[Hider=The Great Empire of Emruen] [h1][Center]The Great Empire of Emruen[/Center][/h1] [Center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/6eba438c-a9c7-40f9-aa77-549226d5f61d.png[/img][/center] [h2][u][b]Nation & Government[/b][/u][/h2] Emruen, the place of soft quiet rustling of forests and grasslands, tall steep whistling heights of mountain peaks, and the crack of high whipping winds of the brewing seas. The people of the Empire are the embodiment of courage and strict iron discipline, to a point where if you’re in the Empire, the first greeting you will have is of marching armed guard, and an escort of galloping dragoons. The Empire serves the crown, and the Military has its own governing body. The General Staff is separate from the Crown. They are in charge of enforcing the policies and laws that the crown would decree. They are the police, the army, the navy, the cavalry, and the guard; the embodiment of power through force. However, the General Staff cannot rule the country itself alone thus there is the crown. The Crown is the crucible of power, the order that brings in line the whole nation. His word is law, his mere whisper can cause the demise of an individual if he so pleased. However, he cannot rule upon just his word, therefore there is the General staff. The two go hand in hand, one cannot live without the other, and if one does not do their job right, the one with sense will fix them. There have been many who have called for reform, but usually the crown is reasonable enough to change his edicts and laws not to conform but to be reasonable. [h2][u][b]Ethnicity[/b][/u][/h2] Emruenians have a standard build, with bright blonde to dark walnut hair. Their eyes are ocean blue to emerald green, and the color of their skin is a peach white to a tan or light brown color. They usually stand 5’0ft to 6’5ft. They have a large ethnic diversity that have just melted into one; there used to be the Highlanders, Lowlanders, Sea Folk, River Folk, Horse Clans, Forest Clans, etc., but they’ve all been lost to time and have become Emruen, which derives from an old Highlander phrase “Emruene Vras” (United we stand). This is the reason that there are many qualities an Emruenian can have, from the brown skin of old sea and river folk, to the pale skin of the Highlanders or the squarish chins of old Forrest Clan members and the round chins and cheeks of the Lowlanders. [h2][u][b]Geography[/b][/u][/h2] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/004503c5-2851-4f95-b786-d65a65a09f7e.png[/img] Emruen has beaches, grasslands, wetlands, valleys, mountains, and forests. [h2][b][u]Culture and Society[/u][/b][/h2] Emruen has been known to be very strict when it comes to enforcing their laws. They are usually reasonable, but this has caused some friction with visiting foreigners and the people of Emruen themselves. Many times has it been the heated topics of debates: philosopher versus philosopher, academe versus academe, scholar versus scholar; these debates have yielded results in how to improve the laws that are in play and will come in to play. The Military is a large part of Emruenian society, it is where boys become men, and men earn prestige, even a common footman would still be considered noble of some sort even without retaining a rank. Corruption is heavy in the military though inquisitorial visits by the [i]Liego ons Imperi: Lion Corps[/i], Emperors own, keeps everything in line as they root out all corruption and take it to the barrel of a musket. What regiment and rank you possess will determine your social standing, though the Military does not make one rich; instead, it garners respect from the people, a status symbol of endurance, dignity, and self-respect. The proudest traditions of the Emruanian people are from the proud disciplined military. If you are a high ranking cavalry man you are revered as a hero, if you are a low ranking skirmisher, you are considered a skilled huntsman, and so on. Being in the military defines who they are as a person as they choose the fighting style they will pursue. However, there are people outside the military who can make a name for themselves, such as scientists, poets, philosophers, artists and more. Even for a highly militarized society, a community cannot survive without diversity. An Emruenian biologist and philosopher applied his study during a debate whether or not the Military should be the sole focus of the Nation, and it was beautiful. [i]“In a small ecological community of insects, plants grow and bloom, butterflies and bees pollinate other plants in order for the others to fruit, the spider makes its home on these plants and eat the bees and butterflies, now you remove the spider, the butterflies and the bees no longer have a source of nectar because all the plants have fruited, the bees and the butterflies die off or leave, and soon the flowers follow the next season, same goes if you increase the number of spiders, the spiders will eat all of the butterflies and bees, until there are none left, the flowers will wilt and die with no next generation to come, and the spiders having run out of food, die as well… Too much or too little is bad, you must find the balance in between.”[/i] [i]-Philosopher Ecologist Jasfer Haarp[/i] These are people that preserve cultures, traditions, art, literature and many more. It is a popular movement, as it has shown progress with the Empire. Even the Emperor listens to any argument these people have to make as long as it makes sense. This, in turn, makes the people sort of a third governing body, a pillar in which their society stands. Thus, the King must maintain his people’s faith and the military must protect the people from all harm and enforce the laws to the best of their ability. [h2][u][b]Religion[/b][/u][/h2] Emruen is open to all religions far and wide, however any large religious movement that acts against the state is completely forbidden, and is punishable by death if it does damage to the Empire, and harm to the people. [h2][u][b]Economy and Industry[/b][/u][/h2] The Emruenians draw their wealth from the mines of their mountain ranges and their agriculture, which can both be used in trade. They also forge weapons fit for any self-respecting military from guns of quality production to canons tested to breakage. The quality of their arms are impressive, and are very expensive. The Emruenians also have a large fishing and whaling community up north, they use the oil and fish as exports to other countries, as you continue further south along the coast, less and less whale product and more fish get exported, some being rare delicacies, and some you can only catch off the black sea and west near the Emruenian coastline. A lot of things are still handmade, though the machinery did exist to automate some parts of production. This is a mix of both to ensure that certain parts that would normally take a considerable amount of time to make would be able to be made quicker, while at the same time maintaining a carefully crafted look and feel; however it should be noted that these places are few, and more are planned to be made to increase production and economy. [h2][u][b]Military[/b][/u][/h2] [hider=Selection and Training] The Military are the police; they are the guard, they are the navy. The military is the enforcer of laws, and the fury of the Empire. As such, they are expected to be disciplined and unwilling to give up till the very last man. Their quality and training must be grueling and harsh for the combat they expect to see. They are forced to march kilometers, climb mountains, traverse rivers, swim in the cold, traverse through thick forest, hunt, camp, navigate, run, crawl, and endure hours of tests and drills day in and day out for the rest of their stay in the military. Selection process lasts four months, and when they have been selected, they move on to training. The selection process is made to weed out the weak. Their training will be slow and grueling: sparring with makeshift bayonets and sabers, sparring without weapons, shooting, maintenance, shooting on horseback, melee on horseback, cavalry tactics, artillery, explosives, more drills, more exercises, formations in practice, and formations in mock combat, tactics, strategies, drum and trumpet signals. This turns the weak into the strong, the followers into leaders, the fire that forges the sharp sword of the empire. Those who can’t handle the yearlong course must be removed from the Military, and if they so wish, can come back to try again. If they make it through all of this they then have to choose their respective Branch, Division, and Regiment. [/hider] [hider=Equipment, Regiments, and Uniform] [hider=Images] http://imgur.com/a/kEJpN [/hider] Most, if not all regiments are equipped with a standard uniform color depending on their branch, and a head dress that include officers bicorn and tricorn, NCO Shako, and regular Shako with plumes. Cavalry wear either a chest plate over their campaign uniform or none at all depending on their type of cavalry. Heavy cavalry usually wear the chest plate and are equipped with spears, lances, or sabers. Light cavalry such as skirmisher cavalry are equipped with a saber, carbine, and pistol. Scouts and Skirmishers wear green campaign uniforms that are quite loose compared to that of the regular infantry and they have simple shakos with a green plume; they are equipped with bayonets, long rifles, and pistols. Imperial Guards wear embellished grey uniforms, usually embellished with golden or bright yellow trim, their shakos adorned with a bright red plume. The design of the uniform closely resembles that of the regular line infantry. Regular Line Infantry wear nothing fancy: maroon colored coats with Shakos and white plume. Grenadiers wear something similar to the regulars, but wear Black with white trim and large pouches filled with grenades and munitions. Their shako plume color is yellow. Artillery wear long trench grey trench coats during a drawn out siege laying in the dirt alongside the canons; they also wear a Shako with a green and white plume and are equipped with muskets if they so needed to fight. The Emperors wear bright yellow, decorated with blue trimmings and their shako is decorated with the coat of arms in gold trim, their plume is cyan. They are the inquisitorial force of the emperor, it kept the military in line, though the Emperor’s own is large, they are not larger than the military as a whole, they have enough resources to police the military and bring corruption to the barrel of a musket. The Marines and Navy men wear separate uniforms. The Marines have similar colors to the regular line infantry though they have blue trim, and their head dress is different, favoring bicorns for the lower ranks and Tricorns for higher ranking officials. Same goes for the navy, except they wear blue uniforms with gold or yellow trims. All of these men have the first standard training of a year, and then the additional months training under a regiment on duty. They are all equipped with the ins and outs of the military, and through their training, will have been hardened through their drill instructors, a professional fighting force that is to be reckoned with. [/hider] [hider=Battle of Brenuin] They have proven themselves more than capable of defending their coastal regions. Raids from the north often occur from a nation that calls themselves Alba; because of this, the navy battle is constantly in melee, and at range, earning their worth at sea, and if they manage to land, the guards and garrisons defend to the best of their ability with the smoke and crack of gunpowder from muskets firing lead. One such battle occurred on the port city of Brenuin The small force of naval ships spied the large Albian force approaching from the horizon. Bells rang as the large hulls of ships splashed across the blue burbling sea, the sound of unfolding sails and the shouts of men filling the air. “Wait till they’re in range!” Captain Tarus commanded, lowering his spyglass for a moment. A sudden flash, then a pop, exploded out of nowhere as a cannon ball came whizzing through the air, followed shortly by a loud cry from the Albians. “Return fire!” the voice of a strained officer echoed from man to man till it reached every gun deck the creaky boat had. He stood on the deck, flag signals waving behind him signaling to fire. One by one, each gun began to go off, rippling across the enemy’s horizon as a belt of smoke and cannon ball viciously ripped through their hulls. Several ships began to sink to the bottom of the sea, yet it was clear that men from the wreckage of the first salvo would survive. Another few flashes from the horizon signaled the arrival of the round iron ball that smashed through the hull in a splintering, cracking mess. The Albian gun boats immediately responded as the thunderous sound of canons filled the air, leaving massive holes in the hull and dozens of men injured by the shrapnel that scattered from the impact and threatened to puncture those nearby. “Continue firing!” Tarus held the line in a brave attempt to maintain his calm. The captains of the other ships followed suit they watched the Albians plow onwards; their number was large, their battle cry deafening, and the air now thick with gunpowder smelled of sweat and anxious frenzy. Suddenly, the man next to Tarus put a hand on his shoulder and gripped tightly. It was the Lieutenant of the marines, Aaron Smith. “Marines, Open fire!” he bellowed, and the marines heard it echo throughout the ship. The crack of muskets pierced the air, however, the Albians returned the salvo with their own, their shots landing everywhere. The purpose of their fires served only to frighten the Marines, out of which only four were hit and injured, yet their discipline kept them in line. Anger bubbled up in them, for the Albians who called themselves Svedning had come to conquer new lands seeking fame and glory and had done nothing but provoke them endlessly. Furthermore, none of them seemed to be hit. At this point, the Albians had successfully managed to reach the ships and were now starting to board it, however the tall decks made it harder for them to clamber on, thus the boarders were met with fire and musket volley. The Marines then proceeded to drop their muskets and draw their sabers, while a loud ruckus started from below as people began firing their muskets at the ascending Albians. The now entangled crews were unable to stall the rest from reaching the docks. It had bought enough time for Morrison Heugh and James Mot, the Commanding officers of the garrison at Brenuin, to hustle the people to the garrison fort. They took up positions and started firing at the oncoming Albians who were now within range of the skirmishers. Volley after volley descended upon them as they came in closer towards the line infantry, the smoke of the gunpowder becoming a rolling fog downwind into the town as the firing continued from both sides. The raiders finally made land fall and the Sverdening tribesmen fired their last volley, after which the invaders drew their swords and shields and charged forward to meet the lines of the Emruenians in a clash of metal and muscle. They stood their ground with their equipped bayonets, and gave way for a gap in the lines revealing canons between the infantry. Inside the buildings, the skirmishers continued to fire as their vantage point allowed them to shoot, free from obstruction, at the charging Albians; the canons bellowed fire, causing the horses that were there to whinny and neigh in frightened protest, surprised from the thundering blast of smoke and iron being spread out from the canon like the flames from the mouth of a dragon. The Guard artillery sergeants yelled “Load the powder!”, as the Albians at the front were battered and sent scattered, the remainder still charging, yelling at the top of their lungs. James, the Commanding officer of the Army who was stationed there, ordered a man from the front to tell the grenadiers to position themselves. With a quick nod, the runner made off and proceeded to go into the town in order to pass along the orders. James yelled “Heugh, order the final volley then get the artillery and men into the town!” Heugh looked back, and with a slash of his saber, he barked “Fire, you dogs!” With that, the guard and army regiments fired their musket the canons roared as the guns exploded to life once again, unleashing a massive hail of lead and iron onto the invaders, smashing through wooden shield, dismembering attackers, and blowing down the front row, as the second and third waves made land fall. The long beach grew shorter as the Sverdening Albians charged into the town, the onslaught would not stop once they reached the line; the last boat would make land fall, and in the distance, canon fire and men onboard ships fought for dominance at sea. Heugh and James took a final glance at Tarus and Smith fighting for their lives on [i]The Resilient[/i] and turned back to join their men. They ran into the ghost town as the shouts and gunfire grew closer, echoing into the empty buildings and streets, hollow and abandoned; grenadiers waited on the rooves ready to fire and toss their grenades on hand. The Albians passed down the streets, and with a spark and toss, the small balls of gun powder exploded into shrapnel between the raiders, the grenadiers began to rain lead heavily onto them as the skirmishers and line infantry started to line up to fire volleys at them at the farther end of the streets, yet with absolute ferocity they still charged through, now with an apparent plan to get up to rooves of buildings and fight the grenadiers. The garrison retreated once again towards the Garrison fort, while the Grenadiers, now stuck on the rooves, still fought in melee as the relentless raiders found a way to their position. The lunges of bayonets proved ineffective as they bluntly hit the thick fur coats and shields, yielding little to no damage. Amidst the great chaos, they began to try a different approach and bottle necked them through the roof stairwell. A few desperate ones, in their last bid, collapsed the stairwell onto them using a cluster of grenades; in melee, they started to aim for the legs and fought the raiders two to one in the bottlenecks and choke points. Meanwhile at the Garrison fort, the fort guns started to fire onto the raiders, coming through the streets, mowing them down like bowling pins. The Svedning raiders used the alley ways as cover and leapfrogged their way to the front; they’d been reduced to a third of the fighting size as the others were busy either tangling with the grenadiers in a deadly dance of swords and explosives, or were dealing with the Navy and Marine forces. Still, they outnumbered the garrison, three to one, and they fired out from the forts battlements and various towers. The gate was closed off, and the canons continued to fire. The Albians lost hope of conquest and switched their focus to taking what they could and sail away; however, as they made their retreat, the Garrison followed. The Grenadiers noticed that they were leaving, and the remainder of the grenadiers that weren’t holding choke points started to fire, they were beaten back block by block. Eventually the town was quiet with only the rumbling of boots and the crunch of rock and gravel, then a shout issued from the Garrison. “For the Emperor and his people!” This was the cry that echoed throughout the streets that they dashed to clear the city, and the smell of imminent victory engulfed them as the confused Albians began to surrender or fight till the last man as they were surrounded by Emruenian troops, yet this was all in vain for they would soon be humiliatingly vanquished. As the remaining Albians reached the shoreline, they saw with sinking realization that the Emruenian navy which survived the initial attacks had blockaded their escape and their ships in the distance a sinking and as the ruined vessels keeled over. The Emruenian armed garrison rushed to fight them on the beach, scattering Albian blood onto the sand dunes. Nothing could break the high spirits of the Emruenian Garrison as this fortunate turn of events pushed them to fight harder. As the battle came to a close with one side soon to emerge victorious, the final clash of saber, steel, and gun powder ended the battle of Brenuin at the break of noon. The streets were littered with dead Albians and Emruenians, yet the enemy had been crushed. Despite this, the battle had been won at the cost of three heavily damaged ships with broken masts, torn sails, and a riddled hull along with a heavily reduced crew count as they had either fallen overboard and drowned or had been killed in action.   Many of the Grenadiers had also fallen under the pressure of the Albian assault, the tally of dead and injured were extremely high, and many had been put out of action as amputations were carried out on the heavily injured. Very few Albians surrendered, and they were released to tell the story of their defeat despite the Emruenians not having fully understood what they were trying to tell them as their language was rough and foreign a garbled transmission of gibberish received by unfamiliar ears. “Our people will never listen to the weak, we will just attack another.” They whispered under their breath and with that they sailed off. James and Heugh survived the battle, though Smith fought valiantly he succumbed to the enemy onslaught. His death was not in vain nor was it a sad waste; he brought down with him many Albians that had boarded The Resilient. Surely he was a noble fighter, and Tarus Moore grieves the loss of a good friend. [i]The tally that day…was indeed high.[/i] [/hider] [hider=Organization] The military divides its men from Liego downwards to Cieko, a standard squad. This is to help organize their formations and training, from large formations down to small infantry tactics. Cieko can bring down a Brieko through a standard harass of supply lines and smart maneuvers. A war philosophy thought of by a young general in Emruen’s history [i]“Even a full plated knight can die of a small knife even if the knife makes a mere scratch, it takes time, but it will bring him down as the wound starts to fester and the flesh around it starts to blacken and puss ooze from the wound left untreated.” [/i] [i]– General 2nd Class Fox Christiansen [/i] Liego 50,000 men Striedo 10,000 men Riedo 1,000 men Meto 500 men Brieko 100 men Griedo 50 men Cieko 10 men [/hider] [h2][u][b]History[/b][/u][/h2] [hider=History of Emruen]Before the region known as Emruen became a nation united under one banner, it was first a region fought over by small clans ruled by Chieftains. These clans were not at all hindered by lack of technology, as the region in the east was also at the time divided. There were some that traded with these clans by and introduced them to new technologies. One day, a fledgling Chieftain by the name of Erik Fredriksen took further interest in their neighbors; he discovered that they were as divided as the Clan Families that spread across old Emruen, but then he noticed that out of all the Duchies and Nations that had received him, only one saw him as a person and not a brute or barbarian. Many a time he has had to turn tail and run as the people he spoke to were not open to him. A union of Duchies that would become the Kingdom of Auerbuck received him with at least a lukewarm welcome; he had explored their territories, he had learned from the warm welcomes of their people, and he had witnessed their rising success first hand. It was when he mused to himself, “What if all the clans could come together as one? What if the Clans would gain greater power when united?” He didn’t leave with just this in mind, he studied in the growing country for a modicum amount of a year, and in the amount of time he was there he witnessed the union grow even larger either through membership or through conquest. When he finally returned home to his clan, he was received well by both the clansmen and his retainer. He asked everyone to gather at the large drinking halls within the clan’s motte and bailey; as the drinking hall became full, he asked with a booming voice that echoed throughout the hall, “We as a clan are strong, yes!?” The clansmen gave a hearty cry of approval. “And you all think that the other clans are weak!?” Another cheer broke out from among the clansmen, who were drinking and celebrating. Then, with a voice that cut through the festivities like a whip, Erik proclaimed, “Then you are all wrong!” The Clansmen fell silent. Erik gave a loud sigh, a pregnant pause before he was ready to speak, looking at the shocked faces of his Clansmen, clearly thinking that their Chieftain had too much to drink. “We are not strong, the other clans aren’t strong…” In an act of protest, his restrainer placed a steady hand on his shoulders, but Erik looked him straight in the eyes; his stare was like a glaring hot piece of iron which pierced and burned through his soul. The retainer let go after realizing this wasn’t drunken madness… this was the Chieftain being serious. The Chieftain looked upon his fellow kin. “We are not strong, not alone: we can mine, hunt, and fight, but we can’t farm or fish. The Clans of the Riders and the Clans of the River, they can Farm and fish, yet they can’t mine, the Clans of the sea, they can sail, The Clans of the Riders, The Clans of the River, they can’t sail, and we can’t sail, the clans in the forests have quality wood, the other clans don’t…” His kin grew anxious, straining to understand why the Chieftain was telling them this. “What does this have to do with anything? I hear your questions rise among the confused faces around me, thinking that I may just be drunk. I am not, my point is, as one clan we are weak, but as many we are strong; I want the clans to unite under one banner.” The Chieftain grumbled and sat on his chair, overlooking the crowd. “But knowing who we are, we can’t become united if we cannot come to terms… that’s why I say we, Clan of Mieko Grad, one of the Major Clans of the Highlanders, announce that we will be talking with other clans about this thought. Not just with ours, but with the rest of the other clans in different regions… We will first start with the Clans of the Lowlands, the Riders of the grass plains, and wealthy merchants of the river.” After that announcement, Erik stood up again, and asked. “What do you all think?” A long silence crept through the long hall in response, with only the blank stares of surprised men and women. One man raised his pint, and said “Aye! You bastard! Let’s try this idea of yours! If the east folk can become united, strong, and sophisticated like, we can too.” Almost immediately after those words left his mouth, one by one ales, pints, and legs of mutton were raised in the air, proclaiming “Aye!” in agreement with the man’s statement. Erik gave a grin that went ear to ear, and chuckled as he walked out of the Hall, “Drinks are on me!” he shouted, “…Enjoy your night!” Days went by: talk after talk, little by little, clans bought into Fredriksens’ idea; though at first, the many clan families didn’t want to join them. Though as time went by, the clans that did join became so influential on the other clans that Fredriksen’s Union grew bigger than any individual clan covering the mountains, the Grasslands, and rivers. Rival clans created their own unions in response to Fredriksen. The Forest Clans in the south of Old Emruen decided to join Fredriksen’s Union, for his influence had spread further south towards the Southern Clans of the sea, where they decided to join the union. The union grew bigger in a few months’ time, and soon they wondered who would lead them. Meanwhile the Union to the east, in the region beside them, the one Erik took inspiration from, began to take notice, and therefore began to trade with the Union of clans. Rival Unions soon fell as they would break apart due to their unruliness. Fredriksen, learning from the recent incidents, summoned the Clan Chieftains to a meeting. A large drinking hall was prepared in the Union’s center territory; this drinking hall was then filled with Chieftains from all the clans. They all sat together drinking and engaging in heated debate, and as Fredriksen sat there and watched as they argued over who would be the Union’s great leader. After about an hour, someone beside Frediksen pointed at him and asked, “What do you think, Fredriksen? Do you think I should be the Leader of our Union?” Everyone sat silent, as Fredriksen has not uttered a single word. The noise turned into deafening silence, a silence that felt like forever in anticipation of a grizzled old man’s opinion. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, and ate a piece of mutton with it. Anxious to hear his say, a chieftain beside him shouted again right into Fredriksens’ ear. “HEY OLD MAN! ARE YOU DEAF!?” Fredriksen looked at him, and said, “Oh, are you done arguing with amongst youreselves like children? Olaf, are you done?” he pointed in the spot across from him, as he continued “Are you done, Joseph?” and onwards “Roland, what about you?” After that, Fredriksen stood up. “What kind of union are we? We fight, and we bicker… we’re no better than a disbanded union! We can’t even agree on a place to meet! We only met here because of convenience, but even before that, you were all writing to me about where we should agree to meet! I didn’t pick this place because I liked the River Clans more, you dolts!” he shouted as his anger and patience was running thin. The Chieftains filled with pride all stood and started shouting again, their egos burnt, and Fredriksen, sick and tired of the bickering, took a pistol and shot it in the air, the loud booming crack of the pistol’s discharge echoing through the room, louder than anyone could shout. “Shut your filthy mouths you ungrateful excuses for Chieftains! We will not decide who the leader of the union will be in this room tonight, who that position goes to is not for us to decude, but for the people of our union as a whole to decide; not divided as different clans, but as one people one nation!” His voice echoed in the air draping over the room like a heavy stench to everyone’s mind trying to comprehend what he was implying. “That’s right, we’re putting it up to the people to decide, by some of the outside folk call ‘a vote’ where each person will put in a piece of paper who they want to be the leader, and the person with the most votes wins.” The person beside him began to object. “But you know I’m fit to be leader of the union, Fredriksen.” To which Fredriksen replied, “It shall be in the hands of the people, Arik. Whatever happens we have to accept the outcome, for it is crucial to our people we remain united otherwise all we’ve worked for, is for nothing.” Fredriksen stroked his unkempt beard, and drank a bit of ale, before dismissing them. “Any more questions? Objections? Violent reactions?” A moment of silent agreement, as the chieftains looked upon him as the sole driving force of the nation that is to come; they nodded to eachother as if they all knew who they thought their people would elect. “This meeting is disbanded, you may either return home, or continue to drink and eat, the day is coming to a close and the night is young.” He calmly left the hall and proceeded to travel home. And so after several days of voting, and tallying the votes by region, they sent Fredriksen the result and his retainer, took up the tally results sent by each chieftain and wrote the majority result on a piece of paper and gave it to Fredriksen, and to the new nation he announced: “From this day forward, this nation will serve under this man whom I have written in a small piece of paper…” anticipation builds as he unfolds the paper. “I announce our new leader to be… Chieftain Fredrik-“ He stopped short, squinting hard at the paper as if a mistake had been made, yet there it was, written clearly in ink. “Chieftain Fredriksen… That’s me.” All around him, a thunderous cheer erupted as people began to spread the news and celebrate while he harbored doubt. Fredriksen had expected someone from among the older clan chieftains to become the Union’s head, but with that being said, he thought he knew why they chose him, seeing as he was the one who suggested the idea of Clan unity, he made sure and checked again with the other chieftains personally, and as he heard from the Chieftains and saw the results for himself, he no longer had any doubts about the results. When he finally got home from visiting the other territories verifying the results, he sat down on his chair with a pint of ale and a plate of he sighed heavily as if a large weight had been taken off of him, his doubt finally laid to rest, a new weight was placed on his shoulders and as he drank he said “Well, that’s enough of that.” Sighing into his drink. He began to work on things that would make them more into a country rather than a union of different clans, starting with the development of a new name for the Union. “Emruene Vras,” he softly whispered to himself; he wrote up names and began thinking whether he himself should make the union a Monarchy or a Republic. He chose the former after a few days of contemplating, and made many legislations and laws that would lay the foundation of what the Empire would become. Many years passed, many generations that saw the birth of newly crowned kings, as well as several cases of corruption had been crippling the Empire and threatened the unity of the state as the people no longer had any regards to the laws of the Empire seeing it as a corrupt institution, and the Empire was sent into a state of anarchy. The reigning monarch at the time Johann Erikson saw the military to be the solution that would most benefit the people; he expanded the military, made it a separate entity, and raised his own guard, The Kings Own that would be renamed into the well-known Emperor’s Own. Later, he would turn the Kingdom into a reigning Empire and expand its influence in all directions, from the northern clans to the western clans, all the way down to the remaining mountain clans. He then focused on building relations with the Kingdom of Auerbuck by offering better trade, and even a defensive pact. It served as no surprise that these two countries became fierce allies. As even before the two were even fully fledged countries, they were already helping each other through trading goods, and technology and they’ve opened their doors to the vast world outside of their own. This went on until the present, as the Great Empire of Emruen flourished after a significant of progress and development. [/hider] [h2][u][b]Relations[/b][/u][/h2] On and off Hostilities with Alba Trade and Defensive pact with The Kingdom of Auerbuck Semi-tolerant of Aurea [h2][u][b]Characters[/b][/u][/h2] Chieftain Erik Fredriksen - Founder of the Empire Emperor Markus Fredriksen – The Emperor Field Marshal Mikkel Christiansen – Head of General Staff Captain Tarus Moore – Hero of Brenuin Colonel James Mot – Hero of Brenuin Colonel Morrison Heugh – Hero of Brenuin Lieutenant Aaron Smith – Hero of Brenuin (Will increase as more characters of note get added into the story) [/hider]