Anagonian Maintenance & Troubleshooting (CLOSED / PG-13)

[Anagonia]

Anagonian Maintenance & Troubleshooting
An Effort to Rectify and Reestablish Canonical Material & Events

PURPOSE

The purpose of this thread is to serve as a repository for short stories, slice of life stories, and other writings I deem worthy of adding to canonical events. These writings will therefore serve to rectify certain confusions or misunderstandings I currently have with my canon, for myself in particular only, and thereby provide me with some sense of relief. The present canon of Anagonia is awash with a mess of failed starts and horribly initiated threads - present year of 2021 excluded. It is full intent of this thread to fully conclude those failed starts and establish a theme of productive writing through a patient and positive approach.

I will thereby utilize the purpose of this thread to explore themes that have been, for the lack of a better word, blatantly ignored for the past few years. These themes, described through my preferred writing medium of choice, should be considered canon works of my nation. The events described may or may not be linked to prior events from the nearly 18 years I've been on this website, both off and on. Through the description of these events, it is intended that clarity of plot and canon shall be established while at the same time providing an outlet for creative potential. All entries into this thread will be cataloged in order of choice rather than order of posting.

WARNING: Some material may not be suitable for a young audience. Writings that are considered adult in nature shall be marked with (PG-13) to signify their status as possibly unsuitable for a young audience.

TABLE of CONTENTS

The following is a table of contents to this thread, wherein each post shall be linked in the appropriate category. Writings that include specific characters and themes will be marked as such. Writings deemed of a PG-13 nature shall be marked as such as stated in the above warning. All entries are to be considered canon. Linked entries can also be from different threads, in which case it shall so be marked for clarification as (OFF THREAD) to prevent confusion.

Slice of Life Writings
1.) The Wife of a President
Characters: Auristi & Mileethus Canisilus
2.) A Midnight Post
Characters: Various

Short Writings

Episodic Writings

[Anagonia]

Wednesday, September 8th 105 AUR
0900 Hours Anagonian Standard Time
Confederate National House, Liberty City, LY

Auristi Canisilus gently hummed to herself outside the main entrance to the National House, watering a few of the hanging plants that lined the top of the tetrastyle. She had chosen them herself when Mileethus first took office. A few Chenille plants lined the side she was presently on and, upon second look, she'd have to prune later on in the week. They were a common sight back in her native tribes, where the climate was warmest and the rains were heavy when the seasons changed. That was at least the folklore of the Komodren, of the times when they lived in their ancient homes before their species - or what was left of them - had been rescued by United Republic forces centuries prior. She had chosen them specifically because of their importance to her native culture, to symbolize that even here at the heart of the Nation, the needs and memory of her heritage were not forgotten. If nothing else, they made a spectacular display piece for visiting dignitaries.

Carefully she maneuvered the watering can to pour what she felt was the required amount inside the Chenille's pot. This task was typically reserved for the National House butlers, but after they had seen how easy it was for her to tend to the high-hanging plants due to her natural height, they had stifled most of their complaints. There were still grumblings here and there and admittedly they were in the right - after all, they were paid to do this! However Auristi had promised herself that regardless of where Mileethus' life took them, she would always tend to the things most needed for her husband and mate. This, to her, was one of those things needing tending to. After a short conversation with the Head Butler a few weeks back, most of those that had grumbled had quieted down. It was her zen time, her "me" time, and they'd be well and good to allow that to her for the sake of her sanity and constant worrying for her husband.

She moved to the front after tending to the last one along the right side underneath the tetrastyle. Here was dominated a few Boston Fern's, intertwined with the line of Chenille's. This was a repeating pattern to the other side as well, something she hadn't particularly planned on, but for the most part didn't argue. There was no special significance to the Boston Fern's being here other than Mileethus' stating one time that he, "rather liked the look of them". That was enough reason for her to request them being here. She continued her quiet, hummed song as she watered those as well. A soft rustling sound caught her attention as she finished the last pot on the front, her body stilling for a moment as only the gentle rustling of her tail on the concrete caught her ears. She heard the noise again, turning her head to the right to view the figure just behind the Rosa Knock Out bush.

"Sorry, Ma'am," the Military Policeman said once he saw he had been spotted. He quietly slipped behind the bush, and became obstructed from view by a Little Giant just behind the line of two Rosa Knock Out's.

Auristi sighed, pondering a moment before continuing her morning ritual. It hadn't been the MP's presence that had bothered her, rather the fact that he was donned in full battle uniform with weapons and Melkos knew what else at his disposal. Ever since that Chief Admiral Evans had taken over the Military, she had seen more of these Military Policeman than ever before. They watched her constantly, following her, always at a safe distance. It was four days ago when she finally had enough that she confronted one, telling him in not-too-stern of a tongue that following a lady was very impolite and that they're best off staying hidden. Ever since encounters like the one she had just seen took place, always with an apology, and always retreating back from view. It must of been a game for them, she concluded. Considering how fearful the young MP had been who she had originally confronted, maybe this was some sort of dare. Her mind wandered with possibilities as to why and how as she concluded her watering, observing the healthy dose of sunlight on her plants as she gazed around the front of the National Lawn.

Everything was in order. She felt good about the way it looked. The Butlers and Lawnskeepers would tend to the rest, but she had done her part. As if on cue, she felt a gentle tug on her shirt, turning to see one of the Maid's. They exchanged a bow of the head as Auristi handed over the watering can, quickly then left in silence as the Maid retreated inside without so much as a noise from the impressive two-door entryway. Instead of pondering on the mystery of it, her mind and eyes were firmly placed on the driveway that gently curved just a little ways off the front lawn. As if on cue, she saw the motorcade pull up from the street and briefly hidden by a few trees and the famous Weeping Willow that had been planted decades back. She clasped her hands to her chest, an excited hop to her gait as she stood there underneath the ceiling of the tetrastyle before gently taking the steps down onto the concrete path to greet her husband.

He emerged from the main car, followed by two MP's who - upon seeing her - looked away. Auristi ignored the possible slight of ignorance or, perhaps, fear and persisted her gait to her husband. The two met halfway, gently placing the tips of their snouts to the others in a show of intimacy and greeting before clasping each others hands.

"How was the meeting, my mate and husband?"

"It went fine," Mileethus replied to his wife, giving what in their kinds eyes was a clear smile. "The Emperor of Imperius took my assurances well. I believe this Confederal Union shall persist our current crisis."

"On that I do know," Auristi sated firmly, glancing briefly at the MP's with a quick scowl. "Come then, follow me inside. You must be famished."

"At once, my love."

Mister and Misses President held hands firmly as they both turned, locking arms in unison to walk together up to and just under the tetrastyle. Mileethus stopped briefly, his wife perplexed at first until she noticed him looking at the hanging plants. His smile seemed to broaden as he looked at each one, admiring them, admiring the work of his mate and love. Auristi couldn't help but feel a growing sense of relief that her hard work was recognized, and a blossoming sense of love for her husband who seemed to take the time to appreciate it. He gently placed his free hand to hers, giving a pat as he gazed into her eyes.

"You have done fantastic with the plants, my dear," he stated. "I enjoy it each time I enter this building."

They shared the touching of their snouts again, this time for an extended period, before they each resumed their walk inside. The two MP's that had followed the President were swift to open the doors for him, granting them entry before they closed the doors and stood guard outside. The day was beautiful, the sun shined, and a few birds flew between the hanging plants above them. One if the Military Policeman took brief note of a robin flyig by his field of view before returning his attention to his post.

[Anagonia]

Dragons Berth Mountain Range Imperial State Park
Second Slope, a few miles from the Drekamythian Dragon Den #5915
Confederate Army Ranger Outpost #2595
Bravo Company, Foxtrot Squad, routine watch
Sometime in 45 AUR

Tiberius Farus dismounted the M2101 IFV from topside after grabbing a few more ration packs for his squad, the four-foot tall lizardman plumping to the ground with a gentle thud as he scurried back over to the active campfire. Surrounding it were five other members of his squad, with a sixth in the IFV watching the nightvision scopes. It was his first deployment since entering voluntary service, a liberty granted only to the non-human tribes of Anagonia. He had wanted to see more than the little few scant hundred-acre reservation that his tribe lived on and, following a ride from a Military Policeman, signed up at the nearest towns Army Recruitment Center. Four years had passed since then and, despite the intensity of his training, his eyes still looked on the world with eager wonder and awe.

"Thanks Chip!" called out their squad lead, "Go ahead and disperse the supplies. Grab yourself one too and join us."

Tiberius gave an eager nod, panting a bit through exertion as he scurried to hand out a ration pack to his squadmates. He had originally intended to follow the letter of his commanding officers orders and only grab enough for his squad, but being the smart little Kroman he was, he had thought ahead and grabbed himself one as well. After the last had been dispersed, he sat on a provided log on the other end of the campfire and sorted his equipment. Grabbing the necessary tools from his carry-pounce, he opened his ration and, like everyone else, began preparations to eat.

The others around him were all human, of different varieties. He had found out early on that, unlike Kromen, humans appeared in various sizes and colors that would put the most elaborate Kromen ritual display to shame. He also found out the hard way that trying to separate definitions between these differences was not acceptable and extremely frowned upon. Unlike his people, who had separated Kromen into separate castes dependent on their size, stature, scale color and posture, humans practiced no such thing in Anagonia if rarely at all. So he had adapted, noting that some "cultures" of human emphasized these differences in jokes but never in a capacity to cause division. Once he had figured out the practicality of it, it hadn't been hard to adapt to.

"Hey Chip, what's it like where you come from?"

His thoughts disrupted, the small lizardman tilted his head up so one eye glanced at the squadmate who had asked the question. It was their heavy weapons expert, Corporal Hudson. A Native Anagonian with a rough streak in his early life, all sorts of tattoos still visible where his combat uniform couldn't hide skin. The question itself was innocent enough, considering Tiberius had only been attached to this squad for little under a month now. Their objective had been to watch over the Drekamyhthian Dragon dens in the area, in cooperation with the Imperial Park Rangers. It was an excellent task for newly graduated recruits to the Armed Forces, gaining experience in the field while also acclimating themselves to their new military lifestyle. As Tiberius recalled, Hudson had only graduated from his mandatory - a term Humans used to describe their service time - only two months ago.

"It not fun like this," Tiberius replied, his voice hoarse and broken while using the Anagonian tongue. "Much hurt, boredom, no fun. Nothing to do. No machine to tinker. I like tinker with machine."

Hudson gave a simple appraising nod, returning to his meal. Tiberius had been assigned to Foxtrot Squad at the request of Sergeant Alonso Patterson, their present squad leader. The previous technician had moved on to bigger and better things after finishing their six months in the mountains and, left with few choices, Alonso had opted to try a different route for once. Kromen were famous for their ability as expert technicians and mechanics, Tiberius no different. Their obsessive nature with ensuring things worked correctly and finding out how things ticked made them perfect for ensuring the smooth operation of mechanical assets. What few Kromen were in the military currently all partook in some level of mechanical repair. Last week Tiberius had gained the appreciation of his squad when the M2101 had broken down. Without being ordered, Tiberius had opened the engine compartment and found the issue - a bad carburetor valve. A spare had been included and using that, he had spared his squad from an excruciating experience in sweltering heat.

"Why did it hurt?" came another question.

Tiberius didn't look up this time, offering a shrug instead. He knew the voice. The squad demolition expert, Private Zaney. He had initially been one of the few who hazed Tiberius a lot for his appearance and stature. After last week, however, he had shown nothing but respect to the small lizardman. After chomping down a particularly large piece of meat and rice, Tiberius remained silent for a moment longer, eyes looking up to fixate on the fire.

"It not fun, lots of hurt," the Kroman clarified. "You different, your scale different, you put lower than all else. Sometimes beat. I was beat. Taught to serve. No like. Saw Policeman, begged to escape. Came here for new life. No more question on hurt, okay?"

His eyes met those of Zaney's and, for a brief moment, Tiberius thought he saw sympathy. The human gave a nod, returning to his meal as Tiberius did the same. For a long thirty minutes no one said anything. The fire crackled, the sounds of nature flowed around them as crickets reached a crescendo. Then, all at once, everything became quiet. It was as if a switch had been turned as Tiberius watched his squad, all of whom had far better instincts trained into them than he, immediately set their plates down and grab their weapons to go prone. Tiberius followed suit, grabbing his M4A1 Carbine from the back of his shoulder and readying his weapon. The sound of the turret atop the IFV whine gently as the automated pumps worked to ensure the swivel worked correctly was all that was heard for a few seconds.

"Report," ordered the squad leader in a hushed tone, but he spoke only into his mic receiver. A few more seconds went by of the turret checking again and again every point of its three-hundred and sixty degree radius.

"Nothing Sarge," the reply finally came back from within the turret. The gunner, a Corporal who had opted to stay with his machine for several rotations now, kept slowly moving the turret as its optics scanned the night. "I ain't seeing nothin. No movement. Maybe it was a Dreka?"

"Probably," replied Sergeant Patterson. The thought seemed to relax him a little, if only just. Dragons didn't just hunt humans for no reason and this specific cave had been monitored for decades now, granting the Anagonians a slight immunity to their ire - or so common belief held. It would be a first if a dragon attacked a human unprovoked. Until that time, there existed an unspoken trust between the two races.

A slight noise of wind fell over the campsite and, for a moment, the soldiers there grabbed cover as they held their heads. It was too quick to track for the turret who had only a few brief instances of a lock, but the night and campfire light played havoc on the visuals no doubt. After a moment, the gunner reported.

"I didn't get a good spot but I'm pretty damn sure that was a dragon," he reported. "Probably a vising pair, went to the den and behind the mountain near the front entrance. Just a few flakes of dusk, no emissions I can tell."

"At ease," the Sarge ordered the squad and, quickly, all those around the campfire returned to their prior activities of finishing their meal. They had been smart enough to at least set their plates down without spilling much, and other than a stray ant or two, nothing had been lost. "Keep a watch but don't provoke them," Sergeant Patterson ordered to his gunner.

"Roger Sarge, playing nice."

"Hey Tim, jot down the arrival," the Sergeant said to the squads operator. The small, thin man gave a nod as he got out a PDA of sorts and began to catalogue the encounter as was protocol. The Sergeant looked at the rest of the squad, giving an appraising nod. "Finish your meals, then myself and Tiberius will take first watch. Rest of you when your done form your cots in the IFV. No bunk sharing....Susan. Tim."

As his head turned to the two known culprits of fraternization, the squad emitted a soft laugh in unison. Time waned in the night, with another event of the crickets going silent but overall no indication that nothing mechanical or man-made had flown by. By the time the crickets once again felt safe to resume their song, Tiberius and his commanding officer watched over the burning embers of a previously waning fire. The two utilized their night-vision goggles to scan the horizon, occasionally taking notes if they saw any movement from the vicinity of the dragons nest on a notepad. Time of incident and date of happening were included, all information critical to understand the Drekamythian Dragons better so cohabitation between humanity and dragons - insofar as within Anagonia - could continue unabated.

"You have any plans after your tour here?" Sergeant Patterson asked, quiet and hushed in tone. His eyes remained on his surroundings, but he was clearly interested in passing time with conversation.

Tiberius shrugged, "Make home and family, maybe," was what he managed. He wasn't directly used to conversing much, just tinkering. Tinkering and fixing things. "Maybe fix things for living, maybe stay and fix more things. Bigger things. Flying things. Get degree, experience, learning. Yeah, maybe that. You?"

Alonso thought for a moment, then, "Retire."

The rest of their watch was similar in scope. Small snippets of conversation, short talk, little explanation with very blunt ramifications. It was an interesting exchange that had repeated for the past week, one which Tiberius didn't seem to mind. Eventually, however, the shift changed and after sorting his backpack and weapon, Tiberius drifted off for a few hours of sleep in the larger than comfortable cot inside the IFV. He felt more comfortable here, like he really belonged and was valued. Not like home. Not like where the hurt was. Silently as the last branches of consciousness submitted to sleep, he promised himself he'd build himself a better future without that hurt.