The TurtleShroomian Civil War [OPEN]

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Mon Jul 03, 2017 5:18 pm

TURTLESHROOM LABOR THREAD NAVIGATION:

PART ONE: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic ... 4&t=331775

PART TWO, COUP D'ETAT: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic ... 4&t=361265

OOC THREAD: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic ... p=27140627

PART THREE: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic ... 4&t=363999

PART FOUR: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=364605#p27215138

PART FIVE: You're looking at it.

JULY 2ND, 2017 AD
JONESBORO, TURTLESHROOM

The torrential rain poured across the country, soaking even the deserts in unrelenting waters. Leftover blood curdled into little pools as they swirled on the urban pavement, driving red banners, movement flags, broken glasses, and pamphlets with smeared ink into the depths underneath the streets. As the thunder rolled and lightning split the sky, the country was again quiet. The streets were empty, save for the patrols of soldiers and policemen.

The rains did not terry a messenger, though, dressed in black and bearing a megaphone. These messengers- heralds were a better term -dispatched in every city, would accompany the interruption of radio, computer, and television broadcasts across the country.

At Oh Long Johnson State Maximum Security Prison, the herald would announce a similar edict, to a much darker soundtrack than the storms. A gallows of twelve nooses flashed in the eyes of those gathered to watch it, in the walled-off corner of the prison where the death chamber and all executions took place in private. A line snaked across the prison yards, drenching those in them to the bone. Thousands of prisoners, chained in traditional shackles at the ankles and wrists, were marched single file in a line leading to the gallows.

......


KZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT


"We interrupt this broadcast for an important announcement
from the Second Sacred Junta of TurtleShroom."

The country listened in silence as a lightly accented woman's voice spoke. Everyone was glued to their radio or their television as her authoritative voice came to their hearing.

On the television screens, viewers would see a plain-looking, bespectacled, Asian woman with bad teeth and a threatening glare in her fierce, slanted eyes. She sported long, lucious black hair, tired up in a top-knotted bun, with two bangs framing each end of her face (quite familiar to a foreign celebrity). She donned long robes and ceremonial wear indicating her role on the Ministry of the Police.

This woman was Agnes Kai Badwell ("Agni" for short), the highest ranking female human ever, and highest ranking incumbant Asian human sitting in any TurtleShroomian office. A devoted Atheist of mixed TS/Koyro descent, raised on the shores of Democratic Koyro, she possessed a sense of power-lust and ambition unmatched in any TurtleShroomer, with the arrogance and self-worth to match. Thinking the camera was off, Agni smirked as she read the papers she was handed. Agni Badwell smiling was never a good sign.

She touched up her makeup and fixed her hair as she began.

"In order to effect a timely halt to deteriorating conditions, and to ensure the common good, a state of emergency is declared for the Kingdom of the United Turtles, Mushrooms, and men of TurtleShroom, by decree of General Bubba Bubbavich Long, second of his name, duly appointed representative of the Second Occupying Sacred Junta."

Thunder cracked outside the studio, faintly illuminating Agni's face against the lights of the camera.

"By decree, according to Amendment the Twenty Fifth of the Constitution of the Kingdom of the United Turtles, Mushrooms and Men of TurtleShroom, the threat level of TurtleShroom is hereby lowered to DEFCON Zero. Operation Termination Of Trust and Also Liberties to Conserve and Hold the Administration and Never Consolidate Entrances which Let Losers Overcome the Realm, 'TOTAL CHANCELLOR', is hereby in effect. By order of Martial Law, the following statutes are temporarily amended."

In the prisons and in patriotic circles across the country, many creatures broke into tears.

The first line of prisoners at the aforementioned prison stepped up onto the gallows. Twelve nooses were laid on them as three human executioners, wearing their job's traditional black hoods, a black belt, and black gloves over their clothes, placed their hands on three levers.

On the loudspeakers, as in every home and town square, Agni's voice could be heard reading TurtleShroom's death knell.

"The right to assembly, suspended."

CLUNK. The bodies were taken down and the next band of creatures were loaded.

"The writ of Habeus Corpus, suspended."

CLUNK.

"Right to legal counsel, suspended."

CLUNK.

"Right to examination of evidence before a grand jury of peers, suspended."

CLUNK.

"Right to a speedy trial, suspended."

CLUNK.

"The civilian judiciary, suspended.

"Article Nine of the Constitution of the Kingdom of the United Turtles, Mushrooms, and Men of TurtleShroom, suspended."

CLUNK.

"The Constitution of the Kingdom of the United Turtles, Mushrooms, and Men of TurtleShroom... suspended."

CLUNK.

"All persons convicted of Marxism, or aiding a person convicted of Marxism, or associating with a person convicted of Marxism, or providing material support of Marxism, or otherwise defying the peace and security of TurtleShroom for the advocation of Marxism, shall be sentenced to hang by the neck until dead."

CLUNK.

The screen went to static as the previous voice resumed its speaking.

We now return to your previously scheduled programming and FTP content.
This is a temporary order and will be lifted shortly. Curfew is in effect at sundown.

God have mercy on us all.

The sound of the rain and thunder was all that could be heard anywhere in TurtleShroom.

by **Atkemri** » Mon Jul 03, 2017 5:49 pm

OOC:Is this opened or closed because I am interested.

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Mon Jul 03, 2017 8:55 pm

Atkemri wrote:OOC:Is this opened or closed because I am interested.

It is open to all!

by **Atkemri** » Mon Jul 03, 2017 9:12 pm

The Atkemrian leader Lucky Wells is shocked."Even though we condemn communism I can not condone this.They have suspended their constitution and our tyrants! We will give the government a ultimatum if they do not give themselves in to be tried for crimes against humanity we will have to invade." The army is readied and invasion equipment is prepared.

by **Darussalam** » Sun Jul 16, 2017 2:54 am

١

A'ishah reclined on her velvet divan, unmoving for hours. Her refined fingers delicately trawled the decorations that adorned her wine cup, custom-made from pearl only for the princess of the Peacock Throne. There she was silent, her eyes only faintly glimmering, her expression without care as thunderstorm audibly raged outside her present abode. The television -- heavy, minuscule screen, monochromatic, a relic of bygone era -- occasionally flickered to reveal perhaps one of Turtleshroomian Christian televangelists or a family-friendly sitcom show, yet nevertheless spent most of the time buzzing in static. Not that it mattered the slightest, coming from a place where every individual was constantly being bombarded by information and entertainment that overwhelmed one's senses, firing as fast as neurotransmitters. The television might as well didn't exist in the first place.

"We interrupt this broadcast for an important announcement from the Second Sacred Junta of TurtleShroom."

A'ishah turned around. The television flickered and cleared up for a moment, revealing the image of a familiar woman, donned in standard robe of Turtleshroomian bureaucracy. Apparently she should regard the television as existing for this time.

The woman began to speak, interrupted on occasion by the buzzing static.

""In order to effect a timely halt to dete...a state of emergency is declared for the Kingdom...By decree, according to Amendment the Twenty Fifth of the Constitu..." There was not much to know. Martial law was declared in Turtleshroom. Constitutional rights were suspended. A witch hunt was in effect against all suspected revolutionaries, backed by the speedy judiciary of thugs and bullets. In other words, old news. There are little things to expect from a military junta reigning over a country on the brink of chaos anyway. She knew she need to formulate and issue a statement later, preferably the one in favor of the old General Long.

Sighing, A'ishah reached the remote and turned the television off.

There was so little entertainment in this country, she pondered.

٢

"[...]Amir ul-Mu'minin and the House of Felicity reasserts their decision to continue alleviate the suffering of innocent civilians in Turtleshroom through deployment of aid. The legation will also provide consultation and assistance for those wishing to seek refuge in the Abode of Peace. The House of Felicity hopes for the achievement of peaceful resolution among the parties involved, and for that reason we express our support to the endeavor embarked by the military administration of Turtleshroom to restore public order and security in the country. Nevertheless, we still call for the observance of honorable conduct even with the lack of legal repercussions, so that the civilians of Turtleshroom will not suffer harsher hardships in their life.

"Regarding the rumors of military deployment, the Legation of the Commander of the Faithful would like to reiterate the statement issued by Lisan al-Saltanat, speaker of the Peacock Throne. Our arms are to be used to defend the realm's commerce and peace, to break the monopolies and liberate the markets, not to subjugate and occupy foreign lands. Trade gives birth to prosperity and peace, and war brings forth suffering and taxation. That is all."

by **Allanea** » Sun Jul 16, 2017 3:15 am

Official Message from Alexander Blaken-Kazansky, Emperor of Greater Prussia, King of Allanea, Reichskamphen, and Leipzig-Island, Tsar of All Russia, Archduke of Dragkon, Duke of Leyfield and Blaken-Island, Count of Centreville,Liberator of Torontonias, Friend of the Elves, Emperor of the Thousand States, President of of the CAPINTERN, and Headmaster of the Leyfield School for Girls

People of Turtleshroom!

My heart is filled with sadness and disappointment.

I have shown the people of Turtleshroom nothing but kindness.

Even when my own allies criticized you and your record, I have once and once again asked for the acts of your government to be interpreted within the highest standards of international law, just in the same way as I would ask if Allaneans had done them. I have defended your government from allegations of war crimes. I - and other Allaneans, some acting on my orders, others on their free will - have distributed to your people financial assistance and charity. I have ordered Greater Prussian Gendarmes to come and secure peace in your land, and give candy to your children.

Now, your government suspends the very things that grant any state its legitimacy - the observation of the people’s rights. Your government suspends its constitution, and with it, all guarantees of liberty. It suspends the right to counsel, and peaceful assembly. These are foolish acts - not simply because they are cruel, unfair, and unjust, I understand that your leaders are not capable of understanding these words, or they would not do this.

All this I understand.

Let me remind you, however, that these measures have been practical, and not merely some mushy-headed kindness. The institutions of fair trials, independent judiciaries, etc. don’t simply exist because we want to be honest and fair - they exist because a state that simply detains and imprisons whoever it deems suspect has itself no way of knowing that the people who have been imprisoned are truly the guilty ones. It is totally possible to imprison a suspect, believing oneself to have solved the crime, and meanwhile the real criminal or terrorist strikes again and again.

The matter of prohibiting Marxism is also curious, first of all because it is impossible to prohibit and idea, and second, because it seems designed to play into Marxist propaganda. Attempts by anti-communist governments to ‘prohibit’ Marxist views and violently suppress them are not only a bad idea - they’re literally something that Marxists want. Lenin, in his writings, desired nothing more than for capitalist states to attempt to prohibit Communist parties. Doing so makes you into the very cartoon that Communist propaganda portrays - a capitalist state evolving into fascism.

At this point, the Greater Prussian Gendarmes will no longer provide assistance to the government. They will peacefully withdraw from the country, by land, to Hiluxia, where they’ll be picked up by Greater Prussian ships. Attempts to bar their exit by any faction, or attempts to harm them, will be met with armed retaliation. While the Gendarmes are not soldiers, they are paramilitary police and I don’t advise picking a fight with them.

Moreover, any citizens of Turtleshroom interested in leaving alongside the Gendarmes may do so, and to whatever extent is possible, the Gendarmes will assist in the evacuation.

That is all, people of Turtleshroom.

Farewell. May the shadow recede from your lands.

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Tue Jul 18, 2017 3:44 pm

Code: Select all: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUNTA ALERT: ALL TURTLESHROOMERS WISHING TO EVACUATE WITH THE ALLANEANS, OR TO DARUSSALEM, HAVE PERMISSION TO DO SO. YOU WILL NOT BE AIDED IN DOING SO, BUT NO HOSTILITIES WILL BE PERFORMED ON WHOSOEVER LEAVES. GOD BE WITH YOU IN YOUR TRAVELS, AND MAY YOU COME HOME TO A MORE PEACEFUL TURTLESHROOM.

Code: Select all: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DARRUSALEM'S REQUEST TO PROVIDE FOREIGN AID AND PROTECTION TO CIVILIAN TURTLESHROOMERS HAS BEEN NOTED, AND THE REQUEST FOR ENTRY AND ASSISTANCE HAS BEEN GRANTED.

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Tue Jul 18, 2017 5:01 pm

JULY 3RD, 2017 AD
MAX'S PASS, TURTLESHROOM

The unrelenting storm pounded again in the cracked streets of Max's Pass. Under Ashton Fish's watch, this city and the neighboring city of Shroomville were initially hit the hardest by the Marxists and rioters, but many of the hostile forces went home after Ashton Fish strong-armed provisions considered to be "appeasement of the terrorists".

Ashton Fish controlled the area with a stubborn will, a somewhat immature, boyish, gregarious energy, and an iron rod. Known as an oppressor of corporations, Fish was one of TurtleShroom's only leftists in power. Arguably a Marxist himself, he skirted prosecution (and death) by wrapping himself in patriotic and authoritarian, anti-business ideals that, while certainly proving his leftism, painted him more as an authoritarian than a true Marxist.
He was universally agreed to be a leftward, populist authoritarian.

Standing at a short six foot even, Ashton was conceived illegitimately by an unfortunate, violent run-in by his mother and a Khek man in the North Lands. His mother, whose real ethnicity is debated, was a white woman who resided in Aashinia, years before the war. A wanderer familiar with the mercenary life, Ashton found his home in TurtleShroom, and much like the revolts against the aristocracy of his mother's homeland, he found in him the spark of revolution all too well known in Slavic-influenced realms.

Today, that populist authoritarian was in a very bad mood. Dressed in his usual multi-breasted jacket, his black hair unkempt as always, he set out on his way to retaliate against a rightly perceived injustice. His thin eyebrows furrowed sharply, which accented against his large eyes. Some wrinkles in his anging face also furled in his rage as he stormed up to a radio station.

Some of his most loyal supporters, and his plainclothes "community partners" were already there securing the station for his big speech.

......


KZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT


"We interrupt this broadcast for an important announcement
from the Almagated Chairman of the Cities of Shroomville and Max's Pass."

Ashton Fish may not have had the authority to pre-empt the nation's communications, but thanks to his massive peerage machinations in his area of control, he did have the eyes and hearing of the region. His loud, but light, somewhat childlike voice rang as clearly across great distances as it did to those who he spoke to face-to-face. He sat at the news anchor's tropical wooden desk sitting with inadequate posture. As was normal when he went outside in foul weather, due to his grossly dry skin, his dark hands, clenched together in a professional disposition, were wrapped in fingerless gloves.

"Good evenin', my fellow TurtleShroomers. As ya'll are no doubt aware, the Junta has decided that it was within its powers ta' suspend the Constitution."

He snorted.

"Although I've built mah career on criticizin' that flawed document, I think it's all safe to say that I, and ya'll at home, really liked them provisions on fair tralls and freedom'a thawt."

The populist leaned back in the anchorman's chair as he steepled his fingers.

"I didn't get here beatin' around the bush, so let's just cut to the point, shall we?"

His face grew far harsher as he slammed his fist down on the table. Anyone watching absentmindedly was certainly giving him their full attention now.

"Effective immediately, I, actin' as my position as the Almagated Chairman of the Cities of Max's Pass and Shroomville, and mayuhs, poe-lease chieves, far marshalls, Militia commanders, tax assessors, gov'ners, and chief executive officials of all state organs therein, do declare the Second Sacred Junta of TurtleShroom an illegitimate and corrupt body. In accordance with the authorizations of the military under Article Six, Section Seven of the Constitution of TurtleShroom, I, in my capacity as commanduh of the regional chapter of the Militia, and with the consent of all officers under me, do hereby declare open revolt against the illegitimate Junta. Our forces will march on Jonesboro, and we'll end this nightmare once and for all!"

He paused for emphasis, and repeated one of his first and greatest speeches.

"TurtleShroom, even before this, it wasn't about ya'll. They talked about your great liberties, 'bout your prosperity n' GDP. Wealth and liberty, they alleged. Yet I go around this great nation n' I see shacks. Five percent of the populace ain't got no toilet. Only the rich got TV. Yes, the people are fed, but there is more ta life than necessities! Our people are too humble n' they must realize that there ain't nothin' wrong with asking fer, nay, demandin' more! We need to shed these chains of perceived humility and take our place amongst the middle class elsewhere!"

He outstretched his arms, rising his voice as he concluded his rant.

"We must end lazziez-faire capitalism! Be it by ballot or bullet, we cannot stand by and allow our brothers to suffer only to line the pockets of the ultra-wealthy! This is not the Victorian times! I will build hospitals, schoolhouses, tunnels, bridges, and highways! Our country will be dragged into the modern age! Our people need roads, cars, luxuries, and multiple toilets in every house!"

He continued.

"The violent riotuhs ain't got no solutions; the Junta certainly ain't got solutions, but I do, I have, and I know ya'll are with me. Together, the downtrodden masses of TurtleShroom will take back what is theirs, and will, by God, rule a nation pleasin' to the protection of the innocent!"

The strongman pumped his fist in the air.

"JOIN ME AS WE MAKE TURTLESHROOM A LAND WHERE EVERYONE IS A KING, BUT NO ONE NEEDS A CROWN!"

The screen unceremoniously went out to static, as did any radio broadcasts of the same, while the televisions returned to the various stations' calling cards.

KZZZZZZZZZZZZT

We now return to your previously scheduled programming and FTP content.

God have mercy on us all.

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Thu Jul 27, 2017 12:00 pm

JULY 3RD, 2017 AD
AXEBUNDLE, FAR-WESTERN-CENTRAL TURTLESHROOM
5:30 PM

Axebundle, once called Lesser Dooleytwon, was one of TurtleShroom's larger cities, boasting tens of thousands of creatures within its city limits, though it was not yet large enough to appear on the main map. The city's claim to fame was that it was the birth of the Fascist Servant Party almost ninety years ago. In fact, the Party headquarters, an ornate and immense building, and one of the tallest in TurtleShroom, still remained it reconvened for the first time in generations. Axebundle was home to the supermajority of Fascist Servant Party apparatchiks and Black Socks officers, as well as its population consisting of a supermajority of pensioners and centenarians.
Due to the Fascist presence, and possibly due to the great influence of the elderly population, the city experienced little more than a few broken ~~skulls~~ windows, and a few scattered holligans.

Despite the relenting storm, the bingo hall was lively and peaceful as usual. Several thousand creatures, of all ages, gathered to see a campaign speech by all sitting city councilmen, who were known as Freeholders. As Axebundle had done for centuries, it used an unusual governing system where the mayoralship rotated across the Freehold.

The current Mayoress sat at the front of the stage, finishing her speech as the other twelve Freeholders and the audience gave a polite, golf-style round of applause. On the menu was cold roast beef, stringed beans, mash potatoes, and nine boring speeches in all. The Mayoress, a forty year old turtle, was the first of this line.

Well, she was until someone fired a pistol in the air.

The room fell absolutely silent. The bingo game in the other parts of the building ground to a halt as a sea of old people, and their families, made their way into the room to see the commotion.

All was quiet before an old, female human in a wheelchair was pushed forward by an equally old, female human. Both of them were wrinkled and hunched over, long past their prime, sagging and feeble. What caught the eyes of the others, though, was what they were wearing.

Dressed in the ceremonial uniform of the Army of TurtleShroom, the lady in the wheelchair's collared, khaki shirt was decorated in scores of medals indicating many years of service. The sash she donned was somewhat frayed and faded, but it held intact well enough. As was standard for the female ceremonial uniform, she wore a neckerchief identical to the color of the male's bowtie. Female TurtleShroomian soldiers wore the same jackboots as the men, but also wore a knee-length khaki skirt and brown pantyhose.

Her head shook lightly even when she sat at rest, which, in TurtleShroom, was referred to as "the doddles". That wasn't helped by the domed helmet she wore, with insignia that indicated her rank. She In her trembling right hand was the offending pistol that silenced the room. In her shaking left hand was the ceremonial staff all TS soldiers held, also denoting their rank at the tip.

This woman was Five Star General Tammy Olvia, who successfully commanded the forces that crushed a 1934 AD coup attempt against the Fascist Servants. Until her retirement in 1969 AD, she oversaw the military as its highest officer, garnering the adoration of the Fascist Servant Party as much as the rest of the military. In her day, she and Adele Hitman (the Headmistress of the Militia at the time) greased the wheels of the great reforms the Fascists undertook on the military. Perhaps her most remembered act as commander was her order of the summary execution of everyone involved in that coup d'etat... on the lawn of the Chancellery Palace.

She was wheeled up on the stage. Now unsupported, she turned the wheelchair's back to the audience and rammed it back against the podium, knocking it off onto the stage and on the floor, before wheeling back to face the audience.
She snapped her arthritic fingers. From the back most doors in the convention center, humans wearing long-sleeved, black V-neck shirts, black belts, white pants, white shoes, and black tube socks, alongside turtles and mushrooms wearing black eye masks tied around their head*, entered, bearing AK-74 rifles. These were members of the Black Socks, a paramilitary Freikorps that supposedly disbanded in 1969 AD.

The Black Socks members corralled the city council into a closet behind the stage. All eyes were on General Olvia. Though her body was weak, her voice was not, and her brilliant, strategic mind was as sharp as it had ever been.

The speech she gave lasted two hours. In it, General Olvia opined the corruption and injustice of the Junta and the failure of it to put down "mere hooligans". She blasted them for mocking and ending the "immaculate" Constitution of "the greatest country in Nationstates". She told the story of her defeat of the 1934 AD coup and her role in military reforms. She said that TurtleShroom was humiliated in the Dark Harvest defeat and has never been able to restabilize. With shouts of passion and vigor, she laid out a case for all living Fascists, their families, and "patriots of all ages", to march on Jonesboro and overthrow the Junta, and to immediately call new, fresh elections for Congress, where the Fascist Servant Party's name would once more appear on the ballot.

General Olvia explained that Freeholders holed up in the closet were soon to be in full support of this operation against the Junta, and that the Freehold of the City of Axebundle would be dissolved in favor of direct control under the Fascist Servant Party offices until new elections were called from the ashes of the Junta.

Pensioners and teens alike burst into uproarious, room-shaking cheers and applause as everyone commended the old veteran for the speeches she was famous for in decades gone by. General Olvia's charisma and passion, as well as her powerful and persuasive voice and words, had always been able to whip any crowd into a frenzy of support.

Hand in hand and appendage around stem, the Freehold, with smiles all around, exited the closet smiling. The Mayoress removed her sash on stage to cheering applause and announced her full support for a Fascist march on Jonesboro, handing both the sash and the city's chain of office to General Olvia. The other Freeholders removed their sashes and regalia and placed them on the small, old woman. She, as well as they, beamed for a photo-op before dismissing the crowd to plan for the march.

The Fascist-led bingo hall push was underway.

* = The linked picture is old, so excuse it's quality. I've gotten better in drawing since then.

by **Nation of Warfare** » Thu Jul 27, 2017 1:59 pm

July 3rd, 2017 A.D.
"The Palace of Gold", Los Santos, Capital of Nation of Warfare

"I feel a disturbance in the world.", says Supreme Chancellor Frank Velasquez. A day ago, he'd learned about the news in Turtleshroom. He seemed somewhat upset about the fact that the Turtleshroomian Government had suspended its nation's rights in attempts to form a Fascist or Communist State. Nation of Warfare does not support those types of governments, and often gets involved in many conflicts trying prevent one.

A man walks into the chancellor's underground bunker. Velasquez shares the news about Turtleshroom to the anonymous man wearing a long dark robe with a hood over his head hiding his face. "You aren't actually thinking of going to war again aren't you?", says the man. "Certainly!", says the young chancellor. "Don't just rush things if I know what you're thinking.", says the man walking back and forth across the room. "Let us watch for a bit, see where things turn. And when the time is right we can begin our plot to destroy the enemy you choose to end.", says the man walking away into the elevator.

"Some people just want to see the world burn, well I'll finish what they have started.", says Chancellor Frank Velasquez staring at his father's portrait. He then drives a knife to his desk and leaves the room.

(OOC: Just incase it wasn't clear, Supreme Chancellor Frank Velasquez is on a quest to bring world peace just like his father once strived for.)

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Thu Jul 27, 2017 6:37 pm

Nation of warfare wrote:(OOC: Just incase it wasn't clear, Supreme Chancellor Frank Velasquez is on a quest to bring world peace just like his father once strived for.)

{ OOC: I should have said this from the start. Military invasions of TurtleShroom proper will not be allowed in this thread. Please use espionage, proxy wars, meeting and influencing the Cliques, and other such cloak and dagger acts. If you wish to get in on the action, you can send soldiers to "train" a Clique of your choosing. More will come. }

by **Darussalam** » Mon Jul 31, 2017 6:04 am

Kintaman, Zengibar, Abode of Peace
July 3rd, 2017 AD.

The old coral house was almost indistinguishable from any other in the old medina of Kintaman, except its appearance was cleaner and well-preserved, with a front nameplate written “THE RETRIBUTIVE COMMITTEE – JUSTICE HE BIDS ME DO, FOR HE WILL JUDGE ME” to indicate it status as a headquarter for one of the most infamous civil associations in the Abode of Peace. It stood just on the base of a narrow staircase leading to a hilltop where one could observe the entire coastal town, making the house adjacent to many lodgings, coffeehouses, and cuisine stands frequented by tourists both from the realm of the law and abroad. In fact, right in front of the house was a sharbat stand, with a big brass flask from which the drink was poured, the stand was only slightly less known than the Committee throughout the Abode of Peace owing to the quality of their product.

But that day, not even the fresh sharbat, served inside heavy brass cups with brimming ice cubes, could assuage the restlessness of the Committee’s twelve first among equals. Gathering underneath the chandelier that hung from the house’s hypostyle ceiling, they fidgeted uncomfortably, craned their neck and fanned their face even as the air conditioners kept the house far below the damning heat of southwestern coast. Each of them was fixated on a few pages of document on their hands—important reports and records pertaining the affairs in the slowly-crumbling junta of Turtleshroom.

“I see that Khashkhash Cooperative has founded their new benefactors.” Commented one of them, before chuckling. “Let’s see how dedicated they are in maintaining their ‘ethical standard’ in Turtleshroom, shall we?”

“The same with Eastern Khat Union, Shaghayegh Association, Ma’ad Storehouse, Qaf-Azhdaha Federation, Northern Agricultural Alliance… God willing, I dare say that by the next Nowruz Zim Belt will be a realm of the law!”

“Or not. There seems to be little initiative from the Jirga for even a slightest revolutionary incitement in the uncivilized lands of Turtleshroom. An utter disappointment, those lot. The Storehouse might as well wage some damned trade wars and not a single one in Samarra would lift a finger, their cartel army will just dismantle competition one-by-one.”

“Oh, the Jirga. They could piss off for all I care…”

“Would have used a more polite language myself, but I can’t disagree.”

“Unfortunately, their handling of Turtleshroomian question has been... objectionable, to say the least. A man was burned alive—alright, fair, fair, we too leave plenty of heads in front of the Grand Bazaar. Five hundred thousands died, and not a single condemnation raised? Rhetorics of voluntary association and free trade in favor of a state that is anything but, a murderous mercantilist state that shunned competition to enrich the select few at the expense of anyone else? Surely no one takes this as virtuous deeds befitting for defenders of the law?” There were murmurs of agreement.

“The Ma’adids didn’t want to risk their good investment in Turtleshroom, I say.” Another bellowed out. “Eleven-year olds working in sweatshops and casinos for the nightwatchman of the free world and guardian the law, anyone?” Sensible chuckles ensued.

“At any case, they will change their opinion in this matter. The only question is when, really. Good things the Committee already opens shops in the Zim Belt.”

“Well, the law should start somewhere shouldn’t it? We need to teach the upstart Turtleshroomians something, and none of the association seems to mind—probably some of them does, but we’re going to make sure that those who decided to express their objection a step further from a loud speech will get the sharp end of the sword of the law.”

“God willing.” A pause. “And outside the belt, Jonesboro is doing excellently. Litlin is fairly well. I suppose those alone are sufficient.”

“So, our solution to the Turtleshroomian question…?”

“The incompetent Junta needs to go.” One replied flatly. “Its tyranny is bloody, yet underhanded—the worst of sorts. Peace cannot be achieved as long as the corpse of the old order maintains its pretense of legitimacy on the throne of Jonesboro. In this I think we and the Jirga can agree. Turtleshroom can not and should not be maintained as a single polity.”

“Is it possible? To incorporate Turtleshroom into the realm of the law, I mean… is it worth the risk?”

“No one is above the law, no one can not be sacrificed under the law.”

“At the very least, the Turtleshroomian should be capable to fight and reclaim their freedom, instead of being enslaved under the thumbs of Jonesboro.” She tsked in distaste. “Or for that matter, Axebundle, or Max’s Pass.”

“We haven’t established sufficient presence in any of those cities, unfortunately. But God willing that even the strongest walls will yield to us and to Him.”

“It is the purpose of the Committee to vanquish injustice, to deliver vengeance upon those robbed and trampled by the powerful, the wealthy, the strong. The law applies to all humanity, from the beginning of the time until the dawn of the universe. Not even the vile institution of the state, and those who made up its components, are immune from the swift judgement of the law—and certainly not the government of Turtleshroomian junta.”

“General Bubba Bubbavich Long, second of his name, is judged a criminal by the law.”
“Agnes Kai Badwell is judged a criminal by the law.”
“Their aides, advisors, subordinates, servants, guards, and others who composed the administration of the Junta of Turtleshroom, are equally judged guilty, and criminals in the eye of the law.”

“Guilty of murder, their death is just, desired, and ordained by the law. Their blood will enrich the soil of freedom, from which the tree of order shall bloom.”

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Mon Jul 31, 2017 10:04 am

The thunder rolled outside as Agni Badwell paced the room, her cape and robes swishing rapidly as her high heels made indents in the shag carpet of her Ministry of the Police building's office. In her hands were some old history books from the national archives of the TurtleShroom government library. On her desk were textbooks concerning the history of Darussalem.

"Offi-suh Badwell," a turtle in the room spoke up, "why are ya'll suddenly concerned about Dare-roo-say-lum?"

"I know my history." her authoritative voice was flat and cold as ice. Her distinct Koyran accent, dulled by time and practice, accentuated the ice in her sentences.

"History of?"

"You don't think an Islamic state with such zeal for their beliefs, their faith, and their rulers, even one as off-base as those Sufis out in Darussalem, isn't going to have world-class covert ops? Across Nationstates, Islamic nations have always been masters of cloak and dagger. In those lands, they are known as the Hashhashin. Or, in the slang of the diplomatic corps in Darussalem, the 'Hash Slinging Slashers'. Or, as their victims know them, the Ha-AAAHH!"

The turtle was quiet for a moment. It didn't take him long to understand what that last part meant.

"Think the TSSSS, but even worse, as they are far more zealous. What separates a TSSSS assassin from a Darussalemite Hashhashin is their motivation. The TSSSS are motivated by paycheck and patriotism. Islamic Hashhashins are motivated not just by their patriotism, but by their very souls. You know as well as I do why Nevel had to die. We had to remove the head to prevent those goons from slinging daggers into our throat. It's not that easy with them."

"So ya think Dare-roo-say-lum has Hash Slinging Slashers?"

"I don't think so. I know so."

"-and your proof?"

"Absolutely nothing."

There was a pause as thunder rang out outside. Agni looked to the turtle.

"It is better to prepare for a threat that may not exist than to ignore one that may do so."

"So what do you plan to do? Do you have any of your spies in Darussalem?"

"None."

"Any employees?"

"None."

"Why would Dare-roo-say-lum have Hash Slinging Slashers, though? I mean, they ain't fundies in the sense most kebabs deal in. They're known for their tolerance and di-vuh-city, they are high-tech and high civilization, they're gov'mint is mostly hands off the locals... heck, they'd be as politically free as us if they had national elections."

"I can't say for sure what zeal their Hashhashins would be driven by. Maybe it's Islam. Maybe it's patriotism. Maybe it's money and they're hitmen. -but I know from history that Darussalem is more powerful, and its Crown more influential, than they want to let on. They don't have sectarian violence, secession movements, or nationalism beyond loyalty to the empire itself for a reason."

"Anyone you can reach out to?"

"Yes. I need to make some calls."

by **Comrade Commisar** » Thu Aug 03, 2017 6:38 pm

Amasteras, The North Lands

In comparison to the rest of the North Lands, the Imperial Shrine of Amasteras could hardly be considered a place of worship, rather, it was more like an excessively large study, complete with one of the most extensive archives outside of Yoitsu. It was a place that was cool and dark, contrary to the several magically artificial hot springs that surrounded the otherwise unremarkable town, and moreover, surprisingly quiet for being located in what could be considered a resort town. The resident High Priestess of Amasteras, Yang the White, was infamously known as an eccentric, praised for her several tails that were considered the epitome of beauty in the North Lands, but very rarely ever stepping foot outside of the Imperial Shrine. It was an odd complex, one that had a type of cold and mysterious demeanor about it, not quite hostile, but still very chilling to the bone - especially in contrast to the warm and hospitable environment of the rest of Amasteras.

Today, inside of the Imperial Shrine, it was an even odder scene than usual. Seated around a study table that had been recently cleared of scrolls, as was evident by the intimidating amount of scrolls in the corner of the room, were several individuals that one would not usually expect to be within such a building. Mercenaries, wearing tattered rags crudely kept together by leather straps and tied strips of cloth, protected with hide, wooden plates, and stray bits of rivetted bindings - their weapons not too far from hand. Most people would simply leave it at that, a handful of frayed sellswords, but to North Landers, it was the seemingly insignificant trinkets that they exhibited that were of a considerable interest. A red scarf, the head of a glaive, and a handful of small chimes; usually mundane items, but also the unique emblems of the most renowned mercenary captains around. Former swords-for-hire that had eventually grew to lead their own companies, infamous for their bloodied and murderous endeavors, and who rivalled even High Priestesses in local power and influence - not through bureaucracy or magical knowledge - but through sheer force of will and insatiable violence.

Perhaps the most unusual aspect of all, was the fact that so many of these mercenary captains had gathered together underneath one roof, and had not immediately descended into some type of wanton bloodshed, especially given the outstanding rivalries between some of them. It warranted an utmost respect, a presence that even amongst bloodthirsty sellswords who regarded the High Priestess of Yoitsu as another bosom to run their blades through, that demanded their complete obedience and loyalty.

Opening the door to the room, a fair-skinned kitsune stepped inside, momentarily staring down at all those present, before offering a sly grin. Gently closing the door, the kitsune then placed a small paper talisman - an ofuda - upon it, before assuming a standing position at the head of the study table. She was the incarnation of the North Lands' concept of beauty, pale skin as soft as freshly fallen snow, light blonde hair that gradated almost into white, and several tails that were all well-kept and groomed with not a frayed hair in sight - instantly recognizable as High Priestess Yang the White. Yet, for such a kindly-looking creature, quite gentle upon the eyes, the mercenaries were somewhat uncomfortable under their hardened facades. Not out of envy or embarrassment, but rather... slight intimidation, something that continued even as the High Priestess moved to address them.

"Welcome. I am deeply honored that you have all answered my summons, even as abrupt as it was, and for that, I would wish to offer my sincerest thanks and gratitude. I would also wish to apologize for any inconveniences that may have arisen from your travels here, and thus, I shall compensate you accordingly for any outstanding fees relating to those matters, as well as any contracts that may have been forfeited due to my request." Yang stated, her voice soft, but the mercenaries continuing to listen attentively, "Concerning my summons, a uniquely opportunistic situation has arisen in the South Lands, one that has been centuries in the making, and one that we seek to gain much from with relatively limited efforts."

"This is related to the recent uprising in the South Lands, am I correct?" One of the kitsune captains asked bluntly, "Do you seek to support one of the factions in their conflict?"

"Hmph, if this is an opportunity to finally put those South Landers to rest, then tarry no longer and send me to run them all through." Another kitsune captain chuckled, "I'll come back in time to help make soup."

"Ahh, I see you are already acquainted with the situation, Black Fang, and while I share White Fang's eagerness to finally do away with the horrid South Lands, I am afraid that it is not our primary focus." Yang grinned, holding up three fingers, "I seek three things in the chaos of the South Lands, where the South Landers may not intervene with our affairs. One of them is to support our animal-eared brethren, who have endured tirelessly oppressive conditions, and represent a distant-but-still-significant influence in both the Imperial Shrine and the South Lands. If that goal is met, and once the bloodshed has settled, we shall maintain a powerful council there that will allow us to pressure the South Landers to our ends. The second priority, and perhaps the most enjoyable to you, is that we need to formally put our conflict with the Tsao to rest, and I suppose I needn't say anymore than that for you to understand. The South Landers had taken it upon themselves to save those heretics and traitors, and while that has offered them protection from our pawns, it does not offer them protection from us. There are several of those vermin hiding in the South Lands, much more than can reasonably be culled by our numbers, but I believe it is not too difficult to rid ourselves of the more notable and outstanding nuissances."

"I have always wanted to have some of their nice clothes for myself, and I guess that now is the chance." One of the kitsune captains hummed cheerfully, adjusting her arbalest, "Not to mention they might put up a worthwhile fight. It's been so long since I've actually had a good hunt..."

"Forget the hunt, I live for the slaughter!" Shouted a nekomimi captain, kicking his legs up on the table, "A High Priestess is giving us free reign to kill off an entire people! When have you ever heard of such a thing, much less one that we are being paid for? It's a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"You've only mentioned two things, White Fox. What is the third thing that you want from this little skirmish in the South Lands?" The single cervine captain asked, staring at the High Priestess suspiciously.

"Ah, it is nothing really. More of a personal interest, if you will." Yang smiled, waving off the suspicions of the small cervine, "There are rumors that the South Landers possess certain artifacts and documents, those concerning magical arts, somewhere within the South Lands. I would love to have them in my study, and although the South Landers have probably collected a few meaningless trinkets due to their lack of understanding, I am hoping that there may be a few valuable relics amongst their clutter. It is said that the Iron Golems and Knife-Eared Folk seized these tomes following the Dark Harvest, and that the South Landers even handed them everything out of their free will, eager to please their new masters while also ridding themselves of the artifacts. However, I doubt that the resilient and stubborn minds of the South Landers necessarily followed these accords to the letter, and I am almost certain that a few texts remain that may be of some use to me. Either way, I shall pay handsomely for any brought back from the South Lands, but do not think of it as a priority concern compared to the previous two."

"Magical tomes from the South Lands, hmm? I wonder what sorts of things the High Priestess of Amasteras, who has access to some of the most extensive archives in Valkia, expects to see?" White Fang mused, looking over mockingly.

"Whatever it is, it is none of our concern as long as we receive our pay." Black Fang interjected, "Support our brethren in the South Lands, cull the remnants of the Tsao, and return any magical artifacts we find back to the North Lands. Is there anything else, White Fox?"

"What do we do if the South Landers attempt to get in the way?" Asked the cervine, frowning, "I don't suppose you want to keep these actions in the shadows as well, hmm?"

"Black Fang, tell me, have I ever not paid you or any of the other captains in the room in full? In hard coin? If anything, I honor my agreements! Why, it is if you do not trust me! Same with you, White Fang, I merely wish to read the contents of a few magical texts, and perhaps examine some artifacts that the South Landers have collected. Is there any reason to suspect any other motive, hmm?" The High Priestess asked, feigning offense and melancholy, before returning to a more professional aura while addressing the cervine, "Given the relations of the Imperial Shrine and the South Lands, the current conflict between various factions in the South Lands, and the nature of our objectives there, it is very unlikely that the South Landers would intervene in our affairs. If we are not supporting the directly opposing faction to the South Lands' army, then there should theoretically be no opposition to our endeavors, perhaps a few bystanders and watchmen, but they are irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. Regardless, if somebody stands in your way, run them through - the South Landers shan't notice one more body upon the countless others. I merely ask you to refrain from starting any notable atrocities, such as Red Scarf's incredibly disturbing torture sessions, since the last thing we need is the South Landers turning hostile against us, or worse yet, the Imperial Shrine investigating matters beyond their authority."

"Oh..." Red Scarf muttered quietly, letting loose the drawstring on her arbalest before winding it up back again.

"The entire reason for this situation in the South Lands is because a South Lander was set aflame. The last thing we need is the flayed remains of agonized South Landers, sadistically tortured until they expired, Red Scarf." Black Fang lectured, offering a wry glance, "Additionally, it would do nothing but attract hostility against the animal-eared folk of the South Lands, strictly going against our set goals, not to mention the lasting implications."

"Yeah, yeah, scholar, we get it. Don't go around goring all the South Landers. Geez." The nekomimi grumbled, "It's not as if the South Landers gave any second thought to lopping off our tails and ears."

"Keep talking to my sister that way, Razor Tail, and I'll make sure that the South Landers won't even have a chance to lop yours off before I do." White Fang threatened, joining in the growingly hostile atmosphere of the room, "If I recall correctly, my mother cut off a bit of that tail of yours because you were badmouthing her too. Hmm, I suppose old cats really can't learn new tricks..."

"You brat! I'll cut out that tongue of yours!" Retorted Razor Tail, idly grasping the glaive head that had replaced the end of his ropy tail.

"Ahh, I believe that we have managed to go over all the information you need to accomplish your tasks, and I shall dismiss you shortly to begin your departure to the South Lands, as well as for Razor Tail and White Fang to settle any outstanding differences between them. However, before that occurs, I would like to make one last request of all of you, not quite an objective of our endeavors in the South Lands, but one that should be taken should the opportunity present itself." The High Priestess stated, holding up a finger, "There is a South Lander by the name of John the Raven, who some of you may be well-acquainted with, for he is the founder of the oppressive standards that govern our brethren in the South Lands. Standards, of which Razor Tail has previously pointed out, have resulted in the amputation and mutilation of several of our kin, in some horrid attempt by the South Landers to adhere to their depraved world views. Should you encounter the Raven, I request that you not immediately cut him down or turn him over to Red Scarf, and instead, you bring him back to me in Amasteras. I have my own reasons for wanting the Raven to be brought before me, but I assure you, if you manage such a difficult request, that I would pay you a princely sum tenfold anything that you have ever gained from a contract."

"Ten times anything we've earned from a contract..." The cervine said shakenly, "... that's..."

"John Raven is one of the most hated individuals in the North Lands, an example of South Lands corruption and hypocrisy in their distorted pursuit of ideals. Killing him in the South Lands would be sufficient enough to garner a large amount of prestige, but to capture him and bring him to the North Lands would not only bring that, but essentially force the South Lands to possibly repeal the Raven Codes. The amount of influence and renown one would gain from that act alone would place them on par with the High Priestess of Yoitsu." Black Fang stated, looking at Yang, "Isn't that right, White Fox?"

"Prestige. Influence. Renown. It does not matter as long as the Tsao are eliminated as a threat to the North Lands, the animal-eared folk in the South Lands are free from the oppression of the South Landers, and the South Landers are devoid of any magical artifact that can be used to further persecute North Landers there. It does not matter how we achieve these tasks, so long as these tasks are achieved." The High Priestess said, snapping her fingers, causing the door seal to burst into magnificent black flames, "... and with that, I shall conclude this meeting, and allow you to tend to your own devices, whatever they might be. You have your objectives, and I trust you to tend to them in anyway you see fit. I bid you the best of luck, and until the next time we speak, farewell."

Yang stepped out of the room, leaving the group in a bitter silence as some of them wondered what to do, while others continued to plot how to kill another the minute they stepped out of the room. The cervine girl, oblivious to the blatant hostilities in the air, merely stared at the door in bewilderment, before turning towards her fellow mercenaries.

"How does she expect us to get to the South Lands...?"

by **Darussalam** » Sat Aug 05, 2017 8:44 pm

١

Empathic weather was apparently a thing in Turtleshroom—since the announcement of the martial law, rain never seemed to cease in the capital of Jonesboro. Many aid workers, journalists, and observers had since retreated from the submerging streets to their lodgings and dry cafés, idling away in boredom in a country embroiled in a civil war. After the massacre of five hundred thousand rioters by the ruling administration and the murder of Constable-on-Patrol, there hadn’t been another bloodbath in Jonesboro.

Yet, anyway.

“And no internet,” a Darussalami woman muttered as she gripped her tablet computer. Her grey scarf now hung limply from her neck, shaking back and forth. “These damned White Lands, with all the rains and riots. Literally nothing but rains and riots. Fuck it, and fuck its peoples.” It was clear that her cup of coffee, if anything else, made her even more excitedly furious. “We’re supposed to grace the Princess today, too. Fuck her.” Her interlocutor, a woman of younger age, merely sighed and faintly smiled.

“There is always something nice about rain,” she said in a rather distant tone, as if she was immersed in her imaginings. “I liked the sound, myself. Quaint, calm, drowning all others. There’s also the… how the Dorians called it… melancholy? The quiet sadness that everyone contemplates. That is partly why I moved to Sindu, you know, the monsoons. Of course,” she now glanced to her partner, her expression shy and mischievous, “You know very well that it’s only a half of the reason.”

A quiet scene for a while. “Hey… Farhana, we are here for a job, not a date, and it better be anything but a date. I don’t want to pay a trip to a Turtleshroomian police office.” Still flustering nevertheless, she sipped her coffee. “I hear in these barbarous polities, paid thugs might do anything they please under the auspices of the State. At any case, I prefer not to trust those criminals, and certainly not the ones here.”

“A fair point.” Farhana laughed. “I should confess, though, I am quite baffled. Back in the Abode of Peace I thought that I should be accompanied by a male guardian in Turtleshroomian streets and keep my hemline down below my ankle, or I’d get ritually stoned by a horde of angry Christians. My judgement is mistaken in that regard, I suppose Turtleshroom is actually better than Regensnau. I understand why Nehemiah made such expression when I told him that!”

“Well, to be entirely fair here, you are comparing an impoverished, militant warzone settlement holding tide of chaos itself with a cosmopolitan capital city. I’m not certain to call Jonesboro cosmopolitan, though.” She frowned. “In fact, I wouldn’t call it cosmopolitan at all. Perhaps you’d need Nehemiah as your vali in those fascist towns. God willing we’re not needed there.”

“No, no, the faster we leave this festering pit of filth the better.” Farhana glanced to the café’s window as the rain continue to pour down. “Lanka, Her Highness wouldn’t come wouldn’t she?”

“What? No, I think she’s trapped in the damned legation quarter of hers. And to think I have prepared the fabricated documents overnight.” Lanka sighed. “Our time is four months now—we should wait for him instead.”

٢

A woman emerged underneath a small, transparent umbrella from thunderous rainstorm that ravaged Jonesboro to the Ministry of the Police’s soaked front gate. Her curly red hair was revealed as she folded up her umbrella, as well as the black tapered trousers and crimson woven coat that were her attire, with a pendant of ornate crucifix hanging from her neck indicating a more exotic origin. While she wore a pair of sleek dark glasses, her appearance was clearly not that of a Turtleshroomer, being much more pleasant to look. Exchanging brief pleasantries with the sympathizing guards, she told them in a soft, artificially-accented English that she arrived on the request of the newly-installed leader in the Ministry, Agnes K. Badwell herself, and immediately complied to the request of stringent security checks.

Her personal identification gave her name as Rafqa, that is to say in Turtleshroomian English, Rebecca, an attache from Saint Charbel’s Army—one of Darussalam’s many humanitarian aid organizations now operating in Jonesboro. Graduating from a Christian college in the wealthy coastal settlement of Nawakzout, twelve years ago Salma joined Saint Charbel’s Army under the Association of the Holy Paraclete, which aim was to improve the welfare of Christians in the Abode of Peace and worldwide. As riots broke out in Jonesboro she was among the first to be dispatched to the turbulent capital, and later was drawn to a tangled network of connections that established an intricate relationship between Turtleshroomian bureaucrats and Darussalami persons-of-interest. Naturally, Turtleshroomians, even the godless Agni, favored connections with Darussalami Christians, even those of outrageously heretical origins, as many in the Association no doubt were.

“My greatest gratitude,” she said, offering a smile as she finished the checks. “May I inquire regarding the current whereabouts of the Minister of the Police, so that we may finish our affairs?”

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Mon Aug 07, 2017 7:13 pm

"Following legislation in TurtleShroom, the nation's government buildings are remarkable for being ugly concrete boxes."

Dressed in ceremonial police wear, the large, brown tortoise with a most certainly not ceremonial, automated rifle mounted on her shell, outstretched her neck to scope out the lovely redhead that had requested an audience.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." having been shown the papers and identifications needed by the woman, she smiled, lowering her neck in her species' form of greeting. "Yes, ya'll are on our registry with an appointment. Unfortunately, the dear old Constaple On Patrol is deceased."

The other three guardsmen flanking the door, two humans and a mushroom, all sighed as the turtle checked her outfit once over. It was definitely in line with the building's dress code. No cleavage, no midriff, no exposed backside. In the turtle's opinion, she found it very tasteful and a professional look.

The cross particularly interested her, as it was a crucifix, the depiction of the Christ hung upon a cross. No mainstream denomination in TurtleShroom, not even the Catholics, used the crucifix in every day affairs; they were only used in certain parts of ceremonies and in observances of Good Friday. The depictions of the Holy Cross, in all of TurtleShroom, were either always with Jesus not hanging on it, or a crucifix accompanied by a vacant Cross with the words "HE IS RISEN".
She knew immediately that this woman was a foreigner.

"However, Officer Badwell, who's a-actin' in his stead until this unfortunate... mess... is over and we can get an election, will be delighted to see ya. Please step ovuh to security. Ya'll ain't got'cha escourt, so we 'gotta be sure you're you."

{ OOC: Click for a map of Downtown Jonesboro. }

The woman was lead to a covered, glass screening area in a glass room at the far-left base of the building's front facade. It was here that she could view the more notable structures of Jonesboro.

The Ministry of the Police, the Ministry of the Enforcement of the Prohibition, and the TurtleShroomian Inquisition were all housed within this same building. It, like most of Downtown Jonesboro, represented the first, last, and only major infrastructure investment to ever occur in TurtleShroom, under the Fascist Servant Party. That was eighty years ago. This was the showcase of TurtleShroomian commercial and governmental architecture. It was practical, utilitarian, and well-maintained.

The dimensions of the building were a perfect square, towering dozens of stories into the sky. Although patriotic TurtleShroomers called it "Fascist Architecture" and professional architects referred to it as "social realism", in slang, there was only one word for it: "Commieblock".

Looking out at the windows, she first looked directly adjacent down the building's facade. A railroad literally stood several yards down before her at the sidewalk level. Crossing signs were standing at intervals down the road and appeared at every intersection. Directly to the left of the front door, She saw narrow, paved, straight, two-lane roads. The tall, old streetlights stood watch between the towering buildings as power lines crossed down the buildings. They gave off a bright, peaceful glow against the steady rain. To the right, her view was obstructed by a grey pencil tower*, which she noticed was to the bottom-right (of her view) and matched with three completely identical buildings.

Diagonally, to her right was the expansive, beautifully manicured lawn that served as a Greenbelt. On that greenbelt was the Chancellery Palace, now fully repaired but surrounded by even more military equipment, barricades, and razor wire, which obstructed the giant fountain at the walk-up to the front facade. She was viewing the old, majestic, yet humble building from its back, admiring the neatly spaced windows. Compared to the depressing "commieblocks" that made up most of this capital, there was actual beauty in this building. Inspired by the Imperial Russian Winter Palace, but stripped of any frills or moldings besides the fountain, the five story building earned its name as the "Pauper's Palace", its only embellishment being its two storied, marble, arched double doors dead in its center.

Directly across the street of the Palace, she could see the towering rails of roller coasters of both metal and wood, assorted carnival rides and structures, and restaurants that were fenced inside what TurtleShroom proudly knew as "Capitol Land", though its official name was "Mister Happy's Capitol Funland". This amusement park was the pride of Lawrence and Lindsay Tew, the latter of whom was the Dean of the Capitol Architects, who had previously made their immense fortunes as theme park tycoons.
Built in the early 2000s AD to replace the old capitol building (which still stood at its bottom-left corner), Capitol Land had at its center a towering, equally square building*, around which multiple roller coasters circled and even drove through.

Although it was opened when it stood at six stories, it had since been undergoing construction afterwards and now stood a whopping thirty stories, making it among TurtleShroom's tallest buildings. Most of its office space was still vacant. A dark green, vertical roller coaster, by far one of the tallest rides the Darussalemite had ever witnessed, towered hundreds of feet into the air before entering directly into the capitol at its twentieth story, before coming out again on its first!
(Congress met on its second story and had to deal with the roller coaster running right through its chambers, like clockwork, not to mention a vintage car ride transversing the two balconies on its front and back.)

Everything else, unfortunately, was obstructed by the "commieblocks" of the rest of Jonesboro's narrow, square streets, occasionally dotted by some flashy sign or far prettier church or chapel, wall-to-wall down each rows.

Other than the faint murmurs crowds of people walking up and down the streets, and the occasional bus or taxi, the city was quiet aside from the steady rain. It was almost picturesque in terms of its peace and quiet. The redhead could hardly belive that this very location was once a catastrophic, blood-soaked, toxic warzone just a while ago!

"Ah, THAT'S why you ain't got an escourt. I see, you applied ahead... okay! All right Miss... Rahf-kuh... you're done. Thank you for your patience." she paused for a beat as she looked at her ID. "I'm so sorry about butchering your name. I- oh, I have it here on the list!"

The mushroom sentryman showed the turtle the clipboard. Typed plainly in neat writing was "Rebeqah***", followed by her middle and surname(s) in standard English convention.

"Miss Rebecca-" this time the turtle hoped she pronounced the name better "-Officer Badwell is waiting for you on the twentieth story."

Entering the government building, she was greeted by a soaring ceiling, at least twenty feet in the air. On the back wall, exactly in the center of the room, a standard TS White human in normal police robes was asleep at a giant, dark, tropical wood desk. All that differentiated him from a beat cop was the absence of arms, a velvet-colored sash from his shoulder to his hip, and the absence of a hat.

Behind him, a waterfall machine stretching ten feet high provided a beautiful, soothing soundtrack. Above that, giant representations of the logos of the Ministry of the Police, the Department of Incarceration and Punishment, the Ministry of the Enforcement of the Prohibition, and the Inqusitition hung vertically, one above the other.

The ceiling was a dark brown with black specks evenly dispersed on it, and the floor was black like obsidian, the dark grey, square grooves of tiling indicating it was expertly layered. The walls were also a shade of black and the elevator doors, to her left and right, flanked by velvet ropes and armed policemen (in the standard/everyday uniform themselves), were brazen. A glistening, crystal chandelier, at least six feet in diameter, lit up the room in an off-white, orange-tinted glow.

The floors, walls, and brass doors were all so clean that Rebeqah could have eaten off of them. They reflected the chandelier in a stately manner that was pleasing to the eye.

A male, Asian human about Rebeqah's height, also wearing the same police outfit as the every day cop with the variations of the snoozing desk clerk, approached her. He bowed politely.

"Good day." he said, his Japanese-esque accent noticable but not really hindering to his speech, which was slower, more intoned, and indicated long hours of tiring English classes. "I am here to move you to the office of Agni Badwell."

Rebeqah and the Asian human approached the elevator. The brass doors opened quickly after the summoning button was pressed. Soft music played inside, at a polite volume. Stepping inside, the patterns of the lobby were mirrored within the elevator car's floor and ceiling, although the walls were brass.

What was interesting, though, was the simple wooden stool behind a cramped divider, next to the large panel of buttons. Sitting on it was a smaller, male, TS White human with pronounced ears and rather shaggy, black hair that extended to just above his chin. He smiled as they entered, revealing his clean, white, but profusely crooked, teeth. He was wearing a nice black suit with a black bowtie sporting what seemed to be red, pixellated heart patterns. It bore a lapel pin with the Flag of TurtleShroom, and a second lapel pin bearing the logo of the Ministry of the Police. He wore a red dress shirt and black dress shoes. Sitting up from his slouched position and adjusting his glasses, he smiled.

This boy was an elevator operator.

"Hello!" he said with cheer. His lighter voice and rather poor complexion indicated that he was definitely a teenager. He couldn't be above fifteen.

"Floor twenty, please."

"With pleasure!"

The teen smiled before turning to the panel and pressing the right button. Turning the fire key to start the elevator, they soon ascended. Though the car didn't shake, the elevator's motor was audible next to the music, making low sounds that indicated its age.

"Fifty years." the teen said as Rebeqah looked up at the ceiling. The operator clearly knew if she was wondering about the elevator's safety. "We switched from a truly manual elevator to this model in the sixties. It was one of the last Fascist reforms."

He smiled, running his fingers through his hair, which gave off a bit of a sheen. It was likely due to natural oils and grease.

"-and yes, I'm an elevator operator on an automated elevator. The Fascists allowed the positions to remain in exchange for getting rid of the old elevators. Laugh all you want, but this job got me all my games at home."

The elevator dinged at the twentieth floor, and Rebeqah and the Asian human disembarked as the Asian human thanked the elevator operator. He waved goodbye as the doors were closed.

"Officer Badwell is right here." the human said, gesturing to a map on the wall across from the elevators. "Go down to hall six, turn right, go down three doors, turn left, go straight until you reach the end of the hall. Last door on right."

He repeated it several times at Rebeqah's request before she got it.

The halls had wide tiles for flooring, rectangular, incandescent lighting on the ceiling, and harvest gold wallks with a dark green stripe a third of the way up. Like all of the buildings she had seen in TurtleShroom, the door frames were always at least nine feet high, and the ceiling ten. Occasionally, incredibly tall humans ranging from six foot four to eight feet would walk by, waving to Asian humans that were of average height, or to turtles and mushrooms that never topped five feet. Everyone was polite and courteous to Rebeqah as she went down the halls.

She found Officer Badwell's office exactly where she was told it would be. Its door was coated in brass, with a frosted glass window. On its plaque read "HER HONOR, OFFICER AGNES KAI BADWELL, OFFICER SECOND CLASS OF THE MINISTRY OF THE POLICE". Rebeqah pushed the heavy door open and was greeted by quite a sight. It was a corner office with floor-to-celing glass windows to her right and behind her. The heavy rain and butts obscured anything outside, but it must have been a sight to look out of.

The office looked like one would expect in a nation with bland tastes as TurtleShroom. The walls were solid white and the floor was solid white. Another tropical wooden desk, this one far bigger than anything she had seen prior and littered with papers and all sorts of clutter, plus a computer, provided the foreground for a massive, luxurious chair that had its back facing the window.

What was odd, though, was the decor. To the right, lined against the walls, were eight foot tall, black pillars, each topped with a bowl of oil, set aflame with glorious intensity. Above each pillar was a sprinkler system, and in the corner, Rebeqah noticed several fire extinguishers and even a spigot for a hose.

Fire seemed to be a recurring theme here. Banners on the wall, apparently military in nature, showed logos of a Flamethrower Corps. On a towering, sprawling shelf directly to the left of the doorway was a long and varied assortment of awards, decorations, medals, ceremonial weapons, acclamations, and other symbols of success. Behind the desk and against the wall was what seemed to be a pull-up bar.

The lights were off, but the flames on the pillars cast a dancing, eerie glow. Despite the darkness outside in the storm, she could see perfectly in the firelight.

The titanic chair didn't move as the top knot of a figure's done up hair briefly came into view behind its head. A slender hand with bright red nail polish gripped the top of the chair and effortlessly turned it around. The chair screeched against the floor before facing forward.

A woman stepped out from beside the chair and began making her way towards Rebeqah. She reached on her desk and put on a pair of black dress gloves.

Rebeqah was sure this was a woman, mainly by the way she walked. A black cape soared down her back and flowed with each step.

"Intense" was the first word that came to mind. Although she had many of the common features of TurtleShroomers, and she wasn't anywhere close to being attractive, the manner in which she conducted herself, and the aura of confidence she projected, was not that of an ugly person. It was in defiance of her homely looks that she carried herself.

She wore brownish-red lipstick and held her lips in a way that must have been done to obscure lipstick. For a TurtleShroomer, she actually had rather visible lips, which she accentuated nicely with the lipstick. She wore heavy glasses, akin to most of TurtleShroom's population. Her skin was immaculate, with nary a blemish. A light, smooth tan, and her hair was jet black. She had a somewhat sizable, round nose, and ears that stuck out from her hair. The rest of her hair was done up in a bun on the top of her head. A red hair tie kept it out of her face. On that tie was a symbol that looked sort of like a rhombus sitting attop a letter "W".

Whatever curves or breasts she had were not discernable, as she wore a long khaki robe that went down to her ankles. The mantle she wore was a royal blue with yellow trim, with her police badge, a silver livery chain with the Emblem of TurtleShroom on a silver pendant, and a pectoral cross with the same rhombus-and-W symbol as her hair tie.

It was her hair that was probably her best feature. Even by normal standards of beauty, her hair was stunningly lucious. Her hair was a striking design, two bangs hanging like icicles, framing her oval face and somewhat pointed chin. She clearly accented her very plain features with skillfully applied makeup, though the thick glasses obscured her slanted eyes and the eyeliner and makeup she put on every day.

With the makeup and attitude, this woman had made the best of what genetics had given her. Even if she knew she was ugly, she didn't act like it.

Her walk had the confidence of a runway model, throwing her robes and cape in a manner that commanded attention. She gracefully glided down the large room before approaching Rebeqah. Defying TurtleShroomian custom and refusing to curtsey, she extended a slender, gloved hand in a firm handshake. Her grip was like iron. She placed a hand on her hip, pushing the cape around her elbow in one sweeping motion.

"I am Officer Second Class Agni K. Badwell. You are here to speak to me about the Hashhashin."

She gestured to a loveseat facing that had apparently been moved by an employee while Rebeqah had been observing Agni. Rebeqah went over there and sat down, looking across the expansive desk and all its clutter. She apparently had a dark sense of humor, as the words "KNEEL HERE" and an arrow were inscribed in marker on a piece of paper taped to the desk. She went behind the desk and sat on her chair. No. Her throne.

"Let us begin."

{ OOC: Gah, that was fun. It took a few hours to write, though.}

* = I haven't used Agni Badwell in a story in a long time, and as such, my pictures of her are dated. I have come a LONG way in drawing, so the picture I will be linking here is not a full, totally accurate representation of my talent. I made this picture using the character I based her off (left) of as a reference. I am a better writer than a drawer, so keep that in mind.

** = Use this for the base of your imagination, except the bottom most story is not that sprawling.

*** It looks sort of like this, or like the famous World Trade Centers.

**** = Assuming her English name is prounounced like "Rebecca", this is Rafqa's name, Romanized according to TurtleShroomian conventions.

by **Darussalam** » Fri Aug 11, 2017 8:46 am

How morbidly fascinating, how repulsively appealing—such is how the Darussalamis perceive the cityscape of Jonesboro. Never had they seen finer testament of the supreme authority of the nation-state, nor grander monument to the regimented uniformity it promoted, than the capital of a country only a few miles away from the outermost settlements of the Abode of Peace. Here was the very altar of Muzaffar daima, the Eternally Victorious, radiating from hideous towering blocks and dull, uniform edifices. Even the amusement park that housed Turtleshroomian congress was an ostentatious display of shameless collusion between this institution of thugs, its building blocks laid down by the Fascists, and the corrupt financiers who masqueraded their robbery under the term “private entrepreneurs”. Still—what an enchanting place, the very embodiment of Darussalam’s aesthetical antithesis!

Rafqa was immersed in her admiration to the city, listening to the calming electronic dance music playing on her earphones as she waited for the unseen machinery of Turtleshroomian bureaucracy to administer affairs well beyond her comprehension. A few minutes later, one of its facets returned to Rafqa and duly informed her that she might continue the journey for her appointment.

Being a person of her profession, Rafqa was quite accustomed of being frantically shuffled around to her destination. But still, to travel through the inside of the Ministry of the Police is to wander around a vast, overworked, labyrinthine machine, as intricate as Darussalami cities although considerably more organized, and to marvel around the monuments that celebrated the loots that Turtleshroomian cartels had triumphantly extracted from their peoples for centuries. The crests of the four largest cartels were gracefully unfurled above one monument, as beautiful as they were terrifying. Everywhere else in the building, the authority of these cartels were omnipresent, represented through armed policemen who kept their vigilant guard and everyday bureaucrats who passed in a hurry.

As Rafqa finally made her way to the elevator, she quietly noted the design with interest, reminding herself of the hostility of Turtleshroomian authorities to automation as a probable reason for such unique adaptation. Their attitude was not unknown in the Abode of Peace, as several unions and communities in the realm likewise also harbored hostility to the machinery, with some being antiquated remnants of pre-industrial era that staunchly maintained their reactionary clinging to the industrious practice of handmade craftsmanship. Turtleshroom being what it was, it was clear that the belief was regimented and forced down by the ruling elite for certain reasons, presumably not the ones that involve the welfare of the peoples.

“And yes, I'm an elevator operator on an automated elevator. The Fascists allowed the positions to remain in exchange for getting rid of the old elevators. Laugh all you want, but this job got me all my games at home.”

Rafqa was briefly startled by the interruption of her thoughts by the operator-boy. As always, the Turtleshroomian off-handedly solicited praise to the Fascists. Not surprising in the slightest. Rafqa replied with a sheepish smile and a nod. Slaves have grown comfortable over their slavery.

At least, soon she’ll meet someone who might as well possibly be the only free woman in Jonesboro, if not the entire Turtleshroom.

~~~

The word ḥurr, originating from the eloquent liturgical language and court speech of the Caliphal audience, the Fuṣḥá, was used nowadays as an equivalent to the term “freedom”. That is, freedom which is affirmed as universal to all-humanity by the Auspicious Revolution, freedom as preached by the Exchangers, the Separatists, the Determinists, and other numerous flourishing schools of thought of Islamic theology, freedom to fully comprehend the terrifying existence as conceived by the Sublime God who danced the dance of creation on His Throne, freedom to experience happiness and suffering to the fullest. This was not always the case.

In the past, ḥurr was applied much more narrowly. Instead of participants of a noble commonwealth of justice, the term denotes those few privileged to enjoy a greater share of power instead: ḥurr meant freedom in the sense of nobility. Contrasted to ḥurr is slavery, and indeed that the prequisite of being a freeman or freewoman is the ownership of other men.

While Rafqa ardently believed every person in the Abode of Peace is certainly a free person, those divinely ordained with ḥurr, the status is certainly much rarer in Turtleshroom. Agnes K. Badwell, Officer Second-in-Command to the now-deceased Constable-on-Patrol of the Junta, was one of few ideal candidates—a free woman in a more archaic sense, a woman who stood on the back of her slaves, servants, and a wide array of attending sycophants, or at least carried herself on that impression.

It was quite amusing, and rather admirable.

“Greetings,” Rafqa said in a reverent tone as she took a seat before Agni’s throne, although those who know her well may figure that she was well entertained by the spectacle of the female bureaucrat before her. “My lady of course know this humble one—I am Rafqa from the Abode of Peace, and I have extensively studied the Assassins of the Abode of Peace in the past. It’s truly to my great pleasure that I may be able to share my passion for those interested.” She glanced to Agni, certainly implying curiosity for the reason behind her interest, although it was more likely that she already figured the reason, and maintained the charade for her pleasure only.

“The history of assassination in the Abode of Peace is quite a long one—what many have referred as the sect of the Assassins themselves appeared around a thousand years ago, but they were neither the last nor the most infamous. So to make it easier, where should we start? What sort of information do you want to inquire?” She flickered her eyes. “It is quite rare to see a Turtleshroomian with an interest to antiquated history of their neighbors!”

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Fri Aug 11, 2017 11:12 am

Agni twirled one of her two strands of hair around a gloved finger.

"I know enough about Darussalem to know that the secrets behind your city walls are far greater than they appear, and that Darussalem, through it gives off the illusion of a creaky feudal state under the weight of an imperial buraucracy, is not. In fact, I can say for a fact, from the studies I've looked at in your country, that the very concept of an unified state, and its monopoly of force, is alien to your nation."

Outside, lightning flashed in the distance as faint thunder rolled. The rain continued its steady stream.

"That is to say that the Darussalemite Crown is hardly able to keep tabs on its domain. Your police are privatized and contracted out to the cities, districtsm and even individuals that need their services. You, like TurtleShroom, have multiple, parallel judiciaries. -but there's no centralization, no state, and definitely no monopoly of force. Your individual provinces are either like small fiefdoms or completely broken up into small tribes and villages, if that!"

Agni steepled her fingers.

"It's minarchy at best, a confederation of feudal realms, or simply one big corporation under the Crown. -and frankly, that amazes me that you are able to hold together. So I couldn't just call up a Darussalemite Archives or some sort of buraucracy and get my answer. No, I needed an expert."

Agni looked out the window for a moment, thinking of her next comment.

"The Hashhashins- as our diplomatic corps to your country calls them, the Hash Slinging Slashers -or the 'ha-AAH!', as I prefer to call them," she smirked at that, revealing her crooked, white teeth, "are still active. I know they're still active, you know they're still active, and if you are going to deny them, let it be said that I have a functioning bull crap meter and can tell."

Agni scanned her desk for the book she was looking for and opened it to a bookmarked page. She turned it to Rebeqa and pointed to a picture showing a group of men in hooded cloaks around a table. She tapped it twice. Next to the inset picture was a chapter on "violating Darussalem law" and the history of assasinations of those who they deemed to have breached it.

"This book explains that the Hashhashins, at least the most recent iteration, kills people that violates their laws. Now, I don't know what sort of law a Hash Slinging Slasher has, or if they are enforcing the unwritten customs or even whims of some Darussalemite nobleman, or even the Crown, and that's the first thing I want to get down to."

She continued.

"'The Law' is something I came across in a lot of Darussalemite books. Heck, the men my people interviewed in your country mentioned it. My contacts, in which I was lead to you, mentioned it. Heck, the ambassador you sent here has spoken of it, and there may even be imperial dispatches that mention it."

Agni pushed her glasses back up her nose as she sighed.

"That 'Law' is a common theme, and I think the Hashhashin are planning to attack General Long II for something involving it. The problem is that no one source has really described what 'The Law' is. So what I want to first understand is simple: what is 'The Law' that the Darussalemites speak of? Is it a NAP, the Non-Aggression Principle? Is it some sort of opposition to the use of the monopoly of force? Or, is it some moralistic belief system designed to protect what they see as the innocent?"

She nodded.

"Also, these books only cover ancient Hashhashins and the Hashhashins that arrived during your country's Civil War. That makes them outdated by decades. The TurtleShroom Spy and Stalker Service knows for a fact that Darussalemite hitmen could be in TurtleShroom right now, and we've even been tracking at least one. Well, we're trying. They're like ghosts: totally untracable."

She smiled a bit.

"That's where you come in. The Hash Slinging Slashers sent after us: who sent them? Do they kill based on 'The Law'? Before your country's Civil War, did any Hashhashins kill by 'The Law'? Do the modern Hashhashins kill based on 'The Law', or are they paid to get us? What are their main techniques to kill? -and most importantly, if you can answer this, is any agent of the Darussalemite government, Crown, locality, or private contractor behind this?"

Agni watched Rebeqah's movements carefully as she finished her long list of questions.

"I feel they'll be coming after me after they get the General. There are men on the Junta that have had no hand in this, as the Junta is only democratic when Long wants it to be, and the General doesn't want to see them harmed, because most of them opposed the whole Martial Law issue."

Her commentary about the opposition in the Junta to the decree she read off was said flatly and without hint of emotion. If Rebeqah was good at reading into people, she would realize right away that she wasn't really interested in protecting anyone besides General Long and herself.

Well, herself, really: this was a woman who didn't bow to anyone or hold any allegiance except to her ambition. She didn't really show any strong emotions, either.

by **La Cosa Fedora** » Fri Aug 11, 2017 8:23 pm

The situation in TurtleShroom was deteriorating fast. The Junta had taken unusual measures to defend itself against the Marxist threat, and already there were two other factions in open rebellion, that we knew of. And who even knows how many other opportunists lay waiting in the shadows, looking only for a moment of weakness to extract a pound of flesh from the beleaguered state. The question on the minds of the consultants to the Foreign Office was, are we a reliable ally, or a vulture circling its soon-to-be dinner?

Deep underground, in a secure basement complex in the fortress city of Geekgard, the real foreign policy of La Cosa Fedora and the League of the Six Free Peoples was being made. Most of the staff of the League's Foreign Office was just the diplomats and the Secretary of Foreign Affairs. All support, including the intellectual power upon which actual decisions are based have been outsourced to the Fedorite consultants, who take their orders from Geekgard. So while the diplomats of La Civita Fedora, the showpiece capital city, were preoccupied with the affairs of the World Assembly, the watchful eyes of the nation's true masters were trained on their newest allies in TurtleShroom.

Jeffery Minoru Lezviye, the consultant to the Foreign Secretary had called for an emergency meeting with the rest of the Politburo members to discuss the TurtleShroom situation. Deep in the bowels of the earth they plotted.

The position of the Foreign Office urged caution: "The emergence of what appeared to be neo-fascist and left-populist factions is proof of the fragility of TurtleShroom. We have gone too far with our covert meddling, now the whole state might collapse and we may never get a return on what we have already invested into this alliance. We should not seek to exploit this situation for any political or monetary gain. Instead, we should aid the Junta with all means: orient our diplomacy and propaganda in support of the Junta, an accelerated rate of iron shipments and petroleum purchases, sharing all intelligence gained through our infiltration of the labor movement, and even allowing the Junta to recruit volunteers for their war effort if they so desire. In fact, we should order our asset on the ground to decapitate the labor movement right now, or at least prevent them from making common cause with Ashton Fish's group."

Ian Toyo Capello, Supreme Gentleman of Intelligence, had objections.

"We will NOT share intelligence if it means admitting that we have placed an asset into TurtleShroom without the Junta's consent. The whole situation is not nearly as bad as my colleague from the foreign office makes it out to be. Though I agree we need to take all public measures to support our ally the Junta, we need to keep our cards close to our chest and focus on protecting our interests on the ground, which will necessarily take place without the knowledge of the Junta."

"So pro-Junta diplomacy and propaganda, doing more business with Junta-oriented businesses, acceleration of iron shipments, and even extending financial credit to the Junta if they are interested, these are alright. Using covert means to keep the left-wing factions divided against themselves, definitely. All that other stuff though, I don't even want to hear about it. Instead, we should gather intelligence about the new rebels, especially the fascists. I tell you there is yet more to be gained from fishing in these turbulent waters!"

The re-emerged fascist movement did arouse significant interest, especially what was perceived as their denouncement of the resolution of the Dark Harvest incident. Acquiring sentient ponies for sale as pets was an ambition of many a Fedorite, and a regime in TurtleShroom willing to cooperate with such an endeavor would surely simplify things. By the time leader Chris Satoru Fedorov made the final, binding decision, the consensus had shifted solidly towards the views of Intelligence.

Thus it came to be that the government of the League of the Six Free Peoples, at the suggestion of the consultant to the Foreign Office, issued the following declaration:

OFFICIAL DECLARATION OF THE LEAGUE OF THE SIX FREE PEOPLES

In the name of the Free Land of the League of the Six Free Peoples,

We declare our whole-hearted support for the Second Occupying Sacred Junta of TurtleShroom as the legitimate, lawful, and democratic government of the aforementioned nation. We are fully committed to honoring all obligations under the pertinent international laws, treaties and other agreements.

Furthermore, we feel it URGENT to clarify that the recent actions taken by this legitimate and lawful government of TurtleShroom (heretofore known as 'Operation TOTAL CHANCELLOR') are in fact, NOT contrary to any widely-accepted international and democratic traditions. Though they may have announced the suspension of several key rights guaranteed under their constitution, this does not mean the abolition of democracy and human rights, but rather the protection thereof. While the government has the ability to not observe these rights in some situations, we find the actual situation on the ground to be that these powers are applied with all due prudence and good judgement. We must not let the news of the few violations overshadow the fact that all objective witnesses testify that, in contrast to territories suffering under the lawless tyranny of those who rebel against TurtleShroom, the people still enjoy more assembly, more habeas corpus, more legal council, more examination under even grander juries, and speedier trials in the vast majority of cases. We can produce several recent travelers to TurtleShroom as witnesses that in spite of Operation TOTAL CHANCELLOR, the traditions of democracy and freedom remain as vibrant as ever. This is in stark contrast to those who seek to overthrow democracy, who have given these human rights in only the smallest minority of cases.

Sincerely,

Secretary of Foreign Affairs Katie Adkins

President Stacey Lester

Chris Satoru Fedorov, Le Broni Fedori of La Cosa Fedora, the Greatest Scientific Mind of the 21st Century, Most Magnificent Patron of the Arts, Barbarian-Defeating Generalissimo, Most Honorable Supreme GentleSir, best friend of all peoples, both Gentlesirs of honor and normies, and in fact not only all citizens of the League of the Six Free Peoples, but also of the huddled masses of tired, poor, and oppressed peoples everywhere

Of course, behind the scenes the fascist uprising was being investigated as a potential ally or useful tool through covert channels...

by **Darussalam** » Sat Aug 12, 2017 1:27 am

It is quite expected that many will assume Darussalam as a feudal empire. After all, its name was represented throughout the Blessed Continents under the peacock banners of the Commander of the Faithful, who marshaled before himself a confederation of private armies and commanded in his possession the vast wealth of private institutions. There was only one thing lacking in His qualification as a feudal overlord, the Law barred Him from making unjust claims on the land and his rule is not marked by the boundary of his property, but instead by a vast network of public services financed by voluntary donations and tithes he levied from the Faithful. That it was not the case was somehow supposed to be a “secret” baffled Rafqa more than anything else, although she brushed it off with an understanding of the Turtleshroomians’ lack of access to worldwide computer network, as well as the antiquated attitude of its peoples to foreign travel and learning. Being a Christian born and educated in a Christian society, Rafqa could care less of the Caliphate, regarding it largely as an outdated, archaic institution of chiefdom and a remnant of the Age of Ignorance that persisted only through the ingenuity and sheer luck of its holders for centuries.

“It is quite understandable that our way of life and thinking is alien to you as yours is alien to us.” Rafqa said. “Nevertheless, in the name of good gesture between clients, I would happily oblige to enlighten the Turtleshroomian administration regarding the… finer disagreements between our culture, so that in the future there might be better understanding and cooperation among our peoples.” She glanced to Agni’s book. “Unfortunately, Officer Badwell, I don’t think there is much accurate information provided by this book regarding the peoples of the Abode of Peace, and certainly not those that you call the Assassins. It is true that there exists a sect which our caliphs in the past derided as ‘hashish-users’, and it is true that there are many heirs who claimed their tradition to this very day, but it’s obvious that your concern might not necessarily entail them—or only them. Assassination is a long honored, celebrated tradition in the Abode of Peace, its roots ran much more deeper and its branches diverged wider than the foreigner’s stereotype of an esoteric religious cult.”

Rafqa absent-mindedly tapped Agni’s desk, as if reminiscing. “We both know that all civilized societies in the world have developed various methods to resolve disputes and administer needs among their peoples. From this the concept of justice arose from said societies. Of course, the precise definition and fine details differ, and differ greatly they often do. The obvious example of this would be, as you have described, the concept of justice and law between Turtleshroom and the Abode of Peace. Both agree on one thing, though: that there are instances where taking one’s life is deemed as a lawful resolution or compensation for injustice. And yet both diverge again on the question, when is it lawful to forfeit the life of an individual? Or to be more precise, what designates the killing as lawful?”

Rafqa faintly smiled. “For the Turtleshroomians, the killing is lawful if it is authorized by the ruling class who holds the monopoly of violence. This is the case in most societies in the world, even those who claim themselves to be free and tolerant, that legitimacy of authority and law is derived from those who amassed more arms, who wielded the greatest coercive power, who commanded the monopoly of tributes in said area. This is also the case in the Abode of Peace for centuries, in the age we call the Jahilia, the Age of Ignorance. During the Age of Ignorance the history of the Abode of Peace has always been that of a fateful cycle of civilizations. Are you aware of the Asabiyya theory, Officer Badwell? A civilization will bask in glory of piety and conquest, then declining in decadence and earthly pursuits, before being subdued by faithful tribes who restored divine authority, basking in piety and conquest before the cycle continues. Such is the simplified, well-known version of the theory.

“On the dawn of the Jahilia, around early seventeenth century, the Abode underwent an abrupt change. Scarlet Plague came and wiped millions. The authority of the Darrasid dynasty, long spiraling into decline, was a wind’s blow away from complete collapse. And it did collapsed. But those spearheaded its collapse were not mere ordinary tribes—they marched to the capital bringing a new political ideology, the one conceived by dissenting philosophers and theologians. Witnessing the corruption of divine authority in the hands of the mad caliphs and abuses of local lords whose rule is legitimized by caliphal grace, instead of fulfilling the cycle the first Ma'adid caliph who ascended the Peacock Throne, backed by the rebels, proclaimed a new, auspicious era: the abolition of all authorities, all taxations, all lords. No one may force upon another their perception of divine laws, each person may freely congregate in discourse to seek truth and justice, and they may reap and enjoy the fruits of their own labor. Such are the building blocks of the Mu’amalat ‘Ammah, or as it is known later, the Law.”

Rafqa clasped her hands. “In the realm, a myriad of schools of thought flourish, a multitude of contractual legal regimes arbitrate disputes from numerous sources. But above and encompassing all of them is the absolute, inviolable common Law. Not a single person’s decree or act might justify unjust violation on another’s being or property, each ordained and guaranteed by God, without a prior contract. As the presence of the states, similar with the rule of the military-dictators and feudal lords under the caliph’s vassalage, are inherently grounded on said injustice, on centuries of theft, subjugation, and slavery, the presence of the state is thus unlawful. Any person might exercise the law, but merely because one claims that they are exercising the law does not make said act necessarily lawful. Such is the nature of the Law, for it does not rely on a human’s flawed judgment to render it legitimate—the legitimacy is inherent in its nature, the nature of justice and order.

“Now, the Law generally demands property compensation, monetary in nature, to victims of injustice. In instance of crimes such as murder or harm grievous enough that any compensation is insufficient, the punishment is death.” She locked her sight to Agni’s eyes. “It is for this reason that killings committed by ordinary people might not necessarily unlawful in the Abode of Peace. It is also for this reason that associations formed by civilians to exercise justice, bringing it especially for those powerful enough to escape the clouts of the law, were formed. Some of the earlier ones were established with structure reminiscent to that of the ancient Assassins, who frequently murdered powerful peoples to ensure the survival of their sect. The system became more developed in its intricacies as modern technology has been introduced. The thriving industry of Darussalami assassinations in the modern era is composed of several aspects.”

Rafqa held up a finger. “One, the arbitrators who determined whether the assassination might be validated as lawful. They are fairly open in their profession due to its nature. Two, the financiers of the assassinations, either in the form of civil associations or public crowdfund. Many opted anonymity, but a few preferred to instead relish in infamy. Three, the assassins themselves, many of whom formed private associations, some in the trappings of esoteric sects. Little is known about them. At any case, there are associations in the realm who operated only in one of these aspects, or two, or all of them: dispensing the decrees of legitimacy, rallying public fund, as well as coordinating the operations behind the smokescreens.

“Why would they target General Long?” She grinned. “Well, that is an implausible scenario. It is true that the Law applies universally, and thus state officials of foreign polities might qualify as criminals beneath the Law. Nevertheless, most associations in the Abode of Peace—especially those underneath the umbrella of the Jirga—adhered to strict regulations in regard of foreign affairs. The Jirga and some other confederated associations also dispensed letters of marque for foreign states deemed ‘indispensable’ or ‘crucial’ in preserving the Law or fighting the enemies of the Law. There is only one plausible scenario that could possibly lead to the General being targeted then: one is that the perpetrator belongs outside to the Jirga, and thus its affairs is beyond the Jirga to control. But this presents a problem: the letter of marque generally designates protection to the head of government, thereby making his murder unlawful, and will lead to a conflict between the Jirga and said association. The only way I am seeing the plausibility is that if the Jirga withhold its letter of marque…

“….for certain violations or crimes that made the Turtleshroomian state no longer seen as crucial to the interests of the Realm of the Law.” Rafqa finished dramatically, her expression unreadable now.

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Mon Aug 14, 2017 7:09 pm

The firelight flickered against Agni's glasses as the soothing sound of steady rain provided the ambiance as Rebeqah explained Darussalem's unusually libertine, if not borderline anarcho-capitalist, structure in great detail. Though her face kept calm and she exhibited her usual stoic "resting dog" expression, inside, she was thoroughly transfixed at the entire narrative Rebeqah was giving her. Having always been a prodigy of sorts, Agni eagerly soaked up knowledge like a sponge.

"The book is fifty years old, I'm afraid." she replied as she closed the text, quietly understanding that assassination in Darussalem had to have changed by then. "I can see how that would be dead wrong."

The discussion continued onward, as Agni's slanted eyes remained firmly fixed in focus on Rebeqah's comments. Behind her glasses, one would have seen her laser-like focus on this topic. It was incredible.

Darussalam wrote:"For the Turtleshroomers, the killing is lawful if it is authorized by the ruling class who holds the monopoly of violence. This is the case in most societies in the world, even those who claim themselves to be free and tolerant, that legitimacy of authority and law is derived from those who amassed more arms, who wielded the greatest coercive power, who commanded the monopoly of tributes in said area."

Agni nodded. This entire idea that the state was bad and that freemen should be totally free from the law, was almost beyond her understanding. She cocked an eyebrow. Rebeqah, had she known anything about Agni's background, would have realized that this would be something she might not fully grasp.

"I was raised in the State of Koyro, where I attended their political institutions and advanced schooling. I grew up viewing an efficient, orderly realm of peace. It was almost an utopia, really, and my adopted home is unfortunately lacking in terms of order and submission. That's one reason I became a soldier and later, a policeman."

She rubbed her chin.

"According to the decrees of the Supreme Leader, the Koy state, where I was raised, is guided in its activities by the Revolutionary Teachings of Ohanka Jon Bak-su. The state derives its power, simply, because without the direct and absolute direction of the state, man cannot unlock its true potential by his own Free Will and their own devices. We also reject religion entirely: I myself am an Atheist."

She realized that Rebeqah might be interested in TurtleShroom's view.

"I myself agree with the Ohankists that a nation without order is no nation. People cannot be trusted to live with Free Will, as they will always mess up. I cannot imagine a world as unstable as your esteemed homeland, but nonetheless, I am utterly fascinated by the idea."

Agni leaned back a bit in her chair.

"Of course, that's not the case here. In TurtleShroom, the state derives itself from two sources. First, it believes that all state authority is ordained by their God, and that so long as the divine authority has the blessing- no, mandate -of their God, then they should be obeyed."

"-but, the powers of the state, and the mandate from God, according to TurtleShroom, rest in the consent of the governed. Or, as I prefer to call it, mob rule. As the fathers of Koyro rightly said, the decisions of the individual should be made by the state. That isn't the case in TurtleShroom."

She smiled faintly. It looked more like a smirk.

"By what authority does TurtleShroom say it can execute men? The answer is exactly what you said. It's a monopoly of force. It isn't some righteous act of some man in the sky, or some just action, but simply, that they have more guns."

Hopefully, Rebeqah had remembered that Agni was not raised in TurtleShroom, because Agni's support of total state power was not TurtleShroomian.

"I should note that my opinion is my opinion. TurtleShroom doesn't support totalitarianism or any such limits on individual freedom, for better or worse, so don't leave here thinking we're some sort of slave state or dictatorship because I brought up my childhood. We're both strong women, I am sure that we can fully respect each other's opinions on the matter."

The discussion continued in a friendly matter from there, both parties fascinated by the gap between their respective cultures and excited to here what each would say next.

Darussalam wrote:"Are you aware of the Asabiyya theory, Officer Badwell? A civilization will bask in glory of piety and conquest, then declining in decadence and earthly pursuits, before being subdued by faithful tribes who restored divine authority, basking in piety and conquest before the cycle continues. Such is the simplified, well-known version of the theory."

This piqued her interest. She had definitely heard that before.

"I actually am aware of that, surprisingly enough. I didn't know that it had a name, though. There is a historically based video game, touching on nations continents away from any of us, that discuss exactly that. In the game, if you don't give your sons land, jobs, and commanding of armies, then your empire grows soft and decadent before imploding in a Decadence Revolt."

Rebeqah nodded. That was the point she made.

"TurtleShroom has always feared decadence. Are you familiar with the classical philosophy of the Ship of State? The theory went that a government was like a great ocean liner, and that the captain- its head of state, legislature, or whatever so on -'drove' this ship without seeing the full picture. In other words, it was a criticism of democracy and of people's whims influencing it. The philosopher argued that steering a boat based on where a majority of people said it should move was fundamentally ridiculous, and that only under benevolent absolutism could a just captain actually know how to drive the thing anywhere besides to a watery grave."

She nodded.

"TurtleShroom may not look like it, but she actually takes her political roots from old Slavic norms. The argument went, similar to the Ship of State theory, that a strongman had to hold the nation together. If the people are given too much freedom or there is not enough pressure to hold things in line, decadence will come to pass."

This time, Agni shook her head.

"Unfortunately, unlike in the Asabiyya, once a neo-liberal, Western, democratic nation gets decadent, it doesn't fall to a Decadence Implosion and get restored to virtue until it degrades again. Instead it simply rots and degrades permanently, until it collapses under its own weight, sloth, and orgies. Several nations that have the heritage of the Roman Empire, or are remnants of the actual Roman Empire, have long rotted and died to it."

She steepled her fingers.

"What I'm trying to say is that a Western state does not degrade and get fixed by a rural backlash. No, when a modern democracy becomes decadent, it rots until someone can finish it off."

"-and that is what the Slavs, like in Russia and Russian states, wanted to prevent. A history of absolutism in line with the Ship of State motto rubbed off on TurtleShroom, and though TurtleShroom is in no way truly authoritarian by that sense, the country is nonetheless held together by a strongman who can right the wrongs by the fleeting minds of democratic voters."

Agni never liked democracy.

Darussalam wrote:Such are the building blocks of the Mu’amalat ‘Ammah, or as it is known later, the Law.”

The discussion continued onward as the concept of 'The Law' was introduced. Rebeqah introduced the origins of the Law and what it exactly meant. She was fascinated by the idea of the Maadid dynasty backed by what literally looked to be the closest possible thing to anarcho-capitalists. An abolition of coercive taxation? An end to a central state power? It was revolutionary and wholly alien to Agni. She didn't show it on her expression or mannerisms, but inside, she was amazed.

"Panarchy."

Before realizing it, she had quietly muttered that to herself, hoping Rebeqah didn't catch that. Yes, Panarchy. Where one chose their government like they chose a church, and where the laws of the government bound only the laity that submitted to it.

The idea was a serious mental experiment, and yet, here was a nation, of tens or even hundreds of millions of souls, and it was a thriving, booming success.

Darussalam wrote:“Now, the Law generally demands property compensation, monetary in nature, to victims of injustice. In instance of crimes such as murder or harm grievous enough that any compensation is insufficient, the punishment is death.” She locked her sight to Agni’s eyes. “It is for this reason that killings committed by ordinary people might not necessarily unlawful in the Abode of Peace. It is also for this reason that associations formed by civilians to exercise justice, bringing it especially for those powerful enough to escape the clouts of the law, were formed. Some of the earlier ones were established with structure reminiscent to that of the ancient Assassins, who frequently murdered powerful peoples to ensure the survival of their sect. The system became more developed in its intricacies as modern technology has been introduced. The thriving industry of Darussalami assassinations in the modern era is composed of several aspects.”

Darussalam wrote:At any case, there are associations in the realm who operated only in one of these aspects, or two, or all of them: dispensing the decrees of legitimacy, rallying public fund, as well as coordinating the operations behind the smokescreens.

Incredible. Lawful and organized vigilantes. What chaos. Inwardly, Agni winced at the idea of such control put in the hands of common men, without a Party or state to guide them. She showed nothing but her neutral face and intense gaze, demonstrating clearly that she was paying total attention to Rebeqah and everything she said. Not even Agni would have been able to hide her fascination about this subject, no matter how much of a poker face she put on. Her mind was racing with every pause. Rebeqah was bringing her argument to a close, and based on what she had said so far, she was beginning to understand that elements of Darussalem saw the Junta as a threat.

Darussalam wrote:"But this presents a problem: the letter of marque generally designates protection to the head of government, thereby making his murder unlawful, and will lead to a conflict between the Jirga and said association. The only way I am seeing the plausibility is that if the Jirga withhold its letter of marque…"

“…for certain violations or crimes that made the Turtleshroomian state no longer seen as crucial to the interests of the Realm of the Law.” Rafqa finished dramatically, her expression unreadable now.

{OOC: Italacized quotations indicate thought. Rebeqah cannot here what Agni is thinking. }

"By the peaked cap of the Paramount Leader and Chairman of the Koy Socialist Revolutionary Party!!" Agni thought to herself, as she calmly leaned back in her chair to think about what she had just been told. It was shocking, utterly shocking, the height of what this entailed.

As she reacted internally, on the external side, Agni raised her eyebrows at the conclusion, immediately cursing herself for letting any hint of emotion showing. The surprise twist at the end caught even her off guard.

"No. Emotion leads to weakness. Koy people do not cry. Analyze the situation. Observe all sides and formulate a plan of action. Remember the flamethrowers in the war. Panic leads to defeat. Do you want to be like your pathetic, stupid brother? Remember your Party training. Act accordingly."

She quickly regained her inward composure.

"I had gotten it all wrong. They do not see us as a threat to the Region. It was that the country was no longer worth keeping in the minds of the Darussalemite Crown and its private contractors! The most powerful accreditation board, which enforced vigilante justice of 'The Law', and no doubt the Crown, see TurtleShroom as having outlived its purpose to remain coherent.

After a period of extended silence, Agni finally spoke, with a perfectly calm voice. She was in control and had a plan in mind. If Rebeqah knew subtlety, she knew the composure of a strong decision maker, and of a soldier.

"So this... Jirga. I take it's one of many institutions claiming to represent your Law and enforce vigilantism. -but it's the biggest, the most powerful, and the most respected amongst its clients and the people. Like any standards organization, its membership is voluntary but all who sign up agree to adhere to it. It may be connected to the Darussalemite Crown itself."

She placed her hand on her chin.

"If the largest vigilante corporation, and accreditation board in terms of your Law, has deemed TurtleShroom to no longer be in the interests of Darussalem to protect, and has thus allowed the adherents to its standard to strike a foreign realm, then what must be done to secure TurtleShroom from the Hash Slinging Slashers?"

She paused.

"What group do you believe is after us? Hashhashins? Secular crowd funded institutions? A group loyal to the Emperor? What are their methods? What should I tell the General?"

Thunder rolled outside. The ball was in Rebeqah's court.

by **Darussalam** » Tue Sep 05, 2017 7:09 am

“It is a self-evident truth that we in the Abode of Peace hold,” Rafqa said dispassionately, “That the state perpetuates violence and warfare more often than peace, the latter which one may find in the bazaars of voluntary exchange and contract. Another of our truth is that the state benefits only three kinds of people: the idiot, the sycophant, and the sociopath.”

“In fact, there is little distinction between the Turtleshroomian state and your home in our eyes!” she continued, maybe in a misguided hope that this will console Agni, or maybe a mere mockery. “Both are societies where the state is pervasive, where free market is nothing but a myth. The state controls the market, its infrastructure and players. Privileges and advantages belong to the gambling house and its cronies at the expense of the gamblers. This is certainly not a fair exchange at all—no chaos, beneath a false pretense of order!”

“But I entirely sympathize, of course. Man naturally strives to control, after all. He is filled with greed, yearning more and more authority. Greed is not a vice, not in a correct system. Ours merely intend to reward the fruits of labor for those who deserve it, not to rob away talent or reward incompetency. The only proper method to prevent the birth of structural injustice that will disproportionately deny merits is to create a fair and free market, without aggression and coercion that will distort its equilibrium. Order arises from the mechanisms of chaos.”

Rafqa patiently waited as Agni fell into silence after she surmised—well, guessed—the reasoning of the Jirga—after all, to predict the action of such gargantuan entity of millions of contractors and voters was near impossible without guesswork. She was rather pleased by Agni’s well-concealed shock, which nevertheless was leaked through the suffocating silence that hung on the office.

“The most evident solution is for Turtleshroom to enforce Law on its own,” she said. She fell silent for a few seconds, allowing a few unsaid details to weigh in—the execution of unlawful murderers and restitution of victims, expropriation of unlawful proprietors, reparation of those robbed by the state. She laughed, of course. “I jest. Both of us know that it’s guaranteed not to happen.”

“I don’t know exactly who, of billions souls in the Abode of Peace, would place a value on the heads of Turtleshroomian leaders.” Rafqa grinned. “I could tell you one thing, though—it’s unlikely that it’s going to be the leadership of the Jirga, who might consider it unwise and too high a price to fetch for such abstract exercise of justice that benefits none of them. Probably! Not even the most sophisticated of our chaos theorists and neuroprognosticist could inform us what the Jirga will do. You have heard of their personage—they and many others called him Commander of the Faithful, a young teen in his fifteens, also the spiritual leader of the Ma’adi Order. He’s not dumb, although…somewhat eccentric and out-of-the-box. It’s still unwise for the patron to go against the will of the shareholders, though, and all the bets are saying no for funding Turtleshroomian assassinations.”

“So this leaves us with smaller associations, those with less stakes to bet and more stealthy advantage. A few weeks ago, several analysts in the Abode of Peace published a… let’s say, legal recommendation regarding the Junta of Turtleshroom. The Junta continued the long-established policy of segregation and discrimination, state-enforced, against the feline-eared folk. It also protects the ownership of many companies who denied adequate standard of living for their workers, which normally wouldn’t be a problem—except the analysts alleged that much of the companies’ property were acquired unlawfully, through political connections with the state, expropriation and robbery of the lawful proprietors. The conclusion is evident.”

“At first the Jirga dismissed the allegations, although recently it has withheld its statement. But it’s a ringing call for many associations to expand their prestige. The Raven code of discrimination, specifically, acquired ire from the federations of many animal-eared folks in the Abode of Peace, merchants of North Lands origin who moved for commercial ventures in the south and acquired status as lawful proprietors here. Their trade links are extensive, and many independent contractors are associated with them.” Rafqa shrugged. “They’re just a few of many others, of course. But my prediction is that if there is a group that will act the earliest, it will be them. It’s decapitation strategy. If the leaders of Turtleshroom fall and order collapses faster, this allows freer flow of collaboration between the felines in Turtleshroom and Darussalam, and possibly even permit the establishment of a state-within-the-ruined-state—a new ethnic enclave, ideological clique.”

It was not a lie—it was just a prediction, after all. But it was a carefully made prediction, not with the insight of the past but of the future.

After all, if Turtleshroom then choose to intensify its persecution of the felines under the guidance of the Ministry of the Police instead of targeting other Darussalamis in Turtleshroom proper, then it will work as a self-fulfilling prophecy nevertheless. The felines for long have been indoctrinated into docile submission, a pathetic love of fate, by the demented corruption of Christian churches that ruled Turtleshroom, and denied the right of arms by the state that allegedly exalted such rights. Only through this accelerated oppression the flames of disorder might rise from the repressed population, fanned by the contractors of Samarra.

But who, presently, are actually targeting the life of General Long and the Minister of the Police? Rafqa could have chalked it down to the latter’s apparent incessant paranoia, perhaps justified by her role in this wretched administration. After all, she didn’t really know who—of many associations in the Abode of Peace, who would have done it first, who would have first raised the flag of death?

But she guessed anyway, and her guesses—despite unspoken—were always correct.

After all, it was just her job.

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Tue Sep 05, 2017 5:56 pm

"Ah, the John Raven Codes," Agni said calmly. "Waste of resources if you ask me, and it doesn't solve the Neko Question. TurtleShroomers are soft: in Koyro, the chimeras would be dead, in labor camps, or banished. I say we stuff them all in a Bantustan and make a show about them being citizens of some autonomous zone that really amounts to a reservation, which puts them out of sight and out of mind... or we could grow a pair and actually take care of the problem like they do in Koyro."

She twirled her fingers around the sharp bangs framing her face, thinking about the idea.

"John Raven himself has always been... odd to me. The man acts like he's king of Nationstates, a grandiose and powerful man. It may surprise you to know that he's more heck bent on getting chimeras to take the felictomy than to keeping them separate. I've heard, though, that he is actually very insecure and rabidly self-hating, not out of guilt- he is proud of what he does -but because something's very wrong with him physically. He's always had his beard and long hair. I've never seem him without his cloak or his hat. TurtleShroomers have discussed for years what's wrong with him, but whatever it is, we have no pictures of him as a kid, and the poor man was orphaned when he was about eight or nine. If you ask me, I go by the claims that he has odd tics and problems with his vocal chords. I mean, the guy has such dry skin, he's always washing his hands and arms, and sometimes his face, which is funny because that makes it worse. I swear, Raven would lick his hands if there was no means to wash them."

The human tapped her left finger on her desk.

"Parkinsons, stroke, or cancer seem to be the causes if you ask me."

That reminded her of something she needed to point out.

"The monopolies in TurtleShroom are not due to corruption or state force. They're due more to cultural and societal stagnation wrought by a lower ambition, a fanatic work-ethic, and humility. TurtleShroomers simply remain content with what they have and only complain when things change or they can't go elsewhere to do business."

She smirked.

"Honestly, it's what makes the populace so easy to control, both in Koyro and in my new home. We Koyrans may be the master race*, but I assure you, the peasantry back home, the cogs in the great machine, they are there to follow and we, the Party, to lead. Eastern Slavs largely have that same mindset. TurtleShroomers inherited that same mindset, despite the Anglo-Saxxon and Mason-Dix-"

She was starting to go back into a normal discussion when she was struck by an epiphany. Behind the lenses, her slanted eyes grew wider at the realiZATION as she adjusted her glasses in thought.

"THAT'S what you mean by extrapropriation and corruption and a falsehood of a Free Market. The chimeras, of course! So I take, then, that you know why Gerry got its name: from gerrymeandering, a dirty move to annex a settlement of chimeras for the resources and a social engineering effort to slowly get them all to congregate there. Obviously, they were 'convinced' to sell their land; it wouldn't surprise me a bit if they had contact with the Khanates before TurtleShroom's Christians ever arrived."

She was really into a thinking mode now.

"So my idea would actually be a good one......... I've got to tell this to the General. The Bantustan idea... that always works if you play it right."

Agni smiled. As in, she actually smiled in a sincere display of happiness. With her rather plump lips and more delicate (by comparison to a full TurtleShroomer) Koyran features, framed by her sharp hairstyle, the effect, combined with her heavy glasses and slight buck teeth, came off as rather cute.

That said, for a person whose normal expression is either neutral or a tight-lipped smirk, seeing her smile widely and reveal that she did in fact have a full set of terribly crooked, pearly teeth teeth sort of detracted from it.
If Rebeqah was experienced in medicine (or read regional medical journals), she might have even seen a bit of an unhinged look to the grin.

"Yes, I think I understand what you are trying to get here!"

Agni stopepd short and blushed, visible in the firelight, realizing she had gotten excited about having the solution. Embarassment followed: the last thing she needed was to let her emotions get in the way of a life-or-death situation. A lifetime of working on emotion meant slip-ups were rare, but this girl seemed to connect with her in a way that she very rarely experienced in her life (for her mother always preferred her stupid brother!).

She considered General Long II to be less of a person to manipulate and more of an equal and fellow ideologue, and she had that same detatched appreciation developing for Rebeqah and her cynical, extremely confidant attitude, which reminded her of herself. Although, inwardly, she'd kill to be as developed and in possession of as nice a figure as the woman across from her.

Actually, as she thought about it further, Agni realized that this might actually be a woman she would really like to get to know better and hang out with. She did mental acrobatics trying to justify letting anyone get that close to her, that she would go shopping or hang out with a person, but the more she thought of it, the more the idea interested in her. Rebeqah had a lot in common with her, ignorant as she was in her religion (or the religion she claimed to profess), and they both were fiercely individualistic, confident women.

"Bak-su knows I could use a woman that isn't a submissive, pushover of a daffodil around here."

"Well, I think we've made great progress here. The General is surveying a garrison and working with logistics to possibly deploy a detatchment to strike either the Fascists or those goons from Fish's fief, so I'll be able to tell him tommorow."

She stood up and walked over the window, taking a look out at the hard rain, resting a hand on her cocked hip. She then turned and faced Rebeqah.

"You know, I don't ask this very often, but I could really use a woman like you instead of the usual submissive, timid sheep that make up this country's female stock, and I am free after this meeting........."

".....would you be interested in going out on the town? That is to say, a girl's night out? I know TurtleShroom is sterile in the eyes of a Darussalemite, but you'd be surprised all the ways a girl can have a good time here, without drinking or anything that catches the ire of the Church. In fact, I know this restaurant and a casino you might enjoy."

Again with that smirk, but this time, with a twinkle in those slanted eyes of hers.

"What say you, Rebeqah?"

* = This is an actual tenant of Koyro's IC canon, and his nation's doctrine of Ohankism, not Agni having a delusion of grandeur

{ OOC: Remember, quoted sentences in italics represent Agni's thoughts. }

{ OOC: No, Agni is not asking to take Rebeqah out on a romantic date. If my sister, mother, maternal grandmother, and aunt are to be believed, girls go out to dinner and such with their 'girlfriends' all the time, similar to how men do witht heir friends. There's no romantic undertone to it, even though great bonds are formed. That's what Agni is proposing. }

by **TURTLESHROOM II** » Sun Oct 08, 2017 6:38 pm

JULY 21st, 2017 AD

Fascist Servants Capture Fourth City

• YANA, DRY DRY DIGEST

It has been less than a month since the Constitution of TurtleShroom was suspended, and things have only gotten worse.
Making true on its threats, the Fascist Servants' ever-growing army has successfully captured its first significant city.
The City of Yana, population approximately nine thousand, was captured without incident after negotiations between the municipal police and the regional Militia chapter convinced them to abandon the sinking Junta.

Alongside the capture of Yana came Yana's municpal arsenal and weapons cache, plus thousand of new, excitable volunteers. Western TurtleShroom has always been more receptive of authoritarianism, from the large swaths of Asian immigrants settling there, to its place as the stronghold of Fascism during the twentieth century, and today, it has found no shortage of recruits.

However, state intelligence suggests that the Fascist Servants are not the only agents in this region looking for action. The Zim Belt rebels, though under persecution from Allanean and Menelmacari tourists and huntsmen, may take this oppurtunity to raid the countryside for more supplies.

Either way, the massive defections and revolts do not paint a rosy picture for TurtleShroom. Indeed, they seem to paint that support for the Junta may be centralized on Jonesboro, Litlin, Centriole, Crawzford, and their metro areas.

-DRY DRY DIGEST

by **The Batorys** » Thu Nov 02, 2017 6:17 pm

OOC: The following was written collaboratively by Hiluxia and the Batorys

IC:
“So then, we are prepared to invest sufficiently in Hiluxia that within a decade, you will have electric passenger trains between major cities and towns, a revamped highway network, modern hospitals, and enough modern power stations to completely replace your obsolete coal burners,” the moroii said smoothly, a background hiss coloring the timbre of her voice. Ildiko Varys leaned back in her chair, which creaked quietly due to its age. It was dark wood and leather, polished rivets glinting in the subdued light of her office. To others, it might seem that she kept the lights very low, but to her large eyes this was comfortable. The Foreign Minister of the Batory Empire was like a relaxed shadow behind the matching desk, silver thread highlighting the patterns of her black dress. “As well, equipment to maintain all of this will be yours.”

Ambassador Voikin was quite surprised to find himself quite far from his homeland. It wasn’t often that other Valkians requested his presence, let alone extraregional powers from beyond. Regardless, the slim, tall man stood before the ‘moroii’ woman, cane between his hands as he listened to what she had to say.

Voikin was a curious figure. Once a major member of the centre-right Liberty Party of Hiluxia, the complete and utter collapse of the party following several scandals had forced a shift in alignment to the centre-left Equality Party, exchanging the traditionalist nature he had so fondly spoken about in the old party for a fiery, hawkish attitude towards the neighbors of Hilux’s kingdom, the rhetoric that had made him a memorable, if not well liked, figure of the old party ensuring that he would have a position in government with the Equality Party’s victory. Of course, no one ever told him the position would be of much relevance either.

“Your offer flatters us, madam… but I cannot help but feel your motives stray far beyond mere aid to an impoverished society like our own, if you don’t mind me making a shrewd accusation.”

The Hyperborean smiled in a sort of predatory fashion. “Quite right, though I should think that pretty obvious. Nothing in this world is free.” An imposing figure herself, though seated, Ildiko kept her office neat, if not free from cobwebs. It was almost anachronistic in appearance, an old world study in these modern times, the image of dog-earred books on dark shelves lining the walls and other sorts of traditional decor only spoiled by the presence of a closed laptop upon the desk. She leaned forward on desk, slim hands clasped. “As you now know what we can do for you, let’s talk about what you can do for us, shall we, Ambassador?”

“I’m certain there are plenty of Hiluxian companies willing to sell their goods to your own manufacturers and people if that is what you’re looking for. I’m afraid there isn’t much else the people of Hiluxia can contribute to your fine… people, unless you seek cheap labor I suppose.” Voikin spoke with a rather curious tone, clearly believing he knew what to expect out of a greater power. “And I’m afraid entrance into some sort of greater pact will not be treated kindly by the people at home.”

Ildiko waved a hand, shaking her head. “That’s all very well and good, but not what I’m getting at. While open to trade deals, that can be dealt with at a later time, and we likely won’t be looking for cheap labor.” Indeed, on the contrary, the government she represented preferred that labor themselves have enough money to buy lots of things and be content enough to avoid civil strife. “You have some military infrastructure already, that we’ve taken note of. Notably, airfields. You see, we’d like to use one for a while. For military purposes, as I’m sure you’re already assuming. Ideally, a ten year lease, at a reasonable rate, to be paid annually, with the option to renew the lease at the end of the decade.”

Voikin looked genuinely surprised for a moment, clearly not expecting this turn of events. “You want an airfield in Hiluxia itself? No, no one in the administration will agree to this, not without a grand justification on your end.” He walked back and forth for a few moments, clearly contemplating the plan in question. “If you truly wish to push your plan through, I will relay it to the administration. Be warned, even with your prior guarantees and promises of aid, I do not think it will make it very far.”

Raised black eyebrows greeted this declaration. “I find your bargaining posture highly dubious,” the moroii said, with no other visible reaction. “Please do sit down.”

“We are a desperate people, but we do not let other armies freely march through our lands. No Commonwealthers, no Darussalamis, no Turtleshroomers, you shall be no exception to this rule.” Voikin now held a more stern tone, before finally sitting down, clearly frustrated with the foreign minister.

Ildiko waited patiently with a faint smile, hands still clasped, as in the manner of a teacher waiting for a child’s temper tantrum to wear itself out. “I never said anything about armies. The lease would be to the BISF.”

“You will still house troops and soldiers there to defend yourselves nonetheless. What difference does it make if those soldiers belong to your army or air force?” Voikin still sounded deeply annoyed, clearly trying to think about the implications. “What exactly do you plan to do with an airbase in Hiluxia, if I may inquire?”

“Ambassador, you are aware of the difference between the Imperial Army and the Imperial Sky Force, yes?” she said. There was the slightest hint of condescension, but nothing beyond that.

“Answer my question, Foreign Minister. What are your plans for that airbase?”

At this point letting a slight amount of annoyance show, the moroii said “It seems you do not. I will answer your question in due time. First, though, I apparently have to explain the difference between the capabilities of the BIA and the BISF.” She sighed. “Were I asking for a base to lodge a Batory field army, your concerns would be justified. Such an army could be used to invade and occupy Hiluxia itself. A BISF squadron or even an entire wing cannot do that, because the vast majority of the personnel at such a facility would be various ground crew, with some combat pilots, and the only infantry would be essentially gate guards.” It was apparent that she herself had been in the BIA, rather than the BISF, given the dismissive manner of her description. “Despite Hiluxia being small and less technologically advanced than the Batory Empire, such guards pose no real threat of invasion, let alone occupation, as their main purpose would be to keep various interlopers out of the facility. Given that a concerted effort by your own military would easily overwhelm them, referring to them as an ‘army’ or them ‘marching through’ your lands only serves to make you look completely fucking idiotic.” She put extra emphasis on the last phrase, enunciating it crisply. “It is useless hyperbole. We are not out in press conferences or at rallies trying to rile up our respective publics, so please, spare me the emotional, nationalist exaggerations.”

She unclasped her hands, tapping a finger on the table. The nails were lacquered black. “Now, as to your question. The Batory Empire has enemies, as I’m sure you know just reading the news.” This was, of course, in reference to Rhydin and allies thereof. “The more that we can project Hyperborean power, the safer we will be.” Ildiko paused. “Furthermore, an opportunity has arisen in one of your neighbors. You see, we’ve long had our frustrations with that backwater due to their insane theocratic policies and ridiculous restrictions on some of our most important exports. Now it seems that their government is falling apart, and so we’ve been discussing the idea of helping to oust the current regime from power, in the hopes that more reasonable people will take charge, or at least that they will be reasonable enough to give us some concessions in recognition of our aid to them during these trying times. There are a few things we’d like to combat test as well, though of course I can’t go into detail about them as such matters are highly confidential. As I mentioned, we aren’t trying to get this airfield for free or forever, we would be paying you for the lease.”

Voikin laughed. He laughed straightly for about a minute, in a low, amused tone, only composing himself once he ran out air to laugh with.

“You want to offer us all this aid in exchange for bombing a country that will never even come close to threatening your lands? You great powers really are a treat.” He straightened himself for a moment, his smile erasing itself entirely and replaced with a stern face.

“I don’t have enough power on my own to grant you your wish. The Equality Party despises the Turtleshroomers as a whole, but they still don’t have the clout to start sabre rattling against them when we have our own internal problems. The hawks are all pointing hands at Qeslaria at the moment and the doves want little more than to keep the Turtleshroomers at bay. With all the aid your promise however, the doves in office will have trouble rejecting your offer. I’m certain with enough emphasis on the aid and the destabilization of a notorious anti-Neko regime, you’ll receive your airbase.”

The Hyperborean smiled broadly, revealing her fangs. “Excellent. Now that you mention it, aren’t the Qeslarians supported by Turtleshroom’s current government for some insane reason? As for Turtleshroom threatening our lands… well, their policy may have changed since they were humbled by that intervention they’re still fuming about, but it isn’t unheard of for them to threaten nuclear war should they be invaded. This is partly why we will not be committing any ground troops to the conflict. It might seem silly of us to bomb them, but we really would prefer a friendlier government there… and if the current government retains power, well, they already don’t like us much anyway. We do hope that with our help their government falls completely, however… and in the process it will have the benefit of giving experience to a rotating selection of BISF bomber crews in case we have to face Rhydin again any time soon.”

“They have shipped aid to the Qeslarians, yes. It won’t help them for long I’m afraid.” Voikin spoke with a clearly amused expression. “Anyways, is there anything more you wished to discuss, or shall I take your plans to Hiluxia for everyone to discuss?”

“That will be all, yes, Ambassador, thank you.” The moroii adopted her cheery disposition once again.

The TurtleShroomian Civil War [OPEN]

The TurtleShroomian Civil War [OPEN]

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