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Raul F

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  1. REPUBLIC OF LANNION TURN 2 Fall-Winter, 1890 “Stupide! Do not drop the bulb!” cries a ragged old man, his voice dulled as the wind unleashes icy shards against their bodies. A smaller, lankier man trudges onwards ahead of him, his body carving a trench in the waist-high snow for the old man behind him to follow. He lugs a large glass vat, enclosing some sort of electrical circuitry. “Go!” the old man barks, as the man in front fights back the blizzard at every step. The leading man turns back, revealing a boy no older than 17, with a soft face, and ginger freckles speckling his cheeks. The old man, however, bears a ghastly face. His face is seemingly sucked inwards, creating indentations on the side of his face already bearing resemblance to a skull. His beard, silver, and covering his entire lower half of his face, has been frozen, and upon his bushy eyebrows, small chunks of ice have hooked themselves around individual strands of hair. The man shouts at the boy, gesturing incomprehensibly. Frustrated, he pushes the boy over, the boy falling on the thick blanket of snow. He grabs the glass vat, and plows his way through the snow, small chunks flying outwards with every step he takes. He reaches the lighthouse, placing the bulb on the cushion of snow, as he brushes snow clear of the pathway of the door. He lurches the wooden door open, a dim yellow light erupting from within. He disappears behind the door, the door is thrusted shut by the violent winds. He reappears once more, snow fleeing his foot with every step. He grabs the boy immobilized on the snow by the collar of his coat, and drags him into the house. “Me’s served 3 different Kings of the House Rufus, I’ve ‘ad 3 different assistants within the past 4 years. Tha first, died to gangrene and frostbite, teh second, went off to die in the Kings Army, and the 3rd, ran ‘way like a wee hare. Yet by the behemoths above, none as incompetent as ye!” He shouts, tossing the boy into the safety of the building. The boy, breathing heavy, retreats to a corner, blowing white smoke out of his nostrils as he wraps his jacket around his body, attempting to conserve every joule of heat his body emits. The man grumbles a curse under his breath, as he grabs the bulb once more. “Write teh log for the daye, if you fiend the strength, fille” The old man opens the door once more, the wind roaring into the lighthouse, small chunks of ice splattering against the ancient stone ground. The door shuts, and the roar from the blizzard is exchanged with the sound of the doors hinges jittering, battling to keep the door shut. As the boy is writing the log, the sound of machinery whirring above him fills the room. Shortly after, the door opens once more, and the old man's thick brown leather coat flops and dangles in the blizzard’s wind. The door is shut once more, and the old man performs his nightly ritual, as he does every time the door is shut every night. The old man applies three separate locks to the door, and stands there for a moment, whispering something very quietly, in a strange language. The boy has always been curious about the drastic measures, no one would dare come this far north and less in this weather, and the boy would recognize the language if it was endemic to these lands. Yet, the old man always shrugs off any questions, or yells at the boy for not performing his chores. “Is teh log done?” The old man asks, groaning loudly as he removes his old leather coat from his shoulders, perching it on an ancient wood peg on the wall. The boy nods, grabbing a ripped and beaten notebook, and presents it to the old man. The old man slaps the notebook down, “Ye know vereh well I dont read!” He says, angrily, his face stern, and frightening. The boy recoils, flinching. The old man begins laughing, a heartily, baritone chuckle. “Pick it up, fille, I will make pigeon tonight!” The man exclaims, brushing the ice off his beard, and eyebrows. Small icicles and ice chunks fall to the ground, shattering on the ground like glass. The man hobbles over to the kitchen, to fumble with the iron pots and pans. “Pigeon, again?” grumbles the boy. Immediately, the mood of the man turns sour. “Is tere something wrong with me pigeon, fille?” the old man says, turning to face the boy, clutching a large butcher knife. The flash of lightning stings the room, illuminating part of the old man's face. “N-no,” the boy says, staring blankly at the old man. The old man laughs once more, turning around, and slicing a small avian in two with the knife. The groans and hums of a large airship above slowly fills the room, and soon the retched smell of methane from the exhausts reaches the nostrils of the keepers. Two consecutive bellows erupt from the airship, signifying that the airship has identified the lighthouse, and the pair have done their job. ACTIONS -8 Civilian Districts are built(-80k) -2 Colonial Cities are established, (-60k) -1 Material Industry is built. (-10k) -The explorers are urged to go onwards, past Station V, to the summit. New supplies, and materials are sent up to help them. (-1.3k) -An emissary is s, dressed very regally in the official uniform of the Republic, is sent to meet with the new nation discovered east, on the newly discovered beaches. -6 steel, 9 grain, 3 vitriol, 6 coal is sold to the market.
  2. REPUBLIC OF LANNION An emerging artists depiction of a busy road in Sarnes, with the steeple of the Basilica dwarfed by the dome of the Conciergerie. EARLY SPRING, 1890 The opacity of the cell is broken by the grinding iron of the manhole above. The well kept mutton chops of two soldiers peer over the ledge, at the being lying at the bottom of the pit. A man conquered by his unkempt body hair, with a brown cloth tied around his torso, his only possession to his name. He's a frail man, a thin sheet of flesh tightly stretches around the little musculature he has. As he opens his mouth to speak, his lemon stained teeth obligates one of the soldiers to turn away from such a bitter sight. “Is it time?” His dry voice croaks, his vocal chords too parched to procure anything but a hoarse growl of a pitch. The two soldiers look at each other, and chuckle. From the heavens falls a long, half eaten loaf of bread, bounces off the prisoner sprawled on the ground, and rolls several feet away from him. “Supper, Duque,” jeers one of the soldiers. The pair of soldiers disappear from the view of the prisoner,, and the low hum of the cover grinding returns, and soon darkness consumes the pit once more. 5 DAYS LATER From within the hole, the prisoner feels the low vibrations of footsteps approaching upon his cheek, pressed against the dirt floor. He raises his torso from the ground, already covering his eyesight to soften the impact the bright light invading his dank space will have on his retinas. The manhole hums to life, revealing the same pair of soldiers, and another man, with a bushy mustache. He kneels down, examining the squalid man at the base of the pit. He wears a navy blue cap, and as he talks, a downpour outlines his silhouette. The prisoner prys open his jaw, capitalizing on an opportunity to moisten his lips. The man, while the soldiers wince once more, grins, the hairs of his stache fanning out as his lips grow wide. “Duuuuuqueee!” he shouts, joyously. “Remember me, my Lord?” he says, chuckling. His smile disappears from his face, as he enters a deep pensive state, sarcastically. “You were there, no? You don't remember me!?” He says, as the prisoner's eyesight begins to acclimate itself to the presence of light. “It is I, Maximilian, I hung your family, surely that jogs your memory?” His grin returns, as the soldiers chuckle from above. The prisoner, from below, stares at him blankly. The man above releases a frustrated groan, “No matter, surely when we retrieve you from this hole, and you get a closer look at me, you'll come to your senses. Consider yourself lucky, you have been called to serve the Republic, Duque!” The man rises, chortling. “Pull him out, and put him on Le Varlin.” The man barks, and after a few, a rope is tossed into the hole, sinking in the mud. When the man is pulled down, his legs are too frail to bear his body's weight, and must be assisted by the soldiers. As he gradually raises his head up, he realizes he is in a barrack, with soldiers busily going to and fro. Up above, an airship ominously looms above his head, workers dangling on scaffolding and ropes, painting over the old monarchist flag, in the new colors of the Republic. Around him, on the roofs of the stores and homes, flies the Republican flag, and most prominent of them all, is the flag flying from the peak of the Conciergerie, a symbol of the triumphant Republic. ACTIONS -6 coal, and 6 steel are sold to the Market. -8 Materials Industry are built. [8k] -The Republic funds an expedition to the east, in search of rumored new territories. A royal cartographer is employed on this trip, by the name of Jacques Cartier. 10 Destroyers are sent on this trip, and are given the order to avoid combat at all costs, and focus on exploring and finding prime land for settlement. [10k] -A group of soldiers are sent to climb the spire to its apex, in an attempt to uncover the secrets at its top. [3.3k]
  3. THE REPUBLIC OF LANNION CURRENT ELECTED REPRESENTATIVE Magistrat Auguste Varlin The people, swarming the Basilica of Sarnes. King Eduoard, pictured kneeling, is forced by the revolutionarie, Varlin, to attest for his crimes against the people. (1886) THE LANNISH The Lannish had been residing in some form or another in the territory since the annals of history were first written. They were a nation like any other, loyal to their royal family, which for generations they had been told were touched by the Hierormars, a bloodline worthy of exaltation. Over time, they had bended with the tides of history, sprouting townships and cities, ornamenting the land with stone and wood constructs. Men and woman died in wars, yet the Rufus family remained steady on the throne at Cearleon, the Palace of House Rufus. However, overtime, frustrations surmounted. Generations of tilling the same earth have left the ground sterile, void of any the properties which are attributed to good soil. The streets, as generation following generation has more surviving sons and daughters than the previous, grow crowded, and suffocating. Bread, and soup fly off of the shelves, and the slow fields can only satisfy so many mouths, leaving some stomachs rithing in hunger. In Sarnes specficially, the people were bold, yet the state manipulated batons and steel well, to disperse any displeased mobs of peasants. The point of no return was when King Eduoard, following a mass for the aristocracy, told a small boy on the steps of the Basillica that the famine infesting Sarnes was an opportunity to grow in reverence of the Progenitor, and for meditation. One man threw a pasty concotion of dirt many Lannish were forced to consume out of pure desperation, and a battle ensued between the peasantry and the Kings guard. A lithograph of the King, made by an unknown author, sword in hand, graphically cleaving a peasant in two made rounds throughout the nation. Albeit being an overdramatization of what was called the Battle of the Steps, it infuriated enough of the populace to cause a revolution. REVOLUTION The masses in Sarnes, the first night, left their workshops and mills, and surronded the Caerleon, practically laying siege to the palace. For 4 days, Caerleon was surronded, and Sarnes, once a cosmpolitan city, was brought to a complete standstill, as the people shouted obscenities, and slandered the House of the King. On the 5th day, soldiers entered the cities of Sarnes, and the events which occurred behind the moat of Caerleon were later dubbed the Kings Vespers, as the King performed his Vespers on the lawn of the palace, amid a blanket of bodies. Eduoard, following the massacre, ordered Sarnes to be purged of any anti-monarchist tendencies. In the week following his proclamation, 20,000 people were executed, and at least 16 executions were carried out by Eduoard personally. It is said that to this day, the sewers of Sarnes are still dyed crimson from the rivers of blood that flowed through. In the city of Oudalle, the story was different. Whilst throughout the nation, people had been rising up, for the majority, they had been quelled. In Oudalle, a military Chaplain by the name of Auguste Varlin, in the dead of night, lowered the bridge to the citadel, and allowed the cities militia to be taken by surprise. Varlin himself, stabbed the Colonel in his sleep, and hung his mutilated body from the gates of the city, declaring Oudalle to be "liberated from fealty to the King." Oudalle, fell within one night, and August Varlin immediately became the leader of the revolutionary movement. His subterfuge became the reason why to many, he was admired, and looked upon in disgust by others. Assassinations skyrocketed throughout the nation, as factory overseers, soldiers, anyone deemed to be supporting the status quo, and therefore the monarchy, became a target. Varlin declared Oudalle to be the 'Capitol of the New Republic', and people flocked to him. The King, placed a bounty of 50,000 gold coins to any who could place Varlins head before his throne. He delivered inspiring, fiery speeches in marketplaces, and from lectors in churches, preaching the necessity to overthrow the monarchy, and people took to his word resoundingly. On August 21, 1887, Varlin declared War against the King of Lannion. Vardin led a horde of peasants, some say reached 50,000 strong when the swarm reached the doors of the Basillica. Vardin led a ragtag sea of peasants from town to town, overwhelming forts and citadels. The garrison of each town was butchered, and their limbs added to a rope, which Varlin promised his fanatics would be used to hang King Eduoard. When the horde reached the gates of Sarnes, the rope was hundreds of feet long, and required 10 men on rotation shifts to pull, as a result of the pure weight in flesh that was added. The Siege of Sarnes lasted a month, and eventually, the Republican Army entered Sarnes. A bloodbath ensued on the streets, and the Kings Army was forced to relinquish control of block after block, until they confined themselves to the royal quarter, Caerleon, and the Basilica, and the adjacent properties. Soon, Caerleon too was stormed, and the King with his family and the aristocracy, was forced into the Basilica, locking the meter thick wooden doors. For every single day for a month, the people celebrated, and the King was forced to sleep to the lullaby of the people singing praises to Varlins name. A new revolutionary, in this month period, rose to prominence, Richard Lillebonne. An intellectual, he drafted the Statutes, delineating the frameworks of a new government for the Republic, and declaring the 1,784 year reign of the House Rufus to have concluded. Later, he also wrote and published the Warrants, which are a warrant for the arrest of each individual known to be residing within the Basillica, and the crimes they have committed against the people of Lannion. Berner Osbern, later published a crtical opinion piece in the Sarnesian Herald, arguing for the necessity for the extermination of all those associated with the previous regime. This piece was later quoted by Varlin, as he intitated the Cleansing. The republic, cannot declare Sarnes liberated, whilst the King and his family still stood. Not desiring to compromise the Basilica, Varlin ordered the creation of a massive metal ram, powerful enough to breach the doors of the Cathedral. The monotone pounding of the door the Basilica reverberated throughout the city for days, steady like a metronome keeping time. Weeks passed, and the ram had now beaten a square indent into the door, yet this was a strong oak, and remained strong. After a month, the door gave in. 50,000 peasants, swarmed the Basillica, the royal family, 4 lesser members of the House Rufus were dispatched in the anarchy that ensued, and many of the aristocracy also perished. Eduoard and the immediate Royal Family, along with 100 of his elite royal guard, retreated to the crypts. While Varlin was focused on opening the crypts, Lillebonne organized public trials for all of the members arrested within the Basilica. They were all found guilty, hanged from the collosal thurible which hung from the cupula, using the very same rope with rotten limbs and flesh from the very first victims to the revolution. Lillebonne, a orator rivaling Varlin, spoke of the new values of the republic, and his speeches have been transcribed and reproduced all throughout the realm. Eventually, the crypt was opened, and following a short battle, Edouard, and the Royal Family, were finally apprehended. Varlin personally functioned as the Aribiter for the trial, with Lillebonne representing the people of the Republic. The trial lasted a week, and he was sentenced to death. On September 11th, 1887 King Eduoard, and the entire royal family were hung, not permitted to say any last words or statements, Edouard's lips branded shut. The Revolution declared itself victorious, and the House Rufus, and any vestige of the old monarchy was exterminated. In total, the Revolution claimed half a million lives, as a result of the purges on both sides, and the war itself. CULTURE The Lannish ae now a proud people, optimistic in their newly established Republic. They are loyal to their Republican ideas, and Democracy, and would rather die than see another King rule their stubborn hearts. National Idea Experienced Colonizers: +1 yield additional yield in Civilian Districts in Colonies. National Traits Naval Focus Agrarian State Colonizers Resource Deficiency: Textile Army Doctrine: Air Power Naval Doctrine: Swarms Economic Focus: Colonial Point of Interest The Ancient Citadel of Istalais CCradled by icy peaks and gray nimbuses, the remains of a vast citadel system remains. Crumbling walls, meters thick, encompass gargantuan batteries of rusted guns of a caliber large enough to knock leviathans out of the sky. Yet, the machinations of these armaments have been claimed by time, and if one day this fortress was menacing, it is now a mere relic of time. Unique Units Jormour-Class Battlecruiser: One of the first domestic inventions by the Lannish nation, and named after a mythical sea creature, the Jormour-Class are cruiser sized ships, packing extremely heavy armament. Despite having the tonnage of a standard cruiser, the batteries mounted on this class is worthy of a capitol ship. They are designed to have the capability to outrun a battleship, yet sink a cruiser, making them ideal raiders. Interestingly enough, they are also painted peculiar patterns of intersecting geometric shapes, so as to conceal and make aiming difficult when in the sky. Ratatour-Class-Cruiser: A light cruiser designed to accompany the destroyers. This class of cruisers sacrifices one main gun turret for AA capabilities, allowing it to screen carriers, engage in shore bombardment, and occupy a very broad niche within the navy. Lutin-Class Destroyer: Following the naming scheme after sea creatures, a Lutin is a mythological Sky-Serpent, with jarring spikes protruding out of its side, using its sides as a weapon, plowing through entire towns. The Lutin Class Destroyer is a destroyer with an additional main turrent of guns, however retaining the charecteristics of a destroyer. Location File size too large, will pm (Nice little peninsula on the east, guarded by mountains)
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