I FUCKIN' LOVE WAR
I WANNA KILL PEOPLE FOR MONEY AND DESTROY THEIR HISTORY AND CULTURE
I WANNA KILL PEOPLE FOR MONEY AND DESTROY THEIR HISTORY AND CULTURE
-
For all readers and writers
After much ado, our new tagging system is here and being rolled out to the userbase. Read more here!
HOW TO TURN A PROFIT OUT OF CRISIS: A SF FRONTIER ADMIRAL QUEST
- Created at
- Index progress
- Complete
- Watchers
- 148
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 26
-
Statistics (25 threadmarks, 36k words)
User Total Laplace 25 -
Loading…
UPDATE ONE: WHERE'S MY FUCKING MONEY?
- Location
- boundless optimism
There's some things you never want to be in the position of, and among those things is the position of informing Empire Border Defense, Relative North Fleet, that pay is hereby suspended for an unknown period of time, owing to certain circumstances in Empire Administrative Centre, the Holiest of Holies. You can read between the lines, and even though the news is usually months old by the time the couriers get to you you keep up with it. The Archon dead, the big Dead, can't revive 'em, mobs in the most vaunted halls of state, shit like that. So they can't pay you, sorry. The courier- a light, fast vessel packed with transmission data and repeaters- buzzed past your citadel and sent you the unwelcome news. It's not too late to nuke that shit and see something good but that would land you in pretty hot water.
You are the Margrave-Admiral of the Empire. Below you is the common soldier. A sort of life form who have decided, with the infinite bounty of the stars and the bountiful engine of innovation open to them, to say to themselves, 'yes, I would like a life where I run the risk of being spaghetti'd into a multitude of lower energy states, and furthermore, I would like to live for nothing other than the chance to do it to the other bastard.' They are rowdy, perpetually high on the adolescent feeling of immortality, and given to doing really stupid shit. Above you is the Brass. A sort of life form who have decided, with the infinite wisdom of the ages and the clarity of vision by committee, to give the aforementioned common soldier access to weaponry, from the humble infantry omnikiller, a phasic chimera of manstopper, beamer, and mortar to the authorization codes for the planetcrackers on your flagship.
Between these two worlds with the collective intelligence of the microbes in your water is you. Therefore, by logical deduction, you are even more of a gigamoron then the above two. So what drives you? What ties you to this post? What makes you loyal to the Empire?
LOYALTY:
[]- INVIOLATE: TO CONSIDER BETRAYING THE EMPIRE WOULD BE AKIN TO RIPPING YOUR OWN HEART OUT. THOUGH THE BASTARDS IN CHARGE MAY BE *WRONG* AND THEY MAY BE *MISINFORMED OF THE SITUATION* THE EMPIRE WILL NEVER FALTER. AND IF IT DOES IT IS BECAUSE THE MAGNIFICENT EMPIRE HAS BEEN *BETRAYED* BY INTERNAL ELEMENTS, AND IT MAY-- HEAVENS FORBID-- FALL UPON YOU TO UNDERTAKE A RESTORATION TO THE GOOD OLD VALUES WHICH THE EMPIRE RESTS UPON..
[]- MERCENARY: YOU ARE AWARE OF THE COST BENEFIT ANALYSIS OF BEING A FRONTIER ADMIRAL VS *CIVVIE STREET.* AS A RANKING OFFICER OF THE EMPIRE YOU ARE ENTITLED TO A PENSION AND INDEPENDANT COMMAND OF A MILITARY FLEET. BLOODLESS LIZARD BANKERS AND OTHER OLIGARCHAL FORMS OF PARASITE MAY MAKE MORE THAN YOU BUT HOW MANY DIVISIONS DO THEY COMMAND? ZERO. YOU COMMAND FIFTY, AND WILL GLADLY REMIND THE BASTARDS IN CHARGE OF THAT WHEN THEY THINK ABOUT CUTTING PENSIONS THIS FISCAL YEAR AGAIN.
[]- WARMONGER: GOSH BUT YOU LOVE WAR. YOU LOVE WAR IN THE VOID, WAR IN THE ATMOSPHERE, AND WAR ON THE GROUND. YOU LOVE WAR IN ALL ITS FORMS AND CONSIDER THE WORDS *PEACE TALKS* AND *MAYBE WE SHOULD PUT SOME MILITARY MONEY TO HELPING ORPHANS* TO BE DEEPLY OFFENSIVE, ON PAR WITH VARIOUS FORMS OF RACIAL SLURS. YOU ARE A *POPULAR PERSONALITY* ON THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW WHERE YOU IMPLY THAT 'THEY' ARE COMING FOR THE EMPIRE. WHO 'THEY' ARE IS CONTINGENT ON HOW MUCH SPONSORSHIP MONEY YOU RECEIVE.
In any case, your loyalty is now no longer the issue. Now is an issue of logistics, for if your troops do not get their pay by the end of this fiscal quarter, it is you who will be quartered. You pop open a holoscreen and fiddle around with some sums and come out with the dismal prospect of somehow turning up a sum best expressed in scientific notation.
Balls, you think. What the fuck am I gonna do to get that?
Well, you do have a full warfleet. Fifty divisions, which means you have fifty divisions worth of destroyers. Of cruisers. Of carriers and battleships. And you have enough fuel and munitions to arm all those ships, which will sell for a pretty penny. And you have all that shit to feed your mouth-breathers (both non-commissioned and commissioned). Oh, and the swarms of 'public private partners' and 'military contractors' who dog your steps like dogs. And and and the most honored elements of your fleet, the-
THE MOST HONORED ELEMENTS OF THE FLEET
[]- COMPENSATORY OVERKILL SUPERWEAPONS - STRATEGIC DEVASTATION AUTHORIZATION CODES: In your possession, to be used entirely at your discretion, but with an end-of-year military tribunal, are ten Codes, the pinnacle of Empire esotechnology. Load it onto a laser, beam them into the sun, and bug out real fast. The fact that the pinnacle of esotechnology is apparently only good for turning suns (and anything else, come to think of it) into rotting lesions of ultraradioactive space via laser tightbeam is a philosophical matter regarding the nature of the Empire, AKA, useless for a simple soldier. Use these to bully the ENEMY and semi-aligned statelets to get your way in negotiations. Pray that you don't actually need to use them. Or just use them for fun!
[]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI: The Vogelfrei do not eat. The Vogelfrei do not sleep. The Vogelfrei do not breathe. The Vogelfrei exist only for the torture and the slaughter. These frankly terrifying exhuman auxilae, slaved with Empire loyalty codes operate and are their machines- a triptych of ultra-advanced construction with exotic material, capable of bouncing direct energy fire from battleships. Defensive energy coronae radiate from their hearts, spinning apart KKVs. They are armed with a laser capable of sawing apart even the thickest of starship armor, imploder missiles mounted on slip-drives that can ninja past shields and a brainkiller EMP pulse. Use these to assassinate dignitaries and high value targets. Pray they don't rethink their contract or get ordered to off you. Or just hire them out at a profit!
[]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS: Groundpounders die in war. A lot. Ergo: dispense with costly augmentation systems that can turn anyone into a divine god of battle. Invest instead in equally costly quantum timeline/alternative reality breachers. Revive your dead soldiers, exploded tanks, and artillery parks ad infinium, or at least until the systems break with the strain. The possibility of one of your timeline ghosts being a hyperaugmented soldier-god that can singlehandedly win most conflicts for you is just a bonus. With the Marathon, you can press through most things with sheer weight of fire. Use these to win limited engagements without climbing up the escalation ladder. Pray your bullshit esotech doesn't break and summon evil versions of your troops that believe in not killing people for money. Or just use 'em to conquer everyone in range of a troop transport!
Oh, wait. You're not really awake, because if you were, you'd realize, that across this blasted waste of stars, barbarian statelets, overgunned tax evaders, pirates, really weird chillast religions, cold cruel exhuman monsters, and bleak howling fuck-all, is the ENEMY. Who has spies in your base. You know, because you have spies in theirs. The two of you usually swap the heads and other body parts of an unlucky spy to each other at year's end, as to justify a biiiiiig counterintel budget. Anyway, you don't want to think about the ENEMY now, because they're an alright chap for a drooling rapacious semi-evolved congenitally deficit barbarous gibbering foe of all that is good and holy and because you need to think up of a way to save your own ass from being fragged by your own troops.
Like these two, who've knocked, been told to enter, and are now entered.
THE AIDES [SELECT TWO USELESS BRAINLESS ADJUNCTS]
[]- THE PIRATE: This criminal was way too good at their job of stealing shit, killing shit, and ransoming VIPs back to the Empire. It got to the point that the Big Brains Upstairs decided that paying them off was cheaper than capturing Lyinsan Arpeggio. You turn to them when you need some more money and some deniable and sketchy jobs that need to be done. Okay, fine, maybe they demand that they get to loot and raid when you let 'em off the books, but fine. You don't need to comp them for that, even if eventually the auditors might want an explanation of why you're sheltering a criminal element so close to you.
[]- THE SCION: gens Abunco, a house rich and storied in tradition, has produced a useless gene squirt they've seen fit to fob off on you. Okay, fine. You were drinking buddies with their patriarch in officer college. Fine. The grandkid needed a job. Fine. But for all the money in the world, couldn't gens Abunco have find a tutor who could actually teach this young degenerate a skill? Luca gens Abunco is a midwit moron who thinks too highly of herself, a serial duelist, and an expert border/killer. The rabble likes her, her family (for some stupid reason) likes her, so you are pressured into liking her and hoping gens Abunco won't mire your career in scandal when Luca takes three bullets to the brain pan when she's boarding another vessel.
[]- THE STRIVER: From nothing, and by hook and crook and outright blackmail, a pedantic knowledge of protocol and which asses to kiss, Tszin has climbed up from a comfortably numb middle class existence to the heights of the Empire war machine. He sees a future rich off of consulting gigs in MIC companies, fat and corrupt. You don't mind it too much-- a man's got to eat (or retire wealthy) and his connections with the contractors who build and arm your ships are always appreciated. He's just actually arse at this 'military tactics and strategy' thing, and assigning actually talented aides to him only goes so far.
[]- THE PRINCE: Seubi vi Markoviz is the prince of the Serene Peace of the Hy-Quadi, which is a small and not particularly notable vassal nation of the Empire. From family connections Seubi received an Empire Military Visa, and rose up the ranks with more than a few bribes. Cultured, erudite, he is the summation of the good barbarian. You don't know if that eats at him or not, only that he does his job, which he does alright. His divisions specialize in lighter, barbarous builds, shittier than the ships of the line you use. But he's really good at making friends with the barbarian statelets. Everyone likes him, even if you want to smash his head against the wall after he writes off his drunken binges with the lads as job expenses.
[]- THE KILLER: What brains Chzy had was replaced long ago by a ferocious and terrible machine. Orders come down, she fulfills them. Target needs to be extracted, extracted. Enemy force needs to be destroyed, destroyed. Orphanages need to be mortared, mortared. Ethical judgment can be out contracted to the nearest highest ranking officer. She was promoted entirely on her personal competence, which is a rare thing indeed in this man's empire. At least you can trust her to do her job even if you might have to remind her that prisoners of war should not be fired out of a cannon and into the sun.
"What's the problem?" One of them asked. You forward the good news at their cortex-interfaces while you finish brushing your teeth. You've done your molars when they've finished collecting their brain cells to make a conclusion. "It's a big problem," Aide 1 says. "Shit, last time I was back at the capital things weren't that bad. I thought IntSec had a handle on things. Good to know they're as much of a fuck up as us- I mean, a mob breaking into the Archonate Ascension? Last time they did that… it was the bad old days, man."
"Thank you for stating the obvious." Now you're working on your tusks, which has always been a point of pride for you. Nice and ivory keen. "This is why I keep you around. The stars and the nothing know that I wouldn't manage to lift my own dick without you. Now think for real. What the fuck are we gonna do?"
"We could desert," Aide 2 raises.
"I'll space you if you keep that shit up. Give me a real suggestion. Actually, I'll do you one better. Have one of mine, and use your brains this time. Your real brains, and not the fucking autopilot you run though the day until you can get blackout drunk. Here-"
PLAN OF ACTION
[]- HONESTLY AND FORTHRIGHTLY ADMIT THAT THIS QUARTER'S PAY IS NONWITHCOMING FROM CENTRAL COMMAND AND DO NOTHING ELSE BUT TRUST IN THE COMMON SOLDIER'S LOVE OF EMPIRE. (Do not do this you will be fragged and you will have to do chargen again. And again. And again. Until you pick another vote.)
[]- SHAMELESSLY AND THRIFTILY SELL OFF RESERVE FUEL AND MUNITIONS TO THE HORDES OF CAPITALIST-VULTURES BUZZING AROUND YOU. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy WILL NOT LAUNCH A REAL INVASION.
[]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
[]- NOBLY AND IDIOTICALLY LAUNCH A FULL SCALE ATTACK TOWARDS THE enemy. MAKE UP PAY IN BATTLE LOOT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy IS NOT PAYING ATTENTION AND THAT YOUR TROOPS WON'T DEMAND HAZARD PAY.
[]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
You are the Margrave-Admiral of the Empire. Below you is the common soldier. A sort of life form who have decided, with the infinite bounty of the stars and the bountiful engine of innovation open to them, to say to themselves, 'yes, I would like a life where I run the risk of being spaghetti'd into a multitude of lower energy states, and furthermore, I would like to live for nothing other than the chance to do it to the other bastard.' They are rowdy, perpetually high on the adolescent feeling of immortality, and given to doing really stupid shit. Above you is the Brass. A sort of life form who have decided, with the infinite wisdom of the ages and the clarity of vision by committee, to give the aforementioned common soldier access to weaponry, from the humble infantry omnikiller, a phasic chimera of manstopper, beamer, and mortar to the authorization codes for the planetcrackers on your flagship.
Between these two worlds with the collective intelligence of the microbes in your water is you. Therefore, by logical deduction, you are even more of a gigamoron then the above two. So what drives you? What ties you to this post? What makes you loyal to the Empire?
LOYALTY:
[]- INVIOLATE: TO CONSIDER BETRAYING THE EMPIRE WOULD BE AKIN TO RIPPING YOUR OWN HEART OUT. THOUGH THE BASTARDS IN CHARGE MAY BE *WRONG* AND THEY MAY BE *MISINFORMED OF THE SITUATION* THE EMPIRE WILL NEVER FALTER. AND IF IT DOES IT IS BECAUSE THE MAGNIFICENT EMPIRE HAS BEEN *BETRAYED* BY INTERNAL ELEMENTS, AND IT MAY-- HEAVENS FORBID-- FALL UPON YOU TO UNDERTAKE A RESTORATION TO THE GOOD OLD VALUES WHICH THE EMPIRE RESTS UPON..
[]- MERCENARY: YOU ARE AWARE OF THE COST BENEFIT ANALYSIS OF BEING A FRONTIER ADMIRAL VS *CIVVIE STREET.* AS A RANKING OFFICER OF THE EMPIRE YOU ARE ENTITLED TO A PENSION AND INDEPENDANT COMMAND OF A MILITARY FLEET. BLOODLESS LIZARD BANKERS AND OTHER OLIGARCHAL FORMS OF PARASITE MAY MAKE MORE THAN YOU BUT HOW MANY DIVISIONS DO THEY COMMAND? ZERO. YOU COMMAND FIFTY, AND WILL GLADLY REMIND THE BASTARDS IN CHARGE OF THAT WHEN THEY THINK ABOUT CUTTING PENSIONS THIS FISCAL YEAR AGAIN.
[]- WARMONGER: GOSH BUT YOU LOVE WAR. YOU LOVE WAR IN THE VOID, WAR IN THE ATMOSPHERE, AND WAR ON THE GROUND. YOU LOVE WAR IN ALL ITS FORMS AND CONSIDER THE WORDS *PEACE TALKS* AND *MAYBE WE SHOULD PUT SOME MILITARY MONEY TO HELPING ORPHANS* TO BE DEEPLY OFFENSIVE, ON PAR WITH VARIOUS FORMS OF RACIAL SLURS. YOU ARE A *POPULAR PERSONALITY* ON THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW WHERE YOU IMPLY THAT 'THEY' ARE COMING FOR THE EMPIRE. WHO 'THEY' ARE IS CONTINGENT ON HOW MUCH SPONSORSHIP MONEY YOU RECEIVE.
In any case, your loyalty is now no longer the issue. Now is an issue of logistics, for if your troops do not get their pay by the end of this fiscal quarter, it is you who will be quartered. You pop open a holoscreen and fiddle around with some sums and come out with the dismal prospect of somehow turning up a sum best expressed in scientific notation.
Balls, you think. What the fuck am I gonna do to get that?
Well, you do have a full warfleet. Fifty divisions, which means you have fifty divisions worth of destroyers. Of cruisers. Of carriers and battleships. And you have enough fuel and munitions to arm all those ships, which will sell for a pretty penny. And you have all that shit to feed your mouth-breathers (both non-commissioned and commissioned). Oh, and the swarms of 'public private partners' and 'military contractors' who dog your steps like dogs. And and and the most honored elements of your fleet, the-
THE MOST HONORED ELEMENTS OF THE FLEET
[]- COMPENSATORY OVERKILL SUPERWEAPONS - STRATEGIC DEVASTATION AUTHORIZATION CODES: In your possession, to be used entirely at your discretion, but with an end-of-year military tribunal, are ten Codes, the pinnacle of Empire esotechnology. Load it onto a laser, beam them into the sun, and bug out real fast. The fact that the pinnacle of esotechnology is apparently only good for turning suns (and anything else, come to think of it) into rotting lesions of ultraradioactive space via laser tightbeam is a philosophical matter regarding the nature of the Empire, AKA, useless for a simple soldier. Use these to bully the ENEMY and semi-aligned statelets to get your way in negotiations. Pray that you don't actually need to use them. Or just use them for fun!
[]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI: The Vogelfrei do not eat. The Vogelfrei do not sleep. The Vogelfrei do not breathe. The Vogelfrei exist only for the torture and the slaughter. These frankly terrifying exhuman auxilae, slaved with Empire loyalty codes operate and are their machines- a triptych of ultra-advanced construction with exotic material, capable of bouncing direct energy fire from battleships. Defensive energy coronae radiate from their hearts, spinning apart KKVs. They are armed with a laser capable of sawing apart even the thickest of starship armor, imploder missiles mounted on slip-drives that can ninja past shields and a brainkiller EMP pulse. Use these to assassinate dignitaries and high value targets. Pray they don't rethink their contract or get ordered to off you. Or just hire them out at a profit!
[]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS: Groundpounders die in war. A lot. Ergo: dispense with costly augmentation systems that can turn anyone into a divine god of battle. Invest instead in equally costly quantum timeline/alternative reality breachers. Revive your dead soldiers, exploded tanks, and artillery parks ad infinium, or at least until the systems break with the strain. The possibility of one of your timeline ghosts being a hyperaugmented soldier-god that can singlehandedly win most conflicts for you is just a bonus. With the Marathon, you can press through most things with sheer weight of fire. Use these to win limited engagements without climbing up the escalation ladder. Pray your bullshit esotech doesn't break and summon evil versions of your troops that believe in not killing people for money. Or just use 'em to conquer everyone in range of a troop transport!
Oh, wait. You're not really awake, because if you were, you'd realize, that across this blasted waste of stars, barbarian statelets, overgunned tax evaders, pirates, really weird chillast religions, cold cruel exhuman monsters, and bleak howling fuck-all, is the ENEMY. Who has spies in your base. You know, because you have spies in theirs. The two of you usually swap the heads and other body parts of an unlucky spy to each other at year's end, as to justify a biiiiiig counterintel budget. Anyway, you don't want to think about the ENEMY now, because they're an alright chap for a drooling rapacious semi-evolved congenitally deficit barbarous gibbering foe of all that is good and holy and because you need to think up of a way to save your own ass from being fragged by your own troops.
Like these two, who've knocked, been told to enter, and are now entered.
THE AIDES [SELECT TWO USELESS BRAINLESS ADJUNCTS]
[]- THE PIRATE: This criminal was way too good at their job of stealing shit, killing shit, and ransoming VIPs back to the Empire. It got to the point that the Big Brains Upstairs decided that paying them off was cheaper than capturing Lyinsan Arpeggio. You turn to them when you need some more money and some deniable and sketchy jobs that need to be done. Okay, fine, maybe they demand that they get to loot and raid when you let 'em off the books, but fine. You don't need to comp them for that, even if eventually the auditors might want an explanation of why you're sheltering a criminal element so close to you.
[]- THE SCION: gens Abunco, a house rich and storied in tradition, has produced a useless gene squirt they've seen fit to fob off on you. Okay, fine. You were drinking buddies with their patriarch in officer college. Fine. The grandkid needed a job. Fine. But for all the money in the world, couldn't gens Abunco have find a tutor who could actually teach this young degenerate a skill? Luca gens Abunco is a midwit moron who thinks too highly of herself, a serial duelist, and an expert border/killer. The rabble likes her, her family (for some stupid reason) likes her, so you are pressured into liking her and hoping gens Abunco won't mire your career in scandal when Luca takes three bullets to the brain pan when she's boarding another vessel.
[]- THE STRIVER: From nothing, and by hook and crook and outright blackmail, a pedantic knowledge of protocol and which asses to kiss, Tszin has climbed up from a comfortably numb middle class existence to the heights of the Empire war machine. He sees a future rich off of consulting gigs in MIC companies, fat and corrupt. You don't mind it too much-- a man's got to eat (or retire wealthy) and his connections with the contractors who build and arm your ships are always appreciated. He's just actually arse at this 'military tactics and strategy' thing, and assigning actually talented aides to him only goes so far.
[]- THE PRINCE: Seubi vi Markoviz is the prince of the Serene Peace of the Hy-Quadi, which is a small and not particularly notable vassal nation of the Empire. From family connections Seubi received an Empire Military Visa, and rose up the ranks with more than a few bribes. Cultured, erudite, he is the summation of the good barbarian. You don't know if that eats at him or not, only that he does his job, which he does alright. His divisions specialize in lighter, barbarous builds, shittier than the ships of the line you use. But he's really good at making friends with the barbarian statelets. Everyone likes him, even if you want to smash his head against the wall after he writes off his drunken binges with the lads as job expenses.
[]- THE KILLER: What brains Chzy had was replaced long ago by a ferocious and terrible machine. Orders come down, she fulfills them. Target needs to be extracted, extracted. Enemy force needs to be destroyed, destroyed. Orphanages need to be mortared, mortared. Ethical judgment can be out contracted to the nearest highest ranking officer. She was promoted entirely on her personal competence, which is a rare thing indeed in this man's empire. At least you can trust her to do her job even if you might have to remind her that prisoners of war should not be fired out of a cannon and into the sun.
"What's the problem?" One of them asked. You forward the good news at their cortex-interfaces while you finish brushing your teeth. You've done your molars when they've finished collecting their brain cells to make a conclusion. "It's a big problem," Aide 1 says. "Shit, last time I was back at the capital things weren't that bad. I thought IntSec had a handle on things. Good to know they're as much of a fuck up as us- I mean, a mob breaking into the Archonate Ascension? Last time they did that… it was the bad old days, man."
"Thank you for stating the obvious." Now you're working on your tusks, which has always been a point of pride for you. Nice and ivory keen. "This is why I keep you around. The stars and the nothing know that I wouldn't manage to lift my own dick without you. Now think for real. What the fuck are we gonna do?"
"We could desert," Aide 2 raises.
"I'll space you if you keep that shit up. Give me a real suggestion. Actually, I'll do you one better. Have one of mine, and use your brains this time. Your real brains, and not the fucking autopilot you run though the day until you can get blackout drunk. Here-"
PLAN OF ACTION
[]- HONESTLY AND FORTHRIGHTLY ADMIT THAT THIS QUARTER'S PAY IS NONWITHCOMING FROM CENTRAL COMMAND AND DO NOTHING ELSE BUT TRUST IN THE COMMON SOLDIER'S LOVE OF EMPIRE. (Do not do this you will be fragged and you will have to do chargen again. And again. And again. Until you pick another vote.)
[]- SHAMELESSLY AND THRIFTILY SELL OFF RESERVE FUEL AND MUNITIONS TO THE HORDES OF CAPITALIST-VULTURES BUZZING AROUND YOU. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy WILL NOT LAUNCH A REAL INVASION.
[]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
[]- NOBLY AND IDIOTICALLY LAUNCH A FULL SCALE ATTACK TOWARDS THE enemy. MAKE UP PAY IN BATTLE LOOT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy IS NOT PAYING ATTENTION AND THAT YOUR TROOPS WON'T DEMAND HAZARD PAY.
[]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
[X]- WARMONGER
WAR
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS
MURDER MACHINES
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- THE PRINCE
AND A MURDERER AND A BARBARIAN
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE
SO, WHAT ELSE TO DO BUT MURDER AND BARBARIANISE?
WAR
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS
MURDER MACHINES
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- THE PRINCE
AND A MURDERER AND A BARBARIAN
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE
SO, WHAT ELSE TO DO BUT MURDER AND BARBARIANISE?
- Location
- Victoria
[X]- MERCENARY: YOU ARE AWARE OF THE COST BENEFIT ANALYSIS OF BEING A FRONTIER ADMIRAL VS *CIVVIE STREET.* AS A RANKING OFFICER OF THE EMPIRE YOU ARE ENTITLED TO A PENSION AND INDEPENDANT COMMAND OF A MILITARY FLEET. BLOODLESS LIZARD BANKERS AND OTHER OLIGARCHAL FORMS OF PARASITE MAY MAKE MORE THAN YOU BUT HOW MANY DIVISIONS DO THEY COMMAND? ZERO. YOU COMMAND FIFTY, AND WILL GLADLY REMIND THE BASTARDS IN CHARGE OF THAT WHEN THEY THINK ABOUT CUTTING PENSIONS THIS FISCAL YEAR AGAIN.
MONEY
[X]- COMPENSATORY OVERKILL SUPERWEAPONS - STRATEGIC DEVASTATION AUTHORIZATION CODES: In your possession, to be used entirely at your discretion, but with an end-of-year military tribunal, are ten Codes, the pinnacle of Empire esotechnology. Load it onto a laser, beam them into the sun, and bug out real fast. The fact that the pinnacle of esotechnology is apparently only good for turning suns (and anything else, come to think of it) into rotting lesions of ultraradioactive space via laser tightbeam is a philosophical matter regarding the nature of the Empire, AKA, useless for a simple soldier. Use these to bully the ENEMY and semi-aligned statelets to get your way in negotiations. Pray that you don't actually need to use them. Or just use them for fun!
EXTORTIANATORS
[X]- THE PIRATE
[X]- THE STRIVER
THE LOOTER, AND MR. CORRUPTION
[X]- SHAMELESSLY AND THRIFTILY SELL OFF RESERVE FUEL AND MUNITIONS TO THE HORDES OF CAPITALIST-VULTURES BUZZING AROUND YOU. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy WILL NOT LAUNCH A REAL INVASION.
MONEY. MONEY MONEY MONEY.
The Striver knows the best deals, and the Pirate can provide an off-the-books stick.
MONEY
[X]- COMPENSATORY OVERKILL SUPERWEAPONS - STRATEGIC DEVASTATION AUTHORIZATION CODES: In your possession, to be used entirely at your discretion, but with an end-of-year military tribunal, are ten Codes, the pinnacle of Empire esotechnology. Load it onto a laser, beam them into the sun, and bug out real fast. The fact that the pinnacle of esotechnology is apparently only good for turning suns (and anything else, come to think of it) into rotting lesions of ultraradioactive space via laser tightbeam is a philosophical matter regarding the nature of the Empire, AKA, useless for a simple soldier. Use these to bully the ENEMY and semi-aligned statelets to get your way in negotiations. Pray that you don't actually need to use them. Or just use them for fun!
EXTORTIANATORS
[X]- THE PIRATE
[X]- THE STRIVER
THE LOOTER, AND MR. CORRUPTION
[X]- SHAMELESSLY AND THRIFTILY SELL OFF RESERVE FUEL AND MUNITIONS TO THE HORDES OF CAPITALIST-VULTURES BUZZING AROUND YOU. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy WILL NOT LAUNCH A REAL INVASION.
MONEY. MONEY MONEY MONEY.
The Striver knows the best deals, and the Pirate can provide an off-the-books stick.
LucidProp
Pocky Eating MafiaDoka
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
If Ace Combat has taught me anything, it's that mute psycopathic fighter pilots trump superweapons all the time.
That aside, the Brass can kiss our ass and this entire fleet if we don't get any pay! Paying us should be less expensive than having to sink their own fleet!
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
If Ace Combat has taught me anything, it's that mute psycopathic fighter pilots trump superweapons all the time.
That aside, the Brass can kiss our ass and this entire fleet if we don't get any pay! Paying us should be less expensive than having to sink their own fleet!
- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
- Location
- England
[X] Estro
Yeah I like this. What are the barbarians gonna do? Complain to the Senate? I'm like 90% sure the Senate doesn't even exist anymore!
Yeah I like this. What are the barbarians gonna do? Complain to the Senate? I'm like 90% sure the Senate doesn't even exist anymore!
- Location
- New York
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
I actually like the sound of the scion.
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
I actually like the sound of the scion.
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
- Location
- Derna
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- NOBLY AND IDIOTICALLY LAUNCH A FULL SCALE ATTACK TOWARDS THE enemy. MAKE UP PAY IN BATTLE LOOT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy IS NOT PAYING ATTENTION AND THAT YOUR TROOPS WON'T DEMAND HAZARD PAY.
WHAT MAKES THE GREEN GRASS GROW?
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- NOBLY AND IDIOTICALLY LAUNCH A FULL SCALE ATTACK TOWARDS THE enemy. MAKE UP PAY IN BATTLE LOOT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE enemy IS NOT PAYING ATTENTION AND THAT YOUR TROOPS WON'T DEMAND HAZARD PAY.
WHAT MAKES THE GREEN GRASS GROW?
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE PIRATE
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE PIRATE
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
We have a legon of effectively immortal solders that has a small chance of turning into atemporal gods. There's absolutely nothing that will go wrong with this. IhavebeenRoland,Beowulf,Achilles,Gilgamesh.Ihavebeencalledahundrednamesandwillbecalledathousandmorebeforethewordgoesdimandcold.Iamahero
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
We have a legon of effectively immortal solders that has a small chance of turning into atemporal gods. There's absolutely nothing that will go wrong with this. IhavebeenRoland,Beowulf,Achilles,Gilgamesh.Ihavebeencalledahundrednamesandwillbecalledathousandmorebeforethewordgoesdimandcold.Iamahero
[X]- MERCENARY
How many divisions do bankers have?
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
Get your money.
How many divisions do bankers have?
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
Get your money.
- Location
- Earth, Sol
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
- Location
- Pilipinas
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE PIRATE
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE PIRATE
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE
I can see which way the wind is turning, but descending into bands of roving marauders is a time-honored tradition for standing armies once the pay stops coming in.
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE
I can see which way the wind is turning, but descending into bands of roving marauders is a time-honored tradition for standing armies once the pay stops coming in.
- Location
- boundless optimism
Fun fact: The Killer, The Scion, and The Prince are sitting at seven votes each.
|_')7
ConfusedCanuck
Where did it all go wrong?
- Location
- Neverland
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- INVIOLATE
[X]- COMPENSATORY OVERKILL SUPERWEAPONS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
[X]- COMPENSATORY OVERKILL SUPERWEAPONS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE STRIVER
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION.
grimely
Twink Death Sufferer
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X]- WARMONGER
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION
[X]- SPACE MARINES MARINES OORAH- MARATHON INFANTRY REVIVAL/REINSITUATION PROTOCOLS
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE KILLER
[X]- FAITHFULLY AND CONSCIENTIOUSLY SEND A POLITE DEMAND CONSISTING OF A DIVISION, WHICH IS NO WAY A THREAT. HOPE TO GOD THAT THE BRASS WILL NOT SEND YOU TWO DIVISIONS TO DRAG YOU BACK IN CHAINS FOR AN EXECUTION BY ELECTROCRUCIFICATION
- Location
- in the trash
[X]- MERCENARY
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
It's not really extortion, we're just doing some, uh, external contracting. By which I mean that surely some of these barbarians will pay us to blow up the other barbarians.
[X]- PSYCHOPATHIC MUTE SUPERSPACEFIGHTERS- DAS VOGELFREI
[X]- THE SCION
[X]- THE PRINCE
[X]- THUGGISHLY AND BRUTALLY EXTORT FEES FROM THE STATELETS OF THE BORDER REGION. FUCK'EM, THEY'RE NOT REAL NATIONS. HOPE TO GOD THAT NONE OF THE BARBARIAN PRESIDENTS AND KINGS HAVE THE EAR OF THE SENATE.
It's not really extortion, we're just doing some, uh, external contracting. By which I mean that surely some of these barbarians will pay us to blow up the other barbarians.
Last edited:
- Location
- boundless optimism
Votes called. Update today or tomorrow.