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Post by Ventica on Sept 20, 2021 4:28:11 GMT
Rain
Outside the administrative palace in Altasena, it was raining. Of course, rain was a common sight in the city - its humid climate and position on the coast would make sure of that - but, this time, the rain felt different - at least to the old, rugged man looking outside through one of the building's tall windows. Sensing the door behind him opening, he placed his glass of wine on a nearby desk and spoke.
"Colonel Melchiorre, do you have a status update to provide me with?"
"Yes, General Armani. It appears that our forces trapped within southern Council territory have recently suffered a notable defeat; Colonel Silvio has drawn part of his defensive perimeter back to the Afzo-Aztanni valley, but believes he may have to retreat further if not reinforced soon, Sir." the Colonel said, despair beginning to swell in his voice.
The two stood silently in the room for nearly a minute, the sounds of both rain and the crackling fireplace providing the only audible noise, before the Colonel cried out in a human show of desperation.
"I just... I just can't believe what will come of him! I know he's a good man, I've served alongside him for many years in the past, but now? What will those communists do to him? You know as well as I do that they're not kind to their political enemies; our forces especially being met with particular hostility by them. I, well, shudder at the thought of his death, but I'm not sure..."
Melchiorre's voice trailed off as Armani turned around to look at him; placing one of his worn hands on the distraught colonel's shoulder.
"Calm yourself, Melchiorre. We - I included - all have a duty to perform to ensure that the heroes of the fatherland do not meet their untimely and un-necessary demises, and Silvio certainly counts as one of such heroes. While he may die in glorious combat one day, know that I will do my best to prevent his death at the hands of the reds in that unenviable pocket of his."
"Thank you, my general, for your words of confidence," the colonel responded, "if you would need for me to assist your efforts in Silvio's rescue, then I am ready to devote my life to such a cause."
A few minutes after Melchiorre had left the room, Armani thought on another sip of wine as he once again stared out at the rainy sky before him.
Once he finished his drink, he knew he would have many calls to make throughout the rest of the night.
A Military, Resolute
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Post by Ventica on Sept 23, 2021 1:42:04 GMT
Four Banners
As always, Lucilla thought, it was a busy day in the Council's governmental palace. Even before reaching the main hall of leadership, she could hear the noisy dealings and speeches within the large chamber; the building had been built under immense financial and time constraints as a result of the war situation, and, as such, it was not equipped with soundproofing, proper temperature control systems, or many of the other features of modern construction. As she once again felt the sweat of both stress and heat form along her arms and legs, she could only hope that this ramshackle construction was replaced after a People's victory.
Finally reaching and opening the door to where the Council had been gathered, she took a moment to take in the sight in front of her before continuing to her superior. Four, highly influential factions representing different aspects of civilian political will had gathered here to participate in debate and the occurrences of government, however chaotic and sometimes violent the whole process could be seen to be at times - Natale Vergipecci's "Anarchici" sat on the far left, Salvo Engleno's "Moderati" sat in the centre left, Elettra Endellia's "Tradizionalisti" sat in the centre right, and finally Antonio Rossi's "Nuovi Socialisti" sat on the far right. Engleno himself - the current head of the Council - stood in the middle of the room on a grand wooden stage, large red banners hung behind him.
"Comrades!" the Moderati's head cried out, quickly quieting the anxious Council members present, "I stand in front of you here today not as a ruler or dictator, but as an equal; a leader of the people! Millions live content under our prosperous leadership, and many score more each day go to sleep wishing to thrive as such! However, our control over Ventica - or even just our current portion of it - is far from stable or secure. Bandits belonging to the wrathful military-men or to the hated fascists attack our loved communities each day, talk of counter-revolutionary rebellion seeping with the despised colour of reaction is heard in the streets, and, though we have access to a plentiful reserve of willing, patriotic men and women, we still lack a industrial base of significant size from which to construct more tools and weapons to further our causes! That is, then, why I say: no more! No more of this useless bickering that only serves to divide our people and further the cause of the Enemy! We must come together as one - not four - to secure the people's revolution! Avanti, compagni!"
Though Engleno's speech was certainly filled with purpose and spirit, Lucilla noted that, other than the man's loyal Moderati, the response from the representatives of the other gathered factions was subdued.
Good, she noted to herself, sitting down next to Vergipecci and handing him her compiled list of viable targets of whose names could plainly be seen as belonging to the Anarchici's political opposition.
It only meant that, when the time came, the true revolution could proceed that much smoother.
A People, Divided
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Post by Ventica on Sept 25, 2021 16:57:43 GMT
Reprieve
The skies over Rhobria were quiet.
Of course, they weren't always this way. The Democratic Front's fighters often fought the Directorate's own aircraft above the strategic city - home to one of the major Ventican naval ports and built atop a resource-rich patch of land - but today, the skies were, for the first time in months, clear.
Democracy - Ermete thought, while walking towards his office - it is a noble thing, a beautiful sort of societal tradition that lets the people decide the future of their land. Nationalist dictatorships, where the rule of one is law, militarist oligarchies, headed by a corrupt few, and even communist movements, in which the peoples' will is corrupted to suit the Party's interests, couldn't compare to the level of liberty and choice that democratic regimes offered. Even now, despite the frequent attacks by enemy forces, the Front's civilians enjoyed the highest personal freedom and number of guaranteed rights of any warring faction in the country.
And, entering the building in front of him, Ermete told himself once again that he would do his best to keep it that way.
"Sir!", his assistant suddenly cried out, with a surprising look of joy on her face. Jessica was usually more solemn than she was now; a result of reading and reporting upon the many saddening tales from the front lines. What could she be so excited about now?
After telling her to continue, the assistant laughed. "You will not believe this! Our secret mission to destroy the Militarist airbase across the river worked! Not only have the Directorate's aerial capabilities above Rhobria been massively reduced, we were able to steal several airplanes from the site for our own use!"
Oh, so that was why the skies had been quiet, Ermete realized. Though he was greatly pleased at hearing the news - which self-respecting member of the Front's administration wouldn't - he was surprised. He hadn't seriously expected the mission to succeed; the soldiers sent to attack the base had apparently been, according to gathered intelligence, under-equipped and under-manned. How had they been able to win, then?
Though he wished to look into the matter, the rare moment of joy present on Jessica's face told him that it perhaps wouldn't be the best idea to inquire about such confusing things currently.
A Democracy, Resilient
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Post by Jesia on Sept 25, 2021 19:43:14 GMT
Reprieve
The skies over Rhobria were quiet. Of course, they weren't always this way. The Democratic Front's fighters often fought the Directorate's own aircraft above the strategic city - home to one of the major Ventican naval ports and built atop a resource-rich patch of land - but today, the skies were, for the first time in months, clear. Democracy - Ermete thought, while walking towards his office - it is a noble thing, a beautiful sort of societal tradition that lets the people decide the future of their land. Nationalist dictatorships, where the rule of one is law, militarist oligarchies, headed by a corrupt few, and even communist movements, in which the peoples' will is corrupted to suit the Party's interests, couldn't compare to the level of liberty and choice that democratic regimes offered. Even now, despite the frequent attacks by enemy forces, the Front's civilians enjoyed the highest personal freedom and number of guaranteed rights of any warring faction in the country. And, entering the building in front of him, Ermete told himself once again that he would do his best to keep it that way. "Sir!", his assistant suddenly cried out, with a surprising look of joy on her face. Jessica was usually more solemn than she was now; a result of reading and reporting upon the many saddening tales from the front lines. What could she be so excited about now? After telling her to continue, the assistant laughed. "You will not believe this! Our secret mission to destroy the Militarist airbase across the river worked! Not only have the Directorate's aerial capabilities above Rhobria been massively reduced, we were able to steal several airplanes from the site for our own use!" Oh, so that was why the skies had been quiet, Ermete realized. Though he was greatly pleased at hearing the news - which self-respecting member of the Front's administration wouldn't - he was surprised. He hadn't seriously expected the mission to succeed; the soldiers sent to attack the base had apparently been, according to gathered intelligence, under-equipped and under-manned. How had they been able to win, then? Though he wished to look into the matter, the rare moment of joy present on Jessica's face told him that it perhaps wouldn't be the best idea to inquire about such confusing things currently.
A Democracy, Resilient OOC: Jessica???
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Post by Jesia on Sept 25, 2021 23:15:24 GMT
00:49 Ventica Airspace Altasena - Ventica A military transport aircraft, accompanied by two Zero Jets fly over the clouds, high above the current capital of the Junta. Several crewmen begin preparing several massive drops, as the back of the plane opens. A crewman gives a thumbs up, as the drops are moved out of the plane. Massive crates fall from the sky, down to the capital
Filled with guns and explosives, a few with IFVs, they descend down. Is this aid? Or is this another way to sow more chaos into the region?
On it is a note,
"From your friends, the Rising Sun Empire of Jesia. Do not waste this gift. Do not speak of us as well. More will come if you succeed."
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Post by Ventica on Sept 28, 2021 23:03:04 GMT
Tension
Vincente Algochiro looked at the images spread across his desk, then looked up to his Minister of Intelligence, Celso, scratching at his beard in thought. His hair-covered chin tended to itch the more he was stressed, and today it was close to bleeding.
"...and you say these reports are accurate, minister?" he asked in a questioning, mildly threatening voice.
"Yes, sir!" Celso quickly belted out, before transitioning into a more standard tone of speech; "while not confirmed, the new weapons many of the Directorate's soldiers in the southern pocket have been using as of late do appear to fit Jesian specifications, and, according to a report made by one of our agents in Altasena, foreign military planes had recently flown over the city; dropping weapons and vehicles as they went by. It is easy to reason, then, that such planes were from the Jesian state, and, accordingly, that the Empire has now chosen to back the military's faction in this war of ours."
"Quite unfortunate, really" Vincente responded, scratching his chin once again, "with that empire's sense of national pride, I would have suspected them to be sympathetic to our cause, if they were to get involved here in Ventica at all. If they chose to support Armani's faction, then..." the man trailed off, lost in thought, a stern look upon his face.
"Duce...?" the intelligence minister questioned, careful not to invoke Vincente's wrath.
"...yes, yes." the dictator replied; seemingly largely unaware of Celso's inquiry; "for now, have the administration send some sort of strongly-worded letter to the Jesian state; we can deal with them further once this war has concluded. As for the reinforced enemy forces to the south... how entrenched are they, to your knowledge?"
Celso thought for a second, then responded; "though I'm sure the Minister of War would know more about such a matter, I believe they have reinforced their positions quite significantly in recent weeks; made stronger by the Jesians' aid. We do have air superiority over the peninsula currently, however."
"If that is indeed the case, tell Aerial Command to begin dropping those... "special weapons" they and the Ministry of Science have been developing as of late on both Directorate and Democratic forces in the region. According to my calculations, they should have developed a few bombing runs' worth of the stuff by now, and it would be pleasing to have them tested in the field of battle in addition to the laboratories they've already largely been developed in. Furthermore, inform them that, for these "tests", the possibility of excessive enemy military casualties should not factor into their operation plans if it would lead to an advantage for our forces."
With a nod from the minister and a subsequent nod and wave of the hand from Vincente, the duce was left once again in the quiet of his office as Celso left the room to carry out his orders.
Taking his hand away from his bearded chin, he noted that it was now covered in blood, and, with little more than a shrug at this occurring, took out a handkerchief to clean up this imperfection upon his otherwise well-groomed appearance.
A Ruler, Blemished
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Post by Jesia on Sept 28, 2021 23:39:44 GMT
00:34 Ventica Seaport Quaste - Ventica
A large cargo-ship docks at a local port, at the dead of night. Following the cargo-ship is a smaller passenger boat. A security guard wakes from his post to inspect the commotion "Hey! What are you all doing? Business doesn't start until four!" A man wearing a trench coat approaches the security guard
"What do you think you're doing-"
"Tomodachi ni hikiageru yo ni ui..." "I don't understand you" The Jesian hands the security guard a note
The crew of the large cargo-ship leave and board the smaller passenger boat, same with the cloaked man They leave, leaving the massive cargo-ship behind. The security guard boards the ship to inspect whats inside...
"To the nationalists.... we apologize for what to you may seem like a betrayal, however we have a deal for you. We have gifted you these chemical weapons for two purposes, one for solidarity for an honorable front like yourselves, secondly, we ask you a favor. These chemical weapons are brand new, and need to be tested. Right now we have no one to test them on, but you do. Attack the Orchid faction to the north first, then the Junta. We will be watching of course, to see how these weapons do in the battlefield. You should follow these instructions, unless you want more of your enemies to receive even more aid from us"
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Post by Ventica on Oct 1, 2021 3:26:18 GMT
Judas
The man sat up, newly awakened from his sleep. Looking down around himself, he could see that he lay in a shallow tub of murky white water, and that he was completely nude.
What had happened? Closing his eyes and thinking, he realized that he couldn't remember how he had ended up in this situation. Nor could he remember other vital details about himself... his age, his wife, his children...
...his name...
...wait, what was his name? Who even was he, he thought, shaking his head. He wanted to stand up, though, unexplainably, the liquid he was laying in seemed to constrict him when he attempted to move his lower body too much.
It then hit him. His one remaining memory flooded into his head, though not particularly in a coherent or orderly process. Death, it entailed; hazy visions of dead children at his feet, with their caretaker's intestines sprawled out across them, all in a traumatically gory, grandiose display of carnage. As it flowed in further, he only wanted it to end; gripping his head as the madness progressed. Why had this imagery decided to stay in his head, when he couldn't even remember his own name? Why did he have to behold this? Why?
Tears began to flow from his face as a soft womanly hand touched his shoulder. Looking up, he could see but a beautiful maiden's face in front of him, her image a, to him, god-sent respite from his agony.
"Hello, Iscariot, I am Evena", the woman softly said, comforting the man as she handed him a white cloak to wear. It had a peculiar image of a similarly white flower on its back, though he couldn't seem to place what type of flower it was...
"Iscariot... is that my name?" he asked in mired reply and confusion.
"Yes. I, along with many other of your disciples, have been waiting patiently for your awakening. You are to become our holy saint, and deliver us from the pains of our current existence. Do you... accept your duty?"
As he once again stared into the beautiful woman's face, the man now named Iscariot could do nothing but answer "yes", as further - now-happy - tears ran down his face.
A Man, Awakened
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Post by Ventica on Oct 3, 2021 1:24:17 GMT
Rescue
Melchiorre heard gunfire ring out around him as he landed in the ruins of what used to be a mining village. Quickly disposing of his parachute, he signaled his men - each landing in quick succession after him - to head to a nearby house, one of the few left in the settlement with a defensible exterior.
Taking a head-count of his section on the way to the building, he noted that there had been three casualties on the way down, with another soldier having received a minor gunshot wound. Two other sections had landed earlier to reinforce this operation, and, though they had surely received their share of casualties, themselves, he figured that he still had enough men under his command to succeed in this mission.
"Silvio's Pocket", as it had been referred to as, had all but collapsed. While new weapons and ammunition were being shipped out en masse to units all across the Directorate's core stretch of territory, this pocket - having been surrounded and slowly eaten away at for weeks by fervent Nuovi Socialisti formations fighting for the leftist Council - had been deprived of such reinforcement, and now all that was effectively left of it proper was here, holed up in this long-abandoned village within a stretch of Ventican highland. His task, then, was to take these three elite paratrooper sections, locate Colonel Silvio and as many of his remaining men as possible, and then hold out until an aerial transport formation came to bring them to safety. Though the situation was dire, he had figured himself and his soldiers able enough to carry it out successfully.
...or, more accurately, that they would need to be able enough to carry it out successfully.
Though he was now on equal ranking to the veteran colonel, Melchiorre still considered Silvio his superior in all but name. Wizened from many years of experience, the man was considered to be one of the most knowledge and tactical figures left in the Ventican military, which Melchiorre, having served alongside him for around a decade, could corroborate. Though it could look like having been a disastrous situation from start to finish by an uninformed outsider, the fact that this pocket of his was falling apart only now was proof of his competency in the art of warfare - having been cut off from most outside support, outmanned, and underequipped nearly from the beginning of the Council's revolt in the war, most observers, even those within the military itself, had considered his position a lost one; one that was doomed to a quick defeat by the hands of the enemy. However, unlike what perhaps a lesser man would have done, he had held on for as long as possible, inflicting scores more casualties to Council forces than what have may been the case otherwise. Silvio, Melchiorre thought, was truly an admirable man, perhaps one of the finest heroes of Ventica as a whole...
Upon reaching the reinforcement point and meeting up with his two other sections - they had lost four and six men, respectively - he hurriedly turned on his communications radio and began urgently sending out messages towards where Silvio's current position was believed to be. Though the wait for a response message was surprisingly long, distressing Melchiorre ever further each minute he didn't receive a reply back, soon enough, he heard the words he had been waiting for;
"Libellula Force, this is Serpente Force, reporting in. Colonel Silvio hears you loud and clear."
True men do not waver under fire.
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Post by Jesia on Oct 3, 2021 3:15:18 GMT
06:53 Ventica Airspace Tedline - Ventica"MAYDAY! MAYDAY! ENGINES ARE OFFLINE. MAYDAY WE REPEAT-" Suddenly the pilot is shot
The air formation of 10 military cargo aircraft is under attack from rouge soldiers. An unaffected plane is contacted by a seized plane "What are you doing you bastards!?!" a solider cries out "Long live the Emperor! Long live Jesia! You pigdogs are aiding the foreign devils!" a rouge solider says "You fools! We are aiding their demise!" "You are making them stronger!
The rouge aircraft crashes into the unaffected one, bringing both down. Inside each plane, the sound of guns firing can be barely heard. Inside one of the airplanes, a rogue solider digs into one of the cargo crates, finding a weird looking bomb. The solider activates it and runs to the enemy. "Long live the Emperor! BANZAI!" The bomb goes off, but an explosion doesn't happen, but a wave. It was an EMP bomb.
All of the remaining cargo aircraft fall from the sky. The light of the sun shine upon them.
The men falling from the sky accept their fate. Lord Akira shines upon them today.
As for the cargo, it will find itself in the hands of a few very lucky people.....
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Post by Ventica on Oct 5, 2021 1:41:49 GMT
The Fault of Choice
Salvo Engleno hurriedly paced around the office room, only sparing a brief moment from time to time to look at a stray document or place a manila folder back into its storage shelf. He was clearly filled with much anxiety as of present, though neither he nor his perplexed aide standing nearby really quite knew why that was the case. Was it the uncertainty surrounding the on-going meetings with the Anacodian government? Could it be lingering worries about the war situation? Thinking for a moment, he came to the conclusion that neither was the case; the first was too far away for it to be worth stressing too much about currently - it's not like he could do much now to change the results of it, after all - while the second was a matter that, to him, shouldn't be worth fretting an unreasonable amount over presently, either; the collapse of the once-fearsome "Silvio's Pocket" in the south and the recent... unorthodoxly sent shipment of Jesian equipment had given a well-deserved boost in both firepower and overall morale to the Council's military forces.
What could it be, then?
At last, he came to an answer; suddenly stopping in his tracks as he did so. Momentarily surprised, and with the slightest bit of confusion present in his voice, the aide gave off a small question.
"Erm... Mr. Engleno, sir, did you come to an answer regarding your... present musings?"
"Indeed I have!" Salvo replied, briskly walking over to the assistant before putting one hand on his shoulder. Though he was slightly smaller and thinner in build than the aide, the Council head's sudden approach did put a look of surprise on the man's face. "Politics! It's the Council's political tensions, my good sir!", he continued, "With all the talk about, well, the implementation of proper democratic and representative processes and what have you as of late, I suppose I have correspondingly gotten worried about one related matter or another as a result."
"...do you not like such discussions, sir?" the aide questioningly responded.
"Oh, heavens, of course I like, well, at least the general gist of what is talked about during those sessions of debate and political conversation, but have you seen who we're up against? Anarchists with no sense of or appreciated for a unifying government, authoritarian neo-monarchists likely made up of the same sorts of bourgeoisie and upper-class pseudo-nobility who we once overthrew, and nationalism-minded fools no better than Algochiro's terrible band of bandits! What if they were ever able to come out on top in an election or Council vote? What do you think they might turn this country into?"
After hearing this spiel, Engleno's assistant took a moment to process it before replying. "What do you suppose you... well, we of the "Moderati" do about such a sort of trouble, then?"
"That is... a good question. What should we do, indeed..." he answered.
Politicians are never untroubled men.
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Post by Ventica on Oct 7, 2021 21:18:15 GMT
New Arrivals
Jessica took another sip of her coffee, newspaper in hand. This café, even throughout the conflict, had remained one of Rhobria's best; seemingly able to import any sort of foreign coffee or tea for its brewers' uses. Of course, this indicated to anybody familiar with the store that it likely had seedy underworld connections, but the nourishing, hearty taste in her mouth convinced her that perhaps dealing with any illegal contracts this establishment may be a beneficiary of could be put off for the time being...
...turning an ear to the sounds around her, though, she realized that tea and coffee wasn't likely the only thing that was smuggled into the café. What were those noises, those light metallic clinks noticeable from time to time, even through the ambient chatter of the customers? Weapons? Laying her newspaper and coffee mug to the side, she got up and unassumedly made her way to what seemed to be the source of the strange noises - a storage room door in the back corner of the dining area. Quietly getting closer and peering through the small crack between the door and the wall - the door itself was entirely made of a solid, dark-coloured wood - what she saw greatly surprised her. The shop's manager himself was speaking with what appeared to be Jesian soldiers of a sort; though they didn't have the emblematic Jesian Imperial Seal on their uniforms, instead sporting some sort of logo with a shuriken and wings, their asiatic complexion and strongly accented form of speech outed them as, at least likely, not having come from Ventica. As Jessica leaned closer and began to hear what the people in the room were speaking about, the manager opened the lid of a large wooden crate - revealing a large supply of weapons - leading her to let out a gasp in surprise.
"...so, boys, in exchange for all these weapons and a large sum of that one politician's cash that we spoke earlier about, you'll agree to fight alongside my daughter's brigade's regiment in her upcoming offensive against those White Orchid cultists to the north... making sure to specifically save her life if the situation calls for it?"
The Jesians nodded amongst themselves while providing the man a show of reaffirmation. While, to the manager, their expressions seemed to be convincing enough, Jessica - having spent time observing many a political deal and bargain - realized they weren't being entirely truthful. They were likely to turn tail and avoid direct conflict once the battle in question had actually begun, she thought, especially if they had already been provided payment. Mercenaries, particularly from a country such as Jesia whose culture and acts encouraged - if not outright incentivized - distrust and underhanded scheming, were often that way.
Taking both a deep breath and a step back from her position, she quickly came to the conclusion that she would have to report this to her superiors, even if only to prevent increased secretive foreign meddling in Ventican internal affairs - a highly possible threat to the democratic ideal the Front valued. Unfortunately for her, however, the sudden sound of her heel clacking against the wooden floor - and the light creaking noise that followed - was enough to alert the soldiers within the room of her presence.
As they briskly, yet entirely confidently, moved to neutralize her, only then did Jessica realize that she may have just made one of the gravest mistakes of her life.
There are customers they serve, and customers they service.
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Post by Jesia on Oct 7, 2021 22:21:39 GMT
15 years ago...
In a classroom, multiple children sat on the floor while a projector light up behind them
A film played
The Rising Sun of Jesia animated onto the screen, and the words under it said "Long live the Emperor!" All the children said in unison "Long Live the Emperor!"
A melody played, a poem for schoolchildren
"We are the Imperial Force and whoever disobeys us Are the foes forsaken by the Heaven and the Earth. The head of the enemy, a legendary hero Compared to none throughout history. All the soldiers who follow him Are the fearless warriors prepared to die. Although their courage rivals the fiercest god Whoever rebel against the Imperials. Those the heavens do not tolerate, None of them have prospered through all ages. Until our enemies fall, Go forth, go forth, all together! Unsheathing your swords glistening like a gem, Go forth, resolved to die!"
The music and rhythm continued, while a young child smiled, looking at the movie Soldiers marched, the Emperor's Palace shined like a bright light, the flag of Jesia waved. The soldiers shot foreigners with horns and fangs "Gou! Foreigners look evil!" another child whispered "Yes!" Gou replied "If I caught one, I would kill him for the Emperor!" The film then shouted "Tenno Heika Banzai!" All the children yelled "Tenno Heika Banzai!"
Gou spent 4 years of his life as a mercenary for the Miyagawa corporation, before that he was a solider in the Jesian military. He was short on cash after a while, so he decided to use his skills to use. He was never trying to be the best, he just did what was necessary. He was currently in Ventica, whatever this place was. All the foreigners were the same. They were all evil yet weak. Cowards who show no honor, nor do they acknowledge the superiority of the Emperor. This was his first campaign outside of Jesia. He and his squad made it to Rhobria, headquarters of the Ventican Democratic Front. Democracy, who needs democracy when you have the Emperor? He and his squad were securing a contract with a foreigner about protecting his daughter in an upcoming offensive. He was a fool however, paying first. Baka. However, they heard something behind a wooden door. The clicks of heels can be heard.
"Oi! Who's there!?" said one of the mercenaries They opened the door to reveal that no one is there. Gou looked more carefully however, as he saw a woman quickly leaving the cafe, wearing heels.... "I'll be back" said Gou, as he left the cafe to chase after her The woman, even though she couldn't run, paced down the busy street. The Jesian mercenary hid behind the crowd, waiting to see where she went
Jessica went into an alley, looking behind her. Good, she escaped them. She could catch her breath. Suddenly, one of the mercenaries appeared behind her She let out a gasp, "Look i'm sorry! I didn't understand a thin-" "You. You spy on Jesian correct?" the mercenary replied in her language "N-No..." "Who you work for?"
"Ermete! He's part of the government" "Democracy government?" "Yes.. I mean hai..."
The Jesian looked at her "I not hurt you, you not enemy. If you were, I kill. But not. Only mercenary. I am not enemy. Just worker. I am part of PIPI. I work with you. You not trouble. Stay out of way though. Be smarter too baka..."
The mercenary started walking out of the alleyway "What is your name?" Jessica asked "Gou... Gou Satoshi..." "Jessica Cavaliere... try not to... run away with the money they paid you." Gou looked back "Jesian always do what he told. We honorable. We not scam like cowards. Not Jesian way."
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Post by Ventica on Oct 10, 2021 19:32:04 GMT
Degradation
Celso Bianchi grimaced as he beheld the decaying landscape before him.
Directorate soldiers' corpses - or what was left of them, at least - littered the landscape, their skin melted and faces twisted into eerie expressions. Dying trees and withered earth surrounded the minister's reconnaissance party, and the skeletons of many a small animal could be seen littered about. Celso momentarily turned his face away from the scenes of decay to catch a break from it all; what made it even worse to him was that it hadn't been a natural disaster or some eldritch occurrence that had led to this mockery of the natural world - it had been the Nationalists' very own acts that were responsible. While the chemical bombing runs were certainly effective in having torn the enemies' defensive lines to ribbons, was it really worth employing them if these were the scenes brought on by their deployment?
He turned to the other O.V.N. minister that had accompanied him on this trip; the Minister of War, Zuann Trasontin. He, too, from what Celso could tell, had a look of distinct worry upon his face.
"Is this all... really worth it?", the Minister of Intelligence asked, "must we really use these horrific weapons against our foes in such a manner? Won't this only lead to the further destruction of the country we all love so dearly, so passionately, the one we all rose up for so long ago in order to save?"
Zuann took a minute to quietly reflect before responding.
"Mr. Bianchi, your hesitancies are both understandable and... likely, in all honesty, at least fairly true reflections of reality. This landscape we behold currently is a terrible reality; a testament to war's incapability in a given short term to do anything but destroy. However, wouldn't it be worse still to let the entire country be ravaged and torn apart by those with no proper sense and respect for Ventican culture, history, and tradition? Nature can be regrown, men can be replaced with a newborn generation, yet societally corrupting or otherwise morally black ideals may last for multiple generations without dying out... and this!" he said, now stretching his arms out if as to take in all around him, "This is what is required to end such undesired things before they spread; before they eat away at the sensibilities of a new generation. Am I wrong?"
Celso looked away, an expression of sadness forming on his face. "Yes, I suppose you are right... Mr. Trasontin", he soon replied.
What purpose is chaos spread for?
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Post by Ventica on Oct 13, 2021 17:54:15 GMT
Resolution of a Saint
The man known as Iscariot looked out at the crowd gathered before him. It was a foggy Montertici day - though most days were like that here, he thought - and, while he couldn't see everyone that had come, he could certainly hear them; their cries of joy, their excited shouts, their frenetic chanting of his name...
What had he done to deserve this undying worship of theirs they bestowed unto him? To Iscariot, he hadn't earned this; to him, he was just a man that had woken up in a shallow, mysterious pool one day with horrific visions of an unclear past or future. Did such a person really deserve to be praised, to be invoked, to be thought of as a nigh-demigod of a figure?
"Why?" he questioned to himself once again. These sorts of questions repeatedly formed inside his head; constantly leading him to ponder about the circumstances of his apparent rebirth and rise to a state of idolic worship. Why had that woman known as Evena brought him to this position of power, this status he now possessed as head of a mystic cult? Was she really even known as Evena to others or to her parents... did she have deeper, more untrustworthy motivations, or did she simply wish to give this group of people somebody to rally around in their time of strife and need? These queries circled around further and further within his mind, and, in front of the gathered mass, he placed one hand on the table in front of him and one hand on his forehead, as if to brace himself from a nauseatic feeling.
"Be steady, prophet", a familiar, calming voice from behind Iscariot whispered to him. Walking up further to stand beside him, the woman, beautiful as ever, continued to speak softly, in a manner that meant she could be heard only by him and him alone. "I have led these once-struggling masses of Ventica thus far, transforming them from a morally tortured people without a proper cause to a fully-fledged righteous force who progress our divine cause with all-righteous strength and will. Now, as this new day dawns, you must take your place as our saint... as our savior, even, and further lead your faithful disciples to victory. After all-" she said, getting even closer to his ear- "if you are unable to bring forth salvation, must God himself then be forced to perform such an act?"
Wistfully shaking his head and taking in one last smile of reassurance from Evena, that most devoted... disciple of his, Iscariot once again turned towards the gathered crowd; their cries of worship and joy coming back tenfold as he did so.
If they were this dedicated to the holy cause that had been formed in his name, then he knew that, regardless of the consequences, he could not let them down.
"And hitherto the priest has ruled! ‐‐ He has determined the meaning of "true" and "not true"!"
-Friedrich Nietzsche
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