Cybil de Blanc

Hands steepled, she held closed her eyes, focused only on within. In the comforting blackness, she could only hear the screech of the wind, which served to carry her thoughts to the Goddess. Her deep meditation one of wait, the High Priestess sat quietly, readying herself for the arrival of the first sign. It came to her eventually, in the form of the rustle of her tent flap. One eye opened, and the hooded figure of a lower monk stood there. [i]We have received our first broadcast on the working radios, though there is much static.[/i] The monk spoke not a word, but instead, one hand rose in the air, communicating through some sort of sign language. The High Priestess nodded, raising her own hand to reply. [i]Pinpoint the signal and send a welcome. The Goddess blazes her trail. Send coordinates and invite them to the camp.[/i] [center]- ==== -[/center] Moments later, the Revelstone government would receive a returned radio signal, inviting them to come and see the new nation for itself.

Thanks for the offer, Mael, but I've already nabbed some Antarctic land for my RPs. Nonetheless, I fully intend to RP with you all at some point or another.

The summer of the north, the winter of the south. Antarctica was shrouded in darkest night, July the time of year where no sun dared to shine. The Aurora Australis, cousin of the more well-known Aurora Borealis, danced in the sky like an eel writhes in the sea. Beneath its shining lights, penguins chattered, seals hauled themselves onto ice, and the katabatic winds of the Antarctic blew fiercely. And they walked. Bundled in thick parkas, hauling sleds of supplies across the landscape, they made their way towards the South Pole. They were silent, a strange bunch, with about a hundred of them making that sacred pilgrimage. You see, the Dreamer, the god of the infamous Dragon Cult, had inspired another; she had heard the call of the South Pole, dreamt of a land cloaked in ice. Upon what was but a giant glacier, beneath the lights that lit up the sky, a spirit stood in her mindscape, tall and imposing and vaguely feminine. It funnelled down from the lights, standing there, beckoning her. They had come from far and wide, from protectorate and country, from wars lost and places to be found. They followed her, believing fiercely in the call of the Light Goddess. Many of them were from Cyneriice Northan — a pathetic excuse for an Arctic country, having last but a few years before falling to its knees. With the occupation of New Canadian forces and the arguments over its status as a protectorate, many had fled, disgusted with the CAN and the so-called "teachings" of a certain Queen Cybil. They had been easily swayed with a bit of preaching, and so, now journeyed towards the South Pole. There had been more of them, at one time; they had been travelling for days, and many had sickened and died, left to the ice and snow. There had been two hundred people, in fact. Now weary, tired and frostbitten, those who remained were desperate to reach the place of their so-called "saviour", the Light Goddess of Antarctica. Yes, they might have been crazy, but they needed something to hold onto. The High Priestess would give them that. They finally stopped when a hunting horn blew, carried across the katabatic winds in an echo. The people's hearts thundered — had they finally found their place? It seemed so, as the High Priestess stopped, turning towards her people. The hunting horn rose to her lips, and she blew three times. They cheered. [center]- ===== -[/center] The following morning, a flag would stand, flapping in the winds and surrounded by a multitude of cold-weather tents and supplies. There would be no broadcast, no announcement to the world; their radios were not yet ready for use. Instead, those who ventured far enough into Antarctica would see a black-and-white flag, adorned with a circle surrounded by various dots in compass's directions. [center] [img]http://i32.tinypic.com/5tsznl.png[/img][/center] [center]- ===== -[/center] OOC: Right, I've think I've done everything right up to this point. I was informed where I chose to claim was in a world protectorate, so I think I'm fine.

In that case: [img]http://i26.tinypic.com/x5r1iu.png[/img] Add, please?

So the unnamed white space is all free, then? Just double-checking; don't want to step on anyone's protectorate that hasn't been marked or something. I already did that when I was a newbie. XD

Does the HAM control all of Antarctica's white space? I can't seem to find on the second bordered chunk of land an owner's name.

Ah, lovely, thank you.

(I hope this is the right place for this....) Well, I'd like to return to CNRP, in short. However, I'm temporarily re-rolling, as I can't, for the life of me, find any inspiration to use for Northan. If anybody is willing, I'd like the coldest, most remote piece of land you can think of — preferably any land encircling the South Pole, a.k.a. the dead center of Antarctica.

Once upon a time, far in the North where winter continues eternal, there was a she-raven. On glistening black wings, she soared over the icy landscapes and vast, floe-ridden channels, travelling from island to island in search of food. She was a happy raven, as happy as ravens could be; times could be hard, but she loved her Arctic home. The sound caribou hooves made song with the chatter of waterfowl; the night was lit with the Aurora Borealis, the closest thing to fireworks that nature could make. She played with the whales that travelled through the many passages, croaking and flying over their blowholes just as they spewed mist. The terns and her would race above the tundra, seeing who could get to the coastline first — the terns were usually the winners, with their sleek, streamlined bodies and wings made for ocean flights. But the creatures that held her attention most of all were the hairless two-leggeds who clad themselves in furs fake and real. They complained about the cold if they were foreign, most used to it from spending their entire lives in the Arctic. They raised strange structures on the tundra, unable to live in the cold ground like lemmings or wolf cubs. They rode strange not-animals that growled and buzzed and thundered, creations of their own hand in order to conquer the frozen land. These beasts were humans, the oldest of which had crossed a great land bridge into the Arctic during the time of the great cave bears and mammoths. The raven would often lurk around the human settlements. She was curious, entranced by their strange, shiny creations and all the scraps of food they had lying around. Many of her raven-kin were entranced as well, flocking to the small towns and cities to gorge upon what the humans would not eat. In the winter, when the tundra lay barren and inhospitable for many, the ravens could count on the humans for something to eat. But the she-raven wanted more than just to eat their food. Over time, she grew more and more curious about the humans. Ravens did not live for very long, especially in the Arctic — yet these humans could live for untold decades. The she-raven had heard the stories of many of the older ones, whose faces were as wrinkly as walrus hide, their hair as grey as a baby beluga — sometimes even white as snow. It wouldn't be long before the raven was their equivalent, feathers greying and wings frail, and nothing but a morsel for the wolves or bears to enjoy. One day, when she happened to be thinking about such grim truths, there was a loud rustling of wings beside her. She turned her head, only to meet the eyes of another raven — and a big raven, at that. The Arctic ravens were large creatures, but even this one was enormous, by their standards! She blinked, in awe of this mighty beast, whose eyes twinkled mischievously back at her. "Jealous?" he croaked, motioning with his beak towards the nearby human village. "Most are. The wolves and bears haven't stopped complaining since more of them began to settle." "You could say that," said the she-raven. "I don't know how they live so long. Some days, I think I'd like to be with them down there. They seem like such interesting creatures." "Ah, but so imperfect!" the other raven said, tipping his head upwards. He gave the she-raven the impression that he felt he was right. "They're constantly trying to kill and steal from each other, and not even to survive. Why, one of the older humans had her big-nest broken into just last night! The scoundrels took everything they could that shone!" The she-raven looked horrified. "That's terrible! The older humans are so nice; they throw me bread crumbs and bits of meat sometimes!" "Yes, but the humans are capable of so much, they try and get away with too much." The raven sighed, looking forlorn. "Such unknowing creatures. They know not what they do to each other, or even to us. They merely stay in their big-nests, and let things pass them by. They're hunters, but not very good ones; so wasteful. Why do you think they let so many scraps lie around?" That was a question the she-raven couldn't answer. She merely looked back at the human village. If she was human, she could maybe teach them to be better about the hunting.... They seemed good at heart, just not very good at living in the Arctic. "You'd really like to be one of them, wouldn't you?" said the big raven, snapping the she-raven out of her thoughts. The she-raven turned to look at him and respond, but he cut her off first, saying, "I think I know who could help you." "...You do?" said the she-raven, looking absolutely bewildered. The other raven laughed a croaking laugh, flapping his great black wings. "Of course! Ravens never lie — in fact, we show wolves where carrion is, don't we? If you're so eager to see what being a human is like, then follow me." With that, the big raven took off into the air, flying away from the village. The she-raven followed, although she had to flap her wings harder to keep up with him. His large size also meant a greater wingspan, and he seemed to glide through the air with almost supernatural ease....

A recorded message was then delivered to the CAN, with a very tired-sounding Alysandra's voice speaking. "Dude, seriously...let them have the bloody land they want. Geez Louise, there's nothing up there but reindeer herders and radiation, anyways! Give 'em some credit for wantin' to take care of t'place where their fallout's landin'.... Oh, and the CAN can have what the Canucks don't want. Queen says, stop bickering or I won't have a [i]DDR[/i] dance-off with you. Blech." [center]- === -[/center] OOC: Zoot's right. He gets what he asked for, and you guys can have the rest. It's part of a larger plot that will be commenced when I can get the time to do it.

[b][i]- The Eastern Coast of Cyneriice Northan - - 05:00 Hrs -[/i][/b] Like ants across the dirt, they marched across the tundra. Like bees making a new nest, they swarmed the abandoned outpost and the surrounding houses, setting up equipment helter-skelter. The smell of grease and oil tainted the Arctic air; the sound of clanging and clammering rang out across the dark landscape. There had to be close to a hundred people down there, if not more. By morning, tarts and tents were everywhere. The sounds of barking sled dogs were evident, as was the thunder of hooves as reindeer were ridden. A few of the giant group had begun to set flags around an absurdly wide perimeter, the shape obviously forming an eight-sided polygon from the air. If one looked down, one would see the largest of the outpost's buildings being gutted, sledgehammers resounding as walls were pounded down. Arctic lorries came in to remove the debris, and painters, carpenters and other craftsmen swarmed the remains. What was going on down there? [center]~*~*~*~*~*~[/center] All across Cyneriice Northan, the scene played out at multiple research stations. These stations — once fully functional under the Vinlandian government — were being reshaped, cut off to the public as soon as the workmen were on scene. A grand total of fifty different outposts were being renovated, but for what purpose?

[b][i]- Public Announcement -[/i][/b] "In light of the recent humanitarian crises, Cyneriice Northan has unveiled fifteen new planes that have been converted into aid use for the remainder of the North American War. The country solemnly swears that, unless Northan itself is attacked, that the only part these planes will play in the conflict is to give aid to civilians of the CAN if needed. Planes have been designated to scout for needy areas, and bombers will drop payloads of goods. In total, there are: - 5 Yakovlev Yak-9 Planes ....(Codenames [i]Yurel, Yolanda, Yappersnapper, Yes-Please[/i] and [i]Yakkity[/i]) - 5 AH-1 Cobra Choppers ....(Codenames [i]Catchy, Charlie-Chang, Cord, Cut-It-Out[/i] and [i]Cheshire[/i]) - 5 P-51 Mustang Planes ....(Codenames [i]Mister Tinkles, March, May, Maggey Byrd[/i] and [i]Mackie[/i]) - AH-64 Apache Choppers ....(Codenames [i]Avian, Alley Cat, Arp-Arp, Ash[/i] and [i]All Thunder[/i]) Once again, these planes are for relief use only. And yes, I, Alysandra, picked out some of the names — don't be so surprised." [b][i]- Private -[/i][/b] All knowledge of planes requiring a higher technological level were kept classified. Alysandra felt it was better for the world to think of Northan as a backwater fledgeling, rather than something that was rising to its potential. Pretty much everyone must have thought that now, right?

[i]- Public Broadcast -[/i] "Oh. My. GOD! YOU ARE SO AWESOME IT IS NOT EVEN [i]FUNNY[/i]!!" Alysandra let out a joyous squeal. "YOU! EL PRESIDENTE! Come on up here to Cyneriice Northan — let us talk of how we will RAISE THE [i]ROOF[/i]!! Ah WHOOP [i]WHOOP[/i]! DDR parties forever, WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

"Godspeed to the French so that this madness may cease." - Former Queen Cybil de Blanc "Good luck Frenchies! May your victory be swift, and the wine as delicious as ever when you kick butt!" - Queen Alysandra Lacroix

Approaching from the sea side with a fleet of transportation ships, and using an old, beat-up radio from the '60's to transmit, Alysandra's voice came over the radio waves. The signal was aimed at the nearest port, hoping to attract the attention of a government official. "Yoo-hoo! Neo-Canucks! Need a hand?" the broadcast would say. "I've got an entire (mostly decontaminated; stupid nuclear fallout...) country if anybody needs a home! And a giant palace, too! Hello, hello! Hey! SOMEONE RESPOND ALREADY!!"

Tea. Cybil liked tea. Her family was of British origin, so a daily "tea time" had been the norm for her in her youth, with supper commencing later in the evening. She had kept to the same schedule throughout her rule, enjoying Labrador tea with cranberry and cinnamon, sitting by the window in her room as she gazed over the tundra. It helped soothe her anxieties, the sweet concoction melting on her tongue, sliding down her throat like silk. "S'good stuff..." Cybil muttered, snapping out of her reverie when asked about her roller-skating habit. She laughed nervously, blushing a little. "Oh, that? Well, I thought I'd try something new, 'cause it's warm out and everything. See the flora and fauna and what-not. Sorry about the whole crashing thing, too; I accelerated too quickly a short ways back. That is the [i]last time[/i] I try and use spinning to go faster...."

[i]From Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix: [/i] "So. "A bunch of people got mad and took down one of the scariest emperors in the world. ".... "Are we calling dibs yet? Because I call dibs on somewhere tropical that Tahoe once owned. Y'know, because it's [i]preeetttttyyyy[/i] cold up here, and I had an idea for a beach house with a giant dance party hall...." [center]- === -[/center] To lighten the situation after the battle, and the battles that might lay ahead, the Queen had made a joke. Or had she...?

Cybil suppressed a small laugh. [i]My lady.[/i] She was so sick of the formality at the palace - it was one of the reasons why she had begun to go out more. That, and she had just tricked the servants tagging along into going on a little treasure hunt.... It was high time the ex-Queen learnt to spread her wings a little! Clearly Cybil was denying the fact that she had been hallucinating wildly not too long ago. Thanks to sleep deprivation and a small resistance to medication, she had been threatened by a Norse god, told by a multi-winged dragon angel that she was being watched, and had a time-travelling goat come galloping through her room. Had that Marchar knight of Hannah's not found her in her madness, she probably would have beat her head in in order to make it go away. She had also been quite spontaneous lately, as shown by her roller-skating spree - but there was another side to it. Sometimes, when Cybil had a spontaneous idea...before it, she'd get a flashback. Whether it was someone pinning her against a wall, her shooting someone, or her accidentally setting off some sort of trap, she experienced it over and over again. The flood of emotion gave her an adrenaline rush, and if she didn't "burn it off", somehow, then spells like that one night's would come back. Cybil couldn't stand that. "Yeah, I'm fine," replied Cybil. "Though that was too freakin' close...."

"It is because of disgusting and ridiculous policies like these that we Northanics have never thought of opening relations with Transvaal. Because of beliefs like this abomination, my father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, and many before them suffered deeply. If Transvaal is smart, they'll kick this nonsense in the teeth." - Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix

Cyneriice Northan's only acting as a refuelling/rest stop and such for CAN members. It's not fighting in the conflict, only letting soldiers rest there and stuff. Not sure if you'd count that as neutral, though, so I'll let you put it where you want.

- Private - A quick note sent back to Disparu showed that they had made an error in their locations. Baffin Island proper was Northanic territory; the outlying islands, save those that would like tiny scraps connected to Northan on a map, were CAN Protectorates. - Also Private - [quote][font="Courier New"]To Genshabi Research Corps, I'll drop in in the next two weeks. I look forward to the visit! Sincerely, Her Highness the Queen of Cyneriice Northan, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix[/font][/quote] - Again, Private - [quote][font="Courier New"]To Albertson Housing, You sound like a reasonable man, Mr. Polinsky. What are your terms, and are you willing to pay $10,000 per one hundred kilometres of land? We can haggle if that's unacceptable. Sincerely, Her Highness the Queen of Cyneriice Northan, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix[/font][/quote]

[i]- Private -[/i] A geographic [url="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/40/Wfm_baffin_island.jpg"]map[/url] of Baffin Island was sent to the Alternative Energy Institute, with an offer of $10,000 dollars Northan per hundred square kilometres of land. The appropriate paperwork would be filed for the company, sent to their headquarters for review and signing. Although these documents were long, the gist was that the research stations would respect human rights, not cause any harm to the wildlife, pay appropriate fees, not be used for foreign military purposes and to not run anything illegal in their operations. [i]- Also Private -[/i] [quote][font="Courier New"]To Pharmaceutical Research Corporation, That's great! Mark me down for your next opening. I'd be happy to meet you in Robotropolis. Sincerely, Her Highness the Queen of Cyneriice Northan, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix[/font][/quote] [i]- Private and Classified -[/i] [quote][font="Courier New"]To Jack Neer, Blue Heaven Minister of Finance, Infrastructure, building places like factories and banks, research into technology and improving our cargo ships is Northan's top priority. The majority would be spent on this, with a *VERY* small portion saved for military purposes. This would solely be to construct places for aircraft, both civilian and military, to be made, and work on opening up more jobs in military/civilian sectors, such as cold-weather nursing. If you feel the government would splurge it all on special trips and fancy feasts, I will tell you now that I cook my own waffles in the morning, with a second-hand toaster in my own room, and personally repair my room and office with tips from "Generalissimo's Guide to Winter Survivial".[/quote] Sincerely, Her Highness the Queen of Cyneriice Northan, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix[/font]

[quote]- Private - [font="Courier New"]To the Genshabi Pharmaceutical Research Corporation, I would be most interested. However, both I and my cousin have expressed concerns about the ethics of the EE before; henceforth, I would like a tour, if possible, of your facilities. Should good things come of that, I will gladly start looking at contracts. Sincerely, Her Highness the Queen of Cyneriice Northan, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix[/font][/quote]

[quote]- Private - [font="Courier New"]To the Alternative Energy Institute, But of course we will take you up on your offer. The Arctic is fragile, and my cousin wished to protect it as much as I do now. Send me your terms and I shall review them. Sincerely, Her Highness the Queen of Cyneriice Northan, Queen Alysandra of House Lacroix[/font][/quote]

Even with war raging on in North America, the Northanic people uneasy due to the memories of the Coffee Wars, Cyneriice Northan had bounced back considerably. Yes, it was still developing, and yes, much had needed to be built from scratch, but it was worth it. The ghettos that had begun to dot the northern country were systematically torn down and replaced with decent housing. Solid, sturdy houses - made to withstand the Arctic weather, and with a crude windmill-powered generator where applicable - popped up at affordable prices, small but cozy in build. In fact, this cozy quality gave them their name of "cozyhouses", and emphasis was placed on sustainable, Earth-friendly economies. Where the plant could thrive, plantations of Labrador tea sprung up, people also hopping on the idea of the timeless tradition of reindeer herding. Freecycling - that is, reusing old materials to make something new, such as the wood from benches being used to make sheds - was advocated, and trinket shops were filled with all sorts of collectibles. Then there were icebreakers, the "shiny fishers" that fished out garbage and recycling from the surrounding waters, and plans were made for more schools to be built instead of paying tutors. On average, the population made over eighty dollars a day. To the world, Cyneriice Northan invited [i]ethical[/i] companies to take advantage of the economic boom, and find a new place in Cyneriice Northan, helping it grow and bringing the people closer to the First World tier.