NATION

PASSWORD

☯ Orientalism Rising! [IC][MT/PMT][OPEN]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]

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Allanea
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Sat Sep 07, 2019 5:12 pm

"I observe a fascinating puzzle, Jiji-sama," – said Ivan. – "There is a large set of very sizable buildings. To throw these up would require a bunch of workers, and a bunch of building material, and a lot of it can't just be grabbed from the forest. And of course whoever those people are, they have to eat and keep the lights on – literally and figuratively. Power, water, sewage. This creates openings. Now, I am not an expert on these things, and so I can't tell you exactly what we will do to crack the puzzle." – and the truth was that at least part of the plan would be classified, not only from Jiji, but from Ivan himself – compartmentalization was the most reliable way anyone knew to keep secret information from being misplaced, and documents from being 'leaked'.

"Thank you for your help, Jiji-sama. I shall relay this fascinating puzzle to people who are, I assure you, the finest solvers of puzzles, yes? Now if you may, I'd like us to speak of things which are of lesser import – or perhaps of greater import, in the long term, considering secret towns come and go, and great art remains. Let us consider Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment and his view of the soul…"

The spy continued to speak, in this vein, taking the discussion to matters of literature and philosophy that a passer-by mind find entirely boring, and which, if intercepted, would be thought of as entirely innocent, at least in terms of the fact they had no national secrets contained within.


* * *


The difficulty the Allaneans had faced was a substantial one. To fully understand what was going at the "compound", it would be ideal of course to get a person in there, but naturally, if the place was in fact was the Turtleshroom government suspected it was, there would be substantial security. One does not simply walk into a Maoist training camp.

Therefore, the Operation of Armed Shenanigans created several disguises, and soon several different people appeared in town. None of them knew each other, nor did any of them have any knowledge of each other's identity. One was named Liang Wazhu, a businessman, of Asian appearance, who was in town to buy a large shipment of timber for his furniture business. He went about, inquiring about cheap shipments, and implying – subtly sometimes, at other times less subtly – that he was interested in buying timber that was collected less than legally.

Another man was an absolutely stereotypical white Allanean, by the name of Augusto Birch – a middle-class hunter, who was interested in bird-hunting in Turtleshroom for some reason. Why Turtleshroom and not some other country was not clear, but traveling hunters are like that – sometimes a man will travel thousands of miles to shoot a deer just because it is different from the deer that run around in his native woods. And so this man, dressed in ludicrous leafy camouflage and an orange safety vest, made it off into the woods. He was interested, as many are, in night hunting, and so obviously he carried with him a portable hunting blind, and a set of infra-red goggles, and about half a dozen trail cameras that were capable of taking video of deer in complete darkness. (That those trail cameras would appear, quite soon, on tree branches near several trails and paths leading towards the 'compound' was neither here nor there – after all, a trail or even a roadside is a good place to look for deer, yes?)

The third man was, again, an Asian in his appearance, and more particularly he seemed Chinese. What English he spoke was broken, and almost cartoonishly accented. He wore a worn-out button-up shirt, dark-blue pants that had been rubbed grey along the knees, his skin seemed worn and his eyes tired. Calluses from years of hard work decorated his palms and his knuckles, and the man had clearly seen many things in his life, most of them not very good ones. His name was Jiang Wuying, and he went about the town doing odd jobs – repairs, splitting firewood, and the like. But he was definitely looking for a real job – a permanent job, perfectly. And when he was not next to a potential employer, he made it clear he did not like rich people very much.

"It nonsense, I say. I make one dollar," – he would say. "Boss, he make three dollars, off my back. What? I work twelve hours till my fingers bleed. Look at these hands. Calluses. Blood. Scars. Years of work. Boss, he sits in office with air conditioner. "

The broken English, of course, was part of the mask, as was the name 'Jiang Wuying'. Indeed, even the scars and calluses had been faked, an elaborate disguise. Oh, the man could definitely do the hard work – but he was not, in any event, a poverty-stricken day laborer, and his accent, his shirt, and everything else about him were intended to appeal to local stereotypes of the "Asian day laborer".

But when he spoke Chinese, Jian Wuying was substantially more eloquent:

"It is a scam I tell you. By what right do they get to claim half of our labor? It's nonsense. Do you think that it makes any sense, you work for twelve hours a day, your boss provides nothing except that the company's name is next to his in the register, and he gets half the money? Sometimes more than half? It's nonsense. Really just legalized theft."
Last edited by Allanea on Sat Sep 07, 2019 5:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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TURTLESHROOM II
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby TURTLESHROOM II » Mon Sep 09, 2019 12:32 pm

{ OOC: If I took too much liberty and god-modded the post, or got out of character, let me know. }

As was normal in a rainforest, a steady shower darkened the sky and nourished the trees' thirst. Contrary to many rainforests, the soil of the Great TurtleShroomian Jungle was rich and as deep as the fertile swamplands, making sustainable logging easier and TurtleShroom's biosphere sustainable.

"DID YA'LL SEE HIS FACE?!"

Two policemen, wearing the usual khaki robes over their arsenal and garments, each sporting the same khaki police cap, were talking to a small town politician. The turtle, an unusually small specimin, denoted by the little ribbon draped around his shell like ribbons on a cake, were asked this of the cops.

"I'm sorry, officuhs. Yes, but there's a lot of Orientals in this town and, well, humans really do all look alike to us turtles."

"Well, you did call us over for this." Any definin' fee-chuhs?"

"Right! An Oriental businessman was lookin' for loggin' contracts. Now, that's odd, 'cause this ain't no loggin' town. It's a rail station out to the in-dust-tree zone several dozen miles out."

The cops nodded as the turtle continued.

"So he talks to me 'bout this, and I don't say nothin' 'cause I suspected he was into crime. I managed to get him to say it outright. He asked 'bout an illegal loggin' operation. I called 9111 immediately, but he got out of the closet mah staff locked him in."

"He's got any distinct physical features? What'd he look like?"

"Pockmarks on his cheeks, like bad acne. Two black moles, one on his left uppuh cheekbone n' one unduh the left cornuh of his lee-ip."

"Anything else?"

"Houndstooth suit. -and this."

The turtle climbed off the desk and onto the chair. Moving a side the ramp with his neck, he bit the handle of the drawer and pulled it out.

It was an Allanean passport.

"He left this when he escaped the closet. Must'a fell out."

"Oh, the Allaneans again. You think Allanea is tryin' to buy cheap lumbuh."

"No, not at all." the turtle replied. "I'm sayin that this guy is probably wanted in his home country."

"Boi! That's a white guy in his pic'chuh," the first cop noticed.

"A'yup, it's stolen," stated the second officer.

"Well, how's it gone help us?"

The little politician looked to the officers.

"First, we write to Allanea and ask for loggin' fugitives. No way they're gone lose track of a guy on the run. Maybe freeze his assets or somethin'."

"Anything else?"

"Well, there's an old Chinaman that got into a fight with some white TurtleShroomers and a Tsao after he kept bein' ungrateful 'bout his job. Prob'ly a dirty commie. 'Ah wahh, I work twelve hour shifts for four Skillets a hour, boo hoo hoo, my boss has a desk job with an air conditioner in the winduh and a ceilin' fan, life is unfair'!'"

The turtle was clearly mocking him. The cops curled their lips into a disgusted snarl.

"Definitely a commie. We know where you're talkin' bout. We'll follow up."






What the politician and the policemen didn't know, though, was that Liang Wazhu, the first spy, the one careless with his forged passport, had faked every part of his appearence. The acne scars? Fake. The "beauty" marks? Fake? The big nose? Fake. The houndstooth suit? Set on fire. Everything he just faked? Also set on fire.

Those ashes hid his first disguise, as did his second passport of Hyphenese* origin. He (correctly) assumed that your average TurtleShroomer on the street can't tell Asians apart, and those who could would assume he's uniquely mixed like everyone in former GEIJD colonies. His targets would notice, though.

In his new suit and without the defining features, Liang Wazhu looked far more like all the other faces in the crowd. He looked through the town and happened to spot an occupied alley between the small-town picture show and an outlet mall-sized Juanito's Boomstick Emporium branch. He was, for a brief time, unaware of a person watching him.

"Psst. Al-lay-nee-an. Ovuh here."

Afraid he had been caught by the unknowing TurtleShroomers, Liang froze, and calmly positioned his hand in a way that looked non-threatening, but allowed him to reach a specially concealed weapon. He maintained a poker face.

"Don't worry. I ain't no cop. I know what ya'll want. I can gets it for ya."

Liang realized this was a contact and would have smiled slightly.

He walked into the alley, looking to the respective, wet clapboard and brick facades of the movie theater and gun store. A few campaign posters for the upcoming Parishonal and imperial elections were peeling slightly in the rain. The light was dim, outside of a single candle the suspicious man held in his left hand. The sleeves must have been too long for him, because only the classical candleholder and candle chould be visibly seen.

He was wearing a lumpy trench coat that, with the contact standing only six feet, was below average for a TurtleShroomer. Its bottom was damp as it pooled on the floor, apparently too big for him. He was also fat! That accent with a stretched coat from his legs to his chest? No way! A fat TurtleShroomer! What a story he'll tell back at the office.

He seemed to walk with a limp. Almost a hopping motion, actually, his torso and chest area swayed when he walked, indicating how much force his body had to use to move himself. Poor guy. As he clame closer, it was also revealed that he was wearing a hood that covered his face and eyes, which had the usual cokebottle classes over them. In the shadows, his glasses reflected the light, turning them completely white and obscuring what was beneath them.

* Clack *

"Dag'nabbit Stepan! You know how many times it took to do that laht trick?!" the voice whispered harshly.

The man's arm dipped as the candle holder fell closer to his side. It barely hung in the holder. Then, the candle fell to the floor. Lights out. In anger, the candleholder was dropped with it.

"BOI!" was Stepan's next hiss.

Wait. Whispered? Stepan? This man's name was Stepan? It's a Russian name, so this must be a white guy, going by that accent. Most TurtleShroomer Whites had either Bible names, Southeastern USA names, or Russian names. Only people trained to really pay attention to their surroundings, like spies, could have even heard that whisper. The accent was unmistakable.
Perhaps it was just a logging camp after all?

As Liang cautiously observed, he saw Stepan's shoulder shake and then his left arm flail. In the dark, he could see a small metallic object in Stepan's hand, just poking out of the sleeve.

* Click click click click *

That was definitely a lighter. The man in the coat must have been blushing hard.

* Click click click click click click click *

"BOI! My niece can do that with just her mouth in three tries! If I could, I'd show you how!"

Every click had the lighter move around and change position. Sometimes it would be pulled back in and then stuck back out of the sleeve. This guy must have had Parkinsons or so-

Then it hit him.

It's unusual to see an Asian man's eyes get big- especially that big -but even Liang, in all his training, lost his cool when he realized what he was seeing. It was a trick so laughable, so famous, that he thought he'd never see it in real life. He grinned, despite all his expertise in hiding his emotions, stifling a chuckle.

There was more than one person in-

"HE'S ONTO US! HABAKKUK! DRAW!"

Instinctively, and in a second or less from hearing the word "draw", Liang had his handgun out and pointed at Stepan. When he looked back at "Stepan", beyond any possible comprehension, a handgun had materialized from below the kneecap area of the trench coat. It had been drawn as fast, if not faster, than his, and pointed right at his head, held firmly and straight by a marksman who clearly knew how to use a gun.

How many midgets are in that coat?!

That's when lightning flashed. In the light, a few wire rods, levers, and joints could be seen hooked to the end of its barrel and its trigger.

Wire rods?

Oh no.

No way.

NO WAY.

Every Allanean in TurtleShroom knows that the most unsuspecting TurtleShroomers can shoot. From the fifty cent piece sized, months-old tortoise that nearly brought down a two-seater Necron troop transport holding a VIP, to the turtle bearing the last name Jingleheimer who nearly shot Urmanian's High Inquistor horse, "a gun behind every blade of grass" and the chaotic, guerilla tactics of TurtleShroom were legendary for both their novelty and effectiveness. Laughing at this shin gun would be his reaction if the gunman wasn't clearly a marksman with a draw time as fast as him.

Those thin black rods and joints? Those were holding and firing mechanisms designed to effortlessly fire a gun. By a turtle. Necron and Menelmacari soldiers invading TurtleShroom were shown this because the turtles would pick them off like flies if they weren't careful.

Those were holding mechanisms for a turtle. There were turtles in the trench coat.

The second lighter produced by the trench coat in its sleeve finally clicked on.

"Ah'ight, you probably know by now what's goin' on."

The hood rustled slightly as a mask was revealed, with fastenings for the glasses that were dropped. It dropped to the floor and the hood collapsed. From the tiny hole of the fallen hood, out popped the long neck of a turtle. The left sleeve arm lifted up as the sleeves rumpled together. There was another turtle with the lighter in his mouth.

From the right sleeve extended a serpent-like "appendage". A rubber and plastic hand at its end fell to the floor. It was another turtle, specifically a snake-necked turtle, who was pulling the frog button straps off the trench coat's buttons. When he did, the right side of the coat opened up like a refridgerator door, realizing the characterisitic Slavic build of broad shoulders and barrel chest of this "fat man" were a mechanism. The wooden yoke-like structure holding the door and the coat was affixed to what looked like a black tube of farbic. It ran all the way to what would have been the "man's" kneecaps and hid the turtles making up the "waist" and "torso" and area above the "kneecap".

Lightning flashed again, and faint thunder rolled. The trench coat's interior had several types of beautiful tropical woods that any Allanean or foreigner would die for and pay a fortune to get, cut up in two-by-four planks and dangling in fabric holsters of the coat. TurtleShroom's lumber, and its carpenters, were legendary for their beauty in cutting and planing fine tropical wood.

The turtle with the gun had the instant-set up of the machine holding his gun deployed, affixed to his shell and the bridle that controlled the joints in its mouth. A well-trained turtle marksman could put it on and draw the gun in seconds. This turtle was an expert. He let go of the bridle and held his neck up, his doll-like, beady eyes and that "glow" of sapience you would see through his all-black pupils reflected in the light above him. Liang lowered his gun, for the turtle was now holding his neck straight up and definitely not a cop. A volunteer soldier at one time, most likely, but not a cop.

The turtle at the very top sighed, speaking softly as he gestured with his neck for Liam to come closer.

"Yeah, there's seven of us. The name's Stepan. Three of us all's as green as they come, so the old crahm slang goes. It was our first try."

Stepan and both shoulder turtles looked left and right, checking to see if anyone was in the alleyway with them. Habakkuk, who was clearly their guardsman, knew better than this and continued to stare his unblinking stare up at Liang, watching his every move.

"Okay. So you may wonduh what we even want. We know about ya'll escapin' from the poe-lease. You got lucky."

In the firelight, the turtle showed a facial expression of happiness, which was easily discerned despite the turtle having no lips and a fixed jaw. He was smiling.

"Ya'll got luck, but we's got wood. The wood of your dreams. Great wood. Beautiful wood. Come closer, Allanean. Touch our wares."

Liang nooded and lowered his gun to his side, exercising trigger discipline and holding his index finger straight down the gun barrel. He ran a light brown on the planks. Liang was no craftsman, but even he could tell how well these planks were cut. No splinters.

"Now, we and an anonymous lady are the carpentuhs. Not the lumberjacks. They keep things quiet. Hush-hush. We go to their compound every othuh day n' get the loogs. Then we go and fix 'em. Sell 'em to stores. GET RICH."

All the visible turtles smiled at that as Stepan continued.

"Anyway, we've been a-watchin' ya'll. We've done this secret wood business in othuh towns for a long time, but them logguhs back a ways? THE BEST. We'll be here gettin' rich forevuh!"

Stepan stuck his neck out forward as Liang, by now up to Stepan's neck, did not speak. He was confused until he heard a quiet whisper in his right ear. It was the snake-necked turtle.

"What if I told you...... ya'll can get perfect wood? What would you say, Allanean?"



{ OOC: I'll be writing the spies one by one. Any reply from here, for the moment, should be through Liang Wazhu. The other characters will be followed in future stories. }




* = That is the demonym Imperial--Japan, which TurtleShroom refers to as "Imperial Hyphen Japan" because of the two hyphens in their name. The Allanean spy obviously knew this custom and planned accordingly.
Last edited by TURTLESHROOM II on Mon Sep 09, 2019 12:37 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Allanea
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Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Mon Sep 09, 2019 7:22 pm

OOC: I prefer if people didn't write my characters, although in this case this is of course not a big deal at all (those are characters I made up just for this RP). Just please be aware of this preference in the future.

IC: The Allanean looked at the planks in visible delight, these were the example of some very fine worksmanship. Like many Allaneans, he took a pleasure in observing the results of a work done well, even if he was not, actually, a businessman. But the mask had to be worn. Therefore, 'Wazhu' continued with the charade.

"Listen, this is excellent. I'll buy all of these, as a start." – he walked back and forth along the stacks of wood, gesticulating. "Look, I'll be level with you. I am going to be building a project at home. A big one. A whole bunch of houses. So I'm going to need planks, I'm going to need logs, and I'm going to need all kinds of them, from processed planks like this to rough logs that are going to be sawn into shape at the site. So I'm going to do business with you, and I'm going to do business with the guys that you buy the logs from. Everyone wins. I'm going to save a bunch of money because I'm buying these from you and not some guys who spend time jumping through all the legalities – we know the kind of legalities, taking the very hide off an honest businessman's back." – he waved his hands -"Your people will make money. Then my contacts will get the logs out of the country by truck – I know some shipping routes that an honest Turtleshroomer can't take, but my contacts can. Then I will build the project, deliver the houses ahead of time. Come back to you for more logs." – he paused.

"The nature of this project means I'm going to pay you and your friends in cash. Hard currency – as usual, gold or banknotes. Were this in any other country I'd do crypto, but I'm not sure in the computers around here, to tell the truth."

This was, as many things the Allanean said, part truth, and part lie. Turtleshroomer computers were not really expected to be the best, but the real reason that he intended to pay in hard cash was that Allanean intelligence already had a cunning plan to monitor the movements of the banknotes.

Several plans, as it were.
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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TURTLESHROOM II
Minister
 
Posts: 2968
Founded: Dec 08, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby TURTLESHROOM II » Tue Sep 10, 2019 6:33 pm

{ OOC: I was hoping for a reaction to the turtles. This is a set up for the next post and will be very short. It's getting late. }

Stepan hastily moved his neck upwards as his tiny, doll-looking eyes seemed to light up in the firelight.

"Absolutely! We gots the best wood this side of the Dry Dry Desert! In fact, we were so hopin' ya'll would know good wood when ya see it that we have a transport down to the Super Secret Illegal Logging Camp right now!"

Stepan paused.

"Uhh, but first, would ya mind helpin' a fella out n' lettin' us all down from this costume? Yeah, just like that. Now pick the yoke there, it's kinda' heavy from the wood. Uh-huh. Okay. Pick me up and then the rest of us; don't mind the black cloth tube."

Now faced with seven turtles (or more specifically, five turtles and two tortoises), each about five feet from the front of their carapace to the back of the same, all the turtles except Habbakuk, who still had the gun apparatus on, grinned.

"Ah'ight! Let's go, the truck's this way! Make sure ya'll pick up our disguise. The wood there is all yours as a sample!"
Jesus loves you and died for you!
World Factbook
First Constitution
Legation Quarter
"NOOKULAR" STOCKPILE: 821,333.
CM wrote:Have I reached peak enlightened centrism yet? I'm getting chills just thinking about taking an actual position.
News ticker (updated 8/03/2019 AD):

TS Bell System/AT&T prepares for Internet reintroduction, routing backbone through one exit port expected to keep sex out, "tubes" argument fears dial-up bandwidth errors -|- TS Rite enters into closer ties with Borgian See as Cardinal Icfella's family marries into Hosue Borgia -|- X86 MS-DOS perfected -|- PEACE AT LAST: TURTLESHROOM CIVIL WAR ENDS ON 10-12-2018 AD, FIRST TURTLESHROOMIAN STATE DISSOLVED

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Khataiy
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Founded: Apr 22, 2018
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Khataiy » Wed Sep 11, 2019 10:03 am

Image
The Arab State of Khataiy



Our nations may not agree entierly, or see eye to eye all the time, but we would still like to build a strong and beneficial relationship with the Pan-Asiatic states, we also respect and admire your nation's rapidly growing influence and success. We would like to partner with your nation in the face of the various threats across the world.

Signed,
Uthman al-Ghamadi, Foreign Minister of the Arab State of Khataiy

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Allanea
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Posts: 23454
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Wed Sep 11, 2019 8:30 pm

There was a moment in which the Allanean raised his eyebrows in admiration, he was of course a professional (though the turtles, so far, appeared not to have guessed this), but he had never seen, or heard of, a disguise that was this ambitious nor this well-executed. The turtles had taken something that he'd only seen or heard of as a joke (three small creatures posing as one larger one was a feature in comedy films, where three children sometimes pose as one adult in a trench-coat), but here it had been carried off with great success by people who were, it appeared, some sort of career criminals.

"That's a very clever disguise, I must say"- he said, as he picked up the set-up – "And you are a generous lot, with this sample. I feel that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," – lying came easily to him, as it was, after all, his bread and butter. "And a friendship we all are going to profit from."

Some, however, would not profit.
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Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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TURTLESHROOM II
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby TURTLESHROOM II » Thu Sep 12, 2019 11:28 am

Even Habbakuk softened his stoic, quiet gaze and smiled as he outstretched his neck to retract the holding mechanisms for the handgun that was still holstered. They folded up and rested on the top of his shell as the bridle hung free in front of his neck. As the gun clattered to the floor, he picked it up with his mouth and, to an ouside observer, seemed to tuck it into the holes in his shell where his feet were. It looked painful for something to be shoved straight into flesh, but turtle gun nuts were used to it. Obviously, in this state, he would have to put the gun on the floor, pick it up with the apparatus, and then draw, making him unable to expertly produce the gun in such a quick scenario.

The rain, now much heavier and still steady, wetted the seven, slow turtles and the Allanean spy. They exited the alley and walked several hundred yards to find a large, unmarked utility van with a ladder on top.

"Ah'ight, this here's our ride." Stepan explained, gesturing his neck to the van. "Civilian TurtleShroomers like us almost nevuh use automobiles unless we're doin' freight, shippin', or in-dust-tree work. In this case, a commercial service. That there's a gutter cleanin' van. It won't 'rouse no suspicions, ah hope, and even if it does, the lah-sens plates in this country are issued by prah-vet boards. We gots a forgery."

The turtles gestured for "Liang" to enter the passenger seat. The driver, an Aldabra tortoise, was sitting on what looked like a tall metal rectangular prism that held him up to the steering wheel. Above the cube-like box was a gap and then a slab of diamond-plate metal several inches thick. The tortoise's legs were out to his side in a squatting stance. The car bounced on its shock absorbers as the turtles all piled into the back, and the Allanean spy heard the door shut.

Turning his neck without his body moving, the driver looked to Liang and nodded his little head, recognizing this was the Asian man that he was informed about.

"Good evenin', son. Bet ya'll ain't nevuh seen what I'm 'bout to do back in Allanea!"

The tortoise reached his neck into a cupholder and pulled out the car keys in his mouth, which were normal keys in a classical ignition switch. Laying the keys on the metal, he turned his head to the side and picked up the right one in his mouth, inserting it into the ignition. He pushed down a small toaster oven-style lever that turned the keys. The car cranked.

As the spy watched, using his mouth, the tortoise grabbed the automatic gearshift, sticking out the left side of the steering wheel, and put it in drive. He stepped forward on the pressure plate, depressing it, and moving the car foreward. He never used the steering wheel of the van, which was about two-thirds his size, as he rolled out onto the muddy dirt road.

As he made his turns and dipped behind the thick brush of the understory of the jungles, the road- clearly freshly paved -was obscured in flattend plants, vines, and other such things. In the headlights of the vehicle, the spy could see nature's bounty, as the quiet beauty of the soaked rainforest spread across the windshield. Vines thick enough to hold Tarzan's weight were in the canopy above, and even over the engine, the soothing sounds of frogs and animals were audible. Sometimes, brilliantly colorful parrots standing in the path would fly away, and bugs the size of VHS tapes and other unusual things would land on the vehicle. It was an eco-tourist's dream.

The spy observed the tortoise driver's mechanism. When he stepped or leaned foreward, the pressure plate would accelerate the vehicle. To put on the breaks, he stepped backward. If he stood there long enough, the car would come to a stop. Unlike a boat, which stops using reverse and then reverses it it keeps going, the turtle had to shift gears to reverse. To turn the car left or right, the turtle would sidestep horizontally, and the car would turn until he returned to the center.

"A lotta' stuff's old-fashioned in this land, but the Free Market put automatic transmission on cars within weeks after its importation to the country. It took two turtles to drive a stick shift and the third, clutch pedal was extended all the way up to the seats, where the othuh turtle 'stomped the grapes' and 'stirred the tuna'."

He chuckled, referencing the old TurtleShroomian meme once used to teach driving stick to new drivers.

After about two or three hours, the thick jungle canopy, the understory, and the rainforest itself suddenly vanished into a glade. The night sky was black, obscured by my butts.

Suddenly, there it was. The chicken coop structures, exactly as the satellite found them. Around the perimeter was a chain-link fence with barbed wire. A single armed guard, a mushroom, could be seen in the window of the toll booth sentry box. The mushroom had a plaid, robe-like cloth made of flannel over him, with beltloops sewed in it at the middle of his stem, and a belt loosely fastened and buckled in it. He was wearing a yellow hard hat that read "LOGGER SECURITY" in black letters on it. Signs on the fence, all written in Japanese but one, read things like "LOGGING CAMP", the usual caution and no tresspassing signs, the rules and regulations notices under TS law (for show, obviously), and the logo of the company. It was an orage background with red GEIJD/classical Japanese characters. To the left of the sentence was a black and white Yin-Yang symbol. The lone English sign read "I'M A LUMBERJACK AND THAT'S OKAY", honoring the old tradition of woodsmen in the country hanging it on their camps.

The mushroom was visibly armed with a handgun, a taser, and what seemed to be a full-sized spray can of anti-jungle hornet spray.

"Ya'll got your shipping manifest, corporate ID, license, and vehicle numbers?"

"Yes sir."

He reached into the side pocket of the door and handed them over in his mouth, one by one. The mushroom telekinetically held them up to the light and handed them back.

"Ah, the Al-lay-nee-un is here! We've been expecting you, boi! We were informed earlier. Welcome to the Super Secret Oriental Yee-in Yang Tax-Free Wildcat Tropical Lumber Comp'ny. Please, go right in. Oh, and don't you worry none, the sign on the fence with the comp'ny's name and log DOES NOT say the actual name of this here wahld-cat operation. We're not stupid."

The mushroom handed a traditional nametag sticker over the car and instructed "Liang" to put it on. Underneath the "HI! My Name Is" header read "ALLANEAN BUSINESSMAN, NOT A COP" in Japanese. Underneath that, written by hand in English using a pen, was the signature of the mushroom and a string of Western/Latin Indo-Arabic numbers, cearly used for identification. A plaid-colored sash was also given to him. A simple piece of reflective laminated paper, also reading "NOT A COP" in English and Japanese, were given to him.

"Please put these on. The sash goes from shoulder to hip. Yes yes, I know, it's a stereotype every foreigner makes fun of, but it's important 'cause it identifies you as not a threat. That laminated sign goes on your back. They all look to it to know not to shoot you. -and you'll need this reflective lumberjack construction vest so you don't get run over."

He looked left and right out of habit.

"This here's an illegal logging camp, Al-lay-nee-un. You know this. We all know this. We have to make sure we all know who is who. There are sentry towers at each corner of these here fences for a reason. We don't want thieves chucking our wood. Or cops. Especially cops."

The tall gates opened inwards as a buzzer was heard. An Asian human, himself wearing a plaid flannel shirt and a hard hat, held a kerosene hurricane lantern in his hand and a red flag in the other. The tortoise looked to Liang.

"It's both tradition and, in our case, a precaution. Red flags in front of vehicles dates back to cars' introduction to TurtleShroom. For us, though, that lantern keeps the MDA* wood whackers** from seein' our lahts."

The Asian man bowed to the vehicle and outstretched his right arm, with the red flag proudly above him. About-facing and slowly marching in the (old habits die hard) GEIJD/Imperial Japanese style, the car slowly creeped in and arrived at a garage. Inside the garage was a litany of repeating vans, tucks, and automobiles, as well as heavy equipment designed to pick up and move logs. On a flagpole, the flag of TurtleShroom flew... upside down.

All the tortoises climbed out of the car with Liang as the driver tortoise made the rest of the way into the garage. Across the glad were all the chicken-coop like structures. Old-fashiones streetlight-style heads that every industrial building has lit up the doorways and garage doors of each with a notably dimmed glow, as dim as firelight. The rain wasn't letting up. It was time to get inside.


{ OOC: In case you couldn't tell, most all of the non-humans and TS Whites working on the premises think this is a wildcat logging camp. }







* = The Imperial Ministry of Domestic Affairs of the Realm

** = Slang for Royal Jungle Rangers, or "Junglemen" before the Empire, the conservationist, anti-poaching, rescue, guards, department of natural resources, quota enforcers, and master guides of the Great TurtleShroomian Jungles, also known as "Jung-lers" in slang
Last edited by TURTLESHROOM II on Thu Sep 12, 2019 11:36 am, edited 3 times in total.
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News ticker (updated 8/03/2019 AD):

TS Bell System/AT&T prepares for Internet reintroduction, routing backbone through one exit port expected to keep sex out, "tubes" argument fears dial-up bandwidth errors -|- TS Rite enters into closer ties with Borgian See as Cardinal Icfella's family marries into Hosue Borgia -|- X86 MS-DOS perfected -|- PEACE AT LAST: TURTLESHROOM CIVIL WAR ENDS ON 10-12-2018 AD, FIRST TURTLESHROOMIAN STATE DISSOLVED

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Allanea
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Sat Sep 14, 2019 2:19 am

Image


In light of the fact that Allanean Arms, Allanea's largest and oldest defense contractor, has recently succeeded in the sale of DPR for the Quiver-class warship to the People's Republic of Joeya, we have decided to spend substantial elements of our profits on charity around the world. The recent crisis involving Maoist and anti-capitalist elements becoming more and more active around the world, and Her Imperial Majesty's recent message have directed our attention to the Great Bountiful Empire of Turtleshroom, which we believe is an important partner in the struggle against World Communism.

We therefore propose, should the People and Government of Turtleshroom not be opposed to this action, the construction of 10,000 housing units in the Great Bountiful Empire of Turtleshroom for the use of the poor and indigent, as well as an investment of a substantial sum of money in the distribution of better school equipment, renovation of school buildings, and other such needful investments, to benefit the nation's poor.

Finally, we would like to issue a substantial sum in research grants for a better understanding of the diets of the nation's turtles and mushrooms, so that improved nutrition recommendations be formulated and disseminated for them.

For this purpose I request the cooperation of Turtleshroom's authorities.

Anastas Sidorov,
Allanean Arms Inc. Department of Charitable Spending and Community Investment
#HyperEarthBestEarth

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TURTLESHROOM II
Minister
 
Posts: 2968
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby TURTLESHROOM II » Sat Sep 14, 2019 8:58 am

Code: Select all
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Crown has received the intent of charitable donations from an Allanean firm. The Great Bountiful Empire of TurtleShroom has decided to ACCEPT your construction of ten thousand housing units for the poor of TurtleShroom.

TurtleShroom's schoolhouses are all privately owned and operated. While we have no interest in giving toys (like newfangled "tablets") to children and pretending they are for learning, or updating any equipment, we are excited to hear your intent to assist maintenance.

Rather than renovation, the various schoolhouses, companies, and boards have eagerly expressed interest in money to maintain, repair, and clean the buildings.  Almost every schoolhouse in TurtleShroom that holds thousands of students, and every urban schoolhouse still standing outside of the centers facing the influx of millions, like Litlin and Shroomville, was built between 1900 AD and 1969 AD, in the Fascist era.

This means that the buildings themselves are the most important aspect to preserve. Since full privatization, schoolhouses have had to cut corners in maintenance. Buildings once over-maintained are now finally starting to show their age.

We have no need for modernization or equipment. What we need is mortar, plaster, wood and steel. Not to renovate or gut thebuildings, but to keep them standing as well as they did for the past century. Total privitization was a boon for education, but not for the educators.......
Last edited by TURTLESHROOM II on Sat Sep 14, 2019 9:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Jesus loves you and died for you!
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"NOOKULAR" STOCKPILE: 821,333.
CM wrote:Have I reached peak enlightened centrism yet? I'm getting chills just thinking about taking an actual position.
News ticker (updated 8/03/2019 AD):

TS Bell System/AT&T prepares for Internet reintroduction, routing backbone through one exit port expected to keep sex out, "tubes" argument fears dial-up bandwidth errors -|- TS Rite enters into closer ties with Borgian See as Cardinal Icfella's family marries into Hosue Borgia -|- X86 MS-DOS perfected -|- PEACE AT LAST: TURTLESHROOM CIVIL WAR ENDS ON 10-12-2018 AD, FIRST TURTLESHROOMIAN STATE DISSOLVED

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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Sat Sep 14, 2019 10:56 am

Image


Please note that there has been no mention, in our communication, of any such 'newfangled' equipment as tablets. That said we do believe that it would be beneficial for schoolteachers to receive new blackboards, whiteboards, better chemistry laboratory equipment, new school desks, and the like. (Although perhaps some education in languages like COBOL and FORTRAN might be useful?)

As for repairs, we propose the following organization of affairs: we will issue cash grants to schools, based on their current state and needs. We'll also keep a team of architects available to respond to calls from school headmasters, in the event that they want to make some changes to their building's layout, or to receive input on their grant.

It would be ideal, in light of Turtleshroom's landbound nature, if most of the building materials are sources nationally (as shipping costs through neighboring countries are likely to be substantially high).
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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Pilipinas and Malaya
Chargé d'Affaires
 
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Founded: Jun 23, 2017
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Pilipinas and Malaya » Sat Sep 14, 2019 6:57 pm

Placeholder for statement

Also, anything else I should know before going in?
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Pan-Asiatic States
Minister
 
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Tyranny by Majority

Postby Pan-Asiatic States » Sun Sep 15, 2019 4:55 am

Delmonte wrote:Luca winked at his erstwhile colleague. "We're a pretty cosmopolitan bunch. We make our homes wherever the wind carries our seeds. This isn't the mildest climate we've settled, but it's not the harshest either. The winters on Isola Bonossa, I'm told, are incredibly fierce. And the people who inhabit the Batoryan Empire where it resides are fiercer still. Why, I've been told that when their warriors come of age, they... Well, nevermind. In all honesty..." Luca gestured around, "The warm climate will probably attract some Delmontese to retire here. Maybe not as much as the more tropical enclaves, but some will come here to be sure."

Luca's relief at Qiang's suggestion of heading indoors was palpable. A rain was bad enough, but this place's rain was a warmer rain that clung to you and he was eager to be out of it.

"Yes, we actually have a car that will take us where we need to go, if you'll follow me."

The pair made their entrance into the automobile and it began speeding off along the wet pavement laid down mere months prior. Luca tapped the plush interior of their carriage. "This was made here, you know. That is to say, in the Pan-Asiatic States. One of the uhh... the mainland ones, I think? Sourcing locally is very important to us. A damn fine car, as well, if I do say so myself. And the windows afford us an excellent view of the different offices and high rises going up around the harbor... we'll get a better look at them when we go up this hill."


Paigino Norde
Qiang was abuzz with questions. Entering a car for the first time in a while was somewhat surreal. Private transportation had been outlawed in the big cities of the Pan-Asiatic States for the most part of the 21st Century thus far, and efforts were being made to fully mechanize the countryside to do the same. Then again, it seemed to be a waste of the state's resources to have every county comply with such regulations, and Paigino Norde was now a compound for the Delmontese government. In theory, it was a free territory.

The car, a Martins '06 convertible was produced from a luxury car exporter based in Tsingtao. Scarce were such vehicles ever used in Pan-Asiatic territory.

On the way there, Qiang became inquisitive.

"So," Qiang interjected in a genuinely interested tone, "Tell me about these recent projects."

Qiang pointed out the peculiarities of the buildings and infrastructure whenever the drive allowed them to, asking as to their purpose, and listening eagerly to Luca's responses.

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Delmonte
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1738
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Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Delmonte » Sun Sep 15, 2019 6:52 pm

Paigino Norde

Luca nodded and gestured towards the harbor.

"The large building there is the Centro Del Pazienza. In Delmontese this means 'Center of Patience'. It is the Enclave's branch of the Delmontese justice system. This building is much more modern and, honestly, far less impressive than the ancient headquarters of crime and punishment in the Grand City itself. That building was built nine hundred years ago and it's called the Palace of Patience. Even the name is better. Palace of Patience. That's scary. Who was ever afraid of a center of patience? To that point, it's also where we issue licenses and identification..."

He turned to his left as the Martins dutifully climbed the wet, sloping hillside. In contradiction to the sleek, modern buildings around it, a seemingly medieval cathedral had been plopped down there in the middle of harsh jungle and molded steel.

"This... is going to be the enclave's main Church and administrative center of the Archdiocese of the Grand City of Delmonte, which claims rights to administer to the faithful in all Delmontese enclave. Much to the chagrin of the Catholic dioceses in some host nations. I don't know how exactly they manage to pull that off, but I have a suspicion they make a habit of having dirt on men in the Curia. This is new, by the way. They like to make cathedrals look old because they think it increases donations. The building next to it belongs to Banco Cristi, the financial arm of the Archdiocese. Both under almost complete atheist control, it's said. And both very profitable!"

The car chugged its way to the towards the top of the hill. "This brings us to my favorite part." Luca smiled smugly, "As soon as we, ah, get to a place where we can overlook here."

The driver pulled the car under a canvas tent where champagne chilled near cheese and fruit on a portable wooden table.

"Join me?" Luca beckoned as he got out of the relative comfort of the automobile and emerged to the relative (if mostly dry) discomfort of the canvas tent. He waved his hand in a gesture over the landscape before them. A giant, straight band of jungle had been hewed down from as far as the eye could see in one direction to a similar distance in the other. Machinery buzzed around temporary structures and paved roads in a frenzy.

"We are going back to our roots and building a canal. A big one. The entire enclave is going to be split in half with this three thousand foot wide canal and all our harbors will operate on a queuing system. I'll explain: The Delmontese enclave has gigantic containerships that go from one enclave to another. They are so large that it is not actually economical, and sometimes not possible, to send them to individual cities. So they come here where their cargo is unloaded, divided, and shipped off among smaller ships to their final destinations. What this canal will allow us to do is have divided traffic. Those larger ships will all enter in one side of the canal, unload, then move down the canal, and load new cargo, then leave the other end of the canal towards their destinations. The outer harbors on the enclave (such as the ones you saw when you arrived) will take in goods that will go on these vessels and export out goods that come off of them. Everything will leave the harbors on the outside of the south half of the island (where the entrance to the canal is) and enter the north half of the island (where the exit of the canal is). It's going to be a very sleek and efficient operation. And, frankly, the only reason it made economic sense was because of the mixture of industrialization and very competitive labor costs here. Quite a dynamic duo."
[15:35] <Tag> I have a big, heavy sealed box that I have no idea what is in side of it.
[15:35] <Tag> I can only presume it is treasure.
The Batorys wrote:The Delmontese like money, yeah, but they also like to throw down.

<Delmonte> I don't mean literally kill their family. I mean kill their metaphorical family.
<Delmonte> Metaphorically kill their metaphorical family.
Code: Select all
 [b][color=#0000FF][background=red]United in Opposition to [url=http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?t=303025]Liberate Haven[/url][/background][/color][/b]
[color=#FF0000][b]Mallorea and Riva should [url=http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=303090]resign[/url][/b][/color]

The man from Delmonte says yes.

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