NationStates Jolt Archive

On some of the shores, bodies of refugees wash up from several ships that the Navy of Nemh have torpedoed (whoever wants to claim regugees, be my guest...i'm trying to get a hang on this type of rp...)

:sniper:

Some of these refugees were those loyal to Julius Graffia of Risban, who had just been overthrown. Attempting to escape imprisonment by the new government, they loaded onto ships and attempted to escape into various other nations, one of them being Nemh.


A transmission is sent to the leader of Nemh.
"Hello. You have exterminated some Risban Refugees. The Empire of Risban would like to extend its thanks to you for halting these traitors to the new emperor of Risban. We request permission to send in choppers and reclaim the bodies.
-Alexander Perkins, Risban Minister of Foreign Affairs.

A reply comes in from a heavily accented man with a gruff voice, "This is Lord Krakhas. So long as you do not come to our coast, we have no problem with you retrieving the bodies or what is left of them. If you send lists to us, we will return any that we can identify to you."

Another reply is sent.
Very well. We are sending a list to you right now. One of our transports will be just outside of your boundaries awaiting transfer.
-Perkins

A new reply from Krakhas:

The Overlord thanks you. We will be sending the first boat that has bodies that were recovered right after interception. There were intially a few that survived the torpedo, but Overlord Eroc sends his regrets that they died of their injuries shortly after being picked up.

Slaytanicca is mortified by the actions of Nehm, and pleads with the government not to allow further atrocities such as this. In addition, we stress the death of any Slaytaniccan-born, Slaytaniccan citizen or Slaytaniccan emmigrant killed in such a fashion will be viewed as an act of war.

A transmission from the thane Krakhas:
The Overlord said that if they are killed, then they should not have been in our sea anyway. We have tried to stay isolated but it appears that certain factions of other nations cannot leave things alone. the men of the crescent came and tried to poison our minds against our god Azatoth. we could not have that, so we killed them. And anyone else who comes without invitation will meet a similar fate. If you feel you must war with us, then do what you must, but we will not cease in our mission to protect our culture and faiths.

The Royal States of Tenarius today released this statement:

"We the people of Tenarius are saddened by this violence. Nemh should be deporting these simple, afraid men and women to other countries, not just blowing them up. Tenarius has long been a camp for refugees and it has long seen the horrors that war, famine and tyrants can put on their backs. We sincerely hope that Nemh reconsiders its actions.

Very well. We will continue to monitor the travels of our overseas citizens, and weep for anyone setting foot anywhere near your despoiled nation. We will not open trade or diplomatic channels with you until you stop these barbaric practices, and will warn our citizens to avoid your country like the plague. Certainly it is a shame, as several sects in Slaytanicca worship Azathoth and would seek to visit your nation.
- Jef C Gorevomit, Slaytanicca

The government of Celtlund stands with the nation of Nemh in this matter. We believe that each soverign nation has a right to set its immigration policy and protect its land from foreign invaders.

Celtlund allows immigration only for people who can prove they are of Celtic ancestory. Furthermore we do no grant political assylum to anyone.

Anyone entering Celtlund without a visa is immediatly deported or imprisoned and sent to the mines.

Any large groups attempting to enter Celtlund are seen and treated as invaders.

Nemh. If you need any assistance in protecting your shores we will be more than happy to assist you.

The Ard Re of Celtlund
Sean

Message to Tenarius:

We will take your sadness into consideration. The Overlord though feels such extremes are necessary.

-Krakhas the Watcher, Thane of Nemh and Overseer of Security

To Slaytannica:

Pilgrims of Azatoth are welcomed, but we do not tolerate infidels trying to sneak upon our soil and destroy our faith and our culture. We are currently in the processes of strengthening our resolves on this issue.

-Krakhas the Watcher, Thane of Nemh and Overseer of Security

The Empire of Risban, too, supports the Fiefdom of Nehm in this matter. While Risban itself does not blow up unauthorized immigrants, it should not be up to any other country to determine how Nemh acts towards people illegally crossing its borders. The rulers of Nehm should be able to determine how to deal with border breachers in whatever way it sees necessary.

The Ard Re Sean of Celtlund-

We appreciate the offer of assistance and the support on our stance. We welcome any help our Celtic friends can give us. Nemh is made up of a now extinct race of men, along with the blood of vikings and celts-with exception to Dimsdale and a few minorities. Our culture has been in existence for thousands of years. Our people enjoy free speech to excess, the security of a great military and many other things. We only seek to perpetuate ourselves in the manner we have for aeons. We thank you deeply.

-Eroc the Lost, Overlord of Nemh

This is great news for our Azathoth-worshipping peoples. While we shall disuade them from visiting your nation we certainly will not disallow it. A recent poll indicates 70% of Azthoth worshipping citizens of Slaytanicca wish to visit your nation in the future, with up to seven percent wishing to visit in the next three months.
This will not change our stance on the slaughters, and we feel unable to lift the trade restrictions at this time.

OOC: Perhaps one or two pilgrims could be frauds, who start preaching corrupting messages of secular peace and harmony? My dumb hippies would probably try summat like that. Might make for a good RP.. it's up to you mate.

OOC-Yeah, sure...Eroc and his lords need some exercise :cool: :sniper:

To Risban:

We thank you for your support. Will tell Thorkell and Dimsdale to come to you from where they are.

-Krakhas of Nemh

To Slaytannica:

You must do what you must do, but we will miss your imports-we tagged a hefty tariff on them. But we are happy you will not impede fellow worshippers of Azatoth from visiting our shrines and temples."

-Krakhas of Nemh

Local News

Andrew "Harrowflesh" Coleburn, 20, was reported missing in the rogue nation of Nemh Tuesday evening when he failed to return to his party. Andrew had journeyed to the small country with a group of friends, all members of an Azathoth-worshipping sect seeking pilgrimage to the nation. Oddly, his friends and relatives say he was a fierce atheist and socialist, not a member of such a sect.
"He wasn't anything of the kind" stated his tearful girlfriend of two years, Josie "Gutworm" Harfield. "He hung around with a few. Fuck knows what he was doing there. I just want him.. home.." she finished, collapsing into sobs.

No word has come form Nemh regarding the missing man.

==========UPDATE==========

The owner of a local printer has claimed the man missing in Nemh, Andrew "Harrowflesh" Coleburn, had ordered two thousand panphlets days before his trip. While no copy of the pamphlet remains, the printer, who wishes to remain nameless, remembers the pamphlets were of an atheistic nature and sought to inspire revolt. "I mean, they stuck out" he remarked. "Why would anyone want to fling this crap around in Slaytanicca?"
We will refrain from speculation, but as yet, there is still no response from Nemh.

Eroc receives word of this in his chambers, "Lovely. Just f****** lovely..."

The Esteemed Eroc the Lost, Overlord of Nemh;

A citizen of Slaytanicca, male, 20, 6'1, long brown hair by the name of Andrew Coleburn went missing in your country five days ago. We have reason to believe he may have been distributing provocative pamphlets. While we do not condone the action, we would appreciate any news you may have of his current state and whereabouts.

Thank you,
Jeff C Gorevomit, Slaytanicca

OOC: Go ahead dude, do what you want. We won't nuke you or anything, just thought it might be interesting.

Maia receives word of these events.

Waving her hand over a translucent globe on the table before her, she watches as lines and colors waver and swirl, finally joining to form the visage of a dignified older gentleman in black uniform.

"Admiral Baralan, take a small contingent of shadowships to this place Nemh, prepared to assist these refugees with resettlement. You have authorization to use the sigil ring for whatever supplies you need. Secrecy is important; we cannot risk confrontation. Questions?"

"Two, Excellency. If resisted do we engage or withdraw? Also, I would like a list of nations open to accept these expatriates, which list I presume includes ourselves."

Maia concealed her smile. She knew how dearly this old salt longed for combat, but trusted he would do nothing to endanger this mission. "Old friend, I trust your discretion and vast experience as far as judging best how to respond to the offer of battle." Catching the glimmer in his eye, she added: "Of course you know our weakened condition. We could never sustain any prolonged combat."

He bowed his head in acceptance of this instruction.

""As for your second query, Baralan, I will send a courier with such a list. He should be there momentarily. As you suspect, our name will head that list. We could do no less and remain ourselves."

The admiral bowed again, more deeply this time, and asked leave to depart in order to commence preparations.

Leave was granted, and the vision in the globe dissolved again.

"Hap!" cried Maia.

A young man in casual dress quickly appeared.

"Take this list which I am about to write, and bear it to Admiral 'Bear' at once."

The youth grinned at this use of the veteran's familiar but unacknowledged nickname.

"This is a confidential military matter; I am entrusting you with affairs of state. Haste is urgent", she muttered as she hurriedly penned a series of nation names on a scrap of parchment.

"Is it battle then? Can I fight too? I've been training you know, and I'm almost full height! Please, Mother!"

She eyed him coldly. "You will address me as 'Excellency', Courier Haplond. When you demonstrate that you are capable of conducting your present duties effectively and unquestioningly, other opportunities will be presented. Now hasten!"

She thrust the still-wet scoll at the chastened youth, who fled from the chamber with such speed that the tapestries fluttered.

"Ah, Hap" she whispered. "So much like your father. You are all I have, you and Leth, but she at least is not always straining at the leash. If I could I would devise some stratagem to keep you always safe beside me, if only I did not know that this would crush your spirit and kill you."

She stood by her window, watching the figure of a young man running pell-mell down the Hill of Council toward the harbor.

The figure shrank in the distance, and disappeared.

"Light be with you Hap...Use your head, you young dolt...whatever happens."

Eroc sat in his chambers, scowling down his lengthy nose at the pages of an ancient tome of a rather dark nature with intense grey eyes. A taller fellow, in brighter grey robes than the Overlord wore, sat in a chair with a devious smirk on his face.
In Kell, an ancient dialect from an isolated area of the island, the young man with hair and eyes similar to the draconic looking Overlord spoke, "No one said being the Overlord would be easy, Eroc."
Eroc looked up at him without moving his head and twitched his nose, "Before that idiot came here, we did not have this."
"Ah," the smirking man shifted in his seat, "But we have it now. And because of Herr Dimsdale, everyone has decided we are a backward nation the pizzle of other nations can come to and infest and impose their wretched faith and culture upon. I wanted to kill him when we had the chance, but you did not let me."
Eroc raised an eyebrow, "I thought it was you that did not want him killed or I would've cut him apart myself."
The two men looked at each other silently for a moment, then the taller one broke the silence, "We have another problem, Eroc."
"I am aware of that. That godless moron."
"He is in Drachmar handing out pamphlets against our gods. Here is what I suggest. He merely vanishes, by the usual methods, of course. We tell the esteemed ruler of Slaytannica that he is nowhere to be found, ja?"
Eroc folded his hands over part of his face as he leaned forward in his chair, "As tempting as that is, Gorsedd, methinks we should try to persuade him to leave first-your usual methods. If he becomes too dangerous, then make his vanishing so."
Gorsedd smiled broadly, "Softening up in your old age, brother?"
The Overlord shook his head, still resting it against his hands, "Right now, Thorkell is with that moron and out of our range of protection. If we do anything to him while our cousin is wandering about the planet alone, they might seek revenge upon us through him."
"Good point, as always," Gorsedd stands up, "I shall go and tend to 'talking' our godless friend into going back home while he has the legs to do so then. I shall see you at supper tomight."
Eroc goes back to looking at his book, head still in hands as his brother exits the study.

(OOC-how should I proceed with the shadowships thing?)

The admiral is supervising the provision of stores when the courier runs up in front of him, breathless.

Head down submissively, the youth holds out the scroll and pants: "Lord Admiral, a ... dispatch from...her Excellency..."

"Rise" says the officer curtly, meaning the courier may stand at ease. He takes the smudged missive and scans it quickly. Nodding his head, he thrust the paper inside his surcoat. "Just the list I myself would have made, and done in a moment's time. Thank the Light we live under an able ruler."

Noticing the youth still standing there, he scowls and tosses him some coins. "Here lad, for your trouble.... Go find a grog shop down on Harbor Row" he adds with a smirk. Hap is still unable to grow a mustache, and his voice breaks now and then.

The youth flushes, but knows how to play his role. He bows and withdraws quietly, heading for a row of small shops in the town.

The "Bear" turns to his staff. "In addition to exact records of the weight of all our stores, I want a particularly accurate count of our crew, including an estimate of their size. We will be running under shadow, using technology we no longer understand. If our calculations are off by even a few pounds, we may lose our cover. Understood?"[/i]

His Viscount nods, and turns to the flagship captain who hurries off to ensure that this directive is carried out.

Years ago these people had been feard for their weapons of power. They employed cloaking devices which they called "shadow", they could communicate at a distance with crytal globes, their staves could send furious energy bolts, they had unusual skills at healing, foretelling, and fast travel. But a plague had decimated the nation, including all the ancients who had been keepers of the secret lore. The survivors could only guess at the forces and mechanisms which operated their instruments, and as a result their power supplies wer running low, and if something broke down there was no one who could make a repair. They lived now in fear and secrecy, unknown to their neighbors who thought them all dead.

This humanitarian mission was the first venture beyond the safety of their own coasts in more than a generation. It was risky beyond imagining. It was also necessary; if they could not unlock the mysteries of their own technology, they needed outsiders with a new perspective who might give them insight. The refugess would give them a chance.

Meanwhile Hap ran into a merchant's shop and purchased a sack of dried meat and preserved fruit, a jacket, cap, and boat shoes. He meant to stow away on the flagship, and prove to his mother that he was fit to be a warrior.

Andy had been looking forward to the "pilgrimage" for weeks. Get away from work and the missus for a bit,see somewhere new, stand at the foot of the statue of Azatoth, and sample the local intoxicants while his mates discussed their irrational beliefs with the locals. He had come up with his plan during a bourbon-and-skunk fueled discussion with one of the lads, and they'd bet him a hundred bars he wouldn't even print the leaflets out and smuggle them in, let alone attempt a little "conversion".

After the terror of customs, he'd pretty much forgotten about the leaflets in his backpack. The penultimate night of the trip, however, he'd engaged a local in a little philosophical and theological debate. He drunkenly mentioned the recent killings of immigrants, and the man appeared reasonable, even agreeing to a point with the immorality of the act. Eventually he'd told him of his plan and the leaflets, and the man, seeming sincere enough, had asked for one, which Andy had promissed to bring the next evening.

The next day Andy felt a little rough, so his mates left without him. He thought of going to the bar for a pickup, and, remembering the leaflets, stuffed a few into his pocket. After a couple of glasses to kill his hangover, he surreptiously left a leaflet on the chair.

After that he left them everywhere he could. Phonebooths, fast-food shops, tourist centres, bars. He was just wondering when someone would kick the shit out of him for this when he was jumped..

When he woke up in hospital, he'd had three staples in his skull and nearly thirty stiches in his face. The pain in his head was not quite as troubling, however, as the two men standing ominously over him..

Some of the pamphlets were brought to Eroc in his chambers.
"Oh, now that's not right," he said to himself, "We are not THAT oppressive...I thought the people here are better off than under Tancred..."

Baralan is at the prow of his flagship. All the fleet are under weigh.
Signal lights from a neighboring cutter bring troubling news; it seems the flagship is poorly cloaked. Shadow covers all ships but one, his own.

"Bring me the techmasters at once!" he barks. To himself he mutters "Masters, bah. We have not mastered our technology for generations. Superstitious guess makers, that's all they are."

But when the tech crew appear, they seem confident and united. "If all ships were equally affected we would be uneasy, since the cause could be any one of a number of things, even including the final collapse of the unknown power source which we have all been anticipating with dread, Admiral. But since only one ship has lost its shadow, we agree there is only one likely cause. The mass of the ship has not been properly calibrated to the cloaking mechanism. In other words, you are too big. Some sailor brought his pet cat maybe, or even a serving wench, who knows. Perhaps your ship's cook smuggled an extra hogshead of mead, he has done that before."

The"Bear" had to chuckle at this. Pod, the ship's cook, had quite a colorful record. "First mate! Form a gang and examine the ship for overage, this instant!" The mate who was standing by secretly hoping to be called on for action snapped his heels together and saluted. "Aye, Admiral!"

It was not too long until a red-faced stammering young man with a black eye was brought before Baralan. "We found him in a lifeboat Admiral. Put up a fight decent enough for somebody who's barely a cabin boy."

"Well, if it isn't the courier! Tell me, then, do you have another meesage? No, I doubt that. Are you a spy then, or saboteur?"

The youth blanched but held his chin up bravely and replied "No your lordship. I am simply a warrior who is sick to death of carrying parchments and craves action. I can handle a sword, as well as my fists. I offer myself in your service."

The old sea dog scowled and cast an analytical eye up and down the young man's frame, lingering longest over the youth's eyes. "Service, eh? My personal valet broke his leg falling down the hatch as we left port; he's in the infirmirary right now. I miss his services, not merely attending to my food and clothing but also communicating with my staff. I should flog you, but instead I will use you for something you are good at; carrying parchments."

Hap winced but bowed in submission. "As your lorship wishes."

The Admiral turned to the tech crew. "Well it seems we have to recalibrate for one more body. Measure him then. Too bad it couldn't have been a wench or some mead, eh?" With a twinkle in his eye, he dismissed them all.

OOC-What's up with the guy with the pamphlets?

The warships of Celtlund that were dispatched to assist Nemh, are on wartime patrol just outside the territorial waters of Nemh.

Suddenly a destroyer appears on the southern horizon, away from the land of Nemh. Capt. O’Connor calls, “Battle stations.”

The alarm sounds and the sailors rush to their battle stations. Suddenly and without warning the destroyer fires its deck guns at Capt. O’Connor’s flagship.

Capt. O’Connor, confident of the superiority of the Celtic fleet calmly turns and says, “Fire at will. Sink the bastard.” He turned toward the youth standing beside him and said, “Hap, you have done well and will be amply rewarded for this, but how did you know the old Admiral would have his scout ship fire on us at first sight?”

Looking at the sinking destroyer through binoculars they could clearly see the flag of Tar Galdon fluttering in the wind.

Coming out to help patrol is part of the Nemhec fleet-which is comprised of a couple of ww2 era minesweepers, a swift boat and several longships-and i mean viking longships. it becomes painfully apparent just how new to technology the Nemhecs are.

OOC: Some nationalists, fudamentalists or whatever beat him up. Our nation knows nothing of this.
Sorry this was so lame.. feel free to torture him to death/send him home/make a diplomatic incident of it/whatever..