|
Join the AAF Cartographer: Vlaskovic Historian: Artstotszka Guardian: Freechrist |
 Founded: January 20th, 2016 Motto:Where Dreams Become Story. We prefer a small closely-knit active community, than that of a large inactive loose-knit community |
The regional roleplays now can be found on the region's Regional Roleplay Dispatch that's pinned onto the WFE. |
| Welcome to Audaxia. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| [OPEN] The Last Stand; Continued from: The Invasion of Vandinium | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Mar 22 2016, 04:50 AM (2,018 Views) | |
| Vandinium | Mar 22 2016, 04:50 AM Post #1 |
|
---------------------------March, 21st 2018-------------------------------- --------------------------Falskaar Province, Cessius City, Above-Ground Command Center, 7:31AM--------- Footsteps rang through the hallways, echoing for what seemed like forever, the triple-thick bunker over the command center was an older model, and echos went on for about a mile... the walls still adorned with the old Imperial flag along with it's motto: 'Fight for what you believe is right', all written in Gothic font, all slightly smeared. Frederick himself was pacing, back and forth, just outside the busy command center, his own thoughts not fully collected as of yet that day. He took a moment for himself, a quick prayer to the gods, should they be looking over him, and to his father, whom he hoped was looking out for him, and he made his appearance into the command center, standing tall, proud and with a straight face, trying to remain stoic in his situation. He stood near the main console and looks over at Magnus. "Couldn't get sleep either?.." He spoke with an air of authority, every seat filled around them with a man or woman with a headset on, speaking whenever there was a request or a squad to organize. A woman comes running up to Frederick and holds over a mug of heated tea, he nods towards her and takes it, sipping away at it... before looking out at the monitors, the city outside made of concrete, sweat, snow, mud, bunkers, and soldiers.. old Katari monuments strut around, all virtually untouched by time, soldiers trained harder than they were before, new legionnaires pour in every day, expert soldiers with the best equipment money and experience can buy. He turns to Magnus again. "It's almost time.... Almost.. been a harsh winter, and a harsher resistance." He sips more of the tea before placing it down. "Magnus, I'm honestly not cut out for this military shit... logistics, management, and attrition, I'm good with that, but commanding troops, I will never be as good as Cessius." He beats up on himself for a moment before returning straight up. "I'm confident with my generals to win their battles..." Edited by Vandinium, Mar 22 2016, 05:25 AM.
|
 |
 
|
| Replies: | |
|---|---|
| Vandinium | Jul 5 2016, 11:37 PM Post #31 |
|
Royalist HQ, Faalskar Base, Vandinium, 4/20/18 1:29 PM ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As everyone shuffled out of the room hushed whispers fell between the guards and officials, filtering out and finally closing the door to let Evelyn and Fredrick to talk in peace. Fredrick waited until the very last moment for the door to close and finally stood out of his seat and walked around the table, taking his hat off, and placing it onto the table, followed by his gloves. He seems reluctant at first but sighs. “There is a plethora of things I regret, things I regret doing in my youth, and things I regret doing while I am Emperor, but this is not one of them.” He places his hand onto her shoulder, taking a deep breath and sighing… He goes down to a knee and looks up at her, recalling his hand off of her. “You might view me as a very enemy to your people.” He clears his throat and his eyes look up at her eyes, or at least try to connect. “My people? I don’t give a fuck about my people.” croaked Evelyn. Fredrick sighed. “I meant your family, Evie. Are you soon to forget my sins?... I still remember the day that I tackled your father out of sheer anger, I regret every single moment, that ambush was never supposed to happen, Cessius’ soldiers were never suppose to turn on us like that, on him, on us.” He took a moments pause. “I am at fault for not seeing the signs before it was too late, for acting on first impulse.” Evelyn wiped her eyes a bit, and then gave Fredrick a brief stare through reddened eyes, examining every change that had taken place in the last six years. “Yeah.” she said weakly. “You are.” she said again, pausing and looking down. “Do you want to know what you did to me? Where I’ve ended up because of your stupid little ‘first impulse’?” she asked, pointing to her cheek scar. “I’ve been blown up, shot, and betrayed. I watched the man I loved turn into red mist, and I couldn’t do anything about it. So now, you drag me here, and your only response is ‘I’m sorry I was immature’?” she asks, her anger clearly getting the better of her. She paused. “I suppose...I guess...I guess there’s nothing else you can say.” Fredrick listened silently while Evelyn spoke, in utmost respect. “There is nothing I can say about it, nothing you or I can do about changing the past, it hangs above me like a condemnation by the gods themselves, I have had nightmares of the past, but the only thing that matters now is now, now and the future. Which..” he pauses for a moment to make sure she’s listening before continuing on. “..Which is why I had you brought here, not to torment you, and not to hurt you, but to tell you what we can do to bring the very peace our fathers experienced so long ago back.” He stands. “It’s the least I can do, I still admire, and respect you, I still admire and respect your father.. Rest his soul.” He takes a pause to walk to his seat. Evelyn clenched her fists momentarily. “You…” she pauses, smiling almost inadvertantly. “You’re so naive. You think I care what happens to you or your country or anyone, anymore? No. I’m done with this. I’ve wanted to die for a long time now. I just wanted to kill you first, but I suppose that’s not happening, now.” she says, frowning and blinking back the tears caused by her confession. Fredrick looks into her eyes when he sat down, listening through her talking and placing two hands together patiently until she finished. “You are not supposed to care about my country, it is not yours, nor are you apart of it, nor are you suppose to care about your own people, that’s up for you to decide. Killing me won’t help anyone, there’s more to the world than you, more to the world than me, if you continue on this path of self destruction you will do more harm to the people around you than you realize, I learned this fucking lesson myself when I drove a fleet into Artstotszkan waters trying to run away from it all only to be nailed by the Artstotszkan Fleet, more than ten thousand men and women died! They had children themselves… I FUCKED UP because I ran from my problems. You… you on the other hand will see fit that another young girl gets her father killed in front of her, and you won’t shed a single tear at this rate.” He spoke so very carefully and calmly that his voice did not raise above his speaking voice. “No. I wouldn’t.” confessed Evie. “You took that away from me. Believe me, I try. I want to care. But I can’t. I’ve seen too much, but-” Fredrick interjected, speaking out, interrupting Evelyn. “And you don’t think I haven't seen shit?... You don’t think that I viewed the world through those same lenses?... I lost my mother, she was shot right before my eyes… my daughter died in my arms…. IN.. MY… ARMS… I lost all feeling for a week, all care, for anyone or anything… I had to shy away from everyone else to avoid fucking up the war effort.” Evelyn, for once, listened. “When that Blackwatch prick took out your mother…” she started. “You cut him to shreds. Why shouldn’t I get the same justice for the man who killed my father?” Fredrick shows the palm of his hands, the horrendous scars, why he constantly wore gloves. “I did not pull the trigger, I might have inadvertently and idiotically got us caught in an ambush but I had no intention, no reason to kill your father. The man who killed your father was shot down in a hail of returning fire, by a HARM rifleman if I remember right… could have been Cessius…” He took the moment to ponder. Evelyn blinked a tear out again. “I rationalized it in my mind that way for a long time. After you were believed to be dead, when the Artstotszkans got you. But..” she paused, getting a grip over herself. “Now you’re alive, and you’re here, and you’re telling me the same shit I tell myself every day. I don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you did. But now I know that killing you won’t make me any happier. Nothing will.” “It might not make you any happier with what I’m about to suggest… but it will give everyone else a chance to live their lives happier without what happened to you or me.” He began, leaning over the table and grabbing a file, opening it up and sighing. “As you might know already by the subtleness of the Royalists… that they are helping my country fight the Altic Union, in an attempt to restore the Monarchy.” he clears his throat.. “I am married to Ava Ulfbert, sister to Magnus Ulfbert, whom you know as a claimant to the High Kindom of Hawkwick, I assume you see where this is going.” He leans back and closes his eyes for a moment, placing a hand over the bridge of his nose before recalling it. “I do not seek conquest, in fact.. This is the last war I intend to be in, you know I did not start it, I just want it to end, but not in the destruction of any country with the exception of the titular ‘Altic Union’, Heimar and Hawkwick bound together in unholy bondage.” He smiles slightly. “I doubt there is much of a pro-war sentiment in Hawkwick with the amount of industrial death it has experienced… just about as much pro-war sentiment as there is here, nobody wants to fight anymore, they fight because they must.” he looks over at Evelyn. “We are making major pushes into occupied territory, surrounding Altic forces, cutting them off of supplies and forcing them back over the border and into surrender. I need someone with experience to support the new government in Hawkwick when this ends.” He blinks. “When I heard your name mentioned, I figured you would be perfect for the job, of course you won’t be a propagandist, but you would probably be an intelligence agent by the end of this.” “I just quit DRAGON. I was an agent, Fredrick.” she explained, saying his name properly for the first time in forever. She took a deep breath. “I’m going to be honest with you and with myself. I hated everything. I hated you. But it’s...it doesn’t, it’s-” she paused. “Fuck, how do I explain it? I can’t forgive you. You know that. I wouldn’t prefer to talk to you ever again after this, but...if I ever want to go home again...I guess I’ll need to help your little cause.” she said, trying to stay straight faced. Confession after confession, these days. But she’d said all she had to say. She wasn’t holding anything else back. She’d said it all, and she’d realized that it hadn’t done anything. Hate wouldn’t do anything anymore. Fredrick remained silent, and respectful this time, he was watching her for more than just sudden movements this time. He couldn’t help but to sigh there at the end. “I didn’t expect you to ever want to talk to me in the first place, hopefully we won’t need to speak again after this, Evelyn.” He reaches over into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief and places it down onto the table. “I don’t expect you to be loyal to me, or so much as care for me, or my nation, I do not expect you to care for the royalists, but it’s not what I expect. It’s what I hope for. I hope you do find your way back into life.” He sighs getting that over with before going down and looking over a file about Magnus. “What I do know, is that peace helps heal wounds, there will be scars, we both know this, now; What needs to be done is this..” he looks down the file again and back up at her. “You need to go to Magnus and offer your skills for his cause, that is it, what he uses you for and what you choose to do is between you and him.” He holds a hand to his head and rubs a spot for a moment. “I can have a guard lead the way or I can just give you directions.” “I’ll...I’ll figure it out.” Fredrick nods, and then looks her straight into her eyes. “It’s.. strange… I actually missed you..” He cuts himself off and then makes a motion. “You can go, if the guards try to touch you, tell them to I said you can go.” Royal Chambers, Faalskar Base, Vandinium, 6/19/18 9:55 PM ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He looked at himself in the mirror, his white face, his blue eyes, his light blonde hair. The ‘Golden Prince’ himself looked a little worse for wear. A scar across his forehead hidden by hair, a gift from the bullet that grazed him long ago. He looks down at his hands, scar tissue made them a little less than handsome. Just looking at them caused pain. He places his palms down on the sink and turns on the water, looking into the mirror again. Fredrick von Stien… Von Stien… Von… Stien… He looks down at the running cold water and reaches down, grasping a handful which crests over and overflows into the sink… lifting it up and splashing himself in the face. Even that brought back memories. Ever since Evelyn’s return he has had these creeping repressed memories come full circle in nearly everything he does. As cold water flowed down his face he remembers that cold night, the river, the blood that flowed down it, and the crackling of gunfire, the smell of powder and rotten fish, then the overwhelming smell of blood, the smell of iron. He sighs. He could have just left Cessius to do it himself… to stay back at the palace.. Why didnt’ he just remain behind?.. Why didn’t he just remain quiet.. And just sit in the palace, why didn’t he just stayed behind.. And stayed quiet… Fredrick looks over his shoulder, through the doorway and into the bedroom where an angel slept… He looked back down at his hands, beginning to stare at them. He wouldn’t be here today without them, was it worth it?... It was a bad idea to bring Ava into this.. He was a walking disaster. He should have never tried to find love, it always dies, wherever he looks he has to plant roses on grav-... Rose…. He chokes up for a moment and swallows that feeling down as fast as he can… He tried to focus on the simple things. Here he was, the Emperor of a nation, strong in its will, rich in its history and culture, and he was about to tear up. He stood over the sink still finding himself looking at those hands clad in only in a purple silk robe, a few holes in it, but not like it could be replaced right now, not a priority. He loses his concentration on the hands and looks up again at the mirror, he felt lost, lost in feelings, lost in what he needs to do, wants to do. It was all a mental blur. It wasn’t until he took a breath was it broken, he looked down and turned off the faucet, turning to wipe his hands on a clean white towel. He was lucky to afford he and his family this luxury during wartime, especially when they were forced into a bunker, relocating the royal court into a bunker built during his father's reign. It wasn’t all that fantastic either, the bunker was prefabricated in case they needed to retreat and form defensive lines. They kept finding these old rifle crates and crates of ancient preserved foodstuffs.. Which.. All was still good, the bolt-action rifles still polished… The old Imperial uniforms only occasionally stained with water damage. The one thing that did cause Fredrick some pause was the poster of his father on an old propaganda poster they found while relocating. It was dated before his father even met his mother and what really caught his attention about it, was how he wasn’t so muscular at his young age, he didn’t have much of a beard but instead it was this fantastic moustache, the poster had his (then young) father pointing over in a pose, in an old.. Old Imperial General’s Uniform, all the while soldiers around him were in a winning melee with what he assumed to be Lang-Hou separatists, the poster must have been ancient… The Lang-Hou had died as a people when his father decided that it was the ‘last rebellion’ they would have, having all captured men killed, then allowed his soldiers to pillage towns and villages, raping and decimating them, over time with resettlement the people died out as a culture.. And an ethnicity, being drowned out by Vesar blood. He made it down the hallway, slowly turning and opening the door to check on Valeria, she was sleeping like a true little angel. By now he would have tutors be on her trying to teach her quantum physics, but times have changed… The resources, were needed elsewhere, intellectuals that could hold a firearm became soldiers. He slowly closes the door shut, and made it down the hallway again, turning right at the next door, walking on in. Half of the room had baby things in it, in case they had to stay any longer… gods help them if they need to stay any more longer than another couple weeks in this damned hole. The other half of the room held what was left of his private study. Books were up and about in piles and on his desk. He sighs and pulls back the chair, before sitting back into it. He eyes the first book with a smile, picking it up. “The Studies of Ognav..” he places it over to the side and exchanges the book with a pen and paper. The place didn’t exactly have power cables strung everywhere, so deeper down there was no computer to type his thoughts into, but there still was the old fashioned way. He takes a moment.. What should he write about?.. He could write about how he came into this situation, allowing for the Altics to catch him and his countrymen off guard, leading them into near-defeat… Or he could talk about Cessius, thinking about where he went off to, he really did miss his old master. He could write about his lost daughter… rest her poor innocent soul… it was all his fault for not taking her in sooner… but.. But.. there really was nothing he could do… it was his genetics that fucked her up.. A rare inactive trait suddenly being active again causing his daughter’s brain to be smothered by fat slowly.. And painfully.. She could walk.. Talk.. read… attend tutoring.. Walk with him through the flowers… and little by little.. She lost all of that… she first lost the ability to walk… then slowly lost her ability to use her arms… breathing became difficult for her.. And she kept on forgetting names.. Faces.. She even forgot her own name and face at one point, he wished that she had forgotten about him… he still remembers the most painful moment of his life like it was yesterday. The day that tore him in two. It was cold… and snowing outside… his little girl wanting to see the flowers outside… He had to tell her there were no flowers outside. She told him that there were.. Under the snow that they still could be seen.. She insisted that she wanted to see the flowers. Fredrick relented and picked her up. But she insisted she wanted to walk, Fredrick knew she couldn’t… but he let her down… and helped her as much as he can.. That memory corresponding with the first memory he had of helping her to walk to begin with… His heart was torn in half when she told him she couldn’t see anymore, that she said she could see blinking lights.. And finally fully collapsed into his arms. She corresponded with the lights she saw to ‘shooting stars’. What she said before she died really is what got to him and what still tears at him and probably will forever tear at him. “D-D-Daddy.. They’re getting brighter.. Are.. are we about to get on a train?..” That first part confused him… but it became apparent, the growth in her brain is influencing this.. “Yes…” He remembered responding.. Likely in tears… The most heart-wrenching moment for him… “I love you, daddy.” Those words still ring through his head, and will torture him for as long as he lives. She passed in his arms, he remembered shaking her trying to wake her… but… he knew… it was her time… Fredrick snapped out of his trance.. And looked down on the paper.. Clearing his throat… Ava… He began to write… Despite it being a marriage of political means, there certainly was love.. And affection even before… he and her lost family… the wars tore them in two… and she poured it all on him, he wasn’t sure if she lost it to her brother.. But.. likely not. He could see that she remained calm around Magnus to keep their heads together, but she certainly had needed someone to pour her heart into… and luckily Fredrick was there with his hands cupped around to catch. Blugh, that sounded awful… He uses white strips over parts of it and writes over it, more sweet things about Ava… His own affections about her. He was willing to cut his own heart of his chest if she asked him. He felt complete with her around, the other side of his coin. He pauses and looks at the time, how long was he sitting there?... It’s almost midnight, better get going.. He takes his notes about Ava, and a little poem he had worked on over to the side. He takes a free hand and wipes away a tear?... he hasn’t cried in awhile.. He thought his tear ducts had ceased to work after his daughter passed.. Maybe it was just the dry air. He stands and slowly.. Silently makes his walk back to his room. The ‘Golden Prince’ see him walk, see him strut… see him for what he truly is.. Barely a man, barely alive, barely ruling a nation barely held together on nationalism and barely united under him, while he is barely held together mentally. He certainly doesn't feel ‘golden’. He turns to the right… slowly pulling himself back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.. He yawns silently and makes his way over.. Sliding into bed slowly, and quietly as not to disturb Ava. Once in he makes a move, placing an arm over and around her.. Pulling in close and closes his eyes, giving a soft smile. He really does love her. Edited by Vandinium, Jul 5 2016, 11:38 PM.
|
|
|
|
| Artstotszka | Jul 6 2016, 10:15 PM Post #32 |
|
Royal Palace, Paradizna, Aurora, Artstotszka, 6/10/18 7:29 PM ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Checking to make sure that the video recorder was working, Annalise composed herself, trying to look like the Proper Monarch he'd expect. "Narheim, you really are overestimating your power. Even if I wanted to try to repair relations with your haphazard union, it'd be impossible anyway. Since while I may be the uncontested ruler of Artstotszka, we both know that you've lost control of King Markus. If you still had him dancing with strings then there wouldn't be purges of mass defections on your side. And while the Royalists may just have idealism, that's a better bargaining chip compared to yours, which is nothing. Now, I know you value your self-preservation, and I know you wouldn't do something as risky as start a nuclear war. Hawkwickans like yourself are well aware of what Nuclear fire does to cities. So 'flipping the table' is a worthless threat, since that ends the game for everyone. But let me ask you something, how do you plan to exist from this masterful play you've performed in? Will you be able to flee from the Vandiniumite hordes? Or perhaps the Royalists would get you, after all you're probably one of their top targets at this point. Or maybe Markus himself will order your death, if I happened to give him a copy of your rather interesting message. It's up to you Narheim, you can either quit this game while you're ahead, or the weight of your lies will stay your feet, and you'll drown alongside the rest of your 'Allies'." Turning off the viewscreen, Annalise smirked. She knew that message would get her point across, and she was of course still in possession of that rather enlightening secret message from The Puppet-master Narheim himself, pleading- nay, begging her to reverse course and support the Altic Union again. She wondered if he had even considered why she would help him at all; The Altic Union couldn’t even supply it’s now cut-off armies in Vandinium, and yet they thought they could win the war still? She knew that any sensible man would have called for peace by now, but King Markus was far from sensible by now; She knew he wasn’t exactly normal ever since his brief stay at Blackhorn due to the actions of Matterhorn, but by now he was nothing short of deranged, ordering purges and what not. And this showed, to her at least, that Narheim had no control over his little puppet on the throne. More importantly though, he had sent this to her, which meant this was bound to be an unauthorized message. She had to suppress a brief laugh when she realized that this was just like during the Hawkwickian civil war; she had shown the Old Kaiser of Heimar that laughable recording of Hellhorn ranting in order to help her liberate the people of Zwitelgiest, and she would most likely do the same to the current Kaiser now. But not yet, for now she would keep it until the time was right to divide the Altic government, however she knew it would certainly help in her negotiations with Fredrick and Magnus. But that was later. For now, this would stay hidden until the time was right... |
|
|
|
| Hawkwick | Jul 9 2016, 12:20 AM Post #33 |
Co-Keeper
|
High King's Room, Royalist HQ, Faalskar Base, Vandinium, 7/8/18 11:59 PM ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He stared at the glass, watching the rum swirl around inside. So this is who he was. The 'High King' of a nation he didn't currently control, drinking at midnight. 'In our darkest times, you can forget yourself.' He remembered his father saying. 'Stay strong. Never forget yourself.' echoed his father's voice in his mind. That voice was long gone, but he still heard it clear as day. Advice he had considered stupid turning out to be true. He put the glass up to his mouth and took a sip, waiting for the warm feeling to come over him. He gave the glass another light shake, getting the liquid swirling again. He was due to leave to Artstotskza soon enough. The trip had occupied his thoughts for the last couple of weeks. He had little anxiety regarding the interaction itself, but despite that, he still had a nagging feeling. As if it was wrong. As if something was going to go wrong. Perhaps it was a fear of Narheim's plots, after the Wyvern incident. Or maybe, it was a fear of the unknown. The most basic human fear, yet the hardest to overcome. He remembered what his father had told him. Initially people were afraid of the Ulfberts, because they did not know what they would bring. People were afraid of the Republic, even, because they didn't know what it would bring. People were afraid of Blackwatch simply because they were assumed to be mysterious. But for him, he hoped, there would be no true unknown. All answers reveal themselves, in time. One of these answers was to the question of love. He knew it now for sure, just as he had known it at that balcony three years before. Whatever his history was, whatever her history was, whatever they'd both been through, they loved each other, him and Mallorie. He took comfort in that. It was one of the few things that was truly guaranteed to endure. He turned his eyes up to the royalist flag draped on the wall. Mallorie had done her best to try and make their room here less...boring, but she knew as well as he did that the best this place could be was 'boring'. At it's worst, it was depressing, with the cramped conditions, the old forgotten posters of relatively stable governments. Hell, when they had first landed here, in the entrance hall, he remembered seeing a poster of Hans Jensen and Treven von Stein shaking hands. Undoubtedly some sort of painting of a photograph from around 1988 or so, but still, it reminded him of the peace and normalcy he had grown up in. But every time he walked past that door, and saw that poster, and Hans Jensen's handsome face, he saw a hint of the new arrival. A self-proclaimed hater of Fredrick's, and yet, a direct personal recommendation from him. Ava had told him the story. Evelyn Jensen had to be among the unluckiest people on the planet, and that was just what they knew of her. If the stories of her boyfriend dying later in the war were also true, then she'd truly be the unluckiest. He felt like she was a very useful asset. Intelligence for the NFA, DRAGON, actual military training. But war had taken it's toll on her just as it had taken it's toll on him. His other siblings' eyes flashed into his mind. Same as his, and same as Ava's. Now they were closed forever. His younger brother, Hendrik. His even younger sister, Katherine. He finished his rum. He would make sure nobody ever forgot them. He got up, walking past his empty sword stand, and to his bed, careful to not make any noise and wake his wife up. He was wearing a 'Keldaar University' gym T-shirt, and some plaid shorts. He couldn't stand the formality. Even if he was a monarch, their pomp was just ridiculous at this point. He saw the long flowing dresses his sister wore, and he knew that she enjoyed it. But he never would, and he supposed he would never advertise his whole life to everyone as his sister had done in High School. Even Empress Annalise's armor she purportedly wore was useless in any modern context. A ruler, in his mind, shouldn't need to wear anything to get people to like him, or obey him. He even despised wearing suits. He got on the soft, but creaky bed slowly, staring over at the end tables on either side of it. His side had a handgun and a water bottle. Mallorie's side had about six or seven prescription bottles on her side. Painkillers, mostly, but it always pained to see her like this. Especially since he'd done it. Cutting off her arm had been a necessity, but he had also told her to go on the mission in the first place. He sighed, perhaps a bit too loudly as Mal turned around in her bed, noticing him. "Mmf.." she grunted sleepishly, probably annoyed at being woken up past midnight. "Oof, shit, sorry!" whispered Magnus, his face taking on a mildly surprised reaction. His wife giggled quietly. "Just...like, go to sleep." she said, turning around slightly and wincing. "You alright?" asked Magnus. She nodded. "Yeah...just the arm again." she whispered, waiting for him to get in bed before putting her remaining arm around him. He sighed slightly, staring at the ceiling now. The wait was killing him, but at least it wasn't literally killing him. He doubted he would fall asleep tonight, if at all. Edited by Hawkwick, Jul 9 2016, 04:17 AM.
|
|
|
|
| Wahland | Jul 17 2016, 11:15 AM Post #34 |
|
Vipuran Palace, Vipura, Artstotszka, 7/17/18 2 A.M. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor sat in the dark study room, hunched over his desk, his head resting in his hands. He was in his suit still, but his tie was undone and his button up jacket unbuttoned. He had stacks of papers and a laptop in front of him, sorting through intelligence reports about the AU forces, as he attempted to organize a resistance. Every day the reports were worse and worse. News of Markus’ rampage to purge any that were unloyal, which was most of the country by this point. The soldiers now served because they had to, the citizens lived in fear, even his own generals feared for their lives, doing everything in their power not to make a mistake. Viktor slid his jacket off, laying it across the back of the chair. Even being there with his family, he never felt at home. He always felt like a stranger in the massive halls of the Artstotszkan palaces, the walls decorated with portraits of Kings and Queens, most of which he couldn’t even remember the name of, a culture that he was still learning and getting used to. Although he had been a prince his whole life, he only just began to realise the uselessness of it all. The royalty, the expensive balls, the elaborate uniforms and suits and jewelry. He began to fully understand why his father wanted to change it. Viktor was a man like any other, he thought. He just happened to be birthed into a noble family. He vowed that his daughter would learn to appreciate the things she had, because it could all be torn away before you even realized it. Viktor heard a rustling, in the next room Isabella slept soundly, a rare occurrence ever since Karoline was born. The same couldn’t be said for Viktor. He was completely exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He could barely sleep, as every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the faces of his torn family. Every day he chugged on for his wife, his daughter, his homeland, but inside his emotions were shredding him. He struggled to focus, but all he could think of was his family. It seemed like just days before he was back in Heimar going on hunts with his family and learning the politics of Heimar. He failed to understand how it all went wrong so quickly. Out of all the tragedy and heartache, he still managed to find solace in his new family. He thought back to Hymlrek Castle, to when he first met Isabella. He could still picture her in his arms, looking up at him, gun in hand. It was precisely at that moment that Viktor knew deep down that they had a connection. It was an amazing fact that they had made it out alive. Maybe it was destiny, he thought. Maybe everything he had done in his life led up to this, it was his job to fulfill his father’s vision of Heimar, and bring years of conflict in the north to an end… He pictured his father’s wrinkly old face in his mind. His dad was supposed to be the last King of Heimar. All he ever wanted was for the people of Heimar to be free to control their own destiny, and he died for it, betrayed by his own son. Viktor flashed back to his childhood, his brother and father always butted heads. Markus had always done what he wanted, never really thinking about the consequences of his action. Once on a hunt, Markus had killed almost a whole herd of deer without even blinking. When his father tried to calmly tell Markus what he had done was wrong, Markus would immediately become angry. He recalled several other similar incidents. Maybe Markus always had a darkness in him, Viktor thought, maybe he should've realized the signs. It was too late however. The last sliver of what used to be his brother was long gone, the only peace Markus could find now would be death. Viktor’s thoughts recollected in the present, and his eyes traveled back down to his reports. War is chaotic, but somehow Viktor was able to make sense of it all. He had always had a strategic mind, like his father. He began to realize that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish his father’s vision for Heimar without Queen Anna’s help. He decided in his head he would travel to Aurora to see her the next day. |
|
|
|
| Sad-States | Jul 17 2016, 10:30 PM Post #35 |
Key Keeper
|
Vosium, Valsonia, Maddoman Foreign Affairs Department of Vosium 18:08 Amanda Dvorak had just finished the negotiations with the Vinitsians regarding the carriers being sold in secret. Now it was up for Amanda to travel into Artstotszka for another secret negotiation. Her and her body guard got back into their respectful convoy and began traveling the designated route determined by the Soldier's Union to avoid all of the restricted zones within Vosium. After about an hour or two, they finally arrived to the border. "Your papers, please," the inspector asked. "Here, you go Sir," Amanda's head body guard said as he handed his identification papers and passport to the inspector. "Very well, what is your business in hopes of traveling into Artstotszka today?" The inspector asked as he was scanning the body guards passport. "We are here as envoys from Maddomainia. The one document I have given you shows exactly that, Sir." "Your record seems clear. Very well, stay out of any trouble. Have a nice day." The inspector replied. Amanda and her bodyguard smiled and said thank you to the inspector as he allowed them to pass the border. "We're not making any stops, we're no longer in Maddomainia anymore and the Kitari are not the most welcoming people, especially to the Drazics. We continue until we arrive at the spot we are being directed to." Amanda's bodyguard stated over the radio. The Kingdom of Aurora, Paradizna, Artstotszka 00:16 "Everyone stop here, we're at the designation where to meet the Empress," Quintus stated. "I can take it from here, okay?" Amanda stated to Quintus. "Very well, my lady. We should probably contact the Soldiers Union Foreign Affairs Department to notify the Empress that we've arrived," Quintus stated as he reached for his phone, "---Sir, we're here. We're awaiting for the Empress---Okay, we'll do it." "What did they say?" Amanda asked. "The main transport security units are to remain in their vehicles, to protect the entire convoy. You and I are going in to meet the Empress." |
|
|
|
| Vandinium | Aug 16 2016, 12:32 AM Post #36 |
|
Command Center, Faalskar Base, Vandinium, 7/15/18 6:42 PM ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To a regular operator, the command center was a stressful place, a hive and an information highway constantly relaying information and new encrypted orders to the front lines and to support units. Nearly everything was regulated and sent here, however, it was one of the many other command centers across the nation, several set up within the last month allowing for a stream of orders and information from everything between intelligence from spies, to redirecting militias to deciding weather or not to upgrade the current rations on the front lines from 'D' rations to 'C' rations. To Frederick it was more of a place to concentrate and relax, really, but he had occupied and empty seat in the middle of the center near some of the more important information relays. Through all the noise he managed to find himself rather relaxed, reclined in a padded rolling chair, in jeans and a t-shirt, sipping on heated tea, using the computer in front of him to switch between various helmet cameras and cameras on tanks to monitor the current battle. Of course there was no 'music of battle' he wasn't wearing the headphones that came with the station, he could vaguely hear it ring out with every gunshot. Roughly 7/8 of the country was liberated, at great costs of the civilian militias, but the professional legions swooped through and gutted the confused, cut off, unsupplied divisions. Divide Et Impera... His forces were predictably crushing and forcing soldiers to surrender on mass, now that Artstotszka seems to have cut off their supplies. He takes his tea up and sips at it for a brief moment. There was one worried thought he had in his head, who will let them through? He would need help from either Artstotszka... or.. the 'Madmen'... he would have to suck up his pride to talk to the Artstotszkans, still not exactly 'in love' with the damned dingoes. He still had to act honorably towards everyone, he was the representative for his country, and if he made a mistake he would be the sole reason for the failure. He sighs, watching a division go at each other. He checked the time, time to go see his family, eat dinner, be with his daughters and spend the rest of the night with his wife... he was looking forward to that last part. That was it. He's going to send the only person he can trust to be his envoy. He's sending Helica. |
|
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
 |
|
| « Previous Topic · War Roleplays · Next Topic » |
9:41 PM Jul 11