small militia

Joey: “so what exactly ARE all of these doing here?”
Xefros: “all of the whats?”
Joey: “the rifles, numbnuts! why does your friend have so many?”
Joey: “i mean, my pa has a lot of rifles sitting around but not in a dangerous pile like that!”
Xefros: “oh, well, they serve two purposes.”
Xefros: “one is that we need them when we raise a small militia to Xeed the strength of the planetary government and rebel against the heiress.”
Joey: “those are some damn lofty goals.”
Joey: “and…xeed? what?”
Joey: “…oh, you meen exceed. why do you type it like that?”
Xefros: “it’s a typing quirk you idiot! everyone adds a little something to make their chat voice more Xtra special.”
Joey: “okay, well that’s dumb and stupid.”
Xefros: “you’re dumb and stupid!”
Joey: “that comeback was really dumb and stupid, but not as dumb and stupid as you are, since you are extremely DUMB and STUPID!”
Xefros: “daaaaamn…ya got me with that one. i was thoroughly owned. XESSIVELY owned, even.”
Joey: “…anyways what is the second thing you use those guns for?”
Xefros: “me and dammek also get in the pile and have a feelings jam.”
Joey: “is that some kind of weird troll fluid?”
Xefros: “no!!!”

How To Engage Your Players

I’ve been thinking about how lately how to engage players at the table when running a campaign as it’s a problem I’ve definitely had in the past. I don’t believe in the whole, in-game punishment concept, so here are some ideas on how to solve that problem and keep things fun.

Give Your PC Purpose!/Involve Them Into the Story

A lot of times in larger groups, certain PCs tend to grab more of the spotlight than others. This leaves other players feeling left out or unimportant. So the best way may be to simply give them more involvement in the story in a unique or dramatic way. Feeling important or vital to the narrative can really boost engagement. Suddenly after saving the Queen of a foreign kingdom, your Fighter is now an honorary knight of the kingdom and gain a small militia that will assist you in battle whenever you call upon them for aid. Or perhaps your party has been captured by band of powerful thieves, but rather than killing you all outright, they strike a deal with your Rogue to steal a highly dangerous magical item. Another option could be a PC gains some magical ability or object that empowers them, but makes them highly sought after by others.

“My Character Sucks”

Related to the ideas above, sometimes the problem isn’t just getting more involved in the story, but that they have issues with their PC. Perhaps their character isn’t useful or powerful enough. Good fixes for this, magic items. Giving players magic items, not even necessarily Rare or Legendary items can help make them feel more powerful or useful, as long as they don’t have a huge advantage over the other players this may work just fine. Or perhaps your player is running a class that feels relatively weak. The Beast Master archetype for Ranger in 5th edition is honestly quite lacking in many ways. My personal fix for this was giving the Ranger more feats from the Hunter archetype (or possibly making their companion creature stronger/more flexible to use in combat).

“My Character Sucks Part II”

Now if your player is losing interest simply because they don’t LIKE their character, there are two choices they can make. 1.) Have them roll a new character and retire the old one. It’s simple, and gives them a chance to try out a new class and have some fun. But this isn’t always great for narrative purposes and can be a lot more work for YOU. Or quite possible this just won’t solve the issue. So that leaves you with the other choice. 2.) Make the character dynamic. Characters can become boring because they are static, they refuse to change and grow stale. This is often why characters in novels are dynamic characters, they need to change to feel real and remain interesting. Or maybe the character is just a huge asshole. Either way, evolving their character gives them a chance to grow and evolve their character in an exciting way. This could also be something they can work out with you as the DM (which should be less work than writing in a new party member)

One Special Moment/Everybody Gets to be a Star!

I often try to make sure each player has at least one special moment per session (although I’m not always the greatest at it..). As I mentioned above, some players may take a larger control over the narrative or action. Making sure each player has a specific moment crafted for them or their character can be challenging but very rewarding.

Active Engagement

This one seems like an easy one but a DM has to keep track of a LOT of things. I believe your players should be your number one priority. Whenever you see a player seems to be feeling left out or receding into the background, try engaging them by asking their character questions either as the DM or even as an NPC. How does their PC feel about the current situation? What are they doing while the party gets hammered in the tavern? Do they notice something the others don’t? Roll Perception.

Active Engagement (Among Players)

To add onto the idea above, ask your more active players to encourage roleplay and decision making between each other, especially when another player seems to be left out. This can help immensely. Creating strong ties between PCs too can help create a unique and fun dynamic that is not only interesting for the story but can also keep everyone involved.

Removing Cell Phones & Other Distractions

Most everyone keeps their cell phones on hand, so texting, snapchatting, tweeting, etc. can be pretty distracting. Obviously all of these can be used correctly and politely, but I’m sure we’ve all seen players who take this over the top. I had a player who spent nearly an entire session playing an app game, barely looking up except to do something ridiculous or hazardous to the party simply because THEY were “bored.” Taking away one person’s phone is pretty controlling and could even be embarrassing for your friend. So instead, offer that everyone put their phone’s in a bucket when you start playing to keep everyone totally involved in the game. Your own phone as well if you don’t use it for the game. Only times you’re allowed to take them out is when you take a break or need to look something up. (Oh and emergencies too, of course. And ordering pizza)

Discourage Out of Game Discussion

It can difficult to immerse yourself in the game if everyone keeps interrupting the game to talk about their plans for the weekend or a funny picture they saw on Twitter that everyone NEEDS to see. If this is a problem for your players, make sure to include an appropriate amount of breaks while having a session.

Talk To Your Players

If all of the above don’t seem to be working, the best option may be just to simply talk to them. Outside of the game, ask your player(s) what’s preventing them from engaging or involving themselves with the game. There are an infinite number of reasons why, a direct conversation can help bring these reasons to light and give you a chance to work on them. Meet your players half-way. You may want to talk to them directly right away or give them a few sessions to see if the issue resolves itself.

What If None of That Works?

Chances are, maybe this just isn’t the right campaign for your player. Worst case scenario, they just aren’t interested in D&D. This isn’t necessarily a reflection on your DM'ing abilities. It all comes down to personal taste.

Also keep in mind not every player enjoys the game in the same ways. Some players are engaged with the story, but just prefer taking a backseat and watching the others, participating when they feel. This isn’t bad, as long as someone is helping drive the story. I also have tons of players who like to doodle while playing but still remain heavily active and engaged in the campaign. Even cell phone use isn’t a problem for me, especially during combat. In the end, it all comes down the individual. Make sure you get to know your players and what works for them and what doesn’t!

This is all just personal opinion so feel free to add your own ideas by reblogging and adding ideas!

Newcomers Pt 16

It was dark, all fires and lights had been forbidden after the fall of Geeda and an evacuation order had gone out but the enemy had been spotted not five miles from their town. A small group of militia volunteers had agreed to stand and fight to defend their homes and at least slow the enemy down. But there had been no sign of them since that message had come, no thunder that was said to precede their arrival brought on by their tower sized machines. No sounds of their tracked vehicles that fired shells that shred their war trucks apart.

Ceten had agreed to volunteer because his father had pushed him into it calling him a coward because he wanted to go with his mother. By Human standards he was only 14 maybe 15 years old but to the Benemar was well past childhood. He had never liked fighting, being the runt of the littler meant he was the smallest and all his brothers and his two sisters had done their father proud and joined the warrior caste. He wanted to be a farmer, to see fields of purple once more flow to the horizon like it said in his books. Those he had had to beg or steal as his father often said reading was for breeders not warriors and had beaten him several times when he found him with a book under his bed. Right now, his father was beside him holding a rifle perched on some hastily constructed barricades made out of cars and furniture. All his siblings were dead, they fell in Geeda and he saw how his father had looked at their portraits and beamed with pride saying they had died honourably and brought great glory even in death. He had then promptly struck Ceten, calling him a failure before retiring for the night. Now his only living child stood shoulder to shoulder with him to avenge their fallen and kill as many of these Humans and Gal as possible. Many stories had reached them long before the fall of Geeda, tales of how the Humans shape shifted and could punch threw iron walls as easily as one may tear through paper.

Small lights shun behind them so that those who’s jobs it was the reload rifles and fire home made mortars could see what they were doing but it was only just enough to see. Beyond the barricade Ceten could barley see his hand in front of his face, he looked up wishing things were like they were in his books. Clear skies that shun with the light of the moon at night and burned with the heat of the sun, and stars, oh how he wanted to see stars. To find the constellations old Benemar used to sail the oceans and navigate at night before the compass.

Whispers were the only audible noise that he heard other than the breathing of his father and beating of his own heart. His father then turned to him and glared at him.

“Be ready son, a flare is about to go up”

“Yes father” he whispered before passing the message to the warrior to his right. Besides everything he was happy, his father had called him son, he had not done that for a very long time. He steadied his rifle and knew that the Humans must be out there, the flare went up and indeed, they were.

Ceten’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, the Humans were standing only five feet from the barricade in complete silence. It was not just a few either, they stood shoulder to shoulder glaring at him and there must have been thousands of them. How long had they been there? Why had they waited for the flare? Such thoughts left him as the Human in front of him grabbed his rifle with a speed he could not follow struck him. The last he remembered were the shouts and cries of his townsmen as the Humans leaped over the barricade and began their work. Then everything went black.

He awoke some hours later, he knew because it was day and from the height of the sun it was coming to near midday. He had fallen under the barricade and lost conciseness from hitting his head. Grunting as he rose he put his hand to the back of his head and felt for a wound, there was none and he was thankful. Movement above him made him freeze, a Gal was walking along the barricade and moving some things. Looking around he saw the remains of his town, much of the buildings had been burned caught up in the fighting and most likely any Benemar they found were slaughtered. The Humans and their Gal allies had made themselves at home, they moved and looked just as terrifying as the books said. He knew all about the last war and the last time the Humans came to Bento Prime. How they devoured their dead and cooked their still living prisoners alive. He had no wish to die that way, he had no wish to die at all but it seemed that that decision may not be his. He would have to stay exactly where he was until the Humans moved on, most likely after they had devoured everything they could and their hunger spurred them on again looking for new hunting grounds. Luckily some debris from the barricade had fallen on him making a kind of cave that he could stay under and if he was careful watch what was happening outside. But for all his fear he was still curious and wanted to learn about these creatures.

For the most part the Humans did not seem to act too different than his own people, they stood around and spoke to each other and their Gal friends. They drank and ate and were generally just going about their business. But he never saw any of their weapons, not a single one was carrying a rifle, he shifted to look out another part of the wrecked barricade hoping to see this towering machines that walked but it was nowhere in sight.

He scoffed to himself disappointed he would not get to see one, his friends would have been so jealous to hear he saw a walking tower machine. Then the thought occurred, what friends? He had only a few and they were all most likely dead now as they were manning the barricade with him.

And his father? His father had been there and called him his son. Tears came and he struggled and fought the urge to cry. “Only breeders cry” he repeated his fathers words. But he couldn’t help it, he loved his father for all his faults.  

“I found a survivor!” sounded a Human above him looking down through the wooden planks and was beginning to shift them. Panic gripped him like a vine and he thrashed and screamed at them to get away and leave him alone, only then did he notice his leg was caught.

“His leg is pinned under the wreckage” the Human called jumping down and other Humans came to help. The barricade that he had fought on was shifted with surprising ease and a Gal tentacle reached in and pulled him free. He screamed as the Humans gathered around him, they were going to tear him apart and eat him he knew it. He cried and thrashed waiting for the moment he felt their teeth on his skin. But it never came, he stopped shouting and slowly calmed down his eyes low and slowly looked at the one Human holding onto his arm, smiling at him.

It was a warm smile meant to comfort him and she showed no sign of aggression, she was not even armoured or armed. He looked around and the other Humans were also smiling at him and the Gal hung back behind them.

“Have you calmed down now?” said the female human who had hold of his arm.

“Um…yes” he said meekly.

Her smiled widened and a small chair was placed behind him and she placed him on it while another Human inspected his injured leg.

“A small cut, nothing broken, you’re a tough one” he said and reached into his bag “This will stop it getting infected” the Human said and sprayed something on his leg that stung a little and was bandaged. Then the Human got up and handed him a small white stick with a ball on the tip that was orange in colour, patted him on the head and left.

He looked at the strange thing the Human had gave him and looked at the others who giggled, the female who sat beside him took it and took off the small wrapping and put the lolly in his mouth. His mouth exploded with the sweet taste and his smile brought one to hers.

“My name is Karen, what’s yours?”

“C-c-…Creten” he whispered the lolly still in his mouth.

“Nice to meet you Creten, are you hungry?”

He nodded and she took his hand and lead him through the Human camp.

He looked around as he was lead past countless Humans who all smiled at him or greeted him warmly, he began to wonder if these were Humans at all, they were nothing like they were supposed to be in his books. The Gal even watched him but showed more a curious interest than an intent to kill.

Then they reached a place where there were more Benemar.

“Farther!” Creten screamed and ran into his fathers embrace, he was horrified to see his father had lost his right arm but he was hugged all the tighter with his left.

“My son” he said as Creten buried his head in his fathers chest tears once more flowing freely.

“Ah perfect timing” Karen said as one of the cooks came pushing a trolley.

“We know you are purely carnivores but we did not want to give you just plain chicken so we made you all chicken soup” he called to the Benemar who all regarded him with a mixture of hatred and suspicion.

Creten moved and went to him and was handed a bowl and poured some and handed a spoon, he turned and ran back to his father and gave it to him. His father looked at it and at his son who had gone back for his own.

Creten sat down in front of his father and began eating this Human food they had been given. None of the Benemar moved and the cook was standing there waiting patiently for the others to decide to move on their own. His son was eating it vigorously, he had not eaten anything like it and was incredibly hungry. Creten’s father looked around, they were not held in a prison, there was not even a fence, there was just a small area next to a tank with some sheets thrown over them to shield them from the sun and wind. There were not even any guards, where these Humans so confident that they did not even guard them. He looked down at the bowl seeing the different colours of the soup as the Human had called it, slowly he took a mouthful and seeing one of their elders eating the others slowly made their way to get their own helping.

Fic rec series: Down to Agincourt

Okay, so I am about to rec you a fic that is actually an entire book series, Down to Agincourt. The word count is massive, I will not lie to you. Currently, word count is over one million.

Don’t freak, okay. Take it out of fic context and put it into book context: the Harry Potter series is longer than this fic series- thus far. The most recent one has chaps 22/25 posted.

Still. Harry Potter. Song of Fire and Ice. The Dark Tower. Wheel of Time (coming in at a whopping 3.3M).

Okay. We good? I’m not reccing you a fic, I’m reccing you a book series. Don’t balk.

You good? You calm? You gonna hear me out? Good.

NO! Don’t leave. You will sit yourself right there and you will fucking listen before you balk and panic over word count. I repeat: Book. Series.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Keep reading


Artistic representations of the battle of Lexington.

The first was produced just seven months after the battle by a Patriot militiaman, Amos Doolittle, who had fought during the British retreat from Concord and who had interviewed fellow militiamen present at Lexington. It shows dawn at Lexington Green, and a small gathering of militia being scattered by the regulars. 

During the 19th century images of the battle became increasingly divorced from reality. The militia become increasingly well-attired, with the work of  François Godefroy being the most extreme - the engagement has been transformed into a pitched battle between hundreds of uniformed soldiers, complete with flying colours, heavy artillery and blazing buildings. 

Claymore [Ignis/Fem!Reader] Prelude: The Beginning of the End Part 2

I don’t have a gif for this one… :/ Good news, I’m done with my difficult finals, so I’m free to resume writing again! (*Throws hands up and it starts raining confetti!!) This bit is shorter than the last, but it didn’t feel right to write beyond this. Next bit will have some more Ignis!

Keep reading

The Agitator, Kankri's Ansestor, Pre-Scratch Karkat

The First Beforus Headcanon post. Although this one focuses on The Agitator (AKA Pre-Scratch Karkat) and his companions.

The Agitator, as we all know, was born a mutant, with bright red blood. As you can probably guess, he was culled. His culler was a violet blooded seatroll called The Defender. He was known for culling mutantbloods and only mutantbloods.

At a very young age, The Agitator thought that culling was wrong. He thought it took away the chance of greatness from lower trolls and turned them into decorations or statements. So as you can guess he began planning his escape.

While planning his escape, The Agitator met The Unseeing, a female teal-blooded troll who was culled for being blind. The two decided to escape together, making a pact to end all culling for it was unjust and cruel.

The Agitator and The Unseeing escaped their culler and hide in the Beforanian forests so they wouldn’t get culled again.

After their escape, The Agitator and The Unseeing decided to stick together and end culling. It was a daring plan and together they made it work.


The Agitator and The Unseeing began protests made up of degenerates and mutants, protesting cullings and attacking Culleries. The protests started out relatively peaceful but got more and more violent as they progressed. Eventually leading to assassinations and even a world-wide bombing of over a million Culleries.

After a while they attracted the attention of The Condescension. the Condesce truly had good intentions, but she did not understand why these protests were happening, so she met force with love.

The Grand Culling. An event where millions of Highbloods came together and Forcibly Culled as many mutants as they could. It crippled the rebellion and left The Agitator and The Unseeing with a small militia instead of an army.

So a new plan for formed.

“Save the Children” it was called, and save the children they did. The Agitator, The Unseeing and as many trolls as they could band together began stealing culled children and grubs from the Culleries and cullers’ hives. This went on for four sweeps before the Condesce was fed up.

She was going to cull The Agitator and end this whole rebellion if it was the last thing she did. So the search began, she had highbloods looking for him for nights on end, but the Agitator was smart. He knew Beforus’s lands like the back of his hand. He and The Unseeing hid for many sweeps until they became careless. The Unseeing was captured and Forcibly Culled. It was said that when the Agitator found out his friend had been culled, he let out a screech of anger that made trolls within a 100 mile radius run out of fear.

The Agitator devised a plan to save his friend. He was going to attack and save the culled trolls that the Condesce had. The mission was told to only a few other trolls, and was to be operated during the day, then it was least expected.

Unfortunately there was a mole. The Perjurer, a Cerulean blooded troll who was a spy for the Condesce betrayed the Agitator and was the entire reason that the plan failed.

The Agitator was Forcibly Culled, along with the trolls who tried to help the Agitator.

After he was culled, The Agitator never saw The Unseeing or the light of night even again. He died in the Hive of the one he despised the most.


The SKS Semi Automatic Rifle,

Before World War II the Soviet Union had intended to update their small arms arsenal by phasing out the Mosin Nagant bolt action rifle and replacing it with a semi automatic design.  This process began with notable models such as the AVS-36, SVT-38, and the SVT-40. However, due to the German invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, such plans could not be fully realized and as a result the bolt action rifle remained the backbone of the Red Army. As the war drew to a close Soviet ordnance officials once again began the search for a new semi automatic rifle to become the standard infantry arm of the Soviet military.  However, unlike other designs, the new weapon was to be of carbine length, based on lessons learned from brutal urban combat on the Eastern Front, and use an intermediate cartridge similar to the German STG-44.

In 1944 the Soviet small arms designer Sergei Simonov began work on a new semi automatic carbine which used a recently invented intermediate cartridge, the 7.62X33mm.  The new SKS (Samozaryadnyj Karabin sistemy Simonova - Self Loading Carbine) was a simple, rugged, and effective weapon which used a gas operated tilting bolt semi automatic action. It incorporated a ten round fixed magazine which was loaded using stripper clips (some models would use 30 round detachable magazines). The stock was made of hardwood, and later laminate, while the receiver and magazine were of stamped sheet metal. Like most Russian small arms, the SKS was designed with simplicity, economy, and ease of manufacture in mind. As a result, the SKS was relatively simple to mass produce, making it one of the most prolifically mass produced firearms in history with over 15 million manufactured. Most models tend to have a folding bayonet attached underside the barrel. A cleaning kit is also located in a compartment within the stock.

Apparently pre-production trial runs of the SKS began in the waning months of World War II, although I have never seen any sources that confirm this. The SKS was officially adopted in 1949, only a few years after the invention of the AK-47. While the AK-47 was the much better weapon, with a select fire system and 30 round magazine, it was difficult to mass produce, had many production issues, and had some reliability issues to be worked out.  Thus the AK-47 did not become a mainstay of the Soviet military until an improved model called the AKM was introduced in 1959. Until then the SKS would serve as the backbone of the Soviet Armed Forces. In addition to Soviet production, Communist allies often produced their own models and variants.  The most common example is the Chinese Type 56, which was adopted by the Chinese military in 1956 and continued in official use for over 30 years. Other Communist bloc producers include Romania, Poland, Yugoslavia, Albania, North Korea, Vietnam, and East Germany. Millions were also exported to Soviet and Chinese influence countries around the world.  As a result of the SKS’s availability, they have been used in every conflict around the world for the past 50 years.

Today, the SKS has been officially withdrawn from most militaries, and are typically relegated as a reserve weapon or a ceremonial arm.  They are still common among small militias, terrorist organizations, freedom fighters, guerrillas, and other insurgent groups.  Many more are sold as military surplus on civilian markets as popular hunting rifles and sporting arms.

between the lines

(I’m working on an actual fic but this headcanon came out so have it. Warnings for sexual violence and a character with a learning disability. fhot7 w/ a good dose of ruvic because why the hell not.)

sbgc Adam who struggles with dyslexia. Who has no parents to advocate getting him help, so he either spends hours trying to get through the reading and understand it or flubs the homework, hopes for the best, and is occasionally given a pity B-. As usual, it’s his boys who are there for him.

Keep reading


The Magazine at Colonial Williamsburg, Center of the Gunpowder Incident, April 20, 1775.

The Gunpowder Incident (or Gunpowder Affair) was a conflict early in the American Revolution (War for Independence) between the last royal governor of Virginia –Lord Dunmore– and the Virginia militia led by Patrick Henry (who ended up being the first governor of the State of Virginia).  On April 20, 1775, one day after the Battles of Lexington and Concord (and well before news of that event reached Virginia), Lord Dunmore ordered the removal of the gunpowder from the magazine in Williamsburg, Virginia to a Royal Navy vessel.

This action ignited protests and social upheaval, and militia companies began mustering throughout the colony. Patrick Henry led a small militia force toward Williamsburg to force return of the gunpowder to the colony’s control. The matter was resolved without conflict when a payment of £330 was made to Henry. Lord Dunmore, assessing the increasingly dangerous feelings toward rebellion, later retreated to a naval vessel, relinquishing royal control of the colony.


America’s Lost State — The State of Franklin

After the American Revolution the Continental Congress was drowning in war debts.  To help pay off the debt, the State of North Carolina voted to donate some of its western counties to the Congress.  The people living in those territories, mostly small farmers, trappers, and rugged frontiersmen were resentful about having their part of the state pawned off to other governments.  They even feared that the Continental Congress might sell the land to a foreign power, such a France or Spain.

On August 23rd, 1784 delegates of the counties that were part of the donated land met at Jonesborough and decided to declare themselves independent of North Carolina.  Later in December they attempted to draft a new constitution, but because it contained a clause that forbid, “lawyers, doctors, and preachers” from running for office, it was never ratified.  Rather, the Constitution of North Carolina was used instead.  The purpose of declaring independence revolved around a bid for statehood.  On May 15th, 1785 the territory presented a petition to Congress for statehood, a petition which failed to garner 2/3rds support from the states, which was the majority needed under the Article of Confederation to pass a law.

Since the territory failed to become the 14th state, the people of the territory decided to strike out on their own.  Forming a new sovereign and independent republic, they created courts, an executive branch (president), a congress with two houses (senate and house of representatives), and formed their own capitol in Jonesborough.  They even built their own special capitol building that served as the heart of the new republic’s government (pictured above).    Finally, the people also gave their new nation a name; Franklin, named after founding father Benjamin Franklin. 

The Republic of Franklin was disorganized country, with a small militia for a military, no police system, no currency, and no practical way to raise taxes.  It was not uncommon for public servants and government officials to be paid in tobacco, corn whiskey, food crops, and brandy.  Even the Governor (President) of Franklin, John Sevier, was paid a salary of deer hides.  Regardless, the Republic of Franklin was somewhat prosperous, even undergoing an expansionist phase in which it annexed territories and conquered lands from neighboring Native Americans.  However, the disorganized nature of the republic and the lack of organized national defense began to wear away at the seams of the new government.

The beginning of the end of Franklin occurred in 1786 when North Carolina offered to waive all back taxes if Franklin reintegrated with the state.  The allure of reinstatement became stronger as Franklin’s position with its neighbors weakened.  Native American tribes who had been attacked by Franklin’s forces began to strike back.  Worse yet foreign powers such as France and Spain began to eye the territory.  Without a strong military it appeared that Franklin was in trouble.  In 1788 a civil war occurred when those who supported reinstatement clashed with Franklinite patriots.  The small skirmish, called “The Battle of Franklin” literally involved dozens of people with no casualties.  By the summer of 1788 Cherokee and Chickasaw forces converged on Franklin.  In a desperate act, President Servier attempted to cede Franklin to the Spanish.  At that point the government of Franklin collapsed entirely.  In 1789 the North Carolina militia drove away the Cherokee and Chickasaw, then reintegrated Franklin back into the state.  The territory was once again donated to Congress, which in turn used it to form a new state called Tennessee.

Your Guns Won't Stand a Chance Against The Government and All It's Military Power

Or will they?  

The point is not that you can win pitched battles against a professional military or police state with all it’s ordnance as a rag-tag citizens militia with small arms. The point is that you CAN fight. You can bleed them. When they come patrolling through your neighborhood, you might be able to take a couple of them with you. You might even be able to run away and do it again. Theoretically you wouldn’t be alone, and they could not engage in endless manhunts for everyone who resists them. They would never feel safe; there could be a shooter behind any window or doorway. 

Of course they could call in the artillery and air support and level your neighborhood, sure. What would this get them? Well, it would piss off a lot of people when innocents died and play into the hands of the rebels. It would also make a large number of the soldiers seriously consider whether they were doing the right thing or not. And finally, it would simply kill people, and no one wants to rule a nation of corpses. 

You cannot control an entire country with tanks or jets or battleships or any of that. A fighter jet cannot stand on street corners and enforce no-assembly edicts. A fighter jet cannot kick down your front door at 3 AM to search your house for illegal contraband or anti-government propaganda. A fighter jet is USELESS for maintaining a police state. Police are needed to maintain a police state. Boots on the ground is the only way to maintain control over an area. But no matter how large the police force is, they will always be outnumbered by the people. That’s why it’s vital that the police have automatic weapons, and the people have nothing but their limp dicks. But when every pedestrian has a glock jammed in his or her waistband, kicking in those doors becomes a lot riskier, lest you catch a bullet on your way in. 

The aim of a tyrant is to control, not to kill. What they want is to be able to have militarized police point guns at people and cow them into submission to whatever dictates they might want to impose. If those people are instead waiting behind their doors ready to shoot first when the jackbooted thugs come around, they have already failed. 

So the point is to fight. If you resist, you are not being controlled, and you are also undermining attempts to control others who cannot fight, or do not wish to fight. You might die, of course. That’s why Patrick Henry said what he famously said, more or less. 

As long as people can resist, they can be free and tyrants can never succeed. But when you’re talking about using knives and baseball bats against modern military weapons, then it ACTUALLY becomes pointless. You can’t bleed them at all, they will just shoot you with rubber ammunition, tear-gas, ect.

This is why having guns is so important.

jdkgames  asked:

Hey there so I'm DM'ing a 5th edition group and one of my players managed to gain control of a small town complete with small castle and militia (not to mention he managed to tame a griffon he rolls some timely crits) so we're trying to figure the income and upkeep and all that any suggestions

I’m afraid I can’t speak to how you might do that in 5th edition Dungeons & Dragons.

If you wanted to check out how the Pathfinder RPG handles it, though, there’s the towns and settlements section of the GameMastery Guide, the Kingdom Building chapter of Ultimate Campaign, the buildings and organizations section of Ultimate Campaign, the fortress reconstruction and management of Rise of the Runelords in Pathfinder Adventure Path #3: “The Hook Mountain Massacre,” and the entirety of the Kingmaker Adventure Path. Beyond that, the forums at have a TON of suggestions and house-mods on running kingdoms, cities, and organizations.

Hopefully some of that helps. Best of luck!

Chapter 7: Rebellion arise.


Juno entered the council room. The passed two days practically a blur. Anhur escaped his bonds in Sparta, making the Egyptians…less than obedient. 

Riots, small rebellions arising, what ever remained of the Pharaohs family came out of hiding and lead small armies against Roman militias, Temples placed in Egypt to honor her and her other Olympians trampled, looted, and burned. To make matters worst, this new threat. This ‘Brotherhood of the Sands’ was getting bigger and bolder. 

Juno felt only disgust. Only contempt for these ungrateful beings as they went about destroying her temple in Thebes. The Queen of the Gods took her seat next to her husband. Looking down at the group of Goddesses that -he- had let out of bonds for some stupid plot. A means of creating a pantheon of Gods of both Roman and Egyptian blood. 

A good idea, if it had not disgusted her as well. She glared. Specifically at one. Anput. “I told you we should have locked the mutts in the Kennel with the others.” Juno said, glaring at Jupiter.
The Cutest Lines From Taylor Swift's "Wall Street Journal" Op-Ed

“The music industry is not dying… it’s just coming alive.”

“The value of an album is based on the amount of heart and soul an artist has bled into a body of work.”

“Then again, what is value but some number invented by a broken institution calling itself the Federal Reserve?”

“And don’t get me started on the IMF.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22 percent of our paychecks shouldn’t go to Uncle Sam.

"Show me. Show me in our Constitution where it says that’s remotely legal?”

"The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.”

“If there were such a thing as ‘justice,’ Alan Greenspan and his merry band of global thieves would be on trial for international crimes.”

“I dated a Kennedy. If I printed the things he told me there’d be 10,000 angry Americans outside the Pentagon tomorrow.”

“Bohemian Grove. MK-Ultra. Google it, people.”

“‘Speak Now’ is about the NSA. Listen to it again. It’s all there.”

“Someone needs to hit the ‘reset’ button on this whole society, man.”

“All I’m saying is I own a cabin in Tahoe, and enough MRE’s to support a small militia for 2 weeks.”

“Thanks to everyone who made my tour possible #RedLife."