Y helo thar
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Metallinauts
- Posts: 2595
- Joined: Sun Apr 25, 2004 3:29 am
- Prefix: The
- Name: Metallinautsi Federation
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Metallinauts
- Posts: 2595
- Joined: Sun Apr 25, 2004 3:29 am
- Prefix: The
- Name: Metallinautsi Federation
Ok then
Scenario#2:
You are at the brink of a melt down in international relations with a power that far exceeds your military might. Obviously it would be best for you to solve the situation diplomatically. Yet the other power has its heart set on war and will not accept anything excep your total surrender. They have however agreed to one last talk, play out this desperate ploy to pacify the giant.
Scenario#2:
You are at the brink of a melt down in international relations with a power that far exceeds your military might. Obviously it would be best for you to solve the situation diplomatically. Yet the other power has its heart set on war and will not accept anything excep your total surrender. They have however agreed to one last talk, play out this desperate ploy to pacify the giant.
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The Mindset
- Posts: 3079
- Joined: Sat Apr 24, 2004 10:35 pm
- Prefix: Den interstellera republik av
- Name: The Mindset
Independence Day
Scenario #2
'He's waiting inside, Overlord.' Commander Suladan said quietly. Overlord Tashkent stood in the ante room and took a long deep breath before reaching for the door knob. He stepped into the dimly lit conference room, which looked more like a drinking parlour than an official functionary...it even had a bar, which Tashkent made a stop at before sitting down with his "guest". Suladan stood by the door, holding a small jewelry case, arms crossed. 'Can I offer you a drink, Ambassador?' asked Tashkent politely.
'I guess I'll take a glass of that fine Aumanii Bourbon I've been hearing so much about.' chortled Davis MacIntyre, Ambassador from the Republic of Heroditas. 'Of course, anything for my friends.' said Tashkent, with a laugh, as he poured them both a drink. Tashkent handed Davis the glass before sitting at the opposite end of the table from him. Davis sipped the Bourbon and his face went tense for a moment.
'You sure like it...bitter...' said MacIntyre, his voice raspy from the shock of the drink.
'It's how we live our lives, Ambassador. Everyday here, on Mars, is a bittersweet gift from God.' Tashkent finished the glass in one go, not even a pinch on his lips as the bitter liquor touched his pallet.
'We have a lot of respect for you and your people, Tashkent. You are an impressive people. You sure have turned something into nothing. And, in the end, this is where we are having our difficulties. We would hate to see all of this ruined.' Davis swirled the contents of the glass. The fat old man from the Old Empire, Davis, leaned back heavily in his chair...the arrogance.
'We've fought many wars. Won many wars, Davis. We've done more for this world than your Republic ever has. Without any help at all, I might add. Are you even finished with the coup? Is the military even ready to try and take us on?' Tashkent held onto his glass tightly.
'We were born ready. Even with all your great victories behind you, Tashkent, with all your nation's bravery and bravado you could never hope to stand against the Republic.' said Davis, haughtily.
The very mention of the "Republic of Heroditas" drove Tashkent mad with anger. Cretins, the President of this traitor Republic murdered the Emperor in his sleep fifteen years ago...an action that left the Aumanii alone to fend for themselves against the predations of the Colonial Powers, wars that cost them dearly and forced them to do terrible things in the name of survival. And now, a pig of a man, Davis MacIntyre comes to Tashkent's seat of power to discuss terms of surrender. The fat puke, he must think the Colonials to be ignorant barbarians. Well, may'be we could show him what a Barbarian is capable of? No, it's insane to try and fight...which lead me to act unexpectedly. Barbarian? Sure, why not. Tashkent's inner monologue was wild and untamed, but his speech was tempered as steel.
'You're right Davis. We couldn't hope to stand against the Republic. Suladan, approach.' said Tashkent. Commander Suladan, a wirey, bearded, Mongoloid, approached and handed Tashkent the Jewelry case. 'Is the President listening?' asked Tashkent sincerely. Davis grinned. 'Of course he is...watching too.' The Ambassador removed a smooth glass object from his inside coat pocket and placed it on the the table. It flickered and finally a hologram appeared, hovering, above the three men. A distorted voice cracked and spoke 'Nice to finally meet you Overlord, it's a shame we couldn't meet in person.'
'I understand completely, Mr. President...considering the circumstances I would have done the same.' said Tashkent, speaking up so that the President could hear him properly. It took a moment for the President to respond due to lag. 'Very well then. So, what is your decision Overlord, do you need more time to think?' the President's voice was oddly clear, little more than a pop and whine interfered.
'You know, I nearly had to delay my decision, if it had not been for Commander Suladan here. We are very much ready to tell you. Are you alone Mr. President?' said Tashkent, polite as ever.
Another moment later and the President spoke, 'Aside from you and Ambassador Davis? Yes.'
'Good. How's your Patricia, Mr. President?' Tashkent made small talk, their wives were friends back on Earth...it seemed like a good topic to help lighten the mood.
'As far as I know she's fine, I haven't seen her in several weeks what with this dreadful business. How is Kitany?' said the President, politely returning Tashkent's gesture.
'Oh, she's doing great...real good.' a sinister expression swept across Tashkent's face, Commander Suladan even let out a chuckle. President Beauregaurde cocked an eye at the men.
'You've always been such a family man, Mr. President. Always so close to your wife and children. It's such a shame that you aren't spending more time with them. A real shame. If I didn't have my family around, well I'd feel worthless. The distance, it removes your ability to protect them and you just worry that much more.' said Tashkent.
'Kitany thinks this would look beautiful on your wife, I'd be inclined to agree.' Tashkent opened the jewelry case and what was inside made Davis MacIntyre's jaw drop to the floor. Beauregaurde was squinting, trying to make out what it was he was supposed to be looking at and with a sudden, cruel, realization he figured out what Tashkent was playing at.
'Don't call your guards. If you do, Suladan will make the call and they will all die.' said Tashkent, his voice suddenly hard and unrelenting.
Commander Suladan spoke up, 'We took your family last night. We have them here, on Mars. They're safe. The onus is on you General Beauregaurde.' Suladan refused to address him as President, but what he really was, a power hungry military Officer. Suladan removed Patricia Beauregaurde's ring finger, the wedding band was still around it.
Davis was speechless, the President was on the verge of tears. 'Oh god, what have you done...Please, reconsider.' pleaded Beauregaurde. Davis stood up and shouted 'This...this is madness!' Suladan placed a hand on his revolver and eased back the hammer. Tashkent stood up and drew his own pistol and shot Davis MacIntyre through the head.
'Suladan was right, Mr. President...' Tashkent's words dripped with venom, 'The onus is on you. Turn your fleets back. By the end of this week I expect our industry to recieve the most up-to-date information on your military technology. When I am absolutely sure that you have not falsified the data in the slightest I might return your children.'
'What about my wife? What about my beautiful Patricia?!' Beauregaurde, the eternal family man, couldn't bare it. The fact that his family was put in any kind of danger, especially because of his actions, drove him to the brink.
'You get Patricia when inspectors confirm that your fleet has been completely decommissioned. My suggestion, General, scuttle the fleet as soon as possible.' said Tashkent, words as bitter as Aumanii Bourbon.
'We're friends.' said General Beauregaurde remorsefully.
'We were all friends. Me, you, Hergie and the Emperor. We stopped being friends the night you killed the Old Man and paralyzed my brother. I hope you burn in hell, Jaymes.' said Tashkent solemnly.
'I'm sorry.' said Beauregaurde.
'Kill yourself.' said Tashkent before switching off the hologram generator.
And since this point in history the Republic of Heroditas and the Vascilian League of Auman have not so much as spoken to one another. Patricia Beauregaurde was returned to her home. However, she would soon re-marry...as General Jaymes Beauregaurde had shot himself in the heart shortly after dispatching orders to cease action against Auman and her Vascilian subjects and to scuttle the fleet. The actions of the first President of the Republic are still a point of dissention, 900 years after the fact, as it is written into the constitution that Heroditas shall never possess armed space craft or use space craft for means of doing battle.
The people of the Republic never knew of the kidnapping or why the President did what he did.
Aumanii Diplomacy has changed much in the nine hundred years since it secured its independence. However, the diplomatic playbook still has a healthy section in it devoted to kidnapping, extortion and assassination.
OOC:
Kidnapping and Extortion...is that fine too?
'He's waiting inside, Overlord.' Commander Suladan said quietly. Overlord Tashkent stood in the ante room and took a long deep breath before reaching for the door knob. He stepped into the dimly lit conference room, which looked more like a drinking parlour than an official functionary...it even had a bar, which Tashkent made a stop at before sitting down with his "guest". Suladan stood by the door, holding a small jewelry case, arms crossed. 'Can I offer you a drink, Ambassador?' asked Tashkent politely.
'I guess I'll take a glass of that fine Aumanii Bourbon I've been hearing so much about.' chortled Davis MacIntyre, Ambassador from the Republic of Heroditas. 'Of course, anything for my friends.' said Tashkent, with a laugh, as he poured them both a drink. Tashkent handed Davis the glass before sitting at the opposite end of the table from him. Davis sipped the Bourbon and his face went tense for a moment.
'You sure like it...bitter...' said MacIntyre, his voice raspy from the shock of the drink.
'It's how we live our lives, Ambassador. Everyday here, on Mars, is a bittersweet gift from God.' Tashkent finished the glass in one go, not even a pinch on his lips as the bitter liquor touched his pallet.
'We have a lot of respect for you and your people, Tashkent. You are an impressive people. You sure have turned something into nothing. And, in the end, this is where we are having our difficulties. We would hate to see all of this ruined.' Davis swirled the contents of the glass. The fat old man from the Old Empire, Davis, leaned back heavily in his chair...the arrogance.
'We've fought many wars. Won many wars, Davis. We've done more for this world than your Republic ever has. Without any help at all, I might add. Are you even finished with the coup? Is the military even ready to try and take us on?' Tashkent held onto his glass tightly.
'We were born ready. Even with all your great victories behind you, Tashkent, with all your nation's bravery and bravado you could never hope to stand against the Republic.' said Davis, haughtily.
The very mention of the "Republic of Heroditas" drove Tashkent mad with anger. Cretins, the President of this traitor Republic murdered the Emperor in his sleep fifteen years ago...an action that left the Aumanii alone to fend for themselves against the predations of the Colonial Powers, wars that cost them dearly and forced them to do terrible things in the name of survival. And now, a pig of a man, Davis MacIntyre comes to Tashkent's seat of power to discuss terms of surrender. The fat puke, he must think the Colonials to be ignorant barbarians. Well, may'be we could show him what a Barbarian is capable of? No, it's insane to try and fight...which lead me to act unexpectedly. Barbarian? Sure, why not. Tashkent's inner monologue was wild and untamed, but his speech was tempered as steel.
'You're right Davis. We couldn't hope to stand against the Republic. Suladan, approach.' said Tashkent. Commander Suladan, a wirey, bearded, Mongoloid, approached and handed Tashkent the Jewelry case. 'Is the President listening?' asked Tashkent sincerely. Davis grinned. 'Of course he is...watching too.' The Ambassador removed a smooth glass object from his inside coat pocket and placed it on the the table. It flickered and finally a hologram appeared, hovering, above the three men. A distorted voice cracked and spoke 'Nice to finally meet you Overlord, it's a shame we couldn't meet in person.'
'I understand completely, Mr. President...considering the circumstances I would have done the same.' said Tashkent, speaking up so that the President could hear him properly. It took a moment for the President to respond due to lag. 'Very well then. So, what is your decision Overlord, do you need more time to think?' the President's voice was oddly clear, little more than a pop and whine interfered.
'You know, I nearly had to delay my decision, if it had not been for Commander Suladan here. We are very much ready to tell you. Are you alone Mr. President?' said Tashkent, polite as ever.
Another moment later and the President spoke, 'Aside from you and Ambassador Davis? Yes.'
'Good. How's your Patricia, Mr. President?' Tashkent made small talk, their wives were friends back on Earth...it seemed like a good topic to help lighten the mood.
'As far as I know she's fine, I haven't seen her in several weeks what with this dreadful business. How is Kitany?' said the President, politely returning Tashkent's gesture.
'Oh, she's doing great...real good.' a sinister expression swept across Tashkent's face, Commander Suladan even let out a chuckle. President Beauregaurde cocked an eye at the men.
'You've always been such a family man, Mr. President. Always so close to your wife and children. It's such a shame that you aren't spending more time with them. A real shame. If I didn't have my family around, well I'd feel worthless. The distance, it removes your ability to protect them and you just worry that much more.' said Tashkent.
'Kitany thinks this would look beautiful on your wife, I'd be inclined to agree.' Tashkent opened the jewelry case and what was inside made Davis MacIntyre's jaw drop to the floor. Beauregaurde was squinting, trying to make out what it was he was supposed to be looking at and with a sudden, cruel, realization he figured out what Tashkent was playing at.
'Don't call your guards. If you do, Suladan will make the call and they will all die.' said Tashkent, his voice suddenly hard and unrelenting.
Commander Suladan spoke up, 'We took your family last night. We have them here, on Mars. They're safe. The onus is on you General Beauregaurde.' Suladan refused to address him as President, but what he really was, a power hungry military Officer. Suladan removed Patricia Beauregaurde's ring finger, the wedding band was still around it.
Davis was speechless, the President was on the verge of tears. 'Oh god, what have you done...Please, reconsider.' pleaded Beauregaurde. Davis stood up and shouted 'This...this is madness!' Suladan placed a hand on his revolver and eased back the hammer. Tashkent stood up and drew his own pistol and shot Davis MacIntyre through the head.
'Suladan was right, Mr. President...' Tashkent's words dripped with venom, 'The onus is on you. Turn your fleets back. By the end of this week I expect our industry to recieve the most up-to-date information on your military technology. When I am absolutely sure that you have not falsified the data in the slightest I might return your children.'
'What about my wife? What about my beautiful Patricia?!' Beauregaurde, the eternal family man, couldn't bare it. The fact that his family was put in any kind of danger, especially because of his actions, drove him to the brink.
'You get Patricia when inspectors confirm that your fleet has been completely decommissioned. My suggestion, General, scuttle the fleet as soon as possible.' said Tashkent, words as bitter as Aumanii Bourbon.
'We're friends.' said General Beauregaurde remorsefully.
'We were all friends. Me, you, Hergie and the Emperor. We stopped being friends the night you killed the Old Man and paralyzed my brother. I hope you burn in hell, Jaymes.' said Tashkent solemnly.
'I'm sorry.' said Beauregaurde.
'Kill yourself.' said Tashkent before switching off the hologram generator.
And since this point in history the Republic of Heroditas and the Vascilian League of Auman have not so much as spoken to one another. Patricia Beauregaurde was returned to her home. However, she would soon re-marry...as General Jaymes Beauregaurde had shot himself in the heart shortly after dispatching orders to cease action against Auman and her Vascilian subjects and to scuttle the fleet. The actions of the first President of the Republic are still a point of dissention, 900 years after the fact, as it is written into the constitution that Heroditas shall never possess armed space craft or use space craft for means of doing battle.
The people of the Republic never knew of the kidnapping or why the President did what he did.
Aumanii Diplomacy has changed much in the nine hundred years since it secured its independence. However, the diplomatic playbook still has a healthy section in it devoted to kidnapping, extortion and assassination.
OOC:
Kidnapping and Extortion...is that fine too?
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Metallinauts
- Posts: 2595
- Joined: Sun Apr 25, 2004 3:29 am
- Prefix: The
- Name: Metallinautsi Federation
Yes lol
Test 3: A self-replicating industrial nanobot designed to repair rust damage and small fractures in iron objects by use of a thermite-weld has somehow been released into the general population's water supply (or equivalent thereof.) The nanobot is solar powered and activates when in the presence of iron oxide (such as that found in blood), resulting in a condition whereby individuals combust horrifically when exposed to certain spectra of light – including sunlight, and most indoor light sources.
Test 3: A self-replicating industrial nanobot designed to repair rust damage and small fractures in iron objects by use of a thermite-weld has somehow been released into the general population's water supply (or equivalent thereof.) The nanobot is solar powered and activates when in the presence of iron oxide (such as that found in blood), resulting in a condition whereby individuals combust horrifically when exposed to certain spectra of light – including sunlight, and most indoor light sources.
Re: Y helo thar
Zhamssassar Pastures, Auman...
Milena Krelner was slicing apples in the kitchen of her bungalo as her children played in the living room. Warm sunlight poured in through a window over the sink, it was mid afternoon and the kids were home for lunch. Milena's husband, like so many in Zhamssassar Pastures, is a worker at the purification plant and spent most of his days out at the facility, maintaining the machinery that made a living for them. One of her sons, Oswald, came sliding to a halt on the slick linoleum floors behind his mother. Tugging on the hem of her skirt, Oswald loudly asked 'Hey mom! When are you gonna be done!?'
Milena laughed and said 'Just go back in the living room and play with your brother, I'll let you know.'
'But I'm hungry NOW!' yelled Oswald, tugging forcefully on his mother's skirt while she was slicing into an apple. 'God damn it, Oswald!' cursed Milena after nicking herself with the paring knife she had been using. Oswald's eyes bulged as he saw what he'd caused and ran to get a bandaid.
Blood rolled down Milena's hand, she was holding it up to slow the bleeding until Oswald came back downstairs. She wandered over to the sink and turned the cold water on and decided to hold her finger under the tap to keep the wound clean.
It was nearly noon...
Oswald came running back down the stairs with a bandaid and handed to his mother, tears blasting down his little cheeks. Milena took it and wrapped it around her finger.
'Don't be bothering mommy when she has sharp things, Ozzie!' scolded Milena.
'Sorry mom!' sniffled Oswald.
'Now go back into the living room and...'
Milena was compulsively rubbing her finger, it was itching so bad. The itching soon turned to burning...and the clock struck twelve...
----
'Jesus...'
Two police detectives, Kyle Navarrone and Roger Dulzon, stood over the charred corpse of Milena Krelner.
'She must drink as much as you Kyle.' laughed Roger as he took down some notes about the scene. Kyle Navarrone's face remained rock solid with the same cold expression of unflinching resolve, a look he had been known for in other departments.
'I hate kids.' said Kyle, looking over his shoulder towards the living room. Navarrone could hear Oswald Krelner, aged 8 years old, who was telling a frantic and ever changing series of events, which centered around his mother's cut finger and how it wasn't his fault, to a uniformed Officer.
Navarrone waved over the Officer and asked 'Well?' to which Corporal Radick replied 'She cut herself slicing apples. The kid went upstairs to get a bandaid. She was apparently running her finger under the tap, there at the sink. Then she blew up.'
Navarrone ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. 'I don't get it either, sir.' said Radick. 'This is a fucking freak show.' spat Navarrone in disgust.
The front door crashed open, there was a scuffle as some Officers tried to stop Art Krelner from bursting into the kitchen. Navarrone and Dulzon went to see what was going on and came across Art with Radick holding onto his arm, 'Look man, you don't want to go in there!'
'Fuck you!' yelled Art, pulling himself free.
'You don't want to go in there.' said Navarrone, his cool eyes fixed on Art's intensely. Krelner, tears welling up his eyes, asked 'Is it really that bad?'
No one said anything. They just looked at him knowingly and let him stew it over. 'We're going to find out how this happened, Arthur. But right now, what I need for you to do is to calm down and talk to your kids. You're all they have.' said Navarrone stoically.
----
To be continued.
Milena Krelner was slicing apples in the kitchen of her bungalo as her children played in the living room. Warm sunlight poured in through a window over the sink, it was mid afternoon and the kids were home for lunch. Milena's husband, like so many in Zhamssassar Pastures, is a worker at the purification plant and spent most of his days out at the facility, maintaining the machinery that made a living for them. One of her sons, Oswald, came sliding to a halt on the slick linoleum floors behind his mother. Tugging on the hem of her skirt, Oswald loudly asked 'Hey mom! When are you gonna be done!?'
Milena laughed and said 'Just go back in the living room and play with your brother, I'll let you know.'
'But I'm hungry NOW!' yelled Oswald, tugging forcefully on his mother's skirt while she was slicing into an apple. 'God damn it, Oswald!' cursed Milena after nicking herself with the paring knife she had been using. Oswald's eyes bulged as he saw what he'd caused and ran to get a bandaid.
Blood rolled down Milena's hand, she was holding it up to slow the bleeding until Oswald came back downstairs. She wandered over to the sink and turned the cold water on and decided to hold her finger under the tap to keep the wound clean.
It was nearly noon...
Oswald came running back down the stairs with a bandaid and handed to his mother, tears blasting down his little cheeks. Milena took it and wrapped it around her finger.
'Don't be bothering mommy when she has sharp things, Ozzie!' scolded Milena.
'Sorry mom!' sniffled Oswald.
'Now go back into the living room and...'
Milena was compulsively rubbing her finger, it was itching so bad. The itching soon turned to burning...and the clock struck twelve...
----
'Jesus...'
Two police detectives, Kyle Navarrone and Roger Dulzon, stood over the charred corpse of Milena Krelner.
'She must drink as much as you Kyle.' laughed Roger as he took down some notes about the scene. Kyle Navarrone's face remained rock solid with the same cold expression of unflinching resolve, a look he had been known for in other departments.
'I hate kids.' said Kyle, looking over his shoulder towards the living room. Navarrone could hear Oswald Krelner, aged 8 years old, who was telling a frantic and ever changing series of events, which centered around his mother's cut finger and how it wasn't his fault, to a uniformed Officer.
Navarrone waved over the Officer and asked 'Well?' to which Corporal Radick replied 'She cut herself slicing apples. The kid went upstairs to get a bandaid. She was apparently running her finger under the tap, there at the sink. Then she blew up.'
Navarrone ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. 'I don't get it either, sir.' said Radick. 'This is a fucking freak show.' spat Navarrone in disgust.
The front door crashed open, there was a scuffle as some Officers tried to stop Art Krelner from bursting into the kitchen. Navarrone and Dulzon went to see what was going on and came across Art with Radick holding onto his arm, 'Look man, you don't want to go in there!'
'Fuck you!' yelled Art, pulling himself free.
'You don't want to go in there.' said Navarrone, his cool eyes fixed on Art's intensely. Krelner, tears welling up his eyes, asked 'Is it really that bad?'
No one said anything. They just looked at him knowingly and let him stew it over. 'We're going to find out how this happened, Arthur. But right now, what I need for you to do is to calm down and talk to your kids. You're all they have.' said Navarrone stoically.
----
To be continued.