Freedom visits Turtleshroom (CLOSED unless told otherwise)

[Ravineworld]

OOC: Turtleshroom and I have been discussing this thread for quite a while.
IC:
Mr Freedom. Honorary President of Ravineworld, transformer of the nation, revolutionary. Some leftists refer to him as "mr. terrorist", while rightists refer to him as "mr. culture corrupter". Thankfully, most in Ravineworld are ancaps.
The government of Turtleshroom has requested his assistance in stimulating the economy, monetary reform, and just about everything else. Of course he'll have to live without alcohol for a while, and there won't be any of the normal vice he enjoys in Ravineworld (he might be able to get his hands on some underground videos of gymnastics. I know, what a perv. ).
He'll be at the airport in a few hours...

[Ravineworld]

The air of Turtleshroom was warm. Mr. Freedom hated warm. "no more drinking... this is going to be a problem filled culture experience". He thought
As he stepped into the limo. He felt that something was wrong, as if the locals didn't like him. When he looked outside, machine gun fire sprayed across the car...

[TurtleShroom]

Tagged!

{OOC: Hold up! You can't just get shot, unless it was some agitator from YOUR country or a rebel faction in YOUR land.}

[TurtleShroom]

The rural airstrip of Queen Haiz II Memorial Airport was immediately set ablaze by rapid gunfire. Apparently, a rebel faction from Mister Freedom's homeland snuck aboard the plane and hid in the cargo to assassinate the de facto leader of a nation that was, in fact, sheer and total anarchy.

It was fortunate that the ensemble of TurtleShroomer guards- consisting of soldiers, police, Inquisitors, some private security guards, the TSSSS, and a cup-bearer -that were gathering were also armed to the teeth. They quickly returned fire and filled untold numbers of holes into the sucker. The lone gunman never stood a chance. All of these guards were assigned only to Mister Freedom, per his request. In his homeland, he was the target of an assasination at least once a week, and his weakness in an unprotected foreign land made it paramount that he be protected by every way TurtleShroom knew how.

The guards quickly crowded around the airplane and waited for Mister Freedom to step out a second time. This time, they circled the unloading ramp and eagerly awaited their body that they were to guard.


{OOC: Sorry for the short post. I'll describe each of the guards and then introduce who you'll be meeting later. I'm glad we can finally do this! Also, I may want to open this to loyal allies that have connections to TS, like Comrade Commisar, Ende, Kingdom of Peace, Undead Gypsies, the Land of Power overall, and more, if that's all right with you.}

[Ravineworld]

"well that was wonderful. My first day in a new and exotic land, and I've already narrowly survived close range machine gun fire. Just Wonderful. And people wonder why I carry around my AK-47 everywhere I go. Well, actually, I carry it around because it makes me look cooler. Whatever, I'll just stop talking. Hey, Guards! Where are your leaders! This better not become normal, and if it does, I'll be out of this country faster than you can change the channel on a remote control!"
OOC: I got to cut this post a little short TS, sorry. I'll be back in a few hours.

[TurtleShroom]

{OOC: For the dress of each, read my Factbook, please.}

The guards bowed to the Ravineworld de facto leader.

"We assure you that you'll be in good hands." an Inquisitor noted. He stepped back as a turtle crawled forward and lowered his neck in respect. He was in full ceremonial dress, with a colonel symbol on his helmet.

"Mister Freedom," the turtle said. "I am Colonel Smith Adams. I am in charge of this coalition of bodyguards and will be escourting you to Crawz Ford, by armoured train, where we will congregate in the tallest office building in that city. There, we may begin our discussions with major TurtleShroomian leaders."

The turtle paused.

"Before we do, however, let me familiarize you with each guard type you're being protected by. I may be of use to you, because there are representatives of every type of police power in TurtleShroom, and every type of state protection, and even some corporate guards!"


He gestured first to the Inquisitor, a human, who bowed in respect. As with all of his branch, he was wearing a capitote (OOC: don't know what one is? Google it. ) and long red robes. He had a taser and a revolver under his robes.

"That's an Inquisitor. The Inquisition deals with all morally based crimes. This includes things such as adultery, fornication, sodomy, buggery, vice, prostitution, transvestism, certain fetishes, and the pettiest of crimes that the police are too busy to handle."



{OOC: Dang curfew. You'll get more tomorrow. }

[Comrade Commisar]

[OOC: Tagged for interest. Seems like a decent rp, great chance to interact more with Turtleshroom. You wouldn't mind if I joined the party, would you now?]

[TurtleShroom]

[OOC: Tagged for interest. Seems like a decent rp, great chance to interact more with Turtleshroom. You wouldn't mind if I joined the party, would you now?]

OOC: Not at all!
COME ON DOWN!!

[Ende]

OOC: Am I allowed to tag this? It seems interesting, I have nothing better to do, so I'd like to join.

[TurtleShroom]

OOC: Am I allowed to tag this? It seems interesting, I have nothing better to do, so I'd like to join.

COME ON DOWN!!

[Comrade Commisar]

Snow Leopard,
Turtleshroom, Land of Power

A man of fair height had observed the little assassination attempt on Mister Freedom, his nice uniform had a been slightly stained from the gunman-turned-swiss-cheese. Beside him, a young woman of short composure, shrouded in a veil looked at the man.

"Zheren, looks like the Turleshroomers have protected Mister Freedom well." She said, while fidgeting with her long robes, "Must I wear such burdensome clothes? Is this really necessary?"
"Yes, Ying, I know you don't like those heavy robes but you know the Turtleshroomian stance on... well, you." He smiled as he poked her head, "Still, I didn't consider the Turtleshroomers to be so protective of Mister Freedom... we may have to change our plans."

The two, members of the 'non-existant' Snow Leopard, were here under orders of the Imperial Shrine of Yue. For after the events of the Dark Harvest Act, the Yue Province wasn't too kind towards Turtleshroom for basically defacing their object of worship. Therefore, the Imperial Shrine sent the Snow Leopards and Black Guards to 'stabilize' the Turtleshroomian region, so that no event on par with the moon cannon incident could ever happen again. While unknown towards the other Provinces in Comrade Commisar, the Imperial Shrine of Yue had marked Turtleshroom as public enemy number one, and anyone associated with them... well, that's better left unsaid.

As with the two Snow Leopard members, Zheren and Ying? Zheren was a former Black Guard, presumed dead after an avalanche buried his squad within the Yue Pass. Now, he was within Snow Leopard and while not too content with the change of organization, at least Snow Leopard was more talkative. Ying was a nekomimi near the Yue-Khek Border, with a Khek cross border raid killing her family (nekomimi are seen as devils in the Khek Province), she was orphaned and eventually raised under the Imperial Shrine. She became a Snow Leopard, as repayment towards the High Priestess and as thanks to the Shrine. The two, pair together as teammates, formed quite a relation - although it was awkward conversing about it. Sent to Turtleshroom, they were here to force Mister Freedom to return to his lands, hopefully keeping the Turtleshroomian economy at bay and somewhat injuring the space program.

"Zheren, so when are we going to kill him?" Ying ask, not too fond of staying in her robes.
"Hey, assassination is the last option. If possible, we should try to spook him enough to leave the country, there doesn't have to be too much bloodshed alright?" Zheren stated as he opened his journal, writing down the number and types of guards, "Other Snow Leopard have mentioned that Mister Freedom is going by armored train. That would stop many cannon shells, much less a bullet, and they're already on alert thanks to that gunman. This is going to be pretty difficult..."
"There is no fun without the hunt, isn't that right?" Ying smiled as she looked back at Mister Freedom's entourage, "In any case, this is a diplomatic conference about the economy... say two Shi representatives magically appear and..."
"We act nothing like the Shi. You know as well as I do that they aren't as religious as us, nor are they has traditional. That and you're a nekomimi, every other Comraden Province has either denied their existence outright, or has hunted them down..."
"Ahh," Ying smiled cleverly, "Comraden. Turtleshroomers don't know much about the complex Comraden culture or customs, do they?"

Zheren laughed, knowing his partner had cleverly recognized the situation and created a solution.
"I didn't know you were so witty," Zheren said as he put away his notebook.
"Ah, but don't you know, our race is much more spiritual then yours." She jested.
"True, but your race isn't as chivalrous as ours," He said, bowing in play, "Shall we, oh wise princess?"
"Indeed, foolish prince, let us depart." She said as they walked up to the Turtleshroomian escort of Mister Freedom, under the disguise of being Shi Province representatives.

[TurtleShroom]

"Your detail doesn't just stop with the Inquisition, Mister Freedom."

He gestured to the nearest cop, who bowed. Like with all general police officers, he was wearing his robes and badge, alongside his shotgun draped over his back, and the tasers, hornet spray, and the revolver in his pocket.

"The TurtleShroom Poe-lease of the Queen Haiz II District. The robes are a trick: you'd only THINK they'd fall over."

The turtle moved himself to face the privatized guard, a mushroom, who bowed. He had no badge, but did possess a brown sash reading "PRIVATIZED SECURITY". On his back, a black sign with white letters read "THIS OFFICER POSSESSES POLICE POWERS AND CAN PERFORM ARRESTS AND DETAINMENT WITH PROBABLE CAUSE. ALL APPLICABLE LAW TO STATE POLICE APPLY TO THIS OFFICER. KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.".

"This is a private security firm. They are actually better armed than the poe-lease."

The mushroom smiled and held up a "Uzi" submachine gun.

"They're not afraid to use it."

The turtle continued and explained the elite "artillery mushrooms", which were essentially mushroom soldiers with extra-strong telekenisis that were armed with fully automated, belt-fed machine guns with extra strong calibar. They were more intimidating because they had large black sunglasses. Like the Colonel, they wore pickelhauf helmets. For this escourt, they were wearing white and grey camoflague that could be compared with Arctic camo. The point, obviously, wasn't to be unseen.


Lastly, was the cup-bearer, who suffled forward in red robes with the logo of Coca-Cola clearly emblazoned on his wardrobe. He was wearing a hat stylized like the upper half of a coke bottle and was carrying a heavy goblet of gold and embroidered with rubies.

"Mister Freedom, this is your cup-bearer. Call it old-fashioned, but this young man, sponsered by Coca-Cola, will taste all your food and, of course, check it for poisons in the process."

"Ever heard of a cup bearer?"

"Isn't that a man that drinks and tastes meals before someone else eats it, to check for poison?"

"Yes. There is one cup-bearer for each Chancelor. They follow him around, too. You can recognize cup bearers because their robes are crimson red and got the words 'Coca-Cola' written in white on them. The goblet they carry is made of real gold and rubies, generously donated by Coca-Cola."

"Coca-Cola sponsors your cup bearers?"

"Yes. They even endorse the drink and wear a stylized hat that looks like the top of the Coke bottle. It saves tens of thousands of dollars.

The cup bearer removed his hat and bowed in a sweeping motion.

"These men, turtles, and mushrooms will protect your life, even to the point of death. Nothing will stop them from guarding you, any loved ones you brought, and your stuff. Mister Freedom, you have the back of all of TurtleShroom's Law and Order. There is NO WAY you can get hurt."

He smiled to the eccentric Ravineworld man.

"What'cha think? I know you're more anarchy than order, but... well, you wanted guards. Here they are."

[TurtleShroom]

They walked up to the Turtleshroomian escort of Mister Freedom, under the disguise of being Shi Province representatives.

The guards immediately noticed the Asian man and the short, robed-and-veiled woman accompying him. The Colonel spoke up.

"Asian kid! Catgirl! Who are you and how'd you get in here? This is official state business."

The turtle paused, looking her veils and robes once-over.

"Wait. Catgirl?" he hissed a reptillian hiss involuntarily. Mister's Freedom security detail grumbled audibly as some various derogatory remarks and slurs were whispered amongst the heavilly armed crowd.

A turtle cop, dressed similarily to the other cops, approached Ying, as her escourt looked on. The sheer disgust in the turtles eyes was present. The other guards looked on, not pleasently, in the background.

"Catgirl." he said grimly. "I ain't sure how you got past customs, but... well, ya'll in TurtleShroom. Allow me to note the rules. If you disobey them, you will be rounded up and deported immediately."

He looked at her again. If he was a human, he'd gag.

"First and foremost. Do not remove your veil and do not remove your robes. Our people do not enjoy viewing such heinous deformities being flaunted as they go to work. Exposing your ears and tail is a crime against the John Raven Codes."

He looked her over.

"Second. In cities where Separation is enforced, the John Raven Codes specify that you do not enter any building readin' 'NO CATGIRLS NEED APPLY' or 'NO NEKO ZONE'. If you see a water fountain, bathroom, or any facility reading 'NO NEKOS', remember that using them is illegal. Remember further that any businessman, except core medical services and lifesaving institutions like the poe-lease, the far department, and 9111, can deny you service at his, her, or its leisure."

The turtle shook his neck.

"I don't know why you came in here, catgirl. -but I hope ya enjoy your stay anyway."

The turtle crawled away after that. A human from the Inquisition approached Zheren with a far different attitude. He removed his capirote and smiled.

"Welcome to TurtleShroom, sir! Excuse the hostilities towards your initial arrival; we are protecting a very vulnerable man and had to speak to Customs. In the time my fellow officer spoke to that," he gestured to Ying, "We were duly informed that your name is Zheren, and your pet's name is Ying. Remember: in the city limits of Jonesboro, you are held liable for all actions your neko performs in public or private, because nekomimi are required to be with a creature that isn't a neko. In the city of Crawz Ford, where the John Raven Code is more lax, your neko will be tried as would a minor. Remember not to let her wander off or use non-Neko fountains. If there is no sign saying otherwise, she may."

He pasued.

"Anyway, I was told that each of you are from TurtleShroom's closest ally, Comrade Commissar. Your government is in turmoil, if I recall, and only the military remains national. There are a lot of Provinces... so which one are you from?"

[Ravineworld]

OOC: I'll give you some more story later, but it's super tuesday, so I'm kinda busy.

IC:
Mr. Freedom lives extremely well for a citizen of one of the most dangerous nations on earth. He enjoys sports, fine cuisine, high quality cigars and caviar, and nice cars. He is bling. He is style. He is luxury. Unlike the rest of Ravineworld, which enjoys a steady income, but unsteady neighborhoods (Ravineworld's two major subethnicities, the Ravines and the Worlds have basically been in an endless state of genocide for 50 years, with the ravines backing extreme capitalists, and the worlds backing extreme socialists during civil wars, Mr. Freedom is a Ravine). He hasn't heard gunshots since he was a little boy fighting in the Free Liberty Militia of Ravineworld. So, the man was a little rattled by, let's just call it the "event". But, he was excited by the new countries unique species, peoples, and culture. "This is going to be fun" he thought...

[Comrade Commisar]

"Anyway, I was told that each of you are from TurtleShroom's closest ally, Comrade Commissar. Your government is in turmoil, if I recall, and only the military remains national. There are a lot of Provinces... so which one are you from?"

Zheren smiled at the Inquisitor, bowing solemnly and shaking his hand.
"The military are more remnants of the past, rather than a threatening fighting force." He smiled, "We are from the Shi Province, minor representatives from SYSTEM. They assigned us to small economic talks in Turtleshroom, it's the first big task they've assigned us, so we're a little nervous."

He patted his companion's head.
"SYSTEM is always a bit busy though, and they have a tendency to consider everything but the obvious, sorry if we offended you in anyway." He said, "Sometimes, fatigue and paper work get the best of us. Don't worry, I'll watch over her."

As the Inquisitor acknowledged his ramblings and walked away, Zheren looked down at his companion, who was already fairly annoyed.
"Hmph, I don't like this country... they're so... restrictive..." Ying said, frowning, "I didn't think a mere turtle would be so threatening..."
"If it makes you feel better, after we're finished here, I'll treat you to anything you'd like." He smiled, before turning to look at Mister Freedom's entourage, "Looks like our plans are out of the question, we'll just have to hope for some sort of miracle--"
"From, 'God', I presume?" His campanion joked, "Do not worry. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Yes," Smiled Zheren as he patted Ying's head, "I'm sure it will."

---

While many Snow Leopards had been monitoring the train, the number of guards, the pattern of guards, and other variables within the situation, the Black Guard had already made their move. Infiltrating the ranks of the corporate guards, they already had all the information they needed about Mister Freedom's large escort. Freedom had quite a case of paranoia, all they would have to do is push him a little over the edge for him to leave Turtleshroom - although if it came to it, they could shoot him down.

The Black Guard knew of Turtleshroom's wire-tapping, and instead chose to use hand-signs and eye contact as forms of communication. While they had more information to work with, they were also weary of making any moves. These Turtleshroomers had identified Zheren's and Ying's names quite instantly, with no prior information; they had something up their sleeves. The elite artillery mushrooms were also quite the threat, those heavy machine guns could tear through body armor as if it were nothing, and at point blank range - forget it. These Turtleshroomers had considered everything from food poisoning to direct assault, possibly learning much from Canadian attacks on their delegate during the Dragon's Fury Pact Summit, however, it was most unconvenient.

Zheren, a former Black Guard, had already managed to spot the infiltrators. All it took was a single second of eye-contact to know that the Black Guard had evaluated the situation, and that they were better off staying uncover. Even though the highly-covert mission required only startling Mister Freedom, even that seemed out of the question. For now, they would just have to wait...

[Ravineworld]

Mr. Freedom enjoyed the car ride to the hotel. Most of Ravineworld is a barren wasteland that has been bombed to hell and back, and is still being bombed relentlessly every day, so the colors of actual life and wilderness was an exciting new experience for the man.
But, as the world passed by the car's window, he had a grim thought. Tensions in Ravineworld had been escalating in Ravineworld, following the bombing of a "peace sanctuary" that belonged to the Ravinean nationalist group "fire of Ravines". Following the bombing, Ravineans called for a national day of action against Worlds. It was one of the worst days in Ravineworld's history, killing some 25% of the Ravineworld's ethnic World population. Worlds have since been attempting to kill influential Ravines. Mr. Freedom was an influential Ravine. If that attack on him was Worlds, there would be more...
You do the math...

[TurtleShroom]

The train barrelled its way down the railways, heading east, away from the problems facing the country. The jungles thickened as the capital city thinned into the distance, and soon, the heavilly armed, bulletproof train was lone in the jungles. Little did they know, that a certain catgirl and Asian escourt had sneaked underneath the train, and like totally awesome spies of win, held onto the axles of the wheels, settling in for a breezy journey.

Mister Freedom, meanwhile, was provided with a fine TurtleShroomian dinner consisting of grilled fish with fried flour and (expensive, wheat) breadcrumbs on top of it, a bowl of mash potatoes with thick brown gravy, homemade biscuits (soaked with white sawmill gravy), turnip greens, and a salad of large, juicy, crispy leaves of lettuce. A small bowl of turnip greens sat to its side.
A second plate held a huge slate of numerous, deliciously crispy bacon strips next to a manly, heavy, thick ribeye steak cooked to perfection and seasoned just right. Juice pooled around it and sat atop it. A bowl of beef stew (pot roast), consisting of beef, carrots, and potatoes, was filled to the top.
Lastly, a slice of crispy, buttered cornbread rounded out the meal as it sat next to a large chicken drumstick and thigh.

For drinks, Mister Freedom was offered his choice of water, Coca-Cola, fine grape juice (or, as gourmets called it, "new wine"), Sprite, milk, lemonade, or sweet tea.

The silverware was fine sterling and actual silver, obviously prepared for a state dinner. It consisted of four forks to its left, each the same size, three spoons, one really skinny long spoon, a general knife, a steak knife, and a fine linen napkin with a smiling turtle on it, folded tent style with much attention.


The staffer rolled this meal out on a classic luxury serving tray, as another train staffer provided a card table, fastening it to the floor and draping a white, perfectly fine linen table cloth over it, without folds or creases visible. The plates were set in order and the silverware organized where each belonged, in accordance with classic fine dining rulesets. Extra napkins were placed to Mister Freedom's left.


"Sir," said a mushroom with a mushroom-shaped white hat on his head and a plastic bag over his entire head, "This multi-course meal is homegrown and raised in our own country, prepared with only local ingrediants and the finest of meats. We hope you ain't vegetarian. These are some of the finest TurtleShroomian dishes. We even got BREAD for you. Our people have to eat rice, 'cause wheat don't grow real well here."

The mushroom bowed and exited as Mister Freedom, who was very hungry and informed to consume nothing but water until today, eyed his selection of meats and gravy,and a few sides.

"It is our honor to serve you."


One of his security detailed smiled.

"We are taking you to the City of Gamblonia, which sprung up like a weed after we legalized gamblin'. We'll be at Whispy Woods Convention Center and will serve you with gourmet meals the entire time. Our topic will be currency reform. We turned our economy into a powerhouse since the Dark Harvest and the war. The Skillet is now worth MORE than the Americalandese Dollar, but we don't have enough iron to print it, causing a currency shortage. We've decided to wean ourselves off the fiat Skillet and switch to something else, but there are dozens of suggestions. You will meet TurtleShroomian economists of every school and stripe, and will ultimately craft the decision that will become the secondary currency of TurtleShroom. The Skillet, upon the transiation, will be permanently pegged at twenty five Americalandese cents, or one fourth of the Americalandese Dollar, as a fiat currency that can be accepted anywhere. The new currency, or currencies, will be discussed before you. We will be inviting many other creatures from the Land of Power and from yonder.
-but you're the smartest economist we know, Mister Freedom.
Are you ready?"

[Ravineworld]

The train barrelled its way down the railways, heading east, away from the problems facing the country. The jungles thickened as the capital city thinned into the distance, and soon, the heavilly armed, bulletproof train was lone in the jungles. Little did they know, that a certain catgirl and Asian escourt had sneaked underneath the train, and like totally awesome spies of win, held onto the axles of the wheels, settling in for a breezy journey.

Mister Freedom, meanwhile, was provided with a fine TurtleShroomian dinner consisting of grilled fish with fried flour and (expensive, wheat) breadcrumbs on top of it, a bowl of mash potatoes with thick brown gravy, homemade biscuits (soaked with white sawmill gravy), turnip greens, and a salad of large, juicy, crispy leaves of lettuce. A small bowl of turnip greens sat to its side.
A second plate held a huge slate of numerous, deliciously crispy bacon strips next to a manly, heavy, thick ribeye steak cooked to perfection and seasoned just right. Juice pooled around it and sat atop it. A bowl of beef stew (pot roast), consisting of beef, carrots, and potatoes, was filled to the top.
Lastly, a slice of crispy, buttered cornbread rounded out the meal as it sat next to a large chicken drumstick and thigh.

For drinks, Mister Freedom was offered his choice of water, Coca-Cola, fine grape juice (or, as gourmets called it, "new wine"), Sprite, milk, lemonade, or sweet tea.

The silverware was fine sterling and actual silver, obviously prepared for a state dinner. It consisted of four forks to its left, each the same size, three spoons, one really skinny long spoon, a general knife, a steak knife, and a fine linen napkin with a smiling turtle on it, folded tent style with much attention.


The staffer rolled this meal out on a classic luxury serving tray, as another train staffer provided a card table, fastening it to the floor and draping a white, perfectly fine linen table cloth over it, without folds or creases visible. The plates were set in order and the silverware organized where each belonged, in accordance with classic fine dining rulesets. Extra napkins were placed to Mister Freedom's left.


"Sir," said a mushroom with a mushroom-shaped white hat on his head and a plastic bag over his entire head, "This multi-course meal is homegrown and raised in our own country, prepared with only local ingrediants and the finest of meats. We hope you ain't vegetarian. These are some of the finest TurtleShroomian dishes. We even got BREAD for you. Our people have to eat rice, 'cause wheat don't grow real well here."

The mushroom bowed and exited as Mister Freedom, who was very hungry and informed to consume nothing but water until today, eyed his selection of meats and gravy,and a few sides.

"It is our honor to serve you."


One of his security detailed smiled.

"We are taking you to the City of Gamblonia, which sprung up like a weed after we legalized gamblin'. We'll be at Whispy Woods Convention Center and will serve you with gourmet meals the entire time. Our topic will be currency reform. We turned our economy into a powerhouse since the Dark Harvest and the war. The Skillet is now worth MORE than the Americalandese Dollar, but we don't have enough iron to print it, causing a currency shortage. We've decided to wean ourselves off the fiat Skillet and switch to something else, but there are dozens of suggestions. You will meet TurtleShroomian economists of every school and stripe, and will ultimately craft the decision that will become the secondary currency of TurtleShroom. The Skillet, upon the transiation, will be permanently pegged at twenty five Americalandese cents, or one fourth of the Americalandese Dollar, as a fiat currency that can be accepted anywhere. The new currency, or currencies, will be discussed before you. We will be inviting many other creatures from the Land of Power and from yonder.
-but you're the smartest economist we know, Mister Freedom.
Are you ready?"

Mr. Freedom had just enjoyed the best meal of his life, now it was time for a less fun activity: economics. But this is the man that took a poor, corrupt, war-torn, disaster and turned it into one of the worlds best economy's. He has a few tricks up his sleeves, to say the least.
OOC: I gotta go to sleep right now. See y'all in the morning.

[Undead Gypsies]

Saturday, June 16th, Jekhipe Parliament

Queen Violca Drom sat in her ornate armchair, her dim study lit only by the glow of the crackling fireplace. She tapped her fingers absent-mindedly against her beautiful crystal glass, the rye contained within casting a gentle, amber shine.

Disturbing the moment, an abrupt knocking came upon her chamber door. She sighed, downed the contents of her glass, set it down and stood up to answer.

Opening the door revealed the short, petite frame of a young courier, no older than twelve. Her uniform looked comically large on her, her shako occasionally falling down over her eyes, her armband routinely needing to be pulled back up to her bicep. She rummaged through her bag, taking out a delicate letter. “Telegram, Your Majesty!”

The Queen smiled, and gingerly took the letter from her hands. “Thank you, dear.”

Returning to her chair, Violca Drom examined the contents of the letter.



Sunday, June 17th, Jekhipe Parliament

The Imperial Hall glowed with rays of sunlight, reflecting off of gold and marble pillars. Queen Violca Drom stood at the head of the oblong mahogany table, addressing the Imperial Cabinet.

“This conference on TurtleShroomi currency reform is of dire importance. Our economy is closely linked with theirs—a poor decision on their part could be the death of us both. We need to do our utmost to influence the conference in a way to benefit our nations' trade relationship. Chancellor Sorokin is no economist, and as such her trip to TurtleShroom will be accompanied by the best economist our nation can produce.”

Immediately, a short, scrawny-looking woman sitting at the table began to fidget uneasily, adjusting her spectacles. The Queen continued.

“...And the good news is, she's in this room. Imperial Minister Lucinda Kasht.”

The woman stood abruptly, shaking a little. She adjusted her black robe a little, biting her lip.

The Queen smirked slightly. “Minister Kasht, you will accompany the Chancellor and her guards to TurtleShroom, where you will conduct our speech at the conference. I give you complete creative liberty to write out speech, our policy and our advice to bestow upon the TurtleShroomi government. You've done nothing but good deeds for your country, Minister, and I have faith in your abilities.”

Lucinda sighed, fixed her hair quickly and began pacing up and down the table. Her hands moved quickly in front of her, playing out her thoughts with concise, twitchy movements as she spoke uncomfortably quickly. “Such a task, such an important task to deliver such an important speech to such an important body of governance, I do suppose I could compose a suitable speech for such an occasion, and I do further suppose that I could accompany the Chancellor and as such I don't see any reason why I shan't be going to such a conference. Indeed, Your Majesty, when shall my method of transport arrive?”
The Queen blinked a few times, then shook her head. “At your request, Minister. We've hired a few drivers to transport the lot of you.”


A few hours later, Jekhipe

The Caravan leader puffed on his cigarette, surveying the horizon for signs of poor weather. He turned to the Minister, Chancellor and their six uniformed guards. “So, cross-border trip, huh? Big goin's-on if I hadta' bet on it, am I right?”

The Chancellor nodded. “Extremely important matters of the State. I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from asking questions of me, the Minister or our security.”

The driver raised an eyebrow, breathing out smoke from his nostrils and fixing his filthy trucker hat. “Easy there, ma'am. Not lookin' to cause any problems. Destination's Gamblonia, huh? Sounds like my kind of town.”

“Gamblin's no fun without liquor, y'know”, one of the guards piped up. The Chancellor mirthlessly slapped him upside the head, silencing him.

“If our affairs are in order”, she began, “We're ready to depart.”

[Comrade Commisar]

Eagle International Armory Complex - Litlin Branch, Litlin,
Turtleshroom, Land of Power

"High Priestess Mei Bai-Ying of Nanchang, High Priestess Feng Hua of Yoitsu, the Imperial Shrine of Yoitsu has assigned you a very important assignment of the highest caliber." An Asahinan butler hired under the Imperial Shrine said, handing the rather fine Mei and the rather aggressive Feng a letter. Opening it, High Priestess Mei Bai-Ying nodded accordingly, handing the letter to her counterpart who read it and burned it accordingly.

"So... Gamblonia, huh? Sounds like a city full of sin and greed." Noted High Priestess Feng Hua, who was smoking a cigarette against Turtleshroomian law, "Perfect. It sounds like the farthest place away from these Christians! When do we go?"
"Always so eager, huh, Priestess Feng?" Smiled Mei as she began writing in her journal, "Well, remember, we're on official business now. The Imperial Shrine wants to try to convince the South Landers to adopt the Yue and Eagle Silver Coins. The Undead Gypsies and other parties are surely going to be trying to convince the South Landers to adopt their currency as well... it's going to be quite fierce..."

Shrugging, Feng simply laid back upon her couch and blew out a puff of smoke. Just arriving in the South Lands from the Far North after a good two hundred years, she hated it with a passion. Firstly, because the temperature was just too high, and secondly, because of the South Land Christians who tried her under witchcraft and the horrible things that were better left unsaid. The only things she had to look forward to were the next shipment of cigarettes via the Turtleshroomian Mafia and the arrival of High Priestess Lang - who would be arriving in a few weeks. Boredom and cigarette smoke filled the room as High Priestess Feng sat on the couch, thinking of thousands of things she'd rather do with her life than... well, be there.

"High Priestesses," The British-Asahinan butler said, "The Eagle International Armory has arranged a convoy of limousines to transport you from here to Gamblonia. They shall be awaiting your departure when you are ready."

"Alright..." Sighed High Priestess Feng as she threw her cigarette on the floor, which was immediately cleaned by the butler, "Come on, bookworm, the faster we're away from these Christians, the better we'll feel. At least, I know I'll feel better."
"Haha, whatever you say, Phoenix." Mei laughed as she closed her journal, following shortly behind.

Outside, the two High Priestesses met a rather well-dressed Asahinan man. Opening the limousine door for the two High Priestesses, he quickly made his way inside of the limousine after the two.

"Gutentag." The German-Asahinan said, taking off his hat in respect, "Mein name ist Wilhelm Fredrikson, und ich am a representative of the Engel International Armory. Ich will be motioning for the adoption of the Engel Silver Coin along with the Yue Silver Coin. Hopefully, both our respective parties shall be successful in our ventures."
"Quite." High Priestess Feng said, unsure how to respond to the... language... of Mister Fredrikson.
"Indeed." Fredrikson replied, motioning to the driver, "Let us go! Schnell! Schnell!"

---

Train from Jonesboro to Gamblonia,
Turtleshroom, Land of Power

"Isn't this fun, Ying?! I've never rode a train like this before... in fact... I haven't even rode a train. This is amazing!"
"Easy for you to say, Zheren... one slip and we're splattered across the rails for the birds to ea-- Ugh, I feel sick..."

As the train continued threading its way East, the two Yue Snow Leopard members remained glued to the train like... glue. It would be a while before they got to Gamblonia, and Zheren was pretty sure that the South Landers wouldn't like two stow aways on their armored train. Nevertheless, they hung onto the train either in their great devotion to the Imperial Shrine, or more likely, dear life. Halfway in the trip, Ying was quietly salivating, with the puzzled Zheren looking curiously at her.

"My," Ying said, sniffing the air, "I smell meat... cooked fish... roasted beef... smoked pork... stew... fresh bread..."
"You're hungry?!" Zheren laughed, quickly being silenced by his own growling stomach.
"It's not fair..." Ying complained, "The South Landers get fine meats and a laborless transport, while we get this... it's just not fair!"
"Look... after we get Mister Freedom to leave the country, I'll see what I can do for food... Alright?" Zheren grinned.
"It's going to be nothing like this, though..." Ying complained, a tear quickly being blown away by the speed of the train.

It was going to be a long trip...

---

Monitoring Kasht Convoy, Asahinan Mafia and EIA Special Forces,
Turtleshroomian Border, Land of Power

"Remember men, the Eagle International Armory and the Imperial Shrine want Kilo to be stopped or at least delayed."
"The EIA Special Operation Forces shall monitor Kilo, the Asahinan Mafia shall attempt to engage. Keep yourselves looking like the Turtleshroomian Mafia as much as possible. Remember, avoid casualties on both ends, we want to avoid international recoil."
"Alright, it's alright! Don' worry, me and my boys will do the job. Just send Von Eagles our regards, will ya?"

The Asahinan Mafia waited quietly, their sleek, black limousines shining in the summer sky. Many of them, unsure what the Turtleshroom Mafia even did or looked like, merely wore masks resembling something like Koopa from the popular game Super Mario. The EIA Special Operations, somewhat more serious in their job, were using binoculars and drones to monitor the landscape. After hours of waiting, the Kasht Convoy came into sight, the two-way radio immediately sparking to life.

"This is Echo India Alpha, we have visual on Kilo. Get into an ambush position." Spoke the British-Asahinan sergeant.
"Yeah, this is Popeye The Sailor, we forgot the callsigns okay?" The Italian-Asahinan mobster, Leonardo Franchi said, as he was looking around, "Ambush position, what, you see the gypsy people?"
"Listen you Italian twat! The target is less than five hundred meters from your position! Get ready!"
"Hey, mister. What would your mother say about that tongue? Besides, you don't order me, Leonardo Fran--"
"Move you half-wit!" The sergeant screamed, "If we don't delay them, you can guarentee that I won't delay your trip to heaven afterwords!"

"Alright, alright..." The mobster said, shifting the gear and driving forward, "But know this, if you talk like that to me again, lord help me, I will grab that pretty face of yours and-- AHHH!"

The head of the convoy immediately came to a halt, but not before hitting the Asahinan Limousine and flipping it upside down, blocking the road. The mobsters, climbing painfully out of the limousine, were quite angry with the convoy.

"Ahh! My suit! Ahh! My car!" Spoke Leonardo in agony.
"Nice work, ladies! We'll meet you at the rally point, Echo India Alpha, out." The radio cackled with nobody listening.
"Ooh, you're gonna pay for that, buddy!" Said Leonardo, pulling out the convoy leader, stepping on his truck driver cap, "You like that hat? Huh? You like that hat? Well, guess what, it's trashed. Just like my car!"

Immediately as the armed and uniformed bodyguards stepped off of the convoy, the Asahinan mobsters quickly made their way out of sight, leaving the convoy blocked by the overturned limousine. Leonardo, grabbing the trucker's cap as trophy, quickly made his way out of the area. The guards, pointing their weapons at the mobsters, could only watch as the men jumped into the open windows of another limousine, speeding off. Lowering their weapons, they were left watching the flipped limousine blocking the way.

[TurtleShroom]

{OOC: All right, ladies and gentlemen, with this post, I officially close my NS Forum activity until my return on July 8th, 2012. Do not go nuts without me! -and please, if you believe in such, don't forget to pray for me!! }

[TurtleShroom]

Within minutes of the crashing of the limosuines and the ensuing arguments, a squadron of uniformed TurtleShroom Border Patrolmen, fully armed, approached, while four agents from the Ministry of Domestic Affairs, clad in immaculately white suits, also approached. Each showed their badges and symbols of authority.

The head of this group of Border Patrolmen, a mushroom, floated in front of the gypsy and the mobster, unaware that the latter was a criminal. He immediately asked for the mobster's papers, which he produced. They were total forgeries, but were masterfully crafted. Their deceptively real appearence successfully tricked the fungal guard, who nodded and telekinetically handed them back. As for his license and registration, he did not recognize the insurance company (itself being Mafia-run), but logged its billing data for the report, handing it to the MODA goons.

The four MODA agents were all humans, each over seven feet tall. Nearby were three equally shiny, white pickup trucks. One of them had a Roma-like caravan attatched to its trailer hitch. Judging by the ornate designs on the caravan, it must have been the caravan's political ruler. The leader of the actual caravan, whose hat the mobster had stomped on, was just a really good navigator.
The seal of TurtleShroom was affixed to the hood, as was an unfamiliar seal with the words "BUREAU OF NOMADIC DATA" on the doors. A bumper sticker on each read "I BREAK FOR GYPSIES".


One agent began, eying the mobster with extensive distrust.

"We are special agents from the Ministry of Domestic Affairs. This area of the desert is prone to bandits, foreign and domestic, and crossing this dirt road into TurtleShroom is rare."

He gestured to the usual "WELCOME TO TURTLESHROOM" border sign in the far distance, which always stood on international boundaries.

"About two hundred miles north of here is the tax haven borders of Undead Gypsies. TurtleShroomian regulations require us to usher nomadic groups coming in and out of their tax haven for twelve hours, and we're on the eighth hour right now."

He took out a legal pad, that was spotless and unblemished, just like the rest of his getup. Even his sunglasses were free of specks, and his accent was subdued.

"When performing these duties", he said, looking at the mobster with disgust, "we excercise full police power. Several traffic crimes have been committed right now, so we need not a warrant."

He gestured to the wreckage of the limosine, and the other three MODA agents, with the arms of the Border Patrol backing them, took out old Polaroid spit-cameras and snapped shots of all the wreckage. The Border Patrolmen fished through the remains for anything suspicious, like drugs. The mobsters, obviously, had not put anything unlawful or bad inside the vehicle they were using to cross TurtleShroom's strict borders. They saw the phones and radios, but thought nothing of them, since they were so far from any civilization at this time.

The data was returned to the MODA agent.

"You possess no contraband. You have no oustanding warrants. There are no flaws on your record. This really just seems to be a simple accident."

He continued filling the forms on his notepad.

"Limosine made T-bone collision with one Gypsy vehicle, motor-driven. Vehicle overturned, contents shattered, no injuries or deaths, major loss of contents work sixteen thousand Undead Gypsy currencies. Naturally, you our your insurer will be billed. Limosine near-totalled, overturned."

He placed the pad away and got out his tickets.

"Now, you have committed several finable offenses."

The Border Patrolman smiled and playfully jabbed each other behind their commander's back, chuckling alongside the Gypsies as the agent began sticking tickets to the mobsters obviously peeved face.

Stick.

"One count of wreckless driving."

Stick.

"Two counts of driving without headlights on."

Stick.

"Your break light was out on the right."

Stick.

"One of your tires is flat."

Stick.

"Your blinkers are busted. How can you hand-signal at night?"

Stick.

"Six counts of road rage. Take heed that seven is going to get you booked."

Stick.

"Obstruction of a Gypsy Caravan."

Stick.

"Failing to observe the rightaway when crossing the border. All traffic entering the country must cede to traffic already in the country, without fail."

Stick.

"Interfering with the affairs of the sovereign tax haven of the Undead Gypsy Immobile State. That includes their caravans."

Stick.

"Slurs against the gypsies. Two counts."

Stick.

"Petty destruction of property. That hat there? You owe him its exact worth with interest."

Stick.

"-and this one is for causing the Border Patrolmen to arrive."


He finished placing the tickets all over the mobster.

"Your total cost, in your people's money, is one Gold Coin plus the equivalent to one thousand Skillets. These will be billed to your insurance. Failure to pay in ninety days will incur interest, and, if push comes to shove, traffic court. You may call a wrecker tow truck if you wish with my radio, or you can do it yourself. The wrecker will bill you for his services, but be weary: the nearest outpost is about two hundred miles west, and it's a small town. A VERY small town."


The Border Patrolmen lifted the gypsy vehicle back up and assessed its damages. A wrecker was called to carry it away, but no courtesies were given to the shifty mobsters. The insulted Gypsy gathered his things and entered into a different vehicle with a friend. The Border Patrolmen departed and resumed their posts as the MODA agents re-entered their trucks and gave clearence for the next senior Gypsy vehicle, this one running on animal power (but not a horse, because of the Dark Harvest reactionary laws forced by the military), to begin guiding the caravan into the night.

The lights eventually disappeared into the sands, and the mobsters were alone as the sun completely set. Like any desert, the temperatures were dropping fast as a mild wind scattered the sand around the mobster's ankles.

Now, they were alone.

[New Amerik]

OOC: Don't worry guys, I'm cool, I'm cool! I talked with TS via telegram. Prepare for the best damn economic model you ever saw - the power of IMAGINATION

IC:

Emperor's Office
Imperial Divisional Spire, New Amerik
Earth, Ameriverse

The problem with relationships, all things considered, was that one had to maintain them. Not just on the individual level, but on the international level as well. If not regularly contacted and maintained, diplomatic trade agreements, military partnerships, or negotiations in general could break down or simply dissipitate as countries lost contact with each other, failed to keep up with current conditions, or other such things. But even when they did break down, there was still stuff that continued to go through, processed through the great bureacracy as efficiently as everything else even without purpose...

Turtleshroom had once been in contact with the Holy Technocracy once, back when it was just an Empire only five years fresh from the nuclear war that had destroyed the previous nation of America. And once there had been diplomatic contacts, meetings, even trade deals. But after a while, they had fallen through, and the two nations went their seperate ways. The Holy Technocracy made new contacts and brokered new relationships, and in time the memory of Turtleshroom became one of just one of the many nations swept up in the vastness of the Multiverse.

But on a long forgotten list of notifers, the name of the Holy Technocracy came up.

Incorrectly referring to the nation as the Empire of New Amerik though it might be, the notification sped through the bureacratic processes of one nation, was flung out into the greater instability of the multiverse, and made it's way across the Threads to the Amerikverse, landing in the new bureacracy of New Amerik. There, it sped through time and space, finally arriving in the laps of the Illusionnering Division, who quickly forwarded it to the Imperial Division. There, it was brought up to a low-ranking responder, who had the good sense to recognize the mark of a nation that hadn't been contacted previously for decades - Turtleshroom.

From there, it reached higher levels of officials, and then all the way up to the Emperor. It was a simple request - a nearly automated notification that Turtleshroom was seeking advice for economic troubles after some sort of disaster. And from there, there was much deliberation - and finally, a decision.

On the day of the economic meeting, the second thing that the nation of Turtleshroom would find uncanny would be a small note from the Imperial Division of New Amerik, requesting clearance to open up a Multiversal Portal to their meeting room and/or place of discussion to discuss the rediscovery of relations and advice on economic growth.

The first thing would be that all necessary clearance forms were sent to them three hours before the request to come in had actually arrived, signed.

In triplicate.

[TurtleShroom]

Maven Outtacountry happened to be drinking some water when one of his undersecretaries discovered a letter from one of their long-lost, and yet still closest, allies. He couldn't spit, because he didn't have lips.

"NEW AMERIK?!"

"Take a look, the source is perfectly clear!"


The small gathering in his office was lit with smiles. Who else knew capitalism like the Founders of the Order of the Society of Unrestricted Science!

"Ravineworld, Comrade Comissar... maybe Ende will join us?"

Others in the room nodded and took the stack of paperwork that, much to their shock and awe, had materialized itself from thin air, like it was teleported. They recognized triplicate when they saw it, and dispatched it to the Federal Bureaucracy Board, for its lowest of teenaged bureaucrat-judges to fill with their provided forms, though a few were separated for confidentiality purposes, and addressed by Maven himself.

HOLY REPUBLIC OF TURTLESHROOM
MINISTRY OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS
HEADMASTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS

NEW AMERIK!

My goodness, I can't believe you guys remembered us and caught our invitation. To this day, we still thank you for your kind bestowing of the beautiful Nangnang to our environment. We all remember you and your eccentric marvels of technology well, and we wish your Emperor a blessed and endlessly productive reign; may his reign span the half-life of the slowest deteriorating element in the Periodic Table!

There is no doubt that a nation that never restricts science- ahem, SCIENCE -would, in the same way, never restrict capitalism. We would be honored for your input in drafting our currency reform. There are many groups in TS that will be presenting their circumstances. Some are as simple as fixing the worth of the Skillet, and others are as complex as Wildcat Banking and "free currencies", where currencies could compete on a national scale, instead of just using scrip in companies. Even a proposition to repeal the "anti-central bank" Amendment to the Constitution was proposed, though many expected strong opposition from those who feared central banks, including myself.

We would be beyond honored to grant you travel, by whatever it is you travel with, into TurtleShroom. If it's something illegal or considered unclean, we'll let the law sort that out after you enter.

I'll alert the Minister of Domestic Affairs, the Border Patrol, and other relevant agencies that some sort of portal will be torn. Naturally, our theologians and scientists will want to observe it, so we request that it be opened in the first basement floor of the hotel hosting our convention room in this event. Worry not: you'll have full security details down there, and your safety and privacy will be ensured.

It is a thrill to hear from one of our greatest, oldest, and most unique allies.


Your friend,
-Maven Outtacountry, Headmaster of Foreign Affairs of the Holy Republic of TurtleShroom

Maven smiled as he signed, sealed, and finished the letter into its envelope, with state seals and markings. Holding the letter in his mouth to turn and hand it to a courier for sending to the postal service, he was surprised to see a small, purple and black hole floating in the air. It was a wormhole.
One of the assistants was a science fiction fan, who pointed out what he thought it was.

Everyone shrugged and excitedly looked as Maven placed the envelope into the little wormhole, which shut itself after receiving what is sought.
The letter was headed straight- RSVP -to New Amerik. Priority shipping included!

[New Amerik]

Upon the letter's return, the appropriate responses and consideration were taken into account, the Imperial Division and Illusioneering Division taking joint responsibility for overseeing the carrying out of the diplomatic mission. As the Multiversal Portal Array prepared to warm itself up for transportation to the basement of the hotel, there was a flurry of debate over who would be sent to Turtleshroom. A diplomat, of course, but who?

Within little more than a few hours in real time and several days worth of total time, the person to send was decided: Dao K'zin My'itz, of the House of Dao. She had been an excellent diplomat on her first real outing to another universe, and would prove a suitable representative. And almost as soon as the kruzk had been chosen for the mission, the portal to Turtleshroom was prepared. Coordinates and numbers long since disused were once more punched in, and in two universes, there came a burst of Imagination.

Turtleshroom

Inside the basement of the building set aside for the convention, there came a sensation.

Slowly, Imagination started to form. Unknown to Turtleshroom, but native to the Amerikverse, it started to permeate the air with the formation of the Portal through from New Amerik. As watchers looked on, there came the smell of ozone, and a slight ringing in the air. Anyone magic-sensitive or with a strong mystical link would find themselves beset by an uncomfortable feeling, as if in the prescence of an actively leaking nuclear reactor. And then...reality started to pull itself apart. A reverse-zipping sound could be audibly hear, as the space-time continuum of the area simply seperated and opened up - and then, through it, Dao K'zin My'itz, of the House of Dao, stepped out.

Her appearance was similar to that of an Earth turkey-vulture, only bipedular and with graspsing gloves where wings would normally be. IShe wore a formal outfit that denoting her status as a diplomat of the Imperial Division - grey-black breathable overjacket and long pants with gold and silver lining, black fitted shoes with a removable dagger in the bottom and white talon gloves. Over the ensemble, she wore a cloak of dark and rich red, blue, and green plush velvet bordered in gold, the design dazzling and abstract. And, as with all officials of the Holy Technocracy, a custom-made, perfectly fitted face mask - done in gold, brass, and with embedded rubies - was worn, hiding her face from view.

She looked around at the bystanders, before slightly bowing while keeping her eyes on the assorted people and both hands in front of her, and then saying, "Greetings. I am Dao K'zin My'itz, of the House of Dao, and I come here to speak on behalf of the assorted subjects and government of the Holy Technocracy of New Amerik."