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Iverica last won the day on May 1

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About Iverica

  • Birthday July 10

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    Palá dei Primo, Intreimor City, Iverica
  • Interests
    #POTROI @wittier (Primo of The Republic of Iverica)


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    Franso Deitorr
  • HoG
    Abé-Juan Quenovi

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  1. 1000hrs 30th of May, 2019 Tikvan Airspace "Secundo" or Vice-Executive of the Republic, Desdemona Tomas-Morra, awoke in the spacious leather seat of the ExecMin S-1011 Trestrell. Around her, the cabin lights were dimmed as the state aircraft neared its destination, Ayalon. The spotlight rays of morning light that streamed through the windows illuminated the figures of her staff seated around her. Already, a low hush of conversation buzzed around the cabin, the brunch of jamón and poached eggs set before them forgotten in the midst of the chatter. The former Foreign Minister, who now found herself the appointed "Second Citizen" of the Republic turned to her aide beside her. "Are there any updates from the Palá?", it was the first thing she always asked for. The tensions among the Ibero-sphere diaspora nations had died down some, yet the potential for relapse into last year's state of disarray was ever present. As with every member of the ExecMin, the federalisation to unite the Iberic bloc meant all hands on deck for Morra's office, which already had its hands over-full with ATARA along with its domestic responsibilities. These talks with Lasker's government had her schedule stretched as far as it could go. But the Primo insisted and would have gone himself if not for the necessity of his meetings with the other Iberic heads of state. "Nothing, apart from the updated data file they've included for your citation, should you need it, madame", said the aide, scrolling through the state issued slate. It was a sign--either the ministry was too busy to micro-manage her speaking points or that they trusted her experience to carry the day. Morra only hoped the recent sleep deprivation left her wits intact. "How delightful", she hummed. "Would you like me to go over the talk agenda, madame?" "I am quite familiar with the broad strokes. What does the Palá say about our limitations--how far can we promise on the tariffs and heritage items?" "According to the Palá consultants, we can promise them the mun (moon) on lowering textile tariffs--so long as we get a Praesidium aye to set it in stone before the 2020 elections put everything Primeal on hold." "Yes, quite. Tariffs set by this office would be open to reconsideration by any new Primo--if there is one. 2020 is as good as won for Franso if the weathervanes are right. Still, we can't make promises if there's a shred of uncertainty, I know", Morra said. Indeed, she had been Deputy Trade Minister for some time before her appointment as Foreign Minister, so tariff nuance was nothing new. Therefore, she surmised, any tariff deals she promised would have to be ratified within the fiscal year, and before the next annual budget was approved in order to be upheld. "As for Heritage recognition, it poses no limitations, madame--constitutional or otherwise. We'll only need to secure an allowance from Treasury in the next quarter." Morra nodded. "Remind me what we have on Lasker", she said. She had watched several interviews in the weeks before and had gone over all his recent mentions on the news. "Only what we have on open source intel madame. He seems to be the type to juggle his right-leaning government with some moderate centrism--he's faced criticism from that Shapiro character in that regard. Religious--he keeps a menorah on open view at his foyer table--though I'm told this is common among the devout majority. Lastly, he's been quite open to foreign cooperation as I'm sure you've already read, madame." Right. Under Lasker's government, Tikva entered the Laren Agreement--something Iverican Parliament was leery at doing itself. Those were not at all bad portents. Morra was a conservative herself--hailing originally from the pro-Church Partes Morales and knowing all too well the struggles the label had with an increasingly vitriolic opposition left. There might be common ground between their political experience at least. "Workable, I am sure." The fasten seatbelt tone resonated across the cabin. The chattering died down as the aircraft lined up its final approach. "How do I look?" "The picture of elegance, madame" "If my eye-bags are on the cover of next month's tabloids, it will be the sack for you." "Very good, madame." The adjacent staffers smirked at the dry jest. There was a slight jostle as the landing gear hit the runway. They had arrived.
  2. To: Foreign Ministry of the State of Tikva Re: Upcoming Deliberations in Ayalon The Executive Ministry is glad to commit a delegation to the bilateral Deliberations in Ayalon. Speaking on behalf of the Primo's Ministry and his Government, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs wishes to thank the Tikvan government for hosting and accommodating these upcoming proceedings. As Primo Franso Deitorr is currently attending to internal matters of the Association of Iberic Nations, we are pleased to announce that Secundo Desdemona Tomas-Morra will be representing the Republic in the upcoming proceedings. An itinerary outlining our arrival, travel arrangements, and departure has already been forwarded.
  3. --- Recipients: All Iverican Embassies Foreign Embassies on Iverican Soil Subject: Memo of Recent Statements Content as follows: The Primeal Spokesperson has announced that the Office of the Primo's intention to engage a representative of the Duchy of @Limonaia in talks concerning regional air defence. Full details have yet to be disclosed, though the Spokesperson expressed his reassurances that "the object of the discussions will be on reactionary air-defence measures and early-warning systems only" and that "the discussion aims to strengthen cooperation between the Republic and the Duchy with real and tangible measures". Primo Franso Deitorr also reached out to the press to convey his optimism stating that his tentative discussions with the Limonaian state offices so far have made him "all the more optimistic about the future of defence cooperation in the Mediargic". In a press conference outside the TRIDENT Iverican Office in Manille, CCO. Ferran Arnau Macharius, interim Secretary-General to the organisation announced the Republic's intention to spearhead one of TRIDENT's initialisation projects "STATAG" or Standardisation of TRIDENT Agreement alongside @Gallambria. The Secretary-General announced that this first step would be both setting a precedent while also tackling a top priority--Anti-Ballistic Missile Defence and general air-space security. Later elaboration announced that Phase 1 will first: consolidate Western Argis Aerospace Defence Command's (WARD) over-the-horizon (OTH) radar network with its Gallambrian equivalent, second: substantially improve WARD's OTH range by the adoption of the Royal Gallambrian Air Force's JOTHRN system, and third: will improve anti-ballistic missile capability over Marenesia by Gallambria's integration of WARD's own ANCILE tiered missile defence system. CCO. Macharius later went on record with a comment, "Given the poor state of order in the Auraid Bay area, and certain unfolding events in Europa, TRIDENT's--and the Republic's renewed focus on air-defence is only too timely. The current state of affairs only justifies our initial commitment to similar projects decades ago and provides us with motivation to renew our interest now." The Ministry of International Commerce & Development has announced that it has begun discussing measures to further incentivise maritime freight through Mediargic area. Minister Franco Sant'Cisco offered this comment, "As we have in the past, we intend to work closely with our peers in Het Huisselant @Variota. Many small businesses lack access to a dedicated international supply chain, making freight easier will only help their growth." End of Content
  4. Previously: When SSO agent "Shrike" offers him a chance to settle an old score with "Kingfisher", now an alleged traitor, Captain Santiago becomes embroiled in a cloak-and-dagger game between the Duchy of Verde and his homeland, the Republic of Iverica. Santiago fails to prevent Kingfisher's assassination of the Vasqqan head of state, Subiri, but manages to confront and defeat Kingfisher in the storm drains of the Vasqqan capital. However, after a watery intervention gives Kingfisher a chance to speak, Santiago quickly learns that his mark, Kingfisher, is no traitor at all, but a double agent still loyal to Iverica. Now, Santiago must confront Shrike, the real traitor who had masterminded the debacle in hopes of recovering the sensitive documents Shrike has gained possession of. A UNION DIVIDED | CHAPTER III, PART 1 1330hrs 17th of October, 2018 Porto Verde They were hopelessly lost. Wandering in the labyrinthian storm drains without a map, Santiago and Kingfisher could only hope to pick path after path of dark, dripping pipeline. This space was a far cry from the cavernous expanse of the main ducts they had battled in just a few hours ago. Between the two, there had been an unspoken agreement of sorts--forged somewhere between the principles of a mutually sought retribution against Shrike and a kind of enemy of my enemy pact. At the moment, the only evidence of trust in their new partnership was the carbine Kingfisher had returned to Santiago's hands. It was clear that the spook did not trust the jaded SOAR officer, but the gesture seemed necessary to cement their partnership--at least until the mission ended with the death of their mutual enemy. Still, the pair had been slogging through the ankle-deep slurry in wary silence of one another, sharing few words but never letting the other out of sight. At least, that was the case until Kingfisher, who had taken the fore, froze and signalled with an upheld fist. "Mér!", he muttered. "What?", Santiago had his carbine raised, sweeping the rear. "Footsteps, still some ways off", whispered Kingfisher in reply. Then they heard the voices. It could only be the SSO kill team, as the Guardia Civil were unlikely to wander the storm drains during a deluge. Kingfisher tensed. Perhaps sensing that the spook was preparing to bolt, Santiago interjected. "Wait--this could be a good thing. If they think you're still my prisoner, we could tag along, use Plover's map, and make a break for it. This place is a maze, we could lose them easily" "Puté, that's bleeding mad", but Kingfisher sounded uncertain. He knew as Santiago did, that all the other options would likely lead to them in Vasqqan cuffs. "It's our best shot", Santiago insisted. --- Not long after, the kill team had found, more like crashed into them at an intersection. There had been a brief exchange of raised rifles and shouting, but once it was clear that it was Santiago--with a freshly zip-tied Kingfisher in tow, the situation settled. Santiago noted the kill team was two members short, casualties of the flood no doubt. Though despite that, they had managed to retain Teresa in their custody, who was now glaring at Santiago through her soaked red locks. "Plover." "Capitan." The greeting was cold, but there was still some relief in Plover's voice--owing more to confirmation of Kingfisher's state of capture than the sight of Santiago's botched face. "Start talking, what's our plan for getting out of this damp hell?", Santiago resumed his usual tone of easy swaggering, masking the tension tightening in his calves. "I've ascertained our position. The airstrip is a no-go, we're too far. SSO has a contact inside the Guardia Maritima boat pool, we should be able to secure a skiff back to friendly waters." Santiago's mind raced. It was almost too perfect. He knew Shrike would be taking a ship, he said as much. If Kingfisher's new intel was true, he'd be making for Verde instead of Manille. There was only a matter of cutting Plover loose somehow. "Perfect. Lead the way." Plover turned to take point, consulting his plastic-sleeved map. Kingfisher and Santiago exchanged glances. Teresa, watching all the while, did not miss their gestures. --- The group marched along. In between the minutes of the march, Santiago and Kingfisher held a hurried conversation of hand signalled messages. They were bringing up the rear of the formation, so no one had caught on to their plotting. No one, except for Teresa, who cast furtive glances back at the pair, frowning all the while. Kingfisher caught her eye and nodded to her. If anything, Teresa's frown deepened even more. Plover had shared landmarks and map information with Santiago earlier, who in turn, signed the information to Kingfisher. It was decided that they would make a break for it at one of the cisterns they would pass--a tower-sized silo used to hold excess water in case the tubes were overwhelmed. The plan was simple--on the mark, Santiago would cause a distraction and they would bolt down the planned route to the boat pool, using the floodgate marked on the map to cut off the rest of the bewildered team. The opening to the cistern was coming into view, ahead its cylindrical base lay illuminated by the red glow of service lamps. Kingfisher looked to Santiago, who returned a minute nod and flipped his safety off. As the group emerged from one of the capillary tubes into the hollow tower that was the cistern, Kingfisher quickly scanned the interior. He found his mark. The floodgate. His calves tensed and he took a deep breath. The signal came when Santiago shouted, calling out phantom contacts behind them while firing his carbine at the dark nothingness of the tube they had just emerged from. The alarm was enough to distract the kill team, all of whom wheeled around and opened fire down the tube as well. Santiago began edging backwards, letting the kill team form a firing line in front of him. He slipped a flash grenade and a smoke grenade from his rig. At the first sign of the team's distraction, Kingfisher began his wild sprint, dashing towards the sluice gate. There was a shout of alarm, and one of the men turned his weapon towards the darting Kingfisher. The flash grenade that Santiago primed went off, blinding everyone else. Kingfisher hadn't been careful enough as he ran with his forearm across his eyes. He slipped on the muck and went sprawling into the ankle-deep dregs. Then, Santiago's smoke grenade went off, smoke billowing around the enclosed space. There was shouting now, the kill team was verily confused, coughing and milling about. Just as Kingfisher regained his footing he felt his collar yanked upwards. He turned to face his assailant, meeting the descending carbine stock face-first. The weapon butt slammed into the bridge of his nose. Plover had somehow caught up to him. The young agent now stood triumphantly over him, his weapon's muzzle aimed squarely at Kingfisher's forehead The carbine let loose two rounds. No kaleidoscope of memories came. There was only pure, naked shock as the muzzle flash enveloped his vision. A moment passed before he realised he wasn't dead. Coming out of the wince he was holding, he realised that Plover was convulsing at an odd angle, bent backwards, head tipped backed with the carbine pointing wayside. Teresa was behind Plover, her zip ties constricting his windpipe as he tried to shake her off like a wounded tiger would if it had a monkey around its neck. Not wasting another moment, Kingfisher cocked his right leg back and sent it lashing out. The boot heel connected with Plover's crotch, ending his struggle and allowing Teresa to gain control. There was a crack, audible through the shouting and shooting. Plover fell, his head lolling at an odd angle. Teresa scooped up the carbine and kicked Kingfisher in the ribs. "Move it!", she shrieked at him. Kingfisher didn't need to be told twice, he scrambled to his feet and half-staggered, half-sprinted for the flood gate. --- Santiago had already been waiting at the gate entrance, firing at the scattered kill team returning wildly inaccurate fire. The smoke had flooded the constricted space, with no formation and muzzle flashes lighting up all around, the operators' resistance was of little effect. Only as Kingfisher and Teresa slid into the tube did they finally respond in good order. Though it was too late, for Santiago had already flipped the gate's manual trigger, sending the heavy 3-ton slab of steel into a whining descent. As the gate squealed shut, the noise of firing and shouting was abruptly muffled, punctuated only by the dull tolling of rounds thrumming off the thick metal. Santiago was panting heavily. As was Kingfisher, blood streaming through his nose. And as was Teresa who had Plover's carbine levelled at the both of them. --- Your granny a tranny.
  5. @Faramount, on your point of "it is a futile effort to recreate Christianity". I fully agree. It is from that point that I think labels of "orthodoxy" and "catholicism" are equally useless unless they have some sort of referential meaning--significance to a certain Eurth canon. Just to reiterate my points, what I am saying is: The use of simple catchall terms like "orthodoxy" and "catholicism" is lazily worldbuilding unless it actually originates from something meaningful to that title. I agree it is futile to recreate Christianity on Eurth as it is IRL. I don't claim differently. That being said, I do not attack the way SIC and Tagmatium have gone about their con-religions as (SIC at least) has acknowledged that events have not gone down the way they have IRL. I am merely adding something which I think is not really being acknowledged--evident in the amount of XYZ orthodoxy/catholicism. TLDR: I advise people not to cop-out by choosing misnomeric religion names. Pick names that are meaningful, otherwise reference/build from something that gives the term meaning.
  6. A UNION DIVIDED | INTERLUDE II 1330hrs 17th of October, 2018 Porto Verde There was a storm coming. It was gathering force in the middle of the Verde Sea. Already, a growing swirl of ominous grey began to fill the horizon, visible clearly from the shores of the Verde Isle as a monstrous cordillera of dull blue-black. There was static in the air, felt through the thick humidity that had been hanging about the marinas, quays, and boulevards of the Port of Verde. From the perch afforded by the Ducal Palace's veranda, the picturesque shore-side quarter of the old port city, dotted with low, old, lime and shell buildings, appeared empty of its usual throngs of tourists and absent of the couples and families that meandered about the well-gardened walkways of the boulevard. Gian Iago Vivar dei Borbon ét Carlos--Duke of the Verde Isle, Marquis of the Indic Marches, and Lord-Protector of Isla Custo D'Oeste observed his capital from the veranda's railing. The warm, heavy humidity had seen him abandon the coat and waistcoat he normally wore. His dress-shirt, normally pressed crisp and creaseless, had its sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows. He stared into the waters of the Verde, its surface already beginning to stir with white-caps usually absent from its calm, emerald splendour. That was the way his Secretary found him. The man emerged from the study the veranda was connected to, he was carrying a satellite phone. Borbon took the phone and held it to his ear. "Everything went well I trust?", spoke the Duke. "Like clockwork", replied the voice on the other side. "Do you have the necessary evidence?" "Yes, we have the handler as well." The handler. An unexpected gift, thought Borbon. If they had him, things would be quite damning for the Primo. The double agent, Shrike, had done well. Iverica's fall from hegemonic power might now be closer to catastrophe than calamity. Borbon imagined the headlines, "Iverican Agents Behind Subiri Assassination", "Iverica Engineers Civil War", "Iverica Ejected From Federation". Franso Deitorr had played a risky game, going back on the acquiescence he had plied him with during that last evening of the Ultramares Conference. "Very good, how soon until your delivery here?" "We have secured a craft. A flight appears far too risky at this juncture. We depart for your position in four hours", replied Shrike. "And the loose end? The assassin?", Bordon asked, referring to the Primo's last piece on the Vasqqan board. "I have one of my men on it, we have their egress plans, I expect a report of their success soon enough." "Excellent. Your reward is within your grasp. All you must do now, is arrive." Borbon ended the call. The events that had just played out, over the previous few hours, had Borbon as close to excited has had ever been since the First Vasqqan War. Primo Franso Deitorr had played an exciting last hand--Borbon would give him that. The desperate ploy by the Ivericans had become clear to Borbon the moment news of Subiri's felling by sniper had reached his ears. Borbon had been quick to respond, his office immediately suspended the federal referendum in the Duchy, putting the much needed Verdense vote to join the federation into a state of limbo. The moment his declaration had hit the media, Narva and Galicia, equally nervous of the reputably volatile Vasqqa, had been quick to parrot his sentiments and suspend their own referenda. Borbon was making good on his threat to Franso--give me helmsmanship of Vasqqa, or there will be no Iverican hegemony. But that wasn't enough, Borbon knew that Franso had something up his sleeve the moment Shrike had reported new activity in Vasqqa. Shrike, who had first brought Iverican plans to Borbon's notice earlier in the year, had then informed him that assets were being activated in Vilvau--to which Borbon had ordered Shrike to investigate and take necessary action. It could only mean that Iverica was trying to break out of Verde's bind--as to why, that had fallen into place the moment the bullet struck the Vasqqan head of state. Borbon permitted himself a slight grin as he thought it through. With no other option, Iverica would attempt to engineer a crisis, something grave and pervasive enough to warrant some heroic calling to arms of the Iberic Diaspora. Subiri had been the sacrificial lamb--with tensions already high between the Narvic "Raqqan State" in Vasqqa--it would only take one small tip to send their natural enemies, the pro-federation Vasqqans into a fit of bloody retribution. If it had looked like a Narvic nationalist cell had killed Subiri, then the Vasqqan loyalist majority would riot. Another civil war would brew up and the Narvics of the Raqqan river valley would once again take up arms against the Iberics of the coast. Fearing an escalation, the pro-federation Vasqqan government, Narva, and Galicia would only be too relieved when Iverica would call for an intervention. The coalition would unite, sweep in to to quell the unrest, eject the Raqqan region as an independent entity, and reign the rest of Vasqqa in--leaving Primo Deitorr the hero of the moment. Then, Verde wouldn't have a reason to suspend the referendum any longer and would have no choice but to play along, or be left out. All that, of course, was assuming that Borbon didn't leak the filthy details first. Assassinating Subiri, even if the Vasqqan leader was also courting Verde on the sly, would turn the Vasqqan loyalties sour. Engineering a civil bloodbath would, in turn, absolutely horrify the Iberic coalition. Iverica's reputation as stalwart and generous hegemon would be in tatters. This latter possibility was quickly becoming a probability, with a captured SSO agent and a case full of evidence about to fall into Verde's hands. If only Franso had just stayed down after Borbon made the initial offer. The Duke may have been cunning, cold, and determined, but he was not a monster. He had not expected Franso to resort to these means--measures that would cost thousands of lives if permitted. Borbon supposed he was partly to blame for that, perhaps he had pushed the Primo into a corner during the Conference talks. No matter, he thought. It had been done, there was no deviating from this path now. Already, pogroms would be killing droves of Vasqqans. In light of that, Borbon felt a little justified in ruining Iverica. If the handler and evidence reached him and was then revealed to the world, the civil war might be halted yet. Franso had chosen his gambit, Borbon thought as he stared out into the gathering storm. Thus, the Primo had to face the consequences of his failure. Iverica would topple… so who would be the next hegemon? Borbon felt invigorated as he glanced at his small but wealthy realm. It was time Iverica stepped aside. It was time the helm returned to the nobility. --- Recap: On the trail of the apparently rogue SSO agent Kingfisher, another agent called Shrike approaches Capitan Santiago with a contract to find and kill the rogue agent. Santiago, a special forces officer bears a deep grudge against Kingfisher--who had caused the deaths of most of Santiago's unit in a previous action. Santiago accepts, and is put in charge of a kill team headed for Vilvau, where Kingfisher is suspected to be operating in. Kingfisher, apparently loyal to a Narvic nationalist cell that opposes the federation and demands an independent Narvic state, prepares for an operation to assassinate the pro-federation Vasqqan leader, Subiri. He and the cell leader, Teresa successfully shoot Subiri from a vantage point. Santiago and Shrike are too late to stop Kingfisher, but have already rooted out his base of operations, capturing vital evidence of the plot and apprehending Kingfisher's handler, Godwit. Using the plans found at Kingfisher's hideout, Santiago decides to take the kill team to ambush the assassins in their escape route--the Vilvau storm drains. Shrike decides to separate and claims the priority of escorting both the evidence and the captured Godwit to Intreimor for examination. Kingfisher, Teresa, and their cellmates narrowly escape the Vilvau Guardia Civil and are about to successfully escape. However, they are ambushed by Santiago and the SSO kill team. One by one, the cell is picked apart, forcing Santiago and Kingfisher into a brutal hand-to-hand confrontation. Ultimately, Kingfisher is overpowered by Santiago and Teresa, the last surviving member of the cell is captured as well. Santiago has orders to kill Kingfisher immediately, but acting on a gut-feel, decides to spare him for interrogation. Now with their prisoners in tow, the kill team attempts to escape the storm drains and escape to the safety if Iverica. However, they choose a bad route and are hit with a surge of stormwater passing through the shafts. Swept away, Santiago wakes to find that Kingfisher has disarmed him. The "rogue" SSO agent explains that Santiago was manipulated. Kingfisher explains that he was licensed to conduct a black op, Iverica's last hope at overcoming Verde's stonewalling of the federal referendum was to engineer a civil war grave enough to unite all of the diaspora states. Shrike had been the real traitor all along, and as of this time, possesses all the damning evidence Verde would need to sink Iverica's dreams of federation once and for all.
  7. Okay, tbh, having like 5-8 different "orthodox" and "Catholic" churches makes about as much sense as a hairy trout. No, we are absolutely not going to explain it away "mULtiPLe DIfFeREnt Christianities emerged on their own and have totally nothing to do with the Aroman/Tagmatine churches. At some point, it will have come to terms that anything that is going to be labelled under the same terms will have to come from a single point of canon. If you want your own version of events, either call a schism or rename your damn church to something. Anyway, my point is just that we will have to acknowledge an original point of origin if we want to stay on the same stream. The problem I'm homing on is the existence of Ahranaian Catholicism and Limonaian Catholicism, and Salvian Catholicism... ad absurdum. I'm not talking about Variota's thing which has a significantly different stream of theology.
  8. --- Recipients: All Iverican Embassies Foreign Embassies on Iverican Soil Subject: Memo of Recent Statements Content as follows: The Ministry of Foreign Affairs wishes to remind her associated embassies that the Republic of Iverica is still in the process of resolving an internal matter involving the Argic-Alharun Federal Coalition of Iberic Nations. As such, Minister Desdemona Tomas-Morra wishes to convey the sincerest of apologies to any state inconvenienced by the MFA's temporary policy of no-commitment. Minister Morra wishes to assure her foreign counterparts that normal relations will resume once the matter is resolved. The Primeal Spokesperson has confirmed that a bilateral meeting between an Executive Ministry representative and Prime Minister of @Tikva Jacob Lasker is being coordinated and planned. Details are expected to be announced and confirmed in due course. The Primeal Spokesperson also wishes to convey Primo Franso Deitorr's comment on the issue of the conflict in the Dolch See, which has so far involved the belligerent states of @Fulgistan, @Seylos, and @Limonaia resolved to an armed invasion of the Confederate Empire of @Derthalen. The Primeal Office has chosen a neutral stance on the matter but would like to emphasise its lack of confidence in the casus belli so claimed by the belligerent parties. Furthermore, the Primeal Office would also like to acknowledge statements released by both the Radiant Republic of the @Sunset Sea Islands and the @Rihan Republic as these do raise legitimate concerns shared by the Executive Ministry of Iverica. The Executive Ministry has emplaced a travel ban on outgoing flights and maritime vessels bound for the Auraid Bay Area--effective immediately. Transit on non-government purposes is hereby suspended until further notice. This restriction applies to all Iverican-registered commercial aircraft and maritime vessels bound for @Theodoria, @PyeMcGowan, and @Alenveil owing to "the unstable and unpredictable nature of armed conflict and widespread acts of unchecked violence in the region". Similarly, the Home Ministry has enacted a closure of borders to all aircraft and maritime vessels both originating from and in-loading any freight from the aforementioned nations. End of Content
  9. APPLICATION APPROVALS: LIMONAIA & TIKVA Applications were approved in the past month by the Association Panel. This included an application for full member status by Limonaia and an application for observer status by Tikva. Warm hand of applause! Decisions, in keeping with ATARA's system of full consensus decision making, was acknowledged and approved by all sitting and active Panel members as of the time of consideration. Voting was held in a private group session on Discord. Welcome, Limonaia! Welcome, Tikva! Note: Tikva's application has been sponsored by the Republic of Iverica
  10. A UNION DIVIDED | CHAPTER II, PART 3 1130hrs 17th of October, 2018 Vilvau Storm Drains Santiago's eyes burst open. His lungs rattled a barking fit as they struggled to expel several quarts of stormwater. Still wracked with spasms, he weakly rolled to his side and attempted to spew out the rest of the unwelcome reservoir. The coughing continued for a good minute or two. By the time Santiago was finished, his eyes were watery from the prolonged hacking and wheezing. He lay sprawled on his side, heaving as he laboured to refill his lungs with air. He was lying on the pavement in some part of the storm drains. There was an eerie red glow, probably from some emergency bulb overhead. His vision was still blurry, his eyes stung from their recent waterlogging ordeal. He blinked rapidly, dissipating the occlusion somewhat. That was when he noticed the gun pointed at his head. --- EARLIER Kingfisher knew this would be his best chance. The kill team took off sprinting when the tidal surge of stormwater made its rude entry into the shaft. He and Teresa were all but forgotten as the team ran for their lives. Teresa was ahead of him, sprinting like mad. Kingfisher tailed her, but looking behind him, he knew they couldn't possibly make it. Though the water was a few hundred metres behind them, it would catch the group in seconds. It was heading towards them with the speed of a runaway train. He quickly took stock… ...and saw one slim chance. He called to Teresa. But the roar of the surge was deafening and she appeared intent on running. Kingfisher cursed. He'd have to go this one alone. Making up his mind, he broke left into an access shaft. Hoping the torrent of draining water would pass quickly enough, Kingfisher secured his zip-tied hands in a loop around a protruding valve and turned his face away from the approaching water, hoping for the best. --- PRESENT Santiago looked up at the silhouette holding the pistol a good few metres away and cursed. The single bulb that bathed the space in a red glow did little to reveal details. The two were alone in some desolate corner of the Vilvau storm drains. He was still soaked and his head ached something fierce. Taking quick stock of his weapons situation, he noted he had been disarmed. "Sit up, hands on your head", said the silhouette. It was a voice Santiago recognised all too well, having heard it throughout his battalion's gruelling deployment in Hellenic Rus. The man stepped closer, confirming it for Santiago--Kingfisher. The SOAR capitan said nothing and glowered at the man. He slowly complied, rising to a sitting position and resting his palms on his soaked, close-cropped head of hair. Kingfisher kept the pistol relaxed and resting by his right hip. "What did they tell you Santiago? Did they tell you why I did it? Do you know whom you are working for? Whom you are really working for?" Santiago held his glowering gaze. He spat, the glob of saliva and stormwater landing squarely between them. Despite this, he didn't interrupt. Kingfisher took the invitation to continue. "I haven't shot you. I could have easily done you in while you passed out in a puddle, yet here we are--an opportunity for you to use your ample skillset to overpower, disarm, and kill me--", as he spoke, Kingfisher withdrew Santiago's Ka-bar from the waist of his trousers. "--by whatever nasty process of disembowelment you are entertaining in your head right now", the knife was tossed to the ground. It landed with dull clatter just between the two of them. "No, but I risk this because I fear, Capitan Santiago, that you have been lied to. "I'm going to give you a choice in due course, but for now…", Kingfisher trailed of, waggling the pistol muzzle lazily. "...you're going to listen--and listen well." --- MONTHS AGO 17th of May, 2018 Somewhere in Vasqqa The phone trilled. The safe house had been as still as a grave. The sharp trill of the burner phone broke the silence again with its shrill cry. Godwit was seated at one end of the room. His chin had been resting on his steepled knuckles. He looked to Kingfisher, who had been pacing, but now stared on the phone old cell phone vibrating on the table. The room was dimly lit, the few rays of dappled light slipping from between crooked blinds folded over grimy windows. The two men shared a look. Kingfisher picked up the phone and answered. There was a long pause. "Do you recognise my voice?", the tone was unnaturally deep, the speaker was using a scrambler. Kingfisher swallowed. "No", Kingfisher did not, the voice was obfuscated, but the call had been expected and so he knew to whom the voice belonged. He could not help but tense in response. "Do you know who I am?" "Yes." "Then you know what I have sent to your handler is of the utmost concern. I want you to follow the instructions I have sent very carefully. There can be no mistakes." "I understand, sir." "They will come for you--our enemies without and within. There is no recourse, he has left us no alternative. The target must be removed and the chain must be split." Kingfisher knew he meant Subiri and that the chain meant Vasqqa. "He has already sold himself to our friend from across the straits--", of course, realised Kingfisher. Borbon. The Duke of Verde had gotten to Subiri. The Consulo of Vasqqa, supposedly Iverica's loyal ally, was trying to play both sides of the federal power struggle. "--he has made his decision and is no longer our friend. There will be clamour when he is removed, the chain will be torn down the middle--and we will be left to put it back together, this time, on our own terms with all the chaff removed from the sheaves. He will try to stop you, our mutual friend, and he will have connections, even within your organisation." It was clear to Kingfisher. He understood what it had come to. Verde had forced Iverica's hand, Verde had made a turn-coat out of the Vasqqan leader. Verde also likely knew what the SSO was up to, suppressing the Vasqqan nationalists. Verde could not move more drastically without evidence, but they could move pieces from the shadows. The only recourse was to remove Subiri and in doing so, start a civil war. But that would allow a singular opportunity, a chance for the Federation to unite in an intervention. Borbon--Verde, would all but lose its bargaining chip of filibustering the political process. If Kingfisher succeeded, lives would be sacrificed, Vasqqan lives. But if they failed here… "They will do everything they can to stop you, you must not fail and you must not be caught. The union--and all hopes of future peace--depend on it.", the scrambled voice of Primo Franso Deitorr was foreboding and conveyed the tone of sobering finality with a hard edge. There was a click, the Primo had ended the call. --- PRESENT Kingfisher lapsed into silence. Santiago digested the story. "You mean to say…" "Yes, Capitan, they manipulated you. Why did they want me dead instead of bringing me back to Intreimor? Why did they pick you, the most heated with airs of vengeance, to come after me? Did you ever confirm any burn-notice they might have forged? And more importantly… where is your handler going with my files?" Santiago felt a pit open up in his stomach. Kingfisher had of course overhead the details during his captivity. Things fell into place. "Shrike.…" began Santiago. "Is the real traitor.", finished Kingfisher. --- NANI?!!
  11. The above post refers to a proposal about a month and a bit in the making. The proposal addresses the common problem we've been faced with many times: newcomer imbalance and misplaced expectations. Just to be 100% transparent so everyone can see what this new mechanic is, here's a link (GDOC): https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Rtl8DrWoKu9QxXEci915MKgtc2wmo90Exc6lzVF7eRo/edit?usp=sharing It is currently under beta-testing and review by all parts of the staff. Feel free to scan it or talk to any @admin or @RpMod/Mentor on the Discord if you have particular concerns. Hopefully, with the near implementation of this measure, we can nip the problem of having too many un-managed newcomers in the bud and finally get to a productive common ground with them. This has been made public so members of the community may keep themselves informed on the staff's activities and potentially new mechanics. Cheers
  12. Step-By-Step Walkthrough NEWCOMERS TO BE GIVEN THE PRIMER & HANDBOOK [IGNORE THIS FOR NOW] CREATE A POST BELOW AND GIVE YOUR NATION BACKGROUND- Make a brief outline of your nation's history, culture, politics, etc. This is the first post you should make in registering for inclusion into the RP World. A template is available on FRONT DESK post one copy THERE and one copy on your thread HERE. NEWCOMERS TO SELECT STATS- A document will be sent to you. In it, you will find a sheet for selecting things like population, economic data, and land area. Follow instructions and fill out the enclosed sheet. Once you have selected, edit your post HERE by adding the stats you have correctly chosen. NEWCOMERS CLAIM SOVEREIGN AREA- Follow instructions to create an application in the Map Application Process. Once you have posted a copy THERE, copy & paste that on your master thread HERE. This is the third and final step of registering a new nation. Note: in this proposal, claiming a land area is limited in terms of square kilometres following the above “Selecting Stats Procedure”. FINAL BALANCE: MODIFIERS, NATURAL RESOURCES, & TECHNOLOGY ARE ASSIGNED- Moderators will consider the given stats and desired map placement. From this data, they will assign one or two modifiers appropriate to balance (positive or negative) the new nation. In this step: Await moderator response to your data so far. Moderators will then inform you if there is an opportunity to "buff" or "nerf" your nation with special modifiers. These will vary on a case by case basis. One-to-one discussion with an RP Moderator. Once finalised, any modifiers to your nation must be noted in an edit to your master thread here. WORKING TOWARDS GROWTH [IGNORE THIS FOR NOW] --- TEMPLATE FOR MASTER THREAD Post this below following the order outlined above. I. NATION BACKGROUND [Follow Template in link above] II. CHOSEN STATISTICS POPULATION: [Exact value | HIGH/MEDIUM/LOW] GDP PER CAPITA: [Exact value| HIGH/MEDIUM/LOW] LAND AREA (Square Kilometres): [Exact value| HIGH/MEDIUM/LOW] III. COPY OF MAP APPLICATION FORM [Follow Template in link above] IV. MODIFIERS (IF ANY) [Only if applicable, not all cases may require this]
  13. A monthly periodical co-written by volunteer writers from ATARA member states. Know what the Association is up to! Issues online and in print. OOC: CREDITS TO: @Gallambria AND @Variota both excellent writers that made headway into what I think is the first cooperatively written news thread.
  14. A UNION DIVIDED | CHAPTER II, PART 2 1020hrs 17th of October, 2018 Vilvau Storm Drains Santiago held the pistol level, pointed straight at Kingfisher. The beaten man still lay crumpled on the ground where he had fallen. There he was, the turn-coat SSO agent that had commanded his men through the rubble of Hellenic-Rus. By his orders, they had fought through hell and high stinking water just to achieve the political victory that desk jockeys and pencil pushers had a hard-on for. Unbidden, flashes of remembrance came. The stink of the Hellenic capital's backed-up sewers washed over his memory's olfactory. The gripping feeling of desperation toning the thought as he recalled every brutal inch as Three-SOAR fought to escape, being picked off all the while by the crazed remnants of the insurgency. This was his opportunity. The SSO boogeyman, Shrike and his pet subaltern, Plover, wanted the turn-coat Kingfisher's brains plastered right here, right now. Shrike would even pay him through the Iverican agency's credit just to take sweet retribution on this traitor that had so spitefully joined a Raqqan insurgency. An insurgency where most of whom, like the cuffed b*tch Teresa Moreno they had now, were raving ultranationalists. The schismatic Vasqqans, natives of the Raqqan enclave, were no better than terrorists who would see the dream of the natal Federation dashed on the birthing room floor if only to preserve the so-called Raqqan Region's Narvic Purity against the strawman of Iveric Imperialism. And yet… something did not quite make sense to Santiago. Santiago, still holding his weapon poised, barked an order at the SSO kill team. "Cuff him." The kill team, long ago brought subordinate to Santiago's natural aura of command, moved to obey. "Belay that!", spat Plover, clearly in some surprise at Santiago's sudden change of disposition. The team hesitated. "Capitan--", continued the SSO subaltern. "--I order you to kill that traitor!". "Why?", Santiago asked the question calmly, but there was a rigidness to his tone that demanded an answer. "We are both under orders from a superior agent of the Special Security Office!", Plover sputtered. "Think about it, boy", Santiago said, his eyes still fixed firmly on the supine Kingfisher. Santiago holstered his pistol and continued. "--this man is a traitor to the Republic, he has worked his way through the ranks of a terrorist cell with vast resources--vast enough that they have successfully assassinated the Vasqqan head of state and would likely have gotten away with it if not for us. This man is a valuable source, just the same as that woman. Why in the Saviour's name should we kill him now?", Santiago's question hung about the air. The aura of doubt was palpable among the members of the kill team. Plover was attempting to formulate a half-baked rebuke when Santiago put the final word down. "No. We exfil with him. Those are my orders." It seemed that the kill team's members needed no further prodding. Two stepped forward, turned the half-conscious Kingfisher over and secured his wrists tightly with thick zip ties. Plover made as if to reassert his authority--but it seemed that the kill team had decided on command for him. --- LATER The trek through the storm drain went on in silence. The group was making for an exit drain that emptied in the city outskirts, far from the most serious Guardia Civil patrols that were surely turning over every favela and every potential lead in Vilvau. Shrike knew nothing of the developments, radio communication further than their local area would be risky--if it were even possible. There was more than a dozen of metres concrete and dirt separating the group from the surface. Vasqqan intelligence was likely monitoring the airwaves closely, so even if they could reach Shrike for a report, it would be far too risky. The kill team had prepared for this eventuality in the ad hoc plan they had cooked up minutes before descending into the drains for the ambush. The plan, presuming success of the operation, was for the team to exfiltrate Vilvau and head for a dirt airstrip some 82 kilometres south-west of the Vasqqan capital. They would take a small propeller aircraft back to Iverica and rendezvous with Shrike, who held Kingfisher's handler, another turncoat SSO agent with the callsign Godwit along with several pieces of evidence. Santiago's mission would be over then, Kingfisher would most likely be tried and executed in a closed Tribunal. Santiago would be payed and could live happy as a wealthy officer with his debt to the fallen fulfilled. It was a good plan. A little too comfortable and easy for the little voice in the back of the SOAR capitan's mind. He stayed on edge, wary of the dark corners of the storm drain's cavernous sluices and maddening cadence of trickling gutter water. One man hurried the bound and gagged she-terrorist along at gunpoint from behind, two others half-dragged the disoriented Kingfisher at either flank. The rest made a perimeter around the file. "How far?", Santiago finally broke the silence. The group had just exited into a narrower passage, this one only about 2 metres from base to its highest arch. The water volume trickling at their feet was greater here, coming up to their shins now. Perhaps a late autumn shower had started above. "We should be entering a final section of tunnels. There should be a water silo with an access ladder maybe 20 minutes out at our pace", Plover replied, tone cold with a slight edge of sullenness. "--it will take us close to one of the landfills, from there--" "Shh!", Santiago hissed suddenly. The team immediately snapped to alert. "Do you hear that?", Santiago queried. Plover paused, somewhat irate. "It must be your imagination Capitan. I hear nothing more than the damn drip--", Plover paused, catching himself. The dripping had grown faint. There was a sudden change in the tube's air temperature. It seemed as though a cold breath had enveloped the space. Then they heard it, first a muffled gurgle from behind several layers of concrete behind them, then a low rumble, quickly rising in volume. "We should hurry--", Santiago did not get to finish his order. The entire team saw what was behind them and broke into a pell-mell sprint--even the prisoners' guards had decided to abandon their burdens and tear-ass down the tube. The rumble was rapidly rising to a deep roar. By some infernal mechanism, one of the floodgates had routed water to their section. The terrible surge of grey water, far down the rear end of the tube was roaring towards them with the speed of a runaway train and the fury of an ocean tide. Santiago hadn't stopped to gape--he was sprinting too. --- Note: So there's a sort of recap/exposition in the first few paragraphs of this post that should somewhat explain things. I hope it helps clear up some confusion. P.S: Ur mom gey.
  15. A UNION DIVIDED | CHAPTER II, PART 1 0950hrs 17th of October, 2018 Vilvau Storm Drains "On my mark…", Santiago whispered into the headset. The chevron aim point on his scope already lay straight over the lead figure's centre of mass. The white-hot silhouette moved down the darkened field on the thermal picture. "three" He compensated ever so slightly, slowly panning his aim as the small party below ambled along. "two" His felt the resisting pressure of the trigger as he began a slow deliberate squeeze. "one--" --- "Teresa... Quiet." Teresa gave Kingfisher an annoyed look but halted her musings. "Break into flanks. I'll signal." She looked alarmed for just a moment, but then nodded and hissed as she relayed the plan to Tuna and Herring in front. Kingfisher turned back and likewise repeated the instruction to the guardsman, whose wounded shoulder hung limp. "ready…", he hummed, just loudly enough that everyone in the party could hear. "steady…" "now." --- "Púto! Fire-fire-fire!", Santiago roared into his radio. The party below tore into two flanks, each member sprinting for the cover, ducking and weaving through the concrete pillars. Santiago's shots went wide as he tried to redraw his bead on the running point man. "They're heading for the sump! Move, team by team, go!", Santiago shouted into his headset. "We'll have to climb down, not enough time!" Plover replied through the radio. "Then don't climb down to chase them, jump the gaps to the next pillar ledge!" Santiago spat back. "You're insane!" "You're a pussy!", retorted Santiago as he took a running leap and cleared the gap between the pillars. He landed on the opposite ledge and didn't break his momentum. There was a column of pillars ahead, he'd have to jump each and every gap. Reluctantly, Santiago's kill team partner followed. As the pair began to gain on the scattering prey, Santiago slipped a frag from his rig as he ran. The pin and lever went flying, followed shortly by the grenade as it plummeted below. The concussion of the blast from behind him was ear-rattling, even from his high. The flare from the explosion left after-images in Santiago's eyes. Santiago heard screaming. One down, four to go. --- The grenade went off just ahead of Kingfisher, the surprise of the blast knocking him down. Herring wasn't so lucky, he had been on point ahead of Kingfisher. Herring was screaming as he rolled on the ground, spots of blood blossoming all over his clothes where multiple pieces of shrapnel had peppered him. Cursing, Kingfisher stumbled to his feet and took off again, putting a burst of rounds into Herring as he passed the hopelessly injured man. He slalomed through the pillars, Teresa not far away on a parallel flank. He could see the sluice gate leading out of here, growing larger as he closed the distance, legs pumping furiously. Teresa shouted a warning and Kingfisher threw himself behind one pillar just as the cement ahead of him exploded into shards of shattering concrete. "Tuna! Forty-mike!", he heard Teresa shout. In the parallel aisle, Kingfisher barely made out Tuna duck out from behind a pillar to brace his 40mm grenade launcher against his shoulder. Tuna had the weapon trained squarely at the shooter standing directly atop their only exit. --- Santiago made his last leap. His carbine swinging from its shoulder strap. He took position just atop the arch that marked the sluice gate exit. Crouching but still panting, he raised his rifle and took aim. Multiple figures darted through the dark, their forms highlighted as snow white mannequins on his optic. He picked the closest one and let loose a burst, cursing as the figure dove behind a pillar just in time. Exhaling slowly, Santiago relaxed a notch to calm his hammering pulse. Though before he had even a moment to reacquire a target, he heard the unmistakable dry cough of a grenade launcher and felt his pulse spike again. Out of better options, Santiago leapt from the arch ledge. He landed on the concrete pavement of the sluice floor as the grenade detonated above him, showering him with concrete shards just as he skinned his palms on the landing roll. The carbine's optic was f*cked, Santiago had to cant the carbine at an angle and aim down the iron sights mounted on the tilt-rail. Santiago squeezed once, carbine kicking as it sent a burst down range. --- Tuna went down, as rounds tore through his unarmoured body in three places. Kingfisher cursed from his place behind cover. He leaned out, carbine at the ready. He scanned. But the lone figure was nowhere to be seen. Teresa had moved out of his line of sight too. Cursing some more, he ducked back and made a dash for the opposite pillar. There! Something flickered in the dark, a dozen or so metres to his right. Kingfisher dove, landing on his stomach just inside the wide sluice ditch. He fired over the lip of the ditch, saturating in an arc of controlled bursts. Somewhere to his upper right, he took flanking fire. Where the hell were they all coming from? Scrambling to his feet, Kingfisher wasted no time abandoning his position, taking off in a sprint for better cover. Just as he rounded to cover behind another massive pillar, a force picked him off his feet and onto his back. Kingfisher gasped like a landed fish as his lungs struggled to replace the air ripped out from them by the gunshot impact. Luckily, the rifle-resistant level 4 vest beneath his shirt hadn't given way. He heard footfalls pounding on the concrete somewhere ahead of him. Still sucking in breath, Kingfisher's body responded on pure instinct and adrenaline. The carbine had fallen somewhere, so his right hand dove for his sidearm at his thigh. It was single clean motion, his hand ripped the pistol from its holster, bringing the weapon to a two-handed grip above his belly, his right knee straightening itself on the ground to give way for a line of sight. Kingfisher fired instinctively, body aligning naturally from years of practice, joints slipping reflexively into accurate form. The pistol barked twice, sending rounds to the centre of mass of the charging figure less than two metres ahead of him. --- Santiago saw the man go down, his burst had been on target. He had out-manoeuvred the spook, using his head-mounted monocular to guide him through the dark maze of pillars. His quarry was struggling on the ground as Santiago closed the distance, ready to finish the spook off. He was almost upon the fallen man when two impacts ripped the carbine out of his hands. Santiago growled and kicked the pistol out of the fallen man's grip. As the man's face came into view, Santiago could not help but hesitate a fraction--a mix of surprise and satisfaction forestalling his coup de grace. Kingfisher clenched his abdomen and swept both his legs against the rear of Santiago's knee. The 185-pound man stumbled to one knee but did not go down. His opponent scrambled to his feet and launched his knee at Santiago's face. Santiago brought his forearm up in time as the blow connected, but was intercepted, staggering him regardless. Santiago took a passing step in retreat and pulled out his Ka-Bar from its collar sheath. Holding it outstretched, point threatening while his left arm was raised to cover his neck. Inside lunging range, it was a smarter choice than to risk giving his opponent an opening by fumbling for a pistol. Kingfisher on the other hand, did not have much of a choice. Lacking a knife on his rig, he lunged for the pistol lying a few paces back--but Santiago was too quick, closing the distance in a blink. The spook responded with surprising speed as well, blocking Santiago as he attempted a lunging stab. Kingfisher had pivoted his stance just in time, turning on a dime and thrusting one palm out to deflect Santiago's wrist. The palm intercepted the wrist and strong fingers constricted in a hold on the weapon-arm. In the bind, Kingfisher tried to shove Santiago while in control of his knife wrist. A mistake. Santiago was far heavier than the slim spook and easily held his ground, taking the opportunity to thrust his knee into Kingfisher's abdomen. The spook doubled-over as the blow connected solidly. Santiago followed up without hesitation, launching a roundhouse kick that connected with the side of doubled-over man's face. Kingfisher all but flew to one side, collapsing on the ground, semi-conscious. The SOAR Capitan took a moment to catch his breath. He wasn't expecting that much of a fight in close quarters. Footsteps, followed by a voice came up from behind. "Friendlies on your '6... Good work, Santiago. Now kill him and let's get out of here", Plover declared, as he walked over. He was followed by most of his men, two of whom were pulling a prisoner along. Plover had Teresa zip-tied and half-dragged by two of the kill team operators. "We got the last one too, the one in the Guardia uniform--now making 3 dead so far." Plover seemed half-relieved and half-cheery. "Well, what are you waiting for? Kill the bastard, we only need this púta", he continued with a slight note of impatience. Santiago looked at the half-conscious Kingfisher twitching on the ground. Picking up Kingfisher's fallen pistol, he levelled it at the crumpled man. ---
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