Ireland is currently deeply involved in a storyline in-progress, which will be leading into a full on rebellion of the Celtic nations against England. While not revealed completely IC yet, they were involved in the bombing of Buckingham Palace. When it gets to the Civil War itself, they also will be playing a major part.
Also, as far as other countries go...
Romania was left out, and Denmark is still open I believe. Pretty sure all that happened was that they became Prussias ally after the Prussians de-socialized them.
And France should still be open, if you want to play a power, since I don't think they've been involved in much, if anything, since Hug left them.
An old, abandoned mill sat a midst a blanket of snow, sparkling as the sunrise met it. To the mills left, a modern, black car sat, doors open, in a snowless patch of dirt, covered by a massive tree branch, which occasionally rained snow when the wind hit, which helped in covering the tire tracks left by the car. Inside the mill, the early morning light shone through a broken, boarded up window, making visible the dust that danced through the cold air, before the old door creaked, and men rushed in, sending the particles flying each and every direction. Picking up the rear of the group was Devon, coughing as the stirred dust made it's way into his lungs. Slamming the door shut, he joined the others.
At this point, Charles had a large burlap sack placed over his head, and his hands tied behind his back. He was placed on an old stool, which creaked under his weight. Standing against the wall opposite of him was Wallace, who was holding a terrified Henrietta by the bindings around her wrists, while also holding a gun to her head. A little in front of the two sat a pair of men, handling a camera, which was pointed right at Charles. Besides the pair sat a large pair of studio lights, both connected to a portable generator, which was offset from the film equipment.
Looking over the scene, Devon gave a nod, and one of the men handling the camera ran forward, and ripped the sack from Charles' head, forcing him to turn his head instinctively, as the bright lights forced their way into his pupils. The man grabbed the king by the chin, and forced him to look forward, as Devon moved in even closer, stopping in front of Charles, and shooing away the lackey.
"Nice day outside, wouldn't you say, Charles? Oh, before you say anything, take a good look around. It might be a good idea to pick your words carefully. Unless you want your wife-to-be to become your wife-to-be-dead."
Looking up, Charles opened his mouth, but said nothing, and just lowered his head to speak to the dwarf instead. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?" He asked, voice quivering a bit.
"Who I am is not important, nor is my reason for entertaining you today. What is important, however, is the fact that you are soon going to be a television star. Now, smile bright, you want the camera to capture your good side. Oh! You also want to make sure you read the cards exactly as they are, or else there will be a flood of red splashing on your face, which I'm sure nobody wants to see."
Gulping, Charles simply nodded, and looked up at the man who had taken his blindfold off, who was now holding up a stack of cue cards.
Smiling, and putting on a Venetian mask, Devon stepped up on a stool, in a position that made sure his masked face was the only thing in the camera. Clearing his throat, he did vocal warm ups for about a minute before speaking again.
"Everyone, be nice and quiet. Mark, make the call. We want to be the highlight of the late morning news."
3 hours later, every channel in the UK.
A single pair of lights lit up a dark room to the point everything but a man in a black and white mask was made entirely black. Only the occasional dust particles stole the spotlight, but they would disappear from sight as quickly as they appeared. After a minute of eerie silence, the man in the mask began to speak, in a forced American accent.
"Good morning, Britain, Ireland. How are you today? Worried, no doubt. Charles went missing sometime ago, and still hasn't been found. Well, no need to worry. I'm here to tell you that he is safe and sound, as is his woman. However, it is up to you to decide how long that lasts. But... Enough of me. How about we let him speak for himself, shall we?"
Stepping down and out of sight, the masked man moved, revealing a tired and ragged looking Charles, sitting atop a battered stool, that looked like it would break any moment. The King looked up slightly, eyes squinting, and looking directly into the camera. When he spoke, it was very weak, and tired sounding.
"Hello, people of England. This is your King speaking. I am afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news this morning. I simply plea that you all listen to me, and do as I say, less you wish a darker fate upon our country. Christian, I hope you are watching this, as you are the only one that can ensure most of the things I will say now will happen. If the requirements are not met, both my life, and the lives of our citizens will be in danger."
Taking a breath, the King lowered his head a bit, but the sound of a gun clicking somewhere in the background quickly got him to raise it, and got him speaking again.
"One. All foreign missions are to be canceled indefinitely. This includes the missions in..." The king paused, hesitating when seeing the mention of classified information that could cause relations to worsen, but continued on after looking behind the camera. "...Prussia and Armenia, as well as the mission in America. England it to cut all ties currently held with other nations, whether positive or negative. Anybody overseas in an embassy is to return home immediately.
Two. The United Kingdom is to be dissolved. In it's place, two nations will form. The first being the Kingdom of England, and the second being the Republic of the Celts. Following this, all nations and territories associated with the Celts is to be released from English control, and transferred to this new nation of the Celts. This includes the territories of the Isle of Mann and the South-Western English province of Cornwall.
Three. England is to give two thirds of it's military supplies and resources to this new nation of the Celts, no questions. Seeing as we are losing more than two thirds of the population, it should not be an issue.
Four. Christian Brent is to meet personally with the to-be ruler of this Celtic nation at the location included with this recording, at the end of the week, to sign the official paperwork regarded the separation of our nation.
If any of these are not met with, myself and Princess Henrietta of the Netherlands will both be executed. Not only this, but England will then be at war with the Celtic Republic, for refusing them their right to independence. This would not only mean a war, but a true end to the Monarchy, as both myself and my unborn heir would be dead."
Once again, the man with the mask stepped up, and spoke to the camera.
"I plea that you act rationally. Believe me, I do not wish to see Charles dead, but this is what it has come down to. We tried to ask for independence civilly many times over the last few years, but Christian Brent personally made sure that those many petitions, documents and letters would never see the light of day. I, for one, never even heard of our requests in any news, paper or television. If anyone is to blame for this, it is him.
Remember. You have until the end of the week to answer. We will be waiting."
With a click, the video ended, leaving static on the screen, and every man, woman and child in England shocked, scared and/or slack-jawed. They had two choices. Comply, and lose all they had been working for, or decline, and lose the monarch, and enter a war.
The split needs to happen, considering the shape the UK is in. I doubt Scotland and Ireland, who already want to be separate, would just sit back and stay a part of a dying UK, rather than break free when the time is perfect to do so.
And I can do it peacefully. Just figured the civil war would be much more fun to read, and a bit more realistic, considering England is England.
Maybe something like this would be more reasonable?
With the red being the fully inhabited, major points for the civilization, and the blue being more like colonies. That way there would still be a good amount of islands under their rule, but it would be more central, instead of far-spread. And having colonies just makes sense for the type of place it is.
I had more territory overall, but I didn't have as many islands.
I don't mind, I just would have liked that area to be a little less established. A bunch of sophisticated guys in control of all those islands is kind of 'eh', given how barbaric the area is, and how much they'd be raided.
I'm counting 10 little islands, and the piece of the big island in blue. I don't see how that's less than 6.
And I wouldn't exactly call my people sophisticated. They're basically just organized barbarians. The High King title is just a mock title, making fun of the people to the south who thinks the name itself holds power. :>
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If not, you may be in the wrong place.
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Also, as far as other countries go...
Romania was left out, and Denmark is still open I believe. Pretty sure all that happened was that they became Prussias ally after the Prussians de-socialized them.
And France should still be open, if you want to play a power, since I don't think they've been involved in much, if anything, since Hug left them.
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An old, abandoned mill sat a midst a blanket of snow, sparkling as the sunrise met it. To the mills left, a modern, black car sat, doors open, in a snowless patch of dirt, covered by a massive tree branch, which occasionally rained snow when the wind hit, which helped in covering the tire tracks left by the car. Inside the mill, the early morning light shone through a broken, boarded up window, making visible the dust that danced through the cold air, before the old door creaked, and men rushed in, sending the particles flying each and every direction. Picking up the rear of the group was Devon, coughing as the stirred dust made it's way into his lungs. Slamming the door shut, he joined the others.
At this point, Charles had a large burlap sack placed over his head, and his hands tied behind his back. He was placed on an old stool, which creaked under his weight. Standing against the wall opposite of him was Wallace, who was holding a terrified Henrietta by the bindings around her wrists, while also holding a gun to her head. A little in front of the two sat a pair of men, handling a camera, which was pointed right at Charles. Besides the pair sat a large pair of studio lights, both connected to a portable generator, which was offset from the film equipment.
Looking over the scene, Devon gave a nod, and one of the men handling the camera ran forward, and ripped the sack from Charles' head, forcing him to turn his head instinctively, as the bright lights forced their way into his pupils. The man grabbed the king by the chin, and forced him to look forward, as Devon moved in even closer, stopping in front of Charles, and shooing away the lackey.
"Nice day outside, wouldn't you say, Charles? Oh, before you say anything, take a good look around. It might be a good idea to pick your words carefully. Unless you want your wife-to-be to become your wife-to-be-dead."
Looking up, Charles opened his mouth, but said nothing, and just lowered his head to speak to the dwarf instead. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?" He asked, voice quivering a bit.
"Who I am is not important, nor is my reason for entertaining you today. What is important, however, is the fact that you are soon going to be a television star. Now, smile bright, you want the camera to capture your good side. Oh! You also want to make sure you read the cards exactly as they are, or else there will be a flood of red splashing on your face, which I'm sure nobody wants to see."
Gulping, Charles simply nodded, and looked up at the man who had taken his blindfold off, who was now holding up a stack of cue cards.
Smiling, and putting on a Venetian mask, Devon stepped up on a stool, in a position that made sure his masked face was the only thing in the camera. Clearing his throat, he did vocal warm ups for about a minute before speaking again.
"Everyone, be nice and quiet. Mark, make the call. We want to be the highlight of the late morning news."
3 hours later, every channel in the UK.
A single pair of lights lit up a dark room to the point everything but a man in a black and white mask was made entirely black. Only the occasional dust particles stole the spotlight, but they would disappear from sight as quickly as they appeared. After a minute of eerie silence, the man in the mask began to speak, in a forced American accent.
"Good morning, Britain, Ireland. How are you today? Worried, no doubt. Charles went missing sometime ago, and still hasn't been found. Well, no need to worry. I'm here to tell you that he is safe and sound, as is his woman. However, it is up to you to decide how long that lasts. But... Enough of me. How about we let him speak for himself, shall we?"
Stepping down and out of sight, the masked man moved, revealing a tired and ragged looking Charles, sitting atop a battered stool, that looked like it would break any moment. The King looked up slightly, eyes squinting, and looking directly into the camera. When he spoke, it was very weak, and tired sounding.
"Hello, people of England. This is your King speaking. I am afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news this morning. I simply plea that you all listen to me, and do as I say, less you wish a darker fate upon our country. Christian, I hope you are watching this, as you are the only one that can ensure most of the things I will say now will happen. If the requirements are not met, both my life, and the lives of our citizens will be in danger."
Taking a breath, the King lowered his head a bit, but the sound of a gun clicking somewhere in the background quickly got him to raise it, and got him speaking again.
"One. All foreign missions are to be canceled indefinitely. This includes the missions in..." The king paused, hesitating when seeing the mention of classified information that could cause relations to worsen, but continued on after looking behind the camera. "...Prussia and Armenia, as well as the mission in America. England it to cut all ties currently held with other nations, whether positive or negative. Anybody overseas in an embassy is to return home immediately.
Two. The United Kingdom is to be dissolved. In it's place, two nations will form. The first being the Kingdom of England, and the second being the Republic of the Celts. Following this, all nations and territories associated with the Celts is to be released from English control, and transferred to this new nation of the Celts. This includes the territories of the Isle of Mann and the South-Western English province of Cornwall.
Three. England is to give two thirds of it's military supplies and resources to this new nation of the Celts, no questions. Seeing as we are losing more than two thirds of the population, it should not be an issue.
Four. Christian Brent is to meet personally with the to-be ruler of this Celtic nation at the location included with this recording, at the end of the week, to sign the official paperwork regarded the separation of our nation.
If any of these are not met with, myself and Princess Henrietta of the Netherlands will both be executed. Not only this, but England will then be at war with the Celtic Republic, for refusing them their right to independence. This would not only mean a war, but a true end to the Monarchy, as both myself and my unborn heir would be dead."
Once again, the man with the mask stepped up, and spoke to the camera.
"I plea that you act rationally. Believe me, I do not wish to see Charles dead, but this is what it has come down to. We tried to ask for independence civilly many times over the last few years, but Christian Brent personally made sure that those many petitions, documents and letters would never see the light of day. I, for one, never even heard of our requests in any news, paper or television. If anyone is to blame for this, it is him.
Remember. You have until the end of the week to answer. We will be waiting."
With a click, the video ended, leaving static on the screen, and every man, woman and child in England shocked, scared and/or slack-jawed. They had two choices. Comply, and lose all they had been working for, or decline, and lose the monarch, and enter a war.
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Conversion? I prefer raiding ;D
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And I can do it peacefully. Just figured the civil war would be much more fun to read, and a bit more realistic, considering England is England.
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Maybe something like this would be more reasonable?
With the red being the fully inhabited, major points for the civilization, and the blue being more like colonies. That way there would still be a good amount of islands under their rule, but it would be more central, instead of far-spread. And having colonies just makes sense for the type of place it is.
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I'm counting 10 little islands, and the piece of the big island in blue. I don't see how that's less than 6.
And I wouldn't exactly call my people sophisticated. They're basically just organized barbarians. The High King title is just a mock title, making fun of the people to the south who thinks the name itself holds power. :>