Byrd Man

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Lines of coke all around!

American Dream: A Shattered Union

The Democratic Nation of Jackson

"They're at least thirty strong, general."

Andrew Jackson McCullough nodded slowly at the news he'd just received. John Norman, covered in about five layers of mud and filth and with a bushy beard, stood in front of the general's desk with his rifle slung over his shoulder. The small room had a rickety office desk, two metal folding chairs, and little else. It was just to the right of the front entrance of the meeting hall where the monthly meetings were held. His office wasn't homey because McCullough never spent much time here. He was always out and about helping whoever needed him.

"You and Andy were the only ones that saw the camp?"

"No, sir," Norman said in his thick mountain accent. It came out running together like nawsur. "Reg was with us as well. We all got to ciphering between the three of us and about thirty is what we come up with. Now that includes men, women, and children."

McCullough grunted. The three scouts left town two weeks earlier to track a group of raiders. For months now the raiders had been hitting farms and supply lines near the Bluffs where Jackson became the wilderness. Nearly a dozen settlers were dead and untold amounts of food and supplies were stolen. These barbarians were a threat and one McCullough did not intend to take lightly.

"How far away from Jackson are they?"

Norman scratched his bushy red beard and contemplated it. "As the crow flies, probably two hours north. They're sticking close to the river. I let out this morning, but Andy and Reg is staying with them in case they move again."

McCullough stood and walked towards the one window in the office. His long, lanky frame shuffled across the wooden floors with his large feet sliding across the wood. He looked out and saw people going about their business. It was hard for him to believe all this was actually happening. Ten years ago, he'd been scared and panicking as he ran across the wilds looking for escape. He found this place, and people found him. He was a leader now, he had a family and a community to protect. He still worried that the men who wanted him would come for in the dead of night. If that happened, what would happen to these people he swore to protect? Could they do what was needed to protect Jackson?

"Go find Mike Long," McCullough said after a long silence. "Tell him to have his platoon ready to move out tonight."

"They're going during the spring festival?" Norman asked with a frown.

"No, we're going out." McCullough turned away from the window. "You're going to lead Mike's platoon and I'm coming with you."

-----

"Thank y'all!"

McCullough stood on the makeshift stage and beamed out at the people of Jackson. They cheered wildly at the sight of the general, waving wide and smiling even wider at the sight of all of them together. They were in a field just outside of town. Long picnic tables filled with food were off to the side and waiting for them to start.

"Welcome to the ninth annual spring festival. Nine years... hard to believe it's been that long. We got our tenth anniversary coming up in the fall. Who would have thought this could actually happen? But here we are."

More applause from the crowd. McCullough looked out at the sight of families with small children. He caught the eye of Mimi, his wife of six years, and their three children around her. Yes... he was not the same man he had once been. He broke out into a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Y'all know I'm never one for words, but let me say that I am proud what we have accomplished here. This part of the world ain't like other places. There are no Republics or tribes or support. It's just us surrounded by the wilds. We are the frontier where it is uncivilized. But every day that Jackson exists, that's another day that we get stronger. This part of the world is uncivilized, but every day we make it a little more civilized. Here's to at least another ninety spring festivals!"

The crowd erupted as McCullough stepped off the stage to make way for the band. Harmony Nelson and her four-piece band took to the stage as the people of Jackson made their way to the picnic tables. Harmony strummed a tune on her guitar while the banjo player picked up the melody. While the mass of people moved towards the tables, a small collection of men and women walked in the other direction. McCullough was one of them. They all shared looks of knowing among each other. A dinner bell rang somewhere while McCullough and the men and women made their way towards the town.

"Tempted and tried, we're oft made to wonder why it should be thus all the day long..."

-----

Music

They moved as quietly as they could through the darkness. John Norman walked lead, his rifle out and at the ready. Behind him was McCullough with a rifle in his hands and a saber strapped to his waist. Mike Long and the fifteen men and women who made up his platoon were in the woods surrounding the two men. Slowly, they made their way towards an encampment.

Norman slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out a knife and motioned for McCullough to stop. They could hear the sound of footsteps growing louder and louder until Norman thrust out with his knife and stabbed a marching sentry in the stomach. He started to gasp, but McCullough covered the man's mouth with one hand and slit his throat with the blade of his sabre. McCullough held the bleeding man in place for a few moments before letting him fall to the ground. McCullough wiped the blood from the sabre with his pants leg and started to move again.

McCullough and Norman saw the raider camp through the trees. McCullough saw that Norman's guess was right. There were sleeping men, women, and children in sleeping bags around a burning fire. The sound of rustling tore them away from the fire. Mike Long came into the view in the dim light.

"We took out the sentries," he whispered. "What's the plan?"

"Kill them," McCullough said with no hint of emotion in his voice. "Every man, woman, and child. Leave their bodies where they die and put up a sign 'This is what happens to the enemies of Jackson.'"

Long hesitated at the order before nodding and heading back through the dark to past the order down the line. Norman made no comment at the order. McCullough did what he needed to do to protect Jackson regardless of the cost. Any survivors The message had to be delivered to the world that the people of Jackson would not be intimated or threatened.

"Let's go," McCullough said to Norman as he started through the trees towards the camp, holding tightly to his sabre.

Andrew Jackson McCullough was not the same man he was ten years ago. But in a lot of ways he was still the Butcher of Macon.

American Dream: A Shattered Union

@Byrd Man
Look good but can I ask you just claim one of the really small bits of territory near you? Its to keep mapmaking simple so I don't have to go around looking for dots. You don't need to really settle and control the entire province, its to keep things clear on the map.

@ClocktowerEchos

Done. Sloppy paint claim, but it's a claim.

American Dream: A Shattered Union

So the idea is that the Republic of South Carolina would be an NPC I guess. Gives a decent enough NPC for the other countries around it to use.

Name: The Democratic Nation of Jackson

Flag: WIP

Nation Type: Democracy

Claims:



(The pink blob west of North Carolina.)

Terrain: Jackson is located on the banks of the Mississippi and the majority of it rests on a floodplain, though the outer edges of the territory encompass the Chickasaw Bluffs that extend a hundred feet above the plain.

Government Type: Jackson is a true democracy. All members of the territory vote in all matters. An official head of state is the Commander in Chief of the Democrats known as the Party Leader. The Party Leader serves as executive and enforces the laws of the state, but he can make no executive action without a 2/3rds majority of the people of Jackson.

Capital: Jackson

Head of State: Andrew Jackson McCullough

Population: 500

Attitude Towards Evols: Wary.

Economic System: Free trade.

Resources: Corn, hay, beef, hogs, wheat, and poultry.

Currency: The people of Jackson trade through a barter system.

Technology: Cottage industry.

Official Religion: N/A

History:

The Democratic Nation of Jackson is among the newest states in the Shattered Union. It is only ten years old and founded by the man known as Andrew Jackson McCullough. His backstory is shrouded in myth, with some saying he is a former Neo-Con general that deserted his men in Georgia, while others think he is a disgraced apostle of the equally mysterious Patriot.

Andrew Jackson McCullough was said to have destroyed a raider camp on the banks of the Mississippi single-handily. It was on the ashes of that camp that the Nation was born. Taking in rejects, outsiders, and even the odd runaway slave turned the small community into a patchwork nation that keeps to itself and trades with merchants on the river. It is surrounded on all sides by the unfriendly wilds, raiders, and wild beasts. Further through the wilds are the much larger nations that may have designs on Jackson and its spot on the Mississippi. Despite all the hardships, the Nation survives.

Military Numbers: 200 to maybe 250, and it is made up of all the able-bodied men and woman who can fight.

Military Units: The Jackson's military service is the Democratic Party, a militia group made up of those that can and are willing to serve. The Party is split into several different sub-units and platoons.

American Dream: A Shattered Union

Hmm. As much as I love my home state, I have been contemplating giving it up and shooting for something a bit smaller in scale. Like, town or county sized.

American Dream: A Shattered Union

Room for any more folks?

@Abefroeman

Abe Froeman? The sausage king of Chicago.

American Dream: A Shattered Union

Rock Hill

Mark Rogers put the spurs to his horse and held tightly to the reigns. The bay-colored horse snorted and its hooves clopped against the dirt road that had once been Highway 21. It ran concurrent to the long bending road they once called an Interstate. A century after the bombs fell and the interstate was still a mess of rusted cars and chunks of ripped up asphalt.

Mark gripped the horn of his saddle as the horse galloped over a hill and the town of Rock Hill came into view. Its taller buildings were starting to crumble from the century of wear and tear, but the smaller buildings and homes were being kept up by the people of the town. Rock Hill stood as the second biggest city in the Upstate with a few thousand inside its borders.

Now there was a few thousand more, Mark thought to himself as he bounced in the saddle. Below him, a long line of horse-drawn wagons were rolling down the dirt road towards the city.

He clicked his tongue and started the bay down the hill towards the town. Each wagon was pulled by two horses and held a half-dozen soldiers with full kit and equipment, along with duffle satchels. He saw the rifles sitting in each soldier's lap. Mark raced by them until he came to the wagon at the front of the line, already in the city and heading towards the center of town. Six soldiers watched him in the back while the driver looked straight ahead. Riding shotgun with him was a middle-aged man with silver crewcut and an eagle emblem on his collar. He stood as Mark's horse trotted beside the wagon.

"Sheriff Mark Rodgers, York County," he said politely enough.

There were more than a few long looks his way. He expected that from people not from the area. Last he could figure, Mark was the only black sheriff in the Republic. The Republic wasn't exactly the old South, and it sure as shit wasn't the Neo-Cons, but black people in positions of true authority were still rare in these parts.

"Sheriff," the man with the crew cut said with a curt nod. "I'm Colonel Alexander Jeffrey commander of the SCDF's 31st Infantry."

Jeffrey reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper, gingerly passing it to Mark as they continued down the street. Mark glanced at it while he held on to his horse with just his legs.

"Signed by the President and General Thurmond," Mark said as he passed it back to Jeffrey.

"Yes, sir. Where's the best place we can make camp, Sheriff?"

"There's a space on the other side of town." Mark pointed straight ahead. "Just keep going straight and it'll be on your right. How many deep are you?"

"Two hundred are coming today," Jeffrey replied. "We expect to have another thousand encamped by week's end."

"We'll talk when y'all get settled." Mark tipped his hat. "Colonel."

"Sheriff."

Mark squeezed the horse's side with his legs and led his nag away from the wagon train at half-speed. The people of Rock Hill were out on the street watching the line of soldiers riding through town, plenty of eyes were on him too. He dismounted in front of Sammy's. Sam Calhoun stood in the doorway with a towel slung over his shoulder, the apron around his waist was spattered with eggs and bacon grease.

"What's going on, Mark?"

"Military is moving in for some goddamn reason," Mark said with a spit in the dirt. "Got official orders from Sumter and Columbia that they're to camp outside of town for the foreseeable future."

"First you hear about this?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. I gotta send a letter to Columbia to see what the hell is going on. Twelve hundred soldiers are coming into town and all I got is three deputies. Four if I include you."

Sam's face broke out in a grin. "If I want to be included. I'm only a reserve, sheriff. I don't know how I'll do if something happens..."

Mark put a hand on Sam's shoulder and laughed. "I'm sure you'll make all the difference if we have to face twelve hundred liquored up soldiers. Is Hobby in the back?"

"Washing dishes."

The two men went inside Sam's small diner. Most of the regulars had their eyes glued on the wagon train going by outside. Sam went behind the counter while Mark sat down at the counter, his hand resting on the butt of his revolver on reflex. Hobby, the skinny and pimply kid who worked for Sam came out the back with gloves on.

"Sheriff?"

"Go run and find the mayor for me, son. Tell him to come to Sam's so we can talk."

Hobby shucked off his gloves and hurried out the diner. From behind the counter, Sam fixed a cup of coffee and passed it to Mark. The men kept eye contact as Mark took a long sip of the hot coffee.

"Say it," Mark said after he finished with his sip. "Say what you're thinking, Sam."

Sam shrugged his shoulders and wiped the counter with his rag. "I'm just thinking what you and everyone else in town is thinking. Soldiers in town, this close to the border, might mean more trouble than a couple of drunk privates fighting with townsfolks. It could mean movements against the Commune. You ready for that?"

"No," Mark said bluntly before taking another long sip. "But who the hell is?"

----

Charleston

Jerry Hunley stood on the deck of the Palmetto Rose and welcomed his crew as they walked up the gangplank. The ship was one of the new hybrids the South Carolina Navy created a few years earlier, a mix of wood and metal with sails that made it fast and strong. It was a sloop-of-war with tweleve guns that could outrun bigger ships and tear apart smaller ships. It was Jerry's first command and he was nervous about it.

Jerry had worked as a junior officer and XO before, but never as a skipper. All told one hundred and forty men crewed the Rose and got her out to sea. He was responsible for the lives of those men and keeping them safe. Their mission wasn't the most dangerous, but it wasn't certainly a cruise down the coast.

"Skipper," Lieutenant Sturgeon, Jerry's XO, said with a salute. "It seems all men are accounted for. Orders?"

"Call them to the deck," Jerry said as he started towards the helm. "I'll give them a talk."

"Now hear this!" The XO announced once every man had gathered on the deck below Jerry. "Skipper?"

"Men," Jerry said with an easy smile. "Welcome to the SCN Palmetto Rose, your new home. I'm Lieutenant Commander Hunley and I am your skipper. Our mission involves pirates. Reports have them harassing ships around Myrtle Beach. The Navy wants us out there to flex a little Republican muscle. We're to patrol, find, and take out any pirate vessels we find. Let's show them what this ship can do. Make ready to set sail."

Lieutenant Sturgeon barked orders while the men scampered around the deck and back down below to get to work. Twenty minutes later the Rose was under way across Charleston Harbor. The ship fired a one-gun salute as it passed Fort Sumter, headquarters of the SCDF.

"What's our heading, sir," Helmsman Price asked once they cleared the harbor.

"Set a course north," Jerry said with a grin. "Keep the coastline in sight, but steady on towards Mrytle Beach. Let's see what kind of trouble we can cause."

----

Calhoun Falls

A mostly cloudless night gave the half=moon ample opportunity to shine on the waters of Lake Russell. The chosen cove was tucked away far from the bridge and the SCDF troops that stood guard on it. Billy Brown stood on the muddy red banks of the cove and watched for any sign of movement out across the water.

Harper, his man from Georgia, had come into the Slab House two days ago and ordered his usual. That was the sign that a new shipment was due to come across the lake. Harper lived across the border near a placed called Ruckersville. He was the last stop in Georgia before Billy took over the shipment and smuggled his cargo through the Republic.

The sound of lapping water made him narrow his eyes. Movement appeared somewhere out there and started to get closer. A lantern flashed and then disappeared out on the water. Billy lit up his lantern and let it shine for a few seconds before he killed it. Five minutes later, the flat-bottom boat came into view. He turned his lantern back on and saw the boat clearer.

Harper piloted the boat with the rudder at the rear. Two men in the center rowed with oars while three women and two men sat on makeshift benches. Besides Harper, they all wore tattered rags for clothing. Billy saw one of the men still wore manacles on his wrists. Harper hadn't been able to strike them free before the trip across the lake.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Billy said as the boat softly ran aground in the mud. "Welcome to freedom."

He helped the runaway slaves out the boat one by one before Harper was left alone in the boat.

"There were supposed to be eight," he said with a shake of his head. "But one of them got caught in between Athens and Ruckersville. That's going to hurt our bottom line."

"But seven is going to get us a lot of good money," Billy said softly. "I'll see you next week with your cut."

Billy pushed the boat back into the water while Harper started to row away across the lake. Billy turned around and looked at the grouping of scared faces looking back at him through the dark. There was fear there, but Billy also saw excitement underneath it. His talk of freedom wasn't bullshit. Slavery was outlawed in the Republic and although they were on good terms with the Neo-Con, they didn't exactly help them retrieve any runaways. If you could make it across the Savannah River, you were free.

"Alright, guys. I've got a place you can stay for a few days. From there, we'll go to Abbeville and you'll meet the man who paid to get you out of slavery."

Billy was part of the smuggling pipeline that got slaves out of the Neo-Con, but only because he was a smuggler. Slaves, drugs, ammo, and weapons were all the same to him. Contraband and cargo were contraband and cargo. He wasn't a fan of slavery, but Billy never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. It was nice to do a good thing like this, but it was even nicer to get paid doing it.

"But for now, y'all are gonna rest up and enjoy freedom. Let's go."

American Dream: A Shattered Union

Are you kicking off the IC thread today?

American Dream: A Shattered Union

@ClocktowerEchos Can I claim Texas? I just found this and I would like to use Texas, and I'm happily surprised it hasn't been taken. I'll start working on an app, just wanted to ask if I could just reserve it for now so no one, like, ninjas me and steals it.

@KingWillard

There is a guy who wants to play Texas, but I say work on your sheet anyway because that guy needs to have a fire lit under his ass.

American Dream: A Shattered Union

One of my storylines involves pirates off the coast of SC, so I'm all for it.