"The kids these days..." (IC thread)

[The High Tatras]

One fine morning at the Café Ruthenia (in Little Dzikie Pola):

Yuri the barkeep served two regular guests their beverages of choice. One was "the Oboznyi", the proprietor of "Red Star Antiques, Curios, and Relics", a store that sold Tatran militaria/ military antiques and political memorabilia. He was served a mug of kvass. The other was Pani Halyna, the proprietor of "Pani Halyna's Fine Apparel Imports", a store that sold authentic clothing imported from The High Tatras and locally handmade replicas/ reproductions with imported fabrics and patterns. She was served Koporye tea from a samovar.

"Have you read the morning paper yet?" said Yuri.

"We both did, we are a couple after all." said Pani Halyna as she stroked her calico kitten who was on her lap.

"There was an outrageous editorial written about us. It says that we are deviants embracing a dangerously radical ideology and a foreign way of life. They blame us for corrupting other youths and causing a complete moral collapse of society." said "the Oboznyi" as he scratched the neck of his Russian Wolfhound.

"Well that is nonsense, we are very nice people. I am sure that whoever wrote that editorial would be friends with us if he only tried to get to know us." said Pani Halyna.

"You know, there are other subcultures in this city. We really ought to get to know them sooner or later." said Yuri.

"Well that sounds like a fine idea. We might as well find out what kind of people they are." said "the Oboznyi".

"Let's go make some new friends. I hope they do like animals." said Pani Halyna.

The couple and their animal companions left the tavern and wandered the streets together, eventually finding themselves in another entirely different neighborhood.

"I wonder who lives around here." said "the Oboznyi".

"Ruff!" said the Russian Wolfhound.

[Servinta]

One beer drinking, rough housing, engine revving morning at Lenny's leather emporium (In the downtown district just south of Little Dzikie Pola):

"Look at me I'm a fancy shmancy Krïdan." Gruger said as he threw a large pair of boot socks around his neck to mock the appearance of a recent fad that had come into the city.

"Hey, no playing with the merchandise unless you intend to pay for it you fat slobs!" a graying old man shouted from across the store, this fellow was the owner and the shops namesake Lenny Krafitz.He had set up in this part of town a while ago after he had retired from the service and went out into the world to see its wondrous locals, somehow he had landed in this city and without enough funds to get back to the home country he was stuck here.Thankfully he had come at a time when motorcycles from the war were starting to become the big thing, and after a string of good luck in the blackjack tables he had decided he would better his years setting up his own shop for the growing biker community.

With this rowdy bunch dirtying up his goods he fell into that "Why didn't I just stay home" state of mind.

The four young men at the back of the store were in a different state of mind, an intoxicated one to be exact.They were newly joined initiates of the Leather Socks, a biker gang that had developed into its own entity after the main body of members broke up into factions, each claiming to be "Real Leather Sockers".With alcohol in their system from an early meet up at the local watering hole, they were ready and wasted for the day ahead of them.

"Bros be serious for a minute." A surprisingly sober and crisp sounding voice from inside the dressing room demanded.

"Do the spikes on my boots make the spikes on my gloves look small to you?" Leadmun asked as he displayed a newly shined pair of Danker combat boots, a very expensive and pointy brand of boots.

"You look like a walking knife stand, Lead head!" Grozmyer ragged on his friends over use of spikes, that made him stand out as a newbie in the Leather Sock world.

Grozmyer was the quintessential leader of this troop, a man of about five foot nine (If you were counting his red Mohawk)with a mustache that ran from his one badly trimmed mutton chop to the other.His verbal abuse of his best friend Leadmun was a bit rough for those who didn't now the twos history, but it was all in good fun and everyone knew it.Both Leadmun and Grozmyer were raised in the eastern part of the city, Grozmyer the son of a well of family whose main bread winner was the fathers real estate sales business.Leadmun was from the same neighborhood but instead he was the son of a in home house maid to the Ormer household just down the street from Grozmyer.And after suffering a tragedy that lead to their meeting and eventual friendship, the two became an inseparable pair and a common sight in the mean streets of the Downtown district that was now known as Toe Hole.

"At least I can walk straight." Leadmun shot back with a laugh.

"Oh that beats it!" Grozmyer yelled as he leaped at Leadmund and the two began to childishly wrestle among the clothing racks, only to be joined a minute later by the large bellied Gruger and his skinny brother Ruger who didn't want to join in but was to intoxicated to stop from falling into the melee.

"THATS IT, GET OUT OF MY SHOP YOU DRUNKEN IDIOTS." Lenny yelled as he rushed over and pulled them from their fighting and dragged them to the front door.

"We were just playin, that's all." Grozmyer explained as he was pushed out the doorway and almost hit his ride, almost.The others were removed from the establishment in the same manner with Ruger hitting his motorcycle head on, thankfully for him the headlight was a sturdy one and he was light weighted so it cased no damage to the bike.

"Come on bros lets blow this joint." Grozmyer spat as he hopped on his 1989 Kuabizo duplex, a much coveted and sought after model of motorcycle that had been cited for its lack of a muffler and the numerous safety violations that it presented to its rider.Out of the original five hundred bikes of that model built, over half were now gone due to a mix of explosive engines and driver induced accidents, most of the remaining ones were recalled and destroyed but thankfully Grozmyer had a few favors and he got his hands on this one only three months ago.

The others soon unsteadily slid onto their motorcycles and in unison revved their engines in a most annoyingly loud fashion as to get back at Lenny who had been through this all before.Lenny who had returned to his seat simply popped in the ear plugs and read the Examplestan daily, quietly humming to himself and wondering how long it would be before lunch as he was famished and hadn't eaten breakfast.

The four bikers drove off down the street and were intent on just spending the day riding about and pestering the goody to shoes who were in the upper class areas of town when they noticed a pair who were leading some pets on leashes heading into Toe Hole.

Leadmun who knew the type of trouble they could bring about themselves if they went into the heart of the rough and tumble area immediately turned around to see what they were doing.With a screech of tires turning, the rest followed and came up from behind the two who Leadmun could now see were of the so called "Hunkies" crowd.

"Hey brother, where you two think your going?" Leadmun asked as he slowed his bike down to keep a pace with the two strangers and their animal companions.

[The High Tatras]

"I assume that is a rhetorical question, tovarishch." said "the Oboznyi". He was noticeably wearing a black military styled beret with a red star and a neckerchief/ scarf made of calico cotton with a floral print as part of his outfit.

"What is your name tovarishch? We live in Little Dzikie Pola." said Pani Halyna. She was noticeably wearing a headscarf/ shawl and a Crucifix necklace as part of her outfit.

"They call us "hunkies". They meant it as an insult but we embraced it." said "the Oboznyi".

"Yah, that is us." said Pani Halyna.

"If you come to my shop I have real combat boots and flight jackets instead of those overpriced imitations from expensive fashion labels. They call me "the Oboznyi", which means "Quartermaster", and I own a shop that specializes in military antiques in Little Dzikie Pola." said "the Oboznyi".

[Krjder]

Examplestan, Krïdan Commune (Kjijdewähl)
The streets were quiet. Almost dead in this area of the city. Two men, Krïdans walked down the pavement dressed in black trousers, black roll neck jumper, black boots and a black peaked cap. On their belt, they had holster for a KLOSCH Handgun and a knife on their inside left boot pocket. These were Krïdan Agents. They patrolled the area for any signs of disturbance to the delicate experiment being undertaken.

Krïdans believe in the perfect human. Although this is impossible to achieve, they endeavour to make themselves as good looking, intelligent and socially conforming as possible. So, in the 456 houses and apartments that make up the Kjijdewähl Commune, doctors, helped by agents, made their way to each inhabitant. Either to kill or 'alter' the subject. Albinos, gingers, disabled or just pure ugly people were immediately exterminated. Blacks, Semitic, Arabic and Indian were also killed. Pan Oriental were spared and were to undergo a transformation like the Caucasians.

All males were to have tanned, soft skin. They should comb their hair every morning. They are to wear decent clothing; work: suits, free time; chinos with a shirt and smart-ish shoes. They are go be well informed of world affairs, politics and economy. They should be capable of getting nothing lower than C in any subject. They are to treat friends with affection, concern and love, but should despise and endeavour to humiliate and destroy their enemies. Pretty much the same for women, but they should be discouraged from any form of manual labour jobs like factory or police.

Upon seeing the Oboznyi, the two agents drew their handguns.
"Get out of Kjijdewähl. This area is not visit able yet. Turn around or you will be shot." One of them said, in a perfect American accent.

[Prairie Canada]

In Little Dzikie Pola, the Cafe Ruthenia

A tall, lanky man wandered the streets, and he saw a cafe. He opened the door, and wandered in. He had left his district of New Caledonia, hoping to discover new cultures within the city. This man, who was named Victor Landon, was a liberal. He was a hipster, fair trade coffee drinking, internationalist, culture lover. His shaved sides and back of his hair, and the long unkept top, his skin tight green pants, and his flannel grey shirt, his messanger back carelessly slung over his shoulder. He would normally feel all out of place in this part of town, if he was anyone else.

Victor, with an air of confidence associated with the open minded liberal type in such a setting, strode up and made eye contact with the barkeep. Victor smiled and then, somewhat meekly, surprisingly, he asked "what's the most authentic Tatran thing I could drink?".

Victor looked around, and was somewhat pleased. He saw only ethnic people, no one else, and he saw animals inside. Not only were therre people there, they were all reading a newspaper. A world apart, the cafe was like a stew of cultural homeland for the Tatran people in there.

As he smiled and tapped his foot, he looked at the barkeep, who seemed unnattentive and he asked more loudly "what do you reccomend in terms of a warm beverage, friend?"

[The High Tatras]

In Little Dzikie Pola, the Cafe Ruthenia

A tall, lanky man wandered the streets, and he saw a cafe. He opened the door, and wandered in. He had left his district of New Caledonia, hoping to discover new cultures within the city. This man, who was named Victor Landon, was a liberal. He was a hipster, fair trade coffee drinking, internationalist, culture lover. His shaved sides and back of his hair, and the long unkempt top, his skin tight green pants, and his flannel grey shirt, his messenger back carelessly slung over his shoulder. He would normally feel all out of place in this part of town, if he was anyone else.

Victor, with an air of confidence associated with the open minded liberal type in such a setting, strode up and made eye contact with the barkeep. Victor smiled and then, somewhat meekly, surprisingly, he asked "what's the most authentic Tatran thing I could drink?".

Victor looked around, and was somewhat pleased. He saw only ethnic people, no one else, and he saw animals inside. Not only were there people there, they were all reading a newspaper. A world apart, the cafe was like a stew of cultural homeland for the Tatran people in there.

As he smiled and tapped his foot, he looked at the barkeep, who seemed inattentive and he asked more loudly "what do you recommend in terms of a warm beverage, friend?"

Yuri spoke to the stranger.

"A warm beverage, eh? We have "Russian Caravan" tea. It has a smoky flavor, which was originally from the campfires of camel caravans that made six thousand mile journeys from China to Eastern Europe. It comes in compressed bricks, which were once used as a form of commodity money. We also have "Koporye tea", which is made from fireweed leaves. It was used as a tea substitute before tea was widely available. We have some coffee substitutes made from roasted acorns, as well as roasted chicory and roasted grain. These have been popular during wartime when coffee was in short supply. Lastly, we have "Glühwein", which is a beverage made with red wine along with various mulling spices and raisins. It is a traditional drink during winter, especially around Christmas and All Hallows' Eve."

[Servinta]

"I assume that is a rhetorical question, tovarishch." said "the Oboznyi". He was noticeably wearing a black military styled beret with a red star and a neckerchief/ scarf made of calico cotton with a floral print as part of his outfit.

"What is your name tovarishch? We live in Little Dzikie Pola." said Pani Halyna. She was noticeably wearing a headscarf/ shawl and a Crucifix necklace as part of her outfit.

"They call us "hunkies". They meant it as an insult but we embraced it." said "the Oboznyi".

"Yah, that is us." said Pani Halyna.

"If you come to my shop I have real combat boots and flight jackets instead of those overpriced imitations from expensive fashion labels. They call me "the Oboznyi", which means "Quartermaster", and I own a shop that specializes in military antiques in Little Dzikie Pola." said "the Oboznyi".

"Nah man, I've got my own threads and kicks." Leadmun said as he pulled up onto the sidewalk and blocked the two strangers way.

Apparently they weren't privy to the common knowledge of the area as they were heading straight into the center of Toe Hole, not a place that people dressed like them should be heading anywhere near.It wasn't that they were poorly dressed, not at all, in fact they seemed quite well dressed and probably would be considered acceptable in the mini-malls around town.But they weren't heading toward a mini-mall, they were heading toward Toe Hole, considered one of the roughest parts of town and generally a place where you'd get beat up if you looked out of place, which these two looked very much so in this neighborhood.

"But I was being serious brother, what you heading toward Toe Hole for, its not exactly a scenic place you know?" Leadmun stated bluntly.

The rest of the group pulled up behind him and was parking on the sidewalk itself as well, not in the interest of what Leadmun was doing but due to the fact that it was illegal and they weren't going to be square and park in the conveniently nearby parking spaces.

[Prairie Canada]

In Little Dzikie Pola, the Cafe Ruthenia

A tall, lanky man wandered the streets, and he saw a cafe. He opened the door, and wandered in. He had left his district of New Caledonia, hoping to discover new cultures within the city. This man, who was named Victor Landon, was a liberal. He was a hipster, fair trade coffee drinking, internationalist, culture lover. His shaved sides and back of his hair, and the long unkempt top, his skin tight green pants, and his flannel grey shirt, his messenger back carelessly slung over his shoulder. He would normally feel all out of place in this part of town, if he was anyone else.

Victor, with an air of confidence associated with the open minded liberal type in such a setting, strode up and made eye contact with the barkeep. Victor smiled and then, somewhat meekly, surprisingly, he asked "what's the most authentic Tatran thing I could drink?".

Victor looked around, and was somewhat pleased. He saw only ethnic people, no one else, and he saw animals inside. Not only were there people there, they were all reading a newspaper. A world apart, the cafe was like a stew of cultural homeland for the Tatran people in there.

As he smiled and tapped his foot, he looked at the barkeep, who seemed inattentive and he asked more loudly "what do you recommend in terms of a warm beverage, friend?"

Yuri spoke to the stranger.

"A warm beverage, eh? We have "Russian Caravan" tea. It has a smoky flavor, which was originally from the campfires of camel caravans that made six thousand mile journeys from China to Eastern Europe. It comes in compressed bricks, which were once used as a form of commodity money. We also have "Koporye tea", which is made from fireweed leaves. It was used as a tea substitute before tea was widely available. We have some coffee substitutes made from roasted acorns, as well as roasted chicory and roasted grain. These have been popular during wartime when coffee was in short supply. Lastly, we have "Glühwein", which is a beverage made with red wine along with various mulling spices and raisins. It is a traditional drink during winter, especially around Christmas and All Hallows' Eve."

Victor smiled at the barkeep and he said "i'll have a koporye tea". Victor looked around, giving a smile to everyone he made eye contact. From first glance, Victor, a smoker, couldn't see an ashtray, but he asked anyway "sir, do you mind if I have a smoke in here?". He assumed he would be allowed...because these people are like russians...right? and Russians smoke heavily. Victor got out his pack and lighter, apprehensively looking at the barkeep, feeling nicotine withdrawal slowly kick in

[Lolloh]

In the Sapient Commune, Hooter's Cafe
The sapient commune was rather small, but it was a comfortable, sociable place, though, as usual, racial tensions were high. At the local Hooter's cafe, the de facto Mayor of the commune looked critically at the plan before him. "So... how much would you charge for these rain barrels?"
The dark blue pegasi before him rustled his wings slightly and answered,"$150 for purchase, shipping, and installment..." upon seeing the Mayor's expression, he hastily added,"...which can, of course, be bought on credit, generously provided by the Union." By this, he meant the National Credit Union, which was a bank the Mayor owned, with substantial poor-sapient deposits.
Nodding, the Mayor said,"Well, Starry Mist, I like this plan. Will you be charging interest on the credit?"
"1%, compounded annually, sir."
"Fair enough. Anyways, Starry, how much will you require to get this program running?"
"Not... too much, sir: $236,000. A month." Realizing this would probably kill him, Starry sagely included,"but the monthly dues we get should be enough to maintain it, and anyways, the cost of maintaining it will be cheaper, maybe $80,000 a month. Mr Smartling-"
"No need for more, Mr Mist. I'll get the money you need, we can probably get started next month." The pegasus merely nodded, and politely left, as Smartling took another ship of illegally distilled vodka.

Cafe Ruthenia
According to her census form, Retika Nujuri was unemployed, though she considered herself the Finance Commissioner. Of course, the "government" of the Sapients was a rather disorganized hodge-podge of several dozen unemployed bums revolutionaries who wanted to make the world a better place, starting with this request. Mayor Smartling had requested that she scrounge up $236,000 for a new, progressive program that would drive the commune forward, but, despite making the Credit Union loan all its money and shaking down residents for a $10 fee, she was still about $85,000 short of her goal, and, since the local business had already been hit up, she'd had to resort to go out of the commune, to the human areas of the city, and *gulp* try and collect the cash.
It wasn't that she wasn't large, but, she guessed, people just didn't like dragons, for some reason. At the first sight of her deep red scales and green cat-eyes, they became scared, jittery, nervous. Of course, she COULD breath fire, but she was only as large as them, but, she guessed, humans were too prejudiced against anyone who wasn't their own. Reluctantly, and worried about what might occur afterwards, she rapped her claws against the glass, the handle too vertical and slippery for her claws.

[The High Tatras]

"I assume that is a rhetorical question, tovarishch." said "the Oboznyi". He was noticeably wearing a black military styled beret with a red star and a neckerchief/ scarf made of calico cotton with a floral print as part of his outfit.

"What is your name tovarishch? We live in Little Dzikie Pola." said Pani Halyna. She was noticeably wearing a headscarf/ shawl and a Crucifix necklace as part of her outfit.

"They call us "hunkies". They meant it as an insult but we embraced it." said "the Oboznyi".

"Yah, that is us." said Pani Halyna.

"If you come to my shop I have real combat boots and flight jackets instead of those overpriced imitations from expensive fashion labels. They call me "the Oboznyi", which means "Quartermaster", and I own a shop that specializes in military antiques in Little Dzikie Pola." said "the Oboznyi".

"Nah man, I've got my own threads and kicks." Leadmun said as he pulled up onto the sidewalk and blocked the two strangers way.

Apparently they weren't privy to the common knowledge of the area as they were heading straight into the center of Toe Hole, not a place that people dressed like them should be heading anywhere near.It wasn't that they were poorly dressed, not at all, in fact they seemed quite well dressed and probably would be considered acceptable in the mini-malls around town.But they weren't heading toward a mini-mall, they were heading toward Toe Hole, considered one of the roughest parts of town and generally a place where you'd get beat up if you looked out of place, which these two looked very much so in this neighborhood.

"But I was being serious brother, what you heading toward Toe Hole for, its not exactly a scenic place you know?" Leadmun stated bluntly.

The rest of the group pulled up behind him and was parking on the sidewalk itself as well, not in the interest of what Leadmun was doing but due to the fact that it was illegal and they weren't going to be square and park in the conveniently nearby parking spaces.

"I do understand what you mean tovarishch, but I promise you I will work hard to make the whole city a more scenic place. I am running for a position in the city council, and if elected I will institute rent controls, end the demolition of low-income housing to build shopping centers under eminent domain, stop the privatization of our prisons to for-profit corporations, crack down on corruption in the police force, improve our schools, and increase funding for our overcrowded homeless shelters and soup kitchens. Unfortunately, I am required to have an absurd number of signatures just to show up on the ballot. No one outside of Little Dzikie Pola is taking me seriously as a candidate. They all say I am too young and inexperienced and some of them have called me a "dirty commie" or "dangerous radical". I would appreciate if you could sign your name here please. It would help me a great deal." said "the Oboznyi".

[The High Tatras]

Yuri spoke to the stranger.

"A warm beverage, eh? We have "Russian Caravan" tea. It has a smoky flavor, which was originally from the campfires of camel caravans that made six thousand mile journeys from China to Eastern Europe. It comes in compressed bricks, which were once used as a form of commodity money. We also have "Koporye tea", which is made from fireweed leaves. It was used as a tea substitute before tea was widely available. We have some coffee substitutes made from roasted acorns, as well as roasted chicory and roasted grain. These have been popular during wartime when coffee was in short supply. Lastly, we have "Glühwein", which is a beverage made with red wine along with various mulling spices and raisins. It is a traditional drink during winter, especially around Christmas and All Hallows' Eve."

Victor smiled at the barkeep and he said "i'll have a koporye tea". Victor looked around, giving a smile to everyone he made eye contact. From first glance, Victor, a smoker, couldn't see an ashtray, but he asked anyway "sir, do you mind if I have a smoke in here?". He assumed he would be allowed...because these people are like russians...right? and Russians smoke heavily. Victor got out his pack and lighter, apprehensively looking at the barkeep, feeling nicotine withdrawal slowly kick in

Yuri served Victor a Koporye tea from a samovar.

"Yah, you can smoke here. Everyone here smokes from long clay pipes or rolls their own cigars using makhorka, that is a cheap and poor quality tobacco of the species Nicotiana rustica. Just do not smoke cigarettes, because cigarettes are for girls."

On the wall there was a poster showing an image of "the Oboznyi" and his platform for his city council bid.

[Prairie Canada]

Victor smiled at the barkeep and he said "i'll have a koporye tea". Victor looked around, giving a smile to everyone he made eye contact. From first glance, Victor, a smoker, couldn't see an ashtray, but he asked anyway "sir, do you mind if I have a smoke in here?". He assumed he would be allowed...because these people are like russians...right? and Russians smoke heavily. Victor got out his pack and lighter, apprehensively looking at the barkeep, feeling nicotine withdrawal slowly kick in

Yuri served Victor a Koporye tea from a samovar.

"Yah, you can smoke here. Everyone here smokes from long clay pipes or rolls their own cigars using makhorka, that is a cheap and poor quality tobacco of the species Nicotiana rustica. Just do not smoke cigarettes, because cigarettes are for girls."

On the wall there was a poster showing an image of "the Oboznyi" and his platform for his city council bid.

Victor smiled and nodded, carefully sitting down, after having been given his tea. Victor paused and asked "do you have pipes here? like one I can borrow?". Victor never had a pipe on hand, because like most people, he smoked cigarettes. Sitting at the table, Victor noticed the grizzly looking working men around him, and the bounty of posters and ethnic artworks. Victor sipped his tea slowly, noticing he earthy, pleasant flavor. He took out his book, and he began reading, not wanting to interfere with the denizens of the cafe, who he feared would be unfriendly or rude due to Victor being an outsider.

[The High Tatras]

Yuri served Victor a Koporye tea from a samovar.

"Yah, you can smoke here. Everyone here smokes from long clay pipes or rolls their own cigars using makhorka, that is a cheap and poor quality tobacco of the species Nicotiana rustica. Just do not smoke cigarettes, because cigarettes are for girls."

On the wall there was a poster showing an image of "the Oboznyi" and his platform for his city council bid.

Victor smiled and nodded, carefully sitting down, after having been given his tea. Victor paused and asked "do you have pipes here? like one I can borrow?". Victor never had a pipe on hand, because like most people, he smoked cigarettes. Sitting at the table, Victor noticed the grizzly looking working men around him, and the bounty of posters and ethnic artworks. Victor sipped his tea slowly, noticing he earthy, pleasant flavor. He took out his book, and he began reading, not wanting to interfere with the denizens of the cafe, who he feared would be unfriendly or rude due to Victor being an outsider.

Yuri handed Victor a long clay pipe, an ancient table lighter that had been converted from a flintlock pistol, and some makhorka.

"We have a well-stocked selection of newspapers and periodicals from all over the multiverse if you get bored with whatever it is you are reading. We like to have lengthy discussions here about all manner of topics; religion, politics, history, economics, the natural sciences, philosophy, whatever. Basically we will talk about anything you are told not to discuss at the dinner table. We are all a bunch of eggheads and boffins here. Consider us a poor man's version of a Parisian Salon, but with a lot less hot air and I would like to think less hypocrisy. You had better know your stuff here, or someone else will call you out on it. By the way, are you registered to vote this year? The man who owns "Red Star Antiques, Curios, and Relics", we call him "the Oboznyi", is running for a seat in the city council this year. He does not stand a snowball's chance in hell of actually winning. In fact, the city requires him to have some absurd number of signatures just to show up on the ballot. If you ask me, direct action is the only viable way to achieve change. We should be organizing sit-in strikes and wildcat strikes, educating the public, and maybe we should even try some sabotage. However, I promised him I would ask every guest at my tavern to sign this waiver."

[Perestroikavo]

Grishnov's Study Emporium, Comrades Congressional Communal
Mikhail sat down heavily next to the the other three, wiping some grease off his tracksuit. "News from the neighborhood- a new party is vying for a seat on the city council. Rumor is, they share similar blood with us." Grigorly's eyes widened and he slapped the counter. "Then what are we waiting for, let's go out and meet them! He was always the most excitable of the bunch, but the four men usually listened to him out of lack of better things to do. Ivan and Alexei stood up as well without a word. "Very well then Comrades, we go!" Mikhail exclaimed, as they all set out of the door.

Minutes later, the four stumbled upon a certain Cafe Ruthenia. The boisterous group made their way through the room, finally settling in barstools right next to some sort of new age looking hipster smoking the traditional pipe. Sitting down, the lit their own cigars and began bantering, as well as ordering four Koporye teas. Sitting around and bantering with eachother, Ivan was the one to finally cut to the chase. Now, Ivan was a big man by normal standards, but he was like a giant among his friends, and commanded a certain air of respect. Looking at the barkeeper, he spoke. "We are looking for the one running for city council. The Pochetnyy would like to express support for the attempt in any way possible."

[The High Tatras]

Grishnov's Study Emporium, Comrades Congressional Communal
Mikhail sat down heavily next to the the other three, wiping some grease off his tracksuit. "News from the neighborhood- a new party is vying for a seat on the city council. Rumor is, they share similar blood with us." Grigorly's eyes widened and he slapped the counter. "Then what are we waiting for, let's go out and meet them! He was always the most excitable of the bunch, but the four men usually listened to him out of lack of better things to do. Ivan and Alexei stood up as well without a word. "Very well then Comrades, we go!" Mikhail exclaimed, as they all set out of the door.

Minutes later, the four stumbled upon a certain Cafe Ruthenia. The boisterous group made their way through the room, finally settling in barstools right next to some sort of new age looking hipster smoking the traditional pipe. Sitting down, the lit their own cigars and began bantering, as well as ordering four Koporye teas. Sitting around and bantering with eachother, Ivan was the one to finally cut to the chase. Now, Ivan was a big man by normal standards, but he was like a giant among his friends, and commanded a certain air of respect. Looking at the barkeeper, he spoke. "We are looking for the one running for city council. The Pochetnyy would like to express support for the attempt in any way possible."

"Welcome, tovarishch! Unfortunately, "the Oboznyi" is not here right now. He and his fiancé Pani Halyna are both out campaigning over in the "Toe Hole" district. The best thing you could do for them right now is for each of you to sign your names on this waiver so the city will allow him be on the ballots. His picture is on one of the posters on the wall, he is the one wearing the black military styled beret with a red star and a red neckerchief or scarf made of calico cotton with a floral print." said Yuri to the newcomers.

[Perestroikavo]

Ivan squinted at the man for a moment. "Spasiba," he finally replied, and he, Mikhail, Grigorly and Iosif signed the sheet. Producing a card from his pocket, Iosif handed it to the barkeeper along with twenty dollars. "Make sure they know that Iosif, leader of the Pochetnyy came by, and would be honored to receive them as dinner guests tonight at my very own home. And make sure nobody knows of my presence here." The four left the money for their tea on the counter, and walked out, heading for the Kridan Commune, to meet with their old rivals and discuss certain things over lunch. That is, if the goons remembered their faces or names.

[Prairie Canada]

Victor smiled and nodded, carefully sitting down, after having been given his tea. Victor paused and asked "do you have pipes here? like one I can borrow?". Victor never had a pipe on hand, because like most people, he smoked cigarettes. Sitting at the table, Victor noticed the grizzly looking working men around him, and the bounty of posters and ethnic artworks. Victor sipped his tea slowly, noticing he earthy, pleasant flavor. He took out his book, and he began reading, not wanting to interfere with the denizens of the cafe, who he feared would be unfriendly or rude due to Victor being an outsider.

Yuri handed Victor a long clay pipe, an ancient table lighter that had been converted from a flintlock pistol, and some makhorka.

"We have a well-stocked selection of newspapers and periodicals from all over the multiverse if you get bored with whatever it is you are reading. We like to have lengthy discussions here about all manner of topics; religion, politics, history, economics, the natural sciences, philosophy, whatever. Basically we will talk about anything you are told not to discuss at the dinner table. We are all a bunch of eggheads and boffins here. Consider us a poor man's version of a Parisian Salon, but with a lot less hot air and I would like to think less hypocrisy. You had better know your stuff here, or someone else will call you out on it. By the way, are you registered to vote this year? The man who owns "Red Star Antiques, Curios, and Relics", we call him "the Oboznyi", is running for a seat in the city council this year. He does not stand a snowball's chance in hell of actually winning. In fact, the city requires him to have some absurd number of signatures just to show up on the ballot. If you ask me, direct action is the only viable way to achieve change. We should be organizing sit-in strikes and wildcat strikes, educating the public, and maybe we should even try some sabotage. However, I promised him I would ask every guest at my tavern to sign this waiver."

Victor listened to Yuri while struggling to light the long clay pipe. Finally having gotten it lit, he nodded sympathetically and then he said "it's nice to have a cultural setting where anything can be discussed. And I would be glad to help out your friend, the Oboznyi". Victor smiled, and signed the slightly rumpled and smudged paper, seeing that many people had come in and signed it, many working class people, he saw smudges of printers ink, ruddy dirt, and it smelled slightly fishy, even. Victor was able to tell, that this candidate's running for election was because his people were dissatisfied with the political climate, and to be honest, Victor was too. Victor wanted to achieve grassroots change for liberalism and more tolerance and openness in society. Victor smiled a bit and said "so...are the Tatrans traditionally herders or what?"

[The High Tatras]

Yuri took a deep breath and gave a lengthy reply to Victor.

"Yes, there was a lot of semi-nomadic pastoralism, hunting and gathering, fur trapping and trading, and small-scale agriculture. There was also mining, metallurgy, glass making, clock making, printing, and brewing. Please forgive me for giving you more information than you require, I cannot help it.

What is now The High Tatras was founded in Anno Domini 1457. Before then the area, then known only as "the wild fields beyond the Carpathians", was only occasionally visited by nomadic Tartars and Nogais and crossed by some Byzantine trade caravans.

Much of the Tatran population is descended from defeated peasant revolutionaries and religious heretics from surrounding countries, or simply serfs who ran away from their masters (at the time, the aristocracies of several neighboring countries were expanding the institution of serfdom due to favorable conditions for exporting grain to Western Europe). A few were burghers or even lesser nobility who naively decided to give up their privileged status and become "free adventurers". They had to build a new society in "the wild fields beyond the Carpathians", and eventually they developed a common identity.

The High Tatras was a safe haven for numerous religious communities considered heretical by the Roman Catholic Church and in some cases the Lutherans and Calvinists as well, including the Unity of the Brethren/ Moravian Church, Anabaptists who were followers of Thomas Müntzer, and Unitarians from Transylvania.

They all wished to build a free society with no lords or masters, and they have had to fight for their independence as well. When they first established themselves, they had to fight a number of "knightly orders" who wished to destroy them. They defeated each of them by making use of new technologies and innovative tactics.

There are number of weapons that have an iconic status in The High Tatras because of the role they played in solidifying our independence. You will often find war scythes, two-handed flails, "morgenstern" type spiked clubs, bardiche axes, and blunderbusses on Tatran military insignias to this day. However, the most iconic of all these weapons is probably the "samopal".

The "samopal" was an ancient smoothbore weapon loaded from the muzzle, cheaper than a musket and with the range of a harquebus, but with a greater rate of fire. It was a fully stocked firearm, with a long slim barrel of a relatively small caliber. The barrel had fixed front and rear iron sights. The fore-end had a pivot that enabled a horn bipod to be used, which was often quite long for shooting in the kneeling position. It also had a sliding patch box fitted to the underside of the buttstock behind the trigger guard. It was a smoothbore, giving the option of using ball or shot. They were used both for hunting and in combat, and were often cheaply and crudely homemade by local gunsmiths. However, they could withstand lots of abuse. It was not unheard of for some wilderness hunters with little knowledge of metal craftsmanship to hold the barrel or loose screws in place with leather straps and ropes, or to make other DIY repairs. One unique and interesting derivation of the basic design had two shots and one barrel with two hammers, one on each side. It was loaded with one charge over the other, with a soft wax wad placed between them. The wax wad plugged the bore and prevented ignition of the lower charge when the first one was fired. Such weapons were highly valued as a more affordable alternative to expensive two-barreled hunting weapons that came from far away.

By the way, "the Oboznyi" has some original "samopaly" from centuries ago for sale at his store and he also makes very accurate replicas or reproductions in his workshop behind the place.

Anyways, soldiers armed with the “samopal” were usually placed in three lines so one line could be able to fire, while the other two could reload. This tactic enabled an almost constant flow of gunfire to be maintained, and made up for the inaccuracy of the weapons. In order to hold back cavalry, wooden stockade walls or pikemen were positioned in front of the gunners.

An interesting development of these tactics was the use of the “gulyay-gorod”. A “gulyay-gorod” was a large wall-sized prefabricated wooden shield with holes for guns that was installed on wheels or sleds. These were often positioned in formations to channel charging enemy cavalry into lanes where they were vulnerable to gunfire. Any survivors would be quickly eliminated with pikes and flails.

Light cavalry and mounted infantry units made up a substantial minority in the Tatran "Citizens' Militia" and they were often considered among the best in the world. They were at first rigorously trained in mounted archery and soon learned to be highly proficient with firearms as well. They were most often used for scouting and reconnaissance as well as in flanking maneuvers and skirmishing. It was very rare for the Tatrans to attempt a frontal assault against infantry with cavalry without artillery support.

The High Tatras was ruled by a "Hetman" (from the German "Hauptmann", meaning "chief" or "head man"), who was directly elected by the populace and held his position for life, although he could theoretically be removed from office through a referendum. All free men could vote in elections. Slavery, serfdom, and indentured servitude were all strictly prohibited in The High Tatras.

The "Hetman" also had a cabinent called the "Heneralna starshyna". The "Heneralna starshyna" were appointed by the "Hetman", but they had to be approved by "Sich Rada", which was an assembly or council composed of any citizen who could manage to show up. In theory this gave a degree of direct democracy to the Tatran political system, although in practice only residents of the capital city, full-time military personnel, and those few ordinary citizens with the courage and determination to travel long distances across wilderness were usually able to show up. That was eventually partially rectified by allowing villages to elect representatives from among their populace, with the number of representatives allowed determined by the population size of the village. The "Sich Rada" was also responsible for voting on proposed legislation. Bills were usually drafted by the "Heneralna starshyna", but they had to be approved by the "Hetman" before they were sent to the "Sich Rada".

The High Tatras was divided into districts called "regiments", and these regiments were further divided into "companies". Each regiment was led by a colonel called a "polkovnyk", and each company was led by a captain called a "sotnyk". They had both military and civil responsibilities. Both the "polkovnyk" of a regiment and the "sotnyk" of a company were elected officials, although they had to pass a civil service examination and have an appropriate degree from a state university. Courses in state universities were free, but only those with good grades were allowed to enroll. There were no exceptions to this rule.

In each individual company (which usually took the form of a village) most of the land, money, crops, livestock herds, weapons, and tools were owned in common by the community. It was the responsibility of the "sotnyk" to distribute these things according to need to each household on an annual basis. If the "sotnyk" failed to fulfill his duties properly, he was instantly recallable through a referendum.

Each level of government was headquartered in a "sich", which was a fortified camp that served as an administrative and military center."

[The High Tatras]

In the Sapient Commune, Hooter's Cafe
The sapient commune was rather small, but it was a comfortable, sociable place, though, as usual, racial tensions were high. At the local Hooter's cafe, the de facto Mayor of the commune looked critically at the plan before him. "So... how much would you charge for these rain barrels?"
The dark blue pegasi before him rustled his wings slightly and answered,"$150 for purchase, shipping, and installment..." upon seeing the Mayor's expression, he hastily added,"...which can, of course, be bought on credit, generously provided by the Union." By this, he meant the National Credit Union, which was a bank the Mayor owned, with substantial poor-sapient deposits.
Nodding, the Mayor said,"Well, Starry Mist, I like this plan. Will you be charging interest on the credit?"
"1%, compounded annually, sir."
"Fair enough. Anyways, Starry, how much will you require to get this program running?"
"Not... too much, sir: $236,000. A month." Realizing this would probably kill him, Starry sagely included,"but the monthly dues we get should be enough to maintain it, and anyways, the cost of maintaining it will be cheaper, maybe $80,000 a month. Mr Smartling-"
"No need for more, Mr Mist. I'll get the money you need, we can probably get started next month." The pegasus merely nodded, and politely left, as Smartling took another ship of illegally distilled vodka.

Cafe Ruthenia
According to her census form, Retika Nujuri was unemployed, though she considered herself the Finance Commissioner. Of course, the "government" of the Sapients was a rather disorganized hodge-podge of several dozen unemployed bums revolutionaries who wanted to make the world a better place, starting with this request. Mayor Smartling had requested that she scrounge up $236,000 for a new, progressive program that would drive the commune forward, but, despite making the Credit Union loan all its money and shaking down residents for a $10 fee, she was still about $85,000 short of her goal, and, since the local business had already been hit up, she'd had to resort to go out of the commune, to the human areas of the city, and *gulp* try and collect the cash.
It wasn't that she wasn't large, but, she guessed, people just didn't like dragons, for some reason. At the first sight of her deep red scales and green cat-eyes, they became scared, jittery, nervous. Of course, she COULD breath fire, but she was only as large as them, but, she guessed, humans were too prejudiced against anyone who wasn't their own. Reluctantly, and worried about what might occur afterwards, she rapped her claws against the glass, the handle too vertical and slippery for her claws.

Yuri spoke to Retika Nujuri.

"Pryvit, tovarishch! You are a dragon, are you not? I have not received very many non-human guests in my tavern. Do you come from the "sapient commune"? The only type of dragon I have seen personally until now is called a "zmey gorynych". It is a three-headed dragon that is green in color, walks on two back paws, has two small front paws, and spits fire. Some have heads that grow back unless every single head is cut off. Of course, it is not self-aware like you or I. As it turns out, they are quite susceptible to high-explosive anti-tank warheads. At least that is what I have been told. Of course, it is always best to leave them alone unless they attack."

[Gigaverse]

Café Ruthenia
Makoto Ishikawa

"You are also running for a seat in the city council? Isn't that hard?", the starry-blue-eyed girl with pink pig-tails asked. She stared into the face of Makoto, who looked as confident as ever.

"I don't think I would be parading anywhere soon though. The elderly politicians and conservatives of this city hardly take me seriously. But seeing as how Examplestan is suffering from economic stagnation, I still think this city will only be the first step.

Soon, Haruna! We would get to live freely!"

He said, giving the girl's head light pats. Her squeaks, in return, indicated how happy she was.

"Oh. Here. Café Ruthenia. I've heard that this place is quite a focal point in our city.

How about..."

Haruna nodded constantly. Brightly dressed compared to just about everyone else, Makoto burst in to cry out:

"HARRO EVERYNYAN!"

[The High Tatras]

"I do understand what you mean tovarishch, but I promise you I will work hard to make the whole city a more scenic place. I am running for a position in the city council, and if elected I will institute rent controls, end the demolition of low-income housing to build shopping centers under eminent domain, stop the privatization of our prisons to for-profit corporations, crack down on corruption in the police force, improve our schools, and increase funding for our overcrowded homeless shelters and soup kitchens. Unfortunately, I am required to have an absurd number of signatures just to show up on the ballot. No one outside of Little Dzikie Pola is taking me seriously as a candidate. They all say I am too young and inexperienced and some of them have called me a "dirty commie" or "dangerous radical". I would appreciate if you could sign your name here please. It would help me a great deal." said "the Oboznyi".

Café Ruthenia
Makoto Ishikawa

"You are also running for a seat in the city council? Isn't that hard?", the starry-blue-eyed girl with pink pig-tails asked. She stared into the face of Makoto, who looked as confident as ever.

"I don't think I would be parading anywhere soon though. The elderly politicians and conservatives of this city hardly take me seriously. But seeing as how Examplestan is suffering from economic stagnation, I still think this city will only be the first step.

Soon, Haruna! We would get to live freely!"

He said, giving the girl's head light pats. Her squeaks, in return, indicated how happy she was.

"Oh. Here. Café Ruthenia. I've heard that this place is quite a focal point in our city.

How about..."

Haruna nodded constantly. Brightly dressed compared to just about everyone else, Makoto burst in to cry out:

"HARRO EVERYNYAN!"

After a highly unsuccessful foray into the "Toe Hole" district, "the Oboznyi" and Pani Halyna returned to Little Dzikie Pola and reentered the Café Ruthenia. They overheard the conversation between Makoto Ishikawa and the starry blue-eyed girl with pink pigtails.

"I never thought of this place as a focal point in our city." said "the Oboznyi", who was a redhead with long flowing hair held in a ponytail by a black silk ribbon.

"Maybe just Little Dzikie Pola?" said Pani Halyna, who had a bob cut that was waved and parted to the side and normally wore a headscarf over it.

"Well we might as well meet the "competition". It is not much of a competition when the incumbents have held their seats for decades." said "the Oboznyi".

The couple approached the strangers; "the Oboznyi" was the first one to speak.

"Pryvit, tovarishch! We have heard that you are running in the city council election as well. They call me "the Oboznyi", and this is my soon-to-be wife Pani Halyna. Perhaps you have heard of us. You probably have not."

Pani Halyna smiled.

"No one takes us seriously outside of Little Dzikie Pola. The city demands 10,000 signatures just for us to show up on the ballot. Did they ask that of you as well?" said "the Oboznyi".

"We wish you the best of luck. I say that sincerely and with no intention of irony." said Pani Halyna.

They both extended their hands to shake hands.

[Gigaverse]

Café Ruthenia
Makoto Ishikawa

Makoto shook the hands of both people.

"10,000 signatures? Perhaps it's local prejudice against those who they dubbed communists...

They set a quota of 5,000 for me. Until now, I've managed 4,050. I think I need 950 more to make it to the ballot. Then again, what's the probability of me actually winning a seat, or being able to do anything?

But whatever. Life is to be enjoyed. I don't care if I get that seat. As long as my community and family is safe, I'm good.

Oh, given that we're from different communes or neighborhoods, I don't think you've heard all too much about our animation?"

The fact that both Makoto and Haruna looked animated was one not to be ignored.

[The High Tatras]

Café Ruthenia
Makoto Ishikawa

Makoto shook the hands of both people.

"10,000 signatures? Perhaps it's local prejudice against those who they dubbed communists...

They set a quota of 5,000 for me. Until now, I've managed 4,050. I think I need 950 more to make it to the ballot. Then again, what's the probability of me actually winning a seat, or being able to do anything?

But whatever. Life is to be enjoyed. I don't care if I get that seat. As long as my community and family is safe, I'm good.

Oh, given that we're from different communes or neighborhoods, I don't think you've heard all too much about our animation?"

The fact that both Makoto and Haruna looked animated was one not to be ignored.

Yuri interrupted the conversation and spoke to "the Oboznyi" and Pani Halyna.

"Some strangers have invited you to their home for supper. Here is the invitation."

"Please tell them we are sorry we cannot come." said "the Oboznyi".

"We promised to attend the "Lovefeast" at St. Tatiana's Church. Please tell them that they are invited to come." said Pani Halyna.

"We invite both of you to come as well." said "the Oboznyi" to Makoto and Haruna.

"Um... I do not think most people from their part of town are Christians. Is there not a Shinto shrine over there, or something to that effect?" said Yuri.

"That does not matter. We are just trying to be friendly, and it can be considered just as much a cultural matter as it is a religious one." said "the Oboznyi".

"We must be kind to everyone because we are Christians, not because they are." said "Pani Halyna".

"Please come with us. We will leave offerings at your shrine if you come to our Lovefeast." said "the Oboznyi".

[Gigaverse]

-snip-

Café Ruthenia
Makoto Ishikawa

"Sounds good to me, though I'd like to think of ourselves - as in my part of town - as neither mainstream Shinto nor actual Christianity. You can see aspects of both sometimes, but that isn't really what I am here to brag about.

So, since I'm already here, how about a fair trade? I'll get people from my place to help you raise the number of signatures, while you do the same for me! Deal?"

Makoto chuckled in delight, hoping for a good answer.

[Lolloh]

"Pryvit, tovarishch! You are a dragon, are you not? I have not received very many non-human guests in my tavern. Do you come from the "sapient commune"? The only type of dragon I have seen personally until now is called a "zmey gorynych". It is a three-headed dragon that is green in color, walks on two back paws, has two small front paws, and spits fire. Some have heads that grow back unless every single head is cut off. Of course, it is not self-aware like you or I. As it turns out, they are quite susceptible to high-explosive anti-tank warheads. At least that is what I have been told. Of course, it is always best to leave them alone unless they attack."

Despite being slightly worried at this comment about killing dragons, she shrugged it off and continued. "So, I here you and your friend here," she cocked her head in the direction of Ishikawa,"are running for city council? Well, as it is, we have no candidate, and I think we could certainly support you. 950 signatures, you say? Well, I think I can get enough signatures for you two to be on the ballot, and maybe even enough popularity to steal the election. What I have in plan is this," she concluded, putting a map of a large, circular concrete container on one of the empty tables. "Can anysapient here tell me what this is?"