NationStates Jolt Archive

Beads of sweat formed on Dreadfire's head as he tossed and turned in his sleep. This has been the fourth time he had been awakened that night, and he rose from his large bed and began walking the hallways of the Great Hall. Hartman had been up late that night working on important international work, but he grew distracted as he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps outside his door. He got up and walked to the door and opened it at the same time Damien did, and the two looked at eachother with surprise.

Damien, what's the matter? Hartman noticed the sweat running down his head, and that was a sign that something big was on the horizon. After hearing Damien speak his peace, Hartman was taken back at what he was hearing. We're leaving the Arda Alliance?!? Damien shook his mighty head and quashed that assumption quickly.

No Hartman, we will remain in the Arda Alliance. I have moved our embassy platform into the region to act as a conduit between AMF and Arda. We will still be very much apart of the Alliance....but there is something more for Automagfreek out there....something new...

The next day Damien stood at his famous balcony and looked over the masses below. The were always eager to hear what the Warlord had to say, and it was always something important.

Freeks and people of the world, hear my words. A great vision came to me in my slumber, and in it I saw a New Dawn for Automagfreek and it's people. No longer will we reside within the ash infested air of Arda..

He was momentarily interrupted by the crowd. After a few seconds they were silenced as Dreadfire raised his hands into the air.

Hear me now, Automagfreek will remain an active participant in the Arda Alliance. I have authorized our embassy platform to move from The Tradelands to Arda so that our presence in the Alliance is still there. As for Automagfreek itself....it has answered the calling something mysterious and new. A place of night and day, fire and ice....this place holds the key to Automagfreek's future and the future of those it is allied to. We will answer the calling...the calling of Gholgoth. It is there that we will find and harness energies the likes of which the world has never seen....energies both good and evil.

I believe that Gholgoth will be both the Shining Pillar and shadow that lies at it's foot. It is here that those who side with Automagfreek will find solace, and it is here that those who side against Automagfreek will meet their fate. It is here that we will find our new home, and so we shall rest. But should any choose to come to Gholgoth and draw swords against us, we will rise up with hearts swollen with fury. So come if you dare, naysayers and enemies of the Empire....and we shall water our crops with your gore.

Gholgoth awaits.


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---Damien the Destroyer---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-

*Tag*

+tag+

The span of the earth Dreadfire calls 'Gholgoth' is an old land, long sailed and ruled by the men of Pantera. In the old Panteran tongue it would be 'Vrun Dryath', the Blessed Shores. To others, it was known as the Dying Ground, and a fitting name it was, for fools came to the shores of Pantera, and all they found was blood.

'Gholgoth' had a sound to it, though. Dayne was pleased. After the collapse of the Allied Powers, Pantera had drifted along, severing near every alliance it had. The Blood Pact remained, of course, as well as the old alliances with the Gunge-French and a smal number of the former Allied Powers.

Now, though, things would change. Most good Reavers denounced AMF's continued allegiance to Arda, but it was not a large matter. Orc and Reaver had not warred in near a decade, and the old animosities had subsided somewhat. Old hatreds died hard, however, and it remained a matter of some objection in Pantera.

With the formation of the new Gholgoth, what manner of future would unfold before it? Alliance with Dreadfire was no small matter, and the Evenstar felt a change in the winds because of it. Long had AMF held the balance of power in most of the world, and yet little had come of it. Would the entrance of Gholgoth into the world theatre be the herald of more blood and doom to come?

More would come. That much was certain. And then? Sipping at his brandy, Dayne pursed his lips and thumbed a key on his desk, sending for an aide and eventually, the reporters.

"The coming of Gholgoth resounds across the earth. And mingled with it comes the cries of millions of Reavers, all proclaiming the dawn of a new day in Panteran, and Gholgothan affairs. Through the steel heart of Gholgatha, the Blood Pact, we shall forge a mighty weapon, to smite those who would wrong us, and to free those who would not be opressed.

The eastern border of Gholgothan seas will be the Isle of Braavos, a sometimes disputed Panteran holding. Due to a need for complete security for our seas, I have ordered a further thirty thousand Reavers deployed to the Isle, along with a number of carrier groups. Fortifications will be increased tenfold, and woe to the enemy who would break himself upon them.

The main approaches to Gholgoth will be clad in iron, so let that be a warning to those who would tread where you are not wanted. Fools, you would be to gaze upon our shores. For this is the Dying Ground, and here you will only find the flame that will sear your corruption from our lands."

Dayne the Evenstar
Lord Reaver of Pantera
Drag the Waters of War

Varchak looked over the speeches of Damien and Dayne. "You know, those two are allmost too dramatic for their own good. But that's what they want to sound like, I suppose." He sighed and stood, moving to the windows of the rather simply made office that had served so many rulers of Crimmond.

He didn't know either of the two leaders. At all. He knew of them, of course. Damien Dreadfire, the Destroyer... first of the Sentinals, declared insane by the majority of the world. Dayne the Evanstar, ruler of the Reavers, brother of the famed Bastien the Bronze and a warrior just as fierce as his dead brother, from what the repots said.

And Davion Varchak. Frozen cyrogenicly for over a decade, awaiting the right time to sieze power. Murderer of tens of thousands of innocent people, oppressor of billions more. Known slaver. Regularly crusaded against all elves... "How the hell I'm going to survive an alliance with these two, I don't have a clue." he muttered.

---------

Crimmond has seen many eras. Emerging from a four decade long war of suffering and hardship, to the era of being little more than an enforcer for the GDODAD's Council of Military Aggression, to the era of sickeningly sweet peace and weakness, to the dark rule of Delta and now... to me. It is my burden to decide the fate of the Reformed Empire.

I have cast my lot with the only nation that has shown itself to be a true ally of the Empire, fighting on European soil to free this nation from the Black Staff, even going so far as to bring about the downfall of an alliance to do so.

The Empire shall never leave the lands of Europe. These are our lands and we shall never let any others take them as their own. An Imperial province in these lands shall be founded. We shall treat the lands of Gholgoth as if they were the lands we have lived on for generations and shall defend them along with the Sentinals and Reavers there.

I have no knowledge of what is to come. I have no knowledge of how many will take up the challenge and come to these lands. I know only that the fate of the Empire is with the Freek and the Reaver. The Steel and the Bronze. Let all who come to the borders of the lands called Gholgoth and Dying Ground know that many have tried to topple all three of the nations there. Let them also know that not one has ever made any of the three do more than stumble in their eternal march. I say now to all who seek to destroy us, come. Come and let the vultures gorge themselves on your armies.

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Overlord Varchak
Supreme Leader of Crimmond

Shijin Kotomari the Emperor of the United Empire and Dominion of Tersanctus and Drakonia, or Executor Kotomari for short, could scarcely beleive these reports.

I beleived the blood pacts to be dead! This is perhaps even a greater moment than our brotherhood to Crownguard. These men, this Damien Dreadfire and Dayne the Evenstar. I have never met them...and yet...each and every Executor is bound by blood as their brother. This is a matter of Honor that I cannot turn my back on, for I am Edmund Dantes reincarnated. This is what he spent most of his natural life building. I will not his efforts be in vain, nor soil the Good Name of Tersanctus by turning my back on this. Shijin thought to himself.

He arose from his chambers, showered, and prepared to meet the new dawn. Putting on his garb of a quasi-military black dress with gold emblems at the collar and Shoulders, he affixed Fates Edge to his side. The Advanced Blade that was a honor gift from the High Guardian of Crownguard, he wore it always to symbolize their Union.

He made his way in procession to the Sanctus Kungshaoist Temple; for the first time ever, cameras would show the inside of these Temples, never before was an outside nation allowed to see Tersanctus's internal religious workings.

He made his way to the pulpit, and stood at a stage-like stone slab, behind him stood a Statue of Kungshao, perhaps eighty feet high, it was still dwarfed by the massive ceilings of the temple. The statue itself was intricately carved from Obsidian, each scale and Talon incredibly detailed, with Massive rubys in its eyes, from the ceilings, there was an ancient skylight carved centuries ago, to allow sunlight to dramatically light the eyes and body of the statue, and of the High Priest who would stand there.

Shijin looked in the camera from his ascended position, from either side of him came two black-robed Preists, who lit large fires in two metal standing torches. The flames and the sunlight reflecting off of his face and accenting his black Dress Uniform, gave him a dramatic look.

"Damien Dreadfire the Destroyer, my Dark Brother, and Dayne the Evenstar, my Honor Brother. Long has Tersanctus stood quietly by your side, always in turmoil internally, with my arrival, those days are gone. And now we stand ready, cast from the crucible of fire and blood, we are now Forged of Iron and Honor!" he spoke regally and powerfully.

"Now it has come upon me to fulfill vows of old, and repay the debts of honor, that has been owed too you two, for some time." he said, as he pulled his sword. Grabbing the blade itself with his two hands, he squeezed, blood rushing out from both hands. He dropped the blade on the ground, as the priests returned to his side with two ornate silver goblets, he let the blood flow from his hands into them until they were perhaps half filled.

"These Goblets shall be sent too you, as proof that the Blood Pact is not dead. Rather the world has yet too see its begginings. Let the World tremble before us, as it is ours, we just have yet too claim it!"

The camera operator wiped sweat from his brow. This building was new, so new that the smell of paint washed over the entire area. So new that workers were still sawing away to produce various walls in the studio. So new that no air conditioner was up and running yet.

Which, of course, caused great mirth towards anyone who stopped and realized this was supposed to be the best television studio in Samtonia. One would think an international power would have a studio ranking somewhere above the buildings one would expect in a third world country, but when an entire country moved….

The explanation was still being searched for, though leading scientists had floated dimensional transport theories. Whatever the explanation, Samtonia had appeared in a new area, surrounded by other nations, and was most certainly no longer in Arda. Were one to revisit Samtonia three hundred years in the future, they would discover a rogue nano-probe had accidentally been inhaled by a dog on the third colonized world of Gamma-3, leading to a rift in the space/time continuum, which would explain the sudden move.

Whatever the explanation, Samtonia was not surprised by it (at least the government) and was not disappointed by it. After all, here sat Samtonia by allies. Here sat Samtonia nearer a conduit of power, which would certainly be used by the paranormal research division. And here sat Samtonia in the perfect place to pirate cable signals from CNN.

Whatever the case, a new broadcast simply had to be made to let the world know of Samtonia’s newfound region. And if no one cared, at least the cartographers would find out about the minor adjustment to the world’s maps.

“On in three, two, one, and….we’re live.”

Transmission, Originating Point: Broadcast Booth AA-12, Samtonia City
“Greetings, citizens of the world, foreign nations, and cartographers all over. As you may not know, Samtonia was recently moved to a new region. A region comprised of the biggest, baddest, and most delectably vicious nations on the planet. At least they think of themselves that way. Whatever the case, Samtonia is now in a region with these superpowers.

Now, what does this mean to you? Well, it means any invasions will fail even more quickly then before, what with all this military power to smash down on enemies. It means economic actions will benefit you even more, as Samtonia is now even more centrally located. Plus, no smell of orcs hanging around, meaning recreation is oh so much more bearable.

But most importantly, this means Samtonia has entered a new age. An age where we take shit from no one and goods from everyone. An age where we stand fast beside our brothers in AMF, Pantera, Crimmond, and Tersanctus. An age of learning, or military might, and of mutual protection. An age of reason.

And an age that we have entered now. So say hello to our new neighbors in Golgoth Samtonians. Gholgoth, meet Samtonia. World, meet Samtonia. And don’t forget the name.”

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Minister X, Leader of Samtonian Council of Thirteen

*Tag*

OOC: This is kinda hard to put into words, considering I talked to AMF OOCly about joining, Ill just say ICly I was invited to join.

IC
Armien Gurloukivich was sitting at his desk in an everyday normal stance (War, crime, and total chaos, are considered normal things in Neo-Wu.) Then busted in the door was Mishkin Vuzhe, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, after abruptly entering Armien's quarters, he then stood still and erect and gave a salute, Armien responded and asked what his rush was.

Mishkin then gave a little sigh of relax and stated
"The Excessively Armed Empire of Automagfreek has contacted us with important information" A slight pause to let Armien catch up. "Damien has said that he is started a revolution, name Gholgoth. He wishes us to separate from Arda to start something new. He wishes a response immediately"

Mishkin gave a second for Armien to react and respond, and then Armien asked
"Is that all?"

"Yes" Mishkin responded

"Then be gone" Ordered Armien

And with another salute, Mishkin turned bout face and headed out the door. Armien had a lot to think about. He needed to decide what he was going to do. Quick to decide, Armien knew he must remain loyal to a longtime ally.

*International Release*
We thank Automagfreek for the invitation to join a new beginning. We will accept this invitation and follow into what we know will be a start to something great. We will not completely leave Arda, as long as they will let us. Although we will not be located inside their alliance walls, we will remain faithful to their members, as I hope they will remain to us.

We will begin this with great anticipation and hope it will lead us into a stronger, more protected, and safe nation; that is Neo-Wu.

Into Gholgoth we will come
*End of International Release*

"You can't be serious!" The comment cut through the suite like muffled thunder roaring off in the distance, it was full of shock and surprise that is general attributed to the realization of insanity.

And maybe this was insanity, Praetor Augustus Drake realized. Allying with dictators, warlords,...and brothers. Automagfreek, Pantera, Crimmond, Samtopia, Neo-Wu, all could be dangerous enemies or powerful allies. Yet Tersanctus trusted them. A nation of democracy, freedom, and sensibility. Could they be wrong? Could Augustus? His wife certainly thought so.

"Augustus." Jolené Sutherland’s voice was pleading, almost patronizing. "You know about these nations as well as I do. You know their general disregard for life. You can’t possibly think the Imperium should ally with these people."

Standing at the window to their suite, Augustus looked back at his wife, his Queen. She lay propped up on one arm in their massive luxurious bed, looking radiantly disturbed. Flushed maybe, it was so hard for him to tell with her ebony skin, even after so many years of marriage. Somehow even angry, even at her age, she looked beautiful. He wondered how he had managed to marry such a...

...And a pain in his chest reminded him, why. "I know Gholgoth. I trust the judgment of Tersanctus." She clearly wasn’t buying his rhetoric. "The Imperium cannot stand against Klatch. If our little cold war were to go hot, I doubt we would be able to hold out against an invasion."

She did not buy that either. "It has been years Augustus. They benefit as much as we do from peace. Klatch has not tried to provoke us in years. You think they will now?" She was staring straight at him, pleading him to reconsider. She had seen that face before, far too often.

Augustus was no longer the young, charismatic, and quiet leader that had accepted his grandfather’s place as ruler of Drakonia. He was older; his once tan now a pale yellow, his colorful brown hair now showing streaks of gray. He seemed tired, concerned, dark.

"I do," Augustus replied weakly. Something was about to happen, he could feel it. A battle was brewing on the horizon. He could almost see the Dragon that haunted his dreams.

He looked back to his wife, looked straight at her face. His eyes faltered, a memory playing before them, a loss. Too many! "I will not let this nation be torn apart by its enemies," he burst out, his voice full of rage and anger.

The outburst caught his wife entirely off guard. It almost seemed as his she had been slapped. He turned away for her, struggling with the cane in his hands. A cane he needed rarely, mainly when he was tired, just to walk. He used his sudden rage to carry himself out of the room, faltering just long enough in the hallway to glance down at the floor. Eyes darting back at the room, before he marched forward and was gone.

His wife let him go. His mind was made up and he had left to set a course into action...that might tear the nation apart.