NationStates Jolt Archive

Inside the radar base, a relic of the cold war, Agamemnon was consulting with his followers.

"The Jordaxian isles are perfect for expansion. For a start, we already control this radar center, and the islands are widely spread, and largely uninhabited. We can consolidate our power, grow our strength, and assume control in the City of Chambers. The islands have been without religion for millenia. The people cry out for a cause to believe in, and I shall use this to take control. You are my most loyal friends, you have been with me since the beginning of this cou. Shall you follow me to the gates of hell?"

The small crowd cheered for Agamemnon, echoing through the corridors of the base, dissipating into the jungle outside.

Agamemnon called a quick meeting with his closest friends, where they finalised their arrangements.

"We must establish control of the outer islands first. Several more of these "radar" bases exist on other islands. If we can assume control of every one, then we can see everything that flies in and out. We'll also have a few easily defendable strongholds should everything go wrong. Agreed?"

They concurred, and the meeting drew to a close, with minor points being discussed.
_________________________

Entering slowly into a small unimportant civial harbor, dressed in a conspicuos black and red garmet, Agamemnon quickly begins to access the sprawling metropolis. What a godless place this most assuredly is, they lack guidance, faith, brotherhood, and I shall give it unto them, he muses.

Pondering his best course of action he breifly considers a "soap box" campaign, but brushes it aside because of the time involved.

What I need, he thinks to himself, is a way to speak to the masses at one time, like with a far-crystal, but do they have it...

Pulling himself out of thought he calls out to a young man strolling the street, "Stop."

The man freezes as if an invisible hand grabs him, he turns around and asks, "Hey buddy, whats your problem!"

Not off turned by his rudeness Agamemnon asks, "Where is the nearest place where I can talk to the masses?"

The stranger, thought obviously confused at Agam's choice of words responds, "Uh, the TV studio just three blocks north of here..."

"Thank you, you are dismissed," Agam curtly states before turning on his way.

Upon reaching the complex he is slightly dismayed to find that they will not let him in," Listen buddy, this is private property, no one can enter with out a pass and identification." The guard growls to Agem.

Letting lose a small sigh he responds, "But I do have a pass, now please step aside."

The guard blinks and takes a half step back, "Sorry, sir, just doing my job."

Nodding Agem enters the building, startled by its flouresent halls and gleaming tiles, What a constrast from that "radar" station, I wonder if this is a land of contrats, but no matter.

Asking politly he quickly finds a vacant recording studio, entering he is startled to find another man inside, seemingly cleaning.

Calling out Agem says, "You sir, operate this machine!" The janitor first seems to protest before dutyfully complying with Agem's request. Agem then says, "Project this over what ever else is out there!" Unfamiliar hands somehow work the machine, soon a red light appearde on the lensed apparatus before Agem and he assumed it is working.

Sitting back in a spartan chair he begins to speak, "People of Jordaxia, for too long have you lived in ignorance. You speak of nothing outside your eyes, but that idea is false. Your government has perpetuated this idea, keeping you blind in a world of wonders. I call to you know, speaking the light of truth, rise up, live to believe, not merely live.

For living in the dark your government has betrayed you, led you to wars for "just" causes! All merely falicies crafted by the powerful to appease your darkened minds! Rise oh great people, taste the true power of the human mind! Find your faith, embrase the Great Lord and you shall have your just rewards!"

(OOC: This is done with Jordaxia's premision. I will RP Agamemnon and his sect. Most people will be welcome, if they can provide some evidence of their RP skill. Those with no history will be judged on the quality of their request, and my discretion. It will be character to begin with, then we'll see. This is a modified version of the original, all those who said "Aye" before are still welcomed.)

All over the Jordaxian isles the radios sinister broadcast was entering the minds of the public, the strangers words willing them to accept him, to believe what he said. It worked. all over Jordaxia, practically overnight, Blooded sects appeared in every city. As athiest as Jordaxia had been before, it now seemed to have turned extremely religious.

Entire broadcasting networks turned themselves to displaying the words of the mysterious speakers text. The part of the populace that remained unaffected by his speech attempted to carry on as normal, though all were acutely aware of the fundamental change in the atmosphere of Jordaxia. Military installations hidden deep in the jungle were hanging up the symbols of the sect everywhere, and soldiers were becoming more regimented than even the most disciplined duty. Nowhere inside Jordaxia was unaffected, but the King/Emperor of Jordaxia was determined to find out what happened. He summoned a meeting of those who had remained unaffected by the broadcast and demanded that they find out exactly who that stranger was, and what he planned to do with his new followers.

"I trust you know why you are here?" The King/Emperor asked?
Around the table all those brought nodded.
"What do we know of the blooded sect?"
"Nothing, your majesty. We have no idea where the man left after the broadcast either. The owner of the radio station refuses to let us take the security camera recordings, and the police won't make him. It's as if he has brainwashed everyone."
"What about the armed forces?"
Another man from table spoke
"The military has not been in contact with us since the broadcast went out. Except one outpost, who has reported the same peculiar behavior in all apart from him."
"Is there anything we do know at the moment then?"
"no."

Ba-dump

3 days later

Agamemnon was pleased. Sitting with his fellows, they were amazed at how fast the people of Jordaxia fell into line.

"It is because they were weak, and I am strong. They lacked direction, and I was their compass. Their ways were old, I renewed." Agamemnon said.

"Though what I dislike are the pockets of those who resist the Great Lord's will. I feel that they shall become a plague upon our land. Therefore, we shall strike now!" slamming his fist upon the table. "Come, let us broadcast to my people once again."

Entering into the make shift radio-television studio that was so kindly set up for him inside the fortified radar complex. Sitting himself behind a spartan desk adorned with the relgions symbole (http://gbgm-umc.org/umw/anti-hate/images/symbol19.jpg) Agememnon prepared to address Jordaxia:

"People of New Jordaxia, you have heard my words and have heeded them! However, there are those amoung you who have not. These men and women are a bane against us. We must take a stand against their evil! They must follow or die! It is a kind offer, for their offense of treason death could be placed upon immediatly! But the Great Lord is a forgiving lord, therefore they shall have a chance for redemption.

However! If they do not change their blasthomas ways than we must show them the true nature of treason. I implore you, the citizens of New Jordaxia to seek out this disease! Try and save, but have the flaming sword at hand to strike those of fouler minds!

May the Great Lord's blessings pour upon you like flames over chaff. May her fire cleanse your heart. May her heat warm your body and mind. May her light be a guide in the dark."

As the oppressive atmosphere of Jordaxia turned hostile, the King/Emperor had no choice but to flee aboard the refitted Tartaros class battleship. It had been refitted to require barely any crew, and the crew positions it did need could be filled by unqualified individuals. Amateur radio conversations were being picked up aboard the Tartaros, and the King/Emperor sent out the following message to the groups under attack.
"This is the King/Emperor, speaking aboard the Tartaros. I know that the enemy will not be listening in to what I am about to say, as they will likely assume that we are not significant enough in number to threaten this "Agamemnon". We may be weakened, loyal citizens of Jordaxia, but we can fight this menace. I request that all citizens who hear this to assemble near any shores, and radio for a pickup.

Outside the makeshift docks in the Jordaxian second city, Gilsanium, the free people still outside of Agamemnons influence, were making a stand. As if from nowhere, the lone Tartaros class Ekranoplan swooped in, with the main doors open. The main guns on the Tartaros swivelled round, taking shots at the followers firing wildly at the free people and the Tartaros.Bullets were pinging off of the hull, when 6 large explosions rippled through the buildings that several sect members were using as cover. Another ship, this one Orca class, was firing all tubes at the group, putting 240 small missiles into the air. The free people boarded the ship during the confusion, and were transported, all for the first time in their lives, except the King/Emperor, and his group, who had met there previously. The Orca class, all tubes emptied, waited to be ressuplied by the fleet that had been returning to Jordaxia.
A single pelican class transport waited in the lone dock, the Tartaros put itself down in the water near it, and waited for a radio report. Nobody knew where the next pocket of resistance would be. The pelican would be able to extract them though.

(OOC: once this is all done, I'll be looking for a nation with which to land all my troops. If anyone would like to support the King/Emperor, if they could loan a few coastal ships, and transports, and perhaps some land near the coast, then I would be most appreciative. If anyone can commit troops to help, then I would also be appreciative. I expect about 70,000 men to be able to escape, before the Sect seals the isles entirely.)

(OOC: Where exactly are your islands, Jordaxia?)

Well, a real life map would put them just above the Falklands, inbetween Brazil, and West Africa.
They look like this

http://www.freewebs.com/phoenixius/Jordaxia.JPG

The completely grey one is the capital, nobody is ever on it, only that one dock, for evecuation, if the king is threatened.

The Council of Phoenixius is saddened to hear of this news from Jordaxia. Our military base in the Jordaxia archapelago has been warned of the dangers of this new sect in Jordaxia, and they will shoot on site any people attempting to access the base without authorisation.

Jordaxia, we can lend you aid. You may set your free people in our military base for now, and from there you can shuttle them to Phoenixius if you wish. I am sending a fleet to defend Phoenixius assets in Jordaxia, and to aid in any exfiltration attempts.

that sounds nice, though the sect controls Jordaxia now, including that nice little airforce I have, and all the armour I bought recently.
The navy is mine, being out of range. Essentially, after I pull as much of those disaffected out of Jordaxia as I can, you can assume that my government has fallen at the moment, it's ongoing though, so I'm hoping I can get a really long RP going. It's likely that unless you flood those areas with troops, the bases will fall eventually (but they may not be targets, I don't know).
that fleet should keep things secure though, but, bear in mind it would be assumed that the new government has all of the prod rights I had secured previously, including the harpy, Tartaros, pelican, Orca, and Hippocampus.
Purchases made under the nation of Jordaxia will now be for the Sect owned nation.
Purchases made by my new nation, especially for this, should never exceed 1.5bn. Ever. I want to make this as difficult as possible for me.

bump

As the government of Jordaxia chages to the Sect controlled, Phoenixius is hearby increasing its military presence in order to safe guard the remaining free Jordaxian people.

Patrol numbers have been increased, and a continous watch is being done on all routes towards the island. Several scientists are working on some recordings of Sect broadcasts, and are attempting to discover the reason why it has an affect on the populace. They are being contained to prevent them attacking the base if they come under the influence of the broadcast.

OOC: If you are still looking for a country to go to, you can use Falastur, providing it suits your ends. We have territories all over the world, but the land I am thinking of granting you use of is in the Falastur Island Group themselves. They are somewhere between Africa and South America, in the Southern Atlantic, so they are not that far from Jordaxia. I also have a large navy, if you want to borrow some vessels. But then again, its your choice, you don't have to accept....

The reports came in, there were still foreign controlled instiallations in New Jordaxia.

Talking to no one in particular, "Bags, those outposts are some of the strongest bastallions of resistance. Now, we could attack them, but a war would not be adviseable with my hold still so touchy."

Agememnon pondered, pacing rapidly upon the concreat floor.

"I've got it," he exclaimed with a snap of him fingers, calling out, "You there! Get on the radio, all channels and frequencies, we need to make sure even those tight lipped foreigner's hear this."

Message as follows:
[code:1:20f091f255]Dear Foreign Millitary Powers (inside of New Jordaxia)

Due to the current turn over, we the Blooded Sect of New Jordaxia, would request that you stand down from your installations. We ask this for the security of our new government and the people as a whole. We do not wish for anyone to be needlessly injured. So please heed our advice, pull out now or problems may occure.[/code:1:20f091f255]

Once again comming over the normal programming of the day Agememnon speaks;

"People of New Jordaxia, hear me! To long have heathens ruled, even now their mark still lingers! Once more I implore you, seek out those who have no faith in their heart, they are amoust you! They may be your brother, your sister, your mother, anyone!

Furthermore, the corrupt programs of radio and television spew heathen ideals aross your blessed faces. Therefore I am annocing a new 24/7 program schedual.

<Pretty much anything on this site: http://www.weebls-stuff.com>

These wonderful programs shall free your mind from blasthmes ideas and thoughts. Blaring their saving message over every radio station, TV channel, always!

Furthermore, the archaic days of the week must as well be ebbed away. From now on "Friday" shall be known as "Goobinstein". For now the rest shall stand, but fear not for I Agememnon shall prevail in the face of the dead ways.

May the Great Lord's blessings pour upon you like flames over chaff. May her fire cleanse your heart. May her heat warm your body and mind. May her light be a guide in the dark."

And the broadcast cut to: http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/3/

"Sir, the Blood Sect is attempting to send us a mesasge. I'm afraid we're not going to allow it to pass the security of this building - we have no idea if its been tainted. Our scientists have made some progress: they have discovered an unsual frequency in the transmission, but as of yet they have no clue how to stop it, or how it was created."

"Well, its progress. Have we lost any of the scientists? Doesn't matter if we have, keep the work going. Do we have any Sect troops approaching our island?"

"Not yet sir - its only a matter of time though. We should have our reinforcements by the end of the week. As for the scientists, we have only lost one - it seems to affect certain parts of the brain, and that area is unusually active in Jordaxian people. We may not be affected, but its best to be safe."

"Sir, the Blood Sect is attempting to send us a mesasge. I'm afraid we're not going to allow it to pass the security of this building - we have no idea if its been tainted. Our scientists have made some progress: they have discovered an unsual frequency in the transmission, but as of yet they have no clue how to stop it, or how it was created."

"Well, its progress. Have we lost any of the scientists? Doesn't matter if we have, keep the work going. Do we have any Sect troops approaching our island?"

"Not yet sir - its only a matter of time though. We should have our reinforcements by the end of the week. As for the scientists, we have only lost one - it seems to affect certain parts of the brain, and that area is unusually active in Jordaxian people. We may not be affected, but its best to be safe."

As a portion of the rescue force picked up the remaining evacuees from the islands, the Emperor in the main control room of the IJN Tartaros.
A messenger came in to inform him of the status of the fleet.

"Your majesty, we have recieved reports from the fleet outside of Jordaxia. Due to extensive damage recieved from the fleet, it is taking rather longer than expected to reach the shores. Admiral Davies has been informed of the incident, and we have requested that we meet with him in international waters just outside the isles. We have recieved numerous reports of nations willing to offer us safety in their lands, so far the nation of Falastur seems to be the closest, and most suited for our needs. Send a message to the government, asking them if they can accomodate the fleet, and thank everyone else for their offer of assistance. Inform Falastur that our navy shall be sufficient for our needs, and the exodus of our small independent group.
Ask the governments.

Total ships in Jordaxian waters
30 Orca class missile frigates
5 Tartaros class battleships
3 Pelicans (2 stolen, both equipped with floatation.)
52 Harpy class anti-shipping Ekranoplans.

OOC: Normally I would have Official conversations like this with the Emperor, but seeing as he is in Credonia, I will use the Imperial Regent. He's just a President under a different name, and he's got the same amount of powers as the Emperor anyway, I just always seem to use him less....

IC:

"Sir, we've just recieved an Official Communique from the Jordaxian Government-in-Exile." A young diplomatic aide burst in the room flapping a piece of printed paper reading the un-encoded Jordaxian reply, and bearing the letterhead of the Falasturian coat of arms.

Imperial Regent DeMoins tore the Comm from the man's hands, and sent him out of the room. The Chiefs of Staff for the Falasturian Armed Forces and the Cabinet members leant in from where they sat around an elegant teak Conference Table, high up in the Falasturian Senate Building, and awaited the Regent to read out the message. DeMoins skimmed over the passage first, then read out the body of text with an air of grandiose, implying with his tone that he was reading the words of a very important person writing a very important message.

The men and women around him sat and thought for several seconds after hearing the words, until the silence was finally broken by Grand Admiral Burghe.

"So the Emperor of Jordaxia requests permission to remove his Fleet to Falasturian Port. Tell him request granted."

"You would invite attack upon Falasturian territory?" an elderly Lieutenant-General piped up. "No! Send them off to some other country, let their fleet be a decoy, while we invade Jordaxia and free it ourselves!"

"You would waste the life of the Jordaxian Emperor, the Jordaxian Government, a good amount of their Naval personnel, Jordaxian refugees, not to mention tens of thousands of Falasturian Servicemen, on such a tactic?" replied in turn the Minister for Foreign Diplomatic Relations. There were mutters from all corners of the room, some in outright disregard for any loss of life, some in outrage at the prospect, until DeMoins raised his voice to a booming call.

"Silence! There will be no sacrificing of the Jordaxian Emperor, nor any of his citizens. We are not barbarians, we do not watch death with a cold heart and merely shrug our shoulders. Grand Admiral Burghe, do we have the logistics to accomodate the Jordaxian Fleet?"

"With the numbers they gave us, yes Sir, and then some. I will begin preparations immediately."

"Do so. Is the 1st Fleet back from Zulgin yet? Good. Prepare it to accompany the Jordaxians into harbour. Mr. Jennis, have the Ministry for Foreign Diplomatic Relations prepare to accomodate all of their citizens, and prepare a special welcome for the Emperor. Grand General Hertford. You are authorised and ordered to ready the army for mobilisation. The same for the Air Force, Air Grand Marshall Wellin. The two of you may make decisions at your disgression, but there will be no unauthorised attacks on Jordaxian revolutionary property unless in case of national defense. Ms. Yeris, have the Ministry for Internal Affairs in all Imperial territories notified that they are to take in any Jordaxian refugee or Military Personnel immediately upon request. Have them escorted to an Official compound, where you may run background checks, but you are to let them into Falasturian territory. You may frisk search them on the spot, but I want them safe before we start asking detailed questions. Oh, and Mr. Jennis, have a reply sent to the Jordaxian Emperor, reading something along the lines of 'You are hereby cordially invited to remove yourself and any man, woman or child under your care or command, to Falasturian territories indefinitely. Your Fleet will be escorted into harbour by the Falasturian 1st Fleet.' Flesh the message out, so it sounds better. The rest of you, I will message you personally later if your services are required. Goodbye, gentlemen, ladies. This meeting is ajourned. You have your orders...."

Edit: Quintruple Post

Edit: Quintruple Post

Edit: Quintruple Post

Edit: Quintruple Post

As the reply came in aboard the Tartaros, messengers and officers bustling about and through the command deck.

The Jordaxian Emperor recieved the reply from one of these messengers, and started to give orders to the crew.
"Send our gratitude to the Falasturian government, and change the course for the Falasturian port indicated to us. Send a harpy with details back to the admiral in charge of the main fleet, and instruct our detatchment to head towards the port at top speed. There's nothing we can do for now, but I want reclamation plans drawn up telling me just how we intend to take my Country back. Any questions?"

"no sir" was the collective response

"Good. I want to see general Grath, and commodore Williams in three hours. I want to know what on Earth happened."

~~Falasturian 1st Fleet, South Atlantic Ocean, a couple of hours later~~


The young woman in Petty Officer's attire turned to the Admiral of the 1st Fleet.

"Admiral, we're picking up a strange radar reading. The markers appear to be indicating Jordaxian ships, but they are travelling at tremendous speed. I've seen planes fly slower, Sir. And they appear to be.....elevated from sea level. It's hard to make out exact details, they are still several hundred miles away."

Admiral Blake stepped to the radar station, and examined the screen. The readings were phenomenal. But it seemed this was the Jordaxian group he had been detailed to escort. Certainly they were broadcasting the right signals, and for the right number of ships.

"At this rate we will rendezvous almost directly with them in around....45 minutes. Petty Officer, when they get within 100 miles of us, I want you to broadcast a message to them asking registration and intent. If this isn't the Jordaxian Fleet I don't know where it is, but I know I want to be out of that thing's path."

Upon reaching the 100 mile zone, the Tartaros got a radio message from the Falasturian escort, requesting registration details. Since the Emperor was sleeping at the time, Commodore Williams responded.
"This is the Jordaxian fleet, codename, the Royal Retreat . Transmitting registration details with you, and slowing to hydration speed. We should be with you in a few hours."
With the message sent, Commodore Williams went for a nightcap in his quarters.

The Admiral nodded after receiving his reply. The confirmation codes and details checked out. It had to be the Jordaxian Emperor and his Fleet. All the same, those were some fine ships. He couldn't wait to get a look at the close up. It would be one fine sight.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rougtly three hours later, at Fleet Rendezvous
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, the two fleets met. The Falasturian Fleet diverted wide to their right, swinging around to turn to face Falastur, while enclosing the Jordaxians in their escort. From the bridge of his Command Ship, Admiral Blake took a good look at the Jordaxian ships, with their irregular shaped hulls, and submerged fins. So that was how they managed their crude but effective mock-flight. He made a mental note to ask to inspect the engines and other systems, to see just how advanced the Jordaxians were. Ordering his Radioman to send a message to the Jordaxian Emperor which was also to be sent to all Jordaxian ships in the Fleet, welcoming them to Falasturian care, and sending final details for destination. With a few pleasantries, and both Fleets formed in each others company, the larger merged Fleet set off towards Falastur.

Commodore Williams was watching over the fleet, as the port came into view. The Emperor walked in, and stood next to the Commodore.

"Do you believe that we will be returning to Jordaxia within our lifetimes?"
"I don't know, sir, I hope that we'll see her again."
"Well. We will be doing that. I just hope that we don't see her in flames."
"I certainly hope not, sir."
"Are we close to the port yet? I hate travelling so slowly, but I suppose we don't want to risk being intercepted, not that there is much that can catch us."
"We should arrive in a few hours. I just sent out a request, that you wish to meet with the leader of Falastur, to discuss the course of this war in greater detail."
"Thank you Commodore."

With that, the Emperor turned and left, to brief the other leaders on how the conflict should be resolved.

Eventually, the Grand Fleet of the two nations arrived in the main Falasturian Naval Base of Keralis. After a lengthy docking proceedure, the two Fleets were safely berthed, and the Captains of the Carriers and Cruisers, along with Admiral Blake and his Command Staff left their ships to a tumultuous applause from thousands of Falasturians, ever eager to celebrate the homecoming of their best Fleet, even after such a short journey. Press scrambled to interview the Officers, and were driven back by Military Police. Eventually, from another throng of screaming and cheering citizens appeared the President of Falastur, who offered his most humble welcomes to the Jordaxian Emperor, and requested that he and any Officers he wished to escort hisself would follow him for an official meeting in the Senate Building.

-Double-

The red broadcast light flickered off.

Agememnon swivels around in his chair till his back is towards the dead camera.

Hunched over, brooding, his black and red robes ebbed in the dying lights of the studio. Suddenly he straightened and laughed.

“Heh heh heh…” his breathe was slow and deliberate, “Those fools, those weak minded sheep of men. How long will it take till they begin to hunt heretics? Days? Hours? Minutes? It does not matter; soon this land shall be purged in its own fire, becoming a beacon for the power of the Great Lord.

Purge…” he mused, “Purge, that is what is needed and they,” He quickly spins around and slams his fist upon the desk, “shall do it! Those archaic fools of the motherlands see not our potential! They rather sit in their temples and denounce the world, yet never taking action, always speaking of ‘new life’ and ‘hope’! Well I shall show them how power is to be used, how it is meant to be used, this, this land of Jordaxia shall be a bane to all those who’s soul do not truly serve the Great Lord!” His voice reached a peak with Great Lord and the walls shook with his voice, sending pieces of concrete and dust flying into the air.
_____________________________________

All across Jordaxia mobs began to form seeking out those who lack faith. Some kill the heretics on the spot, but most begin gathering them up and throwing them in holding cells for some yet unknown use…

.:Double:.

The inquisitor, a former judge of the Jordaxian legal system, dressed in the robes of the blooded sect, made his way to the centre of the room. A medieval style rack held an elderly man outstretched upon it, and there were groans of hundreds more.

Outside, the great jungles of Jordaxia beat down on the old radar facility, renovated by the sect to keep heathens in their place until the inquisitor could make them confess.

The elderly man on the rack had the full force of the sun on him, scorching and burning him as he was pulled by the rack. The inquisitor pulled up a chair beside him, and placed a glass of water on the table next to it. The inquisitor was a relatively young man, and took a sip of his water. He began to speak.
"You deny the existence of our goddess, do you not? You deny the divinity of our prophet, Agamemnon, do you not? I shall give you a chance. Agamemnon wishes to know why the facts that he has clearly expressed to you do not register.

Agamemnon is a forgiving man, so in return for this information, you shall die painlessly, and our glorious Goddess shall welcome you into paradise. If you persist in disobeying Agamemnons wishes, our Goddess may forsake you. We cannot allow that to happen, and we must redeem all souls. If you cannot accept that your godless ways are incorrect, that Agamemnons prophecies are correct, then we must make you confess to your sins. We know the truth as well as you. Please make this easier on yourself."

With that, the inquisitor got up and left the room.

Half an hour later, he returned, with a long, and very thin, strip of metal. He began to speak to the prisoner once more. Who was now badly burned by the sun, and in immense pain. Seeing this, the inquisitor held up the water from the prisoner to drink from, but would give him no more than the contents. He spoke again.
"Have you reached a decision as to whether you will realise the error of your ways? Has this time of inflection allowed you to see the truth?"

The elderly man gazed down at him, he could barely see him because of the sun. He managed to utter:
"Why have you Forsaken us? Turned traitor against your Emperor, and torture his loyal subjects. I shall not confess to a crime which I have not commited."

The inquisitor did not show any reaction, any disappointment he had, the prisoner would never know about. The inquisitor took the the metal rod, and ordered that the prisoner be stripped. Two guards entered, and removed the prisoners trousers. The man took the rod, and inserted it into his penis. The prisoner howled with pain, but the inquisitor did not stop. When it was almost entirely inside, the inquisitor pressed a button on the end. A muffled "click" could be heard, and the prisoner gasped with pain. The inquisitor began to remove the device. The screams became louder, and more desperate, as the device came further out of his body. you could see that there was small bumps being made from the inside. As his screams crescendoed, the device emerged. The end of the metal rod had opened out, like an umbrella, and destroyed the insides of his penis as the inquisitor removed it. It was not the end though. The ropes holding the prisoner on the rack where removed, and the prisoner tumbled to the hard concrete floor. As he lay, bleeding profusely on the floor, the two guards picked him up, and dragged him out to the courtyard.

In the centre of the courtyard, there was a horrible construct. A giant iron bull,with a hatch in the side of its stomach, was sitting there. Underneath it, a fire was being constructed. The realisation of what was about to happen to the him dawned on the prisoner, as the unlit bonfire was piled higher. Stripped completely, the prisoner was bundled inside the bull, with just enough room to sit in an uncomfortable hunch. It didn't matter to the inquisitioner, there was no other hope for his soul, except burning. A seperate guard came forward with a flaming torch.

The inquisitor spoke to the other prisoners, in wooden cages around the bull.
"All of you may be spared. This heathen has not submitted to the will of our Goddess, and must be burned for his crimes. You shall eat his flesh tonight, if you will eat anything at all. This fate will be yours also, if you defy the Great Lord, and Agamemnon. Those who do not submit willingly, will die, and face her wrath."

With that, the Executioner guard through the torch on the wood, and set the bonfire ablaze. Things would rise to several hundred degress in the bull, and the prisoner inside would feel every bit of it through the floor. His limbs would be scorched beyond recongnition, and his charred corpse would be used to nourish the others.

*Writting by: Jordaxia*
*Editted By: Me*

bump for comments, and participants.

"Sir, we have a breakthrough!"

"What do you mean captain?"

"The scientists have finally worked out how the Blooded Sect are getting the casts to work - a specific frequency that we have now isolated was causing a specific brain centre to work overtime, absorbing the details and then getting the rest of the body to work to those details. We have a prototype ready for testing to stop this frequency, and then we'll be testing some sort of anti-phase frequency modulation, or some such nonsense, to counteract the effects already on the Jordaxian population. At the moment it seems that only repeated doses at regular interverals will do the trick."

"Excellent news - send the details to the remaining Jordaxian free people and then get to work intergrating it into our systems."

The people of Jordaxia had done their bidding magnificently, Agamemnon thought, as he strolled between unlit pyres, now home to the mangled corpses of those who died before they could be burned free of their old ways inside the "bull." The smell of rotting flesh displeased Agamemnon, but he wished to see those that refused his enlightenment. The smell would soon be replaced with the purifying stench of redemption. Many of them, particularly the infirm, died on the rack, or in the maidens, before they could be saved. Agamemnon did not pity them, however. They died in denial of the Goddess, in her immeasurable wisdom, and did not deserve burning. He proceeded, almost shrouded in darkness, back to the depths of the facility, where the screams of the next prisoner being tried for heresy were growing louder. As he got closer to the inquisition room, steam filled his vision, the concrete walls turning wet with the condensation. The reason for this came soon after. The prisoner claimed to have seen the Goddess, in an attempt to persuade the inquisition officers that he had indeed been redeemed. To claim such heresy was a mistake so grevious, as to be punished with the destruction of his eyes, and the removal of his tongue, so as to prevent further lies. The inquisitioners had intensely hot metal rods, and were pressing them into his eyes. The prisoner was jerking spasmodically with the pain. Eventually, they removed the metal, and the prisoner slumped unconscious in pain. This was not enough though. His tongue was still to be removed. The head inquisitioner, recongnisable due to his head covering, removed his shirt, so as to prevent blood stainage. Agamemnon seen that he had cut the symbol of the blooded sect into his chest and back, the temporary scarring still red. The prisoner was removed from his bonds, and left kneeling at the front of a table. The second inquisitor, who Agamemnon had not noticed for a while, had left, and returned with a syringe and a vice. He attatched the vice to the table, and plunged the lethal looking syringe into his back. The man came awake with a howl, wailing at his blindness. The first inquisitioner held him by the shoulders, as the second grabbed his tongue, and held it in the vice. The first inquisitioner let the man tug on his tongue, distorted wails coming from his mouth. He then forced the prisoners mouth open wide, whilst the first took a scalpel, and severed the prisoners tongue. With the only thing holding the prisoner to the table released, he swung back, cracking his skull into the concrete, rendering him unconscious again.

4 hours later.
The prisoner was allowed to regain consciousness on his own, and felt his bindings being tightened. He was sat at a table. The first inquisitioner ordered him to open his mouth, and the prisoner jerked back, his bindings tightening, biting into his wrists. He tried to move his fingers, but was unable to.
After a few moments of silence, the inquisitioner told him that he was to be fed, so that he may confess in front of a crowd his sins, so that they may forgive him. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and a meat was thrust inside. As he chewed the tough meat, the inquisitioner had a small smile on his face. On a plate in front of the prisoner was his 10 fingers, whilst he was eating his own tongue. He would be told at his execution what he had done. For now, it was preparation for the branding, and the inscribing. As the prisoner finished his meal, he was offered water to drink, which he gulped down quickly. He was then lead by the restraints, and flung down roughly on another table, the inquisitioners knee on his head. As he squirmed, beating his digitless fists off the inquisitioners thigh, his back was seared up and down, as he was branded a heretic. His skin, instantly charred by the brand released a foul stench, but it was not over. Using a knife, the same symbol was etched in numerous places. On his chest, on his head, on his arms. Blood was flowing readily, but it was made sure he did not die. He was once again picked up, and carried, to be placed in a truck, in preparation for his final punishment. All the while, Agamemnon was with him, silent, seething with rage at the mans heresy. as the truck bounced along the uneven jungle, the unsecured prisoner bounced from end to end, occasionally attempting to stand, only to be knocked down by another bump. Eventually, the truck wound to a stop, the prisoner removed slowly. He was guided along, not realising the large crowd, nor even that he was standing in the centre of the city. Seeing the marks on him, the people realised that to speak to the man was to be condemned to his fate. He was secured to a lamp-post, and Agamemnon, who had remained inconspicous, strode out in front of him. He looked at each of the crowd, knowing what they came here to do, knowing what would soon happen to this man, who had rejected forgiveness and brotherhood. He spoke to the crowd in a quiet voice, that nonetheless reached the ears of all those who stood near.

"This man has been brought here to confess to his blasphemy. To confess to his heresy. He seeks the forgiveness of our order, to become one with us. To seek the approval of the divine. Yet, how can this man claim to have seen the error of his ways, when he still claims to have been visited by the Goddess herself?" Had Agamemnon had any less control of the crowd, they may have laughed at the prisoners stupidity. Instead they stood, motionless, listening still. He continued.
"There can be no forgiveness for this man, however. His sin has displeased our glorious and gracious Goddess. She has decreed that he is to be punished." With that, he strode off, disappearing round a corner. The crowds attention turned to the prisoner, who was looking to the left and right as if he would be warned of what would be happened. A member of the crowd in the front was the first to act. With a stone, given to her by priests of the order, she hurled at with all her strength, and it collided with the prisoners chest, crushing and smashing ribs. The rest of the crowd began to hurl their stones, ending the prisoners life under a hail of rock. With the act done, the crowd disippated, and the prisoner was left to rot there as a warning toall else who claim divine visitation.

bump

OOC: GLEEEE!!

The Senate building - Falastur.

The Jordaxian Emperors car pulled up in front of the building, and he stepped out, Commodore Williams close behind. "The meeting may take many hours" he thought. He walked towards the Senate building.

With the final testing of the equipment that would prevent the broadcasts from subverting the troops finished, the first production runs were made, and delivered to various Phoenixius guards stationed around the island. With these new headsets, they would be able to attack the Blooded Sect without worrying if they would become one of their enemies.

After several days where hundreds of the headsets were created, the first troops boarded the transports that would take them to the nearest island and attempt to take out any of the cult that resided there. They planned on helping Jordaxian government retake their homeland. The first few headsets created were currently onroute to Falastur to be delivered to the Jordaxian leaders.

[code:1:eb7ce35c12]For the attention of: Representatives of the true Jordaxian
From: The People's State of Momanguise
Subject: Jordaxia
Security: Cleared

Though our two nation hold past injustices between us, we feel that we cannot allow your homeland to be violated any longer. We hereby pledge our support to any attempt to re-take the Jordaxian mainland.

Yours sincerely,

Fidel Binghola, Grand Marshall of the MAF.
[/code:1:eb7ce35c12]

The Republic of Roach-Busters has immediately dispatched 1,000 guerrillas to help Jordaxia. President J.L. makes it clear that more help will be sent if and when Jordaxia wishes for it.

OOC: Sorry it took so long to post this. I wrote it out once, but I lost it went it refused to post, and I had to come off the internet.....

IC:

The motorcade containing the Jordaxian Emperor and his aides and Naval Officers, and the Falasturian President with several of the Falasturian Officers commanding the 1st Fleet entered through the splendid gates of the Falasturian Senate Building, and their escort peeled off as the limousines pulled up by the main entrance to the building. The occupants of the cars stepped out, entered through the great glass doors of the Senate, and proceeded, flanked by Senatorial Guardsmen, through the Building until they came to two modest oak doors at the end of a corridor. Two Senatorial Guard opened the doors into a room filled largely by a great circular table. Around the table was seated a great many people already - a number of men and women in Service Uniforms of High-ranking Military positions, Ministers of the Cabinet and Senate, and other important persons. Around the edge of the room sat a number of aides, at much smaller, one-person desks, with small computers in front of them and various documentations, and each of them had in their ear a small ear-piece, designed to confer quietly with their respective Bosses and other persons not in the Conference.

The President walked around the table, giving a bow as he indicated a great chair next to the vacant seat of the Falasturian Emperor to which the Jordaxian Emperor was invited to sit. Other Jordaxians were shown to other seats at the table as the President sat down on the other side of the absent Falasturian Monarch's seat. Finally, when all were seated, and the doors to the room were closed, panels in front of the newly arrived men and women slid back to reveal flat-screen computer monitors and keyboards, along with small holographic displays, to aid the various people. Those already seated had their screens already in view. With this, the President felt ready to speak, and began.

"Your Highness, on behalf of everyone here, and everyone in my country, I welcome you to Terila, capital of Falastur. We all hope you enjoy your stay, however for obvious reasons we hope it is as short as possible. Perhaps we will make an impression on you, and enjoy your company again here in the future. Hopefully, our own Monarch will be here to greet you in person in such an event." He waited for the Jordaxian Emperor to give a brief thanks, before introducing everyone around the table, and then moving on. "Well, your Highness, we have much to discuss. Is there anything you or any of your citizens wish to make said before we begin the log of the meeting, and begin to discuss the more important issues?"

Momanguise, RB, thank you for your offers. They shall be considered most seriously. Phoenixius, thank you for the headsets. I trust you will not mind if I make my own, following the same procedure?



The Jordaxian Emperor leaned across the vacants monarchs seat, and spoke. He has a clinical, slightly velvety voice, intensely precise.
"I, personally, would like to thank you for your support in this matter. Without your assistance, I do not know where we would turn to. We noticed some interest among your naval officers at our ships, perhaps they would be interested in touring them. Speaking on more business related matters, for a moment, perhaps we could make some agreement to exchange the technical information on these ships, in return for logistical support? We cannot maintain ourselves forever, and the return to power will likely take a rather long time."

He leaned back in his seat, and waited for the response.

"Yes, yes. I am sure many of our Naval staff would be delighted to have the chance to exchange technology and explore the intricacies of your ships. I know little of them, but I hear they are very advanced in their propulsion abilities. But we should move on.

Perhaps first we should establish where we stand. We know that all of Jordaxia lies under the control of the group naming themselves "the Blooded Lands". But do they control the population? What control do you have over your military? And is there any chance that special operatives can inflitrate the Jordaxian society? Furthermore, we need to discuss how to go about the recapture of Jordaxia. Have you anything in mind?"

All eyes turned to the Jordaxian Emperor.

The Jordaxian Emperor, ashamed at how simply he had lost control, spoke quietly, just loud enough for everyone to hear him.

"I have lost control. Completely. The population are fanatically loyal to the new regime, and we have had to pull what remains of the Jordaxian free people from the fire. We had to evacuate them from mobs of people, attacking them savagely. At this time, we do not know what to do. Our army and airforce have also become fanatically loyal to this new regime, our navy remained unaffected, as they have not seen home for months.
As for infiltration? It is unlikely. These people seem acutely aware of everyone being who they seem. As for, "aggressive infiltration", I would rather not do that, unless necessary. I feel it may be though. We have plans for the recapture Jordaxia, all of them involving violence. Naval officers believe that the only way to secure the isles, is by a logical progression, securing all of the external islands, before moving to the cities. We are drastically short of troops, so we must hope that a way to reverse the process can be found, otherwise we shall be facing impossible odds. The fact that they control our airforce is very worrying, its size could provide a great danger to the fleet."

Having said his piece, he awaited the response from the Falasturian government.

OOC: I know that I said that we don't know how to reverse the process, it's because I'll assume that word of the developments in phoenixius haven't been heard yet.

OOC2:Actually Jordaxia, just that I signed in as the wrong nation, and it seems to enjoy randomly changing my nation on the forum.

OOC: Jordaxia has asked me to take the Blooded Lands' place and play out the part of the fanatic sect. Judging from the past posts, it should be a LOT of fun to play them.

It should also be noted that this is a prequel of sorts, happening before the Order and Jordaxia reached the height of their power, which will be played out after all of this Shivan nonsense.

IC: Guitar played in the background, warped horribly by the static of the ancient radio. It was a Jimi Hendrix piece, one of his earlier ones, back in the day when music wasn't all about whining and getting rich. No, then it was all about getting high, having lots of unsafe sex, and protesting the wars. All of these were evil things, as evil as the heathens and heretics who were being...redeemed in the basement below. Their screams were almost drowned out by the wailing of the guitar, and the two mixed together in Agamemnon's head to create a fuel, the fuel which drove him to persecute the heathens. The sound coming from the radio was a necessary evil, and he kept it on to keep him focused in his mission, no, his destiny to destroy all that was impure in the Goddess's sight. If he kept himself aware of the evils that he purged, perhaps it would make him all the stronger when the time came?

The sound from the radio, as well as a bare lightbulb suspended on the ceiling, died very suddenly as a surge of electricity fried the generator outside. Agamemnon got to his feet to investigate the cause of the disturbance, clutching various symbols of his Goddess to his chest to keep all evil at bay. His heart almost stopped as a junior member of the sect, devoid of his ceremonial robes due to the rather...messy torture that he was carrying out, rushed up the stairs. The young man bowed low at his superior's feet, kissing the hem of his robes. Agamemnon waved a hand airily, bidding the man to rise. He did so, and spoke in hurried, quiet tones, sweat dripping down his face with the fear of what he was reporting. The man had a reputation for being a sloppy butcher and for getting out of control with the torture, and now it seemed that he had rather overused an electrical torture device. The device was quickly becoming a favorite of the "confessors", due both to its effectiveness and its brutality. It consisted of nails, electric heaters, and a small electricity generator. The nails were connected to the heating device, and were plunged into certain parts of the body. Slowly, the heat would be turned up until the temperature was too extreme for the skin to take. The skin would turn bright red, sizzle, air pockets would rise and form bubbles in the skin, the skin would turn black and, in some cases, caught fire. If left on for long enough, the skin would melt and drip over the table into a bucket. The victim was left alive, writhing in agony, until unconsciousness took over. When they awoke, the drippings from their skin were fed to them as a drink, mixed with water to keep it as a liquid. Realization would dawn in the victim's mind as he realized what he was drinking. Repulsion was immediate, but any struggling led to further torture.

Yes, the sect had much practice in how to make men suffer.

However, for all of its Confessional uses, the device used a ridiculous amount of power. In this case, the power in the building had been fried, along with whoever was moaning downstairs. Agamemnon, tiring of the ceaseless wailing, handed the junior Confessor a pistol. The Confessor knew exactly what to do with it. There were three bullets in the magazine: Two for the hopelessly-damned heathen, one for himself for his failure. The Confessor gulped automatically at the sight of the gun and the knowledge that went with it, but got a firm grip on it and went downstairs.

A pity, I'll need a new Confessor for this section of the island

Moments later, two shots rang out in quick succession, followed by a hesitant silence, and finally a third gunshot. There was a quiet thud as the Confessor hit the ground, most of his head now decorating the wall behind him. The noise from the gunshots echoed throughout the building. Agamemnon strolled outside into the heat and sunlight, offering silent praises to the Goddess for these accomplished endeavors. Crowds formed outside, throwing rocks at the hopeless heretics of the old Jordaxia. The iron bull roared with flame, almost, but not quite muffling the screams of the heretic inside. As if to prove to the world that he had no compassion for those who went against the wishes of the Goddess, Agamemnon smiled like a child that is opening the first of his Christmas presents. He was not supposed to take excessive pleasure in the suffering of the heretics, but he couldn't help himself. Their screams were so pleasing, their pleas for mercy made him laugh aloud, and their writhing and twitching after they were finally killed was a further testament to the Goddess's wrath.

Did the Jordaxian emperor want his lands back? That was truly a pity, because it appeared that the people of his empire didn't want the emperor back. It looked to Agamemnon that they rather liked having the Goddess watch over them. So even if the old emperor came back with heretics and weapons, what would they rule over?

The mind of a heretic, reasoned Agamemnon, is truly an enigma that I shall never be able to explain.


OOC: That should about do it for now.

Mind if I join?