Catostrophy

TIERRA ROJA Strange sightings of sombrero-toting men are reported across many nations in the known world. They carry brushes, posters, and large bottles of tequila for their long and lonely nights abroad. They are men of Tierra Roja-- the free, democratic republic far in the east! And they have wonderful news for thrill-seekers the brave, and the terminally short of cash. Say, amigo, have you heard? Heard of what, you say? You have not felt the thunderous cries of brave muchachos leaping out of their chairs and heading to their nearest airship? Then you clearly have not heard about ... THE TIERRA ROJA AIR RACE! Ten long years it has been since the last great event, and now the time has come around again! Rough and hardy tontos with energia alta are needed by the people of Tierra Roja to compete in death-defying feats of racing! Danger, adventure, adrenalina, and beautiful señoras wait around every corner in this, the GREATEST RACE OF ALL TIME! It is not the event for the feint-hearted, or those of small penes! But you all the worries! What is my life worth risking? Dios mio, idiota! We would not ask you to risk your testículos for a mere 20,000 pesos. No no no! But would you risk it for... ₱100,000??! That is but the first prize, companero! We recognise that a second-place winner DESERVES some return! Second prize is the prize for coming first in the previous race! ₱20,000!! And for a lucky third, we’ll even throw in ₱5000 All paid for generously by our beloved El Presidente Miguel Doritaros!!! Come one, come all! No matter your background! Be you vagabond or pirate, be you soldier or priest, we will accept you into the race!! We do not judge in Tierra Roja! We just wish to see you glorify yourself before our people, and the very world itself!!! Bring your guts, bring your strength, but most of all; bring your entrance-fee!!! See you here in 1895, caballero!! Entry Rules: -All contestants must bring a signing-fee of ₱2000 to compete. There will be no excuses for a lack of funds, nor any exceptions. Competitors may represent themselves, business entities, or nations. So long as the competitor has the money and obeys the rules, they are qualified to enter. -Ships may not carry the following: -Ballistic weaponry, -Self-propelled rockets, -Explosive ordinance/mines, -Flame-throwers, -Smaller aircraft, -Small arms (with the exception of swords/clubs/broken bottles, etc), -Poisonous gasses or liquids. During the race, competitors may not: -Board a fellow competitor’s vessel, -Purposefully attack the crew of a vessel (targeting the vessel itself is permitted). -Turn in the opposite direction of the race in order to attack another vessel. Any violation of these rules will result in the immediate disqualification of the contestant, and possible violent destruction. Any injury, destruction of personal property, or death is in no way the responsibility of Tierra Roja. Your safety during the race is your own concern, and shall not be subsidized by the government of Tierra Roja. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 6000 pesos, Population: 14,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 84,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 28,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos, Trade Depots: 70,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, Captured Gems: 15,000 pesos, Refund from accidentally armouring corvettes and destroyers like a spazz: 48,000 pesos, Cash from Vitraium sales: 20,000 pesos. -Upkeep: -7000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 327,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 20ASP -Ground Forces Production: 14AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 20 -Refined Vitarium: 20 (15 used) -Steel units: 36 (34 used) -UwU~~~~~, is dat 3000 more moniez per turny-wurny? :3 (-15,000 pesos towards 3 civilian industry) -The strange, foreign Syullians are offered a small loan of 10,000 pesos to construct their lovely spa and recreational services within Tierra Roja. Who says we do not appreciate the finer things in life? We just like them at home with tacos and guns! (-10,000 pesos towards 8 houses of harmony) -Steel is very important to the upkeep of loco fábricas. Even more steel must therefore be produced! (-10,000 pesos towards 4 steel mills) -With the sudden and inexplicable loss of the vast portion of Tierra Roja’s heavy fleet, Almirante Alejandro Lorenzo storms angrily into the office of Phillip de Triste and demands his ships back, or rebuilt immediately. Phillip caves in after a mere five minutes of furious screaming, and the pesos flow into the Airshipyards once more. (-9000 pesos and 6ASP towards 3 destroyers) -(-12,000 pesos and 6ASP towards 12 corvettes) -(-24,000 pesos and 6AP towards 2 T3 heavy cruisers) -(-11,000 pesos and 2ASP towards 1 T3 cruiser) -Iz dat sum more cutey heavy industwy~? I wanna licky it all over.... Rawr! xD~~ (-60,000 pesos towards 6 Heavy Industry) -Hey, no licky all for yoursewf~~ >:3 I wan sum too! Haha! UwU~~~ (-10,000 pesos towards 1 Airshipyard) -A new town spring up in the south of Tierra Roja. With banditos becoming less common, the farther reaches of the lands get even safer. (-5500 pesos towards a town) -With little fanfare, huge numbers of builders begin pouring into Zapata Villa. Tonnes upon tonnes of concrete and steel are shipped to massive plots of land purchased the previous year in the central portions and outskirts of the city. Construction begins under the watchful eyes of the military, which appears extremely humorless and tight-lipped when asked about the project. As the months wear on, the structures take shape as massive, grey, cylindrical things that loom over the city with a quiet, oppressive air. Eventually, the shells of the structures are completed and equipment starts being delivered via covered trucks and under heavy guard. Again, the army is tight-lipped, and harsh punishments are meted out to snoops—even if they were drunk! Tall, barb-wired fences surround the new concrete colossi, and are patrolled regularly by extremely sober soldiers and guard dogs. (-10,000 pesos, 10AP, and 2 steel production towards six mysterious, concrete cylinders) -The GRAND PRIZE for the TIERRA ROJA AIR RACE! You all know the stakes! You all know what you NEED! Sign up TODAY!! (-100,000 pesos towards the GRAND PRIZE!) (-20,000 pesos towards the second prize!) (-5000 pesos towards stinky 3rd place) Tierra Roja needs more than mere local coverage! Tierra Roja needs to take this great race WORLDWIDE! With the invention of radio, this dream is now VERY POSSIBLE! Adverts are sent all across the civilised world—the race has come around again! Are you brave enough to win a NATION’S WEALTH? (-20,000 pesos towards infrastructure, advertising, and radio towers to bring the race to the WHOLE WORLD!) 6000 pesos handed over to El Presidente’s account. He seems happier each and every time this happens for some reason...

Tierra Roja Another bullet lodged itself into the wood of the old cabin, prompting the young Paladin Luis to duck his head further behind the upturned table. His mentor, Jose, nursed the bleeding wound on his side and rubbed his whiskered chin thoughtfully. “We have plenty of ammunition,” Jose mused (mostly to himself), “and plenty of guns. What we lack is a good position. Maybe if we can work out where the fewest of them are, we can rush them and get a better spot?” Another bullet shrieked past the pair, smashing a bottle on the opposite side of the wall. “I think they’ve got us completely surrounded, maestro!” Stammered young Luis. He gripped his rifle tightly against himself causing the grease of its chamber to dirty his otherwise pristine white outfit. “We’ve killed half on them already, “Jose rolled his eyes. “There’s still five more!” Luis whined. “And we have five guns each! That’s two guns for each of them. If anything, they’re outnumbered!” The old Paladin chortled. “Any booze in this place? I could use some disinfectant. A drink, too!” He glared with disappointment at the smashed bottle as the precious liquid seeped into the moldering floorboards. With a wince he grasped his side and limped towards one of the shattered windows. “Hey, criminales, do you have any tequila?” He yelled. “I wish to quench my thirst before I kill you!” He was answered by a number of shots pelted back through the window. “I certainly do!” A voice called back. “Just come out of your rathole and I’ll personally feed it to you!” “I have reason to doubt your sincerity, señor! But if you change your mind, I promise not to shoot if you send your sister with the bottle!” The injured Paladin crawled back to his position with a smirk as a bullet ricocheted off an old lamp. “Honourless pendejos.” He laughed, leaning back against the table. “What sort of man refuses his enemy a drink before a fight? Naught but cowards.” “Are we going to die?” Luis quietly asked. Jose shrugged, and began reloading one of his revolvers. “Maybe. Maybe not. They can’t aim worth a damn, so that evens the odds. Two of them to the west are using muzzle-loaders, though. We can rush them a-” Jose’s attention snapped back to Luis, who was quietly weeping. The old man rubbed his eyes, and sighed. “Do you remember what El Salvador did at his last battle?” Luis shakily nodded, but his eyes remained entirely downcast. “When all his amigos were slain, and it was only himself and a few followers left defending the river crossing, what did his comrades say to him?” ““Let us flee, and gather another army.”” Sniffled Luis. “Si. And what did El Salvadore say to that?” ““A meek man will not find paradise.”” Luis answered. Jose nodded, glaring intensely at his apprentice. “I have seen you praying at night. What do you ask Him for?” “Bravery and strength.” Luis stammered. He yelped as Jose clapped him behind the head. “Idiota! You think El Salvador cares about your prayers? El Salvador helps the meek to be strong. You are a Paladín. You are already strong! Certainly strong enough to kill one of those merciless banditos. You’re already head-above-shoulders braver than anyone in the villages they pillage.” Luis’ tears didn’t seem to abate, which annoyed Jose considerably. He rubbed his temples with a groan. “Sure, El Salvador could have run with his comrades, gathered another army and fought the Klendari again, but what would that gain him? His name in a list of fallen heroes? He chose to be an example for the rest of us! And His final, fateful charge to his His earthly end was not done in fear, but with a smile! For His path lead not to death but to everlasting life in the heavens!” His apprentice looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. “We strive ever onward against the inglorious, the wicked, and the evil! Our bravery and strength will inspire, even when our time has come! We are El Salvador, and El Salvador is us!” Jose pulled Luis up, and brushed the dirt and refuse from the young man’s shoulders. “You feel that twinge in your gut?” Jose smiled, eyes filled with wild malice. Luis slowly nodded and wiped his eyes. “That means El Salvador is watching you. He is waiting to see you purge these shits from this righteous world, and show your divinidad! Do not disappoint him!” A shot rang out, and carved a piece of wood from the window sill, narrowly missing the shoulder of the grinning Jose. “I’ll charge towards the mouthy one north of us, you dart west and kill the bastards there. When you succeed, you’ll easily dispatch the rest with your revólveres. Should I perish, bury me with all their tequila. I wish to sing when I meet El Salvador.” With that, the two of them charged from the doorway and gunfire rang out around the woodland. Only Luis returned to the cheers of the villagers, smiling, covered in blood, and reeking of alcohol. Like a true Paladín. Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 6000 pesos, Population: 13,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 84,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 28,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 70,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, Captured Gems: 15,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -11,000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 247,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 20ASP -Ground Forces Production: 14AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 10 -Refined Vitarium: 10 (8 used) -Steel units: 36 (34 used) -Vitarium is needed to power the hordes of warships currently patrolling Tierra Roja’s airspace. A big investment is made by Phillip de Triste into the production of further mines and mineral processing. (-100,000 pesos towards 10 vitramite mines and 10 vitraium refineries) -The fleet is expanded further with the addition of numerous patrol-craft. (-30,000 pesos and 20ASP towards 10 destroyers) -Marshal Grasiento hauls the former slaves back to Tierra Rojan lands, and puts into camps. Here, they are taught civilised military discipline, fighting techniques, and the use of (surplus) rifles and equipment. Horses and also drafted into service, with other natives being pulled into the “Crusade.” The most important thing of all is that these natives are indoctrinated into their new role of righteous conquerors, all the while under the tutelage of Tierra Rojan officers and Paladins. (-16000 pesos and 4AP towards 10,000 T2 Regular Native Infantry Brigades, and 10,000 T2 Regular Native Cavalry Brigades) -On the home front, soldiers are getting enlisted in the highly mobile army of Tierra Roja. What it lacks in armored brigades it makes up for in sheer machismo. (-27,000 pesos and 9AP towards 15,000 T3 regular motorised Infantry Brigades) Research: -A group of Tierra Rojan engineers sit around, glaring at the magnífico engines being installed on a destroyer. It is a beautiful engine, and unmatched by any other in the world for its sheer speed. And yet, it was not enough. How could it be? Does a man simply go for a siesta after his first drink? No! He drinks, and drinks, and drinks until he can barely stand! He fights his friends! He shoots his brother! He sleeps with his brother’s wife! He then sobers up, and laughs about it with his brother! His brother then shoots him! In this sense, the engines simply must go faster! (-1RP and 10,000 pesos towards improving the speed of Tierra Rojan ship engines) -The standard bolt-action rifles employed by the military are quickly becoming obsolete in a world of self-loaders. Since all the other nations are adopting semi-automatic rifles, so will Tierra Roja! Behold: The Pizarro Self-Loading Battle Rifle! The top-loading magazine is admittedly unusual compared to conventional examples, but the .303 15-round fixed magazine has all the right elements needed for military service; ergo, it shoots a whole lot, reliably. (-1RP and 10,000 pesos towards self-loading rifles) You know, those savage Karakhwa have a clever idea, there. Why not put a little heavy ordinance on your fighter planes? It would make them useful for attacking lighter airships. (-15,000 pesos towards researching fighter-rockets) Much to the woe of General Hernandez, research into armoured brigades begin, due to the pressing need of countering potential foreign armour brigades. As per Tierra Rojan tradition, the design that is chosen is the one with the most guns on it. The GAS (General Automotive and Saraceneza) Model 1 tank is chosen for its agile speed, its numerous weapons, and its... its agile speed. The tank was chosen to take up a role cavalry had previously held of a quick flanking force. (-15,000 pesos towards researching Armoured Brigades) 8500 pesos are deposited in El Presidente’s personal bank account. He applauds Phillip de Triste’s pragmatic sense of saving, and assures any and all who ask that the money is still, definitely, there.

Tierra Roja Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 6000 pesos, Population: 12,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 80,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 24,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos, Trade Depots: 63,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -8,000 pesos, -Battleships sold!: 3200 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 222,700 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 15ASP -Ground Forces Production: 10AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 10 -Refined Vitarium: 10 (5 used) -Steel units: 36 (27 used) -The city of Alvaro receives an influx of resources, as heavily-armed traders start flying to the new world. The business opportunities are considerable with the coming hordes of prospectors and explorers. (-20,000 pesos towards a Trade Depot and Commercial District in Alvaro) -Industry similarly begins to boom in Alvaro, with a whole new tequila culture growing among the colonists. (-20,000 pesos towards 4 Civilian Industry in Alvaro) -God, how can I keep writing about stuff happening in Alvaro? Everything I’m building this year is going in this stupid city. (-20,000 pesos towards 2 Heavy Industry) -See?! Look how much **** is in this stupid city. **** Alvaro, man. (-30,000 pesos towards three Airshipyards) -Okay, something actually different. I’m motorising/mechanising all of Tierra Roja’s ground military. I think it’s a good idea to get ahead on this kind of modernisation for the future, especially now that I have decent roads to facilitate vehicles. May as well use all that production for something, right? (-12,000 pesos and 12AP towards motorising 5000 infantry, 200 pieces of field artillery, 50 howitzers, and 1 Grandes Cannones) -I’m not too sure how to balance a fleet in all honesty. Heavy on mid-tier ships seems like a good idea because I feel they’ll have a longer shelf-life than the super-heavies. Maybe I’ll also get a smattering of destroyers and corvettes to defend against “””certain people””” partial to raiding trade lanes. (-33,000 pesos and 6ASP towards 3 T3 cruisers) -I’m not too certain if heavy cruisers will last all that long in the grand scheme of things, but I’m hopeful that they’ll be obsolete a bit later than dreadnoughts. (-36,000 pesos and 9ASP towards 3 T3 heavy cruisers) -A destroyer I guess? I need more ASP. (-9000 pesos and 2ASP towards 1 T3 destroyer) -Project Red. (-20,000 pesos, total of 60,000 pesos invested) -The Mosquito Project. (-20,000 pesos, total of 80,000 pesos invested) 2700 pesos are sent to El Presidente’s personal bank account.

Tierra Roja “Well?!” El Presidente screamed – his face crimson with fury. “Which one of you putas did this?!” The night sky was alight with tall flames some hundred metres away. Several hovels were caught up in the inferno and local peasants were rushing to and fro, grabbing buckets of water from wells and carting them towards the outskirts of other homes. In the distance, a tinny blare of sirens could be heard. The Cuerpo de Bomberos and their large hoses would be arriving soon, but perhaps not soon enough. The cries of newly homeless children added a morose tone to an otherwise frightening situation. Two men, Santiago and Patricio, stood with their arms held tightly behind their backs by a small mob of heavily-armed sycophants. Such men often followed El Presidente around for free drinks and policia-free antics. They also acted as impromptu thugs whenever something annoyed El Presidente, and happily engaged in violence for their own amusement. Today’s thuggery involved viciously beating a pair of engineers whom El Presidente and Phillip de Triste were visiting. Phillip had chosen to remain inside his hotel while El Presidente conducted his “investigation.” The two gentlemen had not only caused grievous damage to local infrastructure, they had performed an entirely more devastating crime. They had destroyed El Presidente’s personal yacht. “My ship was innocent, you miserable monstruos!” he roared. He flailed his revolver around furiously, jabbing it in the general direction of the tallest flames. “I had barely any time to party in her! I only had time to go caca in my golden crapper once! Once!” He drew very close to the faces of the terrified men and glowered. He stood so close, the men could see the saliva beginning to foam at the corners of his mouth. “Have you imbéciles any idea just how much tequila I had in that thing?” As if on cue, an enormous plume of fire erupted from the centre of the blaze, causing locals to scream for more water. El Presidente began grinding his teeth. “Again, I ask; which of you is responsible?” Santiago and Patricio looked at one-another. Both of them nodded towards the other. “He did it!” They both yelped, followed quickly by each of them angrily growling towards the other; “liar!” El Presidente rubbed his temples with a sigh. “Alright alright. Then tell me what happened.” “Well,” Santiago chimed in despite his bruises, “We were doing some experiments in pre-vitrarium thrust theories.” “There were lots of crazy ideas on how to lift something off the ground before the first vitra’ ship, you see.” Patricio added. “And one of those ideas involved mixing oxygen and a rare, refined oil product referred to as ‘gasolina.’” “Liquid propellants, señor! A very interesting subject!” “Si, si! So, we were putting together this muy big cylinder...” El Presidente started waving his revolver in the face of Santiago. “Parar ahora. Stop, stop... I am no scientist, but I’m pretty sure both of those things are extremely prone to catching fire, si?” “Why, yes!” Santiago said. “That’s how we achieve the thrust! A sort of... controlled explosion that pushes the cylinder forward!” The man smiled with excitement. “Isn’t it brilliant?!” El Presidente pressed the barrel of his gun against Santiago’s head for a moment, before inhaling heavily and drawing it back. “So what did you do then?” “Well,” spoke Patricio, “we filled the cylinder with the propellants. I think we had two chambers and then they mixed together? Or did we just pour it all in...? I’m not sure. I don’t remember. We then stuck a big cone on top of it so it would fly up straight!” “Right. So why did your cylinder hit my yacht?” “We decided to launch it over the town.” Spoke Santiago, shuffling his feet. “And we mixed kerosene in with the other fuel.” Patricio mumbled quietly. El Presidente stared at the two, gobsmacked at the sudden admission. He walked away for a moment, muttering, and then returned looking more confused than before. “Why?!” He stammered. “I dunno. We were drunk.” Santiago whined. “We still are drunk!” Patricio slurred. At this, El Presidente rubbed his eyes. A few moments of silence passed and he looked both men in the eyes, smiling—the sort of fatherly smile one gives their children when they have made an enormous, catastrophic accident that cannot be mended. Beginning quietly he began laugh jovially, joined in turn by his sycophants, the captured engineers, and some nearby locals drawn to the group. El Presidente petted the two engineers on the shoulders, shaking his head with a smile. He then shot them both and threw their bodies into the fire. Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 3000 pesos, Colonial Town: 2000 pesos, Population: 12,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 80,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 24,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos, Trade Depots: 63,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -12,000 pesos, -El Presidente's Yacht Disaster!: -5000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 209,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 15ASP -Ground Forces Production: 10AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 10 -Refined Vitarium: 10 (6 used) -Steel units: 36 (23 used) -The Mosquito Project (-20,000 pesos, total of 60,000 pesos invested) -Project Red (-20,000 pesos, total of 40,000 pesos invested) -Lighthouse (-15,000 pesos) -The infantry of Tierra Roja are spending an inordinate amount of money on marching boots, tents, and camping supplies. Clearly, this is an unnecessary cost in an era when vehicles are easily available. Some rough-and-ready trucks and cars are procured from some very happy automobile companies. They are partially redesigned, repainted, and given to the soldiers for transport. (-10,000 pesos and 10 AP towards motorising 25,000 infantry) -With the retirement of the battleships, a number of middling cruisers are commissioned to sure up the navy’s shrinking numbers, and to use the vitrarium that will be saved up. (-55,000 pesos and 10ASP towards five T3 cruisers) -A small number of raiding and patrol ships are also commissioned in the shipyards of Madero. (-26,000 pesos and 5ASP towards two T3 destroyers and a pair of T3 corvettes) -The colonial town of Alvero bloats in population. Many Tierra Rojans are drawn to the strange new land to the south. So much so that supplies are shipped there en masse to cater to the new colonists. (-12,500 pesos towards upgrading Alvero to a city) -More heavy industry is constructed in the military city of Carranza. (-20,000 pesos towards 2 heavy industry) -More airshipyards are built in Madero. (-20,000 pesos towards 2 airshipyards) -Outposts pop up along the green coastlines of the strange, desert continent. They are secured by the large military presence currently at the colony, ensuring any uncooperative natives don’t get in the way of land-claims (Sorry about the tiny picture. I have literally nothing else). (-10,000 pesos towards four outposts) -The final three battleships of Tierra Roja are put up for sale to any and all. Prices are highly negotiable! Should they find no buyers, government officials begin looking around for possible quotes on their worth as scrap. 1000 pesos are sent to El Presidente’s super-secure bank account.

tierra roja 0-effort shitpost because I was told to Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 3000 pesos, Population: 11,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 78,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 24,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 63,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -8000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 213,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 12ASP -Ground Forces Production: 7AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 7 -Refined Vitarium: 7 (4 used) -Steel units: 36 (23 used) -The Mosquito Project (-20,000 pesos) -Project Red (-20,000 pesos) -Education Investments (-15,000 pesos towards education, total of 100,000 pesos invested) -Two civilian industry (-10,000 pesos) -Two T3 Dreadnoughts (42,000 pesos, 10ASP) -Four heavy industry (-30,000 pesos) -Three airshipyards (-30,000 pesos) -Three Vitramite mines (-15,000 pesos) -Three Vitraium refineries (-15,000 pesos) -9,000 pesos sent to El Presidente’s account -15,000 light infantry are sent across the ocean to secure land and establish a NEW COLONY. -A new COLONY town is established in the strange new world! (Will post where when I get a map) (-7500 pesos)

Tierra Roja The Great Adventure! All nine of the nation’s newly-built freighters are sent on a mighty adventure! To map the southern seas, to see if the sea holds seacrets; seacrets that may see the season for colonisation! Glorious! The large number of explorers are to offset possible drunkenness. Yo soy muy flojo. The route(s) taken by the intrepid explorers... https://i.imgur.com/QahFe7d.png Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 3000 pesos, Population: 11,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 72,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 52,500 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -8000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 192,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 10ASP -Ground Forces Production: 3AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 7 -Refined Vitarium: 7 (3 used) -Steel units: 24 (18 used) -The newly built city attracts traders, and what attracts traders attracts money. Heavily armed merchants march into Celaya and begin setting up shop. (-10,000 pesos towards one trade depot in Celaya) -Due to the presence of heavily-armed traders, the local governor allocates a large space in the center of the city for business, so that the merchants will stay there, rather than disturb the regular people. (-10,000 pesos towards one commercial district in Celaya) -Industrialists too seek to exploit the new workforce, who are for the moment bereft of unions and lawyers. Such is the nature of a strong, growing economy! (-30,000 pesos towards six civilian industry) -And yet, more industry rushes into Celaya! Steel is needed for continued industrial expansion! Heavier industries were often neglected by their Imperial masters, and the nation must make up for lost time! (-10,000 pesos towards 4 new steel mills) -Now that professors were back to work, the massive education reform was almost complete. All that was left was a significant updating of the universities’ facilities. New equipment is sought out and purchased, the latest scientific journals ordered in bulk, new buildings commissioned, and foreign professors sought. Education was finally nearing the coveted heights of “above average.” (-20,000 pesos towards education, total of 85,000 pesos invested) -Roads, telegram lines, electrical poles, and city infrastructure have money poured into them. Pesos are practically falling out of worker’s pockets, with all the cash that’s being thrown at them! In lieu of their massive pay increase, they are encouraged not to get too lazy via the presence of Phillip de Triste’s “productivity supervisors.” They are somewhat larger, angrier, and better armed than their usual managers... (-20,000 pesos towards development, total of 85,000 pesos invested) -Oddly enough, the military city of Carranza receives a large investment for weapon and munitions factories. The country is safe and at peace, yet there is a significant investment into the military? What was being planned...? (-30,000 pesos towards three Heavy Industry) -Similarly, the airshipyards of Madero are refurbished... (-20,000 pesos towards two Airshipyards) -A sudden commission for troops and equipment is sent out. Light troops, specifically. (-18,000 pesos towards three units of regular light infantry, T3 equipment) -The Mosquito Project. (-20,000 pesos) -4500 pesos are wisely sent to El Presidente’s personal bank account.

TIERRA ROJA “Puta sucia!” Spat General Hernandez. A dozen medals attached to his coat jingled menacingly as he shook with rage. “The Flotilla de Aire gets all the damn glory, all the money, and the attention as well! Where were they during the revolution, eh?” He threw the report down on the table, sending map-markers flying into the faces of the other attending generals. “I was the first -- the first,” he roared, sticking his thumb into his chest, “to defect when the revolution began! Where was that slimeball Alejandro?! Sitting safe and pretty, dutifully waiting for orders from the Anareains. I bet if it wasn’t going in our favour, he would have happily bombed us!” Hernandez kicked over a chair, and slapped another report down in front of a poor major. “Look at this! Look at this mierda! That prissy Ministro de Comercio wants my soldiers to carry this... this...” he jabbed at the picture in the report, lost for words. “... this plumbing accident! How could any soldier feel safe carrying this scrap-tube?! Can nine millimeter rounds even penetrate the cloth a man’s uniform?! Gracia del Salvidor...” “They’ll be asking me to get rid of horses next.” He moaned miserably. “There is no chance one of those clattering, smoky boxes will replace the caballería! What has happened to the world...?” The Marshal slumped on the table, slowly shaking his head. For a few moments, the entire staff glanced at one-another awkwardly before the Marshal spoke again. “Alright. I’m going to blow something up now.” And that said, he marched out of the tent in silence. A period of scarpering followed, as his staff quickly dragged themselves up to follow him. The war camp had been set up for the quarterly live-fire training exercises Hernandez had demanded to keep the troops in fighting condition. There was very little chance of fighting at home now that the various empires had split apart. Still, the Marshal was adamant that the troops he had were kept in fighting form. The Marshal strode from his tent, followed by his gaggle of staff, much to the amusement of the troops milling around their quarters. Passing through neat rows of canvas and guns, the group finally began approaching the artillery trenches some few hundred meters beyond the camp. Hernandez was fully invested in the ‘catharsis’ method of cheering himself up, and nothing cheered him up more than volleys of howitzer shells wiping out forests. “Let us kick off this fiesta!” He shouted as he strode up to the artillery commander. “I want to see some splinters.” “Si, Marshal.” The officer stoically replied, though his eyes betrayed a hint of impatience. “We are a few miles out of range of the trees. But—“ he quickly added, seeing the Marshal’s immediate growing anger. “-we can redirect ourselves towards the building east of here. Would that be sufficient, Mariscal?” “Building?!” Hernandez roared, and threw his hat at the commander. It struck his chest, though the commander did little more than close his eyes and wince. “There are no buildings here, idiota! We’re in the wilderness! Your men are blind, stupid, or drunk!” “The scouts,” the commander spoke calmly, “assured me there is a large building to the East, at the foot of the hills.” The Marshal glared at him, his face reddening by the second and fists clenched hard enough to draw blood, before swearing so loudly the entire artillery section to hear him. “Get me my horse, you bastards!” And so, the highest military authority in Tierra Roja, two-hundred soldiers, and a very confused general staff rode out into the sun-burnt hills. For more than a dozen miles they cut through scrub and light forests, before finally setting eyes upon the structure. It was almost three hundred meters in length, and built from simple concrete and bricks. The only feature on it was the slightly faded Imperial Anareain insignia. Hernandez glanced between his general staff and the massive, mysterious structure, mouth agape and exasperated. He drew a shaking finger, and jabbed it towards the building. “What the **** is that?!” His horse bucked at his shrill voice, yet the Marshal continued. “What the **** is it doing on my firing range?!” He pulled a revolver from his belt, and roared. “You tontos best hope that there are squatters in there, because someone is getting shot today!” The men dismounted quickly, and started haphazardly searching for an entrance among the tall grass and overgrown weeds. Hernandez stood with his horse, quickly speaking to it in hushed tones, though it was not apparent whether it was to calm the horse or himself. “Easy easy, Valiente. No noisy automobile will ever replace you. I promise...” Shouts of success drew the attention of the party, who soon approached a slightly rusted, metal door. Said door was quickly kicked in, and a dozen soldiers rushed in with their rifles, shouting and securing the premises. The building appeared even larger on the inside. Shafts of light poured in through holes in the corrugated roof, majestically illuminating vast steel contraptions, wheels, muzzles… “El alma de mi madre...” Field Marshal Hernandez murmured, his pupils dilating and his anger receding. “That is a very, very big gun...” Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Town: 1000 pesos, Population: 11,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 40,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 52,500 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, Pirate booty: 82,500 pesos, -Upkeep: -8000 pesos, -Damnable Pirates: -5000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 235,000 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 10ASP -Ground Forces Production: 3AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 7 -Refined Vitarium: 7 (4 used) -Steel units: 24 (18 used) -A huge national investment is pushed into the civilian infrastructure network, with new ports and city roads refurbished for better business. Factories and warehouses pop up all over Tierra Roja’s cities, hiring up all the spare labour they can find... (-160,000 pesos towards 32 civilian industry) -Despite a year’s lull in education spending, Phillip de Triste finally approaches his network of thugs to track down missing professors that have gone missing in the interim years between the revolution and the current time. Surely they hadn’t all run overseas when the troubles started? The “Custodians” start rummaging through the cities for old names and acquaintances. In time, the highly educated would be back to spreading their knowledge—whether they liked it or not! (-15,000 pesos towards education, total of 65,000 pesos invested) -The roads need to actually meet one-another, damn it! Who is in charge of road building in this place?! A highway that doesn’t actually head in the right direction is useless! Cut their tequila rations in half! (-15,000 pesos towards development, total of 65,000 pesos invested) -The town of Celaya fills to bursting, and merely in the first year of its existence! Money is quickly sent towards it to expand the infrastructure as soon as possible. Hopefully, this local population boom will end in the next year, or slums might start appearing! Well, more slums... (-12,500 pesos towards upgrading a town to a city) -Rumours have been trickling down the trade lanes of new lands to the east. If the extranjeros think Tierra Roja will shy away from colonialism, then they are dead wrong! Tierra Roja practically still IS a colonial possession! And since they’re fresh out of it, it was time to grab some more... (-3000 pesos, 3 ASP for 9 freighters) -The biggest guns any man had ever seen start rolling into the military town of Carranza. The people stop and stare at the massive cannons – fifteen in all – rolling down the roads, towed by every car, truck, and mule that could be found. Field Marshal Hernandez rides on the front of one, yelling at the poor saps dragging it along. At last, he had found something El Presidente might pay attention to! (-9000 pesos, 3AP towards one Grandes Cannones) -An equitable exchange is brokered between the strange western Carnelians and the Tierra Rojan gover- well, Phillip de Triste. Battlecruisers were the newest ‘big thing’ in the warship world, and Phillip preferred it if they simply had access to them now rather than in a number of years. (-5000 pesos, and schematics to speedy Tierra Rojan engines sent to the Carnelians in return for Battlecruiser schematics) Research: The dreaded time had come—the infantry would be receiving new, experimental weapons to add to their standard bolt-action rifles and machine-guns. This weapon was a top-loading, 9mm, open-bolt machine-pistol, though the more modern term (Phillip de Triste assured) was a ‘sub machinegun.’ Its unconventional appearance is belayed by astounding reliability and controllability, despite its somewhat heavy weight. All in all, the troops who have handled the experimental variants so far have been quite impressed by its performance. Maybe this “Galleta Tipo I” would make its way to the Tierra Rojan arsenal? (-1RP, and 5000 pesos invested in the ‘Galleta’ sub machinegun) The pirate attacks had frustrated a number of military analysts, as larger vessels were immune to most current ground-to-air machinegun weapons that were currently defending airports and trade lanes. They were deeply insufficient for the purposes of putting down anything larger than a fighter, for sure. Why not, some thought, make an artillery cannon for the air? The Serpiente was a solution some of the sober engineers came up with. Projected to shoot a 30-pound projectile almost 5000 metres in the air, it could be a solution to possible destroyers and corvettes that might prey on outlying towns. They just needed to figure out a way for them to move later... (-1RP and 5000 pesos towards Serpiente anti-air cannon) El Presidente is so very happy to see such wealth pass into his personal bank account. It means his countrymen are being very frugal, and frugality is important for the soul, so one hears... (7000 pesos sent to El Presidente’s super-secure bank account)

TIERRA ROJA The southern mountains of Tierra Roja were a wild place. There was a great deal of money to be made in the farthest reaches of the civilised world, as it was said the finest spices were grown far from the cities and hubs of industry. Out here, a man or woman could lose themselves in the myriad of villages, ranches, and plantations; never be found again. Thus, it had always been a haven for outlaws and revolucionarios since it was settled centuries ago. When El Presidente ousted the Anaraeins six years ago, relics of past movements began to slink out from the shadows. Political extremists, wackjobs, and quacks began to organise meetings and speeches, yet for little purpose. The people were not interested in another violent revolution now that they finally threw off the Imperial yoke. Communists? Fascists? Who cares. Tierra Roja was free. All those fancy-talking people merely haggled over minor details. But faith was also on the rise. Much like the country’s uprisings, faith passed across the lands in waves. Now freedom was won, the hardy fighters of the past sought a new purpose. And that purpose came in the Cult of El Salvador. Tall, muscular men with thick mustaches and bright smiles sauntered into villages to preach. They were always heavily armed—sometimes absurdly so, but it never seemed to detract from their charisma. One such man had come to the small village of Santrivalgo, much to the local’s great curiosity. Santrivalgo was deep in the Guiles Mountains, and the people raised goats and sheep. It was a sleepy town, with the herdsmen racking in an impressive number of siestas. Yet when the preacher came, the town was suddenly very lively. “Come, hermana!” Sofia called to her sister, who still dragged her feet slovenly to the main square. “The Paladín is speaking!” “Maldito seas, you stupid rabbit.” Grumbled Valeria. “Why are we running? Is the idiot going to grow a donkey’s tail and take us for a ride?” “No,” grinned Sofia. “But I overheard Uncle Pedro say he’ll shoot the guy if he says anything revolution-ish!” Valeria started running after her sister, both of them giggling girlishly at the thought. The two finally arrived in the dusty square, where a small crowd had gathered around the village well. The people’s sizable sombreros did nothing to obscure the figure, which leaned casually on the well’s side, smirking roguishly and twirling his mustache. He wore little more than simple, white peasant’s garb, but in place of finer clothes he carried an armory. A rifle was slung on one shoulder, and a shotgun was hanging from the other. Two revolvers adorned his belt, and a shiny sabre rattled against their iron barrels. Along with heavy bandoleers of bullets, a normal man would be moving awkwardly, yet the Paladín stood so naturally he could have been wearing nothing at all. The two girls could hear little at the back of the crowd, and so pushed through the adults until they were closer to the stranger. “... and sadly for the bandidos, I had a knife hidden in my boot. I dispatched two of them, but I gave the leader a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of El Salvador by challenging him to a duel.” He took a swig from his canteen, and smiled. “He was not a good swordsman, but perhaps his cowardice was forgiven.” “Why did you fight the leader like that, and not his comrades as well?” A voice called from the crowd. “It is as El Salvador says,” The Paladín remarked. “’a man bereft of glory cares little of obtaining it. But when he must choose between glory and death, he will choose glory every time.’ Were they to outnumber me, they would scramble for their guns instead. With only himself left, he was willing to have a fair fight.” “Who’s El Salvador?” Valeria blurted out without thinking. The eyes of the locals all turned to her, and the Paladín’s eyes twinkled. “A good question, mi señora. Some might argue it is the only question that matters. Our Saviour is the only one worth praying to, and the only one worth following. I’ll tell you what...” The handsome preacher twirled his mustache again, and smirked. “You promise me that you will pray to him tonight, and I shall tell you the story.” At this, Valeria shrugged and nodded her agreement. It wasn’t as if he would know whether she did it or not. “A long time ago,” The Paladín began, “there was a village, much like this one, that was preyed upon by the local rulers. Back then, a proper gun was an unwieldy thing, requiring fuses, bags of powder, and often exploded if not handled properly. Hence, most folks preferred good, old-fashioned steel.” He petted his sabre while he continued his tale. “The local soldiers abused the villagers, stole their goats and cattle, mistreating their wives and daughters, and walked away with their livelihoods. Not once did they face repercussions, for the villagers were weak and timid. Each day, they prayed for deliverance from their plight. One day, their deliverance came.” The Paladín paused, clearly for dramatic effect. “One morning, a vagabondo wandered into the village. He was a friendly sort, but he carried a frightening scimitar on his belt. The people feared he was a bandit, but before they could consider it further the soldiers arrived again for their usual indulgences. As the dreadful men wandered off to their preferred hovels to plunder, the vagabondo approached the captain. He demanded a duel to the death!” Some of the crowd listened on curiously, while others shook their heads and scoffed. The preacher didn’t seem to care either way, almost entirely absorbed within his own story. “The captain laughed at this, and ordered his men to kill the uppity pauper. With two swipes of his blade, the two soldiers fell. And so the captain ordered any men within earshot to slay the Vagabondo, and each one fell like the first. The Vagabondo did not take a single step towards the captain, repeating his demand for a duel between each fight. It wasn’t long before only he and the captain were remained. Finally, the captain accepted the duel, and died an honorable death—likely the first honorable thing he had ever done.” ”When the people milled out from the houses and saw the dead tyrants, they showed not gratitude but fear of reprisals! At the very mention of this, the Vagabondo laughed; “Weak warriors are ruled by weaker men. You have nothing to fear from the inglorious. Follow me, and I will show you the path to the heavens.” This Vagabond was El Salvador - The Savior – and the man myself and others like me seek to emulate.” “And much like Him, I offer you this, good people – follow me, and I will show you the path to the heavens as well.” Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos Population: 11,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 29,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 52,500 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -5000 pesos, -Damnable Pirates: -5000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 144,000 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 10ASP -Ground Forces Production: 3AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 4 -Refined Vitarium: 4 (3 used) -Steel units: 24 (18 used) -Further warships are commissioned for pirate-hunting later next year. (-51,000 pesos towards 1 heavy cruiser, 2 cruisers, 1 destroyer, and 1 pair of corvettes, all with T3 armour) -The growing fleet demands a higher output of fuel! Mines are established or refurbished for the growing needs of the airforce. (-15,000 pesos towards 3 vitarium mines) -The Viatrium is taken to refineries for... refining I suppose. Is it like oil? I dunno. (-15,000 pesos towards 3 vitarium refineries) -Industry BOOMS! Does it ever not boom in Tierra Roja? No, I’d say! (-55,000 pesos towards 11 civilian industry) -A new town is settled on the plains of the newly claimed territories to the south. The lands are filled with great wealth, and soon they will have it for themselves! (-5500 pesos towards 1 town) 2500 pesos are safely deposited into El Presidente’s bank account. How can someone speak ill of this service he performs for the people? HOW CAN A MAN POSSIBLY REACH A GREAT AUDIENCE OF PEOPLE IF THEY MUST BE WITHIN EARSHOT? YELL?! SCREAM??! PURELY COPYING OTHER NATION’S ACTIONS, TIERRA ROJA BEGINS DEVELOPMENT OF RADIOS! (-1RP towards researching radio technology) DIOS MIO! HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE NEWEST CRAZE IN SHIP-BUILDING, COMPADRE?! THEY CALL THEM “DEDNOOTS! (-1RP towards researching dreadnought technology)

Tierra Roja Tierra Roja, as a whole, is deeply disgusted. The winner of the Air Race, upon which so much wealth was spent and obtained, has had its champion murdered! The remnants of the train and a freighter are found after both transports failed to turn up on schedule. After a short search along the tracks, the train was found partly derailed, its passengers butchered to a man. The horror of such a thing occurring within Tierra Roja’s outer limits sows some discontent among the people. The culprit was deemed pirates, yet some are skeptical as they never attacked land-routes before. El Presidente, in a public speech, vowed to put an end to the pirates “with his bare hands” if he must. The rest of the speech was mostly interrupted by gunshots and tequila-drinking. The aftermath proves a boon for other strange groups and peoples. Within far-flung villages and country towns, strangers baring the sigil of El Salvador begin appearing. The Cult of El Salvador was thought to have been exterminated centuries ago after the Plantation Rebellion of 1692. The Klendari rulers hunted down each cultist (of whom the rebellion was blamed on) and executed them without mercy or respite (these brutal pacifications would ironically lead to the Miner’s War of 1697). Nevertheless, the current government of Tierra Roja has no official stance on the cult, and thus they continue to grow on the fringes of society... Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos Population: 10,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 17,000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 52,500 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -3000 pesos, -Damnable Pirates: -5000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 142,000 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 10ASP (next turn) -Ground Forces Production: 3AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 4 -Refined Vitarium: 4 (3 used)(Next turn) -Steel units: 24 (18 used)(Next turn) -Further economic advancement strains the belts of many fat Tierra Rojan industrialists. (-60,000 pesos towards 12 Civilian Industry) -Now that the school were properly staffed and children were regularly attending, the next step of Phillip’s plan is to begin reinvigorating higher education. His growing army of “custodians” enter the old universities - unused since the end of the revolution- and clean out the squatters, beggars, and filth. (-10,000 pesos towards education, total of 50,000 pesos invested) -Major highways are now being repaved to facilitate easier transport of good and people across the nation. (-10,000 pesos towards development, total of 50,000 pesos invested) -The major shipyards across the nation are once again contracted for even more warships. What were the higher ups even planning on using these things for? (-42,000 pesos on three battleships) -Treaties are signed with the Juverin Republic to properly and efficiently divide up the eastern landmass. (-7500 pesos on three outposts, spreading the glory of Tierra Roja!) -Due to increasing demands for warships, the government tosses a pittance towards building another airshipyard in the capital for the hell of it. (-10,000 pesos towards one airshipyard) -1000 pesos are securely deposited into El Presidente’s personal bank account in order to protect it for future projects. Research: An idea is hatched by some of the drunker engineers throwing together the battleships in the shipyards of Madero. Fighter and bomber planes were quite useful in combat, but trying to bring them to a foreign conflict was frustrating. First, one would have to transport them via air or sea, and then build an airstrip for them to take off. This was a lot of time and effort that could be spent on harassing enemy ground emplacements and aircraft. What if they could transport a landing-strip with the fleet? What if there was an airship that was an airstrip? A flying airstrip! In their stupor, they write down notes to themselves so they could explore the idea when sober. (-1RP towards researching Carriers) Looking over aftermath reports of the Cumberlander’s raid on the pirate base, it was concluded that Tierra Roja would need a fighter plane to counter future pirate raids involving smaller craft. The only necessary detail given to the engineers is that the new planes are to have lots of guns. (-1RP towards researching improved fighter craft)

Tierra Rrrrrrrroja!! I’m not doing RP this week because I’m burnt out from the race in discord. Complain not. Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos (for this turn): Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos Population: 10,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 2000 Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 52,500 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, Dollarydoos from race entrants: 9,000 pesos, Dollarydoos from having a muy good race: 40,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -1000 pesos, -Damnable Pirates: -5000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 170,000 pesos Production Assets (For this turn): -Airship Production: 9ASP -Ground Forces Production: 3AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 4 -Refined Vitarium: 4 -Steel units: 24 (17 used) -It turns out that the warships were covered in linen sheets that merely resembled steel armour from a distance! The person in charge of the armouring of the vessels has been embezzling the funds! Scandalous! Money is immediately sent to the Airshipyards to properly armour the ships. (-36,000 pesos) -Two big, hulking battleships are commissioned in the ever-expanding shipyards of Tierra Roja! (-28,000 pesos, 6ASP towards two fully armoured battleships) -After the race is over, a number of new industrial opportunities spring up! Tierra Roja is slowly becoming an international market! Who doesn’t love a good show, si?! (-75,000 pesos towards 15 stacks of civilian industry) -Phillip de Triste recruits a significant number of “Truancy Officers” (AKA, slightly less violent thugs) to round up children and get them back in school. The new curriculum means nothing if the kids aren’t there! (-15,000 pesos towards improving education throughout Tierra Roja! Total of 40,000 pesos invested) -Furthermore, Phillip accidentally trips on a pothole that morning, and decided that infrastructure could still use a lot of work. (-15,000 pesos towards improving national development, total of 40,000 pesos invested) -El Presidente is concerned with the money that is accumulating on needless side projects! He takes a portion of pesos to protect in his highly secure bank account. (-2000 pesos sent to storage) The research into faster engines continues, hopefully with more results and less inebriation. (-1RP)

TIERRA ROJA Strange sightings of sombrero-toting men are reported across many nations in the known world. They carry brushes, posters, and large bottles of tequila for their long and lonely nights abroad. They are men of Tierra Roja-- the free, democratic republic far in the east! And they have wonderful news for thrill-seekers the brave, and the terminally short of cash. Hola, Heralds and Captains of Air Vessels! Have you heard of the: TIERRA ROJA AIR RACE? Glorious El Presidente Miguel Doritaros proudly announces the first official TIERRA ROJA AIR RACE! Have you no fear in your heart? Have you a desire to prove yourself the finest Capitán in all the land? Is your chest hair thick, luscious, and masculino? Are you simply mucho bueno, and wish to show it? Look at this poster, amigo! Glorious El Presidente Miguel “Toro Rojo” Doritaros, official sponsor and beloved leader of Tierra Roja Upon the year of 1885, we at Tierra Roja shall give you a chance to shatter your opponent’s dreams, and allow your own to rise in its place! But such things do not come without danger! Life is passionate and fierce in Tierra Roja, and as such, we seek more than just a race! We seek danger, excitement, drama, and loss. Dangers will be many, but you ask us: “Compañero, is it worth it?” “SI,” we say to you, idiota! A first place victory is more than a mere bottle of tequila! It is-- ₱20,000! How could you pass up an opportunity such as this? YOU CAN’T! Bring yourself and your testículos to Tierra Roja upon the first month of 1885, and carve yourself into history! Otherwise, come and watch the carnage from the safety of the mountains! Be you soldier, pirate, king, or beggar, all may enter should they obey the rules! El Presidente does not care, and neither does Tierra Roja! Entry Rules: -All contestants must bring a signing-fee of ₱1000 to compete. There will be no excuses for a lack of funds, nor any exceptions. Competitors may represent themselves, business entities, or a nations. So long as the competitor has the money and obeys the rules. -Ships may not carry the following: -Ballistic weaponry, -Self-propelled rockets, -Explosive ordinance/mines, -Flame-throwers, -Smaller aircraft, -Small arms, -Poisonous gasses or liquids. During the race, competitors may not: -Board a fellow competitor’s vessel, -Purposefully attack the crew of a vessel (targeting the vessel itself is permitted). -Turn in the opposite direction of the race in order to attack another vessel. Any violation of these rules will result in the immediate disqualification of the contestant. Any injury, destruction of personal property, or death is in no way the responsibility of Tierra Roja. Your safety during the race is your own concern, and shall not be subsidized by the government of Tierra Roja. Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos Population: 10,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 1000 Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos Trade Depots: 52,500 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -1000 pesos, -Tequila Engineering: -2000 pesos, -Damnable Pirates: -2000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 121,000 pesos. Production Assets:-Airship Production: 6 ASP -Ground Forces Production: 3 AP -Naval Production: 5 NP -Vitarium Mines: 4 -Refined Vitarium: 4 -Steel units: 24 (14 used) Actions: -Dios Mio! The prize money for the TIERRA ROJA AIR RACE is placed into the bank! El Presidente truly puts his money where his mouth is! (-20,000 pesos) -A grand, tiered viewing platform is ordered to be constructed in Tierra Roja’s mountainous hinterland! It will provide an excellent spot for attendees to stand, cheer, and drink while watching the action! Though apparently the money is also going towards other things... how curious... (-10,000 pesos towards a nice grandstand. And other stuff...) -The ‘Angry Pedro’ Distillery opens its doors, much to the joy of locals in Zapata Villa. Previously merely a bootlegging operation, the owners finally managed to make enough money to impress (bribe) El Presidente. (-5000 pesos towards one civilian industry) -The Flota Aérea expands a little bit more, adding on two heavily armed and armoured warships into the growing fleet. The pirates shall not harm the trade lanes for much longer! (-12,000 pesos towards two heavy cruisers) -Further Airshipyards are built in some of the hinterland cities. They provide work for the local peasants, and pirates might be less likely to attack targets away from the ocean. (-30,000 pesos towards three airshipyards) -Further improvements to road, communication, and transport infrastructure are written once more into the budget. Some roads are even blessed with paving stones, or really just some leftover rubble from local quarries. Better than dirt! New telegram polls are set up, connecting some of the more remote settlements. (-10,000 pesos towards infrastructure development, total of 25,000 pesos invested) -Phillip is somewhat irritated that some teachers chose to take their money and scarper away. After he orders his thugs to track them down and –thoroughly- convince them to go back to work, he puts a little extra money into updating the syllabus. Modern education techniques and materials would be needed to catch up with the rest of the world. (-15,000 pesos towards education development, total of 25,000 pesos invested) -A portion of money is sent with the blessings of El Presidente to the Grand Principality of Cumberland, apparently for the purposes of constructing an airshipyard. How strange! (-10,000 pesos) -Money is sent off to a certain group of engineers working on increasing the speed of Tierra Roja’s ship engines. Apparently, it is to encourage them to work more and drink less, and use less of their drink in the project itself. The money is accompanied by a number of extremely dangerous looking soldiers who will be keeping watch over the sensitive project from this point on. (-5000 pesos and 1RP towards engine speed project. -4000 pesos are deposited securely in El Presidente’s personal account. There is quite a bit of money in there, now. But we all know it is safest there than anywhere else, right? Right.

Tierra Roja The palace of the colonial administration was a vast marble complex, built in gorgeous fashion by a particularly corrupt Governor some decades ago. It had beautiful, scenic gardens, classical colonnades, and marble fountains that juxtaposed themselves against the simpler red bricks that made up most of the building’s construction. The outside of the palace was merely a foreshadowing for the luxurious interior--mahogany wood, gold leaf, and expensive art spanned every piece of furniture and wall. Haggard servants and bureaucrats rushed around the lower portions of the palace silently, sticking close to the walls and deliberately avoiding certain rooms and higher floors. Loud cracks and booms reminded them why, as a pair of bullets whizzed down from roof and struck an expensive bust of the former governor. Muffled cheers reverberated through the palace as Phillip de Triste morosely ascended the beautiful steps to El Presidente’s meeting room. As he approached the doorway, two grizzled looking revolucionarias stood up from their chairs and gave Phillip a lazy pat-down. After their search, Phillip was unceremoniously shoved through the door into the party. Surrounding a magnificent table were about fifteen men, all sporting thick, black, greasy moustaches and wearing strange combinations of expensive suits and wide-brimmed peasant’s hats. Each one was fully armed, with pistols, rifles and shotguns, with bandoleers of bullets hanging off every belt. All of them surrounded the rotund, red-faced figure, “Toro Rojo,” El Presidente Miguel Doritaros, who was currently hammering down shots of Tequila. His associates appeared to be quite pleased with his efforts, indicated by the number of bullet-holes around the room. Phillip meekly pushed past some of the revelers, who groaned in contempt upon noticing him. El Presidente, for what it was worth, kept his visible disgust to a minimum. His sombrero was slightly askew as his encroaching inebriation began to take hold. Beneath a sweaty face and a thick, luscious, black moustache, El Presidente grinned politely. “Hola, compañero!” He roared, spittle flying from his mouth. “Ministero de Comercio is here, amigos! That calls for another round!” Loud cheers erupted from his associates, and Phillip quickly covered his ears as gunfire roared around him. One of the borrachos pulled a bottle from somewhere and filled another glass in front of Miguel. “What is it, my bean-counter?” Miguel continued. “Need help looking through the sofas for pesos?” The burrachos laughed heartily, and one started shooting at the roof again, prompting the rest to immediately start firing further rounds above them. Phillip did his best to remain calm under the circumstances. “No, Señor Doritaros.” Phillip quietly stammered while brushing falling roofing-plaster from his shoulders. “I simply ask for you to look at some documentation for-“ He was cut off almost immediately by six large guns being pointed at his head. A particularly greasy, foul-smelling man leaned into his face, so close that he could smell the tequila and rancid enmolada on his breath. “That’s El Presidente to you, burócrata!” He spat. “Don’t you dare show him disrespect! He is the Liberator! The Boundless Bull! The Hero of the Revolution! The Man of the People!” Miguel slammed down another glass with a burp, and the men began cheering and firing into the air once more. Phillip tried to calm his breathing in the meantime. “I told you already, compañero.” Miguel leaned back on his chair and stretched. “You handle all that numbers ****. I don’t pay you to come sauntering up to me like a puta every time a peasant needs their cock waxed.” “Si, El Presidente, but due to Tierra Roja not having a constitution I literally cannot host foreign dignitaries or approve trading contracts without your permission. No-one will do anything unless you give the word.” Many of the borrachos remained silent, somewhat confused by the conversation. Rather than listen, they took the moment to reload their guns. “Wait, pig-****, are you telling me we have some foreigners coming here now?!” El Presidente’s eyes opened wide, sobering up briefly. “Er, no, El Presidente. We have received s-“ “Then tonight, we drink!” Miguel roared at the top of his lungs, and the gunfire started back up immediately. Dozens of shots pierced through priceless art and expensive wood, sending the pieces flying in every direction. “Bring me the city’s finest whores! One for each man, and three for me!” He yelled to no-one in particular. Assuredly someone would do what he asked. He picked up the bottle of tequila, and filled a glass in front of Phillip. “Have a drink, amigo! Get us all started!” Phillip stuttered at the suggestion. “I probably shouldn’t, El Presidente. I have much work to do, and I prefer not to drink before lunch.” The room went completely silent. Slowly, but surely, every gun was drawn from the men’s holsters and pointed directly at Phillip’s head. Though his face appeared as rosy as ever, Miguel’s eyes revealed a cold, and cruel countenance only a drunken tyrant could properly pull off. “Now now, compañero. You are in my house.” He leaned towards Phillip, the antique chair groaning and creaking beneath him, and hissed through a toothy smile. “So when I say ‘drink,’ you ******* drink. Comprendes?” Phillip ******* drank. Modifiers: Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 20% bonus profit to trade due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos (for last turn): -Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos -Population: 10,000 pesos, -Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, -Trade: Zilch. -Upkeep: 1000 Total Spendaroonies: 39,000 pesos. Production Assets (For last turn): -Airship Production: 3 ASP (Not currently operational due to steel shortage) -Ground Forces Production: 3 AP (Not currently operational due to steel shortage) -Vitarium Mines: 1 -Refined Vitarium: 1 -Steel Mills: 0 Actions (For last turn): -10,000 pesos towards the construction of a Trade Depot in Madero. -10,000 pesos towards the construction of a Commercial District in Huerta. -10,000 pesos towards four steel mills. -5000 pesos towards one civilian industry. -4000 pesos sent into El Presidente’s personal bank account for safekeeping. -Trade contracts are sent out to literally everyone. Research Slot: Who in Tierra Roja would not wish to go fast? Faster engines for airships! That’s what they need! Dollarydoos (for this turn): Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos Population: 10,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 1000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 20,000 pesos, Trade: 21,750 pesos Trade Depots: 42,000 pesos, -Upkeep: 1000 Total Spendaroonies: 103,750 pesos. Production Assets (For this turn): -Airship Production: 3 ASP -Ground Forces Production: 3 AP -Vitarium Mines: 1 -Refined Vitarium: 1 -Steel Mills: 4 Actions: -Tierra Roja needs more bueno airships! But to have them, they’re gonna need some more fuel, comprendes? People are sent to clear out abandoned Vitarium mines and continue with extraction! (-15,000 pesos towards 3 vitarium mines) -And, sadly, to use that vitarium they will need to refine it into its useful form. Abandoned Refineries and new ones are retrofitted and constructed. (-15,000 pesos towards 3 vitarium mines) -Glowing steel simmers in the grand smelteries of the nation! (-10,000 pesos towards four steel mills) -With the advent of pirate attacks, the Almirantazgo request a significant increase in state funding for warship construction. The old captains of the ships are hardly supreme commanders, but they know what they need for a decent warfleet. (-30,000 pesos towards three Airshipyards) -Now that factories are fully supplied, a small flotilla of warships are put into production for the purposes of protecting trade lanes and patrolling the outer-limits of Tierra Roja’s airspace. (-5000 pesos towards two corvettes and one destroyer) -Ministero de Comercio Phillip de Triste now has direct permission to begin rebuilding the shattered infrastructure across the length and breadth of Tierra Roja. Workers are tasked with repairing decrepit railways, clearing old roads, and reconstructing the sparse number of telegram lines left to rot in the previous years. (-15,000 pesos towards infrastructure) -Similarly, Phillip feels that the education system within the country requires significant reforms to get it back to pre-war standards. Old soldiers, Guerrillas, and other various armed thugs are sent out to locate and “convince” schoolteachers to return to the government classrooms. There was still a long road ahead before the universities could be reopened again, though. (-10,000 pesos towards education) -There’s some weird landmarks in Tierra Roja that demand exploration! What could they be?! (Tell me what my PoIs are, please and thank you) -A further 3750 pesos are deposited into the very secure personal bank account of El Presidente.

Tierra Roja Type of Government: Liberated and Free People’s Democratic Republic (Dictatorship) History/Culture: Tierra Roja, named after the crimson soil first seen by explorers, is a harsh land to the east discovered centuries ago by western sailors. Settled numerous times by numerous powers, the land’s name is synonymous with lawlessness, savagery, rebellions, and ideologues. The wealth extracted from its natural resources and unique plants and spices more than justified the continued presence of Imperial forces over the colonial period, but all this ended at the tail end of the Great War. There were too few soldiers to keep control over the angry population, and a true, united revolution overthrew the remaining Imperial authorities a year before the war’s end. All credit to this victory went to the venerable Miguel “Toro Rojo” Doritaros, who united the many disparate rebel groups and drew them into an army to challenge professional troops. He was later credited for wiping out those same disparate rebel groups and claiming total control over Tierra Rojo after the government was kicked out. His charisma, energy, and terrifying presence has since kept control over the new nation... but for how long? Who knows! Live for today, cabrón! -Size: 6. The colony stretches the length of Tierra Roja, but not the entire landmass. The population boomed from immigrants and colonists for a century prior to the great war, and received a sprawling number of pioneer towns and cities as a result. -Army/Navy: 5. The revolution has just ended, and the people are restless. There are a great quantity of weapons and revolutionaries left over from the war, and the people have a long history of fighting with the environment and the government. -Aviation: 2. The air-fleet consists entirely of captured ships left over from the peacekeeper’s time. The crews too. -Industry: 4. The country was never heavily industrialised, but a desperate need for supplies forced the declining Empire invest in some industrial projects. They have been kept in a reasonable condition despite the war. -Economy: 10. The colony was always used for tax harvesting and resource exploitation. Little else was invested in beyond that. Tierra Roja has nevertheless inherited an extensive number of assets, and an impressive financial sector to boot. -Education: 2. Education infrastructure has completely collapsed in the interim. There are still teachers about, but they command a hefty price for their services now. -Development: 1. Infrastructure was ignored during the final years of the war in favour of industry. A poor decision, in retrospect. Notable Characters: -El Presidente Miguel “Toro Rojo” Doritaros, Champion of the People, Generalissimo of the Fighters for Liberty, Breaker of the Chains of Tyranny, Glutton. -Ministro de Interior Fidel Champana, Sycophant. -Ministro de Comercio Phillip de Triste, miserable bureaucrat attempting to hold the nation together. National Idea: Too Caliente for you, Cabrón?: 20% trade bonus from delicious spices. Unique Unit: Grandes Cañones: Obnoxiously large and destructive howitzers that can double as anti-air weapons, should the target be slow and large enough. Map Placement: Secret thing: Ireland’s a nice shade of green, I guess. That could just be from vomit, though.

Carchemish An image of ancient Carche, leader of the Thallites. Discord: You have it Civilisation Name: Carchemish Capital: Dur’Sharrukin Government: Tyranny—A government headed by a single, strong leader with innumerable smaller entities beholden to them. They are the lone head of state, with a group of direct advisors for matters the tyrant is not as knowledgeable. Not that mighty, ancient Carche is flawed! Oh no! Carche is all-knowing and wise! All hail Carche! Racial Distribution: Pure Thallite (No-one wants to live with the Thallites). Due to a recent plague, the population of several fortress-towns have depleted to the point of being abandoned. Thus, only the major population centres and a few scattered forts remain of the Thallite civilisation. Racial Traits: -Half Mad: Almost half of Thallites born are stricken with some variety of mania. This can run the gambit from obsessions with collecting fingernails to murderous sociopathy. Not all manias are dangerous, but neither useful. -Brightest Stars: Thallites (usually the sane ones) have an enormous potential for brilliance in engineering and technology. Perhaps it’s merely a useful mania? -Mob Caste: The majority of soldiers in Thallite “armies” are the dregs of the mentally unstable 50 percent. Hence, swathes of their fighters tend to be little more than poorly-disciplined walls of gibbering flesh protecting more important, useful warriors. -Sorcerer Lords: Thallites are highly magically adept, and explore the deepest lores of arcane power. Their magii are powerful, knowledgeable, and extraordinarily dangerous. -Ancient Sages: Thallites have long lifespans, some managing to reach 500 years before passing. However, this assumes they are in ideal conditions; otherwise it’s more likely for them to expire around 150-200 years. -Natural Aversion: Outside of necessary diplomacy, Thallites prefer not to trade or interact with foreign entities due to envy, revulsion, or sheer paranoia. Exceptions to this may include obtaining highly important resources, or things vital to the existence of the Thallites. The city of Dur’Sharrukin. Specifically, the district of the Ashurnasirpal Caste. Technology and Arcana: The heavy use of technology and magic is necessary within Thallite civilisation. In eras past, the sane members of the species had to fight off the THIS INFORMATION HAS BEEN REDACTED IN THE NAME OF GLORIOUS CARCHE. ALL HAIL CARCHE. Throwing away the lives of useful, sane Thallites in conventional combat was deemed far too wasteful. Over time, sorcerers – already the most educated and learned of the people – took to engineering and designed great walls and forts to protect their settlements from REDACTED incursions. Even in the current day, Sorcerers are the most highly educated and practiced engineers in Carchemish. The Thallites excel at powerful, destructive magic based on the elements, or violent, incomprehensible energies of outer realms. Most magical advancements prior to the founding of the unified state were focused on methods to destroy attackers or protect the walls of the fortress-towns. THE PREVIOUS INFORMATION HAS NOT BEEN DEEMED TRUE BY THE NEBUCHIZZAR CASTE. IT IS TO BE IGNORED. ALL HAIL CARCHE. Within the last few centuries, the sorcerers have also been exploring runic enchantments, healing thaumaturgy, and even dabbling in the use of blood-magic. While they are merely apprentices in these fields, they pursue them relentlessly and are happy with every discovery however minor. The Thallites similarly excel in the use of technology, with sorcerer-engineers being the minds behind most new forging techniques, architecture, mechanics, chemistry, and other natural philosophies. Recent discoveries with gunpowder were recently reversed after the head engineer exploded himself along with his research and laboratory. Some of the braver sorcerers have chosen to try and pick up where their fallen kinsman had left off, but they are beginning from scratch yet again. Other interesting chemical reactions, like acidic substances, have also garnered interest among the educated Thallites. Religion: According to their creation myths, the Thallites stole a tiny spark of divinity from the three Gods Ninlil, Ningishzida, and Ninhursag. With this POINTLESS INFORMATION, A LOYAL CARCHITE CANNOT HOPE TO STRENGTHEN CARCHEMISH! The Gods are dead! Know your caste, and know your purpose! Avoid the madness of cults! All hail Carche! History: Little is known of Thallite history prior to the ascension of the ancient leader Carche, who has ruled Carchemish from its inception. Though, recorded history before his magnificent reign would be worthless, as the Thallites were naught but savages living on the cusps of the wasteland! His wisdom lead the Thallites to great heights and protected them in times of great peril. Carche shall lead the Thallites to a future of unity, safety, and prosperity! All hail Carche! From what can be gathered, though, many of the larger cities are surrounded by wasted, scorched earth, craters, and even ruined towns. Perhaps there was a great war, at some point? Probably not important, of course! After all, no loyal Carchite who travels the land questions such oddities, as they are probably not important. There is nothing to be concerned with! Go about your business! All hail Carche! Fifteen years ago, a devastating plague ravaged the outer lands of Carchemish, destroying dozens of towns and forcing the remainders into a state of quarantine. Starvation, cannibalism, riots, and destruction brought Carchemish to the brink, but Glorious Carche returned the lands to order, presented a cure for the plague, and the lands are safe once more (within specific zones)! It has been eight years since the quarantine has been lifted, and even those of the lowly Mob Caste eat until their hunger is sated (within specific zones)! Though many have died, and Carchemish has been hindered, it has not been defeated! The castes shall rise and bring glory to Carchemish! All hail Carche! Culture: Due to the unusual conditions of Thallite sanity, much of their culture revolves around finding uses for the less-than-sane people. This has taken the form of –or evolved from– the citadels and fortress-towns that the vast majority of Thallites live in. A citadel has numerous heavily-fortified walls that naturally section off the various classes and economic strata from one-another. Ultimately, this has lead to the creation of the castes, which direct a person’s role in life from birth until death (with some exceptions). From most prominent in society to least: The Nebuchizzar Caste: The highest and noblest of families, their formation dating back to the founding of Carchemish. They are the only caste allowed to administer towns, cities, and important offices within both. Almost half of them are skilled in magic or engineering, as it is natural that such power be in the hands of the Thallite’s guides. They live in the highest portions of the citadel or fortress, looking down at the other Thallites, tentacles raised in quiet benevolence. Ashurnasirpal Caste: Talented sorcerers, engineers, artists, and writers are brought into this caste from others so that they may concentrate on their works rather than the mundane day-to-day of the common Thallite. They receive resources and privileges from the state to advance their works and Carchemish as a whole. They are prime candidates for both marriage and breeding material for the Nebuchizzar Caste, who seek them out to perfect their own bloodlines. They are always housed within the second inner-most portion of fortifications, and have access to luxurious and spacious domiciles. Ashur Caste: Thallites with their sanity who fight as warriors in the Thallite horde. They are small in number, as few wish to waste the sane in bloodbaths. Those that are willing (and relatively disposable) are given a higher standing in society as a reward, and enjoy the benefits and privileges of their station in peacetime (and fighting with the gibbering mobs during war). They live and drill within small barrack-forts around the citadel, but are mostly concentrated in the spaces of the Ashurnasirpal and Lullaya. Lullaya Caste: Craftsmen, architects, minor sorcerers, and merchants make up this caste. They are the largest of the sane castes, and the lowest of their kind. They are the ones who are taxed, and make up the shopkeepers, bureaucrats, smiths, and artisans. It is not an easy life to be a sane Thallite at the lowest rung, but it could always be worse... Touched Caste: Those afflicted with minor manias that, while not useful, don’t cause violence or an inability to work and act independently. They are primarily used for basic labour on farms, construction, mining, and other menial tasks. They are almost always rewarded for their services with food, and spend the rest of their time (when they’re not eating, sleeping, or babbling incoherently) trying to convince the higher castes that they are sane enough to ascend to the Lullaya. They are housed in the outer-most portions of the citadel, but aren’t allowed to leave without permission. Mob Caste: Those afflicted with terrible manias that impact their ability to work, eat, sleep, or generally do anything useful. They are kept fed and housed in large barracks walled off from the other parts of the citadel in the outermost portions, and are trained (as best as possible) to be meatshields for hordes. They are rarely levied in these enlightened times of Carche-deigned peace, but better to have them than not. In times of duress, they can also be used as food in a pinch (though other Thallite castes prefer not to talk about that). Feral Caste: Those afflicted with dangerous manias that make them a hazard to any and all. They are kept in their own separate, heavily-guarded barracks with few amenities, and fed the bare necessities. They are trained like beasts, and treated as such, so they may be used like savage attack-dogs in combat. They are often beaten, muzzled, and forced to obey what few commands they can understand. If they are not able to be trained, they are killed immediately. Castes will often have their own separate holidays and celebrations from the others, depending on the citadel they live in. Despite their rather unusual appearance, the Thallites (the sane ones, at least) aren’t particularly unpleasant as sapient beings go. They enjoy parties, love their families, perform their tasks adequately in order to bring glory to Carchemish, and even smile from time to time! They appear to dislike the attention or presence of non-Thallites however. Whether that is a racial quality or the result of a culture of paranoia, one could not say. Did someone mention there was a culture of paranoia? Why would a Thallite be paranoid? It’s not as if Carche is always watching, and his eyes always land on those who show signs of madness. After all, to assume that a Thallite would be deemed insane and sent to a lower caste should they question the wisdom or efficacy of ancient Carche would imply that Carche is a merciless tyrant seeking to control the Thallite people through fear and intimidation! Implications such as that will have you sent to a lower caste. All hail Carche! Cannibalism also appears to be worryingly common along Thallites for no discernible reason. Food is often readily available, but even those deemed sane have been known to engage in the practice. It is not fully understood why Thallites find other Thillites to be delicious, but it could be some variety of primitive survival trait that shows itself during periods of duress. Though that would imply that any Thallite, including Carche, could be a cannibal, and implications like that will have you deemed insane and sent to a lower caste. All hail Carche! The citadel of Masyaf, standing at the precipice of the southern wastelands. The crater-like hills are merely a quirk of nature, nothing more. All hail Carche. Geography: Carchemish is landlocked, and its major citadels lie on the edge of the blasted southern wastelands. The heat of the savanna does little for farming, and thus most agriculture is centred by rivers and small lakes where nutrient-rich silt flows down-river. Enormous insects and reptiles are nurtured for their meat, skin, and carapaces. Some, like the ten-foot Asta beetle, are used for transport. Simple roots and grains are harvested relatively easily along the riverbanks, which fills out the diet of the poorer Thallites among the Lullaya and Touched castes. The southern wastelands are an enigma to the Thallites who care to think of them. Ruined citadels, scores of Thallite bones, and scraps of metal dot the shimmering sands in these wastes. Some speak of strange sights, like great swathes of glass melted across the sand, or statues of unfamiliar Thallites that don’t look at all like the statues of Carche. But these are simply the bones and former settlements of Carchemish from before the plague. Ignore the ruination. There is nothing beyond the south of the wastes. Such is the word of Carche. All hail Carche! Size: Carchemish is far smaller than it was before the plague, and many ruined fortress-towns dot far and wide around its borders, especially to the south.

The Rust Barony Brogwad reported the weak tribe north of the Barony to the ever-swolening Duke Duke. His muscles rippled in fury at the mere mention of such lack of chivalrousness. Duke Duke takes the news relatively well, however, merely punching the wall a few times and challenging four of his warriors to a fight. He could not let innocents suffer without throwing himself in front of them honorably, shielding them from the dreadful pain that they might face! He roared at Wizzo, summoning the Shaman from his great pile of spark-boxes and magical rituals. “The brigands of the concrete trees vex me so, brother!” Duke Duke roared. “Have you created the plate armour I asked of you?” The Shaman shook his head, solemnly. “Nay, Duke of Dukes. It is proving a challenge. Plates, kettles, and teacups are very brittle, and not particularly tough. The tribes who forged armour from such material must have been true masters of their craft.” Duke Duke roared his displeasure, assaulting the wall yet again. “However!” Wizzo continued, “in the meantime, we have created armour of brahmin! Strong and light, great one!” He pulled from his loincloth a gauntlet of thick leather, and presented it to Duke Duke. Duke Duke answered Wizzo’s gauntlet proffering by angrily tearing it apart and throwing it in the fire. “Knights don’t wear leather!! They wear plate!! The books said so!” Wizzo got back to work. Traits: All the King’s Men: 25% off of body armour and melee weapon research, Pointy End Away: 25% off melee weapon research, Feudalistic Society: 250 caps per controlled block. Resources Caps: -5500 caps in storage -10,000 caps at base, -3000 caps from population, Metal: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Fuel: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Supplies: -2 at base, -9 from Agri-buildings Upkeep: -3 supplies -10,500 caps Actions: -Proud Tribesmen march into a new neighborhood, confident and true! -A trading govel is thrown together by the tribemen pilfering ruins in the south parts of the district) 5,000 caps towards one trade post) -100 T3 swords are forged in the primitive furnaces of the tribe. (-2 metal) -2500 caps sent to Duke Duke’s bedroom. 5RP (Two left over from previous project) towards T3 body armour -[MOD] Wizzo lends his wisdom yet again to the craftsmen! The armour must be perfect for Duke Duke’s knights and feetmen! (5 Intelligence, 3 Luck) -[MOD] Brogwad makes a return to the northern people, bringing gifts of fish and caps to impress the local chieftains and tribesmen. He, as a representative of the great Duke Duke, offer them the chance to join the Barony! With their two tribes joined, they would be strong enough to fend off even the haughtiest of dragons! (-500 caps, -2 supplies) -[MOD] Duke Duke continues his dragon-slaying muscle-growth regimen. He now lifts small motorbikes and hoists up old car engines to build more mass. (8 strength, 1 agility, 4 endurance) Population: 824 Stored Fuel: 6 Stored Metal: 0 Stored supplies: 17 (Next turn) Stored Caps: 3000 (Next turn)

The Rust Barony “A sign! A sign!” The tribesmen whooped and screamed in grand cacophony. They pointed and bellowed down the great hole, shaking their spears and performing war-dances to intimidate it. The hole, to its credit, didn’t appear phased by the frightful displays of the feetmen. After all, it was just a hole. Duke Duke sat at its edge, face twisted in contemplation--was a great hole worthy of a quest? He looked to his Shaman Wizzo, who donned his Brahman-headdress and breathed deep the scents of spirit-smoke to enhance his wisdom. “Many dangers sleep in this despairing pit, Duke of Dukes. The sparky spirits warn of death, and the sparky spirits are never wrong...” “Your spirits always warn of death, Wizzo. How can you be so sure this time?” Wizzo pulled from his loincloth a strange spirit-box, that contained a sparky hole. The Shaman performed a short incantation, and stuck his finger in the hole, withdrawing it just as fast with a yelp. “A sign! They have spoken!” He yelled, billowing spirit-smoke from his mouth and nose. “Perils rest in the great pit! Shall you quest in it, Duke of Dukes?” Duke Duke rested his chin on his hand, and shrugged. “I guess it could be somewhat chivalrous... but would there be a dragon in a hole? Dragons live in mountains, sleeping on great piles of fish and comely womenfolk.” “Ah, but--“ began Wizzo with a triumphant grin. “A pit is a reverse-mountain! At its bottom would surely be a reverse-dragon!” “What would the reverse of a dragon living in the ground be?” Mused Duke Duke. “A worm?” “Nay, most knightly one!” Barked Wizzo as he joined the other warriors screaming at the hole. “A Wyrm!” “A sign! A sign!” Roared Duke Duke. Traits: All the King’s Men: 25% off of body armour and melee weapon research, Pointy End Away: 25% off melee weapon research, Feudalistic Society: 250 caps per controlled block. Resources Caps: -15,750 caps in storage -10,000 caps at base, -3000 caps from population, Metal: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Fuel: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Supplies: -2 at base, -6 from Agri-buildings Upkeep: -3 supplies -7500 caps Actions: -Proud Tribesmen march into a new neighborhood, confident and true! -Further farming hutches are built in the new block. The Tribesmen have never seen such plentiful food! Wizzo is very disappointed that he doesn’t get a thinking hut... (-15,000 caps towards three agri-buildings) -100 T3 swords are forged in the primitive furnaces of the tribe. (-2 metal) -5500 caps sent to Duke Duke’s bedroom. 3RP towards T2 body armour (total of 9RP invested) -[MOD] Wizzo lends his wisdom yet again to the craftsmen! The armour must be perfect for Duke Duke’s knights and feetmen! (4 Intelligence, 3 Luck) -[MOD] Brogwad tentatively approaches the people sighted north of the barony, with him he brings two of the larger feetmen, clad in armour and baring forged swords... (1 Agility, 1 Perception, 6 Luck) -[MOD] Duke Duke’s voice is tired from yelling into the hole, so he returns to Castle Shedd to train his body for his quest. He proceeds to engage in mock fights with fellow warriors and lifted great boulders over and over to build muscle and impress the tribeswomen. Population: 786 Stored Fuel: 4 Stored Metal: 0 Stored supplies: 11 (Next turn) Stored Caps: 5500 (Next turn)

The Rust Barony The tribesmen were gathered around great bonfires, dancing and whooping into the air. Wizzo danced with them while whispering the secret words to the flames, his eyes rolled back in trance. Brogwad quietly relieved sleeping and exhausted tribals of their personal belongings to keep them safe from the revelry. There was much celebration, until Duke Duke stood from his concrete throne and raised his hands. The ceremonial scars and tattoos that covered his body were lit up in all their splendor. The people fell silent. “Now, Duke Duke shall tell you of the fight against the bugbeasts!” He roared into the night. The cheers of the gathered hundreds rang out and echoed through the crumbling concrete and twisted metal. “First, they skittered in their many numbers--numbers higher than fingers and toes! They skittered and scuttled from the holes in the earth. A challenge!” “A challenge from the earth spirits!” Wailed Wizzo, still in his trance. “First, Duke Duke stomped with his feet, and crushed them!” Duke accompanied this statement by heavily stamping his muscled legs, making some of the tribal women swoon and giggle. “Then, he choppy-chopped with his knightsword!” He slashed at the air violently, whooping and jumping around the largest of fires. The people watched in rapt attention. “Two hands of bugbeasts fell by Duke Duke’s strength alone! No more bugbeasts, and a new place is ready for the people to safely scavenge!” The people cheered loudly, praising the bravery and strength of Duke Duke, which he basked in magnanimously. And yet, still he yearned to fight a dragon... Traits: All the King’s Men: 25% off of body armour and melee weapon research, Pointy End Away: 25% off melee weapon research, Feudalistic Society: 250 caps per controlled block. Resources Caps: -22,250 caps in storage -10,000 caps at base, -3000 caps from population, Metal: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Fuel: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Supplies: -2 at base, -3 from Agri-building Upkeep: -3 supplies -4500 caps Actions: -The tribesmen gather metals for the storehouses. You never know when you’ll need more swords or armour pieces! (-2 metal sent to storage) -Further farming hutches are built in the new block. The Tribesmen have never seen such plentiful food! Wizzo is very disappointed that he doesn’t get a thinking hut... (-15,000 caps towards three agri-buildings) -8500 caps sent to Duke Duke’s bedroom. -[MOD] Wizzo lends his wisdom yet again to the craftsmen! After all, he has no Thinking Hut to go to, so he may as well stick around... (4 Intelligence, 3 Luck) -[MOD] Brogwad leads a small force of 50 ‘feetmen,’ armed with T3 forged weapons and T1 scrap armour to investigate the strange squiggles on the coast yet again! What if they were dangerous squiggles, after all...? (1 Agility, 1 Perception, 6 Luck) -[MOD] Duke Duke leads yet another righteous expedition southward! Perhaps there are dragons in the next place...? He brings with him 50 muscular tribesmen armed with T3 forged melee weapons and T1 scrap armour. 3R towards T2 body armour! For the noblest of knights!

The Rust Barony a shitpost from a busy boy Traits: All the King’s Men: 25% off of body armour and melee weapon research, Pointy End Away: 25% off melee weapon research, Feudalistic Society: 250 caps per controlled block. Resources Caps: -10,000 caps at base, -3000 caps from population, Metal: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Fuel: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Supplies: -2 at base, -3 from Agri-building Upkeep: -3 supplies -3750 caps Actions: -The tribesmen toil furiously over hot, fiery furnaces. Making TRUE, KNIGHTLY SWORDS for TRUE, KNIGHTLY KNIGHTS! Or for feetmen. Either one. (-2 metal for 100 T3 melee weapons) -9250 caps sent into the Aquarium) -[MOD] Wizzo lends his wisdom yet again to the craftsmen, who try to make armour for the feetmen! (4 Intelligence, 3 Luck) -[MOD] Brogwad leads a small force of 50 ‘feetmen,’ armed with T2 scrap weapons and T1 scrap armour to investigate the strange squiggles on the coast! For the righteous quest of knowing what the squiggles are. (1 Agility, 1 Perception, 6 Luck) -[MOD] A small group of 50 feetmen move to a small block to the north, seeking to occupy and settle a nice metal house for the purposes of building a “thinking hut” for Wizzo. It is lead by Duke Duke himself, just in case there are some dragons there. (6 Strength, 3 Endurance) 3R towards T2 body armour! For the noblest of knights!

The Rust Barony “Duke Duke! What is “honour?” Honour is not running away from a fight, not clubbing a foe when they’re asleep or defenseless, standing tall, and shouting real loud! “Duke Duke! What is Chivalry?” Never taking the life of women and children--better to take them for our tribe instead! Also, slaying evil-doers, fighting dragons, and taking their livestock and boomsticks for ourselves! “Duke Duke! What is a castle?” A big, safe place with strong walls of rock and rust-metal! Inside of a castle is a ‘Keep,’ where we keep our fish and scrap! Only barons and dukes may have castles, though. So no making castles without our say-so! “Duke Duke! What is a steed?” Ancient, metal speedy-beasts that carried the tribes of old across the sharp stones and rad-fields! They are filled with the sparky spirits that get angry when we stick our fingers in them! One day we will tame the spirits and make those steeds our own, just like the old tribes did... ”Duke Duke! What is Divine Right?” My right to the best scrap, so I can make the tribe strong! Make sure you give the good bits to me! “Duke Duke! What is tyranny?” Er... Traits: All the King’s Men: 25% off of body armour and melee weapon research, Pointy End Away: 25% off melee weapon research, Feudalistic Society: 250 caps per controlled block. Resources Caps: -10,000 caps at base, -3000 caps from population, Metal: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Fuel: -2 at base, (2 in storage) Supplies: -2 at base, -3 from Agri-building Upkeep: -3 supplies Actions: -Tribesmen hammer and tie sharp bits of scrap to strong bits of wood, making crude and deadly weapons (-1 metal for 150 T2 melee weapons) -Other tribesmen hammer together scrap metal and bits of rope, string, and leather, for armour. Duke Duke wants armour for his “feetmen.” (-3 metal for 150 sets of T1 body armour) -13,000 caps are stored in the Aquarium. It is said Duke Duke likes to sleep on them. -[MOD] Having zapped himself painfully in the ancient sparky machines, Wizzo decides that the spirits will need stronger rituals to appease them. For now, he lends his wisdom to the tribe’s craftsmen, attempting to forge their own weapons. (3 Intelligence, 3 Luck) -[MOD] Brogwad and his hunters start carefully exploring the blocks around the aquarium. They search mainly for threats and things to salvage. (1 Agility, 6 Luck) -[MOD] Duke proclaims the strange fishing tank to be his personal fishing hole! He catches one of the unique fish, cooks, and eats it. It is what the spirits would want of him... (4 Strength, 3 Endurance) 3RP into T3 melee weapons

The Rust Baron “A sign! A sign!” The Tribesmen screamed in joy as they pulled an old statue up from the rubble. A man with a giant fish--the greatest fish any of them had ever seen! Truly, this would be a land of bounty and happiness, safety and prosperity for their children, and scrap as far as they eye could see! They gathered their simple spears and tools, and clambered into the main hall of the Aquarium. There, Duke and his two brothers stood before them, and the chief addressed his people. “You have seen the signs, brothers and sisters! We were meant to be here! We were meant to tame the ‘Forbidden Metal Forest of No Return!’” The old tales talk of fighting dragons and honorable duels with knights, but not of tribes and fishermen! Thus...” He pulled from a scrapping-sack a plastic crown, possibly taken from a display in the slightly flooded lower areas of the building. “... I name myself Duke! Duke of the erm... Barony! And When we take more stuff, I’ll make good people barons! And they can have their own castle, but also give me stuff. Not a huge amount of stuff, but enough stuff so that we can make more stuff. And uh...” He looked to his confused brothers for reassurance or reminders, but saw none in their blank expressions. “... yeah, that’s it I think. Back to work, my people! We have much to do! We’re gonna need way more food! And swords! And armour! And steeds!” Traits: All the King’s Men: 25% off of body armour and melee weapon research, Pointy End Away: 25% off melee weapon research, Feudalistic Society: 250 caps per controlled block. Resources Caps: -10,000 caps at base, -3000 caps from population, Metal: -2 at base, Fuel: -2 at base, Supplies: -2 at base, -1 from Agri-building Upkeep: -3 supplies Actions: -10,000 caps go towards constructing further farming structures to fill the tribesmen’s bellies. -4500 caps towards 9 stacks of fortifications, to turn the Aquarium into a true castle! Or at least something vaguely resembling one. [MOD] Wizzo starts poking around the old sparky things in the Aquarium, looking to find useful bits of technology or perhaps helpful scrap for later. [MOD] Brogwad pokes around outside the Aquarium, and explores the block with his hunters. [MOD] Duke begins building a throne for himself in the entrance hall to hold ‘Court,’ but he’s more interested in finding a large, round table for warriors to sit around. 3RP into T2 melee weapons

Faction: The Rust Barony Civilisation Type: Tribal Faction Backstory: In the wake of Chicago’s rediscovery, many serious entrepreneurial factions, raiding groups, and dangerous warriors had begun slinking into the confines of the great city. One large tribe of fishermen far to the north was happily ignoring the region, until their chief Duke “Duke” Junson took an interest in stories read to him by the wise-women. Knights, castles, dragons, and kings--he heard stories both fantastical and idiotic. Some days he would leap around his tent, whooping and screaming at the top of his lungs while slashing at imaginary beasts from his stories. At night he’d dream of princesses to be rescued, and magical cups that granted eternal life! But dreams always come to an end, and he was dragged back to the mundane reality of his tribe. He needed to be a chief to his people, first and foremost. One day, while dividing bags of salvage and fish between bickering tribesmen, his eyes caught sight of a strange, yellowing piece of paper in one of the bags of collected refuse. Upon it was an image of a building... The image was faded and the old words were hard to make out, but it was clear to Duke that it was a castle! Or a palace! Or... something! Both? Could a palace also be a castle?! Grabbing a wise woman he shoved the old paper beneath her nose, and demanded her to read to him what it said. According to her, it was an invitation to ‘lovers of aquatic life’ to come and visit the Shedd Aquarium. After some elaboration about what ‘aquatic’ meant and what ‘aquariums’ were, Duke concluded that this was a sign. His whole body shook with excitement. He gathered his tribe together, and announced that they would be embarking on a great and noble quest into the ancient ruins of an extremely dangerous land of radioactive metal that they had been forbidden to approach in all their people’s memory. As you might expect, he and his tribe had a difference of opinion. After a recorded thirty-eight challenges to his status as chief (all bare-fisted combat, which Duke won), four attempts to poison him (giving him no more than a stomach ache), six attempts to spear him (two of which he caught mid-air), and one attempt to reason with him (which turned into another fist-fight), the tribe finally accepted that they would be entering the horrible city in the name of this ‘quest.’ But they wouldn’t be passing through the city itself-- oh no! That would take too long! They took their old fishing boats and converted them into hundreds of transport rafts. They paddled their way down the coast, past the ruined buildings, past the rotting docks, past the angry mutated creatures, and reached their destination... the disheveled Shedd Aquarium in all its ‘glory...’ it was a real fixer-upper! Duke looked as happy as a boy while gleefully sifting through the bones and broken glass for ancient relics. Now his tribe had settled around the aquarium, the question came as to what his people should quest for next... Character 1: Duke Duke “Duke” Junson, the duke of the barony. He is an adventurous soul, searching for the next great quest for his people. What that might be he is not yet sure, but he will no doubt be ready to throw himself against any dragons that may be encountered! Character 2: Wizzo “Ideas Man” Junson, shaman, knower of the old words, and brother of Duke. A spiritual adviser as well as the tribe’s foremost ‘knower of old things.’ He once managed to fix an old terminal before getting frightened and smashing it due to a prevalence of “evil green spirits.” Character 3: Brogwad “Featherhead” Junson, the tribe’s best hunter, and the best at using the ‘bangsticks.” He is a sneaky sort, and known to find things that other tribesmen mysteriously lose. Once hid from a deathclaw by standing behind it, rather than in front of it. Discord: You have it? Someone in there probably has it. Otherwise it’s ‘Mothman#3690’.

THE LORD OF UNCERTAINTY, IXTHALIZZUM Static. Still. Standstill, stagnant. Unchanging, unmoving, unfluctuating, unvarying. Inert, inactive, stalled. Immobile, immovable, stable, stuck. Boring, infuriating, annoying, boring infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boring, infuriating, annoying, boringboringboringbOringBORING BORING BORING. Ixthallizzum screeched into the cosmic void as his infinite ethereal limbs slashed and struck at the world, attempting to cleave it apart by sheer will alone. "Tear it apart!! Smash and crush! I'd snap it in two and throw the pieces into the black abyss just to change something! What is WRONG with these mortals?! What is this precious peace they piss into my pustulent peepers?!" His singular probable eye(s) leaked an infinite amount of pus for an instant to make his point, before morphing into something utterly incomprehensible. "This era's monotonous stasis crushes my very soul (If I had one, which I don't. Maybe) And what of my Thallites?! Are they still as wonderfully deranged and unpredictable as I crafted them to be?!" An instant passed by as he threw his consciousness briefly into the depths of the underpaths. "Yes!” “Oh, how they wretch and wrangle like slathering, brilliant maniacs! How could I have thought otherwise?!" He screamed in joy and wept as was befitting a proud, hypothetically-betentacled father. "Oh, my wonderfully entertaining abominations... Daddy will reward you for being good--yes he will! But not just yet..." His infinite gaze stretched over the expanse of the world, and his innumerable, unblinking eyes glared down furiously at the unknowing mortals. Their peaceful, ordered, predictable, certain, societies plodded along with all the variation and cacophony of a ticking clock. The Mad God schlorped angrily, noticing a random farmer tending to his fields in the south of Adementine's territory. A Nyren by the look of him. Happy, simple, friendly, stable. Ixthalizzum hated this farmer--it was as if every certainty in life was concentrated in one mortal. Like an enraged earwig he flolloloped his consciousness violently into the mind of the unassuming mortal. The poor man fell over in a horrific seizure, clawing at his head and screaming in incomprehensible pain. The Madgod screeched in the confines of his unprepared mind. "Oh yes, of COURSE you'd only think about your own sorry problems, wouldn't you, Igbal?! You and your stupid family! 'Oh, I have to fetch the eggs to feed me young! Woe is me! Blah blah blah! I'm a stupid farmer!' Have you not once in your miserable, pitiable, pointless life ever considered just murdering and eating your wife and children? Do you know how many of your problems would be solved if you did that? But no! You have to be some dullard family-man and bore the absolute divinity out of my potential arse(s)! No-one ever thinks about a God's feelings!" Poor Igbal answered with a convulsions and spouts of blood pouring from his nose. "Gods! Even when your brain is melting you can't be entertaining! Look, I'm going to give you a manic obsession with walnuts. You better shape up and get your act together, Igbal! I've only known you for twenty-three seconds but I'm already fed with your excuses!" Ixthalizzum slowly began to recede from Igbal's consciousness before quickly pushing back in again. "Oh, one more thing--tell your mortal leaders at that "Adamentine" - or whatever the gaggle of Order-oos controlling this suffocating place is called - that Ixthalizzum is going to send a servant down there at some point to upset the hierarchy, or something. Wait! No! Forget that part! Hold on, what part am I talking about...? Was I talking about scones...? Do you remember, Igbal?" Igbal answered with an aneurysm. "Probably wasn't important, then. Maybe." After he finished bullying the mentally-vanquished mortal, he cast his consciousness above the largest continent. A thousand possible heads shook in disgust. Or was it pity? Maybe he was just angry and didn't want to admit it to himself? Though why would he be worried about admitting that to himself...? Was he afraid of someone judging him? All his sibling Gods loved him, so why would they judge him...? Or maybe they didn't? Maybe they wanted to destroy him, out of jealousy?! Maybe Father Ao plotted with them?!?! Maybe Ao was actually a giant sausage...? Ixthalizzum didn't have dominion over sausages! He was powerless against such a thing. He needed an ace in the hole! A new Avatar to do... things! Things in the world! And why? Because... ... -CREATE AVATAR: Ixthalizzum begins concentrating his power into a horrifying new being to do... actually I’m not fully sure what he’ll be doing with it, to be honest. It’s probably important! Probably. (10/20AP spent) -SEND VISION?: I dunno. The brain-message sent to the farmer seems kind of interesting from an RP perspective so I guess I’d like it canon and as a warning to the the Adamantites? (1AP) No AP left.

Commonwealth of Ruhn “... and in conclusion, it is the firm belief of the citizens residing in Arrogance and Demut that they are deserving of full representation in parliament as befitting a province, rather than a colonial territory.” The droning Lord Minister concluded. The rest of parliament nodded quietly and murmured their opinions to one-another. Was a territory only a year in the hands of the Commonwealth truly deserving of a Lord Minister to represent them? The Islands was so sparsely inhabited compared to the other provinces, but its relative remoteness did make it seem unfair to be ruled from Shadowcliff. After twenty or so minutes of deliberation, the Lord Chancellor called a vote. More than fifty members voted against the Islands ascension, while thirty supported it. After the vote was concluded, an addendum was put forth. “Parliament understands the honest citizen’s desire for local governance, but at this time it would be a waste of resources and infrastructure. However, once the Islands have achieved the standard size for representation, they will be designated a province without need for a later vote.” On this new motion, sixty Lords approved, while a mere twenty disapproved. The whole matter was thereby concluded, and the governing body moved on once more. After several more hours of discussion on the annual budget, military reforms, and food distribution, the elder Lord Chancellor gingerly rubbed his tired eyes. “At this time, I am obligated to move Parliament on to the topic of Ennoblement. If the... supplicant... would approach.” The loud steps of cleated boots echoed through the stone chamber, and a rotund figure stood before the semicircular row of seats and tables that made up the Commonwealth’s parliament. A sweaty, dirty, heavily balding man had his arms respectfully pulled behind his back, while a ratty straw hat was rested on his paunch belly unassisted. He wore what seemed to be home-made dress-clothes sown from linen, which unnervingly resembled the black jerkins and trousers of parliamentarians. Lord Chancellor Hanz Bruger shakily placed a set of bifocals upon his withered nose, and looked down at the paperwork before himself. “If the honourable Lord Ministers could please open the red document upon their tables, we will begin our examination.” The words echoed around the room but not a single noise was made by the Lords, aside from the shuffling of paper and scribbling of quills that somehow sounded morose. Lord Bruger cleared his throat, and looked upon the individual. “If you could please announce your name to Parliament, Sirrah.” “Farmer Poopums, M’luds.” He half-belched. “Your first name as well, if you would please.” Answered Hanz. “Already did, m’lud. Me name’s Farmer, innit?” Hanz froze, and quickly looked down to his papers. “I see. I had assumed that was some sort of title. Not your actual legal name. Very... unique.” “Aye, M’lud, aye.” Chuckled Poopums, “But s’not as uncommon as ye might think! Me own father-in-law’s named ‘Farmer’ as well. Oh my, did we ‘ave a laff about that ‘un. Woo wee! Fine feller, that man.” He briefly guffawed, before devolving into a coughing fit and hocking a globule of mucus-filled spit on the floor. The members of Parliament winced very slightly. “And your reason for seeking ennoblement, Mister...” Hanz closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh. “... Poopums?” “S’because I wish t’ serve this ‘ere Common Wealth inna capa-city that I can’t prop’ly do in me current status as a private citizen.” He enunciated some of the larger, more unfamiliar words dreadfully, but appeared proud of himself none-the-less. “And that service would be, Sirrah?” Spoke Hanz. “Farmin’ o’course! Ain’t no crops worth a jar o’ spoiled lard compared te the Poopum’s standard! I wish to be ee-now-belled in order te bring forth the finest millet, wheat, barley, and cows what ain’t been seen in these parts not never!” He placed his hand over his heart, knocking the precariously balanced hat from his stomach. “It’s me pat-riowtic an’ Ancesterr-driven duty te do so.” “Right. Could I have the opinion of the Parliament on Mister- erm... on Farmer’s eligibility for ennoblement?” The statement caught most of the Lord Ministers somewhat off-guard. They had clearly expected this discussion to last far longer. After five minutes of vigorous speed-reading, a Lord Minister stood up from his chair. “By the erm, standards set forth by the Ennoblement Act of 1456, Farmer Poopums currently meets all the necessary requirements.” “I would be most pleased were you to elaborate on this, Lord Vechen.” Spoke Hanz through clenched teeth. “Well,” the slightly cowed Minister continued, “He has attainted the maximum amount of land that can be allotted to a private citizen, he has shown great acts of piety both prior and after his successes...” “Me gran-pappy was a shrine-tender, ye see. So I reckoned ‘if a man cannot build an’ look after a few shrines ‘ere an’ there for the poorer folks, what’s the point of ‘avin’ hands?’” He chuckled again while slapping his belly. “An’ that temple I ‘ad commissioned was mostly a promise I made te an old feller I used te help with harvest season. He always wanted one ‘er those fancy bone-‘ouses for the paupers out north, so I figured I’d spend a few years worth o’ savin’s to make one. What goods ye money iff’n ye do naught with it, aye?” He rubbed a small tear from one of his milky eyes. “He were a good man, that ol’ feller. Always brought me butter on me birthday when I were a lad. Ooh ar.” Hanz stared blankly at Poopums as the large man began to tear up in front of the lords. He quickly turned back to Vechen. “And his income also meets the standard, even after his generosity?” “Well, yes, Lord Chancellor. According to these reports he makes quite a bit of money outside of the standard grain contracts by using his non-government land to grow large amounts of turnips a-“ “I see.” Interrupted Hanz, slightly louder than he needed to. “Thank you for your time, Mister Poopums. We will be in contact shortly after the vote and further examinations of your history.” “Aye m’luds! Thank ye kindly, m’luds!” With some effort he bowed his bulging body, and scrabbled his hat back into his hands. After another low, strenuous bow, he clip-clopped out the main door--much to the relief of all the lords present. “I would like to call a motion.” Hanz spoke immediately after Poopums closed the main door. “To stand for election in the Commonwealth parliament, an aspirant’s family must have been a part of the nobility for three generations.” All eighty seats voted in favour. Misc. Effects: Colonial Bureaucracy: 400,000 pop required for towns. Tablet of Zakhet: 5% off of all construction prices. Seljin Fish & Chips: 0.25% growth per turn. Accounts: Base Gold: 9,000 gold, Towns/Cities: 78,000 gold, Merchant guilds: 42,000 gold, Population: 40,500 gold, Trade: 46,000 gold from eight trade partners (incl. 32,000 gold from eight ports), Manufacturers: 20000 gold, The Levers of the Divines: 6000 gold, Major Trade Route ownership: 3000 gold, Harkon’s Gems: 4000 gold, Occupied Territories: 3000 Upkeep: -23,500 gold Total: 228,000 (242,150 gold incl. vault) 14,150 in vault -Poopum’s advancements are cut short! He doesn’t yet have the proper authorization to manage more than the allowed allotment of lands for a private citizen! Until Parliament comes to a decision on his ennoblement, he can no longer place his sweaty hands upon further farmland! Other citizens are given the land-contracts from Parliament, much to Poopum’s ire... (-19,000 gold towards four farm stacks) -So many training facilities cover the lands of the Commonwealth that one can scarcely turn their head without seeing the walls of barracks or hear the marching of boots and the shouting of orders. (-14,250 gold towards three barracks) -With the growing dangers to food production in northern regions of the Commonwealth, larger fisheries are constructed to mitigate possible future shortages. (-7125 gold towards a rare goods building [fisheries]) -The grim merchants of Brakkenbridge and Shatterbridge look farther afield for trade. Naros is apparently much larger than they initially thought. A modest investment is made into building further trading infrastructure. (-11,900 gold towards two trading companies) -The great mausoleum to He-That-Waits (the final phase of the Wonder’s construction) has begun. Going is slow, for the architects, engineers, and craftsmen know that their task is more than just a job. Their work is to be legendary, and awe the faithful and heathen alike. The vast chamber – carved deep beneath Mouth Ruhn – is starkly Ruhnnite in its appearance. Statues, intricate carvings, decorative buttresses, columns, and an enormous domed ceiling will be a testament to the Commonwealth’s devotion to their one true God. More sky-lights are dug hundreds of metres down from the top of the mountain and the light is redirected by mirrors. The space will have a dim, calming light to it; just enough that worshippers may see the reliefs that deck the walls with religious symbology and stories from the Five Books. And yet, despite this magnificence, there is not a hint of gold, silver or gemstones anywhere in the great shrine. The chamber’s glory must come purely from the faithful’s hard work, and not poisoned with debauched wealth. With this last great work, “The Tomb of the Righteous” will be complete. (-40,000 [150,000/150,000] gold towards wonder, unlocks T5 magic) -A church pops up in Bruger, to replace an aging temple practically caked with moss and termites. Such is the fate of all pre-Tablet construction. (-23,750 gold towards a church in Bruger) -Strange, unprecedented storms have surged across the cities unfortunate enough to have been settled along the Loba River--and this clearly entices the scouts and storm-watchers in the employ of the Commonwealth authorities. It was necessary to observe and keep track of any further ruins or dangerous ancient artifacts that the storm could have uncovered. Water, food stocks, and maps are stockpiled for the brave (perhaps foolhardy) scouts. Furthermore, tents, cloaks, and all manner of protective coverings are ordered to be fashioned from fire-resistant sand-crawler skin to better protect them from the violent elements. The Ruhnnites were the inheritors of the blasted lands of the Loba, and they would know its secrets. (-10,000 gold towards preparations for scouting the Loba desert, and all the dreaded things that it might entail...) -Pious prisoners from Bruger and Ruhn begin their pilgrimage of repentance. The farthest, most ragged reaches of the Vulture Highway will see them redeemed, or in a ditch. Ne’er-do-wells from other cities are similarly gathered up by Speakers, and ferried to Fortress Bergen. By both crossbow and blade will the pious bring ruin to the enemies of He-That-Waits, and the Commonwealth.(-14,000 gold towards one unit of elite T4 Crag-Runners, one unit of elite T4 Hillmen) -A force of well-drilled and vigorously trained soldiers march out of barracks of major cities. Like all Commonwealth Line Infantry, they step in unison towards the great foe in the north. Praise Him, and glory to Ruhn! (-50,000 gold towards 2500 T3 veteran medium infantry) -Almost as an afterthought, a battalion of regular crossbowmen are recruited among the hardy farmers along the coasts of the Hungry Sea. These loyal men are willing to slay swine! ... from very far away... (-5000 gold towards one unit of T3 crossbowmen) -Within the deepest bowels of the Commonwealth bureaucracy, pencil-pushers count the beans and cut waste. Reports are sent out to grim looking messengers, and filed appropriately for future use by analysts and eventually Parliament. Gold is piled into chests and sent to builders, marshals, and Lord Mayors. The latter-most group is quite surprised to learn that their cities are to have heavy fortifications constructed around them. (-42,750 gold towards Strong Tall Stone Walls being built around the cities of Shatterbridge, Aschengrube, and Deepwater) 1375 gold remaining in vault

Commonwealth of Ruhn No RP because I am a dirty waste of air. Misc. Effects: Colonial Bureaucracy: 400,000 pop required for towns. Tablet of Zakhet: 5% off of all construction prices. Seljin Fish & Chips: 0.25% growth per turn. Accounts: Base Gold: 9,000 gold, Towns/Cities: 71,000 gold, Merchant guilds: 36,000 gold, Population: 37,500 gold, Trade: 38,000 gold from eight trade partners (incl. 18,000 gold from six ports), Manufacturers: 20000 gold, The Levers of the Divines: 6000 gold, Major Trade Route ownership: 3000 gold, Harkon’s Gems: 4000 gold, Occupied Territories: 3000 Divine Inheritance: 10,000 Upkeep: -21,500 gold Total: 216,000 (219,400 gold incl. vault) 3400 in vault -Farmer Poopums looks upon his vast fields and farmhands working his land. He thanks his ancestors for their favour, and comes to the conclusion that a powerful and successful individual such as him should be more than a mere citizen... He deserved a title of lordship for his great and noble works! (-19,000 gold towards four farm stacks) -More soldiers march stoically from the training fields peppering the larger metropolises. (-14,250 gold towards three barracks) -The next stage of construction sees vast swathes of Mount Ruhn hollowed and carved. To the engineers that designed the complex, the project’s layout is more similar to a town than a tomb. Several new entrances and thoroughfares are driven through the stone from one side of the mountain to the other to accommodate faster travel around the capital. Other complications to the process arise--air vents are required for the deeper levels and great catchments are drilled higher in the peaks to grasp the freezing winds. Great skylights are similarly produced, with sunlight directed by mirrors through a maze of tunnels (a strange innovation, inspired by the report of a ambassador). A whole division of shrine-tenders begin transporting the holy remains of many wayward shrines for easier access by the citizenry, peppering the main thoroughfare with holy bones and the thick scent of incense. Granite and marble are excavated and shipped towards the site for support beams and artistry. The site’s grand features must awe all that see them, for no people must doubt in His word, or the faith of His children. (-60,000 gold towards Wonder [110,000/150,000]) -New ports spring up from the newly constructed cities. The lords there are quick to organise the trade routes, warehouses, and the local port authority to keep the perfidious foreign traders efficient in their shipping habits. Various other commissaries and offices spring up around them as the Commonwealth bureaucracy begins its standard expansion. (-25,500 gold towards two ports) -Private merchants apply for proper credentials and approval for their stalls and shops to be opened in the newly expanded metropolises. Like all honest citizens, they are patient, and understand the need for excessive paperwork and ratification from the authorities. (-17,000 gold towards two merchant’s guilds) -Several thousand more citizens are recruited into the force, with promises of fair pay for the righteous work that must be done for the Commonwealth to thrive and prosper. They will make excellent line infantry. (-24,000 gold towards 3000 T3 medium infantry) -Many of the larger recruits are fitted for heavier armour. Their training is harder, and they are fed on barley stew and large helpings of beef to build muscle. They don their thick, steel helms and prepare for the conflicts to come. (-36,000 gold towards 3000 T3 heavy infantry) -Two more settlements pop up, as daring fishermen claim settlements upon the well-traveled islands at the north-most reaches of Commonwealth territory. Quite the dangerous act during a war. (-9500 gold towards two settlements) 14,150 remaining in vault.

Commonwealth of Ruhn Optional, Completely Inappropriate Music The broken manacles stung Wolden’s ankles as he trudged through another decrepit village. His stomach twisted painfully from hunger, but thankfully he could no longer feel the dryness of his tongue. Still, there was not a day that went by he did not pray for rain. Even through his suffering he kept his faith. There were no lack of shrines along the Vulture Highway, but most seemed poorly kempt. Perhaps they were dedicated to Ruhn’s enemies from back in the day? It was unlikely that shrine-tenders would come out this far on a regular basis. There were certainly enough bones around for the shrines. Sometimes he would see whole skeletons left as they were in their eternal repose—rusty weapon in hand, and covered in the remnants of strange armour. So little was written about the Vulture War that the whole raiment appeared alien to him. He couldn’t even tell if it was Ruhn or Bruger that the man had fought for. Was the old enemy of Ruhn even called Bruger at the time? Only the structures built from loose stone or carved into the mountainsides were still recognizable. Wolden had taken an oath of Pilgrimage and Service to His Temple. Men and women who took this oath would walk the length of the Vulture Highway in penance for their sins in life. They did this with little food, no shoes, the barest protection from the elements; all while being watched over by ruthless guards and Speakers. Heavy beatings were rewarded for the smallest infractions, and those who could no longer walk were killed, or left behind. Those who attacked guards, blasphemed, or showed any sort of impious behaviour were killed on the spot—no trial, no mercy. Those who ran, like Wolden himself, were simply... ignored. After all, where was there to go? He had begun the trip with such pious vigour. He and all the other prisoners desperate for atonement marched for weeks down the barely paved road. They passed through a dozen villages, and their occupants glared at them like rotten fish. In the city of Bruger the citizens jeered at them. But on the final stretch of the journey, things went from bad to worse. He had seen many fellow convicts collapse from exhaustion, and Wolden hadn’t the strength to pick them up. If they didn’t stand up when ordered, the guards would slash their throats, and toss them down the side of the mountain. It was the harsh reality of the venture. If you lacked faith and wouldn’t continue your pilgrimage, then your bones would rot in a lifeless ditch—untended, dishonoured, and forgotten. Could a man watch over his descendants in such a state? Would the ancestors allow him to join them? Would He even embrace them? What was there if not the Duty? He never asked Speaker Vichas of this. He wasn’t able to keep walking, and his weakness tempted him. A guard had heard him blaspheme when he tripped on a rock. Hearing the guard’s blade slide from its sheath was enough for him to run as fast as he could, away from the group. They didn’t even bother to chase him. That was three days ago. Now all was left was the long walk back... but to what? The further south one traveled in the Smuggler’s Peaks the more desolate they became. The temperature and rainfall was the same as the rest of the mountains, but nothing seemed to grow along the farthest stretch of the highway. It was a wonder to the young fugitive how towns had existed here at all. What did they eat all the way out here? An icy breeze cut through Wolden’s rags, and he instinctively moved towards a shattered structure for shelter. The crumbling walls offered a modicum of protection and it was better than standing out in the freezing wind. He had expected it to be hotter this close to the Loba Desert. Though, it was often rumored that the desert was a thing of magic, so maybe it didn’t follow the same rules? Heathen magic, born of sin. All these questions gave him a headache, and made him angry. No, pathetic. It made him feel pathetic. Not that he needed much help on that front. Feeling pathetic was the realm of the weak-willed. Perhaps he should soldier on, regardless of the wind? After all, sitting among the shattered stone wasn’t helping all that much. Apathy was tantamount to sin. Wolden pulled himself up and trudged out from the rubble. The road stretched onward like a wretched, cragged snake. He could feel his knees shake, and his stomach stung as if stretched across his ribs. He felt himself fall to his knees. At this point, he was barely retaining consciousness. Why bother going on? Dying here was just as reasonable as dying another mile down the endless track. But apathy was tantamount to sin. Why bother? Because apathy was tantamount to sin. A gurgling cry pierced through the whistling wind, and Wolden weakly looked upward. A fluttering of feathers heralded the arrival of a large, hunched bird that skittered to a landing five feet away from him. The vulture examined him, bobbing its head up and down and skulked across the path. The two regarded one-another for a time, before the scavenger lost interest and waddled towards a large clump of rubble. For a moment, Wolden listened to the wind. No bird calls, no animals grazing on the hillsides, no people—what was this vulture doing out here? They feed on the weak and dying. But he was weak and dying. Then there must be something else to eat. Wolden mustered his strength, and lurched forward after the bird. He clambered over the piles of rubble, and was welcomed by the sound of ripping flesh and quiet, satisfied squawks. The vulture ripped a chunk of flesh from what was once a rabbit, and observed Wolden’s approach curiously. The sight of the rabbit’s carcass drove Wolden’s stomach to twist painfully again. The righteous must eat. He slowly reached for a large rock as the bird glared at him. With a fluttering of feathers and an indignant screech, the vulture took off and swooped past Wolden into the sky, leaving its feast on the rubble. Wolden scrabbled towards the rabbit with the last of his energy, and dug his teeth into its severed side. He tore at it like a wild animal, tearing at its skin and swallowing bloody, bitter lumps of lean flesh. His stomach protested, but accepted the vile food. The righteous must survive. The hair on the back of Wolden’s neck stood on end, and he turned his bloody face towards a trio of dirty shrines. Before them sat an older looking man, with a long, greying beard, and dressed in the fading robes of a shrine-tender. The holy man stared blankly at Wolden with one hand on a wooden cudgel hanging on his belt. “It’d probably go down easier were it cooked, lad.” He spoke in a raspy voice. Wolden answered by falling unconscious. Misc. Effects: Colonial Bureaucracy: 400,000 pop required for towns. Tablet of Zakhet: 5% off of all construction prices. Seljin Fish & Chips: 0.25% growth per turn. Accounts: Base Gold: 9,000 gold, Towns/Cities: 63,000 gold, Merchant guilds: 36,000 gold, Population: 36,000 gold, Trade: 38,000 gold from eight trade partners (incl. 18,000 gold from six ports), Manufacturers: 20000 gold, The Levers of the Divines: 6000 gold, Major Trade Route ownership: 3000 gold, Harkon’s Gems: 4000 gold, Modgift: 22,500 gold. Occupied Territories: 3000 gold, Upkeep: -19,500 gold Total: 221,000 (225,400 gold incl. vault) 2400 in vault -The Poopums dynasty grows further, with fertile members of the family spreading from farm to farm, gifting their fantastic manure and nutrients wherever they go. The Poopums were patriots, after all, and asked for no fee. (-14,250 gold towards three farm stacks) -Armoured feet march from the many barracks that dot the Ruhnnite nation. (-14,250 gold towards three barracks) -The war had seen Parliament neglect the growth of major metropolitan areas and many were in need of critical infrastructure upgrades. The Lord Ministers quickly distributed funds to two larger polities. (-28,500 gold towards upgrading Deepwater and Beggar’s Point to cities) -MORE settlements? Where can I put these at this point?! (-9500 gold towards settling two new settlements) -The loss of many veterans at the Battle of Southshire lead to the recruitment and deployment of further highly-trained. Heavy infantry were definitely a priority. (-28,000 gold towards recruiting 1000 T3 veteran heavy infantry) -A number of medium specialists are also vomited forth from the gates of large urban centers. Professional soldiers were the workhorses of the Commonwealth Army, after all. (-24,000 gold towards recruiting 1500 T3 veteran medium infantry) -Another group of crag-runners come skulking out of the Smuggler’s Peaks. These ones are more vicious than the last group, though fewer in number and far more quiet. They tend to unnerve those around them, even the veterans... (-6500 gold towards 100 T4 elite crag runners) -Citizen-levies are called forth from the towns and villages that dot the commonwealth. These troops neither have the finest equipment nor the best training, but they do not lack in faith or bravery. (-12,000 gold towards 3000 T2 light infantry) -Further field artillery pieces are constructed and shipped to the front. Who even knows how they’d fare in the field? Ruhn certainly didn’t, but it sought every advantage it could get. (-6000 gold towards two units of mangonels) -Ballistae did look really cool though. (-3000 gold towards two units of ballistae) -The First Speaker and two of the Veiled Diviners make an impassioned (for a Ruhnnite) plea to parliament about the uses and continued effectiveness of the Acolytes in service to the Commonwealth Army. The Ancestors smiled on them, true, but did He-That-Waits have kind inclinations towards Ruhn? A preposterous statement to be sure, and was met with angry (for a Ruhnnite) shouts from the Lord Ministers. The Diviners proposed a final great work for the city of Ruhn--a tomb to honour the soldiers who had died in service to the citizenry would be entombed deep beneath the great, grey mountain. Minor temples, shrines, and ossuaries would dot the proposed massive complex, and at its very centre would be a massive, ornately carved sarcophagus dedicated purely to He-That-Waits. May He look kindly upon His faithful. (-50,000 gold towards the greatest edifice to He-That-Waits to ever exist [50,000/150,000]) -The war continues, and thus further defences must be constructed to both defend the urban centres and house increasing amounts of military infrastructure. (-24,000 gold towards tall stone walls around Eichenholz and Shadowcliff) 3400 gold left in vault.