Name: Joseph Sinclair
Age: 2
Occupation: Professional Photographer
Origin: East Texas, United States
Current: Moscow

Personality:

Joseph is one of the few men left that retains any semblance of Southern hospitality. He is very courteous to anyone and everyone he meets, even if he has an issue with them.

He is a quiet man who is short of speech. He knows how to say what he wants in as little as possible, and he uses this ability frequently.
He is incredibly intelligent, and the move from secluded rural life into the largest urban area on the planet has allowed his intelligence to blossom far beyond what would have been possible for him.

He puts a strange amount of weight on his dreams, many of which he can account to himself weeks after the dream.

He enjoys nature. In Texas, he was the only person within several miles that had a camera, and he would walk through the fields and forests to take pictures as a getaway when he needed time alone. He came to master the art of photography in this time.


Appearance:

He has medium-length, slightly curly red hair to his ears. He is 6' 3", fit, fairly muscular, attractive enough to draw several eyes. His eyes are a chocolatey brown that go strangely well with his red hair that typically sits above lighter eyes. His face is very expressive if you can catch the emotion. He can go from bursting with laughter to void of emotion in the blink of an eye. He never wears accessories that touch his skin, as he will remove them and play with them, and typically break them.

History:

Born in a small, dying town in east Texas, Joseph was one of nine children on a farm in east Texas. With the decline in the US, many Southern families had reverted to the old ways of farming, which was particularly unfortunate for the Sinclair family, as they were all red-headed with no access to sunscreen, causing the sun to ravage their skin. His father, George, is a local from Texas, while his mother, Siobhan, hails from Ireland.

At the age of 19, Joseph began having strange dreams that very cryptically signaled for him to move east. After the repetition of these dreams, he finally confided them to his family when he was 21, and expressed his own desire to move. Unsurprisingly, his parents agreed. They were angry with the United States' refusal to annex into the CCD, and were open to the idea. After this plan was set in motion, Joseph's dreams changed. Now he was swimming blindly and endlessly for the length of the dream. He failed to interpret it.

Originally, only Joseph was going to go east, but it turned into his whole family as the crops failed. They began saving every penny they could, and eventually, when Joseph reached the age of 23 they had enough to buy passage on a ship to London and transport via train to Moscow. His father and two eldest siblings stayed home to finish the sale of their home while he, his mother, and his other siblings set sail, assured that the trio would follow after them in two months.

On the ship, the family still had to work its way east; swabbing the deck and doing other things that Joseph had thought were only tales. There ship was a small, incredibly fast trading vessel, one of the few that made the journey to the CCD.

On the sixth and last night, Joseph, the eldest traveling child, got into an arguement with his mother. She approached him as he photographed the dark ocean around him, and said she wanted to stay in London to wait for the rest of the family instead of going with the original plan to go straight to Moscow. The argument was not resolved, and Joseph stalked back to his cabin in anger, still holding his camera.

That's when it happened. He channeled the One Power for the first time. He did not know what he was doing, but a wave of Power flowed through him and the ship came apart at its seams around him in the dark. He rushed back to his mother's cabin, but all that rested inside was a pile if clothes and jewelry. The people had unraveled too, it seemed. He sank to his knees as the ship sank into the ocean. He could just see the dark shape of land, that would be London, in the distance, and he knew he would need to swim, but he could not make himself stand. Sobs wracked him as the water surrounded him and killed his camera. He was forced to begin swimming, his salty tears mixing with the salt water.

He was left alone by the marine life and reached the deserted shore quickly, where he continued to cry and grieve. He didn't understand what had happened in the slightest, it made no sense that he had survived, unless it was his fault. He vowed to not think about the event, resolving that after grieving, he would do his best to forget it.

He found a homeless shelter in the city, and watched as the reports of his sunken ship surfaced two days following the incident. The reporters were baffled as to what happened, and offered no explanation to the public. The reports claimed that no remains were found, and no record of the passengers had been saved. Joseph was too afraid of what might happen if he went to the authorities, and quietly remained in the shelter. The shelter offered a free, one-time transportation service to any CCD city of his choice, which he decided to use to travel to Moscow. His departure date was set for one week, on his birthday, of all days.

The next four days he remained in his small assigned room, incapacitated by the Sickness. He recorded the symptoms by hand, having no way to take pictures, though he held his dead camera. His block formed as he made frequent contact while holding his camera. The symptoms went away after those four days. He was one of the rarest of rare, he fended off the Sickness on the first bout, and also developed a simple block.

The next day, as he strolled through London, the Atharim attacked him for the first time. He was confronted walking back to the shelter. They backed him into an alley while he inspected his dead camera, bringing out the Power. While holding the camera, he subsequently dropped it, breaking the short-lived block he had not been aware of, and allowing him to instinctively use the Power effectively.

He incinerated the two Atharim, and ran away from the area quickly. He began to start cautiously training himself in the Power as he walked through the city the next day. He was attacked by a single Atharim that day, and after drowning him with Water, he looted the body and found a small book containing a bit of informations about the organization, which also informed him of their name and their symbol. He burned the body after pocketing the book.

The next day his train left for Moscow, where he quietly and modestly celebrated his own birthday alone. He spent most of the time remembering hs family. For the day and a half ride he practiced small things with the Power, gaining a large measure of control and strength in the process.

Upon arriving in the city, he acquired a job in a food market, where he used the strange CCD money to buy materials to make perfect counterfeit money with the Power. After making a large amount over the course of a month, he bought a camera, moved into an apartment fairly near the Kremlin, and began to launch his photography business.

Now, only two months away from from Texas, he anticipates his father and two siblings' arrival.


Edited by Joseph, Aug 7 2013, 03:07 PM.

This is a Terrible Idea
Vulpesnet/Nolan Trace

I'm sure by now you've heard that his Ascendancy, Nikolai Brandon is coming to visit the United States. The more superstitious among us would question the wisdom of inviting this man to the country at the same time as two nuclear power plants are coming online, what with the fact that disasters follow him wherever he goes.

Even if you're not superstitious, though, there are reasons to question the wisdom of allowing a man who has conquered all of Eurasia and elevated himself to the position of a god while doing so to speak in this country on even terms with the President. The man's created a cult of personality so large Ozzy Osbourne might claw his way out of the ground to offer him work as a ghost-writer.

The CCD--and by extension, Brandon--has made its goal of world domination clear since its inception, and as such it runs completely against America's interests to give him a sounding board inside the country. We've already given him an honor that we never extended to his compatriots Hitler and Stalin by allowing him to even set foot on American soil 12 years ago. Now, after he's been allowed to sit and pull strings for the past decade, we're letting him come here again.

At best, this is an attempt for him to win the hearts and minds of the American people by falsely granting his blessing (as if we needed it) to our energy programs. He's essentially treating us with the same condescension that aughts America did third world countries. The CCD gains nothing from an American nuclear revolution. In fact, they lose one of their largest oil buyers if we become energy independent.

At worst, they might try sabotage our reactors before that happens. Either way they want to convince us to hand over our souls, and the more of a stage we give to him in this country the bigger chance he has to do it. Let's just hope that he doesn't call the Minutemen down on him and cause an international incident.

Now isn't the time for us to receive embassies from foreign powers greater than our own. Right now, we need to buckle down and get back to fixing our country. We're a herd of deer, and the CCD is a pack of wolves. We can't afford distractions or underhanded threats from some near-mythological character.

<em>Published by Vulpesnet, 2045. U.S.A</em>

Comments are: <strong>OPEN</strong>

<small>((Comments are anonymous unless you state your character's name in the time tag: Comment: "NAME" (TIME TIMEZONE) ))</small>

The Ascendancy to visit USA

The CCD and USA have started a constructive dialogue toward the goal of a world without terrorism, a stronger global economy, and peace and stability in South America. To facilitate these mutual goals, the Moscow Kremlin officially confirmed today that the Ascendancy will travel to Washington DC for a three-day summit. Sources close to the Kremlin report both the Canadian Prime Minister and Mexican President will also be in attendance. The Ascendancy's last visit to USA soil was twelve years ago.

Critics state the Summit is poorly timed what with the USA's proud construction of two new nuclear power plants: one already running in Southern Georgia, while the second, near Dayton, Ohio, should become fully operational next month. Proponents state the Summit is a chance to demonstrate American independence from CCD energy, proclaim the future of cleaner energy, and celebrate American ingenuity.

However, the market predicts the relationship between the CCD domestic supply of fossil fuels with foreign marketplaces may deteriorate if the trend toward nuclear power continues. Despite safety concerns, three more nuclear reactors are set to open in the next five years in the United States. To cement the Ascendacy's support of the initiative, Moscow has proposed the Summit take place in Dayton, the heartland of America.

Aeva was born around 2015 to a drunkard mother and a Druid father. Her mother was swift to abandon her daughter and three sons to their father's care by dying during an earthquake when Aeva was 5. Their father was a lifelong Druid - influential in the small neo-Druid movement when it was at its height in around 2012-17, and had a fabulous archive of knowledge of both ancient and modern Druidic technique, which he offered freely over the internet. He never stopped adding to his sacred library. His three children were enthusiastic followers, but having had a few minor brushes with religious persecution at school, Aeva was rather quiet and dedicated more than exuberant, and didn't draw attention to her beliefs.
The global disasters of 2020, Anthony (Aeva's father) and other prominent members of the Druid community effectively pushed the entire movement into charity work in the poorer North of Britain and teaching people skills of survival as the UK population took a sharp drop when vast areas of the land were shaken by earthquakes and flooded by unprecedented tsunamis and torrential rain. Scotland was almost blown apart by the long-extinct (or thought extinct) volcano beneath Edinburgh Castle. A very long winter was created by the ash and debris in the atmosphere, making it impossible for aircraft and hazardous for any long travel. With the dust clouds, it seemed almost as though the rest of the world forgot North Britain existed. Crops failed and food sources dwindled.
By 2025, it seemed as though the Druids and other neo-Pagan groups were ready to take charge as they were the ones who had harboured old knowledge and ancient skills and were teaching them to the ragged remnants of the British. However, pagan organisation is a contradiction in terms and people settled into communities with people like the Morgans offering their services around the areas in which they could easily travel. Aeva's oldest brother even became something of a guru - not a very stable one, in ruined Scotland. Her second brother was one of those who died screaming in 2035.
Aeva herself effectively took charge of her father's archive, carefully preserving the knowledge digitally as paper became more expensive, while her younger brother, Taren, began searching for any more that could be found.
When the world finally remembered the UK had once existed and travelled to the region where it once stood, the CCD and Atharim moved in first. Nobody knows which group was responsible for the deaths of Anthony Morgan and his cohorts, though most favour the Atharim as the culprits. There were few protests when Anthony's eldest son was openly assassinated while trying to 'rally the mob'. The turning point came for Aeva when her youngest brother, Taren, went missing and CCD soldiers broke into her home and searched every square inch of it, allegedly searching for clues as to his disappearance. It is more likely they wanted evidence that Aeva had followed in her father and brothers' footsteps, but everything of even minute value had been sold by that time and nothing was left to say what she might believe.

For a long time, Aeva stood over the shattered vase of fake flowers which had sat atop natural stones that had been fashionable almost 40 years ago, shaking and forcing herself to breath quietly. Then she bent down and selected a rough stone of pale cream - the smallest of the half-dozen within the rest of the scattered mass of mixed rocks on the living-room floor where a soldier had wanted to search within the stones for evidence of... who knew what.
She put a hard asbestos tile on newspaper on the kitchen floor, then another sheet of paper, then the rock.
Without giving herself time to think of what she was doing, Aeva brought a large hammer down on the stone and the weak air-dry clay shattered across the paper. She removed the wax-and-cling-film wrapped SD card from the wreckage and carefully gathered up the fragments of air-clay and paper. It went into a plastic bag between layers of the waste from the cat's litter tray before being flung out with the general rubbish. Her old, ruined computer, the fake flowers and fragments of the vase joined it an hour or so later; she would take it to the tip on her regular weekly run - breaking routine would only arouse suspicion. The stones, she tipped into another jar, including the other phony stones made of air clay... just in case.
Were there other Druids in Europe? Her father had told her that many of their communities had once had international membership, and told her the names of places which no longer existed, although a few still did. If Taren were dead, then she was the last of her kind - perhaps the guardian of the only Druid literature still in existence, and Aeva shuddered at the mere thought. Taking out the moonstone, she turned it by the light of her poor lantern and a symbol flashed before her eye for an instant, deep in the blue iridescence of the stone.
Leave, it said. Leave.

[Note: It is believed by some that Merlin was a title amongst Druids, rather than an actual individual. There was only one Merlin at a time, but the role was fulfilled by many different people as it was handed down. He became a single deity as the Arthurian legends developed, but the title of 'Merlin' may have been held by women as well as men, and therefore the Merlin can be reborn as female.]


Edited by Aeva, Jul 28 2013, 09:53 AM.

"Constantine, Krasivolkya", she heard herself say curtly to the Security Officer.
"Access Granted, Ms. Constantine", he replied.

This was their dance. Every morning at 4:30am. She made it to the side entrance, met the man who was the most regular in her life, and entered into the building that housed her soul.

She worked in The Kremlin. That never grew tired or banal for her. All of her studies and hard work and dedication. All of her sacrifices had led her here. To this. To be at the Heart of the political beast that sat astride two continents and ruled the Earth with a benevolent, but strong hand. And she, Krasivolkya Constantine, was a part of it all. Part of a nation that proved Right meant Might, and not the other way around. Part of a governing structure that wasn't afraid to flaunt its wealth or power or its benevolence.

Krasivolkya walked to the Liaison's Office. Her security card and retina scan allowed her to Pre-empt security for those who would come later; her staff (who she allowed to come to work by 5:30 am), other officials, politicians, government staff, VIPs, officers and executives. All whom would come into this world, needing, requesting, demanding and obliging her help. Her support. Her finesse. Her involvement. This was what she was meant for. No, actually, this was a foretaste of what she was meant for. One day, she would be able to provide these services, her superior intellect and problem solving abilities, and her knack for discerning people's motives and desires, to the most important office in the world. The Ascendency of the CCD.

Just as she knew when she was assigned to the Liasion's office 5 years ago, that she would one day be running it; so she knew her destiny lay at the center of the Kremlin. She would make herself indispensable to him and his governance.

Krasivolkya smiled as she padded across the lush blue carpeting. Past the fishbowl of offices that served her support staff, down the hallway and the offices of her top lieutenants and to the big, stainless steel door that led to her inner office. Cut out of the stainless steel and backlit with LED light on the door, "Office of the Chief Liaison of the Custody of State" and beneath it, a simple black enameled plaque with silver etching, "Krasivolkya Constantine".

The morning was the only time this office would see her smile. She didnt make it to this office by smiling, and she wouldn't make it out by smiling either. She coveted these early mornings. No one was in the office before her. She wouldn't allow it. Last year some newbies, up and comers, tried to get in at 4:00. Thanks to her arrangement with the Security Guard, he kept them busy in holding until she could get there. He had sent her a text, apprising her of the situation, and she had sped up her arrival as quickly as she could. She had arrived 18 minutes after 4 and had made it to her inner office, caught her breath and called Security to allow the ambitious new staff in. When they had arrived and saw that she was already there, they had reeked of surprise, and even fear. Krasivolkya could literally taste their fear and shock. Strangely, she had found herself almost salivating ...
After that, she was in the office by 3 am. It only lasted two weeks before the staff gave up trying to beat her to the office. In defeat, they returned to their 5:30 start time, and Krasivolkya resumed her morning ritual.

That reaction to the newbies fear, was one of the things Krasivolkya didn't quite understand about herself. She had a series of reactions and instincts she knew were a part of her, but didn't know why or what they were. Her father had known, she knew. He had helped her acknowledge some of them, and given her strange instructions and advice he made her promise to keep and heed. It had begun after her illness, almost 15 years ago. She had feared she was being struck with The Sickness, but she never got sick in the way usually associated with that strange affliction. Instead she had had moments where she was catatonic and unresponsive. Night after night of insomnia for a solid week. And she could almost feel voices in her head, voices or images really, from far away. So faint were they that she couldn't make them out and could easily ignore them. They were fleeting, but she knew they were there, and somehow knew they were real. He had never explained what had happened. He simply gave her firm instructions on what to do. "Krasivolkya," he had said, "Never talk back or think back to the voices. Avoid rural areas and forests. Be very wary and in control of yourself during the Full Moon. Keep your instincts and insights to yourself. Do not share them. Promise me." She did.
"And if you ever notice your eyes getting lighter, wear these." And he had given her a special pair of contacts, dyed a light brown, to match her eye color. She had not understood, but she loved her Father, and was an obedient daughter. She saw the fear and anxiety in his eyes that day, and trusted his vast intelligence. He had never led her astray, she had no reason to question. She obeyed, and had obeyed after moving to Moscow and even after he passed away two years ago. Yet she never quite understood.

She had not been aware of any voices since moving to Moscow. She still had insomnia once a month, that seemed to correspond with the full moon, her eyes only lightened on occasion, and when they did, she dutifully wore her contacts. But her sense of people had grown, increased and developed. It had helped her, she knew. Her strange talent for reading people. Sometimes she seemed more prescient of what they were thinking than they themselves were. It had helped her discern those who meant her well, and avoid those who jealously wanted to take her down. What passed for workplace "friends" were cultivated carefully based on her instincts. And more than one enemy or rival had been cowed by her before they could act against her ... All based on her insight and odd sense of "smelling" emotions. She couldn't explain it, and didn't need to. It was a tool she had, and she used it to her advantage. Just as she used every tool at her disposal: her reputation, her looks, her height, her staff; all of it. All were tools to help her get to where she wanted to go, to be who she knew she was destined to be. Tools.

Krasivolkya settled into her leather chair, placed directly in front of her door and in plain sight of the front of the office. She would watch each and every staff member come in. Making eye contact with each one, like a ritual, as they entered. No one escaped her notice. This was her domain. She was Alpha here, and they were her tools. She would hone them, whet them and use them.

The office almost received a second smile from Krasivolkya then. But that would have been out of routine, so she didn't. Instead she began to go through the papers and reports neatly displayed on her desk and credenza, and get to work, waiting for her first staff to arrive, some 45 minutes later.


Edited by Krasivolkya, Jul 28 2013, 08:50 AM.

There hadn't been time for Torri to do more than arrange for the majority of her things to be shipped to Moscow. She didn't own much in the way of personal effects, but it was more than fit in one rucksack, therefore she was lightly laden trekking through the bustling airport walkways. She was of slim build, but she was hardly the imagery of petite delicacy. Anyone to catch her stern eye stepped out of her brisk pace, and a few heads turned to watch as she passed them by, only to later realize the CCD patch on her bag.

Although just now sunset, weary lines rimmed her eyes. She felt unwashed and smothered in the stink of travel. She was hardly a hypochondriac but she was severely looking forward to a shower, fresh hair, and a bloody bed. The last few days consisted of half a night in some DPS office for shipment orders, details, arrangements, paperwork, and administrative shit. Then followed by another day scrambling to arrange for others to take over the sensitive work she was doing at the Berlin Institute for Medical and Virtual Genetics, else the last year and a half of her life would have been completely meaningless. Finally a day of travel. She liked point A and point B; but she hated taking the line in between.

Outside, she hailed a cab and made arrangements to be dropped at a hotel downtown, whatever was within short distance of the Kremlin; yes, quick metro ride would suffice; no, nothing too expensive - she was an army physician, not a bloody billionaire after all. In the meantime, orders were orders, and she had yet to know where she was to be living, which meant: hotel. She could hardly walk into the Kremlin a pale, grumpy and tired version of herself. Besides, she didn't have to report in until 0530. Four or five hours of sleep should be enough. Hopefully. It's not like there was much time to prepare for this sort of thing.

Character Name: Krasivolkya Constantine

Age: 35

Origin:
Born: Kampala Uganda
Raised: St. Petersburg, Dominance I
Lives: Moscow



Occupation : Government Official in the CCD Custody of State. She is the Head of the Team of Liasions between the Executive Staff and other Custody Officials and designees. She and her team make sure the Ascendency's, members of The Sphere's and CCD Patrons' directives are relayed to other members of the Custody of State and other Custodys. They are responsible for making sure questions have answers or that there are no questions. As a key linchpin between the offices of The Ascendency and Custody of State, she is sought after for advice from Ambassadors and State Officials on execution, interpretation and understanding of orders, counsel, insight and information. She is close to the Executive Secretaries and Administrators in the executive offices. She is bright and dedicated worker. Working a minimum of 80 hours per work, and expecting her team to do the same. She will complete a project or assignment on time, no matter what. She has an uncanny ability to know and assess a situation or person, almost preternaturally aware of their moods, intents and desires. This has helped her be quote successful and well respected, as she is usually never wrong in her judgement. She aspires to work directly with The Ascendency one day.

Psychological description: Tempered, balanced, reserved, competent and confident. Krasivolkya is no hot head. Not easily angered, and never one to lose her cool. When angered, a few words are enough to silence the target of her annoyance. Quietly cursing under her breath in harsh yet simple words is her vice ... As is ice-cold Vodka mixed with honey.
She is a loner masquerading as a leader. She is icy in personal interactions with co-workers and staff; calm, yet cordial with superiors and in social interactions. Withdrawn when in large populations. She becomes obviously withdrawn and antsy when she is in a very large group with no obvious avenue for retreat or view of the outside or exit. She is, however, passionate about her reputation, her job and her personal philosophy. She is extremely impatient with ignorance or laziness, and can be quite rude and brisk to those who make excuses, play the victim or don't measure up to her ideals. These are usually the targets of her anger.

Physical description: 2 meters tall, 70 Kg. Broad in hip and shoulder, muscular yet feminine.She is of mixed Ugandan and Russian ancestry. She has milk coffee colored skin, short, curly burnt-caramel colored hair that has no length to it and never reaches past her ears or is unkempt. High cheekbones and forehead, with plump lips and a broader nose than is typically seem on Russian women. Her eyes range from light brown to almost golden. Her legs are thick and longer than her torso, and she has curves of hip, butt and thigh.

Biography: Krasivolkya's father was a Professor of History and Anthropology at the University in St. Petersburg. While doing research abroad in Kampala, Uganda, he met a Ugandan Professorial colleague, and fell in love. She became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter. However, a civil war was looming and Krasivolkya's father wanted to move his family out of danger. He could not take his lover with him because they were not legally married, and the government had shut down all licensing and civil departments. She urged him to leave with Krasivolkya, and then work to have her reunited later in order to keep their daughter safe. He left, but before he made it home, the rebels invaded the city and went on a spree of rape and murder. Krasivolkya's mother, as an elite, educated woman, was a target, and did not survive the onslaught. A friend sent the sad news, which Krasivolkya's father received upon returning to his flat in St. Petersburg.

Krasivolkya was raised with the best schooling. Her father never remarried and she became his advisor, friend and colleague. She developed an interest in political science and government, and her father had influential connections that helped get her fellowships and interns and eventually a job with the government in Moscow. From there her hardwork and intelligence did the rest.

Around 20, Krasivolkya started having odd episodes where she would zone out, or have insomnia for several nights in a row. Her father took her to several doctors, but the cause could not be determined. When her eyes started to lighten on occasion, her father knew what was happening. He had several friends and connections with the Atharim, and was often consulted for his research in ancient history. He began to prepare his daughter how to evade detection as a Wolfkin. Stealth and deception came naturally to Krasivolkya. Her world didnt have much room for others to get too close to her anyway.

Krasivolkya has been successful in Moscow for 10 years and has risen to become Chief Liaison for the Executive/Ambassador Staff. Her father died two years ago from A brief bout with cancer, leaving Krasivolkya completely alone in the world of her own making.
Edited by Krasivolkya, Jul 28 2013, 05:22 PM.

Does Anyone Remember Shame?
Vulpesnet/Nolan Trace


There's a phrase that's always bothered me, when people use it. It's normally reserved for use by conspiracy theorists and crazy fringe political groups... but never has there been a time where this phrase is more true, or more necessary: Wake up America.

I've said before that empires thrive on conquest; halt the food supply and the animal starves. Nations thrive on nationalism. When the populace becomes lazy, when it becomes too comfortable, when it starts to hate itself for its success, that's when they fall. Right now we're witnessing the death of nationalism, and with it our nation.

Less than fifty years ago, if anyone from that time saw what our nation has fallen to now they would be beyond angry. If they saw us allowing the CCD to spread as it is, they would be terrified. We've fallen, people, and fallen far.

Think about what CCD means for a moment--Central Custody of Dominion. It's not the Central Custody of Freedom, or Happiness or Unity or whatever other nice word you could put there. It's Domination. In their very name, they volunteer the truth: They're not here to help, they're here to control as much of the world as they can. The only credit I can give them is for being honest about it.

The problem that we're witnessing however, is that a lot of people are ignoring the simple truth that's staring them in the face. The Europeans were easily seduced when the Ascendancy offered to help them through their economic problems. After all, it only cost them their souls. The American people were not willing to bend the knee, however, and I'm proud of that.

What's worrying is this new generation that's being raised right now. My generation had our parents who lived before the disasters. Kids being born today will only have their grandparents. None of them will remember first hand America the beautiful, the greatest country on Earth. Instead they'll live and work in the wreckage of our dreams. How can we expect them to see the potential we all have? How can anyone be sure that thirty or forty years down the line an American people with far less fortitude won't give up and succumb to tyranny?

We're the last bastion of true freedom on Earth, and we're living on borrowed time. The only people left aside from us who would stand against the world's new evil empire are Australia and China. China has already been softened by a century of totalitarianism, and Australia isn't very large compared to all of Eurasia.

A suicidal lethargy has overtaken us, every single one of us. Too many are satisfied to live on government aid which we can't afford, or drown their sorrows in drugs and alcohol. The American people my parents' generation remembers were innovative, hard working and resourceful. I have no reason to believe that all of you alive today are incapable of those same levels of achievement.

You're probably thinking by now, "Alright, you've told me about all of these problems. How do we get to fixing it?" And the sad truth is, I don't have all the answers. If I did we wouldn't be in this predicament. But I will say this: Overcome that lethargy.

Go to college, invent new things, read, study, research. Found businesses, create jobs. Help your neighbors, serve your community. Contribute to public works projects: build bridges, pave roads. We can't get back to America as we were without everyone lending a hand. Every American should do all they can to put this nation back on track.

The government should not, and God willing will never force you to give your money or your time to others. That doesn't mean it's the wrong thing to do. We've been reduced to the lowest level we've ever been since before World War 1. We have a duty to turn it around. In the early 20th century, nobody had any idea that America would soon become the world's greatest superpower.

Now, in the mid 21st century, we could have the same chance.

<em>Published by Vulpesnet, 2045. U.S.A</em>

Comments are: <strong>OPEN</strong>

<small>((Comments are anonymous unless you state your character's name in the time tag: Comment: "NAME" (TIME TIMEZONE) ))</small>


Edited by Nolan Trace, Jul 28 2013, 02:59 PM.

<small>((This badly formatted facsimile of a biographical article is probably littered with grammatical mistakes, but I just wanted to get it out there.))
</small>

<small>WikiNet--we beat out Wikipedia a couple decades ago. Deal with it.</small>

Nolan Trace is a modern political demagogue who is rapidly attaining widespread appeal within the United States with his denouncement of the CCD and support of groups such as the Minutemen, alleged to be terrorist organizations by the CCD. His strong support of the Liberty First party and millions of dedicated readers have turned him into one of the most influential journalists of the era. <small>[citation needed]</small> He has been openly denounced by officials within the CCD as a supporter of multiple terrorist groups, and is currently working towards a political career. He is expected to announce his candidacy for the presidency in the coming months.

<small>[Contents]
1. Early Life
2. Political Beliefs
--A. Liberty First
--B. Trace Time
3. Published Works
--A. A Return to Greatness
--B. Freedom's Last Stand</small>

<big>Early Life:
</big>
Nolan Trace was born on September 11th, 2013. He was one of the lucky ones. His father, Christopher Trace, was a Texas oil tycoon. His mother Jean Gunther was the elder Trace's third trophy wife.

In the wake of a series of natural disasters, Christopher Trace's fields became one of the nation's few remaining major supplies of oil. He would've become a billionaire, the demand was so high. Sadly, he only padded his bank account with a few more millions before President Clinton signed an executive order to seize all the oil fields. Nolan Trace would allegedly go on to describe her as a "commie bitch."

The elder Trace, his wife and newborn son fled to the inner states, eventually deciding to settle in South Dakota. They raised their son in the relative safety of Aberdeen, then a small city which was rapidly growing into the economic powerhouse it is today as the rich fled from the coastal states. The early years of Nolan Trace's life were fairly uneventful, although he did progress remarkably in his schooling up until sixth grade.

Around that time his parents went through an ugly divorce, and perhaps as a childish way of getting back at both of them he withdrew inwards, paying less attention to academic pursuits. However, he did do incredibly well in english and history classes despite his near constant failure to turn in homework, and incessant interruptions in the classroom. In his early high school years he gained a position on one of the town's smaller news nets and contributed several well received articles under a pseudonym. His articles were unique, as they represented a conservative viewpoint that was fairly rare in the rich, mostly white town of Aberdeen.

Late in his senior year of high school, he chose to join the United States Navy, or what was left of it at the time, as he felt he would have a difficult time getting into a good college. He scored in the 93rd percentile on the ASVAB, and qualified for the Navy's nuclear power program. However after a medical problem nullified his contract, he chose to do Mass Communications instead. Essentially working as part of the U.S military's propaganda corps, by the end of his five year commitment he was quoted as saying he was "thoroughly disillusioned with the U.S government" of the time.

In his words, he found that more often than not his job was to put a positive spin on failed military programs than it was to showcase his beloved nation's military might. When his five years were finished, he got right out. He left the Navy as a Petty Officer 2nd class. With military experience, it was far easier than it would have been otherwise to find work on the major news nets. Eventually he settled on the Vulpes net as his primary place of journalistic residence. While most of his early years were spent on what he considered unfavorable jobs such as obituaries and investigative pieces on highly publicized crimes, eventually his opinion pieces got a decent following.

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As one major opponent has said, "It turns out, that when you live in a country that used to rule the world a voice urging a return to grace can find a lot of ears." Contrary to his witty, warm demeanor in person his articles on the news nets were a vision of brilliant, fiery demagoguery. In the rapid rise of the CCD, Nolan Trace sees a repetition of history, and often wonders aloud when the Ascendancy will become "the next Stalin, or Hitler, or both." Trace has been a vocal supporter of DARPA programs to develop "next-gen" weapons.

He also urges a return to cold war tactics in regards to the CCD, claiming in a speech made on September 26 2040 that

"...Containment worked. You can argue all you like about the morality of propping up two-bit dictatorships in third world countries, but it worked. There aren't any communist countries left, because we made sure to topple every last one. I'm not going to say America's always going to be the 'good guys.' The problem is that a lot of soft-hearted people in this country think our duty is to be those guys for the rest of the world. Our duty is to ourselves. In the badly paraphrased words of Ronald Reagan, we're the last bastion of true freedom left on the planet, and if we fall there's nowhere left to escape. We're off balance right now, and Ascendancy's got all the cards. To those people I say this: The only way to help the world is to help ourselves. Dictatorships crumble when the leader dies, and an empire the size of CCD isn't built to last. We might not have the hard power right now to go toe to toe with the thousand pound bear, but we have more than enough soft power--SEALs, Delta Force, Rangers and who knows what else--to stab that bear in the paws enough times that it'll stay in its den until it starves. Empires thrive on conquest, and the longer we deny them that conquest the better chance we have of preserving liberty..."

When contacted for comment on the speech, CCD officials scoffed. One, quoted on condition of anonymity, stated that "if the yanks think that they can keep playing God, they're in for a rude awakening. Rome fell and never rose again... ...Britain fell and never rose again. Now it's the American empire's turn... ...[Idiots] like Nolan Trace just don't have the manners to fall gracefully."

Despite dozens of death threats, Trace continues to speak out against the rise of the CCD, and has been a vocal supporter of alleged terrorist groups such as the Minutemen and Asas Ghayara.* Interpol has opened an investigation into his finances in an attempt to arrest him for funding known terrorist groups, however their findings are inconclusive as of now. In the words of an anonymous Interpol agent familiar with the case, it is "unlikely that we'll be able to try the suspect even if we find sufficient evidence, due to his high profile and position in the United States unless we catch him travelling abroad."

Liberty First:

Nolan Trace is a strong and vocal supporter of Liberty First, an ultra nationalist neoconservative party which is rapidly gaining ground in the U.S--due in no small part to Trace's news net fame. Founded by the late Senator Rand Paul in the late 2020's, their goal is to restore America's place in the world, and at home. Trace, and the party, claim that the "old Republican days of demanding tax and spending cuts won't cut it in today's world." "The CCD is the thousand pound bear in the proverbial room," says Trace, "and you can't keep that bear out without some nice walls, or kill it without some nice guns."

In the short term their goal is to increase taxes and invest heavily in the research and development sectors both for civilian life and military defense. They believe that America has little chance of matching a continent spanning empire in production, and instead plan to elevate their technological industry to new levels. While their economic policy may appear fairly liberal, they constantly refer to themselves as "die-hard constitutionalists." LF politicians have never voted in favor of any policy that contradicts the Constitution, and are actively (although slowly) working to kill the national bank.

LF represents a new, moderate breed of American conservative. Their idealism has been tempered by an understanding of the harsh realities of the world. They claim absolute dedication to their nation, to the exclusion (and many opponents say detriment) of all others. Their stance on the CCD can be easily summed up with the words of their late founder Rand Paul: "Until the CCD can be counterbalanced, the American people remain under constant threat of tyranny. Thus, our goal is liberty from the CCD first, before complete freedom can be achieved."

NolanTrace is currently the front runner for Liberty First's presidential candidacy. However, he has not yet publicly expressed his willingness to run. Officials in both the American and CCD governments have been quite vocal in their worry that if a volatile political candidate such as Trace achieves office, instability between the two titans will result.

Vulpes News Network

Nolan Trace is a weekly contributor to the Vulpes News Network, and he has used his incredibly popular weekly segment as a major sounding board for his political ideals. He often interviews important political figures on the show. He also uses his massive audience as a powerful voting bloc. When he throws his weight behind a candidate, that candidate has a major advantage. It is believed that his popularity will play a major role in the 2048 election, where it is believed he will be the candidate for Liberty First.

Published Works

Nolan Trace is currently the publisher of several books which, while popular among his readers and those politically aligned with him, have been lambasted by more moderate and liberal critics as "a virtual civilian declaration of war." When asked for comment on some of the criticism of his work, Trace released a statement on his Vulpesnet channel: "There's been a lot of outcry over my last book, Freedom's Last Stand, and I get it. A lot of people have become content with our position as the omega wolf of the world's pack. When I advocate a return to our original position, people call me a war monger and a fool. Some people are satisfied with begging a dictator for scraps, I'm not. If you're ready to stand up and live, then stand with me. If we keep lying down, we're all going to die."

A Return to Greatness:

A Return to Greatness (Mons, 2047) was Trace's first book and was mostly overlooked by readers, only selling several thousand copies. It presented a far more moderate viewpoint on the political landscape of the world at the time, advocating open dialogue between the United States and the CCD. As a fairly new writer with no following, the book was quickly forgotten by America's mainstream media.

Freedom's Last Stand:

Freedom's Last Stand (Mons, 2042) was released after Trace had gained a significant following, and topped the libnet's best selling list for political and philosophical texts. In the book, Trace took a far more aggressive stance against CCD expansion and advocated a strong U.S. response. He voiced disgust with how far the country had fallen, and offered up several possible solutions for problems facing the country. While receiving high ratings from conservative-to-moderate review nets, left-leaning readers were very vocal in their disagreement with the message portrayed in the book.


((Some time between leaving the military and becoming a journalist, his ability to channel manifested itself. While he survived the spark, he has no idea at all about his abilities. He often channels without knowing it, and may sometimes unconsciously use a form of compulsion on others. He can't make you kill your mother--unless you hate your mother, in which case he can't make you NOT kill her--but he can be oddly persuasive at times.

His block is that he can't do any channeling without saying exactly what he's doing. That's why he's capable of convincing people to do things unconsciously--he's saying it aloud.

*Asas Ghayara is me butchering the Arabic Language. Asas Ghayara SHOULD mean Foundation for Change, but I'm just a suburban Catholic white person so what the hell do I know? It probably won't matter anyways unless somebody wants to be an Arabic freedom fighter and latch into that name. Maybe I'll use them as flavor in some articles later on though.))

The issue has come up several times now regarding what to do if you want to write posts which take place outside the general Moscow area.

At this point we do not have designated boards for such circumstances. If the setting of your post pretty much anywhere in the Central Dominance you can post in the 'Greater Moscow and Golden Ring' board. Some people have been adding their location as a subtitle in the 'description' area of the post for clarification, so you could do something like that. For instance the post I created called The Underworld is subtitled as "Siberia."

However I don't want to deprive writers of such an opportunity to tell their story about how they eventually land in Moscow itself. Therefore, alternatively, if your post takes place much farther away, you may post it as replies to your initial biography under the Biographies and Backstory board.

Technically, the interest in such things has been more of providing a backstory post rather than starting a roleplaying thread. If you are interested in having an interaction with another character for your backstory, (ie, both of your back-stories overlap with one another) you may post back and forth to some degree, just don't carry on for pages and pages like a true RP thread.

However I strongly urge everyone to make it to Moscow eventually, as that is the setting for RP interaction with other characters. Also, future events *grin* may severely restrict travel (depending on how things work out), and everyone will need to be forced into a similar geographic area anyway.

I hope this solution works to everyone's satisfaction. Nothing is set in stone, however. We can continue to reassess alternative solutions if this one does not work out.

-A