NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a historical RP set in 1799. If you don't know what the world was like in 1799, don't bother to post. If you want to RP as anything beyond 1799 tech, likewise, do not bother to post.

The RP is open to all FKC Nations and anyone else who thinks they could pull off a 1799 Nation. Naturally your population would be quite a bit smaller than it is now. So no 1 million man armies marching across the land.


IC: Cyro was a huge city, it spanned the Djel River Delta. Cars clogged it's alleys while hard pressed traffic wardens tried to keep some semblance of control, but cast your mind back several hundred years, and now Cyro is much much smaller, by modern Dyellian standards, nothing more than a small regional town, not even 1 million citizens. It is a warren of back alleys and small streets, built on 3 major islands in the river delta, only accesible by brigde or boat, and dominated by the Tzar's palace.

Out in the harbour are innumerable sailing vessels, some waving a small red flag with a black chi rho in the centre, Dyellian Naval vessels. Small rowing boats splash back and forth. A few have a small swivel gun mounted in the bow, the big crocodiles had been cleaned out of the lower reaches of the Djel years earlier, but you still can't be too careful...

Crossing under the gateway of one of the small fortresses that guard the four bridges to the city passes a Regiment of soldiers, 480 in red and 120 in blue. They were long double breasted coats with white webbing and black caps, their trousers are the opposite colour to their coats. For those in red they are blue, and for those in blue they are red. A mounted officer is picked out by the Silver band and sabre at his waist At the head of the regiment march the men in blue, they are skirmishers, riflemen. They are the best men in this regiment, the best shots, the coolest heads.

On the bank another 4 regiments wait, 3 are similar but one is different. This one has only 360 red coated men and their trousers are black like the jackets of their skirmishers. To replace to other 120 are men in blue tailed coats with white facings, tight white trousers, knee high black boots and highly decorated black shakos. They are taller than the others and carry short swords as well as muskets...but more importantly they carry grenades. They are quite literally the grenadiers.

As they are joined by the fourth regiment, they form into a column and march to the east, always to the east. Here the army is gathering for a further push into the Empire of the Gonad, one last march that will bring them right to the heart of the empire and add the Gonad to the growing Empire of the Tzar...

In the palace in Cyro Tzar Richard II sat on his throne. He was a slim intelligent man and his citizens loved him, for he had brought them victory after victory. When he had come to power, the Kingdom of the Djels had stretched along the coast and a short distance up the river to the town of Bath, while the interior, the desert was the home of the D'Reg tribesmen who raided at will into Djel land. By mariage he had united the Kingdom with the Beybir Kingdom in the North, bringing all the land as far as North under his control, while new settlements had been established around the fortress of Sheffield to bring iron to the Kingdom. The D'Regs had been pacified and their capitol at Quisa had been brought into the Kingdom, now they fought to drive the Emperor in the Gonad back into the sea and to bring the ancient peninsula under his control. From there...maybe his armies would march North to do battle against the tribes that lay to the South of the Walrus King, or perhaps they would march West into the dense jungles in those lands. Either way they would keep on marching.

But things were moving in Klatch beyond the wildest dreams of the Tzar, things that would bring a continent of small quarreling Kingdoms to unite...

That what stirred was far to the North, the Kyzyl-Ordan Empire was mobalizing...

"Hurry up you worthless morons! Get that sodding cannon over there, NO over THERE!" A sea of the pale light blue was forming, men, men more men,
Some wore a totally light blue uniform and carried their muskets proudly, others wore white trousers and a red hat, fusiliers, anti Cavalry men, Those that wore black trousers, played with grenades and greek fire.
"How goes the preparations General?" The soft cool voice made the General's hairs stand on end, so quiet, yet so audiable over the noise of some five thousand men.
Frank Duckett turned and saluted the emperor.
"Everything is going smoothly, we are however waiting for the cavalry to arrive.."
"And how many men do you have now?"
"Five Thousand that'll weild a weapon for you sir, this is just for initial confrontation you understand, the Klatchian Coast is a large thing for us to gain, but it is more than possible."
"Who are we aiming for first?"
"The people of the Dej..my emperor, then we hope to swing round and hit the Vrakians"
(ooc: making slight asumptions that areas of Vrak and Deyeli were not occupied as per the present map, thus i can sneak inbetween and what not)
The General was about to speak again when two loud blasts from a horn were heard, he looked at the feild ahead of him, the Cavalry, all 2000 of them had arrived, Carabaneers, Hussar's and Curriaseurs, lots of them cantered towards the waiting army...
"Well they are here, we martch at dawn"
Emperor Jamus I returned to his tent, leaving the General to organise the cavalry, gun batteries that stretched into the hundreds of cannons and the thousands of troops, eager to fight.

Death to the Polaris! Death to the Orcas! Death! May Bok feast on the infidels!

The war cry rolled out from the main Vrakian army and throughout the valley. The shapeshifting Polaris kind were mostly routed, and the walruses along with their human allies thundered forward. Cannon fire roared, which splinted the fortifications of the enemy encampment. The air soon grew thick with smoke, dust, and blood. Savage obscenities were hurled back and forth while the clang of steel soon was heard as the armies drew close for melee combat.

Walruses gored on the polar bears with their steel-tipped tusks while their human allies provided coverage with musket fire. The polar bears, however, were not easily beaten. Their great strength would easily rend a man to pieces in seconds and their claws would make even a walruses bellow with pain. Still, the retreating army was pushed near the edge of the Iku Oruk, or North Sea.

The sea itself was a tumultuous place, full of danger for the walruses and humans. It was believed that in the very center lay the home of the Orca Dominion who were allied with the Polaris, or Polar Bear kind. Their plan at subjucating the walruses nearly succeeded, but luckily, or could it be divine intervention, the carefully laid plans of the two evil races unravealed.

In the distance, several dark ships were heading for the beach.

-The Orcas are coming. Can you see them?
-Yes. We dare not go into the sea now until our ships arrive.
-The Polaris will get away! We must pursue them!
-We cannot. We would surely lose all of our gains today if we went after them now without our ships. Send a messanger to our fleet. They must be clear of the penninsula now, although I think they may be too late to reach this battle.

By now, the few remaining polar bears jumped into the sea and swam for the orcas. Filled with bloodlust, some of the more foolish human and walrus warriors pursued them, only to meet their fate in the jaws of the orca. Cannons were quickly brought to bear and fired at the shoreline, killing orcas, polar bears, walrues, and humans alike. However, some did escape and were soon out of reach of even the longest ranged cannon.

This particular battle was over.

-Bury our dead. Honour them. But fling the enemy into a pit and cast the death chants over them. May their souls never reach peace, but instead…

May The Octopus strangle their corpses
May The Clam shut out their thoughts
May The Cantaloupe grind their bones
And…may Bok feast on their souls!

The Thunder of boots could be heard on the road way, the column stretched for over a mile.
"..'ere, what we gunna fight today then?" The musketeer looked at his officer inquisativley.
"Well we're going to expand the empire, and hopefully win some glory for the regiment..." The officer was well brought up and spoke like a gentleman, compared to the private who spoke like a sewer rat.
"Ar, I see, well when will we get there then?"
"Well, about two days of solid marching, a bit of killing and ransacking on the way... so say about three days we will be on the city of Cyro, which is key to our plans of dominating the Klatchian Coast.."
"Why's that den mate?"
The officer gave the private a dangerous look.
"Err, I mean 'sir?'"
"Well it sits on a delta, and is the key place to completely annexing the nation, it's also, rather handily, the capital.."
The private nodded, then remaind silent, the crunching of the boots continued.

Five Carabaneers were around 500 yards infront of the column, their pistols drawn ready to cut down any Dej who saw them.

(OOC) Dyelli Beybi should entend nearly as far North as it does at the moment although not as far East. It should take 3 to 4 weeks to move infantry down the country, provided you're going via the River Valley and not marching across unmapped desert.

A squadron of Hussars was doing routine scouting as the Kyzla-Ordan troops aproached the small town, barely more than a village of Agua Pura. Still there was supposed to be nothing here and they hadn't been paying particularly good attention to the task. Five of the men in light blue overalls with white frogging and black shakos mounted on a variety of horses had appeared on a ridge a mile or so ahead of the column. The officer pulled out his telescope and studied the aproaching column, "Who are they?" he mused to himself.

"Ah Sir." it was a Sergeant, like the other riders his hair was tied back in a pony tail, while he also bore an immaculate black moustache, "Calvalry ahead of the column."

The officer swung his telescope down to study the Calvalry, "Pistoliers." he remarked disparagingly, patting the non-regulation carbine strapped to his saddle, many of the hussars had aquired them, "They couldn't hit a barn door at 50 paces...but in any case, there are far too many of them, may I suggest we return to headquarters."

The hussars put spurs to their horses, racing back towards the small garrison. Within an hour despatch riders were winging their way east and south.

Within two hours, the First Sheffield Regiment and the squadron of Hussars from the 12th were evacuating in good order, while they guessed they were no more than a few hours ahead of their opposition, if they were towing guns, the Sheffield would easily outpace them. This did not mean they were safe, they were on the look out for any form of calvalry, ready to form squares if necessary. Meanwhile the Captain of one of the rifle companys rode back with an esign waving a white flag, signalling for parley, although in truth they were trying to buy themselves time.

The Road South would take them first to the small town of Kingston which, by the time they had arrived there would also be deserted by Dyellian troops. It would take nearly two weeks to reach the twin fortresses of Bath and Welles, and in order for the unknown enemy to march on Cyro they would first need to dig out the Dyellian garrisons or else face the posibility of a severed supply train. From there it would be three days march to Alexigrad, then they would be in the delta.

"GENERAL!"
"What is it?"
"We have some horsemen approaching us, they seem to want Parley.."
"Better give it to them, have them escorted here." General Frank looked over at the horsed figures riding down to them

Several musketmen broke from their column and walked towards the Cavalry men.
"I assume you want Parley?" The officer looked up at the captain on horseback and awaited some form of answer, however the Column thundered on as if their arrival was non-existant.
Blocks of riflemen interlaiced with blocks of the Hussars and Curriaseurs, every so often a block of four guns would trundle past, the heads of the soldiers turning to look at the new arrivals.

"Of Course." the Captain wore a blue double breasted coat with red trousers,

"Captain Hodges of his Majesty's Foot." he introduced himself, "You are in the territory of the Djel Kingdom. I would not be mistaken in assuming this to be a hostile move?"

He didn't even wait for a reply, "It has been deemed necessary by His Majesty's army to know the reason for this outrage, or to put it in simpler terms...who are you and why are you in our country?"

"We are Kyzyl ordans, and we see it fit that you have lost your way in life and need some order restoring..."
there was a short break in the column, allowing the officer to lower his voice slightly.
"Simple, old fashioned imperialism in otherwords... now, are you going to stay and witness the fall of your nation? or be petty and run off and die like a dog?" the General looked at the captain, as the thunder of the boots came again.

The Captain gave a brief smile, although it was not a friendly one, and touched his riding crop to his cap, "In that case I bid you adieu Monsieur and may I say I hope your men live up to your words. I am sure we will meet again by the walls of Bath."

With that he turned and spurred his horse back towards his own troops, followed by the ensign. If he was dealing with the usual kind of enemies the Djel Kingdom had fought, he wouldn't have thought twice about the possibility of betrayal, but something about these newcommers smacked of treachery...

(OOC) For everyone's reference I've made an ooc thread here.

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=347377

I've written out the organisation for the 1799 Djel Kingdom's army.

The General Smiled, the captain had a certain amout of honour to him, a very noble man indeed...he nodded and turned back to look at the Column, the guns he had would be the key, all 200 of them, some 20 batteries... of varying pounds.
"How logn till we are at Bath?"
"Not sure sir, a week or so at a guess..."

OOC: owing to the absence of Fasta benj or South-western benjia at this point in history, I have decided to fill in for Diocletion the seconds predessecor, the Dictatorship of Nero the Third. (Gonaad peninsula, east of djelli beybi)
IC: Grand despot Nero stirred in his throne, unsettled as always when he gazed upon the encroaching forests around Castle Bodga. He is a morbidly obese man, short of stature and with thinning black hair that looks to have been rarely cut or washed. by contrast his white toga trimmed in vermine fur is spotless, and gold thread can be seen to be woven into the silk. His kingdom is rich, but always, always the jungles bring trouble. And now his spies bring word that the tzar of the dyellians are preparing for another invasion. "Best not to let the people know," he mused "it might bring them into open reballion again."

Colonel Johnson and the First Sheffield had arrived in good order some days earlier, and much to Johnson's consternation he had discovered he was the most high ranking officer in Bath, what was more the 4 Batallions here were mostly half trained recruits and had nothing more than fresh Captains to comand them. In fact, apart from his men, the only experienced soldiers were the gun crews.

He was now on the parapet, a gun Captain in a blue coat with gold frogging and grey trousers stood next to him, overseeing one of Bath's 12 pounders. In front of him was a steep drop into a trech fronting a gently sloping hillock, or glacis, designed to bounce roundshot over the wall it protected. The walls were lower than a medieval wall, but just as dificult to climb, especially when being whipped with grapeshot and fired on by muskets.

In the distance were the enemy, a great ocean of pale blue uniforms. He knew he was outnumbered, but was also conscious of the fact that Bath had the distinct posibility of holding under the onslaught.

"Fire!"

One of Bath's 12 pounders belched smoke and noise, sending a roundshot hurtling towards the enemy. Johnson watched as it landed, well short, bouced then finally came to rest, plowing through a field of corn. He looked inquiringly at the artillery Captain,

"Just letting them know we're here Sir." the Captain explained, fingering his telescope, "If they try to dig a battery in out there we'll give the bastards hell."

The Captain pointed with his telescope out onto the flat plain that surrounded Bath, "If they are going to force a breach they'll need to move some 24 pounders into position...and if they're planning to do any damage with those they'll need to put them in range of these, he pointed at his 12 pounders. I'm estimating they'll spend a couple of days trench digging in which time we'll blast at them, then the real battle will begin."

Johnson nodded, he knew very little about the science of Seige Warfare, "Carry on Captain."

OCC: Alright if I participate? If so:

IC:

Off the coast of present-day Klatch, LRRNS Laptev Sea sails through the fog. On the deck stand the officers and men of the frigate, with a good 200 guns of various calibers aboard.

The frigate was off the coast of present-day Klatch to see that LRR merchant vessels are not accosted, along with several other LRR warships.

The Laptev sea was one of the new H Type frigates, optimized for high speed and performance in rough seas. Back in 1799, the LRRN was actually quite something, having some 250 ships of the line, a marked difference from the present-day force, consisting mostly of coastal defense missile boats and corvettes.

"Beat to quarters!" calls Lieutenant Ishmael Kazinski as a volley of cannonballs whistles overhead.

"Hard to starboard! Bring us up beside her! Run out the guns!"
"Marines, man the rail!"

The marines, dressed in a functional grey uniform, topped with a tricorn hat, take position on the starboard rail, behind bedrolls and protected by an iron band placed there for the purpose of deflecting rounds aimed for marines. The 50-odd marines carry muskets as primary weapons, and short swords for close fighting. Each marine carries a good four pistols as well.

Down below, the gun crews run out the ship's cannons and prepare to do battle.

Slowly, the opposing vessel comes into view, approaching head on. Captain Isaac Strauss watches the surprised and angry look on the pirate captain's face as he realizes his mistake, and then his cannons open up, scoring hits across the bow.

The gunners quickly reload as the Laptev Sea passes alongside the pirate vessel, which appears to be a small converted merchant ship, obviously not designed to take on ships such as the Laptev Sea.

"FIRE!!!!!" resounds throughout the gun decks, as another volley is fired towards the pirate vessel, this time by the upper deck. The pirate vessel fires back, hitting mostly the thick wooden sides of the LRRN frigate, before being nearly destroyed by its volley. The mainmast collapses, and the small pirate vessel begins listing badly to one side.

(OOC) yeah sure the more the merrier.

(OOC) yeah sure the more the merrier.

OCC: Ok, thanks.

Somewhat close to the Klatch

Ten years of war.

Ten years, and still, no one seemed to win.

The Second Republic striking against colonial outposts of the coalition, the coalition doign the same... Knootian raiders attcking convoys of the Second Republic... It was annoying, and Capain Friedman, commander of the Morgenrot, didn't like it overly much.

Even though the coalition had so far been incapable of seriously threatening the Interests of the Second Republic.. A decision was necessary.

He didn't know, yet, that such a decision was just about to happen, in the spring of 1800... But for now, he was more concerned with possible targets.

The Morgenrot, his frigate, moved rather slowly, the wind not exactly being strong... Well, he could live with that.

The Klatch... He thought. He didn't now too much about it, nor did he really care. His interest was solely concentrating in hitting the trade of the coalition in this region, forcing them to split their forces...

Unfortunately, there was a distinct lack of actual prey for him and the crew of his 40- gun Morgenrot.

Well... Perhaps later. Perhaps I should head for the coast, inquire a little...

A second later, he made his decision. "Change course, we're going for the next large harbour... Perhaps there we can get some information. Oh, and make sure it is the harbour of a nation we're not at war with..."

General Duckett sighed.
Fortress, why did it have to be a sodding Fortress...

"Go forward, offer then an honourable surrender, if they don't. Wheel forward a fe.."
The Bang of the cannon could be heard audiably over the noise.
Duckett laughed, they were wasting ammo..
"If they don't surrender, have some of our men swim the river and destroy the bridge, we'll beseige them.."
Several Horsemen trotted forward, with a white banner raised, requesting to talk...

(OOC) The river has a lot of crocodiles in it by the way...and its a stone bridge with big arches for boats to go under. The only reliable way of destroying it would be to either place charges on it or blast it with roundshot.

Johnson spotted the aproaching enemy some distance off, pulled off his shako, tilting it forward and shading his eyes, then noticed the gun captain was supervising the elervation of the rear of one of the 12 pounder's gun platforms and loading it with grapeshot, "Hold your fire man." he ordered.

The Captain saluted but looked somewhat agrieved. They'll be asking for a surrender. Johnson considered it. Reports had indicated it would take Nairn a month to reach the city with a relief force from the east. Johnson waited for the enemy.

He had 5 Batallions in the city, but for the purposes of the upcoming Battle he might as well only have one. The other 4 had no officers higher ranking than a Captain and were a mixture of a few veterans, but mostly raw untrained recruits. He also had the dragoons, fat lot of good they'd do him in a seige, and of course the guns and artillery men, who at least seemed fairly stable soldiers, if their Captain was perhaps a little too eager.

"If they're sensible" the Artillery Captain was explaining to one raw officer, "They'll dig entrechments beyond our range and keep digging diagonal trenches towards up until they're in range of one of the Bastions. Then they'll slug at it with seige guns and try to create a breach, big 24 pounders like what Hinoalos has..."

The lead horsman cleared his throat and spoke clearly and loudly.

"Men of the Dej, we offer you a noble surrender to the the great and glorious forces of the Orda we promise good food, women and frink to all those that do surrender, we shall treat your fairly and equally, we are men of honour.."
The Horseman corrected his pose slightly.
"We shall await some form of reply."
The horsemen cantered off back towards their own lines.


"Get around a thousand men to hold up here, leave twenty of the 24 pounders, leave some cavalry men here to ensure they don't get out, the rest of the army martches on to Cyro..."

These orders were carried out, the sections designated to beseiging Bath were pulled out of the main column, the boots of only a slightly smaller column began to thunder again.

OOC: Tag
Note one: Part of Alcona is the the old Knootian colony of Zeeland, and we do have trade contacts with them...

Note two: A 200 gun frigate? Frigates were designed to signal the wall of battle in naval warfare. A 200 gun anything would be a first-rate...a mass of cannon that would scare most anyone (and it would still be oversized compared with RL examples...and having 250 of the buggers you'd rule the entire earth...and need a huge population base...like the current U.S. population)

OOC: oooh... tag... Alcona and Knootoss in the coalition? :P

OOC: Tag
Note one: Part of Alcona is the the old Knootian colony of Zeeland, and we do have trade contacts with them...

Note two: A 200 gun frigate? Frigates were designed to signal the wall of battle in naval warfare. A 200 gun anything would be a first-rate...a mass of cannon that would scare most anyone (and it would still be oversized compared with RL examples...and having 250 of the buggers you'd rule the entire earth...and need a huge population base...like the current U.S. population)

OCC: Ok, sorry. I can't really find any good information on ship classes of that era. Make it 50 guns.

Around 25 would be best ;)

Battleships, say 50-80, and Capital ships around 100
(largest cap ship in the British navy of the era had some 120 guns on board.)

Around 25 would be best ;)

Battleships, say 50-80, and Capital ships around 100
(largest cap ship in the British navy of the era had some 120 guns on board.)

Ok, 25. Sorry, I didn't know my ship classes. I thought H.M.S. Victory (of which the LRRN has no equal) had, like, 300 guns, though. And that was only six years after...

The crew rows out to pick up survivors from the rapidly sinking Pirate vessel. Not many are picked up, as it appears that it had a small crew to begin with.

"How many casualties?" asks Captain Roger Harrison.
"Only five wounded, but seaman Smith here will require an amputation."
"And how many survivors from the raider?"
"Only six."
"Well... I best be returning to the helm."

Harrison climbs up the stairs and onto the deck, making for the helmsman's station.

The helmsman is dressed in a blue greatcoat, with worn striped pants and a white shirt.

"Head for shore. South-east until we sight land."
"Aye, sir."

The gargantuan ships of the 'exploration' fleet churned the waters of the deep, the gigantic twelve-masted leviathans in the center, in which horses for cavalry, hundreds of cannon, and marines were all packed into the massive longkaus (plural longkausi), or dragon-ship. At the head of the hundreds-strong Grand Fleet were the Jormungand and the Tiamat, the 450-ft long monsters with luxury support and cannons coming out their ears.

Of course, the longkausi were not, by any means, the only ships of the fleet. Descending classes of ships, most of them far out-ranking any European-designed vessel, got progressively smaller and less magnificent.

Around 40,000 troops lived the life of luxury aboard the longkausi, with horses to spare for the cavalry arm of the 'exploration' fleet.

In truth, it was for exploration purposes. The dwarves had finally been subjugated by Yorinaga, with their King Svorin having turned over all of his foreign affairs over to the Domain.

With the end of a millenium of war, Lord Dao had saw fit to celebrate his countries' greatness with the construction of a massive warfleet, to discover, trade, diplomatize, and conquer foreign lands to be brought under the wing of the eagerly expanding Liangjin. Of course, unless Iza-Mahal himself appeared, or so Yorinaga had said, gunboat diplomacy was the best and easiest form.

And so the warfleet had set out, a paradigm of might and splendor for all to see, into unfamiliar seas, until it found itself in the region they could not know was the future site of the Federated Klatchian Coast. Setting a rough course for the direction of seabirds, the Grand Fleet hoped to reach land and make contact with whatever people might live there.

OOC: Liang's naval forces are roughly based on an slightly modified version of the Ming dynasty's treasure fleets, which were built in the early 1400's. As such, in roughly 400 years of time I could have improved on them, I've decided to limit any advancement to using them solely for war and increase the quality of cannon they have aboard. I am quite ready to lose a war here, so feel free to let me know on storylines that need to be kept intact.
If the numbers seem impossible (or you just plain dont want that many troops involved) let me know and I'll fix it (or prove it)to whatever you suggest.

Ok, 25. Sorry, I didn't know my ship classes. I thought H.M.S. Victory (of which the LRRN has no equal) had, like, 300 guns, though. And that was only six years after...

(OOC) Actually Victory only had 104 guns.

"There will be no surrender!" Johnson called out after the departing Ordians, Dyelli Beybi, surrender it's greatest stronghold... that would be the day.

All up Bath held 3,506 infantry , although only 704 (including Johnson himself) had any experience. It also held some 80 guns and 808 artillery crewmen, as well as all of 42 hussars. Welles was nearby to the east and held slightly less men. It was protected only by a medieval stone wall that would crumble in an afternoon.

Meanwhile, far in the East, Lt. General Nairn marched the desert road. It was a slow march, made harder by the occasional skirmish with angry tribesmen. Nairn's 3rd Corp was severely understrength, it had had to leave a whole Division to hold Quisa, but it marched nonetheless on the long tiring road to Bath.

South at Cyro, Lt. General Ormsden was reassembling the 1st Corp from it's scattered garrisons around the countryside.

To the North East of his position Gen. Hinoalos was dragging the 2nd and 5th Corp down the coast towards Cyro. IT would take him nearly two months to reach the capitol with the bulk of Dyelli Beybi's army.

The 4rth, the last Dyellian Corp was stationed on the border with the Gonad. A troop of cuirassiers had been sent along the coast escorting an emissary from the Tzar to try to get to meet the Emperor, they carried with them enough gold to soothe just about anyone...

--------------------------------------------------------

At Sea the 60 gun Brigantine, H.M.S. Vomiting Cavalier had spotted sails on the horizon...

The watch officer on the Laptev Sea watches as the sails come closer.

"Shall I beat to quarters, sir?"
"Yes, we best be ready. But she looks out of our class...send for the captain, if you would."
"Aye. All hands, beat to quarters! Look sharp, now!"

A seaman runs back to the captain.

"Sir! Ensign Fowler's spotted sails, he want's to speak to you, sir!"
"Alright Jones, I'm on my way."

Harrison walks towards Ensign Fowler's position on the bow.

"Six points off the port..."
"I see it, Fowler. Good work spotting it in this light. Mr. Kaziniski!"
"Sir?"
"Run up the colours."
"Aye, sir!"

The early flag of LRR (http://pictures.werkenbijdemarine.nl/gallerie/maritiem/marhist_powerp/VlagGeus.jpg) is hoisted aloft, and flutters in the wind, visible from quite a distance. The marine contingent also assembles on deck, dressed in their drab uniforms.

The young Fleet Admiral stands on deck, his hands folded behind his back as he stairs into the seas. The mighty Tiamat's twelve masts billow in the hand, the great Black Dragon of Liang behind the Red Sun of the Dawn. The image of a gaping dragon maw is expertly painted onto the bow of the ship, but it is the eyes which are most striking. The leviathan of a vessel calmly makes it's way towards the miniscule LRR vessel. Neringa Platelis motions to a marine on deck, who spots the pirate vessel from far out to sea. Quantities of bronze and iron cannon focus on the vessel, as Tiamat moves closer. The rest of the fleet begins to stop, and an astute observer would notice Jormungand, the other behemoth 450 ft vessel, begin to slowly shift to starboard, mobilizing itself into a broadside position should the LRR vessel get adventurous. Platilis watches carefully as a few ships comparable in size to the LRR vessel are allowed to come forth, and they advance further, allowing the LRR to make the first move in any contact.

On over to the eastern wing of the fleet, the LSS Eoshun, of the same class as Tiamat and Jormungand, spots another ship on the horizon. Following the same procedure as Tiamat, it awaits contact by the Dyellian vessel, while the longkaus Eoguan begins the now-familiar shift to broadside.

OOC: To make a comparison, HMS Victory was ~210 feet long.

"What's their nationality, sir?"
"Northwestern Liang, Lieutenant."

The small Laptev Sea faces the advancing ships bow-on. As the closest Liang ship gets within shouting distance of the frigate, Lieutenant Kazinski calls to them.

"Ahoy! Ships of Northwestern Liang, what news do you bring?"

The Marines stand at attention, looking somewhat presentable, if at the same time somewhat drunk. If things were to come to blows, the Laptev Sea would have no course of action except to run. If it was the LRRNS Vladivostok, the flagship of the navy, with 100 guns, things might be a little bit more evenly matched, but the Liang flagship dwarfs the frigate, hands down.

The Laptev Sea is not nearly as ornate as the great Liang ships, with only a somewhat mediocre wood narwhal at the bow and bronze lamps on the stern.

Arranged in perfect lines, the Liangite marines, clad in light blue uniforms with red helmets, stood at perfect attention. Standing at the front of the line, A young Captain Gintas, commander of a ship roughly the Vladisvostok's ship, moved the LSS Red Eagle deftly abreast of the LRR vessel. Giving a rough salute, the saber-clad Karyu hails them in a variety of languages, attempting to find one the foreign ship might understand, finally settling on one they recognize and respond in.
As they hail the Red Eagle, several Marines call out to them, querying them on their nation, country, and general information about the region. Being the first outside nation the Domain has had contact with in over a millenium, the men are naturally inquisitive about positively everything. With a wave of his long scimitar-like saber, Gintas quiets them.
"We hail from the Domain of Northwestern Liang!" he yells tentatively (OOC: I dont think anyone would know where this fleet came from until contact was made, Liang is just coming out of complete isolation), sizing up the small vessel. Following this, he barks out an order in Middle Liangite and several men march up with a complex boarding plank (with safety fences and everything!). Standing at attention, Karyu mounts a horse along with several dozen marines behind him.
"Permission to come aboard, Lieut. Kazinski!" He yells, while petting his white charger.

OOC: Hope you don't mind if I hop in. The history of the GDMO actually says that it used to be a German colony until it gained its independence a little before this period. Thus, at this point, the GDMO is still mainly on the coast of the Bay of Lunacy to the north-northeast of Dyelli Beybi. By the way, sorry for the long intro into MO history that I'm making up as I go along.

IC:
It had been scarcely a few decades since the war for independence. However, the motherland had been too distant, too unreachable, and too oppressive, and the people of Monte Ozarka cried out for their own government. Now, the von Tellern family was firmly in control of the Grand Duchy, and Wilhelm, oldest son and heir of the von Tellern patriarch and father of the GDMO, reigned as Archduke.

Wilhelm stepped to his study window and looked out. Below him, he could see the medium-sized but developing port of Coburg, capital of the Grand Duchy of Monte Ozarka. He saw the city directly below and then the vast expanse of ocean beyond.

That was where Monte Ozarka had always looked to. The ocean supported her profitable fishing and mercantile fleets. Ever since settling on this piece of land over a century ago, the people had always been people of the water.

However, this was about to change. Wilhelm walked to the other side of his study, to the window across from the sea. There, he saw an endless sea, as well. The difference was that this was a sea of trees. Boundless forests lay at the edge of Monte Ozarka as it was at that time. Vast territories and bountiful resources remained unclaimed...all because Monte Ozarka had been chained to the sea.

Well, it shall be no more.

Three regiments of infantry (of 8 companies ~100 men each), 2 squadrons of hussars, a squadron of dragoons, and a squadron of cuirassiers (squadron = cavalry equivalent of an infantry company) were currently being drilled and trained.

Soon, Monte Ozarka will not be simply a few scattered ports along the coast. It will grow and expand and push the limits of discovery. It will develop into the terrestrial power it was meant to be.

(OOC: More to come later. I gotta grab some sleep.)

((even though I’ve got WAY too much going on right now, I can’t help but get involved in this! Oh, and 1799 puts us right about three years into the war with the Principality of Dénia, which will last about six more years so I’ll probably be playing a marginal role.))

“Ship ahoy, sah, sails five points to lee’ard!” came the lookout’s cry. Peter Carde, first lieutenant of His Iansislean Majesty’s Ship Expeditious, made his way to the quarterdeck’s larboard rail. He could see nothing but gray sea stretching out to the horizon.

“Are you sure, Flagson?” Carde called back to the lookout.

“Sure as the day I was born, sah! She’s still ‘ull-down, sah, jus’ royals showin’. You’ll see ‘er af’er we crest this swell, sah.”

Convinced that Flagson’s liberal sprinkling of ‘sirs’ was a measure of respect, Carde returned to his glass and waited until he felt Expeditious climb the swell - there she was. Three masts and a slight spread of white canvas, just off the leeward bow.

“Good eyes, Flagson!” shouted Carde. “An extra tot of rum for you this evening.”

“Thank‘ee, sah!”

“What do you make of it, sir?” asked a pimply faced young midshipman at Carde’s elbow.

“A man-of-war, and not one of ours,” replied Carde shortly. “It might be the Líon, or might not even be Dénian. These seas are most unknown to even the Admiralty.”

“Which do you think, sir?” the boy asked, his eyes shining bright on his chubby face.

He had a right to be excited; the Expeditious had been chasing the Líon from the Golden Quarry to Gallaga to the ends of the Earth. Once, off the Gallagan coast, Expeditious had crept up on the little 28 gun frigate and engaged her with the pair of long nines she carried as forward chase. However, Líon was every bit as fast as Expeditious, and managed to lose the RIN ship at night.

Still, there was work to be done. Carde snapped his glass back to his side and bore his keen brown eyes into the midshipman’s. The boy blanched, knowing he had gone too far and was about to be reprimanded. However, the blow never fell. Carde averted his eyes and gazed back over the cold sea.

“Mr Roberts, if you will kindly inform the captain of present developments?” he asked instead. The midshipman, perhaps relieved by the usually hard-nosed first lieutenant’s sudden and inexplicable change of heart, saluted and dashed off below decks.

-----

When Captain Lord Westergate made his appearance on deck fifteen minutes later, he found his first lieutenant not excited at the prospect of meeting with their prey again, but rather looking concerned and perplexed.

“Well, Mr Carde?” he asked in a typically clipped Shadoranite accent.

“We’ve spotted multiple other sails on the horizon to larboard,” said Carde uncomfortably.

“Yes, I can see,” snapped Westergate. “You’ve kept them solidly under our lee?”

“Yes, sir.” Of course - do I look like the sort of idiot who would give up the weather gage? added Carde silently.

“Well,” said Westergate, peering through his glass again. “Well.”

“I don’t like it, sir,” ventured Carde. “They’re lying hove-to like they’re having some sort of damn sewing meet, and I can’t recognize a single standard.”

Westergate grunted noncommittally in reply and Carde again fell silent. The captain, meanwhile, was assessing the situation. He had the weather gage, thanks to Carde’s handy seamanship, and the wind at his back; Expeditious could disengage with ease if she so needed. Still, there was no sense being caught unprepared; those strange ships had doubtlessly spotted his ship by now.

“Very well,” said the captain abruptly. “Mr Carde, if you will please beat to quarters, I shall be retiring to inspect the forward chase.”

“Aye aye, sir,” replied Carde, saluting his captain’s already retreating back.

The Comerciante Lejano ploughed through the waters heavily, but with the certainty of all Santa Barbaran merchant vessels on a mission of exploration and entrepeneurialism. Not so certain was her captain, Victorio Martinez del Carvajal, and the expression on his smooth-lined face must have told so to the contra maestre, Emilio Delgado.

"You are worried, Capitan," he said, not questioningly. Emilio's face seemed chiseled out of stone, even the salty beard he wore, and was unscrutable.

Victorio thought on this, and decided that yes, he was worried. Not for the cargo, which would stay, and not for the food, for there were plenty of islands which had served to provide fresh victuals. Uncharted islands, though.

"I worry about the others," he admitted. "I fear they may have gone aground."

"Or perhaps they were consumed by cosas del hielo," Emilio pointed out, perhaps half-jokingly - it was hard to tell with the old boatswain.

"Perhaps," he agreed, although he wondered what the ice-things truly were. He little doubted they existed, but he wasn't as quick to label them as demonic as many of the faithfuls were. Not until he had seen one himself, and not just heard vague sea rumors.

Unlike most who followed the manera del mar, Victorio did not place as much stock in the unseen. He was a merchant as well as explorer, and he did not buy every fanciful tale told in a distant tavern.

"We keep traveling northward," Emilio pointed out, "we may yet see the hielo ourselves."

Ice. The square-rigged, triple masted, thousand-ton fragata, though sturdy, was no icebreaker. Coming across ice could be just as fatal as coming across the shoals. Victorio would certainly not venture that far north. Who there could offer anything of value?

Although, he thought amusedly, perhaps the cosas del hielo were traders. Perhaps they had a port that would satisfy the crew's inevitable thirst for wine and women. Perhaps, but more likely there would merely be more dirty, uneducated, heathen natives brandishing spears and poison arrows.

The wind changed subtly, and both men turned their attentions to the essentials once again. Ahead, Victorio thought. Storm.

"Tormenta," Emilio said, echoing his own conclusions.

Arranged in perfect lines, the Liangite marines, clad in light blue uniforms with red helmets, stood at perfect attention. Standing at the front of the line, A young Captain Gintas, commander of a ship roughly the Vladisvostok's ship, moved the LSS Red Eagle deftly abreast of the LRR vessel. Giving a rough salute, the saber-clad Karyu hails them in a variety of languages, attempting to find one the foreign ship might understand, finally settling on one they recognize and respond in.
As they hail the Red Eagle, several Marines call out to them, querying them on their nation, country, and general information about the region. Being the first outside nation the Domain has had contact with in over a millenium, the men are naturally inquisitive about positively everything. With a wave of his long scimitar-like saber, Gintas quiets them.
"We hail from the Domain of Northwestern Liang!" he yells tentatively (OOC: I dont think anyone would know where this fleet came from until contact was made, Liang is just coming out of complete isolation), sizing up the small vessel. Following this, he barks out an order in Middle Liangite and several men march up with a complex boarding plank (with safety fences and everything!). Standing at attention, Karyu mounts a horse along with several dozen marines behind him.
"Permission to come aboard, Lieut. Kazinski!" He yells, while petting his white charger.

OCC: I figured that with ships like those, everyone would know you. Oh well...


IC:

Kazinski sends a midshipman back to Captain Harrison, and, after conferring with a few minor officers, he calls back to Captain Gintas.

"Aye, you may come aboard."

The gaggle of sailors assembled along the rail parts as Harrison makes his way towards Lieutenant Kazinski, wearing a tall hat and with a sabre, held in an ornate scabbard, at his side.

-War is expensive, you know…

The walrus drummed his fin on the large desk. Across from him sat his chief financier, a nervous walrus who had the annoying habit of repeating the obvious.

-Yes, I know it is. But what is better? Let the Polaris overrun us? Hmmmm?
-No no! That is not what I meant! But, we have to count the costs. The campaigns that you have been involved in lately were expensive, and provided very little return.

Duke Yeekol signed. The walrus was right, of course. His military campaigns against the other Great Houses had been costly, and did not improve his economic or political clout much. A town here, a mill there, but so what? He was now discovering that he expanded too fast and that keeping his gains was draining his treasury. Besides, the war with the Polaris and Orca did unite the kingdoms, but who knows how long that would last? He was also worried about the rise of the Order of Bok. They certainly had money and they managed to whip the people up. I should loot the Order, thought the Duke idly.

-Ah, what am I to do?

The chief financier lowed his head and replied,

-There are a couple promising ideas I have. The Santa Barbarans do have money. And they are business orientated like ourselves. But, we don’t know much else about them.

The Duke thought about this – the idea rolling in his mind like a clod of earth.

-Ah, send a message to them.

In the Dark Sea rose the Archipelago of Alcona. The islands were known to Europeans as a distant source of spices such as cloves, cinnamon, and pepper. Unlike most other nations, the Knootians had founded a bank based on the silver and gold bullion pulled from the mountains of Neubayern. Yet for all of her wealth, the islands remained somewhat poor. The problem was the long, draining war the Island Kingdom of Hubris to the north. Both had clamies over the Outer Islands. A large archiepago with great wealth, and both sides claimed rights to the islands. Over the protests of the small potenates that ruled them.

The Ardeen was a 36 gun frigate heading south through the squall straits. She was hunting a 12 gun privateer who had raided a small cutter some three nights before.

ooc. a late tag it bag it... this is perfect with my nations past

The crew aboard the Vomiting Cavalier were somewhat incredulous of what they saw on the horizon, they were fairly impressed.

Captain Dashfield studied the ships through his telescope as they tacked warily towards them, the Vomiting Cavalier was a Brigantine and wasn't the fastest ship with the wind at her back, but could pull a fair pace into the wind, right now she was boldly flying the Dyellian blue flag, "These couldn't be these Ordians we've been ordered to keep an eye out for?" he mused idly, "I wonder if they know flag signals?"

Some minutes later flag signals were asking whether the vesels were hostile.

ooc: edit after I realize that this is 1799, and that these events would have taken place earlier so this is further in the past when the islands were first discovered and my next post will be in 1799 at present time.

IC: 1670

Monday came in the usual manner, at least they thought it was monday it could very well have been tuesday or even thursday. Six bell rang out on the Schooner, and similar sounds drifted up from the assortment of other sloops and Brigs anchored in the sheltered cove. Men stumbled up on deck, rubbing their heads and scratching the several days growth of stubble on their faces. They shook the drunkenness from their bodies and expertly went to work climbing up the rigging and setting out on launches to the island on trips for fresh water and food.

For drinking so much the night before they moved about the deck like men possessed, they were pyrates and good at their jobs; especially with the cracking whip of the bosun at their backs.

"HEAVE! HEAVE! HEAVE!" The booming voice of the bosun barked out as men worked feverously to haul up over the side of the ship a felled tree that had been found suitable as a replacement stern mast. The hurricane had done a number on the Schooner, ripping down her rotted stern mast killing three in the process. It had been a miracle that they had survived at all, the four ships had sailed into the unfamiliar waters under persuit of three French frigates that had been on their backs since the town they had sacked.

It took the collective curage of each man to sail into the waters, but they dare not go against the orders of Captain Morgan who had stood unmoving on the quarterdeck throughout the storm. At least they had lost the french.

As the storm passed they found themselves at a small chain of islands, not on any of the charts because they didnt even have any charts for these waters; much to the fear and superstition of the men Morgan had taken them clear beyond where they thought the ends of the world was. But instead of death they had found a new harbour, a perfect sheltered cove the could be used as a deep water harbour and a perfect stretch of beach that could be used as a makeshift dry docks. And the best thing of all was that no one else apparently knew of the islands. No one in the old world would have sailed here before and now Captain Morgan stood on deck smiling as he watched his navigator drawing up a new chart.

From the moment they had laid eyes upon the islands he knew that this would be the perfect staging grounds for their actions, a hidden base where they could set up their new lives. It was already working in his mind, this would not only be a home for his men, but a paradise for all pirates to hide out, and he would be the mayor, no govenor of the islands.

"Bring me back the riches of the world. Let it be done"

"Aye Chief, we will travel the seas to find what lies beyond our watery boarders and bring word of your glory to the rest of the world."

"Let it be done." Govenor Henry Roberts sat upon the modest throne and sipped a drink out of a coconut. Desendant of the Great Pirate Roberts, Bartholomew Roberts, Henry was no longer content to sit back on their islands any longer. For over a hundred years since the islands were first discovered and inhabited the civilization had kept to itself, not wanting its secret to get out. However over these years they lost touch more and more with their great roots as the pirate crews settled into the islands and formed their own cities, intermingling and becoming people of the land.

Morgan had never lived to see his dream come true after dying a drunkard while the first town was still being settled. But his men kept his words true and they told tales of the island to every pirate they saw; of a paradise where they could live free from those that wanted them brought to justice.

Crews followed, Blackbeard, Kidd, Roberts, Tew, England, Rackham, Bellamy, Bonnet...and more. Until each island had several towns and they lived together in a democratic union with one elected leader; always a desendant of one of the great pirates. And now they were branching out to discover what else lie in these unfamiliar waters. They had maintained their presence in the old world, plundering and looting however, the governments were soon catching up to them and they needed new waters with new riches.

"To Morgans Paradise!" Roberts raised his drink

"MORGANS PARADISE!" Shouted the collected men in the great hall.

Israel Read set his glass back down and exited the great hall with his order gripped firmly in his hands. He stroked the long hairs of his goatee and walked out into the sun with his officers in close pursuit, they had to only collect their crews from the bars before departing onto the sea. The first official Pirate explorers sent to map the ocean and the land of their new home.

Standing off in the harbour of Port Blood, the captial of their islands, was their first great achievements, three new ships to make their maiden voyage on this cruise. Two Brigantines the Rapscallion and Banshee and a sloop, Read's flagship the Marlin.

With a sharp wind at their backs Captain Read left the islands on his year long cruise wondering what adventure laid ahead of them.

People once believed that if a ship sailed too far south that it would burn up. People once believed in sirens calling to sailors, sweetly lulling them to their deaths. People once believed that the Earth itself was flat and that animals could talk.

Well, some myths could be true…

The fact that talking animals built up a civilization in the northern reaches of the Klatch was considered rumour from unreliable sources. That these same animals along with humans fought a bloody war against other talking animals was beyond absurd. However, the same animals were wary of first contact to outsiders and hence either shifted their form or else had their human allies act in their place – while concealing some information as to who exactly they are.

This is why the ship sailing for Santa Barbara consisted entirely of humans. After all, some might consider a talking walrus to be the work of the devil.