An honourable duel -14/02/11- (IC, closed)

[Brachyuria]

February 14, 2011. Thought of the day: "If planes are so great, why don't all the other countries just marry theirs already."

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"Golden age of air travel" Experts agree, this is just a myth, spread by heathen foreigners. Ships are way better, and nowhere near as much of an unholy affront to the glorious red gods. Page 6

Brachyuria, the best? Yeah, we did some real scientific-type study things, and it's definitely the greatest nation, like ever. Page 5

Crabs Finally, it's a slow news day. Time to whip out all the crab photos we can fit into the rest of the paper. Page 14-16

Other nations Are they even trying to be as awesome and glorious as us? I sure hope not, because otherwise it would be kind of sad how badly we're beating the competition. Page 7

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King Irvine to fight for the glory of our nation!
-Editor: Otto "meat-hooks" Handleburger

People of Brachyuria, our honour has been questioned, and none other than our glorious king himself have stepped up to answer the seagull-loving swine who did the questioning.

Sending us a "gift" of flavourless nonsense they thought constituted "pastry", the upstart nation of The First Awesocracy was rightly returned their disgusting and insufficient homage to our greatness, and for some reason took offence. The chief culprit of this pastry making scheme was so offended, that he took the opportunity to challenge our glorious leader to an honourable duel. Naturally, our gracious leader accepted.

King Irvine, who himself thought the pasty gifting was "suspiciously unspecific about it's designed flavour", chose to make a statement before boarding a train, to take him via land to the heretic nation for the duel to commence.

This sad gift of pies shall not go unpunished, and I look forward to making this upstart baker cry warm salty tears in regard to the sound thrashing I shall soon bestow upon him.

The duel is set to begin at dusk tommorow, using something of foreign make called a "gunblade", which Irvine assures us he will get the hang of using in the short time he has to prepare.

Long live the glorious nation of Brachyuria, and long may it remain untarnished by the ghastliness of flavourless pies.

Page 2: You know what's awesome? I'll give you a hint, it's red and chitinous.

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4:26pm, 14th of February
On a train, passing through the North-West territory of Archonis-Thay

Irvine was on the phone, which had not ceased to ring since he had departed. The caller was once again the chief minister of foreign affairs, Charles Wimperton Oakenbroth.

"Sir, I really don't think this is a good idea. We don't know what a blade-gun even is!"
Irvine tried to wave him away, then remembered he wasn't physically present. "It will be fine Wimperton, just look after everything while I'm gone."
"And what if you get yourself killed?"
"Just look after everything, I'll be fine."

[The First Awesocracy]

A message from the capital city of Kickassia!

Yesterday, the Awesocracy's Chief Piemaker, Dan O'Conner, was insulted by the leader of Brachyuria when he returned a crate of pie-flavoured pies that O'Conner had baked as a gift to their nation. The piemaker has called for a duel, gunblades at dusk, in order to preserve his honour. Badass Mintser Jean Blackwood, the implacable Jogund, an Order of Holy Burning inquisitor, a saurian government official and two astartes will be attending and watching the duel. It is rumored that the head of the military, Alakan von Baneblade, will be overseeing the duel on account of such an important Brachyurian being involved.

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"I'MMA FUCKIN' SET HIS BEARD ON FIRE!" shouted Chief Piemaker Dan O'Conner

Badass Minister Jean Blackwood sighed. O'Conner had been angered greatly when he heard that the Brachyurian leader refused to accept his pies and had not calmed down since. He was a very weighty person, with about as much muscle as he had fat. Blackwood was rather old and wore a Victorian-era suit.

"Okay. Fist of all, I don't even know if he has a beard." Blackwood said "Second of all, you cannot light any part of him on fire. This is a gunblade duel and as such you may only try and harm him with said weapon. Have you been practicing your gunblade skills like I advised you to?"

"I've been playin' Final Fantasy VIII. Does that count?" O'Conner said

Jean Balckwood sighed yet again. "No it does not."

"Excuse me but can we hurry up and get to the dueling zone?" said Inquisitor Amanth, a youngish elven man sporting a light coat "We all want to see fat-boy get stuck by the Brachyurian."

"WHO ARE YA CALLIN' FAT, YE POINTY-EARED FAIRY FUCK?!" O'Conner grabbed several kitchen utensils and threw them all at once at Inquisitor Amanth. He dodged the items, which hit and harmlessly bounced off one of the astartes.

Blackwood had had enough "Enough of this crap! Now everyone get over to the jet. We're going to meet with the Brachyurian leader and then watch him and O'Conner attempt to murder each other. Savvy?"

Everyone in the room nodded their heads. They exited the building they were inside and got into a government jet, which was soon heading towards the dueling area.

[Brachyuria]

Temporary quarters, the duelling area, wherever that is in The First Awesocracy

Irvine was starting to get the hang of this foreign "gun-edge" thing, albeit slowly. It had been surprisingly light, considering how outrageously bulky the weapon looked. Nevertheless, it was unwieldy, and he found that the only way to comfortably rest without having to put it down required putting it over his shoulder at a really weird angle, which he thought made him look stupid. Still, he knew enough about fighting from his younger days to know that the basic premise of "hit the other feller till he stops twitching" was still a generally effective tactic to go by.

His phone rang again, and after first considering just turning the thing off, he answered "What is it now Wimperton?"
"I don't suppose you've changed your mind since the train ride?"
"Not as such, no."
"Then I wash my hands of it. Good luck, I guess."
"Good to see you're coming round Wimperton, will you be watching?"
"It's going to be televised? Well I suppose you are royalty..."
"I don't think Royalty has much to do with it, duelling is awesome."
"You sound like a child."
"No, YOU sound like a child!"

Irvine tossed the phone away and de-shouldered the bulky sword again, then continued with his practice. The faint sound of Wimperton trying to speak loud enough to still be heard distracted him too much, and he just resigned himself to waiting in his quarters. His opponent was supposed to be arriving soon, and as far as he was concerned, the pastry making miscreant would pay dearly.

[The First Awesocracy]

Over Awesocratic territory

The jet carrying O'Conner had reached the dueling zone, a small Colosseum-like structure. The landing had been rather rough, on account of the pilot being a nutjob who believed that only "cowards and sissies" installed brakes in their aircraft. The left wing was destroyed while the jet dragged itself across the the ground but luckily nobody was seriously injured. Well, except the pilot, who after the crash revived a broken arm and concussion by Inquisitor Amanth on account of endanger the lives of government officials.

The group exited the damaged jet and entered the Colosseum. It was an ancient building, constructed during the Awesocracy's early days many centuries ago. Alakan von Baneblade would be arriving shortly to overseer the duel between O'Conner and the Brachyurian leader.

Minister Blackwood turned to O'Conner. "You may alert your soon to be opponent that you have arrived."

"Gotcha." O'Conner said. He pulled out a handgun and fired it in the air. "OI! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE YA NANCY! I'M HERE TO KICK YA FUCKIN' TEETH IN!"

[Brachyuria]

A voice carried out from the opposite entrance "I'm coming out now, but only because I want to, and not because you told me to." King Irvine then appeared, dragging the oversized weapon through the dirt behind him with one hand, and using the other to make some last minute adjustments to the bandage gloves he had fashioned for himself while waiting for his opponent to arrive.
He moved towards the centre of the Colosseum, until he had reached the point he considered close enough for any pre-duelling insults to be exchanged. Taking a good look at the fat pastry chef for the first time, he was less than impressed, and figured chastising the man's build would be going after too easy a target. Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything else to comment on in the short time-frame, and resorted to the age old Brachyurian go-to insult regarding foreigners.

"Are you really my opponent, or has he still not shown up yet? I understand that he must be quite held up with all that seagull fucking, but I would remind him that we do still have a duel to fight."

[The First Awesocracy]

"OI! WHO YA CALLIN' A SEAGULL FUCKER, YA...CRAB FUCKER!" O'Conner shouted. He attaempted to charge at King Irvine, but he was restrained by the two astartes. "Hey! He's gotta beard! I fuckin' knew it Blackwood!"

Minister Blackwood sighed once more. He turned to Irvine. "You'll have to excuse mister O'Conner. He's doesn't take insults very well." he said "And yes, he is your dueling opponent. We'll begin the duel soon but first we have to wait for the Head of the Military to get here. How about we use this time to formally introduce ourselves, seeing as how this is the first meeting between government officials of the Awesocracy and Brachyuria?"

Blackwood bowed politely. "I'm Badass Minister Jean Blackwood, veteran member and diplomat of the Awesocractic government."

[Brachyuria]

Irvine waved with his free hand, in a fashion that was slightly less masculine looking than he had planned, a sort of waving that just involved wiggling the fingers more than any sideways motion of the hand itself. He pretended it didn't bother him, and his hand dropped back down again.
"Irvine Niederhaus, the fourteenth ruling monarch of Brachyuria."
He regarded the restrained mister O'Connor for a few silent seconds, then returned his attention to Blackwood.
"Does he do this often? Request duels with foreign heads of state that is."

[The First Awesocracy]

Minister Blackwood shook his head. "No, this is the first time. Although he did attempt to assault his awesomeness Prince Falian after his Highness questioned the quality of some meat pies baked by O'Conner. Anyways, it's a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself."

Blackwood walked over to the other government officials. "Now allow me to introduce the others." He held his hands towards the young elven inquisitor. "This is Inquisitor Amanth, from the Holy Order of Burning." He moved his hand to the Astartes. "These two space marines are among the thousand who makes up our elite special forces." He next brought attention to a tie-wearing raptor, who was chewing on some documents. "This is Snap-jaw, a domestic-affairs official." Blackwood then held his hand to a large being which looked something like this. "And lastly, this is Jogund. He acts as a diplomat, enforcer and political judge."

"I AM JOGUND. I AM THE IRON HAND OF THE AWESOCRACY." bellowed the metal behemoth

"Indeed you are, Jogund." Blackwood said

[Brachyuria]

"Yes, hello there Jogund, everyone."

The King reluctantly returned the large sword to it's easy to manage but strange looking resting place over his shoulder, and considered the fact that he had essentially come by himself. Not that some of his staff wouldn't have wanted to come along, it was more that a duel was proof enough of strained tensions, and bringing someone like the Minister of Justice along with him could potentially lead to far too many secondary offences, plus mister Mortlock would probably end up striking up some sort of bond with O'Connor, seeing as they were both rotund psychopaths. Trying to disarm the awkwardness of just standing there in the duelling ground, he tried to smile.

"I'm afraid I didn't bring any of my government officials with me for further introductions. I didn't need them telling me this was a bad idea for the duration, and the time it would have taken to get the lazier ones following would have caused some major setbacks to the timing of the event." He gestured towards the far entrance, where a thin old man was standing, holding a tweed cap in his wrinkled hands. "That's mister Vandemark, he drove the train." Mister Vandemark waved nervously while Irvine took a cigar out of his pocket "I assume the nation that allows citizens to duel foreign monarchs will have no problem with me smoking in here." Shaking his match until the flame had gone out, he exhaled a short puff of smoke "At least until that head military person arrives and we can start this thing."

[The First Awesocracy]

Suddenly, an armoured plane with the Awesocratic emblem appeared above the colosseum.

"Ah, here comes the head of the military now." Blackwood said "You may want to move back for your safety."

The belly of the plane opened up, and a car-sized pod fell out. The pod hurtled downwards and crashed into the center of the arena, in between the two parties. After landing, two hands slip through a crack in the metal of the drop pod. The hands grabbed onto and parted the metal, creating an opening. A large man came out of the pod. He appeared to be 40-something years old, stood 7-feet tall, had a face covered with scars, and wore a greatcoat with many medal attached along with a commissar's hat.

"May I present to you Alakan von Baneblade, Hardcore Commander of the Awesocratic military and the deadliest warrior in the Awesocracy." Blackwood declared

Alakan von Baneblade turned his head to King Irvine. "So, you're the Brachyurian pansy who O'Conner's dueling?"

[Brachyuria]

"And you're the man whose absence has been holding up the proceedings."
Irvine didn't like being called a pansy, but his upper staff was filled with meatheads similar to this Baneblade fellow, and he knew pushing the man's buttons too much would just cause a pointless scene of childish agression. Nevertheless, he was a Brachyurian, and the heathen contraption of planes had been involved, so there was an objection he had to make, regardless of consequences.
"I do hope that we weren't waiting here for the sole reason that you wanted to make a showy entrance separate from the others." Taking his gaze away from the man, he turned to address Blackwood again "Is there anyone else planning to be shat out of an airplane before we can begin? I have an overseas event to attend to soon after this."

[The First Awesocracy]

"Don't you sass me, crab-lover." Alakan von Baneblade said "I fought in the Shadowlands civil war and help spearhead the great purge during the weeaboo uprising. I'm a goddamn war hero and you'll show some respect."

Yet again, Blackwood sighed. "Commander, may I remind you that you're speaking to the King of one of this region's most powerful nations?"

"Oh get bent, Blackwood. You're so bloody polite that sometimes I want to punch you in the face..." Baneblade said "Anyways, let's get this duel started."

Baneblade reached into his drop pod and pulled out a black case, a measurement tape, and a piece of chalk. He did some measurements and drew a circle on the ground. "The rules of gunblade duel are simple. The duelists stand in the center of the circle, back to back. When the duel begins, they will move one meter from each other, then turn. Duelists are not allowed to leave the circle until their opponent is dead. The circle is designed so duelist may not be more than 1.5 meters away from each other, allowing for both purposes of the gunblade to be equally useful."

He opened the black cases, revealing two steampunk gunblades. "Are the rules understood?"

[Brachyuria]

Glad that the large unwieldy sword he had been practising with was not the intended duelling weapon, Irvine nodded "Yes, it all seems perfectly grizzly."

He walked into his side of the chalk ring and gestured for one of the weapons to be handed to him "I suspect O'Connor is as eager to get on with it as I am, let's get this started."

[The First Awesocracy]

Commander Baneblade handed each of the duelists their gunblades. O'Conner spun his around and waved it at King Irvine like a knife. "I'mma cut you up, ya fuckin' bearded bastard!"

"Combatants enter the circle!" Baneblade shouted. O'Conner stepped into the center of the duel circle.

"I'm going fuckin' stab you like a seagull pecking a crab!" O'Conner said

[Brachyuria]

"I don't think Similes are really your strong suit."

Ignoring the chance that his easily angered pudgy opponent was probably not party to playing by the rules and might take advantage of the situation, Irvine turned his back to O'Connor , made sure he was standing in the right place, and prepared for notification by Blackwood that they begin.

[The First Awesocracy]

Blackwood turned to Commander Baneblade and nodded. "May the duel...COMMENCE!" said the Commander

O'Connor began stepping forward. Once he had reached the appropriate distance, he turned around. He swung his gunblade in an attempt to slash his opponent.

"THIS IS FER INSULTIN' MY PIES!"

[Brachyuria]

O'Connor's swing came faster than would be expected from a man of his build, and Irvine could only arch his head backwards slightly in the time given. Though it missed his arms and face, the blade did catch on his shirt and rip a large tear out of it's right side. A sharp pain in that area also suggested that his skin had also been cut into, but he wasn't going to check exactly how deeply right now.
While O'Connor's arms were still slowing from their previous arc, and presumably preparing for another heavy swing, he took a rudimentary sort of aim at the man's torso. It had been a good couple of decades since his military days, but the idea of aiming for the larger target instead of the theatrical option of the head was still apparently ingrained into his subconscious. Besides, even if he had been aiming at the head, O'Connor's torso was large enough that any shots that went wide could well have ended up there anyway. Abandoning all pretences of conserving ammunition, he prepared to fire everything he had.

[The First Awesocracy]

O'Connor was preparing to bring up his gunblade when Irvine had fired a round from his weapon. O'Conner was shot in his chest, and the pulled went right through him. He was then struck by several more gunblade bullets.

"Aw fuck me."

The man fell downwards, his body hitting the ground with a thump. Blood began leaking from his wounds and covered the dirt below. The Awesocratic officials stood with a blank looks on their faces.

"Well...that was certainly fast." said Inquisitor Amanth

"Duels involving firearms tend to be so." Bandeblade replied

[Brachyuria]

Irvine let his hands fall to his side, and then probed around his wound with the hand that wasn't currently holding a bladed gun to check the depth. It was certainly fairly deep, but nothing that would endanger his life, or for that matter any of the organs in the vicinity. Looking down at O'Connor, he saw the colour slowly fading from the man's static face, and felt a tiny bit repulsed at the occasional violent heaving of his chest, not to mention the way blood from his nose tended to bubble when he did so. All ghastliness aside, Irvine was rather pleased with himself, and was glad that at least now this Baneblade fellow would have a few less reasons to think of him as a pansy.

Other than their previous remark, the others had remained silent, and he supposed they must be waiting for the victor to say something. He considered saying something stupid like 'looks like this pastry chef forgot that today's secret ingredient was pain!'
But then he decided that he wasn't quite fancy enough to pull that off, plus he didn't have any sunglasses. Instead he turned to Blackburn and held out the gunblade, taking the precaution to not do so while pointing the barrel at him. Mustering all his kingly presence, he regarded all the others in the area with a series of quick nods and spoke.

"Gentlemen. Snap-Jaw."
He wished he had a hat to take off to them, but made do with another nod "If that's all, I have other proceedings to attend to."

[The First Awesocracy]

Minister Blackwood nodded back, but then he remembered something. "Excuse me, King Irvine, but could you give us a lift to the nearest Awesocratic settlement? Our transportation was destroyed during landing and around this province it's rather dangerous to travel on foot." he said

[Brachyuria]

"Yes fine, follow me then."

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February 15, 2011. Thought of the day: "The man who doesn't always think of the crab may well be thinking of something else, and it may not be good."

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Seagulls on the rise It's that time of year again. Thankfully the annual seagull hunting competition is fast approaching. Just one more week! Page 3

King Irvine, superhuman? Experts agree... Yeah, probably. Page 5

The Almighty Caglor Win your school or workplace a visit by this chitinous arena champion Page 12

Fasdian treachery! The dubious Fasdian menace tricks our beloved leader into travelling to a minor diplomatic event via the most horrific manner possible. Air travel. Page 7

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Turns out the King is still baddass
-Editor: French Handel

We knew it.

Having graciously taken up the offer to defend his honour against the fat pastry making fool who dared question it, the King has returned triumphant from a trip to the heathen lands to our East, and has received none but a paltry little stomach scar from the experience. Video uplinks of the duel have already been released, and for many of our readers with that weird new inter-tubes thing, this may perhaps be old news. Whatever ghastly non-newspapery means you chose to witness this duel, it appears from the footage that our King, glorious as ever, was what the kids are calling a "stone cold badass."

The duel itself was very short, by most people's standards, with what by conservative estimates was a mere second of fighting. Our King's dastardly assailant, a mister O-Cone or something, chose to swing his weird knife-gun thing at the glorious leader, and nearly missed entirely, only creating a single gash on our leader's immaculate stomach which in online polls, has been described as both "manly as fuck" and "hunky." Irvine then summoned the power of the mighty crab gods, allowing them to scuttle into the muscular coils of his mortal shell, and unleashed a succession of shots into the bloated mass of his opponent, swiftly ending the fight.

Readers have already written in regarding the King's apparent decision to not use any of his various divine powers to defeat his foe, the powers we have detailed in depth throughout his reign. Obviously, the object of fair play is tantamount in a duel of honour, so we surmise that the King graciously chose to defeat the evil that was O-Cone using the mundane everyday powers of the average Brachyurian citizen. So there lies the reason that we saw no swarms of crabs bursting from his open palms, or did not see a wave sweep inland from the distant ocean to drown his enemy. We approached the King's advisor, former admiral Charles Oakenbroth, for his opinion on this lack of magical prowess, and were told that "Oh gods [are great], you [delightful] reporters have to just make [the truth] up so [delightfully] much don't you? Irvine doesn't [not] have any magic [delightful] powers alright?"

Oakenbroth was asked a follow-up question regarding his opinion on the King's decision to go to The First Awesocracy despite his objections, but chose to make no further comment. We were expecting the king to come back by train, presumably by pushing it with his manly king muscles, but Irvine has instead stopped in our neighbour Archonis-Thay, from where he plans to be transported overseas with Fasdian dictator Gregory Thorn to a "cultural engagement", our questions have been redirected by government policy to mister Sean Mortlock, chief minister of Justice. Mortlock ensured us that he "stayed up all night" writing his statement, and that any attempts to flee if he got violent would be met with "severe repercussions."

'Aving watched the duelling many times on my personal inter-tubes capable home computing device, I 'ave to say that I am personally very pleased with Irvine's conduct in the said duelling event.

I am slightly 'ungover, from a night of partyin'. But I di... Digre... But I say anyway, that I could bear any pain of the head if I were again shown such a fine display of fighting to lead me to such a level of drinking that I...
I seem to 'ave lost a page... 'Old on."

Unfortunately for mister Mortlock, it seems his page was stolen by the dastardly baby-eating Closians, or something. As he never did find it again, and began threatening the assembled press, with the thought that we had a hand to play in it's disappearance. After he brought his gun out, the press dispersed, and our own reporter at the scene, chief editor Handleburger, was forced to go into hiding, leaving us only the above transcript. Our thoughts go out to our intrepid editor, and his brave stand, or crouch, depending on where he is, against the scary might of Mortlock.

Page 2:Bronzi class battlecruisers up for the scrapyard?

[Fasdia]

Gregory Thorn couldn't resist the urge to select "Play again" and watch the newly leaked duel a second time. Though he would normally consider it beneath him to enjoy watching a video of someone being killed, this one was simply far too entertaining not to watch again. From the Awesocrian's clumsy swing of the sword that managed only to rip Irvine's shirt open, to Irvine nonchalantly emptying his revolver into the poor bastard, the clip was simply fantastic. Thorn was glad he would soon be meeting Irvine in person; he would have to congratulate him on killing a man. It's not often that world leaders kill people with their own hands nowadays.