Twilight of Empires (a spiritual sucessor of the Iron Thrones)

[Lestaki]

The year is 1914, and the world is on the brink of a catastrophic war (with technology somewhat advanced on a certain similar world in the same year). International tensions are growing between the many great powers of the day, each an empire controlling great swathes of the world. Britannia has been fiercly safeguarding its power, stretched thin over all corners of the world but still a significant force in politics and war. The Regal Navy and the Regal Airship Flight Strike Corps watch all other powers jealously, determined to protect their own supremacy and defend mother Britannia at all costs. Close by, the French Imperial also seeks to maintain its lofty colonial perch, guarded by the ferocious Imperial Legions and their drilled soldiers. Their greatest rival is United Prussia, a rising power of technology and progress with imperial aspirations and one of the largest and best-equipped armies in Europe. To the south, Italia has a war of its own to fight; determined to stand by the old ways; they watch technological advancement and the new order of armies with intense suspicion. And in its defence, the Mage-Princes and their Households stand ready to defend the traditions of the past against the future. Close by, Austra-Hungary also seek advancement by more modern methods, with many disparate groups brought under their banner to fight where they are needed with deadly hit-and-run tactics. The great but archaic Ruskia watches the more modern Western powers with a deepening sense of unease, and at the Tsalar’s disposal, an army of millions stands ready to march. And the ancient Ottoman Empire, still holding great wealth and a fading but established power, also stands ready to fight with its army, ably supported by battalions of hired mercenaries and expensive, exotic arcane weaponry. Finally, from across the Atlant Ocean the Unified Americas watches its older cousins hawkishly, the deadly modern army at their disposal not unwilling to throw themselves back into the continent from whence they came, carrying their crusade to end the mage elite that so corrupts the other countries and bring about the rise of enlightened democracies wherever they are needed. All these mighty empires stand opposed, in a horribly dangerous time. And in such a time, it is you who have been chosen to lead them through peace, and through war.

On Mages
The astute leader of World would do well to know the many things these nations have in common, as well as their many differences. Of particular note is the ruling class of mages, common to all the European powers. Possessing mighty magics capable of killing scores of men, these nobles came to power amidst the turbulent power struggles of the dark and middle ages, and have defended their lofty positions since with cunning and determination. Some are more entrenched in their country, others with a loosening grip, but all are powerful individuals that carry authority in finance, politics and war.

Each major nation has its own school of magic, cultivated by the decree of their land or their gods, or simple need. Britannia’s magicians wield water magic with a will, strengthening their already substantial stranglehold on naval warfare and providing beneficent support to their soldiers. France’s mages use the element of air, capable of flight and skilled at disrupting the enemy and aiding their allies. Prussia’s mages use the ferocious offensive power of fire magic to destructive effect, while Russia uses earth magic to defend its substantial legions. Austra-Hungary is known for its use of shadow magic, augmenting its ambush and surprise assault tactics considerably, as well as some fire magic from their Prussian connections. The Ottoman Empire uses the power of Alchema to make and break works of metal, and forge rare devices. The most refined of mages, the Italia Princes and their subordinate Lords use High Magic, the most balanced (they say most noble) lore, and scions of their various families wield the lores of many other kingdoms. This advantage is chiefly negated by the passage of allied or mercenary wizards from country to country, allowing each to broaden the magical base of their mage classes. The grand exception to all this is the Unified Americas, which was formed of colonists seeking to escape the rule of the mage classes and have no such institution. They fight without the aid of magic, trusting in technology and human grit, and are proud of this fact.

Outside of these major schools there exist many other forms of magic, generally considered “lesser” at best by the trueborn mage families, which nonetheless see some integration into national military forces. The exception is telekinesis, a skill native to mages of all kinds, and one especially useful in defence. However, a nation’s family specialisation and any mercenary or allied mages that are brought in (close countries may “swap” mages for a time to broaden their options) is the chief determinist in their magical makeup. Notably, magic is by hereditary passage, the key to the mage-aristocracy and still the key limiting factor on the diversity of a country’s magical abilities.

As well as their direct attack abilities, mages are also capable of binding ancient magical creatures to their will as Vassals. With a sufficient application of will, the mage can hunt and subdue mentally a group of mythological creatures, bringing them under direct command to act as unique auxiliaries to more conventional forces. Notably, a mage can only direct one such group of creatures at once, and then only those in line with their power levels. Only the mightiest sourcers can break the ancient hydras, colossi, kraken, and other great creatures, while it takes a full conclave of mages to manipulate even one of the oldest and proudest Vassals of all, the mighty dragons.

On Golems
Also of note are the Golems, somewhat misnamed beings. These warriors are altered from a very young age through the application of magical runes, branded into their flesh through physical or magical methods. The end result of this painful and difficult process is to bring a being of suitable resilience and determination to a superhuman level of existence, with the power of magic an irrevocable part of their magnified lives. The Golems have massively enhanced strength, speed and reflexes, bringing them to the point where they can dodge gunfire and wreak havoc on mass infantry on their own. However, these beings are horribly rare, and ultimately vulnerable to concerted counter-attack. They are an ancient ally of the mages and are present in some form in almost every nation.

On Technology
Described by many as being in direct opposition of the mages, the magic of the common people is technology. The power of the simple rifle greatly enhances the average fighting man, while production has also started on heavier weapons, such as the autocannon and missile launcher, which are generally added to rifle regiments in modest numbers. As well as this, many powers have developed more formidable fighting machines, such as the mighty fighting tanks, navy warships and explosive, fragile artillery, that have changed the face of the battlefield. Germany and the Americas are most noted for their extensive use of such weapons, almost to the exclusion of the old ones.

However, magicite, or the combination of magic and technology in synergy, also has much to recommend itself. Many of the less technologically enthusiastic nations, notably France and Italia, use this extensively to shore up the faults in their forces. Swordsmen with enchanted armour receive substantial protection against small-calibre bullets without much extra weight, while the rarer magicite swords such as blade-carbines or elemental weapons can enhance the elite warrior’s attack capacity substantially. Magical heavy weapons can wreak havoc comparable to their technological cousins. The magicite Airships so proud of Britannia in particular have even greater strategic mobility than warships. Most famously of all are the proud Mechanios, magically powered mecha that are comparable in firepower and function to the tank.

Of course, the greatest quest of technology is the power of flight, so long the domain of mages and magical creatures. With magical assistance, the Airships of course have achieved such goals in a viable method, but the search for purely technological methods to break this barrier continues. Zeppelins have been realised, but compare unfavourably with airships in several combat situations, more flammable and vulnerable to attack, and less manuverable, though they can bear heavy armour and weapons to mitigate these weaknesses. Heavier-than-air flight is being researched by the most technological nations, and as of the present day these aeroplanes are in full flight, albeit only as scout craft. It is hoped that these may eventually be evolved enough to carry weapons.

On The Goddamn BoardWar Itself
As mentioned previously, you are the leaders and generals of the eight major nations, standing very close to war. The eight mainstay sides are Britannia, France, United Prussia, Italia, Austra-Hungary, Ruskia, the Ottoman Empire and the Unified Americas, and the first player for each is effective leader of that nation. This player will have last word on diplomatic decisions and can invent the minutia of their empire’s background and governmental style. Players can join a nation that already has a player as a general, providing a second army. As well as this, players can also control smaller states or colonies aligned to one of the great powers, or else a mercenary fraction, again providing a second army to a given empire. However, I am keen to try and have a player for as many of the main nations as possible, so I reserve the right to restrict these options as and when I feel like it. In particular, any more than two mercenary nations would be problematic, at least until the major nations have one player each.

The chief unit of this boardwar is unsurprisingly your army, derived from the army lists with slight modifications to suit your tastes. Your main character is likely to also be drawn from here if they are any remarkable force on the battlefield. The diplomatic phase of the game begins with your five point “Honour Guard” which is revealed to all from the start, providing ample points for a character and bodyguard units. At your leisure, you can upgrade to a ten point strike force covertly, sending the list to me via PM. However, things really only begin with full mobilisation, when you gather a twenty-five point army. However, this process takes three days, and the list itself is immediately released to all players. Be careful with this; he who mobilises first risks his rivals adapting their lists to his army, and once one player begins the process it is likely all others will follow, destabilising the situation. On the other hand, mobilise too late… it may be observed that this favours those in an easy position to check up frequently and respond to a changing situation. This seems only fair- politics doesn’t stop while you’re asleep or busy. Once the first player mobilises, I fully expect a scramble as players begin to react to the situation and hurry to ready themselves. Should be fun. ;)

So, we start with 5pt honour guards, including main characters.

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Skill: (mage, golem, Vanguard General ect)

Equipment:

Strengths:
Weaknesses:

Backstory:


General Army List
This is the base list for all forces, including mercenary forces. It also demonstrates the scale and basic system of the war, fairly small-scale and tactical rather than strategic, as that makes it easier to write battle sequences.

Command
These are the champions and leaders of your army, with the very best equipment and weapons available to them. Most player characters are likely to be drawn from here, or else created from scratch (subject to my approval that you haven’t got a 10pt demigod).

Mercenary Mage- 1 per 1 pt: with standard mage telekinesis and any one other lore of magic (excepting High Magic). They are unlikely, though more likely than their prudish cousins, to use much weapons or armour. These are somewhat disreputable by reputation, often disgraced from their parent aristocracy in some way or other, or else merely a rare birth to lower classes. Despite the general aristocrat accusations of cowardice and worse things, these are potent additions to any army, and can serve to broaden an army’s access to magic and engage superior numbers of enemy troops.

Golem- 1, 2 or 3 per 1 pt: representing the three basic levels of power in descending order. May be equipped with any weapons or armour you please. These superhuman runic warriors act as elites and champions in combat, and can wreak havoc even alone. They especially excell at taking on vassal creatures, but have difficulties against line troops.

Vanguard- 10 per 1 pt: a generic representation of the elite of any nation, mounted or on foot, and with appropriately sophisticated weapons and armour. These often serve as the bodyguard for a leader, and may be used as such in conjunction with a separate character unit. Altelnatively, one of them may be upgraded to a “general” or other suitable leader for a cheap character option.

Vassals
These are the mythical creatures bent to the will of mages. As a result, you may only take so many points of these as you have points of mages. It is characterful to pair them with your wizards and choose elementally-appropriate themes, but not nesecarry. This is a very open army option and within boundaries you can make your Vassals up.

Horde- 100 per 1 pt: a disorderly rabble of creatures, only loosely controlled. However, they are dangerous for sheer numbers. For example, goblins.

Host- 50 per 1 pt: these are the closest Vassals get to line soldiers. Typically “Wills”, or simple controlled elemental constructs, of stone, air or fire, for example, but they can be more exotic.

Troop- 15 per 1 pt: these are the first mythical creatures really worthy of the term. They represent anything from centuars to archangels.

Power- between 5 and 1 per 1 pt: formidable creatures that represent a significant threat on the battlefield, even alone, from fighting trolls to chimera to hydras.

Destroyer- between 5 and 1 per 2 pts: these beings are of legend, difficult to break and still harder to find. They can comfortably engage anything from tanks to mages and have a significant chance of victory.

Myth Incarnate- 1 per 4 pts: these most ancient of beings are massively powerful, such that their mere reputation can serve to throw armies into panic. It takes several powerful mages weeks of concerted effort to break and control such beings. Dragons set the standard for such creatures, a high bar indeed.

Infantry
Ah, the footsloggers. Regardless of the army or the weapons, these guys are the grunts who will bear the brunt of the fighting. They’re not the fastest or the strongest or the toughest, but there’s a lot of them and they have a habit of drowning foes in rivers of blood. The more elite infantry units are race specific.

Conscripts- 120 per 1 pt: equipped with either a combat weapon and shield, a shortbow or a rifle every two men. They exist mostly to die en masse, and are poorly trained and equipped, but can rapidly bulk out an army until the enemy simply struggles to kill them all.

Soldiers- 60 per 1 pt: the standard footsoldier of each and every race. These may be designated “riflemen”, in which case each has a rifle, and four from the whole unit may be upgraded with either an autocannon or a missile launcher, or a similar hevay weapon. Altelnatively, they can be equipped as “legionnaires”, with magicite armour and either a combat weapon and shield or a longbow. Four men from such a unit may be upgraded with unique magicite weapons.

Grenadiers- 45 per 1 pt: these are the assault specilists, equipped with magicite armour, grapples and technological or magicite grenades. They can be either melee or ranged specilists, with the melee option receiving a large aegis shield and the ranged option carrying upgraded rifles and pistols. Both options can carry six special weapons, generally lighter and easier to carry than their soldier equivalents.

Cavalry
The darlings of the older races in general and France in particular, magically assisted cavalry are not to be underestimated as a force on the battlefield.

Light Cavalry- 60 per 1 pt: armed either with cavalry carbines or sword, bow and magicite shield, these rapidly-moving units are good for scouting enemy positions and picking off unguarded artillery, as well as quickly redeploying to counter an enemy threat. They may have six light assault weapons, typically tube rockets or magicite missiles to provide them with an anti-tank option.

Heavy Cavalry- 30 per 1 pt: with magicite plate armour and magicite barding for their steed, these elites can withstand a significant amount of firepower while charging home. They can be armed with either a combat shotgun or magically-enhanced close combat weapons and shields. They may have four light assault weapons.

Heavy Support
These lumbering machines carry substantial firepower on the move and are formidable in a direct attack. However, they are vulnerable to specilist return fire.

Light Combat Units- 20 per 1 pt: either light assault Mechanios or armoured fighting vehicles, these units are equipped for anti-personnel combat and can move rapidly to engage enemy threats.

Weapon Battery- 15 per 1 pt: whether field guns, cannons or magicite weapons, this is the catch-all for light artillery support. These weapons are apt against a veriaty of foes, but are extremely vulnerable to fast units such as cavalry and aircraft.

Combat Transports- transports one infantry unit per 1 pt: armoured fighting vehicles that are primary designed to deploy infantry to the field. They are brought as an upgrade for infantry and comprise sufficient numbers, as well as level of armour and firepower, to match the unit transported; conscripts are likely to be travelling in ramshakle armoured trucks while grenadiers use specilised armoured fighting vehicles.

Heavy Combat Unit- 5 per 1 pt: heavy Mechanios or tanks, these vehicles are equipped with powerful, destructive weapons and can absorb substantial punishment. Their advance is slow but difficult to stop.

Air Support
Fast and light, air units outperform even cavalry in bringing power to a point. However, in their current form they are easy to destroy, sucumbing to infantry heavy weapons and sometimes even massed rifle fire.

Light Gunships- 15 per 1 pt: armed with anti-personnel weapons, these airships are fast and light, capable of pinning infantry down before withdrawing in the face of determined opposition.

Tank Hunters- 10 per 1 pt: these fast assault airships are exceptionally manuverable, and carry powerful anti-tank weapons. They are skilled at swinging in behind enemy armour units and destroying them in short order, but are very vulnerable to return fire.

Zepplins- 1 per 1 pt: massive airbourne flying fortresses, zepplins have large batteries of weapons capable of engaging either infantry or vehicles. They are slower than other aircraft and tend to get outmanuvered, and once the thick magicite plating has been pierced their gas envelopes can burn rapidly.

Empire Variants
These are the main sides of the boardwar. They use the general list with the following modifications and extra options.

Britannia
British forces favour ranged combat over melee and the use of precision strikes. Their nature as an island state with a dominant navy affords them significant protection, but they are limited by the nature of their forces as fast and light, able to be carried on their ships and airship transports. As such, they may not use conscripts, Heavy Support units or Zeppelins.

Water Mage- 1 per 1 pt: the standard mage for Britannian forces. They possess the standard mage telekinesis and also water magic, which allows them to support and heal allied units. They can also call storms, ever the omen of Britannian victory, to reduce the effectiveness of enemy fire and heavy weapons. However, it is at sea where the Water Mage is most powerful, becoming a deadly being with the power of the merciless ocean at their disposal.

Scottish Guard- 40 per 1 pt: fierce and uncompromising soldiers, the Scots Guard regiments are infamous for their fearlessness and brutal abilities in melee combat. They are armed with claymours and aegis shields, and act as a rapid light infatry unit to counter melee foes. The unit leader may be armed with a heirloom magicite weapon, of substantial power.

Flight Expeditionary Soldiery- 30 per 1 pt: these elite soldiers are equipped with magicite plate and scoped long-rifles to maximise their long range firepower. They may carry up to six assault weapons, allowing them to operate independantly or in support of an army at will, formidable despite their limited numbers.

Airship Transports- carries 1 infantry unit per 1 pt: these flight transports are Britannia’s pride, able to rapidly deploy and redeploy fighting infantry wherever they are needed. They are unarmed and lightly armoured, but are amongst the fastest units on the battlefield.

Battle-Airships- 5 per 1 pt: Formidable flying tanks, Britannia’s prided battle-airships manage to combine huge firepower and suprising resilience with high speed, making them a unique force on the battlefield. They can bring formidable power to a point, but tend to get isolated and destroyed without support.

French Imperial
The French specilise in magic and close combat, especially cavalry. They also are masterful at the art of making golems, and have many of these runic warriors, albeit often weaker ones. A French army will generally feature few long-range technological weapons, such as rifles, but they are not so unseen as to merit any restriction.

Air Mage- 1 per 1 pt: native to France, with telekinesis and air magic. They can fly far faster and further than other mages, attack enemies with lashing winds that can also protect against gunfire, and accelerate the motion of allies, with their most powerful weapon being a miniturised tornado. They are most powerful in flight and are exceptional at fighting airships and other flying units.

Golem Guard- 6 per 1 pt: A weaker, more stable version of the standard golem, these precise constructs are unique to the French forces. They may be and frequently are mounted, and favour close combat weapons, though they can also use ranged weapons.

Dragoons- 15 per 1 pt: wearing magicite air-plate armour and armed with longrifles, lances and aegis shields, these versatile troops excell at engaging the enemy from long or short range as the situation demands. Their horses are bred for exceptional speed and they themselves are heavily trained to fight from horseback with their weapons.

Cuirassiers- 15 per 1 pt: the big brothers of the French cavalry, these formidable warriors wear full-plate magicite armour, carry aegis shields and use enchanted heavy cavalry swords or lances that have been known to carve through tank armour. Their steeds also wear resiliant magicite barding, far better-made than the norm, restricting their mobility but affording them substantial protection against enenmy fire, as well as huge momentum on the charge that makes them deadly to infantry and other cavalry alike.

Padrin Knights- 5 per 1 pt: in magicite full-plate, and armed with matching weapons, the elite warriors of the Padrin Knighthood are most remarkable for their steeds; the winged, horned creatures that are the Padrin themselves. Due to their flight and seemingly native, if limited, command of air magic, Padrin are exceptionally mobile, and also possess an innate resistance to hostile magic other than their own native air, making the order well-feared by mages as hunters. However, they are able at other battlefield roles.

United Prussia
Technology and magic combine with a determined mass of humanity to make United Prussia one of the most numerous and feared militaries in Europe. Despite their lack of a real empire, they can hold their own against the colonial powers. The Prussians have in most part embraced the new age and heavily favour rifles over swords and bows, though they do maintain some of the latter under the more traditionalist fire mages and a desire to match equivalent enemy forces.

Fire Mage- 1 per 1 pt: these aristocratic mages have the usual telekinesis and also fire magic. They specilise in attack and are amongst the most powerful offensive mages in the world, though they suffer somewhat for defensive options. Their most powerful abilities are deadly rains of fire that can torment hosts of enemy infantry. However, they are also innately good smiths and can forge many potent artifacts, which they usually carry or give to close subordinates.

Stormtroopers- 30 per 1 pt: equipped with heavy rifles and protected by full-body magicite armour, these are resiliant and powerful assaut troops who can assail the enemy with thundering supression fire from range while protected by their armour. However, these elite units cannot bear heavy weapons in addition to their already weighty equipment, and so rely on the support of other infantry against tanks and aircraft.

Heavy Weapons Team- 24 men, 12 weapons per 1 pt: equipped with either autocannons or missile launchers, these units provide massive firepower for the Prussian army, but the lightly armoured and equipped crew are vulnerable to counterattack, especially from cavalry.

Fury Tanks- 2 per 1 pt: an advanced prototype, the Fury battletanks have inches thick enchanced Magicite armour, making them the toughest fighting vehicles of their day. The massive main gun can demolish tanks and the sponson autocannons augment their firepower against infantry, but the Fury has no capacity to fight air units and is so vulnerable to them. They typically work in pairs, covering each other with their substantial firepower.

Strafer Planes- 20 per 1 pt: these heavier than air flight craft are another Prussian invention. They are armed with light machineguns, allowing them to supress ground infantry with great effectiveness, but are extremely vulnerable to return fire of any kind, even massed rifle fire.

Italia
Centred on the major Euopean nexus of magical potential, Italia has always been firmly the country of mages. Lead by the conservative and extremely powerful Mage-Princes, Italia echews technology in favour of magic in all its forms, and has the power to do so competitively. As such, they may not take rifles for their infantry. However, Legionnaires receive free aegis shields in addition to their normal armour and weapon.

Mage-Prince- 1 per 2 pts: known as perhaps the most powerful mages in the world, the Princes are the unchallenged ruling families of Italia. Each possesses telekinesis and High Magic, the most balanced of lores and the mark of all Princes. With this power they can attack, defend and aid allies with raw spiritual energy, sometimes all three at once. In addition, each Prince can choose any one other lore of magic, the distinguishing mark of that family.

Noble- 1 per 1 pt: the mage families of Italia are far more extensive than those elsewhere, and are also unique in that they are not defined by the magic of their land. As such, a Noble possesses any one lore of magic, except High Magic. Thus they provide Italia with the same flexibility as mercenary mages, without the latter’s slightly disreputable nature, and are also better equipped.

Swordsmen- 30 per 1 pt: equipped with full magicite armour, aegis shields and elemental swords, these warriors are drilled to a mastery in the art of swordplay. They can advance with suprising rapidity while absorbing substantial enemy fire before launching a concerted melee attack. They may carry up to six magicite assault weapons to augument their firepower.

Venators- 15 per 1 pt: these warriors are all promoted from the ranks for a strictly selected combination of valour, strength and latent magical potential, and trained in the arts of war. Equipped with magicite armour, aegis shields and weapons befitting the bent of their native magic, these beings are human channels of the elemental powers, reflecting the strengths of their field, and are truly deadly in combat.

Caster Mechanios- 3 per 1 pt: one of Italia’s innovations to combat the advance of technology, the Caster is a magicite battlemachine that is designed to focus and magnify the powers of a lesser magician, synergised with the Mechanios itself. Latent mages are selected from the lower classes to direct them, offering a chance of social ascention in return for taking to the deadly danger of the battlefield. Caster Triads are lighter but more flexible than their heavier brethren, able to use altered forms of their mages’ powers to provide them in substantial long range firepower on a manuverable platform as well as close combat ability. However, the lesser magicians chosen to direct such devices are naturally far inferior to normal mages. Nonetheless, they are apt enough that the points cost for Casters counts towards the mage total for the purposes of selecting Vassals.

Austra-Hungary
Austra-Hungray is most remarkable for the delicate balance with which it maintains old and new, magic and technology, using both powers freely, and for the many peoples nominally rallied under its banner. Lacking the sheer brute strength of the other nation-states, Austra-Hungary relies on a combination of diplomatic intriuge and precision strike warfare, guided by the hands of the somewhat enigmatic Shadow Mages.

Shadow Mage- 1 per 1 pt: with telekinesis and shadow magic, these mages are strongest in covert action, shadowing their presence and those of friendly troops while using illusion and trickery to draw out an enemy. It is said that the greatest of them can turn day to night, but are themselves unaffected by such conditions. Shadow Mages are generally mistrusted even more than the normal by other groups of mages, for their native powers and also because Shadow Mages of all mages are the most likely to bear “unmagelike” arms.

Drahel Assassin- 1 per 1 pt: modified golems worked with subtle shadow magic, Drahel lack the brute strength of their peers, but are just as fast and skilled, and far more cunning. With native powers of concealment and disguise, a Drahel can bide its time before falling apon a target with concentrated ferocity. They are much feared by enemy leaders, though they are also apt at killing enemy infantry and cavalry as well.

Hunters- 45 per 1 pt: irregular units armed with an ad hoc mix of long rifles, magicite weapons and even longbows, the Hunters are perhaps the most skilled light infantry in Europe. With extensive training that emphasises the individual and his initiative, they are skilled and smart warriors who can scout for days head of an army, lay traps and ambushes and operate in battle without directions of any kind, engaging the enemy from long range and disrupting infantry formations.

War Riders- 45 per 1 pt: riding fast horses and armed with both long-range and short range weapons, the War Riders are adept at drawing an enemy out with fire from horseback before moving rapidly from retaliation. Straddling the gap between light and heavy cavalry at long or short range, it is never wise to underesimate them, as their flexibility and skill makes them unpredictable foes to face.

Wreaker Planes- 30 per 1 pt: developed in cooperation with United Prussia, the Wreaker Planes are designed with the doctrine of Austra-Hungray in mind, faster and lighter still than the Strafer, and armed with a single light machinegun. This makes them less useful against ground forces, but their fast and agile design helps remedy this. They excel at engaging other airborne units and running recon missions ahead of the main army.

Ruskia
Ruskia is a brutal land ruled by brutal methods. Technologically fairly primitive, their army relies on sheer force and rugged determination, their leaders on savagery and strength, amidst a land of monsters where merely surviving can be considered a victory. Their army relies on massed ranks of often ill-equipped soldiers to engage with the enemy, followed by the real force; a small and elite warrior corps lead by the fiercest warriors in the world.

Earth Mage- 1 per 1 pt: uses telekinesis and earth magic, the strongest defensive mage. Earth mages can defend their allies with great force and do much to protect the mass of Russkian infantry on the field, but are less powerful than most mages on the attack. It is said that they can alter their soldiers so that their skin turns blades or rend the earth itself to throw up stony shields.

Lord Golem- 1 per 2 pts: Unique to Ruskia, these beings have been exposed to runic magic so intense that it is a permenant agony to them. Lord Golems are as signficant as the mages in the rule of the country, even more so in the very coldest, most savage areas, and a family which consistently turns out heirs capable of surviving the binding quickly becomes powerful. They often act as warleaders, fighting from the front, transending even other Golems in sheer power. However, this comes at a price- they are constantly sickened and tormented by the magic running through them, something which only fuels their savage battle rage. It is typical for a Lord Golem to die of this strain before their fiftieth birthday, but they will die in a fighting prime far beyond that of mere humans. They have access to the finest and rarest equipment, but may not ride horses- such is their mutated bulk that none can bear them.

Peasent Levy- 150 per 1 pt: malnourished, unmotivated and underequipped, these beings are driven onto the enemy by the savage fury of their leaders, dying in droves to pave the way for the advance of the soldiers proper. Equipment falls below even peasent standard, a hodgepodge mix of guns, swords, scythes and hunting bows with no organisation.

Cossak Householders- 20 per 1 pt: those who dismiss the Russian infantry have never fought the Householders. Protected with magicite full-plate armour, matching greatswords, aegis shields and enchancted longbows, and accentuated with trace rune magic, they are amongst the best equipped troops in the world. Though skilled horsemen, Householders traditionally fight on foot to better accompany their Lord Golem masters, and are able against any traditional unit. However, they are not prepared to fight tanks or aircraft.

Commisars- 15 per 1 pt: armed with swords and pistols and wearing light magicite armour, Commisars are skilled and determined warriors. However, their main function is motivational; a brotherhood of commisars is split throughout a gathering warhost, each joining a unit and spurring them on to greater heights through a well-calculated combination of inspiration and fear. Wrapped in the mystique of their powerful aristocratic masters, most privates fear the Commisars more than they do the enemy, and this is a powerful way to drive an army forwards. Commisars are also trained in independent command and can lead units in independent actions if need be.

Ottoman Empire
An aging power, the Ottoman Empire is most famous for its prodigious wealth, guarenteed even in modern times by Metal Mages, the practicioners of Alchema. They have a fairly traditionalist army structure with few heavy weapons, aided by hired mercenary forces, and numerous magicite treasures and weapons, to the point where even lowly troops have lesser enchented swords.

Metal Mages- 1 per 1 pt: use telekinesis and Metal Magic, natively known as Alchema. They can turn base metals into gold, an evidently powerful skill, though not very useful in battle. In the field they can enhance the weapons and armour of allies, making them stronger and lighter for a time, as well as corrode the equipment of their enemies. They are also masters at making enchanted weapons.

Nizamis- 60 per 1 pt: equipped with rifles and armed with magicite armour, Nizamis combine magic and technology to create perhaps the strongest line infantry in the world. However, they may not carry any heavy weapons, leaving them vulnerable to specilist troops.

Janissaries- 45 per 1 pt: the old order of warriors in the Empire, rich and well-equipped with magicite armour, blades and aegis shields. Their generally superior if somewhat erratic weapons make them deadly in melee combat, even against other swordsmen, but they lack the strength and training of the more elite combat units.

Akinci- 45 per 1 pt: riding fine Arab Steeds, these are the fastest non-flying cavalry. The Akinci are armed with magicite bows, swords and armour, and are excellent at horseback archery that whittles down the enemy and retreats before they can react. They are also skilled independant raiders capable of scouting ahead of the army and probing enemy defenses, but lack sheer strength in a battle.

Fury Battlecannons- 5 per 1 pt: massive magicite weapons, the Fury Cannons ae feared across the world as massively heavy artillery, capable of engaging and destroying the largest targets with their magical blasts. However, unlike modern artillery they must have direct line of sight to the target, limiting their firing arcs and nesecitating a position where the enemy can fire back.

Unified Americas
Modern, innovative, and powerful, the United Americas is most notable for its total lack of magic, founded from those colonists seeking to escape the mage aristocracy and reinforced in the Necromantic War. As such, they may not use any form of mages, Golems or Vassals. This is also in compensation for their protected status as a separate continent. However, they have developed technology extensively, and may still use purchased magicite equipment. Notably they have developed Mechanios with technological additions to actually exeed many of the magical powers.

Mechanios Ace- 1 per 1 pt: pilotting a Mechanios frame augmented by extensive technological refitting, the Ace is a skilled warrior, able to engage a veriaty of foes with extensive firepower. They are also trained to lead troops into battle. However, Ace Mecha are large targets that can often draw enemy attention and subsequent firepower.

Expeditionary Soldiers: 80 per 1 pt: armed with rifles, these troops are somewhat less trained than normal line troops but better than conscripts. They do not carry heavy weapons, but provide massed rifle fire well-able to supress many targets.

Rangers- 30 per 1 pt: armed with the unique triple-barrelled carbines, the Rangers possess light anti-infantry firepower in disproportion to their numbers, and are well-trained to fire their unusal weapons accurately. They also carry grenades and up to six heavy weapons, but are only lightly armoured.

Anti-Tank Guns- 10 per 1 pt: powerful direct fire weapons, AT guns are excellent at destroying enemy armour and large targets, and can also withstand some return fire. However, they are extremely vulnerable to infantry, and so must be protected by supporting units.

Hellfire Bombers- 10 per 1 pt: slower, heavier planes armed with missile racks, these aircraft are deadly to ground targets, especially armoured ones, and can quickly blast an enemy defence into ruin. However, they are vulnerable to return fire, especially from enemy fighter craft.


Lestaki- Italia
Because leadership has perks, including first dibs on a race. :p

Name: Princess Nova Til Galia
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Skill: Prince, 2 pts, with telekenisis, high and fire magic

Equipment: Galia Staff- a magicite staff of fire, capable of channelling magical energy and also siphoning it from the environment. An ancient heirloom of not inconsiderable power.
Blaze Cloak- provides limited magical shielding, and also healing magic to the wearer through the purifying flame.
Phoenix Ring- allows communication and calling to the Phoenix, a binding item. Created by Nova herself.

Strengths: Magically powerful, and resistant to ranged attacks.
Weaknesses: Young and inexperienced.

Backstory: The Third Daughter of the latest generation of the Galia family, Nova possessed considerable magical abilities, but was never intended for the heir to the line, raised to aid her eldest sister in battle and in the courts before marrying into another prince family. When the eldest daughter, Zestar, died violently in an assassination and Devaln demonstrated no magical aptitude, Nova was thrown into inheritenance, to the chagrin of her parents. Hastily equipped with the Galia treasures, she is struggling to come to terms with her new role.

Golem- 1 per 1 pt: Devaln Galia. Equipped with Firebrand, the burning zanbato that is a heirloom of the family, and a katana in the other hand. Possessing no magic but a robust constitution, it was decided for Devaln to be made into a golem, and trained in the arts of combat and military leadership to act as Zestar's bodyguard. Now that Zestar is dead, she has been inherited by Nova, though she mistrusts the younger girl and is also depressed by her failure to protect her elder sister.

Vassal Destroyer- 1 per 2 pts: The Phoenix Arcual. An eternal being of flame, Arcual can protect allies and consume enemies with fire. He was contacted by Nova after the latter ran away to prove herself, and after an intense magical battle and equally vigorous mental war agreed to serve her as a Vassal for as long as she lived, bound to the ring she created as a sign of their covenant. If Arcual dies, he is reborn from the ashes, but does not mature for some time- meaning he can ressurect between battles but not over the course of one. This is mostly a shiny way to say I can bring him back by paying another two points. ;)

[Sword_Monkey]

Dibs on Britannia!

Editing for profile.

Name: Monarchon Hydrus
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Skill: Mage/destroyer 3pts, leader of Brittania, water magic.

Equipment: Trident of the northen places.

Strengths: Bloodline of water, the oceans course through his blood and his family's blood, it is given by the gods and empowers him to his rightful place as leader.
Weaknesses: As leader he has no obvious weakness, his bloodline makes sure his powers can be used were there is no water. However it is obvious his strength comes at a massive cost, at his pinnacle fire will do nothing, but as he wanes the heat will dehydrate him.

Backstory: He has ruled for many years, and now politicians are assuming his roles, he can't deny he has alot of powers, but the distibution of his political powers among lesser mortals is verging on treason, he must assert his power.

Name: Heir Hydrus II
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Skill: Prince, 1pt, water mage.

Equipment: Wavecrest seal.

Strengths: Fairly strong mage, as his upbringing demands.
Weaknesses: The bloodline of water has not manifested itself in him yet unlike his younger brother, this has caused his father to take action and personally tutor his eldest son.

Backstory: A weak man in personality, but good and honest, he has a soft spot for negotiating, unlike the rest of his family.

Name: Royal host
Age: Ancient
Gender: -
Skill: Host 1pt

Backstory: A small collection of water motes sworn to protect the royal family, they solely protect the heir and the Monarchon. In battle they float in close proximity allowing powers to be used through them and their sacrificial speed to intercept attacks in arcs of impenetrable water. They are also immortal, being spawned from the Fount of Magisteria in Brittania, when destroyed in matter they return to the fount across days and months depending on distance. Ultimately they will return, although they often have a new heir to protect when they are defeated.

Okay?

[ShatteredFaith]

Ruskia

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/15040734/
he is not quite that tall, but thats the general gidst of it, just replace his left arm with a gattling cannon.

Name: Voldenvrath Zulkerian
Age: 32
Gender:Male
Skill: Lord Golem- Indiscriminate Mayhem. Inspires people to follow him by offering two choices, which ammount to- Follow him or die.

Equipment: 12 barreled- Gattling Cannon (Replaces Left Arm) Flame Hammer (Due to mostly magical means, the top of the hammer can act as a flamethrower)

Strengths: Indiscriminate Killing of massed enemies. Durable, strong, fearless.
Weaknesses:Against small groups of skilled foes, less effective.

Backstory:Voldenvrath was a fearsome warrior before his transformation into a Lord Golem, uniting several Ruskia tribes under his banner of bloodshed. Upon his ascention to Lord Golem, he was an even more fearsome warrior, with access to technology he was previously denied. His driving goal is to unite all of Ruskia, though not through any idealistic means. United Ruskia means he can turn his attentions towards the world, and not merely inward.



Name: Petrov Morgrim
Age: 52
Gender: Male
Skill: Earth Mage.

Equipment: Robes, a machine pistol tucked into his sashbelt.

Strengths: Strong defensive magic, intelligent, canny.
Weaknesses: Physically weak.

Backstory: Petrov has been Voldenvrath advisor for more than 10 years, guiding the bloodthirsty warlord towards greatness, seeing him as a way to his own greatness.

^3 pts

Vanguard Commissars, 20 for 2 pts

Voldenvrath has recruited the most vicious and cruel commissars available, turning them into his private "motivational force". These Commissars are given the best equipment and training, and often head elite strike forces, or act as His personal guard.


----------------------------------

[The Shadow]

ShatteredFaith, I coul take Finland as a part you the Ruskia empire, an independet vassal, or autonomic state, or something.

[Andkat]

NOTE: Rough Draft. I lack the time to finish this currently.

Nation : The Kingdoms and Lands Represented in the Imperial Council and the Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen (Austria-Hungary :p).

Relations : Despite the previous conflicts between the Prussian/Hapsburg dyanasties, Austria-Hungary maintains positive relations with United Prussia. Indeed, they have cooperated on numerous technological and industrial projects, not the least of which are the Strafer/Wreaker aircraft lines. The Austrians also share certain aspects of their Inferno Magicks with the Fire Magicians of the Prussians, and several members of the Imperial Court maintain ties with the Prussian artistocracy. Finally, Matyas is willing to cooperate with any nations willing to provide his developing Industrial Empire with modern technologies, innovations, and developments. Indeed, rumours have it that spies and diplomats (often one and the same) have been sent to the Unified Americas, United Prussia, and Britannia.

However, despite this, Matyas firmly believes in maintaining the old Magicks of Austria-Hungary. He feels that the best Empire is the one that concentrates, interfaces, and integrates all of it's strengths whilst mitigating it's weaknesses.

The Shadow Court : Enigmatic, ineffable, and mistrusted, the Shadow Mages have been a constant throughout Hungarian society as long as the most extensive of ancient accounts and oral tales can recall. Records tell tales of the Tribal Mages and Seers from the Eastern Steppes, whose ability to manipulated darkness to disguise armie, decieve enemies, and wreathe the land in shadow where infamous throughout the lands and armies the tribes. Rumors and oral tales hint at the power of such men and women, whose arts and whims could decide intra-tribal power struggles and change the course of wars. It is said that their lesser acolytes road to battle at the heads of great hordes, seemingly guiding the course of the Steppe Masses and molding light into dark as they tread the fields of war. Often, opposing sharpshooters and warrior would realize only too late who the true cause of the disturbances and sorceriers of the enemies where, so used to the extragavantly robed elder magisters of Europe where they.

The early histories of the Magyars claim that it was not by the mutual decisions of the Tribal Chieftans that the Carpathian Basin was settled by the Magyar peoples, but by the orders and collaborations of the mysterious black-robed shamans of old. These texts purport that Arpad himself only attained victory in the tribal disputes ensuing when he spent a day and a night in council with the "Shadow-Witches, of whom one speaks only of in whispers".


The Masters of Darkness remain just as enigmatic and influential as they where hundreds of years ago, it seems. Each Noble House of Hungary possesses at least one Shadow advisor, as does the Imperial Household itself. These mysterious men and women, whilst nominally loyal to their respective houses, appear to possess agendas of their own and tend to come and go as they please. The Shadow Mages are respected by all of the Nobles of Hungary and those in the highest echelons constantly seek their favour, for the Shadows can determine one's prosperity, fortune, and, in the treacherous realms of politics, life. But even when provied with lavish rewards and appointments, the Shadow Mages appear to be a fickle lot, moving, it seems, to their own unknowable realms and rhythms rather than to the desires of the ostensible lords and ladies of Hungary.

The mysterious Drahel Assassin-Golems of the Shadow Mages have always be a source of great terror and uncertainity in the Hungarian Court. Indeed, many a ruler or aristocrat has lost his head to one of these monstrous beings. Whilst purportedly used by the Noble houses, it is often claimed and accepted that it is the Shadow Mages themselves, neutralizin opponents or incompetents.

The darkest and most extensively suppressed whispers of history speak of a "Council of Shadows", a court of the Elders of Shadow, the masters of their arts. These precious few texts claim that the "Council of Shadows" is the true power behind and beyond the Throne of Hungary, and determines the fate of all factions and entities within the Kingdom with it's almost immeasurable influence. It is purported that the true reason for the fall of Hungary to the Ottoman Empire was not the overwhelming forces of the Sultan or the incompetence of the Hungarian Nobles and leaders, but was instead an elaborate plan by the Shadow Mages to wipe clean the unsatisfactory and corrupt face of Hungary. It goes on to purport that the Shadow Council was dissatisfied with the policies, actions, and foolishness of the constantly squabbling and dallying High Court and nobility, that with the current state of Hungary, the Kingdom would stagnate and perish if something was not done soon. Therefore, they permitted the Ottomans, who would crush the pride and stupidity of the Hungarian leadership without endangering the entire culture overmuch. They intentionally inhibited the mobilization of Austrian relief for the sake of letting the Ottoman occupation properly fulfill it's course and duties. Of course, even the strongest of magicks cannot completely counteract force of arms, and when the Shadow Mages did permit a counterattack, they knew that they would be unable to prevent Austrian influence or the retainance of territories by the Turks. Indeed, it appears that they where counting on this. Or so the postulations of the histories claim.

Oddly enough, the Shadow Mages appear to be unperturbed or apathetic to the recent industrialisations of the Empire and the perspectives and goals of the Dual Monarch, in stark contrast to the views of many more "conventional mages". Indeed, they have voiced no response or protest whatsoever to the introduction of factories, railways, gunpowder, or any other major modern innovation that could potentially render many a mage's talents lesser or redundant.

The documents aforementioned make further serendiptious and outrageous claims, declaring that all Shadow Mages, whether they be advisors, warriors, or members of society with a bit of aptitude, answer directly to the Council. They fulfill the desires of the Elders by utilizing their oft-lofty or potent positions to manipulate the Aristocracy and Politics of Hungary. It also appears that, unlike the traditional Mages of the other great nations of Europe, the Shadow Mages do not recruit from the able of nobility or the heirs of great houses, nor do they appear to have any genealogical heirarchies to base their stock off of (indeed, they appear to lack progeny altogether). It seems that who is recruited and at what parameters are just as unknown and inexplicable as the dark order itself. No matter how tenaciously the Noble Houses seek acceptance of their heirs and servants to the order, the Shadow Mages disregard their efforts, gifts, and pressures with apparent impunity. Even more troubling, it is said That the Monarch hismelf answers directly to the Council, as if he where a mere puppet or subordinate! And most perturbing of all, that learning the arts slaves a practicioner to the Council for all eternity, warping their mind to the unique whims of the Shadows.


The College of Fire

The Imperial Fire Mages of Austria are neither as peculiar nor as mysterious as the Shadow Mages of Hungary. However, they are, in their own rights, quite unique.

The mages of Imperial Austria can effortlessly and evidently be traced back to the overall German stock from which the mages of both Imperial Austria and United Prussia are derived. Indeed, some members of the Colleges of Fire in Vienna are actually the descendents of former Prussians who sided with the Hapsburgs in their failed attempt to conquer the lands of Prussia decades ago. Others have been servants of the Imperial Court for generations, being initially Austrian in origin.

Most of these mages fall into two categories. One resents their defeat at Prussian hands, and are exceptionally insular, wanting nothing to do with Prussia or their former colleagues in Berlin. These mages also tend to be opposed to following in the industrial footsteps of Prussia or combining arms with their former fellows. However, such individuals are a minority compared to the other category, which is generally composed of newer or less powerful mages (though not always). These Fire Mages maintain strong ties with their Prussian counterparts, and are often in consistent contact with them, often sharing discoveries, techniques, etc. and facilitating diplomacy between the two nations. These mages are also supportive of Prussia in the Imperial Parliament, and tend to be bitter enemies of the former faction.
By nature, the Hapsburg Dynasty has recieved the smaller portion of the adepts of fire, for the college itself was originally based in Berlin, not Vienna. From the start, the Austrians had a minimum of mages compared to their neighbours, forcing them to rely more on their technological abilities and magick mercenaries than many other nations. Indeed, this has led to their desire for advancement and innovation, so as to further minimize the strain on their precious few high fire mages.

Despite this, the Fire Mages possess extensive influence in the Imperial Court. Like many mages of the Old World, they are aristocrats and lords, holding extensive political, financial, and temporal power in their chosen courts and domains. They are the old nobility in a new nation, and as the Empire's reliance on their talents wanes, many of the more avaricious and imprudent of the Adepts of Fire have taken to opposing technology as a staunch minority. However, of late, the power of the Emperor and the Dual Parliaments has proven greater than the old control of the Fire Mages, and despite the resentment of the elders of the Mages, the industrialisation of the Empire has progressed.

Of course, not all Fire Mages are opposed to the ideals and plans of the Emperor. Indeed, many of the younger or more prudent members of the Adepts have found that it would be optimal for both their power and the nation overall for the Empire to expand technologically. For after all, such progressions can only lead to the expansion of the nation, and thus their power.




Name : Dual Monarch and Emperor Matyas Steiner

Age : 30

Gender : Male

Skill : Matyas is a master politician and negotiator, and is capable of unifying and coordinating the innumerable different aspects and facets of the Empire. In addition, by necessity of such times, he is a capable general and war-leader, though he exercises this ability via judicious logistics and strategics, not directly on the field of battle. Overall, he is a political animal, and a shrewd one at that. Matyas is not averse to treachery, perfidy, manipulation, blackmail, or political/physical/social/etc. exploitation. He also lusts eagerly after conquest and power for both himself and Austria-Hungary, and is exceptionally ambitious and audacious in his plans and aspirations. However, despite his insidious personality and exceptionally ambitious objectives, Matyas has proved himself a shrewd and judicious leader throughout his reign.

Equipment : A multitude of pertinent uniforms and attire from the era. The Crown of St. Stephen and the Austrian Imperial Seal. He also bears a ceremonial pistol and a magicite duelling blade.

Strengths : Popular, cunning, and capable as an overall strategic commander. Matyas is loved by the majority of the majorities of his people.

Weaknesses : With his limited and low physical strength, armaments, and knowledge of magick, Matyas is not a potent force on the battlefield and does focuses instead on politics and overall strategics.

Backstory :

Matyas was born in 1884, The result of the union of Austrian Emperor Karl Steiner and Hungarian Noble Szendrey Kovacs. Like many noble couplings of the time, it was a marriage made for diplomacy and of tradition. Following the Hungarian Revolution of 1848, the Imperial Austrian Line saw fit to cement it's diplomatic relations with the oft-contentious and rather populous Hungarian basin region. Hence, the Imperial Prince Markus Franz united with the Baronial Princess and former revolutionary supporter Eva Nagy. The union was to cement the new Royal Hungarian State's ties to the Austrian Empire, so as to maintain the old territories of the Habsburg Dynasty. Eva was popular with the Hungarian population for her aid to the 13 Martyrs of the Rebellion, and had provided aid to a beleagured populace throughout the war. The union of two Noble Lines ensured the lasting and constant loyalty of the Hungarian populace. The product was Andris Franz, heir to the Habsburg Dynasty and the Empire. Franz instituted a multitude of diplomatic pacts and reforms to content the other minorities of the Empire, in addition to rendering the overall composition of the Empire more cohesive and intermixed.

One of the first acts of the Karl was to create individual but interlacing Imperial Austrian and Royal Hungarian Parliaments and government hierarchies, both tied ultimately to the Dual Emperor. In addition, new reforms (including the modification of the "official" languages of certain regions) where enacted among the relatively discontent minorities of the Empire, including the Serbians, Slavs, Croatians, etc. Among Karl's most notable achievements was the introduction of German and American technological ideals and concepts into the Dual Monarchy. He pressed for constant development and advancement from the old ways, in addition to the integration of traditional magicks and methods into the New Ways.

Karl was, for a Monarch, fairly benign and forgiving. He did not hang protestors or critics, did not oppress his people or the minorities, and remained fairly passive with his old neighbours and enemies. The goal and dream of his existence was not for conquest and glory, but for the freedom and prosperity of both of his peoples, both Austrian and Hungarian. He was beloved by most of his populace,a nd was generally disregarded as a blundering isolationalist and idealist by his contemporaries despite his successes.

Karl lived a succesful life and reigned as Emperor for forty years prior to ceding his power to his only living son, Matyas. He sired three progeny; Andre, Isabella, Matyas, and a forth, unnamed, stillborn child. Andre was born with severe medical complications, and came to perish several years later due to cardiovascular failures. The demise of his final progeny, followed closely by the death of his wife several years later, would ultimately set the stage for Karl's latter melancholy and cessation of Imperial duties as his life and happiness ebbed away with the development of his progeny and Empire.


Enter Matyas. An individual raised and groomed from birth to be a master of diplomacy and empire, Matyas was shown to have exceptional intellect and reason from a fairly early age. He showed the same knack for politics and stabilisation as his father, and soon garnered extensive knowledge of the Court and the World under the finest tutors of Vienna and Budapest. But unlike his graceful and magnamonous father, Matyas had and has extensive ambitions for King and Country. Matyas desires more than mere stability; he desires repute, infamy, conquest, and domination over his rivals and opposing nations.

These dreams where realised with his ascension to the Imperial Throne and the Crown of St. Stephen. As the new Emperor of Austro-Hungarian Empire, Matyas aspired to greater power and prestige. He forged connections with Prussia for a time, utilizing the technological expertise for the old rivals of the Habsburgs to develop novel technologies for his Empire. Indeed, in more recent times he has expresssed extensive interest in further technological, military, and political collaboration with Prussia, citing the numerous benefit of such an alliance and the commonalities of the two Empires.

Matyas has proved to be vicious in politics, eliminating rivals and manipulating rebels to serve his own ends or destroy their own. He has crushed countless enemies and upstarts, whilst exploiting countless more for his own benefit. Indeed, he has even married off his Sister to a major opponent so as to tie him to the country. In short, he is an ambitious, immoral, and belligerent ruler; a ruler perfect for the expansion of the Empire.

However, Matyas also recognises the necessities of a unified nation. As such, he has introduced mild reform into areas that he feels are too unstable or volatile to maintain the status quo within. However, the governments and local officials established by his new plans and infrastructures are often mere puppets of the Monarchy, nothing more. Indeed, they are often more insidious and tyrannical than the old Imperial bureacracies.

His dominance utter and stable, his nation advancing and willing, Matyas now turns his eyes to his neighbours, eager for more lands and more power...

Advisors :

Magister of the Order of Shadow Istvan Kovacs: Little is known of Istvan Kovacs other than his affiliation: the Shadow Mages. Indeed, his past prior to his appearance as the personal advisor of Matyas is completely unknown by all, including the Emperor and his Courts, except for Istvan himself (if that). His age is not readily apparent either, though it is evident that he exceeds his Emperor by many years.

Istvan has proven himself a prudent aide to the Emperor. He advises coldly, precisely, and bluntly, conveying the demands of both the Shadow Mages and making clear the options available to the Emperor and his nation. He rarely makes a personal reccomendation, instead relaying in exceptional detail, elaboration, and foresight the paths that the Emperor may best take. In fact, it is often rumoured that Istvan was the catalyst for Matyas's actions in pertinence to the Serbian rebel situation and Ivic himself, though it is clear that the Emperor's personal ingeniuty is present in the bonds tieing Ivic to the Empire.

Istvan, despite or perhaps because of his invaluability and potency, is heavily distrusted by both the Imperial and Royal Courts, in addition to the other personal servants of the Emperor. His dark presence, unnatural abilities, piercing stare, and mathematical cunning are unnerving and perturbing to all about it him. In spite of this, he appears to be the Emperor's closest aid and ally, constantly hovering about the Imperial presence. Indeed, The Dual Monarch seems almost obeisant and compliant with him in some situations, though he is extensively independent in general affairs.

Istvan's talents extend far beyond mere influence and analysis, however. Throughout his years of service to the Emperor, he has proven himself an exceptional master at the arts of the shadow magicks, even preserving the Emperor's life against a host of treacherous Royal Guard singlehandedly during an attempted coup.

NOTE: Because Matyas is never really intended to be placed into combat, neither he nor his advisor are intended as paid war presences.


Combat Representative : Ivic Markowiz, Duke of the Serbian Dominances and Husband of the Imperial Lady Isabella

Age : 22

Skills : A capable warrior and leader, Ivic had fought in the streets and on the fields for years prior to his elevation to the position of Duke. Ivic is an exceptional fighter, though his training focuses more on the old ways than the new. His personal guard and ethnic people adore him, and he is even supported by the nobilities and parliaments of both Royal Hungary and Imperial Austria, into additon to the subordinate Serbian Dukedom. He is loyal to the Emperor out of necessity and his Serbian people out of ethnic ties and pride, in addition to authority. In contrast to his skill at "dishonorable" forms of combat, Ivic is an exceptionally honest, just, self-righteous, and blunt individual, caring not for the meddling and insidiousness of politics or the distasteful arts of betrayal and deception.

Equipment : Magicite Mail and blade; Pistol.

Abilities and Strengths : Shadow Magic-whilst not born to the art or the Mage aristocracy, Ivic demonstrated an aptitude for magicks since birth, and was educated in the arts by rebellious Hungarians, wandering Gypsies, the ancient mages of Serbia, and, finally, by the Austrian High Court. During his rebellion, Ivic became extensively familiar with the Hungarian Shadow Magicks, employing the very tactics the infamous warriors and mages of the Empire utilized against them. However, his experiences with the magicks appear to have changed him.Ivic commands from the front, and personally leads major raids or assaults. Due to his experiences with the Serbian Guerillas, Ivic is experienced in the arts of stealth and hit-and-run warfare, which are vital staples of the Empire during times of war. An inspiring leader and warrior, Ivic is generally loved by his men.

Weaknesses : Whilst he has magickal aptitude, Ivic is not the most potent of mages. In addition, he is often divided in his interests and benefactors, often wishing to aid the Serbian populaces over the will of the Emperor. In addition, he has some doubts about the ethical scruples and standards of the Royal and Imperial Courts in addition to those of his Emperor. He can often be too moral, pardoning surrendering opponents and generals even if they may harm him in the future. He also disregards the intricacies of the Royal Court, resulting in frequent political backlash or denouncement against him, which the Emperor himself must sustain in his defense of his Duke-General. On occasion, rival members of the Court, opponents of Serbian independence and the Emperor's policies, and members of other nations have attempted to assassinate or assault Ivic's reputation and person on occasion. Then of course, there is the constantly regulating and jarring presence of the Imperial Drahel Golem, Arghalousz. Finally, whilst exceptionally capable and resilient in combat, Ivic is still a mere human. Hence, he cannot contend in combat with the likes of Golems, Constructs, and Tanks.


Backstory : Born to a peasant family in the rural and predominately Serbian lands of the southern Empire, Ivic was born to a hard life. He rearing among the recently elevated former and quite miserable peasantry (in real life and also in this fictional rendition of AH, the Austrians abolished serfdom and peasantry in the Empire during a tide of reform following the numerous revolutions of 1848 and the advancement of the overall political, ethical, and industrial status of the western world), and experienced a miserable and penury-ridden childhood. The new peasants where little better off than the old, and the reforms and union did not please all. Following 1848, many Serbians and other minorities craved independence or parity with Austria as the Hungarians had attained through their revolution (in addition to resenting the Hungarians themselves, whom had been elevated beyond them politically and also tended to force their language upon the non-Hungarian ethnicities of Transleithania, or the Hungarian side of the Leitha River). Ivic was born in politically turbulent times, and the impoverished states of his friends and family helped little to bolster his support of the new, fused regime. From early on, he displayed revolutionary propensities, abandoning his schooling when the Royal Hungarian Parliament forced the region to adopt the Hungarian language as official (this legitimately occured). He spoke Serb entirely and confined himself to independent studies for much of his life, even learning limited Telekinesis from local hedge magicians, in addition to a small bit of Shadow Magicks. As Ivic matured, so too did the tension between the Serbian minority and the overruling government of Austria-Hungary. And people like Ivic where often at the core of such tension, protesting Hungarian rule or overthrowing local puppet-leaders. Even the reforms of the Monarchy could not satiate such fiery individuals. And as the Austro-Hungarian Imperial forces marched into the southlands of Royal Hungary, these tensions boiled over. Serbia rebelled openly against the arriving and exhausted Army, slaying many of their oppressors in ambushes and cunning guerilla strikes. Leading these assaults were Ivic and his allies, fighting for their independence with a fervour matching that of the 1848 Hungarian rebellion.

But as with the aforementioned revolution of 1848, the rebellion of the Serbians was, sadly, in vain. Whilst the rebels had an initial advantage over their opponents in morale, local support, area knowledge, and readiness, they where lost in the long-term. The terrain of the South-Serbian portions of Hungary is not exceptionally unique or inhospitable, and many of the troops sent against the Serbians where quite familiar with the lands. In addition, the Serbs lacked the advanced technologies or the potent magicks available to the Austro-Hungarian forces, relying instead on outdated arms, limited magicks, and guerilla tactics. Despite this, the Serbians proved themselves a potent force, inhibiting logistics and devastating morale even when they could not attain a direct victory. However, As their enemies regrouped, rejuvenated, and re-asserted themselves, the armaments of the Serbians where found lacking. Soon, the Serbians had been pushed to the fringes of the territories they purported to defend. But even in defeat did the forces of Ivic prove themselves capable, constantly tripping and impeding the pursuit and assault of their opposition.

Their bodies battered but their morale vivacious, the Serbian revolutionaries prepared and fortified themselves for a final stand against their opponents, one they hoped would go down in history and serve as a nationalistic reminder to all those of Serbian descent.

Unfortunately, their efforts and desires proved to be in vain. No sooner had they begun their prepartions when concealed and Shadow-Wreathed Imperial Troops ambushed them from the inside, butchering the defending rebels even as they plotted their final stand. Soon even the most audacious and capable of men fled for their lives or fell to the fire of Imperial forces. Soon all that remained of the once great rebellion where Ivic and his personal comrades, fighting tooth-and-nail against the forces of the Empire in the midst of the devastating chaos following the ambush.

Valiantly did the tenacious Serbians stand, but they stood against their opponents in vain. One by one did the final men and women of the rebellion fall to blade, bullet, and spell, felling dozens of lesser opponents in the process. Finally, all that remained was Ivic the Instigator himself, holding onto consciouness with wounds that would slay lesser men. Even as he was dragged to the wagons bound for the dungeons of Budapest, Ivic struggled against his foes, defiant to the last. Or so he thought.

For Matyas knew that the execution of Ivic and his comrades, whilst valid under Imperia Law, would be imprudent judiciously, for they still possessed great popularity and support in the Serbian lands. The last thing the still tenuous Empire needed was another revolution and further delays to it's expansion.

Thus, instead of arriving at the gallows or the block, Ivic found himself in the halls of Buda Var, face-to-face with the Emperor himself and his personal Shadow Mages.

It is unknown what passed between the two men on that day, but news of the results proliferated throughout the Empire in days, with the highest Nobles recieving it just as swiftly as the lowliest peasants.

The southernmost Serbian-populated lands of Transleithania where to recieve their own, Serbian-controlled and semi-independent provincial government, with it's own regulations and language. This new infrastructure would answer not to the administrators of the Royal Hungarian and Imperial Austrian Parliaments, but to the Monarch of the Empire and the Serbian Nobles. The infamous Ivic the Instigator, instead of suffering execution, recieved instead dukedom over the Serbian-populated lands and a union with the Emperor's own sister, Isabella Steiner.


With his prestigious appointment, the private revelations of the Emperor, his spouse, and the freedom of his people forcing his devotion to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Ivic marches now at the head of the armies he once despised, working towards the prosperity and survival of both his people and the Empire.

However, it is said that Ivic has been changed by his ordeals in the Palace of Buda and with his Shadow Mage instructors. He seems harder and darker now to many of his former comrades, though this is generally attributed to his almost forced service to the Empire by most who observe him. Still those who observe him closely can percieve that other factors are at work within the former Instigator's psyche.

He has attained the freedom of his people, but at what cost to his own?
Elite Forces/Guard :

Ivic:
1 pt. 1 Mounted Hussar Vanguard
1 pt. 1 Shadow Mage (Ivic) with a horsey!
2 pt. 2 War Riders
1 pt. 1 Drahel Assassin: Arghalousz: A personal overseer and servant of Matyas, Arghalousz has been appointed to assess the performance of Ivic, aid and advise him in battle, and to convey to him the orders of the Austro-Hungarian Court. In addition, if Ivic proves to be troublesome or unsatisfactory in prudence or action, Arghalousz is there to...discharge him from service.

Edit: Stats Later, in addition to possible revisions (this was written in great haste and mild chaos).

[Langy]

Langy - Unified Americas
Name: Major Jack Stenner
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Skill: Commander, Air Group for the USAS Abraham Lincoln, F-2 Hellcat Pilot
Equipment: F-2 Hellcat Fighter (2 Points/30 Fighters) – Equipped with a machine-gun, these fast carrier-based biplanes are capable of flying high and are focused upon taking down enemy fighters and other flying units. Unfortunately, their potential for ground attack is very low, and they can not take much punishment before burning to pieces.

Strengths: Very experienced fighter pilot and commander
Weaknesses: Not experienced in one-on-one or ground-based fighting in any way

Backstory: Major Jack Stenner has been serving in the Unified Americas military for the past seventeen years, ever since his nineteenth birthday. He never went to college, and his formal education was minimal – he did not come from a wealthy family by any measure. He joined the army initially as a way to escape from his family’s poverty and the horrible conditions in the factories where he as well as his parents and six older siblings worked, each of his generation entering the workforce as early as eleven years of age.

It was late in his eighteenth year that Jack finally decided working in the factories was not for him when his father, a simple assembly line worker, lost an arm in one of the packing machines the mechanically-inclined Jack was in charge of repairing. While nobody was ever blamed for the accident, Jack has always blamed himself for one of his machines having crippled his own father. Jack quit his job at the factory to stay at home and help his father until, two weeks after Jack’s nineteenth birthday, his father died of an infection caused by the dirty conditions in the factory when his arm was severed. Jack volunteered for the army the next day, not even staying for his father’s funeral. While Jack hasn’t looked back at his family in a long time, he has continued to send them his paychecks ever since he began serving, and though he has gotten some mail from them he has never opened the letters. In truth, he doesn’t even know if his money is even reaching his family – they could have moved away from the small two-bedroom apartment he grew up in, but without opening his mail he can not know for sure.

In the army, Jack originally worked with the artillery, both maintaining them and firing them. His lack of a proper education notwithstanding, Jack had an intuitive grasp for numbers, geography, and the principles of physics. He was excellent at repairing a jammed firing chamber, but his skill at accurately dropping a shell upon a target thousands of feet away is what brought him to the attention of Colonel Thomas Ricker, the man in charge of the Unified Americas’ new Zeppelin program – the nations first ‘air force’, as it were. Still a part of the Army proper in the early 1900s, the Zeppelin program needed qualified crewmen – men capable of handling the high heights while facing demanding jobs. Utilizing personnel from both the Army and the Navy, the first military Zeppelins flying the stars and stripes began appearing in 1903. Then a Sergeant, Stenner was placed in charge of the port gun battery of the USAS Constitution, the first ever military Zeppelin in the world. He served in this position with distinction, proudly earning a purple heart when a lucky shot by a Filipino rifleman struck him in the left leg while the Constitution was deployed in the Philippine-American War.

After recovering from the gun shot wound and extensive rehabilitation, newly-commissioned officer 2nd Lieutenant Stenner went back to active service in late 1907, four months after he was wounded in action. This time, however, he joined the newly-formed Unified Americas Air Force, where he went through training to become a pilot of a heavier-than-air airplane. Originally used strictly for reconnaissance, the biplanes he and the others in his squadron flew were modified with machineguns and interrupters to allow the gun to fire through the propeller blade without danger in 1908 after the development of the Hellfire Bomber. While neither plane has any true combat experience yet, Stenner has proven to be a very able flyer and has participated in many combat exercises.

It was late in 1913 that Stenner received word he was to be promoted and delivered to a new Zeppelin once again, this time as the commander of the entire air group of a mobile air force base, the USAS Abraham Lincoln. With his promotion to Major, Stenner has much more responsibility, not the least of which is proving that this idea of an airborne base from which to resupply fighters and bombers isn’t a mistake waiting to happen. With the new F-2 Hellcat fighters custom-made for the job and the modified Hellfire Bombers, Stenner also has to prove that these new military toys are not a waste of the taxpayer’s money. The Honest Abe only having recently been finished and crewed, he also needs to meet with his fellow officers and the men under his command before the great Zeppelin leaves port.

USAS Abraham Lincoln (2 point Carrier Zeppelin) – One of the pinnacles of American technology, the Honest Abe is a large, pondering beast using both lighter-than-air gas bags as well as upward-facing propellers for lift. Unlike most Zeppelins, the Abe Lincoln has a hanger deck – one of the first ships in the world to carry airplanes, not to mention airships. Along with the hangers, it also has heavy armor and a number of guns arrayed along its axis, especially ones focused upon other air targets. The Honest Abe is capable of flying higher than most other aircraft of the day due to its dual use of gas bags and propellers, but it is very slow even for a Zeppelin.

Hellfire Bombers (1 point/10 Bombers) – Part of the Honest Abe’s air group, these bombers are used against ground targets.

Name: President Theodore Roosevelt
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Skill: Diplomat, ‘cowboy’, highly charismatic
Equipment: None of note

Strengths: A skilled diplomat and leader, Teddy Roosevelt is also a decorated war hero for his actions in the Spanish-American War and the Philippine-American War
Weaknesses: While a good general and tactician, Teddy’s abilities in single combat are no more than the average infantryman

Backstory: Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt is the twenty-sixth president of the Unified Americas. After forming and commanding the First U.A. Volunteer Cavalry Regiment, the “Rough Riders”, during the Spanish-American War, Roosevelt became a national war hero and continued his success into the Philippine-American War which directly followed the Spanish-American War. A skilled horseback rider, Teddy is a throwback to an older generation of American soldier, more interested in what’s real and concrete and what he can see and feel with his own hands than esoteric technologies or magic which he can not understand. A professional historian, naturalist, and explorer, President Roosevelt feels strongly that the mage-lords of the European continent are the cause of most of the strife between nations today, and that the class-structure of mage and peasant is both outdated and immoral. His anti-magic leanings were only strengthened when his wife of twenty-one years, Alice Hathaway Lee, died during a magic-induced storm that swept the North American continent during the Spanish-American War.

Shortly after his return from the wars, Roosevelt married Edith Carow Stenner, his childhood sweetheart. He later joined the ticket of sitting President McKinley as his Vice-President in 1905 after the sitting Vice-President, Charles E. Smith, retired from politics. Unsurprisingly, the duo won, and Roosevelt served a full and fulfilling term as Vice-President of the Unified Americas. In 1909, Theodore Roosevelt was nominated to the Presidency, where he has served for the past five years, easily making re-election in 1913.

[Sevorak]

I call one of the two initial mercenary armies. I'll also edit this post with all required information tomorrow... well, technically today. Midnight here.

Edit: 'Ere we go.

The Itharon Tribes

‘The Itharon’ is the collective term given to the nomadic tribes that inhabit the frozen north of the world; a magically-infused region in which all but the simplest forms of technology rapidly break down – even simple firearms will inevitably cease to function with prolonged exposure to the region.

As a result, they have adapted numerous forms of magical devices and tools that fulfill their needs within that desolate land; and within the screaming blizzards and hostile lands where the slightest misstep can kill, the Itharon Tribes flourish, alone and largely ignored by the rest of the world; even expeditions to the north typically see no signs of the elusive nomads, for they have little interest in outsiders; and in truth, the outsiders have little interest in them.

However, on occasion, one of the Tribes runs low on supplies, and cannot attain all they require from their native lands; thus, they must travel south to the comparatively verdant lands of the civilized world, and often sell their skills as mercenaries or share the knowledge of their magical arts. Their unparalleled mastery of frost magic is their contribution to the arcane arena.

Army List

Scion (Frost Mage) – 1 point – The scions of the Itharon are the callers of the storms, and the primary wielders of frost magic. They are capable of shielding and augmenting their own troops with icy armour forged from the frost, though their primary function is to summon storms to wreak havoc amongst the enemy; obscuring their sight and pinning them with snowstorms, and then shredding their ranks with icy blizzards.

Frost Haze – 1 point – Frost Hazes are mysterious beings; known by the Itharon typically only by the stories of human-like beings wandering aimlessly in the snow. They are seldom seen or heard of; they seem to have no true communities, but may remark upon familiar places or names of other hazes if one is lucky enough to speak with one. To the eye, they look almost human – but almost all have hair and eyes both of some shade of icy blue.

The Sworn – Golems; between 1-3 per point – The Sworn are some of the greatest warriors of the Itharon. Some are deadly, swift and strike in the blink of an eye. Of those, their speed is such that when their charge finally comes, they often sweep aside all standing before them in a devastating blitz attack. Others wield sunflares – blazing orbs of coruscating energy that are capable of scything through even tank armour in the blink of an eye. All are different; but are unified by their common origins as golems and their unerring devotion, loyalty and strength.

Shardbearers – 50 per point – the Shardbearers are the closest things the Itharon have to ‘line infantry’; the Shardbearers are a form of tribal guard – the members of the tribes armed and trained to fight when necessary. In battle, their primary task is typically to tie up the enemy and strike from ambush positions before fading back into cover. Their weapons – firearm-like rifles that launch shards of razor-sharp ice – are adapted for this end, lacking the immediate stopping power of the typical gun, but making up for it with rate of fire and relative lack of recoil, enabling increased mobility. The Shardbearers themselves wear only light armour, so as not to hinder their movements on the field.

Storm Heralds – 15 per point – the Heralds of the Storms are elite infantry, adorned in ornate runic armour and wielding either double-bladed runeswords or carrying large frost launchers. They typically fight in a supporting role, being too few in number to fight in the role of line infantry, but being more than sufficient to engage enemy infantry at range, laying down a withering hail of fire, or acting as interdictory close-combat reactive units with the blade.

Frost Wolf Pack – Vassals – 15 per point – the frost wolves bonded to the Itharon tribes are not the relatively small predators most often thought of when one hears the term ‘wolf’. Instead, they are deadly predators the size of three men, roused to a state of crazed, nigh-insatiable bloodlust in the searing heat of battle. Their skin is flecked with shards of frost, affording them even a reasonable protection even against firearms.

Invictus – Vassal – 1 per 2 points – the Invictus’ origins are unknown, and they refuse to speak of their kind or where they came from, no matter who their master currently is. Their name stems from myths that they were actually the spirits of those lost in the desolate snow, starving to death and now doomed to tearfully walk the lands, never to find solace and forever lost. When questioned about such myths, an Invictus simply bows their head and walks away, never replying, no matter how far they are pushed. They appear simply as shadows and echoes – the only time a faint outline of a human form is visible is when light refracts in an arc of light from their spectral frames.


Main Character

Name: Leto Thanari.
Age: 17.
Gender: Male.
Skill: Scion; one point.

Equipment:

Leyatha - a rusted, old sword with dulled runes along both sides of its blade. It was the sword found with Leto as a baby in the snow; it seems to have nothing that would make it particularly useful as a weapon.

Leto also wears a broken gemstone around his neck; a shard of frost crystal apparently shattered or broken in two.

Strengths: Young, vital, physically fast and agile; gifted in the magical arts. He is also accomplished with the blade.
Weaknesses: Though he is trained, he is inexperienced and untested in true battle and the arts of war. His youth is also a setback. His magical abilities, while potentially powerful, are also highly nascent and largely useless to him at this point in time.

Backstory: Leto was found in the snow as a child; abandoned and close to death. In order for his survival to be even conceivable, he must have been abandoned no more than an hour - and even that is extreme. It was either pre-planned or luck that he was found by the Athilae tribe of the Itharon, and was raised by them as a curiosity.


Honour Guard of the Athilae

Thaeros Ayleir - Master Scion of the Athilae - 2 points.
(Thaeros is a tribal chief - counted solely by his skills as a mage, he would only be 1 point. However, he is a refined warrior and soldier, which constitutes the other point. Due to this, he counts as only being 1 point for the purpose of Vassal deployment and selection).
Leto Thanari - Scion - 1 point.

Saira - Frost Haze - 1 point.

Fifteen Storm Heralds - 1 point.

[Shadowbound]

So calling United Prussia.

Name: Chancellor Haendrag Verbrennen
Age: 48
Gender: Male
Skill: Master Mage (Fire) 2 points.

Equipment: None of note.

Strengths: Verbrennen studied in Britannia, and possesses an excellent understanding of water magic in addition to Fire. He does not use Water, but is excellent at countering it. He often accompanies his armies, and morale is boosted whenever the de facto leader of Prussia is at a front.
Weaknesses: Verbrennen, if anything, takes a too hands on approach. Often generals chafe under his close watch. It's a common joke that the Emperor cannot leave the privy without Verbrennen checking to make sure he wiped his ass. He can often be found close to the fighting, making him vulnerable.

Backstory:

Born in 1866, the son of a professor of civil law at Bonn, and a grandson of a member of the banking family of Verbrennen of Frankfort. He was educated at Pforta Gymnasium and at the Universities of Strasbourg, Leipzig and London. Entering the Prussian administrative service in 1892 he rose to the position of the President of the Province of Brandenburg in 1899. After that he was serving as Prussian Minister of Interior from 1905 to 1907, and then as Imperial State Secretary for the Interior from 1907 to 1909. In 1909, on the resignation of Chancellor Burnman, Verbrennen was appointed to succeed him

In foreign policy, Verbrennen pursued a policy of detente with Britannia, hoping to come to some agreement that would put a halt to the two countries' ruinous arms race, but failed, largely due to the opposition of Prussian Naval Minister Alfred von Tirpitz. Despite the increase in tensions due to the Second Moroccan Crisis of 1911, Verbrennen did improve relations with Brittania to some extent, working with British prince Hydrus II to alleviate tensions during the Balkan Crises of 1912-1913, and negotiating treaties over an eventual partition of the Portuguese colonies and the Berlin-Baghdad railway. In domestic politics, Verbrennen's record was also mixed, and his policy of the "diagonal", which endeavoured to maneuver between the Socialists and Liberals of the left and the right-wing nationalists of the right, only succeeded in alienating most of the Prussian political establishment.

Vanguard:
Three units of Stormtroopers.
90 Stormtroopers (3 pts).

[Raver]

Ottoman Empire (Was gonna get Prussia but oh well).

Name: Emperor Toros Osman
Age: 57
Gender: Male
Skill: Emperor, 2 pts, with telekenisis, Metal and fire magic

Equipment:

Enchanted swords, these blades are almost impossible to break, 5 times as strong as any other metal known to man at this time then are sharpened to a diamond point, one can be held in each hand and is around 3 feet long.

Two gold plated pistols, advanced by the this worlds standards, these are incredibly powerful at close range but completely useless when used to long range combat.

Strengths: Can cast spells to strengthen armour and weaponry, or corrode it. Skilled swordsman and marksman.
Weaknesses: Due to his age, Toros is not as strong or as fast as he used to be. He is also deaf in one ear.

Backstory: Forging a poweful empire through his reign, Toros has fought many battles. He was raised through violence, but in the times he wasnt fighting, he studied, able to speak with a sophistication and zeal no other rulers could hope to contend with, he is able to bend people to his will without them even noticing. He has trained in the art of Swordsmanship for many years of his life. He has recently crafted two gold plated pistols which he has not had a chance to use as yet.

Prefering to defend his Empire through dipolmacy rather than violence, Toros has managed to keep his people safe. He is attempding to forge alliences with the Empires of Ruskia and Austria-Hungary.

Vanguard:

Two units of Nizamis.
120 Troops (2 pts).

Three Golems(1pt).

[AMARDA]

I call the other Merc force, other than that, nothing at this time.

[Gorb]

EDIT: Calling Imperial France, if that's okay with people.

Creating profile now.

[Klaus88]

Rats I missed my chance at the leadership spot for the U.A.
Unless you don't want it Langy?

[Langy]

Sorry, Klaus, but I do kinda want to keep leadership of the Unified Americas. I'm in the middle of working up a bio for the current President and everything:/

[Shadowbound]

EDIT: I need to read more carefully.

[Gorb]

Name: Elle Maria Honaria
Age: 37
Gender: Female
Skill: Hybrid-mage 2 1/2pts, monarch of France, Air/Telekinetic magic, Weaponsmistress.

Equipment: Imperial Crest of the Moon, Staff of the Winds.

Strengths: Iron will. Works amazingly well with her husband, Elle is a master of both Air and Telekinetic magic. Favours Air magic, and was given the Staff of the Winds to represent her consumnate mastery of Air magic. Very agile and graceful.

Weaknesses: Weakens when separated from her husband, powers and physical ability affected. Not as sturdy as her husband, and so is not as tough on the battlefield.

Backstory: Born of the first of two Imperial families before the Unification, the Majorians, Elle's bloodline gifted her with superb grace, both magical and physical. Holds less political clout within France and in the neighbouring countries than her husband, but retains a great holding of magical artefacts and scrolls as the Majorians were the master of magic in their time.

Name: Louis Charles Honaria
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Skill: Hybrid-mage 2 1/2pts, monarch of France, Telekinetic/Air magic, Weaponsmaster.

Equipment: Imperial Crest of the Sun, Staff of Unyielding Force.

Strengths: Great fortitude. Works amazingly well with his wife, Louis is a master of both Telekinetic and Air magic. Favours Telekinetic magic, and was given the Staff of Unyielding Force to represent his consumnate mastery of Telekinesis. Very strong and tough.

Weaknesses: Weakens when separated from his wife, powers and physical ability affected. Not as graceful as his wife, and so is not as agile on the battlefield.

Backstory: Born of the second Imperial family, the Honurians, Louis' bloodline gifted him with superb strength, both magical and physical. Holds great political clout within France and in the neighbouring countries.

[Lestaki]

OOC: Important note- there are more 2pts pureclass mages around than I like. A 2pt mage is basically the big perk of being Italia, and I had always intended that they would be the only ones with such beings- lacking in rifles and the rest, they need that much, and it's pretty much their shiny thing comparable to the signiture troop types of other races . The Princes, by the fluff the most potent mages in the world, make up their power with a second lore of magic, whereas Gerbil, Shadowbound and arguably Sevorak (though his char is half-combat) have 2pt mages with only one school. Consider that 2pt mages are as powerful as 120 riflemen with heavy weapons- that's a lot for one man. As such, I recommend these characters double-up as Golem standard warriors (and that's huge as well), take a second lore or else simply downgrade to "normal" mages- normal being worth sixty soldiers. That's still pretty inhuman, folks. :)

That aside, everything looks good so far. We'll wait a bit on starting to allow for latecomers.

Lestaki- Italia
Sword Monkey- Britannia
ShatteredFaith- Ruskia
Andkat- Austra-Hungary
Langy- Unified Americas
Shadowbound- United Prussia
Rabid.Gerbil- Ottoman Empire
Gorb- French Imperial

Sevorak- Itharon Mercenaries

We have one player for each Empire now, which is wonderful news. Any other players can take mercenary forces, vassal states or double-up with an existing player to gain a second army.

[Klaus88]

Character: Major Tomas Jackson.
Side: Unifed Americas.
Apperence: A slightly built man of about 6 feet with dark hair and green eyes, Jackson doesn't really appear to be that dangerous. He is very dangerous however.

Personality: Jackson is a man to whom all means nessecary= BY all means nessecary. He will blackmail, murder, extort, steal, torture and many other things to the job done. He is a man utterly without mercy or compassion and is extremely frigtening. As if in contrast to his personality, he speaks with a very refined southern accent.

Background: *CLASSIFIED* Although rumor says that he is responsable for several violent deaths among the Mages of Italia.

Equipment: He carries an experimental submachine gun but that's about it.

[The Shadow]

If Lestaki allows, I will use the Austra-Hungary army list, for Finland, as we have no massive armies (as the Ruskia). More of an small cunning force. I will write the things as soon as possible.

[Andkat]

It's (Imperial) Austria -(Royal)Hungary, people... :p

Or, more aptly, The Kingdoms and Lands Represented in the Imperial Council and the Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen. :D

The adjective is Austro-Hungarian, nub! :p

[Lestaki]

Your nation, your history. My boardwar, my spelling. :p

Go ahead, Shadow.

[Andkat]

So "Austra-Hungray", "Austra-Hungary", and "Austria-Hungary" are three separate nations? :D

NOTE/EDIT: Massive sexy bio-post edits...

[Raver]

*chuckles* Man these things get so messed up sometimes...there we go, edited mine and Im ready when everyone else it.

[Lestaki]

OOC: Okay, we start. Initial introductions of character and nation, and the beginning of diplomacy. While backstabbing secrecy is all well and good, I want the vast majority of this to be conducted IC. When diplomats go places and say interesting things, people tend to know. Historical alliances are more or less irrelevant, it's up to us all to find our own friends and foes.

IC: "I, Nova til Galia, stand before the gods," she said, "and I pledge my blood, my strength, my life, to the greater good of my house, the Princes and to Italia. I commend to you my fallen sister, and bear up her duties. Witness me. Give me your guidance in the days to come, and yield to me the gifts that are my right."

The cloak, the staff, and the sword. As old as Galia.

"The Gods listen," her father declared. "Take in regeancy that strength I now deny myself, and go forwards in the name of the family."

"In the name of the family," Nova said. She felt cold and underclothed in the dress, and a Galia never liked being cold. Father himself was swathed in a greatcoat, but the Galia Child had to wear nothing but the dress. It was annoying. "I take the cloak, I take the staff, and I accept the sword's service." She touched Devaln on the forehead, flickering her fingers. Magical fire played across the girl's forehead, erasing the sigil that marked her as Zestar's and replacing it with Nova's, a phoenix clutching a star. The Golem grunted, her runes glowing eerily for a moment, then went still again. There was no sympathy there.

Scowling, Nova looked up. Suddenly, she didn't have patience for this any more. "I take the staff, the cloak, the sword, the quest! I am Galia! So let it be!" She stabbed upwards with the staff, fire blasting into the ring of flame that marked the roof.

Devaln looked up then threw herself aside, just as the flame came crashing back down. Nova had a single moment of utter terror before the flame lashed over her body, cutting to the soul. The scream was sudden and protracted, but then it faded, the spiralling flames feeding into her power. She fell to her knees, clutching the staff one handed, gasping for breath... and then, in an instant, it was gone. The temple was dark.

"That was faster than anticipated," her father said. "And to... well, let it be." He strode off, already talking to his generals.

Nova watched them go, glaring. Bastards. Useless, callous bastards. She reached for her ring...

Someone stepped in front of her. Devaln knelt and offered her hand. Nova stared at the Golem for a moment, then took it, standing. There was a silence, then she shrugged. "You're with me now, aren't you?"

The Golem just nodded.

"Fine. Let's go." There was no reply. Sighing, she turned and walked away.

"When Zestar was sworn in," Devaln said quietly. "The flame knocked her out for ten days."

"What?"

The Golem said nothing more, walking past her.

[The Shadow]

This would be the only thing that I change to the Austra-Hungary list.

Hakkapeliitat (war riders)- 30 per 1 pt: Some of the best light cavalry in the europe, the hakkapeliitat are named for they warcry "Hakkaa päälle!", they live, eat, slepp with their horses, forming a spiritual relationship to it. They use rifles for long range and swords when they get up close.

Name: Väinö Ilmarinen
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Skill: leader 1pts.

Equipment: Sword and pistol: A perfect match, he uses the weord in his right and the pistol in his left hand and is very talented with these.
Nature ring: Boosts his nature magic a bit.

Strengths: Good and inspirational leader. Also good strategic.
Weaknesses: No inhuman powers, magic not very good.

Backstory: Väinö has only recently ascened to be the leader of the Finland. Where he came of what he was before is a mystery, but now he leads Finland to a path of it's own.

Shadow mage 1pts: Gladius is Väinös personal assistant. He often hides their movement and is much better user of nature magic than Väinö.

Vanguard 20 for 3pts: The personal guard of Väinö, heavily armoured. They carry assault rifles and swords. *Also empowered with the power of nature, gin´ving them a slight regenartion.

[ShatteredFaith]

Voldenvrath smiled a grim reapers smile, his massive frame augmented by magic and machinery, towered over the man infront of him, who would otherwise be the brawniest one there. Behind Vold was his army, for the most part, a ragtag bunch of conscripted slaves and line soldiers, but surrounding the Lord Golem was his escort, hard, diciplined Commissars and Petrov. The brawny man spoke "We want no war with you, great Voldenvrath, we merely desire peace"

The Lord Golem's eyes glowed with bloodlust "Will you surrender your armies unto mine and join my horde?" The man infront of him drew himself up bravely "We are a free people, and will be allies, not slaves!" his grand speech was wasted. Vold hacked, a deep sound in his throat, and spit his own blood into the mans face, swinging his modified left arm around to have the top most barrel touching the mans forehead "Pity" the man at the other end of the barrel had a moment of clarity, the loud crack as the shell left the chamber was the last thing he heard as he was splattered across the softly falling snow. Voldenvrath looked at the assembled army behind the dead leader, less numerous, but better armed and equipped.

Petrov frowned at the bloodshed and stepped forward "My Commander, Voldenvreath, is not a needlessly cruel man" he began, stepping delicately over the body, raising his voice, mildly augmented with magic, to reach the far ends of the shocked force assembled before him. "He will gladly accept anyones service who joins him" his face suddenly became dour and grim "but he will destroy any who oppose". A shot rang out, from which side Petrov could not tell, and with a mighty roar the Lord Golem waded into the enemy army, the multi-barreled gun on his arm spewing death, his massive warhammer spitting flame and crushing bone.

Petrov sighed, this was how the "negociations" usually went.

[Klaus88]

It was a classicly beautiful day in Richmond, Virginia. The sort of day that poets write about and Artists feature in their paintings. The kind of day to go on a picnic or outing. However, the serene beauty was lost on Major Tomas Jackson.

The fact that the day was so beautiful didn't escape Jackson of course. He just didn't give a damn about it. He spent most of his time inside his small office located in downtown Richmond anyway.

Today he was reviewing a report about the current political situation in Italia. With a new and inexperienced leader on the throne, there would no doubt be quite a scramble among the Major powers to take what advantage they could.

Good ridenance, devil take them and their damned palor tricks. Thought Jackson. He didn't just hate magic, he LOATHED it in every form and shape.

His aide openned the door and walked inside the room.

Jackson looked up from the report and said, "Yes what is it?"

The aide said, "Sir the President wants to see you as soon as possible."

Jackson nodded his head in aknowledgement and said, "Must be important, ok go and get us seats on the 3:15 train to Washington please."

The aide nodded and huurried out fo the office to fetch the tickets.

OOC: Are you a fan of Harry Turtledove Langy?

[Raver]

Emperor Toros Osman stood up, the massive marble chamber filled with the Ottoman Empire's Lords quietened, waiting for Him to adress them.

"My Lords the time has come, War is upon us once again but this time we will not fall under the pressure of another Nation or Empire, with or without allies, we will rise as the victors and claim this world for our own." His deep voice resonated throughout the chamber.

A shorter man got up and dismissed the council. Turning away Toros was greeted by the gaze of one of his mages, an unbelivably tall woman, clad in glittering armour, only know as Emine except to Toros himself. Her words as soft as silk, yet as sharp as a knife.

"The messengers has been sent out Emperor. They shall be arriving in the other Empires in a matter of days."

"Thankyou Emine, please remind me as to which Empires you sent these messengers to? To ask for an Alleigence?" He stared as Emine with fire in his eyes.

"My Lord, the Empires of Italia, Britannia, Ruskia, Austra-Hungary, America, United Prussia and France. Although the messenger to the America's will take longer than any of the others, his airship has to cross one of the oceans to reach any form of land."

Osman's gaze softened, She had done well.

"Good work Mage, When will we be hearing back from them?"

"Soon Emperor, Soon"

[Andkat]

In the distant lands of Old Kingdoms, betwixt the earth and the underworld, did a shadow-wreathed chamber lie. A chamber of oblivion, and of fate. A chamber of endings and beginnings, sitting eternally unmoving as the tides of history overtook all about it, yet at the same time at the crest of those crashing temporal waves.

In each alcove did a master of such things perch, their countenances encompassed by the very blackness that so consumed their souls. Each observed the spectacle before them with darkened orbs that had not kissed the solar forms for eternities, orbs that could percieve only the impossible ebony of eternity.

They where the unknown lords of a masked order, the ineffable rulers of the obscured arts, and the weavers of fates concealed.


Fates that where now borne by the figure at the core of their minds and their premises, the figure about which the darkness fluttered, concealing but not concealing. But the spinners of the future did not waver, did not worry. For as much as their plans where slave to this one, so to was it a slave to them.

And As the form of that momentously unknowable being finally unsealed it's medium of observation, did at last the darkened lords deign to address the one enslaved.


It is prepared? a rasping voice demanded from the shadows, curt and condescending in it's secure supremacy.

"Yes", a voice resonated softly.

You know what must be done, then? another boomed from the blackness.

"Of course" the supple mortal whisper responded.

Then we have reached our intended interweaving, have we not? another being purred maliciously from the shadows, knowing all too well what that would mean for it's lessers.

But are we truely prepared? These upstarts may prove troublesome if we act too swiftly another hissed aggrivatedly, evidently perturbed by the seeming detached nonchalance of it's predecessor.

If we do not act posthaste, we will never act. a dark throat intoned.

The other matters progress too swiftly. another resounded.

It will be soon be beyond our control. a cold voice observed.

Will he be told then? another crackled.

It is not requisite for the unfolding an ethereal whisper slithered. He does not need to be; therefore he is not.

Then it is resolved. the second voice echoed throughout the chamber.

Set it into motion. the first scratched in the blackness.

The form prostrated. "It will be done" it whispered hastily, as if eager but unwilling to extrapolate upon the matter.

May the Shadows Guide You the masters of shadows droned in unision, the glorious and infinite oblivion of the chamber overtaking the beleaguered figure as they spoke, as if finally released from invisible bonds.

[Lestaki]

OOC: Andkat, that was a post to a verbosity degree beyond Frazer. Betwixd? My eyes burn...

For the record, Italia is ruled by a council of twelve Princes, of which Nova's father is one. Nova herself is the fighting enforcer of Galia House, heir and diplomat, but the ruling power is with her daddy and the others.

IC: "What is your command, my lord?" Nova asked regally.

He scowled at his daughter. "What happened to the dress?"

She shook out her hair irritably. "I got rid of it. These clothes are far warmer."

"For diplomatic assignments, it is nesecarry for a woman to look like a woman," her father said. "Not a man."

"It's a pity, Nova dear," her mother said sweetly. "You look so pretty in a dress..."

"This is what I'm wearing," Nova said. "And the minutae of my apparal has little or nothing to do with international politics."

"You'd be suprised..." someone said quietly, to chuckles.

"The Diet has agreed to send diplomats to every nation," her father said. "Even the United Americas, though with deepest reservations. They have no love of mages, and are utterly godless. But this is a time for prudence, not zeal, I'm told. Myself, I fear for that emissary's safety... but I digress. Our family had been chosen to send the envoy to United Prussia. Fire is a connection that joins us, and they are one of the more hopeful candidates for an alliance. A few weeks ago, we would have sent you as our third child. Now we send you as heir. You will be accompanied by the diplomat Varhsal Gesarn and his aides."

Nova nodded. "Very well. Of transport?"

"You will be taking the Airship Etoile Blanche. It is unarmed, of course, but comfortable."

Mother's ship. "Very well," Nova said. "I'll depart immedietely. Devaln, come."

[Sevorak]

The first few flecks of a gathering snowstorm flicked into Leto's eyes; he blinked twice to dispel the white haze on his eyelashes, and looked into the distance. Nothing but endless fields of snow and ice, seeming to go on forever – but they only reached to the tip of the world, and a little further. But wasn’t that, at least for Leto, a form of eternity?

He had never seen further – his entire world was encompassed within the timeless, snowy fields of the Itharon. Had been, he mentally corrected himself. His world had been nothing but the fields. Now they were leaving; and even if it were only for a short time, it felt like he would never return. The ships of the Athilae were gathering by the shore; he had gone out alone, strayed far from the village for one last, serene period of melancholy reflection before being forced to leave it all behind.

Leto shook in the bitter cold. His world had always been cold; it had once been reassurance of his place, his home – now, the bitter chill was a lancing reminder of what he was about to lose. The landscape was harsh, unforgiving, infused with terrifying power by the harmonic forces of magic and nature intertwined – but it was still home; and their was a curious serenity within it that Leto doubted he would ever capture anywhere else.

The snow was coming down faster; it was starting to obscure the passage home. And despite his refined sense of direction, Leto knew he wouldn’t make it back to the shore alive if he lingered there any longer. A part of him longed to remain forever, to simply walk into the snow until he fell there, and become a part of it for eternity. But such thoughts were selfish. He brushed them aside. But still… there remained something wordlessly compelling him to remain. He waited; the storm began to rise, and the inexorable creeping sensation of having made a terrible mistake crept up on Leto’s mind.

Now, his course had been decided for him – he could go back, but he would not make it. That much was certain. Now, he could trust only to the fields of snow he had known since his earliest days. He knew, rationally, that such faith would give him nothing more than false hope. Emotionally, he knew it to be the right course – and the only one left to him. He walked even farther away from his home, footsteps being eroded by the sweeping blizzard before he even made new ones. If he died, no one would find him. But it was the way of the Itharon to fall amongst the snow, to have no grave and no remains. At least he would die like one of them, even if he could not have been born one.

He fell; and he knew instinctively that it was the end.

And it was not the first time his instincts had led him false. He awoke an indeterminate amount of time later, shaking the snow from the furs he wore about him to sustain the body’s warmth. When he stopped, he realized that he himself was shaking.

A faint glint of icy blue in the snow caught his eye. He took two shaky steps forward, legs numb and unfeeling. He stumbled as they gave out, and fell knee-down in the snow. Then he yelled out and reeled furiously back. A pair of eyes were staring up at him; a pale hand slashed up through the snow and clawed at the air. Then something massive smashed into the back of Leto’s head and smacked him aside; he landed on his side in the snow and looked sideways at a flailing body struggling to get up. Ice-blue hair flecked with snow flashed before Leto’s sight; a pair of silver eyes, wide with panic and alarm, locked with his own for the briefest moment before being torn away with a sickening crunch.

Ilthera… she’s a haze… his mind flared at the notion as a cry was forcibly ripped from the haze’s slender throat.

Leto struggled to move his neck. A faint but massive outline of a white-garbed figure stood towering over the fallen haze; a double-bladed silver sword rose up, preparing for the killing stroke it would not live to deliver.

Hundreds of icy shards raked the warrior’s body; piercing its legs, body, arms and head. They mercilessly gouged the warrior’s eyes, leaving him with a bloody mess for a face as the tatters of the obscuring robe were themselves torn apart. Leto looked to his ‘saviour’. A faintly shimmering, reflective outline was all he could see. Swarms of lethal frost-shards swarmed about its form, summoned at a mere whim.

Invictus. It was Leto’s only thought as it moved towards him.

Then his world went black.

[Gorb]

Imperial France, at the Sun-palace of King Louis Honaria:

The sounds of wood striking wood echoed throughout the deserted corridors of the magnificent Imperial Palace of the Sun. There was a roar of noise from the main hall, where the monarchs were currently residing. The messenger ran through the corridor to the great darkoak doors of the Great Hall. They opened at his command into a room packed with people. Courtiers, nobles, commoners and merchants, all here to witness the magnificant spectacle of the king and queen sparring.

"Don't lose your balance, Louis." Elle Marie called to her husband.
"Don't worry, maybe you should look where you're going." He called back.

A moment later both monarchs were slammed uncerimoniously to the floor. The King had been swept of his feet by a gust of wind, while the Queen had tripped over a telekinetic wall that rose 10ft into the air. They both rose to their feet, and bowed to the frantic applause of the hundreds of admiring Frenchmen and women.

Louis strode over to the messenger. "Well?" he enquired."How has it gone?"
"Your divine majesty, master of air and force, the negotiations went well. You are due in Brittania within two days and an appointment with the Chancellor of United Prussia next week. They are most pleased to hear your offers of a treaty."
"Excellent job. We will attend."

Louis strode on towards the royal quarters, where Elle was waiting for him.
"How did it go?" she asked sweetly.
"As good as it could go. Brittania expects us in two days, while Prussia will be talking to us next week."
"Superb. I wonder how the Prussians will recieve us. We have always tended to favour Brittania."
"We will be fine, dear. I doubt we will be attacked on a diplomatic meeting. Nevertheless, a golem guard will attend to us during both of our trips." Louis was worried slightly. Nothing was set in stone, and he still needed to reply to Italia, as Elle well knew. Ah, well mayhaps he should do so now.

"I am going to draft a reply to Italia. It appears congratulations are in order. A new royal has been sworn in. Powerful, if eyewitness reports are true. I respect the fire order, a noble calling. They would make useful allies, and their mages are superbly powerful."
Elle's eyes twinkled. "Then perhaps you should be nice for once."
Louis grinned. "Do not jest, the American envoy was asking for a reprimand. He should never ask personal questions."

The conversation and laughter continued throughout the day as the sun shone down on the Sun-palace, and the land was bless'd.

For the time being . . .

[Raver]

Toroas waited at the docks, He had been watching the fleet for a few hours now, the huge steel warmachines with Men running on and off carrying materials, tools anything you could imagine. He had personally overseen the launching of the Ottoman Empires first battleship. These huge vessels would play their part in the coming storm. Even if the majority of the fighting would be inthe air or on land, they would to valuable indeed for landing troops and supress shipping and supply lines throughout the Mediterranean.

Emine once again appeared as his side.

"My Lord, the diplomats to the Empires of France, United Prussia and Austra-Hungary, as well as the Itharon Mercenaries have arrived at their destination. If all goes well they will begin negotiations shortly and then return, hopefully with new allies."

"Good, what of the other diplomats?"

"They will be arriving at their destinations shortly, and once they have they will also begin negotiations."

"You have done well Emine, now come, we have work to do."

Toros strided towards the guard-flanked door, with a wave of his hand the complex lock slid away and the door slid open. Outside he was greeted by the three legions of Honour Guard, glad in black armour with red capes and holding their rifles at the ready, they were a fearsome sight indeed. Three Golem's stood at the front, also clad in black armour, but the most noticable difference in their armour was the intricate gold engravings which seemed to pulse and change in the sun.

They all stood still in the stone courtyard, awaiting their orders.

"My Men, You have served me well in these past few months. You have trained tirelessly and strived to achieve utmost perfection in your skills. As you all would have undoubtably guessed, War is coming to our great empire, but I connot have my Honour Guard grumbling about never getting a break. Tonight you are free of your duties, you may to what you wish but do not leave this port. In the morning you are all expected back here. Soldiers, Dismissed!"

The Soldiers cheered and marched into their barracks, emerging moment later free of their armour and weapons. All except the three Golem's which stood like statues, their faces hidden behind their helmets.

Toros turned away from the courtyard, yet again only to be greeted by Emine's gaze.

"Emine? Is there something on your mind?"

"My Lord, I am not questioning your judgement, but we are nearing a War, are you sure it is wise to let your guard down now of all times?"

"Emine, these Men and Women have strove to protect us, many of them for a large portion of their lives. They deserve this break. Also, we have many thousands of troops readying themselves right now, and a fleet of battleships at this very port. I do not think we are under much threat here."

"Of course Sir, I was wrong to object."

"Of course you werent, You voiced your thoughts and concerns, I would not ask any less of someone I trust as deeply as yourself."

"My Lord."

Emine walked away with such grace is looked as if she was gliding along the stone floor. Toros sighed. He was getting too old for this. He longed to be back on his own land with his family, but such times do not permit. Banishing the thought Toros straightened his back and strode out into the city-port, flanked by his Golem's.

He anxiously awaited the news from his Diplomats.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The Airship Troy gladed through the air, the German countryside sliding past below it.

Cahid Nazan, the Diplomat for Emperor Toros Osman was leaning on the rail smoking a cigar. Watching a deck-hand running towards him.

"Sir, We have recieved word we are to land at the Prussian Summer Estate's Airstrip near the Italian border, we will be escorted to the Airstrip by two flights of Strafer Planes. The Pilot has made the necessary changes and we shall be arriving shortly. Once we have landed we will be taken to a weapons demonstration by War Minister Von Tirpitz."

Cahid nodded and smiled. throwing his cigar off into the air he headed towards his cabin to retrieve his belongings. Above the slight thudding of the rotors keeping the airship aloft, he could hear the whine of what he could only guess were the escort. He put the remaing things into his suitcase and decended below-decks, read to dis-embark. His stomach turning as the airship decended.

------------------------------------------------------------------

War Minister Von Tirpitz watched from the ground as the massive airship landed on the airstrip. He was flanked by two squards of troops in dress-uniform and stood at the front of a red carpet which had been laid out for the arriving Diplomat. The gold-coloured plated in to hull of the ship slid aside as a walkway landed with a thud right in front of the carpet.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Cahid strided down the walkway with a smile on his face, with his hand extended. stepping off the walkway, he shook hands with who he guessed was War Minister Von Tirpitz.

"It is an Honour to meet you War Minister."

"The Honour is all my Sir. Please follow me."

The two strided towards a procession of black cars which was wating to take them to the firing range. As Cahid's men unloaded his belongings and other cargo.

One inside the car and well on their way, Cahid and the War Minister resumed conversation.

"War is coming Minister, and My Emperor does not wish to fight it alone."

[Shadowbound]

Verbrennen saw the messenger just as he entered the Hall, and watched him stand on his tiptoes for a moment to see over the ladies' piled hair. The chancellor caught Duke Von Aufwiegler by the arm, and directed the head of the Prussian College of Magic to keep an eye on the Kaiser while Verbrennen was detained on business of state.

The messenger saw Verbrennen just as he was about to break free of the knot of courtiers that clustered around the entrance waiting for important new arrivals, and also recognized the gesture to duck back into the hallway so the message could be delivered in private.

"Well?"

"Captain Waterhouse, from Italia, says that he will not sneak into a wakened bear's den just to feed on it's milk."

Verbrennen nodded, recognizing the coded message, and gave the messenger a response.

"Wait for next winter."

The messenger scurried off only to have another one replace him.

"Berlin has just signaled by telegraph that the Ottoman ambassador has arrived, and will leave south for us in the morning. The Italia ambassador is also expected to leave in the morning too, and Berlin has already notified him that the Emperor is staying here." Verbennen nodded, and ordered the messenger to notify the other Ministers, including Von Tirpitz.

"No more wine for the Kaiser tonight, Our Young Majesty has guests in the morning" he said to a passing waiter before he left the ball for good to arrange for the Ambassadors' arrival.

[Andkat]

The plains of the Duna-tul where frozen; as frigid as their master's heart. And upon those chill lands did that cool, blackened heart beat vivaciously despite itself, as if awakened by subconscious anticipation of the momentous era to come.


Matyas Steiner grinned as he gazed through the gloriously intricate glassworks, almost as elaborate as Imperial politics, of his personal compartment. Beyond him, he could faintly detect the piercing whistle of the train's horn, penetrating even the copiously padded and insulated Royal Suite. How suitable that it was to ring at this momentous hour, the hour upon which the gears of the world where to be set into motion, and a new era to appear on the horizon.

"It is done?" Matyas queried with a smile that knew the answer all too well.


His advisor Istvan's smooth cranium tilted just a fraction of a centimeter, as if reticient about his next words. Finally, after a momentary pause that stretched almost into eternity, he replied. "It is, my gracious lord. Prussia's support, is, as was predicted, guarenteed. Already the Master Magus of the Imperial Court has been dispatched to Berlin to fulfill...the final arrangements" he whispered smoothly, verging on insinuation. "They are known to be recieving diplomats from Italia, the Turks, and France. It is of little matter. They will support us. This we know".


Matyas's smile broadened. "And the wretch we sent to Russkia?"

"He will not be missed" was the cold reply.

"Glorious" Matyas smirked as he withdrew a slim, fluted cigar from a compartment. Grinning as he activated his Prussian lighter, Matyas finally glanced up into the cool, dark orbs of shadow mage. "Inform our good master Ivic that he is needed, along with his forces. Send a mediator to the Ottoman in Pest; await the conclusion of the Berlin confluence prior to resolving his proposal. I do not wish to alienate our good...friends to the west unduly before our mechanisms are set into motion."

The response was smooth. "But my lord, the people would not despise war with the Italian States unduely. Indeed, in the perception of many among the masses, the northenmost territories of the High Mages remain lawful portions of Austria; the secessions of 1848 invalid in their coarse minds. It would hardly be pernicious to your reign to combat the Imperial Court's old foes".

"Trouble yourself not, my dear Istvan" Matyas winked, stressing the last terms as if in emphasis of who was truely dominating these matters. "Even the hardiest of alliances willl wane and rot to the tune of marching armies. And in the times of tumult beyond, the world itself will bear the arms of nations".

[Klaus88]

OOC: Godless?
Jackson was a very deep thinker and didn't let go of a thought process once he started down a path. Therefore he was thinking about Italia and how much he hated the country.

The food was awful, all the really good eating spots were only open for nobles, with just a few taverns for the lower classes. If you spat it was an even chance you would hit a mage of some kind. The worst part was the ruling families who wouldn't know the meaning of the word "humble" if it bit them on the ass.

It was all really a moot point because he had been banned from the country on pain of torture. They actually thought that he was somehow responsable for all those deaths among the ruling class. Utterly insane of course. If it had been him the bastards wouldn't even have had a clue at to where to begin looking.

At that point, his aide interrupted him with a cup of coffue and the latest rumors. Jackson was a great believer in using every source of information possible.

[Lestaki]

OOC: The old gods are the mages' gods, and they don't recognise any others.

IC: Nova watched Europe unfold beneath her, gripping the railing tighly. Below her, she could see the figurehead of the Etoile Blanche, a maidenly woman of some description. Above, Arcual shrieked and flew, casting a brilliant light on everything beneath him, to awe and superstition from the crew. The Phoenix was not a threat in itself, but rather a reminder- a reminder of ancient powers beyond humans to destroy, and a reminder of magic's still-terrifying power. That was useful in its own way, though it could be troublesome if the Prussians threw their weight around about airspace and such things. Those little signs would be all-important, she supposed. "Where is Vahrsal?"

"Hailing the Prussian authorities," Devaln said. "Requesting permission to land."

Nova had found that the Golem would answer direct questions, but nothing else. Her attempts to make conversation had been ignored, leaving silence between them for the vast majority of the trip. "Because talking isn't part of your job, is it?"

The Golem made no reply.

"Tell me about Prussia, then. Are we in any danger?"

"I do not know," Devaln said. "That depends on diplomacy. If we were attacked, this airship would die in an instant."

"Do you think we should have sent a warship instead?"

"I do not know," the golem said. "The Lord-Galia commands and I obay."

"The Lord-Galia? For gods' sakes, call him father or something."

"He is not my father," Devaln said. "Not to any significance."

"Clockwork soldier," Nova muttered. "But... clockwork mage. If we were attacked, we could probably escape on Arcual, though that would depend on the manner of the attack. A mage or assassin we can handle, but not an army."

"It is exeedingly unlikely that we will be attacked," Devaln said.

"Hmm," Nova said. "I'm not sure. There was no reason for Zestar to be attacked, either... but she was." She turned to look at the Golem. That skin, so pale- but her eyes were strangely watery, her hair was white, flutterings of runes flickered idly across her skin. It was not the Galia form, which even she had, like her eldest sister before her; her white hair streaked with a ruddy bloodish shade, those crimson eyes. Devaln looked nothing like her parents or siblings. But that was probably normal, for a magicless Golem. And there was a guarded fierceness to greet Zestar's name. Pride and sorrow. That hauter was so very Galia, after all.

"We approach the Summer Palace," Devaln said. "The ship is signalling for landing to disembark. It is best to be ready."

Nova nodded. "Very well. Let us see what we shall."
***
The Lord-Galia sighed, reading the letter with idle interest. "From the French Imperial family. Comiserations at the untimely death of our daughter Zestar, great shock, tragedy and so on... congratulations on swearing in of new heir, great hope for the future in these troubled times... nothing hugely suprising. Welcome enough, better than the Americas. What's next?"

"A mesanger from the Ottoman empire, sir."

"Send him in." He yawned hugely and looked out the window. These were going to be long and troubling days.

[Shadowbound]

"So I will take aircraft to the Americas?" Vice-Foreign Minister Von Glutn said for the second time, as if trying to make sure the word aircraft instead of airship was a mistake.

"Yes you will, I am told that the new Gotha planes should be able to outrun any airship in the skies. You will certainly arrive before the other Ambassadors, and the method will doubtless impress the Americans from 'sea to shining sea'."

Any response was cut off before it began by the loud booming of the Fury Tanks' main guns, and the less noticable sound of their autocannons. The demonstration had begun, and Nazan would be rounding the bend in two minutes. Fresh parasols were brought out to give shade to the delegation as an automobile that had taken a more direct route brought word of how large the party was. Ladies applied more make-up, Lords made sure their wives applied more make-up, Ministers made sure them and their retinues were presentable, and the Kaiser ordered more drinks.

[The Shadow]

Gladius ran through the shadows. He kenw that he mut keep the message safe. Other nations must not find out waht it was about. As shadow mage he was good at staying out of sight. The other 'ambassadors' we're also staying out of sight, but I must do my own job and see that it gets done. He continued running, his destination lied in the middle of europe.

---

"Why do I always get these awful jobs..." Helios Cursed to himself. Why I couldnt be sent to south. But this icy cold north... But still he kept on going through the shadows in the north.

---

A sweet trip through ocean... Delicante tought, but an important message, I must see that it gets where it must.


ooc: I'm using shadow mages as ambassadors, and so I will not clearly state where they are going, but give some hints. If thats alright. Of course they take some more time to get from one place to another.

[Andkat]

High Adept of the Colleges of Fire Marx Brennen cursed as he stumbled out of the Prussian carriage that had transported his wizened form across the border.

Wizened form? he smirked inwardly. Ah yes, the High Mage of the Imperial Austrian Court, Lord of the College of Vienna. Sent on an accursed diplomatic mission without so much as a proper coat or oiled cart at 'His Majesty's Personal and Most Humble of Requests'


Marx grimaced as he tripped on the accursedly slick steps of the Chancellor's estate. He waved off the supporting appendage of the Prussian soldier assigned to him. They didn't even deign to give me a proper and competent attendant. Yet the Imperial Ambassadors recieve an entire honour guard! A fine way to treat the man assigned to diplomatic cooperation with your closest ally!.

"Impudent wretch" Marx muttered as he continued to cautiously hobble up the grand, freezing stairway. "In my day, one wouldn't dare touch one of my status for fear of fatal reprimand".

Despite, or perhaps because of this, he snapped the proffered cane from the bemused rifleman's arms as he hurried up the granite entry stair.

The aggravated banging on the magnificient oak double doors that followed was audible throughout the twisting corridors and ornate halls of the Chancellor's Manor.

[ShatteredFaith]

A cold, bitter, howling coldfront was howling through Ruskia, so bitter that even Voldenvrath had taken to wearing a massive coat made of several dead bears. He was inside the war tent, a massive construction that kept out precious little of the cold, grimly eyeing the assembled ambassadors and diplomats from the other nations. Petrov was at his side, the slender man shaking from time to time. The assembled hordes outside were in a similiar state.

"So" the Lord Golem rumbled "You want allegiance or ceasefire" he was unhappy at the moment. He would have perferred to kill them, but Petrov had very carefully guided him towards the idea that if he did, undefeatable armies would march on him. A shuddering cough erupted from the golem, who spat a large wad of blood into the snow, it half-froze before reaching the ground. "I make no allegiance, and my ceasefire is assured until i am through crushing the dogs that inhabit my country under my boots, you can tell your masters that" it was clearly a dismissal.


----
Petrov eyed the shadow mage infront of him a bit nervously, inside his smaller tent "You understand the terms of our agreement?" the shadow mage nodded "Good, depart back to your lord"

[Lestaki]

OOC: To Shadowbound's plan, as sent to me via PM. Spot my addition...

IC: "Greetings from Italia," Vahrsal said, bowing. "I am Vahrsal Gesarn, ambassador of the Galia Prince family, one of the twelve of the Diet. May I introduce the heir of the Galia, Lady Nova til Galia?"

Nova nodded briefly. "It is a pleasure," she said, speaking faultless German.

The Foreign Minister bowed in reply. "The pleasure is mine. This way, if you please."

They followed him, Devaln walking behind cautiously. Arcual flapped high above with a slow, regal grace, careful to make no sudden movements. He gestured for them to step into a large car. Nova pouted. "No horses? I dislike these contraptions. But when in Rome, as they say... flying might be frowned apon around here." She got in, figiting as they were taken to the demonstration. Playing up her youth and stupidity was a good way to be underestimated. Being underestimated was often useful.

Then, with their arrival, came the demonstration. "Tanks... what odd things," Nova said.

"Oh, I say," Vahrsal said bluffly. "Most impressive." Nonetheless, his eyes were sharp as he watched the Fury tanks chew through the straw figures with their blazing weapons. Straw figures dressed in French uniforms. How subtle. In short order a hundred of them had been dispatched, to thunderous applause. The two Italians joined on, only Devaln holding her peace with folded arms.

"Next, we demonstrate the effectiveness of the Fury tanks against Mechanios units," the Minister said, as the tanks turned again. "It's a truely fascinating... spectacle."

"So it is," Nova said. "In fact, I think I'll get a better view. Please excuse me for a moment." She whistled piercingly, smiling as Arcual circled and flew lower. Then she leapt upwards, telekensis accelerating her light jump to something just short of flight. She landed on the Phoenix's back easily, untouched by the burning fire, and settled behind its neck. "Arcual... bring us round again, then settle to hover. Oh, and no harm in turning up your native fire, just a little." The Phoenix shrieked, lashing round the square in a descending spiral with quick, powerful wingbeats. Embers dropped from the blazing creature's form, falling gently as it finally settled, flapping heavily to maintain its position above the square. "Beautiful. My beautiful Arcual..."

They are strange and arrogant people.

"Bear them. Let them be so, it's a weakness."

For as long as they do not harm you, and for as long as you bear them.

Below them, the Mechanios were ripped apart before they could even come into range of the Fury tanks. And above, the Princess and Vassal watched with interest.

[The Shadow]

ooc: At Andkats request I'm changing my use of Shadow magic to nature magic.

Nature magic - It is not very pwoerful at destructing things, but it is very good at covering you tracks, setting up ambushes, creating imbassable obstacles, etc. of corse you can use it to bring life to trees and summon animals of the forset to fight with you. Think of all the things in nature and then think that you can control them, of course none has ever managed to control the nature itself, only to manipulate it.

[Raver]

OOC: Bedtime now!

Alim Samim strided into the enourmous entry hall of the Italian Palace, He was flanked by 12 Black-clad warriors. He wandered wether all of the other Diplomats had such an escort.

Alim watched as what looked like a noble walked towards them. With a strong Italian accent Alim had trouble understanding, he greeted them.

"Welcome to the Grand Palace of Italia. We are honoured to have you."

"Likewise, It would be wise if we could begin these negotiations as soon as possible."

"Certainly, please follow me."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Cahid Nazan watched the demonstartion with amusement. Watching the small hay men being torn to shreds by the massive shoeboxes of steel. He offered the War Minister one of his Cigar's, who took one and nearly set himself on fire in the process of lighting it. Cahid's Honour Guard almost doubling over in laughter.

"Tell me, Why are your hay men clothed in French uniforms?"

"Um..well they were...uhhh..Say, would you have a look at those explosions over there! That must be the Fury Tanks."

Cahid chuckled to himself and continued his discussion. Meantime he watched the other 'Diplomats' with great interest.

"So, will you deliver the message to you Kaizer? Our forces are to be Allied?"

"I will deliver the message as soon as possible. Please excuse me." The Minister said, walking off.

Cahid Mazan then turned back to one of his Officers which were with him at the 'party'. "Dispatch a plane back to the Emperor. We have a new Ally"

[Shadowbound]

There were oohs, ahs, and applause when the Pheonix appeared over the hills. Then there were more oohs, ahs and delicate ladies fainting when they saw it had a rider. Then there was more ahs, the revived delicate ladies fainting again, and applause when the automobiles pulled to a stop in front of the Manor and the rider was positively identified as a woman.

"That is Til Galia?"

"The Til Galia"

"A very... strange and arrogant young lady, to pull a stunt like that."

"We will put up with it, if it means not having to fight our way through the Alps."

Verbrennen acknowledged the General Von Moltke's wisdom, before quickly stepping forward to beat the Kaiser's party to the ambassadors.

"Ambassadors Nazan, Til Galia, allow me to welcome you to the Summer Estate of Kaiser Wilhelm III." He was able to say before His Most Illustrious Young Monarch butted him aside, heading straight for the Til Galia Heir.

Verbrennen did not feel that would be a good thing, but the throng of young nobles between him and the Kaiser was too young to listen to him, and too important to be shoved aside.

[Lestaki]

Nova landed softly, the telekensis coming easily to her. "It is an honour to be here," she said, bowing low. When she looked up, she realised the Kaiser was bearing down on her, which was alarming. Was he angry at her stunt? She might be quickly thrust onto the recieving end of aristocratic outrage... which would be tiresome, as she couldn't lose her temper in turn. Nor, of course, could her training exclude the possibility that this man, no doubt a potent mage or warrior, was going to try and terminate her as a threat with a duellist's prejudice. She doubted that, though Devaln tensed subtly behind her. Best just to wait and see what happened next.
***
"The Diet recieves Alim Samim, envoy of the Ottoman Empire," the Lord-Galia said. The nine mage-lords present bowed their heads. Behind them, nine golems stood unmoving. "We extend our most gracious welcome to you. But as you say yourself, time is short. Let us dispense with the pleasentaries and begin."

They began.

[Raver]

Toros watched the small plane touch down on the airfield on his private estate in the mountains. He had spent alot of time here, since he left the sea-port. He had been awaiting news from his diplomats for some time now.

He heard the sound of shoes on marble and turned around. He saw a young officer approaching him. Bowing low the Officer presented 2 red-bound envelopes, which he handed to him.

"Emperor, the Leaders of United Prussia and Austra-Hungary have allied with us."

"Splendid! What of the effort's of the other Diplomats?"

"Negotiations with Itaila, France and the Itharon Mercenaries have begun. They are looking well."

Toros smiled and dismissed the Officer. Turning back to look off the balcony, he watched his men drilling on the rally-ground below.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Alim Samim had been talking for hours now, he was begining to fall asleep during one of their Nobles speeches. He desperately hoped they could get to the point soon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Tolan shielded his face from the harsh wind and snow. His horse protested and faultered.

"Why the hell didnt they just give me a damn airship?" He muttered to one of his guards.

"The engines would have frozen in the wind, we would have just crashed to the ground. These horses will bear us a little further, and hopefully we will find the tribes of the North before the -"

The soldier was cut off but a yell from the front of the column.

"We have found them Sir!"

Tolan dismounted and trudged the rest of the distance to the front of the column, they had appeared in the clearing, snow-swept and desolate. Tolan thought the Officer was just playing a joke then he saw them.

Through the trees, barley able to be seen he saw thousands of men and women, glad in animal furs. Hundreds of arrows and rifles are pointed straight at his face. He gupled down his fear the stepped into the middle of the clearing and adressed them.

"I come in the name of Emperor Toros Osman of the Ottoman Empire. A storm is coming to our world and I wish to speak to your chief so that our two great people may survive it together."

A man stepped forward, holding a ruested sword with pulsing runes covering the blade. "I am Thaeros, chief of the Itharon Tribes. You may come but your men must remain here, we will bring food and shelter for them."

He then turned and walked back into the forest with Tolan in tow.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The airship touched down in france and the Diplomat disembarked and looked out at the view.

"Hmph, French."

[Sevorak]

OOC: Leto isn't the chief of the tribe, btw. Leto is currently recovering from his wounds... nevermind, anyway. Just replace Leto with Thaeros and it's all good. ;)

IC:

Thaeros led the foreign ambassador to one of the temporary tents they'd set up, brushing aside the canopy and ushering him in.

"It is fortuitous that you arrive at such a time," he began, taking his seat - not particularly ornate, merely a crystal-ice construct that served his needs well enough. "My people are preparing to head south; towards the lands you and your neighbours inhabit, if I am not mistaken - it is well you find us now; the nearest tribe from our camp would be impossible for you to find without several times the amount of supplies you bring with you."

He looked to one of his aides, murmured something quietly, then returned his gaze to the ambassador.

"If we are to be allies, then we should know the intent of the other; as any leader must, I require to know what it is you ask of my people,"

-------------------------------------

The aide - one of the Storm Heralds, adorned in regal, magicite rune armour and carrying a double-bladed silver sword, strode into the healer's tent. He looked down at the 'other' ambassador - a foreign mage they had found in the snow, wandering almost aimlessly. Outsiders typically had such difficulties - attempting to find nomads in such a place as that was often suicidal. Yet still they tried, and they were to be commended for that. But the Itharon deliberately made finding them difficult - and it was still a surprise any of them had made it as far as they did.

Though likely it was merely chance, he thought idly. It does not matter. There were three injured figures of prominence - the ambassador, their own Leto, and the strange, icy-haired girl they had found by Leto in the snow. More chance we managed to find them, also. Too much depends upon chance here. Though at least the infernal machinations of industry cannot hold sway in this place.

The other ambassador was stirring; the Storm Herald directed a cold stare at him - not hostile, but certainly enough to be considered confrontational.
"We found you in the snow, several hundred metres north of here. You were unconscious." He paused for a moment, then added as an afterthought, "You're lucky to be alive; though you have some bravery in you to have come this far, presumably to seek us out. So, then - what is it you would ask, if not of us, then of this place?"

[Gorb]

OOC: SO many people want to know me :D.

IC: "The monarch of Brittania suggests we delay our visit for a couple of weeks, as they are tied up with internal business."
"Fair enough dear," Louis yawned, "is the messenger en route to Italia."
"Yes Louis. And the diplomat from the Ottoman empire is here."
"Bugger." Louis got up, yawned again, and rose. "I'd better go and meet him."

A delegation of Frenchmen greeted the Ottoman ambassasor.
"Greetings." said one. "The Divine Monarch and Saviour of France will see you now."
Together with the foriegn official they entered the Sun-palace, where the negotiations were held.

---

The French official, Breton L'Ardienne, stepped off the air currents of Western Europe and landed in front of the Italian delegates.
"French ambassador here, Breton L'Ardienne. I am here to discuss the possible relationships between Italia and Imperial France. Where shall I go from here?"

[Lestaki]

OOC: As far as I can tell, everyone is allied with everyone else. Well, let it be. Time to shake things up.

IC: The Vekatar frowned, releasing his indrawn breath momentarily as he tensed, hands firmly locked on the rifle. Then he pulled the trigger.
***
Devaln had already blurred into motion, leaping towards the Kaiser. He blinked in suprise, coming up short and reaching for his sword as the Golem bore down on him. The gunshot echoed across the square. Even a Golem was too slow, even the mages were too slow. The shot hit the young Kaiser in the shoulder, shattering his latent telekinetic defences and throwing him down in a shower of blood.

Nova screamed, one scream amongst so many that were suddenly filling the square, and threw up the strongest telekinetic shield she could muster. She was just in time as a second shot smashed into her defence, stopped mere inches from her face. The resonant energy threw her violently to the ground, then Arcual screamed and flew low, spreading his wings and covering the two fallen mages as well as a large portion of the crowd. Devaln crouched over Nova, putting her own flesh between her sister and the source of the attack. "That way," she said, pointing at a tall clocktower. "He's up there."

The Prussian Golems had already said as much, and were moving apace with the rest of the German defence force in that direction. Their efforts were hampered by a square that had been thrown into utter chaos.

Nova knelt, barely able to move beneath her sister. She reached out and managed to touch the young Kaiser, feeling the pulse of life beat in him. She concentrated, taking away his pain and slowing the loss of blood. But she wouldn't be able to heal him before they'd taken the bullet out, and she suspected that the Prussians would take over from here on in. "He's alive. I can heal him," she blurted to his furious, closing bodyguards. "If you take me with you, I'll help in any way I can." She doubted she'd be heeded, and with good reason.

Another shot rang out, this one aimed at Cahid Nazan as the man was dragged towards cover. But the few fire mages assembled were ready by now, joining forces and deflecting the attack.

"The sniper is relocating," Devaln hissed. "We must take cover. There may be more."

Nova shook her head. The senses of Golems were incredible. "Who? Who would do such a thing?" She didn't know. But it wasn't good.

[Klaus88]

OOC: Relgious Catholic manics? Now for some backstory.

IC: The Christian Faith had long been popular among the lower classes of Europe for some very simple reasons. The old gods stated that any non mages were scum and that it was the divine right of the mages to rule over these pepole and give them purpose. Also the gods recommended blowing up anyone who didn't agree with their point of view.

The catholics were also very definate about magic, namely it being the tool of the devil and a lot of other stuff about how it leads people into doing very sinful things.

Despite all this, the mages allowed the establishment of a Catholic leadership in Rome with a supreme leader, and allowed the construction of Chruches and appointing of priests.

Why was this allowed? Nobody knows for sure but the most common theory is that the mages thought that the new religion would be unpopular and quickly die out. It should also be noted that these mages are widely held to be some of the dumbest mages EVER.

The religion spread like wild fire and by the time that the mages realized what a dumb idea it was, well it was too widely spread to rise a war without basically throwing all of Europe into total chaos.

Eventually it came to a head and a huge civil war broke out in 1776 between the Catholic anti mage faction and the pro mage faction. It was a very close war but the mages managed to win (eventually).

Due to the huge distraction provided by such a massive war, the U.A. was able to break away from Britan without a great deal of trouble. There was a fair amount of fighting but the U.A. sucess was never in doubt.

Another side effect was that when the mages armies converged on Rome to wipe out the Pope and the Catholic leadership once and for all, was that the city was completely deserted. The entire city had emptied out into a massive fleet of ships and sailed for Washington D.C. which remains the center of the Catholic faith (and proves very handy for the U.A. when dealing with certain factions) today.

[Langy]

OOC: RE: Turtledove: Unfortunately, I've enver had the pleasure of reading his books, but now that I've looked him up on Wikipedia, I'm looking forwards to reading the Worldwar and Colonization series, at the very least. I'll have to check my local library sometime soon.

Washington, D.C., Jackson Sation

The railroad station was packed at four thirty-five in the afternoon, the businessmen, laborers, and politicians crowding the station as they made their afternoon commute from work, the politicians and businessmen heading out of the city and into the suburban countryside to their large, pollution-free homes while the laborers and other working-classes came from their jobs in the factories in the foothills to live in the cheap, dirty conditions of the city slums. It was during this rush hour that one Thomas Jackson departed from his train and was quickly awash in the sea of the lower class. He was soon spared the crowd, however, when five men in the uniform of the Unified Americas Army pushed through the mob, their automatic rifles held to their chests so as to display them without being directly threatening. They wore no nametags or rank insigias, a muted, three-color version of the Presidential Seal covering their epaulettes where the rank would normally be.

The five men quickly reached Jackson and arrayed themselves around him, the closest putting his arm on the man's shoulder and guiding him out of the crowd without a word. Within minutes, they were in standing in front of a long black automobile flanked by two of the army's all-terrain utility vehicles, their machine guns manned by other hard-faced military types. On the sides of the military vehicles, Jackson could clearly see the emblem of the Presidential Security Detail, while the black car was unmarked. One of the uniformed men opened the rear door for Jackson, motioning him in, while the other four walked to the two General Purpose vehicles and got in.

The back of the vehicle was empty, and the cabin was large - there was enough room to put a couch on the side of the vehicle, stretching from the rear seat up to a glass pane seperating the driver's compartment from the passenger one. As Jackson was seated, the army soldier slid in behind him, placing the rifle down leaning against the door as he closed it. The vehicle's engine began purring as the two settled in, and as it turned away from the curb and into the busy Washington streets the army man motioned towards a set of cabinets opposite the couch which looked suspiciously like a bar.

"Welcome to Washington, Major. I'm Captain Epstein. I hope our presence doesn't bother you, but we've recieved intelligence that the European continent may be on the brink of war, perhaps even be plunged into it entirely before the week is out. At ten-fifteen this morning, the Prussian Kaiser, an Italian noble, and an Ottoman diplomat were fired upon by an unknown sniper. I can say with certainty that it wasn't us, but we don't know who did it, and as far as we can tell neither do the Europeans. Unfortunately, given our history with the Europeans, they may not believe us when we say we didn't do it. We've sent a message of our condolences and outrage to each of their governments, but it likely hasn't reached them yet, as we don't have any permanent embassies in Europe. We're afraid our waywered cousines may decide to act rashly and strike at their 'known' enemies, and you're high up on that list for Italia. Luckily, though, I don't believe they can communicate as well long-distance as we can just yet, and as far as we know they have no agents in Washington, but it is still best to be prepared, no?

"In any case, your meeting with President Roosevelt is even more urgent than before. We'll soon be arriving at the White House, and he's asked that you be escorted directly to the oval office. I don't know what he wants to discuss with you, but he has been in a very pensive mood recently, so I doubt it will be anything good."

The car drives on, the ride smooth as silk as it approached Pennsylvania Avenue.


9,000 feet above the Mediterranean Sea, one hundred twelve miles south south-east of Italia

The low, quiet rumble of the engines was a constant on the air deck of the USAS Abraham Lincoln, affectionately called the "Honest Abe" by her four-thousand member crew and the "City in the Sky" by the press. The noise of the helicopter propellers helping to keep her aloft, along with the large, empty space in her center, served as a comfort to the crew - they knew that if that noise were to suddenly stop, for whatever reason, the entire airship would be in deep, deep trouble.

Accompanying the baritone sounds of the great engines of the pride of the Air Force were the contralto songs of the ship's crew, their voices carrying across the large, encolsed space and easily echoing throughout the chamber. These voices, today, were focused upon the starboard elevator bank and arrayed around what would be a strange sight for most of the European continent - an odd boxy metal structure underneath what looked to be an oversized fan blade, with room for perhaps fifteen people inside its unarmored hull. The pilot stood outside the craft, speaking with a short man in his mid-thirties. Both wore the uniform of the UA Air Force, the pilot also wearing aviator's goggles on his forhead and a leather flight jacket. The pilot was obviously agitated, his hands gesticulating wildly while he spoke.

"Go to Italia!? Are you out of your mind? They damned mage-lords'll shoot us out of the sky before they let us land! What are you doin' trying to get us killed!" The pilot didn't like this one bit, that was clear.

"Look," Stenner gazed coldly into the pilot's eyes while he talked, "I'm not going to disagree with you. I think flying your helicopter to Italia is a horrible, horrible idea. Unfortunately, I think disobeying a direct order from the President is an even worse one. We need to make sure they realize we didn't just try to assassinate one of their newest nobles before they get rowdy and declare war. If it'll make you feel better, we're also sending a few unarmed scout planes to the Ottomons and Prussia on the same mission. We want to slow down any progression of hostilities as much as possible." Jack Stenner sighed, then continued. "You need to get that diplomat safely into Italia. It's a direct order. Are you going to do it, or do we need to send you to the brig until we get back to port?"

The pilot breethed in deeply then exhaled. "Alright. I'll do it. We should arrive in Italia in two hours, and land in Rome within four. I'll try and keep the diplomat alive as best I can, but you know how those magic-born are. I'll keep in contact via radio as often as I can. I wonder what the Italians will think when we arrive at the eve of night? Bah. It can't be helped, can it?" Turning towards the third person there, he pointed towards the door of his helicopter. "Get in, Ambassador. I hear this is your first helicopter ride?" The Ambassador, a man in his late fifties with a bald head and bushy, white eyebrows, nods nervously. The pilot cracks a smile now as he enters the cockpit. "Don't worry about it. I haven't crashed once this whole month!"

As Jack Stenner slowly backs away from the elevator, he watches it raise up and into the opening cieling, the howling winds of this height biting into him until the elevator retreats to the air deck once more, empty and the port it used once more sealed against the elements.

[Klaus88]

Jackson nodded and replied, "Hopefully we will be able to defuse the situation through careful diplomacy captain. Heaven only knows that we would have been at war with those people many times over if not for diplomacy."

But this time it's different. This time one of their kings nearly got his head blown off. Somehow I think this might be the straw that breaks the camal's back. Thought Jackson.

[Shadowbound]

Slitted eyes that saw the world in terms of darkness, instead of picking out colors by the light of the sun, watched the assassin scurry through the attic. He, a tiny thing on the scale of the omniverse had inflicted such a blow. The thing that had watched Empires rise, fall, and then rise again when all had forgotten of them laughed as he sensed the balance tipped towards the Twilight, towards the dusk of Empires that it had flourished in before.

The assassin stayed a step ahead of the Stormtroopers hunting him, looking for another chance to hurt the mages in the courtyard below. It had no great love for the chain-keepers, and was tempted to let another be harmed before moving. But... no. There was far more death coming, no sense in delaying it.

He had one moment of pure terror before he was consumed in a cloud of ash, and bloody bones clattered to the floor, and were passed silently by the searching soldiers.

One thing caught it's attention before it left to return and report, a small silver thing that had been untouched by blood. It picked the Catholic Cross in it's hands, feeling the burn against it's form the silver created.

It laughed silently again, and returned to the Chancellor.

[Raver]

The black-glad soldiers surrounded Cahid ina circle, their rifles pointed outward in every direction, they had a duty and they were to fulfull it.

The sqaure was in chaos, Men and Woman ran in every direction, desperately trying to get away from anything that could hurt them, eventually things calmed down, Prussian soldies took up positions all over the building, protecting the important party guests and just generally trying to calm things down.

"Lets move soldiers." Cahid heard on of his guards say, who then turned to him and spoke "You have done your duty Ambassador, we have an ally, but no we must leave, the Troy is on its way."

"On its way? what do you mean?" His question was answered by a deep throbbing sound coming from over the rooftop, suddenly the sun was blocked out by the huge Airship,

it's hull opening, a small platform decended attached to chains which tethered it to the airship.

"Quick, go go go!"

The guards ran for the platform, with Cahid in the centre. When they reached it they climbed aboard and it acended back up into the Troy, which then shuddred and thundered off into the sky.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cahid leaned over the rail and watched the country slide by below him, chewing on another of his cigars. The Honour Guard Captain stood with him.

"My Lord, we must alert the Emperor, what happened today could well have been the spark that lights the fuse, we do not have much time and the army must be mobilised."

"You think I have not thought of all that alread? They probably think it was us seeing that we left in such a hurry. Tell the Pilot to make for the Emperor's private estate, he is our first prority."

"Of course Sir, excuse me."

The Captian saluted, turned on his heel and walked off. Cahid sighed and stared out over the horizon.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later.

Emperor Toros watched the airfield once again, this time the Troy was touching down, on board was Cahid Nazan and one of his Captains. He watched them walk through the streets and up the steps and through the gates to his estate.

He turned around and walked inside, preparing to give them a proper welcome.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The word was out, the army was mobilising, the war was about to begin.

[Sword_Monkey]

Hydrus paced the office of Primeminister Brown impatiently. Nobody kept him waiting, nobody!

"Sorry to keep you wait Monarchon, seems like trouble is brewing in eastern Iskandria, do take a seat." Brown said.

"War? You do know you should come to me about such things before beginning any of your beaucratic twaddle. I AM the supreme commander, you are merely a manager of 'paperwork'."

"Oh, no need to get angry and I am far from that sire, I was elected by the people and hold as much rank as you do."

"Rank? What has that got to do with anything? It is power you must wield and that can only come through hard work and bloodlines, not by being the popular choice. Now tell me why you have brought me here."

"Very well old man." Hydrus visibly shook at this remark. "In a few days parliament will order you to relinquish your control over the army, you shall keep your guards, but the armies of this great nation will take their appropriate place as its defenders, not your toy soldiers."

"Guh! How dare you, you pitiful man, my family forged this nation, and owns it, as well as everything within it." By now he was boiling over, the PMs spectacles quite humidified.

The PM removed his specs and cleaned them.

"The times are changing Hydrus, magic, blood, tradition, it's all so silly, technology, paper, and ideals will replace them, it is inevitable. The strongest will ultimately survive. Now if you don't mind I have relations to strengthen in Iskandria." The Pm sat down and shuffled some paper, a few courtiers walked in with messages and drinks.

Hydrus ploughed through them and out of Drowning street. His son awaited him beside the royal canal, barges steamed up and down it as they watched side by side.

"You look angry father, what has Brown done this time?" Hydrus II said.

"Only bloody treason thats what, he is to remove the army from my control in a few days, though I never remember him having such powers."

"Our ancestors gave them this power centuries ago, when we founded the government to appease the peoples. In peacetime they control the armies, and us."

"Peacetime?"

"Father no, you can't start a war just to cling on to your pride."

"I don't have to, there seems to be one brewing already. We travel to Dover, have the fleets assemble and the armies mobilise, call it a military extravaganza or somesuch, like we used to have in the old days."

"Cunning father, I shall see to it at once." And the son leapt into the water, leaving the Monarchon to stand their as the sun set.