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LodgedFromMessages
The People's Republic of Democratic People Republic of NorthKorea

Nova-gallia wrote:wouldn't that be a shame if I intervired ?

No, it's not shame. This is just a network game plan. It's not true. I do it for fun.

The Interuniversal Civilization of Aivintis

Brethren wrote:No need to wrap it up just yet. Thanks for clarifying.

". . . so what happens to them when you, er, burn out?"
"Well, some tea would be lovely." Mother Charity glances over at Snow. "Anything for you, dear?"

Could I have a few oranges?
Askhal is welcomed at the airport by a shining white dragon, a bearded man in bright red robes, and a teenage girl -- that is to say, Her Holiness the Archdolphop Snow Warslayer, her brother Apple, and her daughter Alice. They're standing a respectful distance away from the airplane, but still clearly visible due to Snow's size.

My theory is that they adapt to their independence and become strong through their unity. In the end there might be dozens of independent entities, but they began as thousands. It is also likely they summon a new deity to take my place. The worst case scenario is that the demons take hold of it. Paradise will be jettisoned from my universe as a precaution, and the last of my supreme power will be used in closing off my home universe for good. I have predicted the extinction of all my pureblood sons, and one of my demigod sons, and I also expect the same fate for nearly the entire Order of Scy-Re and a good chunk of the Order of Ameno in the Last War. Beyond that, my vision is cloudy. But these things will happen, of that I am certain. There is no avoiding it. It's worth the impact I've already made.

The Interuniversal Civilization of Aivintis

Restoration of Eastern Kaiserreich wrote:Hi I'm back. I'm not Aivintis.

Sucks to be you then

The Paradise of Grey Haven of Tauraucania

Person 1: Apple is designing a new car.

Person 2: When will it launch?

Person 1: I don't know. They're having trouble installing the Windows.

The Winter Imperium of Of Centralist Brexit

Grey Haven of Tauraucania wrote:Person 1: Apple is designing a new car.

Person 2: When will it launch?

Person 1: I don't know. They're having trouble installing the Windows.

<loads AA-12>
body facing the wall, right now

The Paradise of Grey Haven of Tauraucania

Of Centralist Brexit wrote:<loads AA-12>
body facing the wall, right now

You: *pulls me over* Papers.

Me: Scissors. I win.

Also me: *drives off*

You: *confused confusing confusion*

The Winter Imperium of Of Centralist Brexit

Grey Haven of Tauraucania wrote:You: *pulls me over* Papers.

Me: Scissors. I win.

Also me: *drives off*

You: *confused confusing confusion*

nation=of_centralist_brexit/detail=factbook/id=1435467

The Interuniversal Civilization of Aivintis

Grey Haven of Tauraucania wrote:You: *pulls me over* Papers.

Me: Scissors. I win.

Also me: *drives off*

You: *confused confusing confusion*

Really wishing I still had the power to ban people rn

Azachland

Kavanos wrote:>->
Hi Tsul

Hello, boy. Here to laugh at my shame?

Shavara wrote:Pakitsk has liked this.

To pour salt on the wound.

Pakitsk and Shavara

The Interuniversal Civilization of Aivintis

Virgolia

Hi. What does the Chief Officer of Justice actually do? I think they are the prosecuting side of Conclave trials, but apart from that do they have any duties?

Great algerstonia

Aivintis wrote:Virgolia

Hi. What does the Chief Officer of Justice actually do? I think they are the prosecuting side of Conclave trials, but apart from that do they have any duties?

tehee he said doody

The Something of Virgolia

Aivintis wrote:Virgolia

Hi. What does the Chief Officer of Justice actually do? I think they are the prosecuting side of Conclave trials, but apart from that do they have any duties?

II. Responsibilities of the Chief Officer of Justice

...2.1. The Office of the Chief Officer of Justice shall, independently of the executive and legislative authorities of the East Pacific :
(a) investigate and prosecute any criminal act or offense under the law of the East Pacific;
(b) represent the general interest of the Citizens of the region of the East Pacific in all proceedings brought before the Conclave;
(c) take any initiative before the Conclave, including judicial review and proceedings for advisory opinions, to safeguard and enhance the coherency and quality of the law of the East Pacific.
...2.2. Nothing in this Act precludes or prevents the initiation of any proceedings before the Conclave by the Delegate or any Resident or Citizen of the region of the East Pacific.

esentially I do the same thing anyone else can do but it's my duty, the job usually is so useless the positions was going to be abolished but wasn't just in case, most of the time I don't do anything

I do have something to do, though, and when RL allows I'll do it.

The Great Congregation of Brethren

Aivintis wrote:My theory is that they adapt to their independence and become strong through their unity. In the end there might be dozens of independent entities, but they began as thousands. It is also likely they summon a new deity to take my place. The worst case scenario is that the demons take hold of it. Paradise will be jettisoned from my universe as a precaution, and the last of my supreme power will be used in closing off my home universe for good. I have predicted the extinction of all my pureblood sons, and one of my demigod sons, and I also expect the same fate for nearly the entire Order of Scy-Re and a good chunk of the Order of Ameno in the Last War. Beyond that, my vision is cloudy. But these things will happen, of that I am certain. There is no avoiding it. It's worth the impact I've already made.

Zerachiel frowns. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but: putting all the demons in jars, moving them to a temporary storage world, and -- at the end of your reign -- completely annihilating that world with all its contents . . . wouldn't that let you avoid the war?"

The Welfarist Wardenate of Pakitsk

Pakitsk wrote:

The spirits drag Vórgetsk forward, slightly hunched and furtive in contrast to his own proud bearing and professional march. The one in front has a head on a swivel, glancing another direction every couple of seconds as though every noise in the woods attracts his attention. Vórgetsk takes the opportunity to examine the clothing of his captors.

Apart from the antlered skulls they have for heads, the spirits have a basic tunic from the base of the neck to their waist. A wide cloth protrudes some way below the main tunic both in front and behind, but below the thigh they wear nothing apart from wood-carved pads below the knee. No shoes of any kind cover their feet, which appear tough from years upon years of forest life.

Over the tunic in front and back is a sort of apron, made from many short strips of wood laid across the body and glued together with what appears to be resin. Nothing covers the spirits' arms, the skin of which is somewhat paler than Vórgetsk's, or indeed any other person he's seen, although not quite so ghostly as Pōbret the Bloodlord's skin. The one in front wears several wooden bracelets around his wrists, but neither of the others has anything of the sort. At this point, Vórgetsk's train of thought is interrupted by the sight of huts through the trees.

Not only that; as the trio of spirits drag him further onward, a woman, of similar appearance but with long flowing hair on her uncovered head, steps forwards toward them. A hushed discussion between the woman and the lead spirit, largely unintelligible to Vórgetsk, results in the latter moving behind the Captain and the woman leading the group onward into the circle of huts. Inside, several other people stare in shock at the captive Vórgetsk, who responds likewise. What? A whole village of people in the deadly hill forest, and on good relations with the earth spirits at that? His head is racing with questions and more than one panicked prayer.

After some more walking , the group comes to a long firepit with a carven stool at the end of it. Vórgetsk is forcibly set down upon it, and it takes a few seconds for his astounded mind to process that fact that he is no longer being held. Men and women crowd around him, staying a good distance away but edging ever closer. The three spirits who captured him stand before him, then do something Vórgetsk doesn't expect in the slightest.

They take off the antlered skulls, revealing a full head of flowing brown hair beneath the macabre headwear. These are no supernatural spirits, no primal force sent to make the early Pakotskì cower in fear before they were saved by Ãdàmrìtsk. These are human beings.

Brethren I believe I owe you a Hillman's War post? :) Short because I was building up to this, the next one will be somewhat longer.

Unchained and yet unable to move, Captain Vórgetsk sits on a stool in the middle of a village deep in the woods, a village that, by all rights, should not exist. The woods are full of dangerous spirits, cruel beings that would just as soon stick a man full of arrows as look at him... That was what the priests had said, the story he and his peers had heard for their entire lives. Even the nomads are afraid to camp near the hills for fear that the spirits of the earth will come and attack their camp, slaughtering the unsuspecting Pakotski in their sleep. And yet, here is a village of men, and women, and children. No defensive wall surrounds the village, no ditch and stakes prevent attack. Just huts under the trees, entirely out of place in the most dangerous place imaginable.

Vórgetsk stares faintly ahead, past the man who led the group that captured him, into nothing. Is he being tricked somehow? No, that's impossible. The pain in his legs from the walking is too real. What will the priests say? The spirits aren't an especially important part of the Steppe-Lord's worship, but he might end up being accused of heresy anyway, and be left on the steppe soil with a hole in his head. Assuming, of course, he can even get back to the army. He wonders how the army is doing now in the war before being interrupted by the sight of a man pointing in his direction. Before he can snap at the savage in his irritation at the interruption, the pointer speaks in a loud and clear voice. "Wadamir?" Vórgetsk shakes his head in disbelief. Did the savage just...? Before he can finish the thought, his questioner speaks again. "Wadamir, Povred?"

That's official. The savage just said "Ãdàmrìtsk," even with a heavy accent. The other word sounded more like the name of the bloodlord who captured him, Pōbret. That sounded like an either/or question, and goodness knows he's not fond of Pōbret. "Ãdàmrìtsk, no Pōbret. Uh, Wadamir." He nods firmly and watches his opposite's reaction. The man in question turns to his peers and discusses with them hurriedly, the names Wadamir and Povred coming up frequently. With no end to this in sight, Vórgetsk realizes he can stand and promptly does, leading all of the villagers to duck away from him. More than one man takes up a bronze-tipped spear, but none of them appears to be ready for a fight. The group discussing Vórgetsk's answer turns back to him, and the man who had pointed to him speaks again, this time in a very slow version of the language he had been speaking. To his surprise, Vórgetsk finds that he can, with effort, understand the occasional word. "You Wadamir? No Povred? Shine. See Wadamir village. Edge of land."

Okay, evidently this language isn't quite the same as his. By "Wadamir village," the savage probably meant the army camp, since there are no steppe-cities or nomad camps anywhere around here. Evidently the word which, in regular Pakatska, would be "land" is closer in meaning to "hills" in their own dialect, which makes sense. The barbarians have never been outside the hills. Shine? This one takes a little more thought, but as he looks around, Vórgetsk can see that only the tallest and strongest-looking villagers wear anything other than wood and leather, proudly carrying polished bronze bracelets rather than the usual wooden ones on their arms. Maybe "shine" is their equivalent of "good," or "impressive." How should he know? He's no scholar. Whatever. On the other hand... What had the savage meant by "Povred?" Vórgetsk had seen two of these villagers working with the heretics, and it's likely that they weren't the only ones.

Vórgetsk's thoughts are interrupted by a cry as a small band of men, wearing their skull helmets, come into the village from what is presumably a hunting expedition. No game is slung over their shoulders, no deer is being dragged behind them, ready to butcher and cook. Instead, the three hunters carry between them the body of one of their countrymen, pale and barely breathing in ragged bursts. The questioner gestures for Vórgetsk to follow him to join the hunters. "Go, Wadamir-man. Help." Vórgetsk obliges, taking in the situation as one of the medics had taught him and going through the process out loud. "First, check for bleeding." Investigating the man's body, he finds three areas of bleeding: one at each knee, caused by a gunshot, and one at the neck. He tears part of his rags and presses the piece of fabric against the neck wound, a large gash evidently made by a blade of some kind. "Use pressure to stop the bleeding. Keep open wounds above the heart." He guides an onlooker's hand onto the rag and exerts pressure, making sure the involuntary nurse understands before moving on to the legs. He grabs a nearby stool and places the victim's legs on it, so that the knees are much higher than the rest of the body, and tears off another two pieces of his prisoner garb to serve as bandages. Conscripting two more bystanders to keep pressure on the wounds, Vórgetsk checks to see if there are any more injuries. None visible. He stands and turns to the hunters, hoping that they'll be able to understand his speech.

"What happened?" He points to the wounded man, to each bleed site, and back to the man in general. "How was he hurt? What attacked him?" The hunters throw each other a few glances before their leader takes off his helmet and speaks in a slow, deliberate manner. "We no see. Hear crack, run fast, find friend. Spirit run faster." "Damn. Obviously not an animal, and can't be one of you, so-- wait, did you say spirit?" "Spirit run. Red cloth." Vórgetsk stands shocked. Firstly, these people also tell stories of spirits in the woods? But more importantly, that would be Pōbret, the bloodlord of the heretic rebellion, that they saw! "That is Pōbret, the heretic, no spirit! He is a bloodlord, an evil abomination that steals the blood of good men!" The villagers look confused and scratch their heads. Vórgetsk realizes he needs to slow down and use simpler words. "That was the man you call Povred. He drinks blood." He points to the deep red stains on the pieces of his rags and make a motion of drinking. His audience looks disgusted, and many of the men begin muttering to themselves and their friends.

Vórgetsk points back to the wounded man, now breathing smoother and a little bit stronger. "He needs rest, sleep. He will not be able to hunt or fight." He gestures sleep with his hands and head before, confident that his audience understands, speaking once more. "You have warriors? Fighters, strong men? We will need to kill Povred so that your village can be safe." After a couple repetitions, each slower and more methodical than the last, the hunters and villagers begin nodding and voicing something that sounds vaguely like assent. A tall villager takes Vórgetsk by the shoulder. "We hunt, kill blood beast. You help. Come." Vórgetsk and several men enter a hut, closing the entrance flap to the sound of a recovering man's weak speech.

OOC: If you want, I can elaborate a bit on what I've decided the villagers of the woods are right now, but in either case I'm considering an RP later on that dives into that more.

Shavara and Brethren

The Something of Virgolia

Virgolia is ranked 10,674th in the world and 766th in The East Pacific for Most Authoritarian, with 4,043.19 milliStalins.

The Biohazardous Detective of Euricanis

Azachland wrote:Oh yeah, be that way! Just forget about me; leave me to rot in the pits of irrelevancy! But I will not have it! Tsul will always be the best! ALWAYS!!!

you’re like the 4th immortal figure that would come to my mind

Pakitsk, Azachland, and Peatiktist

The Constitutional Dictatorship of Peatiktist

Azachland wrote:Oh yeah, be that way! Just forget about me; leave me to rot in the pits of irrelevancy! But I will not have it! Tsul will always be the best! ALWAYS!!!

That would require you to have actually been the best at some point in time.

Euricanis, Azachland, and Brethren

The Great Congregation of Brethren

Pakitsk wrote:

Unchained and yet unable to move, Captain Vórgetsk sits on a stool in the middle of a village deep in the woods, a village that, by all rights, should not exist. The woods are full of dangerous spirits, cruel beings that would just as soon stick a man full of arrows as look at him... That was what the priests had said, the story he and his peers had heard for their entire lives. Even the nomads are afraid to camp near the hills for fear that the spirits of the earth will come and attack their camp, slaughtering the unsuspecting Pakotski in their sleep. And yet, here is a village of men, and women, and children. No defensive wall surrounds the village, no ditch and stakes prevent attack. Just huts under the trees, entirely out of place in the most dangerous place imaginable.

Vórgetsk stares faintly ahead, past the man who led the group that captured him, into nothing. Is he being tricked somehow? No, that's impossible. The pain in his legs from the walking is too real. What will the priests say? The spirits aren't an especially important part of the Steppe-Lord's worship, but he might end up being accused of heresy anyway, and be left on the steppe soil with a hole in his head. Assuming, of course, he can even get back to the army. He wonders how the army is doing now in the war before being interrupted by the sight of a man pointing in his direction. Before he can snap at the savage in his irritation at the interruption, the pointer speaks in a loud and clear voice. "Wadamir?" Vórgetsk shakes his head in disbelief. Did the savage just...? Before he can finish the thought, his questioner speaks again. "Wadamir, Povred?"

That's official. The savage just said "Ãdàmrìtsk," even with a heavy accent. The other word sounded more like the name of the bloodlord who captured him, Pōbret. That sounded like an either/or question, and goodness knows he's not fond of Pōbret. "Ãdàmrìtsk, no Pōbret. Uh, Wadamir." He nods firmly and watches his opposite's reaction. The man in question turns to his peers and discusses with them hurriedly, the names Wadamir and Povred coming up frequently. With no end to this in sight, Vórgetsk realizes he can stand and promptly does, leading all of the villagers to duck away from him. More than one man takes up a bronze-tipped spear, but none of them appears to be ready for a fight. The group discussing Vórgetsk's answer turns back to him, and the man who had pointed to him speaks again, this time in a very slow version of the language he had been speaking. To his surprise, Vórgetsk finds that he can, with effort, understand the occasional word. "You Wadamir? No Povred? Shine. See Wadamir village. Edge of land."

Okay, evidently this language isn't quite the same as his. By "Wadamir village," the savage probably meant the army camp, since there are no steppe-cities or nomad camps anywhere around here. Evidently the word which, in regular Pakatska, would be "land" is closer in meaning to "hills" in their own dialect, which makes sense. The barbarians have never been outside the hills. Shine? This one takes a little more thought, but as he looks around, Vórgetsk can see that only the tallest and strongest-looking villagers wear anything other than wood and leather, proudly carrying polished bronze bracelets rather than the usual wooden ones on their arms. Maybe "shine" is their equivalent of "good," or "impressive." How should he know? He's no scholar. Whatever. On the other hand... What had the savage meant by "Povred?" Vórgetsk had seen two of these villagers working with the heretics, and it's likely that they weren't the only ones.

Vórgetsk's thoughts are interrupted by a cry as a small band of men, wearing their skull helmets, come into the village from what is presumably a hunting expedition. No game is slung over their shoulders, no deer is being dragged behind them, ready to butcher and cook. Instead, the three hunters carry between them the body of one of their countrymen, pale and barely breathing in ragged bursts. The questioner gestures for Vórgetsk to follow him to join the hunters. "Go, Wadamir-man. Help." Vórgetsk obliges, taking in the situation as one of the medics had taught him and going through the process out loud. "First, check for bleeding." Investigating the man's body, he finds three areas of bleeding: one at each knee, caused by a gunshot, and one at the neck. He tears part of his rags and presses the piece of fabric against the neck wound, a large gash evidently made by a blade of some kind. "Use pressure to stop the bleeding. Keep open wounds above the heart." He guides an onlooker's hand onto the rag and exerts pressure, making sure the involuntary nurse understands before moving on to the legs. He grabs a nearby stool and places the victim's legs on it, so that the knees are much higher than the rest of the body, and tears off another two pieces of his prisoner garb to serve as bandages. Conscripting two more bystanders to keep pressure on the wounds, Vórgetsk checks to see if there are any more injuries. None visible. He stands and turns to the hunters, hoping that they'll be able to understand his speech.

"What happened?" He points to the wounded man, to each bleed site, and back to the man in general. "How was he hurt? What attacked him?" The hunters throw each other a few glances before their leader takes off his helmet and speaks in a slow, deliberate manner. "We no see. Hear crack, run fast, find friend. Spirit run faster." "Damn. Obviously not an animal, and can't be one of you, so-- wait, did you say spirit?" "Spirit run. Red cloth." Vórgetsk stands shocked. Firstly, these people also tell stories of spirits in the woods? But more importantly, that would be Pōbret, the bloodlord of the heretic rebellion, that they saw! "That is Pōbret, the heretic, no spirit! He is a bloodlord, an evil abomination that steals the blood of good men!" The villagers look confused and scratch their heads. Vórgetsk realizes he needs to slow down and use simpler words. "That was the man you call Povred. He drinks blood." He points to the deep red stains on the pieces of his rags and make a motion of drinking. His audience looks disgusted, and many of the men begin muttering to themselves and their friends.

Vórgetsk points back to the wounded man, now breathing smoother and a little bit stronger. "He needs rest, sleep. He will not be able to hunt or fight." He gestures sleep with his hands and head before, confident that his audience understands, speaking once more. "You have warriors? Fighters, strong men? We will need to kill Povred so that your village can be safe." After a couple repetitions, each slower and more methodical than the last, the hunters and villagers begin nodding and voicing something that sounds vaguely like assent. A tall villager takes Vórgetsk by the shoulder. "We hunt, kill blood beast. You help. Come." Vórgetsk and several men enter a hut, closing the entrance flap to the sound of a recovering man's weak speech.

OOC: If you want, I can elaborate a bit on what I've decided the villagers of the woods are right now, but in either case I'm considering an RP later on that dives into that more.

Do not elaborate. I'm having too much fun finding this out bit by bit.

Pakitsk and Shavara

The Biohazardous Detective of Euricanis

Peatiktist wrote:That would require you to have actually been the best at some point in time.

depends which metric you’re using

she’s undoubtedly the best at grossing me out, unless you or more likely lev step up your games



The Space Republic of The Solar Ottomans

I like how my ideas for stories used to be "island full of dinosaurs and magic"

And now its "island full of evolved animals and magic on a planet full of godly beings in a universe inside a multiverse in a sea of infinite energy."

I came a long way I guess :)

Peatiktist, Shavara, Aivintis, and Brethren

The Great Congregation of Brethren

The Solar Ottomans wrote:I like how my ideas for stories used to be "island full of dinosaurs and magic"

And now its "island full of evolved animals and magic on a planet full of godly beings in a universe inside a multiverse in a sea of infinite energy."

I came a long way I guess :)

. . .

. . . this is identity theft >:c

The Space Republic of The Solar Ottomans

Brethren wrote:. . .

. . . this is identity theft >:c

wot



The Biohazardous Detective of Euricanis

Brethren wrote:. . .

. . . this is identity theft >:c

you attach your identity to a fictional land full of evolved animals and magic on a planet full of godly beings in a universe inside a multiverse in a sea of infinite energy?

The Interuniversal Civilization of Aivintis

Brethren wrote:Zerachiel frowns. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but: putting all the demons in jars, moving them to a temporary storage world, and -- at the end of your reign -- completely annihilating that world with all its contents . . . wouldn't that let you avoid the war?"

No. They are malicious but clever. They would never allow it. I have explored millions of possible courses of actions throughout my long years. None led to a thwarting of their power so effectively as the one I have undertaken.

The Interuniversal Civilization of Aivintis

"Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man, Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?"

Paradise Lost, X, 743-745

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