Governor: The Shadow Cult of Jocospor
WA Delegate (non-executive): The Shadow Cult of Jocospor (elected )
Founder: The Shadow Cult of Jocospor
Last WA Update:
Embassies: Abydos, The Slide Countries, Raxulan Empire, Vangmar II, Kartakis, Republic of Allied States, The Alliance of Absolute Monarchs, Alesia, Darc Arc Democratic Republic, The Holy Sha Alliance, Dictatorship Countries, Occupied Mars, KAISERREICH, MineKhan Origin Nations, The Embassy, Asesari, and 6 others.Vulture of War, Regionless, Edmundian Empire, Neonian Empire, The Crimson Confederacy, and The United Socialist Federation.
Regional Power: Very High
Today's World Census Report
The Most Devout in Confederation of Corrupt Dictators
World Census Inquisitors conducted rigorous one-on-one interviews probing the depth of citizens' beliefs in order to determine which nations were the most devout.
As a region, Confederation of Corrupt Dictators is ranked 1,848th in the world for Most Devout.
|1.||The Holy Empire of RakBibiStan||Corporate Police State||“There is nothing because there was nothing”|
|2.||The Shrekacratic Ogres Republic of VlaRiSsiA||Psychotic Dictatorship||“Be Glorious Our Free Swampland!”|
|3.||The Southern Republic of The Dixie Confederate Union||Corporate Police State||“May God have Mercy on your Soul”|
|4.||The Holy Land of Slobodovia||Father Knows Best State||“God, Family, Economy”|
|5.||The Reborn Imperial State of Russian States of Eurasia||Psychotic Dictatorship||“One Empire, One People, One Goal”|
|6.||The Multiversal Federal Empire of MineLegotia and Equestria||New York Times Democracy||“Paperwork, paperwork sees all”|
|7.||The Egataristat of Abolished Reality||Psychotic Dictatorship||“Yi kazuox xio, Kanaya!”|
|8.||The Holy Roman Empire of Imperiium||Moralistic Democracy||“Honora, Officium, Fidem.”|
|9.||The Holy Empire of Soran-Kateth||Iron Fist Consumerists||“Universal Saviors”|
|10.||The Kingdom of Neverine||Compulsory Consumerist State||“We Are Lizard People”|
- : The tooth fairy corporation ceased to exist.
- : The Most Serene Republic of Qaoba arrived from Osiris.
- : The Constitutional Monarchy of Makalinia departed this region for United Kingdom.
- : The Constitutional Monarchy of Makalinia arrived from United Kingdom.
- : The People's House of Fuspiac arrived from ITALIA.
- : The Dictatorship of Neo German Empier arrived from Balder.
- : The Federation of Nexen Federation arrived from Balder.
- : Zagaswebe ceased to exist.
- : Travesk ceased to exist.
- : Aijosaian international command centre ceased to exist.
Confederation of Corrupt Dictators Regional Message Board
Messages from regional members are co-ordinated here.
|The Commonwealth of Vostor|
|The Sorta Dictatorial Nation of Talilon|
|The Cursed Burning Legions of Hellslayer|
Inferneum, Hellslayer - May 2020
The toll of a bell rang across the city, slicing through the mundane noises of traffic and crowds that always hung over the city. A death knell. Sitting in his office in the Great Hall, Jax Arcanic glanced over a document briefly, then scrawled a signature and shoved it into the filing cabinet. Taking another sheet from the growing pile on his desk, he tried to focus his mind and read what it was saying, but after scanning it three times, he still hadn’t retained any of the information. His mind kept wandering, rarely sticking to any one subject for long. It kept coming back to the strange occurrences that had kept cropping up: the whispers in the shadows, the unseen eyes staring at him, the phantom that flickered away around each corner whenever he appeared. Exhaustion clung to him like a lead jacket, dulling his mind, making him lethargic and sluggish. He felt old, too old for this. Strange, he had killed old age, perfected his physical form, perfected everybody’s physical form. So why did he feel so strange, so ailing? A scar slashing across his back, a memento from the Confedereichstag in Vocryae, throbbed like an alarm clock, as if it were reminding him, warning him. The shadows crawled across the walls, the whispers grew louder and louder, drowning out the bell, the phantom always danced on the very edge of his vision. His breathing ragged, it took every ounce of Jax’s willpower to ignore it, forcing his attention back to the document at hand. He was simply stressed from all the work running the country. Yes, that was it; he’d head home early, take a break, and refresh his mind. Now, this document, a request for funding to establish a new bridge across the River Leathe to ease traffic. That should be perfectly alright. He stamped his approval, and thrust it into a drawer. Just before he closed the cabinet, he hesitated and reached inside and took out his pistol, turning it over in his hands. It was a beautiful device, such a finely crafted piece of equipment, a perfect destroyer. Shaking his head, he began to set it back, only for a shuddering hand to move of its own accord, thrusting it into his waistband.
Outside, two guards quickly flanked him, and escorted him towards the main exit. He was tired of it all; all these manouverings and machinations, all this politics, he wasn’t made for it. He was just a simple scientist doing his best to guide the world to a better place, and yet everybody kept fighting him, fighting the future at every turn. Oh, they obeyed him when he was watching over them, but the moment his back was turned, he knew that they undermined his authority and resisted his changes. He just wanted to escape, to relax and forget about it all for one night. Yet there is no rest for the wicked, he reflected, as he spotted a young demon running up to him and waving.
As they walked down a narrow, rarely used corridor, Malwin’s jabbering was drowned out to an insignificant buzz by an intense ringing in his ears. The shadows were back, crawling across the walls and ceiling, dimming the few intermittent lights. His scar split open, a white light slashing across his back. Drowning in the shadows, he was desperately trying to hold onto the thoughts that fluttered like butterflies across his mind. Where was he? What was he doing here?
“Hello, Jax. I’ve been waiting for you. I knew you’d come here sooner or later. Do you know, not too far from here is where it all started. Your old laboratory was a mere few hundred metres, where you first entertained your delusions, delusions that today at last come to an end.” Jax was briefly blinded by the stark pillar of light that engulfed him, seeing only the vague shadows coalesce into a figure standing before him. He saw the eyes that pierced his soul, the mouth that whispered his secrets, the hands that gripped his throat, the legs that chased him endlessly. Slowly, vision returned, and the demon before him became clear. General Balthazar Sturm.
After what felt like an eternity, after what felt like no time at all, Jax finally stopped laughing. He wiped his eyes and straightened up, looking at Balthazar with a calm and serene expression. He spoke in a soft and gentle voice, as if nothing had happened.
Balthazar Sturm toppled backwards, confusion painted across his face. In Jax Arcanic’s hand was a small pistol. There was a brief moment of chaos, bullets flying everywhere as the guards opened fire on the demon before them. Jax dived to the side, ducking behind the door as a hail of gunfire tore through the air where he had stood a moment before. He quickly returned fire blindly, quite by chance hitting one of the guards, who slumped over the table he had been using as a barricade. He laughed. He laughed as the bullets flew past him, as the blood splattered on the walls, as the bodies hit the floor. He laughed as he fired his pistol, as he felt the impact of the shots, as he saw the fear in his enemies’ eyes. The shadows were gone, and the world was a whirring technicolour pinwheel. The whispers had become the cheers of the onlooking crowd watching this glorious gladiatorial spectacle. He arched his back with the rapture of the pain stroking his scar. Another guard fell to his gun, and Jax danced and pirouetted in glee. This was what life was all about. The challenge of death, the chance to prove his perfection. A chance to defy the odds, to defy fate, to defy the gods. There was a second gunshot.
Jax Arcanic toppled backwards, confusion painted across his face. In Inspector Malwin’s hand was a small pistol. The gunfire died, empty rounds clattering to the ground. Jax lay on the ground in a pool of his own fluids, writhing. Meanwhile, Balthazar Sturm wheezed as he slowly, painfully got to his feet, limped over to his pistol and picked it up, then turned to Jax. Blood oozed from a wound in his shoulder, staining his crisp uniform red. Jax convulsed on the ground, his body twitching as he tried to force it to do what he wanted. He stretched for his gun, but the ground between him and the weapon stretched into countless miles across arid tundra. The sun was nowhere to be seen, frost creeping over his body, his blood freezing in his veins. It was cold, so icy cold. Through blurred vision, he saw a demon in a general’s uniform approach him over the hills. Blinking rapidly, he could just about make out the face through the fog. Blood bubbled in his throat as he laughed. The demon had Jax’s own face. He was the other demon. The general pressed a gun to Jax Arcanic’s face with an expression approaching pity. He said something, but the words were swept away by an icy gust of wind. There was a third gunshot.
“It may seem strange to some man, that has not well weighed these things; that Nature should thus dissociate, and render men apt to invade, and destroy one another: and he may therefore, not trusting to this Inference, made from the Passions, desire perhaps to have the same confirmed by Experience. Let him therefore consider with himselfe, when taking a journey, he armes himselfe, and seeks to go well accompanied; when going to sleep, he locks his dores; when even in his house he locks his chests; and this when he knows there bee Lawes, and publike Officers, armed, to revenge all injuries shall bee done him; what opinion he has of his fellow subjects, when he rides armed; of his fellow Citizens, when he locks his dores; and of his children, and servants, when he locks his chests. Does he not there as much accuse mankind by his actions, as I do by my words? But neither of us accuse mans nature in it. The Desires, and other Passions of man, are in themselves no Sin. No more are the Actions, that proceed from those Passions, till they know a Law that forbids them; which till Lawes be made they cannot know: nor can any Law be made, till they have agreed upon the Person that shall make it.” - Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan or The Matter, Forme and Power of a Commonwealth Ecclesiasticall and Civil
"And then, the Earth being small, mankind will migrate into space, and will cross the airless Saharas which separate planet from planet and sun from sun. The Earth will become a Holy Land which will be visited by pilgrims from all the quarters of the Universe. Finally, men will master the forces of Nature; they will become themselves architects of systems, manufacturers of worlds." - Winwood Reade, The Martyrdom of Man
Ave Societatem Adscitis!
|The Democratic workers republic of Mayakava|
after a long day of work at the party headquarters, Nikolai and alexei only wanted to have fresh air and some rest, so they went to their animal refuge to take care of all their beloved animals, after sending time with each and every animals there, they were now petting and giving love to all their cats
Nikolai:spending time here with all our beloved animals is my favorite thing Alex
Said Nikolai while petting and playing with the cats, alexei responded doing the same thing as his brother surrounded by cats
Alexei:yes animals will never be disloyal comrades, they are truthful and honest
After a silent mutual agreement, the two brothers were now holding their hands smiling happy to be each other and with the sounds of purrs and meowing echoing around them
Hail the confederation
|The Federation of Nexen Federation|
Register of Ostamend - 3,432, GSD 211
I had always been against conflict. To me, it was a complete waste of time as our - and everyone's - main goal should be to figure out The Origin. We must support the Supercollider in its collation; however, we are fighting wars instead.
I am aboard the NFS Vigilant, an Adjudicator-class battleship. It was the flagship of the Nexen Fourth Fleet and was headed by Supreme Admiral Miles Kirby. The ship was massive: a machine designed for nothing other then the complete and utter destruction of our enemies. It's the only non-defence platform to wield a F-HEAR, which is one of the most powerful weapons ever devised. It is capable of destroying planets. While the ONWP keeps its history and design entirely secret, it is rumoured to run off a black hole. That sounds like speculation to me.
We currently headed into the Zaanari System. It is home to Zaanari A1, a quasar powered by an ultra-massive black hole. Recent discoveries by independent Nexus scientists have suggested there is more to the black hole then we initially believed.
Influx in 5. I will fill you in later.
Hail the Confederation!
|The People's House of Fuspiac|
|The Republic of Hunem|
|The Cursed Burning Legions of Hellslayer|
Garret Avenue, Inferneum, Hellslayer - 18:32, 6 October 2023
The rain drove down in sheets, hammering against the pavement with such force that it was like an anvil being struck with each drop. The incessant noise mingled with shouts and cries of people in the streets, with the smashing of windows, with the crackling of fires.
She still remembered the day her mother was taken away. The loud knock at the door, the voices rising, the shouting, the gunshots. Hiding under the bed, clutching her mother’s necklace, she had desperately prayed, not for her mother, but for herself, that the killers wouldn’t find her, that she’d be spared. Even now, remembering it as an adult, the shame of that moment still burned her like a searing iron to her heart. She had betrayed her mother at the very moment that her mother had offered herself up as a sacrifice to protect her only daughter. No storm, however intense, could wash away the blood staining her hands. The blood that had spread slowly across the cream carpet, turning it crimson. Then there was silence, a deathly still which had hung over the house for days. Onyx hadn’t even moved from under the bed until driven by a gnawing hunger and parching thirst. From there, she had found a few of her mother’s old friends’ numbers in an old notebook, and spent a few coins at the local payphone to get in touch. One by one, she went through the list, and one by one, they had turned her away, a young girl of twelve, out of fear of what might happen to them if they got involved. Finally, it wasn’t a family member, a friend, or even an acquaintance that had helped her. Instead, it had been an old tramp who himself had almost no money who had taken her under his wing as he made his way north to “a land where the streets are paved in gold”. She could still hear old Paiman’s voice.
They had walked for miles, until she was almost unable to move her legs, while Paiman had told her stories; classic Arelli tales, recalling his own childhood, reciting family legends. Once, they managed to stop a lorry and hitch a ride in the back, feasting on the crates of raisins he was transporting. The driver had even pressed a twenty rial note into Paiman’s hand, allowing them to get breakfast at a gas station at the small stopover town where they were dropped off. Nothing tastes quite so good as a proper cooked meal after weeks of scraps. Asking around the other truck drivers in the town, they had found someone who would add them to a batch that he was taking over the border into Hellslayer, for the price of five hundred rial. There was no way they could afford that, no way they could ever afford that, but the driver’s eyes lit up as he spotted the glint of gold under her coat. Her mother’s necklace, with the stone for which she had been named. He’d said that he would strike a deal with them, and that he’d let them join in exchange for the necklace. Paiman had developed a cough, and though he’d tried to hide it, she’d spotted a splash of red wetness on the handkerchief, and so, in a moment of weakness, she’d betrayed her mother again, surrendering her last connection to her in exchange for a ride in a spluttering, ancient lorry. As the man opened the doors to the truck, all she could see in the back was the glint of terrified eyes staring out from sunken faces, as a mother clutched her son to her chest. The boy’s father barely reacted, staring at nothing, cuts and bruises staining his face, as he continued dragging a finger aimlessly over the floor of the container.
That night was hellish.They were locked in a rattling old container, with the only fresh air coming through a tiny crack in the door. But, as the lorry spluttered along, the gap shifted and closed, cutting off the air supply. Within just hours, the temperature began to rise intolerably, the air becoming hot and stuffy. She could hear the other people coughing, gasping, crying, retching. The stale air stank of the sweat, urine, and vomit. She had thought she’d known thirst and hunger, but it was nothing compared to what she experienced inside that truck. Whenever the truck stopped briefly, people had surged forward, fighting to press their face to the tiny crack, trying to suck in air. As dawn broke and the truck began to slow to the final checkpoint, however, nobody moved. Nobody had the strength to. Onyx had managed to crawl forward slowly, painfully, and gasp a few breaths of clean air. A shadow had passed in front of the narrow strip of light and she froze, wondering if it had all been for nothing. Perhaps they would be discovered. But, thankfully, a voice called out, and the figure had retreated, and the lorry continued on for a couple more hours before pulling in.
Onyx had no idea how long she had been in the container, but it felt like an eternity. She had lost all track of time, space, reality. She had drifted in and out of consciousness, between life and death, between hope and despair. There was the sound of moans, gasps, silence. The faces, the eyes, told her that whether they were alive or not right now, they were already dead. As those doors had slid open, she was one of the few who staggered out, blinking bulging eyes against the sudden harsh light. Taking a few unsteady steps, she had fallen to the ground, her already empty stomach trying to expel every meal she had ever eaten, as, at the same time, her lungs had felt like they were imploding, attempting to expel all the stale, filthy air, and draw in gallons of clean air. Some of the other people in the container, nearly half, never made those steps outside. They lay slumped motionless, and had to be dragged out by the smugglers. Among them was Paiman, his face contorted strangely, a strange shade of mauve, his tongue swollen between his teeth, a dribble of blood running from the corner of his mouth. After a brief discussion, the lorry driver rolled the corpses into a nearby ditch, covered them in a gasoline-soaked tarpaulin, and set light to it, before driving off, leaving the survivors, including Onyx, across the border in Hellslayer, just as they’d asked, and with absolutely nothing to their name, nowhere to go.
Somehow, through a combination of good fortune, skill, and petty crime, Onyx had managed to scrounge a living, slowly travelling across the country towards Inferneum, which Paiman had always described to her as a kind of heaven on earth, a land of plenty where anybody could get anything and everything that they could ever possibly want. Finally reaching the city, she finally saw what he meant. It was a forest of polished steel and glass disappearing into the sky, their tops obscured by wispy clouds. The sheer scale of the metropolis, the lights, the noises, was overwhelming, giving her a sense of vertigo. It was all one massive, interconnected system: the buildings acted as a skeleton, the roads as veins, around which a breathing, organic city grew. Yet, in spite of all that they had, she was still pushed away, hidden away, as if the city itself was ashamed of the extra parts, the outliers that didn’t seem to fit into the network anywhere. Whenever you glanced under a bridge, or walked through an underpass, or walked past a park bench, the outliers of society would look back at you. The city did not want these people, did not need them, did not care for them. It tried to hide them, ignore them, or get rid of them. They were the dark side of the city, the side that should never be seen.
This was all somewhere at the back of Onyx’s mind, festering, gnawing at her. Now it all bubbled to the surface, a rising tide that threatened to consume her. Rummaging through her pockets, she found the scored steel ovoid, gripping it tightly. It was heavy, much heavier than she’d anticipated for such a small object. Hefting it, weighing it, weighing the consequences, she turned towards the line of shields and walked forwards slowly, deliberately.
As the fumes finally began to part, she finally saw the true extent of what the grenade had done. The wall of shields was shattered, left bleeding and torn on the cold pavement. In the dim light, the sprays of blood shone black. Corpses, barely recognisable as people, lay strewn about a small crater, while survivors crawled in agony, shrapnel lodged inside of them, limbs torn off. Even those not directly in the blast radius staggered around, disorientated, blood leaking from their ears and nose, partially melted shields sticking to their hands. This… this wasn’t what Onyx had intended. She’d imagined a flash, a bang, and the wall of shields would fall down. It had been so easy, so clinical in her mind. Not this chaotic, hellish mess of burns, wounds, and death. Staring straight at her was one of the officers, both of his legs lying ten metres away in opposite directions. His eyes shone with fear, the fear of a man confronting death. His lips moved, and despite the din around them, she heard him as clearly as if he was speaking straight into her ear.
Garret Avenue, Inferneum, Hellslayer - 18:57, 6 October 2023
Commissioner Malwin clutched his long coat around him, and pulled his hat low against the rain, as he trudged through ankle deep water to where the police had fallen back and established a second border against the mob. He heard the conflict long before he reached the location, screaming and shouting, and the intermittent cracks of gunfire. Rounding a corner, he peered through the sheets of water, just able to make out the shadow of several large trucks and figures ahead. Jogging lightly, he hurried over. The survivors of the police line had been reinforced by units drawn from across Inferneum, with more off-duty officers being called in. Several large military trucks had been requisitioned and parked to provide a more substantial barrier to protect the police from the barrage of rocks, bricks, petrol bombs, and whatever else the rioters had on hand. Some of the crowd seemed to have more capable weapons as well; pistols, grenades, rifles, and shotguns had all claimed police lives that night. Most of the wounded had been recovered and brought behind the barricade, but many bodies still lay out there in the rain, trampled by the enraged horde. As Malwin walked up, his deputy, Yael, spotted him and strode over.
Ducking out of the rain into one of the police cars, he cleared his throat and spoke into the megaphone.
The trucks rolled aside, and through the fumes, a faint red glow shone. One by one, pinpricks of ruby light appeared, dozens of blood-red stars piercing through the smoke and darkness. Then, looming shadows marched forward out of the vapour, an inkier black than the night surrounding them, the only spark of light coming from the red flash of their eyes. Their helmets masked their faces, locking away their humanity, leaving behind only the hound of war, the war machine. The hulking form of their armour towered over the dissidents, the obstacles that needed to be removed. Shifting backwards in fear, the entire crowd wavered as the titans slowly marched forward. Special Operations 001, often abbreviated to SO001 and nicknamed ‘the Iron Battalion’, was a heavily armoured, heavily armed division of the police force that Commissioner Malwin had founded with the intent of providing Inferneum a force suitable for putting down any rebellion or terrorist activity with relative ease. In spite of their extensive training and testing, they had not yet seen active service. Tonight would be their debut, the night that they would prove their worth, prove the purity of the iron from which they were forged. Screams of rage and terror came from the mob as the full will of the law was brought down upon them, at last stripping away any pretence of humanity, of compassion, revealing the cold, harsh steel at its core. Howling maniacally, desperately, they unleashed a barrage of fire and bullets and stones into the approaching goliaths, but it appeared that nothing fazed them, nothing slowed their relentless advance. A petrol bomb shattered against the steel armour, coating one of the mechanical beasts in burning oil, yet was met by the same indifference, the glaring red light of their eyes never blinking, never wavering. Bullets ricocheted off of the metal shells, sparking as they dropped uselessly to the ground. The great leviathan of the law could not be slain by mere bullets, or, indeed, by any material weapons. It was the judge, the jury, and the executioner, the ultimate embodiment of order. The attacks were like dust on its skin, like rain on its scales, like whispers in its ears. They had no effect, no impact, no consequence. The leviathan barely noticed them, barely cared about them, barely acknowledged them. It continued its rampage, devouring everything in its path as the Iron Battalion returned fire, a swarm of locusts descending over the masses before them, stripping them of flesh and life. They did not aim; there was no need to, the people were everywhere before them, then nowhere. The tarmac was blanketed in velvety liquid, glistening darkly under the red glow of the behemoths’ eyes. The few stragglers who had not been killed or fled were rounded up and taken in for questioning and, ultimately, to face trial. Among them was a young Arelli woman, who had been found kneeling beside the corpse of a dismembered police officer, barely reacting as the officers had hauled her away.
Stelvio Park Police Station, Inferneum, Hellslayer - 06:20, 7 October 2023
Onyx awoke to a knock on her cell door. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but at some point, the exhaustion had overcome her and she had dropped off. Blinking rapidly to clear her eyes, she squinted at the square of harsh light streaming into the dim room. A uniformed demon entered.
“Good morning, Miss Katib. I’m Inspector Aginor. I’ll be asking you a few questions today, understood?” She nodded mutely.
Aginor’s face dropped at this, becoming grim and grey. Calling to the guards outside, they sauntered over, unchained her from the table, and seized her by the hair, arms, legs, whatever they could get their hands on, hauling her out of the room and further through the maze of passageways and down some steps, even further underground. They threw her to the ground in another room, where the darkness and dampness of the previous room had increased tenfold, become stifling. She glanced around, but before her eyes were able to adjust to the murkiness, a hood, a crude piece of sacking, was pulled over her face and drawn tight around her neck. She felt herself picked up, and tensed, expecting any moment to feel the ground rushing up towards her as she fell, to feel her bones crunching. Instead, she felt herself being laid down at a slight incline, strapped down to some kind of board. Somewhere in the background, she heard a tap turn on, water gurgling in a bucket.
Later, Commissioner Malwin flicked through the documents Inspector Aginor had brought him. There was some impressive stuff here for such a short time: well-edited photos, some falsified financial records, and of course, the piece de resistance, the audio clip. The confession was the cherry on top, tying it all together. Frowning at the transcript, he jotted down a note about these golden handprints - they might warrant further investigation. Still, the Grand Architect ought to be pleased with this; he could at last justify more… direct intervention in the Ridnez situation, ensuring that Project Nyx, and the Nyx keys, were in safe hands, hands sympathetic to their cause. The fact that they had had to give up their key to the project at all, in exchange for Ridnezite recognition of Balthazar Sturm as the legitimate leader of the country, had been mildly embarrassing. Losing it altogether was a level of humiliation multitudes worse. It was time that they took it back. A myriad of tentacles stretched out across Hellslayer, across Usea, across Avaris, casting a great shadow, a leviathan ready to swallow the world whole.
"The sin-eater is a paradox, a contradiction, a mystery. He is a man who is both sinner and saint, both damned and saved, both human and divine. He is a man who is both feared and revered, both hated and loved, both shunned and sought. He is a man who is both the cause and the cure, both the poison and the antidote, both the disease and the remedy. He is a man who is both the end and the beginning, both the death and the life, both the darkness and the light. He is a man who is both the sin-eater and the sin-eaten." - Melinda Salisbury, The Sin-Eater's Daughter
Ave Societatem Adscitis!
|The Democratic workers republic of Mayakava|
in their offices while dealing with the usual
nikolai:we have the best view Alex
still sharing a smile for the only time in the
Nikolai:a nice cup of hot tea to begin a day of work , how nice
After a silent agreement with a smile, and cheers for their parents they looked at the sky drinking their tea
|The Multiversal Federal Empire of MineLegotia and Equestria|
“This is the only plan we have and I’m stickin’ to it,” Extruder Assemblage remarked, his hoof traced on the map. The map had the stained colour of yellow to it, its age was obvious to anyone observing it. Old did not even begin to describe it from the way the colour and the crumbled and dying texture stayed around for those still around like it to observe.
Praktino did not like the plan one bit, he may have been new to this whole, private security business, but even if he didn’t graduate from some fancy officer school, his gut told him this was a bad idea.
The zebra glanced up at his earth pony compatriot. Contrasting to his short moustache and burly mane, Cashew was a more tidy pony.
He smelled like rot, Praktino supposed that was a bit unfaired to rotting corpses, considering that Cashew wafted of oil and tobacco. The smell of rot came from somewhere, but for the last decade or so, he’d never been able to figure out where exactly.
Contrasting to his smell, was that winning smile and his award winning mane. Praktino never knew that there was a mane contest in the Strand, but after seeing his friend’s smug smirk on it, he knew then.
Cashew Shell made a sigh as he looked back down at the plan. The earth pony was more lean than him. His hooves and legs were more lanky, and gave him the appearance of a little skeleton that would’ve made no chaos in a costume shop. The stallion leant over and glanced up at the only pegasus in the room.
Compared to the two, Extruder smelt like old decaying paper and looked like the opposite. A bit more hypochondriac than the two, and tidier considering the pack of tissue he brought and placed next to the map.
“This is still a seemingly dangerous expedition,” Cashew remarked as he gestured at the map. The map, despite its ageing and most likely ancient exterior, depicted something that could’ve been described as modern or even contemporary. A map of a city.
Extruder shook his head, “I understand that, but you have to understand why so! This is a one in a time opportunity for us to head down to the undercity and rediscover Ancient Canterlot! The fact they’re even trying to fix the broken pipes means that the water lines would be actually traversable for the first time in a millennium!”
Cashew bit his lip at the remark, his eyes glancing over to his partner. Praktino hated his friend when he did that, and he could feel Extruder’s eyes following soon after on him.
“It is still dangerous,” He pointed out slowly, “If so, your payment would be insufficient unless you raise it by another twenty percent.”
He could hear Extruder draw in his breath. Praktino wouldn’t admit directly to their potential client here, but the thought of ancient Canterlot was an illusive place to visit if he could. The source of stories, fairy tales, horror fics, and more. The ancient city of what remained of Canterlot after it slid down the mountain after the Great War. The city of the Deceiver and the Fool. The city of the damned.
The city of old riches created by them, in an attempt to survive past the war.
Extruder bit his lip as he looked down at the map, perhaps considering the same thing that Praktino was considering as well. There was a city of wealth, perhaps even undiscovered technology from before the dark ages that beset the worlds after the war.
“Twenty percent… in the event we don’t get to the city,” Extruder started, “If we do, AND, recover technology. You get the rights to the patents for recovering them.”
Praktino’s eyebrows could not have been higher in the air at that statement.
“Bullshit,” Cashew remarked, leaning forward as a hoof pointed at the map, “How can we be sure that half a million is worth whatever ancient artefact you find down there?”
“You, you just have to trust me,” Extruder remarked, his head tilting forward to meet against Cashew’s jade eyes, “No one else is known best for anti-mechanoid security actions than your company, and there’s no way we can ask for a military escort. So please. Please consider it at the very least… this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”
“Yes, but we’ve also to consider that we’d be putting our lives on the line,” Cashew answered back, “Isn’t that right, Praktino?”
Praktino bit his tongue, before his tongue retracted back as he spoke, “Yes… I say, mister Extruder. Give us some time to think about this new offer, and we’ll have an answer for you, tomorrow.”
It said that the eyes were the windows of the soul, and the way that the pegasus’ eyes glowed with excitement made Praktino wonder if he was actually a government agent.
“Thank you! I, I, can’t express-”
Cashew nodded and waved a hoof, “Yes, yes, please, calm your excitement mister Extruder.”
The pegasus grinned at the two, another few more dozen or so thank you as Cashew quickly shooed him out of their small meeting room, taking the old map along with him in his hooves. Praktino chuckled as Cashew got a bit of a sigh out as he turned around looking at him.
“Excitable folk isn’t he?” Praktino said, glancing over at him, a hoof of his moving down to his pocket as he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. The smell of Octavian Tobacco, with its distinctive pungent aura was one that Praktino craved as the cigarette lighted.
Cashew nodded as he trotted over to take the once occupied seat by their guest, “Consider then, twenty percent. Happy with that or would you rather the archeaotechnology?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” The cigarette twirled in Praktino’s hoof, “Both really. Lest of course the archeaotech has something that puts our business through the roof.”
“Ancient Gauss Weaponry would be my guess,” Cashew chuckled, getting an eye roll from Praktino.
“You still believe alicorns in bunkers could develop Gauss weaponry?” Praktino chided with a puff of smoke and a roll of his emerald eyes .
Cashew waved against the cigarette smoke with a hoof, chuckling, “Perhaps. You still gotta remember, they’re alicorns!”
“Deceivers, remember that too,” Praktino stated, leaning back into the chair. The history of the alicorns… was a fraught one in the mind of the modern pony, distaste in their thoughts, compared to the more newly introduced nations into the ever compassing mass that was the Multiversal Union of Equestrian States.
Cashew shrugged, “Never understood that, but still. What’s your opinion on this. Worth it or not?”
“Definitely worth it, fiscally. Morally? That’s where I’m worried,” Praktino’s hoof kept on the cigarette for a moment longer, pulling it out as he bit his lip and looked down at the now empty table. Cursing to himself that he should’ve asked for a copy. He looked up at Cashew, “Won’t look good in the press if we fail to overcome whatever hell is down there.”
Cashew nodded, pondering up to the ceiling, “It’s still good business however. Anything we loot, would be great for us to earn. We can earn several hundred times over our initial investment.”
“Yes, because we can only lose a hundred of our initial investment,” Praktino snided as he smothered his cigarette on the table, “Regardless, I’m going to go pick Yomi from school.”
“Ah, Yomi!” Cashew clasped his hooves together as Praktino stood up, “Say hi to him for me alright? Oh! And tell him that Listik won’t be around for the morning game. She’s still grounded for stealing a sip of my kombucha!”
Praktino rolled his eyes at that, “I’ve told you, hide your kombucha! You’re raising a unicorn! They’re sneaky little ones.”
Cashew merely laughed as Praktino picked up his trilby from the coat hanger in the room, a well fit on the zebra’s hat as he trotted out.
Curry was a unique type of food, Praktino knew. It felt nice all the way down to his stomach. It felt great the way its warmth stayed around in his taste buds and down into his body.
The sound of laughter, was a warm one as he smiled at the white coloured unicorn that he called his son. Mixed with a mane that dressed itself cyan blue, a soft colour for snow on a nice clear day. Yomi was a precious little son of his.
To the opposite of him, was the love of his life. Supposedly, that should be clear from the way he looked at her. Leaning on his hooves that based against the table. Bolt Cream was a simple beige coloured mare, her coat a soft yellow like the dunes of the deserts. And her mane? Whiter than her teeth!
“And, and then, I kicked da ball!” Yomi Line was a small unicorn, despite his line of work, Praktino was just glad that he had something so precious within his life, “I missed the goal-but all my friends were glad! We got close to beating the fifth graders!”
Praktino chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his son’s mane which came with a joyful glee, “Soon, you’ll get a goal in, Yomi,”
“I know I will!” Yomi grinned, a bright long smile on his face as he looked up at Praktino, “Will you be there at the soccer match?”
His smile faltered, and Yomi’s own faltered watching it, “You have work?”
“Yeah…” Praktino could at least muster up a grin, “A big job… plus, you know its been a while since I had to go on a mission…”
“Aw…” Yomi whined, frowning, “Will you be at the next one at least?”
“Its at the end of the month,” Bolt spoke up, providing a soft smile at him. It was a warming one, “By then you can come back on a small trip right and spend a day?”
Praktino didn’t want to lie that the job was his passion, he nodded so, “Of course. It’d only take two weeks for us to secure a way down. Then, once things are swinging, I’ll be back out to see your soccer match,”
He looked down at Yomi and patted the unicorn colt again, “And from this, you can surprise me with how good you are now at soccer aren’t you!”
“Yes!” Yomi cheered as Praktino laughed.
Bolt chuckled along seeing the son and father, “Right, Yomi, you still have homework don’t you?”
“Aw, aw yes!” Yomi’ face looked scrunched up, “I’ll go do it! Then I want to play!”
Bolt gave another nod of confirmation before the colt ran off to the stairs up to his room, leaving behind the smell of the now cooling remains of the curry, and a bit more.
“So… where are you heading to?” Bolt grinned as she began moving to pick up the plates, standing up to do so as Praktino picked up his own plates to drop into the sink.
He bit his lip as he dumped the little bits of food onto the plate, and looked at her, “Ancient Canterlot.”
She sucked in her breath through her teeth, “By Lipas, you know that’s unholy.’
Lipas. The closest thing to gods rather than the deceiving demons were the antediluvian alicorns. Praktino nodded as he bit his lip, “Yeah, but the pay’s decent.”
Bolt still gave him an unsure look at him as her toned hooves moved the rest of the disks into the sink, “Is it worth it?”
Praktino slowly, perhaps more accurately, carefully answered, “Yes. Its a decent payout for the company, and us. Definitely worth a lot…”
He placed a hoof on her withers, Bolt raised an eyebrow as he gave an uneasy grin, “Plus, definitely enough for us to get a better house. Like that beach side property you wished for right?”
Bolt sighed as Praktino tried to apply some more massage-based convincing, “As long as you come home, anything is worth it… Just…”
She looked at him with tired jade eyes, “We’ve had this conversation, like, every time you were about to leave for a trip. Just come home. I don’t want Yomi to be raised without a dad like me.”
Praktino nodded solemnly, “I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll leave. They don’t call me, Masti, for nothing.”
I'm back. And I'm a writing. Consider this a soft reboot of my plotlines. The characters from before will be back, but tweaked as per my experience over this year writing with other people off NationStates
Hail the Confederation!