Occupy Forest RP (IC/MT/Forest only)

[Middle Barael]

Turbulence is spreading
In several nations across Forest, the people are beginning to grow enraged by the power and influence in society that corporations possess
Beginning with labour rights protests in Middle Barael, protests are speaking across Forest and beyond in solidarity and mutual outrage
The phrase #OccupyForest is spreading like wildfire across social media
Protestor organizers from across Forest and beyond are trying to forge a united grassroots movement
In cities across Forest, the people are out in the streets, turning their exhaustion and outrage into action
Occupy Forest is upon us

===============================

Welcome to the first RP of the 2021 Chan Island administration! The Lore Ministry and the government as a whole have been hard at work over the last couple months bringing you an entertaining and timely RP for you to enjoy.

This is the In-Character Page, where all of the actual roleplay will happen.

The ethos of this movement is basically anger at the power and influence that corporations possess in society. This is such a broad feeling that it can take many forms depending on the nation and the character, ranging from socialist revolutionaries to suburban progressive soccer-moms to hippies to environmental activists. The protests in Middle Barael are mainly populist social democrats, but of course the protests may be different depending on the place and the characters. You may also roleplay as counter-protestors, governments panicking about how to respond to the protests, celebrities in your nation expressing their views, news reporters trying to cover the stories, and more. There are really so many different ways that you can go with this RP, as there are so many possible reactions to the protests.

The year for this RP is the Summer of 2021 CE (or the equivalent of that in whichever calendar your nation uses). Tech should generally be MT, but like with the UoF some moderately PMT or PT elements can be allowed. Similar to the UoF, only humans can participate, but some exceptions can be made in this case.

No sign-ups were required, but several nations already expressed their interest on the OOC page, which if you have not yet done I would much appreciate it. The OOC page can be found here: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=506673&p=38764415#p38764415

Thank you all and #OccupyForest!

[Middle Barael]

Reserved space

[Middle Barael]

Thursday, July 15th, 2021
Cothon City, Middle Barael

Shira Meron gazed out the window of her apartment. It was a cute apartment, situated right in the New City neighborhood in the heart of Cothon City. Her apartment had a very millennial design, full of plants, bright yet deep and moody colors, patterned wallpapers, hardwood floors and dressers, and comfy furniture. A perfect mix of practical sensibility and bohemian hippiedom, just like Shira. On an ordinary year Shira would would wake up and gaze out her window at the bustling of the city, EVs and bikes and buses and light rail and pedestrians all circling throughout the four major avenues of the New City neighborhood. But this year was no ordinary year. This year, and specifically this past month, whenever Shira gazed out of her windows she saw crowds of people, protesting, picketing, striking, calling out their slogans of a human economy and an end to domination by corporations. Now normally, whenever such a protest happened, Shira would quickly research it on her way out the door, and if she really supported she may bring it up at her work and ask if she could join in for the day (she worked as an Environmental Activist, after all, so her boss couldn’t exactly ban her from protests). But again, this month was different. This protest, this movement, this cry out into the winds was of her making. Well, actually, to be more accurate, these protests made her, not the other way around. You see, though the movement was largely organic and not necessarily created by any one person, Shira Meron was an early organizer for the protests who became well-known across Middle Barael in an instant following a story featuring her by MBBC journalist Iris Dubois. So Shira did not create the protests, per se, but she did lead them, and through that the protests created her. But today’s protest, the protest of Thursday July 15th, was to be her protest. Shira had been contacting activists from around the Forest globe, trying to connect up their protests and organize speeches, chants, song sessions, everything. For the first time the protests across Forest would be connected. Her speech, given in front of all the protestors in Middle Barael, would be heard and seen live at protest sites in Gandenia, Daarwyrth, Roless, Garbelia, Jutsa, Cat-Herders United, Uan a Boa, and more. Millions would hear Shira Meron speak. #OccupyForest would finally mean all of Forest. Today, the big day.

————————————————

Thursday, July 15th, 2021
Scania, Middle Barael

“Chloë, I’m glad you’re up.”
“Oh, Solomon, usually you don’t come into the office so early!”
“The office? You make it sound like we’re desk workers, not 2 of the 3 most important people in Middle Barael.”
“Well maybe not for much longer. The protests are growing exponentially, Solomon, we have to do something.”
“They were growing exponentially, and I agree that we need to do something. It’s just hard figuring out what to do what with all the pressure from the protestors and the media and everyone.”
“And of course Marc himself.”
“Yes, yes. Marc’s really the one whose making this difficult. It’s like I don’t want to betray him or anything and give him the boot, but he is the one who started all this and we clearly need to do something.”
Chloë nodded in approval. King Solomon glanced around his office in the Parliament building, overlooking the streets of Scania. Chloë reached for King Solomon’s arm.
“Look, Sol, you know better than anyone else that I don’t want, at least for the time being, to be PM Chloë Arborn. I’m fine how I am right now, as leader of the Greens and chairwoman of our electoral coalition. But we were elected to represent our people, and right now our people, and me included, are just done with the kind of constant scaffolding and aid that these companies receive still when so many are not feeling supported enough.”
“Yes, and you know better than anyone else how much I truly wish I could be there, protesting, standing with them. I’m the leader of the Union of Social Democrats, for crying out loud. I agree with them, I really do, and with you. But as the elected King of Middle Barael I can’t just think my mind. We need stability. And I can’t just go and kick the Prime Minister, my coalition-mate, my friend to the electoral curb.”
“So what are we gonna do?”
“We wait. I’m not ruling out the possibility Chloë. If it comes to it, I guess I’m ok with you and Marc switching jobs, so that you’re Madam PM and he is chairman of the Alliance for Progress. I jus want to wait and see. This whole crisis…. it’s tiring.”
“I know, Solomon, I know. But the people are tired too, and I’m tired, and I too don’t want to kick Marc to the curb, but I think the easiest way to end this tiring crisis is, well, to do that. Maybe not drop him completely, but at least switch him out.”
“I know, I know. Look, Chloë, I best be going. Carrie is telling me that Marc has been getting a bit suspicious of all of the time we spend together. He thinks we’re plotting to take him down.”
Chloë lets out a loud sigh. “Oyyyy. Fine, go. This whole thing is a nightmare.”

————————————————

Thursday, July 15th, 2021
Scania, Middle Barael

“This is a nightmare. A horrible, endless nightmare that I just can’t seem to wake from. I made a mistake, I know, back when I voted for that union-bashing bill in February. And from the title of the bill it sounded like a good idea, breaking up unions for essential and semi-essential industries during a national emergency,” said PM Marc Nuya. “And after the protests in February I thought I’d be out of the woods, but here we are again. It’s crazy, Solomon, it’s crazy. And now they’re calling for my deposition, and I’m worried you and Chloë will drop me and the Liberals when it comes to it.”

“I promise you, Marc, we’ll do anything in our power to keep you, well, in power. You’re a good PM, and at some point everyone will remember that and it’ll all calm down. They’ll see you’ve learnt your mistake, maybe your rep will be slightly tarnished but we’ll be all fine. Don’t worry, Marc. Just be vigilant, don’t do anything stupid, pay attention to what’s going on. D’you hear about the protest today?” asked King Solomon, as he gazed outside the window into the streets of Scania.

Already crowds were gathering, and a large screen had been set up showing live video from Cothon City, MBC, Minerva, Domicile, Likon, Ganden, Tuv Ulem, and other cities across Forest. The police were on tight watch, but in no ways were they trying to stop the protestors. They were there for security, since already Chan Islander gun smugglers and drug dealers had been caught at protests, and the secret intelligence channels had picked up that both Uan aa Boa and the Shwe Tu Colony were considering sending in intelligence agents to the protests. But the protestors were safe, and anyways with so many already there so early in the morning it seemed unlikely that the police could even stop them if they tried. King Solomon turned back to his colleague.

“No, I haven’t heard anything special about today’s protest. Why, is it gonna be special?” responded Marc.

“Well Shira Meron is making a speech. I suggest you tune in. Apparently they’ve connected it to other protests across Forest using Zoom or Arbr or Forum7 or something. Some other protest leaders will be speaking or leading things too. It’s gonna be great.”

“I thought you were on my side?”, Marc asked coyly.

“We’ll, yeah, duh, of course Marc,”, reassured Solomon. “But I do agree with the basic message of the protestors though, that corporate influence in society has gotten out of control and that we need a popular economy more than ever.”

“I agree with that too, Solomon. But that doesn’t mean I’m rooting for Shira Meron and her movement,”, retorted Marc.

“Well anyways I’m just excited to see what’s gonna happen. This is the first time the whole movement across Forest is really coalescing. History in the making.”

Marc glances nervously outside his window. “Let’s just hope we’re on the right side of it.”

————————————————

Thursday, July 15th, 2021
Cothon City, Middle Barael

Iris Dubois looked out from the hastily built journalists’ room. The buzz of excitement in the air was permeable. Iris was excited, but not for the same reason as the others in the room. The others seemed to all be hoping that their articles bring them praise, fame, that they have the greatest prose and the most accurate and timely information. But Iris already had that. What Iris was excited for was Shira.

Iris Dubois and Shira Meron’s interwoven story began over 20 years earlier. Iris and Shira attended the same primary school, P.S. 13 in Cothon City. They both attended some of the best high schools in Cothon City (Shira at the Hassan-Cadafalch Academy for Political Science, Iris at the Lemaire School of the Arts), but by that time had largely grown apart and forgotten each other. They attended different colleges and grad schools, worked in different industries, until one day Iris needed an environmental activist to comment on an article about Cothon City’s plans to combat urban heat islands by reducing street parking and planting more trees. Iris researched different environmental activists working on the proposal in the city, and lo and behold she found her old classmate Shira. The two reconnected, and later when Iris needed an activist to comment on the Middle Barael labour rights protests back in June, she knew just who to call. And the rest is history, as they say.

Well now, fast forward to July 15th 2021, where history is in the making. Iris knew that this protest would be unlike anything seen before. Video screens, playing live video from other protests across Middle Barael and the rest of Forest, speeches from activists across the world, all calling for the same thing: an end to corporate influence and domination. It was much surmised that Iris supported the protests, which of course was true, but since Iris wrote for MBBC, an authoritative news source that prided itself on its non-partisanship, she tried not to include her own biases in her writing.

Anyways, Iris was excited for her friend. Shira Meron was already well known across Middle Barael, but this event would make her famous across Forest. And besides, it would be fun. Journalists often wrote about the historic events of their era, but seldom did the message really sink in that they were a part of their history, that their own historiography may shape the events.

Iris watched gleefully, as activist Nadir Abuhatzira rose to the stage. She knew the schedule of the events already, perks of being a top MBBC journalist. She knew this wasn’t Nadir’s speech yet. This was someone bigger.

“And now,” said Nadir, “I would like to welcome you all to today’s protest. For the first time all of our protests across the world, all calling out #OccupyForest in mutual frustration and outrage, are united, coalesced around one goal: to end the immense and unfair amount of power that corporations still continue to hold in our society. We’ve got a ton of great speakers today, coming from all over Forest.” Nadir wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “So first, I would like to introduce you to our fighter, our friend, Shira Meron!”

[Jutsa]

The Free Government Transparency Report Channel Inc:
"The Grand Council of Jutsa wishes to express its gratitude to the Free National News Networks across the Legitimate Democracy of Jutsa. Truly, their exercising their legal right to cover footage of these protests is testament to how the power of free press triumphs over any other nation's who've been stifled by corrupt government regulations. It brings us deep shame that while Jutsa has escaped the evil clutches of communism, its neighbors have only fallen deeper into its voracious maw. We thank every last one of our news outlets, to which no single one sponsored this message.

Yuí Puīdmen (Yu Pupmin) was having trouble turning his mule. The darned thing was sick and tired of walking through the thick woodlands of Canjuīk (Chanshuk). Alas, it was the only way to get from the hilly steppes that encompassed Eknosaı (Iknoswuh) to the bustling city of Ruīnleīmeìŋaî (Unleminga) and back.

"C'mon, Zuìle!" Sully was also a stubborn-as mule which tended to abuse her state-guaranteed freedom as an individual. "Home's just over there. Don't make me leave you hear to get eaten by the wolves for dinner." Sully complied. Jutsae were generally considered some of the nicest civilians in Forest, but sometimes a logically conclusive death threat proved very effective on animals and humans alike. "That a girl."

Home wasn't a pretty site. Government regulations stated that a home was free to look as nice or shabby as one liked as long as it was environmentally sensible. In Yu's case, it essentially meant a leaky roof sitting on sheets of paper. After putting Sully in the stable - and then being kicked in the ass by her, which is technically an unenforced federal crime - Yu took in the goods from Unleminga. He nodded to his brother, who lay napping on the floor of the front porch.

"I'm back," Yu said. Technically he said "Horse's an ass", but the literal interpretation loses its meaning in translation. This would've technically been a slur and would've made him apologize to any horses who'd overheard it, but fortunately political correctness was going out of style. "Anyone home?" He could already tell by the lack of carrying on that Sis wasn't home yet. "I brought home some Tasmanian crossbows and some new divining rods from Chan Island." Sully chewed up the last set. Yu didn't really believe they worked, but they could at least be written off as a business expense.

"Yu, you're missing the news!" cried Jenzoī (Shinso), Yu's mom. She and Grandpa were in the living room; Dad was probably out milking and ignoring politics.

"What news?" He looked at the dinky little tube TV the family kept from the twentieth century. "Damn we're frugal," he thought, as he always does every time he sees that damn TV. "Is it that crackpot who's been going through Cuīxuk (Chutnuk) trying to undermine our legitimate democracy again?"

"Something far more entertaining," said Yu's Grandfather, Daka (Daka). "There's this lass from South Pile yelling at a camera." Daka didn't really like the name "Middle Barael", simply because there were no other Baraels for it to be in the middle of, meanwhile it was definitely far south of Jutsa. Unfortunately, due to Jutsaish pronounciation, Barael ends up sounding suspiciously akin to "pile".

"Why do we care about what's going on there?" Yu asked. Middle Barael was in the ROOT trade alliance with Jutsa thanks to globalism, and Yu had gotten some rather nice socks made from there, but he didn't really know why anyone would actually care about a place that was bound to be invaded by Roless anyway. "Did Rolessa take them over?"

"Not that entertaining," Daka clarified, pulling out another technically illegal beer from under a sofa cushion. "They have a Forest-wide broadcast condemning the ways of the free market." Of course. Because what else was new.

"Forest-wide, huh? This must be serious," said Yu. Just because globalism helped Jutsa's economy didn't mean he had to like the economics of the countries Jutsa did business with. "Are they attacking us specifically?"

"It's a gathering of people from all over Forest," explained Shinso. "This way people can announce their disdain for their own governments and Forest as a whole, all in one major event. This Jeya Merun (Shia Mih-oon; Shira Meron) apparently started it, although we didn't get a chance to tune in until she was almost done with her speech."

"They got a few from Pile, one from Ayenzuren (Einswenn) and another from Can Island (Chan Island)," said Daka between swigs. "I've already forgotten half of everyone else." Despite most Jutsae being fluent in the continental languages of Forest, sometimes apathy still makes understanding things from other countries difficult. Of course, so did the bad reception. "Most of them were complaining about Lord Dominator - rightfully so - but there are others from socialist nations complaining about businesses ruining their nations."

"I'm so happy for them." Yu was fully aware that not being happy for literally everything was a sign that you were failing at life. "Who's the next speaker?" He watched as a reddish-skinned native Forestrian steps up to the podium. She has the deepest Forest-green eyes, is somewhat stout yet skinny, walks like she has to use the bathroom, dresses like a millionaire's girlfriend after a massive shopping spree trying to pick up another guy; it was Sis. "$^!@," Yu exclaimed in a tone that indicated he was now failing at life.

---

"Thank you so much, everyone, for having me here tonight," She holds up her pet chihuahua to a camera and blows a kiss to a nice Middle Baraelian camera man. "My name is Lau (La-oo) Pupmin, and I come from Jutsa." The crowd gives a sympathetic "aww" along with a small round of clapping. "I've come dressed like this because I wanted to express how my home's consumerist market has consumed our lifestyles, and not just because I wanted to look cute on camera." She smiles widely as a small bout of crowd laughter wimply hits her microphone.

"My home has gone from a socialist utopia to a place of neglegent consumerism and unbridled anti-bribes. I mean, anti-bribes. What is that even supposed to mean?" She had a point. "Allowing corporations to ruin Jutsa's lifestyle was a mistake. We used to be equal, just like what you strive to be. We had tax benefits and welfare and stable employment that gave us what we needed to live no matter what. Now we have... something similar, but it's all corrupted by evil politicians who are corrupted by evil corporations who are in turn corrupted by evil capitalist greed. I come to you today to say, **** you Jutsa. **** you and the Lord Dominator puppet corporate-dominated sham democracy that you've become." She gets a roaring cheer from the audience, unaware that Jutsa started out as, classified by the World Assembly, a corporate-dominated sham democracy. After smiling and waving to the camera several times, she twirls her Uan aa Boan boa and gleefully hops away from the microphone.

[Uan aa Boa]

Cothon City, Middle Barael
15 July 2021
A comrade taking her place at the frying cauldron, Kitsi stepped away from the stall to survey the scene. The small park was thronged with protesters and curios members of the public, either making their way to the main event or simply taking in the scene. Perhaps two dozen people were gathered around the stall, draped in Boani flags, where the young Boanis were handing out free food. In front of a group of largely unimpressed girls, three Baraelan boys were daring each other to eat the hottest sauces straight and, tears running down their cheeks, pretending to enjoy them. On the grass in front of the stall a Boani drum circle maintained a chugging rhythm. A handful of colourfully clad locals old enough to know better were dancing badly, trying to copy a lithe Boani girl who could do it properly.

At one end of the stall a screen connected to a solar panel on a stand was showing the speakers on the main stage. At the other, a tall Boani man was marshaling a group of families through a variant of musical chairs. The adults were trees and the children were monkeys. The monkeys raced around making predictable noises to the beat of another drummer, rushing to "climb a tree" when the music stopped. In each round the compere would indicate a few of the adults and then shout "Timber!" causing them to be felled with varying degrees of amateur dramatics. When the remaining trees were too overcrowded with monkeys to go on the game would be wrapped up with a short environmental homily.

Kitsi was tall, brown skinned and looked to be about 20. She wore linen cargo trousers and a halter top decorated with tribal symbols, looking for the festival vibe even though she was actually struggling not to shiver. She had an explosion of untamed curly hair and the well-muscled shoulders of a competitive swimmer.

It was for the most part a relaxed, festival atmosphere. Earlier Kitsi had dealt with an older man who wanted to harangue them about prison camps - probably that story about satellite images of what MBBC was now calling Township 39. He jabbed a walking cane in her direction to emphasise his point about "bloody communists." "Look, man, this is so rude," she'd tried to appeal to him. "You can't go up to people and start shouting about their government. We're not officials, we came to have a good time. Go the the embassy if you want to talk about the government. I don't know, I've never watched MBBC. Are you sure you don't want some fufu?"

Now she scanned the crowd and her mind returned to the big question. Is this serious? The prevailing view in Analysis was that it wasn't, that under capitalism protest is a lifestyle accessory, a fashion statement, a commodity to be bought and sold like any other. You buy a T-shirt with a slogan and don't stop to check whether it was made by slave labour in a far off sweatshop. You share a documentary on the evils of NewsCorp but you're not aware that, two shell companies back, it's NewsCorp that produced it. They called it the Guevara effect. Still, one had to be open to the possibility that this might be different, might be accompanied by an actual desire for change if it could be nudged in the right direction.

Kitsi's unit wasn't the key part of the Boani observation, but it served to draw the attention of those who knew there would be a Boani presence here. It was a carefully managed image. They were young and attractive (Kitsi fully expected to turn down a number of advances before the night was done), informal but not quite scruffy or disreputable. No drink or drugs were in evidence and they mostly looked as though they could handle themselves in a fight, or a half marathon for that matter. They were composed, responsible... isolawa. There was no adequate English word for it. They were the bright face of a controversial, communist, machine-ruled nation. The serious operatives were more widely scattered and had spent more time infiltrating. Many of them were white and certainly weren't going out of their way to look so obviously Boani.

Kitsi's phone buzzed and she swiped to see the sigil of Analysis. A one word message. Report.

[Roless]

Ichasa, Roless
Thursday, July 15th 2021

Ezeke Peodon sits down. For the past week, he has been organising protests against new legislation letting private corporations back into the country. Out of the window, thousands of people occupy the streets. His comrades in Atchta and Seale were also seeing success, though the Seale police were reportedly getting quite violent.

Ever since Shira Meron organised protests in Middle Barael, the anger against corporations had spread across forest, and today millions of people in Roless and the rest of the region were to hear her speak. He had personally bought several projectors and pointed them at government buildings. In a few minutes, he would join the crowds himself. But now he just watches.


Seale, Roless
Thursday, July 15th 2021

The mayor of Seale, Eva Irion, watches upon the chaos down below on the streets. The peaceful protesters were being met with tanks and assault rifles. Counter-protesters were being given weapons. She knew this was illegal. She didn’t care. By the time Ichasa had voted to kick her out, every anti-corporation person in Seale would be dead or in prison. She would make sure of it.

Quin Dekova, Eva’s advisor, entered the room.

“Sorry to interrupt, mayor, but you have a message from the High Funky Badger.”

“Well what does it say?” Snapped Irion. “I have things to do.”

“It orders you to remove the military presence from the city immediately, or you will be hung for treason.”

“Hm. Faster than I expected. Throw it away.”

“You do realise how serious this is, right? You’ve broken the constitution in 5 ways in the last 20 minutes!”

“As an autonomous region, we have an army, and we are going to use that army. These ‘protesters’ are a violent mob! They want to destroy the country! Shira Meron is building an army to conquer forest! I didn’t send those assassins into Middle Barael for nothing!”


“Make that 6. And don’t come crying to me when you’re execu- wait, you sent ASSASSINS?!.”

“For the safety and stability of forest, Shira Meron must die.”


Ichasa, Roless
Thursday, July 15th, 2021

High Funky Badger Robert Garre and Prime Minister Alicia Rifes are in a meeting. They can hear the protesters shouting outside.

“The Market Revision bill is important piece of legislation for the future of the country!” Rants the PM. “I Won’t have it repealed because of some stupid protests!”

“Look; we can just wait them out. Just schedule the vote in a few weeks, and once the protests die down we can just quietly remove it from the schedule.”

An intern enters the room.

“We have received a response from Seale,” He says, “The mayor has refused to withdraw the military. It also says something about assassins?”

“Gimme that.” Says Garre, who snatches the message out of his hands. He reads it. “Refused to withdraw… Shooting civilians… Assassins… Middle Barael? SHIRA MERON?! Nononono. Nononono! Alicia, whatever parliament is doing right now, cancel it. Just get the army the authority to take control of Seale. This is a matter of national- no, international importance. Intern, prepare a message to Middle Barael. I will tell you to send it if I need to. I will make a call to the secret service to see if we can recall those assassins.”

All three walk out of the room.


Cothon City, Middle Barael
Thursday, July 15th 2021

A few dozen Rolessians walk down the street. They are surrounded by people from all over forest, from Uan a boa to Jutsa. They all have little pin badges on, showing the Rolessian flag and the writing “For the people”, the motto of the Rolessian Communist Party. They are heading towards the main event, where Shira Meron will be speaking. When they arrived, there were tens of thousands of people, of all nationalities, and there would surely be most of the region watching or listening from their homes. The crowd goes quiet, as the organiser of the whole OccupyForest movement, Shira Meron, steps up to the podium and begins to speak.

[Laka Strolistandiler]

The next meeting of the Inner Circle, which consisted of Lavinia proper, the queen and the dictator, Von Ludendorff and Drönitz, the commanders-in-chief of the troops and the navy, respectively, the First Minister, representing most of the civil affairs, Oberfuhrer die Waffen SS Heilgard, Marshall Milizst (counter-intelligence) , Internal Security Service, as well as some hand-picked commissars for different internal tasks and things. The main theme of discussion was the unfolding protests against capitalism in more liberal parts of the world:
- Kameraden! Now we are faced with the task of applying the situation with maximum efficiency for our internal tasks and with minimal threat to our internal result. First Minister, please report your plan ... - Lavinia, as always, “played the first violin”
After that, the voice of the First Minister simulated on the computer sounded - being completely paralyzed, she could not speak herself, which caused her voice to jam from time to time - the machine was malfunctioning:
“So… The protesters are mainly about… against social stratification and… the excessive power of large companies and corporations… corporations. In the case of our socialist economy, this will not be a problem. However ... we fear that the protest may take the form of a general anti-authority which while will not be dangerous for the Metropoly will certainly carry some ... Questionable results in colonies
- Please, elaborate- Ludendorff-II was looking at her with interest, -
- Well, as you probably known, most of the savages in the colonies are not exactly fond of our rule. We on the other hand are able to suppress nearly all of the armed rebellions with great effectiveness, however, what the Kolonialtrupplers are NOT supposed to be doing is dealing with massive protests, - and we will probably have to move some of the riot police units there to deal with the trouble ...
- Are you sure that it won’t leave the Metropoly endangered? I'm all but sure that the intelligence and loyalty of our volk to the idea and the nation is unquestionable, however, should certain foreign agents intervene? - Marshall of Miliz sounded a bit afraid, as she was cut off by the Abschirmdienst chief.
- They will NOT intervene. At this moment the livestream they’re sending out is watched by approximately 300-500 people in Laka. We can exactly pinpoint their names, locations and even their feelings about it, thanks to these recording implants Waffen SS produced ...
- Oh, stop it, genosse, - I’m sure you would’ve been able to deal with this even without our assistance, - Heilgard was more than pleased by compliment ...
- Can we now get back to the point, please? After all, we still have to determine the amount of Miliz units that will be transferred, their tactics and equipment! - if Lavinia was good at anything it’s getting the discussions “back on track”.

Military Administration Territory # 15, Area # 2

Pointlessly huge, hot, stinking, everything made of riveted metal, trampling the road with monstrous caterpillars covered with shattered concrete, did not rush, did not roll - a hunchbacked, unkempt barrel, rattling with various installations on the roof, stuffed with equally tired police officers a steel monster that was once British tank Mark V. A monstrous machine slowly, as if gradually moving up the street, practically not paying attention to the protesters trying to stop it - first, the tank crushed the car parked in front of it with an unpleasant sound, then - protesters spun on the ground, burned from Molotov cocktail, shot by the APS, finally, grenades flew from the tank, first with tear gas and then with mustard gas. Slowly, he pushed the road to less protected vehicles and infantry. At first, the crowd somehow tried to resist, but when yellow clouds of poisonous gas appeared around the tank, they ran. Naturally, there was a crush - people, throwing flags (pre-colonial), banners and posters fled, succumbing to the herd feeling.

When it seemed that the situation could not get worse, apparently, wanting to "speed up the process" from the tank, a machine gun suddenly rattled overhead, shooting a huge projector, on which the countdown was going until the live broadcast of the speech and where the police were heading. Quite numerous doctors present from the police were mainly engaged not in helping the protesters, but in coordinating the actions of the police in order to minimize casualties among the personnel. The protest medics, who wore helmets with green crosses, most often received a tranquilizer from a rifle, which in a crush was almost tantamount to a death sentence. Fortunately for foreign reporters, their group managed to step aside and avoid the crowd, which also allowed them to shoot a frame worthy of the front page of any international magazine ...

Smoky from Molotov cocktails, bristling with water cannons, spider shotguns, gas grenade launchers, APS and other systems, a hefty tank, roaring its engine and releasing huge clouds of black smoke, climbed onto the podium, pushing it under its own weight. Judging by the numerous marks on the projector, shooting him with a machine gun did not give any special results, and therefore a rather simple decision was made - a ram. The lower part of Shira Meron's face temporarily appeared on the side of the tank, projected there by a projector, which was then "turned off" by rifle fire. The protesters were indeed greeted with "fire and steel."

Strange as it may seem, no one even tried to hide all the bloodiness with which the protest was suppressed. In Laka, no one cared about the fate of the protesters, and the popularity of the colonial government among the locals was worse than ever.

[Middle Barael]

Tuesday, July 20th, 2021
Cothon City, Middle Barael
MBBC Headquarters, 3rd Floor, Room 302

“Good morning, everyone. Thursday was quite an event, was it not?”

“Yes”, murmured his employees, exhausted from their late night article edits. All of them had coffee in their hands, all had bags under their eyes, but they enjoyed their jobs, as they got to tell stories for a living.

They had just came to work, in the MBBC headquarters in the southern part of the New City neighborhood close to Chaouen, and already they were getting a speech from their editor, Lorne Moreno. He was an energetic man, who clearly loved his job and loved all of his employees, and he treated them all like friends and equals. They all loved him. The editor spoke.

“Good, good. Remember, you are the most esteemed journalists in Middle Barael, working for the most esteemed source of news in Middle Barael, reporting carefully and beautifully on the most important stories in Middle Barael. You are the people who get to tell the story, weave the tapestry of Middle Barael. How many times has journalism toppled a regime? How many times has it changed the way people see the world by introduction them to new ideas? In fact, you’re not only telling the story, but impacting it. As such I want your articles to be the most eloquent, beautifully written, full of lush, rolling prose. I want them to be nonpartisan, but I want you to be ready to openly say that something is crazy if it is crazy. Most of all, I want you to pour your heart into it, let our your frustrations and fears and hopes, make it resonate with our people.

“Now before you all right your articles, I want you to take a second with me, and remember back to Thursday. So many speeches, so many chants and songs, so many readings and quotes and prayers, and of course all the drama too. Now close your eyes, take a deep breath in and out, and just remember.”

---

A Flashback:

Thursday July 15th, 2021
Cothon City, Middle Barael
Shira Meron’s speech

“…. So first, I would like to introduce you to our fighter, our friend, Shira Meron!”

Shira Meron gets on to the stage. She seems nervous, but after gazing out at the crowd for a few seconds and checking her notes she looks back up, eyes wide and impassioned. She begins.

“I want to thank everyone for coming here today. Even though we are not all here in Cothon City today, we are able to be protesting together today from all across Forest and beyond, from all of our individual protest sites. It’s amazing, isn’t it? And so before I begin I would also like to thank the amazing protest organizers, our engineer and technician allies, our wonderful activists who have been pushing for change since day one, and all of you for attending our protests and giving our movement the momentum it needs to achieve change.

When we started our protests here in Middle Barael, first in February and later again in June, nobody thought we could amass so many people, so much momentum, so many opportunities for change. And yet clearly our anger, our frustration, our movement resonated with so many people across Forest, so that we together may protest together for our futures.

We all have gathered here today out of a mutual anger at corporations. The power they have in society, the influence they use to make politicians become puppets, the domination they hold over the economy, it’s too much.

I live in Middle Barael, which is an amazingly blessed placed to live in. We’re a strong social democracy, with universal healthcare and public education and welfare for the poor. The energy and transportation sectors are both dominated by state-owned businesses, such as AFEA Barael, Air Barael, and the National Green Energy Service. But still, when I go to the supermarket, all I see are big-name brands of food produced by billion-dollar corporations. When I want to decorate my apartment, where do I go? IKEA? HomeHaven? Home Depot? And of course if you need any item that does not have its own specialty store in my town, you go to Amazon, right? See this is exactly the problem. Where have the small businesses gone, the mom-and-pop stores, the labor cooperatives of yesteryear?

I want to see a world where the economy is owned by the people, not by these massive corporations. And before my words are taken out of context, I am not a socialist, but I’d prefer to deal in what policies and viewpoints unite us rather than the labels and ideological splits that divide us. Today we’ve got here communists from Roless and Uan aa Boa, democratic socialists from Jutsa, social democrats like me from Middle Barael, and even some angry social liberals from Gandenia. We’ve had speeches, prayers, quotes, readings, street-parties, barbecues and soccer games out in the park, and even one of our activists cursing out her own nation on live TV. Sorry about that, by the way; I know some kids and cursing-sensitive people may be watching so I’ll ask if she could tone down the swear words.

I want to see a world where you get your fruits and veggies from a small family farm that produces them close enough to wear you live, or from a town agricultural coöp that uses vertical farms and hydroponics to grow food right in the center of a city. I want to see a world where when I walk down the streets of my city, whether they are the broad avenues of the New City or the smaller alleyways of Medina or the beautiful old streets of Gartahena, where I see only small business that I know are using locally sourced goods and that are sustainable and family-sustaining, not massive big-box stores that pollute for profit. I want to see a world where all jobs pay a living wage, of around §10 Shenars or $15 dollars, and higher where possible. I want to see a world where when a large company fails, rather than bailing them out they can fail again, the government nationalized them, or turns them into a coöperative or a workplace democracy. I want to see a world so where everyone is truly happy with their life, receiving a living wage, participating in a coöp, getting a substantial education, being able to afford medicine, and living in a world where they know they are the ones who control the economy, not the multinational corporations with their billionaire CEOs and hierarchical structures.

I just want to see a world where we, the people, are truly empowered, truly heard, and truly the ones in charge of the economy, and not the other way around. I trust that you’ll all help me achieve this world.”

---

Back in the MBBC headquarters:

“Iris! Iris! IRIS!” shout the other members of the MBBC staff.

“Oh, yes, sorry, I just got really into the whole remembering thing.”

“You’ve been out for like 4 minutes just now,” said the editor.

“Hmm. Well anyways I don’t remember drama you were talking about from Thursday. I remember Shira’s speech, it seemed pretty standard. I mean it was inspiring, certainly, but no drama. And I remember the other speeches too, nothing too controversial. I mean the speakers from Roless and Uan aa Boa fully endorsed communism or socialism, and that teenager from Jutsa dressed like a Beverly Hills Chihuahua literally made a whole FU to her nation, but nothing too crazy.”

“That’s right, I forgot,” said Lev Ashkenazi. you fell asleep towards the end, when that Arik guy from Gandenia was speaking. I mean I can hardly blame you, awake as you were all night reporting on the preparations for the day’s protest. But yeah you totally fell asleep.”

“Oh wow, sorry Mr. Moreno— I mean Lorne!” Iris was still getting used to using her boss’s first name, which he allowed ever since she joined his best writer staff. “So then what did I miss?”

The editor began, “Well…..”

---

Another flashback.

A man is leading a chant. Nigel “Nadir” Abuhatzira. One of the leaders of the protests in Middle Barael, a staunch ally of Shira Meron and an architect of the Occupy Forest movement.

Suddenly Shira walks up to him, whispers in his ear. The chantry is going strong enough that it can continue without his full attention, but from his eyes I could see his worry, his fear. He waves his hands to get everyone to quiet down. Shira steps up to the stage again.

“Hello everyone, sorry to interrupt your amazing chant, but I’m just letting you know that the Cothon City police and maybe a SWAT team are gonna be walking through our protest. No need to worry, they’re not cracking down on us, we’re safe. There’s just… been a bit of a concern around security…. and, uh…. they’re gonna be coming through. They may ask to pat you down to see if you’ve got any weapons in you, but of course our movement in peaceful so hopefully nothing will happen.”

The crowd begins to panic a bit. A few people begin to rush for the exits, though most were disciplined enough to merely dart around in place like nervous animals. Shira was clearly terrified too, but she was determined not to let anything ruin her protest.

“Now, now, don’t worry. Nobody’s trying to attack us, or, we’ll, no one’s attacking you. There may be a bit more of a, a, concern for, um, me and Nadir and a few others, but, erm, we’re fine. Just stay in place and let the police do—“

A shot goes off. Not a gunshot, but an illegal firework.

“Um, um, stay calm. Just a firework. Hey, um, police, I think I see where it came from. Down in the northwest of the park, by the statue of our progressive icon Mark Hassan-Cadafalch. Just a firework. I’ve— I’ve been hearing reports of some Chan Islanders using the crowds as a cover to sell banned goods, like fireworks and drugs and firearms, so probably just that. Just let the police do their thing, and then we’ll return to the chants. Um, yeah, Nadir, this was totally the issue I was worried about… for security.”

---

Back in the MBBC headquarters:

“Wow, Lorne, that sounds pretty dramatic after all.”

“Eh, maybe. I’m just not so sure that that was the security concern that was worrying Shira.”

“Hmm, maybe. Anyways we should all get back to writing I think, sorry for wasting your time.”

“Always a pleasure, Iris.”

---

Late at night on Thursday, after the protest.

“Shira, what was the security concern that had you so worried? I mean even I can tell that that wasn’t the issue, it’s not like you could predict the firework going off.”

“Fine, Nadir. It wasn’t that. Halfway through that chant you were leading, I was called by the police chief of Cothon City. I got his number back when the protests began in February, just in case I needed anything. Well, apparently, these protests are none too popular with the government of Roless, and specifically the mayor of the autonomous city of Seale.”

“So?”

“Well, apparently, the protests have been so detrimental to her plans, that, well, she’s put in a re— request for me— me, to, you know, be killed!”

[Gandenia]

GBC (Gandenian Broadcasting Corperation)
Ganden, Gandenia
Tuesday, July 20, 2021
6:00 Nightly News

"...and so you'll all definitely have a beautiful week ahead."

"Thanks Yitzhak. And now," news anchor Nurit Rabin starts. "Today, Sovereign Ytbaum was once again greeted by Occupy Forest protesters while on his reelection campaign. Sovereign Ytbaum flew this morning to Fal Challah to make a speech to about 2,000 people. About halfway through his speech though, a large group of protesters led by Gandenian Occupy Forest leader, Arik Mulbeder made it impossible for the sovereign to speak." The anchor chuckles. "Now, everywhere that Sovereign Ytbaum has gone to campaign for the Sovereign election, Arik Mulbeder and his fellow protesters has followed him. We asked a couple protesters why they supported the Occupy Forest movement. 'Occupy Forest is now such a big thing and..and.. we just want to be a part of something so great,', says one. Another protestor we spoke to explained, 'We've just been in a civil war and we have so much open space now. So, instead of polluting and ruining all of our new cities with big factories owned by big corporations, we need to make sure that our new cities and old cities and towns are dominated by small businesses, powered by the people.'
Sovereign Ytbaum has stated that he thinks that we can rebuild the nation using some of the ideas of the Occupy Forest protesters, but not all of them. He is scheduled to meet with Arik Merleber on Thursday." The anchor stops to look quickly at her notes.
"And now, a heat wave in the areas around Lechenyak..."

[Roless]

The Hexagon, Somewhere in Roless
Tuesday, 20th July 2021

Chief Spy Alan Rithd sat at his desk. He knew he was in trouble. He had approved the attempted assassination of Shira Meron, as he assumed at the time that either the PM or the HFB had also approved, as was usually the case. As it turns out, it had not, and while the assassin had missed by a few metres, this was still likely to be his last day sitting in this chair. He thought back to the day he got the order from Eva Irion. It seemed years ago now.

FLASHBACK:

The Hexagon, Somewhere in Roless
Monday, 12th July, 2021

“MESSAGE INCOMING…” crackled the old speaker mounted in the corner of the room. Alan groaned.

“Ugh, great. Another thing to have to do.”

“MESSAGE SENT FROM: SEALE MAYOR OFFICE
THE MAYOR OF SEALE ORDERS AN ASSASSINATION ON PROTESTER SHIRA MERON ON THE FIFTEENTH OF JULY 2021 IN CENTRAL COTHON CITY WHILE GIVING HER SPEECH.
MESSAGE END”

Alan always forgot how horrible that sounded. “Well, i guess i better wait for a confirmation…”

A few minutes later…

‘Oh screw it.’ He thought, and pressed the button that asked for an agent to come to his office.

END OF FLASHBACK

The door rolled open, and High Funky Badger Robert Garre stepped into the room. Saying he was furious would be an understatement, as it was the Chief Spy’s laziness that had allowed the incident to happen.

He sits down. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He snapped.

“Erm- well-“ Alan stuttered.

“Precisely. You have shown dereliction of duty in a high government office, and such dereliction that could lead to an international scandal. You will be very lucky to have your head by next week. You are also obviously dismissed from the secret service. As for the assassin, I am sure they will be apprehended by Baraelian authorities, and if they do make it back here, their welcome will be far from warm. Your trial will be on Thursday. You have one hour to collect your things. Good bye.”

Startled, the Ex-Chief Spy started to collect his belongings.

Ichasa, Roless
Tuesday, 20th July 2021
Parliament, People’s Chamber

For the third day in a row, the House of the People sat, debating the removal of Eva Irion from power. Due to the autonomous status of Seale, The vote needed a 7/10ths majority, instead of the usual 1/2+1, and this had not been achieved yet, and the Prime Minister was getting annoyed.

“Can’t you people see? Eva Irion has broken the constitution countless times during her term, and you have done NOTHING! And now, you continue to drag your feet while hundreds of protesters are killed in Seale each day. If you are one of the ones voting against this resolution, you are a monster.”

The PM called parliament to vote again.

“543/792. 13 short. Everybody go home, come back tomorrow.”

She was the first to leave the chamber. She had been defeated for the third day in a row, and she was starting to lose hope. It was improving, but not by much. At this rate, it would take a while to get the result everyone wanted.

Seale, Roless
Tuesday, 20th July 2021
Mayor’s office

Gunshots rang across the city. Eva Irion still sat in her chair, watching the streets fill with the blood of her enemies. Quin Dekova, her advisor, entered the room and sat opposite to her.

“So, the chief spy’s been sacked, eh?” Commented Dekova.

“It is… unfortunate. His laziness was easily exploitable, and essentially gave us free reign over the secret service.”

“It gave You free reign over the secret service. I, as you may remember, have encouraged you not to violate the constitution daily.”

The window behind them smashes. A protester had thrown a rock at it. The two rushed out of the office and down into an open meeting room.

“This is what happens when you fire on the protesters, Eva. They have turned into a violent mob, the very thing you did this to avoid. You have killed nearly ten thousand of your own people, and for what? To get yourself kicked out of office? Or has the 15 million Rezzats in bribes that you sent to Ichasa delayed that from happening for now?”

Irion looked surprised at this, as it seemed to her, accusation.

“You can’t prove i sent a single Tekhar to any MPs!”

“I can’t prove it, but i am more that suspicious of the 15-million-Rezzat ‘other expense’ that appeared on the 15th. Forget I’m also your accountant did you?”

“Oh, get out.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Said Dekova, looking very smug, as she left the room.

[Middle Barael]

“…We elected our leaders to lead us, but right now they’re just standing by, watching, waiting, not following through with the people’s demands. We voted you in to represent us, and up until now you have done so well. But still you do not take us seriously, and so we shall still demand snap elections until we are taken seriously. I understand that you may have prior party policies to consider, and I recognize that up until now, King Solomon and Prime Minister Nuya, you have been wonderful leaders with great policies and personalities and leadership skills. But a leader, at least in a democratic country like Middle Barael, is supposed to listen to their constituents. And right now you are not doi—“

King Solomon switched off the TV. He had dark rings under his eyes, making hurried, frustrated glances around the room. He seemed simultaneously exhausted and fervent. He was sitting on the floor of his office, with his arms stretched back and his legs laying out in front of him, like what children do when they are tired or anxious. And he was both.

Just then, Chloë Arborn came in. She was the leader of the Greens and chairwoman of the ruling “Alliance for Progress” coalition, a very intelligent, idealist, generous, inspiring person, and also Solomon’s close friend dating all the way from their college days until now.

“Are you ok, Sol? You look more stressed than usual,”, she said coyly.

“Haha, no. Just listening to another Shira Meron speech.”

“Good one or bad one?”

“Bad, I’m afraid” replied Solomon. “It’s funny, her speeches always seem so inspiring and passionate and just amazing until I realize that half of them are against us. And like I agree with almost every word she says, all her points, but it’s like I’m not allowed to.”

“And why not?” asked Chloë. To an onlooker it would be hard to tell whether she was being coy, or just naïvely supportive of her friend, but Solomon knew her well enough that it was clear she was legitimately concerned.

“Because I have to be the face of unity, the face of order, the face of keeping just a big enough sliver of the status quo to prevent society from falling apart. And apparently agreeing with Occupy Forest is not complimentary with being the face of unity, or whatever.”

Chloë sighed. “Remember when we were in college? Scania University, PoliSci department? I wanted to be an urban designer, or an environmental activist.”

“I originally wanted to be an architect.”

“Wait, really?” asked Chloë jokingly.

“No seriously, I did. I mean I loved politics, but my father was as you know a local politician and my mom an activist, and their work was so hard that they tried to dissuade me from politics. They wanted me to study the arts, or the humanities. Not politics. But eventually I realized that most people would not want eclectic hodgepodges of Art Nouveau and Indo-Saracenic and Venetian Gothic in their cities. And I turned to politics.”

“Wow, I forget sometimes that you had a life between childhood and junior year. We were so young then, passionate and idealistic and bright-minded.” Chloë, despite her forward-thinkingness, always had a thing for nostalgia.

“So much more visibly progressive too. I wish Shira Meron could have seen us then!” commented Solomon.

Chloë listened to what Solomon said, and then gazed out the window of the King’s office in Scania, into the streets below. She looked at all the signs, all the young people, all the protestors, all the frustration and anger but also the hope and idealism.

“Solomon, if you cannot be the face of unity or the face of calm, why not be the face of progress?” Chloë remarked. “You know and I know, I mean you said it yourself, that you, and I, agree with everything they’re saying. Remember our college days? Back then we said that if we had been born earlier we’d have protested during the Peaceful Revolution, but now I’d say that if we were younger we’d be out there. And I get that you are supposed to be the stabilizer, the calming presence, but your country needs you as much as you need to join them, and I think you can just as easily be the face of progress. You needn’t call for new elections, you needn’t depose Marc, but we can become the voice of progress, together. They won’t see us as the corporate enemy, or as useless politicians, but understand that we truly care for them and agree with them.”

Solomon blinked. How had he not realized it before? Solomon muttered astonishedly, “Wow. Ok, let’s get started then.”

And so they began.

Chloë turned on the TV, ran to get her laptop, iPad, and phone, and got a few fidgets from her desk. When she came back, Solomon was already scribbling down ideas on a blank piece of paper.

“Ok, what have we got?” she asked.

“So far I’ve got raising corporate taxes, closing loopholes, supporting and creating tons of new labour coöps, expanding the carbon tax, giving municipalities more power while decreasing the role of provinces, subsidizing bikes and mass transit, urban farms, and planting trees.”

“Good list, I’ve got some more points I thought of on my way back. We need to establish a coöp in every community, and they’d oversee all public urban farms, hydroponics, aeroponics, aquaponics, et cetera. Each town or city should become a forest in its own right, full of tall trees not just on the sidewalks but all over, and also they all should have Amsterdamian quality of bike and pedestrian infra. Companies that go bankrupt get reorganized into workplace democracies. Also raise the wealth tax, and use funds to create a Civilian Climate Corps. Also what do you think about a year of mandatory national service?”

“That‘ll be controversial, but maybe like we fully pay for college or lower your social security age if you do that. And of course you could take part through participating in Peace Corps, LEAF or UN peacekeepers, joining in your CCC idea, all of that. What about giving tax breaks to car-less cities or cities with car-free centers? We can also free up space by making roads smaller, giving more land for trees and pedestrians and sidewalks and bikes and light rail and trams. Oh, and with the new space we could then require every community to have a farmer’s market / flea market, to be managed by the community coöp. Oh, I just had an idea, what if we….”

They kept on fervently, excitedly sharing ideas at rapid speed for the next 40 minutes. Finally they took a quick break.

“Ah. That was good. Oy, we’ve got a lot of ideas, though,” observed Solomon. “And we said we were gonna right a full essay or proposal for each one? Oy veh. We should each divvy them up then.”

“I’ll take environmental proposal. Oh and urban design and walkability and bike-ability things since I studied that initially, as we’ve established,” replied Chloë, eager to return to brainstorming and further flesh out their ideas.

“And I’ll take the coöps and the policies supporting small businesses and workplace democracies. It fits better too, since you’re head of the Greens and I’m the Social Democrats.”

Chloë yawned. “Ok, wow, this is a big undertaking, but I’m excited. How many ideas have we got?”

“Uhh, let me see, um, 96, I think,” he responded.

“Ok, well there’s one of my proposals that in retrospect I don’t really like so that means we’ve got 95,” Chloë posited.

“95 theses!” they shouted in unison. They were close enough to know what may come out of the other’s mouth.

Suddenly Carrie Bat-Ilana Çospeaos, the speaker of Parliament and leader of their allied Pax Unio party, walked in. Seeing the mess of papers and devices on the floor and the excited, energetic demeanors of her colleagues, she asked them what they were doing.

“We’re brainstorming,” they said, too distracted by their work to elaborate further.

Ordinarily she’d be miffed at their subpar explanation but she saw their fervor and excitement and knew that something important was going on. “Brainstorming for what?”

“For our manifesto.”

“Ah, for your manifes— wait, what!! You’re making a mani— You know what? It sounds cool. Can I join?”

Chloë glanced up. “Oh, yeah sure. Here’s some paper, you can borrow my iPad to type notes on. Here, so this is what we’re thinking….”

And thus “Our Manifesto” was born.

[Charoskania]

Alucarn, Kingdom of Charoskania.
The Royal Family has never seen so many protestors on the street before. Yelling "Occupy Forest! Down with the Legislation!". Days before, the parliament and the monarchy voted for the resolution that unions can be disbanded. This did not sit well with the protestors, and they started harassing the royal family and statesmen left and right. Heck, even the peers were annnoyed. The Queen Looked out of the window and sighed. Her brother and nephew, Patrick, Duke of Wapania, and Crown Prince Henry looked at each other.
"This Situation is getting out of hand," said the Duke, nervously glancing at the crowd in the streets, "Corporations are a pivotal part of our nation, and they will wreck our economy if this succeeds."

"I agree, father," says the prince. He begins going to the prime minister's room.

The royal guard was being shouted at by the protestors, and being the receiver of rocks.

The Prime Minister begins sighing. "Dear Kalaria! This protest would soon lead to an uprising if we don't deal with it."

He begins ordering light millitary presence in the city. He begins calling for a meeting on how to deal with this protest

Telegram to all Forest nations.
Encryption: Heavy
In this time of protest, we need somewhere to plan on how to deal with it. We must meet up in Middle Barael.

[Jutsa]

"War. Death. Destruction. War has left a permanent scar on the earth and in our hearts. That's why, at Greenworx Laboratories, we envision a world without wars. One where our neighbors and partners overseas are safe. A world where conflicts are resolved with humane alternatives to old-fashioned combat. Join us today by visiting our website, or consider investing in our portfolios. And be sure to give us a like on social media and share with all of your friends and family! Greenworx. The defense of tomorrow, today!"

It was really a nice trip, to Middle Barael. It was almost as swampy as the outskirts of Seìweí (Seaway) and with only half the rudeness. She liked that. But what she liked more was the surprising lack of advertisements plastered on every wall. If only she could stay... but she had plans.

Upon landing back in Seaway, she was greeted with several fans in admiration. Dozens. She felt famous. She also liked that. They even recognized her despite her being covered in clothes bought from Middle Barael. Or maybe it was because of them. Middle Barael was a much hotter climate than southern Jutsa, and she didn't feel comfortable going all natural in another country.

From the airport, she took the Freedom Monorail™ up to Heìwu (Khewu) before boarding a dinky little "green shuttle" to Unleminga in Chanshuk. The government really let their public transport go down the toilet. If only they raised taxes like they did in Middle Barael. Or rather, hadn't slashed taxes in the first place.

Stopping off at Unleminga, she didn't receive the same warm welcome. Sure, people were still graciously welcoming her home - Jutsa was full of overly nice people like that - but there was a tinge of resentment or fear in some of the locals' gazes. She couldn't tell if they were capitalist pig dog oppressors or were shocked by the immense power she now wielded - or thought she wielded. Or maybe they were a mix of jealous and impressed by the fact that she could lug seven suitcases bulging with Middle Baraelian merchandise all by herself.

It was starting to get dark; she timed it that way. She finally hauled her way up to the front door of Greenworx Laboratories. She knew her brother would be off work soon. If he wasn't, he must've watched her performance last night.

He was there. And it was still obvious he watched her performance last night. "Hi, Yu."

---

It was plainer than day that he was a foreigner. Five foot seven, pale white skin, curly dark beard - he looked more like a tourist than even a minority resident. But he was no stranger when it came to dealing with Jutsaish business, which aside from all of its regulations was virtually unregulated. The same could not be said about any of Jutsa's neighbors, which is why he moved to Jutsa to start his own business.

"I'm heading home for the night, Sweeyip." Seyeīp was a short, bald Jutsan with giant glasses and a collected demeanor. Something about Northern Jutsa seemed calmer than the south. "You alright locking up for me?"

"Don't I always?" Sweeyip replied. It's true; he always did.

"Hey," he said, looking back at him. "One of these days, I'll return the favor."

"Huh. Fat chance, Buddy." He was probably right. "Good night."

This was a typical nighttime exchange at Yodqaī (Yoqla)'s Green Publishing. Of course, Fazuīdluīwaīp (Fasudluwap; legally changed from "Kenny" to appear more normal, although he's still called that by close friends) had plenty more work to do, but he couldn't wait to get home for a joint. He'd rather drink, but unfortunately one of the downsides of living in Jutsa was prohibition. He never understood that.

He stopped out in the street - well, "street" was a strong word for a dirt trail for bicycle lanes - to look back at his building. He was always fond of the name - some Jutsaish last name, followed by the word "green" or "freedom" and punctuated by something Jutsae couldn't get enough of really was a recipe for success as a small business.

It was a cool night - no surprise, given even in summer the climate up in Paìnuî (Panu) was still chilly, considering it was technically taiga. It was still unseasonably cool - it made him wonder how legitimate the government's concern for the climate change really was.

Cuīxuk (Chutnuk) was not far from where he lived in Fecŋevo (Fih-Eno), so commuting was easy, made substantially easier by being one of the few people owning a car. It'd have been easier if roads were actually a profitable business, but unfortunately cars had been banned sporadically (though unenforced due to Jutsa's small-until-recently public law enforcement), which more than anything left stigma on owning a car. Of course, the absurdly high carbon tax was incentive enough not to own one.

When he went to his car, he noticed his tires were missing. "Damn punks," he muttered. Rebellious youth was exactly why the police should've remained a business affair instead of the affairs of the nanny state. Unfortunately, since cars were a rare commodity, there existed no tow trucks, so he had to concede defeat, leave his car there, and stay somewhere for the night. At least he knew no one could steal the car, and to be honest, it was probably cheaper to stay in a motel than pay the carbon tax.

He knew where to go - he had gone there before. A cute little place he knew, Zoìzepad's (Sosipud's) Freedom Inn, was run by a close friend of Kenny who taught him everything he needed to know to run a business in Jutsa. It was a bit far - there were closer and better quality motels nearby - but he'd made a promise. Fortunately, he made sure to keep a backup bicycle in the employee racks for just such occasions.

By the time he got to Sosipud's, he was really exhausted. Not only could he not have a joint after a long day at work but he also had to peddle for several minutes. Unfortunately, he realized he was missing his wallet. "Damn punks." He genuinely thought about camping out for the night, but he decided to call Sweeyip instead.

"Kenny? Is that you?" The voice on the other end of the line seemed much less collected than he expected.

"Uh, yeah - who else? Look, I lost my wall-"

"Oh my God I thought they killed you, Kenny!"

Kenny was silent for a moment. Then he shouted the one thing he could think of at that moment: "My car!"

Turns out those damn punks saved his life.

---

We have heard your concerns, and we assure you the threat of communism is no threat to our forests as long as we're here to protect them. Unlike the government-run militaries of our communist rivals, we do not need to worry about red tape. Any and all foreigners and Jutsae alike found loitering in our pristine forests in an attempt to defame capitalism will be subjugated to rigorous routine education exercises and several years of reforestation efforts. That is because here at the Free Armed Services Helping Individuals Save Trees Incorporated, we are under oath to keep Jutsa and the Northern Uninhabited Territories safe. We are committed to stop at nothing short of stockholders' expense to protect our profitable woodlands from the heartless clutches of communist interest groups. We appreciate your patronage, and remember, Jutsa means no harm to any!

"Lau..." he was in shock, and looked almost like he was about to throw up. "What the f-"

"Shhhh." She put a finger over his mouth. "Now now, Yu, we're still in public."

Yu could not look more obviously like he was failing at life than he did right now. But he did manage to quiet his voice, albeit at the cost of nearly choking himself. "Sis, what did you do? You said you were going to a business meeting, next thing I know you're on TV cursing out our nation!"

"Come on, Yu, you should be proud of me. I told your bosses what you couldn't tell them in a million years."

Yu looked perplexed. His anger turned briefly into confusion, absolute fear, sadness because he knew she was technically right, and then into an absolute outrage. "You could have cost me my %*&@ing JOB you moron!"

Oops. Looks like he lost his temper anyway. Some people you just can't help. "You're welcome. Now help me lift my bags into your bike so we can take them to the mule house."

"Oh, you're not coming home with me," Yu insisted. "I'm not about to be seen in public with someone who badmouthed our nation on regional television." In Lau's defense, he was attracting way more attention to this fact with his yelling and furious gesticulations than she was at the moment.

"Come on, the only people you have to worry about are your greedy, abusive employers." She was right again.

"Exactly!" He noticed people were staring and quieted down. "And I happen to like my job despite my greedy, abusive employers, so I'd rather not piss them off any more than you already have."

"How could you like your job? You work for Greenworx Laboratories. You can hardly call writing propaganda for eco-friendly military research for the Free Armed Services a passion project."

"It pays well," Yu explained angrily.

"I was hardly alone, you know." She was on fire tonight. "Even though she didn't speak, I know for fact Maīyuìne Kucpa (Mayooni Kukba) was there."

Mayooni was one of Yu's coworker, namely the most attractive one. "^*!%!," he said in an unusually high pitch that reverberated around the block. "I did not hear what you just said. I'm going home, and you can stay out in the gutters where you belong."

"There's no need to be rude," she pouted. She always got her way when she pouted her lips. "You know you couldn't leave Lulu here by herself." She holds up her chihuahua to lick Yu's face, much to his disdain. "Besides, I'm sure Mom and Dad and Grandpa are just dying to see me."

Yu never even thought about this. Father hated anything to do with politics so he didn't even know Lau was gone. Grandfather was fiercely pro-market but only laughed when he saw Sis come on. Mother did cry, but it was unclear whether those were tears of joy, sadness, anger, shock, or from Yu busting the TV with the divining rods he just bought. He never liked that TV much anyway.

"I don't care what they think! I don't want to be seen anywhere near you, and that's final." He huffed. Then he kicked one of her suitcases for dramatic effect. Unfortunately this only served to hurt his foot. "Ow! What do you have in these freaking suitcases!"

"I went shopping," she explained. Yu could never understand how someone so comfortable being a rabid consumer - off of his hard-earned money - could be so ferociously against capitalism. "Look, I see you're upset." She enjoyed that; their sibling rivalry never went away. "I'll just pay for a motel. With extra room for my luggage."

That really made Yu's skin crawl, because he knew he'd be paying for it. "Fine. You can come home. But tomorrow I'm convincing mom to take you off of the family bank, and then I'm going to kick you out of the house where I won't have to see your face ever again."

"Oh yeah? And when will you have time to do that? You'll be working until the banks close, and Mom and Dad wouldn't go along with it."

Yu really hated her when she was a smart-ass. "Fine." He hopelessly took hold of two of the suitcases and started dragging them to his bicycle. He thought to himself, "I might not be able to chew her up, but maybe Grandpa will." He smirked a little. Then she started talking again.

"Oh, and one more thing, Yu." This couldn't be good. "I'm heading out again in a couple of days to meet up with a friend I made at the event. She got spooked by a firecracker and crashed into me. After smashing my tote bag, she helped me put everything back in and gave my Lulu a kiss on the nose... Yu?" Yu turned around, pale green. In an instant so were Lua's shoes.

[Middle Barael]

Greens, USD, Pax Unio release a Manifesto in response to Occupy Forest, protestors supportive but skeptical
by Iris Dubois

MBBC

August 12th 2021, 4:09 PM

Cothon City

(MBBC) -- What an exciting last fortnight.

If you are an international reader then assume you’re expecting this article to be about the Forest EcoCON virtual opening ceremonies held on Saturday, July 31st. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but here in Middle Barael there is a much bigger storm brewing.

On Sunday, August 1st 2021, the leaderships of the Greens, the Union of Social Democrats, and the Pax Unio party revealed to the public a massive, transformative, boldly progressive 95-essays-long manifesto detailing how society can be revolutionized in order to be more sustainable, economically equal, communal, and social.

“Our Manifesto”, as it is called, acts sort-of like a policy proposal, with topics ranging from labour coöperatives to urban design to corporate taxation policy to nationalization of some bankrupt corporations to vertical farming to bicycle infrastructure. According to the press release, “Carrie [Bat-Ilana Çospeaos] had to attend to a family emergency after writing 15, King Solomon wrote 29, and Chloë Arborn wrote the other 51.”

The press release also said that King Solomon (part of the USD party) and Chloë Arborn (leader of the Greens and chairwoman of the “Alliance for Progress” coalition) “began working on said manifesto after watching a vigorous speech from the activist Shira Meron. While watching they began to reminisce about their college years and how fiery and progressive they were, and then began to energetically and rapidly brainstorm ideas, throwing out random ideas and thoughts and building towards a clear idea for how to achieve utopia in Middle Barael”. This explanation, of course, seems to be tinged with Alliance for Progress propaganda, but the fact that they thought of 96 theses within an hour or so does seem to back up this account.

What about the protestors, you may ask? Well, I managed to get a hold of Shira Meron (who happens to be a childhood friend), and we met in a café in Chaouen to discuss her thoughts. “I think this manifesto has the potential to be great. Clearly, the Greens and the [Union of] Social Democrats and Pax Unio heard our calls and listened to them. But I am still skeptical about the likelihood of this being achieved, especially with Marc Nuya as PM. I mean, first he supports a union-busting law without even reading its contents, then he refuses to listen to any of the people’s demands regarding how to fix the situation, and now we’re still waiting to see if he’ll support the manifesto. So while I certainly support this proposal, and commend King Solomon and Chloë Arborn for finally listening to us, we will still continue to call for snap elections and for Marc Nuya to be ousted as Prime Minister. Until then, nothing will change, and we will still protest.”

Regarding whether or not PM Marc Nuya and his Liberal Party will support “Our Manifesto”, we will just have to wait and see. ©️Iris Dubois, MBBC News, 2021

—————————

Marc Nuya’s Office, Parliament Building, Scania

“Good morning, Marc.”

“Good morning, Solomon, Chloë, Carrie. I assume you have come to my office to discuss this manifesto of yours.”

“Correct as always,” said Solomon, who was observant as always.

Marc took a deep breath. “Ok, before you begin, let me just say that I wish you had informed me of this proposal sooner, so that I could have worked with you to tweak it so that all of our parties would agree to it, and so that we could have tweaked it together before it was released to the public. You’ve kinda written me into a corner here.”

Solomon glanced up from his notes, looking lay cautiously at his colleague, his partner, his friend. He hesitated, but before he could reply Chloë spoke. “We know that we’ve written you into a corner, but we needed to show the public that we are listening and agreeing with them. And we weren’t going to allow any tweaks to turn it back to the status quo. We’re done with the status quo. And we needed you to see that, and we need the world to see that, and, as much as it pains me to say this, we needed to test whether or not you were done with the status quo. So now let us see, will you or won’t you be the face of progress, the one changing the status quo? Will you or won’t you support Our Manifesto?”

Chloë’s own allies and aides seemed surprised by her ferocity. Chloë ha always been so generous, soft-spoken, kindhearted, and though she was also always outspoken and boldly progressive, seldom had they seen her so pertinacious and vigorous in her pursuit of progress.

None seemed more surprised than Marc. The two were friends, not as close as Solomon and Chloë per se, but still good friends. That’s what happened when you worked side by side for over a year and a half. But here Chloë was glaring at him, sharp-tongued, like the image of Merkel glaring at Trump. Though of course Marc Nuya was not that bad, though that was not saying much. He still hesitated at the thought of any substantial change. “Um, ok. Well. I can agree to some of the proposals included in this manifesto, the urban farming, the bike infrastructure, er, some alter-globalist reforms, the higher corporate tax rate, ummm, supporting certain LibSoc groups in the Third World, planting trees in the cities to turn—“

“Cut the excuses, Marc. Like Chloë here said, will you or won’t you?” Chloë turned to her friend, King Solomon. His brow was furrowed, his fists clenched on the table. For once in his ever-soft-spoken, gentle, kind, apologetic, polite life, Solomon was angry. He was frustrated. He was done with it.

Marc Nuya was surprised, bewildered even, at first, but then recognizing the tenacity in his friends’ words, he sighed. He had tried to wiggle his way out, but at last he knew he had to stand his ground. “No. I cannot.” Marc Nuya rose from his leather chair, stood behind his desk, not threateningly, but still defiantly. “There are just too many policies in here that I cannot support. I mean seriously, where did this whole enfatuation with coöps come from? And like I supported the ban of non-electric cars and the public transit and bike infrastructure, but seriously changing our entire urban design laws? We’re not Amsterdam! And letting the workers of bankrupt corporations reform into a workplace democracy? You know what that could do to the economy, to our GDP? I’m sorry, I— I really am, but I just can’t sign it. I just can’t.”

“Fine then. So be it,” Carrie said. This surprised no one, as despite her pacifism and altruism, Carrie was often snappish and curt. But she then did what nobody had ever seen her done, something that was fairly common in politics but which she never did, for she thought it turned the proceedings seem unserious. She stormed out of the meeting.

Chloë and Solomon followed. When they reached Carrie, she curtly stated “what a circus,”, and walked briskly back to her own office.

As they walked back to his office together, he suddenly remembered, “Oh, FYI, some delegates from Charoskania are here all of a sudden. They apparently sent a telegram, and then flew over before we could even reply to their request for a meeting. I’m not ready to deal with them right now, so if you see them, be gracious but try not to engage.”

Looking over at the protestors below, one could be forgiven for thinking that the government had done nothing, made no changes, never needed the will of the protestors. Despite Our Manifesto, the protestors were still out. Solomon glanced back, tired, at Chloë. “What’s gonna happen?”, she asked. Solomon replied, “I don’t know. Let us hope nothing big.”

———————

The daily Occupy Forest protest, Cothon City

Shira was making another speech. Her voice was beginning to grow rasp and creeky with all of the speeches and interviews she was making.

“We’ve gotten word just now that the Liberal Party, and it’s “glorious leader” Marc Nuya, has refused to sign the Manifesto brought forth by Chloë Arborn, King Solomon, and Carrie Çospeaos. You know, when I went to my interview yesterday morning with my friend and journalist Iris Dubois, in this cute blue-walled café in the Chaouen neighborhood, I told her that I was proud of our government, that they had finally listened to us, finally drafted some sort of proposal close enough to what we were asking for. I told her that we’d support this bill, rally for it. But I also told her that I was skeptical about it being passed. And here I’m proved right. Marc Nuya has refused to sign this manifesto. And keep in mind that he is the one who began these whole protests, back when he got passed that Union-Bashing bill in February that he agreed to just by reading the title. And he’s the one who gave federal bailouts to the big companies during the COVID Recession while our small-businesses failed. So now, King Solomon and Ms. Arborn, now that we know that you are willing to listen to us, I call on you again. Make the responsible choice for our country, make the choice that your people need you to make, make the choice that may be difficult but is necessary. Call for snap elections, and drop Marc Nuya as your candidate for PM. Listen to us. Please.” With one last desperate look to the news camera, she silently prayed that Solomon or Chloë would be watching.

Shira got off the stage. Nadir Abuhatzira, her partner in organizing the protests, walked over to her. “Do you think they’ll do it? Do you think they’ll call for elections?”

She glanced warily up at the sky, brewing with storm clouds. She grabbed her coffee, taking a slow sip. “Nadir, I don’t know what I think will happen. All I know, is that if they don’t do this, if they don’t betray Nuya, then we’ll be out here for a long time.”

Shira hears a beep from her phone. She unlocks it, sees the Apple News alert. An MBBC article, Iris Dubois of course. But when she reads the headline she gasps. Her phone tumbles from her hands, hits the uneven ground. “Shira, what is it? What happened?”, Nadir asks.

Shira points to her phone, hand covering her mouth. Nadir picks it up. He reads the headline, and he too gasps.

“Breaking News: King Solomon announces Snap Elections in Middle Barael”

[Middle Barael]

OOC: Sorry for not posting in two weeks, I’ve had a lot of work to get through. But I’m here now, and I promise more action will come soon! Also please consider joining the Forest EcoCON RP for more fun!

A Coffee Date with Shira Meron
By Iris Dubois

MBBC

August 28th 2021, 5:07 PM

Scania, Middle Barael

Two weeks in, and already this race is leaving so many surprises.

For our international readers who may not know what’s going on here in Middle Barael, just over two weeks ago, snap elections were announced in Middle Barael. Now the elections have not actually happened yet, nor are they expected to occur for another month or two. However, the race has begun, and is already heating up.

I reported a couple weeks ago that four of the most left-wing members of the Union of Social Democrats had filed to secede from the USD, to form their own Democratic Socialist Party. Well as of 6:00 today, the Democratic Socialist Party of Middle Barael has managed to garner 640,000 registered members, and it is expected that during the election all four of the DSP founding parliamentarians will get reëlected, with possibly another one or two MPs being elected for the party as well. Word also says that they are currently organizing a candidate list selection process in preparation for the election, since Middle Barael uses a party-list proportional representation electoral system.

Another interesting new development is that Middle Barael’s 4 main communist parties, known for constant bickering and virtually never getting a seat, have decided to finally put aside their differences and run as a united electoral pact this election, with a single joint list, so as to consolidate their voter base. Now, the Communist Party (Stalinist), the Communist Party (Reformist), the Communist Party (Maoist), and the Marxist-Leninist Communist Party will all be campaigning together as The Communist Parties. Particularly interesting is that they are saying “parties” plural, emphasizing that they are still separate parties but merely coöperating for this election. They do seem to have a better chance now, both with Occupy Forest slightly raising support for some leftist ideologies, and also with this revolutionary coöperation (pun intended), but it remains unclear whether or not they’ll be able to get a seat.

But perhaps most surprising was the announcement this past Wednesday from Shira Meron, who has been made famous for leading the protests here in Middle Barael: that she was running for parliament, on the Greens ticket. She made her announcement two days ago at the daily rally in Cothon City. This morning I had the chance to meet her at a small café/boulangerie in downtown Scania, the capital of the nation. A transcript of our conversation is shown below, edited.

“Good morning, Shira,” I say as I spot her at a table facing the Poli/Muse District.
“Hey, Iris!” she calls back, “how are you? How’s Luna?”
“Good, good. Yourself?”
“I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”
“Yes, I can imagine. I mean you’re running for Parliament. Even back in third grade I knew that you’d somehow end up there, whether protesting there or working there.”
“Or both!” she jokes. “But really, I’m so excited for this opportunity. And you know Nadir is running as well?”
“Yes, I heard. ‘Shira Meron and Nadir Abuhatzira, newest MPs for the Greens.’ Yes, I can see it, ‘Shira Meron and Nadir Abuhatzira named Climate Ministers.’”
“Haha, maybe someday. But for now I’m just concerned with the election campaign and helping our movement to grow and achieve our demands.”
I pause, rereading my notes. “Yes, so what is your plan going forward, now that King Solomon and Chloë Arborn are agreeing to your policy demands and snap elections are happening?”
Shira smiles, clearly excited about what she has to say. “Well, I don’t want to spoil anything, buuuuutttt we do have some pretty cool plans brewing at the Occupy Forest headquarters. We’re obviously gonna be focusing a lot more on working with our fellow protestors all across Forest, like with helping to organize the protests in Charoskania and Gandenia, aiding some of our allied activists such as Lau Pupmin who may not be getting too ‘warm’ of a welcome in their home countries, and trying to defend the protestors in Roless from the police and military crackdown.”
“So to be clear, now you’re focusing on the international side of things a bit more?”
She takes a moment to clear her thoughts. “Yes, we are, though by no means am I saying that we haven’t been paying attention before, it’s just that we are now focusing primarily on that. Like, we’ve still got the election campaigns, and our local protests, and some other still-secret plans, but much more of our attention is going overseas. Like we’re trying to figure out the legality of sending some of our more, ummm, shall we say, ‘experienced’ activists over to Roless to help organize their protests and keep as many of our protesters as safe as we can. And we are beginning to raise some money to try to lobby the Jutsan government to, you know, support its citizens with like some basic social democratic programs, just like the real simple ones for now like universal healthcare and government pensions and like, affordable housing and whatever. So that’s what we’re doing.”
“Ah. And you’ve mentioned a few times some still-secret plans that you’ve been working up, that you don’t want to spoil too much. Care for a teaser?”
“Ha, well, I’m not going to say too much or else Nadir will get mad with me, but we’re organizing a big, big protest. It’ll include basically all of our supporters, across all of Forest. We’re gonna try to get the changes that have begun to be implemented here in Middle Barael implemented Forest-wide, but moreover we wish to strike shock right to the core of Forest. We want them to know that we’re serious. And we want them to take action.” — ©️Iris Dubois, MBBC News, 2021.

[Chan Island]

Captain Bluebeard of Chan Island stroked his name-making facial hair. Not that it was much to look at. Despite the name, it was more of a soul-patch than anything you'd expect to see from a world renowned pirate, but the bright cyan patch was more than a match for anyone raising an eyebrow.

His attention was rapt on the spectacle in front of him though. A large crowd of the Occupy Forest movement protested on the streets, so far yet so close to his perch on a skyscraper's window sill. This crowd, he reckoned, presented a fascinating conundrum. On the one hand, the potential for real, positive change really was in the air. It was without dispute that the power of the big corporations was too much. They polluted the environment- too often with government permission- and treated people unfairly. They rankled with his normal attitudes. Everything on his pirate ship was handled in a democratic way, and would gladly relinquish the captaincy should the crew ever feel unhappy with his leadership.

On the other hand, the corporations were the best targets. Big container ships with a crew of a dozen were easy prey for a swift, shock-assault swipe that could reap millions in absolutely no time with a little fencing and ransoms. Sure, other players were out there in the ocean, but these presented small fry that was just not worth going after.

So he remained in deep thought until a genius thought hit his mind. Of course! The protesters were not just that- they could be revolutionaries! They could be so much more, if only someone supplied them with the appropriate kit.

The pirate pulled a box from his coat and looked inside. There were guns, knives, grenades, vuvuzelas and other weapons of war inside just this little starter pack, and who knows how many he could sell in no time at all? The Chan Island government never objected to the initiative of an enterprising businessman such as himself, and why should the government of Middle Barael? His mind set up, he put the box back into his pocket and looked to the sky.

Suddenly, the window behind him opened, a cleaning lady staring at him on the other side:

"H-Hey, Mister, you're not allowed to be here. Who are you? How did you even get here?"

The captain, grinning by now, swung round inside the room, closed the window behind him, and just said.

"Hear that sound? That, is the sound, of step one!"

[Jutsa]

We are aware of the turmoil that has been arising throughout the region and Jutsa's affiliates. Thankfully, due to the competence of our Corporate elected leader, here at Free Armed Services Helping Individuals Save Trees, we are able to hold strong in our commitment to help you, the Jutsaish citizen, and the environment from the violent clutches of our neighbors. Fortunately, we have already disarmed several potential bomb and Molotov Cocktail threats using preemptive tear gas strikes in our allies' territories to make sure no fires spread into the forested territory nearby Jutsa, as well as removing any possibly sonic booms that would otherwise disrupt the local wildlife. We thank you for your patronage, and remember, we mean no harm to anyone!"

A warmly dressed and moderate-sized woman with thick, fluffy, dark hair and reddish dark skin sits at a small desk, her silver vest behind a small collection of antiques that have given the network its homely reputation. She sits in front of a green screen that makes her appear to be sitting on a small outdoor patio, the background trees matching her green eyes. Her bright smile is complimented by substantial makeup that may or may not meet with existing environmental regulation.

"We come to you live on Jutsaish Central News with video footage from an interview between anchorwoman Fasuīna Hatluīk (Fasoona Hatlook) and Junior Head of Penpeīc (Pinpic) Law International, Çegkun Meıleī (Shih-oon Mihlih), over the recent events that lead to Jutsa no longer being part of the Legal Environmental Action Forces (LEAF), a situation that has damaged Jutsa's reputation at home and abroad. We tune to them now to hear what Shih-oon has to say about the issue."

A thinner foreign lady with blond hair, a strong jawline, heavy mascara, and grey pants and vest matching a black shirt and heels begins resonating at a high frequency. "So, the Jutsaish public is waiting to know why Jutsa has left the Legal Environmental Action Forces in Forest. The government has given its own explanation, but we'd like to hear from you on the matter, since you might have more background details and are not as constrained by international political interests as the government may be."

An older man with dark, short yet fluffy hair - hair that's beginning to be encroached by strands of grey - speaks in a calm but professional, deep register. "I think, before I tell you anything, that we are in fact quite involved with international politics, and it's precisely why we are so involved with other region members that we are really best equipped to explain the situation." He adjusts his blue-and-red-striped black tie over his blue shirt covered by a coarsely textured black suit. "And you should also know that it is a complicated set of factors that have to do with internal, but mostly external, problems that simply can not be resolved."

The anchor woman gesticulates substantially while she speaks, her left leg over her right, while she looks enthusiastically yet sympathetically at him, only taking her eyes off to glance at the camera. "I know, and honestly with how crazy things have been going, what with recent riots spreading across the region, I imagine you have had your hands tied. I think we're all glad that you could even make it here tonight. But maybe you could tell us a bit more about these... problems. What are they, and what caused them?"

The Junior Head, sitting with his hands folded and his legs firmly in the ground, leaning over slightly as if to close the room, holds his head heavily. "Well, I think we can begin with the fact that this was a two-way street. The government and our law firms have been uneasy with the LEAF organization for months now, particularly with the more socialist and increasingly violent nature of several of its associates. For example, Middle Barael seems to be facing entire social upheaval."

She looks at him inquisitively. "But surely, with all of the chaos that's been going around in Forest, Jutsa would be more than keen on remaining in LEAF, correct?"

"Yes and no, uh," he rubs his hands while leaning back only long enough to give the sense that he's definitely alive, "the political climate has, and always has been, a place of great distress among Jutsae. Certainly, we would want to be a part of the protection for wildlife around Forest, but unfortunately the Forest legal system has been increasingly anti-business, almost as if to say the two are not compatible. On top of that, the increasing red tape and the power that the more radical parties seem to be having within the international organization has given us much reason to leave on our own terms."

"And yet we didn't?"

"We didn't get a chance to. Not that we were going to, of course; not before our business associates could attend EcoCon to share a more moderate take on the situation, but of course, that very well could have given us a worse-off reputation abroad. Before we could make the decision, or come to any agreement with the LEAF organization, it actually cancelled connections with us itself."

"And what exactly caused that? Was it anything in particular, or was it simply an attack on our very culture that promotes a simultaneously pro-business, pro-environment approach to environmental legal protection?"

"There were certainly hostilities, but uh... I think it's safe to say that the biggest reason was the fact that, as all of Jutsa knows, there was the incident back in July when the legislative process resulted in businesses being legally able to dump toxic waste into international waters. And that's enough to scare everyone, even if no companies actually did such a thing before it was repealed two weeks later - at least, not to our knowledge - it's still enough to concern the international community. That on top of the fact that many of our business associates seem to have less noble intentions and shaky credibility in a climate that's becoming increasingly more suspicious of big corporations, it's hard to not find it reasonable that the LEAF organization found us to be more of a liability, one that needs heavy investigation, than an asset to their cause."

"I see. And do you think there's any chance Jutsa will be able to rejoin the Legal Environmental Action Forces some time in the future?"

He smiles calmly but unsurely. "I'd like to think so, but... it's going to take a lot of work on both of our parts to ever make that happen. In the meantime, we'll have to operate the best we can as long as the international organizations let us. Otherwise, I'd fear we're in for some dark times in the region, and I think all of us can agree that's the last thing we want to see.

"Well, thank you so much for the information. Thank you for being on our show, tonight."

"A pleasure." He gave a quick smirk before the network logo animated in, which was then proceeded by a story about a legal battle between a chefwho was allegedly fired for having undercooked his beet wellington and the company he worked for.

---

"So this is how you people get around in Jutsa, huh?" asked a lady, after having just arrived from Middle Barael, in plain English to a young Jutsaish man while riding in the green shuttle from Unleminga to Chanshuk.

"I guess so." He never really thought of that before. Then again his English was rusty. "Seems like we're so used to it, so we don't make a fuss. Most of us don't, anyway."

"Well, hopefully one day no one will have to worry about it," she replied, irking a curious look on the man before he resumes blowing bubbles from a pipe and reading a copy of Planet Feejayoplep: What the World Would Be If Feejayopleps Ruled the World

There was no conflict the night Lau came home. No yelling. No cursing. No flying objects like Yu imagined. Daka didn't say much; he smiled at her, almost as if he was proud that his granddaughter stuck to her guns, even if he didn't agree with her. Shinso welcomed her back with hugs and asked how her trip was; she seemed madder at Yu, again probably for breaking the television set. Ceīmuīn (Kimmon), the father, was out tending to the fields, and didn't really seem to notice she was ever gone. It seems Yu really was the only one remotely enraged.

"You ready to head for the shuttle port?" Yu asked Lau, having simmered down. "To meet your, uh, lady friend?"

"You bet I am, Yu." It was early morning. They were used to waking at the crack of dawn. For Yu, that also meant work; for Lau, that meant meeting with the friend she made in Middle Barael.

"Do you think you're quite dressed enough?" She was dressed entirely in white, including a white coat and a floppy white hat with pink flowers wrapped in an orange band. She even had dress gloves and heels; Yu genuinely could not understand how anyone could dress like that.

"Maybe I'll throw on a jacket when I make it to town." She hopped into the small carriage that was hooked up to Sully; room for one, while Yu rode muleback.

They were mostly silent until they made it back to town. Even Sully was suspiciously quiet; then again, she was much less obnoxious in the morning, probably because she looked forward to the treats suburbanites would give her.

After arriving at the mule house, Sully was already whining at a bearded horse whisperer dressed in a red plaid bean cap and scraggly plaid clothes who came by almost every day to give the horses treats. Yu was trying to properly tie her, although in her excitement she was, as usual, making the matter much harder than it needed to be.

"Hey Yu?" asked Lau. It was sincere. "I just wanted to thank you... for the last few days. I know I was impetuous..."

"Sissy, stop." Yu was firm, but not mad. "You don't have to talk about it."

Lau nodded. "I know you don't like it. You're stubborn like your father."

Yu paused, and then looked up from the harness. "What you did was absolutely crazy." He paused. "You're stubborn, just like your mother." That made Lau smile. "Just be careful, alright? I don't know... what kind of mess you're getting yourself into out there, and I certainly don't want to be a part of it, alright? Just... try to keep a lower profile and try not to put my line of work in jeopardy. Because I don't know how else we're going to afford your clothes if you do."

Lau nodded. "I think I can manage that." Lau then held her Lulu up to Yu. "Say bye to Lulu!" Lulu gave Yu a big kiss on the nose. Yu was deeply grossed out by it, as always, be he allowed it. He hated his sister, but she was his sister. Family was much more important in southern Jutsa than northern Jutsa. And besides, he didn't always hate her.

---

Jutsaish National - Morning News
"The Coroner's report confirms that the man who died in the car explosion outside of Yoqla's Green Publishing in Chutnuk was indeed Fasudluwap Yoqla, an immigrant from Chan Island who joined this country in the pursuit of freedom, only to be incinerated by violent revolutionaries trying to take that freedom away. His remains have been all but incinerated, with only a few small fractures of bone left behind to confirm he was deceased. Investigation continues as numerous eye witnesses say they saw a man leaving the scene on a bicycle just minutes before the explosion, but as of yet no one has been found. Back to you, Dalac."

He was relieved to see this on television. In actuality, a homeless man snuck into the car that night and jumpstarted it using electrical wires in order to stay warm, assuming that it was safe since its tires were missing. Little did he know that the tires were stolen after a bomb had been set to detonate upon ignition. Sadly, no one could confirm who he was, and Kenny was beginning to realize he might end up in a similar boat.

"Your car?!?" Sweeyip cried from the other end of the line. "You could've been blown into smithereens, and all you can think of is your car?"

Kenny took a moment for that to sink in. "I'm supposed to be dead right now, aren't I?"

"Kenny, look, the police are here, they think someone tried to smoke you out because you were rich enough to own a car."

That damn carbon tax was literally going to get Kenny killed. "I see." He paused for a moment. "they think I'm dead?"

"At the moment, yes. But if you don't get back here and talk with them, you're going to look one hella suspicious for still being alive."

Kenny was really wishing he hadn't left his coat in the car. "I'm on my way."

It's a good thing Kenny went back, even though at first things went to a shaky start.

"So you leave, your car blows up, and you're somehow alive. Isn't that just a little convenient?" asked the police officer. The public police force was a bit tougher than Kenny realized.

"My car tires were gone! Look - why would I come back? My life is in danger here... I could've just pretended I was dead, but no, Mr. nice-guy here told me the only choice I had was to come back."

"I thought it was the right thing to do!" Sweeyip cried.

The police officer pondered this for a moment, and then said, "Alright. We'll keep you in police custody - for protection - until we smoke out what happened here. Sound good?"

This sounded like a polite way of arresting Kenny. But he honestly felt he'd probably be safer in prison. "Fine, yes, go ahead - just please don't let word get out that I'm still alive."

"I think we can arrange that." Unknown to Kenny, there exists a private witness protection firm operating in Uītjet (Ukshet) with an exceptional record.

He'd been living at a small, secure room at the agency for a few days now. He misses his car, and his beard, and his job, but frankly it was better than the alternatives. Him resuming his old life might get him killed. Him moving to another country after specifically coming to Jutsa in order to start a business would likely get him intensive "counseling on the evils of capitalism". Frankly the whole situation was problematic, made worse by the fact that the police force was recently outsourced again after becoming too much of a tax burden.

He also couldn't get used to the new glasses, or the new clothes. But then again, it wasn't so different from when he first moved to Jutsa... and yet, it felt less like a change of surroundings and more of a change from within.

"So everyone thinks you’re dead now, huh?" asked Sweeyip, his red cardigan and grey scarf complimenting his large-lensed round glasses. He gave Kenny a small cup of coffee.

"The government seized my mansion, Swee. I have to wait here at the agency until they can relocate me."

"I won't be able to see you again, will I?"

Kenny looked forlornly at his cocoa. He couldn't believe that Jutsa, the land of freedom and opportunity could turn around and betray him like it had. But then again, it was only one person... surely this was not something that happened all the time. This wasn't some crime-ridden dystopia like Ruinenlust. But then again, it was as active for social change as any of Jutsa's neighbors. He really wasn't safe anywhere... he was no longer sure if anyone would be safe.

[Jutsa]

The Free Government Transparency Report Channel Inc:
"The Grand Council of Jutsa wishes to express its deepest sympathies to the lives who have been lost to the recent spade of car bombings in Panu. It is with our deepest sympathies that these tragedies occurred to anyone, particularly our fine pillars of society, the self-starting businessmen who have built our green economy. It is with a heavy heart that we honor their deaths, and thank our newly re-privatized police force for doing their part in investigating the bombings and increasing the security and safety of our nation at no taxpayer's expense directly. We thank you."

A lady of Franco-Germanic and Phoenician descent stepped out of the shuttle, rather haphazardly and frankly impolitely by Jutsaish customs. She brought two suitcases with her, one mainly for bear necessities and one for paperwork and notebooks for the meeting she was having with one of the locals. She walked up to a lady covered in the flashiest getup she'd seen since the night of the original #OccupyForest protest.

"Dido!" Lau cried, arms wide open as if to give her a hug.

"Ms. Martin," Dido replied. She liked Lau but not in that way.

"No it's me Lau!" Lau replied in her best English, not remembering Dido's last name. "You did not remember my name?"

Dido forgot what an airhead Lau was. Unfortunately, she's the only person in the capitalistic hellhole of Jutsa that she knew of and could trust. "I meant my last name is Martin. Of course I remember you, La..." Oopsie.

"Of course you remember Lulu!" Now Lulu she remembered.

"She's not going to eat my paperwork again, is she?" Dido righteously inquired.

"Oh no, I will make sure she stays with the other puppies. The café we are going to does not allow dogs, but the lakupa (Dog Watcher) is there to watch over her."

Dido had no idea what a lakupa was, but she didn't care. "So, where is this café that you'd like to take me to?"

---

The two of them arrived at a little bistro in downtown Unleminga. It was a small, rustic place, filled with potted plants as per government regulation, but also little lighting as per lack of government regulation, resulting in the plants not faring so well. They took seat at a small table made of Ethically Sourced tree stumps.

"Surely this can't be the best place you have?" asked Dido, feeling relatively uncomfortable due to a stick poking up in an inconvenient location.

"Well, I figured you wanted to go somewhere that didn't feel too greed-ridden or businessy. Besides, this is what the real Jutsa is about." These words alone made Dido reconsider whether a socialist revolution was right for Jutsa.

A stalky Jutsaish man with curly black hair wearing a chef's hat and apron came out without a notebook. He had thick eyebrows and a quiet, light voice. "Dene! Poı Keì veî huīd meıreí?" (Good health! Want you food/water or time?)

"Seeī maīku, ceīçuīkuí ak qeīdveīza, tapfoyí. Xutsu henxaî!" (Tea for-two, cinnamon-and-apple, nothing-else. Thanks many!)

Dido smiled at the chef. She waited until he was gone in case he also spoke English. "What did you just order for us?"

"Tea." Dido said. She wasn't sure how to say the English words for cinnamon or the particular type of apple she ordered, but she was sure Dido wouldn't mind.

Dido smiled. "Couldn't they offer us a cushion?" She looked around for a softer stump.

"You can stand," said Lau. It actually was fairly common for Jutsae to stand after a long day of sitting at work.

"No, thank you," Dido was not familiar with the custom. "Lets just take a look at some of our notes, shall we? You said you understand enough English to go over them, right?"

"I think so," Lau said. She really hoped she was right.

Dido quieted her voice and leaned in so Dido could hear - which actually made the stump suddenly less undesirable to sit on. "And you're sure you want to go through with setting up a rallying event here in Jutsa, even after the recent spate of recent corporate-interest bombings that are pointing the finger towards us?"

"One hundred forty-four percent!" Her conversion from dozenal to decimal was a little off but Dido didn't seem to notice.

"Very good." She laid out the papers on the table - sort-of. It was a remarkably difficult task to spread papers out on a quite possibly tea-stained tree stump, but fortunately the top was still somewhat smooth.

"I heard that one of our allies, a neighboring island in the Union of Forest with us, is willing to supply arms just in case things get out of hand. We do want this to be a peaceful protest, but it is good as last resort. The government did ban weapons, but the police have not been able to enforce it due to budget cuts."

Dido turned quiet. She tuned into a radio - an actual radio, not a speaker, not a television, but a freaking radio... seriously who uses those anymore, she thought. Regardless, she started taking notes of what she begun to hear from it; it was normal for her to want to jot down televised information to keep a timeline of potentially major events. "Shh."

Given the recent events, we acknowledge that Jutsae are undoubtedly fearful of the surrounding political climate. We assure all of our customers that they are in the safest hands. Here at Free Armed Services Helping Individuals Save Trees, we are committed to protecting you and our forests from the communist rebels that threaten to take away our society's freedom from environmental worry. Our business associates are already working on technology that promises to prevent such threats without causing any excessive physical harm to the environment or to most of the foreigners they may come into contact with. In addition, they are almost guaranteed safe for the user and promise to pave the way for even more effective and efficiently made technologies in the future. And don't worry, you do not have to worry about us selling our technology to the wrong hands. We believe in the safety and security of our research, and are only acquainted with firms that will sell this information to the most trustworthy of foreign arms manufacturing companies operating in established Jutsaish alliances in order to supply us with the most environmentally sustainable weaponry at the lowest possible cost. We appreciate your patronage, and remember, we mean no harm to anyone!

"Free Armed services Helping Individuals Save Trees?" Dido asked.

"Yeah, they're a military firm in Jutsa. We don't have a government military because it's privatized..."

Dido couldn't believe what she was hearing. Jutsa was a far worse place than she could have imagined. "And they run all of Jutsa's military operations!?"

"Uh, no. There are several businesses that compete for control of different... nee-shes. For example, they specialize in environmental protection and foreign interests. They work closely with both the firm Yu - that's my brother - works in... Greenworx Labs, if you have not heard of it. However, they do have some sort of... 'alliance' type of thing, so I would not be surprised if there's more cooperation than they like to lead the public to believe."

"And yet they openly broadcast all of this information?"

"Well yeah. Jutsa is very pro-market, but it also has mandated clearancy..."

"Transparency?"

"Transparency, yes... and anti-corruption policies, including the mandate that information be put on a radio outlet and in print both in English and in Jutsaish... plus, I'm sure they want to attract investors. Either way, anyone caught lying is instantly liable for business termination. Though... those matters are handled by an outsourced law company. It's sometimes hard to tell how effective the laws actually are, and apparently they're trying to repeal the laws because of the amount of energy and paper that goes into these transparency reports not being environmentally friendly."

Dido was really hoping Lau was just worse at English than she led her to believe and did not actually just say that. "And Jutsans just tolerate that?"

"Jutsae. But yes, mostly. I mean I don't. I'm trying to get Yu out of there... even if Greenworx isn't as bad, it's still responsible for their research."

"Well hopefully we can stir up some trouble and change that," said Dido, while looking at her notes. A look of confusion and then fear dropped on her face. "Uh... and this... organization... is there any particular reason their acronym is a misspelling of fascist?"

Lau looked at the name on her notes. "Oh, haha, that's a very unfortunate coincidence. See, that's the English translation of their Jutsaish name."

"Which is...?"

"Het Ekaīcne Tuìleeī Meıka Aīzcuī Noìla"

"Could you spell that for me?"

"Sure!" Lua wrote the name under Dido's notes. "But the' e' is really more of an "i" in Jutsaish. It reads "Free... Armed-Forces... Save - well, preserve or conserve... trees... through Helping... Individuals.. "

Dido blinked. "That spells Hitman."

"Yes, but that's also an unfortunate coincidence. It has a very different meaning in Jutsaish."

"And that is?"

"Freedom!"

"&^(%!" Dido explained.

"If it means anything, the English anchor.... ancronym, does not mean anything in Jutsaish because it has too many continents."

Dido was beginning to think she'd be better off in Turbeaux. She really hoped she wouldn't have to stay in Jutsa very long.

[Middle Barael]

Dido Martin was really beginning to regret her trip to Jutsa. She knew it was a corrupt corporatocracy in chronic crisis, but she didn’t know it was this bad.

Dido was sitting in a cafe in Unleminga, though by Baraelan standards this would barely count as a fast food chain in a charging station. She was sitting on a wooden stump, and it was all covered in some sort of shiny, slightly sticky substance; she couldn’t tell whether this was epoxy resin or just rings left over from coffee cups, but regardless, this place sucked.

Her hostess was the best either. Lau Pupmin was that kind of wannabe activist who claimed to reject consumerism and everything, and yet wore all the Gucci and Katrielle and Supreme fancy scarves and shoes and handbags. She was an airhead, to put it simply. Normally, Dido, being the practical woman that she was, desperately tried to avoid airheads, as she found them to be a waste of time to try to converse with, and yet somehow she found Lau to be endearing. Whether it was her childlike, happy-go-lucky naïveté, or her eccentric fashion choices, or simply how clearly passionate Lau was, Dido could not help but humor her.

The two were supposed to be going over the notes that Dido had received from Shira and Nadir about the big protest, but the conversation had somehow driven to honeybees. “I think that we need to not only respect the bees and save them from XXXTentacion, but we need to be more like the bees. Like, work together for the commonhealth and just like to make society better for everyone, both the booze-yahtzee and the workers.”

“You do realize that bee hives are matriarchic absolute monarchies where the all-male drones are forced to work to death for a dictatorship that abandons them once they’re old or injured, right?”
“Well yeah, I’ve seen the Bee Movie. Oh, here’s a fun question for eye-spray-hers: you like jazz?”
“Ugh. Oh, wait, shush, the radio.”
“What about it?”
“It sounds like Iris Dubois is on air.”
“Oh, Miss Doobie? I love her.”
“I said shut up. Oh, see, now we’ve missed her.”
“Awww. Anyways let’s go back to talking about jazz. Do you like Elton Jean?”
“SHHHHHHHH! Shira Meron is about to talk! Listen up!”

---

Shira Meron walks over to the stage. She seems confident, but also a bit nervous, not about the speech, but something else. Something bigger.

“Friends, I come to you today with an announcement. A big one. One that will echo throughout Forest, one that will show everyone that we have finally woken up.

“We are gathered here because we all agree in a common dream, that the people are in charge, not the corporations, not the industry lobbyists, not the corrupt politicians. That we see a world where the economy is for people, working together, whether in local small-businesses or labour coöps or public enterprises. That we see not only system-wide climate action, but that our climate action changes the system so that nothing so reckless can be done again. That our cities are beautiful to walk or bike in, and that they are full of homes and small shops and restaurants, not massive supermarket chains and big-box stores. And that we are a truly democratic society, ruled by the people, one person one vote, where the general will of the people reigns supreme, and not the will of a handful of billionaires.

“Nadir and I are incredibly lucky that our nation has finally begun to listen to our demands. Though we will continue to push them to do more and further democratize our economy, we are grateful that King Solomon, Chloë Arborn, Carrie Bat-Ilana Çospeaos, and many other Baraelan politicians have embraced our calls.

“However, we recognize that not all of us live in countries so progressive or so supportive of change. We owe it to our fellow activists in Jutsa, Gandenia, Charoskania, Chan Island, Daarwyrth, even in the Dominated Injurious Enterprises and Mowte, to continue the fight for economic justice. And continue to fight we will. But we have been fighting our here, protesting, for months. I’ve been protesting daily for about 6 months now. I nearly missed by great-uncle’s funeral even. And yet we’ve had just one country, maybe two if you count what happened in Roless, listen to our demands.

“We clearly need to do more. When we said “Occupy Forest”, we didn’t just mean Middle Barael. We didn’t just mean the handful of countries where some small change has already begun. We said that we were occupying Forest, and that is what we plan to do.

“The leaders of Forest are meeting currently at the Forest EcoCON summit in First Creek Falls. Now ordinarily I would completely support the Forest LEAF and their initiatives, and I have nothing against the environmental portion of the EcoCON. However, this year they are turning it into a spectacle, a corporate fair. They’re inviting the very companies that are exploiting our people and destroying our planet to speak about how “sustainable” they are. We need to tell the world that this is not ok, and that it is not business as usual. And most of all we need to let the leaders and politicians know that we are serious and determined.

“I’ve been in constant communication with activists across the world, and we’ve arranged for several hydrogen-powered planes and zero-carbon boats to ship us across to First Creek Falls. We’ve got some boats and planes leaving very soon from Roless to head first to Middle Barael and then to Errinundera, we’ve sent our friend Dido Martin over to Jutsa to help organize the fleet of ferries we’ve sent over there, and we’ve got several more zero-carbon boats and planes across Forest to help transport our activists. You’re all welcome aboard, no fee necessary thanks to all the donations our movement has received. The leaders of the world are meeting in First Creek Falls, so when they all meet together at the Forest EcoCON, we’ll make sure to be there too.

“I’m truly so, so excited, and truly so, so grateful for everything we’ve achieved thus far. We’re gonna let the politicians know that we are serious, we are devoted, and we will not stop till our demands are met. We are Occupying the Forest EcoCON, Occupying Forest, and we will not stop until our Forest is truly a Forest of the people again.”

[Middle Barael]

OOC

This section of the RP is officially over. This RP, Occupy Forest, will be merging with our other ongoing RP, the Forest EcoCON. I will create a new combined thread for both within the next few days.

Please do not post anymore on this thread or on the Forest EcoCON thread. I will telegram the Mods shortly asking them to lock both IC threads.

In the meantime, sit back, relax, and let's Occupy the Forest EcoCON!!!