Poseida

It's funny that it only took a handful of posts for someone to claim the a GM is biased and then go on to personally insult everyone who wants to RP a specific way. It's this entire RP that's personal, not just this war.

I'd rather read walls of text than nothing.

What the fuck is the point of electing GMs if they're going to do nothing?

Shammy, Sarah

"Who is the leading turnip enthusiast of the candidates, and what will they do to improve turnip consumption worldwide?"

There is something to be said about the crunching of men's bones. [i]Ding![/i] Look left, look right, center-straight; elbows up and fists down, muscles loose. Neck tight, ready to swing. Jaw loose, ready to take a blow. Jab, jab, dodge, jab, jab. Hook, abdomen, hook, hook, jabjab cross! Back off, need to counter. Defense. Block block, pain, dodge, back up, pain, nose. Hook coming. Lean back, &#$@ fist, hook! Stunned enemy, combination jabcrosscross. [i]Ding![/i] Rest. Chair. Pain. Towel. [i]Ding![/i] Look at eyes. Opponent dazed. Outmatched. Not ready. Defense. Lure him into security. Dodge. Dodge. Opponent slow. Block. Allow jab. Allow cross. Back. Dodge, jabcrosscross, jab, undercut!, crunch! One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Ten. Elation. [i]Ding! Ding! Ding![/i] "Victor by the knocking down of opponent, Chap Viss - the Man with the Iron Fists!" Chap Viss smiled and embraced his opponent, chest to chest. The man seemed stronger than a second-round knockout would indicate, and Chap had a sneaking suspicion the man knew he was outmatched and simply got out before his body would take too hard a beating. Chap Viss' victory today put him, for the first time, as the winningest prizefighter in the ~three decade history of the sport, which was invented shortly before his birth. His meteoric rise to the top of this growing sport was cause for celebration among his family. Or it would have been, if he had any. Instead, Chap Viss leaves the ring at the evening and must walk home, alone, away from the drunken camaraderie that occasionally threatens his livelihood. His home is in a good neighborhood, among the gentry, and his inheritance and prize moneys are good enough to keep him among them without suspicion. But his Heretical nature, intellectual curiosity, and public profile make him a target, and he prefers the company of solitude. The gate near his home opens with force, and he enters through the door to be greeted by his only worker, a butler named, appropriately, Butler. "Master Viss-" "What have I told you, John?" "Sorry, Chap. Your father hasn't been gone that long." Chap smiled and embraced John Butler, his only true friend in these trying times. The man had worked for his father for thirty years, and is old enough to be Chap's father himself. The man refused to leave when Chap dismissed the other staff, and kept himself busy cooking and cleaning and generally being a nuisance, much to Chap's chagrin. "Chap, there's some news ... your Queen, the Elizabeth, she has been spirited away. Her arrest was issued and she has disappeared from her grounds, presumably to some safety." "John, is that confirmed?" "About as confirmed as you can get from a Queen who does not want egg on her face, sir." "Ah. Well, then. I want the books moved, I want the rest collected, and I'm going to need a travel pack. And the fastest horse; spare no expense. I need an endurance runner. You know why." "Yes, sir, I do, and... damn you, Chap, she's not some damsel!" "Oh, I know. But if my father taught me one thing, it's that there are some fights worth fighting, and I can do nothing here until I get back. Get Jeffries and Donovan in position, and have Lucas and Ekaterina get prepared. I will send post, John." Seventy-five minutes later, Chap Viss vanished into the night and fled north.

[quote name='Mara Lithaen' timestamp='1358479476' post='3078368'] I'll put up my post tomorrow when I get out of school. [/quote] I guess not.

[b]Player name:[/b] Poseida [b]Character Name:[/b] Chap Viss [b]Age:[/b] 29 [b]Height:[/b] 5'7 [b]Weight:[/b] 190 [b]Hair Color:[/b] Red [b]Social Position:[/b] Gentry [b]Occupation:[/b] Prizefighter [b]Religious Affiliation[/b]: Heretic [b]Character Traits:[/b] Chap Viss, while not of spectacular height, packs a whallop and is quite agile. His red hair and blue eyes are the result of his immigrant lineage; he rubs a light salve on his hair to turn it murky brown and he speaks with a forced accent to keep up with appearances. [b]Brief Character History:[/b] Chap Viss is the son of an immigrant woman who followed the teachings of the Orthodoxy. The woman was the maid of an affluent gentleman, who took him in as his own son in order to hide the fact that he could not produce children with his wife (his biological father was a young lad who died of fever). His mother died in childbirth, and her last words were "Chapter, verse", as she was praying through the pain, and a scribe wrote that down as his name. His new "father" christened him Chap Viss and raised him as a son. His "father" regretfully told him of his true birth line in his youth, and he ran away for several months. While the child was being treated for "sickness" and disappeared from public eye, Chap Viss instead took in with a band of highwaymen and started robbing the gentry and bourgeois. After a few months of hard living, he returned to the comfortable life when several of his friends were executed for their crimes. In an effort to show his son some appreciation, he got him lessons in prizefighting, the upcoming popular sport following the new standardized Queen's Rules. He spent the next few years climbing the "circuit" and becoming something of a minor celebrity, but decides to honor his father by taking church lessons. Because of his violent occupation, the local church rejected him and he saw himself branded a heretic having been caught in the furor of it all. His father died six months ago, and he inherited the estate; he is comfortably affable but not rich or bourgeois, and spends much of his money on buying banned or criticised books or texts and preserving them.

4000 tech just to get to 2005? :/

[quote name='Centurius' timestamp='1358357838' post='3077587'] I personally favor the current tech scale as it is and just make the cap the rl year, that way people will get modern tech on a reasonable gradual scale. [/quote] If anything, this is pretty much the best solution as is and I support this fully.

[quote name='Evangeline Anovilis' timestamp='1358350656' post='3077527'] If you use all aid slots for tech deals, at a rate of 3/100, you can get up to 500 tech a month, 600 if you got a DRA. So, two months for 1000 tech, once one starts buying. The greatest problems are to get to buyer status and to survive the months ICly. [/quote] It takes months to get to the point where you're not a seller anymore, and even then you get hundreds a month only at completely optimal buying, assuming you have no alliance obligations, raids, wars, real-life driven inactivity periods, etc I honestly just don't see why we can't have a much more level playing field, or why we can't just have everyone at almost the same level. If everyone has access to roughly the same stuff, the only issues are numbers and strategy rather than who played the game for four years and who joined three months ago.

You shouldn't need 1000 tech to advance one year once you hit 2004. It takes so long just to get [b]to[/b] 1000 tech. What's wrong with having people with ~3000 or 4000 have modern tech? Unless you're scared of some competition, all it does is breed a more equal playing ground, which means better RP because the only difference is numbers and strategy.

Literally one single post is all it takes to keep your nation alive. You could have even made a single one-liner in an unrelated thread going "things are stalled because of war".

I'd like to thank the Academy

Zora sat with her left arm around the shoulders of the girl. She was cold, almost dangerously cold, and Zora used her right hand to unbutton the shirt she had on and slowly remove it. As the girl asked, [i]"Are you a bad guy or a good guy?"[/i], Zora actually smiled as she draped the overlarge shirt around the girl. "Well, Red," Zora said, referring to her hair, "I think I can safely say that I'm a good guy. I fight around the world to keep free speech alive. And I investigate governments attempting to manipulate or oppress free speech. That, my dear, is what lead us to you." Jack pulled his hand back and handed Zora an apple; she placed it in the palm of her hand and held it out to Red. "Here. Eat this, it will help before we can get you some real food, yes?" Zora squeezed lightly on Red's left shoulder and she smiled again. "I'll be glad to answer any more questions, sweetie."

"Excellent, Mr. President." The entourages would procede with little pomp and circumstance through the airport and into their transportation, which would be helicopter. The helicopters, top-of-the-line and never used for military service to maintain it in top shape, would travel the scenic route to Crater Lake, the lake that lays in the caldera of dormant Mount Mazuma. "Crater Lake is the center of our environmental zone construction; very little construction that you would actually think is being done is going on. A lot of discrete, environmentally-friendly placement of recycled material is being used to sheperd animals away from human interaction to prevent tragedy. In the meantime, areas that have been naturally purged clean of trees and growth by fire or natural infestation are being used to construct buildings that will house injured, wounded, or illegally hunted animals. Zero-footprint lodges are being constructed," he said, as they passed over a log cabin-style building with large solar panels providing efficient electricity, "for conservationists or those who want to live here, and workers. The lodges are going to be connected by extensive underground tunnels through areas safe of collapse or other natural disaster. The tunnels will be safe to collapse in case of future necessity, and will not disrupt the overland while providing quick and safe access all around." The helicopters finally reached a point where travel would be best done on foot. The entourages were given winter gear and trekked up to the Rim Village, where they would await [url=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ec/Crater_Lake_winter_pano.jpg]this vision[/url]. "Crater Lake - you can't tell, but on the other side of that island a scientific research station using the unique properties of bacteria and other small organisms in the water to help progress medicine and other research. It's amazing what you can do by just looking in your own backyard."

[i]"Payphone three, on the main boulevard of the city, please, hurry if you can."[/i] "Hurry, Jack, the poor girl's on prospekt Lenina. And stay in the speed limit, we don't want any attention!" The American man chuckled and slowed down, going at the top of legal speed, making haste to the road. Chelyabinsk was not a large city, but it was confusing to navigate. On top of that, the massive radiation leaks and decades-long subway construction meant areas were often poorly constructed or under it. The city itself was beautiful but its roads were hell. They pulled up next to the payphone just having turned the wipers on. Zora opened the door, got out, and walked to the payphone before knocking on the glass door. "It's me, sweetie. Zora. Come on."

"President Romero! Welcome to Ouragon! I believe I have some good news to tell you, and that is that the Reunification Conflict with Cascadia has resolved peacefully. We're holding celebrations across the country and the environmental zone is exceptionally pristine due to the lack of human affairs in the zone." Marshall Alexander, his official title in flux but most recently President and General, extended his hand to President Romero. "It's very good to meet you, Hygin. If there's anywhere in particular you'd like to go first, we can go; if not, the schedule can proceed as planned."

There were two numbers on the card; the first number rang but Zora did not answer, as it was a non-emergency number from an unidentified caller and she didn't want to answer in the middle of her activity. But after the girl dialed the second, a low hum went through her hotel room. Jack quickly pulled back from the foot of the bed and removed the thin cover from his naked upper half; he removed himself from his knees and quickly started looking around frantically for his second phone. Zora, however, knew that it was hers, and she "shh"'d Jack and motioned for him to throw her the cover. She picked up the phone and flipped it open while self-consciously covering her lower half for no particular reason. "Zo--" [i]"Zora, I know you don't know me, I'm the red-haired girl from the hospital. I escaped...I'm at some payphone in the city. Please, you have to help me. I'm scared."[/i] Zora's eyes widened and she motioned to Jack to get the keys and hurry. Jack wiped his jaw with his arm and held up the keys already - he just needed a location. He hurriedly strapped a pistol to the inside of his thigh and placed a small knife in his left pocket before running out the door. Zora fished around one-handedly and found a pair of small shorts, which was quite unfortunate, but time was of the essence. She placed a small knife on the inside of her large shirt with several pockets, and then rushed out of the room and triple-locked it behind her. "Smiritye sye! Bicyesh dobro! What number payphone is it? I will be there, I am running to my car now!" She leapt down the steps and rushed through the cold night into the passenger side of their black Octavia.

Zora had not expected the girl to understand; that she understood and replied in Serbian without prompting stunned Zora. Even Jack was momentarily phazed, as if for once something surprised the usually cool and collected self-proclaimed 'dude'; that was short-lived, however, by the nurse coming back in and asking them to leave. "Is there a medical reason she needs to stay here overnight? I'm concerned for her safety," Jack said to the nurse in a low tone. "And please don't spout some !@#$%^&*, nurse, if there's nothing to be done for her here except rest then we can do better than a narrow bed with a high mattress wearing a too-large gown." Despite his words, the reflection in his voice was almost pleasant. However, just in case the nurse would not let them leave, Zora took out a card and scribbled two numbers on them.

"Ah! Fortunately, mister police officer sir, we happen to be as well. And, unlike you, we don't belong to an institution so corrupt Satan himself wouldn't accept it into hell, so I think you'll pardon us if we're a bit suspicious about a police officer being alone in a room as a defenseless, amnesiac girl." Zora gave him a condescending smile before Jack coughed lightly behind her. Forcing out air through her nose, Zora sighed and extended her hand. "My apologies; the nature of my profession usually involves conflict with cops. Some times it gets personal." In her left hand she held up a somewhat worn but in still good shape badge with a laminated member card pinned underneath, identifying her as a member of the RWB. Jack put his hand on Zora's shoulder and spoke up. "However, we respect the work you're doing and the least we can do is tell you that we have some information that would probably be beneficial for this young lady here and yourself as well. Important, information." The last sentence was said with emphasis. Zora's right foot was tapping rapidly the entire time, and after Jack stopped talking she got self-conscious about it and stopped. "[i]You're too young and pretty for this kind of work, honey,[/i]" she said in Serbian to the redhead.

"Doctor ... Olmechko?" The red-faced doctor turned and looked at the tall man who addressed him. "What is it you want? I'm busy!" He snapped, before recognizing the look of a journalist's experienced camera carrying case hanging from the man's shoulder. He cleared his throat and said, slower, "I apologize, it has been a rough day. I am not usually like this. I have patients, what is it you need?" Jack was about to make a statement before smiling at the doctor's change in attitude. "That's more like it," he muttered under his breath. "You see, Doctor, my name's Jack. This is Zo, er, Zora, and there's a reason we came to this hospital. Three nights ago there was a car accident vic --" "Not this!" Olmechko snapped. "There's nothing wrong with the girl, we've treated her adequately, she is physically as healthy as an accident victim can be, and it is not our fault that she can't remember her own breakfast from her name!" At this, Zora stepped up. "I'm sorry, did you just say she's amnesiac?" "Amnesiac? She's been under for three days - it's more likely she is either crazy or simply a criminal!" The doctor was nearly growling at this point, but Zora pressed on. "Now listen here, [i]Doctor[/i]," she said, emphasizing the word, "aren't you capable of diagnosing amnesia? Why are you about to walk out on a girl --" "Enough! I have patients. Doctor Vavilov, please treat these [i]journalists[/i]," he said with barely contained contempt, "to the details of the girl." Doctor Vavilov, a relative newcomer, stepped forward after having heard the argument and swallowed. "Ah, yes, hello, I am Vavilov, as you, well, know. Yes." The young man was hardly older than Zora; he was obviously fresh out of whatever farm threw out medical degrees. "Ah, Doctor Vavilov!" Zora put on a voice quite higher than her normal tenor. "Yes, I am Zora Lilic, you can see [i]this[/i] -- " she waved her RSF badge and paper in front of his face " -- and then you can see my friend Jack there going away so we can have a quieter talk." She placed her hand on his back, but lower than a new acquaintance would, as Jack smirked and walked to the receptionist to ask about when she was checked in. The young doctor was, thankfully, easy to persuade. His youth, inexperience, nervousness, and the combination of slight pressures and awkward, forceful body language by Zora, had the effect of making a man want to say whatever to simply get back to normal. Her charts, not meant to be seen, would be shown in a moment; any test results that had been done were being copied as soon as they finished talking. Deep down, Doctor Vavilov knew this seemed wrong, but he was too socially awkward to do anything about it. "Thanks, Doctor," Zora said when he returned with the papers, her voice quite lower at this point. She smiled and started flipping through them before about two other doctors accosted her. "Those are confidential -- I'll have his license -- there's no law --" The two doctors, both speaking rapidly, confused Zora, before Jack stepped in. "Gentlemen! Surely you should not be yelling!" He said in quite a bellow himself, and the two men ceased. "Let's discuss this over some coffee." "No, this is a serious violation --" "Stop talking, Doctor. Come with me. The girl," Zora scowled, "will stay. Come speak with Jack, yeah?" The doctors walked off about ten feet and kept eyeing Zora, who was quickly scanning the information as fast as humanly possible. As the two doctors talked, Zora absorbed the information with her near perfect memory, double-checking as fast as she could. In the end, the two doctors were shouting again and the papers were voluntarily surrendered back to the hospital. In exchange for the dropping of any potential news story run about the girl, they would be granted access to a brief interview for private use to complete their story, and then it would be shelved. Vavilov would keep his job, though. Quite a long while after the officer had returned and entered the room of the girl in question, Zora entered the room while Jack explained to the nurse the agreement.

[i]She probably thinks I'm incredibly arrogant[/i], Alexander thought. [i]She probably thinks that she somehow fought and sieged Eugene without falling into a pit that she can't crawl out of. Still, it's a pity she's probably married.[/i] "I had hoped to make it less than four," he said, grasping her hand firmly and shaking. He let go of her hand and stepped back, pulling up his radio device and said "Talks success. Pull back, ceasefire extension immediate."

"My God, man, did you think I chose Autzen on accident? I think [b]we'll[/b] erect you a statue for blowing it up!" He laughed as well and extended his hand to Lewis. "Call me General. I will speak to you as an equal. "Ouragon sought independence because of a political dispute. We threatened military action. You did the same. We never once sat down and talked like men. It is time for the men of the Pacific Northwest to act like their namesake. "I am proposing a peace treaty that will withdraw your troops from my territory, mine and my infiltrators from yours, and the joint reconstruction of border territory. In addition, the peace treaty will stipulate a new Constitution that will invite Ouragon peacefully back into Cascadia, with some more political aspects that I'm sure you don't give six !@#$% about. "It's as simple as that. I don't mean to threaten you, General, but we have the advantage here. Our intelligence outclasses yours in a way that is simply practical and countable on the field of battle. Your air force risks itself to go more than a mile ahead. Your artillery is crippled. And every one of us you kill weakens the morale of the civilian population. I will not say that Ouragon will prevail in a head-on military conflict, but I can say for a fact if we both continue in this direction then we will both throw our young men and women into a meat grinder over a dispute that has never been the subject of a civil discourse. "What do you say?" His hand was still open.

[size=20][b]BREAKING: CEASEFIRE ANNOUNCED IN SECESSION CONFLICT[/b][/size] Aside from the breaking news traveling across the two countries, the night was relatively quiet. Marshall Alexander attended the meeting but did so in a dark hat and glasses. As the two arrived in the middle of a four-way crosswalk lit up by portable military lights, he took off his hat and removed his glasses. "General. You look like you've seen a ghost."