Eva Volkov

The year is 1931, and in the continent of Europa, most of the nations hope to pass into a brighter future far away from the horrors of the Great War that happened nearly 20 years ago. However, dark times are only gathering like storm clouds, as the Central Europanian nation of Vuldavia is under the totalitarian-stratocratic dictatorship of Eva Volkov. And life in her "Iron Sate" is a dictatorial nightmare.

(⛔️DISCLAIMER: This character is only made for pure satire and dystopian fiction, not to express hate ideologies. AUS1936 Productions does not condone nor tolerate the expression of extremist ideologies—be it left winged or right winged—nor the support of hate groups.⛔️)

(Image source: NatalieDeCorsair, FurAffinity)

⬇️ Lore Below: ⬇️

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A frigid wind sweeps through the streets all over the nation of Vuldavia, carrying with it the scent of ash and fear. Above the Grand Square, the colossal blood-red banner of the Iron Eagle, Vuldavia's national symbol, snaps in the gale, its talons clutching a bolt of lightning and a sword—all while behind a radiating sun. This is the vision of Eva Volkov; a nation forged in her image, tempered by her will, and ruled with an iron fist.

The streets of Vuldavia's capital city, Veritas City, once a vibrant metropolis, now echoes with the rhythmic march of Volkov's personal militant guard called the "Iron Guard", their uniforms are a stark, menacing charcoal black. Propaganda posters plastered on every wall, depicting Volkov as a benevolent, all-seeing mother figure; her gaze both captivating and unnerving. Yet, beneath the veneer of national unity and strength, fear and submission are the true currencies of her regime.

Eva Volkov is an enigma, a figure as alluring as she is terrifying. Her public appearances are meticulously orchestrated spectacles. She would emerge from the Volkov Palace—a monolithic palace; an edifice of black granite that looms over the Vuldavian capital city—draped in severe, tailor-made uniforms of white, silver grey or charcoal black—adorned only by the gleaming badge of the Iron Eagle—wearing a crimson red royal cape, and the very crown of the monarchy she deposed. Her features, though sharp and angular, possessed a perverse beauty—sharp teeth, piercing red eyes that seemed to see into the very souls of her subjects, and a perfectly sculpted muzzle with a silver tongue that, when it spoke, could incite either adoration or abject terror.

Born into a crumbling aristocracy, she possessed a chilling charisma, a beauty that could both entrance and terrify, and a mind like a razor-sharp trap. In the tumultuous wake of the Great War, as the old kingdom of Vuldavia teetered on the brink of anarchy, Volkov, a fervent nationalist, seized her opportunity. In 1921, she launched a coup that toppled the monarchy; a "Nationalist Revolution", she calls it. She promised order, prosperity, and a return to Vuldavia’s imagined glory, with a loyal party known as the Vuldavian National Order Party that forms rallies with her fiery speeches and cult of personality.

Under Volkov, Vuldavia became a totalitarian stratocracy, a nation where the military was paramount, its authority absolute in all aspects of the nation, be it political, social, or economic. Every aspect of life, from education to industry, was geared towards strengthening the state and its armed forces. Dissent is not merely punished; it's eradicated. The Internal Security Directorate, Volkov's secret police organization, is omnipresent; its black-clad agents are a constant reminder of the consequences of non-collective thought.

Society was also remolded under staunch traditionalism and the idea that Vuldavia has been transformed into a "new state"; an "Iron State", as Volkov coins it. And all those not of her party, be it democratic, communist, socialist, or monarchist are seen as menaces of the Iron State.

During the annual "National Victory Parade" that celebrates the birth of Volkov's regime, the Vuldavian Vanguard Army marches down the wide streets of Motherland Square as they all carry bayoneted rifles and present the Vuldavian salute as they pass by Volkov. Their uniforms are all black-clad, with charcoal-colored gas masks with red lenses covering their faces; an endless row of Stahlhelms that shows how individualism in Volkov's regime is nonexistent. Public rallies are mandatory, echoing with the fervent chants of "Volkov! Vuldavia! Victory!" and the rhythmic stomping of the army’s uniformed high boots.

Her palaces are monuments to excess, filled with looted art and historical artifacts from conquered territories, a stark contrast to the controlled conformities of her citizens. Yet, she presents herself as the embodiment of Vuldavian strength and purity, a motherly figure to her loyal followers, and a vengeful goddess to her enemies. She possesses a terrifying charisma like a venomous snake, able to sway crowds with impassioned speeches; her voice a low, resonant rumble that can rise to a crescendo of righteous fury. But beneath the polished facade lies a chilling indifference to suffering, a narcissistic belief in her own divine right to rule, and a ruthless pragmatism that sees individuals as mere cogs in the vast, unforgiving machine of the state. Eva Volkov is not just a dictator; she is the living embodiment of Vuldavia's dark ambition, a woman who believes she is above all law and all morality.

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—The Iron Decree—

The air in the Grand Assembly Hall is thick with anticipation, the hushed murmurs of the assembled delegates swallowed by the cavernous space. Sunlight, fractured by the stained-glass depiction of the Iron Eagle, cast shifting patterns on the polished marble floor. Today is the day of the Iron Decree, Volkov's annual address to the nation, a speech that will set the tone for the coming year.

A hush falls as the double doors at the far end of the hall swing open. Eva Volkov enters, her stride purposeful, her gaze sweeping over the silent assembly. She wears her signature uniform, with the Iron Eagle emblem gleaming on her armbands. Her smile, more of a sinister baring of teeth than an expression of warmth, played on her snout as she approaches the podium. The applause, when it came, is thunderous, each clap a testament to the absolute power she wields and the fear it emits.

"My loyal Vuldavians!" her voice booms, amplified by the hall's acoustics, "Today, we stand at the precipice of greatness! For too long, Vuldavia has been shackled by the chains of weakness, by the false promises of democracy, by the venomous flirtations of Communism and Socialism, by the insidious whispers of individualism!"

Her voice rises, taking on a hypnotic rhythm. "But no more! We have cast off those chains! We have forged a new path, a path of UNITY, of STRENGTH, of ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE to the will of the state!"

She pauses, allowing her words to sink in, her eyes scanning the faces before her, each one reflecting fervent devotion. "The enemies of Vuldavia, both within and outside, seek to undermine our glorious nationalist revolution. They whisper of freedom, of rights, of a world where each person is their own master. Lies! All lies designed to weaken the collective, to shatter the unwavering spirit of our nation!"

A wave of righteous indignation ripples through the assembly. Volkov’s lips curls in a satisfied smirk on her snout. "We will not falter! We will not bend! Our will is the Iron Eagle's will, and the Iron Eagle flies ever higher!"

She raises a fist, her gaze burning with an almost manic intensity. "Let those who stand against us tremble! Let them know that the Iron Eagle has sharpened its talons, and its hunger for victory is insatiable! Vuldavia will rise, not just as a nation, but as an empire! And under my unwavering guidance, we shall forge a destiny written in IRON and BLOOD!"

The hall erupts, a crescendo of cheers, chants, and fervent applause, a testament to the terrifying hold Volkov has over her people. As the noise swells, a cold satisfaction settles in Volkov's heart. The Iron Decree is not just a speech; it's a testament to her absolute dominion, a chilling promise of the future she envisions for Vuldavia. A future where she—Eva Volkov—reigns supreme, and the world bows to her will.