by Max Barry

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Kurikia wrote:Aldenbourg

“Da” The Driver said

He Slowly Pulled the Limo out of Moscow International and soon they were passing through the outer Suburbs of the Kurikian Capital

A grin would form on his face, "Such a beautiful place, ah?" He continues, "I've always wanted to live here".

Post by The hoover vacuum suppressed by a moderator.

Aldenbourg wrote:A grin would form on his face, "Such a beautiful place, ah?" He continues, "I've always wanted to live here".

The Driver begins speaking

“Since the USR took over from the Federation back in 1999 a lot has Changed in Moscow”

He laughs a bit

“No one here really liked the Soviet Government But they damn sure fixed this city”

Kurikia wrote:The Driver begins speaking

“Since the USR took over from the Federation back in 1999 a lot has Changed in Moscow”

He laughs a bit

“No one here really liked the Soviet Government But they damn sure fixed this city”

"I see, a lot has changed since my grandfather took me here" he continued speaking for now, "Ever been to Aldenbourg?"

Aldenbourg wrote:"I see, a lot has changed since my grandfather took me here" he continued speaking for now, "Ever been to Aldenbourg?"

“Never So Much as left The General area of Moscow” the Driver explains

Mays Austrian Nation wrote:How are they able to overcome the regional authorities? I don't see how a couple of puppets could over take this huge of a region.

They take mostly small regions, and they target regions that have no founders, because then the WAD has full powers. They do sometimes take bigger regions, but that's only done by huge military organizations like Lily or The Black Hawks, with occasional assistance from other militaries like The East Pacific Sovereign Army. For regions this big, people rely on Coup d'états instead of full on raids, because no one can field an army that big. In these coups, they gain the trust of the region and get endorsed by a bunch of people there usually infiltrating the government as some sort of Guardian or even the Delegate, and with a few friends that have done the same they hold the region. It is possible to counter this by doing campaigns like that of A Slanted Black Stripe and Daanistan during the 2008 Empire Coup or Marrabuk during the October 2019 Fedele Coup, but these are most likely done by the rightful government or else it is easy to fail.

Kurikia wrote:“Never So Much as left The General area of Moscow” the Driver explains

"I suggest you not go there, for now at least"

The hoover vacuum wrote:I suppose

There is a far more peaceful place than this. However, I don't think you'll like being a resident for far too long since all they do is sing and chill.

The hoover vacuum

Mays Austrian Nation wrote:There is a far more peaceful place than this. However, I don't think you'll like being a resident for far too long since all they do is sing and chill.

._.
But I really like chilling

The hoover vacuum

Post by The hoover vacuum suppressed by a moderator.

Aldenbourg wrote:"I suggest you not go there, for now at least"

”wife would Very likely force me to go when it clears up.” He explains

“She’s Convinced me to go with her on a trip to Sanada”

Kurikia wrote:”wife would Very likely force me to go when it clears up.” He explains

“She’s Convinced me to go with her on a trip to Sanada”

"Sanada? Where's that?" He chuckled "I'm sorry, friend. I don't know my geographies that well"

Aldenbourg wrote:"Sanada? Where's that?" He chuckled "I'm sorry, friend. I don't know my geographies that well"

the Driver laughed

“Sanada is the Empires northern most Holding right now”

Kurikia wrote:the Driver laughed

“Sanada is the Empires northern most Holding right now”

He laughed with him, "Big country, eh?" he replied

Post by The hoover vacuum suppressed by a moderator.

The hoover vacuum wrote:I gtg, bye

Bye!

The hoover vacuum

The hoover vacuum wrote:I gtg, bye

Goodbye!

Technocratic Tagalog and The hoover vacuum

I'm thinking either Katerro or Katudio for my new name

Aivintis wrote:

The burly Tyrist closed his eyes, moving his thumb across the ᛏ-shaped pendant in his hand, silently praying for Tyr to grant him strength so that they may win the battle and he may return to his wife and son. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see his old friend and brother-in-arms with a solemn look.

"It's nearly time."

The Tyrist nodded quietly, picking up his Zweihänder, tightening his armor, and dropping the pendant, kicking some dirt on top of it as an offering to the Gods.

His friend offered a hand, and pulled him up from the rock he rested on. The pair walked to the edge of camp, where the knights were gathering. A few of the younger, newer knights were joking. The older ones were silent. They heard the sound of a man clearing his throat, and looked up to see their leader.

King Gotthard was middle-aged, worn by over two decades of battle and one of rulership. He was blessed with the brains of King Odin and the muscles of King Thor. He retained a very strong family resemblance to King Gramor, the founder of Reformed Tyrism, whose statue was second only to Tyr's in popularity.

Gotthard wore the same plate armor as his men, the only difference being the Iron Crown he wore in place of a helmet. His blade was handed down over generations from King Gramor himself, or rather taken from corpses over generations since King Gramor himself. Gotthard had challenged his father's rule and seized the throne in single combat. He had been wielding a sword since he was a boy. They all had.

"Men!" He roared, loud enough to scare away the ravens that had gathered to herald the coming conflict. "Those damned Christians think they can get away with raiding our villages and killing our guards! Those damned Christians think they can get away with occupying a key peninsula of Lerasi and then pushing inland into our rightful territory! Those damned Christians think they can challenge our strength! They think they can challenge a thousand years of Tyrist rule! They will see! Just like Onrus and Atasi before them, they will taste our blades, bleed on our soil, and surrender to the divine right of the Tyrist Kraterocracy! WE WILL TAKE THE FIGHT TO THE DOGS, WE WILL SEND THEM RUNNING WITH THEIR TAILS BETWEEN THEIR LEGS, WE WILL TAKE WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS, AND WE WILL FINALLY TURN TO STAMP OUT THE VINDHOLM WEED! WHO'S WITH ME?"

They all cheered, roared, banged their swords on their armor, or thrust them in the air, towards Valhalla. They were reading to send their enemies to Hel, or to be carried on the wings of Tyr's glorious warrior wives to his realm where they would prepare to fight the Last Battle at the End of Time. All roads led to victory, to a better world. In life or death. That was what Tyrism was about. Victory, and a better world. That's what the colonizers from across the bay didn't understand.

The army charged through the mountain pass and right into the Dolorem puppets' base.

( o0o)

Gud post
will respond tomorrow

i am stressed, and i cri inside

Brethren wrote:

i am stressed, and i cri inside

I feel ya man :(

Brethren wrote:

i am stressed, and i cri inside

I feel you, trying to talk to my gf now but she left for a tad. Life is so stressful without her right now.

It get better tho. For both of us.

Aivintis wrote:

The burly Tyrist closed his eyes, moving his thumb across the ᛏ-shaped pendant in his hand, silently praying for Tyr to grant him strength so that they may win the battle and he may return to his wife and son. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see his old friend and brother-in-arms with a solemn look.

"It's nearly time."

The Tyrist nodded quietly, picking up his Zweihänder, tightening his armor, and dropping the pendant, kicking some dirt on top of it as an offering to the Gods.

His friend offered a hand, and pulled him up from the rock he rested on. The pair walked to the edge of camp, where the knights were gathering. A few of the younger, newer knights were joking. The older ones were silent. They heard the sound of a man clearing his throat, and looked up to see their leader.

King Gotthard was middle-aged, worn by over two decades of battle and one of rulership. He was blessed with the brains of King Odin and the muscles of King Thor. He retained a very strong family resemblance to King Gramor, the founder of Reformed Tyrism, whose statue was second only to Tyr's in popularity.

Gotthard wore the same plate armor as his men, the only difference being the Iron Crown he wore in place of a helmet. His blade was handed down over generations from King Gramor himself, or rather taken from corpses over generations since King Gramor himself. Gotthard had challenged his father's rule and seized the throne in single combat. He had been wielding a sword since he was a boy. They all had.

"Men!" He roared, loud enough to scare away the ravens that had gathered to herald the coming conflict. "Those damned Christians think they can get away with raiding our villages and killing our guards! Those damned Christians think they can get away with occupying a key peninsula of Lerasi and then pushing inland into our rightful territory! Those damned Christians think they can challenge our strength! They think they can challenge a thousand years of Tyrist rule! They will see! Just like Onrus and Atasi before them, they will taste our blades, bleed on our soil, and surrender to the divine right of the Tyrist Kraterocracy! WE WILL TAKE THE FIGHT TO THE DOGS, WE WILL SEND THEM RUNNING WITH THEIR TAILS BETWEEN THEIR LEGS, WE WILL TAKE WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS, AND WE WILL FINALLY TURN TO STAMP OUT THE VINDHOLM WEED! WHO'S WITH ME?"

They all cheered, roared, banged their swords on their armor, or thrust them in the air, towards Valhalla. They were reading to send their enemies to Hel, or to be carried on the wings of Tyr's glorious warrior wives to his realm where they would prepare to fight the Last Battle at the End of Time. All roads led to victory, to a better world. In life or death. That was what Tyrism was about. Victory, and a better world. That's what the colonizers from across the bay didn't understand.

The army charged through the mountain pass and right into the Dolorem puppets' base.

OOC: Decided to respond now because where I am is 11:00 PM (or at least when I started writing), so today is tomorrow.

IC:

Cloudy. Skies upon the ambience and area are filled with God's dropped blankets, not letting his lamp shine upon a town where the good have realized he exists and worship him. A Sanquis Catholic man is pressing his two hands together, inside a place with divine lights supported by angels of lamps and a choir singing for peace upon the people of Dolorém. That man is named José Castrillón, he is a commander of a Serpie unit he is leading, he is praying to God for mercy, good luck and safety for him, people here, Hispania and his peasant family.

When a priest leads a singing, an advisor violently kicks the doors of the church that Castrillón is in. When he finds the commander, the advisor seems panicked, saying reports while trying to keep a calm tone.

- "Your gracious individual Castrillón, I have something to say, and it is not good." -

José Castrillón seemed a bit confused, but paused on praying. - "What is the news then?" -

- "We have spotted an army with seemingly black armor, they might be those Tyrists, and they are heading towards us." -

The commander Castrillón stands up. - "Those barbarians... let me gather the men. I pray to God that we defend ourselves." - He starts to walk from the seat of the church, leaving the place. The priest, who has heard the word 'barbarians', tells an order to ring the bells of the church, with monks doing so.

The General and Commander Castrillón of a Serpie unit yells at his men to pick up their arquebuses and swords, they oblige with the order, running to get said weapons. Eight hundred Serpie troops, with their gunpowder rifles and swords, start to go up to the walls' defensive positions, while twenty of other Serpie troops bring in ten cannons.

Bells in the town, including the church's, start ringing, alerting people and settlers about a barbaric Tyrist invasion. Dozens of non-Serpie units such as pikemen, crossbow users, swordsmen and some non-Seripe Arquebusiers gather around the city. When defensive men are ready, commander José Castrillón goes up the ladder to give a speech.

✟ - "ATTENTION, BRAVE MEN OF HISPANIA! - Yelled José. - "We are here in Dolorém to spread the message of Christ and the good! We will not let these dark age barbarians to interrupt our missions! We will not let these barbarians burn our settlements! We will not these DAMNED barbarians from the SHORES OF HELL disrupt our deliveries of wealth for the good people of Dolorém! We WILL repel these monsters! May God, Christ and the Divine light protect us from the devilish beasts." - Arquebusiers and Serpie units cheered, some started to pray before the Tyrists reached the range. ✟

Brethren wrote:

i am stressed, and i cri inside

;-;

*hugg*

Procrastination sucks.

Also seeing your project go under also kinda sucks.

I get your Brethren.

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