Welcome to the Diaspora

"All is lost, save for the souls we've been able to gather

from the wharf.  I informed the president that the last

ship would set sail for Cape Town today, but he would

hear nothing of it, merely commending my service to

my State, my nation and my God.  He chose to stay in

the city, a sacrificial lamb for all the sins of the South's

forlorn folk.  I did not think it appropriate to tell him

otherwise but his sacrifice would be in vain.  The Yankee

would treat him no better than they did the vice-

president when they sacked Wilmington a year ago.

For the life of me I cannot believe I could have done

any more for my country and yet I cannot help but

wonder what might have been had that Copperhead

not placed a bullet in the Yankee President McClellan's

skull.   Perhaps the Confederacy would have survived...

or at least not suffered the fate of Carthage.

And so I set forth to Africa, a ward now of the British

Empire, who has been so kind enough to look with

favour upon the vast torrent of refugees fleeing the

land's of Dixie before the "terrible swift sword" of the

Union Army.  I must admit to being of two minds

about this...flight.  A part of my soul will always yearn

for the trees and fields of Virginia; the streets and

stately manses of Alexandria.  I doubt she will ever

leave my mind.

And yet...and yet I cannot help but be of the notion

that the South's lost children must survive, that it is

God's will that we survive, if not in our homeland than

in another.  Ours is a strong people, of mettle the likes

of which have not been tested since Carthage, herself,

fell to the Romans.  If we can survive--and I pray with

all my heart that we will--it will not be in the lands

of our birth, but in the lands of our servitors' ancestry.

The irony cannot be underscored enough.

We   have either suffered from the most cruelest of

jokes or Destiny has a path more convoluted than

any human mind can discern.

We've all become God's outcasts..."

Diary Entry

15 February, 1870

Gen. Robert E. Lee

Army of Northern Virginia

Confederate States of America

aboard the H.M.S. Defiant

It is a land as old as time, the virtual cradle of the human species.  From the sandy deserts of Egypt to the Veldt of the Boerstaat, from the Cape to Cairo, now stands a nation of outcasts, torn from their homes and planted in foreign soil.

Welcome to the Southron Republic, a continent-wide multicultural nation built upon the ashes of the Lost Cause...and secretly assisted--nay, nurtured--by the machinations of the undead who, even now, live amongst the living as they have not since the Second City.

But the Dark Continent holds more than simply the descendents of the Southland.  Here too are creatures whose hold on the land is more powerful and more frightening than most minds could imagine.  It is they who are the true fathers of the Republic and it is they who manipulate and shape the people into things of their own design.  Like clay in a potter's expert hands, the Dark Continent is being slowly moulded...for purposes more inhuman than any in history's breadth.

This page was last updated on 01/10/99.