The Universal Order of Nations

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Most Advanced Defense Forces: 99th Largest Information Technology Sector: 119th Most Scientifically Advanced: 126th+48
Largest Black Market: 127th Highest Average Incomes: 160th Largest Manufacturing Sector: 163rd Most Patriotic: 172nd Largest Arms Manufacturing Sector: 173rd Highest Poor Incomes: 175th Most Subsidized Industry: 282nd Highest Economic Output: 303rd Most Corrupt Governments: 305th Smartest Citizens: 330th Largest Governments: 338th Rudest Citizens: 352nd Largest Mining Sector: 382nd Largest Automobile Manufacturing Sector: 417th Highest Wealthy Incomes: 420th Largest Timber Woodchipping Industry: 436th Most Nations: 448th Largest Furniture Restoration Industry: 453rd Most Avoided: 456th Most Armed: 470th Largest Agricultural Sector: 545th Most Cultured: 553rd Largest Retail Industry: 560th Most Advanced Public Education: 562nd Most World Assembly Endorsements: 712th Most Advanced Public Transport: 774th Lowest Crime Rates: 789th Fattest Citizens: 1,012th Most Extensive Public Healthcare: 1,013th Most Developed: 1,096th Healthiest Citizens: 1,117th Most Inclusive: 1,164th Largest Publishing Industry: 1,193rd Largest Soda Pop Sector: 1,203rd Most Valuable International Artwork: 1,298th Largest Cheese Export Sector: 1,337th Highest Food Quality: 1,356th Most Secular: 1,396th Nudest: 1,426th Largest Basket Weaving Sector: 1,577th Most Devout: 1,719th Highest Average Tax Rates: 1,754th Highest Disposable Incomes: 1,957th Highest Unexpected Death Rate: 1,979th Most Eco-Friendly Governments: 2,265th Greatest Rich-Poor Divides: 2,267th Most Advanced Law Enforcement: 2,359th Most Efficient Economies: 2,512th
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The Universal Order of Nations

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The Universal Order of Nations contains 39 nations, the 448th most in the world.


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The Most Avoided in The Universal Order of Nations

Nations ranked highly are considered by many to be the most inhospitable, charmless, and ghastly places to spend a vacation, or, indeed, any time at all.

As a region, The Universal Order of Nations is ranked 456th in the world for Most Avoided.

NationWA CategoryMotto
1.The Zephyri Province of Isauria of Achaian PeloponneseCompulsory Consumerist State“Survive and Remember”
2.The Migratory Fleets of UelvanInoffensive Centrist Democracy“Uelvano Gradtar'yanti”
3.The Jalisquillan PR of The Prussian RaumreichCorrupt Dictatorship“For the benefit of all who live.”
4.The Terran Covenant of TeutioniaFather Knows Best State“Actions, Not Words”
5.The States and Dominions of HonoriasIron Fist Consumerists“Unity and Discovery”
6.The Holy Empire of Tovieson SeaceInoffensive Centrist Democracy“From Many, One”
7.The Third Empire of Die Osterreichisch GrenzeIron Fist Consumerists“Wide is the Fatherland”
8.The Second Laconian Empire of KatadinInoffensive Centrist Democracy“Spiritus Praeteriti deducit futurum.”
9.The Merchant Confederacy of TitananiumPsychotic Dictatorship“Gold in peace, weapons in war”
10.The Republic of ZeikeutsyrInoffensive Centrist Democracy“Oikeutsi tany khere kheregtse.”

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The Zephyri Province of Isauria of Achaian Peloponnese

Pernigov had not been built to be a fortress. Present in Guntherite and Mastropan records as early as 950 AV, the old city, situated in a fertile river valley, had grown as a regional center of moderate importance by the time that the Republic of Kosin was forcibly dissolved to make way for the Gorvikian puppet state of Rusnya in 1406. At that time, Pernigov experienced some growth as residents of more important cities like Cherwarz were permanently relocated to make way for Gorvikian colonists, on whose support the new puppet regime depended for its domestic survival, but the area’s lack of serious industry meant that the increased population only exacerbated the economic troubles already affecting the region. As the next several decades progressed, Gorvikian and international interest in Pernigov died almost entirely as it contributed almost nothing to the Gorvikian war machine, with even the Gorvikian military barring entry to native Kosinites hoping to find some way of supporting their families and communities. As a consequence, when the Isaurians unleashed the fiery hell of Reclamation, the inevitable destruction brought down on Cherwarz, Rucigrad, and the other centers of Gorvikian control was never visited upon the already-shattered economic wreck of Pernigov. While the capitals of Noverra turned to ash in the midst of an inferno, Pernigov remained, and remained still as the centuries piled on thereafter, watching on as the rest of Noverra crumbled in its neglect.

Naturally attracted to ruination as the Gorvikians and Bruvalks were, they found the neglected wreck of Pernigov to be a useful center of control over the blasted Rusnyan wastes, and settled into the decaying town accordingly. Burrowing underground to avoid the worst of the caustic air, the Gorvikian masters of Pernigov expanded this decrepit ruin into a functioning community once again, centered now on sentient sacrifice, unending ritualized combat, and the production of rudimentary arms and vehicles for the new campaigns across the corpse of Noverra. For generations, barbarous hands committed unspeakable deeds in the crumbling houses, the carved-out halls, and the narrow warrens of Pernigov, while the last ghosts of Kosin wailed for someone to rescue their homes from Gorvikian desecration, until… until, finally, Aurus Adeni came, and brought with him Biotians in their thousands.

The smoking sky lit up in flashes to reflect the firing of a two-mile-long line of artillery to Pernigov’s east, punching even more craters into the foundations and bedrock of the town and, hopefully, collapsing several of the tunnels and corridors under the surface and bathing whatever was left within them in flame. The artillery battery was unfortunately static, but, more fortunately, Pernigov’s defenses against brute-force bombardment were minimal, with the Gorvikians having largely depended on the Isaurians’ inability to approach their infrastructure in great numbers for their security. They had had ample time to prepare for a siege once it became clear that Isaurian forces under Zephyri direction could penetrate the communications blackout over Gorvikia, Rusnya, and the other territories long believed to be held firmly under Gorvikian sway under the ever-present soot-choked skies, but, either highly overconfident or pressured by panic, Gorvikian leaders had pressed every effort into the eradication of Isaurian forces in Gorvikia proper, neglecting to additionally fortify their bases in Rusnya as a result. Pernigov remained to Isaurian eyes as it had been to generations of Gorvikians and Bruvalks before them: dilapidated, crumbling, and sinister, its surface buildings a mere shell denoting the location of the warren below… but not particularly difficult to besiege for all that.

In the twilight, the brush-covered hilltops surrounding Pernigov seemed to heave like a sea as Isaurian forces advanced steadily toward the thin line of defensive fire that opposed them. The Gorvikian defenders had at least dug a trench network around their town, but it was nothing that Isaurian armor couldn’t break through with ease, clearing away machine gun nests and pillboxes before the infantry coming behind suffered any serious casualties in facing them. In the valley to the west, on the opposite side of the town from the distant line of artillery, a concrete barricade raised to the height of the walls of Fort Pseros stood vigilant against any rush of people from the town to try to escape the raining shells without encountering the advancing Isaurian lines to the north and south. Unlike the cacophony of the battle lines marching down the hills, the soldiers on the ramparts of that wall observed in silence as the town of Pernigov was reduced, shell by shell, to fragments, then rubble, and finally dust.

From that reasonably-impressive height, Lieutenant Parlas Kanthios held his binoculars to his goggle-bound eyes and watched the approaching end of Pernigov. The northern line, commanded by three majors under the direction of Colonel Arrabai and Legate Adeni, advanced steadily and evenly across the broken landscape, splitting only to make room for advancing armored units from behind or, occasionally, to pass a broken wreck of the same and put it behind them once more. From the south, the forces answering to Colonel Alketas were far less steady, a consequence of their relatively-easier posting in the slaughter fields of Azarel, where Gorvikians and Bruvalks were likely to kill anyone and everyone at some point throughout the day, but at least the air itself was not so murderous. Kanthios, like the rest of the wall’s defenders a briefly-active veteran of the Azarel campaign, knew that he would never again complain about the ‘usual’ standard of Noverran wasteland after having set foot on Rusnyan soil. He was immensely grateful for his protective gear, having seen for himself what became of those who disdained it and walked in the foul air of the Gorvikian homelands for even a few moments. The same lesions and burns that soon appeared on a victim’s exposed skin would inevitably find their way onto the tongue, into the nostrils, and deep into the lungs also, as Lieutenant Kanthios had already seen demonstrated by one of his men whose swaddling costume had been unobtrusively torn during the quick advance from the beachhead to the outskirts of Pernigov. He might not have been used to fighting in this obstructive wrapping of kit, but he was far more eager to learn than to discard it and go the same way. Likewise, the rest of Colonel Alketas’s command agreed with the sentiment, entering the fray with coats and masked helmets belted and cinched against the caustic breeze, and inevitably suffering stumbles and distractions along the way, allowing for moments of Gorvikian pushback on the southern front that could not be replicated on the northern line. Kanthios took comfort in knowing that none of this faltering really made a difference to the Isaurian advance as a whole: Alketas’s soldiers approached more slowly and with more casualties than their counterparts to the north, for certain, but their arrival in Pernigov was just as inevitable, and the Gorvikian defense was just as futile as it was on the northern slopes.

The men beside Lieutenant Kanthios watched on as well; lacking binoculars in many cases, they simply peered into the gloom and traced the concentration and direction of muzzle flashes as the two sides advanced. Getting more accurate information than that was impossible, with radio communications failing within two miles of Rusnyan shores and aircraft engines clogging with particulates as Gorvikian industrial war production in Rusnya (and perhaps something more sinister, according to persistent rumors throughout the Isaurian army) took a higher toll on Isaurian machinery than the ‘mere’ presence of dense volcanic emissions in Gorvikia itself. Wrapped in heavy protective gear and reduced to visual contact in such a dense gloom, the Isaurian soldiers standing guard on the wall resembled the combatants of a far more barbaric age of war, making a mockery of Isauria’s vaunted technological heritage. Kanthios, for certain, had never felt more distant from his home in Atatar, waiting still with all of its civilized amenities for his safe return from the front.

“I think they’re routing, sir,” hissed a man next to the lieutenant, his voice muffled from his swaddling.

Kanthios shook his head as he continued to watch through his binoculars, not bothering to turn to identify the man to whom he was speaking. “They’re not panicking,” he argued. “They’re not really retreating, either. They’re just… dying.”

The other man paused. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, sir,” he said after a moment.

Kanthios shook his head again. The other soldier, like many in the rank and file in Colonel Alketas’s command, had not been on Noverra long. “It’s meaningless, more or less,” he replied. “This was the norm in Azarel. They died in droves and fought on anyway. There were always more of them.” The lieutenant pondered for a moment and added, somewhat grudgingly, “Though I admit this is the first time I’ve seen this happen when we were gaining ground, rather than losing it.”

“So… still not a bad thing, sir?” the soldier persisted.

The lieutenant’s frown deepened. “There were always more of them,” he repeated.

Inevitably the other man asked, “Then where are they?”

Kanthios narrowed his eyes into his binoculars as he swept them across the battlefield. “I’m trying to find that out,” he grumbled.

The other soldier took the hint and left the lieutenant to it, turning his eyes back out to the battlefield also and hoping that he could see anything that would help illuminate the situation. Without light or binoculars of his own, though, his efforts were in vain: Whatever could be seen of the battlefield, for certain Lieutenant Kanthios could already see it.

As they watched, muzzle flashes from the northern advance began their final approach toward the shadowy structures that marked the outskirts of Pernigov. Three distinct orange flashes lit up the battlefield from the advancing line; at this predetermined signal, the thunder of artillery came to a sudden halt to avoid friendly fire. Without the ever-present roar of explosive shells, the guards atop the western wall could hear the sounds of the distant combat clearly, despite the distance and the delay: the rattling of machine gun fire, the occasional explosive boom of a grenade or a vehicle being sacrificed for the cause, the shouting of orders, and the haunting screams of the wounded and dying. Those pleading screams that came in an incomprehensible tongue, Lieutenant Kanthios liked best: Those were the screams of Gorvikians, and they proved that even the monsters who worshiped death could be made to shy away from it at the last gasp.

Yet the living ones still refused to retreat.

Suddenly one sharp crack split the relative peace on the wall, and Kanthios ducked and stumbled to avoid incoming fire. Turning to his left, northward, the lieutenant saw the rest of the soldiers on the wall likewise ducking behind the parapet. “Did anyone get a visual?!” he shouted.

Several of the soldiers to his north threw negative hand signs back at him, and Kanthios grimaced. The wall had been put in place to prevent a Gorvikian retreat from Pernigov, for certain, but that could only happen if the soldiers manning the wall could see them coming; for the enemy to appear without warning like this was dispiriting. “Pin them down and find out where they are!” Kanthios ordered, and let his binoculars hang from their straps as he double-checked his rifle’s ammunition. Satisfied, he lifted one hand, three fingers raised, and counted down.

At his signal, the twenty-or-so soldiers that could easily see the lieutenant’s signal popped back to their feet, guns raised and ready, Kanthios among them. As they sporadically started firing, though without any definite target, the nearest searchlight came to life as they peered into the gloom, assuredly revealing the wall’s presence to any Gorvikian that hadn’t been aware of it already. The light swept across the landscape once, twice, and a third time for good measure, but… there was nothing.

“Cease fire!” Kanthios bellowed, abstaining from hand signals and hoping that the origin of his voice would be obscured by the wildly-shifting shadows on the wall and the usual confusion of war. With the gunfire being so sporadic, his voice carried enough to be heard by the firing line, and the guns stopped swiftly.

Kanthios narrowed his eyes as the spotlight continued to swing in search of the enemy. “Did anyone see anything?” he demanded.

“No, sir,” the soldier beside him answered quickly, “but Captain Arnai is heading this way.”

“Of course he is,” the lieutenant muttered, straightening his back and shoulders to attention even as he continued to peer out from the wall for signs of movement.

Soon enough, Captain Roneia Arnai forced his way through the throng to peer over Kanthios’s shoulder at the barren ground below. “What was that, soldier?” he demanded.

“Sir, we were fired upon and reacted accordingly,” the lieutenant defended himself. Of course, he had no choice but to admit grudgingly, “No one saw the perpetrator, unfortunately.”

“Of course not,” Arnai grumbled, but the senior officer’s frustration didn’t seem to be aimed at Kanthios, and the lieutenant didn’t respond. The captain took his own pair of binoculars and peered out from the wall as Kanthios had been doing for so long; his frown only deepened at what he saw. “I see no sign that anyone has moved in this direction from the town,” he reported. “Whatever shot at you did not come from that direction.”

“You’re sure, sir?” Kanthios asked in confusion.

Arnai turned a sharp glare in Kanthios’s direction. “I’m sure,” he answered. The lieutenant frowned, but nodded at his superior’s judgment. Captain Arnai, like every other officer in Azarel, had gained his rank by sheer survival, and he had far more experience at that task than Kanthios, whose five weeks on the line in northern Eshaya still felt like an eternity nonetheless. If the captain was sure… the captain was sure.

Arnai nodded back, before turning his attention to the spotlight crew farther down the wall. “Search the hills!” he ordered sharply. Getting the crew’s hand-signaled acknowledgment, the captain added to the lieutenant, “Keep an eye behind us.”

Kanthios blinked. “Behind—”

Another sharp crack interrupted him, as the soldiers along the parapet dropped for cover once again. Kanthios and Arnai stared at one another for a moment; the lieutenant was almost pleased to see the expression of horror on his superior’s face, until he realized that Arnai’s reaction was far out of proportion to simply being proved wrong. “Sir?” he asked.

In response, Captain Arnai pointed at Kanthios’s feet; the lieutenant looked down, and saw a thin crack through the concrete reaching from the parapet facing Pernigov back to the stairs leading down to ground level. The lieutenant’s brow furrowed. “Is that what we heard?” he asked, confused. “It seemed much louder than this.”

“If this crack runs right through to the ground, we’re lucky that we didn’t lose our eardrums,” Arnai shot back. “Retreat to ground level, Lieutenant. We’re being undermined.”


Another crack was heard, this time farther south; even from that distance, Kanthios could hear an audible change in its tone, as though the sound had originated from something not quite as… solid as the previous sounds of alarm. Arnai grimaced. “Go,” he ordered. Raising his voice, he repeated, “Go! Retreat in order! Get off the wall!”

Several of the soldiers nearest to the stairs—uncomfortable, nervous, and still so frighteningly inexperienced—failed to be ‘orderly’ about their retreat at all, and all but fled down the stairs even as their compatriots roused themselves from their positions ducked behind the parapet. Kanthios cursed to himself and stood up, shouting as loudly as he could to catch the attention of the soldiers he had left on the wall. “Biotians, retreat in order! Squad by squad as you came up—”

He was interrupted, not by cracks in the wall but by screams behind it. Kanthios twisted around as the screams were joined by actual gunshots; the latter died down before the former, causing the lieutenant’s stomach to drop. “Defensive line at the head of the stairs!” he ordered. “Form a line!

He wasn’t quick enough. As the soldiers around him once again recognized new orders and paused to take stock of them—too inexperienced, too inexperienced, surely the reason they’d been set aside from the main operation in the first place, Kanthios realized—the movement they’d all been looking for on the far side of the wall instead appeared suddenly in their midst. Bodies raced up the stairs faster than the officer could count them and threw themselves at the nearest Isaurians with a will. The soldiers raised their rifles far too slowly in response, and a dozen of them were already on the ground screaming by the time their fellows could start to shoot; inevitably, many of those shots hit their own assaulted countrymen, adding to the bloodshed. Kanthios, too far away from the stairs to take any kind of clear shot himself, reached for his knife instead, getting his guard up just in time for the line of soldiers directly in front of him to collapse in the grappling melee. The enemy swarm came upon him next, and Kanthios, more prepared than many of those ahead of him, pushed forward to meet it.

Bony, oversized hands, each finger tipped with a ragged claw, shredded through the upper layers of Kanthios’s protective coat as the lieutenant stabbed at the scrawny head that sat behind them. The stooped figure screeched as the knife got within its guard and slashed across its brow; it fell backward in surprise, and Kanthios pressed his advantage, only to have another body slam into his right shoulder. The lieutenant screamed as his collarbone snapped from the impact, dropping his knife and falling to a knee. His second assailant kept going, unheeding, and leapt onto the back of another soldier that had been fending off a threat on his other side; momentum carried them both straight over the parapet. Had he been in less pain or trapped in less panic, Kanthios might have thought clearly enough to try to follow.

Instead he stared into the deep-set eyes of the furious, bleeding, and hungry Bruvalk in front of him as its hands reached for his goggle-covered face and started to claw.


As Isaurian soldiers fought across the rubble piles that had once been classic examples of Kosinite architecture, sometimes facing their Gorvikian counterparts within range of the plasma bayonets equipped on one rifle in twenty, one more tremor wracked the valley and the obliterated town of Pernigov. It was nothing compared with the hours of bombardment the town had suffered already, and the soldiers fighting in the midst of the disaster barely noticed it in their desperation. But on the hills outside of the town, looking on from their well-defended, fully-prepared camps, the colonels and their foreign legate simultaneously turned their attention, ever-so-briefly, to the west, where a new cloud of dust reached for the smoke-choked heavens as though searching for a sibling. Arrabai frowned first. “It appears we’ve lost the wall, sir,” he said.

Legate Adeni nodded, his teeth set. “There was no rout,” he observed. “There was no assault.”

“It must have been the tunnels, sir,” the colonel suggested. “Bruvalks… you know them, sir.” You know them now, he meant.

“Bruvalks,” Adeni agreed. “And whatever Gorvikians were tunneling with them. They’re free now. They always were.” The legate watched the dust rise from the collapsed wall for another moment, before turning his gaze back to the objective of the operation with another sigh. “Damn.”

The Zephyri Province of Isauria of Achaian Peloponnese

Achaian Peloponnese wrote:O cursed be the cruel wars, that ever they should rise
And out of merry 'Sauria press many a man likewise
They took her Kemeis from her, likewise her brothers nine
And sent them to the cruel wars in the Sengoku Jidai

--"The Cruel Wars," popular among common Isaurians in the decades after the dissolution of the League, recorded circa AD 2700

They stabbed Damara low in the stomach
And struck him thrice ere he was dead.
He bled and the Governess jeered him
For objecting to what she had said.
His heart and his liver they savaged,
As Her Honor was told of the scene.
His voice and his life, all was silenced,
Save for memories shining and clean!

They murdered Damara for treason.
His body has long since decayed.
But no Zeph’ri cur can destroy him,
For Dariu is with us today.
Yes, Dariu is with us today.

Oh, Dariu Damara fought bravely.
Brave souls rose to answer his call!
But cowardly hearts turned against him,
And he was betrayed by Cheng’s thralls.
With a noose made of lies he was tortured
For wishing his country set free.
“How am I a traitor?” cried Dariu.
“Zeikeutsyr is foreign to me!”

They murdered Damara for treason.
His body has long since decayed.
But no Zeph’ri cur can destroy him,
For Dariu is with us today.
Yes, Dariu is with us today.

Through Sardavar, Lindai, and Garlas,
From Paravant to old Vergni,
His spirit is calling for justice
And commands us to set ourselves free.
And when once again we do battle
For ’Sauria against foreign scum,
With no fear of betrayal to Chengists,
Let them come! Let them come! Let them come!

They murdered Damara for treason.
His body has long since decayed.
But no Zeph’ri cur can destroy him,
For Dariu is with us today.
Yes, Dariu is with us today.

--“The Last Damara,” a folk song of uncertain origin made popular in the early years of the Latter Risings


The Republic of Zeikeutsyr

A Nation Revealed - First Contact With The Kingdom of Esin Rine!

The farlands of the Sagittarius Arm, an area of space once perceived as empty and for the most part sparsely-populated by the dominant states in the area, do not seem as empty as was once thought! Following a short military encounter between a detachment of the Twelfth Fleet and the unidentified military ships of an unknown alien species, Zeikeutsyr had opened dialogue with these peoples, and after some deliberation they have decided that the Imperiumi be their communique to the greater galactic community.

This now-identified nation, known colloquially as the 'Reppetal Alliance', and to the Zephyri as Caudirisia Superior, is a matriarchy, and an alliance containing five major systems in close coordination, and the major planets within divided into various states each ruled by a respective monarch, who gather in a united government to elect one of their own to serve as their supreme leader. Despite a partly-aggressive first contact, this nation has identified itself as entirely pacifist, and as a post-scarcity society of strict isolationism and a standing doctrine of total military defense following previously more negative encounters with the alien species in their immediate vicinity.

Their leader, the Queen Delilah, has however declared that they are open to any and all contact with their fellow nations, as well as the establishment of new embassies. As well as this, a contract has been signed between the nations of Zeikeutsyr and the Alliance, and identify themselves as newly-forged allies, with Zeikeutsyr openly declaring that any opportunistic attack upon this nation will be met with the full force of a Zephyri intervention. The rationale behind this decision, although mysterious, is rumoured to be mired in deep conspiracy following revelations of potential ancient connections between the two nations - what this may mean, however, is not fully known. Any nations whom wish to speak their language, that being money and trade, are more than invited to send forward their envoys.

In all, the Reppetal Alliance introduce themselves to the galaxy with grace and optimism, and hope you will not disappoint.

The Principality of Whador

Introduction of Whador

The Principality of Whador is a small federal state, headed by the Right Honourable Prince Park and the Honourable Council President Aaron Lindsey. Whador is a country based on a free system and legislation, politically and civically, only the economy being regulated, led by Liverwe, capital of the Principality. Whador imposes itself by a very tolerant and progressive legislation on many subjects, such as drugs. Diplomatically Whador is described as a discreet and neutral state. Indeed, the Principality is committed to a total neutrality that prevents it from entering into conflict, and has consequently abandoned all form of armed forces, having as only defense diplomacy

The United Federation of Confederate Imperium

Federation News Network

Both Major Parties Hold Convention, Nominate Candidates!

Today, both Conservative and Democratic-Progressive Parties held their National Convention to approve a Party Platform and Nominate their respective Presidential and Vice-Presidential Candidates.

Conservative Party
The talk of the Convention was "who will McCarthy select as his running mate?" As McCarthy took the stage to give his acceptance speech, he states "My goal is to transform this party into one that will appeal to every demographic, every area, every person. The party has always been divided between Moderates and Conservatives, Tarkinist and Walkerist. That ends today, under my Administration and future administrations, the party will become Big Tent. We will allow any and all individuals to join. We will trade in obstructionism for progress. If our citizens lose faith in the system under the opposition, the opposition will do the same to us. Starting a never-ending cycle that will lead to the collapse of civil political discourse. A McCarthy Administration will not seek to dismantle key social security programs, but continue to improve them, but we will not be beholden to any program that is inefficient. We will balance the budget, establish a more pragmatic foreign policy, and fully secure our nation. Now the moment you have all waited for, the Vice-Presidential Nominee... I have chosen Vermont Governor Amanda Bush. Governor Bush has recovered her reputation since the 2648 Election. She has turned around the Vermont Budget, paid off all State Debts, increased Education Spending, and now Vermont is a leader in our Federation. I know as Vice-President, she will be the best adviser and partner. A McCarthy Administration will uphold our current commitments both domestically and internationally, but we will not allow any further nation to have military bases on our sovereign soil. We will will restore national honor and integrity in the Presidency. This Administration will lead the Conservative Revolution that will usher in a new era of prosperity."

The Conservative ticket will consist of Andrew McCarthy/Amanda Bush.

Democratic-Progressive Party
Today, the Democratic-Progressive Party nominated both incumbent President and Vice-President, Amanda Hazen and Jacklin Sharp as the party's respective Presidential and Vice-Presidential Candidates. Both candidates ran unopposed as they remain popular with the party base. In her acceptance speech, President Hazen declared "We've had 4 years of stability, 4 years of unwavering economic prosperity. We had recovered from the Cameron and Underwood Scandals, and ushered in a new era for our citizens. With the enactment of Universal Employment, Universal Basic Income, Welfare Reform, and so much more. No other time in our history has unemployment and poverty been down to near 0%. 4 more years of a Hazen/Sharp Administration we will fight to make these programs a hallmark of the Federation Dream, we will continue to combat social ills, to pursue a fair foreign policy, to fight every day for every citizen whether they voted for us or the other candidate. Our Administration has shown, we will work with the opposition, we will not initiate a scorched earth policy, and to build bridges, not tear them down. 4 more years of our team will mark the beginning of the Golden Age in our nations history, putting us on a better path towards stability."

Post self-deleted by Derflekktagen.

The Zephyri Province of Isauria of Achaian Peloponnese


To the August Senators of the Atsumaru, and likewise to the Honored Senators of the Diet of Isauria; and furthermore to the hands and heart of Ban Rosane, Honored Governor of this Province of Isauria and also of Transisesen: Hail and Greetings from Noverra Redeemed!

This planet, origin and harbinger of our shared destinies, is once again free. Gorvikians trouble its people no longer; its surface, marred by their long occupation, shall soon flourish under our mutual care. Already atmospheric cleaning is underway at Rucigrad, and the brave Isaurian warriors that so lately hammered punishment upon the heads of our enemies now guide the world of their ancestors into a period of glorious rebirth.

I promised all of you victory. And so I have brought victory to your hands.

I beg you to forgive the brevity of this missive. Here upon the surface of Noverra, there remains so much more to do.

In faithful service to the Celestial Emperor—may he live ten thousand years—I remain:

Admiral, Thirteenth Daimyokantai
Legate of the Atsumaru to the Province of Isauria


From orbit, centuries-old scars upon the surface of Noverra appeared no less agonizing or destructive than those that had been scraped upon the planet’s face within the last year of fighting. Captain Xianna So Scipiones frowned as she contemplated the old blast zones of Orteio, where the Lords Loria once incinerated uncounted throngs of Gorvikians amidst the millions of tortured Cielotes that had once held their noses in the presence of Gaivarvaran lord-generals and, at the last, begged the nobles of Isauria to save them from a fate worse than annihilation. When she compared the evidence of Orteio’s destruction to the blast zones of Cape Devinaria, dug into Cielote soil from the Thirteenth Daimyokantai four months ago as an expeditionary Gorvikian army revealed itself to orbital targeting while endeavoring to invade Glys over the sea in force, the captain could see a difference merely of scale: Orteio, the capital of Cielo, the last commercial and political hub of the Western Hemisphere, the crown and throne of five kingdoms even before the entanglement of the Grand Union, had been by necessity a massive city that had sustained hours of continuous bombardment before the Void Fleet had been satisfied that the Gorvikians assaulting it were dead to the last man; the isolated expeditionary force in Cape Devinaria had been annihilated with a single warhead. What struck Captain Scipiones most clearly, however, was that the rubble of Orteio seemed… fresh, perhaps—rather, that the visible evidence of the city’s destruction had not been eroded or softened by the passage of three and a half centuries, but remained as stark and brutal to the naked eye as the crater dug up mere months before. Time for Orteio had stood still.

Time for Noverra had stood still, in almost every place. Nothing progressed, nothing grew, and nothing aged on a world that had been all but dead for three hundred years.

Captain Scipiones turned her attention away from the visuals of the world below her to focus on atmospheric reports flashing across the main viewscreen of the Reclamation War’s bridge. Death in Gorvikia, at least, was finally giving way to life: The terraformers set up in Rucigrad Landing had begun their work, and had already accomplished a measurable reduction in particulate density in the immediate vicinity of Gorvikia’s former capital. The island itself remained barren glass for now, and the captain shared the doubts of many observers who wondered why such important resources were being wasted on a country that would not see its first harvest until long after every currently-living Isaurian was dead and gone. But Rucigrad, and the rebuilt ‘Fort’ Pseros settlement at the southern tip of Gorvikia, were symbols now, serving as statements of Legate Aurus Adeni’s power over the nature and the very history of Noverra: “I did what no Isaurian could do.” Already the Isaurian Diet had voted to memorialize the date of the Rucigrad drop operation as a national holiday, while tales of the battles to defend that place and Fort Pseros from the Gorvikian counterattack sped from mouth to ear and book to hologram as quickly as Adeni’s propagandists could manage, outpacing real news by weeks if not months in order to bring Evvia the ‘true story of the war’ in as much glorious, nationalistic detail as could be managed.

At least no one would remember Sarnath, at least until Adeni was no longer living to care about it.

Veteran Isaurians would remember Azarel and Tsoulio, however, and the Vergni Guard would remember Kircheburg with a mixture of pride and fury. Evvia would celebrate the rescue of Tsoulio easily, if its people cared to remember more of the war than just the ‘fall’ of Rucigrad, but knowledge of the true horrors of Azarel remained a dagger aimed at Legate Adeni’s throat, poised to strike him dead in the hearts of Isaurian and Zephyri alike should his handling of this war be revealed. The ruins remained garrisoned as they had been before, this time with fully-equipped divisions that had been produced, very literally in most cases, with the express purpose of holding the bloodiest battleground in Isaurian history, and maintaining its secrecy without question or complaint. When the inevitable leak came, it would surely not come from the soldiers posted there now, but rather those that had fought and bled and had watched their friends and family die there in the months and years before.

It remained a matter of concern just how Legate Adeni would manage to silence the thousands of surviving soldiers that had held the line at Azarel and had marched to secure Isaurian victory amidst the ruins of Pernigov. In the short term, clean-up operations would occupy the soldiers’ time, and even after the end of those deployments, Adeni could conceivably simply leave his troops on Noverra indefinitely and refuse to bring them back to Evvia. But that would be a poor solution in the long term, not least because it discounted existing communications methods between Evvia and Old Isauria, and the likelihood that the Vergni Guard was aware of at least some of the details of the fighting across the Scalian and Northern Oceans—and could discover more at its leisure as soon as it found disgruntled veterans of the Azarel campaign who were willing to talk. More permanent solutions included eliminating the soldiers entirely, which would have been in keeping with the behavior Adeni displayed toward inconvenient veteran Isaurians at Sarnath; yet the over-long war on Noverra had demonstrated the folly of ignoring or eliminating experience in the ranks and relying instead on an army made up entirely of fresh recruits, and Scipiones had Adeni’s own word on the matter that the veterans of this war, and of Azarel in particular, were too valuable to waste without a substantial gain in return.

The veterans of Azarel would survive, and somehow their tales of horror, neglect, and mismanagement—vindictive mismanagement, as the legate had defended himself to his own circle while the bodies piled high on the front line, purposely accomplished rather than produced by true failures of command—would remain untold, at least until the generations had passed in such great numbers that the revelation would merely prompt a small curiosity, rather than another likely civil war. Let Adeni solve that puzzle at his leisure, Captain Scipiones thought to herself, turning her mind back to the planetary atmospheric reports and targeting scans that made up her mundane tasks for the day. The Thirteenth was Scipiones’s duty, and so it would remain until—or unless—the legate made good on his desperate promises to lift her to greater heights in the wake of his rising star… and, for the moment at least, Adeni’s star had yet to rise quite so high as to dispose of the rewards he had promised those who had followed him through this disastrous war.

As the last year of conflict on some other people’s soil had already taught Captain Scipiones, this was utterly typical of the man.


Legate-Admiral Aurus Adeni reclined on a fine bed in the bedroom suite of the stateliest hotel in Sardavar, situated in the historic center of the wealthiest and most populous city on Evvia within sight of the absurd monument that he himself had raised in his efforts to win over its people, and sighed. He had had a busy day: bathing in the adulation of the city’s populace in a parade that would doubtlessly be the closest either he or his picked escort of soldiers would ever come to a true Zephyri triumph, receiving the solemn congratulations of the Isaurian Diet once the parade had concluded at Signature Square, presenting a speech before the assembled senators of Isauria in their assembly hall to still more applause and exhortation, and finally delivering another address to the assembled people of Sardavar at the opening of a public banquet to which one in every twenty households in the city received one plate to fill with the richest and most exotic foods known to Isaurian space. Yes, it had been an exhausting day, but it was a pleasant exhaustion that had settled on the legate’s shoulders as he laid back on his bed, a random notable’s eldest daughter on his left and a well-bribed Makarian priestess on his right, and considered his next moves.

The day had been pleasant, he reflected, but overall he was not at all content.

Fighting on Noverra was still ongoing, and it was only a matter of time before the families of the soldiers sent to fight there began to wonder when their loved ones were returning home. Adeni had already begun to officially ‘reward’ his soldiers for their service by announcing the construction of colonies on Noverra’s surface that would serve as their new homes—conveniently populating many of these ‘new villages’ with soldiers whose deaths at Azarel had yet to be confirmed to the wider public, of course—but enforcing a planet-wide communications blackout on Noverra would be difficult in the long term, given the presence of Old Isauria and the established governments there, in particular the surviving religious authorities in Vergni. Not only did the Vergni Guard know more details about Azarel and Sarnath than Adeni wanted any outsider to know, but their masters in Old Isauria had the means to communicate that knowledge to Evvia without going through the fleet channels of the Thirteenth Daimyokantai; indeed, that the Isaurians of Glys hadn’t done so already was due solely to the fact that they were unaware of the deception being played on Evvia under Adeni’s direction. The legate would have to begin undermining that connectivity as quickly as possible, but he would have to be careful about it. The sack of Aglai remained embedded in the Isaurian consciousness even now, as exemplified earlier that day when the Diet clamored to rebuild the ruined city as one of Adeni’s proposed military colonies in which to settle his glorious veterans (a proposal which had happily been redirected toward Poutalia for now). Ruining another pillar of Isauria’s Noverran presence would unravel the very purpose of the war he had fought to ‘liberate’ the planet from the Gorvikians.

The old element of distrust between the overly-traditional Isaurian establishment of Noverra, as seen from the Evvian perspective, and the morally-dubious leadership of worlds that were not Noverra, as the Gaivarvaran Church had contended almost as soon as the Isaurian League was established quite literally over Noverra’s head, certainly assisted Legate Adeni’s efforts to keep matters on Noverra as secret as possible to the rest of the province. The legate could already envision a Zephyri propaganda effort filled with reminders of his, and Zeikeutsyr’s, successes on Noverra—the eradication of the Gorvikian menace, the introduction of terraforming machines that Isaurian leaders had long possessed the technology to produce themselves, and the establishment and reestablishment of communities in locations that had once been the stuff of Isaurian legend—compared with the status quo that the patricians of Old Isauria had allowed to fester during the centuries after the Reclamation, from the last orbital strike to the downfall of Keram Damara. The Diet would surely appreciate being showered with still more praise for ‘demonstrating a great improvement of local governance when compared with previous Isaurian authorities,’ which would reflect well on Evvia as a whole. The only politicians that might complain would surely be those hailing from Noverra, but… well, with the illustrious Consul’s elimination of religious figures in government during her time as Governor of Isauria, the Noverrans that had been sent to Sardavar had been weak-willed and unremarkable, and their silence had been easily bought with the promise of riches far beyond their political worth.

These were his advantages, and Adeni was once again in a race against time to utilize them before they drifted away. So he was relaxed, and even pleased by his immediate surroundings, but he was not content. He could not be content until Noverra was truly his… in perpetuity.

And if Old Isauria could not be removed, the legate thought as he reached over the shoulder of the wealthy industrialist’s daughter and picked up a snuff box—and pointedly ignored how the women next to him eyed the box with interest as he opened it for himself—then an influx of Biotians would have to be enough to box it in. Let the Gaivarvarans have their whole damn continent, so long as it meant they would be powerless everywhere else; only then would Aurus Adeni win his war.


The carved-out cavern hall, one of at least twelve that had been discovered under the surface of central Rusnya, was a massive space in all of its dimensions, but its shadowy height, length of miles, and undecipherable width failed to alleviate any feeling of claustrophobia that had followed the Isaurian soldiers into the depths of this Gorvikian-mined, Bruvalk-infested nightmare. Evenly-spaced spotlights lit up the rocky hall, set up decades if not centuries before by its intended inhabitants, which served less to illuminate and more to intimidate the invaders from above: The Isaurians’ nightvision, both natural and technological, was utterly destroyed by the white-hot lights lining the hall, which revealed one side or another of several massive machines still shuddering and groaning despite being largely unattended by the time the Isaurians had arrived to discover them. The shadows left by these machines were deep, hiding all manner of dangerous debris that had already tripped up several soldiers in moments of inattention. And there were many such moments, since those same shadows in the distance served as ample cover for Gorvikian defensive emplacements and the occasional sniper, causing a necessary amount of distraction that was often deadly in its own right. It was impossible to know just how many enemies there were, or whether or not they were being reinforced and, if so, whether their supply lines were coming up from farther into the cavern or from a side passage that had yet to be discovered or even from a hole in the ground under one of the unidentifiable machines. The constant roar of churning metal, gunshots, screams, and the occasional order being shouted on the other side of the cavern combined into a smothering blanket of the senses, stimulating the Isaurians’ claustrophobia even in the open spaces between machines, where isolated soldiers might have mere moments to experience true panic before being shot dead by some defiant Gorvikian across the way.

This carnage had become the norm over the previous two months, as Isaurian soldiers continued to delve into the catacombs that had hidden most of the Gorvikian population from civilized eyes for the last three hundred years. Blood soaked walls and floors that were clearly no strangers to bloodshed, as soldiers under fire discovered both fresh corpses and dessicated remains as a mute testament to the unspeakable horrors of Gorvikian life and death. Above it all, in every cavern and corridor, the faces of the Gorvikian gods stared down at the carnage, Rucimir chief among them but by no means the only guilty perpetrator. Carved into the rock, painted onto the machinery, woven into the occasional carpet or tapestry, the gods in whose name this culture of Noverra had terrorized and destroyed the rest of its world looked upon their creation, and looked upon the Isaurians intent on purging it to the last individual fanatic… and were, perhaps, glad of the slaughter they witnessed.

Then again, perhaps they were equally glad of the Zephyri overseers that occasionally made the perilous journey into the catacombs with their Isaurian thralls, measuring their progress for Legate Adeni’s records and reports, and fulfilling whatever duties the legate demanded of them that could not be accomplished by Isaurian hands. Surely the gods of life and death would have noticed when these overseers took their samples of the dead, Gorvikians and Isaurians alike, and prepared them for shipment to labs on the other side of Zeikeutsyr. Surely, too, when the residences were found and the nurseries broken into, the gods of Gorvikia would have seen the Zephyri cloak the smallest and most helpless children away from the eyes of the vengeful Isaurian soldiers intent on total extermination. There was no question that Gorvikian culture, in all of its forms, had to be excised in order to return stability to Noverra; any remnant of it, no matter how benign, would only inflame Isaurian hatreds and prompt a return to violence. But Cheng I Sen had not simply ignored matters in her erstwhile province while she had been away, and her instructions, however brief compared to what Legate Adeni’s actions might have deserved (for good or ill), had to be carried out. There were experiments to do, and an argument to put to rest once and for all on the influence of blood on one’s true character. And if the Isaurians were too intransigent to do it, their masters would simply do it for them… not that the provincials needed to know anything that might cause them to doubt the wisdom of their overlords, of course.

Of course.

The fighting continued. The dying continued. The desperate soldiers pushed deeper into the tunnels of their enemies, wondering if they would ever see sunlight again, and knowing for certain that their homes on distant worlds were lost to them. But… the war for Noverra was over. And they, the grand heroes of Isauria, whose spilled blood flowed ever more freely on the ground, had most certainly won.

Of course.

The Königreich of Silberfluss

The Following is a Public Broadcast by Her Highness', the Konigin, Office.

"These past weeks have been trying for our nation. We have watched the Phoenix of the South not only rise, but bear its talons against us, only to be crippled by assassinations and Coups. We have watched our sisters in Arehalis be faced with political turmoil and uprisings against a government that does *not* adequately represent the interests of its people. And we have watched these events unfold at our southern borders, claiming many lives with them that otherwise would've gone on to live as our people always have. I won't waste time debating the politics of other nations, the coups, the schemes, we all know that the realms of politik are not so benign.

When the crisis started in Arehalis, the Necrontyr reached out to both Cheng, and to the Arehalin government of the time to seek permission to enter Arehalin space. Both agreed to this, and neither raised any stipulations beyond what our peoples have always kept to. The Asporian Mutineers who sought to attack these vessels did so of their own accord, though they chose to open fire on the very ships that aided their people before their government collapsed, the event that ultimately led to their joining of Arehalis. This, while bizarre at best, at least falls within the realm of plausibility. That the new government of Arehalis would take issue with the Nehekharan's presence in their nation is also plausible, given their disdain to all that is foreign.

What is not is the fact that Cheng elected to pivot the very same people who attacked an aid convoy *she* herself permitted unfortunately does not fall within this realm of options. Whether it be planned or mere opportunism, our people were betrayed, drawn out under the promise of being allowed to help citizens of a nation many consider sisters, and then called little more than imperialists. This is unacceptable, and as many have noticed vessels across Silberfluss have been placed on alert to prepare for the next eventual stage of this conflict. A stage that Chancellor Siorra Rossa has chosen to escalate to with her latest demands of Silberfluss. Two lives to be traded, for the faint promise of peace with a government we have absolutely no reason to trust at this point.

I have been asked by members of my own personal council why I would risk the homes and people of Silberfluss for only two lives.

These are not the first lives Chancellor Siorra Rossa's government have taken. Even now, members of the 'Pilots Federation' continue to risk their lives and die in order to move necessary goods into Arehalis, and refugees out." The vulpine monarch would let the statement stand for a bit, before rolling her holo scroll out and reading from it.

"Gwyndaf Harris
Amlodd Powell
Jónás Ildikó
Virág Nóra
Jakab Beatrix
Simon Gréta
Arwel Cadwallader
Gerallt Vaughn
Rosamunda Spinazzola
Edelberga Di Gaetano
Chegal Tae-Hee
Ryu Soo-Yeon
Kwon Ri-Na
Trienke Wilmerink
Noud Duerink
Elle Buuren
Ho Soo-Hyun
Kende Milán
László Mihály
Kye Ji-Yong
Kyon Mi-Ryung
Annalies Dul
Donatella Melchiori
Gwydyon Glasco
Efrog Faughn
Mabon Yale
Andreas Cadigan
Heini Cadwallader
Orbán Patrik
Bács Ádám
Anne-Marije Bekker
Siske Grotendijk
Németh Barnabás
Máté Flórián
Sípos Áron
Liesbeth Morsink
Carlijn Kleinherenbrink
Drywsone Badder
Arwen Dewey
Dwynwen More
Cäcilia Hersh
Maike Schopenhauer
Florentine Weber
Frida Schroth
Alaw Meredith
Branwyn Glasscock
Riccarda Fischetti
Gwenfrewy Wynne
Ineke Kijk in 't Veld
Annalies Rooze
Artemisa Papini
Bibiana Colavecchio
Brenda Morgan
Rhoslyn Isaacs
Alda Di Rocco
Verdiana Corsentino
Tarsilla Pallante
Arwen David
Delyth Jones
Violante Covelli
Amy Crowe
Lilly Fleming
Grace Kavanagh
Crocefissa Cardosa
Alfreda Nappo
Antje Fischinger
Perestoronin Bogdan Artemovich
Mihara Oriana
Konno Keiko
Yamashiro Uka
Andronikov Foma Yemelyanovich
Chu Min-Yung
Bogdán Annamária
Jónás Szabolcs
Zobor Soma
Molnár Boldizsár
Fehér Barnabás
Németh Luca
Fazekas Dalma
Halueth Naesandoral
Maeral Ravagwyn
Pelleas Sylren
Nang Woon-Kye
Cha Chiyun
Kurtashkin Viktor Larionovich
Yaguchi Rena
Demura Chikage
Mitsugu Koko
Vagin Arseni Yanovich
Vera Lechner
Carola Hahne
Sarah Steinsaltz
Masika Halabi
Grinin Yelisey Vladimirovich
Ayah Cham
Sandra Occhipinti
Casilda Puzzo
Valeriana Schettino
Cloe La Tella
Goewyn Lace
Drengur Arinbjörnsson
Karina Hattenberger
Aoi Hisae
Hayato Gin
Utagawa Maki
Kimoto Chiyumi
Susanna Mangold
Hugberg Þjóðbjörnsson
Szabó Mercédesz
Pál Éva
Lengyel Lilla
Skírnir Sævaldsson
Maggiorino Cattaneo
Isa Kölla
Sara Bodenmann
Amrei Jutzi
Ursina Bernhard
Ae Kyung-Ja
Vroni Klingler
Neela Dreyer
Raphaela Waldvogel
Kaja Ryffel
Monique Tuma
Sagira Kalb
Umayma Moghadam
Galela Samaha
Maya Lieber
Anni Blank
Giosuè Innamorato
Quintilio Mastriano
Apollo Gillotti
Priamo Santora
Alma Paola
Ginevra Visalli
Maura Spedale
Domenica Cassella
Uguccione Camisa
Elvezio Perilli
Mary Magnussen
Nikoline Asmussen
Yrsa Pallesen
Katrine Koch
Verulo Portella
Ejnar Wulff
Sune Lauridsen
Ejvind Bjerg
Victor Dalsgaard
Battista Nora
Gavino Paolucci
Isa Kölla
Sara Bodenmann
Amrei Jutzi
Ursina Bernhard
Vroni Klingler"

"All of these Pilots died because of Arehalin security forces and Cheng's personal fleet. I wish I could say that this was the extent of the losses, but in truth even more are fallen, names that may take months or years to uncover. Undoubtedly you have all noticed that the Pilot Registry currently has listed over one thousand Pilots as MIA. Wusteschen, Viridi, Iolandian, Sverinovan, Vanaukaristi, Orien, Nehekhara, Gavaken, Mechanicum, Vaeldari.

After taking so many of our people's lives, the notion that we would hand over two more is unacceptable. Silberfluss will not be cowed by cowards who hunt civilian craft, by cowards who target aid fleets that do not fight back, by cowards who would hope and pray that by mustering up what little evidence they can falsify they can justify the murder of hundreds, if not thousands. We will not force *anyone* who seeks haven in Silberfluss out, and if so much as a single warship or strike team from Arehalis or Zeikeutsyr crosses into our space, we will accept the declaration of the war then and there.

Chancellor Siorra Rossa.

You stand alone, your nation divided, your allies caught in confusion and turmoil.

We stand together, our people united and our allies ready.

You will not win.

Not in this live time, not in the next.

If you have any value for the lives of your followers, the innocent citizens following your direction into the abyss of anarchy, then stand down and cast your attention back to your own borders."

The United Federation of Confederate Imperium

Federation News Network

Death of a President
Today FNN is sad to announce the unexpected passing of Former President Andrew Scott. President Scott had served as the 1st President of the Federation from 2614-2620. President Scott brought an aura of stability to a divided nation that just went through the War of the Monarchs and the United Peoples Coup. Under his leadership, he set many precedents that are still followed today and led to a period of economic prosperity. His legacy is marked by some controversy over his promotion of "Cowboy Diplomacy", where he would respond to most diplomatic issues with threat of military force. His foreign policy laid the groundwork for the Legion Wars and the eventual 1st Federation Civil War. His family opted not to have a private ceremony where President Amanda Hazen and her predecessors are invited. In respect of the family wishes, no foreign dignitaries will be allowed.

President Amanda Hazen released a statement with the passing of her predecessor "President Scott and I never saw eye-to-eye when it came to policy positions. But what we agreed on was our commitment and dedication to public service. We agreed that the democratic bedrock our Federation was established on transcends ideological lines. He served our nation, first in the Imperial Ruling Council and then as an active soldier during the revolution to overthrow the United Peoples Government. Let us be mindful and draw inspiration from his dedication to public service."

There are only a handful of Presidents still alive:
1. Francis Uruquhart (C): 2620-2628
2. Theresa Kennedy (DP): 2634-2639
3. Garrett Walker (C): 2639-2645
4. Andrew Cameron (DP)" 2645-2646

Today in the Federation

- President Amanda Hazen and Vice-President Jacklin Dunbar are taking separate trips across Terran Federation and Galactic Federation to promote the accomplishments of their Administration before the start of the 2652 General Election season begins.

- Conservative Presidential Nominee Andrew McCarthy has gathered his top Advisors to form a Transition Council to begin the process of vetting candidates for position within a possible McCarthy Administration.

- The Federation Council has passed a resolution calling on the Hazen Administration to invite Election Observers from foreign nations to ensure that the election remains "fair, free, and transparent". The move has come as a surprise to many political observers, but given the chaos of the 2648 Presidential Election, the Federation Government wants to repair its legitimacy.

- The Federation Council unanimously passed legislation, which was signed into office by President Amanda Hazen, that further strengthened the Federation Election Commission and any attempt by any campaign to "influence, obstruct, or abuse" members on the FEC may be open to facing legal troubles and it outlines that if the integrity of the FEC is compromised, the Federation Supreme Court would adjudicate any complaints.

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