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About TryaxReck

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  1. Chelovek couriers were rushing about, listening in to all comments made by all in Helena, whispering to each other and sending birds to base, for writers to scribe the words Vozhd spoke as he responded. The birds flew back and forth, messages were posted alongside the original fliers, discreetly. This one seemed to be addressed to the thoughts of a holy man, speaking about trapped men and burning crosses. “I am a man of faith as well, I worship as often as I can, to my family that believes me dead. The flame we carry is dangerous. While our men meant to throw it to stop the army, instead the licks of heat climbed up the steps of the cathedral and turned a house of god into ash and smolder. It is no excuse to defile god, however do not believe our intent was to kill the working men and women. Our intent is to fight for the people of Helena. We fight by offering bread to vagrants, our members purchasing goods made only by the most impoverished, paying extra. We understand our peaceful actions will go unnoticed, for our more defiant acts in the face of tyranny will be all we are known by. If you wish to see how we help. Ask a man for a loaf of bread, or an old man for advice. Ask a woman for an extra blanket or leather worker to repair your boots. These simple acts, the ones no one will notice as an act of a Chelovek, are the ones we value most. As it helps the poor. The people we wish to free of their chains.”
  2. A bitter victory is no victory at all. We have struck at their prisons and palaces, their banks and hired brigands, and from what has happened today, it seems it has caused one of the most vile retaliations. A workers strike not even affiliated with the Chelovek movement to liberate all under the autocracy of Oren was brutally crushed by the Empire’s army, killing many and injuring many more. It was only when the blades of the army were turned against its people did we Cheloveks decide to intervene, defending our goal of making sure no more life is taken from the working man. We have failed this goal. Brothers and sisters have died. Fathers lost their sons. Mothers their only child. We expected the violence against those who bore the black gear, a symbol of the overworked labor done to us. We expected to be killed and strung up like animals. But we never expected that in order to stop us, the Empire would ransom its own citizens against us, forcing us to retreat and to reconsider our actions. It is a time of deliberation, now. Do we continue the fight, people of Helena? Do we fight for your rights and put not only our own, but others' lives at risk? Or do we succumb to the demands of the regime, and turn in our blades to maintain safety. The Chelovek Union issues an apology to the people. For we have failed you. We have failed the people protesting, the people who have been worked to death by their masters. We have failed the children, young and old. And now we ask for forgiveness. Brothers and sisters, we do not wish for conflict, let it be known. But if such violence is to continue against us, and the only way we can stop it is by remaining in the shadows. We will do it. For you. It has always been for you. I am sorry. They put angels in the hanging chair, The hanging chair, the hanging chair God fearing angels in the hanging chair, The hanging chair, the hanging chair They put angels in the hanging chair, The hanging chair, the hanging chair God fearing angels in the hanging chair, The hanging chair, the hanging chair And no one knew or no one cared But burning stars lit up their hair, And burning stars lit up their hair And crawled to heaven on golden stairs... And oh! how we to and fro, To and fro, to and fro! Oh! how we to and fro, To and fro, to and fro! Oh! how we to and fro, To and fro, to and fro! Oh! how we to and fro, To and fro, to and fro! This is our torched estates! We're your sweet mistakes And all them vulgar kings on their dirty thrones – Who among us will avenge those who lost their home? And all them vulgar kings on their dirty thrones – Who among us will avenge those who lost their home? There's fresh meat in mud tonight God bless our dead queens Someone had an accident above the burning trees While somewhere distant peacefully Our vulgar princes sleep Dead kids don't get painted in murals obscene God bless our dead queens The hungry and the hanged The damaged and the done Striving 'long this spinning rock Tumbling past the sun Get through this life without killing anyone And consider yourself golden Lost a friend to poverty Couple friends to the black Troubled hearts map deserts And they rarely do come back Lost a friend to oceans Lost a friend to hills Lost a friend to suicide Lost a friend to the mills Lost a friend to monsters Lost a friend to shame Lost a friend to marriage Lost a friend to blame Lost a friend to worry And lost a friend to wealth Lost a friend to stubborn pride And then I lost myself There's fresh meat in the mud tonight God bless our dead queens Someone had an accident above the burning trees While somewhere distant peacefully Our vulgar princes sleep Dead kids don't get painted in murals obscene God bless this century.
  3. The common man lives in the slums, who spends his days and nights toiling for their lord, endlessly suffering from atrophy and suffering inflicted due to their harsh hours and back breaking labour. A home is a place where the most personal of matters occur, from giving life to spending ones last moments in this realm. And now, for most of the citizenry of Helena, that home is gone. The slums were burnt not by the hands of the rebellion that wishes to free these people from chains, but by the very elites that wish to halt our revolution. The aristocracy has long announced their plans to tear down and destroy the slums, and they finally found their scapegoat to pin it on. The notion that a group for the worker would destroy the home of the worker is an insult to the intellect of man, the mental ability he possesses. But they lie and cheat, their wicked tongues flicking once more to masterfully con people out of their livelihoods of their own free will. So when they lie, we will spread truth. The attack on Varoche Hall was a direct response to the lies spread by the elites that we destroyed the slums. It was only fitting that we attacked them with what they attacked the people with: Fire. Our flame stood true against your maleficent torching of the slums, a taste of your own heat. But note that the Hall was quickly saved, in all of its glory and prestige, while the slums were left to smolder, no aid given. An interesting insight. For every attack on us, we will strike back with more fury than you could possibly imagine. The people’s liberation is close at hand, and you have no clue how far we spread. We work in the taverns, we care for your sons, and daughters. We prepare your food, and make your clothes. And we are watching you. This goes directly to the elites and aristocracy. If you wish to continue the propagation of rumours and falsehoods, so be it, but do not expect said rumours to be without retaliation. Varoche Hall was an act committed by one man. A single individual who decided to take action. Continue your deceit, and we will strike with more than just a single individual. We refrained from attacking your ball not for no reason. We wish to show that we can be reasoned with. Consider the uninterrupted festivities a gift from us Cheloveks to you. Our demands are simple, and fair. Provide shelter, food, and pay to those affected in the Helena fire, and we will grant you peace, and respite from our attacks. Do not fail the people, for if you do, they may just turn against you in your vanity. -A concerned citizen.
  4. Aito looks at the announcement, an evil grin forming over his face. The regal nobles throwing a party of opulence, dancing away as the poor watch from afar. He tosses the paper aside, and laughs. Not one of joy, but one of rage. Tears of anger and a smile of insanity plague his lips as he grabs the scabbard of his gladius. He moves to tell his followers of such a perfect development.
  5. TryaxReck

    [Your View] Coups

    A disclaimer: As a leader of a rebel group, I would have the most to gain from coups. However, I still will still opt to make sure any biases I may have are put away and locked up tight in order to preserve the point of this discussion. As always I will neatly organizing every point I make into little OCD boxes for your convenience. -Coups and revolutions, and why its a bad term. Coup Definition: a sudden, violent, and illegal seizure of power from a government. Revolution Definition: a forcible overthrow of a government or social order, in favor of a new system. There is a difference between a coup, and revolution. These are unfitting titles for what is being proposed, which are rules on how to conduct warfare within a domestic environment. These are civil wars. So from now on, I will be talking about how to conduct a civil war, the prerequisites to starting one, how to win and lose one, and just overall how I believe this entire system should work. Civil wars are wars between two, or more parties. Its definition is “a war between citizens of the same country.” This is what we are all discussing. So, let us first find the differences and similarities between a CIVIL war, and a NORMAL war. Normal wars are between two foriegn powers, for example, Sutica and Fenn. These nations are just for the example. Wars can be justified against one nation to another for social, economic, and foriegn policy decisions that may have offended or hurt the other. They privately discuss the terms of the war, and duke it out on a battleground. This results in one or more battles in which a victor is declared and terms are enforced upon. Civil wars are between two domestic powers, for example the Cheloveks and Orenian Monarchy. These groups are not for example. Civil wars can be justified for social, economic, and foriegn policy decisions that may offend or hurt the other group. They privately discuss the terms of the civil war, and duke it out on a battleground. This results in one or more battles in which a victor is declared and terms are enforced upon. The only difference is that Civil Wars are often between a non state entity, and a state entity, where normal wars are both between state entities. So in my eyes we should really only slightly modify the normal war rules for civil wars. What are these modifications? PRO / RO ownership. Winner gets the region, after all. Civil War/ War cooldown. Like normal, there should be a cooldown for another civil war to allow the victor to regain stability in the region they just controlled. I would give this a week long instead of simply a day as you are changing more than just territory in this conflict. Discord access. The victor should be able to have access to the nation / state discord and be able to manage it. This helps alert everyone that there has been a civil war and that it ended in the victory of their side. They will be able to reach all members of the state easily, and describe how they are changing the society in and out of roleplay. These should help keep nation states stable for RP and functioning properly, which I see a few nation leaders worried about. I will further elaborate my thoughts if asked. I didn't want to turn this into a mini essay, sorry if I did.
  6. The following poster would be posted in various spots around Helena, mostly in the slums, outlying farms, and other places where the common folk would coagulate and converse. The global superpower of humanity is rotting from the core. Its era of progress, its age of golden streets and bounty, are long gone. Now, it is a land of bureaucracy and rivalries, a weak king inviting wars we cannot win, trade deals that offer nothing but wealth for the wealthy and poverty for the poor. And the people have had ENOUGH. ENOUGH of sending our children to fight in wars of expansion that do nothing but incorporate more elves, dwarves, and orcs into our cities. ENOUGH of corruption that leads to those same races dominating over the impoverished human citizens of Oren. ENOUGH of the aristocracy, that still believe that bread and circuses may satiate the people they call cattle. And ENOUGH of the poverty that runs rampant in Oren, forcing men to resort to crime fit for an Orc. It is the first duty of man to think for himself, and that duty has been long neglected by the people of Oren. But no longer. We have waited ENOUGH. Now, it is the time for action. We are organized, we are strong, and we are many. We are the Chelovek Rebellion. We do not wish for conflict, but those that make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable, and that is what has become. As the election grows ever closer, the senators sycophantic ways lead them to use their wicked tongues to court the elites, all calling for raising taxes on the poor, for demolishing the slums we were forced into in the first place. When will these injustices against their fellow man end? How much gold and silver must they loot and pillage from our own pockets, when the entire job market for the working poor is being held afloat by a single company? They lavish in their opulence and lounge in their glass towers, but they do not know that with the slightest crack, that glass shatters into a million pieces. We call upon you, brothers and sisters. To fulfill your duty to think. Your duty to care for your family. Your duty to your fellow man. Rise up to the cause, as long as the resistance in your heart burns bright, they will never succeed in crushing our cause. Rise up, brothers. The rebellion will not stop, it will not lose in momentum, the only question you ask yourself now is what will you do when the great revolution commences? Will you bend to the will of your master like a slave, or break your chains and rise up at once? If not you, then who? If not now, then when? They shake in fear at our message, they tear it down to keep us hidden. But we are not hidden. Not any longer. Long live humanity, and glory to the Chelovek Rebellion. -Vozhd
  7. TryaxReck


    Aito was borne to a family of moderate wealth and status, being semi-wealthy merchants in Helena, considered by many to be the capitol of Humanity. As a child, he attended festivals, learned to read and write, and often hung around his peers, getting into all sorts of mildly criminal fun. Though as he transitioned from a child, to a teenager, things degraded for the young Aito, his family cutting back on expenses. His education halted, his fun loving time replaced with long hours in the shop his parents owned, and a dull life swashed Aito with contempt. During one of the few times he had the ability to freely roam about the city, the still somewhat young Aito attended one of those festivals he once did when he was a child, watching with amazement as a pyromancer danced in fire. Though this excursion would be the near death of Aito, as the performance went wrong, a foot tripping over a bucket. The dancers hand jutted out, spewing a great blast of fire at the side of Aito’s cheek, melting and melding flesh and bone as the child screamed, writhing on the floor. His family was unable to use the regenerative properties of a healer, the expense to high for them to afford. They instead opted for the cheaper option, an operation to remove the charred flesh and replace it so that he may live on, though scarred for life. The practitioner began to tear charred skin away, leaving a gaping pit where Aito’s cheek once was. He put over a somewhat thick metal plate over the entire area, to cover the horrible disfiguring as best he could, taking the payment and leaving Aito a child who would never again be the same. A fury built up in Aito as he grew older, his teen years seething with anger as he looked for ways to explain away the trauma and pain he had. He tried religion, he tried support groups and his friends, none of it worked. Until one day in the shop, as he was gritting his teeth, sweeping the shop floor, a man entered that gave Aito everything. He was a strong man, who also had experienced pains with the occult magic Aito had, the burns streaking all over his body signifying that immediate bond. As Aito overheard he and his father speak, more was revealed. It seems this man went by the name Sycophantus, he was an ex soldier who was out of work and looking for a new master to serve. As the two men haggled, the teenager lingered near, waiting until his fathers back was turned, and Sychopantus left the shop to where he made his move. He bolted out of the store, grabbing the man by the arm and pleading for him to be taken with, to join him. He NEEDED this. He NEEDED change. And so it was. Although the pangs of regret filled his gut at leaving his family, Aito nevertheless carried on alongside his new mentor to lands unknown, all the while being trained in the arts of combat. But Aito was no fighter. As the weeks morphed to months, this fact soon drew apparent to his mentor. So he was left one night, in an unfamiliar town on the other side of the continent, abandoned by his only friend. Just his luck. Aito was now a young adult, at the ripe 22 years of age. Jobless, thousands of miles away from his home, and without purpose, he wandered the streets of Sutica, the place of his desertion, preforming odd jobs and such until one night he stumbled into a bar of human supremacist fighters. Allured by the free drink and lodging, he stayed, listening intently to the racist rhetoric of the people speaking on the stage, with cheers erupting at every xenophobic remark. Here he had comradely unlike any other before, with people he barely knew caring for him like one of their own. He stayed at this bar, being given lodging in exchange for speaking in the tavern, spouting the same racism that was spoonfed to him. Combined with his good looks and literate upbringing, he lifted the art of racism to a new degree, eloquently describing the folly of the inferior beings and how they ruined human civilization at every turn. He used the old world knowledge of the creation of man to justify their thoughts, using the wizard as a way to tell away the good in other species. Another 3 years came and went, Aito being known well among the community as the voice of the xenophobic peoples. But he was not content at simply shouting words, he wanted action. So, one night he left with his few possessions and little wealth, and made way onto a ship, not caring for where it took him, simply wishing to spread the word of hate, to spread the word of anger, and to one day create a place which in his eyes, would be utopia. A place free of the other species, a place free of magic mutating and maiming. A place where he could rule and prevent the horrors he faced. The abandonment. The pain. Yes, that was it. He wanted to make the world a better place, and shape it into his own twisted image. And that is where the story all begins.
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