Citizens of The Isles [IC, TWI only]

[Polar Svalbard]

This thread is not too much unlike the news and twitter threads. This thread is meant to hold short stories from your nations that do not fit anywhere else, and you'd like to write. Stories don't need to affect each other, and can have no correlation. These can be citizens, small missions, little events, and other stuff that as said before don't necessitate their own threads. Have fun.

TWI Only, NO OOC is to be here

For more ways to RP check out these RP threads and dispatches

Western Isles News Trade Thread Twitter Thread Backstory Conflicts of TWI History Directory of Member Nations
Arms Dealers of the Isles RP depository Alliances and Trade Agreements

[Alantania]

A friend and I sat in our small canoe in Lake Salváshin. The Arebor skyline was at to our side, it look perfect except for the few blocks of missing buildings. My friend's voice broke my concentration.
"You know, the government is planning on canceling the festivals this year. To focus on work."
"They shouldn't do that, everyone needs a break. We haven't been able to properly greive or even burn bodies. It's just been work, work, work." I kept my tone steady and calm to not show the shock and rage I felt.
"It's just a rumor..,I still can't believe everything went to sh*t so fast. It's been like one bad movie, except it doesn't end."
"At least it can't get any worse. We're just blessed that no wide spread epidemics happened from all the dead bodies...we could be in a much different spot if it had."
"I dont think Alantania'll ever be taken seriously in the world again.., what do you think? I feel like we're the the France of The Western Isles. Bad choice after bad choice."
"At least we didn't quit and surrender. Theres pride to be taken there. I think every other nation will respect us, I bet if any 4P nation had got hit they'd surrender if it meant saving their buildings and luxury goods, they'd probably sell their poor for a new diamond necklace."
"Yeah, true. I wonder how deep the corruption in PPU is, it was their appointed judges and intelligence network that did it."
"It's too deep for A.I.D. I bet the Bhumalese know though, they know everything about everyone."
"...I guess so."
The two of us fell in to a nice silence watching the sunset and it's reflection of the lake.
"We 'oughta row in, the lighting of candles for those loss starts soon."

[Remodio]

The soldiers send the notes to their loved ones for the last time... They were going to attempt to cross the mountains into the Prussian side.
"Boys, the Battle will be won! You have been on ships full of infested rats, you can survive this. The Prussian king will fall at our hand and our king will rule!" General Jean yelled.
"But, sir. The mountains will be harsh during these winters. Wouldn't it be best to stay and let them attempt to cross? Or possibly attack by ship?" asked Pierre.
"Are you crazy? Ice is in thick amounts. Anyways, these fur coats can protect us." Jean convinced. Pierre, not wanting to argue on this dreadful day, took to fur coat and grabbed his musket. "So be it, boys, we are the New French Army! Do you think Prussians can stop us? Of course not!"
And with that they left.
The Battle of Briques was one of the few battles lost by the French; Pierre Franc and Jean Blanc died in 1725 whilst crossing the Nouveaux Pyrénées.

Dear Beth,
I cross the Nouveaux Pyrénées today. I think Jean is crazy but I can't argue. Keep care of the children.

Yours truly, Pierre.

---

Dear Liz,
As we cross these mountains, you are in my heart. Pierre doesn't think we'll win in these conditions. I am sort of doubting as well.
Sincerely, Jean.

[Dashgrinaar]

Friday, November 13, 2015
Savannah Ave
Outside Ienempyr, Dashgrinaar

Savannah Ave woke up to the distant rumble of thunder, weak lightning lighting the rolling fields beyond the large, country residence. The remnants of a fire burned in the hearth, situated across from her bed. Savannah walked over towards the window, her feet making no noise as they traversed the cold floor beneath them. The sun had barely touched the horizon, when the phone rang. She headed over towards, it and answered, recognizing the caller as her editor.

“Hello, Pierre? Is it you,” she asked, as she walked out of her room.

“Yes, it is,” replied a man's voice from the other end, “How is the book coming along? You know the deadline is coming soon.”

“It’s almost finished,” she answered, “I’ve finished making most of your suggested edits, and reconstructed the end. After a final check, it should be able to be published.”

“Yes, about that. Culturé has agreed to publish your sequel, so that will cut out the long process of finding an aprovee.”

“That's very good. Anyways, I have a busy day ahead of me, so I'll check in later. Bye, Pierre.”

Savannah hung up the phone, and walked down the stairs into the large kitchen. She pulled her laptop out as she made herself a cup of coffee, and saw that the book's cover art had been forwarded to her. It was akin to the book's previous incarnation, and she really liked it.

Pierre,

I really like the cover art. Send word to the publishers and artists. Thanks!

-Savv

She clicked send, and right after, it started to rain.

To be continued...

[Eurania]

Warsawyev, Eurania

Egeria Vymov was on her way home, from work as a congresswoman in the EPC. As she drove her Aventus Tricon away the legislative building, she stopped for a group of recruits for the EM. To her left was the usual military patrol around the city, consisting of a infantry fighting vehicle and several soldiers, with the occasional tank and even more occasional helicopter. She was in a bad mood after she had to go to an urgent meeting in Zvesgov at 4:00 AM. She still was reliant on coffee to continue driving.

Throughout Warsawyev were giant TV screens on a third of the buildings. Egeria drove past another construction crew assembling another TV screen near a new finance building. As she turned onto a smaller street, she slowed down. Kids were playing, and grown ups were chatting. A few were blocking the road, so soldiers escorted them away. Egeria smiled and continued.

She drove onto the main road. It was bustling. Cars and trucks and infantry fighting vehicles were bustling everywhere. As she accelerated down the road, she came across several more construction sites for Jumbotrons. She then drove into her private condo complex.

The complex was massive. It was comprised of four towers, made of mostly steel, concrete, and glass. The center between the four towers was a enormous park combined of four squares, with in one of them there was a large pool. In the middle of the square was a tall flagpole. On the flagpole's top was the Euranian flag, The Unbroken Union. On all the four buildings were flagpoles with The Unbroken Union.

Egeria parked her car and gave her keys to a young man for valet parking. She thanked him and went inside the east tower.

The east tower lobby was gigantic. The roof had a atrium, and spread evenly were lounge chairs. In the center of the lobby was a medium-sized fountain. Potted plants lined the side of the lobby, and TV screens and even a piano were spread across the lobby, along with art paintings.

Egeria took an elevator to the twenty-second floor. She went to her home's door and slid her ID card. It unlocked.

As she walked inside, she was greeted by silence. She dropped her suitcase and yelled out to the seemingly empty room.

"KIDS, ITS DINNER TIME!"

Her two sons, Herm and Engel, took off and landed on the couch. They were both 13 years old, and were nearing the age of requirement for joining the Euranian Military, 15.

She walked to the kitchen and took out ingredients and a cooking pot.

"Ramian for dinner, kids."

Herm and Engel smiled.

[Segentova]

He sat on the couch, his legs out in front of him and pushed onto the coffee table. Staring at a small screen in a dark apartment at 06:00 in the morning. He simply sat there on the couch in the middle of a 10 or so m² living room which was darkly lit as he sat there stared at the TV-screen which almost comically seemed to cling to the wall. He was staring into the flimmering image of a newscaster brabbeling something about "increased diplomatic tensions in the region" and "Weapons of mass destruction suspected by the league in the eastern regions". Personally he didn't believe any of it. He went out and stared into the streets of Akhali from his small 2nd-story apartment only to discover that some hooded figure was was spraying the building on the opposite side of the street in Mkhedruli-writings. As he bent out of the window he managed to read what it said "ბოლოს ახლოს არის!" or "The end is near!". He turned to have a look at the clock nailed to the wall: 06:31 it said as he thought to himself "Well, my shift starts so might as well get dressed".

[Silverstom]

Matthias Griffins stared out of his window, for it was a drizzing day outside. He sighed. the life of a writer was sometimes an unsuccesfull one, even if you had broken the 100 mil benchmark for the most book sold in Silverstom. There was a great deal of crumpled drafts for his untitled successor to his best-selling book, the Epic of a Modern Life, a sentimental journey about a boy and his friends. Maybe he could do a manga, one of those new and popular genres. Whatever he thought, he would always look back up at the window.

[Bhikkustan]

Padme woke up in her bed. It was not a comfortable one, but no beds were in Bhikkustan. By the Buddhist law, no citizens could sleep in a bed of luxury. "It was good they put in that law," she whispered to herself, "as it lessens the attachment felt."

She got up and had a quick breakfast of spiced eggs and a glass of rambutan juice, before she dressed herself. She wore none of the disgusting new fashion designs that make you look like a prostitute, choosing instead a traditional riding garment called a Tsupa that had become a common fashion accessory. She walked outside and made an offering in her small shrine, before meditating and chanting for twenty minutes.

She stepped out into the over populated city of Samadhi. The city was alive even at such an early time, the streets filled with hawkers selling food, clothes and anything else that one could want. The smells of homemade foods and car exhausts filled the air. She walked down the street to the Hospital where she worked, greeting the people beside her with a smile and wave. She heard rumours about an upcoming war and whispered a silent prayer to Kharrev, the traditional Bhikkustani goddess of peace. She reached her destination at precisely 8:00. Like most Bhikkus, she was very punctual when it came to arriving. She stepped into the lobby of the Hospital, marvelling at the calm atmosphere projected by the interior fountains and vegetation. The wave of cold air from the air conditioner washed over her, and she realised how hot it had been outside. She took a step towards her office but saw three masked men in the corner. They looked suspicious. She looked again and they were gone. She stepped towards the elevator, when a sudden blast sent her flying backwards. She heard a loud blast, and felt a sharp pain in her leg. She heard screaming and crying, and looked down at her leg. A piece of shrapnel had embedded itself inside her calf, and she was loosing blood fast. She saw a white light, and knew it was time for her to begin her next life. She stepped towards the light, but something was holding her back. She burst into consciousness, a Bhikkustani policeman shaking her by the shoulder and screaming "Wake up!". She gasped, and a stretcher picked her up. She looked out at the devastation of what had just before been a peaceful hospital, before blacking out.

[Eurania]

ENSS Ultimatum, Euranian waters

Captain Vimal Baksh was on his usual daily routine on the Revolt. Monitor for hostiles and eliminate with extreme prejudice, but usually, there were no hostiles. However, ENSS Ultimatum was part of Eurania's current navy exercise, Operation Zegnov. Now the ship had the authority to fire at targets, mainly dummy boats. Captain Baksh ordered his First Officer, Yangel Syrkanian, to come to the bridge.

"Captain Baksh, sir."

"We are preparing to fire as a practice torwards a dummy hostile. Target's coordinates are marked. Monitor precisely."
"Roger. Vessel is closing in at a speed of 5 kmph at our port side. Target is 50 km from here."
,,,
"Just a question, sir, but what weapons are we using?"
"Our VLS, mainly."
...
"Target is in range."
"Roger. prepare for launch.
"Copy that."

The crew who were at the bow immediately left. Gas and a streak of light rose from the bow of Ultimatum, as a missile blasted into the sky.

"Missile launched confirmed."
"Is in on course, Officer?"
"Roger. Missile will strike hostiles in a few more seconds"
...
"Confirmed detonation. Target is destroyed."
"Didn't even break a sweat. Nice wok."

Ultimatum turned to starboard to begin its exercises with its other weapons.

[Milano Lombardia]

Branco di Lupi - Part 1
Milano City
Dicembre 6, 2015

The "Branco di Lupi" is a group of the Elite in Milano Lombardia. Lead by the "Duce" a man of extreame wealth however unknown to anyone out of the association. The Duce is the only "1st Order Member". The 15 "2nd Order Members" are also members of Milano's 1% and are almost all working for or own a main business of Milano Lombardia. With hundreds of "3rd Order Members" all around the nation as Businessmen, Government Officials and Miltary Officers the Branco di Lupi runs many aspects of the nation soley to gain wealth and power as well as determine the people who rise up and those who stay low. Rumored members include:

- Volfango Del Favero (Speaker of the House)
- Otello Tosto (Minister of the Interior)
- Augustus Tosto (Minister of Defense)
- Monica Errani (Famous Actress)
- Federico Pennetta (Field Marshall)
- Leonardo Fellini (Mayor of the City of Pisa)
- Giorgio Borgia (CEO of Alfa Romeo Milano)

--------------------------------------------

Palazzo Montemartini, Imperial Ambassador's Conference Room
Milano City
Dicembre 6, 2015

Late on the 6th of Dicembre, the famous and most luxerious Hotel Palazzo Montemartini was under heavy security. Five Hundred Armed men were stationed outside, in the halls, on the roof and just about anywhere a man could fit himself. Palazzo Montemartini has 82 bedrooms and suites, all different from one another, divided into Superior, De Luxe, Grand De Luxe, SPA and Fitness Suites, Business Suites, Pierre Chareau Suites, and Signature Suites. All accommodations are furnished with tasteful, contemporary elegance and illuminated by natural light. However tonight there was an extreamly serious air about the halls. In the Imperial Ambassador's Conference room a long wood table with sixteen wood and leather seats. Seven on each side and one on each end. The Conference room is two levels, the main floor and the table and the upper floor where more can watch however all was emtpy except for the seats. The only light was from behind the "Duce" so that he could see the faces of the "2nd Order" however they could barley see any definative feautures on his face.

(Translation from Italian)

The Duce: "Welcome my friends, I thank you for your time yet again. For this month's meeting I wish to inform you of our Operation "Presidente". As this will take most of our times, I will not require your monthly reports. Is everyone ready?"

A General Nod of Agreement went around until the question reached a young man of about thirty-four years of age with dark hair and beautiful brown eyes.

Giovanni Gentileschi (Son of Arturo Gentileschi CEO of the largest fishing Company in Milano): Excuse me Duce? I have something rather upseting to tell you.

The Duce looked at him, emotion unknown and nodded approval.

Giovanni Gentileschi (Son of Arturo Gentileschi CEO of the largest fishing Company in Milano): My father insists that expansion into the South would hurt his relation with our rivals in the Fishing Sector however if we proceeded we would make billions more in a few years.

The Duce: "So what do you plan to do about it?"

Giovanni Gentileschi (Son of Arturo Gentileschi CEO of the largest fishing Company in Milano): "Well I have arranged to have my father taken to a permanent vacation home of his by the sea if that is fine with you?"

The Duce: "Of course, please by all means do whatever you need to do. Thank you for your dedication."

The rest of the 2nd Order nodded in agreement and after a quick drink in the celebration of Arturo's Life they returned to the subject at hand.

The Duce: "Men and Women of the Branco di Lupi. Tonight we plan to overthrow the "Democracy" and establish our rule on the people and wealth of this fine nation, we will fill every office with 2nd and 3rd Order Members and rig the vote until this nation collapses!

A quite cheer, the rise of glasses and total agreement by everyone in the room led to the begining of Operation Presidente.

END

[Bhumidol]

Episode 1: A "Special" Session of Parliament

Character List

In the 7th floor of an average elementary school in the sprawling Bhumhalese capital of Rajadhani, 8 year old Narayana is seated amongst his fellow students in his Social Studies class, ready to learn about the nation's political sausuage factory; Parliament.

"Alright class", the teacher said adjusting her sari. "Today, we're going watch a live session of the Bhumhalese Parliament, which is what again?"

"The highest legislative organ of Bhumidol", the children said with mixed enthusiasm, dread, and boredom in their tones.

"Good, good. Remember, if you watch very well, and you do well on the Pop Quiz, you'll get an extra gold star", she said, smiling the way that elementary school teachers smile. She turned to the front of the room, pressing several buttons to close the room's blinds, dim the lights, and activate the television projector.

Parliament: Sanghya Gyatso, President of the Bhumhalese Green Party, one of the ruling parties of Bhumidol, is seen making a speech about an agricultural bill to expand farmland in the rural areas of Bhumidol, when all of a sudden, "Prince Hata", decides to interject and make parliament turn into an... interesting affair

Standing at the speaker's podium, Sanghya Gyatso spoke explicity on the matter of the agricultural bill, making his final remarks. "... And so, with the full implementation of this resolution being completed by the end of the 2017 fiscal yield, we can expect to see a rise in GDPPC in rural regions by an estimated 23%. This bill is important, not just from the vantage point of preserving our vegetarian culture, but also vital to reduce our reliance on GMO nations like Verdon. Thank you madam president"

"Alright", said Simran Manjushri, the President of the Bhumhalese Parliament, in her raspy man-girl voice. "The house is now open to a free round of discussion and debate. All members of parliament are reminded to follow basic decorum. The time limit for each exchange is currently allocated to 12 minutes", she finished, pressing a buzzer with her grubby fingers before reaching underneath her desk for a bag of spicy banana chips.

Getting up from his seat, MP Arun Jayavajra, a member of the Communist Party got up from his seat, approaching the floor podium. "With all due respect, Sanghya-ji, while I understand the importance of this agricultural bill, you're still blatantly forgeting the devlopmental needs of the tribal people, sir. These people, who have been forced to share the same nation as us, and have their culture subsumed by our own, should be at least compensated by their simple request to expand their farmlands. However, because of the 2006 Land Regulations Act, sponsored by your puppeteer, SVG Incorporated to say the least, they've had no opportunities to do so, under the pretense of protecting sensitive ecosystems and -"

Mr. Jayavajra cringed, hearing a nasally distressed laughter from his right. Knowing full well who it was he partially covered his face, shaking his head in disgust.

"POURUPURUPOURS", Prince Hata screamed.

Raising his fists, Mr. Jayavajra responded, "speak on your own time Hata. People's lives are at stake here. Don't you care about the average tribal farmer who earns less than 40% the average Bhumhalese farmer? Where's your compassion for them you pink-fool?! At the very least just wait your turn".

Prince Hata got up, coming up to the mic. "Okay, it's my turn now", he said, shoving Mr. Jayavajra off to the left. "My people, what about the cute Pourupu's living in the valleys? Why are trying to hurt them? They're so cute", he said, pointing off at Mr. Jayavajra.

Stealing the mic back momentarily he rapidly spoke, "You mean those ugly things? They're a sore to Bhumidol you magical prune cake", he said with his face becoming tense. Hata pushed him out of the way again with ease. Jayavajra's relatively lanky body was no match for the sheer force of Hata's fat and bulbous body.

"They're not ugly you idiot", he exclaimed before turning softer and twidling his pink thumbs. "Their pink underbellies are so soft, and they're so fun to play with and have as pets. We should open a zoo there instead. I can come there and play with them instead of having to search for them everytime I come. They always get intimidated by me you know. Imagine. I'm just really big and pink, but I'm really friendly too."

"Uh, what do Pourupu's have to do with the current Agricult - ", said Sanghya before he was cut off by Vajracharaya Bodhiratna, a Buddhist monk member of parliament, and head of the Democratic Buddhist Party.

"It's not just these Pourupu's we need to contend with, Sanghya", boomed His Holiness Bodhiratna as he walked up the isle from his seat. "What about the the traditional culture and Buddhist temples of the tribal peoples? What will become of them", he exclaimed into a rage.

"Wait, wait, you've got this all wrong! This bill has nothing to do with triba -"

"YEA", said Prince Hata rejoining the argument. "There's so much wrong with this bill, including what you're doing to the Pourupu's. Why are you trying to hurt them?! They're so cute, you know? You call yourself the Green Party, but I guess there's not really any merit in it, huh", he finished, crossing his arms and giving a pouty face.

Desperete to fix the mess the Parliament had started to devolve into, Sanghya started to turn around, "Madame President, Madam Presi - ", he gasped, seeing President Manjushri sleeping like a boar on her bag of banana chips at her desk. Sanghya shut his mouth, remembering what happened last time someone woke her up. Helpless, he watched Parliament devole into something familiar to a broken-down clown car.

"What are you fools even talking about", said Imran Vasubandha, an MP from the majority National Peace & Progress Party, getting up to the mic. "We're talking about a damn farming bill for people in Brahmada Valley. This has NOTHING to do with tribal people. You're all seriously wrong in the head."

"What do you know you fool, calling other people a fool", shouted Padma Maghalrajya, the head of the Communist Party, as she got up to adjust her red sari. "It seems like you're the thickhead for not listening to Jayavajra's concerns", she boomed, followed by cheers of, 'here, here'.

"What are you even trying to say you old hag?!", boomed Vajracharaya Bodhiratna as his monk robes shivered. "You're just trying to run us over like you always want to. Well big news to you, granny; if you want your socialist-fun-land, go back to Gaia", he said, with the other two monk MPs seating rising and cheering him on.

"Who are you calling and old hag, you withered fart? All you do for a living is speak to the air and make excuses to not work and do ganja. Once I see a single ounce of your money go the the poor or some good deed insteed of some new golden Buddha, or, "Enlightenment Trust Fund", then we can talk", she said with her wide eyes.

The old monk and old Communist Party leader, fed up with each other got up from their opposite sides of the room and started punching each other and pulling at each other's robes and sari. Members of the Communist Party crowded opposite to the members of the Democratic Buddhist and National Peace & Progress Parties who cheered of both of the oldies. Thirty seconds into the fight, everyone heard a loud refractory noise over the loudspeakers, sounding like a liquidy, slooshy-whooshing noise. The fight between the old monk and revolutionary abruptly stopped, as they turned to the mic to see Prince Hata mindlessly pick his nose in front of the mic.

"Go do that somewhere else, moron!" shouted a group of MPs in unison towards Prince Hata.

"Wha - huh", he said, coming out of his half-sleepy, half-noise picking trance. "Yea well, like I was saying, we need to save the pourupurus because they're so cute an adorable. You know. I even brought one with me today", he said, rasing up a particularly fat one out of his jacket for everyone to see. "I named him Jumbles", he said, giggling a very gross and nasally laughter.

Baring it's sharp teeth, the MP's in the room froze. Jumbles bit on Hata's hand, causing him to abrubtly drop Jumbles on the floor.

"AGHHHHHHHH", Hata shrieked into the mic, causing the MPs in the room to drop from the horrible noise of his screeching. "Bad Jumbles, bad. What was that for anyhow", he said, rubbing his bleeding hand, turning away to suckle on it.

"You complete idiot, its girl, not a boy", an MP behind Hata said, pointing at the floor. "And it's a mother!", he screamed, leaving his chair and running off. Hata looked back to Jumbles giving birth to several pourulings on the Parliament floors, forcing the floor into panic.

With his frustration rising, Jayavajra got up from his seat, shouting for the President of Parliament to restore order. "Simran, you fat oaf! Get up! Fix this mess you fatso!" he shouted, regreting his word choice when Simran got up from her sleep with very angry eyes.

"Mind telling that to me again, you twig", she said in her masculine voice, rising from her Presidential seat revelaing noticable crumbs of Banana chips on her chest. Jayavajra, scared for his life, ran to the locked doors of the house. "Don't touch me you fat oaf! I'll sue you if you do anything wierd to me" ---

Ministry of Information
Due to technical difficulties, and local destabilization, the Ministry of Information has temporarily disabled live feed at this location. Please check back at a later time. We apologize for the inconvenience. Golden is Peace. Golden is Wisdom. Golden is Life

Everyone in the classroom looked at the screen with shock. Narayan, looking at the screen with a neutral face raised his hand. "Mrs. Sashyama, how come the guys in Parliament don't raise their hands or be polite when they're talking to each other?"

Pausing for about a minute, the baffled teacher began to answer. "Well, ummm... See, in Parliament -". Before she could finish the live feed came back on.

"Alrighty if that's everyone on the speaker's list", said President Simran as she adjusted herself will sitting on what seemed to be a higher chair than last time. "Well start with the first person".

Just then, visably muffled screams erupted from the location of the Presidents seat. The camera pan showed Prince Hata sitting with a bloodied, defeated, and embarrassed expression, with the other MPs appearing to have returned to decorum. "Sorry, Jayavajra, that doesn't include you", she said, snickering while the visible sound of farting made the screams from her chair become louder, as several of the MPs visibly cringed...

Mrs. Sashyama quickly turned off the projector, mortified by the Parliament. It was never like this before, she thought to herself. It must be because of this current age. After all, it's been the first time the Bhumhalese people have lived almost solely in urban areas, holding urban jobs, and having an urban culture. This political apathy, or -- whatever -- politics was a result of this strange era for the traditional country of Bhumidol. She only hoped that she would get no phone calls from concerned parents about today's parliament show.

[Polar Svalbard]

"Hello, we welcome you to tonight's Fight night. It SFC 12, and tonight we have three events on your card. For the first fight we have two lightweights, Fredrick Wilhelm vs. Dan McDonehough. In the blue, Wilhelm has an age of 26, a height of 6' 1", a weight of 155 pounds and a Reach of 75 inches. His opponent in red, Mcdonehough, has an age of 30, a height of 5'10, a weight of 155 pounds, and a reach of 76 inches. These two fighters seem pretty well matched until you see their techniques. Wilhelm will be trying to stay off the mat, with a variety of punches and kicks. Mcdonehough on the other hand is a grappling opponent, he's studied in Brazilian Jujitsu, and will be looking to take this fight to the mats. We will have to see, if Mcdonehough takes Wilhelm to the mat, he will be in his element, but he has to get him there. Here they come out now."

The two fighters could be seen going to the cage, the referee had them touch gloves and the fight was on.

"Here we see Wilhelm and Mcdonehough dancing around each other. Wilhelm is taking a few little quick little swings and kicks here and there. His swiftness is probably what is holding, oh and Mcdonehough rushes him!! Wilhelm gives him a right hook and Mcdonehough goes down!! The fight is over! The fight is over! In 23 seconds, Wilhelm takes his opponent out by a knockout!!"

[Atnaia]

Robert looked himself over in the mirror and sighed. This isn't going to work, he thought, turning on the sink and doing his best to smooth out his messy hair with his hands and warm water. He checked himself out again and crinkled his nose. Somehow, he had made his hair worse and now he looked like he had slept on a park bench. He sighed again and hefted his satchel onto his shoulder. Someone flushed a toilet in one of the stalls. Robert turned and left the public bathroom, doing his best to keep his heart rate down.

His economics lecture had just let out, and a dozen or so university students were milling around in the front atrium of the lecture hall. Most looked like they had just rolled out of bed, pajamas or track pants a little muddy around the hems from the misty rain that had fallen that morning. Not her, though. In the center of the atrium, kneeling to slide her laptop back into her backpack, was the girl. She had thick, dark hair pulled back into a braid that fell just past her shoulder blades, long lashes around brown eyes and full lips. She wore a colourful dress that fell just past her knees and was a month or two out of season for this weather. She was beautiful.

Her father owned a Nepalese restaurant around the corner from Robert's apartment, and Robert had first noticed her there, serving customers with her wide, inviting smile. He'd been smitten almost immediately, and when he had seen her in the front row of his economics lecture in the third week of classes, his marks had begun to slide. He couldn't focus with her there, always in the middle of the front row. He'd decided that the only way around the issue was to ask her out, which was taking more effort than he realized it would. Robert had never had much of a confidence issue, but suddenly he found himself looking down at his jeans and flannel button up and wondering why he looked so much like a lumberjack. His scruffy beard and wild hair were not helping his mountain-man image.

Still, there was nothing to be done for it now. He strode up to her as confidently as he could. She was standing up and sliding on her back pack. She jumped a little when she noticed him. He supposed he might have worn louder shoes if he didn't want her thinking he was some sort of terrifying lurker, but it was too late now. Idiot, he thought.

"Oh, hello," she said. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Did you need something?"

"Uh, hey," he said. He lifted his satchel higher on his shoulder. "I'm Robert."

She chuckled a little. "Hello. I'm Chandra."

They stood there for a moment. She looked at him expectantly. He realized he was being very quiet.

"So," he said. "You work at the Everest Restaurant, right?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you following me?"

Shit, Robert thought. "Uh, no, no. I just live around the corner and..."

"I'm fucking with you," she laughed. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I've noticed you around," he said, feeling his heart beating fast. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner. Or drinks. Or dinner and drinks. Or something."

She looked up at him. "Sorry, but I kind of have a thing tonight..."

"Oh, okay," Robert swallowed. "Sorry to bother you."

He began to turn away but she grabbed his elbow. Her nails were painted bright blue, he noticed. "You can come if you want. It's just a quick meeting, then we can go get dinner."

Robert could have leaped ten feet in the air. He managed to suppress the impulse to slide on his knees and pump his arm like Damien Miles after scoring a goal. "What sort of meeting?" he asked, playing it cool.

"Just a thing," she said smiled. "Come on, Robert. I've got to get going if I want to make it."

---

The meeting was in a side building of the Port Gray University campus, a gray concrete slab of a place built in the middle of the 70s and home to a collection of professors' offices and small meeting rooms. It had the dismal, stained look concrete takes on after a rain. As the sun grew lower in the skies and the street lights popped on, it looked like the obelisk from 2001: A Space Odyssey, all black and angular. Nothing like the sleek glass and steel of the lecture hall they had just walked from. Robert wondered what sort of meeting he was accompanying Chandra to.

"Isn't this a political science building?" he asked.

"I'm majoring in PS," she said. "This is where the campus Takehold group meets."

"Takehold," Robert said, "like, the Asorist group? that's who we're meeting?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Come on!"

Robert followed the girl into the building. Fluorescent lights hummed above them and they walked to a second story meeting room. Inside, someone had set up a stainless steel coffee machine and a box of muffins on a table. A bright blue cardboard sign hung on the wall, the same colour as Chandra's nails. The sign showed the image of a fist snapping chains in its grip and read "Take Hold of Destiny", with a Takehold logo at the bottom. There were a few people already in the room, chatting familiarly.

As they entered, a handsome man approached. He had a good ten centimeters on Robert, with brownish-blonde hair that was perfectly cut and combed. He wore expensive-looking jeans, nice dress shoes and a tweed jacket that somehow didn't manage to make him look ancient. Even his five o'clock shadow was perfectly maintained, like a fashion model or famous actor. He had a wicked-looking scar from the right corner of his nose to the underside of the same eye, a crescent of white flesh that didn't detract from his looks but instead gave him a sort of dangerous, sexy look. Clearly, he was ex-military, and after giving Chandra a hug, his hand lingered on her lower back.

"Chandra," he said. "Good to see you."

"We missed you last week, Jeremy," she said, smiling. She waved a hand at Robert, who was suddenly feeling very, very insignificant. "This is Robert."

"Hey, good to see you," Jeremy said, holding out a hand. Robert shook it and, unsurprisingly, the man's grip was rock hard. "You planning on joining Takehold?"

"I really don't know," Robert said. "I don't know a lot about politics. I'm an anthropology major."

"That's fine," Jeremy grinned, flashing his pearly whites. "I never even went to school. Joined the military when I was 18, served in combat in a few places, took some flak to the face. You don't need to be a politician to see that aristocracy doesn't work."

Chandra hit Jeremy's arm playfully. "You're going to scare him off, you dunce."

Jeremy grinned. "Don't worry, I'm sure he's cool. right man?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Robert said.

"Anyways, good meeting you," Jeremy said and turned to Chandra. "I have to go set up the projector. Drinks on me tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," Chandra said. Jeremy walked off. Chandra turned to Robert. "What's up, you're all red?"

"Nothing," Robert said. Chandra looked back at Jeremy.

"Oh," she laughed. "No. I get it. Don't worry, he's like super gay. He just doesn't know it yet."

"What?" Robert said.

"Long story," Chandra laughed. "Anyway, the meeting's about to start."

---

The meeting actually turned out to be remarkably interesting. Robert learned more about Asorism than he had in his entire college experience. The theory was first formulated in the early 20th century by Jonathan Asora, from which it took its name, and had been expanded upon by dozens of writers and theorists since. While Robert had only ever heard it villified as anti-aristocratic hate-speech, the meeting barely mentioned the gentry once. Instead, they talked about democracy, the market, the internet, technology. Robert wound up leaving with a handful of pamphlets and a dog-earred copy of The Manifestos, a collection of Asorist writings, lent to him by Jeremy.

He and Chandra wound up wandering through the streets of Port Gray to a Thai place near the school with the best Pad Thai in the city. "What'd you think?" Chandra asked. "Not so bad, eh?"

"Really interesting," Robert agreed. "I think I'll go back next week. Everyone seemed really cool."

"Yeah," Chandra said. "They're good people."

After dinner, they walked through the streets, past Breckenbridge Square. Police lines had been set-up around the tent city that had been established at the foot of the statue of General Turrant. Robert could see someone washing their clothes in the fountain with the dog statues, next to a guy cooking soup on a camp stove. There were over a hundred people living in the Square, and so far there had been no violence. Still, Robert saw the protesters building walls out of old tires, milk crates and pallets, setting up rotating guards, keeping their distance from the police making sure things weren't getting out of hand.

"Why aren't you protesting with them?" Robert asked.

"I've got class," Chandra laughed. "My dad would kill me if I skipped class and work to live like a homeless person."

Robert laughed. "You think it'll do anything? I mean about the Prince. It's not like Prince James is dead yet, so we shouldn't really be worrying about the succession anyways..."

"If enough people want it, we can stop succession from even being a concern," Chandra mused.

They walked through Mavis Park on the far side of the square. Robert recounted how his parents used to tell him not to go in the park at night.

"Now," he said. "People don't think twice."

"It's the cameras," Chandra said, pointing at the camera attached to the nearby lamp post. "You can't get away with too much out here when there are cameras everywhere."

"Would the Asorists change that?"

"Probably not," Chandra said. "I mean, it does keep people safe. Plus, Bastion is the company running all the cameras, and they employ like, half a million people. That's good business."

They chatted for another hour or so. At the end of their walk, Robert brought Chandra to the front door of her parent's house. "So," he said. "Did you have a good time?"

She smiled and nodded. "See you soon, Robert."

She held out her hand. For a moment, Robert was confused and went to shake it, suddenly convinced he had screwed up somewhere and he was relegated to a goodnight handshake. Chandra laughed and shook her head. "No, your phone!"

Robert chuckled and pulled out his cellphone from his pocket and unlocked it. He handed it over and she tapped away and handed it back. Robert read the contacts page: Chandra <3, 211-1171

"Call me," she said, and popped up on her tiptoes. She kissed his fuzzy cheek and dashed down the garden path to her door.

[Xrevaro]

---DELETED---

[Ostehaar]

"There is no god, and Alex Vulf is his prophet."
- A saying among the very few Osters who are familiar with Unit 1088 and its head Alex Vulf.



The Brewer returned to his office, holding a warm cup of tea, and slowly closed the door behind him, making just the slightest of sounds. Like a tired polar bear, this old, gray-bearded, yet powerful individual was a nearly extinct beast - One of those who have made the Oster security and defense establishment what it is today. More than ten years his office in the main building of the Ministry of Defense has remained exactly the same; He didn't move a single picture or replaced any of the comfortable armchairs, and the bookcase behind his desk still contains the same books.

He turned one of the armchairs to face the office window, from which he had a nice view of central Porohare. He sat down with the cup of tea still in his hand, took a sip, and exhaled at length as if he had the responsibilities of the Oster Prime Minister himself, burdening on his mind. Fire, Alex! Open fire! They're coming from the east!" the voices he got used to hearing kept shouting in his head, Help should be on its way! Meanwhile try to hold on! He sometimes experieces minute twitches of the muscle under his right eye, during moments like this one.

A careful knock on the door distracted him from his memories. "Yes?" His secretary entered to inform him that a visitor he had been expecting has arrived. "Good, thank you. Let him in please." She exited, and after a few moments the visitor entered, with a serious look to his face. "Good day, mister Vulf," the man said, "I've been told to arrive."

Alex turned the armchair to face the visitor and rested his cup of tea on his desk. He folded his hands slowly and looked at him for a few moments. "Yes, Mehnard," he said dryly while keeping the straightest face, and pointed at a certain chair, "sit here." Mehnard immediately sat down. "Relax," Alex ordered him firmly. He noticed Mehnard's leg began to tremble a bit. "Relax!" he shouted without moving a muscle in his body except for the ones meant for speech, and the trembling stopped. He walked around the desk and finally sat down, facing Mehnard and looking directly at him.

"Why are you here?" Alex asked. Mehnard quickly replied, "I was told to -" Alex slammed the palm of his hand on the desk and then returned to his relaxed position. "why are you here?" he asked again. This time Mehnard took the time to think before firing an answer. "I made a mistake," he answered, "and my actions resulted in the death of one of our informants."

Alex smiled for a moment. "That's right. We've lost a very valuable source. We can say, technically, that you have severely damaged the security of Ostehaar. Do you have anything to add?" Mehnard remained silent. "Fine," Alex continued, "As you probably know, I'm the one who decided what to do with you." Mehnard nodded in understanding. "Since you don't have a family, I feel no regret in telling you this - You are going to spend a lot of time in prison. There will be a trial, of course, but since even you can't find an excuse for what you did, I believe it is safe to assume you'll be convicted."

Mehnard dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Alex allowed him to mourn, but a minute later picked up the intercom and asked to send someone to escort Mehnard outside.

The Brewer sipped a bit more of his tea... It was still warm.

[Yarkandi]

Fort Timur
13:00 hours
The Canyon

On the side of the small road, 4 M1A1 Abrams tanks sat, awaiting the Platoon leader to arrive to begin today's training. Four new recruits were being rotated into the unit due to 4 others being rotated out. The day was sweltering hot in the heat and the wind wasn't providing much of a breeze.
PFC Adrain sat on the side of the Tank, eating his MRE. "Top! When is the lieutenant going to get here?"
"He gets here when he gets here, til then you just sit there in the heat jackass."
"Roger Top."
The First Sargent leaned up against the lead tank in the platoon. The Iron Wolf, as they refered to her was a good tank. One that had seen many days of training and training and training. He looked down into his MRE. Meh. Other than that though the day was going well for the Sargent, he enjoyed the peace, some would say a calm before the storm as soon the training operation would get under way. He heard an engine in the distance and looked to it. Around the bend an APC rolled towards them. He shouted, "All right men, ready up the lieutenant has arrived!"
A chorus of groans answered him as the men got off the tanks and stood next to their tanks, awaiting the lieutenant. The APC screeched to a halt and Lieutenant Davison stepped out. The soldiers all gave him a salute, which he returned. "All right guys, ready for the drill?" To which the reply was "Sir, yes, Sir."
He smiled, "All right, you guys know the drill, get to the end of the canon and destroy all targets between here and there, watch out for mines and hidden enemies. As you know be careful of the tight spaces, those can be bad for a tank as you know. All right, tank number 4, Canon Shark, you're up first today, get to the starting line.

PFC Adrain got into the gunner position while the other two members of the Canon Shark got in too. Sargent Balak was in the commander's position and one of the new members, Private Serk was in the driver's seat. The Commander patted him on the shoulder. "Alright Serk, do me and Adrain good, we wanna win this time. The light they had set up next to the opening remained a steady red, it flickered and changed green. The M1A1 shot forward. As soon as they got into the opening three targets popped up, Adrain opened up with the coaxial gun, peppering the targets, all three went down. They continued forward at a fast pace. A truck target popped up on the right and a group of targets on the left popped up. Adrain swung the turret to the right to engage the truck, while Sargent Balak, opened up with the 50 on top. The roar of the canon jolted them and left a resounding sound through the canyon from which those waiting could hear. As they pushed forward at a fast pace, more targets popped up, all of which were taken down.
Serk slammed on the brakes, the tank slowing down as fast as it could. Sargent Balak had been about to yell to Serk to stop as there were mines ahead, but Serk had already seen them so Balak just told him to drop the mine plow. They kept going, plowing away the mines from the tank. Moving forward the coaxial and the canon engaged enemies only three more times. They got to the end of the course in record time. High fives were exchanged as they waited for the rest to finish.

[Ventlimer]

Ventlimer City, Ventlimer
1/13/16

Adam Kilenski moved silently through the crowded streets of Ventlimer city, clinging tightly to a bag. Despite the lack of crime in Ventlimer City, Adam felt the desperate need to hold onto his pack for now. As Ventlimians bustled to and fro, Adam felt alone. Looking around, he saw scenes he had never imagined. People were everywhere! They were looking into windows, gawking at mannequins and ignoring men in shabby clothes asking for money. It was nothing like his village on Mount Kilohattan, miles away now. He clutched his bag tighter and sat down on the bench in the middle of the large square, staring at the fountain in the middle of it where children carelessly dropped coins into the fountain.

"What a waste," he thought to himself. Adam looked nervously around, trying to find a single brown face among the white ants in the shopping district. "Where is he?"

Adam looked down and sighed. He had been told to deliver this to this exact spot today, but they hadn't said how. Was it a drop off? An in person delivery? He didn't know. It was uncommon for the Club to actually do anything other than drop offs and even more uncommon to do anything in public, what with the Ventlimian Police watching Natives like a hawk at all times. You couldn't even walk across the street unless the arrows said so without being questioned or even jailed. He swallowed, then tried to get comfortable even as the police eyed him suspiciously from bikes passing by.

---

Valishi Bentlemeri watched the screen closely over the shoulders of his two comrades in the KLF village southeast of Mount Killohattan, who had focused on the 1st screen out of 6.

"Is that him," he asked, pointing to the boy sitting on the edge of the seat.

"Yes, sir," the first man said quietly. "A little young, isn't he, sir?"

"Yes," Valishi said, adjusting his glasses slightly. "But that doesn't matter now. He has the bag."

"How much longer?" The second man asked.

Valishi looked at his watch. 4:55. "Five minutes. Flip to the next screen." With that it switched, and an older gentlemen stood near the old fort at Fort Highland among a small crowd of tourists. He seemed to intently study the walls, still decorated with the taint of blood along the spikes along with plaques telling the story of yet another massacre at the hands of Ventlimians. "At least he is older," Valishi mused.

"Yes, sir." The first man sighed. "It's not too late to-"

"Quiet!" Valishi roared. "We are not calling it off! We will not sit idly by while the Ventlimians prepare to do the unthinkable once they learn of what that base was funding!"

"Yes, sir," The first said.

"5:00" the Second said.

Valishi nodded. "Do it." The second man looked solemnly at the phone, then back at Adam, then began dialing the numbers.

There was a brilliant flash of light in the shopping center. The camera shook and smoke filled the square rapidly. On five other screens, the same happened on differing levels. In Fort Highland, the flash was small, but effective. In the mines on Kilohattan, there was less of a flash, but the tunnels collapsed. In Lakeland, the bomb was even more brilliant than in Ventlimer City. Two more explosions at the bridge spanning Lake Ventlimer sent chunks of the bridge and cars down into the deep lake, even collapsing a half mile of one side of the bridge.

In a moment, it was over. As the smoke cleared, the cameras that survived showed the devastation. Mangled bodies lay silently among rubble in Ventlimer City and Lakeland. Another camera showed the splintered walls of the once mighty Fort Highland, and miners were digging through the collapsed tunnel frantically on Killohatan, only for structural instability to cause the roof to fall on their heads, killing the few who had survived the blast. On the bridge, stranded motorists peered over the edge, some crying as they saw what they knew to be the horrible deaths of people drowning in their vehicles.

Valishi leaned back. It was done. No turning back now.

[Vancouvia]

And there I came across a midnight moon, a startling star of times too soon
A rapid whisper of a daring feat, a morning sigh of lasting defeat
The times of old and the clocks of youth could not spare me from that truth
Yes, my heart docked forward onto the heart, and so it could only be described as art

My wrinkles of doubt laid hidden in the creases, churning among their old tired pieces
A festive laugh, a jubilant cheer, a sorrowed reality, a salted tear
Oh! But if I could bring back the time, to a peaceful place and a cleared mind
I'd start by looking once again at how to find a heart to mend

[Knarinia]

Narica, Knarinia
The Bosse Mansion
January 26, 2016 8:30 AM

Martin Francis Bosse sat one of his living rooms, watching the news on one of his television sets, and grimacing when they spoke of High Chairwoman Koury's speech on Peoré's latest misstep. "This is ridiculous," he said to his business advisor, Kevin. "She talks all about 'the dangers of private business,' when capitalism is the most successful form of economy there is." Kevin nodded, like he was supposed to. He didn't see anything wrong with socialism or communism, but if he said that he would be fired.
"I worked hard to build up all of this money, and now in a couple months, I'll have to give most of it to the government in the form of taxes. It's like I'm being punished because I have money. And this time I won't be able to just make more off of my job." He continued. Bosse had resigned from his post as CEO of Peoré hours earlier after the safety of Peoré's products had been questioned. Kevin lost interest, as usual. Bosse had given this speech many times before, though earlier he had bragged about his wealth more.
"I need to rebuild my image with the people of Knarinia. I need something that will make them like me more." He mused. "What's your advice, Kevin?"
Kevin, who had started watching the news because it was more interesting, was caught off guard. The first thing that came out of his mouth, before he could stop it, was: "There's an election this year."
Bosse smiled. "Just the high quality advice I've come to expect from you, Kevin. I can run to be the High Chairman. I'm sure I could get lots of votes. I could win! And finally kick that communist Koury out of office. And once I'm president I think I'll start with tax reform, and then move on to supporting private business. . . "

[Bhumidol]

Episode 3: (Un)holy Union of Buddha and ***** ***** (Whatever happened to episode 2 anyhow?!)

February 14th, 2015
Rajadhani 11 News

Full Report: ***** ***** Parade throws National Sangha and Government into Turmoil on Valentine's Day

It was around 9:00 AM when a group of parade floats with Buddha statues on them gathered along Emperor's Street in the Central Business District of Rajadhani. Pedestrians at the time thought little of the unfolding events, finding it odd however to see the statues on display on Valentine's Day. Most people continued on with their day, rushing to office to start the work day, when at around 9:30 AM, CBD local and immigrant, Dongxing Fang said that he saw a nude old man walk up and get up on the largest of the parade floats. "It was very shocking to see someone that old walking around on the streets like that", Mr. Fang said to our reporter while trying to hide a smile. "I don't think anything like that would happen in my home country".

Minutes later, a swarm of college-aged, Bhumhalese men came down to the floats, stripping down entirely before getting on the floats. The pedestrians, which had until then ignored the scene were jolted by the surreality of the scence. "It was just, amavajr (English: Bhumhalese slang equal to, 'Oh my God', roughly translated to, 'Oh Buddha')", told Srinavin Simhala, a middle-aged mother who works at Heron Technology, a firm not to far from Emperor's Street. "I didn't want to look, but you know how human's work? As soon as the ***** ***** comes out, you can't back away".

What Ms. Simhala was referring to were the subsequent events that followed; all of the men, to all the spectators' suprise were endowed with ***** ******. The young men proceeded to make ****-***** poses on the Buddha statues, rubbing ***** ***** ****** on the statues. Another spectator, Yaru Aghyani, an RIT student interning at Tamarai Inc., explained the scence. "Well, you know, it really wasn't anything that unexpected", he said while trying to supress some laughter. "The women complained, but you could tell they liked it. The guys, mmm... Idk, most of them looked pretty uncomfortable, but let's just say that there were a few who made expressions I'd rather not describe".

It was only when it was too late, that the local police came and identified the old man, the ring-leader of the exhibition, as Amravan Godhicharaya, a former priest at Aghyamaran Temple on the outskirts of Rajadhani. Mr. Godhicharaya was a former priest, who was laid off due to what temple staff worded as a, "worrying obsession with phallic shaped instruments", which, in the Bhumhalese Buddhist practice is commonplace, but sacrad, in certain tantric schools.

The scene, with already much wrong going on, came to a point of no return as soon as the police barricade that formed around the parade asked the old man to step down from the float. The only response given by Mr. Godhicharaya was, "IT'S TIME LET'S PARTY", he shouted out in English, before saying, in a barely audibale voice, "make some love boys". To the horror of the police and spectators, the men on the statues began rubbing their ***** ****** even ****** ** the statues, flustering the police, and making what should have been a simple nudity-ring break up into a 5-hour national crisis.

Word about the incident reached Sivaputhangam Palace, only down Emperor's Lane, quickly, getting an unexpected street appearance of the 6th Sangharaj of the National Buddhist Sangha of Bhumidol, Krodhokadhan, who said that Mr. Godhicharaya was one of his adored teachers at a young age. "Please, Godhya-ji", HH Krodhokadhan beckoned at the police line around the floats. "I don't know what happened to you after all those years, but please don't do this! Think about the Buddha! Just rubbing your ***** ****** on him! Please, Godhya-ji", he said. Despite the emotional and touching discourse given by the venerable Sangharaj, Mr. Godhicharaya suprsingly returned a childish raspberry. "MY PARTY, MY RULES". The Sangharaj was reportedly taken away by force by a group of monks. "I felt really bad for him, I mean, I really did", said Lugvi Choedron, a young woman who works on Emperor's Street. "About a dozen monks struggled to carry him off with tears streaming down his face, and clawing down hard on the road. You know, he looked like... Like one of those children in the toy store who don't get their favorite toy", She remarked with exclamation. "Ahh, the Sangharaja has a nice sweet spot. That's why he's our Sangharaja, cherished next to Buddha", she finished with a smile.

The matter then quickly reached Parliament's session in Sivaputhangam Palace. A state hearing on finances was put on hold to air the scene unfolding on Emperor's Street. Rajadhani 11 reporter, Ayotunde Uduak reported on how the complicated nature of the matter fixated Parliament. "So, in the beginning, President Manjushri was very keen on getting this matter sorted through. But as soon as the screen went on, and h - sorry, she saw those ***** ******, she was lost", our reported exclaimed. "A fight almost broke out in Parliament, but she just sat there, glaze eyed, watching those ***** ****** go up and down, and every which way while munching no those curried banana chips of her's".

After almost an hour of inaction, the President of the Communist Party of Bhumidol, along with Prince Hata of the Happy Rainbow Path Party, followed by another dozen MP's went up a few floors in Sivaputhangam Palace to approach Prime Minister Bodhai about the matter. Dr. Bodhai reportedly got the military on standby, and stated that she was ready to, "cut off the non-vegetarian sasauges". This reportedly set off many of the male-MP's present who tried to fight off the Prime Minister's scary, and sensitive threat.

In the end, it was reported that by some undisclosed accident created by Prince Hata resulted in ultimately no action from the national government. By the time it was two, Mr. Godhicharaya disbanded his lewd parade, reportedly saying that he was, "done partying", and, "hungry for lunch". The young men, having reported to have ********* at least 3-5 times each on the statues stepped down from the mess, and were roundly arrested for the 5-hour-long scence. Mr. Godhicharaya is currently awaiting trial on charges of Public Nudity, Exposure of Innappropriatte Content to Minors, and Innappropriatte Public Usage of Cultural Symbols.

Despite the dizzy matter of the whole ordeal, local responses to the event were mixed; Adhitaram Kanadi, an 83-year old local curry-bun and tea vendor, Lokeshvara Adhidharm, 27-year old VP of Choryo Solutions Corp., and Ariya Aghyani, a 22-year old local dominatrix of Langini District, were each asked about their response to the event that occured today. The interview can be found below.

Question 1: "What are your initial thoughts on today's events?"

"Amavajr, why are you asking me about these kind of indecent things", asked a very harsh Ms. Kanadhi when asked about her thoughts on the event. "Honestly, the younger generation needs to tighten up and stop talking about this unnecessary matters out loud. See? That's the problem. Where's the Buddhodharma, Amavajr? I don't know, don't ask me! It was covered in ***** by those little brats and their ***** ******", she finished with an outburst. "If I had my ghanti (culture note: a type of bell used to purify the mind in Buddhist Temples in Bhumidol) I would purify those scounderals for good right here, right now", Ms. Kanadhi said, smashing her fists into the desk.

"Err, well, what's is there to say really", Loke said while straightening his glasses. "I mean, sure I like Buddhodharma too just like old-patty-cake here was saying, but we live in a modern world, things like this are bound to happen."

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard", Ms. Kanadhi snapped, adjusting her green saree in preparation of a fight. "'It's modern', the, 'world is modern', the, 'sky is modern', the, 'dirt is modern'. Well you know what? Modern my *** you prissy-pot!"

"Yes, well", said Loke, adjusting his glasses again to try and pretend nothing had happened. "So what if someone's baring their ***** *****? I mean, sure I'm a bit jealous, but I can always look the other way. It's a free society now; it's really great for business, and it's easier for people to vent their worries."

"Ohoho, did I hear that you were jealous", Ms. Kanadhi giggled, clasping her wrinkly-old hands to her mouth. "Sounds more like you're a wanna-be exhbitionist scum who wishes they had a ***** ***** so you could join them at Amithabha", she said with a menacing grin. "Did you hear that everyone", she shouted, "we know who the little ***** bird here is", she shouted out to the laughing crowd, and then re-positioning herself with a smaug attitude from her win.

Loke, embarressed, and feeling that he was almost positively blushing readjusted his glasses, hoping the audience would somehow be fixated on his glasses instead of his flustered complexion.

"Ms. Aghyani", asked the reporter from behind his bushy, well-groomed mustache. "We have yet to hear anything from you on this matter. Thoughts?"

"Oh, yea", said a seemingly bored Ms. Aghyani who seemed to have almost fallen asleep. "I definitely have thoughts", she said, with barely a nanometer of resolution poking out of her narrow eyes.

"About, you know. The ***** ***** Parade today?"

"Ah, yes, that little mess", she said, coming back to the world, and noticing both the old lady and well-groomed business boy stare at her as though she would resolve the whole matter. "Well, it goes without saying that they were complete attention wh***s. I mean, what was their goal, what did they even accomplish? You put a lot on the line when you bring your manhood out in public you know", Ariya said, casually twidling her fingers. "Not only your honor, and the honor of your ancestors, but I guess in this case you also end up putting it in the line of fire. Although to me I guess, any of that is alright I suppose. All this talk of honor and the such. Just respect yourself properly, and you'll fit the ticket for honor and freedom that gran-gran and glasses wants."

Loke and Ms. Adhitaram, both expressedly dissapointed by the statement relaxed from their tense perch. "Those are fine, balanced words for a young women this day and age", smiled the old women in a meek kind-of-way. "Indeed", agreed Loke, adjusting his glasses again, as if in preperation for something else.

Question 2: "What do today's events tell you about the state of Bhumhalese society?"

"Are you kidding me", exclaimed Ms. Adhitaram. "Do you really need me to spell out this problem?! Ok, fine. Our **** society is being turned to trash and nonsense by all these Western feel-good kind of things. You know, I know you youngins out there today are brainwashed to believe that the strong government under our Imperial State and noble emperors were, "bad", and that the word, "facist", is completely non-hip these days, but mark my words, there was a time when our country was moral. When it stood on high ground, reaching up for the knowledge of the Buddhas. Now, what? You have prissy-boy here sitting almost like girl, with none of his masculinity left and only wanting a ***** ***** like those indecent fools from today to serve as a vestige of this little girl's manhood", she finished in a cruel tone.

"Oi! When did this become about me", said Loke clearly offended. "What did any of that have to do with the question?"

"It had plenty to do with it, you fool", she said getting fired up.

"And to believe that I'm hearing this from some old granny? You should go back to the retirement home if you can't handle the real world", Loke spat.

"Oh, I can handle the real world, trust me boy. And so what if I'm old", she said, proudly looking at the crowd and rasing her head. "That's over 80 years wisdom right here", she said defiantly.

"Pshh, as if you're anything that great, old gran gran", he said under his breathe, looking with a new, judgemental stare that went above the frames of his glasses, finally seeing what a piece of **** the old women really was.

"You know what'll fix you", scowled the old woman, getting up with the wrinkles on her face intensifying. Fishing into her store bag, she took out a bag reading, "Agnni Samosa", (English: Firey Samosas). Like a rabid monkey, she leapt out of her chair with two opened packets of Samosas, landing on Loke and smearing the Samosas across his eyes.

It was then that the audience had noticed that the packet had a warning label due to its extreme hotness. Loke shrieked a high-pitched, womanly scream while his eyes started burning out, begging the laughing audience for some water. Ariya meanwhile looked up from her bored trance to see what had started happening, and decided that it would be a good time to clear her nostrils with a good booger picking session.

"Oi, hey! Old lady, we're on TV you know! You can't just pie someone like that on national TV, especially for such a pressing matter", the reporter shouted.

"What the d*mn, h*ll are you talking about?! You're calling ***** ****** on Emperor's Street a, 'pressing matter'?! Looks like Ms. Business-man wasn't the only one who needed the samosa eye treatment", she remarked, making the reported cringe.

"Hey, granny, why don't take a seat and share me one of those Samosas? We can leave these perverted hijra out for now", Ariya said, finishing her nose-picking.

The old woman, quite pleased by the sensibility of the young lady took her seat before pouncing on the reporter himself, taking out an Agnni Samosa for her to enjoy. "Did you bring any tea too", she asked, while lazily stuffing her mouth with the Samosas.

"Hey you two! This is a live interview, not an eating session", the reporter said, trying to recompensate his lost compusture. "Ah, well, Ms. Aghyani, how about you. You always seem to find a way to slip away from my questions", he said, finishing with a cynical smile.

"How couldn't I, when you're asking me the dumbest questions possible? The social impacts of ***** ******? They've been around for thousands of years, so why did you choose now to ask me specifically? I'm don't even have anything poking out from down-under", she finished, betraying an artificial, yet convincing expression of annoyance.

"Well, you know, everyone's already known that ***** ****** have been around for a while, but today, they rubbed their ***** ****** on the Buddha statues on Emperor's Street. Isn't that complete - "

"Sacralege", Ariya smiled, looking down so that her eyes would be hidden. "Maybe. But is it as if we've every lived our lived pure as gold? Of course not", she said, looking up with calm, yet fierce eyes. "We have a golden Buddha, a golden temple, a golden verse, a golden ideal, golden motto, but are our lives really golden? What gem is there to protect in all of this? That's why I say, who gives a flying d*mn that there were ***** ****** on the Buddhas, and that they were covered in... err... milk of sorts. Nothing's different, except for the desire for you people to make a big fuss about all this nonsense", she finished with a pout, which gave a light expression of motherly proud on Ms. Adhitaram's face. The crowd and the anchor were equally taken back by Ariya's answer, while Loke lay slouching in his chair with bloody tears rolling down from the mess of Samosas on his face.

"Well, then", the reporter said, feeling as though he had been violated in a rough BSDM play, yet still emerging satisfied. "Then, I guess we'll leave you all with this last question", the reporter said, feeling that Ariya's answer had entirely restored dignity to the whole conversation.


Question 3: "If you were at the scene, what would you have done differently?"

"That's simple", said a now seated, bubbling and happy Ms. Adhitaram. "I would stuff Agnni Samosas down their f***s****, and crush their *****. It's not good for perverted men to have children, wouldn't you agree", she said in an uncharacteristic, cute old woman smile.

"You know what should have been done", Loke said, finally getting up, and cringing while he tried to peel off the dried Samosas, "is that we honestly should have had the police act better. They shouldn't have been complete prudes you know. They were just ***** ******. I mean, I'm a straight man. I'm - hey, why are you laughing, I'm definitely straight", he said, blushing behind his glasses. "But even I wouldn't have hesitated at such a great enemy as the ***** *****", he said, clenching his fists with an inspirational resolution.

Ariya, with a sinister smile on her face, pounced on the question. "What would have I done? Oh, well, that's a very fine question", she said hungirlly. "First, I would have approached big daddy, with the ******* and ******* ****. Then I would have ****** it until it became *** and ready to be ****** *** by my *****. Oh, d*mn, I would **** **** *** *** until his shiny *** rubs on Buddhas cold metal, making *** ***** **** ******* and ******* ** **** **. *****, * ***** **** ** ** *** ** ** ***** like a lolipop. And then I would go to the other boys, and make them ***** ***** ***** **** **** ****** ***** and make them have *** *** **** ***** ***** while I would ****** ***** ***** *** **** **** **** like, oh, yea, and then **** **** **** ***** **** ***** ******* **** *** ****** **** **** *** calling for me, their mommy."

At that moment, everyone not just in the News room, but across Bhumidol momentarily died. Ms. Adhitaram got up alarmed, pointing her hand at Ariya and looking at the reporter. "What the actual **** news anchor man?! What kind of people did you even bring here today?! How was this proffessional in any way?! She's even more perverted than missy boy here", she screamed. "Tell me, how was this acceptable in any way?"

The audience began to clamor, with throngs of anger starting to rise out of the crowd. The reporter, nervous that his interview had taken the wrong turn decided to quickly cut to the end. "Well, that's all for today folks, you've heard it here first, from Rajadhani Eleven - "

"Oh no, no, no", Ms. Adhitaram shrieked, "don't think I'm going to let the ring leader of all this perversion get off so easily." She carefully got her ammo of Agnni Samosas ready for battle, making the anchor let out a little peep. The audience members were raving at this point. "Pervert", shouted a man's voice. "Maybe the reported should suck on a ***** ***** himself since he's so fond of them", shouted a woman's voice.

Then, narrowing her eyes, Ms. Adhitaram engaged her kalaripayattu instincts to ready herself for mortal combat. "Lokhadya", she screamed, jumping onto the new anchor to stuff Samosas deep into the sensitive regions of his pants. (Culture note: Lokhadya, which has no good English translation, roughly means a battle call for restoring personal honor, social honor, and Buddhist honor).

A beautiful ending scene for the interview unfolded; while the camera man tried to quickly turn off the camera so that the average Bhumhalese could live their life in peace, Ms. Adhitaram, rabid by the lack of moral conservatism, bit the camera man, causing him the faint, and for the camera to fall down, angled at the anchor's crotch. The audience, from the side view were both cheering Ms. Adhitaram on, and also looting the studio, setting equipment on fire, and destroying fragile items while making a great noise.

In the end, Ariya came up to the camera, gave a disgusted look into its lens and made a gesture with her pointer finger, as to say, "shhh". She then hacked up a loogie in the least femine way possible, while disfiguring her face, and spat into the lens, making it go from crotch, light, phlegm, then darkness.

[Deace (Ancient)]

Searing pain arced through him as he adjusted himself on his crude bench. His cuffs having long ago worn the skin off his bony wrist and his hunched over spine nary being able to move.

His breath came in ragged gasp, burning his parched throat but this pain he was use to and he knew he would have just enough relieve from it with his daily water allotment to hate it all the much more.

For now though in his agonizing existence he awaited and listened for the guard change. His hearing was really all that was left to him; his eyes could only vaguely make out colors and shapes.

Though he knew what was there. His bent head would be looking at his skeletal and gaunt figure, fed just enough food to be hungry. His dark skin, hung off loosely off of his body hinting at his previous girth.

Oh how his missed the finer things in life. He imagined tearing into a women and splitting her just to relieve himself, of gorging himself on food, of ripping his enemies to pieces.

But he had none of that; he had no blood to soothe him, only the sound of his own rasping breath.

Then he heard a new set of footsteps. Heavy footsteps.
That lacked the rhythm of trained guard or soldier.

He heard voices but he had not been spoken to in so long he could not understand the words before they opened his cell door. More words were passed around and it was starting to come back to him, but not before they grabbed him by his shoulders and yanked him to his feet blinding him with agony as every muscle and bone was ripped loose and tore into each other with a wrenching force.

He lacked the breath to scream, having wasted his voice long ago to hurling insults, but how he wished to. As they drug his limp body through the hallway he started to collect himself.

This was new. He had to learn what was going on and-
They stopped.

They were outside.

This alone filled him with joy as for the first time in almost four decades he tasted the salty ocean air and heard the waves crashing against a stony shore of some sort. He heard somebody speaking to him, but he was too distracted to hear.


They let him prop himself up on a wooden surface of some sort while the other person kept speaking. Eventually the words started to make since,

“Mavuto Yaw. You are finally dying according to our medical reports. And You. Do not deserve to die peacefully.”

He tried to call them man a worthless bastard but all he managed to do was cough up blood.

“You may start.”

Mavuto did not have time to understand what that meant before his arm erupted in pain and he slammed his head into wood he was resting on. He wanted to wither in agony but his old bones and muscles couldn’t manage even that so he just laid against what he now realized was a crosstie and gasped in agony.

His eyes focused just long enough to see that they had driven a railroad spike into his hand. He had just enough time to realize his other hand was still on the crosstie when he felt it.

Unfortunately his adrenaline had kicked in and he heard it in slow motion as the spike crushed bones and spluttered through muscles. Staking him to the crosstie.

With one final act of strength he tried to stand on his own feet and pull himself away from the cross tie but he did not even have that much left in him.

Then that man spoke again, “May God have mercy on your soul.”

Then the two men on either side of him pushed the crosstie over the railing and into the sea below. The Minister of Defense just nodded and turned to leave.

[Xrevaro]

---DELETED---

[Dashgrinaar]

Into the Darkness of the Night
Foreword: An Introduction
A Story of the Darkness in the Government of Dashgrinaar (Classified)

February 29: Ante-Day of the Spring Testing
Université de le Gouvernmé

I walked within the park that lay between the two towers that made up the Policy Division of the University. A girl in front of me stood motionless, her long blonde hair twisted in the wind, and clouds raced across the darkening sky. I had attended the University for two years, and excelled in all of the courses. They were, of course, taught by the best professors, but they were paid from the government's pocket. The park was hauntingly empty, especially for this time, but I suspected that they were all studying for the upcoming day of tests. If they failed, they would be kicked out. But no one ever heard from them again.

I remember my first tests, the Choosing. Of course, if you wanted to be effective in the government, you would not select where you worked, the government would. It was the best wait for things to be run. You maintained some level of autonomy, but in the end, those suited to foreign policy went to the Foreign Divison, and those who are the best in economics go to the Treasury Divison. I remember the anxiety that all of my class had. The air had seemed to crackle and snap with electricity. I remember the test themselves, long and horrible things, with hundreds of questions that would either let us move on or kick us out.

I approached the girl, but she stood unmoving, looking out over the pool of water that the park surrounded. As I came nearer, she turned around, but didn't say anything. I opened my mouth to speak, and looked over to the rising pinnacles of the Towers. I looked at her, but she had gone. All that was left of her was a bloodred journal that was marked Amouré, Natli. Love, Natli. I picked up the book, and hurried out of the park.

---

The University of the Government, or in this story, le Université de le Gouvernmé, is the highly prestigious, governemnt-run university that trains the next generation of policy makers, leaders, and peace-dealers. Each division of the government has a respective division in the university, and as such, foreign policy students would attend the Foreign Division, and the Policy Making students would attend the Policy Divison.

[Mancers]

Epic walked quickly through the street. Lots of people were on the street, but nothing was unusual. He arrived at the harbor, where his helicopter would be waiting to take him to a nearby man-made island. As he turned the corner into the harbor, he nearly fell over as he was stoped by police tape. There was smoke rising from the wreckage of a fair few ships, and the harbor was crawling with police. He decided he wanted to know how many ships.

1,
2,
3,
4,
That can't be right,
theres way to much smoke for just four.

An officer turned, hearing Epic think aloud, and took a good hard look at Epic.
At which point Epic turned himself, and ran.
He knew wan't connected to the crime.
He knew they couldn't link him to it.
He knew they knew both of these things.
He knew they would arrest him anyway.

So he ran, as fast as he could, making the way the hardest as possible. He ran down a nearby alley, sholdered past two people, and ran straight into a highway. He turned back; Multiple officers were following him. He looked foward, and sprinted at full-tilt through multiple lanes of fast-moving traffic.
However he did it, maybe a twist of fate, or a drop of luck, Epic managed to cross the road. He knew patrol cars were coming. He knew he couldn't outrun the police, but still he tried. Again, sprinting down the street, taking numerous alleys and hopping over two couches, he came to a bridge. Patrol cars dirverted traffic at both ends, and a small handful of them were in front of him, police officers armed with SMGS were undoubtedly behind them. He was backed up behind a small support beam, and an SUV of some sort was providing him a bit of cover. The police requested his surrender, to which he replied a rather vulgar insult involving shoving "surrender" up ones behind so far it ends up behind ones eyes.

They opened fire.
The SUV acted as a bullet-sink, and those that missed the SUV hit the support beam he was behind.
A loud horn could be heard. The same could be said about the eight incoming patrol cars, which Epic could see.
Epic, being a natural logician, played through the various scenarios in his head.
Another loud horn.
Epic racked his brain; What makes such a horn?
It occured to him; Boats. In this case, a rather oversized behemoth of a trade boat dubbed "The Monolith".
Epic decided that the best course of action was anything that did not involve gunfire.
So he walked to the railing, crouched to avoid the gunfire, and waited a solid three seconds before seeing a massive bow below him. He wasted absolutely no time, and stepped off.

The first thing he felt was pain. Stabbing pain in his left ankle, but he could tell it wasn't broken or fractured. There was a dull, blunt pain across the entirity of his left side, but he assumed that was from the fall. He opened his eyes. He saw a blue tarp with a hole in it, probably one made when he landed. He glanced to the side. Boxed metal ingots, Titanium. He glanced to the other side and was greeted by a bomb.
The design was simplistic; it relied on a low profile insted of complexity, so it would be easy to disarm, which is what happened when epic pulled out the red wire from the bomb. Breathing a sigh of relief, Epic dragged himself onto a high spot of boxes, rearranged some of them to mask his profile, and slept.

[Mancers]

Epic stepped off the helicopter onto the skyscraper.
It had been several months since the incident with the boat.
He entered the building, walked down a narrow hallway, opened the door, and was greeted by a multitude of people wearing lab suits, regular suits, and armor, all of which were cheering.
"He lives!" Exclaimed one of them.
"I told ye he wadnt dead." Said another.
"Welcome back." Said a few.
He ignored them all and walked to his office, which was only a floor below this one. He opened his door, walked into his office, and shut it beind him.
Without hesitation, he sat on his chair, and pressed a button hidden within the fabric. The chair folded into the floor in such a way that when he fell he would land on his feet. When he landed, he grabbed a parachute, strapped it onto his chest, and jumped into a nearby slide. Down he went at a near-90 degree angle, accelerating rapidly; for he was on a tall building and was going down several floors at a time. The slide started sloping, up to a 45 degree angle, and then he was outside the building traveling at well over 50MPH. He pulled his parachute, and directed himself to the nearby helipad. When he was about four feet off the pad, he slipped out of his parachute, and parachute rolled when he hit the ground. He stood up, and ran to the helicopter, and started it up.
He could hear gunfire, lots of it. It was coming from the offices where he just was. He knew this would happen, after disarming their bomb. The office was armed better than they knew, however. He was reassured when he heard the sound of multiple high-powered semi-automatic rifles started to return fire. He took off in the helicopter soon afterwords, and headed south-southwest. Once a familliar plateau was in sight, he landed on the top of it. He grabbed a HK45C pistol from under the seat, and put it in his pants pocket. He walked into the woods for a bit, when he came up to an iron tree, which he rolled over to reveal a hatchway. He entered the hatchway, and covered his entrence with the tree. He dropped down, and was greeted by a foam pit, in which he landed. He climbed out and walked down the hallway into the lab below.