Between Darkness and the Dawn (Closed)

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

Between Darkness and the Dawn (Closed)

Postby Urmanian » Tue Jan 17, 2023 7:22 am

“It is difficult for me to imagine what “Honesty, Laughter or Generosity” is enjoyed by an unemployed hungry pony. True harmony is only found where there is no exploitation and oppression of one by another; where there is not unemployment, and where a pony is not living in fear of losing her job, her home and her bread.
~ Caramel Marks, Equestrian philosopher
Starry Vision's job was to dry hay.

Every morning she would arrive at the hay factory, put a mess of electrodes resembling a scalp massager over her horn, and spend hours casting the same hay-drying spell at great bales of grass which passed by her on a conveyor belt to be later vacuum-sealed into snack packs. In the rare and precious breaks Starry would gulp down cans of cheap energy drinks in order to restore a bit of her magic before going back to her mind-numbing duties. At the end of the day she would smell like she had just rolled around in fresh hay. But despite it being an altogether agreeable smell, at this point it did nothing but irritate and make her anxious, so she always made sure to quickly wash it off and replace it with a cheap perfume the first thing she did after work.

The job paid peanuts even with overtime, barely enough for groceries and rent, and it was definitely not where Starry used to see herself. But a good magic school was expensive and not a simple affair to get into, and being from a lower income family this is where she was stuck for the time being. Drying hay, breathing hay, living hay. One thing that keep her spirits up was that at least her cutie mark wasn't that of hay. It was a telescope, and it gave her some hope that eventually she would move on to something greater. After all, hard work and more hard work and you can succeed and become anything you want, right? Right?

After leaving work and collecting her bearings, Starry would usually go hang out with her small group of mare friends, including her roommate Lucky Thimble. Usually, they would gather together to play board games, pool together food, and chat about their modest affairs. But oftentimes Lucky Thimble - an energetic, thickly bespectacled earth mare of many interests - would come up with more exciting activities to do without taxing their meager resources too much. Such as going outside the town to gather magical herbs in a nearby forest and make potions. Though sometimes those activities could get a little crazy and even dangerous, Starry treasured them as a break from numb mundanity and was grateful for Lucky being there and coming up with them.

That day, the group received a message from Lucky Thimble inviting them to gather at some unmarked alleyway at 9 PM for some fashion of "surprise event". Figuring out that a fillies' night out was in order, Starry would carefully brush and perfume her blue-and-yellow streaked mane (which was still impeccably soft despite constantly having hay get into it, much to her pride), pick out the best dress out of the two that she owned, and carefully portion what was left of her sad pile of interbits for the month.

When she had arrived to the designated spot, however, the venue surprised her. An unassuming watering hole in some basement down in the sticks, hidden in a dark alleyway that has never been touched by the broom of a street sweeper. A strange place to hold a party in, even for the likes of Starry and her friends, who weren’t completely desperate. It was more the kind of establishment that would be favored by lawneaters and ponies of less than lawful standing. Was it some kind of a prank? Starry wasn’t thrilled about even approaching the place, but eventually took a deep breath and descended the stairs into the dimly lit smoke-filled premises.

She was surprised to find out that the bar was quite crowded with ponies, rather cramped even. Rows of cheap seats were set out in front of a makeshift stage, hinting at some event or presentation that was about to unfold. Game night? A few of the patrons were noticeably too well-dressed for a watering hole like this, and some of them concealed their identities with hoods and such, making Starry even more unsure about the place. But some of her worries were lifted as somehow, Lucky Thimble found her near-instantly, elbowing her way through the crowd to embrace her friend.

“Lucky? What’s with this place? I’m sure we could afford hanging out somewhere nicer…” Starry pouted.

“I sense a lack of faith! Have you ever regretted any of my hangout ideas?” the earthy-colored pony wearing large swirly glasses playfully nudged the unicorn in the side.

“Well, that time we found a giant spider cave and-“

“We do not talk about that time. Anyway, listen, to tell the truth, I haven’t called us here together just to hang out. What’s going to happen here is important. There will be a speech of sorts, you see”

“Oh, like an inspirational speaker or something?” Starry wondered. Weird place for something like that, but nevertheless an inspirational talk was something she could use.

“Something like that. Let’s take our seats as it will begin soon”

They grabbed some inexpensive light cocktails from the bar and a few little cubes of flavored salt to lick and munch on, before seating themselves. After a few minutes a stallion of about thirty took the stage, fiery eyed and with a mane of unkempt hair, wearing a huge patched coat with an unusual number of pockets. The background chatter of the patrons died down as he looked around the crowd and theatrically cleared his throat.

“Friends, most of you are must be aware why we have gathered here in the shadows, in this den of the downtrodden, away from prying eyes of the powers that be. It is because you want the truth! You want to learn things that the dark powers do NOT want you to know!” he began in a booming voice.

“Lucky, is this a cult recruitment?” Starry asked nervously.

“I am going to tell you about a certain visionary, a brilliant thinker who lived in Equestria centuries ago, who developed an immortal science which explains everything about our society, the society that we live in. Is anyone here familiar with the works of Caramel Marks?” the speaker continued. Some hooves and voices were raised in affirmative, prompting him to smile and nod approvingly.

“The works of Caramel Marks explain everything about why some ponies toil thanklessly all their lives while others feast and bask in luxury, and what we must do to change this unjust way things are.” Starry’s interest was piqued a bit, her ears perking up, “It is because of division of labor, which separates living beings into classes – workers and owners…”

“Wait! That kinda sounds like communism!” someone called out.

“Precisely! Caramel Marks developed a theory of Communism with Equine Characteristics, based on his analysis of Equestrian society.”

The audience chattered in confusion, some ponies starting to boo the speaker. “Isn’t communism like, really bad? You steal everything from successful folks so everyone starves and dies. And then things become like in Nefreedia or Mackonia?!”

“That is exactly what the rich, fat ponies on the television want you to think! But you must not let yourselves be fooled! Tell yourself – is it truly possible to follow the Elements of Harmony in a society which is ruled by greed and might-makes-right? What kindness and generosity can be shared by poor, hungry equines who are robbed by the rich day in day out?”

Starry turned to Lucky. “Are we going to be arrested?” A genuine question.

“Don’t be silly. It’s not illegal to talk about this! The rich try to suppress and slander Marksism, but it isn’t banned no. Yet anyway.” the other mare gestured calmingly.

“Still…it’s kind of weird you took us out here to listen to a political sermon,” the unicorn frowned, “That’s not the best way to blow off steam after a long day, you know. My head already hurts a bit.”

Lucky placed her hoof on Starry’s with an unusually frank and candid expression, taking the latter aback. “Sorry, but it’s important to me. And it’s important to me that you know! Big, big changes are coming!”

The speaker continued for hours, managing to captivate his audience with his fiery delivery and big words. He spoke about how the rich stole the fruits of labor from the workers, how their labor was alienated, how ponies of old lived in communes and were happy. He pointed out how capitalistic greed perverted each of the principles of harmony. He blasted the government for how its policy worked in the interests of the privileged few, ignoring the good of sapientkind at large – the government still did nothing about the rise of Grogar, because there were no corporate profits to be had!

“Read Marks! Educate yourself in Marksism! And we shall build a new tomorrow!” he flourished fiercely with his foreleg, then dug deep into his pockets and started tossing hoof-fulls of red pamphlets at the crowd. Starry caught one with her telekinesis and flipped through it blankly. “The Red Mane-Festo” it was called. Lucky patted her shoulder encouragingly.

“It is a good read. Caramel Marks manages to write interestingly even on dry topics….”
“Lucky, you were a Red all of this time?”
“Yeah, maybe, so what? Is that so bad, now?”
“I don’t know…I never really thought about it, I was only told it’s bad. I need to think about so much…I think I’m starting to have a migraine.”
When Starry came home, at first she placed the pamphlet down and decided to forget about it for a while. But eventually, with some gentle encouragement from Lucky, she began to read. The ideas within, the picture of a future society free from exploitation, fascinated her. ”From everyone according to their cutie mark, to everyone according to their need” was the quote that she couldn’t get out of her head, it was what she had dreamed of for so long.

It didn’t come as a surprise to Lucky when one day Starry came to her, asking if she could also join the Workers’ Party. “I knew you’d come around, welcome to the team” she simply smiled.

Starry’s story was far from the only one like that. Thousands, millions of beings all over the country were being exposed to these new, scary and exciting ideas by an underground network of agitators and activists. They have spent too long in delirium, blind to the vast injustice and exploitation visited upon them by a small clique of the rich. But now a great mass of agitated poor and hungry began to stir to action.
Somewhere in a secret Workers’ Party meeting place in Flankfurt-am-Mane

“Well, comrades, I must say our agitation efforts are defying my wildest expectations.” A white mare wearing a black Prench tunic spoke as she glanced scanningly across the room. She was rather thin, almost gaunt even. Carrying herself in a cold, determined and calculating way. Most curiously, even though she was at least thirty in looks, there was no sight of any cutie mark on her flanks at all. Most of the present seemed to listen to her with some measure of deference.

She paced around a large table at which an impressively diverse crowd of a couple dozen beings were seated on an assortment of chairs and curlpads. Ponies of reach race, a couple griffons, a donkey, a kirin and even a seapony who was reclining in a large wheeled tub parked in the corner of the room. A veritable mountain of emptied tea cups heaped on the table, with assorted paperwork scattered about it.

“But do not take that to mean that we can slack off, because I tend to keep my expectations, even the wildest ones, quite low.” the mare approached the table and steepled her hooves on it, “According to my latest information, our cells in Manehattan, Moosecow and Qidou have been well-established and began reaching out to the local labor unions. Of course, it’d be unwise to let this momentum go to waste. Anyone has anything to report?”

“Well comrade Shining Path, I am pleased to report that we have successfully began distribution of our party newspapers in a number of large cities. So far, we have distributed several hundred thousand copies!” a glasses-wearing pegasus stallion with curly red hair, a fashionable goatee and the cutie mark of an ice pick spoke with indisputable pride in his voice.

“Again with the newspapers…what’s it with you and newspapers, Sky Trot? Do you think enough ponies read newspapers in this day and age that we need to focus on them so much? I mean, I like newspapers myself but…” Shining Path sighed with some exasperation.

“I’ll say! Do not diss newspapers!” Sky Trot responded with indignance, hitting his chest with his hoof, “Do you think ponies actually read stuff on the internet?! No! They are too distracted with ads and cheap dopamine hits to truly process what is written. Newspapers are still the superior medium for thoughtful reading…”

“Fine, fine, whatever. As long as it brings results… although, I have to say, I’ve been concerned with some right-deviationist ideas in your editorials…”

“Not this again… I’ve had enough of defending myself from your accusations! If you want to know, it’s some of YOUR recent statements that I suspect of right-deviationism and perhaps even some revisionism!” Sky Trot slammed his hoof on the table with indignation.

“MINE?!” the two leaned over the table to snarl and glare daggers at each other, before another pony tried to defuse the situation by coughing and raising his hoof. A red-coated and rather strong-looking stallion with the mark of a spanner, a fine representative of the ponytariat and an influential agent of the labor unions in the North.

“Yes, Red Steel?” Shining Path turned around with a wide sickeningly sweet smile.

“Well, s’cuse me if I’m not that good at those big-sounding Marksist words…” the stallion shrugged, “But I wanted to say, I have managed to get the unions of Konevia on your side. When I get back, we hope to start a motion for a general strike. And our self-defence forces are ready to work alongside your Red Guards, as long as you don’t expect us to do all the heavy lifting. We already do plenty of heavy lifting.”

“That is wonderful news comrade,” Shining Path continued to smile cloyingly, “We appreciate the solidarity of the unions in our struggle”

“Less of a report, and more of a question really,” the perpetually depressed-looking donkey raised his hoof languidly, “All these plans are fine and dandy, sound great even, but has everypony thought about what we are going to do when the imperialists come for us with their space lasers and whatnot? I think that whatever we do, we are just going to die horribly in space-laser-fire and be replaced with reactionaries and fascists. Just being realistic and facing the facts as they are!”

“Oh Comrade Brennan, your depressing input always provides ample food for thought. Of course, there is always risk of intervention, and if we do make a move to seize power, it must be a priority to capture weapons of mass destruction first. But also, a little bird told me that in case of an all-out conflict, most of the Navy will stay neutral and deter would-be intervents.” Shining Path responded, “Either way, I wouldn’t waste my time worrying about it.”

“That doesn’t address the space lasers of death, but it’s something I suppose…” the donkey sighed deeply and went silent.

A cerulean seapony with reddish-gold fins and crest stirred in her tub. “The seaponies of Marecia are divided on supporting our revolution, I’ll need something to nudge them with in the right direction. So far not everypony is convinced it’s worth the possible sacrifice”

“Later we’ll make an official statement promising to drastically reduce the amount of ocean waste dumping, should we take control of Marecia,” Shining Path said, the seapony enthusiastically nodding, “Some measure of autonomy for seaponies is also negotiable”

“Coming from you, that should sway quite a few underwater comrades!” the seapony said, clapping her flippers in approval, “I do try to focus on environmental issues when convincing folks, the situation is a real mess. We would get so much more breathing space if only we didn’t have to settle in spots where some factory isn’t dumping toxic waste right on our heads.”

“Good to hear. Now, is that everything?” Shining Path asked and after, a few moments of silence from everypony else, pointedly took the papers lying in front of her and neatly stacked them by tapping them on the table, “In that case, is anyone opposed to calling this meeting? We must get to work, comrades. The wheels of history aren’t going to set themselves in motion…”

When the new decade arrived, most thought that an era of peace and stability can finally begin. Most threats were neutralized and the nations of Mystria and Pony Lands seemed to begin to come together diplomatically through the mediation of Princess Luna.

Instead, crisis after crisis came. First the emergence of Chaos in northeastern Pony Lands, then the Winter War that rocked Silverdale, and now the rise of Grogar’s dark kingdom as well as the Alduinite Crisis. The Herd’s new government, headed by the timid and inexperienced Alpha Dewpetal Glint, came woefully underequipped to deal with the situations and decided to largely ignore them and hope they go away without upsetting the international market too much – thus entering almost a decade of stasis and virtual isolation.

But upset they did, greatly destabilizing the inter-regional markets and plunging the Herd’s export economy into a deep recession. The government, as expected, tried to fix the situation as it usually did, with tax and regulation cuts. That hardly helped matters and the worst economic crisis in decades struck the country.

Long-dormant contradictions came to surface, labor conflicts flared like never before, and dissatisfaction with the government’s inactivity, particularly in the face of the rise of Tambelon, began to spread far and wide. It started with protests, some turning into riots, backed with widespread strikes and walkouts. The government didn’t do much of anything, but the capitalists called upon mercenaries to intimidate the strikers and protestors. In response, the labor unions mobilized their armed wings and the Workers’ Party formed so-called Red Guards to patrol the streets for PMCs and provocateurs.

Soon, several major cities mainly in the regions of Konevia, Marecia, Prance and Xiaoma were engulfed by left-wing protests and uneasy standoffs between labor unions and Red Guards on one side, and PMCs with the police on the other.

So began the weeks that would shake the Pony Lands…

✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Tue Jan 17, 2023 7:23 am

A few weeks/months later
Mareseilles, Prance

The Crème de la Crème Café was a highly distinguished establishment that served beings of high wealth with gourmet foods and sophisticated entertainment such as dinner theater and vaudeville shows. At this time of the day it was full of dazzlingly well-dressed ponies drinking revoltingly expensive champagne, enjoying the performance of a troupe of cabaret dancers, and making no doubt extremely important and refined chatter.

Of course, one required an RSVP to enter such an establishment, but no one dared to ask for one when a group of scruffy equines smelling of sweat, gunpowder and tobacco entered the premises, armed with rifles and wearing red armbands. The greeter simply let them through, shaking profusely and quickly excusing himself to the bathroom.

“Ewww, who let the lawneaters in?!” one of the female patrons asked in disgust and scrunched her nose, but quickly hid her face behind a lavish fan and shrunk into the crowd as one of the armed ponies glared at her. The rest of the patrons froze in shock, staring at the new arrivals in disbelief. Even the dancers on the stage froze like statues, their hooves and skirts still lifted high up in the air.

The apparent leader of the crowd – a large, gruff, unshaven stallion wearing an ushanka hat – spat on the floor as he walked into the seating area and sat on one of the fancy chairs, unceremoniously kicking his dirty hooves up on the pristine white tablecloth. Prompting many a horrified gasp and dropped monocle from the sophisticated clientele.

“Waiter! Me ‘n comrades are awfully tired and thirsty. Get us somethin’ to drink!” the stallion waved his hoof in the air and slung his rifle from one shoulder to another. Nearby waitress complied without a word, running off to the bar. The stallion looked around, a mean grin forming on his face as he took in the fear and disgust of dozens of bourgeois. “Sorry, fillies and gentlecolts! Terrible sorry for upsetting yer eyes with me lack of manners.”

He leant over to look into a nearby gentlestallion’s dish and lifted an eyebrow. “What in tarnation is that? Such a huge dish, and it’s just…a handful of hay with some kind of sauce and gold flakes…? That’s s’posta be food or what?”

“I-it’s a horse d’oeuvre, of course somepony this vulgar wouldn’t understand-[/i] the rich pony began, but quickly stopped as the Red Guard waved his gun disappointingly.

“Shut up, I dinnae come here for a lecture… Oh! Here come the refreshments, comrades!” the stallion rubbed his hooves excitedly, the other Reds gathering around him in anticipation as the waitress brought in a large tray of champagne glasses. Then…

“And what in tarnation is THIS?” the leader of the Red Guards said, bemused, as he held in his hoof one of the glasses – a pencil-thin thing that barely held a few sips of champagne and looked so fragile it could probably snap and shatter with a gentle breeze, “How am I sposta water my chops with this, let alone get drunk? And…phew! It tastes like carbonated HORSE PISS!”

He tossed the glass away and slowly looked around, brows furrowed, his expression getting more and more grim by the second until it was a full-fledged grimace of fury. The heavy stallion jumped from his seat, kicking the table over and in two.

“So this…THIS is what our labor pays for!” he shouted at the crowd, angrily circling his hoof around the premises, pointing out the expensive decorations, “Pretentious food that costs my monthly wage for a serving that couldn’t feed a little foal! Carbonated piss that you pretend is good because it has a five-digit pricing tag attached ta it! These tacky decorations! And watchin’ rich folks dance for folks who are richer! You all piss me off!”

He grabbed his gun and fired a burst at the ceiling, causing a priceless crystal chandelier to fall with a loud crash. The frozen shock of the rich clientele turned into an outright panic as they stampeded towards the exit, soon leaving no one inside except the Red Guards alongside with a few terrified waiters and dancers.

“Go, get out! And tell your friends! Your little feasts are OVER! FOR GOOD!”

Several hours later, units of the National Guard would arrive in Mareseilles to begin one of the first open confrontations between the government and the Red Guards. This would have a domino effect, causing similar outbreaks of violence across multiple cities with strong Workers’ Party presences. In some, they began to escalate into takeovers of factories and other businesses by the Red Guards and armed wings of labor unions. It would only take a few more sparks for an all-out civil war.
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Founded: Mar 29, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Malgrave » Tue Jan 17, 2023 4:17 pm

Government Crisis Centre, Epping, Malgrave

Epping had a continuous rhythm, as workers from different sectors of the economy and both local and international tourists would emerge across the day to either work or enjoy their well-earned time off in one of the restaurants, museums or other cultural attractions. It had led many to describe the city as a beating heart, a group of people compared to blood cells as they journeyed on public transport and hired vehicles or the rare private vehicle, now, such a feeling also encompassed the government sector in Epping as workers from various departments flowed in and out.

In peace, this phenomenon extended to the workers in government, as workers across a multitude of departments flowed in and out of the centre of Epping over the course of an average day. Unfortunately, for those in government recent events in the Research Colony combined with the outbreak of hostilities between Malgrave and the Dragon States meant that these cycles had been altered quite heavily as shifts ran increasingly into overtime and previous sanctioned leave had been cancelled to ensure that all hands were working to deal with ongoing matters.

It was a policy that stretched all the way to the top, as the Prime Minister and the people in her cabinet had essentially resorted to camping in the Government Crisis Centre to more easily deal with various matters, an arrangement that wasn't widely popular with many as extended time away from family took its strain but one that fell under the curious mantle of social solidarity and allowed them to rapidly respond to changing events including new crisis.

"As you are no doubt aware the Greater Pony Herd is in the midst of an economic crisis with negative consequences even beyond that suffered during the Lost Decade" Eliot said, the Foreign Minister leading one such briefing on the new situation developing, "It stems from their over-reliance on exports and has been perpetuated by their unwillingness and inability to raise taxes or indeed implement one of the monetary policies that we'd activate during a similar crisis in our country,"

Nadzieja nodded, the Prime Minister had written about the Greater Pony Herd prior to becoming involved in politics due to their lack of social safety net directly clashing with the model of social solidarity followed in Malgrave, "Understandable, a lot of merchant traffic has been negatively impacted due to the war and the technology exclusion zone and the latter has also decimated many of their trading partners," she said, "...even we have been forced to reduce our trade activity with the Herd so I imagine that the situation for them is quite terrible."

"By our estimations, the number of lawneaters in the country has increased dramatically due to the layoffs and even those employed are struggling to make ends meet due to the high cost of living," Eliot said shaking her head slightly in disappointment at some of the statistics she had read earlier, "It has resulted in a notable increase in unrest amongst the lowest strata of society."

"How is this unrest being monitored?" Moon Eun-Young asked, a disgusted look on her face as she looked over the increasing lawneater problem

"It has been able to gain a broad picture of the situation through analysis of traditional media and social media accounts, although, these are censored and likely present a biased opinion of events," Eliot said, "...but the Ancestral Study Group maintains an active charitable network in the country and so through conversations with volunteers we have been able to determine that something potentially revolutionary is brewing in the Herd."

"Just the sort of conditions that caused the socialists to try and spark their revolution," Claudia said taking a look at the situation, "Do we have any further intelligence on this unrest?"

At that point Aurelia Wyrzykowski stood, the Minister of State Security taking over this portion of the briefing.

"Information on the ground is rather limited at the moment, as a few of the protests that we've seen appear to be a spontaneous outpouring of emotion or newly found political enthusiasm which is similar to what occurred in Malgrave prior to the breakaway of the Socialist Republic," Aurelia said, "It does appear that these efforts are being partially coordinated and inspired by a Workers' Party, although, due to the limited information our knowledge of this group is rather limited aside from the fact they are inspired by Caramel Marks."

"A logical inspiration for their movement, although, I can't say how many will be motivated by theory or simple hunger it may help our efforts as I have read some of Marks work myself," Nadzieja said ignoring the shocked face of a few of her colleagues, "Will it be possible to establish contact with this Workers' Party?"

"Yes, as our food distribution centres are likely feeding parts of this movement due to the simple fact that they are finding recruits amongst the poor citizens we are helping," Eliot said, "It's definitely worth trying."

Nadzieja nodded in agreement seemingly content with the assessment, "In that case authorise local diplomats to try and start establishing contact with these Workers' Party representatives, a connection with them good prove vital if our ASG centres fall under attack," Nadzieja said, "Beyond that what are the chances of external intervention? Isn't it possible that an outside force could see this as a moment to strike?"

"If we were in regular times I would say that an external force could attempt to intervene in this process, however, even in peacetime I would state that such efforts would be foolhardy given the size and the strength of the Herdite navy, especially if rumours about their neutrality are true, " Eliot said, the Foreign Minister bowing slightly to the Minister of National Defence for the assistance she had given in the assessment, "Yet the conflict in the Research Colony and the damage caused to other powers due to the Winter War means that this intervention is even less likely."

"Excellent," Nadzieja said seemingly quite pleased with the news, "I'll have to work on a few interesting financial measures now but keep me informed of when we are able to establish contact with these new Herdites."

"Yes, Prime Minister," Eliot replied quickly getting to work with her colleagues on a plan of action.
Frenequesta wrote:Well-dressed mad scientists with an edge.

United Kingdom of Malgrave (1910-)
Population: 331 million
GDP Per Capita: 42,000 dollars
Join the Leftist Cooperation and Security Pact

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Founded: Jan 21, 2011
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Legokiller » Wed Jan 18, 2023 6:57 pm

Winter Palace, Snowy Light

Within the Robin Room of the Presidential Office, it was another day and another strategic meeting. For Miranda, it became all too familiar with the affairs and management of the crisis, monster hunts, and the budgetary of reconstruction. As an interactive monitor and bulletin board was present with all the information, and relevant data from Tambelon Crisis to efforts to combat Grogar and rescue civilians, there was one oddball that threw the cabinet and the rest of the team out of balance. It was one that nobody expected to occur as from a stable, if cloudcuckoolander country, to spiral downwards than predicted. Even the riots and minor uproar in Silverdale in response to Cynthia's and other corrupted deeds seemed to pale in comparison.

Greater Pony Herd.

“Hold on.” Miranda the half-ayuru half-equloine human gave a wide-eyed look as she placed down her cup of gamer-energy mix on the table. “A whole wide-spread communist showdown with corporation forces is widespread in the Greater Pony Herd?”

“That is correct, madame.” Empress the humanoid emperor penguin crossed her arms. “Given the nature of the Herdite Government, they succumb to their infantile game shows and decadence to do anything meaningful. Even a similar if too lax Bobby economy tactic was proven to fail. As such, I expect there aren't any true changes that can be done by the central government to solve. Not to mention, there are ties from Cynthia and other corrupted figures whose ties are rooted in the Herd. We have to be cautious, as food imports are vital from the herd.”

“True, but it doesn’t make any sense!” Orange Emberheart, the robot gadget human lass and secretary of commerce, stared at the group. “The Herd had more resources and means to solve this. Right now Silverdale is putting itself into debt and funds to not only fix it but also make sure people don’t become lawneaters. I mean, why not a slight increase in taxes for military contracts to supply others to help cover social programs? Seriously?”

“That’s the Herd for you.” Empress shrugged. “Sometimes generosity is taken for granted by the local church and justified no need from the state. Alongside the nature of greed, interest in business supporters, and others will forget the needs of the people. I suppose the lack of harmony and compassion for the community was overlooked for a long time. That being said, the whole region will feel its ripple, and will harm Silverdale no doubt.”

“True… Sheesh, if we had a competent Herdite contact then they would be able to straighten things out. Probably.” Miranda shrugged.

“I am not sure about that.” Mishera the maid-slash-super-ninja-spy who worked with Happy reported. “Our main contacts have dwindled away, and others possess ties with Cynthia in the past.”

“Now that’s great Mishera. A liability too. Looks like the central government is a sitting duck at this rate. That, and given the bad reputation with the likelihood of a brewing scandal with FrostTech of misuse of foreign workers in the herd, then we’re in a bad position. Not to mention, we aren’t in a good position to consider any direct intervention. It won’t pass congress at this rate as we’re short on support for it. Even then, it’s a big gamble.”

“An unnecessary one at this time.” Neptune the human said. “As of now, the Alduinuim crisis and our military are focused on protecting the Dragon Sea Alliance and the folks in the Research Colony.”

“That is correct.” Marshal Gwynie Goldenheart the aasimar spoke up. “There is another fact in the matter: no obligations of Silverdale and the Greater Pony Herd as a defense pact. Alpha Dewpetal Glint has been… silent even with the best efforts from our ambassador and hasn’t sent a token force in the Second Fimbulvetr. I advise against any intervention as we cannot risk the lives of Silverdaleans at this hour.”

Miranda gave a nod and gave a long pause to think about the matter. “Then at this moment, we have to continue to monitor the situation and deploy our intelligence agents to keep an eye. That being said, we can take immediate action to call our expatriates, citizens, and folks who took refuge to return home. It’s clear that violence will become widespread in the near future. As such, we must inform Ambassador Golden Shield of a new assignment to attempt a new diplomatic meeting with the government on this matter. Mishera.” She turned to Mishera. “We need agents on the ground to gather intelligence on the Red Guard.”

“I’ll send someone to keep a tap on them.” Mishera replied. “That being said: I advise we keep an eye on PMCs in Silverdale and corporations as well. I cannot be certain what vile atrocities they’ll do to keep the peace.”

“Do so. This will get quite wild soon enough.” Miranda said.

Shadow the EDGEPONY Podcast



“Welcome to Radical Anarchist Shadow Duststone Podcast. Where truth bombs are twenty-four seven.”

The narration and explosions ended, and a gray-pony with a messy mane finished his not-so-healthy cigarette appeared as he looked directly at the camera. “Welcome Comrades. We have much to report.” The raspy earth pony spoke up. “We’re living in good times, my friends.”

A tv played a mock goat photo attack on evil nerds of Malgrave. “Grogar is at it again against the imperialist while something really happened.” A flash came where the protests came and clashed against the pmcs. “For once in a lifetime, the people of the Greater Pony Herd woke up. No longer can the yoke and lies can blind our fellow comrades from the injustice.” He then clapped his hooves on the table. “They have enough! The workers have risen up to fight against the system itself! And what does the alpha do?”

A mark-up picture of the pony in a chicken suit hid in a corner. “Nothing! Hide like the usual coward they are! All the while their paid goons do the dirt work. Is this what the people elected and wanted? No! No tax cuts will save your hide! So better hide before the people break into your palace.”

Shadow Duststone then sat down from his high energy. “Regardless, this is a critical event we all must watch! As the world watches, change will come! No matter what boot the corps will send, their suits and goons will be no match for the Red Guard. I am telling you every pony, this won't stop! It will only get better soon enough! Now…”

Shadow Duststone then showed his merchandise of T-shirts to other items. “If you want to support the revolution, you can buy my fabulicious shirts to donations to help a lawneater near you!”
Last edited by Legokiller on Wed Jan 18, 2023 7:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Silverdale's Factbook! Poi Poi Poi Resurrected! Silverdale News Thread
<Maven>Legokiller's an original "G" with mirrors and changelings before it was cool <AnimeQuote> Taiga Aisaka is Gandhi.

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Malgrave » Sat Jan 21, 2023 12:57 pm

Rensk, Malgrave

It had been almost four decades since the Socialist Republic of Malgrave ceased to exist as an independent state, however, even from an outside perspective one would be able to recognise a couple of areas of government policy that had been impacted due to a few of the concessions that had been agreed to by Epping to put the deadly conflict to an end.

By far the most notable impact was the decision to force through the end of the country's isolationist stance, as even without the pressure of war the proposition of opening to the international community was one theorised for twenty or thirty years in the future instead of the ten-year maximum instituted by the Epping-Rensk Agreement.

It had also resulted in a major economic shake-up, as the cooperatives and workers' self-managed enterprises that existed in the Socialist Republic had not only been allowed to continue operating but their model had spread to the rest of the country, with the crisis of the 90s contributing to them being one of the cornerstones of the new economy alongside the usual state-run companies like MalMart and MalTec.

Unfortunately, a few things hadn’t changed and the persecution of socialist and communist activists had remained under the guiding hand of the Ministry of Anti-Communism and Anti-Fascism and the Special Investigative Service.

It was something that Amaranta Anselmi had experienced personally since the dissolution of the SRM, with the socialist politician being jailed in 1987 for her involvement in organising some of the protests that had led up to the Great Riot, although she knew that her time in prison was a luxurious fate when compared to the multitude of accidents and MIDD-related deaths her comrades had fallen to over the year.

Nadzieja Brzezicki’s ascension as Prime Minister and the reforms implemented during her tenure meant that Amaranta was soon amongst those pardoned for their apparent crimes and allowed to return to civilian life, and the ageing neko hadn’t spared her time in returning to Rensk to continue her work with the Socialist Party.

Beyond assisting the organisational efforts of the party Amaranta had also been tasked with increasing ties with fellow socialist movements in the region, although, the entrenchment of powerful noble families and concentrated wealth in the region meant that her efforts were mostly focused on connecting with Spirean and a few Breheimian comrades.

As much as the situation presented the socialist movement with a mountain of propaganda material it was also quite depressing which is why Amaranta had positively leapt at the opportunity to present her findings on events occurring within the Greater Pony Herd to her leader.

Lotte Hansen belonged to a new generation of socialist politicians that were born after the dissolution of the Socialist Republic, although Amaranta knew that Lotte held a certain nostalgia for the old republic as her mother had represented the country in peace talks before moving to Breheim before it came into force.

“Socialism in the Greater Pony Herd?” Lotte said, the disbelief quite clear in her tone as she read the report given to her by the older neko, “I remember them having some of the heaviest anti-communist propaganda in Mystria.”

“All correct but the Herdite also has a heavily armed trade union movement and a population that is suffering due to the economic crisis which has been worsened due to inaction from the capitalist ruling class,” Amaranta reasoned, “Just within the past few months the number of lawneaters has skyrocketed and the overall cost of living as plummeted, so it is no surprise that protests and strikes are popping off all over the country.”

“I doubt that those at the top barely even recognise or care about the suffering being endured by the common worker,” Lotte said shaking her head as she read the report, “You say that this is being organised by a workers' party?”

“Yes, Comrade,” Amaranta said looking quite excited, “I was able to establish contact with someone in the Herd who identified themselves as Comrade Shining Path, a senior figure behind some of these protests and we were able to talk about a few issues over the course of our conversation.”

“What impression did you get from this talk?” Lotte asked

“Comrade Shining Path seems intent on spreading the flames of revolution across the Herdite and I would say that they’ve got an enthusiastic cadre spreading their message across all parts of society,” Amaranta said, “Honestly it was impressive speaking to someone who appeared to be quite knowledgeable of the working theory behind the success of the Socialist Republic, so I have no doubt that they’d be quite a healthy ally in the future.”

“All good news, a new power following a Spirean or Malgravean attitude on socialism will be beneficial to Mystria,” Lotte said, “How well do you rate their chances?”

“Personally? I think they have quite a decent chance of being successful, especially, as I have heard from other sources that the Herdite navy intends to prevent outside forces from interfering in the matter,” Amaranta said, “...but I would like to travel to the Greater Pony Herd myself to see this revolution in action.”

“Seriously?” Lotte asked, quite shocked, “Aren’t you rather old for this?”

Amaranta chuckled, “I don’t intend to throw myself at the frontline, however, as someone who is familiar with the early history of the Socialist Republic I feel that I can provide some key support to these new revolutionaries.”

Lotte paused for a few seconds as they contemplated the information, “Fine but I will also be assigning someone to aid you in your efforts.”

Amaranta bowed slightly in thanks, “I’ll make certain to send updates on the progress of the Herdite workers, Comrade.”

“May the words of Monika Chmiel and Caramel Marks guide you during this important time,” Lotte said, referencing both the first Prime Minister of the Socialist Republic and the Equestrian philosopher.
Frenequesta wrote:Well-dressed mad scientists with an edge.

United Kingdom of Malgrave (1910-)
Population: 331 million
GDP Per Capita: 42,000 dollars
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Thu Jan 26, 2023 3:40 pm

Malgrave wrote:Nadzieja nodded in agreement seemingly content with the assessment, "In that case authorise local diplomats to try and start establishing contact with these Workers' Party representatives, a connection with them good prove vital if our ASG centres fall under attack," Nadzieja said, "Beyond that what are the chances of external intervention? Isn't it possible that an outside force could see this as a moment to strike?"

Shining Path’s office in the Workers’ Party’s underground headquarters was downright spartan with bare concrete walls and only the essentials: a rickety desk and a couple of chairs, a modest collection of books, a small safe for documents and an old and beaten laptop. Although it wasn’t devoid of the obligatory decorations in the form of a portrait of Caramel Marks as well as the symbol of the Workers’ Party: a horseshoe crossed with three stalks of wheat. The horseshoe representing manual labor, while the wheat represented not only agriculture, but the unity of the three pony races as well as the three parts of the working class: industrial workers, farmers and intellectuals/magi.

Shining Path sat at her desk with one of the Workers’ Party’s chief propagandists, Velvet Hymn, seated opposite her. A bright purple unicorn with an outgoing and diplomatic personality, she often served as a moderating contrast to Shining Path’s cold and aloof attitude during heated party meetings. Surprisingly, the two rarely clashed and even developed something of a camaraderie, Velvet being perhaps the only person Shining would be slightly more inclined to call a friend rather than a comrade.

As an aide brought in drinks, Shining Path welcomed with a nod of her head a large cup of pitch-black, sugarless, bitter enough to make most other ponies retch tea brewed from several packets of strong black tea at once - the kind that she liked to help her stay awake at night. Velvet Hymn, meanwhile, had a much more normal cup of regular tea with just one extra sugarcube and a couple of cookies.

“It would seem the Malgravean government wants to establish contact with us,” Shining Path raised an eyebrow as she sipped on her tea while sifting through the latest messages, “Didn’t they have an actual ministry of anti-communism just a few years ago?”

“Well, they did, but then the space skeletons came and made them stop. Crazy world, huh?” Velvet Hymn said, punctuating her words with the movements of a teaspoon like a conducting baton, “And it seems that lately they’ve been getting more in touch with their Socialist Republic history.”

“Ah, the Socialist Republic of Malgrave, one of the few successful examples of true socialism in Mystria,” Shining Path said somewhat wistfully before rubbing her chin and pondering a response to the Malgravean government.

“It seems that they are largely concerned with the state of Ancestral Study Groups, which can be threatened by all the street fighting around,” Velvet suggested, “Though they’re a religious organization – of sorts? – they have been nothing but friendly to us so far, even allowing our cadres to agitate freely among the poor making use of their soup kitchens. I would suggest we give them some sort of formal protection as a sign of goodwill.”

“Although I am suspicious of any religious groups, building bridges with Malgrave would be a good step towards international recognition of our movement,” Shining Path said with the slightest hint of inspired glint in her eyes, as she flipped her hair back and began to type on her laptop, “We’ll tell them that their centers are under protection of the Red Guard, and their diplomats are welcome to get in touch with us if they want any more guarantees or confirmations. This will help our legitimacy vis-à-vis the regime for sure.”

“Speaking of the Socialist Republic of Malgrave, we’ve also received word from Amaranta Anselmi, it would seem she wishes to meet with us in person.” Velvet Hymn said as she produced a dossier on the Malgravean politician, seeming rather impressed with the woman’s resolve to travel all the way to a country torn by protests despite her advanced age.

“The former Prime Minister of the SRM? Excellent. This is another opportunity to build international support, we shall meet her in person and make her familiar with our struggle.”
Neighton, Marecia

Smoking Barrel climbed out of the hatch of his tank and looked at the hundreds of regime soldiers shuffling awkwardly with their hooves in the air, as they were surrounded by a mechanized company of the Steelworkers’ Union.

The operation was a dazzling success worth of military textbooks. Heavy vehicles of the National Guard entered the city to check the armed rebel groups, as the corporate security forces all miraculously called in sick that day and left the factories and docks vulnerable to the “predations” of the Reds. As they entered the industrial districts, they were faced with a daring and rapid attack of union tanks and IFVs backed by Red Guard infantry, forcing them to retreat deeper into the city. With a sweeping sickle-like maneuver, the unions proceeded to corral the National Guard all the way into the harbor – where militants of the Dockworkers’ Union were waiting on hulks of unfinished warships, waiting to open fire with shipboard artillery. Surrounded in this way, the regime troops ended up surrendering.

“You turned weapons against your own people! For what, for the crime of taking what we have created with our own hooves?!” Smoking Barrel berated the captive hoofponies as he jumped down from the tank and started pacing through their ranks.

“I-I was just following orders! They said you are terrorists, plain and simple!” one of the soldiers responded, earning them a smack upside the head from Smoking Barrel.

“Just following orders!” he mocked, “Don’t you have your own head on your shoulders?”

The union stallion winced, then smirked as a loud explosion rang through the vicinity – signaling the destruction of a regime fighter plane that was en route to intimidate the rebels, but flew through a cloud mined by Red Guard pegasi beforehand.

“Now listen, those of you who wish to join your fellow workingponies – Melting Pot over there is taking signup applications for the Red Guard. Put your skills to good use! And those who aren’t – abandon your equipment and git! Hope that the people forget your shame once this is all over.”

About half the regime troopers defected to the revolutionaries, while the other half was released naked and humiliated. The Unions and the Red Guard have recovered enough equipment, including heavy vehicles, to quickly take over and fortify the rest of the coastal city. Neighton thus became the first major city to fully fall to the revolutionaries. Numerous fancy yachts were soon seen leaving the harbors, with rich folks fleeing in horror with whatever riches they could take with them.

The Red Guards of the Xiaoma region (the “Revolutionary Army of Democratic Xiaoma”) were generally less well-equipped than their comrades elsewhere, mainly composed of light infantry, but their strategy of “protracted ponies’ war” made them a scourge on government forces. Operating mainly from rural settlements, they used the forests, jungles and even the rice fields to great effect in order to stage surprise attacks against supply lines, making it a logistical nightmare for National Guard and Army forces to even approach rebellious areas. The large numbers of qirin joining the militias greatly helped with their knowledge of the forests as well as nature magic. It was not uncommon for qirin and the three species of ponies to work together in order to rapidly reshape large swathes of landscape overnight in order to frustrate would-be attackers.

Stranger still was another group which joined the side of the revolutionaries, which styled itself as the “Righteous Hooves of Harmony”. Guided by Harmonist monks from local monasteries, these ponies rejected weapons and instead practiced mystical martial arts which made their hides all but impervious to gunfire, and their blows solid enough to dent steel. They preached modesty and humility, and joined forces with the Red Guard in order to fight what they saw as forces of greed and hedonism.

One of their leaders was a pony known as Lily Emptyhoof, to whom unbelievable feats were ascribed. She was said to be able to fly at rapid speeds despite being an earth pony, deflect any quantity of bullets, flip tanks with a single kick and launch orbs of energy which exploded with enough force to level buildings. The mare was followed by a coterie of students who could replicate her feats albeit on a smaller scale, and they traveled across the land helping folks and thrashing government forces with nothing but their bare hooves.

Whether it was but an embellished tale or not, the Righteous Hooves proved themselves as surprisingly effective combatants and became a fascinating symbol of hope for the oppressed in Xiaoma – which would soon become one of the stronghold regions for Marksist militants.
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Thu Jan 26, 2023 3:41 pm



We, the Workers' Party, are an organization which legitimately represents the interests of all workingponies of the Herd.

Our goal is a just, democratic, equal and harmonious society of friends based on the teachings of Caramel Marks. We stand against unbridled capitalistic greed which had ravaged our country for so long, to the point where it became synonymous with the poor grazing on lawns!

While our opponents may call us rebels, terrorists and so on and so forth (while they unleash the police, army and private security upon peaceful strikers and protesters), we merely wish to democratically represent the wishes of billions of workingbeings for a brighter, fairer tomorrow.

We hereby extend a request for recognition towards all parties sympathetic towards our struggle. We highly value the solidarity and support of any being who would answer this call and show greedy tyrants that the workers of all lands stand together.

Signed and approved by the Central Committee of the Workers' Party

✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Posts: 8931
Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Mon Jan 30, 2023 2:25 pm

Graufals Rock Farms
Przhewald Region

The inhospitable landscape of the rock farm was already enough of a natural defence network, but now criss-crossed with trenches, stone walls and hollowed-out rocks serving as gun and AA emplacements it was practically a makeshift fortress. The workers have chased out the fat-cat owners and were now digging in waiting for the cops and soldiers to come and try fix this "unlawful seizure of property". Amidst the depressing greyness of the rock farm, the bright crimson flags flying from the workers' cabins stood out, showing who was in charge.

Clay Spring was sitting on her haunches inside one of the trenches, wrapped tightly into her camouflage raincoat and nursing a bowl of lukewarm stone soup, although that wasn't enough to keep her from occasionally shivering at the cold. A rifle stood by her side, an old imported Imerian KVG modified to be hoof friendly - a trophy they wrestled from one of the owners. The young beige earth mare had no idea how she ended up here. Just a few days ago she was just a manual laborer earning a meager living by hauling rocks into trucks, then things just...happened. She was never much into politics and didn't try to wrap her mind around it properly. It just so happened that the workers now ran the farm, and not Mr. Rockheart, which sounded kinda nice but also meant they now had to defend it with guns in hoof.

"Sheesh...I don't remember it ever being so chilly around these parts." the mare complained out loud to nobody particular as she shifted around and exhaled a cloud of steam.

"Windigos, lass. Hafya never heard of 'em?"

She turned around and saw Smoky Quartz, an elderly unicorn stallion, one of the most venerable workers on the farm who had worked there for over forty years. Way past his retirement age, though everypony knew that retirement age was merely a suggestion in this land, yet he didn't only keep working but also stayed there for the armed takeover.

"Whenever there's great rancor amongst ponyfolks, the windigos come and bring forth cold." the old stallion continued.

"Well, I thought that's just an old mare's Hearth's Warming tale. At least the part where they're caused by discord and such" Clay Spring said, looking a bit surprised by Smoky's words.

"Your generation would do well to pay more respect to 'old ponies' tales'! Then maybe you'd have somethin' in your heads other than Tweeters and ClipClops." Smoky grumbled, then chuckled as Clay seemed humbled by his words, and gave her a friendly pat on the back. "No, lass. It's all real. The windigos, they literally feed on the emotions of discord and distrust, growing stronger and stronger and making things colder and colder."

"I would have thought they'd come up with some way to deal with them by now. Like a gun that shoots windigos."

"Oh they have, the gubmint has some sorta devices to disperse them, and those Xiaomanese monks have spells to seal them inside jars or somethin'. But thing is, if you don't deal with the source, there'll just be more and more coming until we all freeze and kick the bucket."

"So unless we stop fighting..."

"Yeah, I s'pose we could just go out there and shake hooves with the fat cats, make up and sing kumbayah. Just like in Hearth's Warming tales." Smoky spat on the ground and then suddenly crushed a small rock beneath his hoof. "-or we could do this to 'em. That solves things, too. No fat cats, no discord."

"Oh, here comes one-"

They looked up, and saw a great ghostly equine stride across the sky, as if surfing on the gusts of chilling wind. It looked almost majestic, but had an aura of unmistakable malice as it glanced down at the ponies below with empty white eyes that knew only hunger. Immediately a wave of bitter cold washed over the rock farm, causing Clay Spring to shudder and wrap her raincoat closer around her body.

"Yeah, I don't envy them poorfolks who haven't stocked up on blankets and fuel." Smoky Quartz said, coughing. "Whadda you say, should we start a fire?"

Although Clay Spring's shift in the trenches was running short, she agreed to stay and help the old stallion to collect firewood and make a fire in one of the barrels lying around for that purpose. If just for the next rotation of guards to enjoy some warmth. But the conversation and the sight of a windigo weighed heavily on the young mare's mind, as she felt a deep sense of uncertainty and unease. It seemed so simple in Hearth's Warming stories: everyone always just came to respect each other's differences, bumped hooves and made up in the end. But something told Clay that this wasn't a likely scenario today. If this whole conflict was to last months, perhaps years? What would become of this land then? Eternal winter forever?

As the mare pondered this, retreating to one of the cabins for some rest and recuperation, record cold snaps were being reported all over the country...
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Shimmering Equestria
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Founded: Aug 10, 2021
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Shimmering Equestria » Wed Feb 01, 2023 5:47 am

Eastern Hippocratia, Northern Mystria

The Equestrian pavilions were bright blue against the fields. A bubblegum pink magical dome shimmered above the camp, and guards patrolled watchfully around its perimeter while banners snapped in the wind above, the air purified as it entered the dome. Everywhere ponies were sharpening weapons, cleaning harness and armour, maintaining the camp, and attempting to keep their spirits high.

Trixie passed captive fleshcast from the front lines who were held in a stockade area until they could be transported to the rear, an animal-speaker and a squad of bird scouts, and patrols being mustered to go out into the mountains to scout enemy positions and to search for lost locals or deliver aid packages to displaced persons and ponies in their operational area.

Trixie pulled her hat off as she entered the royal pavilion of Princess Luna, several batponies hung from the tentpoles above, but it was a quiet place at the moment, with a table strewn with maps of the local area.

The expedition was small compared to the Hippocratian armies fighting against Grogar’s invasion, Equestria wasn’t a warlike country, far from it, but they could contribute, and with the beloved princess captured, there was a significant call to do so.

Starlight Glimmer, Chancellor of the School of Friendship, looked up toward her. ‘Hey Trixie,’ she said, looking slightly frazzled. Starlight was a very powerful unicorn, and she had been working on ways to mitigate the powers of Grogar for a rescue attempt, burning the candles at both ends for weeks.

Trixie looked at her, ‘When did you last get some sleep?’ she asked.

‘Sleep is for the weak,’ Starlight quipped, ‘come look at this, I think we’ve found a way to get out of Tambelon,’ she said.

Trixie stepped up to the table, brushing the mud off her forehooves and resting them on it, looking at the sheets of paper. ‘A student idea?’

‘Yes,’ Starlight said, ‘we can’t really test it easily though, or at least, we need to find a way to do that.’

‘And how long have you been looking at this?’


‘Three hours?’

‘Three days,’ Starlight looked away.

‘Right, that’s it, I’ll take over here, you need to sleep, eat, maybe think of something else.

‘But,’ Starlight gestured to a pile of scrolls and tomes.

‘No, no more working on that,’ Trixie said, ‘come on, let’s get some food and then we can talk,’ she said.

They trudged through the mud of the camp outside, to a wider pavilion with one wall open, and shifted their conversation to something more general, it would not do to be discussing the operation to rescue the Princess from Tambelon there.

‘Have you been reading the despatches on the Greater Pony Herd lately?’ Trixie asked.

‘Oh, the revolutionaries? I have,’ Starlight said.

‘I wanted to ask, you’re into all that equality stuff, have you ever read this Caramel Marks’ books?’

‘Well, I used to… go a little far - thank you,’ Starlight said as one of the ponies passed her a folded roll and cup of soup as they reached the front of a short queue.

‘Well, what did you think about him when you did? Thanks Prairie Bloom,’ Trixie said.

‘Absolute limp fetlocked liberal,’ Starlight sneered with a nasal snort, then flicked her ears, ‘Nowadays? Pretty dated in some of his assumptions, he’s accessible though I have no idea how he became so relevant, I’ve got some of his books though,’ she said, ‘if you’re interested.’

‘I’m wondering if his writing is more, you know, Nefreedia, or more Crystal Spires?’

Starlight winced, and then rallied, ‘Well, his writing probably has very little to do with it,’ Starlight said. ‘Thinking they’ll win?’

‘It wouldn’t be a bad thing for us, here, if they did, I think,’ she said.

‘Perhaps, I can definitely get the appeal of revolution, but a lot of ponies are going to get hurt,’ she said, ‘I’d like to know why they can’t contest the elections, it’s not like the Herd hasn’t got a robust democratic tradition,’ she said, ‘much more so than Equestria, where we’ve had a thousand years of autocratic rule under Celestia before Twilight took over, why the Pony’s Chamber even has magical powers rated…’

‘Ah, Starlight…’

‘Well, come on, it’s not as if that’s not actually true, she used to be pretty repressive.’


‘I don’t think I’ve ever made a secret of the thought that Equestria definitely could do with a more democratic government.’

‘Pretty repressive?’ a melodic voice from behind, and a little above Starlight asked. ‘I’ll have you know I never knowingly repressed anypony that didn’t deserve some repression.’

Celestia stood with four bodyguards - she may not longer have ruled Equestria but she was the most likely target for assassination or abduction in the entire expedition - right behind her. One wing was still in an elaborate splint from the raid on Tambelon, but she had refused to return to Equestria until her sister was rescued. Even though she was unable to fly - without magic at least - she was still able to cast wards, heal and generally pull her greater weight.

Starlight dropped her roll, half eaten - Trixie caught it for her, even princesses and archmages didn’t get second helpings when there were people and ponies starving on the same continent - and looked at the rainbow mane floating to her left ‘Ah, Celestia. I mean…’

Celestia laughed musically, ‘I may have been a little too autocratic at times, that’s true, and while I will defend my record, change was needed; even if you’re immortal, rulers can become a little dated. Now, what was that about the Ponies Chamber?’

To cover Starlight’s embarrassment, Trixie spoke up, ‘We were just talking about the incipient revolution in the Greater Pony Herd.’

‘Ah, that revolt!’ Celestia said, and stamped one hoof, making Starlight jump, before Celestia grinned at her, ‘Just teasing, but it does worry me, but then, it’s not our place to go trying to define other ponies’ culture. Twilight’s time there was very successful for foreign policy but ponies want something different. We can only hope that their hearts do not turn black, on either side, and try to set an example.’

‘Is there anything more concrete we can do?’ Starlight asked, ‘a lot of our pony-power is here…’

‘Now that's what I was thinking of,’ Trixie said, ‘we still have the Rings of Scorcherro, don’t we?’

‘I think so,’ she said, looking up at Celestia.

‘Unless Twilight has had them moved, the surviving rings are in the restricted section of the Canterlot Library, why?’ Celestia said.

‘When the Silverdale war was happening I did some research,’ Trixie said, ‘it ended too soon to be of any use, but we could send them the most affected area of the Herd, even incomplete they can raise the temperature of several counties markedly, and at least delay the effect of Windigos, I think that was their original purpose. Archeologists uncovered the rituals to use them properly. We could put them somewhere neutral, like a Harmonist temple.’

Starlight looked a little sceptical at that last thought, but said nothing for now, ‘Is it really ethical to help ponies to keep fighting a civil war?’

‘It can be difficult when people quarrel, but it is always more ethical to save innocent people from suffering than to do nothing, if you have the means,’ Celestia said. ‘I think it is a worthwhile idea, if you want to arrange it.’

‘Make sure to take precautions, Marks was not particularly hot on Harmonism.’

‘Did you know he once ambushed me for about three hours to bang on about that very topic, soapbox and everything,’ Celestia said, as she joined the queue for lunch.

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Posts: 8931
Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Wed Feb 01, 2023 9:53 am

Nefreedian Equine Social Experiment Camp #3
~10 years ago
Life in Camp #3 (or simply “our town” as the ponies affectionately referred to it) was simple and down-to-earth. There was a simple shack with basic amenities for each pony, a distribution center where each received supplies according to their need, a meeting hall and, of course, wheat fields and vegetable gardens to work. They even had a small library, too. Every morning the denizens of the town would wake up, work the fields til sunset, then gather in the meeting hall to discuss their problems, and spend the rest of the day resting and playing. Everything from allotting supplies to living arrangements was solved by the community through voting, or, if they had come to an impasse, casting lots.

The ponies weren’t allowed to ever leave their town, but everypony had convinced themselves that they didn’t need anything outside of it anyway. There was a large wall with watch towers and barbed wire surrounding the outskirts of the town, but the ponies were convinced that it was for their defence, too. They knew however, that they were part of a country called Nefreedia, which was without a doubt the greatest country in the world, where no one knew need or hunger thanks to the wise ideas of New Freedom.

Every so often, men that the ponies knew only as the Commissars, would come over to inspect the town, thoroughly take notes on everything, and sometimes bring some extra supplies. If a pony had fallen ill, they’d provide medical care free of charge – leaving everypony impressed by how informed these humans were about equine anatomy! A couple of times the Commissars took away ponies who were found guilty of “deviant behavior” – never to be seen in the town again. It was a bit sad but eventually everypony would shrug and assume they were taken to a special town for ponies who didn’t know how to behave.

The ponies expected another relatively uneventful day of toiling in the fields, but they weren’t prepared for what they were going to see upon leaving their shacks. A strange, sleek crescent-shaped vehicle landed in the town, releasing…more ponies?! They were different though, wearing black armor and wielding some kind of futuristic gadgets. Looking almost like aliens from outer space. But they seemed to behave rather friendly, so Specimen 056-241, the town elder, went out to greet them. After a brief discussion it became apparent what their objective was – to evacuate the whole town.

That was a shocking revelation, no doubt. Of course as the town dwellers gathered in the meeting hall, most were strictly opposed to any kind of evacuation at first. But then the ‘Nightguards’ as they called themselves, began painting a rather tempting picture. They said they would be relocated to a large country full of ponies just like them, ruling themselves, where they wouldn’t be constrained to just one village. Gradually, some camp residents started coming over, and before too long, most ponies were excitedly chattering about the prospects of their new lives.

But the loudest opposition to the idea came from the town librarian and bookkeeper, Specimen 060-165, a young but unusually strict and hardline blue-and-white earth mare.

“Are you out of your minds?! We can’t just leave our town like this! After all the hard work we put into it?!” she gesticulated towards the Nightguards, “And just look at these ‘liberators’! They look just like bad guys from film about space imperialists!”

“We know how you feel, 165, but you have to admit the proposal doesn’t sound so bad…we’ll get to see a whole another country full of ponies just like us!”

“And what kind of country is that? Do they practice Nefreedian Socialism there?” 165 raised an eyebrow, and the Nightguards glanced awkwardly among themselves in response.


“Then there’s nothing that we could want from it. Right, everypony? Here in our town we have free food, medical care, everyone’s got a place to stay…we’re practically living in a communist paradise!” 165 waved her hoof, “Meanwhile all other places out there are full of poverty, hunger and misery.”

“Miss,” one female Nightguard interjected, “Do you even have any idea what Nefreedia is really like?”

“Of course I do!” 165 huffed irreverently, “It’s the greatest country in the world, the cradle of socialism, free of the perils of idealism and individualism, where the Party guides us towards full communism through the teachings of New Freedom.”

The Nightguards once again exchanged concerned glances. “And do you know why you aren’t even allowed to leave this…town?”

“Because there is nothing we could want or need outside, of course! What’s the point?” 165 shrugged and snorted at the ridiculous notion of anything outside the town being important, beside the Party of course.

“Do we tell her…?” “No, that’d be far too traumatic for everyone involved. Let’s try to solve this diplomatically.”

“Come on, everypony! You can’t really be planning to leave this town, right?” 165 turned towards her comrades, “What about my library? I worked so hard to keep it in working order!”

“With all due respect, 165, your ‘library’ is like, 10 books on communism that we all have read several times already…”

“But…but…I even scrapbooked a ledger and made library cards and everything…I thought you all LIKED it…” 165 looked crestfallen as she hung her head and pressed her ears down.

“Now, now, we all love your library, of course… But I am sure you could make a much bigger and better library elsewhere!” Elder 241 said, “Now we should put this whole evacuation thing to vote, I think…”

The vote passed after some quiet debate and deliberation, and unsurprisingly, 165 ended up in extreme minority, being the only one of two ponies who voted “against”.

“Hmph. So be it. All of you can go, me and 073 will do just fine on our own!” 165 sneered before turning towards Specimen 061-073, a meek and shy mare who was the only pony to vote alongside her, “Come, they’ll all regret it, you’ll see…”

“Um, actually, I only voted against because I didn’t want you to feel too bad.” 073 said, looking away to hide her face in embarrassment.

“UUUUUGH! Alright! Go away, do whatever you want, but I’m staying and that’s it! Not moving an inch! Even if I am the only pony left!” 165 sat down on her haunches, crossed her forelegs and started loudly singing the Internationale.

“165…just stop.” 241 said with sudden sternness in his voice, “We know you really want to keep this community together, but…don’t you see the irony of going against this whole community in the process?”

That was the one argument that seemed to get through to 165, who got up with a deep, weary sigh and hung her head. Going against the community, the masses, trying to stand out was the one great sin of Nefreedian Socialism. In doing so, 165 had almost fallen to the folly of individualism.

“I’m sorry everypony…you’re right. If you all want it, I’ll go with it. Just let me get my stuff first…”

Just about an hour later, the denizens of Camp #3 lined up neatly to enter one of the strange crescent-shaped vehicles, each of the ponies carrying a part of their meager communal belongings. 165, standing at the end of the line, sighed heavily and choked back tears as she turned around and gave one last wistful look at their town that she probably wasn’t ever going back to.
A few days later…

The bureaucrat at the immigration bureau flashed a wide smile at the bored-looking mare standing before him, sorting her personal information on the computer on his desk.

“Aaaand…just one more step, and you’ll be a full-fledged citizen of the Herd, madam! You have to come up with a new name for yourself. Isn’t that cool? I’d love it if I could come up with my own name.”

“Can I keep the numbers? I would rather keep the numbers.” the mare said with a deadpan look, “I’ve been going by these numbers for as long as I remember myself.”

“Sadly, we don’t really do numbers around here. You can still refer to yourself in private using them, of course, but we strongly recommend you come up with a name in order to fit in. If you’re out of ideas, we have a handy list of suggestions here…”

Appalling individualism. she thought to herself, but said: “Fine.” She inclined her head and started thinking back to their town back in Nefreedia, of things that reminded her of the old life which apparently wasn’t ever coming back. After pondering for a few moments, a particular sight stuck out to her. An old, somewhat discolored propaganda banner which decorated one of the walls of their settlement, that she could always see when looking out of the window of the small shack that served as her library and office:


“How about…Shining Path.”

“A wonderful name, madam! With a name like this, you’ll be sure to fit in! Just wait for a moment as I update your information…”

“Yeah…I sure hope so.”
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Sat Feb 04, 2023 2:37 pm

Shimmering Equestria wrote:✂️

Neighneveh, Buraq Region

The regions affected the worst by the Windigos weren't northern ones which were used to cold snowy winters, rather it were the warm regions in the south where infrastructure was naturally unprepared for such severe cold snaps. Such was the case in the largely subtropical and deserted Buraq where many homes didn't even have inbuilt heating for the lack of need. Panic was setting in as emergency pegasi weather teams were working overtime trying to clear snow clouds, while from the great tall stone minarets of the city unicorns tried to keep the area warm with heat magic. But of course such measures were only temporary against the magic of the windigos, which blew freezing winds across the land in waves, each colder than the last, as long as the ghostly steeds remained fed with strife.

It was no wonder that the largest Harmonist temple in Neighneveh was jam-packed with ponies, camels and horses desperately pleading for Celestia to make the Sun burn hotter and not put it down. Even the followers of the local native religion, who monotheistically worshipped the one god Al-Hisan, joined in - as after centuries of intermingling with Harmonists they have come to syncretically consider the Regal Sisters as saints, prophets or at least divinely anointed rulers of sorts.

Delivering the Rings of Scorcherro to the temple was a surprisingly simple task, or at least a welcome reprieve from the woes of Tambelonic frontlines. Even though Buraq was also touched by the revolution, it seemed that most locals were too preoccupied with the cold for full-scale street fighting. There were two groups of loyalists and revolutionaries sitting it out behind their respective barricades outside of the temple, occasionaly peeking out to make "pew pew", "boom" sounds and throw a rotten fruit or a rock at the opposing side to emulate activity for their superiors, but otherwise eminently unwilling to actually fight in this weather.

Starlight and Trixie placed the Rings of Scorcherro on a raised dais within the chancel, and performed the neccessary rituals together with their Equestrian attendants. Even with the incomplete set, the artifacts immediately started working their magic, cleansed as they were by the sages of Canterlot from the malefic enchantments put on them making them generate unrelenting and oppressive heat. A wave of incandescent energy washed over Neighneveh and several nearby counties, starting to raise the ambient temperature by a few degrees. It definitely wasn't the ultimate solution to the windigo problem, but at least it would prevent a humanitarian catastrophe in Buraq for the time being.

"Well, we did it. Yay the great and powerful us-" Trixie began as her and Starlight stepped out of the temple, nodding and smiling at each other after a job well done... only to get instantly encircled by a large crowd.

"MISS TRIXIE?! I have the whole box set of your shows!!! Can I have an autograph?!" somepony elbowed their way from the crowd on the right, flying the gold flags of the loyalists, in order to accost Trixie.

"STARLIGHT GLIMMER?! I am a big fan! You should tell us how to make everything as awesome and equal as your Town!" someone shouted from the crowd on the left, flying the red flags of the revolutionaries. Trixie slightly cronge at this comment, looking at Starlight with a sympathetic grimace as the latter took in a deep breath trying to keep herself from soapboxing, then shook her head.

"Nevermind, I'm fine. But I have to admit, as disheartening as it is to meet folks who still think I'm a bad guy, it somehow weirds me out more when someone actually thinks what I did was a good idea." Starlight sighed, "But I can understand how two continents away, with a lack of information...anyway, I won't let it get to me."

As the mob continued to converge upon the two hapless mares, chattering and demanding photos and autographs, Trixie almost began preparing a teleporting spell when there was a great thunder of hooves and the crowd was broken apart by a third force... a most fearful one. The peddlers from the region-famous Bazaar of Neighneveh, whose stands and tents suffered from acute lack of visitors amidst the sudden cold, making them desperate for patrons - especially foreign ones. The dazzlingly dressed camels and horses effortlessly pushed apart the mass of ponies and relentlessly set upon the startled Starlight Glimmer and Trixie.

"Coffee. Finest coffee in Neighneveh. You like coffee, yes? Yes." one camel thrust a piping hot cup of black coffee in Starlight Glimmer's hooves and firmly grabbed her foreleg, "You come for more coffee, yes."

"Spices! Spices the likes of you've never even heard of in Equestria!" a saddle arabian mare declared as she started filling Trixie's saddlebags with spices, but was quickly shoved out of the way by a silk salespony who deftly tied a massive magician's turban over the unicorn's wizard hat, large gemstone and feathers and all.


"Oh...oh dear...I'm starting to think that it would be less scary if we stayed in Tambeloooooo-" Starlight's concerned voice was drowned out by the shouts and chants of the salesponies. The crowd of merchants proceeded to pick up the two Equestrians and carry them off to the Bazaar, leaving behind only a large cloud of dust and some highly confused ponies.

"So, uh... you feel like fighting now or something?" the commissar pony on the Revolutionary side looked at their counterpart on the Loyalist side, idly spinning the drum of their revolver.

"Uhh...nah I think I'm good." the hoofpony took off his helmet and shook the dust out of his mane before turning around, "I think we're going to go home and enjoy some warmth in peace. You can have your little councils and whatever."

"Yeah, same. Have a good one." "Hey, what are we even fighting over?"

Concerned as Starlight Glimmer was that using the Rings would simply enable the hostilities to continue, it seemed that at least for now, a temporary truce arose in Neighneveh, as the ponies were at least partly mellowed by the miracle. Nevertheless, on a scale of the vast Herd it was only that much of a solution - after all, the Windigos deprived of their food and figuring that fighting the magic of the Rings was a waste of energy, could just move elsewhere...
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Legokiller » Sat Feb 04, 2023 4:12 pm

Nivalis, Windia

As the civil war raged across the country,the mountainous village of Nivalis was blanketed by the sudden snowstorms that burdened the homes and great pine trees. The people who dwell within the cabins and homes decided to take no side in the fight, as the signs of cold and the howls of the windigos meant a great spiritual failure in the land as a whole. It was a city folks problem one could say. Perhaps a sign of cowardice to stand up against the system. Such lofty ideas were not so much for a country ponies who faced their own local system.

For Winter Rush’s case, there was an urgent matter that occupied his mind. The unique folklore and tales of one who can protect the town from any dirty commies, corpo goons, and winter itself. The Snow Mare. A guardian deity who founded the Nivalis and protected it in battle, and vile winters. As the windigos came over, there was only one pony that could save everyone. As such his heart pounded as he exited the log cabin. His hulking hooves stampede through the piles of snow to go into one of the lost shrines from the golden days of the herd to see a glimpse of the guardian marble deity of an icy alicorn.

“There we are… The signs are all true.” Winter placed down his book and a bag of numerous religious trinkets. People from the outside called the Snow Mare an old fairy tale and doesn’t exist. Yet Winter found this to be the contrary. As both a living snow alicorn named Snow dwelled and seemed to answer both people’s prayers, but also a trace from old records mention her thousands of years ago. Winter Rush made his whole life purpose to archeology and uncover many of the old deities, including Snow, that used to exist in the Golden Herd. Now with her potential return with a myriad of fellow deities, it was time to put this to the test.

The pegasus placed down the various items of lantern cranberry candles, an icy figurette, a few trinkets, and a number of a few coins. It was a long shot but if this would-be ritual was a success then perhaps something can stop the windigos. To call upon the Snow Mare itself. Granted, Winter Rush knew this might be a VERY long shot. As people who made their little altars within their homes who did chants to grab her attention got nothing extraordinary.

“O Snow Mare hear me!” Winter Rush cried out as the winds roared loudly. “We need your protection from danger! I give you my all.” He said as he gestured to his items.

Despite the offerings, it was silent. Only the creeping ice came as the windigos surrounded the old ruined shrine, and Winter Rush began to panic. “Help Snow Mare! Help!”

The great stallion’s vision became blurry as a great whiteout swept throughout the town itself. The windigo neigh as a blast of radiant light and frost shooed it away. A few steps of an icy hoof came to approach the blind stallion, and at a small touch help to melt away the ice that attempted to entomb him and give warmth into the pony’s heart. Stunned, the stallion stood in place as the strange Snow Mare walked by.

Was that her?

“Snow Mare? Are you here to protect us?”

“In a sense, yes.” Snow answered. “Now… Please safeguard this ward.” In a blast of ice from her horn, a mini-figure of a snowflake formed. “It will protect you from the wrath of the windigos.”

“W-why thanks.” Winter Rush has been awkward since. “So… Ahem, if I may… You don’t mind an inquiry?”

“A small one… unless you have something to offer for a longer stand.” Snow answered.

“So…” Winter Rush opened his backpack to try and get a notebook for everything. It wasn’t too long before a series of random questions came up. How useful was it? Perhaps a small paper may come out of it…

A ninja report

In the cold landscape of the South Pole, there was always an echo of the past. Frozen in time was the old experiment called Snowdale. A place close to its new version, but said to be cursed. A place of two winter wars, and a strange icy monolith shrank the one grand city of the old and the new Snowdale in its place. One that even the broken husk of a great mansion of one of the Goldenhearts in the south used to own. One of great ice and an overwhelming structure, but collapsed by a series of destruction. In it one of the snow haired ninja woman came to look at the carved giraffe of the ones who sacked it.


Clarine Goldenheart knew all too well of the truth of these radicals. Once a cry and rally against oppression and injustice against a system that tried to crush them under its boot. Capitalist. Monarchist. Whatever -ism to rise up against. But she remembered that day. When the revolutionaries rose up to storm into her once grand home and destroy everything. Even when she hid away in a secret compartment in a suit, it unnerved her. As a step there, the old bedchamber can still have the shells and the site of where her father lived. Murdered because of his status. No matter how kind and honest, the Rubydalean forces cut him down.

Perhaps the odd justifications on how the world works might have answered it, but for Clarine it didn’t matter. Her stomach turned as she huffed. “Great, how many families were torn and murdered.” She pondered as she kept an eye on her tablet. It won’t stop with the rich. Just as before, it went down to anyone who stood in their way to even the slaughter of the leopard prinnpels who were a ‘bane’ to fishermen. In those few years, the communist turned the South Pole into a nightmare and war. Even when consumed by the cold and vanished, other forms of evils from New Nefreedia formed with an unchecked party and dictatorship to whip out one’s own identity except Ivarios own.

Even a look in the tablet to see Shadow cheerlead it made her roll her eyes. Is this what people want? A civil war and a ‘democracy’ of a one party state? It isn’t likely to become a Crystal Spires in their state. As Clarine trailed onward but halted her tracks.

“Hello!” The dragon theme tan ninja approached a spooked girl. “Did Momo interrupt anything?”

“Great…” Clarine sighed. “Nothing much… I am just recalling the past.

“Ah.” Momiji then whistled at the site. “Hmm, despite the reconstruction to make a modern city, this place is always an old and decrypted place. Despite all these years.”

“You know, penguins moved to Penguin City long ago, and folks are being reshuffled from the refugee crisis.” Clarine then crossed her arms.

“Ah true enough. A bit of a shame.” Momiji then glanced over to the tablet. “Oh no… Clarine don’t rot your brain with that edgelord’s rambles. It isn’t good for one’s sanity.”

Clarine hmph. “Well I need to see how many folks are watching this and keep a tab on it. Besides, as of late a lot of ponies in the herd are getting radicalized to fight because of his videos.”

“Eh one little factor.” Momiji said. “But there is a bit too much to cover. Heheh, I know the folks in the capital are scrambling for a new policy and contingency plans.”

“Such as the possibility of a whole… communist take over?” Clarine said.

“Oh pretty much.” Momiji chuckled. “How it’ll turn out to be a potential whole ‘spread the revolution’ deal. Granted, I don't need to worry too much. Perhap is likely an improvement with actual basic services to naysayers. That being said: I doubt ponies will adopt number names or anything.”

“You’re so naive Momo.” Clarine shook her head. “We have to be worried about what this ‘revolution will bring’ and I doubt any philosopher like Caramel Marks and old farts would know a way to a utopia. Does anyone talk about Play Dough or his ‘republic of metallic bands’ as a perfect castle system of harmony with a dictator called ‘nerd-king’? Nope. Not at all.”

Momiji shook her head. “True true, but I doubt ponies will go so ham like human states. After all, we could have another party communist state once a time ago. Unless some nuke drop, it won’t go that extreme.”

“You’re too optimistic.” Clarine then gestured to the mansion. “Right now, you’ll see many estates like this old home of mine. Ranshake with its wealth, its master dead, and drunkards that partied in the cellar. While my father was a good man, there is no difference between a good or bad, just him being rich is enough for one’s ire. So much for him to help the fishing folks.”

“Ah…” Momiji felt silent. “True… Sorry about that…”

“Regardless, I need to finish my business here to check on its tomb.” Clarine said. “As a reminder of what happened in the past, and what happened as of late.”

“I see…” Momiji then coughs. “Well, I know there are some dangos ready back in the hideout. It’ll be something to relax before we move into the Greater Pony Herd to conduct some intelligence gathering with HAPI agents.”

“Oh great.” Clarine shook her head. “You want me to bait someone?”

“Maybe, but that’s not the point.” Momiji said. “We’re gotta be partners and keep our business low key. Nothing too glamorous.”

“Really? You aren’t gotta do anything bizarre?” Clarine asked.

“Nope! Now relax! It’ll be fun. As in a little mission to understand each other.” Momiji said.

Clarine sighed in disbelief. “Right… I’ll be your handler so you won’t go off.”

“Heheh, no worries.” Momiji replied. “Now come on, let’s not get a cold here.”

Clarine nodded as she followed Riley. There was always something odd about Momiji Dragonlover, or Riley Dragonlover. She was known to bounce between parties and ideologies, and go independent to promote whatever Riley felt is right. She wasn’t the one to be married by any ideology. Instead Riley follows her own personal code and loyalty to the clan itself. Clarine figured that one can easily call her a monarchist supporter given her duties to the queens of Silverdale and Dyste. Although Clarine wasn’t sure about that part either.

Regardless, the two left the abandoned estate to enter a much warmer ski-tracker to go into a better boat hideout. All before one dangerous mission ahead.
Silverdale's Factbook! Poi Poi Poi Resurrected! Silverdale News Thread
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Kouralia » Thu Feb 09, 2023 11:28 am

Legatine Chancery of the Crown Union of Kouralia,
Embassy District, Flankfurt am Mane

Events unfolding in the Embassy District of Flankfurt am Mane were much more muted than those throughout the rest of the Herd – the powerful shield protecting it from bombardment and the bolstered, but already impressive security forces there took care of that. Insulated from the confusion, anguish, and even the cold, it was at a leisurely quarter-to-ten in the morning that Sir Þalia aþe’Saluſtri walked into her chancery’s grandest meeting room with a mug of tea in hand. “As you were everyone,” she said breezily as she made her way around the room to the head of the table, greeting her senior staff with smiles and handshakes as she went.

“So, I have managed to carve out a brief half-hour with Sir Chendryc and Senator Mirellys this morning to discuss the situation here through the lens of public safety and the security of the mission.” Sir Þalia said as she set her well-worn mug down on the table. It read ‘eMæ Mystculæ Magnæ’ – or ’Mystria’s Best Mum’ in High Kouralian – if one allowed for poor grammar for alliterative effect.

It was often said of Kouralia’s ambassadors, the Legate-Envoys, that they were the physical embodiment of the nation, its crown, and its spirit in their person itself. Whoever first said that clearly had Sir Þalia in mind when they spoke. Born in Kurton to a senior Adjutant Clerk and a thaumic engineer, she was tall, tanned, straight of back, broad of shoulder, and strong of arm. Once he had known who the new Legate-Envoy would be back in 2020, it had been of no surprise to the mission’s Estates Manager that a substantial home gymnasium was required for the official residence. Her attire was always an expensive, tailored, and fashionable suit from the finest of gentlepersons outfitters in the capital – today an oak green linen affair of trousers and waistcoat over a crisp dress shirt as white as snow and a necktie like blue sapphire. Separated from her suit’s jacket, Þalia had taken the opportunity to ‘Dress to Impress’ in other ways, rolling her sleeves up to show off the way her toned, muscle-corded forearms flexed as she gestured while speaking. As a Kouralian that happened a lot, of course.

It had been a decidedly effective, de facto diplomatic uniform when posted as Vice-Legate to the United Kingdom of Malgrave, even if it did not seem to have such a hypnotic effect when meeting with Herdite officials.

“Now I’m sure you can probably guess how the conversation went, given the situation,” the Legate-Envoy continued, “The Crown, as represented by the Extraordinary Justiciars-in-Commission in matters of foreign affairs from Progress Hill in Malgrave, is really rather disinterested in what’s happening here.”

“Disinterested?!” Stalwart Ælvyss spluttered in disbelief, before startling the First Secretary for Protocol sat next to him as he banged a forehoof on the table. “Do they not understand the possible ramifications of this situation?” He asked, nigh rhetorically as a pointed look and raised eyebrow from Sir Þalia quelled his outrage. As Officer Commanding of the Legatine Guard detachment at the Chancery in Flankfurt and the other premises in the diplomatic mission’s estate across the GPH, the stiff-backed, mustachioed, and flaxen-coated earth pony was responsible not just for the security of the physical buildings and the staff working within them, but for working with the Chancery’s staff to assess the risk and threat toward Kouralian citizens visiting or living in the nation.

“I can assure you Stolly, they are well aware of the situation here.” Þalia replied, professional courtesy and her subordinate’s friendly nickname serving well to keep her exasperated tone a mere undercurrent. “If Dyræl’s assessments are correct,” she said, gesturing to the mission’s Passport Control Officer, “then we are looking at the end of the Herdite state as we know it and the transition to an entirely new social order. It will be, and already is a bloody affair, exacerbated by their former obsession with over the top libertarian bearing of arms.

“I can assure you that the Commissioners-Extraordinary have been briefed on events here as they happen, and the Legatine Justiciary was taking note of the Herd’s downward spiral before the Crises struck.”

Sir Þalia sighed and tilted her head aside to crack her neck, before brushing an errant lock of hair back into place. “The simple, brutal truth is that what happens here is of no real interest to them right now. Short-sighted, I know.” She said, as she waved appeasingly at Stalwart to forestall another outburst. “I assume little has changed since we spoke about this over tea on Friday, has it?” Þalia added as she cast her eye over to Lœa aþe’Myanyr, the mission’s First & Principal Political Secretary.

“No, nothing significant.” Lœa said as she leafed through her notes for the meeting, before looking up. “Dyræl’s made me aware of an incident in Neighneveh down South where some Equestrian courtiers of the Princesses have taken action to relieve the paranatural cold snap, though to be honest it’s also all over social and conventional media by now, with most coverage open source. I don’t believe that has had any appreciable effect on the balance of power in Buraq, however.” Lœa shrugged, “Regardless, what conflict there is down there is as earnest as a Chietan taxpayer.”

“Has Dewpetal’s administration made any headway against the Red Guard or their rhetoric?” Þalia asked.

“None and none, Sir.” Lœa said simply. “There is a bit of to-and-fro at the operational level, but it is my estimation that the authorities are only holding on through social inertia, the sheer size of the nation, and the restraint shown so far by the revolutionaries.”

“Rebels, surely?” Stalwart said. “It’s only a ‘revolution’ if you win.”

“I believe they will, Vys-Cornæal.” Lœa said. “The Alpha’s response has been as limp and weak as their administration has been on almost every other crisis to hit the region since Imeriata and Hippostania were civilised by the voidfarers. The Crown’s position has always been that the Herdite state – and their society in general - takes a grossly negligent approach toward the welfare of its citizens, obsessed as it has been with personal responsibility even in cases of the most heart wrenching vulnerability. With the events of the last half-decade or-so, we would never say it aloud, but their policies have been feckless at best.

“It’s not just me being a neigh-sayer either,” Lœa added. “With their much-vaunted, Slaver Smashing fleet predominantly sealing itself away at sea or at quayside rather than deploying ships’ companies in support of the government forces, I think there are a lot of quite senior officials who are quietly doing the maths and coming to the conclusion that it would not go well for them to be among the last – and therefore known as the most ardent – of the Alpha’s supporters.”

“I wish I could say I was surprised.” Sir Þalia said as she pulled her chair out from the table and finally sat down.

“Ei.” Stalwart Ælvyss said dismissively. “I wonder how many of them will be rewarded as a traitor deserves. Was it not the case that Sir Vylelmia Mariscalcus, the Greatest Knight was richly rewarded with elevation in station and authority after her steadfast support of the legitimate Oyðelcyniin was recognised by Sebaſtos Camhaoil as righteous loyalty to Kouralia and its people?” He snorted again, this time with derision. “One cannot expect these upstarts to be so enlightened when it comes to matters of Honour, preoccupied as they are with selfish materialism; but surely someone in the Herdite establishment has the self-respect we would see from our own boys and girls in red and blue.”

“This is the year 2023 of the Common Era,” Dyræl Kourænen, the Passport Control Officer interjected, “It’s been more than a millennia and a half since the Ecclesiocracy was ended by the Imerians – things just don’t work like that anymore.” Like the Ambassador, Dyræl cut a figure that was practically an artist’s impression of his office. ‘Passport Control Officer’ was known almost openly within the region’s diplomatic circles as the euphemistic title for the face of Kouralia’s Intelligence community within Legations, and Dyræl lived up to expectations. Despite his ethnically human name, he was a sleek pony of dappled grey roan coat and was clothed from foretop to hind hoof in a thoroughly non-descript suit. His mane was short and neatly trimmed, and unlike Vys-Cornæal Ælvyss his whiskers were neatly trimmed and his forelegs and hooves were entirely unadorned.

“I cannot offer any significant insight at this time.” Dyræl said to the Legate-Envoy as Stalwart bristled quietly from across the table. “Most of my usual approaches have quietened significantly as the mood has changed, and I doubt they will pick up for some time – though I cannot comment on my colleagues’ work.” He said in reference to the actual Intelligencers and their agents at work in the Herd, into whom the Crown invested a lot more effort to keep their identity unknown.

“If I am honest, I am not entirely surprised,” he added before quickly snatching a sip of herbal hay tea, the mug of his favourite Xiaomese blend levitated up from the table by the innate magical ability of his horn. “In some ways my activities are always more superficial than those who are employed directly as part of the Herdite Desk back home.” Dyræl continued, diplomatically not mentioning the three other personnel working within the Chancery itself who were career Intelligencers or Technical Intelligence Technicians – not that anyone apart from him and Sir Þalia knew about their other role.

“It’s a bit of a game, and I have no doubt that the professionals at the Inquisition are as aware of me as we are of their ambassador’s information and security advisor. So long as neither of us pushes too far we’re happy for the other to bumble along, theoretically uncompromised.

“But they know that I know that they know that I am not actually here to assist the Consul-General issue passports. Now, the situation might not be so obvious to those outside of the upper echelons of government, the Herdite intelligence community, or our information and security services, but that does not mean that people are any less afraid to be caught talking to me. Even the most ardent supporter of the Alpha could do without being tarnished by association with foreign intelligence officers when the revolutionaries seize power.” - at that, Lœa couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly toward Stalwart Ælvyss. “Revolutions are invariably concerned about foreign involvement, and leftist ones tend to be the most preoccupied with interference from the outside – particularly from those who they will see as allies of the regime they are overthrowing.”

“They would see us as allies of the Herdite Government?” Sir Þalia asked curiously.

“I have no insight into the Workers' Party’s policymaking bodies, but I suspect so, yes.” Dyræl said.

“But why?” Sir Þalia asked. “I mean, I understand that we have ties through membership of the Coalition of Policial Networks, ratification of the Amistad declaration, mutual attendance at the Prosperity Convention and the like, but the Crown can hardly be thought of as bosom-buddy to the Herdite state. Our welfare state is quite divorced from their social policies, to say nothing of the clear objections that many Kouralian figures voice publicly on their laissez-faire economic and ecological policies.”

“If I may?” Lœa said, raising a finger from her steepled hands to stall Dyræl before continuing when he ceded the room to her with a nod. “You’re thinking about this with a great deal more nuance than we ought to expect from them. In the same way I suspect the Burgomeister of Scanderiaburg might not differentiate much between a President and a First Comrade, the same can be said for them. Kouralia is one of the big three regional members of the Crown Alliance, so can comfortably be labelled a bastion of social inequality and a potential enemy of the people when it comes to possible sources of foreign intervention. Their priorities as they are, I would not be surprised if the Workers’ Party’s executive would unintentionally overlook the clear economic, social, and policy differences between the Crown and the Alpha’s Administration.

"I suspect the Malgraveans would have an easier time working with the incoming administration.” The Political Secretary continued, pointedly continuing her avoidance of the loaded ‘Regime’ to refer to the current system. “Their Social Solidarity and history of socialist workers republics almost overshadows the old anti-communist justiciary they had, so proud is it in their national psyche.”

“It’s understandable when you put it like that.” Sir Þalia said.

“Understandable, yes, but it does not do much to help the situation, does it now?” Stalwart Ælvyss said, shaking his flaxen haired head as he scratched at his greying whiskers. “At best the new guys think we’re untrustworthy bokk-ends and Kouralians in the Herd get a good hoofing if caught on the wrong road after dark, and at worst we are liquidated by some Red Guard primitives or rioting crusties who give diplomatic norms no weight at all. Which takes me back to my first point – I cannot see how the Commissioners-Extraordinary can be ‘disinterested’ in what is happening here!”

“Because everything else is on fire, Stolly.” Sir Þalia said bluntly once she’d recovered from the Vys-Cornæal’s unfortunately imprecise turn of phrase.

“It might be short-sighted and there might be a nuclear triad here that could soon be under the control of a government that is violently opposed to the Crown and its people – that is if the Herdite’s immense arsenal of magical and conventional weapons of mass destruction isn’t turned inward – but that is, frankly, nothing compared to the situation on Norstralia. The Actual Factual Dark Lord of Tambelon has returned, the Winter War has ravaged Silverdale, and the entire Dragon Sea Alliance as well as Malgrave and Imeriata are at war with the Dragon States over Catedonia. I mean, we would be right in there with them, committing thousands of men and women if there wasn’t a horde of canon-toting golems rampaging across the mountains while Grogar’s curse cripples ‘most near any warfighting innovation developed since your vaunted Vylelmia Mariscalcus walked the land.

“I would not have believed it if had I met a time-traveller ten years back who would tell me that the Nefreedian genocide in D’halbrisir and their own subsequent obliteration by the Great Civvies was going to be a footnote when to comes to Mystrian loss of life in the 21st century, but that is the world we are in right now.

“Before I spoke with the Commissioners-Extraordinary I took representations from the Consul-General that we should prioritise the welfare of Kouralian citizens and residents over worries about the security of the Mission. The powers-that-be, however, consider the dangers posed by the imminent transfer of power to be significantly less than those posed by two omnicidal, sorcerous Dark Lords. The Workers’ Party and their Red Guard would have to get a lot angrier before the risk and threat to our people here is really on a par with those back home or in the area of operations for the Catedonian war.”

“But-” Stalwart began, before being cut off by the Legate-Envoy.

“Ah, no ‘Buts’.” Þalia said in a voice that brooked no argument as she raised her hand to forestall any response. “I will be granting any locally employed staff a leave of absence from the start of next week – domestic, administrative, maintenance and the like. Should they wish to remain then they can do so for full pay, but we can do a while of half-paid leave of absence should they wish to be with family or ‘anywhere that is not Flankfurt’ in these times of turmoil.

“Foreign Service Secretariat staff can apply for leave from duties whilst this goes on and I will accept most posts vacant to become vacant… However, aside from paying for economy-class seats on a flight out of the Herd we will not be seeing some military airlifter swooping in to the aeroharbour to collect us if things go badly wrong, and neither would I expect the Grand Fleet to be sending ships to collect people. The Herdite military would simply not allow it at this time, to say nothing of the fact that there just isn’t anything to spare for this sort of mission.

“The Commissioners-Extraordinary will be releasing a statement on the revolutionary activity within the hour that will be a basic call for calm that none-the-less goes as far out of its way to avoid alienating both the Alpha’s administration as well as the potential incoming Worker’s Party.

“Outside of that, our role will continue to be to monitor the situation and remain an established, reliable line of communication and cooperation between the Herdite state and the Crown. Nothing that has changed has affected that mission, and until and unless they start hanging Kouralians or fellow members of the diplomatic corps from lap-posts by their ankles, that will not change. Clear?”

“Clear.” The room responded in unison, until Lœa coughed.

“What, uh, what will the Herdite Ambassador say in response to the release?” She asked.

“The Herdite Ambassador, I’m not sure I even know their name to be honest, let alone what they’re doing. Does anyone?” As Sir Þalia looked around the room, those present shrugged and their faces responded with clear expressions of confusion or disinterest until the quiet First Secretary for Protocol spoke up.

“He’s here in the Greater Pony Herd, I believe. After the Shattering Peal there was some to-do over an improper response to the crisis – involving a basket of fruit, I believe – so he moved the Mission and never returned.”

“I see…” Þalia said as she rose from her seat, before shrugging. “I doubt anyone cares what he has to say – if he’s not already being harangued by some worker’s committee for his services to the corrupt regime. At least that solves any question of whether we will be hosting the inevitable government in exile…”

- As from The Office of, and with The Authority of The Crownbearer -
Official Communications from the Office of the
Extraordinary Justiciar-in-Commission for International Relations

From: The Office of the Extraordinary Justiciar-in-Commission
International Relations Justiciary-Extraordinary
Joint Forces Base Progress Hill
United Kingdom of Mapgrave

Subject: The Workers’ Party of the Greater Pony Herd.

The Crown, we are sure, has taken note of events within the Greater Pony Herd with some concern. It is of no surprise that The Crown has long decried the lack of social solidarity shown by the Herdite State. It has been clear for some time now that the virtue of charity is thin enough that it cannot take the place of properly funded, state welfare provision and support for the most vulnerable members of society.

In spite of this, the Crown cannot condone a bloody overthrowing of the proper, Democratic order in the Greater Pony Herd. Traditions of democracy in that nation run deep, and no group, no matter how aggrieved, can settle their differences through force of arms.

We hope, therefore, that all parties in this matter will continue to adopt positions of honour and will do their utmost to open and sustain negotiations to resolve matters diplomatically and agreeably before any form of ponitarian crisis develops. This remains, at this time, a matter for the Herdite peoples to resolve, and the Crown has no intentions of interfering with unfolding events. It is hoped that similar restraint will be shown by both parties in allowing Kouralian citizens and residents caught up in this matter to remain peaceably or vacate the country as they choose.

The Crown’s Servants are willing to meet with one or both parties in order to explore options that could reduce loss of life.

Hon. Senator Œyan Mirellys
Chair, Senate Committee on International Relations,
Senator from Afallon,
Commissioner-Extraordinary for International Relations

Hon. Justice-Prætoriæ, Black Cap
Commissioner-Extraordinary for International Relations

Much Hon. Sir Chendryc Arðryne, BCW
First & Principal Permanent Commissioner of the Coronial Union of Kouralia to the Gryningsvägen Alliansen,
Accredited & Commissioned, Diplomatic Legate-General of the Crown Union,
Commissioner-Extraordinary for International Relations

Much Hon. General Lydia Baſilæ
Legatine-Officer-Commanding, Joint Forces Base Progress Hill
Commissioner-Extraordinary for International Relations


Communications issued in accordance with 2006 Statute of Continuity.
Communications issued by Authorised Officers of the Crown exercising in Commission the sovereign power of the Crown, extraordinarily to the duties of their office.
Last edited by Kouralia on Thu Feb 09, 2023 1:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Imeriata » Fri Feb 10, 2023 5:59 pm

The Absolute Royal Federation of Imeriata and her realms, Imeriata proper, Imerbürg, The Royal Palace.

"Thus is the nature of self governing territories! If one lacks legitimacy through anything but mere handcounting certainly can it be expected that they would lose divine favour sooner or later! Especially a degenerative capitalist regime that values money above all else!" The speaker, an old man in the white robes of the foreign relations advisory pointed out with a shrug and Primus nodded with a sigh as he looked at the reports that had been laid before him in his personal study, a quite simple affair with a large ornate table and quite a few bookshelves with old leatherbound tomes and a large wall painting of the federation in it's entirety. Serpents, dragons swam amongst the ocean and intricate heraldic shields were painted around the realms themselves.

"We see the truth in such manners!" Primus admitted "Though one should not take the the wrath of the commonry out of the equation either!" He added quickly to a young man next to him, Julius, his youngest son.
"Are our people also not poor? Our commonry might get ideas fa... my royal highness, the villagers lived quite harsher than we do in the palace!" Julius pointed out, the young man had just recently come home from an extended trip for a few weeks spending days amongst the family of Rosman's family. Primus had made damned sure that his own sons would not grow into the kind of person he had been after all and while he kept up with his old friend through letters did he often visit her family when time allowed.

"There are differences! The rule of my royal prince's father is divinely ordained, through all the Gods big and small do our crown gain it's influence, and thus is known far and wide in our realm, the herdities in contrast.... well they clearly lacks any divine mandate if the situation is anything to go by!" The old man pointed out and the young prince nodded eagerly. Primus knew well the look of acceptance that came upon the young prince's face. He himself had often aped it when elders taught him when he had been a young boy. How long ago had that been now? Time flew so fast.

"Of course our ruling elite is made up by nobility, not mere rich people! Blood and right is what makes our social elite what it is!" The old man continued. "Our commonry can look upon the nobility and see in them the same warriors and leaders that took reigns over them for hundreds upon hundreds of years! They do not see some mere den of degenerates hoarding wealth, honour and respect is what our elites strive for, not wealth! They can know that they are provided for by crown, temples, and social elites all and as long as we rule do they know that stability, victories, and glory continues to shed!"

"Indeed, your royal prince!" Primus added "See this as a lesson in the difference between what makes us strong and righteous and other regimes that might seem similar as degenerative fools! Wealth are not to be horded for the sake of wealth itself, never forget that, only deviancy and sin lies that way, enjoy life but also work hard and distribute wealth to those in hard situations freely as is our duty as monarchs! Thus has it always been and thus shall it always be!"

"Aye my Royal Highness, blessings upon tine name, 'though thou rule live life not with softness but as a warrior for then shall the sun shine upon you' spoketh the elder sage and the two princelings knew it to be true, they knew that his words were right and that soft beds, the smoking leaves, and alcohol would all bring weakness and poor rule!" the prince quoted the silver book of the sun.
"But as an ascetic for then shall the sun shine..." The old man corrected sharply "and my royal prince forgot 'flesh of animals not slain by tine hand'"

Primus looked out through the window down on the masses that one could see milling about down there. No they did not need to fear such horrors as long as they remembered what the Gods demanded of them as dynasts. And if the reports from the inquisition was anything to go by did most federal subjects still hold true to the old ways.
"Though we shall draft a letter on this, inform your scribes that we want an official statement, condemn the rebels but chastise the government, offer weapons would the government need it, we highly doubt that they might win though ultimately the longer they can hold on the better for us, the old regime truly were nor friends of ours however despite that did a dear friend of mine court one of their leaders so honour demands that we offer our support to them in Her absence!" Primus sighed "And whatever rule comes next we doubt they will hold our blessed domains in high regard so no matter what we do must we see them as an enemy!"

"Mayhaps it would also be wise my royal highness, may thy reign last eternal, to offer money to the fleet shall they turn coat and join my royal highness, blessed by thine name, own blessed domains! I doubt such an act will even grant anything but with the social situation being what it is if we can turn the fleet against itself with the crew not trusting their own commanders or even better seeing them as potential turncoats might that cause some hesitation in the fleet itself allowing us to resupply the government would the opportunity arise, best case situation might it even make the fleet turn on itself in minor ways inflicting losses on themselves before it turns revolutionary, cost nothing and would weakened the fleet should it turn towards us as a foeman." The old man added as he was about to leave.

"Hmm... yes make it so!" Primus confirmed having given the matter some minor thought, most likely not do anything, but then again it might and it would not cost them.

He leaned back in his seat as the old man bowed and withdrew. His son sat back for a moment and decided to take the short break between advisors to fish up a book about tracklayer adventures in one school or another. From what Primus had gathered were the main characters all women, rather scandalous to be sure but still the absurdity of the story made it quite fun Julius had assured him. Primus on the other hand glanced to a portrait of himself, or at least a version of him, plough share, a pony nobody could be faulted to take for the divinely appointed monarch of the world and a white mare next to him with pink hair. Primus eyes grew stern as he also took up some reading, nowhere as trivial as a mere yarn.

What met his eyes were inquisitorial reports, tales divined from fire scrying, photographies taken from space, reading of dreams from sleeping foes by federal mages, and the calculations of spirits tied into machines as the anima of computers complied information upon information. Maps with crosses on them as potential targets were one by one discounted as potential targets. Reports by krigsmakten of candidates and potential strategies to strike true against the foe. He and His men might have been unable to rescue that princess that had been snapped away from them. However he planned to make damned sure that his friend Luna was rescued similarly to how he himself had been rescued from the kind of evil that had ensnared him and his family all those years ago. If that arrogant tyrant goat thought that he could kidnap princesses and act the dark lord did Primus fully intended to show him what a righteous lord of light and champion of the divine did towards such evil wherever it was found.



Official Statement from the absolute royal federation of Imeriata and her realms

Regarding: The situation in The Greater Pony Herd.

Behold the words of the High King of the Absolute Royal Federation and know their truth. As of today must the federation issue it's displeasure at the conflict in the greater pony herd and must issue words of admonishment to the rulers of this territory that allowed the situation to deteriorate to this level. However we also offer aid in these trying times, as the writing of this letter will we offer the aid of the federation in the form of weaponry modified for the use of ponies, be this for the government or whatever group that wishes to resist the tyrants that rises up against the lawful rule of the herd.

Furthermore the federation also fully open it's arms wide open to any noblemen that wishes to escape the situation and we will allow them to be relocated into the federation where they shall be offered homes and welcomed as honoured guest until such a time that they can return to their homelands. We also extend an official offer to any crew and captain of the herdite fleet that sees the situation in their homeland as unbearable and wishes to survive the savage revolution and suppression that is sure to come. As such any crew and captain that deserts to the absolute royal federation or to a federal warship with a navy vessel of their own shall be offered it's price money as if it had been captured by a federal crew. Would such courageous heroes be welcomed would we offer homes and lands to them would such be desired or we shall aid them in passage to whatever state they so desire.

Signed and approved by:
His royal Highness Primus rex Stjärnkhrone XIV silferföd by the grace of the gods high king of the absolute royal federation and divinely appointed ruler and unifier of the Scanderan races, the descendant of the first Imerian high kings especially and foremost Emanuel the first, Son of Oskar II, the son of Primus the XIIIth, the son of Emanuel the VIIth, the son of Gustav the IInd, the son of Anders the IIId, the carrier of the royal sword first carried by the demigod Belrion son of Bel, vanquisher of evil, Champion of life and light, defender of the living and vanquisher of the dead, liberator of slaves, breaker of chains, the protector of the federal crown jewels, the holder of the sword of Halmir and carrier of the enlightened torch of civilisation, patriarch of the noble house auf stjänkhrone, carrier of better and more important titles than the space Russians and the king of Old Tyrannia, Chief of chiefs, Shan of shans, Monarch of monarchs, Prince of princes, Crowned in steel, fire, and flowers. Flame of all flames, protector of the faith of the chronicles and the city of the burning rose and the arch cleric, leader of ritual and sacrifice, chosen of the fierce unconquerable sun and crowned in starlight, mortal protector of the faith of the two faced goddess and defender of her temples and chosen by all gods big and small. As well as the protector of the free city states of Ta’ka sha’mirias well as defender of Hungary and her regions and the realms as king of Imeriata and as such the king of salt, forest, river, and mountain, defender and autocrat of flodmarkerna, Sundet, Söderang, Söderberga, Innahafsarna, Aster öarna, Vast öarna, Sydvedian, Storfloden and the river king, king of Vedian and the duke protector of the mountains, Eple Halvøyn and lavlandet, king of Erathia and as that the duke of Ankea metsä and ruler of the thousand lakes, the lord and defender of Länsisola and Etelä-kentät, king of Karmanjaka over the ancient rivers river, from the ancient mountains mountain, king of Northern Taranakan, king of Izalta, king of Nordomark, and king of Andervel but also the righteous and lawful king of New felandia and the king emperor of Dajing, the duke of Sydvinland, Northern Venezue, Sthalinge, Gustavsland and Sjöland, The Shah of the crown states of Ta’ka sha’miri and the Padishah of all of Ta’ka sha’miri, The lord regent of the colony of Nova Imeriata, Blåland, Angland, the two peninsulas of Tvaude and of Somalmark, The Grand duke of Suderland, The prince of Isarna, Salmo, judeheim and Khan of Salonia, Sultan king of Ramir, the Emir of Sandland and Jarl of Salywa and the free city of Krakborg and Styrfastning, defender and lord of the city of Arkham and Sirmera, and further more the ruler of the federal terretories of Vastermark and the northern iceplains and as such high chief of Isfalten and keeper of Sfartmård , By the right of the constitution of the protectorate leopridaeria prince defender of leopridaeria, the high lord of Kalmer, Salmoborg and Gaseborg, Lord of the countless cities and lands under his most blessed and righteous rule, the lord defender of Imerbürg, Coparborg, Vesiki, Sjöborg, Afrikas fastning, Erikasborg, Nova Imerbürg, Wein, Udeborg, Angborg, Ambir, Nya Landborg, Nymarksborg, Sorgerstad, Anderborg, Nordanstad, Kängruborg, Sthalstad, Kängruborg, Judeborg, Moskstad, Daji, Sajing, Ademarksborg, Salem, Söderhamn, Öborga, Dragograd, Gapur, Bor-zut and Táibĕi but as well the Enlightened Emperor of Nicksyllvania and as such the King of Leazus, Emperor of Helman, Grand Prince of Zeth, Emperor of Japan, Emperor of Jungria, Duke and king of Hornet-Kereburos, Despot of the Great North, Grand Duke of the Western Badlands, Master of the Southern Marshes, and the king of Dragkon and the wielder of the Holy Swords, the Demon Sword Kaos, the Holy Sword Nikkou, and the Greatsword of the Empire, Nickiller, Great Protector of the Helman Wall and Majino Line, also by the right of his birth high marshal of the royal guard and the Imperial commander of the Imperial nicksyllvanian army, the grand commander of the federal order of the golden sword and the Nicksyllvanian order, the knight commander of the order of the golden cross and the order of Blåland, the lord commander of the colonial order, the high commander of the federal order of the silver rose and the order of Scandera, the Taranakan order and the Order of Vinland may his reign last until the end of time and may the empire and federation he rules stand even through the flames of the endtimes to protect all of his royal highness subjects.
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So what? Let me indulge my oversized ego for a moment!
Astralsideria wrote:You, sir, are the greatest who ever did set foot upon this earth. If there were an appropriate emoticon, I would take my hat off to you.

Altamirus wrote:^War! War! I want to see 18th century soldiers go up againist flaming cats! Do it Imeriata! Do it Now!

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Imeriata wrote:you would think that you could afford better looking hussar uniforms for all that money...

Of course, Imeriata focuses on the important things in life.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Sun Feb 12, 2023 2:44 pm

Flankfurt-am-Mane, the Alpha's Palace

The Alpha's office was a rather luxurious affair of marble and silks, and gold, and rare flowers, and various precious gifts received by the state from all over NS Earth and even beyond. The idea once was, that the republican offices of the Herd must be comparable to the splendor of Canterlot, showing that their legitimacy and taste for life was none less than that of the nobles of Equestria. But recently it started inviting nothing but talks of corruption and waste with the government, and whether the current Alpha was really deserving of such luxury.

Dewpetal Glint sighed as she looked down at her hooves, idly playing solitaire using some secret documents in lieu of cards on her posh mahogany table. The silver-coated pegasus mare in her forties had been a successful and wealthy "life coach", publisher of many popular self-help books and occasional patron of wrestling shows before her accession, and coasted through her election on pure public appeal. The political community raised concerns about her capability as a ruler, but she knew there'll be ponies to do the boring parts of her job while she smiled and waved at the crowds. She had hoped to coast on the last Alpha's success and popularity, and rest on the laurels as the region settled into an era of peace and trade. Instead, calamity after calamity rained upon Pony Lands and Mystria. Dewpetal did what she saw as the smart thing - talking big doing nothing while calling that "Sensible Policy". But in the end it appeared like that didn't quite work out as she wanted.

Now, Dewpetal figured, she had a choice. Be remembered as the leader who unleashed suppressive force upon her own people; and, worse yet, one who did so and failed. Neither were an appealing way to appear as in history books, she thought. But there was a third way, to her. Be remembered as the leader who simply disappeared. Those weren't remembered quite as well as the others, rather fading to obscurity. That was the optimal way as far as memory of the pages of history went, she figured.

Perhaps she could take up the Imerian offer, Dewpetal pondered as she spun the letter from the High King in her hooves... Nah. She was, after all, not a noble, merely an elected "grand mayor" and if she was ever to arrive in Imeriata they'd find her sudden and willful "abdication" nothing short of dishonorable. She should rather pick...something calm, maybe with nice beaches, someplace not yet corrupted by communism. Maybe Kaltras? Maybe, but that was dangerously close to erstwhile Nefreedia and Dewpetal would rather never hear anything about commies again if she could help it.

After some hours of tenuous thinking and priming herself mentally, Dewpetal finally made a decision. She collected all the secret documents from her desk and methodically shredded them. She had one last cup of coffee from the Alpha's office coffee machine. She gathered her necessities and papers into two weighty briefcases. And, after casting one last, long look across the busy streets of Flankfurt stretching out below the windows of her office, took flight. Somewhere warm and carefree.


"Your Brilliance, we're-" two stallions of the Inquisition Secret Service opened the doors to the Alpha's office, and had to pause speechlessly as all they could see was a drafty open window and a brief letter of resignation fluttering on the desk. "Oh. Oh wow that's-"
They exchanged glances of disbelief.

Flankfurt-am-Mane, the Ponies' Chamber building complex

Gilded Light, the Speaker of the Ponies' Chamber, a unicorn mare of aristocratic features and possessed of a blonde mane fashioned into dramatic curls, fainted theatrically on a pile of cushions as she was faced with the news while being debriefed by the Commissioner for Subcommittees, an unremarkable earth pony stallion in an unremarkably flawless suit.

"So you're saying, the Alpha had fled the country, and so I am now the first in command?! How devilishly despicable!" she exclaimed. Not only had the Alpha fled the post, but there was no acting Minister of Ministries either as after Morning Star's term had run out, the Chamber was yet to elect a new one as they were gridlocked bickering over minutiae. That made Gilded, a Speaker with no actual executive experience to speak of, the functioning head of state, "Oh very well. I suppose I could at least try doing something about this whole awfully awkward mess we've got ourselves into. What is on the agenda?"

"Well, as the representative of the Chamber's committees, might I suggest looking into martial law and perhaps curfews? That is what we've been kicking around during our debates, although if you were to decree it now, that would circumvent much of the red tape." the Commissioner said matter-of-factly.

"Are you saying that Dewpetal Glint hadn't even bothered to declare martial law?! How despicably droll." Gilded Light quickly half-fainted, then straightened up to start quickly scribbling away on a piece of paper before topping it off with a seal. "There. Martial law and curfew after 9 p.m., effective immediately in all cities. That was easy, wasn't it? Pass it through to the committees and ministries, and I will see so that it's implemented post-haste. What's next?"

The unicorn floated up the fancy-looking heraldic paper from the top of the paperwork pile in front of her, which turned out to be the missive from the Imerians. She spent several minutes carefully re-reading its contents.

"The Imerians want to do...what? Send us guns? But we don't need GUNS! That's so very excessively extra! We have more than enough guns; more guns than Imerians themselves, probably. What we need is ORDER! Someone to take care of this mess properly! If I didn't know better, I'd even think Imerians have an ulterior motive here, but they're like, honorable and stuff, right?" Gilded Light rubbed her chin in thought, "Although, I have an idea of how Imerians can be of use to us..."

"If you would like my humble opinion, obviously the aid offer is a no-go. It'll just cause chaos with the Navy and the people. While Imeriata might have abolished slavery of non-humans...public opinion of them remains quite low." the Commissioner said.

"By the way, what are is the downlow on our naughty Navy?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. We've been having talks with some naval officers trying to make them act on our behalf...but the Alpha being gone is going to be a major setback, I'm afraid." the Commissioner sighed, "There's also another side to it...Marksist indoctrination has taken its roots in the Navy too, and many ships have had so-called 'sailors' councils' form. So far it has been relatively calm, but if the Navy does take a stance, that just might lead to the conflict spreading to it and making them shoot each other. So we have to carefully weigh our opportunities, maybe we should just leave the Navy to its devices."

"Oh...cruel choices and conundrums..." Gilded Light had a quick faint, while raising her eyes to the ceiling as if in thought. Then, she snapped back to her desk and started quickly scribbling a message on a nearly sheet of paper, "There...we won't accept direct aid from Imeriata, but there's a way we can make their gloryhound ways work for us. Pass this over to the Diplomatic Office, snappy, while I'm trying to make heads and hooves of the rest of the miserable mess."

The mare sighed. "It's going to be a languishingly long day"

Guided Missile Destroyer GHS Cataphract
Somewhere in northern Pony Lands waters

GHS Cataphract was a sleek modern vessel jam-packed with cutting-edge sensors, lethal missiles, fast computers and a variety of magical thingamabobs. A proud and mighty war machine by any means. But lately, instead of coursing the waves and inspiring pride with its visage, it has been mostly idling in the same spot as its crew was bickering among itself, sailors forming endless councils and committees just to split and reform again tomorrow. Captain Salthoof, a higher-class naval officer of classical schooling, had little patience for such antics and was rapidly losing confidence and pride of the ship he had commanded for over 10 years.

Bunyip droppings to that, I say. Blast waiting here for my crew to full-on mutiny and throw me overboard because Marks' little red book said so, or something. he thought as he perused the message from Imeriata on his personal tablet, I could just turn this rustbucket over to Imerians and get enough money to retire somewhere that still respects salty officers like me.

"Computer, calculate directions to Jarnarna's territorial waters" he said.

"New coordinates: 38.2091° N, 45.7284° E" the captain's orders were soon replicated down at the control room as the new destination lit up on the serviceponies' computers, the AI rapidly calculating a new path for the ship while taking weather and other hazards and obstacles into account, "Engaging main engines"

"Wait! Isn't that Imerian waters?!" one of the sailors called out, "What is the meaning of this, why are we headed to Imeriata?"

A few minutes later, a group of sailors wearing red armbands was knocking on the captain's quarters.

"What could you possibly mean?!" Salthoof protested as he opened the sealed door, visibly shifty-eyed and sweating bullets, "It''s a routine patrol mission! Because you know those Imerians, who knows what to expect from them eh? Gotta keep an eye on them! Now back to your stations, git! I'm still the captain!"

"We always KNEW you were a reactionary sympathizer! But to try to defect to the IMERIANS!" the council's mare ringleader pointed an accusing hoof at the captain, "The council will decide your fate now!"

The sailors formed a circle and whispered around for a few moments before once again turning towards Salthoof with judgmental glares. "We relieve you from your duty and further sentence you to walk the plank!"

"What the- You CAN'T do that! I'm the captain! Last warning, get back to your stations or I'll have the lot of you court martialed! I say, your accusations are completely baseless!" Salthoof tried to shut the door, but before long he was grabbed, pulled out and tied down with a length of rope. Fortunately the sailors had the courtesy of providing him with an rescue vest before he was made to walk the plank and plunge into the cold waters of Tovakyan Ocean below.

The offer wasn't as effective as Imerians had perhaps hoped, none of the Herdite ships truly defecting or at least being successful at it for Imerian engineers to strip down and study. It did however introduce a deal of chaos, sowing mistrust between the sailors, especially Marksist-leaning ones, and their educated, higher-class officers. In the days to come, several mutinies and fires on Herdite vessels all over Pony Lands followed. Some would fall completely under the control of sailors' councils, while others used stringent martial law measures to prevent further Marksist indoctrination. Some amount of damage was done, with the revolutionaries making dossiers on officers who as much as looked at eagles with admiration for the future.
City of Coltdiff, Marecia

"DEAR! It's settled! We're going to Imeriata!" Marble Facade, a somewhat portly past-his-prime stallion exclaimed from the doorway of his very boring two-story suburban house as he waved a piece of paper in the air, "FINALLY someone will pay us the proper respect as the Earls of Coltdiff!"

"Imeriata? What of all the sudden?" Marble Vase, his similarly past-the-prime wife emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hooves with a towel as she cast a worried glance at the paper the stallion was holding. "They have issued a call for nobles? But dear, you and me both know you're an Earl only in name...our family title hasn't been relevant in like four centuries. You're just a down-on-your-luck used tractor salesman!"

"Well, that is changing soon. This country might have no appreciation for noble titles, but Imeriata does. I got the papers proving our old nobility lineage and everything, from this website I saw an ad for" Marble Facade said, raising his chin haughtily. "This just might be the start of our new life, Vase."

" don't know the first thing about being a noble!" the mare lifted an eyebrow, looking at her husband with great skepticism, "You don't even know your manners. Can you tell the difference between a salad fork and a dessert fork? Why, at that dinner with the Blossoms, I had to keep reminding you to chew with your mouth shut!"

"Ah-ha-ha. That's why I got this handy little book!" the stallion tsk-tsked with a smug expression as he produced a paperback book titled 'Aristocracy 101: Hints and Tips on Living in High Society', "It will teach us everything we need.

"I don't think that was even written by an actual noble, let alone an Imerian," Marble Vase sighed. "Sorry dear, but I think your idea is a little too extreme..."

"And you'd rather do what? Sit around here waiting for those Celestia-dang Marksists nationalize our business and then send us to the fields for being bourgwazie or something?!" the stallion huffed, then put a hoof on his wife's shoulder comfortingly, "This is a chance of a lifetime for us, Vase! Just imagine all the posh balls we could go to once they accept us as proper Earls! I know you've dreamed of fancy balls ever since we met at our prom! Just tell our kids and prepare them, and I'll start booking a liner to Imeriata"


The Herd was a country which didn't pay much respect to noble titles, but although most of the core northern territories were always a merchant republic governed by the wealthy rather than nobility, there were territories that had practiced more aristocratic forms of governance in the past such as the Archonate of Marecia or the Sultanate of Buraq. As such, there were still families that traced their heritage back to old nobility, some of them rather wealthy thanks to old money, but otherwise receiving little benefit or recognition from their titles. So, the Imerian offer for noble relocation found some fertile ground as several hundreds of noblepony families scrambled to collect proof of their heritage and relocate to Imeriata. Some of them genuinely worried for their livelihoods threatened by the revolution, while others just gambled on being automatically treated as nobility and placed in the lap of luxury in that foreign land. Whatever the case was, the Absolute Royal Federation would soon experience an unprecedented influx of ponies (as well as the odd griffon and camel) claiming noble descent...
Last edited by Urmanian on Sun Feb 12, 2023 2:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Tue Feb 14, 2023 1:11 pm

Starlight and Trixie's travails continue in Buraq...

"Ugh. There come my savings for the month..." Trixie sighed as the two ponies trundled away from the bazaar, both loaded with carpets, spices, bags of coffee and other assorted trinkets and curiosities. They were wearing matching 'I Went To Buraq And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt!' shirts decorated with tacky faux-oriental ornaments, "I can't believe I let them swindle us so easily!"

"Think on the bright side, Trixie...we've made a good deal with the carpet weavers' guild to provide Equestrian forces in Tambelon with their flying carpets," Starlight said trying to cheer up her friend, "Besides, this coffee is really pretty good!"

"Oh well! Our little trip has been quite enlightening, but Princess Celestia calls~" Trixie focused magic in her horn, and unleashed a beam which formed ring of pink energy soon turning into a circular portal leading back to the Equestrian camp in Tambelon. The blue mare whipped her mane proud of her handiwork as she was about to step through the portal, "Ta-da~ After you-"

"NO! Trixie, look out!" Starlight shouted out as she spotted strange interference ripple throughout the portal, and tackled Trixie away as it crackled and warped and soon collapsed upon itself into a singularity, drawing in some nearby rubble to crush it into dust.

"Huh?! What in the-" Trixie's eyes widened at that, and she incredulously looked at her hoof which was only moments away from getting guillotined away by the collapsing portal. "That definitely wasn't me!"

A local unicorn passing by shook her head at the two's conundrum, "Haven't you heard? The gov't is suppressin' all the telly-portan magic so the Reds have a harder time gettin' a-round. Bad luck for ya."

"Now that's a fine how do you do! It'd be nice if we found out before we set out on this mission!" Trixie sighed in exasperation. "How are we ever going to get out of here now?!"

"Well, we could use the flying carpets we've bought to travel a bit westwards, and then try teleporting back to Tambelon again once we've in neutral waters." Starlight suggested with a reassuring smile. She took two of the carpets and rolled them out on the ground.

"So how do you even fly one?" Trixie raised an eyebrow as she prodded the carpet with her hoof.

"It's simple, you don't even need to use your magic. Ever been surfing?"


"Me neither, but from what I've read about surfing, it should be similar." Starlight stepped on the carpet, and after a few moments as it detected her weight it rose a few inches into the air. Starlight leaned slightly backwards and the carpet angled up, starting to slowly gain altitude.

"This is...woah woah woah!" Trixie repeated Starlight's motions but was having worse luck wrangling the carpet as it wobbled beneath her hooves, and she struggled to retain her hoofing, starting to blunder wildly throughout the air, "Trixie is not liking it!"

"Don't worry, even if we fall, I can fly with my magic, so it's not very dangerous-" "Pshaw! Way to reassure me!" Starlight straightened Trixie's carpet with her telekinesis and after some careful practice laps around the town square, the blue unicorn seemed to have a better handle on the carpet now - although still not thrilled having to fly one. Soon the two mares guided their carpets high into the air, climbing the wind currents until there were only clouds, pegasi and some tops of the especially tall minarets of Neighneveh around. They started making their way west - or what Trixie had assumed was west from consulting a map.

"Whoa! Watch out!" Trixie cried out and the two rapidly angled their carpets downwards - narrowly not losing control and tumbling down - as a fighter airplane boomed almost directly overhead of them, the sleek machine of a Spirean design blasting ferociously through the clouds as it sped somewhere probably not up to anything good.

"Perhaps we should stick to the routes the local pegasi and griffons are taking to be safe..." Starlight pointed out a nearby lane of wind currents where pegasi, griffons, hippogrifs and even the odd dragon - as well as indeed, a couple other flying carpet riders - flew in an orderly fashion to avoid the risk of running into other air traffic, though a few would buck the line as there didn't seem to be much regulation aside from an air traffic controller here and there, warning the flyers of approaching planes and airships. The two continued flying for several hours, making small talk until suspicion started creeping upon Starlight's mind.

"I think we should already be near the Zebrican Coast, but there's no coast in sight..." Starlight said, peering over the flat green plains and deciduous forests that stretched out endlessly beneath them.

"Uhm...I think that's because the Great and Powerful Trixie has been looking at the map the wrong way the whole time." Trixie flashed an awkward pearly grin causing Starlight to sigh deeply. "And we've been going northeast instead of southwest, haha... Just a tiny little mixup."

"Well, let's look on the bright side, shall we? We get to explore more of the country after all!" Starlight said, clapping her hooves and trying to muster some excitement as her stomach grumbled loudly, "I think we should land and stretch our hooves a bit, though. I'm getting pretty cold and hungry. Any idea where we actually are now?"

"I bet we're over Przhewald" Trixie suggested.

"Oh? How do you figure? You've already learned local geography so well?" Starlight's eyes lit up in appreciation as Trixie smirked and fixed her hat with a proud gesture, "You've probably read all of my mission preparation notes?!"

"Yeah...let's go with that" Trixie said, trying to distract Starlight's attention from the giant cloud sign saying 'WELCOME TO PRZHEWALD: LAND OF HEART AND HEARTH' that they flew by.
They landed in some medium-sized town which elegantly segued from quaint suburban cottages and vegetable gardens resembling Ponyville to a more urban area of 4-5 story brick buildings standing amidst cobbled roads and sprawls of greenery. Aside from the local Harmonist temple, old train station and town hall, the main attraction seemed to be a large and unusual pumpkin-shaped building. From looking at some postcards and ads Starlight and Trixie figured out that the town was host to the annual county pumpkin competitions, unfortunately this year it appeared that the winter squash competition had to be cancelled due to the unrest.

Fortunately the street food vendors were still in business, and so the famished mares could pick up some pumpkin quesadillas, small baked pumpkins stuffed with mushrooms and greens, and slices of hearty pumpkin pie. As well as large steaming cups of pumpkin spice lattes.

"Despite the lack of variety - all this all smells heavenly! I can't wait to dig in~!" Starlight rubbed her hooves together as they found a bench to sit on and enjoy their meal.

"Eh, I don't know..." Trixie said as she took a large bite of her quesadilla and tried to look unimpressed even as her eyes lit up from the flavor, "I think Equestrian food still has it beat. More natural, close to earth, and all that. Herdites are too reliant on their machines, additives and stuff. Although, I do wonder if the ponies here ever eat anything but pumpkins."

"Come on, Trixie, just enjoy it! There's nothing wrong in enjoying other cultures, even if nothing beats home." Starlight giggled.

The two continued to enjoy their meals as suddenly someone shouted Starlight Glimmer! and as the pinkish unicorn looked up she saw that they were once again surrounded by ponies wearing red armbands. "Heh, more admirers, eh?" Trixie grinned and elbowed Starlight as the latter gulped.

"We've caught some bourgeois pigs! Do you want to help us give them what they deserve?" the Red Guards' ringleader mare leaned in towards Starlight with a starstruck grin.

"Oh...oh no..." "Pshaw, we don't have time for this nonsense Starlight." "Trixie, we must go in case they do something stupid so we can stop them. Though I can sympathize with the revolutionaries to an extent, I can't allow violence to happen if I can help it."

The Red Guards reacted and stamped their hooves happily as the two Equestrians got up and followed them uneasily. Soon they arrived to a public square where several posh-looking ponies in tophats and monocles were tied up and put on display, huffing and cursing as a crowd jeered them.

"What have they done to deserve this?" "They are the worst exploiters of this town, always swindling, underpaying, abusing us and making our foals go hungry, those who treated their employees well were simply allowed to leave."

"And....what exactly are you going to do with them?" Starlight asked nervously. A Red Guard simply grinned and pointed in the distance, bringing the Equestrians' attention to a scaffolding holding several large wooden tubs with dunking mechanisms, and a large "DUNK-A-BOURG" sign above them. As the captive rich ponies were herded onto the scaffolding, an extremely adorable little filly ran up to Starlight and nudged a rubber ball into her hooves with her mouth.

"I...I really don't know how to feel about this Trixie." Starlight said staring at the construction in disbelief.

"Don't worry, the weather is warm, they won't freeze or anything...for now" another Red Guard 'reassured' her.

"Your smelly lot just hates success" one of the haughty stallions mouthed off as he was put on the dunking machine and the first balls came flying from the crowd, soon hitting his target and causing him to drop his monocle before plunging into the tub.

"Well...I don't know how to feel about it either, but I feel like it'd be rude not to partake in the fun," Trixie grinned as she stepped forward, took a ball and cast it at another target, instantly dunking an overweight mare in a fancy dress as the crowd cheered, and the blue unicorn stamped her hooves in triumph and bowed.

"Maybe there's something fun about these Marksist ideas after all"
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Malgrave » Thu Feb 16, 2023 2:54 pm

Samare International Airport, Konevia

Amaranta’s flight landed without much of a trouble, but as the Malgravean left her plane she was faced with unusual silence and lack of hustle and bustle. As it turned out, most of the airport employees were on strike. An un-ponied shuttle took the woman to the airport terminal, the magic illusion of a greeter pony happily welcoming passengers and briefly telling them about the airport seeming almost eerie amidst lack of actual flesh-and-blood workers.

The walk through the empty terminal was very quiet, and Amaranta had all the time in the world to admire the murals and greenery decorating the walkways. The only workers actually present seemed to be the passport control hippogriff who stamped Amaranta’s documents without as much as looking at them, and the duty free store vendor mare who appeared to be pouring some vodka from the shelves for herself under the desk while no one was looking.

Understandably, Amaranta wasn’t received with much of a pomp - there would be an unassuming ‘taxi’ parked outside that was going to pick her up once they exchanged code words, and take her to one of the Workers’ Party meeting houses. As the Inquisition ramped up their efforts in rooting out party cells and their allies, some conspiration was clearly in order.

Amaranta was used to a lack of pomp and ceremony around her movements, as the socialist politician had decided to stay out of the limelight after being let out from prison and had simply worked to maintain contact with socialist movements across Mystria, although, in practice this meant that she had spent a majority of her time travelling to Silverdale, Crystal Spires and Breheim.

Of course, the neko was quite familiar with the codewords and other protective measures being used by the Herdite revolutionaries, as the socialist politician had been forced to use them herself after the dissolution of the Socialist Republic due to actions of the now disbanded Special Investigative Service and she was able to find her taxi without much difficulty.

The rather small economy-class pony car was probably feeling a bit cramped even for the Malgravean as she got inside. Taking a seat she found that there was a Red Guard mare - as she could tell from the red armband – sitting next wearing a bulletproof vest and holding a rifle between her hind legs.

“Greetings, comrade!” the athletic-looking pinkish pegasus enthusiastically shook Amaranta’s hand and kicked at the seat of the gruff middle-aged unicorn stallion driver who seemed to be taking a nap. He cursed quietly as he straightened up and started the car. “We will get you to Comrades Shining Path and Velvet Hymn in no time. I’m Sunrise Streak, but I’m just here to provide security if anything goes wrong – which it shouldn’t.”

They soon started down the outskirts of Samare, first riding past the snow-capped woods, passing some massive suburban malls, then entering the industrial area with many factories stretching out to the horizon. Amaranta could see some pegasi crews at work forming carbon emissions escaping from factory smokestacks into large circular clouds to be later taken elsewhere and disposed of.

Amaranta bowed slightly as she accepted the offered hoof, of course, due to the history of MIDD the greeting itself wasn’t widely popular in the country but the recent development of a cure combined to her prior contact with Breheimians and other foreigners meant that she was quite used to their strange style of greetings.

“I am most thankful, Comrade, as a lifetime in dealing with the security services in my own homeland have informed me that you can never be too cautious,” Amaranta said focusing her attention on the surroundings, “Are this factories under the control of the workers or is their labour still being stolen by some greedy executive board?

“Samare is one of the strongholds of the Revolution!” Sunrise Streak declared proudly, “Most of the factories have been seized by the workers or at least having mass walkouts. Which you can probably see by somepony actually bothering with calling in the pollution disposal pegasi.” she waved a hoof.

“Unfortunately the same can’t be said about the rest of Konevia, let alone other regions, we still have a long way ahead of us,” the pegasus sighed.

The car soon pulled into the city proper. As Gilded Light had declared martial law, most other city entrances were now equipped with police checkpoints where all passing vehicles were mandatorily stopped and searched. However, the strong Revolutionary presence in Samare prevented the government from implementing the same measures here. In fact, the entrance to the city was guarded by Red Guards instead, who allowed the car to pass with no trouble after only a nod from Sunrise Streak.

Samare was a huge city, probably unusually large by Malgravean standards. One of its trademark sights were the multicolored onion domes which were omnipresent, decorating not only the Harmonist temples and other cultural spots but even many industrial and residential buildings as well. Amaranta could notice that red flags were a fairly common sight, hanging from many rooftops and balconies of private residences. The streets were covered in snow and, as most city cleaners were on strike, there was treacherous black ice all over the place and so they had to drive very carefully. Everywhere around ponies were constantly slipping on ice and bonking their heads, though quite a few foals were having a blast skating around and playing in the snow with no noisy adults being able to catch up with them.

“Samare is right to be proud of its revolutionary fervour, Comrade, as it is this passion which helps us continue on when the forces of the reactionary try and snuff you out,” Amaranta said, a soft sigh leaving her lips as the sight of the red banners took her back to memories of previous festivals and parades that were held in Rensk to celebrate the numerous anniversaries celebrated by the Socialist Republic, “Just remind me to be careful on the ice, as cats typically land on their feet but I am getting a bit too old to try out my reflexes today.

“Well, you probably shouldn’t be doing too much walkin’ today, anyway. We’re taking you straight to our meeting house. Still a bit dangerous out there on the streets, you know-“ as if to punctuate her point, Sunrise Streak’s ears winced a bit and she gripped her rifle as there was a series of explosions and gunfire in the far distance.
However, after some twenty minutes more of driving, they were able to arrive at the site of the meeting without any incidents. The car stopped in the parking lot of a seemingly unremarkable residential complex composed of several colorful multi-story buildings unusually connected by some walkways high in the air, probably for the convenience of pegasi and other flying species so they didn’t have to land in order to use the ground floor door. Sunrise helped Amaranta out before leading her into one of the buildings, looking left and right conspiratorially and whispering something into the intercom before opening the door into the meeting house.

They entered and walked along a corridor decorated with a seemingly excessive quantity of red flags and portraits of Caramel Marks, the pegasus waving to a few beings along the way before she opened a door to a large office, and invited Amaranta inside with a gesture. Two ponies were sitting inside – one, a thin and pale earth pony with a short blue mane, whom Amaranta could recognize as Shining Path. The other was a purple unicorn mare wearing a cap, who must have been Velvet Hymn.

Amaranta simply nodded in response, the Malgravean didn’t have any first-hand experience with the opening days of the socialist movement in her homeland but she understood from history that the first period was rather chaotic as the Republic fought to establish itself in a hostile environment, although, she was knowledgeable about combat in her own right having served in the armed forces before her involvement in politics.

Shining Path and Velvet Hymn would get a rather standard introduction, the neko bowing briefly in the typical style before speaking.

“Comrades,” Amaranta said as she bowed, “I greet you on behalf of the Malgravean workers who wish to express solidarity with the Herdite struggle.”

“Oh! Hello, hello! Please make yourself comfortable, comrade!” Velvet Hymn beamed and rose from her seat as she saw Amaranta come in, and welcomed her enthusiastically in a sing-songy voice.

Meanwhile, Shining Path simply nodded and politely inclined her head, raising her hoof in a small salute as she scanned the older woman with a hint of respect in her otherwise stern stare. “Greetings, comrade. Welcome to this humble abode of the Workers’ Party.”

“Are you hungry? I figured you must be hungry, coming all the way here. It’s nothing fancy, but I grabbed us some street food.” Velvet pushed a chair underneath Amaranta, and pointed at some boxes standing on the table, “Some carrot dogs, and a few cauliflower tacos.”

The carrot dogs consisted each of a thick grilled carrot in a hot dog bun, laying on a piece of green leaf lettuce, soaked with a sweet and sour honey-based sauce and covered with pumpkin chips. There was also a box of small tacos with filling based on what seemed like grilled cauliflower – an unusual choice even for a Malgravean. As the treats were presented to Amaranta, Velvet went about serving cups of hot, sweet tea.

Amaranta returned Velvets smile as she entered and took the offered seat and took an appreciative look at some of the treats offered, such dishes were not exactly common back home but similar dishes had been popular over the years or included in some cookbook promoting foreign cuisine, “You have my thanks, as someone getting on in years I find that travel tends to leave me quite exhausted.”

In fact, the older socialists body seemed keen to showcase this as it audibly made a few cracking noises as the politician stretched to undo some tension that had formed in her body during her trip, a satisfied grin on her face as she accepted the carrot dog.

“I just had to come and see this growing popular movement myself,” Amaranta said before she started eating the carrot dog, “I don’t know how much Malgravean history is taught across Mystria but I wish to do my part to help the cause, as I have no doubt that meddlesome powers like those cursed Imerians have tried to intervene even if they are more like to back some crazed old noble over the existing oiligarchy.”

“I was never much of a history student unfortunately - I preferred the marching band and other activities,” Velvet giggled as she happily chewed down on the massive carrot dog, sweet sauce dripping down her chin as she scarfed it down, “Shining Path is much more informed than me about past socialist movements and such. But! In preparation for this meeting, we did watch this movie called ‘Revolution’ – which even has you in it!”

Shining Path, in comparison, ate extremely slowly and almost unwillingly, as if only to keep appearances – it was almost like eating food that had actual flavor made her feel guilty. “I don’t think it’s exactly perfectly historically accurate, considering it was filmed in the capitalist era.” she said, “I did study the history of the Socialist Republic on my own as I learned about the popular movements of Mystria. I find its example very inspirational.”

“As for Imeriata, as far as I am aware they have already made a move to meddle – by offering aid to the government and issuing a call for any nobles to move there. I say good riddance to the latter.” Shining Path said.

Amaranta ate moderately a combination of the two, although, she would loathe to call it the centrist attitude of the trio and simply describe it as following the dining etiquette that had been drilled into her since childhood

“Revolution? It is an interesting film and quite accurate, although, this attempted coup was likely the result of mental trauma as opposed to any sense of revenge which is why the Divisional General involved retired shortly after and started receiving proper medical care,” Amaranta replied, “I do remember that it made a recent meeting with the Free Democratic Youth a tad awkward but at least it wasn’t censored.”

In response to the Imerian development, the Malgravean laughed quite deeply even requiring a short moment to compose herself.

“It sounds like a suitably Imerian response, a bit of good news even as anyone receptive to this Imerian offer would have been harmful to the country if allowed to remain,” the neko said before quickly adding her own question, “Herdite has nobles? I thought it had been a merchant republic in the past.”

“Well, some of our territories have had aristocratic systems in the far past, and some ponies have retained such titles even though they haven’t meant anything for a long time,” Velvet pointed out, “For example, my great-great-great-great-grandmother was the Marquise of Hoofingham. Though even despite that, our family has always been quite poor.”

“It’s not surprising Imeriata is trying to introduce some chaos, as they know the Herd is one of the few regional powers capable of individually challenging them militarily,” Shining Path pointed out, “They probably realize that if our revolution succeeds, the Pony Lands will be closed to them entirely, and their imperialism elsewhere will be in jeopardy”

“If these ancient aristocrats wish for their egos to be buffed up then Imeriata is the perfect destination for them, as I have no doubt that they’d have endless balls and religious ceremonies to suit their need for attention,” Amaranta replied, “You are correct to state that the overall Imerian approach is centered on a willingness to prevent the Herd from strengthening anti-imperialist causes across Mystria and the Pony Lands which have been weakened through the demise of leftist powers, although, I have heard some interesting rumours about an anti-imperialist project being planned in Epping.”

“Yeah, I bet they all hope they’ll get to go to fancy balls and such,” Velvet’s nose scrunched in disdain as she spoke, “Not even caring that their equine comrades were enslaved there just a generation ago, and most remain illiterate dirt-farming serfs. Comrade Path is right, good riddance to them.”

“Oh? And what is that project?” Shining Path’s curiosity peaked after she seemed forlorn and fiddled with her hooves for a moment at the mention of the demise of certain socialist powers.

“Just look at the fate of those Malgraveans that were captured by the Imerians, apparently, they call themselves Mallings and they are quite creepy,” Amaranta replied, the neko even shaking her head to help remove the image from her mind, “Yes, Comrade Path. I have heard some rumours that Epping has been planning to send an aid mission to New Freedomstan to try and restore the country.”

Shining Path’s eyes widened with uncharacteristic interest that almost startled Velvet and made her choke on her tea, as the pale mare slammed her hooves on the table and raised herself up, leaning over to look into Amaranta’s eyes.

“That’s…very interesting comrade,” she said, cleaning her throat and composing herself, slinking back into her chair, “If we can do anything about it in the foreseeable future, we’d be interested to participate. It would be…a great boon to anti-imperialism if the Nefreedian Republic was restored, indeed.”

“I’ve heard bad things about Nefreedia, but Shining is very passionate about it and she is more knowledgeable to me, so I hold my tongue, haha.” Velvet chimed in and chuckled awkwardly.

“It will be a monumental task, as I understand that people have been looking at ways to counter the chaos in that country for around a decade now and I have no doubt that other imperialist powers will try and intervene, as having territory of New Freedomstan as a puppet would be valuable to them.”

Amaranta felt a little uncomfortable speaking further on the topic considering the passion Shining Path seemed to have on the subject but continued.

“Yes, as part of my education I was educated on Marks and Nefreedian socialism. I know the latter provided a great state for many to live in, however, it also had flaws which were exploited by its enemies to destroy it. It is important now that the Herd remain true to Markism and help New Freedom build in a way that cannot be destroyed.”

“Indeed, it would be most unfortunate if Nefreedia fell to imperialists. It’d be smart to get our hoof into the door first, so to speak, and it’d be best if proper Communists did that rather than the wishy-washy social-democrats of Malgrave,” Shining Path nodded a bit as she deflated back to her usual reserved self, “That also reminds me of another point. The war against Tambelon and Grogar. Now, personally, I admit I don’t care about it too much. After all, I see little difference between Grogar or King Primus, or even the nobles and oligarchs of Kurton, Calihain and Snowy Light for that matter. But it would still be prudent for us to join the efforts against the horned imperialist – if only so we are present at the bargaining table and can do what we can to prevent another piece of Pony Lands from getting partitioned by external powers.”

“Lots of ponies are quite mad at the government doing nothing about Grogar, so it’s almost a certainty that if we follow the will of the people, we will have to go to war against Tambelon,” Velvet said, “And that’s one thing I don’t quite agree with Shining on, I mean that’s a literal DARK LORD who’s out to enslave everyone! He’s definitely worse than most things out there.” She pulled on her cheeks and made a comically exaggerated expression of terror.

“Also, I’m glad to hear that the ideas of Caramel Marks are spreading beyond Pony Lands.” Shining Path added.

Amaranta nodded in agreement with Shining and Velvet, although the elderly neko felt slightly uncomfortable with Shining Paths dismissive attitude to the crisis that she knew was troubling many in the socialist movement back home.

“It is unlikely that the Malgravean government will intervene in New Freedomstan first as they’ve been discussing this issue for a decade now, and with the crisis impacting the overseas territories they’ll most likely host another series of discussions and academic conferences to discuss the matter,” Amaranta said dismissively, the socialist not that pleased with the delays that had hampered the project, “If we consider the teachings of Marks I would say that Grogar presents a massive danger to us all, as not only is he providing the Imerians with countless avenues for propaganda but his false message promises to unify our enemies together and hamper the revolutionary cause. It would be most welcome if the Herd would support these anti-Grogar efforts, especially, as the socialist movement would be able to use the images to counter the narrative being created by the Imerians and push forward our own anti-imperialist cause.”

“Well, of course, all of that is contingent on our revolution actually succeeding,” Shining Path concluded with a rap of her hooves on the tabletop, “And while we have made significant progress, nothing is set in stone yet. We’ve come so far because Glint’s government was rather anemic in its response, but things are changing.”

“By the way, would you like to help us out? We could use someone like you in reaching out to the Ancestral Study Groups as well as workers of Malgravean enterprises,” Velvet Hymn grinned at Amaranta, “We could make you an honorable member of the Party and even make you a nice member card and everything. Of course if you’d rather stay in Malgrave, you could still help us by raising awareness and stuff.”

“Of course, although, I sense a familiarity between the Herd and the Socialist Republic, as prior to our revolution we had to deal with a government that was mostly focused on pure numbers and quotas instead of the welfare of the people and they even kept that weird elective monarchy instead of embracing change,” the neko said, “I think your movement has a real chance of achieving victory, and well beyond the partial victory that the Republic was able to achieve.”

Amaranta seemed surprised by the offer from Velvet Hymn, a big smile on her face as she took in the offer.

“It would be quite easy to get those volunteering with the Ancestral Study Group on side, as we will just need to remind them of the suffering that the Herdite regime has allowed their own populace to suffer through alongside with the merits of social solidarity plus I think the Regional Lead Scientist here was even born in Rensk,” Amaranta said, “...the state enterprises will be more difficult to win over though, as they’ll not only be worried about their own position after the revolution but also those at the top will concerned about simply being recalled for allowing this to happen but I can get some of my colleagues to start agitating on their behalf.”

“Yay! Welcome to the team! You know what this calls for?” Velvet excitedly clapped her hooves together and looked at Amaranta with a mischievous grin.

“NO! S-stop her!” Shining Path suddenly started in horror as she tried to reach over and grab Velvet as the latter’s horn lit up with magic energy – but she was too slow. Using her telekinesis, the purple unicorn produced from under the table a massive tuba - which Amaranta could swear wasn’t even there when she entered to begin with.
Shining slouched in her seat in defeat as Velvet jumped down on the floor and began performing a spirited rendition of the Internationale.

Amaranta’s eyes grew to comical proportions and some could even say that they left her body in a near comic fashion as Velvet Hymn pulled out her tuba, although, her demeanor suitably improved when she realised that the Herdite wasn’t going to play some rendition of popular music but rather a song that served as the anthem of the Socialist Republic.

“Stop? Why would I stop when I could join in?”

Shining Path would likely regret asking that question, as the elderly neko used her own brand of ancestral abilities to pull a violin out of nowhere and join in with the impromptu musical rendition of the Internationale.
Frenequesta wrote:Well-dressed mad scientists with an edge.

United Kingdom of Malgrave (1910-)
Population: 331 million
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Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Sat Feb 18, 2023 12:32 pm

Battlecruiser GHS Equiponderant

Tenebrous Lament's heart beat quickly in anticipation as she descended into the bowels of the ship, the last two sailors who tried to stand in her way now stowed in one of the closets along the passageway - their bodies crumpled like ragdolls after having a taste of her secret martial arts. Her plan had been executed almost perfectly so far and was nearing its glorious climax. Tenebrous and her initiates infiltrated the ship several weeks ago, using disguises and persuasion both magical and mundane to blend in and convince everypony they were part of the regular sailor rotation. If it weren't for revolutionary chaos, they were less likely to succeed, but with most of the sailors busy arguing and organizing councils rather than keeping order, the cultists were able to spin webs of conspiracy throughout the machinery of the ship both literal and figurative.

Ia, ia, the Black Goat With A Thousand Young cometh, Tenebrous recited a mantra to steel her resolve as she entered the deserted operations room. Her underlings had set off fire alarms in several locations throughout the ship, luring the sailors into deadly traps as they ran to take care of the fires - making sure the important parts of the ship were empty and Tenebrous was free to work her dark designs.

The mighty Equiponderant carried a special cargo among its numerous missile cells - a set of a hundred hypersonic missiles tipped with nuclear warheads. These sleek projectiles were designed with cutting-edge features both technological and magical that made them nearly impossible to track and intercept even by the most advanced air defences - maneuvering with seemingly physics-defying agility while skipping from dimension to dimension and confounding sensors with decoys and mirror images. The warheads weren't very high-yield but a hundred of them could more than cripple an average country's ability to wage war.

That was the prize Tenebrous was after. The slender but leanly muscled unicorn mare let her sailor cap fall from her pitch-black mane as she set upon one of the command-and-control computers with a wicked grin on her face. Naturally, activating such dangerous weapons required extensive procedure and clearance - but she had that in the bag, too. Was merely a matter of applying some creative interrogation techniques to the officers carrying the passwords, and availing herself of the ID card belonging to the captain who has been 'indisposed' in his quarters for the last few days, as well as his retinas.

The map of Pony Lands and Mystria lit up on the screen before Tenebrous and she swept her hoof across it, zooming into Imeriata. She then proceeded to quickly tap all over the screen, placing red crosses over Imerburg and a dozen other large cities of Imerian mainland. The mare shuddered at the thought of the greatness of the task she was about to fulfill. Whether this would unleash a exchange of WMDs enough to crack continents or merely a vast conventional war, the regions would be thrown into chaos and no one was going to challenge the rise of her Dark Lord anymore.

It was this moment of religious exaltation that distracted Tenebrous and dulled her reactions for a split second, and she was tackled away from the terminal by a sailor mare.

"I knew there was something off about you all along, 'Briny'," the blue pegasus huffed, referring to the fake name Tenebrous had used in her capacity as an imposter crewmate, "But you can't fool everyone"

"You are far too late to stop me alone, but I have admired your gumption since I arrived here, Wind Rose. You would make a fine servant of the Dark Lord," Tenebrous laughed, "I think I'll keep you alive and give you the front seat to the chaos and darkness that consumes the Pony Lands."

"If you weren't so busy monologuing and cackling to yourself in a mirror all of the time, you'd probably realize you aren't the only one doing the snooping around here," Wind said, "The sailors' council has been suspicious of you fellows from the start, and now we have uncovered your plan."

"Ah, that is a pity. I guess you have to die after all!" Tenebrous fired a beam of dark magic at Wind, which scythed through the rubberized steel flooring of the room with a sickening screech of the metal. The pegasus dodged at the last split second, doing a barrel roll away as she scrambled to grab her pistol and strap it to her hoof. She wasn't so lucky with the next beam that was fired at her as it sliced several inches off of her wing, making her grit her teeth, grunt and sputter in pain as arterial blood sprayed from the stub. She fired a few rounds at Tenebrous in response, but the latter protected herself with a shadowy aura that seemed to simply consume the bullets.

"Give in to your fate," the cultist mare said but Wind defied her, dashing forward and thrusting the bleeding stump of her wing into Tenebrous' face, filling her eyes and nostrils with the bloody spray. That disoriented Tenebrous briefly, and the pegasus started pummeling her. But Wind didn't realize that she was severely outmatched in close-quarters combat, and the cultist overwhelmed her with a few graceful, surprisingly effortless-looking martial arts moves – dislocating a few of her joints before sending her into the floor.

Tenebrous approached the wounded pegasus with a twisted grin, slowly gathering energy in her horn for the finishing blow when the bulkhead behind them slammed open, revealing a group of red armband-wearing sailors training their rifles onto the cultist mare. At the same time muffled gunfire and sounds of offensive magic could be heard from above, as the organized sailors elsewhere seemed to engage the initiates in combat.

"Surrender, imposter!" one of the sailors shouted as Tenebrous swore to herself and backed up.

"Damnation… fools, submit to Lord Grogar willingly, or be smote for your insolence!" Tenebrous spat.

As the sailors encircled the unyielding unicorn cultist, Wind made a strained effort to grab her hindlegs and pin her in place. However, that proved fruitless as Tenebrous' very form started turning into an incorporeal shadowy substance and drifting away.

"You haven't heard the last of me," she warned before fully transforming into a shadow and escaping through one of the vents nearby, completely unaffected by the bullets some of the sailors fired.

"Damnit…she got away," Wind sighed, on the edge of passing out from blood loss.

"Doesn't matter, you saved our ship and maybe all of the Pony Lands! Now, we should get you to the medbay quick" a hippogriff sailor said as he lifted the mare on his back.

On the ship's upper decks, things were going markedly better as the organized sailors seemed to be trouncing the cultists. The latter had dark magic on their side, and summoned wicked beasts to fight for them, but the sailors had the experience and knowledge of the ship which gave them the upper hoof. Soon most of the cultists were dead or captured, with only a few hiding out in the ship's bowels.

Unfortunately, the chance to interrogate them was quickly escaping out of grasp as they seemed to come affected by some quick-acting poison - or perhaps a kind of magic geas - that wiped their minds blank and reduced them to drooling husks. But there was still hope that a few cultists who were knocked unconscious could still be interrogated when they woke up - revealing one of the first decisive proofs of the Cult of Grogar using the revolutionary chaos as a chance to further meddle in Pony Lands affairs.
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Wed Feb 22, 2023 11:48 am

Tizhen, Xiaoma

With each of their clashes, shockwaves rippled throughout the street, rocking buildings and blowing out windows, even collapsing some of the smaller wooden-framed pagoda-like houses outright. On the one side, a gigantic blood-red mare almost the size of a regular horse, with a long pitch-black mane. On the other, a yellow pony who was much smaller, yet had the look and the aura of an experienced martial artist about her. The town square they fought in was deserted, only the occasional tumbleweed passing by as the other ponies fled in terror away from this clash of titans.

One threw around her massive bulk and incredible strength with devastating force, while the other weaved through the blows with blazing speed and attacked with well-calculated martial arts strikes.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said they thought only you could deal with me,” the smaller pony said as she drew back for a short breather, then launched several orbs of energy towards her opponent – who deflected them with her hoof rather casually, causing them to veer and detonate into coruscating explosions all over the place, “You are pretty tough!”

“Well, enjoy it while you still can, ‘Lily Emptyhoof’,” the other mare scoffed before digging the ground with her hooves and charging in for another clash of punches and kicks.

“I sense a great darkness within you, Shadowmane- While I’d love to say that I’d like to sit down and talk, I’m used to talking with my hooves” Lily shook her head as she bobbed and weaved and struck with her hooves, managing to strike up a conversation rather casually despite the exertion of the high-speed battle.

“Why, thanks for the compliment- It will only grow stronger once Lord Grogar claims your soul,” Shadowmane responded.

“Now that you mention it, it could only be more obvious if you wore a shirt that said ‘Grogar Rocks’…”

“I hardly believe it myself that my façade worked for so long, but it did. Ponies are so gullible. And you will be taking this secret with you to the other world.”

“Why don’t you try meditation and mindfulness instead of worshiping that goat? It’s a much safer and pleasant spiritual practice,” Lily shook her head, “I’ve seen where cultist behavior leads and it’s a dark place…”

“Grogar will change this world, to a much greater extent than your little revolution; he will uproot all things, dethrone the fake idols and uplift those of real strength”

“I don’t consider myself a revolutionary – it doesn’t really matter to me what color the flag of this land is. I’m just protecting the weak, that is all.”

Dodging a mighty haymaker, Lily took to the air, using her spiritual energies to levitate and unleashing a barrage of ranged chi attacks upon Shadowmane.

“Flying with no wings? Nice trick, but I have some tricks of my own in store.” The tall red mare pressed her hooves down to the ground, unleashing an unseen pulse of magic. At once, roots erupted from the ground, dry and vicious things covered in thorns and barbs, they flailed around like tentacles of some great monster before shooting through the air, trying to grab and envelop Lily.

“Earth magic?” Lily said in surprise, as she tried to flee and keep the roots at bay with energy attacks, but they regrew and chased after her with surprising speed, soon wrapping around her legs and threatening to crush her.

“Did you think I wouldn’t hone every tool in my disposal?”

As her mind raced to find a way to get out of this predicament, Lily suddenly decided to try something else. She closed her eyes and focused on the flow of her inner energies. She had barely used her earth pony magic before, focusing mostly on cultivating fighting power. Maybe this was a good time to start. She unleashed her magic, mixing it with chi.

Lean vines, glowing with life force and sprouting with blossoming lotuses emerged from her hooves and started gracefully entwining themselves with Shadowmane’s crooked roots. Soothing them, making them limp and inert until their stranglehold was loosened enough for Lily to escape.

“Whoa…I had no idea I could do that!” Lily said to herself as she landed on the ground, looking at her own hooves with a marveling expression. She was so distracted she briefly forgot about Shadowmane, who ran up and headbutted her through two city blocks.

“Whatever that was, you must go, so that the chaos continues as long as possible, and Grogar gains strength” the gigantic red mare said as she walked through the wreckage, looking down at the smaller yellow pony who clambered out of a pile of destroyed wood and concrete after she went flying through several buildings.

“At first I thought you just wanted to challenge me, and that is fine by me, but I cannot allow you to harm any innocents,” Lily rose from the rubble with a serious expression, and clasped her hooves together in a mudra, “Forgive me Master, for I have to go all out this once.”

Brilliant energy shot out from her body in all directions as she entered a trance-like state, golden light filling her eyes. Shadowmane stepped forward to strike, but was immediately rebuked by a wall of force which crumpled and flung her away like a ragdoll. As she tried to attack again and again, Lily seemed to dodge and deflect her blows with a complete lack of effort, as if she wasn’t even there.

“What kind of power is this? How does one even obtain it?” Shadowmane asked, desperation becoming apparent in her voice.

“Friends. I know, I know, sounds cliche like hell, but it is what it is. Now, time to end this...”

She said as she wound up for the final blow.


With that, the whole city shook for an instant as Lily proceeded to uppercut Shadowmane with such force that she was propelled straight into the sky for miles - along with the cars, manhole covers, lamp posts and small buildings in the vicinity.

“Oh dear, it looks like I overdid it a little…"

“Ugh…I can barely move… what did you do to me?!” Shadowmane said groggily as she finally awakened, trying to rise from the ground but groaning in surprise at the sheer effort it was taking.

“Well, after thoroughly kicking your flank - I sealed your chakras, so that you are no longer stronger or faster than any regular old pony. Weaker, in fact.” Lily explained as she loomed over her defeated opponent, looking down at her with mostly pity.


“Yes. The seals will remain as long as I deem it, until it appears that your behavior has improved,” Lily explained, “Until then, you won’t be able to harm or threaten anyone again. Now…”

She pointed somewhere in the distance.

“Get in the dunking machine.”
Last edited by Urmanian on Wed Feb 22, 2023 11:49 am, edited 1 time in total.
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Posts: 8931
Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Thu Feb 23, 2023 2:12 pm

Two unusual visitors sat on the terrace of a cafe, drinking tea from quaint little teacups. One was a large man in his thirties sporting bushy blond sideburns and mustache, a deep scar running across his right cheek and cutting into one of his sideburns marking him as something of a seasoned warrior or a duelist. His blue eyes always in a sardonic half-squint as if constantly looking around for challenges or opportunities to use his wit.

Another was a pony, a beige pegasus stallion with a long blue and pink mane that ran all the way down to his shoulders, his sharp, elegant facial features framed by a pair of mutton chops. Despite his somewhat androgynous appearance and coloration (although, of course, those were the height of masculinity as far as Imerians were concerned!) he appeared quite strong, and backed it up by carrying himself with dignity.

Both wore loud blue, gold and red uniforms that were sure to catch the eye in the streets of the Herd.

“I have to say, this place must be a veritable paradise for you, eh? Full of swoon-ready maidens whose doe-like eyes have never been blessed by the charms of a Federal man before!” the human said with a chuckle, then leaned forward to raise his finger in a warning gesture, “But, my trusted sidekick! Remember that you must be a living example of Imerian chivalry and chastity. Do not allow yourself to fall to feminine wiles too easily!”

“You don’t have to remind me of that, good Herr,” the stallion said lifting his nose proudly, trying his best to ignore several mares who all-not-too-subtly surrounded him, ready to swoon at any time, “Besides, it’s known that these days foreign females don’t know how to cook or do mathematics. All they know is indecent dances, charging their telephones, eating hot haycakes and lying! One would be unlikely to find a good wife in lands like these.”

Birger auf Birgerburg was a minor Imerian noble of some fame as something of an eccentric and wanderer. His estate was known to always be barely kept above water by the efforts of his wife and servants as the master of the household was running about elsewhere, but it didn’t really bother Birger himself. Managing the estate was largely the woman’s affair after all and to Birger it meant even less compared to the thrill of adventure in barbaric foreign lands. He earned his scar on some wild escapade when he was 16 and since then he never looked back.

Molnganger Stormvingsen, meanwhile, had once been a slave like all Imerian ponies, but after the abolition of slavery his family managed to create a rather lucrative business of providing weather services to wealthy farmers. Molnganger did not enjoy the life of a simple mercantile commoner however. His foalhood was spent playing with wooden swords and listening to the stories of ponies who came back from serving as porters in the Krigsmakten. He dreamt of adventure, and after much pleading and arguing his father and their village priest reluctantly agreed to write letters of recommendation to an adventuring noble willing to take in an aide. Thus fate placed him by the side of the eccentric auf Birgenburg, as his trusted sidekick and in this case Equestrian interpreter.

“Ach! This is the fourth eatery we’ve been to today, and it’s the first one that at least serves something normal aside from nonsense like flower salads and haycakes!” auf Birgerburg complained as he bit into his extra large falafel shawarma and sighed longingly, “By the rose that burned, I am going to go quite mad without some old-fashioned, juicy meat while staying here!”

“Well, we ponies do not eat meat…” Molnganger said curtly, deciding not to show that he shamefully quite enjoyed the diversity and flavor of local foods, compared to the admittedly fairly bland diet that the Imerian mainland had to offer to vegetarians. The stallion turned around to the local mares and softly said something in Equestrian, and they nearly tripped over themselves excitedly responding to him, “The ladies say there is a seafood restaurant a few miles from here, but it is in rebel-controlled territory.”

“Well, I guess that will be one more reason for us to give those rebels a good what-for!” Birger guffawed, dabbing the sauce off of his mustache with a handkerchief, “Or I am not Birger auf Birgerburg if I can let some dastardly syndies stand between me and a plate of hot, steamy fiskballar!”

“Speaking of, we have to rendezvous with the Herdite troops in an hour.” Molnganger reminded.

“Then we must go at once! It won’t make for a good first impression for us to be tardy, now would it?”

As the Imerians arrived at the rendez-vous point, they were saluted by a squad of Herdite soldiers. Molnganger scoffed at the ponies’ camouflaged uniforms and modern helmets while auf Birgerburg simply shook his head as he was used to the cowardice of the barbarians.

“Well greetings there my little ponies! Have no fear for Birger auf Birgersburg and his trusty sidekick Molnganger Stormvingsen are here to help you with your woes.” the man said jovially.

“Thanks for coming to help us out mister Birgersburg and mister Stomvingsen, every bit counts,” the pony sergeant said, auf Birgersburg having to squint at him a lot to figure out he was the officer, as there were not large golden austrian knots or other clear indications of rank to be seen, only some tiny insignia that almost blended in with the rest of the uniform. Foreigners…

“You can see the factory over there - that is the rebel stronghold. The approaches to it are fortified. Our objective is to clean out the surrounding area block by block before we can clear a way into the factory grounds proper.” the sergeant explained.

He continued as he projected a hologram from the screen of his wrist-mounted computer, displaying the map of the area covered in many overlapping arrows, crosses, circles and other such indicators which showed the plan of attack, “Our area of responsibility is this block here, the plan is that we approach with mage and drone support…go here, clear the machine gun nest here…”

“Mhm, I see, I see! However, I have a better proposal!” Birger auf Birgersburg grabbed the shocked pony’s hoof and quickly erased the whole plan from the screen, starting to draw his own one while explaining, “Well go here, and over here, and then we’ll close in to give them a good trashing with our bayonets! You chaps do carry bayonets, don’t you?”

“Well yes, but…”

“Good, good…can’t even trust barbarian armies with as much these days…anyway, this should be a good plan! Don’t you think so, herr sargent?”

The attack began as planned shortly afterward, after several drone strikes thundered across the city block and unicorn battle mages threw up some illusion and misdirection spells, the Imerians set out together with the loyalist troops. Birger auf Birgersburg proudly held his trusty KVG while Molnganger hovered close to the ground clutching a shorter carbine version of it converted for pony use.

Loud kraks of the federal rifles accompanied the rrat-rrats of Herdite caseless flechette rifles as the infantry marched on, seemingly managing to push back the rebels who were caught by surprise and hammered hard by the drones. They cleared the first line of makeshift barricades criss-crossing the street and advanced deeper into the block. A couple dozen Red Guards appeared to take up shooting positions there.

“Advance rapidly, ready grenades and prepare to fix bayonets on my signal!” auf Birgersburg bellowed in a tone that tolerated no pointing out that he wasn’t in fact in charge here.

Much to the Imerians’ surprise, as they approached the rebels didn’t scatter but in fact decided to make a stand and take up the challenge. They rose from their barricades and dugouts and started charging towards them.

”FAR KHÖNUNG ACH DI HELIGHA SYSTRARNA!” Molnganger roared as he fixed his bayonet and dashed towards the foeponies. Auf Birgersburg followed suit, advancing with a proud and confident stride, though despite his insistence on bayonets did he instead unsheathe the sword hanging from his belt as it was more handy for slashing downwards at the smaller creatures. The Herdite soldiers bemusedly followed with their bayonets fixed, not entirely sure why they were doing that at all.

A rebel hippogriff who stayed in the air to lob grenades down at the attackers caught Molnganger’s attention and the pegasus flew up to engage him in melee. The half-pony half-falcon was quickly disarmed of his rifle by the Imerian’s sure and experienced bayonet-fencing, but lashed out with his natural weapons - his claws. Molnganger grit his teeth as he got raked across the shoulder, fabric of his uniform tearing and becoming wet with blood, but he thrust his bayonet in retaliation - catching the hippogriff under the wing and wounding him mortally.

“These syndies fight like hell, I’ll tell you what! But mere uppity rabble is no match for real warriors like us!” auf Birgersburg shouted as he fought off two rebels at once with his blade dancing around like a blur.

As the bloody and intense melee finally caused the rebels to break rank and stand fleeing, something briefly caught Molnganger’s eye, something that he assumed was just a random bush in distance but starting to look more and more like a tangle of camouflage netting concealing something long and-

“CANNON! They have cannon! Duck and-” the pegasus called out but it was too late as the gun fired. The shell passed almost a mere meter away from Molnganger, the pressure wave knocking him over and causing blood to pour from his mouth and nose.

“Herr Birger…” he said as his vision became blurry, the last thing he saw before blacking out was a large explosion behind him, where his comrades in arms should have been advancing.

Molnganger expected to either wake up in the halls of Gyllenheim or be guided into a long dream by Princess Luna, he was never really sure which would expect him once he passed. But as his vision slowly became less blurry and adjusted to his surroundings, he found himself in what seemed like a dimly lit hallway of a factory. He tried to move, which he succeeded at, although he soon found that there were zip ties applied to his wings which made it impossible to fly. Armed ponies with red armbands surrounded him, looking at him with guarded curiosity.

As he realized that he was taken captive by the rebels, Molnganger prayed fervently to Rasmer and the Regal Sisters to steel his resolve, as obviously the dastardly syndies weren’t beholden to any rules of chivalry or honorable conduct and were going to torment him simply for being proper.

“What’s that for?” a red earth pony mare with a short blonde buzzcut stepped forward and eyed the Imerian pegasus with confusion. Although little distinguished her from the other Red Guards, from the way she carried herself and others reacted to her, Molnganger could figure out she was what passed for a leader here.

“Where is herr auf Birgersburg?” Molnganger immediately asked in a demanding tone when he was addressed.

“Who is that? The man who was with you? He wasn’t among the fallen or the captives we took.”

“I guess all this means our attack failed, then.”

“You took quite a few good ponies from us,” the mare sneered then sighed, “But yeah, you did not succeed, at least not fully. The others you came with had to retreat to regroup eventually, but probably not for long. Anyway, your name?”

“Molnganger Stormvindsen.”

“And…your real name?” she tilted her head.

“Molnganger Stormvindsen That’s my real name.” Molnganger huffed, seeming offended, “I am a faithful servant of my Lord the High King of the Absolute Royal Federation, blessed by-”

“Oh. Imerian? I see. That explains things. Anyway, I’m Embersong. Comrade Embersong - sorry, no fancy titles around here,” the mare said, “So you came here to fight for glory and such, against the bad, no good rebels threatening the proper order of things. Right? But I bet they didn’t tell you everything…”

“What didn’t they tell me? That you’re actually misunderstood and your cause is just and I’m the foolish one? No, you’re right, that wasn’t in the mission briefing.” he responded scathingly.

“No, not that. Do you know why we’re holed up here?”

“To overthrow all that’s good and proper and rob honest ponyfolk of their well-earned property, clearly.”

“...just listen. For the last week or so, we’ve been under siege by a cell of Grogar cultists, who basically control the entire waterfront at this point…”

“Cultists?” Molnganger clenched his hooves, “No, you’re right, nopony told me about any cultists.”

“That’s probably because they didn’t want you to know. If this factory falls, the cultists will spill out into the rest of the city, like a cancer. The feds probably know this, yet they still decided to attack us instead of, you know, maybe helping us out? But I guess the naughty Marksists are worse than literal doomsday cultists who shank grandmas for fun. Or worse, they’re actually in on everything.”


“Mhm…well, that is about it. You can make yourself comfortable, I guess.” Embersong shrugged and paused, looking at Molnganger, “Stop looking at us like we’re demons from Tartarus or something, we aren’t going to torture you or anything. But we can’t just let you go right now, I hope you understand.”

The Imerian pegasus looked down on his hooves for a while, his brow deeply crevassed in intense thinking. Finally, as Embersong appeared to turn around and start to walk away, he lifted his head and spoke.

“I…I must fight against the cultists. That is the sacred duty of all his royal highness’ subjects.” he finally said between his teeth.

“What, really? You’re saying you want to fight together with us, now?” Embersong looked back and cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying. I’ll fight. Doesn’t make me a friend to your ideas, but as long as there are servants of all that is dark and unholy on the other side, I have to fight.”

Embersong looked bemusedly at him for a few moments, then smiled. “Alright. I think we can trust your word. I’ll arrange a gun for you.”
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Sat Feb 25, 2023 12:32 pm

Tenebrous Lament’s magical power was not great enough to allow her to create her own demiplanes, but she was granted one by Grogar himself for her service and she at least had a little freedom to control it to suit her desires. It wasn’t large - merely enough for a small library, a space for spellcasting work and a private quarters, all fashioned from jagged dark crystal. And every second inside it was spent in acut awareness that Grogar could simply collapse it around Tenebrous at any time if he found her no longer useful. Nevertheless, it was a nice perk of working for the Black Goat, not to mention that it kept her well and truly hidden from prying eyes.

Tenebrous arrived as a formless, billowing cloud of shadow, the way she escaped from the Equiponderant, before it coalesced into the form of a tall, slender raven-haired unicorn.

“Looking marvelous today, Dark Mistress! New eyeshadow?” the only being beside Tenebrous who had means to access the demiplane was a small creature resembling a brackish green flying gremlin or gargoyle of some kind. He was once a small dragon, but since twisted by the dark energies of Tambelon into something barely recognizable.

“Any news, Thorn? And they better be good.” Tenebrous pointedly ignored the small talk and turned to a nearby mirror to start brushing her hair. Her voice was stern yet with a hint of tiredness. One of her best agents, Shadowmane, was out of the picture and her escapade with the Equiponderant had failed too. At this rate she really needed some good news lest Grogar would grow impatient with her, and the Darkness knew there were many ponies who would be eager to take her place.

Thorn burped unsightly and breathed out some black smoke and fire, a scroll manifesting from it which he grabbed with his claws.

“Ahem…well, according to this report the government forces have begun to attack the Hooferhaven Steel Plant, just as we hoped.” Tenebrous nodded contentedly, urging Thorn to continue, “And…blah blah blah…and finally, we have figured out the location of the Nuckelavee and the way to unlock his seal.”

“Wait, what was that last part? Really?” Tenebrous perked up and put away her brush as she looked back at her minion with an intrigued expression, “Then what are we waiting for? Unleash him at once! No, I will go to release him myself…”

Somewhere in Arborea

It was a lake of rather little note, just a watery hole surrounded by small hamlets and a few middle-class resort homes, known only to the locals as a place for a little beach fun and maybe a bit of recreational fishing. Didn’t even have a name. Perhaps the sages of old specifically placed spells of obliviousness on it to keep as many ponies as they could from snooping around.

But Tenebrous knew this was the place. She approached, flying by the power of her magic, and procured from her saddlebags a box, taking from it a black crystal emitting a cloying darkness. The mare proceeded to carefully lower it into the water, precisely at the exact middle of the lake. A few moments later, the whole surface of the lake began to bubble, the fish coming up belly-up, dead.

Shortly afterwards, an unnatural, revolting sight began emerging from the waters of the lake. A gigantic – three stories tall, at least - cyclopean equine creature, its muscles and sinews exposed as if it was flayed of all skin, fin-like extremities protruding from its legs and shoulderblades. From its back extended something like a humanoid torso, sporting arms and a grinning horned head. The being shuddered and yawned as it rose.

“Ah…talk about a beauty sleep!” its equine head opened its sole eye to look around, seeing the small quaint villages and resort homes surrounding the lake, “I see…they’ve prettied the place up since the last time. …It really kills my vibe!”

The creature reared up, taking in air, and unleashed a breath of pure putrescence across the landscape. Immediately, plants and crops wilted, trees died, cottages collapsed as their wood rotted into dust. Even rocks broke up into sad, porous little pebbles filled with slimy residue. Any living beings within the area would immediately fall into a catatonic state, drained of all magic and color.

“Ah, that’s much better…” the being said as it admired its handiwork, then slowly turned its head towards Tenebrous who was floating nearby, “Now. You’re the one who released me, yes?”

“Oh, finally you have risen, the Nuckelavee,” Tenebrous said with a gleeful grin, then cleaned her throat, “Do you remember anything from before you were imprisoned? I am here to remind you that Lord Grogar begat you a thousand years ago, and now he demands your service.”

“Grogar? Wow, talk about a deadbeat dad! I haven’t even seen him in my life,” the Nuckelavee said with an equine snort which sent another wave of putrescence across the air, causing Tenebrous to shield herself with an orb of shadow, “And now he wants me to work for him?! Fat chance. Now that I’m finally awoken and free, this land is all for ME to do as I see fit!”

It seemed that the Nuckelavee spoke randomly through one of his two heads, then another, then both. One’s voice was like a low roll of thunder during an evil night; another, like metal scraping on glass. It was impossible to say whether his heads had separate intelligences or not.

“Erm…did you have a backup plan?” Thorn floated up to Tenebrous and asked her quietly.

“Nope…but let me handle this,” the unicorn said as she turned to face the Nuckelavee, “Lord Grogar has great designs for these lands, if you cooperate you will be rewarded.”
“I don’t care! Get out of my way, I need to stretch my hooves. God, I hate fresh water, it is so…cringe.” The Nuckelavee waved Tenebrous away as it started to clamber onto the shore, shaking off the water covering it with a look of distaste.

“Very well. I’ll come back later, and you will see that there is more than you can see right now to my offer. For now, go ahead and rampage as you will.” Tenebrous said with a shake of her head.

“I will rampage, don’t you worry. I bet the little ponies have already forgotten what true despair and oppression are like. I ride again!” the Nuckelavee stepped forth with wide grins of unwholesome malice flashing on both of its heads.

“The Nuckelavee was a terrifying creature that fed upon wasting and entropy itself. They say it was the offspring of Grogar and an evil seapony sorceress who dwelled in the deepest abyss of the sea. A thousand years ago, the Nuckelavee rampaged across the land, impervious to any weapons known to ponies, seeking to lay waste to all. That’s when the leaders of the six pony nations – Konevia, Prance, Przhewald, Marecia, Arborea and Urmanea – had to set aside their feuds, and come together to seal the Nuckelavee away with the magic of friendship. After this, the six nations declared an alliance and founded what is today the Herd.”

Velvet Hymn slammed the book shut and grabbed Shining Path’s shoulders, looking at her with wide terrified eyes. “Do you know what that means?! If that really is the Nuckelavee…oh, this is going to be terrible. The magic nowadays is nothing like it was in the old days. We’re all DOOMED!”

“Come on…that’s a literal fairy tale for foals to scare each other around a campfire!” Shining Path rolled her eyes as she gently pushed Velvet’s hooves away, “They put unscientific nonsense like that into encyclopedias?”

“But what if it’s actually real? You’ve seen the videos of that…creature rampaging through the countryside already.” Velvet said as she seemed terrified.

“If so, there is a scientific and materialistic explanation to it, like there is to everything,” Shining Path stated, deadpan, then said with a bit of a temper, “Come on, Velvet, are you a Marksist or not?”

“Well…I mean…I guess I am.”

"Then get a hold of yourself. If that creature from the books is really out there, there has to be a scientific and materialistic explanation to its powers, and so we can figure out a way to defeat it. Nothing in this world is invincible aside from the unyielding march of history and the science of Caramel Marks Thought. So cease your worrying." Shining Path said.

"Wow. That has got to be the first time you've said something actually uplifting and inspirational to me..."

"Hm. You're welcome."

"Well, I guess it would be better to focus on happy things for now. Where were we? Oh! What kind of pizza did you want? I'm feeling like pineapple, myself!" Velvet Hymn happily clapped her hooves together hoping to infect Shining Path with at least some of her enthusiasm.

"Let me think. No cheese. No mushrooms. No peppers. No tomatoes. No pineapple. No hay. No olives. No onions. sauce."

"But that's just bread...?"

"Exactly. So?" Shining Path raised an eyebrow, then sighed as Velvet did the pleading look at her again. "Fine. I guess you could throw some olives onto it..."
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Sun Feb 26, 2023 4:21 am

Flankfurt-am-Mane, Speaker’s Office

A large cup saying “World’s Best Parliamentarian” filled with black coffee clattered loudly in Speaker Gilded Light’s jittery telekinesis as she stared into the distance with huge bloodshot eyes. She hasn’t had any sleep in the last few days, and worse yet had little to show for it. The unicorn was thrust into governing the country in its most precarious, fateful days and though she at least had the sense of duty to keep going on, unlike Dewpetal Glint, she was still underequipped to deal with it all.

The letter from Archon Brass Tacks was laying on her desk, and of course it did nothing to make Gilded Light any less stressed out. The mare sighed as she tried to make herself at least a bit presentable by straightening out her tangled blonde locks as she turned on her computer. She figured that she could at least seek the guidance of somepony more experienced than she.

She tapped something into the video conference app and waited for some time. Eventually, the outcoming call was accepted and a grey unicorn stallion emerged on the screen, wearing a black gossamer mantle and standing against the backdrop of a vast ornate hall. It was decorated extensively with all kinds of embroidery and knitted ornaments, baskets woven in a distinctly Imerian style and filled with flowers, runes, and medieval-looking tapestries depicting the exploits of famed Equestrian heroes such as Rockhoof.

“Good evening, Morning Star.”

“Hello, Gilded Light. Long time no see.” years have changed the stallion somewhat, giving him a more serious and regal bearing, as well as something of a beard. He seemed thoughtful.

“Are you in Imeriata right now?”

“No, I’m in the Nightspire. Why?”

“Then why does it look…like that?” Gilded Light curiously pointed out the unusual décor.

“That’s because I am in the charge of the decorations! Do you like them?!” a white Pegasus mare wearing a black and blue dress pushed Morning Star out of the frame, grinning. She pressed her face almost directly against the camera and yelled loudly, “I’m Rosman BY THE WAY! Are you the grand mayor of the Herd?!”

“Grand mayor…? Yes, I guess I’m the grand mayor. That fits pretty well, actually. I really do feel like a mayor out of her depth.” Gilded Light chuckled a bit.

“I don’t suppose you’re calling just to admire the decorations though.” Morning Star said returning to the frame as Rosman’s attention was instead caught by a painting that was hanging slightly askew.

“Indeed not. I thought we could use your advice on the…situation in the country.”

“Well, I’m flattered that you consider my opinions something to be sought out, but I don’t see how I can help any better than your advisors who are actually in the middle of the situation,” Morning Star raised an eyebrow.

“Were that I had any advisors. But it’s pure chaos over here. One hoof doesn’t know what the other is doing.” Gilded Light sighed deeply, “I’m not Princess Celestia, or Luna, or Twilight Sparkle, I’m just a regular pony. It’s overwhelming. Sometimes I think about making like Dewpetal Glint and just giving up.”

“I knew electing Dewpetal Glint would end in disaster, though I gave her the benefit of the doubt since I was once a similar disaster,” Morning Star said, “Maybe she would learn and change. But in the end her tenure turned out predictably.”

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to return and help us out?” Gilded Light leaned in with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“You know I have my own duties. I’m helping to run the Nightspire, manage Princess Luna’s estate, doing what I can for the rescue efforts, and so on.” Morning Star shook his head. While he appeared markedly better off than Gilded Light (i.e. not on the edge of losing it), he still looked quite tired with bags under his eyes.

“Maybe you can contact Twilight Sparkle…”

“Princess Twilight has her own kingdom, friendship school and Grogar crisis to attend to. Listen, do you just want me to get somepony else to run the country for you?” Morning Star said, turning around for a moment to look at Rosman brandishing a broom as she chased some poor, terrified Nightguard recruit across the backdrop for some misdeed.

“No, I just…ugh. Maybe. Maybe that would be nice… At least tell me, what would you do in my situation?” Gilding Light said as she nervously fiddled with the golden curls of her mane.



“You heard me right. You’re in charge of a sinking ship without a captain. I’m afraid at this point this is a mess that has no solution. Declare that you’re giving in to the demands of the Marksists, as long as they agree to a peaceful transfer of power and focus efforts on pushing out the Grogar cultists.”

“This is really not what I expected to hear. You’re seriously telling me I must surrender to the Marksists?”

“I mean, you know that I was never a big fan of them. But from what I’ve seen, it’s not like they’re running around vivisecting ponies, executing kulakirin or putting folks in glue-lags. Although their leader does scare me a little bit,” Morning Star shuddered, “But consider this. What is it that keeps you going and getting deeper into this mess? The country, the flag, the idea of capitalism?”

Gilded Light pondered at length. “I haven’t really given it thought. I suppose I’m just doing my job. I do have a responsibility to my voters, after all.”

“That’s a non-answer, and I suspect you know this yourself. The reality is that you don’t know what you’re fighting for, only the Marksists do. Them and the Grogarite cultists.” Morning Star said, “As sad as it is, but to keep fighting for the sake of fighting is to keep the cycle of violence going, which only works in favor of Grogar.”

“I have never considered it that way.” Gilded Light seemed lost, and highly conflicted. “But…perhaps it’s something worth thinking about.”

“Well, I’m only giving my thoughts. It’s in your hooves to make the right decisions,” Morning Star said, and glanced elsewhere, “Now this Nuckelavee business is concerning.”

“Indeed it is. Just as we thought that things can’t keep getting worse, we got an invincible Ancient Evil rampaging through the countryside, too.” the unicorn mare giggled joylessly and a bit derangedly, “It seems completely impervious to any weapons, even bombs. Magic seems to have a little effect, but even the best unicorn battlemages didn’t manage to as much as scuff it. Maybe we should try nuking it next…”

“There are two agents of the Equestrian Crown in the Herd right now. Starlight Glimmer and Trixie Lulamoon. I could contact them, they have experience with eldritch world-ending threats after all. Perhaps they could help figure something out.”

The last cultist, seemingly the leader, jerked around and let out a gurgling groan as the heavy bullet of the KVG carbine struck him under the shoulder. A readied combat spell fizzling away on his horn as his cloaked figure fell, lifeless.

“Wow, good job. You’re a crackshot, Molnganger. That really saved our hides.”

“T’is nothing jungfrau Embersong.” the Imerian pegasus said, concealing the pride in his voice. He glanced at his now-comrade-in-arms as the mare slung her own rifle over her side, and walked up to the dead cultist, looking through his robes for something. Finally, she produced a small signet of black iron and obsidian.

“There! We got what we looked for.” the tomboyish red mare exclaimed happily. The leaders of this cult cell carried mysterious signets, each with puzzle-like moving parts and unique inscriptions in some twisted tongue. The Red Guards of the steel factory believed those were key to deciphering coded communications between the cultists, or possibly something more.

“I still have to admit it doesn’t sit well with me to see you putting yourself in such danger jungfrau!” Molnganger said with concern as they started walking back to the factory, “You fight surprisingly well, but t’is just not a lady’s place on the battlefield! You should consider staying behind and…doing calculations?”

Embersong laughed.

“You know, I’d love to sit counting and knitting instead of all this, were I a ‘lady’. Too bad I’m no ‘lady’,” she said.

“Ohhh…sorry, I should have known!” Molnganger suddenly said in an apologetic tone, “It’s just that in his royal highness’ blessed realms, folk like you wear a special sash so one can tell. I’ll keep it in mind going forward!”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Embersong tilted her head, “I mean…I’m not a ‘proper lady’, I’m a working lass, born in dirt and rust. The factory and the workers are my life, and I was forced to defend them. It's not like I had much of a choice."

“Ahh yes, that is what you mean. I guess so, such is the unfortunate consequence of living in a barbarian realm where proper social order is not upheld and so ladies have to fight and men, do mathematics!” Molnganger shook his head sadly.

“I’m glad we picked you up. You really brighten up the day, you know?” Embersong said trying to suppress another laugh, “You’re strange, but a fun kind of strange.”

They returned to the factory, Embersong carefully locking the signet in a safe and turning on a small TV as they settled down to rest for a while in a small meeting room.

"...and Rain Sprinkle here with a direct report from Arborea, as you can see this strange creature known as 'the Nuckelavee' is continuing its rampage through the countryside! So far the state troopers have failed to even hinder it as it seems impervious to weapons, and its breath rusts even metal into disrepair! What shock and horror!" a terrified pegasus mare reporter spoke into a microphone as a jerky unfocused camera pointed towards the gigantic, twisted monster in the distance as it thrashed about with diabolic glee and unleashed blasts of foul breath that corrupted and rotted everything it touched.

"WHAT IN THE GOOD LADY'S NAME IS THAT?!" Molnganger shouted as he pointed his hoof at the screen in shock.

"That's a television." Embersong said plainly.

"Bigods, I know what a television is, I'm not that backwards! I mean the wicked beast! I can tell just looking at it that it's an affront to all that is good and holy!"

"Oh that…well, if you thought things couldn't get any worse, it seems that we now have a giant invincible monster running about too. It's called the Nuckelavee or something. I heard it was locked away a thousand years ago, but I guess the cultists freed it."

"I must fight it!" Molnganger nodded to himself, "Bigods there was never a better time for a proper Scanderan lad to find himself in a a foreign land!"

"Sounds like a good way to, you know, die?"

"Indeed, straight to Gyllenheim and with many a poem written about my heroic sacrifice!" Molnganger agreed in full obliviousness.

"I'll tell you what, let us deal with the cultists around here first, and then I suppose I could let you run off to vanquish the Nuckelavee, oh knight in shining armor," Embersong looked at the pegasus with amusement, but also a hint of respect.

"That sounds like a plan my jungfrau!"
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.

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Posts: 3455
Founded: Jan 21, 2011
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Legokiller » Sat Mar 25, 2023 10:22 pm

Communist Party HQ, Snowdale

The commonly known ‘Snowdale’ was the old town of New Snowdale that was once the home to the revolution in Rubydale. A place where the uprising occurred, and the famed ‘throw the fat cat to the seals’ were done. It was metaphorical, despite what the pinnipeds may say. In one of the lost frozen and ashen old abandoned buildings from a bygone era of a greater populated and industrial fish center was the honorary ‘Commie Igloo’ from the outside. But inside was the Red Cave where a ruby cluster was kept with the bizarre if somewhat ‘bright idea’, for a random narwhal mage to keep the old Ruby Cinderheart the first communist leader within a stasis crystal glass box.

The greatest, if weirdest, the secret of the party. For many, they think Ruby fled the country or died of an unknown circumstance. But there was some truth if missaid, that Hana Redstar knew. As Ruby was in a state of recovery from a vile, if weakened, curse by Cynthia Luvgood after one misplaced trust in the woman who pledged to help the communists to help swing an election. Only to turn back later to ‘eliminate’ her to keep a reputation, and put Ruby in a deep slumber that is tied to the lively state of Cynthia herself. That was the official story Hana collected. But there might be something else about it.

Her mind wasn’t that much into that riddle for the ages at this time. Instead, she paced in the
Conference room to think of the news as of late.

“Oh great… How are we going to spin this as of late…” Hana halted as she looked at her fellow comrade penguin with a red beret. “Comrade Kowalski! I need a report on the matter.”

“Why yes. It appears to be the red tide. Yes, I noted that down. Ahem, regardless, it appears it is going in the favor of the revolution in Sorrelia. At this rate, the capitalist menace may collapse. No pony seems in favor, or what it seems from Shadow’s videos.” Kowalski explained.

“Well that’s great, but it is so violent.” Hana then snorted. “By Brasa’s grace, this is a difficult balance as of now. How are we going to be persuasive of a peaceful revolution now, when all eyes would be on us. Oh, I don’t want a whole red scare in our hands!”

“Hey! That’s stupid.” The red-haired mouse woman in the redder-than-red outfit named Blaze Khaos shouted. “Silverdale is no hippo name country that went so coco that it lost to paranoid, and got nuked for it! It can’t go THAT worse! That’s so not harmony you know, and against any freedoms.”

“Yes, but our goal is to keep our objects to not sell to our fellow comrades that our names will be replaced by numbers,” Hana said. “Hence we’re locked in a no-win scenario. That, and our image is a mess. My fellow elves in space think our ideas are trash, and people are going for stinky anti-democratic reactionary crowns. Ugh, I like Snow and Talva, but a little bit much to get two shut-ins with no real experience as queens on the throne. Now one misstep and it is all over. OVER!” She then crashed into the seat.

“Comrade Hana. We need to refocus.” The fellow blonde hair elven woman with a big ‘Caramel Marks’ face hoodie named Zelda said. “A communist Greater Pony Herd could show the world a new way! Not become the next New Nefreedia, but something brighter.”

“Or not!” Hana said. “We just have to win the argument and get a new media campaign. You know new memes. That and try to keep taps that… or something that the revolution in the Herd isn’t that bad. I mean… everything is at stake.”

“You could also try to rebrand Brasa as Comrade Brasa, breaking the hoard of dragons to give to all,” Kowalski said.

“Oh, sure! I’ll try so no one can call me, or well us, clowns and two-faced weirdos.” Hana said. At this point, she was in a state of panic as Blaze shook her head.

“Sheesh, this won’t make any sense at this rate. Look, let’s make a public statement after we all chill the fuck down and-” Blaze’s mouse ears picked up as a crack of glass came from the other room. “Oh what the hell now? Did someone break another TV already!?”

“How should I-” Hana paused as well.

In the chamber, the fist from the gem woman struck upwards and smashed the glass. Ruby’s eyes snapped wide open as she arose from the hardened flat room as stood up. As I awakened from a long dream of nearly four decades. That ended as a flash and visions of revolution from the past, and future... One more visible, was clear. “MUST. CRUSH. CAPITALISM!”

“OH SHIT!” Blaze gasped. “Ruby has awakened!”

Ruby marched from the chamber as the confused communist party looked at this moment. At this moment the zombified-like state melted away as she gave a stern look at the group. “My comrades… We have work to do!”
Last edited by Legokiller on Sat Mar 25, 2023 10:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Silverdale's Factbook! Poi Poi Poi Resurrected! Silverdale News Thread
<Maven>Legokiller's an original "G" with mirrors and changelings before it was cool <AnimeQuote> Taiga Aisaka is Gandhi.

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Posts: 8931
Founded: Oct 13, 2007
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Urmanian » Sat Apr 01, 2023 3:34 am


Official Communique from the Most Socialist Principality of Sorrelia and Her Realms

From the desk of Her Royal Comradeship Shining Path I, by the grace of historical inevitability the Princess of Sorrelia, Ruler and Unifier of the Ponytariat, Guiding Light of the Revolution, Most Respected Comrade, the Great Helmsmare, Champion and Defender of the Downtrodden, crowned in red Queen of Prance, Archduchess of Przhewald, Kniagina of Konevia, Archoness of Marecia, Celestial Empress of Xiaoma, Shogun of Neighpon, Oba of Pundamillia, Sultana of Buraq, Queen of the Seaponies, Grand Elder of Terradin, Great Burgomeister of Flankfurt-am-Mane, Bearer of the Sickle and Hammer, and Protector and Master of all that the proletariat surveys may her reign last until the world revolution and beyond,

To the jubilant masses of Pony Lands and Mystria,

After much thorough deliberation, the Politburo of the Vermillion Vanguard has deduced that Monarcho-Marksism is the highest and most advanced stage of political thought. As such the Supreme Council has motioned by a vote of 146% to officially appoint and crown me as the Princess of Sorrelia thus transfiguring the country into an absolutist Socialist Principality. Allowing us to finally join the illustrious family of Mystrian monarchies.

My coronation is scheduled to take place next week in the Palace of the Councils in Flankfurt-am-Mane, which will also be converted into my own personal residence and the rest of the city into my fief, to great celebration among the masses. I hereby cordially extend RSVPs to all fellow monarchs and lowly rabble-rousing mayors of Pony Lands, Mystria and beyond to come and pay me the appropriate respects and groveling as I ascend my rightful scarlet throne.

I have also extended an offer to the Absolute Royal Federation and her realms for the arrangement of a marriage between me and Crowned Prince Bjorn, which we'll hope will also take place in the near future and serve to create a powerful bond between our mighty dynasties and realms.

Other popular reforms that are anticipated once my glorious coronation concludes include the foundation of a Proletarian Office of Heraldry, and the implementation of institutions of socialist peerage and serfdom.

The Princess Shining cometh
Behold, behold
A Princess here before us
Behold, behold, behold

The Princess is
The Princess is here!
✮ The Vermillion Republic of Sorrelia ✮
Commie ponies with guns and such. One of the OG MLP nations, funnily enough I don't care for EaW pretty much at all.

This nation represents the voices in my head.


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