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Hert Xiofani, villager outside Tiliwani

The Republic of Svarti. A nice peaceful and calm country that the elites of the world traveled for vacation and parties. Or so they try to show you as long as you didn't peak 10 miles inland, where the true inhabitants were being prosecuted for existing. Or at least, for as long as anyone can remember who's still alive. It was awful, how we Chillaks are prosecuted for seemingly minute differences between us and the Svarinians, who genetically were almost the same. It was sad, but it was a fact of life that only a few of us were trying to change, but those who were doing it were doing it well. well enough to get us civilians caught in the crossfire and the target of revenge killings after every few attacks in the major city. But I guess that's that isn't really different to how it usually is.

I can still remember the first person I saw die aswell. It macabre, seeing as of all the times someone has been slaughtered around me, that was the only one to stick in my mind. I was 6, or at least I think I was. Gunshots had rung throughout the streets of one of the larger Chillack cities, Tiliwani, as the government-funded death squads had rolled up to one of the poorer districts and shot about five dozen people in one the bazaars, killing about 24 of them and leaving the rest wounded. I can still remember him clearly, blood spreading across his shirt, like how when water leaks through a pipe, leaving his chest a dark red. His eyes were wide open as if he didn't know what had happened and the amount of blood pouring out his nose and mouth was like a leaky faucet. I don't why was that was the one to stick with me throughout the years, even after I've seen worse than that. Far worse. But the fact of the matter was, this was how life was, and how it was going to be so long as nothing changed.

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Anonymous Doctor, Chillack Provincial Capital, Setoli

Honestly, I have no idea what I should do. I am stuck between a rock and a hard place and both sides had guns. The Svarti are pressuring me because I am a doctor, claiming I will be an "honorary Svarti". Like that makes things better, as if that would make things okay after all of my people they have killed. And then there are the rebels. The Setophan Ctur Histali Chillak. The Army of the Chillak National Guard. What a name they came up with. Most known for car bombings and ambushing the actual military. Unlike the Svarti, they don't want me for my medical skills, and only wish for me to carry a gun and fire upon people. It's funny in an ironic way I suppose. Speaking of which, try not to tell anyone, but some rich people from god knows where are coming to the mainland, and the SCHC is gonna try to bomb them. I honestly have doubts that their plan is going to succeed but, hey, if they do then good for them. Just don't let the big men up top hear that.

Oh, I just remembered who one of my patients was a few weeks ago. He was some news reporter from some better part of the world, came here to check out the conflicting that was being waged. He had gotten himself shot, straight through the thigh and into his femoral. Poor bastard had to be lifted out of state and into the capital. Hope he's fine, just want him out of state, get the word out. We need all the help we can get. God bless him.

For centuries the relationship of the Ecclesiastical State and the Kingdom of Foxtrove have been less then stellar, mostly consisting of small raids are wars, although with much growth in between those two. However in more recent years, it has appear so that our two great nations have had less than few national meetings with one another, and it is time for that to change in this day and age. We hereby invite to the capital of the Fennenish Isles, Tildam, to meet with Duke Karsten Tuorstuen, and Lordess of the province, Else Gottschallk.

With best of wishes,
King Graham Tuorholm I

Duke Faustino Ozan Yorgos Carrara sat up in his bed, finally awake after a night's sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he got up and began to head into his restroom, which itself was a sprawling white room, decorated with rugs decorated with the finest patterns, furs of exotic beasts like the Great Bear of K'svat and the deadly wolf of the Ghost Forest, and the greatest thing for him at the least, the fine tree of the Bloodmarsh, emitting a pleasant smell like that off the sweetest fruit known to man, although eating the fruit from the fine tree would result in death of whoever was unfortunate enough to consume one. Entering the bath, he threw a log onto a firepit, heating up the bath to a nice warm temperature. Faustino began to think of the great city he ruled, Sybos, a great city of nearly a million souls. The city itself comprised of two parts, the old and new city was built on the ruins of a vast kingdom, long forgotten. With two walls, both nearing 100 men tall, have carvings of stories and battles. With the first wall being called "Lovers Wall" protecting the commonfolk from any threats, and the inner wall, being callled "Rich man's Wall", protecting the higher born citizens. Faustino sighed and got out of the bath, blowing out the firepit on his way out.

Combing his dark, curly hair along with his mustache, he threw on a black robe, covered in patterns of diamonds and other shapes. Along with this and a cap with the same features of the shirt, he threw on a red sash, holding a curved sword in a golden sheathe embedded with diamonds  and rubies and other gems. He put on his sandals, and began to walk down the staircase towards the open garden of his palace, where his children would play with one another. He watched them as they ran, chasing each other with wooden swords, atleast until they saw him, in which they dropped their fake weapons and towards him exclaimed "Dad!", which as much love a child could give their father. Embracing his three boys, he stopped to look around before asking "Do you know where your sister is?" The oldest, Antonios, a boy of 13 years responded before his brothers, "Last I saw of Sabrina she was mom." "And do you know where your mother is?", he asked him once more. "The throne room, I think." Faustino sighed and rubbed his eldest sons head before sending them back to play. Walking to the main hall of the palace, began to think more of city, of how in the center of the western sect, near the Tower of Blue Cross, there was a small statue of an old hero clutching a spear. The statue itself was unimportant, but the story it told captivated Faustino as it was a story about how an old hero of the empire managed to defeat the oncoming hoards of barbarians by himself only to be turned on by one of his friends. Faustino wasn't quite sure why that certain story stuck with him, but it had oddly enough, maybe because he felt like that was his father? By the time he reached the throne room, these thoughts clouded his mind until he heard his musicians playing, playing a song that was pleasant to his ears the same way the fine tree was to his nose. Seeing his wife, along with his missing daughter of seven years, he kissed them both before taking his seat on his throne, if it could be called that as it was a series of cushions that helped his back as well as his neck once he sat on it, he looked to the musicians who had stopped playing once he entered, and nodded to let them know to keep playing, which they did to his satisfaction. As he was lying on the cushions, a soft breeze blew in from the outside, moving the white transparent drapes like ghosts dancing to the music. The duke closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep.

Awake now, Faustino heard his name being called, not by his wife, but rather his Imperial Mage. The white robes and the face mask with the blue cross did not show any sign of humanity, and Faustino would've certainly believed they were not human had he not lay with a Imperial Mage girl in his youth. "What is that you ask of me, Sir Nedim?" Sir Nedim, removed his mask, showing an old face clinging to his skull with a small beard, spotted white with age, and answered to his lord, "There is a messenger from the east, wishing to speak with you, and you only as he did not seemingly answer to the guards." Suspicious, Duke Faustino replied back to wise mage, "Bring him in, but not alone sir." Nedim put back his mask and nodded, walking towards the outside of the main entrance. In his place, two guards entered, clad in mail and chain, holding spears and a ragged man, covered in chain and mail, although severely burnt and ruined. "Speak good sir, why have you traveled this long way only for my presence?" The ragged man went on his, and began to grovel to the duke. "O My Lord! Please forgive us! I am Sir Rivan of the Western Watch of the city of Iskar! Earlier this day, a great beast attacked us, burning the city nigh to ash in a single noon! Our Lord Commander, sent me here to ask of you, in your greatness to assist us as our liege lord did nothing! I ask of thee O Great One, please take pity!"The room fell silent as the man spoke his tale. "A beast? By the beast to you mean dragon or another beast Sir Rivan?" The weary knight looked at him, with some hope in his eyes. "Yes! Yes, a dragon fell on us, that is why we have come here, O Great One!" "I offer my condolences, Sir Rivan" the duke said coldly, "But I am afraid I cannot do a thing as Iskar falls within another dukes' control. I can offer you this however." The duke stood up in one quick motion, heading down the steps of his throne," I shall call in mercenaries, monster hunters, whatever you may call them, but I shall assist you, Sir Rivan. You may stay here if you wish, or you may wish to go back to your Lord Commander and tell him of the news, either way I shall assist you in this threat." Sir Rivan could do nothing as tears began to stream down his face, before jumping up and exclaiming, "I-I shall tell Lord Commander then! O Great One, we will sing stories of you until the sun never rises again!" He bowed, before the guards who had taken him in escorted him out of the palace. "Call the guild, Lord Fulivo, tell them I wish for the best of the monster hunters." Lord Fulivo nodded before walking off. "Lets see what the best actually is however.", Duke Faustino Ozan Yorgos Carrara, Lord of Sybos and the Wide Plains of U'lkin, Slayer of the Red Demon, Layer of the Goddess, said to himself climbing up to his throne said to himself.

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OOC- Just create a character if you wanna hop in, just have them show up at the guild.

 

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Höhe Infantrie: 3,789 Active Members

Current Admiral: Matthias Florian Forst

Luftwaffe: 2,578 Active Members

Head of Guard: Graham Tuorholm

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Population: 5,762,636
Foxtrovian - 42%
Fennenish - 53%
Other - 5%

The cold air of the early morning, the light mist over the shore, and the sounds of men loading ammunition into guns, tanks, and artillery. Diederich quickly got into his position of a MG gunner inside of a pillbox facing downwards towards the beach, so he could a viewpoint of the invaders that were supposedly going to land today. They had come a week before they were even expected to leave their mainland, but they had most of the defense set up: mines on stakes to hit any landing craft when high-tide was in, anti-armor and anti-infantry barricades set up, artillery that could hit anywhere on the beach, MG nests full of guns that shot 1,200 rounds per minutes, and infantry on the beaches to hold them down. If all else failed, then they would call in air-support from a series of dive bombers from a nearby airbase. It was the perfect defense and yet...and yet they tried their luck here? They would all die screaming for their God or their mother. Maybe both. It did not matter.

Getting into his placement, he wondered what the enemy would look like? Would they wear a similar uniform of snow-white tunic and pants with a black helmet and black boots? Or would they have green uniforms? Purple maybe? And what kind of weapons would they use? Assault Rifles? Bolt-Action or maybe even SMG's? Swords even? This was not the time or place to think about these thoughts, Diederich thought as he zeroed his secondary rifle in case the MG ever had an accident.

Two hours after they finished the defenses, or at least most of them, Diederich saw the first troop carrier. Then the second. Then the rest. So it was true. He heard the sound of the officers yelling to battle positions and so followed suite, and placed the butt of the gun on his shoulder. "Do not shoot those in the water. Only the ones on the beaches.", he reminded himself as the transport ship began to land. He began to move his finger towards the trigger, slowly as it touched the soft sand of the beach. The doors flew down and the noise began to engulf the beachfront as guns began to blast towards the open doors of the now several open troop ships. When Diederich pressed down, a sound like no other began to be sung from the barrel of gun, a sound that meant death. He watched as the bullets tore through the men below, showering those behind them in a red mist before they themselves were torn apart. Those that came out in time, or were lucky hid behind the anti-armor only showing their guns to shoot at them, and miss. He swiveled his gun and began to fire upon a man who though he could move to another piece of cover, but he was cut down when his leg separated from his body. Behind him, the sound of the artillery began to scream, and when the shells began to land they kicked up dust and sand and man alike, and threw them back towards the water or the beach.

Several hours passed, and the enemy forces secured the lower parts of the beach, killing the defenders down to a man. Finally he heard the low hum of an engine, although they came from the opposite direction he expected them from. By the time he realized what this had meant, they began to fire on the enemy pillboxes and killed the men besides him. To Diederich, it did not matter, he kept firing upon the men on the beach without a second thought. Then, another low hum followed by an ear piercing screech that gave him goosebumps. The ally air support was finally called in, and they brought one of the best dive bombers in all of Foxtrove. At first they flew over the sea, shooting at the transport ships still landing, but they soon rolled towards the beaches, and fired the 50. cal guns that made a tak-ka-ka-ka-ka noise when fired. Soon the ear piercing screech came back as they began the descent. The screeching only got louder and louder until they dropper their bombs and pulled up. When the bombs landed, they kicked up sand and man. One hit a tank and lit it up in a tower of smoke and fire. However, this did not turn the tide of the battle as soon after, the planes left back once two of their planes splashed. This would not go as planned.

Two more hours had passed and Diederich was on a truck with his MG in his lap and rifle shouldered. The pillbox he was in was over runned soon after the planes left, and he killed one man by stabbing him in the throat with his bayonet and two more with a hand grenade. Diederich gave a deep sighed and looked out the back to face the columns of smoke that plumed from the wreckage. His comrades' death shall not go unpunished. Foxtrove will be avenged.