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Fulgistan last won the day on June 29

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About Fulgistan

  • Birthday 08/12/1999

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  • Gender
    Not Telling
  • Location
    Southeast Alharu


  • NS
  • Capital
    Bogd Gioro
  • HoS
    Tomur Almas

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  1. Fulgistan

    Doom of Ceris

    Near the Ganlin border with Rusheau "He says he was attacked?" "He and his, ah, his son. They were out working by the border and some men started firing in their direction. He says he's not sure who they were but they didn't chase him or his son when they ran." "That's troubling. What else does he say?" The hesitant, multilingual conversation was not helped by the environment; all around there was the sound, the smell, and the dust of the cavalry column, and Lieutenant Colonel Liang Ping was right in the thick of it. This was the 15th Mounted Rifle Regiment on the march, the unremarkable and obscure Yulang County Silver Clouds. They had arrived in Ganlin at the request of the government, who had been experiencing constant border provocations by neighboring Rusheau, as well as an influx of refugees from greater Ceris. The situation was primed to explode with every passing moment. The same planes that brought the troops brought food and clothing; Ganlin had been eager to accept aide from the ICEB after being informed of the Criasian arrangement, and were also glad to have a few more guns pointed in the other direction, for a change. Under the current plan, the 15th were assigned to patrol the border along the strip of Rusheau land dividing Criasia from Ganlin, in anticipation of more provocations and/or breakout of local hostilities; this farmer's story was not encouraging. Colonel Liang turned to the interpreter, a short, tan Huang man with thinning hair and a short beard, wearing what passed for a uniform in a Ceriser army: camo fatigues of some ancient vintage, a canvas chest rig, a mismatched forage cap with a faded national crest, and combat boots, Ahranaian Royal Army surplus. "Ask him if there's been any trouble with cultists lately." "Yes, he says many problems, but not in his village. He heard about it from his uncle in the next township." "What's that place called?" "Frombach." "Thank you for your time, sir. Have a safe trip home. Someone get him a bag of rice or something off the trucks." Liang shook the farmer's hand; he was at least not visibly diseased, unlike most of the people on the island he'd seen, so he figured it was safe. "Let's get going, Mr. Zhao. We're to be in camp at Kearney by 2100." Tadwick National Airbase, Ganlin Temporary Headquarters of the 9th Airborne Regiment "Soaring Buddha Palm" "Major General Dong, sir?" "Come in, brother." A young lieutenant stepped over the threshold, wearing a varnished wooden rosary over his uniform. His head was bare and shaven, and his brow marked with the six-spotted sign of his order. "We believe that the Ganlin claims of Derthaler elements implanted within Rusheau Royal Army units are accurate, based on field reports. The groups which are most active in the Rusheau border region, especially around the Criasian Gap, are immediately identifiable as distinct from the armed bandits active elsewhere in the country." "Have we made any progress on the Sentists?" "Not much, I'm afraid. We're still working to discover the link between Sentism and the Imperial Truth, if it exists at all. It's not clear if this is purposeful Derthaler subterfuge or a distinct ideology." "They're so elusive. Once we come close to seeing its face, the snake slithers away again." "Quite so, comrade." "Whoever is behind it, it's clear that Rusheau intends to attack. The depression has hit the feudal economy hard; and that storm tore down the coast on its way to Seylos last year. Rusheau is facing a crisis, and they've got nowhere to turn but looting...or to some sympathetic imperial ear." "The Derthaler link is undoubtedly troubling. But then again, it may mean nothing. Their armies fight for gold most of all." "Quite so, brother. That will be all, I think. Thank you, Lieutenant." The young monk saluted and left. Major General Dong looked back down at his desk, topographic maps and intelligence reports strewn about. Tadwick Airbase, Ganlin's only air force base (boasting a meagre complement of 8 ancient fighter craft and a pair of dodgy trainers) was the temporary command center for the Fulgistani expeditionary mission in Ganlin. It was here that intelligence reports from around the country's tiny land area were corroborated, compared, and interpreted. This informed another critical element of Tadwick's force complement; one of Fulgistan's finest airborne regiments, a rapid strike force that could land a relatively modest force to accomplish some critical mission behind enemy lines. In a place like Ceris, this mobile warfare could be very effective, especially against a technologically inferior and less disciplined enemy. As a regiment composed almost to the man (excluding specialists and medical personnel) of volunteer Buddhist monks, the Flying Buddha Palm had discipline aplenty. What is the aim of Derthalen, if they are in Rusheau trying to start a war? What is the aim of the Sentists, if they are not one and the same? "Comrade Dong?" He jerked his head up with a start, his eyes locking on another soldier, urgency in his voice. "What is it?" "Elements of the 15th Cavalry report being engaged by Rusheau Reichsarmee at the border." Major General Dong rose, and they hurried out.
  2. "Comrade Almas? We're about half an hour out." Stirring from sleep, the General Secretary winced as he craned his neck out the window, seeing only the cloud cover above the Mediargic. "Next time, I'm gonna buy one of those neck pillows." "The captain's been in touch with the other plane, they're making good time as well." "Everything's okay? No major disasters related to transporting 21 equines by air?" "Apparently not. And the troops are in good spirits, as well." "Wonderful, wonderful." Tomur Almas took his plastic glasses from the pocket of his suit and cleaned them methodically with his tie. "We're coming to Ahrana in very different circumstances than the last state visit." "Quite so. To think, in so short a time, Ivanoff, then Core, then this one. It is not a system which inspires confidence, or trust." "You are correct, but what does this phenomenon exhibit about the Ahranaian people?" "Hmm...this indicates that the people of Ahrana exhibit revolutionary fervor often and intensely, but that they are unable to produce a democratic people's government in any form, and instead rally behind strongmen." "Quite right. The Party organ in Ahrana failed utterly, and was monopolized by Ivanoff the bandit. This failure to police the party ranks and root out not only rightism but base corruption and ignorance. The corruption runs deep; do you know how many representatives sit in the Ahranaian federal congress?" "I do not." "1550! 1550 petty bureaucrats with no power and little reason to care collecting a salary from the public pocket! It's a farce! It's like some kind of imperial kickback scheme." "That's crazy. I struggle to understand that sort of thing, really." "In what way?" "This sad fact that people could produce, you know, this sweeping social movement only to either preserve or create this sort of hideous, bloated bourgeois democracy. What victories have been won here? There have been tanks in the streets in the past few months. It's really almost pathetic. Tragic, perhaps,it is better to say." "You know, you're very insightful." "Thank you, Comrade." "Comrade General Secretary, Comrade Secretary for Culture, we're beginning our descent." Almas pulled his seat up, putting on his now-clean glasses. Tekin buckled his seatbelt. "Do I look alright? How's my hair? I get bad bedhead." "You're good. And you can always touch it up, you know, slip away for five minutes with a comb." "Certainly, certainly." To: Sigrid Anastasia Anne Victoria Florence-Goring of Strasburg, Federal President of the Ahranaian Federation From: Tomur Almas, General Secretary, Worker's Republic of Fulgistan It is my great pleasure to inform you that on behalf of the Worker's Republic, myself, Secretary of the Bureau for Culture Bayanchur Tekin, and the mounted drill team of the Blue-White Banner Bozaan Regiment, led by Major Zohreh Bozaan. It is a great honor to return to Ahrana once again and to meet with you, Madame President, after this past years Triennial Summit. No doubt this will be an eventful gathering. Best, Tomur Almas 啊吗通姆
  3. Camel Market Ward, Bogd Gioro, Feiguang Province, Worker's Republic of Fulgistan The once-lauded Khiimori Aeronautics concern was much diminished these past few decades. At points, they had been a significant contender on the Alharun aircraft market, not only in fixed-wing craft, but in helicopters as well. Founded by Limonaian Giacomo Collini in 1926, in what was then the tentatively-liberated city of Jintakh, they had gone on to produce several influential designs (mostly for fighter aircraft and light bombers) through the 1930s and 40s. In the late 1950s, jet aircraft appeared on the scene, an advance which proved somewhat of a stumbling block. The firm had the technical knowledge of how to build jet engines, but were not able to secure adequate quality control assurances from the syndicated factories, who were unwilling to work under new regulations without significant compensation. So the jet project remained shelved until the mid-1960s, when Khiimori was able to produce a working copy of an Iverican jet fighter, which became the Khii-33. Such was the state of neglect of the Revolutionary Guard Air Force that this very same airframe remained in service today as a fighter-interceptor. Powerful and venerable though this "People's Workhorse" was, it needed replacing, and soon. The People's Great Khural had at last, at the urging of Generalissimo Choinom and the political officers of the armed forces, approved the allocation of several hundred billion tenges to fully replace the Khii-33 in service by the close 2022. This was no small task, and the committee formed to accomplish it was keenly aware of the risk involved, both political and economic. It was with this in mind that lifelong Party member and head of the Committee to Restore the Air Fleet, one Colonel Li Huanggou, had chosen to consult firstly that most stalwart friend of the Fulgistani people, the Marenesian nation of Bulgenstaz. This was the obvious and safe choice. More controversial, but also more potentially beneficial, was the decision to bring the Elegy corporation into the mix. Omnipresent and seemingly omniscient, the corporation had more than once been denounced by members of the Party as yet one more organ of capitalist domination, of seeking not only to control the means of production, but also to control and commodify human life itself. The recent happenings in the Sunset Sea Islands, as well as the fragmented intelligence reports, did little to quell these concerns. Nonetheless, when Elegy came to the table, they came to win. Moreover, this was an opportunity for the Worker's Republic to solidify itself in the international community, to dispel notions of isolationism or pariah status, and to put three fish together, as the sages might say, to make one fine stew. Expected at Khiimori's Bogd Gioro offices were General Merov Krasnosk of the Bulgenstazi Liberation Army, Venh Seng of Bulgenstazi Military Technologies (the national arms concern) and the notorious Lien Viênxuan of Elegy. Properly, Khiimori's headquarters were in Jintakh, of course, but since the desert mining city had no international airport, and even most Fulgistanis were loath to cross the desert frivolously, Colonel Li had elected to hold the meeting in the concern's more modest, perhaps dated capital offices. A reception hall had been prepared for the delegations, complete with a planned luncheon (for the Huang conducted no business on an empty stomach if it could be helped) and a digital tour of Khiimori's production facilities in the west via video conference. Colonel Li straightened his peaked officer's cap, cleared his throat, and stepped out from the main lobby onto the sidewalk to greet his nation's honored guests.
  4. "You are to hold and delay the advance of the foreign invaders at all cost. Do not allow him to consolidate all of his forces into one against us, and above all do not allow him to penetrate into the North and West beyond the desert." The words of the imperial missive echoed in the mind of Guo Wei, Marquis of the Second Rank and Supreme Commander of all the forces below the Ivory Cape, the peninsula that marked the end of the old Huang territories, and south of which lay the vast swathes of tributaries, colonies, allied tribes, and now, crusaders. Even before the missive reached his hands, Guo Wei and the Southern Army had been on the move to join battle with the enemy. They had marched 110 li* in only three days, and had left behind their baggage train in order to meet the enemy at this critical juncture: at the edge of the rocky plateau that preceded the desert. Thanks to the swift actions of Guo Wei's allied Boshan scouts, the headquarters of the army had deduced that the crusading army could only be making for one place, the wealthy border village of Anchang, and its fertile fields, ripe sorghum stretching for many hundreds of acres. "Assume the fourth defensive formation!" Along the edge of the settlement, ditches had been dug, some wooden palisades hastily erected. It was not enough to stop an advancing army, and perhaps not even enough to inconvenience them much. The Southern Army was by far the weakest force of the Huang; the career soldiery loitered around the capital, or else manned the canal-forts of the desert, meaning that Guo Wei's army was one of convicts, conscripts, tribesmen and pirates. He had no heavy cavalry, no shock infantry, few muskets and only five artillery pieces. The strength of the Southern Army normally lay in its ability to traverse the terrain quickly, and to hold off an often primitive enemy with bow and crossbow fire. They would not have the luxury of an unarmored foe today. As the infantry marched into position, and the horse archers began to trot out past the flanks, Guo Wei gave the order to the mortarmen. "Kai pao!" *110 li = 45 miles
  5. Hi, all. In this RP I'll be initially basing my interests in the small western nation of Ganlin, with its Huang minority and relatively stable government. However, as the situation in Ceris begins to unravel, Fulgistan is going to do its best to evacuate refugees, protect the resources of the island from destruction, and, if necessary, military intervene to suppress Sentist terrorism on Ceris, working in cooperation with regional allies (perhaps under an umbrella coalition). After the conclusion of the crisis, Fulgistan may maintain some token presence in an independent Ganlin/other portions of Ceris, but our ultimate concern is regional security, under whichever government can provide it.
  6. I more mean that it's like a general opportunity to people to speak up and say "Oh, I'd like a lake in my nation, or a river, or a big mountain", etc. just so that we can take this opportunity (our first big map reform in a long time) and have a bit of an open forum on geography so that we can build a better more fun Eurth. Maybe we could even add some natural features (or remove, I guess) in unoccupied territory to vary the climate a bit, or make things more interesting/varied for future players.
  7. I think this might also be a good opportunity to consider global geography; perhaps we could add some more natural features, islands, bodies of water, etc. to the map as we rework the climate to suit everyone's needs and make the region better. Certainly island nations are always in demand.
  8. Crap. I have to one-up this bathysphere thing. If I don't, how can I return to my people? 'Tomur Almas,' they will say, 'it is you who has led us down the path to stagnation and ruin, having failed to present your own enclosed, manned capsule-themed plan for the future. Shame on you, Tomur Almas. Shame unto your ancestors into the 18th generation.' "Er, another round of applause for the scientific achievements of the ICEB. You know, comrades, I've been thinking, awhile, discussing, theorizing, and et cetera for some time now, and I believe the time has come to put this matter before you all as peers, comrades and friends." Slowly, Almas withdrew a second flash drive from his breast pocket. Brushed aluminum, sans logo, capped. No office supply store storage device this; this was, like, an executive flash drive. For important, executive things. Almas politely waited for his Bulgenstazi counterpart to retake his seat, and inserted the drive into the laptop. "Sh*t, did we uh, did we-- is this computer secure? That's like 3 flash drives worth of national secrets we've plugged into this thing now. Y-you figure there should probably be some protocols in place, y'know? Ah well, carrying on." After three solemn clicks, a vision emerged on the projector screen. A vision of the future. "Behold, comrades! Our f-- 'Error: Can't open AlmasPlan.pptx.' What-- what's that about? Can somebody-- sorry, we should really coordinate this next time. I'll find us a media guy." One of the younger translators was finally able to get the presentation open, as Almas attempted to peer over his shoulder. "Right! Without further ado...behold, comrades! Our future! A future in SPACE!" As he spoke, a field of stars twinkled on the projector, as the camera focused on the slowly revolving Eurth, dawn breaking over the East Adlantic. "As the inheritors of a longstanding international tradition and some of the wurld's most powerful industries, it is only right and just that the International Communist Economic Bloc lead the way in space. I propose, comrades, that we undertake, in the oncoming months and years, to establish a permanent manned mission, a space station in low Eurth orbit, as well as a manned and unmanned rocket program to facilitate the construction and supply of the aforementioned. As you yourselves are highly educated, erudite men and women yourselves, I thought it best to place this proposal before you in its earliest stages, as Fulgistan lacks both the monetary and scientific capacity to reliably carry out this mission on our own. I now leave the floor open for comments and questions."
  9. Welcome to Eurth, Quelport!
  10. Anhuajing, Present Capital of the Yellow Empire It was always a spectacle when the emperor walked from his residence to the dragon throne. The streets of the capital were thronged by servants of the imperial household, diverting foot and cart traffic, sweeping the streets, and preparing the Toujian Way for the Son of Heaven. The procession numbered over 300, mostly scholars and soldiers. In the center, shaded closely by vast silk parasols, was the emperor himself. Qian Fukou, regnal name Qian Piaojian, was the 5th scion of the Qian dynasty to hold the empire's teeming millions under his rule. A younger man, only 35, but nonetheless an able plotter and commander. His was not a weak dynasty; he would not be a weak emperor, either. The scholars lined the steps leading to the throne room; they were not permitted to enter, unless called upon by the high ministers or the emperor himself. As the sovereign climbed the huge granite staircase, a herald read his titles in auspicious ordering. "The Son of Heaven, Qian Piaojian, King of the Rising and Setting Sun, Lord of 10,000 Banners, Born of the Great Dragon, Appointed of..." There were 88 in total, a sign of prosperity and stability. By the time the herald had finished, Qian Piaojian had finished his ascent, and as the parasols were drawn away to allow the sun to shine on his back, a great drum sounded once, twice, three times. Almost silently, he entered the vast chamber and took his seat upon the dragon throne. A testament to the feats of artistry in the country, the dragon throne of the Yellow Empire stood nine feet tall at its highest point, a construction of gold, amber, tiger's eye and lemonwood. It depicted the Great Dragon, Da Long, rising from the earth as the sovereign sat atop its coils below. In one claw, the Pearl of Heaven, a symbol of just rule. The other was empty, claws outstretched toward the enemies of the nation. Its eyes were egg-sized sapphires, cut beautifully by the finest jewelers in the realm. By all accounts, an awe-inspiring creation. As the emperor took his seat, the hundreds of courtiers in the courtyard bowed in unison. Qian Piaojian did not waste time. "Bring me my master of oracles." The order was hurriedly relayed through shouts and whispers alike, until the man himself soon kowtowed before the throne. "What is your wish, O my lord?" "We have last evening received from a Socklander spy this proclamation from the island barbarians. Translated, it is a declaration of war upon ourselves and the Swordlanders, claiming many crimes against their people and worshippers. It is the will of Heaven that you divine upon the outcome of this declaration." "It shall be so, great king. I require fire and water." A brazier was lit in front of the old seer; into it he would occasionally throw chips of bone; supposedly those of the qilin, snake-turtle, phoenix and tiger. His milky eyes did not blink as he took a handful of water from the jar and cast it onto the fire. As the steam rose, so did his lilting voice over the sputtering flame; every ear strained to discern, for even the most veteran scholar struggled with the archaic phraseology of Oracular Huang. "In the East, five great winds gather strength. Their names are Famine, Strife, Discord, Overthrow, and Death. The winds soon will blow to the heart of the dragon, and seek to overturn his place in Heaven. The very gates of the Jade Palace are shaken by their force." Qian Piaojian considered for a long moment, then inclined his head very slightly forward. "It is so. I shall gather six harmonious winds to blow away the five evil ones." The emperor lifted his right hand, palm downward, the hem of his golden sleeve barely hovering above the floor. "I say: These six will be brought before the dragon throne: Ma Bingpo, Wang Gufeng, Yu De, Boshan Yilin, Fang Rong, and Bai Caoying. So it was said in heaven." "Ma Bingpo! Wang Gufeng! Yu De! Boshan Yilin! Fang Rong! Bai Caoying!" The courtyard reverberated with the unanimous echo of the scholars and the soldiery. The Yellow Empire was a slow and bureaucratic machine, but its enemies would be wise to mistake this preparation; the land of the dragon was on the march to war.
  11. "You're not serious." "Well..." "Comrade Almas." "Welllllllll..." "General Secretary!" "Look, Bayanchur, I really need a break. We really need a break. If one more Takhan peasant comes and kisses my hands and thanks me for freeing her people, I'm going to collapse from exhaustion." "This is the worst possible way you could take a break. You know what the papers are going to say." "Papers, schmapers, Comrade Culture Secretary. We're going to Galahinda because it's the right thing to do." There was a pregnant pause in the office. "...how, precisely? We're just giving our money and informal legitimacy to a regime that is, in essence, Gongora's perfect nightmare." "Oh, I meant the right thing to do for us. Galahinda's a hideous place, but only on the inside." "Thousand-Eyed Buddha, you're really doing this." "I am! Look, I'm the General Secretary of this country, I'm entitled to have a revolution-free vacation once every half-decade. So there. You're coming too, so start packing" "What in hell are we even going to wear? I hate to break it to you, but we've somewhat fallen behind in the haute couture department what with all the "public schooling" and "free healthcare"." "Not to worry, my young disciple. I have it all planned out...cackle in sinister fashion with me."
  12. Almas time. We're showing up AND showing out. Your days are numbered, bourgeois lice. Ah, we did bring a hostess gift, as well.
  13. Well done; you're making great progress.
  14. Yeah, we were talking about that in the Discord. We think that's a compelling way to show how Dniester is clearly lying about the scope and scale of the accident, which is going to be a plot point.
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