Armed Military States
02-11-2004, 18:11
Commander General Vlad Pryde grasped his wife's hand as she stepped out of the hover-limo at the steps into the Duke Grendal von Hasek Hall of Heros. As she did, tens of thousands cheered and greeted thier leader and his wife with ferocious pride. They both turned to the crowd and cameras, waving appreciatively and smiling brightly. They were both dressed formally; Vlad in full military attire, consisting of his crisp black dress-jacket, rivited here and there with many patches and of past military experience and campaigns. His rank Insignia stood out vividley at his neck; the highest rank in the States. He wore a crisp red dress shirt undernieth his Jacket, and his shoulders were adorned with a cloak that stretched over his back and was insignated with the AMS's Emblem: a Jade Falcon with a sword in it's talons; red eyes gleaming. His pants were black, with a gold stripe down the sides that ended tucked into his highly polished knee-high dress boots. At his hips, he wore his dress belt, consisting of his uniform sword on his left, and .45 caliber semi-automatic Kimber pistol on his right; both of which he was allowed to wear due to his rank. The sword was beautifully enameled, with an ivory handle and gold scabbard. His pistol was simularily designed, but with a Jade Falcon insignia embedded in pure gold into the ivory handle, with bloodred rubies for the eyes. It's mouth was in an open shriek. Hidden within the holdster, the slide was silver, with traces of gold engraving his name on one side of the slide, and rank on the other. Not to mention the caliber size and Kimber brand name. He had never used the sword before, though he was quite fluent and deadly with one. But this one that he carried, he only caried for looks, though if he had to, it could be used. The same went for his pistol. He had only fired it once, and it was made for looks rather than use. But he always kept it loaded, with two spare magazines hidden.
His wife, Sierra Breantis-Pryde, was a beautifully figured specimen of a woman, with long flowing bright red hair, and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks to match. Her eyes were brilliantly green. Her heritage stretched back hundreds of years to the Irish/Welsh lands of the North.
Vlad was a small man for his age, standing at only 5' 6" tall, with black cropped hair, and icy-blue eyes. He also wore a small goatee that stretched from his upper lip down his chin. Vlad was also quite fit for his age; his dress uniform hiding his lean and muscular frame. At only 23, he was considered a "Napolean Bonaparte" of recent times. A brilliant tactician, his ingenious mind had allowed him to assend to the leadership position that he now held, winning it over 5 other running Generals. He was beloved by his people, but deeply feared by his enemies. And there were many of them.
It's not that he was a bad man. Vlad loved life, and he loved people in general. But he did have his own way of running his country which, under his rule, had become a dictatorship in only two years time. He was fiercly loyal to his elite army, and they were just as loyal to him. Most of his people loved him as well, but those that didn't were not in a position to voice thier loathing or hatred. He delt justice swiftly and publicly, and it normally drew great appeal and approval. For the most part, everyone went about thier daily lives as they wished, but the government and himself kept a close eye on the populace of 725 million people.
His aid, Marshal Randal Stiener-Davion stepped in close behind him, but kept a respectful distance. A phlaynks of heavily armed and armored Elite Commandoes stood around Vlad and his wife, Sierra, as they continued to wave to the adoring crowd. Vlad's eyes flickered up to the snipers nestled on the surrounding roof tops, but was careful not to let his gaze linger for too long, lest thier positions be given away.
Finally, with a last wave, the couple turned thier backs to the fanatic crowd and began thier assend up the steps. Various Generals and Military leaders (handpicked by Vlad) snapped to attention and saluted as he made his way up to the top of the huge Mosoleum. Once at the top stairs of the massive and beautifully restored building, they again turned, gave some final waves, then were ushered inside.
The couple walked down the "Hall of Heros" which gave the ancient building it's name. It was essentially just that: a long and wide hall, with portraits of various leaders, both past and present, who had contributed to the country in some way or another. There was also ancient artifacts that were treasures of past leaders and warlords, encased in thick glass cabninets; some benieth a portrait or two. They had such things as personal pictures or keepings of each person. Some had ancient weapons that the leaders used in thier times, or long forgotten knick-knacks.
"Sir, I have the security report from the Drop Port in Durkan City," said Randal, handing Vlad a small digital data pad. "So far, no ships have entered the Port."
Vlad was suprised at this news. "Hmmmm," he said, "I invited well over a thousand leaders and embassadors....they should be coming soon." He passed the data pad back to Randal. "Do not forget to check the naval ship yards down on the waterfront. I understand some were coming in via thier own private yahts."
Randal nodded once. "Yes Sir....enjoy the party. Ma'am." Randal left briskly with a nodd to Sierra, who smiled graciously as he turned away.
Vlad smiled to his wife as they entered the massive Ball Room at the end of the lengthy corridor. It was brilliantly lit with great glass Chandiliers, which gleamed light off of the glass-smooth marble floor. Tables were stretched all the way around the edges of the room, piled with food and drinks. There was also the occasional butler passing around glasses of Glengarry Black Label Special Reserve; a favorite wine of Vlad's. A butler approached Vlad, holding a tray of Cuban Cigars. Vlad accepted one graciously, bit off the tip, and lit it with the provided lighter. He thanked the butler, who departed swiftly. Vlad turned to his wife.
"My love, lest the local dignitaries split us up, which they soon will, I will see you at the meeting tonight? I know how much you love to dance, so I will probably see you there as well." He leaned in and kissed her gently on her forehead.
Sierra smiled warmly and kissed her husband back. "Love, you know how much I hate to stand around and listen to you men talk about how great you are, so I will go and enlighten my friends." She gestured towards the couches, where some elegantly dressed women were already seated, chatting closely. "And yes, I do want to dance later, once the ball gets started. You will be giving a speech beforehand, I take it?"
Vlad wrapped one arm around her and held her close as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Yes, I will be. Our country has survived for 300 years, and it is more powerful now than ever. I need to thank everyone for coming tonight, and for helping this country get to where it is today."
Sierra spoke softly. "And much of it would not be possible these past few years had it not been for you, my love." She traced a finger over the light scar that stretched from his temple, over his cheek, and down his jawbone. It was a scar that he had recieved two years ago, just shortly after he had taken office; when an assassin had attempted to kill him while he slept one evening. The assassin failed, and Vlad had him executed publically.
But what Sierra had said was true. In the two and a half years that he had led the AMS, his reforms and ideals had taken the government out of the largest deficit in history and had built a powerhouse economy out of it. He had also increased schooling and education for children, and enforced laws that brought dangerous criminals to justice.
Vlad sighed as Sierra pulled away gently, glancing at the approaching dignitaries and local Lords. There was already about 115 people there, miandering around and greeting eachother. Now, they wanted to greet thier leader himself.
Sierra nodded and departed, heading across the ball floor to greet a friend. She hated standing around, discussing politics and issues with men. Not that she was sexists, but such topics were not very interesting to her, and it was usually the men who engaged in them.
Vlad reached his hand out and shook it warmly with the first person who approached. He couldn't wait for the others to get here.
OOC: Alright folks, come in and celebrate the 300 year aniversary of my country. Anyone is invited, both military dictatorships and democracys. The only rule is: NO ASSASSINATIONS! :D Play nice! ;)
His wife, Sierra Breantis-Pryde, was a beautifully figured specimen of a woman, with long flowing bright red hair, and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks to match. Her eyes were brilliantly green. Her heritage stretched back hundreds of years to the Irish/Welsh lands of the North.
Vlad was a small man for his age, standing at only 5' 6" tall, with black cropped hair, and icy-blue eyes. He also wore a small goatee that stretched from his upper lip down his chin. Vlad was also quite fit for his age; his dress uniform hiding his lean and muscular frame. At only 23, he was considered a "Napolean Bonaparte" of recent times. A brilliant tactician, his ingenious mind had allowed him to assend to the leadership position that he now held, winning it over 5 other running Generals. He was beloved by his people, but deeply feared by his enemies. And there were many of them.
It's not that he was a bad man. Vlad loved life, and he loved people in general. But he did have his own way of running his country which, under his rule, had become a dictatorship in only two years time. He was fiercly loyal to his elite army, and they were just as loyal to him. Most of his people loved him as well, but those that didn't were not in a position to voice thier loathing or hatred. He delt justice swiftly and publicly, and it normally drew great appeal and approval. For the most part, everyone went about thier daily lives as they wished, but the government and himself kept a close eye on the populace of 725 million people.
His aid, Marshal Randal Stiener-Davion stepped in close behind him, but kept a respectful distance. A phlaynks of heavily armed and armored Elite Commandoes stood around Vlad and his wife, Sierra, as they continued to wave to the adoring crowd. Vlad's eyes flickered up to the snipers nestled on the surrounding roof tops, but was careful not to let his gaze linger for too long, lest thier positions be given away.
Finally, with a last wave, the couple turned thier backs to the fanatic crowd and began thier assend up the steps. Various Generals and Military leaders (handpicked by Vlad) snapped to attention and saluted as he made his way up to the top of the huge Mosoleum. Once at the top stairs of the massive and beautifully restored building, they again turned, gave some final waves, then were ushered inside.
The couple walked down the "Hall of Heros" which gave the ancient building it's name. It was essentially just that: a long and wide hall, with portraits of various leaders, both past and present, who had contributed to the country in some way or another. There was also ancient artifacts that were treasures of past leaders and warlords, encased in thick glass cabninets; some benieth a portrait or two. They had such things as personal pictures or keepings of each person. Some had ancient weapons that the leaders used in thier times, or long forgotten knick-knacks.
"Sir, I have the security report from the Drop Port in Durkan City," said Randal, handing Vlad a small digital data pad. "So far, no ships have entered the Port."
Vlad was suprised at this news. "Hmmmm," he said, "I invited well over a thousand leaders and embassadors....they should be coming soon." He passed the data pad back to Randal. "Do not forget to check the naval ship yards down on the waterfront. I understand some were coming in via thier own private yahts."
Randal nodded once. "Yes Sir....enjoy the party. Ma'am." Randal left briskly with a nodd to Sierra, who smiled graciously as he turned away.
Vlad smiled to his wife as they entered the massive Ball Room at the end of the lengthy corridor. It was brilliantly lit with great glass Chandiliers, which gleamed light off of the glass-smooth marble floor. Tables were stretched all the way around the edges of the room, piled with food and drinks. There was also the occasional butler passing around glasses of Glengarry Black Label Special Reserve; a favorite wine of Vlad's. A butler approached Vlad, holding a tray of Cuban Cigars. Vlad accepted one graciously, bit off the tip, and lit it with the provided lighter. He thanked the butler, who departed swiftly. Vlad turned to his wife.
"My love, lest the local dignitaries split us up, which they soon will, I will see you at the meeting tonight? I know how much you love to dance, so I will probably see you there as well." He leaned in and kissed her gently on her forehead.
Sierra smiled warmly and kissed her husband back. "Love, you know how much I hate to stand around and listen to you men talk about how great you are, so I will go and enlighten my friends." She gestured towards the couches, where some elegantly dressed women were already seated, chatting closely. "And yes, I do want to dance later, once the ball gets started. You will be giving a speech beforehand, I take it?"
Vlad wrapped one arm around her and held her close as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Yes, I will be. Our country has survived for 300 years, and it is more powerful now than ever. I need to thank everyone for coming tonight, and for helping this country get to where it is today."
Sierra spoke softly. "And much of it would not be possible these past few years had it not been for you, my love." She traced a finger over the light scar that stretched from his temple, over his cheek, and down his jawbone. It was a scar that he had recieved two years ago, just shortly after he had taken office; when an assassin had attempted to kill him while he slept one evening. The assassin failed, and Vlad had him executed publically.
But what Sierra had said was true. In the two and a half years that he had led the AMS, his reforms and ideals had taken the government out of the largest deficit in history and had built a powerhouse economy out of it. He had also increased schooling and education for children, and enforced laws that brought dangerous criminals to justice.
Vlad sighed as Sierra pulled away gently, glancing at the approaching dignitaries and local Lords. There was already about 115 people there, miandering around and greeting eachother. Now, they wanted to greet thier leader himself.
Sierra nodded and departed, heading across the ball floor to greet a friend. She hated standing around, discussing politics and issues with men. Not that she was sexists, but such topics were not very interesting to her, and it was usually the men who engaged in them.
Vlad reached his hand out and shook it warmly with the first person who approached. He couldn't wait for the others to get here.
OOC: Alright folks, come in and celebrate the 300 year aniversary of my country. Anyone is invited, both military dictatorships and democracys. The only rule is: NO ASSASSINATIONS! :D Play nice! ;)