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Today's World Census Report
The Most Patriotic in The Story of Civilization
World Census data collectors measured the fervor with which citizens believed their own nation was the greatest of all.
As a region, The Story of Civilization is ranked 10,287th in the world for Most Patriotic.
|1.||The Grand Confederacy of Mokranshi||Civil Rights Lovefest||“We Never Submit, We Never Die”|
|2.||The Kaizerreych of The Venusians||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy||“ᚠᚱᛂᛂᚺᛂᛁᛏ ᚢᛞ ᛏᚢᛗ”|
|3.||The United Clans of Argenrich||Iron Fist Consumerists||“Hail to thee in golden crown”|
|4.||The United Socialist States of Kyukujira Guo||Iron Fist Consumerists||“For the last whale”|
|5.||The Dyamnibus merydianale of Biscayye||Father Knows Best State||“The path to power is not the army or riches, it's love.”|
|6.||The United Socialist States of Laipo||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy||“В светлую жизнь где коммунизм нас ждёт!”|
|7.||The Dictatorship of The Philippine Colonial Republic||Iron Fist Consumerists||“Pagkakaisa sa Pagkakaiba”|
|8.||The Federation of Gaunjnor||Corrupt Dictatorship||“For Mennesket og Jorden vil det umulige blive gjort”|
|9.||The Free Land of Marmaduke Territory||Anarchy||“Ride or Die!”|
|10.||The Empire of Valice||Corporate Police State||“Conquer of heart and mind,Conquerer of anything”|
- : 21waffles ceased to exist.
- : Rastrel ceased to exist.
- : The Dictatorship of The Philippine Colonial Republic arrived from United Kingdom.
- : The communist party of desert christian ceased to exist.
- : Phiran ceased to exist.
- : Meltavia ceased to exist.
- : The Republic of The Ambis Roleplayer departed this region for Thaecia.
- : The Disputed Territories of Turdernland departed this region for Palatine.
- : The Empire of Valice arrived from The Order of the Grey Wardens.
- : The Empire of Valice departed this region for The Brotherhood of Malice.
The Story of Civilization Regional Message Board
Messages from regional members are co-ordinated here.
|The National Cooperative Legion of Orinkintansina|
Until the moon sank into the horizon and the sky lifted its veil. Like a new birth, it announced that the world will have a young and new heir to continue to rule his people on this earth. Their hands are still holding each other, like the sun and the moon - and never separated. The sun is fair and kind and sprinkles its own temperature on everyone, regardless of class, regardless of wealth - presumably this day must be an exciting and happy day. The two laughed heartily, and together with the orange-red morning glow, they spread their warmth and kindness to the world.
|The Empire of Rigelis|
Relief, Finally - I
Chervanyy, an island that had continuously seemed to avoid falling into the grasp of the Rigelians yet one that was undisputedly Rigelian of nature. One of her halves had already been beseeched by Grünestadtians, allowed through an agreement signed long ago. But now, she lay beseeched by a foreign force. Thus, the Rigelian crown was forced to abandon her complacency and would dedicate her immediate efforts to annexing the territory into her realm. Sent to oversee the transaction of power was none other than a prince of Rigelis, Egor Torrente, the future chief of staff of the army. But before any of that would happen, he would first need to prove his metal - not in war, but in times of piece. Diplomacy was Rigelis' greatest weapon. She was friendly with the Voltan, Viftaelia, Vyzantia, Biscayye and, of course, the other member states of the Southern Circle. There wasn't really a nation that could say that it despised Rigelis. Those relations all hinged on the skill of Rigelian diplomats, whether of noble birth or not. Every nation had peculiarities, like Voltanese 'gold bloods' or Medilan Beys. Each of these peculiarities required a specific tool, or person, to be amicably dealt with. The gilded characters of the Voltan preferred like-minded individuals of, preferably, equal status. Medilan beys often refused to deal with anyone that wasn't of noble birth. Grünestadtians usually didn't care much for the person in question, as long as they weren't directly related to the monarchy aside from the task that they had been given. Egor was not to fall short of these standards, his father had made that very clear to him before he departed. The annexation of Chervanyy through means other than warfare would prove if the prince was up to standards, or if he needed to go back to the drawing board.
The specific reason that the King had ordered for a peaceful settlement was mostly due to the drawn-out wars Rigelis was still recovering from. It was simultaneously: licking its own wounds from the civil war, having taken a backseat to the war in the North, the war against the Lutheringians and Salvanese, the war against the Zhorovids, and the integration of the territories won in those regions. It may have been a few decades already, but some amongst the elite and populous still did not take well to Viktor Torrente and his 'Torrentism'. That was immediately visible in the amount of resistance the King had to deal with when proposing the change of old laws or making entirely new ones. The creation of an assembly elected by the populous, for example, was a highly fought-over topic. These reasons all culminated into that order: there was to be no war, no more bloodshed.
As the prince set sail with a small guard regiment and a few more accompanying merchant ships, he found himself questioning how much resistance he would face on the island. Were the locals in favor of annexation, or perhaps staunchly against it? Surely, the recent arrival of the Atlavanians would swing the favor in his direction?
|The Empire of Rigelis|
Relief, Finally - II
The small city of Izmajil, the de facto administrative hub of Western Chervanyy, was met with a peaceful sunrise. It all seemed to be business as usual, however, within the halls of its town hall, important negotiations were being held, perhaps the most important that had ever been held within the borders of the island.
"With all due respect, prince, your father's claim upon this island is... paltry at best," a well-dressed nobleman commented. "To surrender our sovereignty is a mortal blow to what we hold as our values, it is a key principle of our existence as Chervanyy."
"I believe that subjugation and fealty under and to the Rigelian crown would in no way infringe upon your identity as people of the island. There is no evidence to suggest that your lives shall change drastically. Is it the tax that worries you? Or perhaps the fact that you will finally have someone that you must answer to?" Egor responded coolly. "If you cannot afford the tax, I see no issue in calling for further investments to be made into this territory in order to deepen your pockets."
"You spout nonsense! To suggest something so preposterous as that our coffers are empty is an insult of the highest order," the gentleman answered fiercely.
"Peace, Roman," another, assumedly, noble called out. "There is no need for all of this hostility. We have enough to deal with as is, it would be best to spare our energy when it comes to something, bluntly speaking, such as talks. I believe that these proposals have merit to them, and with the added investment his highness was speaking of, I see no reason to refuse."
The ends of Egor's lips began to tug up slightly as he heard his opposite praise his offer. "Though I meant it as a jest, I can assure you that investment will come. We have a special interest in Izmajil, a port located at one of the hotspots of Southern trade. I can assure you that the spoils of this deal shall mostly be coming your way."
"Still, giving up our sovereignty is a different matter entirely. The last time a Rigelian ruled these lands, we were neglected, left to pick up the piece after the realm violently exploded. Who did you lose to again? Some barbarians that knew how to ride a horse?" the man named Roman remarked.
"The records state such a thing indeed, I can see you are well-versed in the history of our people?" Egor responded with a slight nod, seemingly not taking any offense to what the gentleman across from him was saying.
"But times have changed, and for the better. With the subjugation of more and more peoples. Rigelis has grown strong. It has become one of the strongest powers in the world. It would behoove you to carefully consider my proposal. Your sovereignty is under threat regardless, either from the Grünestadtians or the Atlavanians. Better to choose reluctantly, than to be forced. I have an idea of which state you would prefer..."
|The Empire of Rigelis|
Relief, Finally - III
Sat underneath the cover of a gazebo, Egor quietly took a sip of his tea, enjoying the brief serenity of his surroundings as he cooled off in the shade. Though freezingly cold during the winters, Rigelia and surrounding areas knew blistering summers, having not much vegetation that could cover the earth from the direct heat of the sun, thus causing heat to well up immediately. Egor had yet to hear back from the diplomats he had discussed with just recently, thus he had been staying in Izmajil for a little while, patiently awaiting their response. He hoped for the best but was uncertain as to if he had truly convinced his opposites of the merit of Rigelian oversight. He had been careful not to mention military might, for he would not want to suggest that Rigelis planned to subjugate the island through military means if they refused... even if there was truth to such an assumption. It wasn't like the Rigelian crown was going to simply shrug and move on if they were denied by the Chervan. They had already prepared failsafes like fake naval exercises, closely patrolling the waters surrounding the islands, spreading false information of another Atlavanian attack or Grünestadtian invasion. These things lived in the hearts and minds of the people, as much was discernable from the general attitude that Egor had witnessed as he walked through the streets of Izmajil. He himself looked rather jaded as he stared into the distance, placing his cup down on the table. Perhaps it was the sweltering heat that seemed to demand so much of him? Or maybe the journey here and the launching into negotiations? He had been a busy man, there was no questioning that. He wondered if he had what it took to really be gifted diplomatically. Ogier certainly did, the man was a natural at discerning the interests of others, chipping away at them slowly until he got out of them what he wanted. He didn't give much but managed to get loads in return from his encounters. He fervently believed in that being informed would lead to the most success, using the intelligence network almost religiously in order to gain all the bits of information that he possibly could. After all, there were none better than the Rigelians when it came to espionage. Maybe he should take a page out of his brother's playbook and apply it next time he would be sent on one of these ventures. It would surely make things easier, thinking about it. When looking in hindsight, it would be easy to assume that Egor's aptitude for all of this was rather... low. However, one has to contend with the fact that this was Egor's first serious attempt at a diplomatic venture of these proportions. For someone with his level of experience, he seemed to be doing rather well if he did say so himself.
"Your majesty!" a voice called out. Nimble footsteps could be heard knocking against the pavement, the noise drawing nearer with each passing second. Egor looked over his shoulder and was met with an envoy who was drenched in sweat. "The Chervan have invited you once more to continue talks. They say they have reached a consensus among them."
|The Kaizerreych of The Venusians|
And so the steppe belongs to them! The Rewerners were pushed back. Their morality is down. And it doesn't seem as if they can awake from the shock happening to them just a few years ago. And now the steppe lies quietly, ready to be conquered once and for all. By the Fraraiters, by the Venusians!
Not only the Fraraiters, but also the normal venusian population begins to settle down in the steppe, primarily planting earth apples in this land here. Now that the threat is gone from the East, it is time to conquer the eastern steppes for oneself. Not through conquest this time (though targets for conquest in the steppes still remain), but through making the land ones own. Once it is settled, it is venusian.
The Fraraiters themselves don't really know what to think of this development. One the one side side, they couldn't care less about their neighbours, as long as they are left in peace. After all, the Fraraiters too are venusian. And so are the new settlers coming in here. The issue is, that the Reych doesn't views it that way and neither do the authorities. As soon the settlers are building their settlements, with them comes the law and order of the Reych and with them comes their administration and their control. The Fraraiters went so far into the steppe to be free, to not obey any laws except their own. And now the settlers are coming in and are potentially ruining it. But to act against them would only lead to the Reych's attention going towards them. The Reych has not many enemies at the moment, so any attention would go to them, if the Fraraiters were to dare something.
Some Fraraiters stay where they are, but some others went out a bit further towards the steppe. It belongs to them after all. The vast and open grassland lies before them. It looks so empty on first glance and yet it is so fertile. It looks avoid from anything and yet it is the ideal living place for a free people. The Rewerners on the other side look worried at the recent venusian expansion. And in the tents of some chiefs already plans are crafted for a new coalition against Venusia or at least the Fraraiters to push further and further into the steppe. While they are not mercilessly slaughtered, a fate the Publectians bestowed them like a century ago, they still are losing their own way of life, their own freedom and maybe this slow death through assimilation and colonization is perhaps a more cruel one, then to just simply to die and rest in peace.
But for now the memories prevail from the last time the Rewerners fought the Fraraiters and got beaten with what were effectively their own weapons and tactics. Even the home advantage falls flat now that the Fraraiters lived for a long enough time in this land. The Fraraiters now own the steppes and yet not everyone is happy with that.
So how long until peace dies in the steppe once again?
|The Kaizerreych of The Venusians|
Now it has fallen far. The city still has a sizable publectian population, but most of its inhabitants are Rewerners who actually settled down and live an urbanistic life. The city is still an important hub of trade and commerce, though it is now vastly overshadowed by Elvdeninda to the West, at the source of the Holaelvden.
But what happened now? Who started what? Who is the defender? Who is the attacker? In some of the Fraraiters something sort of a lust for adventure has befallen them. A small army of them has mobilized themselves and moved towards the once prosperous trading city Herbus, which lies on the same called Herbus River. Their goals are unknown, mostly because its not the goal which unites the Fraraiters, but rather that the goal requires Herbus to be taken. Few, but some, do it for the adventure, others promise themselves large amounts of riches in there. Some lost family members in the previous wars against the Rewerners and view it as a way to take revenge and others are fighting for more obscure reasons.
Right before the attack on Herbus begins, the army splits, to surround it from both sides. Luckily for the Fraraiters the city lies on the southern shore of the river, so the disadvantage from crossing is eliminated out of needlessness right away. The bigger problem comes figuring out how to lay siege on a city at all. But that is not difficult to find out at all, as some of the Fraraiters who joined the different groups were former veterans themselves.
In tents the different Raiterräte of the groups discuss their plans for the attack. Whether to attack at night or when the sun sets. Whether or all of the army is going to attack at the same time or if reserves should be kept behind. Whether or not people fleeing from the city should be hunted down or left alone. It took days, weeks until a decision was made. And after careful thoughts it was decided what was to be done. The attack was on sunset, all armies are going to attack at the same time, except of a small force of reserve troops. People fleeing the city or the battlefield are not to be followed as all attention needs to go to the conquest of the city.
And a few hours later venusian riders produce chaos in the city, looting it like the nomads did to others and eventually after many things were... done, the city became a part of the Fraraiter's territory.
An territory which grows evermore.
|The Kingdom of Atlavania|
Development post X – The Veðrsetja II – A Better Use
“Your majesty, there is one Raðvaldr with a plan that has to do with the Vicker Myr. Can I let him in?”
|The Armed Republic of Amperslandia|
Amperslandish Ivumerate - أمبرسلانديش إيفوميرات - ಆಂಪರ್ಸ್ಲ್ಯಾಂಡಿಷ್ ಐವುಮೆರೇಟ್
"I can't stop thinking of whatcha said." Ardisia stated.
"What'd I say?" Eremüt questioned.
"Are you that daft?" Ardisia stared hard.
"Oh... yeah! 'Only the brave and the bold would risk their lives - their pinnacles in an arrowfield fighting for some strange Holding,'" Eremüt cited.
"Is Amperslandia really strange to you?" Ardisia quizzed.
"You were a feral, weren't you? You lost every semblance of your mortality out there in the forests, yes?" Eremüt flipped the table and in-turn questioned her.
"What does my upbringing have to do with anything?" Ardisia fired back, starting to grow annoyed.
"Stop evading my questions." Eremüt groaned.
"You're bonkers. I can't believe you're my brother-in-arms. You survived THIS LONG just to say something vapid about my origins?" Ardisia insulted.
"Talk to me, Sister. Don't claw into my skin with those nails you have there." Eremüt continued to roast.
Ardisia slapped him hard enough to leave a redstain on his face.
"Enough with that rubbish." Ardisia put her foot down.
"Ye gonna do somethin', or just let her hitcha?" Ardis inquired.
"You deserve to be swatted like the insect you are." Eremüt was visibly angered.
The entire scene turned into a fight - and no-one was there to pull the squabblers away from eachother since they were distances apart and the trio were the only ones defending the line.
. . .
"You'd best be happy the Bufrancians aren't here. They're some paces aways from here - mainly their archery-division. There's their spearmen and maybe a few javelins, if that isn't my massive imagination ruling my senses. Or maybe that's a vaulter, these gymnasts come here alot for Entertainment." Arecon seemed to threaten and throw his weight around.
"You deserved those freaking slaps!" Ardisia announced.
"I didn't realize how brutal ferals could be, 'til now." Eremüt continued to lay into her.
"FOCUS ON THE ENEMY, SIL'VOUS-PLAIT." Arecon bossed-around.
"If only I didn't have to deal with this she-creature, I would." Eremüt pointed that out.
"You're asking for it!" Ardisia yelped.
The scavengers ran at them, clubs and maces in-hand. Some of them were shocked, about to break down, or plain-and-simple didn't want to fight the Amperslandish Armies. Some seemed to be sympa to the true defenders, but in this situation, they couldn't show their sympathies. Mercilessly and restlessly, they were struck-down by slingshots. The sympathico "reclaimers" fully broke-down and cried. The warriors summoned healers but there were no healers nearby, only some swordsmen with a faint recollection of Medicines.
"Awwwww...." Ardisia tore-up, trying to steel herself but her emotionalism wouldn't allow her to.
"Easy." One of the slingshotters nodded, proud of his aim.
"Had to shoot the bastards, I'm sure they'd not hesitate to slash us down."
"THERE WERE NO SWORDFIGHTERS AMONGST THESE GUYS. THERE. WERE. NONE. WHAT WE DID IS INEXCUSEABLE AND HORRIBLE AND JUST PLAIN COWARDLY. WE HAVE DISGRACED OURSELF. WE ARE LIARS." Ardisia just lost it.
"And now, to redeem ourselves, we have to save them." Ardisia feigned a sense of Stoicism that wasn't there in Amperslandish Culture, also putting her hands on her hips to seem more authoritative and commanding.
Eremüt laughed heartily and grabbed his longknife, pointing it at the girl. The two have never gotten along all throughout the Silent War though now, it reached sort of a boilingpoint. Another duel broke-out, with Ardisia trying to defend her prestige. She couldn't take any more clowning or joking and decided to finish this by seizing Eremüts' weapon and making a deepcut in his arm. There was more work for the medicinal swordsmen, but Ardisia had to continue to "prove herself" amongst her fellow soldiers and warriors. She had to sustain her reputation.
The archers took a more aggressive approach to their warfare, running around and shooting their bows and trying to take the nearby camps and strongholds of the Reclaimers. They'd then bash the doors down, tear everything down, wolf-down their supplies of foodstuffs and rummage through everything else. Slaves were everpresent, and Amperslandia was fully-committed to giving everyone Emancipation. These soldiers were no different than the Amperslandish "ideals" and "values," and had released the former-slaves, gave them proper clothing and jewelry and even the swords and Duribasses (Amperslandish equivalent to the scimitar) of fallen soldiers.
Swordsmen, duelists, fencers, and rapiersmen spun and twisted around, jabbing slicing and cutting their foes up and taking pride in the warcries and screams of the dying. The trebuchets and catapults laid-waste to the poorly-made and ramshackle buildings. There were no true "mines" to siege or art to loot, so the Amperslandish combatants just destroyed whatever building or properties they had - with only a few "forts" being reclaimed and refashioned.
Architects and builders from Venst towered and made proper forts, buildings, war-rooms. Carpenters and woodworkers got to work making tables chairs and the like. In war there was destruction chaos torment pain and more, but the Amperslandish had to rectify these now-moral qualms and issues. Warchests and treasures were relooted and retaken from "lost civilizations" and holdings adjacent or inside of Farnsie and alot of these gems and crystals would be used for Beauty and Aesthetic ratherthan just sitting around in someones' hoard somewhere. Barriers and barricades were established to keep the ground and a sense-of-comfort was established. Instead of murdering and slaying, some of the Amperslandish hooligans gathered around and feasted on cheeses, breads, meats, milks, turnips and candy made from maplesyrup or what was termed 'sirup d'erable,' in Bufrancia and in Bufrancian settlements around Farnsie.
These ransackers drowned themselves in Arkaia and other fruitbased drinks to get their minds off of the nonsense around them.
It was time to party, dance and sing - mainly to get the collective consciousness away from Warfare and Wrath, but also as a way to "vent" and get through the struggles of being a civilization born and raised in the Ice.
|The Empire of Voltan|
The Banco-Crown War - IV: The Rogue Fleet
(Let’s, like…ignore the fact that I’ve been crippled for 20y RP, and pick up where I left off)
Off Narzon, Gulf of Catala
“I did not ask for your opinion.” Admiral Solver scolded. “I ask for you to follow my commands.”
His subordinate bowed his head in submission. A dozen marines stood behind the Admiral - a dozen loyal marines. A dozen mutinous marines as far as the man himself was concerned…
But like most men, this subordinate wished to live. Frankly, whether it was in a world dominated by Gold Bloods or Blue Bloods - hell, even Fire Bloods - it mattered not to him. It would in the end have little bearing on his life.
“Hoist the battle ensign - prepare to attack!” he cried. In response, a great, billowing cloth - the personal war ensign of Admiral Solver - was raised off the back of his massive quinquereme. All across the fleet - over a thousand ships, the greatest concentration of raw power in the Empire - flags flew up in response. Some with enthusiasm, some haltingly - but all followed suit.
“Uhh…” Admiral Per Pedroso shielded his eyes from the sun, glaring out to see where a cacophony of alarm had risen from sailors frantically gesturing.
His eyes flew up to his own signal flags - his personal flag flying high alongside the fleet flag. It was all correct…and Admiral Solver and him had worked together far too many times for the man not to recognize that this was indeed him, an Admiral of the Voltanese Navy.
“Captain Azpetia,” the Admiral’s tone was funereal, “Raise the battle ensign. Call the fleet to shield the transports. Admiral Solver - or whomever has taken charge of that fleet - has not chosen the side of the Council in this conflict. It's that damned Catala whispering in his ear about power…”
“Admiral…? That’s Third fleet…the best half of the Admiralty.”
Pedroso sighed, “I am aware, Captain. For every ten quinqueremes they have, we have one quadrireme. But we must hold them off long enough for the transports to return to Narzon…General Hortiz’s men will undoubtedly be crucial in this conflict, and we can’t let them die at sea. Raise the ensign! And I want a cheer as it goes up - a confident cheer throughout the fleet!”
A battle cry there was, but it rang hollow in the ears of many. Admiral Pedroso’s fleet was a training fleet - Admiral Solvers the battle fleet, designed to counter the many navies of the south. Only Astvats could oppose Solver.
“Where is Admiral Pedroso?” Solver asked as a party of his defeated peers trundles up the gangplank onto his vessel. Their sneers of disgust were unmistakable, and though Solver ignored it, many of his subordinates diverted their gaze in shame.
“He died.” one of the men replied, “His ship was the first to go, split in twain by a quin. The first death of your mutiny.”
“Ahhh, my dear Senor Serria…you forget that it is the Crown which sits atop the Empire. Mutiny is in disobeying the orders of His Majesty, not the Council. In any case, Admiral Pedroso’s passing is regrettable…despite his current position, he was a good commander.”
Serria merely scoffed.
“In any case, I accept your unconditional surrender. Your sailors will be distributed throughout my fleet, and the officers among you will be taken to Marrepes, where you will remain for the duration of the war.”
“Marrepes?!” Serria shook his head, “You follow Catala, not the Emperor…with what has he seduced you? A hundred Kyustsaryan whores? Only they are disease-ridden and hideous enough to assent to f*cking you. Now even a disreputable Auvreignnaise wench would deign so low.”
“A hundred grisly whores and a bucket of tobacco!” Solver replied with sarcastic laugh, “I am a cheap man to buy, Serria. But in any event, you - you may stay. Admiral Soto’s fleet is bound this way and I want you to watch as I subdue him too. Then the pair of you can rot in chains in Marrepes. Before word even reaches Solnezov, they’ll have lost the southern Shimmering…and your ships will be put to work upending their trade with the south. Now,” he gestured for his marines, “Take Serria to my quarters and make sure he is comfortable. The rest of these officers can be put aboard the damaged ships bound for port.
He watched as his orders were carried out, before making for the railing and casting his gaze towards the coast. Regrettably only a few transports had been caught out by his move - a factor, no doubt, of dispirit within his ranks - and so the majority of General Hortiz’s army had been captured or sunk. All the same, their plans had been disrupted, and if the Auvreignnaise had done their bit, they should undoubtedly be approaching the city with great haste. No matter Hortiz’s skill, he would not be able to stand up to such a force as the King’s army…
|The United Socialist States of Kyukujira Guo|