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It's 1937. A new world power is emerging on the east coast of North America; The Iron Federation. Under the all-powerful High Chancellor Lincoln Everett, this vast empire has conquered more territory in its short 6-year lifespan than any other civilisation in history. Technology booms, industry is unparalleled and reverence of the Federation's leader is unmatched. But a storm is coming. A darker side to the Federation has been revealed, and many are determined to undo the progress of Chancellor Everett and prevent further conquest and war with the world.

*OOC*
This is a steampunk-ish style world with clanking, mechanical brass robots, enormous airships and futuristic technology incorporated into an older setting. While the federation is the "antagonist" per se, there are no clear-cut "good guys" or "bad guys". Both the Federation and the Rebels have their merits and legitimate reasons for fighting. You can be anyone, provided there is realism and lore-friendliness to your character. Right now, the only real restrictions are: no magic, no species other than human, no gods etc.

Don't worry, I'm new too. This is just a fun world I dreamed up a while back. You're absolutely welcome to join.

*Edit* If you need any information about the world, Lincoln Everett's character page has a wealth of information and images for you. Hope this helps!

Unfortunately there are only humans in this world, but many humans seem to have a strange connection to animals. Take a man named Jameson Moriarty for example. He's a sly businessman with an unnatural affinity for crows, seemingly able to summon them out of the blue and have them bring things to him. You can absolutely have a character with a pet wolf, provided there's a sense of realism i.e. the wolf can't talk.

Let's begin.

Cold morning air nipped at Chancellor Everett's hands as he leant over his balcony railing. Sounds of the bustling city streets below echoed upward, accompanied by car horns and fire engine bells. The dull buzz of airships chattered overhead, keeping the Chancellor from getting too comfortable. It didn't matter. Lincoln had too much on his mind regardless. He coughed, pain shooting through his throat and ending as quickly as it began. It hardly phased him, having lived with it for so many years, but this time it helped to snap him out of his thoughts.

He turned, sighing, and limped his way back through his grand hall, which was draped in velvet and clockwork. Bespoke-clad men and women nodded and smiled empathetically as he hobbled past, his brass leg support creaking, scarcely heard amidst the chatter and clinking glasses that filled the room.

I need a drink, he mused.