Status

Recent Statuses

9 mos ago
Current Alternatively - and now, hear me out - one could avoid looking up photos of such eldritch horrors ... maybe?
3 likes
10 mos ago
Back for my bi-yearly visit. Now where did I leave that thingy-ma-jig? Anyone seen that mish-masher? I think it looks like motivation or something!
4 likes
3 yrs ago
I now identify as a Master Procrastinator. Thank you all, and good night.
1 like
3 yrs ago
New medical term: Dizzy mummy (condition of patient when world is spinning and only treatment is confinement to bed). I hate being sick...
3 yrs ago
@Vampiretwilight: Funny indeed. Now to make it into a roleplay here...let the madness and sassy Narrator commence.
1 like

Bio

-The bio will be added once the profile user can be bothered to finish it. Right now he's probably busy doing nothing and stressed about more. Please come back later. Have a nice day.

Most Recent Posts

Okay, so the plan was to get information from international terrorists, who just so happened to be hiding in the middle of fucking nowhere in the dephts of Indonesia? While that didn't sound abnormal to Erik - he'd partaken in several missions involving infiltrating enemy strongholds and stealing intel -, the fact that this was all they were told made him raise a brow. Well, he would have, but sadly his skills in brow-raising was still that of a novice, and instead he just looked concerned if anyone happened to look at him.

That look of concern quickly blew away once he was spoken to, and it just so happened to be someone in the team who actually posessed the capacity to smile. It also happened to be the one with a thick Australian accent.

"I guess I am, though it's not of my own choice. I mean, of everything they could pick as my call-sign they had to go with the usual GNC; Generic Norwegian Crap. They could have called my Polar Bear, Nansen, Great Axe, Kraken or anything else, but nooooo, I'm apparently just a viking. But let me tell you something; vikings don't come out of the sea and shoot you, now do they?"

Erik's voice and face was as serious as it would have been had Edward been Taliban, Al-Qaida, ISIS or some random Russian drunk, and he managed to keep himself serious for a second before bursting out into laughter, smiling at the Aussie - he thought he was a kangaroo, but it was probably best to not question it himself.

"Nah I'm just screwing with you, buddy. But yeah, it's a bit insane, but then again we're the best our countries' got, right? And don't let me stop you from entering, it's not my armoury after all. Just don't shoot me, that is, I've had enough bullets for breakfast for now, thank you."

It didn't take long for Erik to find his gear, he'd already gone through it the past days after he got on the carrier. He got into the ghillie suit with the approriete camoflage, enough to keep him hidden and not make him sweat off his balls in the tropical paradise that really was a true hell-hole - he'd watched enough movies about the war in the Pacific to know that. Top-notch military boots followed, as well as the sun-hat that followed. And soon his face was painted green and black too.

"Am I pretty now, girls? I have to be fabouless for the show!"

HK416N, standard primary weapon for the Norwegian Armed Forces, and the same applied to Erik. Or Viking, as he was surely going to hear a whole lot more than his real name. Who knew, perhaps he would grow used to hearing it? Attached onto that, a Aimpoint CompM4 sight, foregrip and surpressor. No bayonet was needed, that Erik kept attached onto himself for quick use. With the rifle slung over his shoulder, Erik picked up the SIG P228 that lay at his spot, cocking it and checking that everything was as when he'd left it. It was, thankfully, just that. A surpressor also followed that weapon, like with the HK able to be taken off it needed.

The rest was pretty much standard; food, tools and a sewing-kit, maps, flashlight and NV-googles, compass, everything that could possibly come in use in said mission. Alas, no device for remotely de-activating the face-bombs of the terrorists was available.

"Hi Scooter, I'm Viking. I qualified, but I doubt I'm assigned to be your spotter. I mean, we're all chosen for this organization for a reason, so I think anyone here is qualified for anything! Except subnautic infiltration, that's reserved for me."
I picked grenadier because it was the only one of an actually military use that I could find. But I agree with Bigpapa, I too can be changed for whatever the missions requires.
Haakon J. Elvsgaard




Location:Egyptian Museum



"No need for that, Miss Munn, I already have plenty." Haakon casually pulled up a pen and his notepad from the satchel still slung over his shoulder, trying to act calm and collected in his newfound company of...well, a group of people who supposedly were experiencing the very same thing. Each distinct in their own way, and not a group he would have dreamt of being with.

Å ja, drømmen. Haakon turned his attention down to the notepad in his hand, the one where his finger had been magically branded, as if magic still was a force man believed in. That was at least what Haakon thought - or more so now hoped -, though the mention of an ancient Egyptian godess surely didn't help his sceptical mind. He tried not to think about it too much, instead focusing at writing as detailed as possible on his dreaming pattern. The Ring had first appeared once he came to Egypt, but the memories of it was only a few days old. As Haakon began to write, he remembered more of the dream; the dreadful desert around him, the never-ending wandering across the burning sand and relentless sun above him.

And then he closed it, the notepad, as he had drained his memory for anything useful to write down; he was a journalist, he knew what was better left out. And as he closed it, the scetch he had made of the ring came into view, pulling him back to the Nile where the ring had haunted him; haunted them all. "...I wish I could share your enthusiasm for these strange events, Lord Major, but this far more absurd than anything I've encountered. There must be a more logical explaination behind this than an ancient Egyptian god doing...whatever this is."

Haakon turned towards Drake as Miss Kingston spoke of him, speaking kindly of him, The American it would seem. Once Haakon looked at him, his journalist instincts kicked in and gave his gut a special kind of feeling. "That, or he's an American opertunist who came to Egypt for the same reason as so many others. But then again, Mr. Drake, what do you think of this?"
@GuntherGreat, looking forward to...wait what?

...Oh...Well, I...Can you change that?
@GuntherWho knows? A Magnifecent 7-ish theme may or may not be part of this one, we'll see :P But Joseph looks good, he just seems like a fairly integrated member of society, someone who's quite stable. Oh I wondering what his dark, dark secret will be. But look through the rules again Gunther, you've missed something crucial.

@AtomicNutSounds good, looking forward to seeing a CS!
Kingdom of Plebina

Turn 3 - November 1815 to March 1815





Somewhere in Ivine, the private Royal Residence of King Alfonso I
October 25th, 1815


Your Royal Majesty, Holy appointed to rule justfully and rightously by Thy Lord, Sultan Ahmid Kaffa, Emperor of Seljuk and Thy respective Peoples and Realms.

It had come to my, King Alfonso Sebastian I. of the House of Lovoure and the Monarch of the Plebina, attention that at this moment a series of incients of violent uprisings are taking place in thy provinces, of which the peoples of Takervia have resided since time immortal. Their reasons for taking up such violent arms against You, their monarch and leader for many lives I do not support nor understand. Suchs acts of disobidience should not be tolerated.

I, King Alfonso I. of Plebina, send my best wishes and hopes for peace to You and your peoples, especially after our world just shook of the shackles of War after many years of Death and Destruction.

I must, however, also send my concerned thoughts to Thy Excellence, Sultan Ahmid Kaffa, about the lives of Thy people. While their unlawfull revolt against Thy Majesty are not justified, Thy peoples most certainly are still Thy peoples. Thy role as their Sultan should be to guide them and take care for them in time of peril, even if they may not deserve it.

This must not come as an insult to Thou, Your Majesty; on the contrary. This revolt against your rule needs to be put to an end, but the lives of Thy people should be taken great care for. Remember that Thou Lord, be it Yours or Mine, will judge us all at our live's end.

May Thou Lord look upon You and Your House, most beloved Sultan Ahmid Kaffa.


"...Please send this as fast as possible, I don't want to write any more letters of congratulations or condolences tonight..."

-"Most certainly, Your Majesty."

The servant promptly picked up the hand-written letter and left the King's private office, leaving the King and Queen alone in the dimly lit room. Queen Beatrice had been sitting at the other side of the room, reading a book of unknown content - at least to the King.

"I hope you are done working today, Dear, you've been doing nothing except writing those dreadfully long letters and documents all day long." Queen Beatrice said calmly from her book, briefly shooting a glance up at her husband of now over 30 years ever since the 10 year older man proposed to a duchess of a small Lavarattian monarchy.

"I hope so too, Bea darling. But I have the nagging feeling that..."

Alfono's voice was cut off by the sudden knocking on his door, followed by an eire silence from the King and Queen.

"...Yes, what is it Marcus? I know it's you."

The door opened quietly, it having just been oiled after the Royal Family not having been in their holiday residence for many, many years. In stepped a young man, perhaps no more than 25, with a finely trimmed moustache sitting on his face. Not to mention the large bags under his eyes, signs of a man on a very long shift.

-"Your Majesty, I do hope I'm..."

"Marcus. I am tired, I have been writing and working ever since I woke up this morning and I am not in a mood for formalities just now. So please, in the name of God tell me what it is I need to write or sign or whatever it is you want me to do?!"

"Alfonso dear, don't let your anger go out on poor Marcus, he's been working just as long as you today."

"Yes, yes Bea. My apologies Marcus, I am just tired. Now please, what is the matter?"

-"Not much, Your Majesty, just a couple of quick matters to attend to. First, the Ufficio estero wants you to send a letter of condolences to the Empire of Zeeland since Kaiser James was assasinated."

"Oh yes, that. Hmmm..." Alfonso sighed, running his fingers through the greyening hair, before reaching out that hand towards the man. "Fine, I'll do that. And what else was it?"

-"Not pleasent news from Tarrantia: the rioters have still not ceased their strikes, and are threatening to attack the owners of the wharves and anyone assisting the newly hired labour."

"I find great irony that I just wrote a letter to the Sultan, asking him to consider the lives of his citizens, while I'm signing an order to have the Army stop this riot. Here you are, Marcus, the signed order to Silvano Drago. Anything else?"

-"I'm afraid so, though I made sure to save the best for last: Your Majesty and the Queen are both invited to the opening of an ophera house in Tarazzo next year."

"Oh that sounds lovely, doesn't it Alfonso? We must go, it would be rude of us to not do so." Queen Beatrice exclaimed, a face of joy filling her face as she stood up from her chair and walked over to her husband. "It's been too long since the Royal Family went abroad, hasn't it?"

"It has, my beautiful Bea. Send word that We accept the invitation and hope that the opening will be splendid."




The Salvadoria Grand Opera, Free City of Tarazzo
February 2nd, 1816


The Royal Family had already been invited to the opening of an opera the year before. Gioachino Rossini's opera buffa The Barber of Tetrino at the Teatro Marco in Marsie, had been a smashing succsess in a sense for both the opera and the Royal Family. They had both enjoyed a highly acclaimed opera, and at the same time shown themselves as still the representatives of Plebina in an official setting in a time where they needed to show strenght and unity. The Dockyard Riots from the previous year had gone on far too long, and ended in the military putting an end to it. While seeing itself as an open society, the crushing of the riot had been thouroughly kept down in all channels of publications and media, a scratch in the paint that the Royal family wanted nothing of.

So the Royal Family and the Plebian government did their outmost to show the world themselves from their best side when they began their official visit to the Free City of Tarazzo. But the most important events of that February day, one colder than anyone before, took place behind the scenes.

"Mr. Risso, what a pleasure it is to meet you again."

Manfredo Bellino enjoyed being back in more familiar terrain compared to the vaste nothingness of Osladia, especially when he was invited to a grandious event at the expense of Plebina's neighbour; the free citizens of Tarazzo, a place of culture and history, both loved and hated in Plebina Proper. In front of him stood an older man, with just as wide a smile as Bellino had himself.

-"Foreign Miniser Bellino, the feeling is mutual. Have was the welcoming-committie?"

"Lovely, as expected and hoped for. You can be assured that your presence would be celebrated with just as much joy as we was met with tonight."

The pair of diplomats, politicians, men of words and not swords, stood in a large room, large curtains hiding the mass of people that was standing at the outside; the opening of the opera was just over, and now the opera of the night was soon to start. The fact that neither foreign ministers of the countries attending was at their seats was surely whispered and gossiped about, but history books would many years later recall the event taking place: History in the making.

"I'd like to congratulate you on your opening of the new opera; the building is a marvel of Lavarattian engineering, isn't it?"

-"Tarrazian engineering, you must surely mean?"

"That too, my dear Foreign Minister, that too. I did not mean to offend you, but we speak the same language and are as brothers, are we not?"

-"Under the same God, of course. I am just not accustomed to such talk of brotherhood, especially not since the Great Tyrant was defeated."

"Indeed, it was the rhetoric used by Titus Junius Cato during the war. But the word, the idea of Brotherhood is still used by some. I of course mean it in a sense of history and religion, nothing more that friendliness. Is that wrong?"

-"As long as it is not used for rallying people to war, I guess not."

"Indeed, the actions of the Great Tyrant musn't be repeated."

-"I'd give a toast to that, my dear Foreign Minister, if I had a glass of wine."

"We'll surely have more than a few glasses by the end of the night. But to the matters at hand. We would like to open a permanent embassy here in Tarazzo, to ensure that matters involving us both runs as smoothly as possible."

-"Like what, if I may ask?"

"Oh, just to pick one important one; trade. Ever since our trade increased with the outside world once again, making sure tariffs and customs are upheld and regulated properly, especially if said trade might go between our two countries."

-"Well I cannot argue against that, I think that is a fair proposition."

"Great! That leads me to my next point on the agenda. The Plebian government, under the rightous rule of King Alfonso I., wants to place a permanent official in your goverment, to ensure that said policies are not threatened."

-"...I beg your pardon?"

"It is rather simple, Mr. Risso. A representative from the Plebian state will be present in the Tarazzo government. In any matter that involves Plebina or anything related to her, must have the Plebian representative asked for his advice. Nothing more, nothing less."

-"That sounds an awful lot like giving away certain parts of our sovereignty, Mr. Bellino. I do not think our government will like the sound of such a proposition."

"It doesn't have to like it."

-"I...is that a threat?"

"Not at all, my dear friend! Like I said, the representatives presence is nothing more than a formality that cooperation between Plebina and Tarazzo runs as smoothly as possible. He just needs to give advice, not veto anything you offer or are offered."

The Tarazzo foreign minister stood quietly, leaning against a table that stood in the corner of the room, thinking. Foreign Minister Bellino, still smiling and straightening his clothes, continued.

"And besides, Foreign Minister Risso, you said it yourself. the actions of the Great Tyrant musn't be repeated. Including your country's and government's legitimacy. While we do not question the existance of Larazzo, the status of Free City given to you by none other than Titus Junius Cato is troublesome. And no, Mr. Risso, this is no threat. Threatening others is not very Lavarattian, don't you agree? Now, let us not bicker like enemies; there's an opera to enjoy, my dear friend! And wine, lots of wine!"





- Action 1: Trade Agreement with Kingdom of Boccia
- Action 2: Improve relations with Free City of Tarazzo
- Action 3: Put down revolt: (10 000 Elite Alpini [-1 unrest] + 60 000 Soldiers [-3 unrest]= -4 unrest in Fussolia)
- Naval Ship Assignment - Merchant escort in Inner Sea
- [Demobilization] - [Mobilization]
- Research Priorities:
  • Army (Medium)
  • Navy (Normal)
  • Industry (Medium)
  • Social thought (High)
  • Economics (Normal)
@SigurdNo worries, we are in no rush like always :P

Now we need @Leodiensian to post, and we can move to the university grounds to meet Jeremy(me) and Fredrick@Fish of Oblivion! Then we're going to find some spooky shit, and also discover Argus@gohKamikaze :D
@SigurdAwesomesauce, looking forward to it. Hopefully we can all soon rendevouz at Miskatonic soon.
@AtomicNutWell I think we can afford to let in one or two more. Already have a request for that, so you and him are welcome to join. Throw up a CS here and take it from there.
@AtomicNutHow so? Want to join? Shoot us? Just spying on us like a dirty spy?
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet