NationStates Jolt Archive

Despite the military buildup in Questers, the recruitment of all able-bodied men ages 17-45 (and later up to 52) into an Army/Navy Reserve Corps, the full military might of Questers was still not enough to accomplish its somewhat ambitious task. So without delay the Questarian government turned to its Commonwealth comrades in their time of need to aid them. Recruitment began at first in Kriegorgrad, the latest addition to the Commonwealth, and then to Northford and Azaha and Aralonia. While the arrangements were made for a Cross-Commonwealth Expeditionary Force, recruiting began in earnest in Kriegorgrad as throughout every major city and town recruiters began to attempt to persuade both young and old Kriegos into joining the military for the greater glory and good of the Empire.

Krieg City Square, Kriegorgrad

Patriotic music blasted from the four large speakers, scaring away the pigeons into the blue skies overhead, a common sight since the liberation of Kriegorgrad from its former oppressive regime at the hands of Imperial troops. The Kriegos were particularly loyal to the Empire and so Kriegorgrad was the first place chosen to recruit into the ANKAC - Azahan, Northfordi, Kriegos Army Corp. On the podium set perhaps a metre above the path, two gigantic flags hung on either side of the set of speakers, one Kriegos and one Questarian, and in between them a middle aged man in a suit was giving a speech inbetween playings of patriotic songs from both nations. He had assembled quite the crowd. His act was clear: recruit into the military as many able bodied young Kriegos men as possible, to fight and die for Country, Empire, King, and God.

"Comrades, in our world today, not many people live in the wondrous nation that you do. Not many people can daily bask in liberty's benevolent shine as you and I do - not many can say they are free to say what they like about their Government or spend their money as freely as they choose. Not many send their children to school with the hope of them becoming great men and women one day. There are many that toil longer hours than you but put less food on the table for their families."

He paused for a moment as more people came to see his patriotic tirade.

"This is for one simple reason, friends - because of their oppressive state, either under home rule or under foreign command, and there is one source of tyranny, the heart that sends the blood pumping to be spilt around the world in the name of terror and totalitarianism. One nation that sponsors the spread of horror and oppression around the world with no regard for the Rule of Law, for human rights, or for the wishes of God. Their rampage is endless, their bodycount ridiculously high, and their mercy practically nonexistant. This nation is Automagfreek."

He pulled down from a rolling projector a map of Automagfreek.

"This nation is responsible for deaths extending into the tens of millions. In Austro-Hungary, they raped and pillaged where they saw fit, killing millions, and had the temerity to produce a DVD and actually sell it for consumption!"

A gasp erupts from the ever growing crowd.

"This isn't it. Another example among dozens: in brave Okielahoma, thousands of civilians fleeing their homes were ruthlessly pursued and massacred by Freek forces. Their cities were bombed to dust - nothing, not even the greatest Okielahoman - for they were a Godful nation - cathedral was spared. For this, the Okielahomans joined our umbrella of friendship, knowing the savagery of the other side."

The public is becoming angrier.

"In Automagfreek noone is safe. College lecturers and scientists are killed for their beliefs, anyone considered a spy or an enemy of the state is tortured and executed in the most horrific of manners in torture chambers fit for five centuries ago. In British Londinium, in what is known as the "democide", Freek and Panteran military units were given free will to kill as many civilians as they liked. This practice would have resulted in millions of deaths, had not the Questarian and Praetonian Government took their stand and defended the people of British Londinium from murderous Gholgothan oppression. Yet, as we speak, NATO and Gholgothan forces are in the process of corrupting a generation of youth of that nation, who know not what we did for their people."

The man pauses for breath, then pulls down a picture of a man known all so well all over the world.

"This is the man responsible. His name is Damien Dreadfire, absolute dictator of Automagfreek, butcher of British Londinium, murderer of millions, chieftain of consternation, discipline of the devil, the enemy of freedom and all that is good in this world. I believe, as do many of my colleagues, that we have been asked - no, requested, nay, commanded by God to crush this self proclaimed destroyer of worlds, and it is the duty of every man of this Commonwealth to accomplish this task! The Imperial Governemnt in Questers lead by King-Emperor Alexander II, the very same Government that freed you from the reign of tyranny, is requesting your assistance in the most righteous and justified campaign in the history of the world."

Before he can continue, a man shouts up from the audience. "Chickenhawk! You're asking us to die for you! You probably don't even believe this! Well I say no blood for power!"

The man on the stage looks appalled and angry. "You sir, are nothing but an agent of oppression. You see this?" he takes a medal from his inside pocket and shows it out to the crowd. "This is the King Richard IV (God Bless His Soul in Heaven) Cross, the highest military decoration a man of Questers can bear! I fought for freedom and liberty in Doomingsland. I watched my comrades die around me or be taken from the sands into the caves where all kinds of unGodly monsters awaited them. I know the price of liberty, and it is whatever free men are willing to pay for it!"

The crowd shouts a hurrah and the lone peacenik is quickly kicked out of the waiting group.

"Now friends, who wants to take the Kings Shilling? One at a time now!"

~

A house in a lane in a city, Kriegorgrad

Vicar Longfield, a man who had arrived during the reconstruction, rubbed his hands as he waited outside the terraced house, one of thousands in the district and millions in the country. He knocked again and could hear something muffled from inside. He adjusted a coat around him and smiled up as the door opened.

Ministry of the State

The Freemen of the Sovereign League, no the Freemen of the World, stand in awe of the sacrifices these brave men and women will make in the name of the essential human rights.

In Leafanistan, every citizen who is volunteering for resharpening is issued the Bronze Key, which is the key to their future, the key to keeping our gates locked against the barbarians, and some say, the key to heaven.

We see fit to issue the Bronze Key to every person who signs up, it is the least we can do for people who are prepared to make such great sacrifices.

[END]

A nondescript apartment in TPF
Idly, James Bound sighed as he noted the date. It was December. December, and what the hell was he doing with his life? Nothing, as far as he could tell. Just wasting his days away, working his dead-end job, and then coming up every night to a empty apartment, and a messy, bland one at that. Fuck, what was he going to do? Sit here the rest of his life? He kept thinking about this as he forced himself out of bed, and into the shower. What could he do? Nothing. He had not enough education to do much. Sighing yet again, he ate cereal, and stuffed down an english muffin. He dressed and stumbled out of the door, preparing to walk a mile to get to the small store where he worked. However, today, his fate and destiny would meet, and take him places he never thought he would go.

" And Freeks! The goddamn Freeks! What do they do?!" Screamed a young, think, haggled man, screaming furiously at the top of his lungs. He stood on a podium, speaking to a couple hundred people, who were hanging on his every word. " Well, what do they do!? I'll tell you what they do! They kill people! They rape little girls! And what does our government do? Not a Damn thing! Is that right? Is that FAIR?"
" No!" Screamed the crowd.
" Of course its not! But those government bastards let them! The NPE lets them! What is wrong with them? Are they Christians to let the Freeks do that!
" No!" The crowd chorused.
" Well if the damn government won't do it, its up to us! I'll be dammed if I am going to sit back and idly let Freeks MURDER innocent women and children! Will you SIT back and watch?!"
" No!"
" Good! Cause its up to you! Luckily there IS one government who will no stand by. Questers! Even as we speak Quester's war machine is gearing up to stop the Freeks! We must help them! They have asked for brave souls to assist them. I will tell you this, I am signing up, I am going to help them. WHAT WILL YOU DO? WILL YOU BE LAMBS OR LIONS!"
" LIONS!"
" WILL WE HAVE DEFEAT OR VICTORY?!"
The crowd exploded in a menacing chant.
"VICTORY! VICTORY! VICTORY!"

While the crowds at Krieg Square in the bustling central business district of the city, filled with all sorts of every socioeconomic tier, rallied around this charismatic recruiter from the Heartland, hands grabbing for the King’s Shilling and the recruitment into the armed forces it meant, a lone Vicar walked through the narrow streets flanked by terraced houses to one home in particular, blessed by God with a large and good family.

Terry Baker opened the door to the protest of locks and mechanisms in the old green wooden contraption. His face was clean, but had the thinness of a man from the background of a worker, a background often ill-equipped to afford the ‘ideal’ diet that resulted in those pretty male-models Terry called “benders” on the billboards in the central business district. Stubble framed his lean jaw, and his whiteish, but not quite, teeth were revealed by late-thirty-something lips formed into a grin. A greasy shock of light brown hair fell about his cheery blue eyes as he greeted the vicar into his home.

“Sorry ‘bout mess Vicar, bit of a top but can’t be ‘elped ‘cos we’re sorting old rot out and sellin’ it to get one of them flash new cars. Fuckin’ hell—sorry Vicar—but when my dad was a lad, the idea of us owning cars was fuckin’ dream. Find it proper odd how times change. Sorry, forgot my manners Vicar, fancy a cuppa?”

Before the Vicar could make a response, Terry dashed off to make a brew. From the kitchen, Terry shouted to someone in the small-terraced house, with its distinctly ugly beige wallpaper, green carpet complete with papers scattered and odd bits of consumerism left about. Even the workers of Kriegorgrad could enjoy a few luxuries.

“’Ere luv, mind getting the lads down? Vicar’s here?”

A moment passed, distant cursing from upstairs, and the reply came.

“Sure luv.”, was the muffled reply from a floor up. A few shouts and complaints and a small troop of boys, ranging from fourteen to twenty came marching down the stairs at the behest of a thin-built, blonde mother, who had managed to retain her figure by some miracle after no less that five children, all of them boys. A tad of a shame considering she wanted only two children, both of them girls. Georgina would comment, half-jokingly, to her husband that she couldn’t be fucked having any more, and maybe in Heaven all her children would turn to girls, but she loved her boys, and they were good boys, for the most part.

And in no time flat, five young lads, with hair blatantly hastily combed hair to appease the unexpected visitor. They lined up in the cramped hall and stiffened up with a spine that only Kriegos boys really had, or claimed the inhabitants of Kriegorgrad, and one-by-one sounded off their names, ages and occupations. Born for rank-and-file. It was customary, though it’s not known where the custom came from, for working families in Krieg to address the Vicar like this. A sociologist would comment it came from the years of Fedor rule, where one would address an inner party member in such a manner. The irony that their newfound freedom was very loosely similar to their old tyranny was lost on these good and simple people.

“Robert Baker, age twenty, baker with dad.”
“Timothy Baker, age sixteen, left school and unemployed.”
“James Baker, age eighteen, learning to become a plumber.”
“Tom Baker, age sixteen, unemployed ‘cos I left school and dunno’ what to do.”
“Derek Baker, age fourteen, want to join the army like granddad and slot some foreign cunts!”

Terry came back to the increasingly crowded hall with a cup of tea for the Vicar. The family was a bit short of money lately, and tea was rationed for breakfast – and whenever you could sneak a cup without being spotted by the rest of the family. Terry smiled, revealing distinctly imperfect, but a realistic, set of teeth and handed the somewhat battered mug to the Vicar. Tad yellow, not white, not messed up, but just not perfect.

“So, Vicar, what brings you to our humble home?”

~

“Tomlinson?” was the drole call from Peter, his secretary. Bit of a pity he hadn’t gotten that pretty brunette that that bugger Stevenson had, but it couldn’t be helped. And for the most part, Peter was a smashing secretary, though his legs left a lot to be desired. Puffing on his Doominslandian cigar, imported from Questers—the most opulent cigars in the Heartland, he leaned back in his leather chair, taking in the expanse of his varnished oak panelled office. Half a minute passed before he considered replying.

“Yes?”
“Sir, the nation of Leafanistan has said they’ll issue a…” Peter stopped a moment and read through the communiqué, “…a bronze key to anyone who signs up.”
This received a frown from Tomlinson.
“And? Smashing, lovely of them.”
“And, I think we’re obliged to make a reply, as a token of our gratitude for this kind gesture.”

Roger Tomlinson sighed and brought his feet down from his desk. The old, tall, broad window was a portal to a world of boredom and grey in the Governmental District, and it was portal to a world of boredom, from a world of boredom. Today had been a slow day. Roger wanted to be off home, to eat dinner with his wife, to sip brandy, listen to how his son excelled once again in his class, and go to bed. Maybe a little more if he was lucky.

By God, he would’ve even been happy to simply go outside and take a stroll. But still, he had a role to fill, and seeing as the communiqué was more or less aimed at the young men of Kriegorgrad interested in the armed forces, it was his obligation to give a cheery reply. Grudgingly, but happily, as he always moaned about his work, even though he wouldn’t have traded it for anything, he picked up his expensive platinum pen, clicked it, and set about writing a message that would reach the Leafanstanians however was best for them.

~

To whom it may concern at Leafanistan’s Ministry of the State,

I, Roger Tomlinson, would like to thank you on the behalf of the nation of Kriegorgrad for your most noble and gracious offer to the men and women of Kriegorgrad. It is indeed rare, but gratefully received, when an offer of genuine kindness arrives from another sovereign nation, and in Kriegorgrad we will always view the people of Leafanistan with respect for the kindness towards the Kriegos.

I’ll give up a prayer for all Leafanistanians before supper, as I’m sure will a good deal of Kriegorad.

Thank you and God bless,

Roger Tomlinson
Bureaucrat of the Ministry of Defence

The vicar took the tea graciously and didn't take a seat, prefering to stand up. Actually, if it was his choice, he would have turned down the offer of tea, knowing how much it cost these folk, but he wasn't going to turn down something they'd offered him, especially since it was in such good heart that they did so.

"Its the same." The Vicar said back as Terry rushed off to get the tea, his clipped Questarian accent vastly different to the Kriegos working mans. "In London, there was barely a car to be seen when I was a laddy. Now, they're all over the bloody place." he chuckled.

The Vicar was taken aback by the uniformity of a simple action like assembling in the front room. He had always been impressed by the Kriegos sense of order but he had never gotten quite used to it.

"Good to see your boys are all well, Terry." He nodded to the man. "I'll be short. I've been asked to come here by the King's Government. You see, I don't know if you've been reading the news, but there's a war on the horizon. Not long coming I should say. I heard that a couple of your boys was out of work - and normally I wouldn't ask you understand - but I was wondering, would any of your boys be interested in the Army, perhaps?"

The Vicar was trying his best not to sound intrusive. He was already uncomfortable asking some of his most loyal churchgoers to sign up, but coming into their house and causing such a trouble seemed... well, just wrong. He took a newspaper from underneath his arm and unfolded it to show Terry. It was a copy of the Questarian Mandate, a nationalist newspaper. On the headline it said "THE EMPIRE OF LIBERTY AGAINST THE EMPIRE OF TYRANNY" and below a large propaganda image of all the flags of the Empire united and the text "Commonwealth marches hand in hand against the twin evils of Gholgoth and their NATO puppets". Lots of text detailing the crimes of Damien Dreadfire followed and such. The Vicar handed it over for Terry to read. "Straight from the Heartland." he said. "Again, normally I wouldn't ask, but what do you say?"

“Fackin’ murderers! The lot’o’em! Them fuckin’ Freeks! I hear they rip your fingers off and feed them to ye mother ‘for they slot ya! Sick cunts! Let’s fuckin’ whack off that **** Dreadfear’s head or whatnot with a bloody chorka, ‘ow about it lads?!” The somewhat elaborate drew cheers and shouts from the crowd didn’t dim or die, and the beat of the drum of patriotism filled the air of the square. Men rich, men poor, men young, men old, all flocked to this figure of charisma, charm and sacrifice, and many Kriegos voices added their weight the momentous hate against Automagfreek. The flags flanking the man on the stage drew shouts and tears of pride and love from the crowd, who, ever since the liberation (saying ‘invasion’ was one way to get a broken nose from a Kriegos) had come to appreciate what they’ve gotten. Of course not everyone did, but all-in-all, there was no question that they were better off now than their descendents forced to suffer the Fedor regime.

A call from the crowd pierced the din and was directed at the veteran on the stage.

“Sir, when is the march to war being declared?” were the words from a well spoken gentleman of a good background, but interested in signing up for this glorious undertaking, as nasty and horrible as he was aware it may end up. Silence swept slowly through the crowd. Thousands of ears listened intently to this man on the stage, behind whom two flags of two great nations beat proudly in the wind.

~

Terry read over the news paper with keen eyes. His lads joining the army? He already knew that Derek was intending to, but he’d thought that just a phase. Looking up from the paper, he looked at his five boys. Each one standing with that Kriegos spine, ever wanting to impress upon the Vicar how grateful the Kriegos were for what they’d been given. Derek’s face looked nothing but eager. His two sixteen year olds had clearly made their mind up already, from the set of their jaws. The older two, however, were a little more undecided. Robert, because he’d gotten a fiancé he was meant to be married to by the end of the month, and James, simply because he’d heard stories from grandpa about the wars under the Fedor regime. It scared the shit out of him.

Silence boomed throughout the front room for a moment, and the vapour from the Vicar’s cup of tea trailed up to the dodgily plastered ceiling.

“Vicar, can I join sir?”

The first words were to erupt from the fourteen year old’s mouth, to be followed hastily by Tim and Tom’s agreement.

“And me-“
“Me too, Vicar.”

The mother’s face was a mix of emotions. Pride, and paralyzing fright she’d lose two of her boys to a war that will doubtless leave widows, grieving mothers and fathers burying sons. The father’s expression was that of pure pride. Good lads!

Robert looked down at his younger brothers, all ready to join the fray like good Kriegos men were meant to. He bit his lip a moment and ran a hand through short, brown hair. His dad’s hair, eighteen years ago.

“Me too, Vicar. I need to look after my brothers.”

He shot a caring grin at the younger lads, who bounced it back, before returning to a serious expression. The boys noticed that one of them hadn’t spoke, and the older boys tried their best not to make a point of it, but Derek shot a look directly at Robert. The lad crumbled.

“And me, Vicar.”

Emerald Palace, New Golddale

A huge crowd waited before the palace, grandest of all the palaces in New Vantania. Many of the patriotic people who could afford to get tickets to the event waved flags, either Sovereign League, Questerian, or New Vantanian. Many people wore simple armbands with the New Vantanian colours on them. Most of the people were teenagers and twenty years olds, all of them able bodied. Suddenly, Emperor Hawthorne III steps out onto a balcony, facing the crowd below, which explodes in applause.

Hawthore raises his hand, signalling the applause to end. In a booming voice he speaks, "People of the Free Empire, most of you have heard the news. Questers is mobilizing against the Freeks, a true battle of good against evil. We cannot let the Freeks win. For, if they do, which they wouln't, there will be an era of dictatorships and death, instead of democracy and peace. The entire world hangs on this great conflict, a War of a Billion Souls."

"My brothers and sisters, now is the time. Rally, for Empire! Rally, for Christ! Rally, for justice! Rally, for freedom! Rally, for VICTORY!!!" With these final words, the crowd surged forward, already on the battlefield with the Freeks. This was anticipated, and a massive curtain covering the palace walls pulled back, revealing army recruitment booths.

Divine Church of Christ, New Shayder

Pope Caesar I walked wearily to the pedestal, his age showing. The faithful Christian masses stood below him, listening carefully to his words. The Pope spoke slowly, his voice amplified to godly sizes by hidden speakers and his hidden microphone. "My flock, and Christians around NationStates. Jesus Christ came to me in a dream last night. He told me to tell the world this simple message. The Devil has escaped with his army of demons to our land. They have taken human form, although debatable, as Damien Dreadfire and the Freeks."

"The second part of the message is that Christ has authorized a great crusade against the Devil and his minions. Know this, any crime against the Freeks is a crime against the Devil. Thus, it would be a positive, a free key to heaven, to fight the Freeks. God bless ye, do the right thing."

Industrial Museum, New Tinraya

Tucker Boot, richest man in New Vantania, stepped up to the pedestal, his young charisma illuminating his face. "People of New Vantania, I bring you not words of combat. No, in fact, no one wants everyone in New Vantania to join the army. I bring you words of work. For we need workers to sustain our economy. See it like this. If the army has no money then they can't fight. If the army can't fight, they get killed. If the army gets killed, New Vantania gets invaded and destroyed. The workers and soldiers are symbiotic."

"The national animal is the bumble bee, a normally very industrious beast. However, each bumble bee has a stinger. Now, ask yourself, are you better with a gun or with a hammer? Make the right choice, for the Free Empire depends on it."

Questeria

Fourty thousand New Vantanian immigrants, mostly Asian and Latin American, traveled to Questers, legally or not, to volunteer for the Questerian army. The reason was to fight the Freeks, which they could not do effectivly in New Vantania due to discrimination.

[OOC: It'd probably be better for them to move to Questers to join the military :P. Anyway, post soon.]

Cameras flashed and pens and pads were ripped out of the reporters jackets, then while the Premier was giving his speach, as is traditional when preparing for war, the President walked out from behind the stage. The Premier stepped down, and the preson in the head of the line walked up to the microphone, "Ladies and gentle, I bring to you The President of The Republic of Greston, Michael Check." Then he stepped down while the president took the mike, "Hello, ladies and gentlemen we are gathered here today to announce our position, on what we should do about, this rampaging, murderous, dissgusting nation called Automagfreek. They have killed, and bombed for no absolute reason, they have raped children and killed inesant civillians, for what? Nothing. People have stood back from this for to long, and finally someone else has stood up. Now we have stood up. Out of millions of nations, only four are standing. Let the blood shed end, we will kill Automagfreek.Any questions?" The crowd errupted in voices, then after 23 questions were asked he stepped off of the stage.

[OOC: Yeah, the war against AMF is closed, so if you want to join it it'll have to be in the form of volunteers registering for my military or giving me equipment o rmoney.]

[OOC: Yeah, the war against AMF is closed, so if you want to join it it'll have to be in the form of volunteers registering for my military or giving me equipment or money.]

OOC: You mean the entire conflict against Gholgoth is closed? Or were you speaking of the Doomani conflict? I mean, when the two biggest alliances in the world go at each others throats, it's kind of a world war. And world wars are pretty much open.

OOC: You mean the entire conflict against Gholgoth is closed? Or were you speaking of the Doomani conflict? I mean, when the two biggest alliances in the world go at each others throats, it's kind of a world war. And world wars are pretty much open.

[OOC: Its not SL vs Gholgoth. The details have already been arranged and the RP is closed.]

[OOC: Yeah, the war against AMF is closed, so if you want to join it it'll have to be in the form of volunteers registering for my military or giving me equipment o rmoney.]

So i can't join this? like what Vontanas said, it is pretty big and should be open. And if you it isn't open i'm not part of it, because I don't want you in charge of my troops.

[OOC: The sides have already been drawn and the RP is already closed. Its not a world war really, either, and large rp wars are usually closed because otherwise they turn into massive ignorefests.]

OOC: Are you still accepting volunteers?