The Alliance of DictatorsBoard

[OOC] Resetting all my recent posts up to the last RP with Veradax unit arriving. Will do more post soon, k bye

Troois Sul wrote:

Iron and IndustryOOC
Ahh, I missed the last minute Map requests. When can I ask for a spot again?

OOC: Just message The Greater Antipodes with your claim. I would suggest you try to be as exact as possible, though.

Sanctuary Point wrote:

Black chuckled. “Well believe it or not, New Everfree is not loaded with books on magic. We’re not a fancy regiment like those ones from Wittenland. Our tactics use mechanised forces with artillery support.” Distantly they could hear the basilisk fire again as the Major smiled. “Like that.” He looked to the bishop as Humble glanced out a window at the new group of refugees and his priests as they attended to them. “Thank you for your time, Bishop. The service is still on for next Sunday?” Maple asked as he got Pearlescent and Shield on their hooves again.

"Then I guess I'll be learning to fight the old fashined way," Pearlescent said with more determination in her voice. It was unclear whether she was serious or just desperately wanted to feel useful. "Father and his cronies will never rest until they find me. While I feel safe here, I still want to be prepared for them. Major, would you or somepony else... um... teach me how to shoot a gun? I-I don't mean to offend or make demands of you or anything but... I think I would feel safer if I had more ways to defend myself than just my magic."

As they left the church, Shield Wall turned back to look at the building.

"I would like to learn how to use modern weapons as well. I'm only trained in close combat, after all," he said. "But I'm also interested in hearing more about your faith. Is everypony here allowed to attend the services at any time when they are not on duty?"

Sanctuary Point wrote:

“No, there’s nothing else. May the Sisters guide your path, Imperatrix.” Rising told Twilight as the Equestrians started to leave. Members of the Trottingham regiment escorted the Imperatrix and her companions back to the front gate, watching them board their chariot and take off. Inquisitor Heartstrings also watched them leave from her office, focusing on Duke Silver and… did he just look at her? Lyra’s breath caught in her throat. Her window was only one-way, the other side disguised as just blank stone but she could’ve sworn the Duke had locked eyes with her. “Must be a trick of the light.” She murmured to herself as she went to reread his daughter’s transcripts.

"So... How did we do? Do you think the Abbess bought it?" Twilight asked when the chariot had left the embassy airspace behind.

"I'm not entirely sure, Your Immortal Ladyship," Professor Rainy Gloom admitted. "The Abbess was surprisingly hard to read. But she is a mere Mud Pony. Mud Ponies tend to be dumb and trusting creatures. I think she believed us, but if we want to err on the safe side, we should keep assuming that she remains at the very least... suspicious."

"I don't think they are ready to hoof Pearlescent and Shield Wall back to me just yet," Duke Silver said, turning back from the receding embassy. "But I may have identified a weakness among their staff. Somepony who might turn out to be very useful indeed..."

Grossschwaben wrote:

Seele attentively listened to what Jack had to tell him, wrinkles forming on his forehead as he did. He had initially thought that this was perhaps just a figment of his puparisan flock's imagination, a devil born from their zeal. Yet it appeared now that there was perhaps more to it than he thought. He rubbed his chin, deep in thought and asked Jack:

"These marks of devilry...could you describe them for me, my son? And she is treating you normally, yes son?

Let me be frank, I did not come here to pay you merely a polite visit. As the sheperd of my flock I must always care for all of you and I noticed your absence during the sermon and inquired about it. I know about the excorcism. And it seems there is truth to what I was told, your wife being in dire need of my presence.

So then, let us break down this door and cast down the shadow that inhabits your wife. Let god's righteous sorrow for his children, including your wife flow through your veins and strengthen your grip. Let the Lord's righteous fury steel your nerves and will for we shall show this vile creature, trying to destroy your holy union, the wrath of the Lord!"

"I did not store such things in my mind. Anything created by satan's forces I am quick to forget, for if I let it linger in my mind I may be left open for possession. I wrapped them up as quick I could manage, so I don't recall their form even vaguely. For your other question, she is treating me normally -- or at least mostly. She doesn't like me leaving the house, especially for things related to church. And, she can get rather mad when I cover up the marks marring her form."

After Seele's most recent words he replied with, "Amen. Thank you father for your imminent aid. Time to cast away the force of devilry within her!" Jack then twisted the door knob and pulled it open, revealing the rather quaint bedroom within. A bed facing the door with Anne half-sitting on the frame. Except something wrong and terrible happened. A flash, a resounding boom of a cartridge's internal explosion and bullet ripping through the air. Jack fell over like a brick, swinging the door even further open as it was in the path of his fall and he tried to brace himself against it. He writhed there, grasping at the carpet with a few last shaky breathes intermixed with him spitting blood until he expired.

Anne had in her hands an old revolver Jack had stored for security in case of a home invasion. She had knowledge of its location and had been instructed to use it in emergencies. Yet, she didn't know quite how to use a gun aside from pointing it at the general direction of something and pulling the trigger. Jack's spouse had a loose grip, made even worse by the sweat that covered her hands. When she fired she shrieked to the noise and adrenaline. The barrel flicked up and her hands fumbled with the grip until in her panic she pushed the pistol onto the ground where it bounced once until sitting still. Her mind was racing, she wanted to escape the room now where she felt trapped when the initial shock of firing a gun for the first time left her. Darting out of the room she stumbled over her husband's half-dead form and into the kitchen. She attained a knife from a rack and proceeded to kneel behind a the dining table -- the table cloth partially concealing her.

Veradax wrote:

OOC: I feel excluded ;-;

OOC: So is Artarum, but that makes IC sense.

The greater antipodes wrote:

As part of the government's "Stronger Futures" program and to fully bring about the beginning of the Council of Mutual Cooperation and Development, a Canberra economic conference will be held from the 10-13th of August in which the following states -- both near and far -- have been invited for membership:

The Spiritual Republic of Caryton humbly accepts this membership, duly noting its attendance and enthusiasm to cooperate with the foreign world.

Rumlew Harbour District, Artarumen Empire
02:10, 4th of August 2020

Rain poured onto the vast city of Rumlew as the cool summer wind blew over the skyscrapers that marked Rumlew's skyline. The magnificent city was a testament to the development of Artarumen cultural and social life: the boring stuff was in Liudan, the capital, and everything fun was in Rumlew. Nightclubs and bars were open until the morning, with most of them working twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Theatres and cinemas were stuffed with people, and opera houses were always sold out. The economic, cultural, and social heart of the entire Artarumen Empire beat strong, as ever. Of course, there were darker sides to this metropolis, as well.

A pair of men, clad in what seemed like military fatigues but certainly weren't Imperial Armed Forces uniforms, patrolled around a gate near the harbour. To protect from the downpour, they had baggy black raincoats over themselves, with the water making the black finish of their long-barreled rifles gleam in the spotlights. A series of lorries, three of them, rolled up to a checkpoint, and after a brief conversation with the guards, the barrier lifted and the lorries passed. They stopped at the pier, and the drivers - gruffy, overweight men, two of whom were smoking cigarettes - got off. Thankfully, they were under a tarp, which meant that the rain would not infringe on their smoking.

Another armed man approached them, looking over the lorries. He spoke with a thick Boer accent. "Are these the goods?"

"What else would they be?"

The armed man grunted. Smugglers and criminals weren't the nicest and politest people one could affiliate with. Other armed men open up the lorries, the ramps sliding out. Within, it's an armoury. Long-barreled rifles, submachine guns, grenades, combat knives, boxes upon boxes of ammunition - enough to outfit a small armed group to the teeth. The armed men walk into the lorries' containers, presumably to inspect the shipment in detail. The non-smoking driver, seemingly the chief, gestures at the port.

"How in hell do you expect to get these out of here?"

The armed man talking with the drivers looked at him. In his thick Boer accent, he replied - "None of your goddamn business, brak." While the driver did not know what "brak" meant, he picked up on the word's origin, and coupled with the man's thick accent, he didn't need to be a particularly bright person to know who they were dealing with.

"Boers, eh? Judging by the whole secrecy thing you blokes have got over here, you're up to no good. Do the blokes at the MoD know about this crap?"

The armed man tapped the side of his rifle impatiently. The driver was asking too many questions for a driver. He did not reply, prompting the driver to speak more. "Bleeding Boers, trying to stir crap up as always. Why don't you lot just go back to whatever hell you decided to crawl out of, eh?"

Some Boers had decided to stay in Bergsehuis after apartheid had collapsed. This particular group had different intentions. The armed man shrugged. "We're just fine right here, you dikgat Artarumen," he barked, casually adding in some of his own language, "and we're citizens of the Empire, aren't we? You've done your job, now shut your mouth and wait for us to finish inspections."

The driver snorted, but he wasn't going to argue further with an armed person who was clearly not acting in legal limits. Even if he were legal, arguing too much with military men in Artarum was unwise overall. He just leaned against a metal girder holding the tarp up and looked at the other two drivers, who had lit another set of cigarettes, and they shrugged at him. The men in the lorries came out, waving to the one that had spoken to the leading driver.

"Alright." The armed man gestured at the drivers, "unload the containers, then be off with you." The drivers tossed their cigarettes on the wet concrete ground, not bothering to stamp out the butts, and walked to their lorries to detach the containers.

The sound of a helicopter began to approach. The armed men looked at one another, and it quickly became evident that the helicopter was not simply passing by. Before they could do much, things went from bad to worse. Tall albeit crouching figures with ballistic shields and small personal defence weapons, flanked by other figures who instead held long-barreled rifles, crept out between the spaces between the forest of containers, and a megaphone cracked to life.

"Unidentified armed militia, you are surrounded! Immediately place your weapons down and you will not be fired upon! Heavy support is available for the ground forces and you have no realistic chance of making it out of a firefight. "

The armed men had been caught disorganised. Had they been in position, they could perhaps have offered some meaningful resistance, but as they stood, they were fragmented and divided. Looking at one another, they slowly lifted their rifles above their heads and slowly crouched down, placing the rifles on the floor, then stood up as slowly as they had crouched down. The special police teams moved in, methodically bagging the rifles and rather harshly pushing the unarmed men on the floor, one officer stamping on their backs as another handcuffed the perp.

"Get out of the lorry! Get out! Get the hell out!"

The police officer yelled at the drivers, who were positively terrorised by the police operations force. They weren't militia - they were simply hired drivers. Upon getting out, they too were thrown to the ground and handcuffed. After twenty minutes, with all the present militiamen arrested and escorted to armoured vans, it's only the lorries and their cargo left. Several officers continued to inspect the area.

"Holy hell, there's a lot of weapons in here. This wasn't just some random group of weapons smugglers. I think this needs to go higher up."

His friend nodded behind his balaclava and ballistic helmet. "Yeah. Yeah, no, this is big. Think the MoD will get to it?"

"I'd be surprised if the bloody Prime Minister didn't get to it. This place seems to have been used a lot, look at all those marks and scratches on the concrete," he pointed out, "Christ. God knows how many shipments they got off before we got the intel."

Turning around, he called out to the area, taking advantage of the fact that the rain seemed to have slowed. "Alright, you slow-moving lot, get this wrapped up! We still need to debrief and prepare the paperwork for all this crap, come on, come on!" This being a police operation, regardless of its scale, it still necessitated a virtual mountain of paperwork for the sergeant and lieutenant, who dreaded the work.

"Come on, let's go. Drinks are on me once we wrap the paperwork up tomorrow night, I call this a successful operation. Not a single shot fired, perps under custody, and we bagged three lorries filled to the brim with guns and ammo. Just wonderful."

The greater antipodes wrote:

As part of the government's "Stronger Futures" program and to fully bring about the beginning of the Council of Mutual Cooperation and Development, a Canberra economic conference will be held from the 10-13th of August in which the following states -- both near and far -- have been invited for membership:

Despoticania
Vespergale
Westbeech
Nightstrum
Umbraen
Saeloun hanguk
Spiritual Republic of Caryton
Lenspheria
Peoples republic of the german states
Island Zero
Grossschwaben

The Vespergalian government plans to send a representative to the conference and mull over the offer of membership upon further details on what the council does and what membership entails; which would certainly be covered during the conference.

Imperial explander wrote:

Ooc:Hi guys. Mind if I ask, this is a rp board? Do we have a discord? And I found this region through the post modern tech tag, so I assume a sci fi nation with 6 regions(each with about 100 star systems) allowed?

OOC: Um, giant stellar empires don’t work too well here, though sci fi stuff is generally allowed.

Island Zero wrote:

OOC: Welcome to the region.
From what I can tell your nation is a large space empire. As Veradax has stated these haven't worked well with the region in the past. Although some more advanced nations have relatively small space fleets. By the region's definition, PMT (Post Modern Tech) includes technology that's about 5-20 years into the future, while FT (Future Tech) is anything after that; your nation seems to be FT.

There is a Discord, you may want to join it for further information.

Ooc:Of course, please do send me the link