Nerevarine

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

Also in defense of the "colonists in a far and strange land", you can think of it as a smaller scale Greeland or Vinland type thing.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

@Flagg No problem, switched to a description and added in the three major pantheons/religions of the Islands.

And yes, it is influenced by the Rus'

Harpies are to an extent going to be the Uralic or Turkic peoples to the Norse-Slavic Zimij; the over the top brutality of the Maldpa being sort of an oblique reference to the percieved brutality of the Mongols.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

Clan Name: Duchy of the Necroleste Islands
(The Duchy consists of the human Sawtooth Clan, Zimij tribe, and allied harpy tribes)
Jarl/Chief/King Name & Description:
The Duke of Necroleste, Bozhda, is a tall, blonde man with a serious demeanor. He has been at work trying to quell the behaviors of dangerous harpy tribes like the Maldpas. Bozhda has significant interest in the goings on of the Sawtooth clan in the mainland, and considers Necroleste the ideal state to back their interests.

Alias: The Forgotten Isles

Government Type: Grand Duchy with varying control over indigenous tribes.
Non Human Species Descriptions:
Harpies are the indigenous people of the Necroleste Islands. Presumed to be an autochthonous people, the harpies exist in tribal organizations of varying loyalty to the Duke. For the most part, the rule of thumb is that the farther one goes from the Ducal Island, the less control the Duchy exerts over the tribes.

Notable Tribes:

My Hider

Vuts- The Vuts, are the largest of the harpy tribes, the first to have come into contact with humans when they finally reached the Necrolestes. Primarily a people interested in trade, they were quick to ally with colonists and help in the conquest of neighboring tribes. Like most of the harpies, the Vuts are a Vutsic speaking people. Their langauge, Vuts, is a lingua franca through out much of the duchy.
Bäws- The Bäws are another major tribe that exists in the more eastern Islands of the Duchy. The Bäws were conquered by the Humans of the Duchy, and have since been pressed into an alliance that uses them as military forces. Like the Vuts, the Bäws are speakers of a Vutsic language.
Maldpa - The Maldpa are a hostile harpy tribe that causes significant trouble in the Duchy. The Maldpa have resisted control by the Duchy for centuries, and are known for their brutality and hostility. The Maldpa practice ritual cannibalism of their enemies, and practice human and harpy sacrifice. The Maldpa belong to the Lung Language and Cultural complex, however they are also hostile to the Lung tribe, and have few allies, though they hardly need them.
Solithi- The Solithi are a tribe that are largely the slaves of the Humans. Conquered sometime in the past, and linguistic and cultural isolates, the Solithi found few allies that could help them, and have since been utilized for labor and other uses by the humans of the Duchy.

Appearance of the Harpies:
Do not be fooled by their appearance, there is nothing human about them.

The Harpies are bipedal and stand erect much like humans do. Harpies are mostly covered in skin, with the usual colors ranging from a pale white to a ruddy, almost pinkish color. Harpies have eyes that range in color from blue to green or bright yellow. The Average height of a harpy is 4'7" (140 cm), with an average weight of 50 lbs (23 kg). Harpies have hollow bones due to their avian heritage, and as such are succeptable to broken bones more easily than humans or other races. Harpies have mouths filed with sharp teeth, that they constantly lose and replace throughout their lives. Harpies have wings that portrude out of their backs and are quite large, and fold back flat over the back.

Hair is an important trait for the harpies, as males have very bright colorful hair, with bright greens, reds, blues and other colors naturally growing, while females have brown, black, gray or other such neutral colors.

Harpies show very little sexual dimorphism, all looking feminine by human standards. Their voices are very high pitched and warbily, all sounding almost like young women. Harpy languages are noted for being full of clicks, whistles, ejectives and buccal sounds. As well, most harpy languages are tonal, another hint at their songnbird heritage.

Biology of the Harpies:
When the first colonists came to this land, they believe that it was inhabited only by women! Now we know that is not the case, and yet,
it is not hard to see why there are so many folktales about colonists trying to pursue a beautiful harpy, only to discover she is actually a man!

Harpies are a humanoid species with avian traits. It is believed that they derived from native avian life forms on the islands, and it is speculated that they share a common ancestor with the large, bipedal "terror birds" that exist all over the duchy. Harpies show very little sexual dimorphism, and the only immediately observable sign of their sex is their "hair" color, which comes in various bright colors for males, but very drab, neutral tones for females. Harpy hair is not true hair as in mammals, rather it appears to be a further development of avian feathers. The ancestors of the harpies began to transition their feathers into dense, hairlike pycnofibers around the same time the species began to become erect and develop a warmer internal body temperature. The immediate observation is that harpies have very dense "hair" on their head, and members of both sexes have very thick 'body hair' all over. The only remnants of their old feathers are on their wings and some vestigial feathers that grow along their arms and wrists.

Harpies do not have breasts nor do they give birth to live young, with female harpies laying one egg, preferably during the spring. Harpies do not have genitalia like humans or some other mammalian species, instead of having a system called a "duocloaca", in which the excretory and reproductive cloaca have separated, giving genitalia superficially resembling a mammalian vagina for both species. This has further pushed the myth that the harpies were a mono-sexual species when humans first encountered them. Harpy children are born roughly 2 months after the egg is laid, and are dependent entirely on their parent for the first year of their life until they develop into a self-sufficient state. Harpy children are born with teeth.

Location:
The Dutchy consists of fairly isolated Islands some distance away from the mainland. They are isolated enough for unique forms of life to have developed before the arrival of humans.

(Awaiting a decision on map before making a definitive claim)

Religion:
Sawtooth Gods -
The Sawtooth pantheon is a leftover of their Brokenlander heritage. Among their deities, the two most important are Mora, the god of the stormy sea, and Torris, the god of storms. These two are appeased with sacrifices for ever clear skies and calm seas for the Necroleste, and for crushing storms for any looking to invade. As the Sawtooths become more and more Zimij like, Torris and Bozh are beginning to fuse into one deity.

Zimij Religion -
The Zimij are ancient, as are their gods. Lost to sands of time, they survived in a foreign land like their chosen.
The Zimij worship an exensive pantheon of deities that they imported from their original homeland. Chief among their gods is Bozh, a powerful sun god. Bozh is honored at a shrine erected some ways away from Chornagrad, with a massive wooden idol in his honor,as well as a site for sacrifices to the god. The worship of Bozh is a state religion that the duke wishes to impose on all of his subjects. Other minor deities worshipped by the Zimij include the fox goddess Liš, the dragon god Zel, the sky god Sviet, and the thunder god Kverk.

Vutsic Gods
The Gods of these lands are alien to us. They worship strange entities, and yet there are some familiar faces.
The primary god of the Vuts and related tribes is the sun god Itlé. Itlé is said to have grown the harpies out of his blood, which he spilled by slashing open his wrists and bleeding onto the islands, and where his blood spilled, the Harpies grew from the ground. Inté is thus worshiped by the spilling of one's own blood, with daily worship at the family shrine involving the cutting of ones own flesh with a knife, soaking of dry reeds in blood, and burning the blood for the smoke to rise and meet with Inté. Zimij gods such as Bozh and Liš are becoming popular, under nativized names of Votś and Rīś.

Maldpa Religion
Those things can hardly be called sapient. I am offended you would even call them animals.
The Maldpa are in service to various spirits they call the Tsaldedch. The Tsaldedch are divided into an individual Ldedch that is patron of each band. The Tsaldedch demand blood and war as their offerings. They feed in the misery and suffering of infidels, and thus the Maldpa are required to go out and wage war on unbelievers. Maldpa tradition dictates that the Maldpa consume their prisoners alive, creating specialized utensils for tearing living flesh off of prisoners of war. This practice comes from a legend of their chief Ldedch, Nyetsetch, who is said to have eaten his fallen enemies alive. The Maldpa religion calls for the sacrifice of other Maldpa, the consumption of the fallen as part of the ritual.
The Tsaldedch are described by the Maldpa as being reptilian, almost serpant like in their appearance.

Clan Description:
The people of the Necrolestes are the remnants of a now extinct mainlander tribe that migrated across the sea to the Islands of Necroleste after hopping from island to island looking for a new homeland. Added to their heritage are nobles of brokenlander extraction, the sawtooth clan. They are masterful sailors and have a reputation for being dangerous pirates, as well as traders and fishermen. Much of the human population lives in the wilderness as farmers, and etch out an existence in communal farming with their neighbors. Much of the clan is broken down into "bands", which are small familial groups that tend to live together in farming communities in the countryside. Allied harpies are also considered to be part of the clan, while those who are enslaved are considered outsiders under clan authority. A major goal of the clan is the subjugation or integration of all harpy tribes into the Necroleste Clan.

Clan History:

Arrival of the Zimij on Necroleste

In prehistory, the people of what would become the Necroleste Islands, were a fairly small tribe of people called the Zimij. Though war, the Zimij were nearly driven to extinction, with some members of the tribe taking to the seas and seeking refuge in various islands, though never staying in one. That was until they came across a very inhabitable island chain that they came to call Necroleste. These islands were pristine in a sort of splendid isolation, having not been touched by Humans ever before. The Humans came to colonize the islands, eventually running into the indigenous harpy population. The Harpies at first waged war on the humans, but were subsequently defeated and subjugated by the colonists.

The War with the Maldpa:
It was around this time that the humans came into contact with the Maldpa.

The Maldpa inhabited some of the northernmost islands in the chain and were brutally hostile even towards other harpies. Human encounters with them ended with the death and consumption of several Zimij farmers by the hands of the Maldpa harpies. The Duke waged war on the Maldpa, and the battles have been ongoing since. The Harpies show little interest in ceasing their aggression towards the invaders, and likewise the Zimij and allies are unwilling to simply allow them to exist.

The Arrival of Hrorik and the establishment of the Petty Kingdom of the Far West

Hrorik was a distingushed warrior of a Brokenlander clan called the Sawtooth Clan. Hrorik had made a few voyages to the far west before, eventually he had come across the lands of the Necoleste islands. Hrorik was enchanted by the pristine condition of the Islands, and accepted a proposition by local Zimij warlords to ally with them as their king if he would destroy their enemies. Hrorik returned the next year with an army seeking glory. Hrorik and his Sawtooth Clan set about conquering the largest island, Gard, with Hrorik establishing his clan as the ruling nobility of the newly established clan. Thus the Sawtooths became the ruling class over the Zimij, at this time significantly different than their subjects, and maintaining connections to their Sawtooth kinsmen in the mainland.

Valdemarr the Great and the Establishment of the Jarldom of Necroleste
Among Hrorik's successors was the king known as Valdemarr, called Vladimir by the Zimij. Valdemar began the extensive centralization of the Kingdom, waging nearly 2 decades of bloody warfare on rebellious and unsubgigated harpy tribes, being the only Sawtooth king to conquer the Maldpa. Valdemarr also followed the decision of the mainland Sawtooths, pledging the fealty of the Necroleste Nobility to the High King, feeling that this would secure the Islands in the face of potential danger. Valdemarr thus began an extesive economic opening of the islands to outsiders, establishing trade routes too keep the islands relevant in the confederation. Valdemarr/Vladimir would be considered first true ruler of Necroleste, as well ad the last Brokenlander to be King/Jarl, as soon the nobility would become increasingly Zimij in their ways and culture.

The Grand Duchy and the decay of Necrolest
As time went on, the final Jarl would come to power, Oleg Vladimirasyn. Oleg came to view the Necroleste Islands as a Zimij enclave in a brokenlander union, but an integral part none the less. Oleg ceased to call himself a jarl, but a duke.

Oleg II marked the begining of the gradual loss of ducal authority over the more rogue harpy tribes. While the Vuts amd Bäws remained strongly loyal, and have been integral in maintaining the territorial integrity of the Duchy, however the duchy has lost much of its reputation in the confederation, and the future remains uncertain with the ascention of Duke Bozhda, who is keen to solidify the ties between the mainland Sawtooths and back their interests in the new high king.

Regional Geography/Resources/Economy Details:
Necroleste is a chain of large temperate islands, dominated by a mixture of dry forests and grassy lands.


Wildlife
The animals of these islands are unlike any in the world, owing to the millenia of splendid isolation.

The endemic fauna and flora of the Necroleste Islands have had millions of years to diverge from the creatures of the main continent. Animals representing ancient forms, as well as completely new innovations have developed in the islands, with their separation from the nearest land being massive, and even separation from each other on the islands being significant. Necroleste had few large carnivorous mammals until the arrival of the Zimij and their domesticates, leading to unique creatures to fill the ecological niches of the islands.

Ungulates:
The first of the major mammals to arrive on the islands, ungulates have come to fill several niches in the island's ecology, and many were domesticated by the harpies for use as work animals, mounts, and food sources.

My Hider

Trunked Horse -

The Trunked horse (Vutsian: Tsāsụ, Maldpa: Dchal) is an endemic ungulate found dispersed throughout the islands. Early on, the harpies domesticated the animals for use like horses, and they continue to serve the function of work animals and mounts, even replacing the use of the horse by the humans.

Savage Pig

The Savage Pig (Vutsian: Qxov, Maldpa: Mbaras) is a large, pig-like creature noted for its agressive, predatory behavior. They remain a major threat for their agressive actions towards even harpies and humans.

Rabbit Deer

The rabbit deer (Vutsian: Mara, Maldpa: Malnd) is a small ungulate domesticated by the harpies for use as a food source. They behave much like rabbits, and serve largely the same function as them, though humans have imported rabbits that compete with them for food.

Tchach

Known as the Ţénu by the Vuts, and the Tchach by the Maldpa, the hoofed wolf, is a carnivorous ungulate and has taken the position of mainland wolves. They are considred dangerous by the majority of people on Necroleste.

Marsupials and Non-Therians - Marsupials are a subset of mammal that birth essentially fetal young that develop externally in a pouch on the mother. Non-Therians are mammals that give birth to their young through the use of an egg.

My Hider

Opossum -

These animals are largely considered pests and game animals to hunt for food (Vutsian: K'āvo, Maldpa: Nytchar)

Great Wolf

These animals are not true wolves, rather a carnivorous marsupial that has largely taken the ecological role of bears. They are solitary and timid, but are considered a danger by harpies and humans when they are encountered. Some harpy tribes have rites of passage that invole hunting the creatures. (Vutsian: Uli; Maldpa: Gedchtchach)

Sītl

The Sītl (Maldpa: Ngul) is a small burrowing animal, notable for being a source of eggs and meat for the harpies, though largely replaced by the chicken for humans.

Birds

My Hider

Terror Bird

The Terror Bird, called the Detal by the indigenous, is a large carnivorous bird that wanders around the islands. They are believed to be closely related to the harpies, possibly sharing a common ancestor with them.

Giant Eagle

The Giant Eagle, or Rok, is a massive eagle spawned from island gigantism. They are known to hunt harpies and humans occasionally.

Abominations:
In a place like this, is it any surprise entities like this would exist?

These creatures do not exist naturally, and are unfortunate mutants who exist by way of the Old One's influence.

My Hider

Bauk - The Bauk is a mysterious entity found in areas of the islands. These shadowy monstrosities are said to flow like black liquid in the grasslands and forests, before rising and solidifying to attack and feed upon a victim.

Beda - The Beda are faceless, pale ape-like entities that wander the grasslands at night, caputuring travellers to drag them into caves and torture them for their amusement until they die.
Buvac - reptilian creatures that inhabit swamp lands, are said to screech loud before they drag their prey into the swamps to drown and eat them. The Maldpa have a rite of passage that involves hunting and torturing Buvac before they are permitted to marry.

Vilenjak - These plant like abominations plant their spores in human or harpy hosts. The spores then begin to mature in the hosts body, eating them from the inside out, until the plant grows bursts out of its hosts body to anchor itself into soil and begin its own lifecycle.

A host completely overtaken by the plant
Drekevats - small goblin like creatures that howl and hut in swarms.

Important Characters:
Duke Bozhda of Necroleste
Chief Tụś of Vuts
Chieftess Ara of Baws

Important Holdings/Territory/Possessions:
Chornagrad - The Ducal City and the capital of the Duchy. This is the home of Duke Bozhda and his family, and a city primarily inhabited by humans, though some Vutsians live here as well. The City was called Līgàvéqxe by the Vuts prior to the arrival of the Zimij. The Sawtooths called the city Svartgardr, which now refers to areas where the Sawtooths proper live.

Relation to other Factions:
TBD

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Chicago, USA, 1953

Gabriella shivered slightly as she opened the door to her house. After a quick internal dialogue as whether or not to take off her jacket, she favored keeping it on, only to catch sight of her husband.

“John, there you are!” she spoke loudly, John nearly dropping the papers he was holding, quickly meeting his wife's gaze.

It had been 3 years since the couple had gotten married. Seemingly little happened in the lives of John and Gabriella Pashaj. And yet Gabriella stood in the doorway, brow furrowed at her husband with a stern expression.

“Gabby, I need to tend to the restaurant's paperwork...”

“John, he has to go.”

John anxiously placed his hands over his head, twisting to the side to avoid making eye contact with his wife.

“I can't just throw him out, he's family. I'm afraid if I send him back he's going to do something stupid.”

Gabriella huffed loudly, provoking her husband to sternly demand she not do so.

“A year and a half, John. A year and a half and he's been nothing but trouble the entire time he's been here. He clearly has no intentions of leaving and living on his own, and I don't want him around when we have children of our own!”

“Family is important to him. You know that.”

“You're important to him. Maybe. He hates me, you know he does. He says horrible things about me, even about you for marrying me.”

John sighed, yet Gabriella persisted.

“He's told me he considers you only half of his family since you changed your name.”

John winced at that. It was never clear to him why it mattered if his name was spelled John or Gjon. John empathized with his wife's complaints, indeed his cousin's perverse, far right beliefs were becoming a problem for him as well.

Gabriella's expression changed, almost to that of someone pleading.

No words had to be said, John nodded at her and made his way down the hall.

Three firm knocks at the door. Ahmet knew exactly who it was that was there.

“Hyni!” meaning “come in” in Albanian.

The creek of the door coincided with John's entrance into his younger cousin's room. Ahmet had taken up residence in John and Gabriella's home around the time he turned 18, at the request of his mother, who wanted him to leave Albania. Albania, she said, was a dying country, and her son would have more opportunity in the west. There was some luck that a family member had married an American. The US had far more chances than Albania, the woman thought.

Ahmet's room was unlike that of any 18-year-old John had ever seen before.

“The Quran again, Ahmet?”

Ahmet nodded, gently placing the book onto the holder in front of him. “You should read it more, Gjon. It would do you some good.”

Ahmet stretched himself out, an audible crack coming from his back as he did so, standing himself up to meet his cousin's gaze. Not much was in the room, save for his bed and a shelf filled with books concerning Islamic concepts, most of them in either Albanian or Turkish. With little more than a sparsely read Quran, John could hardly claim the same devotion as Ahmet.

In fact, it seemed like at time's religion dominated all of Ahmet's thoughts and desires. He certainly wasn't associating himself with any other young men his age. Gabriella often noted how starnge it was that he just sat in his room, writing all day. Writing what exactly? He refused to show anyone. It had to be released on the right day, he said.

“We need to talk Ahmet”

Ahmet chuckled a bit. “I know she wants me gone, Gjon. That's no surprise. But you can be sure to tell her that I will be leaving of my own accord.”

“What?”

“I'm leaving. I can't stand it in this country.” Ahmet placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. “I need to be back in Albania. Albanian's belong in Albania. That is our home, not this place.”

John just lifted his cousin's hand off of him, glaring at him. “And what are you going to do in Albania that you can't do here?”

“Live a good, proper life. Not like the way people live here.”

“You're crazy, Ahmet. You idolize that place, as if you'll end up anything more than a farmer. You act like you're Skanderbeg himself, a regular Gjergj Kastrioti for a new era.” John slipped into a small rant. “For one thing, the countries at war!”

“Yes, and I plan to go back and fight the Greeks like I should.”

John simply looked off to the side for a second. “I don't get you, Ahmet. Really I don't.”

Ahmet nodded, “I appreciate your help, Gjon, but I need to go back. I want nothing more than for you to leave that woman and come back to Albania with me, but I know that will not be the case.”

“I can't stop you, I know that. But know that if you need anything, I will help you.”

Ahmet nodded. “Thank you, I will remember that.”

Korytsa, North Epirus Autonomous Region, Greece, 1960

Every nation is entitled to a piece of land of their own. The Albanian should not be ruled by the Greek or the Serbian any more than the Ukrainian should have their lives dictated by the Russian, or the Somali's destiny be under the control of the Habesha. The Empire is truly the greatest abomination of humanity. It takes a corrupted man to willingly deprive an entire nation of their freedom, leading to the death of their identity, language, way of life, their religion. There is little more in this world more disgusting than the empire. Thus, it is natural that nationalism was to come about. Any sane man would do anything to be free of the yoke of foreign oppression. Indeed, it is not just the right, but the obligation of any people who find themselves under the yoke of imperialism, to fight to break free of the chains of the oppressor, whether he may try to exert his influence in the form of military, political, or even cultural domination. Thus when one looks to Albania, let him not disregard us as irrelevant. If a man says, “Why should I care, I have no ties to Albania.” let him know that we are but an example, and that this could be any nation.

The Right of the Nation-State
“Gjergj Kastrioti”

“What is Luigi's Place?”

Ahmet spoke up, not once turning away from his yet incomplete book. “Question, Andrej. How do you keep the state off of your trail when you're bringing in large amounts of money. Larger than what your employment should allow?”

It had been some time since Andrej had spoken directly to his partner. The hulking, dark-haired Albanian had spent a great deal of time in Central America, as well as in much of Western Europe and the United States, negotiating and organizing drug trades and trafficking. Ahmet preferred not to get his hands dirty in “haraam” work. Even if that haraam work was what was making his little venture profitable.

“My cousin Gjon has a thriving business going on in America. Some fast food place, they sell cheap Italian food, and it's been growing through the midwest, so it's a good place to hide a few hundred thousand a month.”

Andrej nodded. Of course it was that.

“So how's this going to go down?”

Ahmet glanced over his shoulder at Andrej, giving a short chuckle as he turned himself around.

“Xhamile's in Germany, so we go in and get her out. The Greeks know we are serious and willing to fight now, so we have to get the ball rolling on this. I want you and Muhammat to go to Frankfurt, and bring Xhamile back to Albania. I will be taking the rest of us to Skodra. You bring her there, and we can get the rest of this going.”

Ahmet simply returned to penning his book as his associates left. With any luck, he could begin distributing it soon.

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

is it cool if I claim these little islands in the far north-west?

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Greece

Giannitsa, Pella Department, Greece

Niko hated having to make these routine trips to Macedonia of all places. Giannitsa was the last place one would expect the center of Greek automotive manufacturing to be. It was hardly a major city, and almost a third of the population was ethnically Turkish. The city had come to be known under the nickname of “Little Turkey”, and the locals had taken to calling it by its Turkish name, Yenice, though most of it's inhabitants had been born and raised in Greece. Still, one was just as likely to hear workers in the factories gossiping in Turkish as in Greek.

Niko hated speaking Turkish, he despised the sound of it, the look of it, everything. Yet his father had required him to learn it. Instead of the sweet sounds of French, he was tiring and laboring over a barbaric language brought by invaders. No matter how necessary it was for him, he would never enjoy listening to it, and never appreciate the feel of it coming off his tongue.

Niko was all too aware of what went on in Giannitsa, his father had invested significant effort into making the automotive industry functional here. Nikolaos Zachariadis Jr., head of the Department of Industry of Greece. Factories under his authority like this one dotted the landscape of Macedonia. Sure, a few outliers could be found in Athens or the Peloponnese, but Macedonia was the industrial heart of all of Greece. The national company his father had installed into the land was even given an optimistic name.

Alexandros Automotives: Reliable from Greece to India

But civilian concerns were not the reason for visiting today.

The head of this factory, a short, fat Slavic man named Boris, was sitting in his office going over the numbers of his plant. He had grown up a little bit farther north in Edessa. Neither a Greek nor a Turk, he belonged to a native Slavic culture found in the far north of Greece and the far south of Serbia. They called themselves Macedonians, but the Greeks preferred to just call them “Slavs”. Boris had worked hard to make it this far, having none of the benefit of being a Greek, nor the social programs to help Macedonian Turks. Niko was no more a fan of Slavs than he was of Turks, and it showed in his entrance.

“Boris,” Niko said without emotion, not even extending a handshake to the head of the plant.

“I assume you know why I'm here,”

Boris swallowed hard at the statement. “I have some idea”

“Really?” Niko responded, eying the foreman. “So are you just lazy or stupid?”

Niko's expression changed into one of anger as he spoke again.

“Consistently you have managed to ensure that this location is under performing,” Niko slammed a folder full of reports on Factory #334, showing its low output.

“It's amazing, really, that you can manage to so poorly run a location. We are beginning a massive war effort, and I expect that you are going to be able to deliver some kind of improved output, so that we're not just jacking off in the mountains, and actually manage to accomplish something. But I'm probably asking too much of you in that regard. Since this conflict has started you've managed to drag your ass in actually contributing to the war effort.”

Niko lit up a cigarette as he finished speaking, seeing the very noticeable shaking that was present in Boris. Being the head of the department meant he always got the pleasure of cutting out and fixing weak links in the machine. “So, pack your shit and get out, Boris. I don't have any use for you if you're going to be a burden on the war effort. You have until the end of the week to leave, and by then we'll have found someone who is capable of actually keeping up output.”

Niko turned away before he could see any emotion creep up in the Slavic man's face. Production was of the essence, and he could not afford to have the war effort undermined by some useless peon.

Argyrokastro, Northern Epirus Autonomous Region

A tip had gotten off the other day about seditious behavior in an Albanian bar in the north of Argyrokastro. A little dive bar called “Maja e Malit”, a well known hang out for Albanian nationalists and monarchists. Two days ago, a tip was given, about unusual behavior going on among the patrons of the establishment. Treasonous discussion, distribution of anti-Government literature. Talks had come of a strange figure, a man calling himself Gjergj Kastrioti, frequenting the establishment, spreading dissent and attempting to recruit into his nationalist organization. Military police were ready, and a raid on the bar was about to go down.

The signal went out, and the doors of the bar were kicked down. Screaming echoed out as women and men ran for cover as the military police entered into the room. A few attempted to run, only to be stopped by the police as they attempted to flee. The raid progressed further, as the police broke down the door into the back offices.

Or so they thought. The greeting they received was a gun shot, returned in turn as the would be Albanian assailant fell to the ground.

It had been underestimated just how much was behind the bar.

Popular Civil Guard HQ, Thessaloniki, Macedonia Department

For too long we have been subjugated by foreign powers. Since before written history, our tribes have been held under the yoke of the Romans, followed by the Byzantines, the Ottomans, and now, the Greeks control us, with the lie of a free state created to make us placid and malleable by outside powers. All aspects of our very core as a people have been forcibly altered by those who would control us. Is not our language contaminated by words imposed upon us by the Romans? Does not over half of our people adhere to that religion brought by the Ottomans, while another half pretends to be free while subjugating themselves to the Greek and Roman chuches. He says he is free and follows an Albanian religion but knows not the history that brought us in to the Christian faith.

We had hope, in the great King Zog, chosen of God, a man who had brought forth Albania as a true nation, not merely a collection of warlords. However he has left us with an ineffective king. This is unfortunately true. However, King Skander is not the only option. For King Zog had a brother, Prince Xhalil who produced a suitable heiress for rulership. Princess Xhemile of the perfect age of 19 as of the publication of this tract, can provide us with a long lasting leader that can unite the Albanians in opposition to invasion.

The plan is simple, the necessary steps that Skanderbeg's Own must take into account to ensure the optimal Albanian state against invasion.

1. We must liberate all Albanian territiories from foreign invaders
2. We must force the incompetent King Skander IV to abdicate to his cousin, Princess Xhamile
3. We must return Albania to its traditional values, and codify what an Albanian is and how he must act.
4. Free Albania from degenerate foreign influences.

Anyone can see it is plain how an Albanian should act. An Albanian is he who speaks the language, who practices Islam (the only religion we can make our own, and that we can separate from some foreign power such as Catholicism and Orthodox Christianity, that bind us to Rome and to the Greeks), and follows our old ways and traditions. Under the rule of Princess Xhamile Zogu, and with the guidance of Skaderbeg's Own, we shall purge all the foreign influences from Albania ,and bring our nation into a new golden age.

Go with God, my friends and brothers, for it is up to you to defend the fatherland. Further instructions will follow. But may this booklet guide you until then.

Atdha
“Gjergj Kastroti”

“What the hell am I looking at, exactly?”

“It's called Atdha. It means "Fatherland" in Albanian. These, along with a plethora of other copies, were recovered from a bar after we receive d a tip of nationalist activity going on there. Turns out the place was a center of activity for this group, called Skanderbeg's Own. This looks to be their manifesto, written not only in Tosk but in Gheg and even Arvanitika”

Vasilis Bartziolas ran his hands over his head. At a time like this, the potential for domestic terrorism was far from what he wanted. It was already enough to have to be monitoring the Albanians as was, but having a potential terrorist organization brewing within Greek borders was something else.

“What do we know about them?”

The assistant tossed a file onto the table, “They seem be fairly new, forming mostly in Northern Epirus, with some support found in the South Epirus Department as well. Their leader calls himself Gjergj Kastroti, in reference to Skanderbeg, the Albanian national hero.” The assistant then opened up the file to show a picture of a young man, looking to be about in his late 20s, clean shaven, reddish blonde hair, no distinguishing facial features other than a rather long and pointed nose. “His real name is Ahmet Pashaj according to one of the members we interrogated. He's from Tirana originally, later moved to Korytza, but then settled in Argyrokastro after it was brought into Greece.”

“Anything else?” inquired Vasilis

The assistant's face twisted into a look of disgust.

“He's got a record of involvement in ultra-right and nationalist movements in his short 25 years of life that put some other right winger's to shame. He was rejected from military service in Albania due to a crime he was convicted of back in his teenage years, but he's pretty well known in Tirana for his beliefs.”

“Which are?”

“Extreme Albanian nationalism, ultra-right conservativism, Islamic fundamentalism, praising of autocratic rule. He was a major supporter of Zog's regime, but believed that Zog didn't go far enough in establishing what he believed were “traditional Albanian values”.

“And this Princess he talks about?”

“Ah yes, Xhamile Zogu. The cousin of Skander Zogu, by way of Zog's brother Xhalil's son Skender. She's the next in line after Skander dies.”

“And where is she?”

“Germany”

“Germany?”

“Her father moved to France sometime after Zog took power in the state, and that branch later relocated to Germany after France became socialist. Xhamile lives somewhere in Frankfurt, but she'd almost undoubtedly return if Skander were to perish, as Pashaj's group desires. My guess is that Skanderbeg's Own plans to kill Skander and force Xhamile into power, while using her favor as a means to get into positions of power over Albania, and hopefully mold into their desired image. Xhamile is still just a young woman, they probably see her as weak and easily manipulated into favoring them. Xhamile presents a threat as she's a far more capable ruler, and might gain international support for her rule, as opposed to Skander, who can barely eat on his own. But the biggest threat comes in the potential for Skanderbeg's own to conduct terrorist campaigns against us. We could see them attacking civilians to invoke terror, or see them damaging key points in Epirus to try and cripple the war effort, and cut off our support of Hoxha's men.”

“So what do you propose we do about it?”

“First will be to begin cracking down on their meeting places. It will be best to put all Albanians in Epirus and Greece under surveillance, and to carefully monitor any establishments frequented by Albanians. The security in both Epiruses must be increased, and we will need extra defenses around key transportation sites to Albania.”

Ioaninna, South Epirus Department

Souroupo was a popular nightclub for the working men and women of Ioannina. Muhammat Burim had managed to get into the club easily. No eye was drawn to him, no one suspecting anything. At least he thought so, before he knew it, one of the bouncers had caught up to him.

“Hey, you, yeah you.” Muhammat turned to catch his eye, “What have you got in there?”

“You will see soon enough, you will all see in time.”

“Open the jacket”

Muhammat simply started laughing

“Can you not here, I said open the jacket!”

The laughing just continued, as other patrons even began to notice.

“This is the last warning, open the damn jacket!”

But the only movement was when Muhammat pulled a string on his vest.

“In the name of Allah and the House of Zogu, justice will be done”

And in one loud blast, it was clear what he had been hiding.

Ban the Person above you

banned for featherless dinosaurs

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Greece

Athens

All throughout the room, conversation echoed, words bouncing off the walls, swirling and twisting into a thick mixture of sounds and voices, yet the cacophony had a delicateness, a mild flavor to the sound that made it anything but unpleasant to the ear. Athena was accustomed to the soft yet rich sounds of conversation that went on in the language club. Le Petit Paris was a relatively new organization in the center of Athens. Perhaps it was more popular among the common adults of Athens, however, it was very common to find the diligent secondary students coming to chatter away in the club, as well as a few words of Greek slipping in between the soft French vocabulary. Certainly, no one would take this as a scene out of France itself, but with French becoming an almost ubiquitous subject in Greek education, a little bit of extra help was necessary for those wishing to get into a decent university.

And it was certainly better than taking on English or Turkish; at least that's how Athena saw it.

A quick glance at the clock made it clear that her invited guest was not going to make it today. Athena groaned.

“Useless, leave us to do all the work,” she muttered under her breath, pushing back her chair, the agitated screeching it made almost audible over the interwoven blanket of voices that covered the main conversation area as she made her way to the door.

Though socialization was a typical activity at the club, it's primary purpose was education in the French language. The library was host to a group of adult learners, here for one of the lessons the institution provided for late learners. Athena made sure to avoid drawing attention to herself as she snuck into the back, carefully combing through the books to find that little guide to verbs she had spotted the other day.

“Well, if he's not coming, I might as well just go home”

It was hardly a long trip from Le Petit Paris to Athena's home. Her father preferred living in the central area of the city. More people meant more obscurity, more insignificance among the common rabble of Athens. People talked in villages, close knit groups that had been around together for centuries. The Grandson and Great-Granddaughter of the greatest traitor in modern Greek history, they wouldn't last long in a place like that.

Inner-city Athens was hardly a paradise. The streets were littered with the poorer Greeks, as well as the majority of the non-Arvanite Albanians, and the leftovers of the descendants of whatever Turks managed to survive both the end of Ottoman rule in Greece, as well as hide well enough from her Great-Grandfather's purges. Thankfully, most had no interest in who she was; and that was for the better.

Athena and Georgos Metaxas lived in a single room flat in a large building in central Athens. Some speculated it had previously been the home of a nobleman but was now organized into a residential space, given the charming name of “Residential Block 22”.

“Dad, I'm home,” Athena said as she entered into the room. Georgos rarely cleaned up the place, and as usual, he was laying, unconscious and drunk on the couch. Crumbs and whole or half eaten tiropetes, little fried snack foods filled with cheese and parsley, littered the couch and ground. Her father had made them for her birthday yesterday, in one of the few time she saw him lucid all month. A copy of the local newspaper, Eleftheria, was covering him like a makeshift blanket. Athena picked it up as she noticed the headline.

“Government crackdown begins on Shqip Albanian culture clubs; “Local meetings becoming havens of sedition and treason” remarks local official”

Athena threw the paper down while she tuned the radio, her father had left it on, yet it was only letting out static. Mostly it was more talk about the war, and about how “Shiptars” couldn't be trusted, as well as Arvanites insisting they were not like the Shqips, and that unlike them, they were loyal to Greece and to socialism, and that they were just as Greek as anyone else, they just happened to speak Albanian as a cultural langauge. Finally she found something, a comedy-mystery show she often listened to. To Peripeteies tou Ioanni kai tou Aristoteli, The Adventures of Ioannis and Aristotle. It was a period piece, a radio show set in the Byzantine Empire, about two men named Ioannis and Aristotle, who solved mysteries and protected the Byzantines from danger. Today's episode involved Ioannis being kidnapped by some unknown force, and the only clue being some fur left at the sight of the abduction. It wasn't long before Aristotle found out that Ioannis, as well as a damsel in distress, had been taken hostage by a Rus' warband looking to sell them into slavery in the lands of the Arabs! Athena took what was left of the tiropetes and poured herself a glass of the wine in the kitchen area, and listened to the story, her mind forming pictures of Aristotle bravely infiltrating the Rus camp disguised as an Arab, and tricking the Rus into leading him to the prisoners to be shown to him for sale, slipping a pin to Ioannis as he inspected him, and then distracting the slavers with price negotiations ( complete with comedic dialogue) while Ioannis freed himself and the girl, and how the two managed to defeat the Rus' coating their whole tented encampment in vodka and kicking up the fire to trap them inside. The two Greeks escape and save the girl, while the Russians burned to death in a fiery end.

Satisfied with the episode, Athena decided to go for a walk before her father woke up.

It took about two seconds out before she heard a voice that annoyed her immensely.

“Hey, Athena”, a lurid, voice called out to her in a disgustingly flirty way. Athena turned her head to catch sight of exactly who she thought. Demitrios Zervos was something of a local badass in this part of Athens. He was 18, followed by a little gang of local Albanian and Turk hoodlums who had bought into his game. They had taken to calling him the Pasha of Pangrati. Demitrios had his eye on the little girl for a while now, and he was intent to get her in his bed today. Athena stiffened herself up and responded.

“What do you want, creep?”

Demetrios chuckled, his cronies following suit. “I don't know if you heard, but I'm headed out to training in a couple days,” he puffed out his chest, in a failed attempt to look more masculine, “Gonna see some action in Albanian with some of the boys here too,”

Athena scoffed, “Maybe you'll finally earn that title of Pasha; just be willing to pay with functioning legs”

“Shut up, cunt!” shouted one of the boys in the back, with Demitrios shouting back to the gang member to shut up and watch his mouth, with him immediately turning back to Athena with a sleazy smile as he apologized for his friend's misbehavior.

“Okay, so you're going to war in a few days, so what do you want from me?”

“I figured if you're not busy, we can go back to the pad, share a little drink and maybe have some fun if you know what I mean”

Athena's face twisted in disgust, “I'm 14”

“Yeah, but you certainly don't look it”, he replied, looking her up and down

Athena pulled her arms over her body, “Disgusting”

“Hey, maybe the little prude is more like her great-grandpa than she likes to admit,” one of the others quipped, “Think's sex is dirty like old Johnny”

“Nah,” another spoke up, “My girl told me back in Argyrokastro and Korytza she was sharing a bed with that blonde chick, Lydia or whatever”

“Heh, looks like you're trying to woo a dyke, Demitrios”

Athena felt sickened by their insults and began to move back to the door of the residential block.

“Oh, it looks like something finally got to her,” someone chimed up

“Probably worried we'll report her to the police and get her locked up”

“Don't be stupid, dykes don't go to jail, just fags”

“She'd probably like it too, locked up with a bunch of chicks. It'd probably be heaven for her.”

Athena wanted to shout at them to shut up, but couldn't bring herself to it, only sneeking back into the block while they were too distracted to do anything, listening to the talking outside.

“What the, where'd she go! Ah great work, guys, she's gone now you stupid fucks.”

“Don't act so made, Demitrios. You weren't going to get any anyways.”

Athena simply waited for the talking to die down, looking out the windows of the building lobby to see if they were gone. All the while cursing the group, hoping every one of them would die a horrible death in the war, that the Albanians would take their heads off and parade them around the villages like trophies. She was on the verge of tears, but held it back. Off in the distance, another radio was buzzing on about the war in Albania, That the premier had issued a statement on the conflict.

Hall of the Demogerontia, Athens

Markos Vafeiadis was not fond of public appearances. Since the declaration of the Hellenic socialist republic all those years ago, he had rarely come out to address the state directly. He was far from the man he was then, a graying old man, a grizzled reminder of the commander who helped bring about the end of nationalism in Greece. Now the time had come once again to bring about the end of a monarchy. The Hall of the Demogerontia, the name of the ruling council of Greece, was a prominent part of the city of Athens, being a repurposing of the former palace of the king. Though it was often seen, it was rarely visited by those outside of the Communist Party elite. A crowd had gathered around the Hall as the premier made his public appearance, clearing his throat, he began to speak.

“People of Greece, long has it been since we had seen it necessary to exchange blows with our neighbor. Albania is a contentious state, a state that has shown little regard for that which is wanted by the people. When the people of Northern Epirus declared their intention to leave Albania, and rightfully join into the Greek State, they refused, and we were forced to act, to aid our brothers in seeing their wishes realized. When the people of Albania spoke before that, and they united together and announced their intentions to bring the revolution to Albania, the tyrant Zog brought in his soldiers to enforce his will, to slaughter innocent people in the struggle for an Albania ruled by the people. But what should we expect from a man like Zog, a tyrant like Ahmed Zogu, who came to his power only by the will of the people, who was elected by their power, and showed his true, putrid nature by abusing his position, and becoming not a servant of the people, but a despot, who transitioned his nation into a Monarchy of his command, to set him and his descendants above all others in his lands. And now, the disregard of Zog shows, in his arrogance and hatred of the people, he has transferred control of the nation onto a son who is not fit to govern a household pet, let alone a nation! King Skander is the ultimate expression of the incompetence of monarchy and the dangers it holds against the common man. This fool sits upon a throne, letting Albania decay as the decadent and immoral advisors at his side carve the nation up for themselves and exploit its people and its resources. It is known that Greece has supported a far more befitting ruler, the brave Enver Hoxha, and his followers as they take Albanian back for the common people. With the declaration of a new government by Comrade Hoxha, it is now fitting that we, the Hellenic Socialist Republic, publicly recognize the legitimacy of the People's Democratic Republic of Albania, as the sole authority over the state of Albania, and denounce the unfit, tyrannical rulership of the House of Zogu. We announce a partnership of Greece and the legitimate government of Albania, and a pledge of Greece to assist and protect our socialist brothers in the north against the Monarchist threat. May the House of Zogu fall, and may Albania prosper under the leadership of Comrade Hoxha.”

Markos was certain that his speech had rallied the Greeks to his cause, and that it would send a clear message to all across Europe. Monarchy was on its way out, and it was only a matter of time before all of Europe was red.

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<Snipped quote by Chapatrap>

no

@Raddum

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Greek-backed Socialist Coup in Albania as of June 23, 1960



Green: Kingdom of Albanian, under the Zogu Dynasty
Red: Hoxhaist controlled territory
Burgundy: Greek occupied Epirus

Key Players:

Enver Hoxha - Leader of the Albanian Socialist Movement, was purged from the country back in the 40s by King Zog I of Albania, and has spent the last 20 years of his life in a political refugee camp in the outskirts of Athens. He's got a significant following, and the Greeks are looking to back him in order to establish a satellite state in Albania for a buffer with Austria. They don't trust him, but he's better than nothing, at least until a suitable replacement can be found.

King Skander IV of Albania - The mentally retarded child of King Zog, and his only surviving progeny due to mysterious circumstances. Skander is 22 and incapable of even basic functioning and tended to by his advisors, who are corrupt and exploiting him for their own gain.