New World UnionBoard

The Day of Hail Height; September 25th ;)

Vlandla wrote:

Vlandla is cool everyone should give it money!

No I don't think I will

Xotrayjan wrote:

It's June 3rd

Maybe he was in a freezer when it was September 25th.

As the campaign for Delegate or President has officially launched, we face FNU as he mounts a campaign to regain the chair he had 90 days ago.

We will not go silently. With Saint continuing as my VP following agreement 🤝 on Discord, we plan to continue much of our policies that stalled out due to the period of irl activity.

Question, do you allow alien races in the space RP?

Unified Empiricus wrote:

Yes

Do you mind if they are taken from other pieces of media?

Unified Empiricus wrote:

no

Nice

Priboj, the Adriatic Union. Some 100 men lie doggo on the forest's edge, looking towards the isolated hangar and airstrip, the main transport base of the Kraljev Monopol. A group of five men had been sent ahead to sabotage any equipment in the hangar. Two loud detonations sound from the large hangar, accompanied by a propeller flying overhead, nearly decapitating a poor lieutenant. As the small expeditionary team of men trickled from the now smoke-filled hangar, a stream of men could be seen emerging from a nearby cabin, all of them members of the gang. Silently ordering the laying men to stand up, the group on the forest’s edge slowly rose and shouldered their rifles. Waiting for the gang members to turn to each other in a great blob of confusion, a single shot rings out, followed by 99 more. Bodies drop, screams and groans of pain filling the silent air.

As some of the men went to check which gang members were already dead, and which were worthwhile to treat for later questioning, a group of six headed for the burnt out hangar. In the dark and ash covered interior, the corpses of two bombers could be clearly seen; museum pieces by modern standards, but perfect for what the Kraljev Monopol did. One of the men, a lieutenant, turned on his flashlight, looking around the floor in search of something. Stopping dead in his tracks, he squats down and grabs a small metal handle on the floor which he yanks upwards, revealing a mostly untouched basement. Waving at the rest of the group, they descend the staircase to be presented with a view that could only ever be imagined: crate after crate of Sanguine, wall to wall, floor to ceiling. There had to at least be some thirty million dollars worth of the injectable, if not more.

Leaving the basement and walking back towards the empty airstrip, the group rejoins the majority of the attack force. Tonight was a successful operation. The military had made its position clear, that being a lack of fondness for the drug dealers. Nailed to the corrugated metal door frame of the hangar was a message, if not a declaration of war. “Keep your green sh*t out of Adriatic blood vessels, sell it elsewhere, because if we have to wipe you out like rats, we won’t hesitate.”

_{This post was made for two reasons, one of which was because I figured it was fun, and also to calm the nerves of a certain person. The Adriatic Coast isn’t perfect, but we’re not going to have a rampant drug problem. Not anymore.}

Alright, with political season being here and Unovia already having sent his declaration of war, here's my shortlist for the Reclamation Party.

Something something title

The invasion of Algeria was going well with most of the coast under the control of the Imperial Army however Algiers was still holding on. But today marked the final offensive in Algeria though with that in mind three divisions of troops continued east and right into Tunisia.
In Algiers though as the sun rose into the skies above the continuous Iberian artillery ended and mechanized forces began to move towards the inner city, helicopters taking to the air as well.

In the main camp Prince Ciel stood with his hands behind is back looking at an engineer take a white sheet off of a new armour.
the engineer, a scientist from the Ministry of War, Altar de Cerda smiled as he revealed the sleek silvery-white power armour. the Suit itself was specially crafted for the prince and has the appearance of plate armour, folded wings under a cape on the back.
"Behold your highness! Your new armour! Similar to the armour of the Golden Wings but with far superior protection and abilities.. a pretty penny really, only so many will have armour such as this. gravity manipulation, wings and brilliant protection. Shielding able to protect from sith weapons and heavy firepower. consider yourself practically invulnerable."

Ciel seemed pleased, stepping forward he began to have the engineer help him put the armour on. Inside it he was a foot taller than usual and with its silvery-white chestplate gleaming in the sun.. he looked divine.
Wings then began to raise from his back as the blue light of the jetpack covered the ground.
"Yes.. this will do.", Ciel said as a soldier walked over, handing him his sword and a glistening war hammer with designs etched into it, a spike atop of it. sticking the sword into his scabbard he held his hammer as his primary weapon as he picked up a rife from a nearby table.
With rifle and hammer in hand he ascended into the skies, as did hundreds of other troops behind him though their armour as gold as their wings..

With the Golden Wings joining the fight several SAM sites were targeted, as were several other locations, including key officers in the defense of the city. Perhaps this strategy wouldn't of been effective for the beginning of the conflict or even with more advanced nations.. but as a killing blow, the actions of the Golden Wings were seen as a morale boost for the Iberians. After the attacks by the Golden Wings the attacks by the main force were just a clean up.. by the end of the day there was a ceasefire signed.. then finally a surrender. The situation in Tunisia wasn't any different with troops already being in the outskirts of Tunis. In the night artillery struck the city, as did cruise missiles from sea and land. etc etc

However as things were coming to a close in Africa things were just starting to heat up in Europe. Last month there was only 100,000 troops located on the border with the French but since then that number has been downgraded to 500,000 troops, many being from the Solar Colonies of the Empire, amongst them being non-humans. With 500,000 troops and thousands of other vehicles, it was clear what was soon coming.. or was it a misguided attempt at defense?

Invitation

An invitation has been extended to the leadership of France Saint indopeland to visit Pedralbes Palace in Barcelona to meet with the Marshal, Count Francisco Serrano, Marshal Sebastian Vargas and his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Radigis. The meeting would concern relations between the two nations and their future on the European continent.

Saint indopeland wrote:

Presidential Palace, Paris

"President! News from our southern neighbours!"

Lapointe sighed and took the Manila envelope from his assistant, and lay it on his desk. He already knew of the thousands of soldiers mounting in the Pyrenees, and was already preparing the army for action. However, as he slotted his finger under the seal of the envelope and slid it open, the message on the inside caught him entirely by surprise.

"They... they're inviting me to... have a diplomatic meeting?"

He re-read the letter twice, three times, unable to detect even the smallest amount of threat in the short note. In any other circumstance, it would have been a message of peace and collaboration - but these few sentences hit entirely differently. A few minutes later, a dumbfounded Lapointe got up from his desk.

"Fetch me a vehicle. We will leave to the train station immediately."

~~~

A few hours later, Barcelona

President Lapointe and his entourage stepped off the private train into the grand city of Barcelona. A mishmash of modern and historic buildings sprawled across all parts of his vision, as the midday sun blasted heat and light to the streets below. A car pulled up - the President's designated transport. Lapointe opened the door of the sleek black vehicle and sat down as it pulled away to the Pedralbes Palace.

As the French exited the station overhead several Helicopters passed with troops sitting on the ends of it, holding rifles while looking down at everything as they passed, moving north. On the ground however, it was just as busy with civilians moving about as soldiers patrolled the streets or were out on free time, noticable by their green uniforms and helmets.. though the amount of non-humans amongst the troops were noticable with many having ears that protruded from their helmets.

When the vehicle pulled up a guard exited and opened the back door for the delegation. The vehicle then was joined by MRAPs as escorts. Eventually they arrived at the palace and were shown inside by the Imperial Guard and finally into a room where the two marshals, de Serrano and Vargas were waiting.
"Mr. President Count Francisco de Serrano greeted the French president and gestured for him to sit.
Serrano wore a green uniform with several medals, a black mustache on his face along with a cigar firmly in mouth.
Vargas however said nothing but had grey streaked hair and a peaked cap. There was silence, the Emperor wasn't there.. not yet.

"Dónde está nuestro emperador?", Vargas looked to Serrano.
"Su Majestad está en la biblioteca la última vez que revisé. probablemente leyendo a Hegel de nuevo.".
Moments two men entered. The man that entered first was.. well different, he was black and wore a white uniform compared to all the green. His hair and beard black with streaks of grey. This man being Rodrigo de Aguila, one of the Emperor's right hands.
"Ah, Mr. President! Welcome, welcome!", he'd exclaim before sitting down himself, crossing his legs.
"You know, I have to admire you.. your ability to ignore an entire army on your border is something to witness", he'd chuckle.

The second man was non other than the Emperor wearing royal regalia and a chest plate with several medals hanging from it, a laurel wreath also sitting on his head. Unlike the rest he stood, his gloved hand resting on a nearby globe.
"In fact that's why I didn't believe you'd come here. The president of France himself.", he'd say before a smirk came upon his face before quickly disappearing, he walked towards the Frenchman before speaking again.
"Yes, I invited you here to talk of our existence on this continent, our relations... and well.. I want only one thing from you.", he'd say before pausing.

"Your surrender."

Sylvania Clans wrote:

When the liaison made it to the Capital the Noble Clans where in council to finalize and draw up plans for the coming military campaign into Iran. Save for the world map everything was out of view when the liaison was allowed into the council chamber. "Liaison to the Raja Commonwealth led by Prince Mountbatten," the chamber speaker announced as the person was let in. From the high raised U shape stands raised those seated a few meters above those on the floor with the speaker.

"We welcome you on this auspicious night please speak and be heard, why have you come to this place of discussion and council," Varken said the words a practiced rehearsal for the words of welcoming a visitor to the council chamber.

For good reason, relations between the Indian Federation and the Sylvanian Clans had been cold as of late and what little diplomatic exchanges had existed between them were usually just as frosty. However, the Indian Federation was in the process of reestablishing itself and a new diplomatic reputation along with it, thus taking inspiration from the Diplomatic Service of its mother country, Britannia. In walked a new face in the Indian diplomatic corps, who throughout his so-far brief visit to his country's neighbour, had been cordial and respectful, as should be expected of any diplomat. He walked in, bowed his head from the neck and clutched a folder of documents with the word "classified" on them, though it was in Hindi script.

"Your excellency," he began, speaking to Varken. "My name is Gopal Nandi, I represent His Majesty's Government of the Indian Federation, though more specifically I am here at the behest of His Royal Highness Prince Louis Mountbatten, the Governor-General of our Commonwealth Realm and Great-Uncle of our King, His Majesty King Arthur." he said. After formally introducing himself, he smiled and stepped forward slightly. "We understand you're preparing your forces to move westward..." he said, paying attention to the reaction of the room to his words, specifically to see if anyone wondered how he knew, before continuing, "...and that the former region of your realm, Pakistan, also declared its independence. You're no doubt unsurprised of our interest in Pakistan, we do, afterall, consider it a core part of our nations territorial integrity. But it's your lack of response to it that has piqued our interest." he said.

Taking a breath, he continued. "If I may... I believe this gives us both an opportunity here. Put simply, my Government is requesting a "reset" of sorts in our relationship. Simple terms, really, the newly independent Pakistan is left to India to... incorporate, you continue westwards into Iran without interference from us, both of us get what we want and we can finally work together on things that matter to both of us." He said cheerfully.

Sylvania Clans wrote:

Many of the faces remained impassive to the mention of Iran and the plans for it however from those like the Lahamians smiles came to bare as the man spoke. Hearing the man speak was to them like seeing an ever loyal and favored pet showing a trick it was oh so very proud of. It positively tickled those among the Lahamians that the mortal wished to politic with the immortals.

"Do as you will with the east Pakistan believes it is now strong enough to brave the world without a Shepard and so I have let them run. Whatever the plans of Prince Mountbatten has he is free to," Varken said passively. "As for washing the slate clean by all means let it be done," he then said before one of the lords stood.

"It would not be wrong to guess your knowledge of our plans is in that set of documents in your hands," he said a critical eye on the folder.

"Sit at ease Adhiran, few things stay a secret in this day and age," Lord Tepes said urging one of his clans newly turned to kindly sit back down.

The diplomat was about to respond to the Lord when a technological chirp emanated from within the folder. "Not exactly. You might want to hear this yourself though." he said as he opened the folder and sifted through a collection of papers and documents before taking out a holographic communications device, or holocom. The diplomat threw it down in front of himself and his hosts, and as it activated it hovered above the floor, displaying a life-size image of Mountbatten himself.

"I apologise for young Nandi here," he began, "his only instructions were to introduce himself, I fear he may have gotten carried away." he said. Mountbatten was an older gentleman, and one of the only remaining members of the Royal Family from his generation, with his brother the King having been murdered by the Americans during the occupation. He carried himself as a man of his stature though came across as far more genuine than the diplomat. "I like to be pragmatic and while I would have visited myself, managing a nation of over a billion people is quite time consuming. Perhaps we will have the opportunity to meet in person sometime soon though, I hope. While I'd like to confirm our intentions with Pakistan and our willingness not to interfere with your plans for Iran, I would like to add that you can expect similar cooperation from my Nephew in regard to Iraq."