Lestari

Paráense Characters/dotCom's Characters Isabel Moraes Vieira Titles/Nicknames: Isabel Vieira holds no official title besides 'Premier', and in general is addressed not as 'Mrs Vieira' (she utterly detests being referred to as such-- it seems so very... unauthoritative) or 'Mrs Premier'; by most regards her official title is simply 'Premier Vieira'. Friends and colleagues who worked with her extensively during the independence movement know her by the nickname Izzie. She also bears the nickname 'Amazon Wolf' for her brutal but effective use of guerrilla warfare in the Amazon rainforest during the Holy American Civil War, because people like to give retarded nicknames. Age: Isabel comes in at exactly fifty years of age... okay, so she ain't exactly livin' the glory days anymore. She's clearly not interested in lettin' age be an obstacle to her, though: as they say, once a marine, always a marine, and Izzie hasn't actually diverged from the notoriously punishing work out and physical fitness regimens of the Holy American Imperial Marine Corps since she first enlisted, and as a result, she's still in pretty damn good shape. However, it doesn't stop the lines emerging in the defiant structure of her face around her mouth and eyes, nor the emergent speckles of grey amidst the faded black of her hair. Appearance: Isabel Vieira was always an extremely imposing specimen-- she has been acutely aware of her intimidating stature her entire life, and was always prone to using it to strong-arm her way through opposition, back when she was a delinquent fighting on the streets of the capital of a decaying empire, all the way through her days as a marine. Nowadays she prefers to pursue her goals through... well, one is hard-pressed to say manipulation, as that implies self-serving-- she opts for subtler, more intelligent means of control rather than defaulting to bullying. That said, even at fifty, she maintains quite an impressive stature: she stands at six feet and seven inches, with a well-built, muscular body, tempered over more than thirty years of punishing strength training, stubbornly resisting the inevitability of age. The tawny brown canvas of her skin is a gruesomely intricate portrait, such that the tawny brown is hardly even visible anymore. Scars, tattoos, even a couple of birthmarks-- all tell the tale of her life, from the jagged knife scars she received years back running amongst gangs and street fighters in Foundation, to the remnants of bullet wounds she endured throughout her years of combat service. Francisco Vara Titles/Nicknames: His full title is Chief of Military Staff and Director of Defence Affairs General Francisco Vara. Or, y'know, just General Vara works. He's so used to being referred to as General Vara it's just about his first name by now. Age: Vara is sixty one years old, and though mentally he remains as sharp as ever, it's clear it's been a long time since the general was in his prime. Every one of those sixty one years is etched into his weary and deteriorating physical form. Appearance: There was a time when Vara was a fit and robust man, but it's been many years since those days and today at sixty one the only evidence of that is in old photographs. These days, General Vara isn't in particularly tip top physical shape; he's gone soft around the edges, developed something of a potbelly, and at 5'11 was never altogether imposing in the first place. He doesn't exactly exude the aire of a staunch and tough military commander either, with a pair of small round glasses resting on his pointed nose and the stray, haphazard white stubble that just never seems absent from his jawline. Make no mistake, however--just by looking at Vara you understand that though his physical prime is long past, he's still as sharp as a knife. Behind the reflective surface of his glasses his cunning eyes glint with the honed eye of an immaculate fox--a fox whose adroit senses fail to let even the most minute of details and potential factors slip his notice. Concealed safely beneath the ever-present peaked cap perched on his small head can be found balding grey hairs, combed attentively to the side each and every day; in fact, Vara has quite a reputation for being utterly immaculate in his appearance, whether it be his uniform, his cap, or his personal hygiene, as many of his old comrades from the civil war will attest that not even the brutality of the war would stop Vara from taking a few moments each day to ensure his appearance was worthy of his uniform and his uniform was worthy of serving the cause he served. Personality: Vara is a military man through and through--if he weren't married already he'd probably have tried to marry war, and though Pará has long since legalised same-sex marriage they haven't quite gotten around to securing the right to marry a concept. He's a very down-to-earth type--serious, sometimes overtly serious, and constantly sombre as though he just got news yesterday that his grandmother had died--every damn day. He's had it pointed out to him again and again, and he's been told that the seriousness of his military career aside even a general has got to take some joy in life sometimes, but after a lifetime of solemnity and resolute austerity that would bore a corpse to death, Vara probably couldn't be less uptight if he tried. He's just too used to it by this point. Formal in all respects (some people legitimately wonder if he calls even his wife by her first name or if he just calls her 'Mrs Vara') and practically going to bed dressed in his full uniform complete with medals and peaked cap, Vara's no-nonsense mannerisms should not, however, be mistaken for a feeble mind. Vara's reputation as Pará's foremost military commander is well earned, and he proved that in his service with the Holy American Empire and, later, the civil war and the Lunar Republic. Unlike Vieira, who specialised in guerrilla warfare, Vara has proven to be more than proficient no matter where the battlefield is--amidst thick rainforests, across flat plains and in the brutal nature of urban warfare, Vara adapts well to nearly any terrain and is undaunted by unfamiliar settings and otherwise hopeless situations. /to be finished at a later point History: /to be finished at a later point Alejandra Valverde Titles/Nicknames: As a recently promoted officer in the Paráense Marine Forces Special Operations Regiment, she is known as Captain Alejandra Valverde, commanding officer of the 2d Company. Among friends (what few she maintains), she is known more colloquially as simply 'Alex'. Age: At thirty two, Alex is quite well within her physical prime, having taken good care to keep her body in peak physical condition from youth. Doesn't really make her look any younger--or maybe that's just her crass attitude showing through--but since when has that been a concern? Appearance:

[b]Private[/b] Francisco Vara would have been delighted by this recent turn of events if not for the circumstances that lay behind it. He had been pressuring Premier Vieira to funnel more funds into the military for who knew how long--from the moment the Republic had been established as a sovereign state, which was roughly about the time Vieira had begun to allocate budgets to various newly-established departments...and left the Department of Defence in a state Vara personally felt could be best described as '!@#$%*'. She seemed to consider it an idealistic statement of sorts--that a nation that advocated peace and logic in all circumstances should nevertheless maintain a powerful military force seemed reasonable to Vara, but Vieira argued against it and he failed to convince her otherwise every time. She argued many things--that the overall national budget would not provide for a military of the magnitude Vara sought anyway, that the money was better put to use by the ever-diligent and steadily funded departments of research and internal affairs, that when you got down to it the money being put towards research would enable Vara to produce a much more effective fighting force anyway. He felt that it was a necessity regardless to maintain conscription laws and put more tanks and aircraft into production, allocate more funds to bolster a Paráense army that was more like a goddamn militia with regards to funding and equipment, [I]something[/I] to ensure the Republic was not completely vulnerable to attack by its enemies. And Vieira, of course, idealistic crusader that she'd become, insisted that the Republic had no reason to have enemies in the first place and to be convinced of their existence was to undermine the foundation of Paráense conduct. It hadn't been long ago that Vieira at last confided, if somewhat reluctantly, that some of Vara's 'paranoia' was "starting to rub off" on her. Vara would have personally replaced the term paranoia with something marginally more accurate, perhaps 'damn sense', or 'a little less idealism, a little more realism', but at this point he wasn't about to press his luck by pursuing the typical 'what happened to the old you' subject he was wont to stubbornly hanker. He'd gotten what he wanted: permission from the premier to allocate more funds to the military and begin production of further military munitions and ordinance. He just wished that it hadn't taken the attempted revival of the Holy American Empire to do it. The seceding territories of the Umbrella Commonwealth, those under the thrall of the 'reborn champion', they directly bordered Pará, and that left the very real threat of the insurrection spilling over the borders, the influence of this herald of the old system, which must have been damn near superhuman to have swayed so many to his tyrannical cause, finding its way into Pará. Vieira had little fear of the latter; the Paráense people had proven their own disgust and revulsion to the rebels by enlisting by the hundreds, swelling the ranks of the Paráense Army--training had begun immediately. Being a small, relatively unadvanced and certainly underfunded force (this could not to a major degree be helped; most nations' standing armies had budgets that dwarfed the Republic's entire national budget), Vieira knew that any hope of combatting a technologically, numerically, and financially superior foe lay in guerrilla warfare--a field in which she'd specialised back during the civil war. Vara may have been the highest ranked officer to defect to the rebels at the time, commanding the largest forces and waging the bulk of the war in the cities, but the impenetrable depths of the Amazonian rainforest that sprawled across much of Pará...that had [I]belonged[/I] to Lieutenant Colonel Isabel Vieira, and it still did. That was her domain, her speciality lying in using the dense foliage, the thick darkness, and the general hellishness of the Amazon to ambush, whittle away, and eventually crush invading Imperial forces that attempted to secure control over Pará...which, being essentially [I]comprised[/I] of the Amazon Forest, was not a successful venture. She was even ordering that the old network of tunnels deep underground the Amazon, built to avoid napalm strikes by Imperial forces during the initial years of the civil war, was to be utilised once more--it was very old, very decrepit, and it would take much time to get it into actual working order once more, and Vieira planned to have the structure expanded upon. It would certainly take a very long time, but Vieira felt it to be the most effective defence the fledgling Paráense military had--it had been used to great effect in the civil war. Rebels would emerge from the tunnels as soon as Imperial forces ventured into the forest, conduct a rapid hit-and-run strike, and then fall back into the heavily-guarded tunnels to plan the next attack. It had proven effective--it would again if the worst came to the worst. Meanwhile, by Vara's order the factories began to churn out armaments after armaments--it was largely personal munitions, as armoured vehicles were of little to no use in the Amazon and certainly not for the kind of warfare the two military specialists felt would be inevitable in the case of an invasion of Pará. Rifles, anti-armour infantry weapons, MANPADs, camouflaged body armour and ballistic vests were to be pumped out of Paráense factories as soon and as rapidly as possible to fulfill the growing numbers of the Paráense armed forces; meanwhile, orders were put out for the production of fifty Sukhoi Su-25SMs, of which ten were to be of the Su-25T anti-tank variant, as well as ten A-10 Thunderbolts to bolster the Paráense air force. Tactical ballistic missile systems were also being looked into, with a primary candidate being the MGM-140 ATACMS surface-to-surface missile; the M270 MLRS was singled out as the most likely launcher supposing the military went through with purchasing the missiles. At the same time Vara considered the 9K37 Buk surface-to-air missile system... The aging general looked down at the reports and the papers and sighed. He could not prepare for all contingencies effectively--anti-air, ground-to-ground, aircraft, and the rising need for supplies for the burgeoning army--not without going over budget. He would have to request that the premier allocate more funds to the military if he was to ensure he could cover every facet of a potential war. "This is the price we pay for growing negligent with developing our military." Vara had not meant to voice aloud the sullen admittance, but it emerged all the same from his lips, that same old stalwart grunt as many of his subordinates from years and years back had gotten much used to. He shook his head and set aside the reports. He was no moron--he knew very well that [I]some[/I] money had to be secured for the research budget, and the result of that--Pará's growing space programme and the ongoing results of Project Dirac--even Vara could recognise. Nevertheless...[I]To have turned away almost entirely from the military's budget is to simply invite disaster. And this could be it if the insurrection and the international responce hits a critical point.[/I]

[b]Public[/b] [quote]"It's most heartening to see the rest of South America stepping forward to place their support with Umbrella in putting a stop to this utter madness. Let it be known that any venture to destroy this uprising of a lunatic bearing the mantle of the Holy American Empire will have the unequivocal support of Pará, as does the Commonwealth in their struggle to crush this insane insurrection that has rapidly become a real threat to South American stability. Whilst we can offer no major naval support nor can we provide vessels for the blockade of rebel ports, Paráense ports are open to ships participating in the blockade of the rebels, and any financial support we can provide shall be given without hesitation." -Premier Isabel Vieira[/quote]

Private Isabel Vieira couldn't believe what she was hearing. Just a precious few moments ago, she'd been preparing for the morning's workout regime--the standard 6:00 ritual, one she'd adhered to without fail for the past fifteen years. And on her mind only the same concerns she'd gone to bed with: the threat of overpopulation, increasing poverty and crime rates in the larger cities of the nation, the challenges whose greatest difficulties still had yet to come. She wasn't new to losing sleep over them, and she wasn't in a habit of being indecisive when those choices had to be made. When General Vara, however, feeling it to be a concern primarily of defence matters, rushed to her office that morning to consult the premier, when he had divulged what confessedly little he had gleaned from international news reports that day, the premier had gone silent for several seconds--which was several seconds longer than Vara had ever known Isabel Vieira to be brought to speechlessness. He wasn't used to seeing the premier shocked. And sure, anybody would have been shocked at this news, but the astonishment he was seeing on Vieira's expression was a little more than that. The shock etched into her angular features wasn't mere surprise. There was something else there...and the old general thought he had a good idea of what it was. "'The Holy American Empire's reborn champion'?" she finally repeated back, forcing her voice into stillness and calm. It proved too difficult; her voice wavered at the last word, and she swallowed hard. But when she continued, and the disbelief and outrage bubbling beneath the surface began to creep into her tone, maintaining an impression of calm and collection became pointless. "This man seeks the rebirth of the Holy American Empire? He wants to bring back the old system? After all the !@#$ that happened after it failed the first time?" No, that couldn't possibly be true. No sane person would try to revive the old system. No sane person would want to even remember the old system and what it had resulted in--Isabel sure as hell didn't. Nobody should. The HAE is dead and gone, for damn good reason... "He made it clear from the beginning that this was his intention," Vara proceeded tentatively but firmly, and Isabel's eyes, not quite recovered from the shock of the news, rose to meet his. "He seeks the revival of the Holy American Empire and its ideology. And we're not sure just what kind of manpower this 'reborn champion' wields, but with all the territory that seceded from Umbrella we can only assume he has garnered much support. And he has publicly declared a war of secession against the Imperial Commonwealth, but--" "'A war of secession'?" Isabel's voice cut sharply across the words of the general with a surprising venom behind them. "No, no herald of the Empire fights for secession." Her eyes hardened and her teeth clenched as her gaze upon Vara grew cold. "We both know this--we both had a hand in that tyranny even if we wish direly we could forget those years ever happened. If this man claims to bear the ideals of the old Empire, then his goal is not secession. It is subjugation. Subjugation of all of South America under a second oppressive theocracy." Vara stiffened. "The people of South America will never accept that." His voice wasn't quite as firm and confident as it always was, however. Isabel could hear the anxiety in it already, and she knew that it should have stopped there--that she should have agreed, maintained an optimistic tone, assured Vara that this insurrection could never beat down the Umbrella Commonwealth. It was what she would have done normally these days--be the one to keep everyone's spirits up, ensure morale failed to falter, all that crap that long ago she had no mind for. But it was as though the return of the spectre of the Holy American Empire had subdued Premier Isabel Moraes Vieira, and up to the surface surged Lieutenant Colonel Izzie Vieira--bitter, pessimistic, cold-hearted, all the things she'd been before the civil war had completely changed her perspective and her ideals. And now it was all coming back out. "The HAE doesn't care if the people don't accept it," she spat back, beginning to pace about the floor of her office as the anxiety began getting to her too. "The old system was not one of acceptance and it sure as hell wasn't one of the people. It was a system of control and domination. If they overcome the Commonwealth, do you really think they'll stop because nobody in their right !@#$@#$ mind wants to be enslaved again? They won't stop until the entire goddamn continent is under the old banner and the freedom we fought so hard and sacrificed so much to take is a thing of the past." Even as she stopped pacing, her voice rose to a frantic high and she looked almost demented as she swept back to glare at Vara. "Don't you get it? This !@#$%^& wants to undo all the things we destroyed so much of ourselves to create, enslave us after all the blood we shed to tear off our shackles, and instead of being rejected for his madness, he has an entire army doing his bidding!" Now Vara was speechless. Fifteen years ago, he wouldn't have been surprised at all by this outburst--typical behaviour from the lieutenant colonel: he'd grown accustomed to her brash, hot-headed mannerisms. But it wasn't fifteen years ago anymore, and now Isabel Vieira, perpetually the voice of reason, of calm and of optimism, seemed to be falling apart. Vara was a military man through and through; being a voice of calm and comfort was a task better trusted to a mossy rock than to him, and that was a fact he was only all too aware of. He could muster only an uneasy silence. Fortunately, nothing else was needed. Isabel felt her breathing steadying, the frenetic chaos of emotions seething in her head beginning to abate and her facial expression softening. Dammit. She cursed herself for her negligence, for falling back on an old persona she'd long since learnt was no good for the world she lived in now. "I just..." she continued hesitantly, trying to make up for the embarrassing outburst. "I'm frustrated. I can't believe that all that we fought for in the civil war--all those years of blood and death and the loss of those we cared about and facing those we cared about on the battlefield as bitter enemies...that it's all being threatened by a lunatic who has somehow managed to garner military support for his delusions." When she met Vara's vexed gaze once more, her eyes were no longer cold and hard. "I killed my own father and brother to overturn that cruel, hateful regime. Saw friends slaughtered by Imperial forces, and entire neighbourhoods, once vibrant, bombed and massacred into mere husks of what they had once been, and children crawling amongst the bodies in the street searching desperately for their parents...and for what? A mere ten years of peace and freedom before it all came crashing down once again?" Her voice fell cold once more, but . "That's how I will always remember the Holy American Empire, and that's how I will see anyone who ever tries to bring it back. Nothing good ever came of it." "We all lost things to the war that we will never get back," Vara at last spoke, and Isabel was relieved to hear him speak familiarly--firmly, straightforwardly, plainly. "No matter how many rally behind his cause, there will be three times as many who remember what life was like. Three times as many who will fight with all they have to destroy this last bastion of the Holy American Empire." Isabel smiled. "Yes. I know it. Nevertheless..." she glanced away from Vara for just a second. "Hard times are in store. And it may be the hardest we have faced in ten years." "What are we going to do, Premier?" "I?" A brief flit of a genuine smile flashed across her face. "I am going to go about my typical morning regime." And then it was gone. "And you...be ready to send a message to the Commonwealth. Be ready to tell them that they have our unequivocal support in this, no matter what." ((Does not signify any kind of Paráense involvement, present or future, in the matter, seeing as it's closed. Just wanted to use the 'Downsizing' thread as a way to reveal some stuff about some characters. No real IC effect. These aren't the droids you're looking for. Move along.))

[quote]Nation Name: República Federativa do Pará Embassy Selected: Eight Embassy Circle Ambassador Name: Sergio Valverde Special Requests: None[/quote] "On behalf of the Republic of Pará I would like to extend diplomatic recognition to the newly returned Maritime Republic, as well as sincere hopes that this incarnation of the Republic proves the most successful and the most final."

Have to request another lock for about another week.

Unlocked now.

Lock from August 6 to about August 12.

"I welcome both of you," the Empress, a woman clearly not of Tianxian origin, spoke as the Emperor spoke with his advisors. "You have come to offer your services during one of the Empire's darkest time, but tell me, what do you specialize in. Do you offer any skills to our forces. We have many men who we sacrifice it seems to the dragon daily, but I am looking for warriors who can change the Empire's future. Tell me, can you offer me something that not every man or woman possesses?" The Celt paused to think, and as he did, Mora's own voice filled the subsequent silence. "I have to offer only what a life steeped in war and combat has given me." She did rather dislike boasting--she liked to think, if anything, what she'd accomplished in the past thirty years could speak for her. But if Empress Theresia wanted a list of qualifications from her...[I]I shall oblige, somewhat.[/I] "War is my life and it is my business...and as my thirty years of work will attest..." the towering mercenary cracked the barest semblance of an enigmatic smile. "Business is good." The Celt now stepped forth to speak for himself. "I possess great strength, stamina, speed and reflexes," he began in earnest. "I'm an exceptional warrior with sword, spear, bow and shield. If I lose my weapons I can still fight in unarmed combat. And my mind is as sharp as my sword, if not sharper. But most of all my loyalty is strongest. I will not fall into the service of Ancaceleon. And if I happen to fall, it will be onto my own blade. I swear it by the Gods of my ancestors." Ó Dhéin turned his head briefly to Mora, who returned the glance with a raised eyebrow. "My loyalty will always be to my companions as well as to my masters," he continued proudly. "...until I am released from my duties. I hope this is acceptable to you, oh wise and powerful Empress. I pray that I am worthy to be accepted into your service. Perhaps you would like a test of my skills? I am not one for boasting." [I]Certainly one for wanton kissing of ass...'oh wise and powerful Empress'?[/I] Mora could not help but muse with more amusement than anything. Currying favour with the royals...well, she could see the logic in it in some cases, even if her own tenacious sense of pride would not permit her to get in on the flattery. Whether or not others chose to do so was none of her business and she did not make a practice of giving a damn. The Empress conferred briefly with Jia, and when she turned back, the smile she had put in place strained to conceal the newfound stress of mind whatever news she had just received had evoked. Nevertheless, she spoke evenly--the strain of mind failing to infect her voice as she spoke. "You do not need to show off your abilities here in the Throne Room. You can prove to me your strengths on the field where you are needed, not in small little games where nothing will change. Both of you will be sent to the West and hopefully, you will find a place to both serve the Empire and prove yourself as warriors. However, unless my husband has anything else to add, you are dismissed into the hands of our soldiers and officers. I wish you the best and may the spirits bless you." Mora nodded wordlessly, turning to depart. As she did, however, the Celt spoke again, and this time, he spoke to her. "If you seek a companion for your journey west, you need only ask." Mora turned her head slowly towards him, expression inscrutable as she pondered the offer. "I'm making some final preparations of my own before the trip, so you can find me outside......if you wish." And at that, he made haste of his departure, and Mora was not long in following. [I]A companion for the journey west, eh?[/I] Mora mulled over the offer. [I]I haven't travelled with any kind of companion in a [B]long[/B] time...I'd be lying if I said it doesn't seem tempting.[/I] Sure, mercenaries were expected to be the solitary type, and for the most part Moraes Vieira [I]was[/I] the solitary type, but even she eventually...started feeling like she wouldn't have minded some company now and then. And she could have stopped and tried to convince herself that there was some practical, pragmatic, wholly unrelated reason for taking Ó Dhéin up on his offer (and she did), but it eventually came down to the fact that Mora...wouldn't have minded the company. At sundown Mora ventured out from the safety of Xian's gates, now astride a massive horse--it had to be of such mass to bear a rider of Mora's size and weight. Just beyond the walls of the city, at the foot of the path to the West, was another rider--and though he had donned his own armour, it was not difficult to ascertain him as the Celt, Padráig Ó Dhéin. His eyes, she supposed, were directed to the horizon--where not far in the distance the fires of war burned as bright as the glow of the setting sun. And as she approached, she heard him murmur to himself. "And so it begins." "And soon, for better or for worse, it ends," Mora finished in a brief moment of solemnity, before her expression shifted to a semblance of mirth, with perhaps a note of anticipation in her rasp of a voice. "Preferably, it ends with my blade buried in the Dragon's belly, and many of the Damned strewn dead around. But neither is going to happen if we wait for them to come to us." With a sort of smirk directed towards Ó Dhéin, she spurred her horse onwards, and began the journey to the war in the west. OOC: Anyone who caught the slight Megadeth reference will receive...I dunno, marginally increased respect from me. Once in a life time chance, you know you all want it.

[quote name='Isaac MatthewII' timestamp='1344013228' post='3018159'] "Umbrella shouldn't have been in Britain in the first place. The fact that they are now complaining that their stuff got messed up after threatening to raze an entire nation in response to them defending their home land is the equivalent of a bully complaining about getting beat up by a bigger kid for messing with the kid's little brother. Being a protectorate and in the German SoI the Umbrealla government should have known better." A Charlotte political analyst commented in response to the Umbrella tomfoolery. [/quote] "Their 'stuff getting messed up' was tens of thousands of Umbrellans slaughtered as they attempted to honour their agreement with Germany. Umbrella's actions in invading Britain cannot be defended, but there is no way to justify Germany's despicable deception, the destruction of countless lives simply to prove a point of superiority. That Germany feels the need to kill tens of thousands of retreating soldiers, in compliance with the very terms Germany set out and then flagrantly violated, all to prove that Umbrella is 'nothing but a peon' is nothing short of the mark of a sociopath and a coward."

[quote name='TheShammySocialist' timestamp='1343868954' post='3017685'] "The Government of República de Gran Colombia finds itself made anxious by the actions of our fellow South American nation, with its apparent invasion of a European nation, and the engaging of what could be a sovereign representative government of the British people. Thus, we urge restraint to all sides, and can only hope that peace is found in this apparent clash of arms over the fate of the British Isles." [/quote] "Pará can only echo the words of Colombia on this matter. The Umbrella Commonwealth has made it clear they would not tolerate the intervention of a foreign power into the affairs of South America; it is only a matter of blatant hypocrisy that Umbrella should then take it upon itself to intervene in the affairs of sovereign European nations, especially in the business of demanding the demise of a government that, for all known evidence and accounts, was put into place and supported by the people of the British Isles. I urge the Umbrella Commonwealth to withdraw the disgusting threats it has made in its ultimatum and reconsider its actions and the consequences they will bring." - Isabel Vieira, Premier

Mora was by no means to be considered particularly fluent in the language of Tianxia--she knew only that much as her travels through the lands of the East would afford her, but she could thank something of an aptitude for picking up the gist of the local language quite rapidly for the fact that when she came before the Tianxian officers in charge of organising the forces destined to march on the Army of the Damned her intentions and purpose for being her were elucidated quite clearly. Well, perhaps her clumsy command of the language was enhanced by the fact that there simply was no mistaking the 6'7 juggernaut of a mercenary for anything but one of the wandering warriors who had answered Tianxia's call to arms. The dreadlocks that raggedly crowned her long dark face, trailing down around her waist, the tattoos etched even into what little skin was not armoured in scarred, world-weary steel--even her eyes, one dark green and the other a mismatched brown, marked her as one whose journey had carried her across endless years and vast stretches of the world before it had brought her here to Tianxia. An outsider--and these days, Tianxia saw few outsiders who were not there because of the Army of the Damned. Nevertheless, she understood easily when the officials directed her further into the majestic palace for an audience with the Tianxian Emperor himself--he was, it seemed, personally overseeing the integration of mercenaries into the forces of the Eastern Empire, which Mora found refreshing and which she certainly could respect. The past thirty years had seen her growing used to the fact that in this world, many who ruled by divine or royal mandate were pretty much pompous asses who hadn't seen so much as a fistfight in their lifetime. [I]And we'd be all right and screwed if the armies of the free world were taking their orders from [B]that[/B][/I]. Smiling ruefully, Mora shook her head and proceeded. She didn't make a habit of contemplating alternate scenarios in lieu of reality, but that was a prospect more than a little disconcerting. It seemed by the time Mora was admitted into the main hall in which, at least to her supposition prior to her entry, the Emperor would be found, another mercenary was already there, kneeling quite far from the throne of the Emperor. And she'd yet to even figure how she was going to announce her presence before this guy apparently decided, to hell with it all, and went with the obligatory dramatic oath of fealty. "I, Padráig Ó Dhéin," the stranger boomed. "Have come to offer my sword and services to the most and honourable and wise Emperor and Empress. I pray you accept, for I will serve you with loyalty, honour and unquestionable obedience until you release me from my duties." Well, Mora had never been one for such enthusiastic shows of...well, anything, and she certainly wasn't going to try matching Ó Dhéin (a Celt? Mora could only guess as much) for the passion of his declaration. She simply stepped forward, bowing her head to Yuan Jia in a single movement, and stated the reason for her presence in simple and straightforward terms. "I too have come to offer my sword and the arm that wields it. Point it to the enemy and it will strike true."

I may be unable to make an actual post within the next couple of days. Just putting it out there in case I end up getting left behind in the posting. :v

[quote]"On behalf of the República do Pará, I'd like to extend a warm welcome to our new neighbours to the north, and I congratulate the people of Greater Colombia on claiming sovereignty for themselves. May your people and your nation find peace and prosperity in independence. -Premier Isabel Vieira"[/quote]

Xian reminded Mora very much of another city that lay ensconced amidst the sheltering arms of towering mountainsides--a city not very different from this one, even if thirty years and a vast ocean served to separate the two cities. [I]Or perhaps that's only because everything is just as unfamiliar to me here as it was there back then,[/I] the mercenary mused as she navigated the wide avenues of the Tianxian capital, keen eyes taking scrupulous note of her surroundings--a habit that came naturally to her. Normally, her constant vigilance served her best in battle, tracking the movements of her opponent and ensuring no sudden action or surprise attack took her unawares. And yet today, all it served to do was solidify the understanding that Mora was once again in foreign lands amidst an alien culture. Just like when she'd stumbled out of the rainforest and into a wider world, a world entirely unknown to her--she'd have thought that after thirty years of ceaseless travelling she would have become accustomed to finding herself in unfamiliar settings. Soon that would not be the case. Soon, Mora would be enveloped in the arms of battle--familiar, almost comfortingly so. Even in the most exotic of locales, Mora's profession did not change: war and Mora's place in it remained the same whether it was waged amidst the shade of the canopy in the feral jungles amidst which she had whittled away the years of her childhood, or the steppes of a vast empire that now stood on the brink of destruction. An empire that now sought to amass the greatest army, at least that Mora had ever been privy to, to face an enemy of a calibre that, in all her thirty years of warfare as a way of life, Mora had never encountered. At least until now, seeing that as of this day Mora was to be a constituent of that army. Tianxia needed mercenaries to reinforce their standing army against the Armies of the Damned, calling forth both mercenary organisations offering their own small armies and individual mercenaries who had forged a name for themselves in the business on a foundation of their own formidable prowess and unmatched mastery of the battlefield. And Mora, falling squarely into that latter category, was not the first notorious name in the mercenary business to be drawn to the city of Xian by the promise of both wealth and an opponent unlike any other. She knew the stakes at play here--she was very much aware she had never faced an adversary such as she would find in the Army of the Damned. [I]But I didn't make it this far turning away from impossible battles...[/I] Mora figured as she looked towards her destination--the Forbidden City, nestled in the centre of Xian, the seat of the Tianxian government. [I]In fact I've made a practice of proving that impossible battles prove quite possible once I enter the fray.[/I] The stoic mercenary cracked a smile at her own cockiness, a momentary show of actual feeling flitting across the black slate of her battle-scarred countenance before, just as quickly, it was gone. She was not so arrogant: she knew the threat the Army of the Damned posed, could recognise the gravity of the situation even if she deflected it with deadpan humour and anticipation for the challenge of the battle itself. And she would have taken up arms against the legions of the Mad Dragon for no pay if need be--the fight itself would be worth it. //le !@#$%* first post. Could think of very little to write and my creativity has been at an all-time low this week. :/

[b]Public News[/b] Fears of overpopulation, as well as rumours that the Cabinet is considering emergency actions to find a pre-emptive solution to the potential situation, have stirred a degree of concern amongst the general populace, especially to the East, where many of Pará's population centres lie. Rapid shifts in demographics and a massive influx of immigration to urban areas after an all-too-successful urban programme instituted by the government have brought about fears that the burgeoning cities of Amazônia and Ipixuna do Pará, the largest cities in the nation, will be unable to handle the rapid influx as well as the so-called 'baby boom' that has been observed in the past year. "I cannot guarantee that we will not as a nation and as a people face potential hard times in the coming months," Premier Vieira announced in reply to the concerns. "The threat of overpopulation is very real, and it is one that has plagued Brazil since the days of the Holy Imperium. I can guarantee, however, that I will do all that I can to minimise the economic effects and ensure nobody suffers through this alone. Pará has faced worse than this before. Just like before, we will make it through together." More news to come.

Name: She is known in the Eastern Continents as Moraes Vieira, with 'Mora' being a further shortening of Moraes. Image or Description: Moraes Vieira is not someone to be trifled with, a fact that is more than adequately communicated at first glance. Standing at some 205 centimetres tall (six feet and about seven inches) and more than two feet across at the shoulders, Mora strikes rather an intimidating figure with a dauntingly muscular body build weighing in at about 280 lbs. It's obvious that, even at age fourty seven, she's certainly not going soft with age--if anything, her body has remained robust and tough throughout her years as a mercenary, even though it now bears the many scars that a life of war, death, and destruction will brand onto anyone who pursues it. Sharp, defined features grace a long, dark countenance characteristic of her ethnic heritage, setting her apart from the lands she now finds herself amongst; high, prominent cheekbones carve out a significant portion of her features, surrounding a small, slightly pointed nose (it has something of a crooked bend at the dorsum, indicating that it's been broken more than once in the past), under which rest thin, dark lips ungraced by any wanton smile or careless show of agitation. If anything, you're most likely to find her wearing a fully impartial expression--austere, almost cold, and at times she will find herself expressing discontent or anger through a sharp scowl twisting at her scarred lips. Mora's eyes are heterochromatic, with one being a dark, dull brown, and the other a deep forest green, while her hair, another aspect that works to distinguish Mora from the local population, is styled, in a callback to her own native culture, in dreadlocks that sweep proudly as far as her waist; from time to time she will tie the dreadlocks back into a ponytail. Naturally a wiry black in colour, patches of grey are beginning to fade into existence amidst the black clumps of hair. As said, Mora's body is no stranger to the scars of battle--a testament to her ability to take grievous wounds and continue to fight with full force (but by no means a testament to her agility), they are to be found all over her body, including one in particular on her face that spans the entirety of her countenance, sprawling across her left cheek from below the corner of her left eye, across her nose, and terminating just above the right corner of her lips. Accompanying the scars, against the dark tawny hue of her skin, are an assortment of tattoos, images etched permanently into her skin. They may depict scenes of battle, paint gruesome images into the canvas of her body, abstract depictions that nobody could quite understand simply looking at them--namely, the letters 'MORA', at least in her native tongue, are etched into the knuckles of her left fist. Affiliation: Mora is a mercenary, has been one for nearly thirty years, and she has sculpted quite a well-earned reputation for herself over those years. Given that she's currently travelling through the Tianxian Empire and there's a very high demand for mercenaries and warriors in Tianxia, she will probably end up in the employ of the Empire. After all, she's heard the murmurings of a vast army of the damned, led by a wicked being of pure, all-consuming evil--what warrior would see fit to pass up such an opportunity? Abilities: Mora is a formidable combatant, wielding her two-handed blade with a combination of skill and sheer force. She bears no combat training, at least none in a conventional sense--she has instead learnt to wield her weapons in battle solely by her own experience, affording her a sort of 'instinctive' fighting style--one that depends less on technique and more on intuition and the combat instincts that her thirty years of fighting has made second nature to her. This, in conjunction with the overwhelming brutality she fights with, and the considerable, unyielding physical strength she is possessed of, makes her an extremely deadly opponent at close range. She remains a force to be reckoned with even if disarmed, having taught herself to fight with her own two hands and using her unrivalled physical power to even the odds even without a weapon, and if the state of her body as it is should be disregarded as a testament to her sheer endurance, Mora is a combatant who [I]will not give in[/I] during a battle. Neither injury nor exertion short of death itself will put an end to Mora's determination and remarkable will to live and continue fighting. She is highly experienced as a mercenary, can fight effectively in all kinds of terrain from jungle to desert to city streets, and possesses moderate survival skills such as cooking and such. It is in other areas that Mora becomes less effective. Hand her a bow and an arrow, and she'll toss aside the bow and stab you with the arrow. Hand her a crossbow, and the most effective use of it she knows of would be to sell it, or to deconstruct it and use the parts for scrap. In short, she's useless at long range engagements. Furthermore, despite her physical fortitude, Mora is by no means a particularly agile opponent--she's no lumbering giant, but against a particularly small, fast opponent, she'll inevitably be outpaced, and she'll be forced to depend on her ability to make every hit that does connect be a potential game ender in and of itself. Her size also makes her a bit ungainly, and can be quite a problem in small, enclosed spaces; furthermore, her impulsive nature, 'stab hack and slice it to pieces first and then ask questions' way of going about business, and her gruff, defiant demeanour make her unsuited for situations calling for social tact and diplomacy. As far as Mora's concerned, she's hired for her ability to make things go from 'one whole piece' to 'several pieces lying on the ground, including one piece still stuck on the blade of her sword'. Not for her ability to chat people up, because she has no such ability. Personality: Moraes Vieira is, like most mercenaries, not a particularly pleasant sort. Put into a simple, succinct sentence, she's gruff, irascible, all too easily stirred into rage and all too stubborn to be quickly placated afterwards. Otherwise, she dons a taciturn, aloof persona--one that, despite her determination to maintain it, falls apart all too easily because Mora is not actually taciturn and aloof by her nature--not anymore, not since the past thirty years have done their work on her. Instead, she ends up vacillating between gruff, laconic reservation and the spontaneous appearance of a boisterous, impulsive, and hot-headed persona, often at the drop of a dime whenever she gets too caught up in whatever's happening in the moment to maintain the façade. At this point she reveals a predilection towards deadpan humour--dry sarcasm thrown in with a bucket load of pessimism and a tendency to, intentionally or otherwise, end up insulting those around her. In short, Mora tries to come off as taciturn and gruff, but is by her own nature a bellicose, aggressive personality with anger issues and a terrible sense of humour. Complete lack of personal consistency aside, Mora is also characterised by intense perfectionism, indelible will, and a stubbornness that even the most dedicated of religious zealots can only stand in awe before. Perhaps her one greatest weakness is her conviction that to turn away from any fight, no matter how out-numbered or how out-classed she may be, is a concept reprehensible to her on every level; she is simply too stubborn to suffer any perceived slight, too stubborn to turn away from any challenge she believes she has been issued. Mora does not pursue a career as a mercenary solely for the financial gains to be had--though they are significant and she does make a living off the profession. Nor is she a moral crusader who takes on only those hirings which agree with her 'moral code'; she's not about to go setting fire to the countryside and decapitating children, and she recognises and opposes true evil where she sees it, but it's not a primary factor for her. No, for Mora, the most important part of being a mercenary is the thrill of it--the challenges to be faced, the rush of battle and the inimitable [I]fun[/I] of war. History: The taciturn mercenary known to much of the world as Moraes Vieira was born far, far away from the lands of Tianxia and Timur, a land of jungles and vicious beasts, a land where few of its denizens ever venture out into the wider world. Amidst warring clans and the constant threat from the savage creatures that stalked amongst the shadows of the jungles, Mora learnt one thing above all: you're useless if you can't defend yourself. A drag, a mere burden unto your clan, if you are unable to take up arms and to fight. Those who could not keep up with the brutal lifestyle the people of the jungle lived didn't even need to be disposed of--in shame, they disposed of themselves, unable to stand the thought of being seen as weak and malleable--unable to stand the thought of bringing failure to their clan for their physical deficiency. Mora took those ideals to heart--perhaps a little too deeply to heart. Day and night she spent crafting her body into a tool of physical dominance and power, such that she disregarded any consideration for social functions and interaction with other people. Even to her own family she became distant and secluded, until eschewing human company in favour of physical exercise seemed only natural to Mora and most time not spent honing her physical attributes was time wasted on pointless social pleasantries. From the age of thirteen onwards, she would also accompany the soldiers of her clan to battles with the other clans--vicious wars of attrition, chapters of blood and brutality; while the other soldiers actively sought to increase their kill count and spill the blood of rival clans, the young Mora was expected simply to survive, to flee if she were come upon by an enemy. An expectation which did not stop her from slaying any opponent she felt threatened by as she laid low in the shadows of the canopy high above--Mora refused to be seen as the little one that required protecting. Her stubborn sense of self-sufficiency and self-reliance would permit her to accept no such views of her. By age seventeen, Mora was no longer expected to fear and flee--now, she was a true warrior, and she was to actively participate in warfare with the other clans. She shook with anticipation for the moment when she would step foot on the battlefield and it would truly be [I]her[/I] battlefield--but that moment never came. At least, not as she had anticipated it would come--it came in the form of the torches and the blades of invading clans, silently slaughtering the sentries who were to alert the clan capital, the motley assortment of wooden structures and stone barracks that Mora called home, that attack was on the way. It was unprecedented--always had it been understood that battle was waged in fairness. The belief that surprise attacks were indelibly undignified was so ingrained within many of the clans that when it did happen, when one clan at last made the unspeakable act, it was wholly unexpected. Mora lived to see her village burnt and annihilated, her people massacred--a slaughter so complete, so total, that only one seventeen year old woman escaped. Consumed with indecision, split between fighting to the last breath even if it meant the final destruction of her clan and fleeing a pointless death devoid of dignity and fairness, Mora tentatively chose the latter--and subsequently was so devoured with guilt over the one time she ever chose to flee that she has spent the rest of her life deliberately refusing to give in, whether it be a clash of mere words or a clash of blades. Mora carved her way out of the jungles, finding herself coming into an alien landscape. Beyond the jungles lay a mountain range that clung to the coasts of the continent, and amidst the mountains flourished a civilisation unlike any she'd seen before--cities sculpted into the mountains themselves, people who took up professions as traders and writers and artists (all concepts nigh-foreign to the woman still in shock over what had befallen her and what had once been her family), a society that not only did not exist in a state of constant war with its neighbours, but even encouraged trade and travel between them...it was a most alien world Mora came upon as she left behind the rainforests of her youth. Possessed of a quick mind and an aptitude for picking up such skills, Mora was able to develop a rapid understanding for the basics of the language of 'people of the mountains' spoke, and as a refugee of the jungles (whose people, she discovered to her confusion, were regarded as something like unprincipled barbarians) she was welcomed into this new society. It was no place for someone so thoroughly reared in combat and a life of war as Mora, however--and she quickly realised there was no niche she could fill in this new society, lacking skills as an artisan, or as a trader ([I]definitely[/I] not as a trader), or anything else the 'civilised' folk of the mountains would need. Instead, hearing of tales of wandering warriors for hire who would often find work with traders and other unscrupulous men from the other continents (Mora was still trying to wrap her mind around the concept of continents), acting as bodyguards, or as //to be completed later

Isabel nodded as Wesker spoke. "It seems now, however," she noted as an aside. "South America is home only to Umbrella, to Edean, and to Pará*." Whilst her tone was as cordial as ever, Isabel could not ward off discomfort whenever she came close to mentioning that Umbrella now dominated very nearly the entirety of South America--she remembered only all too well what had come about the last time a nation had spanned from coast to coast, from the Panama Canal to the Southernmost tip of Cape Horn. Perhaps her misgivings were well-placed, but they were not, she felt, unwarranted. "That aside, however..." the Paráense premier set that line of thought aside and forged onwards. "Should you require an official document of this agreement, I will produce one momentarily..." And in short notice, she had the document, detailing the tenets discussed, from non-aggression to steps taken to encourage trade and open markets--and then Isabel herself, upon ensuring that all was in order with the document, printed her own signature at the bottom of the paper. *OOC: Assume this takes place before Shammy and Mael got their land for purposes of continuity. It was only Umbrella, Edean, and Pará when I looked at the map at the time :v

Count me in.

Kankou and Lynneth.

[quote name='PresidentDavid' timestamp='1343184660' post='3014690'] Now you're just trying to change the subject. And again I wasn't comparing it to CNRP. Relate to the original topic at hand instead of trying to change the conversation. [/quote] ...you do realise we were quoting Kankou there, right? Neither Yawoo nor I were referring to you. @Subtle: She said CNRP, not just forced war, has become no different from rape. I think that's a load of !@#$%^&*, said as much, that's all.

[quote name='Kankou' timestamp='1343184010' post='3014681'] I am going to continue doing so. There is no real difference here in CNRP by now. [/quote] I don't think you realise what rape is and how incredibly wrong it is to say CNRP is anything remotely like rape.

Keep pre-planning.

The suggestion of removing nuclear weapons from CNRP completely is simple laughable. I would support greater and much more realistic consequences to the use of nuclear weapons but I'm unilaterally opposed to outright banning them OOCly.

[quote name='Owned-You' timestamp='1343043292' post='3013589'] [img]http://i.imgur.com/KN6LL.gif[/img] This threads recent trend... [/quote] At least it's fun to watch.