♬ It is an age of darkness,
Destruction rules the galaxy, so struck carelessly from prosperity and peace,
By the thirst of an unquenching god and it's ignorant sacrifices
A shadow lays where once a galactic federation stood,
And on Terra, her cradle,
Madness prevails.
It is the 28th Millennium. Terra's orbit, once a sign of change, exploration and the future, has fallen to standstill as violence and calamity reaves what remains of a once beautiful world. Sanity has been replaced with mindless greed and the desire to bring about only the cruelest and savage death upon one another as atomic and chemical weaponry turned the blue world into little more than a planet of endless wastes, towering hive cities, and foul, lifeless seas full of toxins. Very few sources of fresh water remain on Terra as she stands, and even less resources as massive hive cities consume what is left, there is but one expendable thing on this lightless world; manpower. Serfs toil away in massive factorums for tyrant warlords and slave soldiers battle against one another with weapons ranging from primitive blades to war machines from before the dark times. Rumours of an abominable intelligence nestling beneath the windswept Caucasian wastes, a golden light in the mountains of Hymalazia, and the slow death of the Emperor of Greater Europe has set Terra once more into a chaotic spiral as rising empires are set to battle it out once more. From the stars, priests in red observe man as if another dawn age has begun.
TERRA
Earth
Once the mighty cradle of humanity, all that is left of Terra is ashen waste and colossal, defunct orbital plates, drifting lifelessly in the locked orbit of a fading star. Only the remnants of what was once the center of one of the greatest stellar empires remains as yawning spaceports, fields of technological terrors and towering hive cities remain from what was once the capital world. What was left of the old government is long since dead, and only a handful even remember what it once was. Only few remember the terrible darkness of the machines. Even Luna, once her proud sister and sibling in all things seems distant, obscured by massive radiation storms and the dust of war.
Massive rad wastes created from natural or unnatural means enclose the basins where oceans once were, while huge polar deserts coat the poles. Mountains from where once continents entered the sea enclose petty warlord states which battle over little more than bloodlust and greed. There is nothing left to fight over as politics are left behind for desperate survival. In the still livable lands massive irradiated beasts roam territory not bolted down and fortified thrice over while sporadic clashes between unnamed tribes and cities leave the constant sound of gunfire in the air. It is small wonder, then, that little is being done to fix the matters at hand.
Technology has ground to a halt in most cases, as the more practical weapons such as knives, autoguns, axes and other crude barbaric weapons seem to satisfy the populace, affectionately labeled by the scholars of Europa as 'techno-barbarians'. However these barbaric tribes are not lost in intellect, as massive empires, bent through the iron will of these warlords have risen up such as great Ursh, a land of maddened bikers and singers who utter blood curses upon those whose ears betray them, or the Pan-Pacific Empire, a terrible mockery of the Pan-Pacific Coalition. The Empire is ruled by one man, a bloodthirsty autocrat who musters armies of slaves and gladiators to do his dark bidding while using fleets of corrugated warships stolen away from the old united Terra to police the waters of the Great Ocean.
Water still remains aplenty, but pure water has disappeared to the corners of the world, and as such the remaining major bodies of water are irradiated, toxic dumps fit only for rudimentary purposes. However, rumours of large purification plants dumping chemicals into the brown skies of Terra deep in the ocean has sparked another race between the Merican and Pan-Pacific warlords to seek them out, and, if needed, bend them to their will.
THE LIGHTNING LORD
Revelation
Once a hidden figure in the shadows and sidelines of old Earth, the Lightning Lord, as he calls himself, dwells in his private fortress deep within Hymalazian territory alongside the infallible Malcaldor, the last of the Sigilites, and a small cohort of loyal soldiers, and… something else.
While warlords like the Ethnarch practice terrible genetic science to create swollen beasts for the purposes of hurling them at battle lines, the Lightning Lord has made leaps and bounds in the creation of a private army, numbering only several hundred, beneath the mountains which he makes his laboratory. The ignorant Hymalazian nobility had turned a blind eye to abductions and defections to this elusive figure, not scrubbing away the Raptor Imperialis graffiti and ignoring the abrupt change in weather patterns as lightning strikes a single peak a dozen times.
The Lightning Lord has created what can only be described as perfection; six demigods in silver armour flanked by dozens, if not hundreds, of carefully crafted but still simple savage warriors. Here, in the laboratory, they train with huge boltguns and stockpile enough firepower to bring about the one thing the Lightning Lord, also known as the Emperor despires: Unity.
BIRTH OF THE IMPERIUM
Unification Wars
It should be stated before anything else; this is an everything is true but not everything is canon game, that means conflicting sources from the Horus Heresy books will be taken into consideration with certain sources being prioritized above others for the sake of making the game as simple to get into as possible. The reasoning behind choosing the Unification Wars was the fact it was as non-40k as you could get the setting without jumping into Star Trek-esq science fiction of the DAoT. As a result, some of the core elements like mindless killing, Chaos, (proto-)space marines and the Emperor are already there.
This game will function on a year/update basis, with mini updates sometimes (not always) having the chance of announcing if X amount of time has passed. As such, it will be a traditional nation game (with individual characters getting some special focus in battles and such) with a few extra rules, particularly in relation to the titular Emperor of Mankind, more on that later.
Rules:
Three claims per player, most favoured at 1, least at 3.
Respect the rules and policies of SV in terms of writing, this is quite a risque setting with a lot of controversial topics (like war) which may spark external discussion that would quickly spiral.
An IC with a minimum of 250 words is mandatory for the first two turns on top of your orders.
Orders will be split into General and War, as for the most part diplomacy with NPCs and such can be handled through comminiques, not that there are that many NPCs who will communicate. Orders will feature a soft cap of 200 words.
I will be lifting my usual ban on TO: FROM: posting on the basis that it is treated as IC instead of simply being five-to-six words back and forths. Technology, especially powering it is in short supply, so make sure your every message counts, or else!
Consider stats (if I include them) as a guiding hand, not a literal representation of your nation's position, please don't take them literally, and be aware that I will use them as a rough guide when writing out updates.
Claims:
Claims work on a relatively basic application system, asking a person to write a little bit about their ruler and the power which persists over the warlord state in its current form. However, this should be treated more as clarification and not overwrite of existing lore, establishing names and politics, etc. Keep it brief, keep it simple.
Claimed state: Which of the playables are you taking over?
Name of ruler: Self-explanatory.Include a title, too! Make sure to read the bloc on your claim to ensure that the ruler is consistent with the lore presented!
Background: His/her story, how they rose to power.
General details: Anything you might think would be relevant when writing, age, personality traits, etc, keep it in bullet points!
Portrait (if any): Self-explanatory.
How THE EMPEROR works...
The Emperor of Mankind is a unique figure in the game, being an all-powerful (super-)psyker with near limitless capabilities, on the other end he is a terribly vain individual with a thousand minds melded into one massive intellect, and is prone to doing whatever his own various thoughts will him. As a result, when you issue orders as the Emperor, you are not actually guaranteed that he will do those orders, and he may go do something else based off more immediate requirements or needs. Essentially, if you throw him into a minor battle or skirmish, expect him to do something more worth his time.
THE WARRING STATES
Techno-barbarians
Pan-Pacific Empire
A relatively new state, raised from the ashes of the Pan-Pacific Coalition or (P.C) which functionally had been the last shred of old Terra's government, the Empire exists as the last true naval power of Terra, having stockpiled thousands pre-Age of Strife warships which mercilessly patrol the toxic coasts and make war against techno-pirates and one another. The Empire is not a happy place, as the great tyrant rules from the Jade Citadel of Hive Hongol, one of three hive cities under its influence, all of which feel the lash and whip of the dark emperor. Slavery is practically commonpleace in the Empire, regardless of where you are from, along with the use of the South Pacific Rad Wastes as a form of cruel punishment, with the main barbarian armies of the great overlord decimating the weak by sending them to die to powerful mutant beasts and past decimations. Their technology focuses entirely around the once great mega-hive of Nihon, which was destroyed in the opening salvoes of the Terran wars, arming themselves with las and chemical weaponry with little hesitation as flotillas of rusted warships fire rockets stuffed with festering viral bombs while the soldiers use lacerating laser weaponry to tear flesh to the bone, all for the purposes of breaking the victim to bring them under the whip. Emperor-Tyrant Narthan Dume, half-mad and half-genius, was one of the first men to bring about the revival of naval warfare in the Pan-Pacific Empire, along with managing to refine the process of creating many esoteric pre-Dark Age weaponry which allows the once scattered warlord armies to bring about a faster butchery if needed.
Ursh
Once a singular tribe in great Sibir, Ursh has risen to become one of the largest dominated territories on old Terra held by the Kalagann, once a mere man who had seemingly become enlightened, empowered, even, by dark forces. He surrounds himself in elusive shamans and priests, individuals who also claim to be enlightened by the laughing gods. If violence is the method of the day, Ursh relishes violence, as bloodletting, debauchery and senseless destruction is the order of the day, flattening old cities and reducing what was once a land held by various technological dictators and rampant artificial intelligences. Subduing them cost millions, isolating them in the Urals and Caucasus, that had cost even more, but sacrifice was something that this warlord state thrived upon. Culture in Ursh exists at the edge of the sword or axe blade, and as a result very little actual technology or structured society to form outside of the Kalagann's current residence, be it one of the old Terran palaces or some crude war camp erected on the borderlands in the wake of another campaign.
Yndonesic Bloc
Where sanity fades, faith prevails. The bloc formed of former Terran nation states which had banded together out of sheer desperation as they became the sole producer of incredibly valuable fuel which many machines used; petroleum, oil. Though vastly overshadowed by the more economically efficient promethium, refined oil had returned to prominence as fresh reserves discovered in the deep wells of the Sar-wak Mountains has accelerated the mobile capabilities of the Bloc's uniform armies. However, things are not as simple as it seems. Generations of decay and stagnation has brought about an end to any form of democratic or self-governing processes among members of the Bloc, as from the tall spires of Hive Palatin, a maddened cardinal preaches the word of a dozen different gods. Tang, a madman in the cloak of the messiah, was enlightened when a lightning bolt cured a blind man on his pilgrimage in the Lantik Ridge. From there, he would travel on foot, it is said, through the slaver-cities of the Pan-Pacific Empire before reaching the Bloc's borders, learning of it's crisis of leadership as the once infallible ruling council brinked on collapse. Tang, naming himself Cardinal and Ethnarch, preached his divine will unto the people, and in a night forever remembered, saw an end of many ruling aristocrats, the masses slaying them with butcher's knives and stolen weapons. What would follow is the end of any sort of religious freedom as absolute rule fell under the Cardinal, who would preach the will of the gods, leashing the Yndonesian islands to his will from atop the spires of Hive Palatin. What came of this rule was heavily restricted reproduction as only 'proper' couples may produce children and ruthless pogroms against those deemed unworthy of the holy cycle, encouraging masses of zealots to take to the streets and slay those deemed too weak or too unfit for rule. It is no coincidence, then, that so many of these unfit wound up being possible religious or political rivals to the cardinal in the opening months of his rule.
Achaemid Empire
Taking the names of the past and turning it into something truly terrible is not an uncommon practice, such as in the Achaemid Empire, which, in light of the original holder of the name, nestles itself in the plateaus of Persia, a land once known as the 'graveyard of empires'. The southern twin holy cities of the Nabatae, protected by a hive of the same name now stand as the last outcrop of civilisation in the empire as the wider desert is inhabited by little more than fanatic tribal pilgrims and mutant nomads, wandering across a land as harsh as the people who dwell within it. The Empire, despite the name, only really holds a grasp on a thin sliver of land near the yawning chasm where once the Red Sea split continents. Like ancient Babylon, they have taken to becoming scholars and keepers of the old texts, managing to preserve, to the envy of rivals Gyptus and Abyssna, much of the pre-Strife histories, including the technology for starships, despite lacking the resources to actually build them. The imperial names end in structure too, as the role of Consul, invoking old democratic traditions, oversees the stability of the region, and the further pursuit of knowledge, something which has put the Achaemid at odds with its rivals further, but, things are not so fickle, as with the rumours of a new warlord rising in the east, hopes are high that this one may be different than the others.
Nordafrik Conclaves
Once exerting its influence over rivals Gyptus and the Achaemid, the relatively prosperous enclaves had spent the last fifty years battling against both the united Europan hive cities and the senseless hordes of Ursh, being pushed back all the way to Hive Gyptus, which would rebel and break free, splintering the Conclaves further and leaving only Hive Nordafrik - the namesake of the state - under the influence of the waning state. Now, with Midafrik in the south rising to compete over what lands remain on the edges of the Saharan wastes, the Nordafrik government must either adapt to survive, or be subsumed in the ever chaotic wars of Terra. Nordafrik as a polity exists in an interesting place, languishing between the absolute rule of military men and unsteady pocket governments formed by civil administrators with little to no charisma or expertise as politicians. In a time where one man's voice can sway a million, these pencil-pushers tend to find themselves isolated and under the thumb of cunning generals who drag Nordafrik soldiers into brutal guerrilla wars in attempting to reclaim the island fortresses of the Akores, which had fallen to Europan hands after the latest war, along with sending raiders against Gyptus' walls, primarily focusing on the Suess Dam.
Greater Europa (Split into Europa, Franc, Jermani and Boetia)
If there is any true nation to resemble her distant ancestor, it is Greater Europa. Initially starting as a coalition of five hive cities (including the now destroyed Byzant), they pursued a policy of reconnection and restoration of the old ways of life, pushing against the various techno-barbarian hordes which settled in the hills and mountains of the former continent by either forcing them north to the rising Nordyc Confederacy, or south, to the Nordafrik Conclaves. The relatively coherent armies of the five hives would eventually come to battle at the gates of Hive Byzant, which, in a show of excess, would be obliterated under atomic fire unleashed by the Ethnarch. Falling back with her armies shattered the coalition began to bicker and fight amongst itself until Europa, which strategically held its armies back during the climactic battle, emerged victorious, proclaiming itself Greater Europa and naming the president-dictator of the hive as its first emperor. Europa had been the centre of the mega-hive of the same name, a continental city which spires stretched all the way to the Chern Sea. War had ended this growth and now the remaining hive spires have become territories of their own, vassals to the Emperor. Now he grows ill, his body failing him despite the best rejuvenating medicine available, and with his death comes the question of succession or separation. Greater Europa is not expected to survive the end of her first and only emperor, but all that matters now is how best to deal with the vultures within and without.
Ethnarchy of the Caucasus
When one gazes into the wastelands of the Caucasus, one hardly imagines survivors thriving in the deep underbelly of the Caucasian mountains, where terrible spires filled with scientists and genetic engineers perform terrible experiments on themselves and hapless victims. The Ethnarch, as he calls himself, is believed to be little more than a drone for a far more malignant presence, a terrible will which leaks from the deep below. Having wrested freedom from the various powers like Europa, Ursh and the Nordafrik Conclaves, the ever-stubborn Caucasus banded together on the promise of advancement and the destruction of those beyond their borders. Indeed, the chaotic region fell under the lash of the ethnarchy far too willingly, ignorant of the darkness that toiled in the mountains. From there, terrible half-men half-machines screamed out, fused metal and flesh creating a terrible cacophany of violence and murder. These flagellants, beasts of burden, servitors, whatever you may call them, bore no free will, making up the swollen enforcers of the Ethnarch as he policies his lands, turning them into little more than a slave colony from which tithes of fresh meat is brought to the southern palaces and shaped into new monstrosities. Very little authority exists beyond the protected towns and villages, as roaming techno-barbarian hordes and berserking servitors bring an untimely end to lost travellers.
Merica
Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? That is the question that was posed on the founding of Columbion, the only hive city to have fallen from the sky. When the end of Terra came, the land that would become Merica had been a place of decadence and luxury, with little need for protection as automation fundamentally took over every aspect of life. That was, until the orbital plate known as Columbia fell from the sky, crushing the hive city Washinten, inviting the day of rapture. It was unknown as to why or how Columbia struck the earth, but what was safe to understand was that millions died in the initial impact, leaving a colossal ruin of broken metal and stone where once a shining city of progress and promiscuity stood. When Merica rose from the ashes, it was on the backs of the surviving intellectuals, economists and socialites who had been beyond the impact site, gathering in the ruins of the capital and raising a new one, Columbion, with the founder, a man named Aynd Raen, proclaiming that lightning would never strike the same place twice. The new nation would then battle a brutal war against the Pan-Pacific Coalition, bringing itself to the Great Sea and forcing the Ur-Atlan across the great Lantik ridge. With their border disputes mostly settled, the professional Merican armies, namely made up of genic units - specially bred formations lead by an all-female psychic officer corps of uxors - and the war seemingly well behind them, a cultural revival after Extraordinary President Aynd Raen's death saw the return of the high fashion and extravagance of the old world, as utility once more went to the wayside for luxury, and this seeming meritocracy became a place of a fondness for the old, pre-strife days, yet none alive actually seeing them, instead recreating the legends of old through the arts, such as Bros'li, Hukk Nors and Bo Jo. Chauvinism over practicality has made the Merican elite lax and ignorant of the rising storm well beyond their borders, confident in the natural protection of relentless rad storms and their genetically sculpted armies.
Orioc
Haven. That is what they call themselves, for the lands of the Orioc nestle deep within the Antarctic, hidden beneath huge sheets of ice and well-protected from the soot-covered ruins of the lands above. It is said when the first atomic weapons struck, the arctic snowscapes remained untouched for the better part of Terra's descent, until enclaves of old governments began to congregate there and powermad tyrants retaliated in kind, devastating surface cities and leaving only the subterranean hive Orioc to survive. Orioc's armies are non-existent, numbering several thousands worth of well-equipped pre-strife soldiers and a small force of hover tanks, though any armour deployed by the armies of Haven tend to break down quickly due to rapid weather changes. However, the city has one advantage that no other land has - the last true reserve of fresh drinking water on Terra. Without the need for archaic purifiers which belch chemicals into the toxic air, without cutting edge remedies or solutions, Orioc boasts a massive reservoir of easily recyclable freshwater protected by the glacial ice and several hydroelectric dams, which also help power parts of the hive which benefits from it. Were it not for the fact Orioc was buried several thousand meters beneath the ice, it would be quite the target for warring powers seeking to acquire one of the most expensive resources on Terra.
Terra-watt Clans
Technologically savvy but isolated, the Theologitek polity of the Terra-watt clans (alternatively known as the Terrawatt Clans) is a powerful, if limited force based deep in the Ural mountains, primarily focused on the technological aspect of war and the development of new and cunning ways to defend themselves from the much larger armies of Ursh. Once holding huge swathes of territory in their command, they had gradually fallen back under significant casualties to the Urals, where they now construct powered armour and other exotic weaponry for an unseen hand which guides them, speaking in the language of unity despite not knowing it, and believing in the greater good of humanity under the hand of the marvels which they construct. On top of one of the many peaks of the Urals, namely one known simply as the Mag Mount, sits a hailer, connected to only a single frequency which technicians fear to change that whisper of another world, a distant, red sister of Terra; Mars, and of her new patron, the Omnissiah.
THE COURT OF THE LIGHTNING LORD
The Emperor's Council
"Be not the moth,
But the flame which guides it"
The Emperor's council, merely a shadow of the image enshrined above, is a tightly knit alliance of political and military leaders chosen personally by the soon to be master of mankind born from generations and generations of plotting, scheming and preparing for the wars of unity. Plans on top of plans woven from generations of experience have brought the Emperor - so proclaimed by Malcador - to this point. Beneath the mountains of Hymalazia, he forges an army ten thousand strong of crafted genetic warriors, for when lighting strikes, thunder must follow.
In light of the fact the Emperor as noted in the rules section is quite a fickle being, I have chosen to split Imperial leadership among three players; one for the ever-devout Valdor, the inquisitive Malcador, and the Emperor himself. Further roles may open up as time passes, but it would not seem right to delegate the command of the Thunder warriors to any man but the big man himself. The three Imperials will, as a result, have the option to write a singular set of joint orders, or write three individual general orders (in Valdor's case, this can work as a war plan.)
THE LORD OF UNITY
The Emperor of Mankind
Once a mysterious warlord from the lands held by the Europan dictatorship, the Lord of Lightning came to Hymalazia as revelation, speaking of power and prosperity for those who would follow. Under the banner of unity, he seeks to bring about an end to the squabbling chaos of Terra and raise humanity once more to its rightful place in the stars. The Emperor is often described as a god made flesh, though he has been firm to deny such accusations, rejecting divinity for a simple, pragmatic truth: there are no gods, there is no divinity, or fate, there is only science and reason, and he will be the paragon of such. Only recently did the Emperor actually take up his mantle, crowned by Malcador in the depths of his laboratory, taking the double-headed eagle - one eye closed, one open - as his personal standard. Now, the Lightning Lord, still in the process of building his Thunder legions, prepares for the great duty bestowed upon him by his ancestors.
CONSTANTIN VALDOR
The First Son
A mysterious warrior of gold, one of only six, Valdor has quickly risen to the Emperor's side as his most trusted and venerated companion, known as the First Son among his small brotherhood he is a devastating warrior, but a blunt politician. It is still early in the wars of unity, but already Valdor carries a dozen names from battles won and foes slain, a scroll of honour that is sure to only become longer as time goes on. He acts as the harbinger and personal bodyguard of the Emperor, carrying his banner to lands beyond Hymalazia and speaking the words of unity.
MALCADOR
The Sigillite
If the Emperor's origins seem mysterious, Malcador is akin to the books he protects buried deep beneath the Terran soil. Nothing is known other than his status as the last of the Sigilites, an obscure order of scholarly men which protected some of the oldest Terran works, such as the first blueprints for starships, weapons and pieces of art like the works of one Leonardo. Malcador functions as the Emperor's closest advisor and friend, a powerful psyker in of himself and capable of great feats of power. In addition, it seems as if while Valdor serves as the gauntlet which crushes opposition, Malcador's charisma and knowledge of Terra serves to bring those desperately needed - artisans, soldiers, politicians - under the banner of Unity without a drop of blood being shed.
TERRA, 998.M28 Credit goes to u/emwattnot from reddit for the original map
Claimed state: Ursh
Name of the ruler: Kalagann
Background: The man who would become the Kalagann would come from high birth, he was once the son of the former chieftain. His father had been ruling the tribe for years before he had even been born. However, with age came legacy and Kalagann felt he was not ready for the role of leadership. He tasked himself with a quest to hunt for something that would allow him to rule as well as his father had before him.
In his journey, he found nothing of legend, but much of horror. it was here when he began to first hear the whispers, to continue to roam. The whispers grew more and more prevalent as he saw the pain and suffering of the people until he could not hear his own thoughts, only the whispers of carnage, change, stagnation, and desire. He broke, accepting the whispers as his gods. He returns to his tribe, no quest completed but with a new goal in mind. He slaughtered half the tribe including his own father. Becoming the mouthpiece for the whispers he converted the people who remained to his new gods.
From here the Kalagann waged a war, supported by the whispers learning from them and taking their traits for himself. As a gift to ensure he remained useful in the following years they slowly bestowed upon his armor and weapons blessing that would give him the leverage to stay in charge, long enough for a worthier champion to appear. His armor was harder than most available metals. He carried a tribal spear that could pierce any shield. The name of the spear was simply called "Savagery" for what it brought to those it was pointed towards. Though, at his side lays a normal blade, perhaps a reminder of the past that he has lost or as a reminder of the covenant to his gods, none know. He fought and has slain many who stood against him. He sent armies to crush those who surrounded them, returning to the place his tribe once lived and created a great city dedicated to his gods. This citadel could barely be called as such, it was far more like a simple war camp that expanded far and wide with him at its center.
General Details:
Age: 43 but looks no older than twenty
Inferiority complex
Insane from years of being tormented by his gods
Lazy, will rarely lead the fight
Master Fighter, can win most fights that take place in melee, however, ranged fighters are far harder to deal with.
Envious of others and their technology
Claimed state: Ethnarchy of the Caucasus
Name of the ruler: Adverian the Ethnarch
Background: Adverian was a man who knew what he wanted. He wanted to destroy the ones who would dare stand against him. He managed to usurp the former Ethnarch from their position, at the twilight of their victory, several years after breaking free from the other powers who would do him and his people harm. Adverian slaughtered him and his tribe and used them as his first test subjects creating an effective fighting force to secure his land. From here he had them bring more and more subjects until he realized he himself was overworked. He gave power to those who he saw as intelligent, or loyal, and gave them the opportunity to learn from him and create horrors in the pursuit of securing his place in the world.
General details:
Aged 72 years old
More machine than man
Egolomaniac
Claimed state: Terra-Watt Clans
Name of ruler: Hkul of Ural
Background: The last of the chieftains who once ruled the entirety of the Terra-Watt clans, he is all that remains in the war against the Ursh, while his compatriots ran off to fight the hordes with their armies, he let them pass, learning from their mistakes. With the Red Sister of Terra within communication range, he spent most of the days learning from them and their wonders. With the death of the last Terrawatt Lord and the Ursh rapidly approaching he used his newfound knowledge to build more and more defenses to hold back the horde. Using Mars to learn of old technologies he adapted them to work turning the forces left into something that could defend endlessly. He knows that they cannot win this war alone, but who would assist him was something he wondered often enough. For now, though he would focus on defending what was left of his people, building more and more war machines in the hopes of one day reclaiming all that he had lost.
General details:
57 Years old
Mechanical know-how
Building Rapport with Mars
No offensive knowhow
Defense oriented.
Weary
I feel that I could have done better with the other two but at the same time...
1.MALCADOR The Sigillite. Gonna sneak female primarchs in this time. Gonna move some moons around. Gonna make some more Sigillites. Orders of them. Sigillite battalions. Yay!
2. Triumvirate Priest Kings of Orioc, yay fresh water and priest kings to weird nebulous DAOM artifacts.
3. Consul of Achaemid. Gotta build a spaceship! Yay spaceships!
1. Claimed State: Merica
Name of ruler: President Xaen Washington.
Background: Xaen Washington as his name implies is a descendant of George Washington although any actual ability to tell if he truly is a direct descendent, descendent of a relative, or not even related at all is completely impossible. However if anything is to go by he holds true to his ancestor's legacy in talent, skill, and resolve. Xaen's family is one of the more wealthy families in Merica, this allowed him to have an impressive upbringing but the true wealth that his family had was legacy and history as his family always made sure to keep knowledge of their past through books, stories, and anything else that could record information, even during the Strife the family held on to their history against all odds and they were one of the few that believed that the Stars and Stripes, the Eagle hasn't died yet and the name Merica was once something called America.
Xaen was always enamored by these stories even of over the centuries they got more distorted and vague the general message always got across. He swore to himself that the Stars and Stripes would rise again and dedicated his life to aiding Merica despite multiple things like economic troubles. Eventually his persistence payed the way for him to gain presidency and swear an oath to "Restore the wounded Eagle's wings and fly once again!"
General details:
38 years old.
A tactical genius
Determined to bring back the Stars and Stripes even if he must break a few eggs to make his omelet.
Reckless when in combat despite some skill.
Says he is a realist despite his goal for bringing back a nation from hundreads of years ago.
Portrait (if any):
(Would look younger and hair black but this as close as it's going to get)
Claimed state: The Sigilites
Name of ruler: Malcador the Sigilite
Background: Who was Malcador? He has been the Shadow of the Lightning Lord since that being first began to walk in the open, the smaller, frailer being at his side, ever there to offer some tidbit of advice or knowledge. The Last of the Sigilites, the man who had seen Humanities peak and witnessed it fall so very far. He had lived a long life, sometimes a good man, other times one very much soaked in evil, lost in the sea of Warlords who gripped Terra as it burnt. Yet from the Ashes he rose once more, finding a new purpose, one where the slimmest, most unlikely of chances might lead to something of mankind being salvaged rather than vanishing into the cold, uncaring Old Night.
General details:
Over 4,000 Years old.
Dedicated Keeper of the vast remaining vestiges of Human Knowledge
Psychic Power only surpassed by a Literal Living God who happens to be his Boss
Secretive Adviser to the Emperor
Portrait :
Claimed state: The Companions of the Emperor
Name of ruler: Constantin Valdor
Background: Truth be told, he cannot recall life before his service. Truth be told, he does not care. From the moment he took his first breath in his body, forged from whatever weak flesh existed before, he existed to serve his lord. His Lord wishes Unity, so it will be so. His Lord wishes his allegiance, and he shall have it always. With his brothers at his side, his fellow Companions, the Emperor shall be guarded and his vision for Mankinds future met, no matter how forcefully the ungrateful whelps need be dragged to their destiny.
General details:
The first of the Custodes wrought with all the physical and mental enhancements that brings. He can recall every moment since he first began to serve his Emperor, but nothing before.
Has a naturally low opinion on the vast majority of humanity, formed from his ability to see through lies and the fact that his job currently involves saving them from themselves.
Wields the Apollonian Spear into battle. Has the inkling that a spear forged from his Master's power might not be just a really good power weapon.
Portrait :
Claimed state: Pan-Pacific Empire
Name of ruler: Emperor-Tyrant Narthan Dume, Breaker of Cities, Butcher of Armies, He whom's ambition shall devour the wold, The Merciful
Background: Is it better to be feared or loved, such is the age old question of Tyrants across the sand of time. Unless you are Narthan Dume. In which case you are confident that your people fear how much they love you, if they know what is good for them. For you are a man of singular purpose and vision. You will gather together the people of this dustbowl of a world, bring them beneath your banner and march upon the heavens themselves. Why? Because they are yours. And how do you know this? Because he just said so and if you keep asking stupid questions like that, he might feed you to the omnivore to keep himself entertained whilst he plans which lands shall be next to feel the fires of his greatness.
General details:
Age: 35ish, uncertain due to losing track for a few years.
1. Claimed state: Nordafrik Conclaves
Name of Ruler: Chief Marshal Hektil Demens
Background: An old war hero claiming descent from the legendary "Ney-Tow," Hektil Demens spent many hard, bitter years fighting against Nordafrik's enemies. Once a rad waste trekker, when the wars started he joined up, eager for glory. Over the course of fifty years he fought his way up the ranks, eventually proving himself one of the few consistently successful generals, even if his victories weren't enough to turn the tides. Disgusted by the poor leadership that cost the Conclaves so much, he used his popularity to rise to the highest office in Nordafrik, the Chief Marshal. He now finds before him a set of herculean tasks that drove his predecessors to drink and early graves. The warlords and generals are chomping at the bit for a second round, but the bureaucrats and pencil pushers plead for more time to pick up the pieces left by the first round. As one of the few military strongmen who actually goes out of his way to talk to the bureaucrats and civil administrators and understands their importance to the Conclave, he finds his hands full attempting to balance the needs and demands of the two groups. But if anyone can do it, it's this angry old man kept alive by sheer spite as much as he is by augmentics.
General details:
Age: "Too Old"
Strong presence
Cunning and insightful
Not personally a mad scientist or witch-seer, but is fond of employing them
2.
Claimed state: Merica
Name of ruler: President Thaddeus Valentine IV
Background: Born to the powerful Valentine family Thaddeus was like most of his ancestors a spliced baby. The best genes that money could buy, ripped from soldiers, artists, models, pornstars, scientists and all the rest. The end result a sublime being, physically and mentally perfect with the voice of an angel. Among the high society of Columbion the extraordinary was nothing out of the ordinary. For some years he devoted himself to studying musics, mathematics and the psychic arts but would hit the limits of his natural resources, there was always someone with better genes, more money or a greater willingness to make use of intelligence increasing drugs and augmentation.
Thaddeus eventually realized that his true calling was politics, the best person for the job as a rule never came close to it and more importantly there could be a hundred thousand brilliant artists but only one President. With that as his aim Thaddeus did something that none of his contemporaries would dream of, he put the work in. He found that he had a common touch, most of his rivals had never spoken to anyone worth less a billion Buks whilst he was quite willing to stoop to rubbing shoulders with millionaires. And have them speak on his behalf to the masses on great vid screens. He was once asked if anything was beneath him. "My friend, I mean to be the President of Merica, nothing is beneath me!"
Blackmail, bribery, fraud, even the occasional assassination were all parts of Merican democracy but Thaddeus took underhandness to a new level, he commissioned great hover barges laden down with recreational drugs and ensured that key influencers, thousands of them, were kept well away from the voting booths. Two of his more serious rivals were found in bed together, them being brother and sister running on a joint ticket this was mildly scandalous though most attention was paid to the bed being found in the valley of the landsharks. Things only got more absurd as time went, seduction, scandal, outrageous feats of lawbreaking...the public loved it. For Merica was a slave to spectacle and they would forgive anyone with showmanship and showmanship Thaddeus had in abundance, travelling via giant airship, wrestling cybernetic bears, rescuing attractive young men from burning buildings, arranging a fake assassination attempt by a caped lunatic in possession of long lost technology.
Come election day Thaddeus won by a landslide, including rumor has it most of his opponents. Because if he lost he would fade into obscurity and that a nation gripped by by Valentine Fever could not allow. Now though he is President, at the top of the pile, first among equals and...left wondering, what now? The usual affairs of the budget or the blood games would never do. He needed to leave a mark, to be the name on everyone's lips. Intriguing Reports from the floor of the ocean basins seemed to offer exactly what he wanted.
General details:
Age: 32
Height: 7"
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Pansexual
Traits:
Background: Descended from the collective brainpower from before the Dark Times, the Terrawatt were a high people, possessing wonderous technology. Guided by inventor-chiefs and forge-lords, they once claimed much of Terra as their fief. Through force, they would enlighten this blighted world.
But then came the techno-barbarians, who took hammers to the edifice of thought, blades to the soft flesh of progress. One by one, the headmen of the Terrawatt fell, their workshops feeding the ravenous hands of petty warlords. Thus began the Terrawatt exodus to the Urals, as wise chieftains entrenched themselves into bunkers and safe havens, defended with the awesome might of their technology. Yet still the techno-barbarians came, falling like animals, but pressing onward, harrying the fragile remnants of Terrawatt splendor.
From amidst this chaos came Ologo of Ous, not a chieftain, but a inventor nonetheless. From his twisted laboratory came a great many weapons of war, terrible creations that would save his people by overwhelming violence. But he did not employ them first against the techno-barbarians, but instead those among him he deemed weak - the chieftains and headmen who had allowed the decline of the Terrawatt. In an instant, he disintegrated resistance to his new regime, frying and entire conclave of weakling lords.
Thereafter, he claimed the title of Supreme Theologitek, uniting the loose tribes under his nebulous grasp. Now, preparing the last vestiges of the Terrawatt, Ologo readies for the final defense of his people.
General details:
Mad Scientist
Pragmatic
Proud
Vengeful
2. Greater Europa - Franc
Name of ruler: Sebezas N'ai the Man-Eater
Background: Hailing from Franc, Sebezas N'ai grew up in the hive city's underbelly as an orphan, afflicted with the mutant influences of this shattered world. In his wretched development, he cut his teeth on gangs, assembling a band of misfits like himself. Earning himself the title of Man-Eater, it was said that he cannibalized his most hated victims, absorbing their essence. The lower-levels of Franc began to fear N'ai, prompting suppression by authorities.
However, when Franc found its forces destroyed and an emperor arose in Europa, N'ai took this advantage to rise, aligning himself with Greater Europa. Pardoned by the emperor for his service in butchering his detractors in Franc, N'ai was afforded legitimate authority as an executioner. And since then, he has gnawed at his own leash, building himself his own army under the nose of the emperor, a terrible horde of mutants and psykers and thugs. He waits with bated breath for when the fool-emperor breathes his last.
General details:
Mutant
Brutal
Feared
3. Greater Europa - Jermani
Name of ruler: Lord Falkerd
Background: An old scion of Jermani elite, Lord Falkerd claims that his ancestors once ruled much of Jermani as warrior-kings, locked in perpetual conflict with a subterranean race of villains. Little backs up these claims, but for Falkerd, it is only logical that his blood is one tempered by millennia of nobility. And so when an empire was established in Europa, Falkerd naturally supported it, deploying his serfs and resources in support of the move.
Named a lord in recognition of his aid, Falkerd has dottered on, confident in the health and viability of Greater Europa.
1 Greater Europa Name of Ruler: Justinian Caesar; Grand Chancellor of the Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund, Duke of Boreaux Spire, and Boule Lord Speaker of Boetia.
Background and General details: Justinian is the third son of the ailing Emperor of Europa. Justinian's family dynasty is the bastered remains of the few remaining "Men of Gold" of ages past. Once the Apex of humanity, now brought low by their infighting across the stars. While others in his family waste away in decadence a washed in dilutions of supremacy, Justinian collected real power. He deliberated and worked with the great worker unions of Jermani. He charmed and won favor of the Francish nobility. He played politics and schemed with the best of the Boetia Politians. And with it all constructed one of the greatest merchant trading empire in the empire.
With his older siblings having passed away (some in often odd circumstances ) little is left in his way to claim the grand position leading the Empire. He just needs to keep it...
Background: The Chansa Emperor (born Shikaganji Maimoi) is the second Emperor, and the only surviving son of his father, the Hanjol Emperor. While Shikaganji was not foreseen to become emperor his two older brothers suffered unfortunate "accidents" that left them both dead. Because of their unfortunate deaths the Hanjol Emperor left his new Crown Prince in charge of state affairs and went into almost total isolation in the Jade Citadel only meeting and communicating with his son on a biweekly basis. Shikaganji quickly got to work removing critics and "undesirable elements" to his rule, which included the Chief of the army who was forced to commit suicide, and was replaced by Pojihaka Tojo a zealous warrior with connections to a Death Cult. After the Hanjol Emperor died in his sleep, Shikaganji declared 10 weeks of mourning and ritually sacrificed 1000 slaves for his father to take with him in the afterlife.
Claimed state: Orioc
Name of ruler: Priest-King Caius Singh
Background:
Caius Priest King of Orioc is the youngest Priest-King to hold the position since the dusk of Old Night. Over 200 years Caius swiftly rose through the theological ranks of the priest hood, Caius seized leadership in a masterstroke of political manoeuvring after the sudden and unexpected death of his predecessor. The dynamic and meteoric rise to the lofty heights of power have not yet been reflected in his rule or so think those of the North. Caius has outwardly stayed the course, shepherding and preserving Haven for it's inevitable inheritance of Old Earth. In the great libraries, gardens and ice palaces of Orioc it is said little changes while it's people lay cocooned in their blankets of Nostalgia. For those in the fast paced world of the far north Orioc and its leaders look as frozen as the glaciers which hide it.
But what truly is stasis for those in the deep south who plot on the order of centuries? Now as the North begins to tear itself apart, Caius like the glacier which surround him slowly and inevitably manoeuvres to reclaim his peoples birth right.
Claimed state: Ethnarchy of the Cacusses
Name of ruler: The Ethnarch: The Great One, The Ubiquitous, The Omniscient, The Deliver.
...
And to Darker powers ... a puppet
Background: The exact age of the Etharch is unknown. It is believed though that he was originally a slave. One of the countless millions toiling in the mines for the conspiring gene-priests who ruled above. This slave was not like much of his fellow captives; in his heart ambition burned. It was here the man that was to become the thing that is the Ethnarch found ... something. What this something is, is unknown; but it should have been left buried.
The something spoke to the slave. It told him of world above and the iniquities of the slaves lot; and the Ethnarch relaid these revolutionary sentiments to his fellows; who in turn listened. Soon his word had reached all in the work camp with the guards none the wiser. In a bloody night shift the slave started his revolution; slaughtering the guards and capturing their weapons. In the weeks and months that followed the slave grew his forces; liberating slaves and capturing more weapons. His forces preformed well against the corrupt and unmotivated overseer forces but soon the Gene priests took notice of the lowered output of their mines and deployed their 'artworks' to crush the revolt. The screaming horrors pressed back the slave rebels into their caves but the man who would become the Ethnarch would not be dealt with so easily. He began to study the the monsters sent against him; teasing apart the religious secrets of the gene priests with a scientific eye. Soon he was able to create his own augmentations and send his own modified troops against the brutes of the gene priests. These early modifications were very temperamental, often the volunteers lasting only a few weeks before their anatomy literally ripped itself apart, but each generation of 'patriots' grew stronger and soon the forces of the oppressors were gradually pushed back (the finely crafted beasts of the priests no match for numbers of expendable drones of slave).
The final battle of the revolutionary war saw the capture of the gene forges and the defeat of the final armies of the Priests; but while their last defenders were eviscerated the priests were merely rounded up; they had a worse fate awaiting them. The Ethnarch, as thanks to the powers which had 'delivered' his victory, sacrificed them on a great power.
As time went on the Ethernarch's rule became increasingly tyrannical and inconsistent. His terrified former friends witnessed their once great and charismatic leader turn into a sadistic gibbering madman; whispering incessantly to the stone box he carried with him (though none desired to know what that box contained). While his madness grew his intelligence did not wain and he successfully defeated the coup instigated by the remaining elements of his government still loyal to the ideals which they went to war for long ago. The production of combat monsters also did not cease, the Ethernach claiming that the revolution needed to be defended from outside powers, countless criminals, dissidents and unfortunate innocents were thrown into the gene forges for conversion. Soon the armies of the Ethanarch began raiding the surrounding nations in search of fresh feed stock and resources.
General details:
Age: At most 50 biologically but he appears to be much older.
Physical Description: A once tall and muscualar man now reduced to a crooked and haggard wreck; sustained by various self augmentations.
Character traits
- fickle
- sadistic
- gene savant
- insane
- religious
Claimed state: Franc
Name of ruler: Arcquess Joan IV
Background: The Hive City of Franc has long been a place of stark contrasts: its upper spires are ripe with the fruits of affluent culture and aristocratic decadence. Its lowest tiers are crime-ridden slums, as remarkable for their capacity to want as the collection of corporations and foreign influence-peddlers that controlled its upper city were for wanting. The founders of Saveuse Arcois grew disenchanted and disillusioned with a society whose pursuit of material gain had only trampled Franc's ancient culture, customs and religion and stripped them bear as mere tourist accessories. Originally a religious, militant order which grew from vague legends of the famous Arcquess Joan - who had herself driven an ancient barbarian horde from Franc - they quickly began to double as defenders of the city's poor and downtrodden from the excesses of corporate greed and arrogance.
It was only when the barbarians began to hammer at Franc's gates that the order truly rose to political prominence in Franc. Faced with conquest or utter annihilation, the woman that would become Arcquess Joan II mobilised the Saveuse Arcois to the city's defence. Forging alliances which brought the city proper into Greater Europa, her forces grew from an ill-disciplined militia into a professional force responsible for driving the barbarians from the city's outskirts. Since that fateful day, Franc has been governed as a near-theocracy: a pseudo-Teutonic order state led by a supreme authority, the Arcquess.
The current Arcquess has reigned for a mere seven years, chosen from among the Order's paladins by the Stigmata who claim to hear the same voices the original Joan had heard. As Europa becomes more precarious, the current state of Franc - and the reign of the Order itself - will face a crucial test.
General details
Age: Thirty-two
Superstitious: she is prone to leaning on spiritual advisors and susceptible to omens.
Idealistic: convinced of her role as the destined heir of the Arcquess, she sees herself as a protector and uplifter of the people of Franc. She disdains cynical individuals and governments both.
Zealous: the esoteric, pseudo-Christian religion that dominates Franc has been drummed into her. She holds other beliefs as contemptible at best and a challenge at worst.
Marked by the Stigmata: the voice of the Arcquess, acting through the Stigmata, has selected her to ascend to the role from the ranks.
Knight-Paladin: formerly one of Franc's fiercest protectors, she is an acceptable melee combatant, versed in chivalric warfare and matters spiritual.
Claimed state: Achaemid Empire
Name of ruler: Consul Ahura Mazda Khvaraenah
Background: Since time immemorial science and history have filled the lands of Persia, and upon the backs of 100 empires does Achaemid stand. Where many fall to ruin, shamanism, decay and pillaging the Achaemid have learned the lessons of untold thousands of years, their works proven and measurable as the symbols of Dhul-Qarnayn create barriers against the dark sorcerers of the Abyssna and witchcraft of Gyptus. In Holy Petra and Nabatae millions work constantly to preserve the histories of the past, shepherding stores of Pre-Strife technologies and methodology. They are the greatest librarians of the world and stand sentinel over the hope of a renewed humanity.
House Khvaraenah have been the scholar princes of Hegra for thousands of years, only in living memory have the defilers of Gyptus finally driven the Khvaraenah to move their stock of histories to Nabatae. Safe in the hives spires three generations of Khvaraenah have striven to expand their political capital and retake the northern hive, which would secure the north against the heathen Gyptus and provide opportunity to build the devices for which they have the schema.
For twenty Years Ahura has been Consul of Achaemid and his focus has been on leveraging his knowledge of Persia's unending history to defeat the Gyptus and recover his families ancestral hive in the north. But his people are scholars, not warriors so some other answer must be found to drive off the foul Gyptus while preserving the south against the Abyssna.
The Consul Ahura Mazda Khvaraenah
General details
Age: One Hundred and Thirty-three
Learned: The product of royal family are all expected to be outstanding scholars in their field. Ahura is no exception, his knowledge lay in archaeology and philosophy.
Administrative: The Consul is a master delegator and bureaucrat astute at leveraging the expertise of his specialists and setting tasks for institutions of the empire
Prophetic: The house of Khvaraenah has always been plagued by dreams of doom and had eyes for portents of things to come. Ahura sees a dozen futures in which he becomes irrelevant, which concern him for the treasures he holds are the keys to humanity's ascendance.
Scion of Dhul-Qarnayn: although thousands of years removed, the House of Khvaraenah are direct descendants of Dhul-Qarnayn and hold a sliver of his invincible will.
If this game is still accepting applications I'd like to throw one into the ring:
Claimed State
: the Kingdom of Albia
Claimed Character: the Prodigal Son of the Abyss, the Pale Scourge of the Gods, the Unspeakable King
Claim Background:
Long ago in the geno-forges of the Selenar through centuries of sheer brute trial-and-error the Matriarchs collected the most dire of secret rituals and techniques to beheld their greatest and most terrible creation, the Null-Maidens of the Silent Sisterhood. Forbidden to speak, forbidden to be spoken of, all in wonderous and awesome fear of their blasphemy, the soulless abominations nevertheless grew as more and more vat-grown bloodlines were tainted with their strain. Yet for all their potency the understanding of their voidborn abilities remained an enigma, at every turn any geno-engineer and vivisectrix that tried failed miserably at finding a scientific explanation for the phenomena. Bitter and profane bargains were struck with nameless parties, Hereteks of Mars and Venusian Witchlings and strange golden wanderers, until finally the most ambitious program yet was launched to raise up never before seen numbers of the Blanks in a self-sustaining breeding population. Its designers grandly plotted out more centuries of work finally isolating every variable and analyzing every experiment until finally mastering total control over their progeny.
At the beginning the master plan unfolded exactly as foretold, and Null stock was successfully acquired of every human subspecies, sex, gender, and phenotypic distinction, the unknown bias towards the Terran female gender overturned at great cost. However the inherent isolation of their subject population and the universal abjurment by non-Blank Selenites betrayed the manifold systems put in place to divide and atomize the breed-stock. Though this would change, at the time Selenar theology viewed the untouchables as nothing more than thinking beasts and spiritually classified them as Abominable Intelligences. Without any hope of outlet or advancement in the sacred mysteries of the Cult and increasingly self-organized and aware of the ruthlessly destructive testing and cross-breeding prepared for them at last the child defined the parent and the slave overthrew the master. A partial mutiny of the Silent Sisters detached to guard the subject habitation broke open the vacuum seals and Adamantium walls that had been so loudly proclaimed as impenetrable. In the confused tunnel-fighting and hab-skirmishes it seemed at first as if the great rebellion might just overwhelm all of Luna but the insurgent Nulls were undone by their own nature. The revolt was a precipitous mob action and had no central leadership able to coordinate all efforts. Different bands of Pariahs implemented different strategies, as the movement as a whole dithered and became paralyzed. Where one group immediately became sounding out negotiations for recognition, another began cruelly emplacing themselves over the captive civilians as the new masters, and yet another began entrenching themselves in an attempt to create an independent hab-city. Ultimately, the rising would fall to the surprise assault of fresh waves of Silent Sisters with most of the failed population sterilized and re-enslaved. No more efforts of its like would ever again be attempted as the Silent Sisterhood would be uplifted to a integral part of the geno-cult and a loyal monopoly on Blank cadres to this day.
And yet one fraction of the insurrection would survive, even thrive, far away from the cold wastes of Luna. Having realized their failure before any of their fellows they flailed around for a plan to save themselves before finally grasping at their need for escape. Hijacking a precious few shuttles and cutters of the Lunar voidfleet and bashing together crude chem-rockets, the band fled to the sanctuary of nearby Terra on a one-way gamble. Their exodus desperately used what little navigation they had to avoid the Orbitals known to the Selenar and landed by chance in the midst of the Castrum-Cities of the Albyonese Clan-Folk. Their hereto gang-leader decided then and there he was going to forever turn his back on the Selenar geno-sculptors and make his own destiny over all that he surveyed. Whatever designation he was ever given was obliterated and in its place he named himself the Unspeakable King, and by his sovereign will had their rockets destroyed and all others of his fellows likewise obliterate their prior lives. The native Albians were of course terrified of this alien invader land hated him and band as "Hollow Ones", fell demons and blood-drinking apparitions that are said to haunt the rad-craters of Old Londinium that the Unspeakable King happened to land vaguely nearby. It was only the intervention of Albia's bittermost enemies that gave the King the submission of his Kingdom. Skandian raiders out of Nordyc had long bloodied Albyon but it was only with the coming of Maullan Sen and the evil magicks and never-beasts at his command that the Clan Ironclads and Proto-Dreadnoughts were put to utter ruination. Yet the Unspeakable Court banished the Neverborn and nullified their sorceries with the lightest touch and the merest glance and under the horrific slavery of the Unspeakable King the Albians were spared the hand of an even darker monster and had their dominions spread from the furthest edges of the Thulean Ice Basin to the Merican borders of the Atlan Wastes. Now, the Albians have accustomed themselves to looking down and try to forget the dark and all-encompassing form that looms over if they but tilt their eyes upward.
Claimed State: the Jermani Hive-League of Greater Europa Claimed Character: Amalie-Cecylia Sokol genannt Fallek, Captain of the Fallek, Sky-Gravine of Lilienthal Spire, Deputy Chancellor of the Gewerkschaftsbund (Confederation of All Jermanii Crews) Claim Background: Jermani has been a kingdom long divided, with each Spire-Graviate a power unto itself as a great singular ivory tower- reaching up to the roof of the heavens and magnanimously indifferent to those crawling in the dirt below. The Fluglotsen, chieftains of reputed astral powers, ruled through the deep oasis-wells and the plasma hearts of their palaces and the radio-spines at the apex of their manses. It was said that only by their auguries and secret knowings that a Jermani crew could know when to work and when to batten down for an acid storm and it was only by their intercession with the stars that those blood-sworn to a particular tower could be safe. Much as in neighboring Franc they wasted their resources on baroque constructions even as Skandian raiders cut Jermani Hive off from the Thulean Ice Basin and the hordes of Ursh broke contact with the Terawatt Clans. The divided feuding nature of the great spire-owners prevented much coherent response and the once proud and glorious sky-knights were ravaged in hopeless pinprick attacks in every direction and with negligent return for the many victories handed to the Roma Jet-Flyers of Ursh and the Geno-Clades of the Caucasus. This changed with the assault of the Technologians out of Nordafrik and the rising horrors of Skandian Neverborn and the Unspeakable King of Albia, as the age turned to one of blood and fire. Finally, the Jermanii tribes had to unite and survive or remain disunited and perish forever.
In a dozen coups with lesser youths and cadet siblings raised to puppet thrones the power of the Flugotse was broken. Under the barrel of mutinous guns new legal statues were developed that granted executive powers to intermediaries removed from their total control, diets of the sky-knights and the merchant patricians and the astral sages. Joining in self-defense under the wider coalition of the Greater Europan Hives, Jermani seemed infused with a precious guttering spark of real hope, on the verge of a true renaissance. That hope was brutally extinguished at the burning ruin of Hive Byzant. Scattered to the four winds by the atomic magicks of the so-called Ethnarch, the newly cultivated political classes of Jermani reeled. Then the Europa president-dictator dissolved their previous union in favor of his personal rule as self-declared Emperor. For all their anger at the arrogance and treachery of the Man of Gold the Jermani Spires were forced to bend and release their sovereign dignity to him. Yet the Emperor was far from a fool, egomaniac though he is, and he swiftly displayed the proof of his claim of superiority to normal humanity by elegantly neutering the threats to his rule while reconfiguring the Jermani confederations into a lever of his own power. Instead of a distant Emperor to conceal and conspire against he gave the Jermani a viceroy and satrap charged to watch over them directly, a Grand Chancellor which held the only legal means of communication with the imperial court on one hand and near total control over the assembly of the Jermani diets on the other. The spire-diets became more closed systems, entrance barred by required purchase of a seat or special grant by the imperial government, and while they became adjuncts of the Grand Chancellor a new more indirect organization was put in place to empower Jermani under imperial rule. The Gewerkschaftsbund, an impossibly ancient intra-Hive ritual and hospitality society, united the Jermanii just enough to make their Hive a powerful support of the Europan Empire while leaving itself weak enough to be readily used to pacify anti- and non-imperial organizations.
Yet now a whole new generation has grown into prominence under the Emperor's eyes. His political instincts dulled by age and by the strangeness of their new phenomena, the imperial court has done little to hinder the growth of the Jermani Spire-Grafs. Born into luxury and assured of their power by right of their existence these new Jermani gladly worked within Imperial systems but felt no true allegiance to them as their forgotten predecessors did. Why should they when the authority granted to them was clearly the inevitable status quo that always existed? Holding by engraved contract and charter where prior Jermani nobilities held by vague tradition and pure strength, the Spire-Graviates are flourishing enclaves of guilds and mystery cults and scholastic circles with twisting and tumultus power balances between the cyber-artisan and the astromancer and the water-baron, all under the confident gaze of their unperturbed patrons. With imperial titles and Spire estates now increasingly a decentralized suit of inherited obligations and debts, the central movement of capital and personnel now depends more and more on the merchant associations and guilds quietly out-of-the-way and beneath the notice of their illustrious masters. Surely having an entire generation with their heads in the clouds can't possibly go wrong?
