly, some were reporting "no food supplies". If the situation doesn't improve very soon, there was going to be reports of malnutrition and eventually, deaths.

Leblancs rule was always an unpredictable and unstable one. Installed into power after the 2028 Revolution, Leblanc was Canada's first democratically elected leader since declaration of martial law in 2020. She won on a campaign emphasizing left wing nationalism, democratic socialism, fighting back against authoritarianism, and rebuilding Canadian society from the heavy devastation and trauma brought by the plague and death of nearly 15 million countrymen. Leblanc had to rebuild the Canadian government from the bottom up, provincial administrations needed to be established, a proper constitution needed to be drafted, an entire parliament needed to be elected. This created an era of instability, corruption, and internal political tensions as competing political factions and opportunists wrestled for a place in post-outbreak Canada, sometimes through force.

However by 2032, things were finally starting to settle, Canada was beginning to function as it did in 2015, except economically. Great depopulation coupled with food imports from America and Western Europe being cut off, Canada was prone to famine. The famines at this point were fairly mild, but the current one has been getting out of control at a rapid pace. Canada could see malnutrition reach levels never before seen by mid-2033.

The only major exporter of agricultural products to Canada has been the ALU but they were far from enough to meet Canada's import needs for the winter. Canada needed economic aid fast.

Quote
Announcement of interests in mutual aid

In the face of both worsening famine in the Republic of Canada and electricity shortages in the American Lakes Union, it is become increasingly apparent that the damages to the economy and infrastructure are too great for the two nations to properly function by themselves. Though economic trade has grown between the Republic of Canada and the American Lakes Union over the past years, it has been largely informal, without any serious intentions of establishing deeper diplomatic and economic ties by either government. The Republic if Canada wishes to broaden the level of political and economic cooperation between the two states, to the point of mutual diplomatic recognition and mutual economic assistance to aid the current infrastructural and economic issues felt by the people of our two nations.

The latter problem can be solved by the Republic of Canada significantly increasing it's energy exports to the American Lakes Union, while the American Lakes Union can significantly increase agricultural exports to the Republic of Canada. Thus creating a partnership of mutual aid and friendship. As January approaches, the worst of winter is rapidly approaching and this could prove deadly for the populations of of our two nations if some sort of aid agreement isn't established quickly.

Prime Minister Amelie Leblanc invites the leadership of the American Lakes Union to Ottawa so that a proper discussion of the terms of diplomatic recognition and mutual aid may be launched.

Elliott Fitzgerald

Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Republic of Canada
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Arenado on October 14, 2017, 08:44:14 AM
Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Of The Confederation Thad Braddock


Thad Braddock sat in the Presidential office. It felt right....it felt good..... he leaned back into the chair and smiled. Finally...

His Secretary of State, Peter Vanderlay, the Leader of The Confederate Diet, Jennifer Prescott, his Vice President, Gregory Mendoza and the head of the Church of America, Vox Populi Wallace Danforth were led into the office on his instructions. The Secretary, a old, stubborn man who's face looked as if it was melting off his face, spoke first with his typical meandering drawl.

"Good afternoon, Mr President. I presume you wish to speak about our Uranium problem?"

Braddock slowly nodded as he got up. "Yes, thats right. Our current source, the mines of Australia, are simply to far and expensive to be used long term. We need a new source of Uranium. And we all know the closest and largest source."

Vice President Mendoza, a younger and more energetic populist than Braddock, nodded. "Saskatoon."

Everyone smiled. "Yes, my dear running mate, Saskatoon. The Uranium mines there accounted for 18 percent of the worlds Uranium just 30 years ago. Hopefully, the Canadians and us can come to an arrangement. We have something they want, they have something we want. Peter, can you send them a communique?"

Peter nodded and left the room. Prescott, a prissy and well dressed woman, stepped forward. "Now, what about Kentucky? You know we need it."

Braddock nodded. "I know. Once we deal with the Canadians, Kentucky and the push to Mexico City come next. Dont worry. One step at a time."

They all nodded and left the room. Within an hour, a message was delivered to the Canadian Government.

"To: Government of the Republic of Canada
From: Office of the President of the New Holy Confederation of America Thaddeus Beauregard Braddock

Hello, my Canadian friends, I hope this message finds you well! On behalf of the NHCA I want to wish you all a Merry (if early) Christmas. I hope you do not mind me reaching out like this but the Government of the Confederation and myself want to, hopefully, begin a trade mission between our two countries, perhaps even an exchange of Ambassadors if that is agreeable! Down here in the fertile lands of Dixie we grow and raise lots of fresh produce and livestock, the fields of wheat always healthy and the harvest strong while our cattle ranchers produce fresh, pasteurized milk and delectable beef, lamb and chicken meat fit for a king. I'm even told that the Atlanta Cattle Corporation is experimenting on raising a new animal, a 'beefalo' I believe its called? I must confess, when I tasted a sample of this amazing meat it was heavenly. We wish to trade the generous bounty of our lands with the generous bounty of yours. I hope such a trade deal might be agreeable to you and that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship between our two peoples.

Thank You and Merry Christmas,
Thad Braddock"
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Commander_Zemas on October 15, 2017, 12:49:09 AM
22nd of December, 2032 - Somewhere among the Trans-Siberian Railroad

Mstislav Stefan Ott was a general in the Transamurian Army, specifically leading the Transamurian Armoured Train Corps, albeit the nation not actually having any armoured trains. Instead, the nation made use of existing Russian trains to travel across Siberia, securing vital connections necessary for the survival of the young nation. He sat there within what could be considered the flagship of Transamur's military-owned trains in front of an antique wooden desk, arranged against the window where he could see the scenery pass by.

Mstislav was a relatively young general, but his service proved his ability to lead. He was the one who suggested to make use of the Trans-Siberian railroad to establish Transamur. Soon after, high command promoted him to a general and put him in command of the operations. His effective leadership managed to extend Transamur's borders to beyond Irkutsk, secure the electrification of the line, and secure the cities and towns alongside the railroad

Now, he spent his time patrolling what has already been secured. However, he knew the job was not finished. In order for the Transamur to be successful in the future, it needed a massive overhaul in infrastructure no matter the cost. He was no economist but the time between each location had to be shortened to quicken the transfer of goods and services. Mstislav has constantly requested for upgrading to high-speed and the expansion of the existing network. With this, Transamur could quickly develop Siberia. But all Mstislav received back was that Parliament would consider it.

For now, Mstislav will have to make do with protecting the railroad from those who seek to raid and sabotage it. Already, several freight trains were raided by all various sorts of people. It was his Corps' job to stop these and prevent more from happening.

After pondering these thoughts, his aide de camp came in and announced, "General Ott, we have almost arrived in Irkutsk."

Mstislav nodded in acknowledgment as he took a sip of his tea. "Very good, tell the troops that we will rest at Irkutsk for a couple of days, and we will make move across the Trans-Siberian once more."

The aide de camp soluted and soon left. Mstislav sighed. The events of the 2010s and 2020s were tiring, but he was doing what was necessary. He opened up the book on the desk and began writing the events of this trip.

Transamurian Government District, Vladisvostok, Transamur

Prime Minister Germogen Svyatoslav Mikhailov heard the snow crunch under his boots, the chill air blowing off his trench coat. He was touring the government district that was under construction alongside the aging Grand Admiral Sergei Avakyants. The project began to be planned at the end of his predecessor's term and entered construction phase under Germogen's. The district would begin a new era of architecture for Transamur, with contemporary Transamurian architecture (largely based on Russian contemporary architecture) with a splash of Baroque. So far the results were splendid, and the government would be able to be firmly established.

"Even in these times of troubles, Vladivostok has come a long way from when it was first established," mused the Admiral as they walked the district's newly lit streets.

Germogen replied, "Yes, this will be a great event to mark our rule. A beginning of a new era perhaps. An era where Transamur and therefore Siberia will have its place on the world stage."

The admiral smiled. "I trust that you will lead us into this era, Germogen."

"But you are the Head of State as Grand Admiral, no? Will you not help?"

"Germogen my comrade, I have been helping ever since the creation of Transamur. I have done what is necessary. You may not have noticed, but I have slowly decreased the use of my powers. The nation simply has not had the need for such. But anyhow, I do not know what my successor will do."

"You seek to retire?"

Sergei nodded. The duo was silent until they reached the grounds of the new Parliamentary building. The building was at the centre of a rectangular piece of land. Surrounding the building was what people could consider a park. In front of what would be named the Transamur Parliamentary Palace, stood the Parliamentary Pavilion. Both were made with the ideals of contemporary architecture. Unique shapes and a mixture of white and glass, with colour splashed around formed two magnificent structures.  It would truly be worthy of a UNESCO World Heritage Site if the organisation still existed.

As the two walked past the pavilion and towards the grand entrance of the Transamur Parliamentary Palace, the Grand Admiral asked, "How much did the government spend on such wonders?"

"Well. Money became basically nonexistant with the collapse of the world economy, to say the least. Money used to be based on the word of the US government, which we don't know that it exists or not. While we have a reserve of precious metals such as gold and silver, we mostly keep it to help us with other nations. All we did was give more rations to them."

"I see. That does explain a lot."

They reached the bottom of a staircase and climbed to the top. On the sides of the staircase were two statues, both Russian cosmonauts. One was Yuri Gagarin and the other was Valentina Tereshkova. Directly in front of them in the centre was a large fountain with a statue of Peter the Great. They stood in awe and soon entered the building.

As they explored the interior, the Prime Minister and the Admiral were very impressed. The planners did a great job combining both contemporary Transamurian architecture and bits of Baroque. The building's main sights were the two most important rooms in Transamur: the Transamur Senate, and the Transamur Duma. The Senate was situated on the left of the building while the Duma was situated on the right. Both chambers were rather large for the size of the current government.

The Duma chambers were arched and centred around a centre stage with a podium and a few seats behind the podium. A desk was directly in front of the podium which was the seat of the Prime Minister. The arched seating and desks around the centre were still under construction. A similar setup was in the Senate chamber, except the desk being for whoever would be the Senatorial leader. Also, there was a seat so the Head of State could observe its proceedings.

"Very impressive chambers here. I assume the largeness of the chambers are in case our territory is expanded," said the admiral.

"You would be correct in your assumption." The two made their way to the back entrance of the building. As the doors opened, a nice breeze flowed inside and they could see it was snowing again. As they walked towards the staircase leading to the other side of the parliamentary park, they could see the rest of the government buildings which included the Head of State's residency, the Prime Minister's residency, the Transamur Court Building, and a few others. Many lots were empty and reserved for future construction projects. Some of the rest of Vladivostok could also be seen, with a festive air due to the Christmas lights.

The admiral stated as they walked towards the back entrance of the parliamentary grounds, "It is finally good to have Transamur firmly established now with this historic building project."

Mikhailov agreed. "Now we can finally consider what I think is the more important things such as the economy. We cannot continue with our current economic condition. We need to become self-reliant and make enough food to end demand. But the time for that is next year." The two approached the street and Mikhailov turned towards the admiral. "I wish you a good holiday season admiral."

"You too prime minister." Soon, two cars came to pick them up.

Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Cinciri on October 16, 2017, 12:29:25 AM
Volgograd City, Volgograd Oblast, Volga Federation.

Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov


The Marshal sat and looked out his window at the statue in the distance. The Motherland Calls, what a sight. The largest statue of a woman in the world, and once the largest statue in general. Built by Russians. "I shall build up this region just as the sculptors build this masterpiece." Tsabrov thought to himself. Suddenly some men in Uniforms walked in.
"Здравствуйте товарищ Маршал!" Both exclaimed and saluted.
"Please, no need for such formalities товарищи, please sit." The Marshal said charismatically.
The two men sat down, and both looked much more relaxed then when they had entered. The Marshal swiveled in his chair to face them. "So what do you have for me so far?" The Marshal asked the generals.
One turned to the other and said, "Well, for starters there are nations arising in North America, though their pow-" then Marshal interrupted.
 "I care not what goes on in the Americas, nuclear arsenals have been wasted and they are too far away for us to have any concern, what else?"
Shaking once more, the other man responded. "A nation has sprouted in the far east of Siberia tovarisch, I believe they are utilizing the Trans-Siberian railroad to declare their borders." With this news Tsabrov stroked his beard. "Keep an eye on this nation, they could end up as either a powerful ally, or troublesome opponent."
At this, the Marshal waved the generals away and once again contemplated. Russia has the means to become a powerful military power, but they must gain solid infrastructure first. The Uralvagonzavod factories will remain silent, for now. Engineers had already scouted out and reclaimed much of the technical data for the most modern vehicles, but food shall take precedent. Marshal Tsabrov leaned back and thought aloud, speaking to the land itself. "All in due time, glorious Volga, all in due time."
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Ashton Mercer on October 16, 2017, 04:56:53 PM
Rural Northern Ohio - 7:23 PM
December 22, 2032


Luke Collins had just finished clearing the driveway when the truck arrived. The weather had been unusually snowy and it was still coming down, so the sudden sight of bright headlights blasting through the dark clouds of snowflakes was startling. However, Luke saw the lights on top and large ALU logo on the side of the white truck and was relieved. He knew immediately who this unexpected visitor was. Sheriff Jack Morgan, a local political figure, an important ALU partner, and something of a family friend. The car stopped in the middle of the driveway, and the parka-clad police officer stepped out.
“Luke!” He yelled over the wind in a jovial tone as he adjusted his large hat. “How’s it going, kid!”
“Cold!” Luke shouted back with a grin. “I was just wrapping up here, let’s get inside!”

The two burst through the wreath-clad front door into the warm house. Luke’s father, Arnold Collins, sat at the table, fidgeting with his laptop, no doubt fuming against the always temperamental satellite internet connection he relied on. A wood-burning furnace burned nearby, covering the Christmas tree and the small decorated room in a warm light and a pleasant smoky smell.
“Hey Dad,” Luke said, hanging his hat and coat on the door. “Sheriff Jack’s here!”
Arnold adjusted his thick glasses and smiled as he stood up. “Jack! Welcome in, it’s been a while. You must be freezing!”
“Pretty warm, actually. Almost too warm. We’ve finally managed to fix the damn heaters in our police rovers.”
The local police had been supplied with military surplus vehicles that the Union had acquired from various bloated ex-US military bases. They did their job well and had saved many a militia member and police officer’s life during firefights with gangsters and guerrillas, but the “non-essential” parts were very hard to find when they broke down .
Arnold laughed and nodded. “That’s good to hear. Well, If that’s the case, go and get us a couple of beers from the fridge, Luke. And maybe some hot cocoa or something for yourself.”
“Okay. Be right back.”

Luke grabbed a flashlight and went down into the house’s cellar to get what his father had asked. He could hear the entire conversation echo down from above through the air vents, right through the wooden door. Luke didn’t like to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it.
“Actually, Arnold, I don’t think I’ll be staying very long. You see, the Union office in Cleveland sent me here. On superregional business.”
“Lakes Union business, huh?” A rhetorical question. Arnold seemed more annoyed than surprised. “This close to the holidays?”
“They told me it was urgent. Came over the radio, actually. Went through all the trouble to do that.”
The bottles clinked together as Luke drew them from the fridge. He noticed that there had just been a long moment of silence.
“Look, I’m just gonna spare us some pain and cut to the chase. They know who you were. They told me all about it, I got their dossier right here. They told me that they want you to work for them, for the Air Commission. And, honestly, I think I agree with them, Arnold. You’re United States Air Force, after all, and you aren’t just some five-dollar airman or weekend warrior. You have the skills to fix this up for us.”

Luke winced. A bad subject to broach. He knew his dad didn’t like talking about his veteran days.
“If they really told you all about it,” Arnold replied, his voice suddenly low and furious, “they would have told you about all the things we did too. Like what we did to Chatham. And they would have told you that’s why I am happily former United States Air Force now.”
Sheriff Jack replied with exasperation. “Oh, come on. Chatham is ancient history, Arnold.” Footsteps from above. One of them was pacing. “Look at the future. A month ago, they got O’Hare running. Small flights are going in and out of Canada and across the ALU like nobody’s business, and they’re thinking of getting those bigger planes up and running. Last week, they took Fargo and all the fighters at the ANG base up there. They took Wright-Patt back from the Buckeyes just the other day. Lost five Peacemakers and three Ohio National Guardsmen in the siege. All for some airplane parts and a few square miles of nicer-than-usual concrete. Do you think they’re just messing around here?”
Arnold sighed. “I don’t give a damn what the Union does with the air. All I want is for them to just leave me out of it, and I don’t want to hear from them about it again.”
He put his hands up.
“Alright. I’ll tell them that. I just think it’s a big mistake, and they’re not gonna like your answer. Just think about it-“
“I have.”
“No, Arnold,” Sheriff Jack said insistently. “I mean really think about it. You have a lot to gain from doing this. People will forget all about Chatham and the whole ECP shitstorm. You’ll be written into the history books as a hero. Imagine it: the man who rebuilt our air from scratch, Peacemaker Colonel Arnold Collins.”
“I’m not a hero, Jack,” Arnold said solemnly. “I hate myself. I can’t sleep at night. When I do get sleep, I have nightmares. I can barely bring myself to look anyone in the eye anymore, not even my family. Is that what a hero feels like?”
“Maybe if you decided to use your skills to help others now instead of mourning the past,” Jack replied calmly, “you would sleep much better.” He began pacing again. “Even if it won’t help your peace of mind, think about the rewards! The ALU alone will probably be willing to pay you millions for your work, not to mention all you stand to gain with business and trade deals. I see you’re not doing too badly for yourself here, but imagine living in a high-class apartment in downtown Chicago, and having lake houses in the Upper Peninsula you and your family and friends could enjoy every summer, away from the crowd and far from every worry. You could find a decent therapist for yourself and get some help, your wife would be able to run that charity like she used to again, and maybe we could even find a world-class school up there for Luke to go to, with tuition and everything else paid for...”

With a louder footstep that usual, Luke appeared in the doorway nearby, and both Arnold and Jake turned to look at him. Luke nearly jumped out of his skin. The previous warm and friendly air of the room had turned cold and bitter. Arnold and Sheriff Jack looked like they were about to go at each other’s throats. And now he was the center of attention.
“Hey, speak of the devil.” Sheriff Jack stood up and faced Luke. “Say, Luke, how do you feel about Chicago?”
Luke swallowed. His dad was staring right at him. “I, uh, dunno. I’ve never been there before. I like the Bears, I guess.”
He chuckled and gave Luke a pat on the back. “That’s a smart answer. I bet you do well in school, don’t ya?”
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a bottle from Luke’s hands and inspected it. “Hmm. Craft, nice stuff. Thanks, but I’m not thirsty right now. I’ll drink this when I get home, I think.” He sighed and put his wide-brimmed hat back on. “It’s time for me to go anyways. Got a busy few days before I’m off work. You all take care, and tell Teresa I said hello. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Jack. Drive safe.”

Luke and Arnold watched in silence as Sheriff Jack departed, driving off into the near-blizzard. Finally, once the Humvee rumbled out of sight beyond the distant plastic mailbox, Arnold cracked open his beer and went back to reading some report on his computer. Luke poured some water to make hot chocolate in the microwave nearby.
“So, uh,” Luke began after some time. “What was that all about?”
Arnold sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Luke looked at his dad for a moment with concern. “He asked you about your Air Force days, didn’t he?”
“I said don’t worry about it, Luke,” he snapped back.
He nodded and walked away. “Alright, dad. Sorry.”

The snow continued coming down. A staticky television in the other room broadcasted that it was only going to get worse as the holidays approached.
Good weather for snowboarding, Luke thought to himself as he listened and sipped on some cocoa. I wonder if anyone will want to go out when it clears up...
Ottawa - 7:49 AM December 22nd 2032
Quote
Announcement of interests in mutual aid
In the face of both worsening famine in the Republic of Canada and electricity shortages in the American Lakes Union, it is become increasingly apparent that the damages to the economy and infrastructure are too great for the two nations to properly function by themselves. Though economic trade has grown between the Republic of Canada and the American Lakes Union over the past years, it has been largely informal, without any serious intentions of establishing deeper diplomatic and economic ties by either government. The Republic if Canada wishes to broaden the level of political and economic cooperation between the two states, to the point of mutual diplomatic recognition and mutual economic assistance to aid the current infrastructural and economic issues felt by the people of our two nations.

The latter problem can be solved by the Republic of Canada significantly increasing it's energy exports to the American Lakes Union, while the American Lakes Union can significantly increase agricultural exports to the Republic of Canada. Thus creating a partnership of mutual aid and friendship. As January approaches, the worst of winter is rapidly approaching and this could prove deadly for the populations of of our two nations if some sort of aid agreement isn't established quickly.

Prime Minister Amelie Leblanc invites the leadership of the American Lakes Union to Ottawa so that a proper discussion of the terms of diplomatic recognition and mutual aid may be launched.

Elliott Fitzgerald

Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Republic of Canada
This was a moment that the American Lakes Union Arbitration Council was dreading. They weren’t dreading dealing with Canadians, of course. Your average Union official liked Canadians more than they liked most other former Americans. Informal trading and communications had been going on for as long as the ECP crisis allowed, and the regional ties existed generations before even that. It wouldn’t be a horrible thing to let trade across the lakes happen without the permission of the federal government, since it wasn’t returning their calls. However, the Canadian government was now asking for more than that: a formal economic alliance and a concerted effort on the part of the Union to relieve the food shortages that Canada was starting to suffer. The potential trade deal sounded attractive, especially since Chicago and Detroit were starved for electricity and fuel during a very power-critical time of year, but the Union simply didn’t know whether it was in their place to make these arrangements or not. A few members of the Council believed that they should hold off and make another attempt to get word from Washington before doing something like this, but most members realized that the practicality of the situation and the fact that the Canadian government was calling for help from the American Lakes Union by name, meant that Canada recognized them as an independent authority, over the former US federal government and still-existing state governments. So, they should act like they were independent and authoritative and send some representatives to Canada to discuss the specifics.
From a duty standpoint, they realized that Canadians stood to starve and city-dwellers stood to freeze to death if nothing along this front happened. They had an obligation to make sure nothing like that happened.

A RSVP was sent via radio, and several ALU officers were packed aboard a small plane and sent towards Ottawa. Leading the expedition was Dr. Ethan Reider as the head of the newly-appointed International Affairs Commission, along with several aides and other policy experts. Hopefully, they could make the arrangements in time for a Christmas morning airlift. That would be poetic.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on October 17, 2017, 03:05:41 AM
Saskatoon - 7:13 PM

12 hours of work had passed. Lily returned to her apartment exhausted physcially, mentally and emotionally. Though the return of factory work once lost to China and expensive foreign technology resulted in a boom of work, it was accompanied by heavily relaxed or ignored worker's rights and safety laws. Lily's factory was an example of this, where employees are regularly forced to do overtime, where workers and their families do not enjoy compensation for egregious accidents that in Pre-Outbreak Canada would be enough to send some employers to prison and where workers are expected to achieve and exceed unnecessarily high productivity quotas in order to generate as much profit for their work as humanly possible.

Lily couldn't look back at her work day. It was all one big blur that brings back migraines as well as memories of constant yelling, beratement, loud machinery and the ever present feeling that she was literally being worked to death. Now that she was in her home, she could finally feel some sense of freedom and individuality. Her wife wasn't home yet and wouldn't expect her to be for about another thirty minutes. Lily needed some escape from the thoughts in her head. She grabbed some alcohol and turned to the internet, as she typically does. Though all she wanted to do was try to find some escape from her life, her mind reminded her that she'd been meaning to read up on some Communist materials that she had been beating herself up for the past couple of weeks to get started on. She pulled up a Far-Left library which archived a wide variety of left wing resources in easy to access PDFs from Marx to Bakunin to Kropotkin to Goldman.

Let us, be practical. We want something practical.

Always the cry of humdrum mediocrity, afraid to face the stern necessity for uncompromising action. That saying has done more yeoman service in the cause of oppression than all its avowed supporters.

The average man dislikes to be thought unpractical and so, while, frequently loathing the principles or distrusting the leaders of the particular political party, he is associated with, declines to leave them, in the hope that their very lack of earnestness may be more fruitful of practical results than the honest outspokenness of the party in whose principles he does believe,

In the phraseology of politics, a party, too indifferent to the sorrow and sufferings of humanity to raise its voice in protest, is a moderate, practical party; whilst a party totally indifferent to the personality of, leaders, or questions of leadership, but hot to enthusiasm on every question affecting the well-being of the toiling masses, is an extreme, a dangerous party.

Yet, although it may seem a paradox to say so, there is no party so incapable of achieving practical results, as an orthodox, political party; and there is no party so certain of placing moderate reforms to its credit as an extreme revolutionary party. The possessing class will and do laugh to scorn every scheme for the amelioration of the workers so long as those responsible for the initiation of the scheme admit as justifiable the, “rights of property”; but when the, public attention is directed toward questioning the justifiable, nature of those “rights” in themselves, then the master class, alarmed for the safety of their booty, yield reform after reform – in order to prevent revolution.

Moral – Don’t be “practical” in politics. To be practical in that sense, means that you have, schooled yourself, to think along, the lines and, in the grooves which those, who rob you would desire you to think.


That was written by one James Connoly, Irish socialist revolutionary. Lily's Irish and Christian Socialist friends always seemed to have a knack for Mr. Connoly and she was fairly fond of him too. Lily thought to herself how it could as easily have been written in 2031. It was written in 1909.

However, reading bored her. Lily was never one for reading, though she fully understood it was important and tried to force herself to do so, her ADHD be damned. She felt a need for constant stimuli, audio, imagery, obviously books provided none of these. Drifting off into boredom and sort of drunk at that point, Lily opened up a new tab and typed in a social media website.

Professional-Trashcanburner: HEY LUKE
Professional-Trashcanburner: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iAIM02kv0g
Professional-Trashcanburner: i really, //really// need to learn the banjo
Professional-Trashcanburner: like, to carry out revolutionary purposes
Professional-Trashcanburner: via banjo
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Ashton Mercer on October 17, 2017, 04:18:42 AM
Saskatoon - 7:13 PM
-snip-
12 hours of work had passed. Lily returned to her apartment exhausted physcially, mentally and emotionally. Though the return of factory work once lost to China and expensive foreign technology resulted in a boom of work, it was accompanied by heavily relaxed or ignored worker's rights and safety laws. Lily's factory was an example of this, where employees are regularly forced to do overtime, where workers and their families do not enjoy compensation for egregious accidents that in Pre-Outbreak Canada would be enough to send some employers to prison and where workers are expected to achieve and exceed unnecessarily high productivity quotas in order to generate as much profit for their work as humanly possible.

Lily couldn't look back at her work day. It was all one big blur that brings back migraines as well as memories of constant yelling, beratement, loud machinery and the ever present feeling that she was literally being worked to death. Now that she was in her home, she could finally feel some sense of freedom and individuality. Her wife wasn't home yet and wouldn't expect her to be for about another thirty minutes. Lily needed some escape from the thoughts in her head. She grabbed some alcohol and turned to the internet, as she typically does. Though all she wanted to do was try to find some escape from her life, her mind reminded her that she'd been meaning to read up on some Communist materials that she had been beating herself up for the past couple of weeks to get started on. She pulled up a Far-Left library which archived a wide variety of left wing resources in easy to access PDFs from Marx to Bakunin to Kropotkin to Goldman.

Let us, be practical. We want something practical.

Always the cry of humdrum mediocrity, afraid to face the stern necessity for uncompromising action. That saying has done more yeoman service in the cause of oppression than all its avowed supporters.

The average man dislikes to be thought unpractical and so, while, frequently loathing the principles or distrusting the leaders of the particular political party, he is associated with, declines to leave them, in the hope that their very lack of earnestness may be more fruitful of practical results than the honest outspokenness of the party in whose principles he does believe,

In the phraseology of politics, a party, too indifferent to the sorrow and sufferings of humanity to raise its voice in protest, is a moderate, practical party; whilst a party totally indifferent to the personality of, leaders, or questions of leadership, but hot to enthusiasm on every question affecting the well-being of the toiling masses, is an extreme, a dangerous party.

Yet, although it may seem a paradox to say so, there is no party so incapable of achieving practical results, as an orthodox, political party; and there is no party so certain of placing moderate reforms to its credit as an extreme revolutionary party. The possessing class will and do laugh to scorn every scheme for the amelioration of the workers so long as those responsible for the initiation of the scheme admit as justifiable the, “rights of property”; but when the, public attention is directed toward questioning the justifiable, nature of those “rights” in themselves, then the master class, alarmed for the safety of their booty, yield reform after reform – in order to prevent revolution.

Moral – Don’t be “practical” in politics. To be practical in that sense, means that you have, schooled yourself, to think along, the lines and, in the grooves which those, who rob you would desire you to think.


That was written by one James Connoly, Irish socialist revolutionary. Lily's Irish and Christian Socialist friends always seemed to have a knack for Mr. Connoly and she was fairly fond of him too. Lily thought to herself how it could as easily have been written in 2031. It was written in 1909.

However, reading bored her. Lily was never one for reading, though she fully understood it was important and tried to force herself to do so, her ADHD be damned. She felt a need for constant stimuli, audio, imagery, obviously books provided none of these. Drifting off into boredom and sort of drunk at that point, Lily opened up a new tab and typed in a social media website.
Professional-Trashcanburner: HEY LUKE
Professional-Trashcanburner: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iAIM02kv0g
Professional-Trashcanburner: i really, //really// need to learn the banjo
Professional-Trashcanburner: like, to carry out revolutionary purposes
Professional-Trashcanburner: via banjo
Luke happened to be on the computer during this time, recovering with a blanket from being the sole victim of a particularly hypothermic and soul-crushing snowball massacre, perpetrated by a roving gang of grade-schoolers that ambushed him from behind a dumpster. He would get the cowardly little turds back when they stopped by on Christmas Eve, somehow.

Luke typically didn't go on the internet: he had a Twitter and a Facebook he would update maybe once a week, like a digital houseplant. However, he did have an online gaming service on his computer. He mostly used it to download and play some games during the brief moments of good internet that the connection provided. Usually, it was stuff that could be enjoyed even without internet. However, when he could play games online, he could occasionally make friends. Lily, or as her screen name said, Professional-Trashcanburner, was one of those friends. In particular, she made Luke glad that nobody was keeping an eye on internet watchlists anymore, with her crazy political rants and just all-around leftism.

skywalker124: lmao
skywalker124: go for it
skywalker124: get one of those 'this machine kills fascists' stickers for it too
skywalker124: that'll scare big business off

Luke wasn't very politically educated, so his understanding of things like socialism and revolution were mostly colored either by fragments of political coverage by mildly conservative American media that survived both transmission and Luke's brain, or by events that were uncomfortably recent and uncomfortably close. Not to mention, if anything Luke was on the other side of that classist fence: his mother was technically a landowning capitalist, and his father was a corporate manager. However, Luke didn't seem to realize that or care at all, and he liked Lily's personality and talking to her was exciting and made him feel smart, so thus their friendship went.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on October 17, 2017, 06:49:12 AM
Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Of The Confederation Thad Braddock


Thad Braddock sat in the Presidential office. It felt right....it felt good..... he leaned back into the chair and smiled. Finally...

His Secretary of State, Peter Vanderlay, the Leader of The Confederate Diet, Jennifer Prescott, his Vice President, Gregory Mendoza and the head of the Church of America, Vox Populi Wallace Danforth were led into the office on his instructions. The Secretary, a old, stubborn man who's face looked as if it was melting off his face, spoke first with his typical meandering drawl.

"Good afternoon, Mr President. I presume you wish to speak about our Uranium problem?"

Braddock slowly nodded as he got up. "Yes, thats right. Our current source, the mines of Australia, are simply to far and expensive to be used long term. We need a new source of Uranium. And we all know the closest and largest source."

Vice President Mendoza, a younger and more energetic populist than Braddock, nodded. "Saskatoon."

Everyone smiled. "Yes, my dear running mate, Saskatoon. The Uranium mines there accounted for 18 percent of the worlds Uranium just 30 years ago. Hopefully, the Canadians and us can come to an arrangement. We have something they want, they have something we want. Peter, can you send them a communique?"

Peter nodded and left the room. Prescott, a prissy and well dressed woman, stepped forward. "Now, what about Kentucky? You know we need it."

Braddock nodded. "I know. Once we deal with the Canadians, Kentucky and the push to Mexico City come next. Dont worry. One step at a time."

They all nodded and left the room. Within an hour, a message was delivered to the Canadian Government.

"To: Government of the Republic of Canada
From: Office of the President of the New Holy Confederation of America Thaddeus Beauregard Braddock

Hello, my Canadian friends, I hope this message finds you well! On behalf of the NHCA I want to wish you all a Merry (if early) Christmas. I hope you do not mind me reaching out like this but the Government of the Confederation and myself want to, hopefully, begin a trade mission between our two countries, perhaps even an exchange of Ambassadors if that is agreeable! Down here in the fertile lands of Dixie we grow and raise lots of fresh produce and livestock, the fields of wheat always healthy and the harvest strong while our cattle ranchers produce fresh, pasteurized milk and delectable beef, lamb and chicken meat fit for a king. I'm even told that the Atlanta Cattle Corporation is experimenting on raising a new animal, a 'beefalo' I believe its called? I must confess, when I tasted a sample of this amazing meat it was heavenly. We wish to trade the generous bounty of our lands with the generous bounty of yours. I hope such a trade deal might be agreeable to you and that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship between our two peoples.

Thank You and Merry Christmas,
Thad Braddock"


Quote
Tell Braddock that the Canadian government politely declines its proposal. We arent desperate enough to get aid from North American ISIS

- Leblanc

The text was Leblanc's only official "response" to the proposal, not even considering merely debating the possibility of accepting it. But Fitzgerald was not one to pass up an opportunity. he relayed Braddock's message to Cameco in Saskatoon. They were enthusiastic to say the least.

Quote
Congratulations!

Dear President Thad Braddock

We here at Cameco send a warm congratulations to you for winning this year's elections. Your political platform was solid and reasonable, not the least being its support for renewable energies. Cameco is excited to see a NHCA administration so enthusiastic about renewable energies and nuclear power in particular. We all know that nuclear power is the only renewable power source that can efficiently handle the world's energy needs and we know of Global Warming and other troubling factors that encourage a rapid transition away from polluting energies such as coal and oil. As the leader of the NHCA you have a responsibility to aid your people in light of these issues and we are happy to see you are going with the right choice.

We are interested in sending an envoy to Corpus Christi so that we might discuss how Cameco might assist the good people of the NHCA in establishing nucleaer energy as their primary power source.

Jessica Hoffman

Representative for Cameco

Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada

Lily was more than drunk and was more invested in listening to Anarchist punk rock by the time Luke responded but she got herself to reply back

Professional-Trashcanburner: *slaps a "This machine kills fascists" sticker on my 100% electric 2033 Chevrolet Volt™*

Lily liked Luke. He was fairly mature for his age, to the point where she legitimately thought he was at least 18 until he found out his real age. He possessed a relatively decent moral compass, and with that, Lily hoped she could get her Leftist beliefs to rub off on him as what happened to her when she was around Luke's age.

Professional-Trashcanburner: but nah petes good
Professional-Trashcanburner: he was the only good american musician
Professional-Trashcanburner: until like new wave
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Arenado on October 17, 2017, 05:15:28 PM
Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Thad Braddock


"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!" President Braddock was holding a newspaper, the headline in big, bold letters 'PRESIDENT FAILS IN NEGOTIATIONS WITH CANADA'. After a few seconds, he threw it at his desk. It bounced off and fluttered for a second before falling in front of Peter Vanderlay.

"With all due respect, Mr President, we did not fail. The corporation that owns the mines contacted us...." Peter was cut off by the President suddenly yelling.

"I DONT GIVE A DAMN, PETER! So what if that blasted corporation wants to do business? The Canadians can just block the deal anytime they want! Worse, that corporation will want money! Money! The whole point of buying from the fucking Canadians in the first place was that it would cheaper than the Australians!"

Peter spoke, not a single indicator of any discomfort on his face. "Sir, I find it very unwise to dismiss a deal when we have not even had a discussion on terms yet. Maybe this is the Canadian government's attempt to save face. After all, they are attempting to get closer with the ALU. Working publicly with us would definitely sour relations with them."

Braddock face turned to scorn. "What, those yahoo rust belt sodomites and their continuing delusion of 'rebuilding the union'." the contempt barely hidden as he spoke with air quotes. "Please. Even the Canadians must know that we have the better lands and better sciences. Plus, we have the better nuclear reactors."

Peter just slowly nodded. "True. But Canada isn't bordering us, are they. And not much chance of reconciliation between us and the ALU, is there?" Braddock turned to face Peter, his face dark, his tone cold. "After Antietam? Never in a million years." Peter nodded. "Then I suggest that we take the Canadians on their offer and invite Cameco representatives to Corpus Christi. Lets see where it goes and issue a statement calling that article false and misleading." Braddock waved his hand in agreement and picked up a folder on his desk. "And now onto the next order of business, one that falls under your area, Wallace."

Wallace Danforth, Vox Populi of the Church of America, dressed in his holy garb, stepped forward. "I have had talks with the Collage Of Cardinals. They have all agreed to support you Proclamation Of Confederate Infallibility. Under the eyes of God, the Confederation can do no wrong and will be entitled to do anything it wants. Weather other countries accept this or not is immaterial, the population will support the Confederation all the way after this." Braddock smiled. "Excellent. Any idea when it will pass?" Now, it was Wallace's turn to smile. "It passed 3 hours ago." Braddock closed his eyes, looked towards the heavens and nodded.

"Perfect. Now for the final order on the agenda. Something we have been waiting for a long time for. Kentucky. Are our agents in the Kentucky Senate ready?" Peter Vanderlay nodded as he slowly spoke. "Yes, they are. They have proposed asking to join the Confederation and so far the response has been positive. They will be expected to ask our troops to occupy Kentucky, as a peace keeping force of course, with the full invitation of the Kentucky government. After that, a Declaration of Annexation and Kentucky will become part of the family. And don't worry about the Governor or the State National Guard. The guard has agreed to stand down and the Governor can be dealt with if he refuses to co-operate."

Braddock smiled and sat down. "Deus Vult." With two words he would launch the Annexation of Kentucky. The population there loved the NHCA and mostly supported joining anyway. Within an hour, Confederate troops began marching towards the Kentucky border.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Ashton Mercer on October 19, 2017, 04:08:21 AM
A confederate yankee in pope urban ii's court
Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Thad Braddock


"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!" President Braddock was holding a newspaper, the headline in big, bold letters 'PRESIDENT FAILS IN NEGOTIATIONS WITH CANADA'. After a few seconds, he threw it at his desk. It bounced off and fluttered for a second before falling in front of Peter Vanderlay.

"With all due respect, Mr President, we did not fail. The corporation that owns the mines contacted us...." Peter was cut off by the President suddenly yelling.

"I DONT GIVE A DAMN, PETER! So what if that blasted corporation wants to do business? The Canadians can just block the deal anytime they want! Worse, that corporation will want money! Money! The whole point of buying from the fucking Canadians in the first place was that it would cheaper than the Australians!"

Peter spoke, not a single indicator of any discomfort on his face. "Sir, I find it very unwise to dismiss a deal when we have not even had a discussion on terms yet. Maybe this is the Canadian government's attempt to save face. After all, they are attempting to get closer with the ALU. Working publicly with us would definitely sour relations with them."

Braddock face turned to scorn. "What, those yahoo rust belt sodomites and their continuing delusion of 'rebuilding the union'." the contempt barely hidden as he spoke with air quotes. "Please. Even the Canadians must know that we have the better lands and better sciences. Plus, we have the better nuclear reactors."

Peter just slowly nodded. "True. But Canada isn't bordering us, are they. And not much chance of reconciliation between us and the ALU, is there?" Braddock turned to face Peter, his face dark, his tone cold. "After Antietam? Never in a million years." Peter nodded. "Then I suggest that we take the Canadians on their offer and invite Cameco representatives to Corpus Christi. Lets see where it goes and issue a statement calling that article false and misleading." Braddock waved his hand in agreement and picked up a folder on his desk. "And now onto the next order of business, one that falls under your area, Wallace."

Wallace Danforth, Vox Populi of the Church of America, dressed in his holy garb, stepped forward. "I have had talks with the Collage Of Cardinals. They have all agreed to support you Proclamation Of Confederate Infallibility. Under the eyes of God, the Confederation can do no wrong and will be entitled to do anything it wants. Weather other countries accept this or not is immaterial, the population will support the Confederation all the way after this." Braddock smiled. "Excellent. Any idea when it will pass?" Now, it was Wallace's turn to smile. "It passed 3 hours ago." Braddock closed his eyes, looked towards the heavens and nodded.

"Perfect. Now for the final order on the agenda. Something we have been waiting for a long time for. Kentucky. Are our agents in the Kentucky Senate ready?" Peter Vanderlay nodded as he slowly spoke. "Yes, they are. They have proposed asking to join the Confederation and so far the response has been positive. They will be expected to ask our troops to occupy Kentucky, as a peace keeping force of course, with the full invitation of the Kentucky government. After that, a Declaration of Annexation and Kentucky will become part of the family. And don't worry about the Governor or the State National Guard. The guard has agreed to stand down and the Governor can be dealt with if he refuses to co-operate."

Braddock smiled and sat down. "Deus Vult." With two words he would launch the Annexation of Kentucky. The population there loved the NHCA and mostly supported joining anyway. Within an hour, Confederate troops began marching towards the Kentucky border.
Cleveland, Ohio

"'Deus Vult'."

Regional Commissioner Jeff Gordon's words, echoing those of the so-called New Holy Confederation of America's president, echoed throughout the office that served as the headquarters for the American Lakes Union in the region. The space felt more like a warehouse than anything, vast and largely empty except for the open-air desks and cables scattered about, and a nice cozy reception area in the corner by the front door. The assistants and lower-level officers ducked their heads and continued on with their business, while the higher-ups perked up to listen, taking out their headphones for a moment.
"Deus fucking Vult." Commissioner Gordon was at his wit's end. He had been monitoring the situation in Kentucky for the past few days, mostly through gossip spread by business associates and whatever TV and radio signals they could reach, yet he still could not believe what he was witnessing. "The president of the strongest reverent of the old US is running around down south yelling 'Deus Vult', and somehow this means they get to take over Kentucky? Have they all lost their god damned minds!?"
A senior official spoke up. "We know. Look, it's pretty bad, but Kentucky voted-"
"They voted to dig their own graves," Gordon interjected. "And now all hell has broken loose. The governor of Indiana just called me to say that he was considering suspending civil liberties and mobilizing the national guard in response, Columbus is damn near in revolt—again—and every right-minded soul in Cincinnati is shitting his or her pants and begging for the whole Peacemaker force as reinforcements..."
"The militias in the area are more than sufficient," a security Commandant said. "We already secured important junctions and highway points. It's just a matter of reinforcing some of the surrounding hills."
"They want the bridges detonated," a young aide said nervously.
"What?" Commissioner Gordon barked back, causing him to flinch.
"T-The mayor just called. They want us to detonate the bridges across the Ohio river. Bailey, Spence, Combs-Hehl, all of it. They want to keep the Roebling bridge intact, but they want an armored division to guard it 24/7..."
"Tell them we'll think about it," replied the Commandant casually, causing the aide to start walking away.
"Think about it?" Gordon demanded angrily, causing the aide to shuffle back to listen. "Just think about it?"
"Sir, we don't want to make a hasty call on this one. We would be separating both businesses and loved ones from each other. The Confederates could even potentially view the demolitions as a provocation."
"What about the governor? Can't he veto this decision and mobilize the national guard?"
"That would definitely be seen as a provocation if the decision comes back to us," said the Commandant. "And you would have the governor fighting most of the state of Kentucky, if these polling numbers are to be believed. I would say it's possible, however, especially if they find evidence of fraud or something like that."
"Good. Let's call him to see where his mind is on this." Commissioner Gordon turned to the aide. "Call Detroit, let them know what we are trying to do. After that, call the governor's office in Frankfort. Hopefully he isn't hanging by a streetlight by the time the call goes through..."

A call was made from the ALU regional offices in Cleveland to the governor's office in Kentucky.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Arenado on October 19, 2017, 10:07:54 AM
Frankfort, Kentucky

Governor Kurt Skutner


He was sitting at his desk in the Capital. In front of him were 3 people. Two Confederate 'Peacekeepers' in grey uniforms and his own Lieutenant Governor Seymour Inquart. In front of him was a letter of resignation. The Confederate troops had marched all the way to Frankfort while local crowds more or less cheered as they did. The population of Kentucky were either ecstatic or terrified and Kurt was in the second camp. This was the end. The Confederation would annex Kentucky in less than a week, Independence was over.

He looked to Inquart. "How could you do this, Seymour? How could you betray your people?" Inquart raised an eyebrow. "How could I? How could you, Kurt? How could you oppose the rightful rulers of Kentucky? Oppose the will of the people?" Kurt shook his head. "This is not the will of the people." Inquart chuckled as he walked to the window behind Kurt and opened the blinds.

Confederate troops marched in the street as a light rain fell and large crowds cheered and threw confetti beside them. Certain....undesirables were also in the scene. Hanging by their necks from streetlights, dead. More were being secured and hung, slowly, as the crowd, blind by a mixture of jubilation and fear, cheered as they swung. Priests, Imams, Pastors and Rabbis that had openly criticized the Church of America. The State Legislators, all 13 of them, that had voted against joining the Confederation. Whoever the Confederation had decided were traitors. All tried in a Kangaroo court and hung after a 'trial'. Inquart smiled. "Traitors and Heathens. Savages, barely even human." He looked to Kurt. "Tell me that isn't the will of the people. Tell me that the crowd would not be happy if this wasn't what they wanted. And tell me, Kurt, do you want to join the traitors?" Kurt paled in his seat. He sighed, picked up his pen and signed the Resignation letter. Inquart nodded. "Good boy. You will live. We will let you pack and let you take your car out of here. Got to the ALU, go to Washington, Canada, go to fucking Mars for all I care. Just go and never come back." The two soldiers grabbed Kurt and dragged him out of his office, taking him to his domicile.

Acting Governor Seymour Inquart

Seymour stood, stoic as Kurt was dragged away. Never liked that wishy-washy commie. He sat down in the chair vacated by Kurt and pressed the desk intercom. "Mrs. Marston, please bring in the Declaration." His first order of business was clear. He needed to ratify the request to join the Confederation. The Confederate Diet had already accepted the Invitation but Kurt had initially refused to sign it. No matter. A quick signature and the document was signed.

He was about to say something when he noticed that Mrs Marston was crying. He quickly got up and asked her "Oh, my dear Mrs Marston, what wrong? You should be happy! What's the matter?" Mrs Marston said, through tear stained sobs. "Its...its my hus...husband, sir. He...he's...he's Muslim and I'm afraid...." She was really turning on the waterworks now. Inquart cooed in an attempt to empathize and hugged her. "It's ok, Mrs Marston, it's ok, your husband will be fine. Nothing will happen to him because he's Muslim." Marston looked at Inquart, still sobbing but looking hopeful, as she said "R...Really?" Inquart nodded. "Yes, of course! After all, the Conversion to the Church of America is painless, just a sermon and a quick baptism. And no one judges anyone based on their previous religion. Many members of the Diet were Muslim, heck, I used to be Lutheran before I converted. Its quick and painless, so there is no need to worry about it, your husband will be fine once he converts." Marston's eyes widened as she realized what he meant. Everyone was welcome in the Confederation. Once, and only after, they converted. The message was clear. Convert or get out or.... she looked out the window to the hanging men. The message was very clear. She was brought back from her thoughts by Inquart's voice. "I hope I have assuaged your fears, my dear Mrs Marston. I would hate to lose you as my secretary." She nodded wordlessly and left the office.

Inquart watched her as she left. They would need to watch her. He really hoped, for her families sake, that her husband converted. But on to more pressing matters. He walked out onto the Governor's balcony. Once the crowd saw him and realized what that meant the cheers below got louder. So loud, his first words could barely be heard.

"DEUS VULT!"

Louisville, Kentucky, Border of Indiana and Kentucky, Kentucky border post 17, Clark Memorial Bridge

Sgt Martin Coombs, 7th Confederate Armored Cavalry


Sgt Coombs had been a veteran of the Confederate Army. Not saying much since the Confederate Army had never fought anyone, but still, he'd been in it for a while now. Never had he seen such a place of sin and debasement. Indiana. The American Lakes Union. They really were Heathens. Children of Sodom. The disgust in his gut was palatable. Godless freaks. He could see policemen or soldiers, guys in uniform, on the other side of the bridge. He had been given orders, simple orders really "Turn back all travelers in both directions until further notice. The border is closed." He scowled as he continued to look at the Sodomite on the other side of the bridge. He could not contain himself any longer. He had to say something. He turned to a private beside him. "Give me the bullhorn, Private." The private handed it over, a look of confusion on his face. Coombs went over to the APC he had arrived in and climbed to the top. He looked back towards Indiana. It looked even worse from on high. He could contain himself no longer. He put the bullhorn to his face, turned it on, and began shouting.

"HEATHENS! HERETICS! SODOMITES! REMEMBER ANTIETAM! DEUS VULT! DEUS VULT!"

He lowered the bullhorn, calmer than before. His men and a few civilians nearby began cheering, shouting at the Indianans as well. Coombs smiled.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Ashton Mercer on October 19, 2017, 08:09:51 PM
I thought you would call
Frankfort, Kentucky

Governor Kurt Skutner


He was sitting at his desk in the Capital. In front of him were 3 people. Two Confederate 'Peacekeepers' in grey uniforms and his own Lieutenant Governor Seymour Inquart. In front of him was a letter of resignation. The Confederate troops had marched all the way to Frankfort while local crowds more or less cheered as they did. The population of Kentucky were either ecstatic or terrified and Kurt was in the second camp. This was the end. The Confederation would annex Kentucky in less than a week, Independence was over.

He looked to Inquart. "How could you do this, Seymour? How could you betray your people?" Inquart raised an eyebrow. "How could I? How could you, Kurt? How could you oppose the rightful rulers of Kentucky? Oppose the will of the people?" Kurt shook his head. "This is not the will of the people." Inquart chuckled as he walked to the window behind Kurt and opened the blinds.

Confederate troops marched in the street as a light rain fell and large crowds cheered and threw confetti beside them. Certain....undesirables were also in the scene. Hanging by their necks from streetlights, dead. More were being secured and hung, slowly, as the crowd, blind by a mixture of jubilation and fear, cheered as they swung. Priests, Imams, Pastors and Rabbis that had openly criticized the Church of America. The State Legislators, all 13 of them, that had voted against joining the Confederation. Whoever the Confederation had decided were traitors. All tried in a Kangaroo court and hung after a 'trial'. Inquart smiled. "Traitors and Heathens. Savages, barely even human." He looked to Kurt. "Tell me that isn't the will of the people. Tell me that the crowd would not be happy if this wasn't what they wanted. And tell me, Kurt, do you want to join the traitors?" Kurt paled in his seat. He sighed, picked up his pen and signed the Resignation letter. Inquart nodded. "Good boy. You will live. We will let you pack and let you take your car out of here. Got to the ALU, go to Washington, Canada, go to fucking Mars for all I care. Just go and never come back." The two soldiers grabbed Kurt and dragged him out of his office, taking him to his domicile.

Acting Governor Seymour Inquart

Seymour stood, stoic as Kurt was dragged away. Never liked that wishy-washy commie. He sat down in the chair vacated by Kurt and pressed the desk intercom. "Mrs. Marston, please bring in the Declaration." His first order of business was clear. He needed to ratify the request to join the Confederation. The Confederate Diet had already accepted the Invitation but Kurt had initially refused to sign it. No matter. A quick signature and the document was signed.

He was about to say something when he noticed that Mrs Marston was crying. He quickly got up and asked her "Oh, my dear Mrs Marston, what wrong? You should be happy! What's the matter?" Mrs Marston said, through tear stained sobs. "Its...its my hus...husband, sir. He...he's...he's Muslim and I'm afraid...." She was really turning on the waterworks now. Inquart cooed in an attempt to empathize and hugged her. "It's ok, Mrs Marston, it's ok, your husband will be fine. Nothing will happen to him because he's Muslim." Marston looked at Inquart, still sobbing but looking hopeful, as she said "R...Really?" Inquart nodded. "Yes, of course! After all, the Conversion to the Church of America is painless, just a sermon and a quick baptism. And no one judges anyone based on their previous religion. Many members of the Diet were Muslim, heck, I used to be Lutheran before I converted. Its quick and painless, so there is no need to worry about it, your husband will be fine once he converts." Marston's eyes widened as she realized what he meant. Everyone was welcome in the Confederation. Once, and only after, they converted. The message was clear. Convert or get out or.... she looked out the window to the hanging men. The message was very clear. She was brought back from her thoughts by Inquart's voice. "I hope I have assuaged your fears, my dear Mrs Marston. I would hate to lose you as my secretary." She nodded wordlessly and left the office.

Inquart watched her as she left. They would need to watch her. He really hoped, for her families sake, that her husband converted. But on to more pressing matters. He walked out onto the Governor's balcony. Once the crowd saw him and realized what that meant the cheers below got louder. So loud, his first words could barely be heard.

"DEUS VULT!"

Louisville, Kentucky, Border of Indiana and Kentucky, Kentucky border post 17, Clark Memorial Bridge

Sgt Martin Coombs, 7th Confederate Armored Cavalry


Sgt Coombs had been a veteran of the Confederate Army. Not saying much since the Confederate Army had never fought anyone, but still, he'd been in it for a while now. Never had he seen such a place of sin and debasement. Indiana. The American Lakes Union. They really were Heathens. Children of Sodom. The disgust in his gut was palatable. Godless freaks. He could see policemen or soldiers, guys in uniform, on the other side of the bridge. He had been given orders, simple orders really "Turn back all travelers in both directions until further notice. The border is closed." He scowled as he continued to look at the Sodomite on the other side of the bridge. He could not contain himself any longer. He had to say something. He turned to a private beside him. "Give me the bullhorn, Private." The private handed it over, a look of confusion on his face. Coombs went over to the APC he had arrived in and climbed to the top. He looked back towards Indiana. It looked even worse from on high. He could contain himself no longer. He put the bullhorn to his face, turned it on, and began shouting.

"HEATHENS! HERETICS! SODOMITES! REMEMBER ANTIETAM! DEUS VULT! DEUS VULT!"

He lowered the bullhorn, calmer than before. His men and a few civilians nearby began cheering, shouting at the Indianans as well. Coombs smiled.
Jeffersonville, Indiana, Border of Indiana and Kentucky, Clark Memorial Bridge

The soldiers on the other end were mostly Indiana National Guard, although there were a few Peacemaker consultants there to provide assistance. The border guard became nervous at the shouting on the other side.
“Do we fire a warning shot?” a grunt asked, aiming his rifle in the general direction of Kentucky.
“No,” replied the Captain on the scene. “Hold your fire.”
While the Kentuckians shouted Church of America slogans across the Ohio River, the ING forces stood there silently. There were no cheering civilians on their end: they had been scared off.

When Coombs  began to shout at the Indianans, one of the contractors wordlessly took out a video camera and began to record the Confederates, walking out on the bridge past the protective sandbag barriers to get a better audio capture despite repeated warnings from the soldiers manning the ALU side of the border. He seemed satisfied once Coombs ended his tirade.
“Got a good video there,” he said, handing it to another ALU contractor. “Chicago will want to see this.”
“I’ll upload it as soon as we get back to Watson,” the other contractor said, putting it in his breast pocket.
The two began to walk away from the border post. A soldier began pacing the bridge, brandishing an assault rifle with a grenade attachment.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Arenado on October 21, 2017, 08:50:33 AM
Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Thaddeus Braddock


Thaddeus fiddled with his black tuxedo tie in the crowded ballroom as he ignored the words of the 3 octogenarians lecturing in front of him. He absolutely loathed these bloody events, rubbing shoulders with the rich, conceited and pretentious pricks of the Confederation. Still, a necessary evil, alas, one he could not just foist onto Mendoza. He was busy on an outreach mission in Mexico. Once this business with Kentucky was finished it was onto the Mexican campaign. He was still doing his best to drown out the drones of the almost (but not soon enough) dead when a silky drawl from behind him brought him back to earth.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but could I burrow the President for a while? We have something to discuss." Braddock turned to face the matured and amused face of the Leader of the Confederate Diet, Jennifer Prescott. 'Thank god' he thought as he turned back to the walking tombstones "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but duty calls. Thank you for your time." Braddock walked away, beside Prescott, whispering under his breath, "Thanks, Jenny, five more minutes and I would have invaded the moon just to get them to shut up."

Prescott laughed. "What, the three wise men of Mississippi annoying the President? Or do you tire of unending praise for the 'Kentucky Miracle'?" Braddock shook his head. "Yeah, some miracle. We invaded, booted the governor and installed a pro-Confederate government. Miraculous." Prescott looked at Braddock with a thin smile. "I'd take your victory while you still can, Thaddeus. The Confederacy and even most of Kentucky might welcome our....intervention but the ALU Sodomites and the Canadians have yet to weigh in. Heck, the Federal Remnant in D.C hasn't said a word, either." Now it was Braddock's turn to smile. "Oh please. The Sodomites are to terrified to intervene, the Canadians to far to do anything and the Federal Remnant to weak to care about. No, Kentucky is ours. Plain and simple." Prescott raised her hands in surrender. "I guess that's why you'r the President, Thaddeus. Incidentally, how is your other half? It's been a while since I've seen them."

Braddock looked at Prescott, a bored expression on his face. "What, Silas? Oh, he's fine. Our darling girl, Johanna, got the flu so Silas is home tending to her. We still like the personal touch." Prescott laughed, a hearty and genuine laugh. "I bet he loves your 'personal touch', Thad." Braddock blushed but with a hint of a smile. "You men are so lucky. Never have to carry 13 pounds of extra human being inside you and then have to push then through a whole that is absolutely not big enough. Oh well..." A bell ringing signaled the end of the conversation. "That's for me, Jenny. Lovely chat, we really should do this more often." Jenny nodded and leaned over for a cheek kiss. "Sure thing, Mr President. Maybe reminisce about old times back in Mobile." Braddock chuckled and left to give his speech.

Dietwoman for Alabama's 3rd Parish, Jennifer Dale Prescott

Prescott nursed her champagne as she half-listened to the current speaker introducing Braddock. She liked him, heck, they came up the ranks together, her as a Diet member and him as the Governor of Alabama. This expansionist tone he was taking, however, would need to be tempered. Kentucky would be easy enough to swing. Mexico would be another story, though. And the ALU? They would be a problem. 'Oh well, cross that bridge later.' she thought. Braddock took the podium as the room clapped. Braddock adjusted his mic as he started.

"Kentucky!" Cheering. "Kentucky! Union! Brotherhood! Friendship! Co-operation! And for our Germanic friends, Anschluss!" The cheers became louder....
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Commander_Zemas on October 21, 2017, 03:56:49 PM
In the Middle of the Pacific Ocean between Japan and Hawaii

"Captain Leonty Viktorov, a huge storm is approaching us quickly."

The captain cursed under his breath. They were supposed to be investigating the status of the Pacific Islands. Who knows how off course they will get with this storm.

"Tell the others to bunker down below deck. We will have to brace this storm. You are dismissed."

The sailor saluted and left. Leonty muttered to himself, "This is not what Transamur needed."

~~~~~

Soon, the storm hit and the heavy rain pinged against the ship's metal hull. The ship groaned under pressure of the sea's waves. The captain looked out the window at the dark and furious sky, uttering a quick prayer to God.

Along the Shoreline of Alaska near Anchorage

The Battlecruiser and its complement made it safely past the storm, but it was way off course. The captain was relieved to see land. He addressed the officers on the deck. "Officers, we seem to have been blown way off course from our original destination. We shall moor the anchor here close to the shore and weigh anchor tomorrow, once we get our bearings together."

Later that day, the captain deducted where the ship was moored: near Anchorage, Alaska. The captain cursed, "Shit. We should not be here..."
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on November 03, 2017, 09:56:14 PM
Ottawa - December 25th

Prime Minister Leblanc and several other bureaucrats who weren't particularly interested in spending their Christmas doing a diplomatic visit sat down in meeting room of a once well and reputable hotel, the left side of the table purposely vacant. Canadian, Alaskan and Icelandic news crews and photographers stood in position, as if soldiers in cohesion, waiting for the ALU delegation to make their entrance. After ~5 minutes of waiting, the ALU delegation opened the doors, letting out a burst of camera flashes and "click" noises as they made their way to the table, Leblanc getting up to shake their hands.

Saskatoon - December 25th

Paul Walsh was cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper thrown about by his children. Rolling them all into a ball and throwing them in the dumpster, he left his children content with their new toys as he made his way for the exit. Walsh's family lived in a wealthy estate just outside of the city, virtually untouched by the epidemic. Walsh's children have never gone without want or need, and that he was proud of.

"They're in Corpus Christi? Excellent, remember, keep this on the DL. We don't want bad publicity for working hillbilly ISIS here, ya got me?", Walsh ordered on his Iphone, walking to the door. "And also-"

Walsh fell silent, then ran toward his burning car. He was mad but also scared. How did they go through the gate? How did they avoid the security systems? More questions buzzed through his head as he stood jawdropped, his Mercedes in flames. On the left car door, he can read PIG, and in the adjacent passenger door WE'LL BE BACK - WE'LL FINISH THE JOB. His secretary asked him what was wrong through the good three minutes of silence. "Stacy, uhh, get security over to my house, ASAP?"

Meanwhile in Corpus Christi, a shadowy band of suits walked into an inconspicuous hotel room, the media unaware of their existence. As they entered and made sure to close the door shut, one of them raised their voice - "Hi, I'm Jared Lu, a representative of Cameco. And you must be...?"
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on November 04, 2017, 01:53:26 AM
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

December 23rd, 2032

9:31 PM

Lily and Kate were in a dimly lit basement along with a few other Lesbian women who lived cattered around Saskatoon and its outskirts. This basement was special, as it was one of the few black metal hangouts in the city and more importantly, it was one of the few black metal hangouts without tryhard metalheads going off about Satanism or whatever. That Lily and Kate appreciated. Kate had been in periphery of black metal for a while, getting involved in the local punk scene since she was a teenager and gradually evolving into more underground youth scenes. Lily was a completely new recruit who had barely started listening to black metal for a month. A part of her felt she was forcing herself to like black metal to please her wife, but she did hold an appreciation for stuff like Dark Throne and Mayhem the more she listened to it.

The other people in the basement were all Lesbian and Bisexual women through bizarre coincidence (the owner, Lisa says there used to be a bigger diversity of people, but they all moved away at some point or another). Despite looking like a stereotypical death metal type down to a T, they were all surprisingly lax and personable. Lily was nervous, thinking she needed to at least try to display an image of toughness and edginess, as well as simply having no idea what to talk about to anyone. Sitting in a couch behind a sharpie-drawn pentagram, a 6'6 tall woman sat next to her. Lily was a tad weirded out that a woman could be that tall, but she tried to pretend she didn't notice her until the woman spoke up, "So, do you like video games?"

She was dressed rather modestly for a small black metal club. She was in a plain black dress, black lipstick and long black hair. She looked more fitting for an after school church youth meeting than the black metal scene.

"Um. Sure, I guess. I like RPG games,"

"Ah, me too. There's this uh, Icelandic game out, called um RainQuest, or something like that."

"Oh, I've heard of that, is it any good?"

"Yeah, definitely! I can, like, um, help you through the early levels if you make an account. If you want.

"Cool"

A few minutes of deafening silence followed. Both wanted to continue the conversation, but it was obvious Icelandic RPGs weren't the ticket.

"You make black metal too?", "No" Lily responded. The woman said back "Ah, okay. Well, um, I have a black metal project, that I, uhhh, do. It's on um YouTube. It's called Abyss. um, not to advertise-" "No! that's fine, that's a cool name, actually. I'll check it out. Uh, what's your name?". She told her, "Oh, I'm Nadezhda! What's yours?" - "Lily, it's nice meeting you."

Nadezhda's phone then began ringing.  She looked at who it was and started abruptly speaking Russian in an annoyed tone. Two minutes of presumably angry conversation followed before Nadezhda put the phone down and told Lily "uh, hey. these are my parents, they want me to go home... uh, I'm still 19 and uh they want me to study now, like, I'm in college", Nadezhda stuttered a bit before Lily reassured her that she understood. Nadezhda sighed as she walked out of the dark basement, Lily again alone. She felt uncomfortable in this place. It didn't feel like her. It felt unnatural.

Later at home, before resigning to her fate in the factory the next day, Lily looked into "Abyss" on YouTube. After trudging through unrelated bands, she finally found what looked to be Nadezhda's "Abyss" - It was a channel with a whopping 58 subscribers, her videos rarely penetrating the ~150 views range. Humble beginnings, she guessed. She sifted through the 6 songs uploaded, apparently part of her "debut" album and picked what sounded to be the most interesting, the first song, called "Weeping in the steppe".  Lily was actually unsettled (and impressed) upon hearing it, aggressive bass and guitars unaccompanied by any drums or even melody for that matter with high pitched, agonizing screeching being emitted out of a low quality microphone. She couldn't even venture a guess as to what the lyrics were about, though a sizable portion of the vocals was just flat out screaming. She actually was starting to think Nadezhda was pretty cool, even though she was a full five years Lily's junior.

Quote
Lily Carson
Pretty tight. Kinda reminds me of Burzum's earlier music. Would love to hear more.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Gabriel Artut on November 04, 2017, 11:24:17 AM
Bucharest,Romania
Palace of the Parliament
December 23rd, 2032

11:24 am

Andrei was getting ready in his small room inside the student's dormitories near the Mill's Lake. It was a cold morning, but the People's Rally was scheduled to start at 12:00 am sharp. Attendance was highly advised. He was still half asleep from the small party yesterday, thrown with home-made brandy, sent from his parents. He was feeling a little bit uncomfortable with the thought of braving the cold weather outside whilst it was so warm in his room, but, at least no school for today. Dressed with decently thick, old clothing, he exits his room and locks. The long hallway was covered in ripped posters. One could read offers for food, clothing, jobs all in red yellow and blue. He could hear cheering as he made his way, a bit hungover to the stairs. He exits the building and a strong and cold wind hits him hard. Yellow colors adorned the large snow buildups on the sides of the road. He heads towards Constitution Plaza.

11:53

Andrei reaches the crowd, which stretches a long way form the Constitution Plaza. Romanian flags, some with a cut out middle circle, others of the new rendition of the Protectorate. The chanting was certainly mixed, but most just enjoyed a social meeting with friends. Finally he finds his friends in a nearby Plaza, perched up on the stone part of a raised steel fence. "Rise and shine sleepy head.", "You are almost late.", "Better use a weaker drink next time." they greet Andrew. The speech was about to start, but the people didn't seem to care, they just talked everywhere, making a loud buzzing noise of voices and laughter.

The speakers around the streets made a buzzing noise of booting up and the crowd kinda stopped talking. On a large balcony facing the Constitutional Plaza from well atop the Palace of the Parliament, the Lord Protector Gavril came into sight. Dressed in a black long coat wearing a stylish hat of the same color he aproached the microphone. "Good day my fellow Romanians... Today, we have gathered here... To announce the official beginning of a new era... The Senate elected by you! ... the People! ... have approved... a new Constitution... for The Protectorate... of Romania... ensuring rights... and civil liberties... of all the people... we have endured unrest... hard times of scarcity... but no more! ... Soon... new products shall flow into the country... better jobs will be established... " the more dissenting part of the crowd, situated right in the center was chanting " NEVER! AGAIN! ANOTHER! CEAUSESCU! " making the Lord Protector a little uneasy, but making reply with the same tone, this was to be expected. " I understand your concern... I respect your opinions of me... but I am no Dictator... I am your Lord Protector... I shall provide you with food... with water... with security... and safety... I shall give you back... your happiness! ... that was... and is... my vow to you!".

The crowd cheered over the protestor's chanting, and military-police was already on the edges of the crowd with heavy duty gear ready, standing in the alleys, out of sight. They got orders to standby.

The Lord Protector Gavril, returned inside. The large room with a high roof was filled of high officials applauding Gavril, and sipping from expensive looking champagne. Madeline, his wife, came to him holding two glasses with liquor. " Good work dear! The PR department shall receive some praise for successfully predicting that." she says dressed in a pretty dress. "Thank you honey." Gavril replies, looking a bit worn out. He takes off his hat and coat, giving it to a waiter. " Where are those two rascal?" he inquires about the kids. He takes a glass from Madeline and tastes it. " Lord! They are running around the halls, the guards are trying to catch them! Lord!" a guard reports. Gavril gives out a hearty laugh. "Tell the guard captain, if he catches them, he can have a good ol' bottle of brandy, but if the kids manage to elude him for another 15 minutes, they shall be left alone. Any damage shall be paid by him."

Outside, the crowd has begun dispersing. But the protesters remained. The military-police forces moved up and encircled the mob with their APCs and started forming a line. The Commander uses a speaker, " This Protest was not registered with any governmental entity, thus it is illegal. Prosecution shall be carried out if you don't leave the premise!". About two third of the protesters quickly ran out through the barricades without resistance. After 10 minutes, the remaining protesters were showered with high powered water jets, and promptly arrested.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Justinian Ezkantion on November 05, 2017, 04:36:59 PM
Konstantiniyye, Neo-Byzantine Imperium
Beylerbeyi Palace
December 26th, 2032
10:00 AM
The Convocation of the Imperial Senators and Deputies officially opened precisely as the clocks rang their chimes, but almost everyone had gotten there at least an hour before. Mehmet had been placed on the Committee of Resource Attainment, but he found that was ever more being seen as the Committee on invading lands that just so happened to be full of Orthodox Slavs. This Convocation was just another gathering of the Imperial elite to mingle and coordinate, and Mehmet wanted to mingle with some very particular people-The Nicaean Exarchs. The Exarchs themselves wouldn't be present, but their representatives surely would. The more rural margraves hadn't often gotten along with their cousins on the water. They were still all Turks, however, and he knew he could put that to his advantage.
Osman, Mayor of Hendek, was just one of these representatives. He was short, slight man with wisps of hair stuck to an otherwise bald, light head. His glasses always seemed much to thick, no matter how many times he changed them, and his chin was almost non-existent, prompting a failed attempt at a beard which made everyone at these gatherings snicker.
"Osman!", the jovial Mehmet exclaimed, "It's good to see you, friend! How has Exarch Mustafa been doing, eh?"
"A-ah, yes, err...Mahmud? I've been alright, though it seems my liege lord is having me work my fingers to the bone sending letters and petitioning his Majesty about those infernal raiders."
Raiders?, Mehmet was practically giddy, though he'd have to hide it. It made him plain forget that Osman had mistaken his name. Raiders would mean a threat, and a threat would mean a pre-emptive strike. But first, he needed to know more.
"Raiders? Nobody told me about this, and I know all the goings on of the court..."
"Yes, well..." Osman began, but started to get nervous, and hesitated to speak
"Ah, Osman, you've already started! Spit it out!"
"W-well, I was informed by the court several times that my letters had been recieved, but...well, I have my doubts, yes?"
"You believe someone has not been relaying this information to the Emperor?"
"It would seem that way. In all my years dealing with his father he never simply stated he had received a message without further clarification. He always had his courtiers reply explaining the decision."
"While I must state that his Majesty is not his father, I can see no reason why there would not be an further explanation. Perhaps you would like me to petition him? I have a strong position at court, and as a brother Turk I have a personal duty to see your people, nay, our people are not neglected by their sovereign."
"Well, that would be wonderful, milord! But I'm not sure if the Exarch would entirely approve..."
"How about I make this better for you, eh? What if I made sure that officially it was you who petitioned the court, and you get the credit when it all works out."
"You've got a deal!" The old man shook Mehmet's excitedly, and handed him the documents necessary to articulate the position that the outskirts of Anatolia were in. Electronic messages and paper letters had been sent before, but all had never reached the court itself. The bureaucracy was full of scoundrels looking out for themselves, so the petition had to be a personal one. As the convocation came to a close about an hour after beginning, the bells rang again and all the attendees went off to their business with plots in formation and schemes coming to fruition.


Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Arenado on November 06, 2017, 01:51:11 AM
Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

Secretary of State Peter Vanderlay


Peter stood as the Cameco representatives entered the room. To his left was Undersecretary for Department of Energy, Nuclear Affairs Office Thomas Delacourt and to Peter's right was Undersecretary for Department of Commerce, International Trade Office Sofia Wilde. He extended his hand as they took their seats.

'Hello and welcome to Texas, Mr Lu, may God's light shine on you. I'm the Secretary of State Peter Vanderlay. This is Undersecretary Thomas Delacourt and this is Undersecretary Sofia Wilde." he gestured to his left and right. Then the door behind him opened and a middle aged, well-dressed man entered. All 3 Secretary's stood up as Peter spoke. "Good afternoon, sir." He gestured towards Jared Lu. "This is Jared Lu from Cameco. Mr Lu, this is the President of the Confederation Thaddeus Braddock."
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Cinciri on November 06, 2017, 03:06:09 AM
Volgograd City, Volga Federation

Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

Before him stood several members of the newly formed Volga Federation's Ministry of Allocation, designed to decide where it would be best to distribute resources to the public. While it was not his place to speak, he still wished he could say something to silence their obnoxious squabbling. Each minister came from a different region, and each wanted the most for their region. Ignoring them, and leaving to another room, he began to continue planning for his grand ideals. Though annoying, the ministers had a point. If the Federation was to succeed, they would need more land, and more importantly, land available for growing crops. To get such land, he would need to flex the Volga's military muscle a little bit to deal with the raiders in such lands, but it was possible. He had the power to simply command it, but he still wanted the people's support. They should not follow based on fear, yet. He would make a rallying call, try to bring others to his side, perhaps a show of strength and a speech? Tsabrov chuckled to himself, what was that ancient American phrase? "There is no school, like the old school". Walking to his office, he began writing the letters he would need to amass such a display in such a short time.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Gabriel Artut on November 06, 2017, 08:15:53 PM
27th of December, 2032

Bucharest, Romania

Palace of the Parliament

Gavril was sitting in his large office, looking out the window at the snow covered garden and smoking a cigar. As he puffs away he remembers about face of the guard captain when the children won the small "challenge" giggling silently between smoke puffs. He thinks to himself " Finally, things are becoming as before, now it remains to see if the ol' supreme council remains... ". As he was looking longly at the white sky through golden framed windows, his secretary comes in knocking. " Lord Protector, I just received the last of the status report from the municipalities and I got a personal letter for you ". Gavril extinguishes his cigar in the marble ashtray and signals the secretary to bring the reports.

Lake Mill, Bucharest

Student Dormitories

Andrei had just gotten home from another tiring day of work. He tosses his backpack and coat and crashes in the bed. The heavenly feeling was something he has been waiting for all morning. He almost falls asleep when snowballs hit his window. He gets up regretfully and looks out the window as anther volley just hits the glass. His friends were trying to get his attention with some urgency in their face. Andrei opens the window and yells " Is it that important? " , " YES " yell his friends. " Fine, gather the snow " Andrei responds and goes to get his coat on and boots on. Coming back to the window, his friends had gathered a large pile of snow below his 3 third floor room. Andrei gets on the window, makes the sign of the cross and makes the leap of faith. He falls like a damp sack. His friend hurry to pick him up. " Come on let's go! Cristina just got the message from her father. We are to meet under the bridge." his friends fill him up with the details. They get to the bridge over Dambovita river and descend on a ladder then walk on a steel platform and enter through a steel door embedded below the bridge. The group enters in small mansized tunnel and follow it until they reach another steel door. Andrei moves to the front and beats 3 times then says the password " We request entry in the sacred mountain ". The door opens and they are greeted by a armed man in military uniform. The group is led through small corridors until they enter this large hall filled with people.

Somewhere underground

Gavril was walking with his 4 bodyguards flanking him on all sides through small corridors. They arrive in a great hall full of people. A man dressed in a fancy suit walks up to him. " Welcome Lord Protector, we were just about to begin. " the fancy man greets him. " I came right after I got the message. Funny how I just thinking about the order. " Gavril explains himself. " The Lord works in mysterious ways my good sir. Now come, we shalt have a election. " the fancy man continues.

Andrei and his friends were discussing about how school was, complaining more or less. They weren't the only initiates at the meeting, but it was crowded and the older men around them didn't look in a good mood, so they stayed put. The fancy man walks in middle of the crowd and gathers everyone's attention asking them to be quiet. He then continues " My fellows, brothers and sisters, with the old grandmaster's death at the hand of the Plague, our order has been without a leader during the recent crisis. It was thanks to Brother Gavril that the country remained whole and order was reestablished. " , " Thank you brother, I only did what I was taught to. " Gavril comments. " Yes indeed, but with no other suitable candidate, I would like to nominate Brother Gavril to become the new Grandmaster! ". A silence fell on room, followed by whispering. Others came forth and nominated others, but to no avail. In a few hours of shouting and raising hands, Gavril was declared the new Grandmaster of the Order. It was almost evening. Gavril declared the meeting finished as it drew out too long. Everyone returned to their lifes.

Lake Mill, Bucharest

Student Dormitories

Andrei and his friends were just getting back. Everyone went their way. Andrei just climbed the last stair when he saw Cristina waiting at his door down the corridor. He walked awkwardly towards her. " Hello Cristina, didn't catch you at the meeting, what brings you here? " Andrei greets her. Cristina jumps on him and hugs him tight. " I heard you jumped out the window. You fool! " she pushes him and slaps him a good one. Andrei tries to explain that he was in a hurry but to no avail. " So, want to come in? Its a bit cold. " he tries to be polite. " Of course, I got the brandy ready. " . They get to a wild night with more jumping out the window, one time naked, going around the city doing some unremembered stuff, but anyway, forgetting about the school next morning, thing which they will come to regret nevertheless.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Justinian Ezkantion on November 06, 2017, 11:41:49 PM
Konstantiniyye, Neo-Byzantine Imperium
Royal Palace (Dolmabahçe Palace)
December 26th, 2032
1:00 PM
Milo had finished lunch when the court was called back into session for the afternoon. The first order of business was the petition from Senator Mehmet Akat. For some reason he'd decided to present his case directly to the Emperor rather than relaying the message to the court so it could be brought to the attention of the right authorities. Milo personally found it a bit improper. The Senate ought to be the ones debating action and then bringing it to his Majesty, not the other way around. Using the Emperor's jurisdiction as the supreme judicial authority to introduce legislation for debate instead of putting it through committee seemed as dirty as could be, but since he was ostensibly acting as representative for Osman of Hendek it was allowed.
"Damned politicking", Milo muttered under his breath as he made his way to the Chamber of the Judiciate. The Palace was certainly a big place, and even the drollest of courtiers couldn't forget that. The decision to move the court from the old, stuffy Topkapi Palace and the cramped "restored" Byzantine Villas was likely the one thing Milo appreciated being actively better in the reign of the new, youthful Emperor over that of his high-minded father.
As the court adjourned, Milo took his place as the 23rd from the Emperor on the right, a prestigious position to be sure, and watched as the Senator walked in.
Mr. Akat was a fat man, practically waddling his way into the room with a handkerchief ever pressed against his brow. A mess of papers inside a worn briefcase were all that would tell you he wasn't merely there to raid the pantry. A short little bow was conducted to keep properness before the recitation of his petition began.

"On behalf of Osman, Mayor of Hendek and Mustafa, Lord of Nicaea I have come to you today with upmost urgency. The borders of our great dominion have been repeated assaulted by brigands who every day enslave the commoners, destroy the sources of our revenues, and make off with moneys bound for the Imperial Treasury. Repeatedly we have asked for aid against these vile beasts, yet consistently we have been turned away from the doors of power, unable to seek redress for our grievances. Thus we implore his Majesty, the Great Sovereign of Byzantion and the Dardanelles, to take into his own hands what the bureaucracy could not, and make use of the Imperial Army to once and for all eliminate the threats to our borders."

Hushed whispers fell across the room. No one had been informed of the attacks on the border, after all. Was this merely a trick by the Turkish interests? Or was it active obstruction by the Orthodox? All fell quiet as the Chancellor whispered to his Majesty, prompting him to speak,
"Senator, I appreciate your initiative in seeking within the royal court the justice that could not be found by my servants, regardless of how irregular or uncouth it may have seemed to your peers. However, this is a matter for my Senators, and not myself. Thus I must abide by the limitations of the agreement your people created in forming this Imperium with my father. Know, however, that I will personally endorse any legislative action you propose to the Senate to prompt a deployment of troops to the area to quell this uprising against our laws and the affront against my citizens this represents."
The Emperor then left the podium and left the room with his Chancellor following closely behind. A polite applause was conducted by all the courtiers, but Milo noticed that Mehmed was clapping a little slower than the rest...
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Gabriel Artut on November 07, 2017, 10:24:30 PM
Bucharest, Romania

Palace of the Parliament

28th of December, 2032
[/b]

Gavril and the Minister of Foreign Affairs were discussing about the following foreign policy for the next years over a few glasses of whiskey. " Congrats brother!" the minister opened the discussion. "Thank you, I hear you were influencial during the debates, for that I am grateful. Been a while since a good old meeting took place." Gavril continued, sipping half of his whiskey glass. " Of course. Now what should we do with this world stage?", " Well we must show strenght. Our Council is also independent, so greater flexibility for us. Let us write some letter to see if we can make some allies. Of course, we shall have it grand.", " A conference my Lord? Well that sounds certainly interesting. I guess the Palace could easily acomodate them. Shall we simply try and built good relationships? " says the Minister a bit caught of guard. Those are many letters." Yes get to it. " Gavril says as he gets up and heads towards the gold framed windows, opening his cigar box.


In a few hours time, all the powers around the globe receive a message, or an invitation.

Quote from: Invitation to the first conference of Bucharest


I hope this invitation finds you in favorable times and its read by the offcial head of state of the receiving nation.

If you are receiving this, you have been invitated to the be apart of the International Conferance of Bucharest, the ICB.

The aim of the Conferance is to promote diplomacy and peaceful relationships between nations to speed up the rebuilding of our scarred world.

Romania has decided to share its fertile lands by establishing a Global Food Market, the details of which will be discussed at the meeting.

All participants are advised to send their most trusted and closest representatives.

The Conferance shall be taking place over the duration of a week with all expenses paid by the Protectorate.

The Conferance shall begin on the New Year's Eve

We await your arrival by any transport means. 
 
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Justinian Ezkantion on November 10, 2017, 10:27:38 PM
Konstantiniyye, Neo-Byzantine Imperium
Imperial Palace of Law (Old Kuleli Military High School)
December 29th, 2032
3:00 PM
The progress toward creating a meaningful resolution from the royal assent had been bogged down by hostile interests and bureaucratic meddling from the start, but thanks to the Emperor's lip service Mehmed was able to attract enough support to have the legal clerk of the Palace of Law write a bill that could be introduced to the floor of the next convention of the Imperial Senate after the holiday break. It was during this stressful running back and forth between the Palace of Law and the Palace of Justice that the letter from the Romanians arrived.

Apparently they were finally opening up the country, and doing so under the guise of a conference for establishing a global market for food staples. At last an opportunity, Mehmed felt god himself was smiling on his work with the revelation. The Orthodox war hawks were the ones most hurt by this, and their grandiose plans of invading Romania were shattered into a million pieces, at least for now. However, that also meant they would likely stop at nothing to sabotage the conference so Romania wouldn't gain international recognition, and perhaps they might even try to mingle with the Volga Russians to get a joint invasion. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Mehmed quickly donned his jacket and headed out into the pouring rain to catch a ferry to the Offices of the Diplomatic Corps. A phone call wouldn't suffice, he needed to deal with this himself.

When he finally arrived and came through the doors, he immediately set toward the office of his close friend Giorgios Popodopoulis, to whom the task of appointing representatives to the Conference (which the Imperium would certainly attend) would undoubtably fall, considering his expertise in dealing with all things of the northern border. A quick conversation and a recommendation was all it took to get a man on the inside, and without any danger of his rivals in the Office of Domestic Security wiretapping his conversation thanks to doing it himself. With any hope, the man he chose would do exactly as Mehmed hoped. If not, god help the Imperium.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Cinciri on November 12, 2017, 06:45:15 PM
Quote from: Invitation to the first conference of Bucharest

I hope this invitation finds you in favorable times and its read by the offcial head of state of the receiving nation.

If you are receiving this, you have been invitated to the be apart of the International Conferance of Bucharest, the ICB.

The aim of the Conferance is to promote diplomacy and peaceful relationships between nations to speed up the rebuilding of our scarred world.

Romania has decided to share its fertile lands by establishing a Global Food Market, the details of which will be discussed at the meeting.

All participants are advised to send their most trusted and closest representatives.

The Conferance shall be taking place over the duration of a week with all expenses paid by the Protectorate.

The Conferance shall begin on the New Year's Eve

We await your arrival by any transport means. 


Volgograd City, Marshal Tsabrov's Office.
Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

Tsabrov pondered this heartily. On one hand, at least pretending to make allies can be beneficial, but should they attempt to harm his military policies he could be held accountable by the world. From what little intel he has recieved, he was one of the few nations with specific military inferstructure as a dedicated place for funds. Perhaps he could push for the belief of conquest however, and twist this to his advantage. Grinning to himself, he pushed the buzzer on his desk.
"Katya? Yes, please send for Yuri Abakumov, I have a job for him."
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Gabriel Artut on November 13, 2017, 04:37:24 PM

Bucharest, Romania
Palace of the Parliament
29th of December, 2032

The Lord Protector's office was like a war's HQ, dignitaries coming and going, regular shouting of information and loads of bottles of water scattered all around. It as very crowded environment. The big roomed seemed so smalled and filled with smoke. Gavril was at the center of it all, directing his messengers to send orders around the country. The logistics of the ICB weren't meager. They would have it as glamourous as possible. Schools were being drafted to partake in the welcoming, honor guards were being selected from the local military officers, the best of chefs were being gathered from all around Romania. Literally trucks of food were coming into the city to stock up the Palace's kitchens, dancing contests were taking place to select performers.

In the garden, overlooked by the Lord Protector's office, Madeline was walking with well dressed men in black suits and their wifes in winter dresses. " My husband is quite busy, I do believe you can see the small smoky windows of his office from here." she jokes. " Don't worry, its a big occasion for the order as well, after all, we have to assume all other branches are dead. " a man named Petru says with a calm, soothing, deep voice. He was a quite aged, around 50-ish, but nobody knew for sure. " I hear your son is almost a fully fledged member as well " the other man makes small talk." Ah yes. Andrei will partake in the initiations soon enough. He still has University to deal with. But I will make sure he won't squander the name of Reişa."


Somewhere near Bucharest, Romania
Countryside road

Andrei and Cristina were leaving after a weekend of fun in a countryside manor, hosted by one of the their more wealthy friends. They were traveling in Cristina's dad's car. " Can't wait to get home and wash my hair. I still can't believe he puked on me. " Cristina says rubbing her hair. " You washed it already with water and soap, but this is another proof of the superiority of Romanian dishes, you can't take out the smell" Andrei playfully teases her. " You bastard " she says punching him. It was late evening on a dirt road. They pass a old Pickup Truck that starts its engine and begins to trail them. "That's odd, were they waiting for us?" Cristina wonders. Andrei looks in the mirror and his face suddenly drops. It was a common robbery technique and he knew it. " Cristina... do you know if there is a gun in your dad's car? " Andrei asks nervously. Cristina then realized their situation and her heart stood still. " I... think...." she says with a shaky voice. Andrei starts searching under his seat and near the gear stick without saying a word. Cristina picks up on this and start searching too. She opens the small front compartment, quickly scrambles through some papers then looks at the back seats then at Andrei with a frightened look. Andrei looks at Cristina with a worrisome face. " Buckle up." he softly says. Cristina fastens her seatbelt and the Andrei steps on the gas. The engine roars and they speed off. The car behind them follows suit. Their car was a city car and the suspensions were sure showing it. Andrei looks in the mirror trying to catch a glimpse at the identification number of the car, but he only sees the cracked windshield and broken left light of the dirty white pickup truck. Their car hits a large hole in the road and Andrei losses control of the car. It hits the moat besides the road and flips it upside down. He wakes up around the middle of the night with a strong headache as a car was honking at the wreck. It was the others from the party. He barely looks around, just to see that Cristina is missing from the car and his valuables are gone.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Ashton Mercer on November 18, 2017, 08:35:56 AM
Ottawa - December 25th

Prime Minister Leblanc and several other bureaucrats who weren't particularly interested in spending their Christmas doing a diplomatic visit sat down in meeting room of a once well and reputable hotel, the left side of the table purposely vacant. Canadian, Alaskan and Icelandic news crews and photographers stood in position, as if soldiers in cohesion, waiting for the ALU delegation to make their entrance. After ~5 minutes of waiting, the ALU delegation opened the doors, letting out a burst of camera flashes and "click" noises as they made their way to the table, Leblanc getting up to shake their hands.
Dr. Ethan Reider and his entourage entered the room quietly, greeting the Canadians and engaging in the bare minimum amount of small talk. They were under immense pressure from the ALU to get a good deal out of this. The food shipments to Canada would flow regardless, as part of “humanitarian aid”, but the Union needed a quid-pro-quo, especially where electricity was concerned. Dr. Reider, an economist by trade, believed he had a fairly simple solution, and as such began the conversation so that he could propose it.
“I suppose the first order of business would be the food aid shipments,” he began. “I already worked out a deal I think you all would like, if you want to hear it.”
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Violet on November 21, 2017, 03:04:36 AM
Ottawa - December 25th

Prime Minister Leblanc and several other bureaucrats who weren't particularly interested in spending their Christmas doing a diplomatic visit sat down in meeting room of a once well and reputable hotel, the left side of the table purposely vacant. Canadian, Alaskan and Icelandic news crews and photographers stood in position, as if soldiers in cohesion, waiting for the ALU delegation to make their entrance. After ~5 minutes of waiting, the ALU delegation opened the doors, letting out a burst of camera flashes and "click" noises as they made their way to the table, Leblanc getting up to shake their hands.
Dr. Ethan Reider and his entourage entered the room quietly, greeting the Canadians and engaging in the bare minimum amount of small talk. They were under immense pressure from the ALU to get a good deal out of this. The food shipments to Canada would flow regardless, as part of “humanitarian aid”, but the Union needed a quid-pro-quo, especially where electricity was concerned. Dr. Reider, an economist by trade, believed he had a fairly simple solution, and as such began the conversation so that he could propose it.
“I suppose the first order of business would be the food aid shipments,” he began. “I already worked out a deal I think you all would like, if you want to hear it.”
Leblanc responded back "Then we'd like to hear it."
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Justinian Ezkantion on December 07, 2017, 02:08:50 AM
Black Sea, approx. 30 miles from Bulgarian coast
December 30th, 2032
7:00 AM
Niko thought he would be sick...again.
The damned boat he had been given the misfortune of boarding was leaky, rocky, and altogether unpleasant. He'd seen ferries across the bosphorus with more in the way of insulating you from the sea. His job, however, and its importance prevented him from jumping into the cold water by just a tiny fraction. He was the only appointment that the true patriots of the Imperium had managed to have placed on the diplomatic team. His job was to evaluate the Romanians and what their relations might be with the Orthodox Nationalist faction he had found himself a part of. More important than that, however, was his semi-official role, the one that even his Turkophile coworkers knew about- assessing the threat that the Volgograd state stood to the Empire. In the minds of his employers they could either be a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy, and it was entirely up to him to find that out, or rather to decide it...no pressure. They would be arriving in Tomis soon enough, just another thing they would inevitably talk about. The Romanians would no doubt bring up Dobruja and how the Imperium had rather conveniently annexed it during the chaos of the past years while failing to establish any kind of official relationship with the Romanians they'd taken it from. That would be a job for the Turkophiles, though, and so Niko took a deep breath, relaxed, and pulled out a smoke. It would be a long way to Bucharest.
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Cinciri on December 07, 2017, 08:17:01 PM
Badlands Between Romania
Yuri Abakumov, in the belly of a BTR-90

"We are almost at the border tovarisch ambassador" The driver explained.
"Thank you" The man responded. It had been a long journey. Now wanting to simply fly in, Marshal Tsabrov wanted to show a pinch of strength, by sending the ambassador in an APC. Luckily Abakumov was no stranger to this vehicle, having served in one before. The only problem was the relative length of the journey, even at one point encountering bandits in the neutral zones. Of course they had weapons on board, it was an APC, but it was a bump in the schedule. When they got to the border, they disassembled the weapon, less the entrance be seen as an act of war, and entered the country.
"Just a few more hours to Bucharest tovarisch." The driver once again announced, and with a nod of his head Abakumov laid his head back, for some rest until they arrived.

((OOC: Assume that they arrived by next post))
Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Gabriel Artut on December 09, 2017, 10:11:11 PM
Bucharest, Romania
Boulevard Victoria

5:43 PM

After entering Romanian lands, the BTR-90 was assigned a escort of 4 military trucks. After a some hours of driving they enter Bucharest. Hundreds of cars were pulled to the side to make way for the convoy, which eventually stopped in front of the Palace of the Parliament. A small group of guards and a man dressed in a suit were waiting.

The convoy stopped and awaited the northern delegation to get out of the APC.

" Welcome to Romania, I trust your journey has been easy. I am Ioan Legari, a diplomat. Now, if you may, follow me to the main hall." the man greeted the delegation.

Making some small talk, they proceeded inside a large hall with a tall roof with chandeliers hanging from it, marble floors and stone walls decked with golden arches. Decorated tables were located to the left  ,the right and the middle back of the room. Romanian officials were already seated at the middle tables.

 The Delegation was led to the left of the room and seated at decorated tables filled with appetizers. Ioan was assigned with them, along with a few butlers.

The BTR-90 was parked in the middle of the main parking lot of the Palace.

6:32 PM

The train with the Byzantine Delegation finally arrived. A few military luxury cars were awaiting for them. Led by guards they boarded the car and headed towards the Palace of the Parliament. They arrived in a few minutes.

A small groups of guards and a man dessed in a suit was waiting for them in the main parking lot. The cars drove around the BTR and stopped in front of the entrance.

" Welcome, I trust your journey has been uneventful. I am Mircea Racovita, a diplomat here. Now, if you'll follow me." the man greeted them and led them into the main hall.

The Byzantine delegation was seated in the right of the hall, with the same arrangements as the Northern delegation, with Mircea assigned to them.

7:00 PM

A group of Romania middle-school students quickly gathered in the middle of the room wearing traditional Black-and-White clothing. They split up in 2 groups and go to greet the two delegations bearing baskets with small flowers and beautiful grain and spices.

After regathering in the middle, they sang the Romanian national anthem and then promptly retreated to the back of the room.


The room hushed as the Lord Protector himself went to the middle.

" Welcome to the first and hopefully not last... edition of the International Conference of Bucharest. It shall officially begin after the New Year's Eve. So for now, let us make acquaintances, eat and drink for this day and the next. I hereby invite the two delegations to meet me here, in the center to present ourselves." he said cheerfully.

Title: Post-Catastrophe RP IC
Post by: Cinciri on December 10, 2017, 12:27:33 AM
Yuri Abakumov was thoroughly enjoying the festivities, as were his armed bodyguards compatriots. When he heard the call from the supposed leader of this nation, he walked over swiftly, intending to make a good first impression on the Lord Protector.

"Hello sir, it is an honor to meet you." He said with a grin, offering a hand for a handshake.