NationStates Jolt Archive

Some Days Ago, Aboard the Magical Golden Blimp

"Stasis field holding..."

"Magical crystal is at full power."

"Visual contact with the Big Barrier made, estimate two thousand merte and closing."

"Steady as she goes, helmsman."

The golden blimp, inflated with volatile hydrogen and imbued with magical spells, drifted ever closer to the Disruption Field, that swirling, twisting electric mass of chaos and black energy. As the fog parted it revealed a swiftly moving, contorting barrier, like the edge of a hurricane.

"Great gods!" breathed one crewman.

"Steady now..." said the captain.

"Sir our forward bow will be in contact with the Big Barrier in five, four, three, two one..."

The ship shuddered, and several chamberpots in some crewquarters were tipped over, but nothing severe.

"Status report?" ground the gravelly voice of the captain.

"Stasis field is holding steady," said the woman at the monitor, gripping her rainhat. Rainhats were essential to helping keep the ship from being destroyed.

"When shall we pass beyond the Disruption Field?"

"Estimates say that we shall pass the Field in about two minutes."

"Sir we are completely inside the Disruption Barrier. Stasis field is holding steady. Spellpower is at one hundred percent."

The little golden dirigible was swallowed up in the red and black chaotic mass, buffeted by zephyrs of pure insanity, and jolted by the smell of turnips and telephones. Some crewmen reported seeing a cow drift by in a canoe before it deteriorated into chaos, and others reported seeing hitchikers in spacesuits get dissolved into tiny particles. Nevertheless, after two minutes of pure lunacy, the blimp emerged, quite unscathed (save for a few spilled chamberpots) into the wide outside world.

"Sir, the ocean...it's..."

The captain nodded solemnly.

"It's blue."

The blimp began to broadcast a message over all magical wavelengths:


To all recievers:

This is the Exploration Blimp Flobbertrolley, of the Eleventy-Five Principalities of the Principality of the Mauve Principalities. We have emerged from the Disruption Field unharmed. We bring salubrious salutations to all peoples.




Translated from a dialect of english thought up by five men in an insane asylum:

Greetings sir or madam. I am Psychosis, the all-powerful Queen of the Mauve Principalities. I and my twelve other siblings would like to extend our hands in friendship, brotherhood, and cakes, to all of you, and hope for friendly diplomatic relations in the future.

Signed,

Her August Majesty,
Queen Psychosis

PS: The principalities are surrounded by a Disruption field which until now have been unbreachable by all but the most powerful of magics and large floods of German Beer. Make sure that, should you choose to enter the Mauve Principalities, bring both a rain hat and some sort of stasis field generator. To fail to do so would mean the dissolution of your body into utter chaos.

XOXOXOXOXOXO





Dear leaders of the world:

My name is Fantasia, sister to Queen Psychosis, and I am secretly building an army of magical blimps in an attempt to oust my sister and become Queen of all the Mauve Principalities. Would any of you like to propose a trade arrangement?

Sincerely yours,
Mistress Fantasia,
Of the Periphery

The Ongoing Plot of the Mauve Principalities (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=110865)

((Congratulations. You're the Most Creative Nation of the Month.

http://www.swbabowl.com/images/Trophy.jpg))

[code:1:39c2932dd5]Communique To the Queen Hopeful Mistress Fantasia

What might your ideologies be? Your goal interests us.[/code:1:39c2932dd5]

OOC: You're not being sarcastic, are you? :squinty eyes:

A message arrives some days thereafter, carried by a little midget man in a flight suit suspended from a fishing pole in a magical golden blimp, flying over Cyberutopia.



Dear Sir or Madam:

What do you mean by 'ideologies'? I am the sister to Queen Psychosis, one of the thirteen siblings who rule the Eleventy-Five Principalities. Of the eleventy-five, I currently rule nine, all on the Periphery of the Principality. As sister and one of the thirteen heirs to the throne, I reserve the right to assassinate my own flesh and blood in a mad grab for power.

Yours truly,
Fantasia,
Mistress of the Periphery,
Heir to the Throne of the Mauve Principalities,
Etc.



Dear Sirs or Madames:

By now you now doubt would have received a letter or two from one of my loving siblings, plotting to take over my throne (Yes, it is MY throne, damnit! I was the one who poisoned Father's soup that night! ME!). Please disregard anything they say.

Sincerely,
Psychosis,
Queen of the Mauve Principalities

More letters come flying from the blimp, exploding from golden bomb-like things which release small clips with bat-wings, the letters caught in the jaws of the flying clips.



Leaders of the World:

I am Princess Paranoia, of the Eleventy-Five Principalities of the Principality of the Mauve Principalities! I bring honourable salutations to all. As of now, I am busy conquering numerous Principalities belonging to my brothers and sisters. I cannot tell you of my secret plans any more than that, but if you would like to conspire with me, please by all means send me a message, or better yet, come to my Iron Fortress in the Mauve Principalities, Eastern Region. No, then again, you might assassinate me (many, you know, want my head. There are many many after me.). Be content to send me a message by mail, and I'll be sure to reply once I check it for poison gas or noxious bacteria germs.

Sincerely,
Princess Paranoia
Commandantess of the Iron Fortress,
Eleven Principalities,
Eastern Region

Dearest World Leaders,

I am Lunacy, regional governess of the eight mountain Principalities in the Eleventy-Five Principalities of the Principality of the Mauve Principalities. I am also one of the thirteen heirs and heiresses to the throne, though I do not wish it. I have no ambition of power or conquest, I only wish to spend my life probing the cobweb works of the future's many tangled paths. And for this they call me a lunatic. Know that each sibling possesses a different sort of madness, and that it is perilous, no matter how reasonable they may at first seem to be, to deal with them. For a thousand years, the Mauve Principalities have stood, segregated from the world, developing its own convoluted internal politics. We needn't have interference from the outside.

That being said, I welcome you all, as my brethren and as my comrades. My humblest greetings, from the Mauve Principalities.

Sincerely,
Governess Lunacy

[code:1:828e6a137a]Leaders of the World:

For one thousand years, the Mauve Principalities have stood alone in the world, developing its own unique science and its own unique technology. Most noteworthy of all are the special kinetic stasis field generators that we use to ferry goods and supplies across the Disruption Field that surrounds our nation, at a great cost to ourselves. If any of you would like to propose an exchange of research, I, Eureka! the Learned, will be honoured to facilitate such an exchange.

I await your replies,

Eureka! the Learned,
Of the Seven Principalities,
Northern Region[/code:1:828e6a137a]

BUMP

((No, I wasn't being sarcastic at all. This really is a creative nation.))

"Now this is interesting."

"Yes, they're all insane."

"Except for Lunacy."

"She's insane in their eyes."

"So, what's our course of action?"

"Good question. We could support the sibling with the most power, in the hope of stabilizing the area."

"Wouldn't that be just like the US?"

"Hmm, good point. This nation was created to be the opposite of the US, after all."

"But we're labelled as a Corrupt Dictatorship, just like them."

"A minor inconvinience. Now, to the subject at hand."

"Yes, to the subject at hand. I suggest we open relations with Governess Lunacy, she seems to be the easiest to talk to."

"Heh."

"What?"

"Erm, nothing. Just send the message."

[code:1:9ce8efbacb]Communique to Governess Lunacy

If it is true you seek only knowledge, than perhaps we can help each other. What do you say?[/code:1:9ce8efbacb]

[code:1:9454d7a514]Leaders of the World:

For one thousand years, the Mauve Principalities have stood alone in the world, developing its own unique science and its own unique technology. Most noteworthy of all are the special kinetic stasis field generators that we use to ferry goods and supplies across the Disruption Field that surrounds our nation, at a great cost to ourselves. If any of you would like to propose an exchange of research, I, Eureka! the Learned, will be honoured to facilitate such an exchange.

I await your replies,

Eureka! the Learned,
Of the Seven Principalities,
Northern Region[/code:1:9454d7a514]

The honorable nation of Crownguard, dedicated first and foremost to knowledge in this world, wish to formally greet you as a fellow devotee to Science. Science, unfettered by what others deem "proper". We would dearly wish this stasis field technology both for our own research, and to conduct furthur trades with your esteemed nation. In return for knowledge of this technology, we will provide our own secrets for creating mechanical monstrosities, suitable for guarding laboratories from annoying bureaucrats, as well as being fairly decent dinner conversationalists and chess players. What say you?

Dr Kivorkikan
Crownguardian Quasi-Normal Research Institute

((No, I wasn't being sarcastic at all. This really is a creative nation.))

"Now this is interesting."

"Yes, they're all insane."

"Except for Lunacy."

"She's insane in their eyes."

"So, what's our course of action?"

"Good question. We could support the sibling with the most power, in the hope of stabilizing the area."

"Wouldn't that be just like the US?"

"Hmm, good point. This nation was created to be the opposite of the US, after all."

"But we're labelled as a Corrupt Dictatorship, just like them."

"A minor inconvinience. Now, to the subject at hand."

"Yes, to the subject at hand. I suggest we open relations with Governess Lunacy, she seems to be the easiest to talk to."

"Heh."

"What?"

"Erm, nothing. Just send the message."

[code:1:87916997c5]Communique to Governess Lunacy

If it is true you seek only knowledge, than perhaps we can help each other. What do you say?[/code:1:87916997c5]



Dear Leaders of Cyberutopia:

I would be most honoured to engage in mutual relations with you, so long as you promise to keep outside politics from interfering much with the Principalities.

The reason for this is because the Principalities occupy a locus in the convoluted web of time and fate, making perilous even the smallest pushes in one way or another.

My sister, Paranoia, musters even now a grand and mighty army, and, deep in the dream field created by her life-support crystal, my sister Delerium conjures up a demented nightmare of conquest and power. Anything at this moment could cause an unbalance, and I fear the worst might come to the time-line, which I see with my one blind eye, should their forces ever come out into the world outside the Disruption Field.

That having been said, what kind of exchange of knowledge do you have in mind? Though you can consider my principality to be the most sane, it is not the most advanced. For that, you must look to the confederation that my youngest sisters, Neurotica and Eureka!, built at the Periphery to the North. They have founded their alliance upon the basis of scientific research.

But perhaps that is not the kind of knowledge you seek?

With regards,
Governess Lunacy


Posted: Mon Jan 05, 2004 9:43 pm Post subject:

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

Mauve Principalities wrote:
Eureka!'s Mechanically Typed Memo wrote:


Code:
Leaders of the World:

For one thousand years, the Mauve Principalities have stood alone in the world, developing its own unique science and its own unique technology. Most noteworthy of all are the special kinetic stasis field generators that we use to ferry goods and supplies across the Disruption Field that surrounds our nation, at a great cost to ourselves. If any of you would like to propose an exchange of research, I, Eureka! the Learned, will be honoured to facilitate such an exchange.

I await your replies,

Eureka! the Learned,
Of the Seven Principalities,
Northern Region




The honorable nation of Crownguard, dedicated first and foremost to knowledge in this world, wish to formally greet you as a fellow devotee to Science. Science, unfettered by what others deem "proper". We would dearly wish this stasis field technology both for our own research, and to conduct furthur trades with your esteemed nation. In return for knowledge of this technology, we will provide our own secrets for creating mechanical monstrosities, suitable for guarding laboratories from annoying bureaucrats, as well as being fairly decent dinner conversationalists and chess players. What say you?

Dr Kivorkikan
Crownguardian Quasi-Normal Research Institute




[code:1:87916997c5]Dr. Kivorkikan:

This fascinates me. Just what kind of 'mechanical monstrosity' are we talking about? And does it have large pincers? What is its power source? I do not want to be supplied with the plans for building gigantic evil automatons only to discover that we do not have the ability to power it and thus must bring it to life with - ugh - magic.

Regards,
Eureka! the Learned,
Of the Seven Principalities,
Northern Region[/code:1:87916997c5]

Prime Secretary Ut E (OOC: I've finally decided Endor was too old and should retire) read through the notes, blinked, shook his head, and blinked again.

"Huh?" he said at last.

"My thoughts exactly, Comrade," the attendant who had brought the message agreed.

"I think we'll just... stay back and watch for now," E said cautiously. "Monitor the situation, you know. That sort of thing."

In Mausoleum's ... Mausoleum

Mausoleum was kneeling on the floor, scratching glowing green markings that rose up and flickered, like hologrammes, in the grey dust. At a flick of a hand the little symbols moved about, a green carpet stretching across the floor, moving across the map of the Principalities.

"And that'll be that," said Mausoleum as he got back up, dusting his hands off, "Got the plan?"

"Uh... ya. Okay," said Bob, scratching a head of rank, brown hair.

"Wait just one moment," ventured Moratorium, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "So the gist of your plan is thus: pool our forces, send all resources to your Principalities anud then all attack at once with an immense swarm of undead?"

"Yeah. Basically."

Moratorium tapped a few numbers into his calculator, frowned, his thin black moustache quivering, and said with great gravity and all seriousness:

"It's brilliant. I'll go back immediately."

"But, uh... wait," said Bob.

"What?" retorted Mausoleum.

"What am I supposed to do. I've got ... uh... like one Principality."

"I need you to be demogogue."

"What?"

Mausoleum sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one pale, bony finger.

"I need you to make stupid people act good. Now since there's nothing stupider than an undead, you'll be a brilliant commander and general rabble rouser. I need you to command my armies. Now are you in this conspiracy or out?"

"Uh..." and thence passed an interminable period of time while Bob thought, "Ya. Okay."

Mausoleum clapped his hands together, spraying a little puff of dust about.

"Excellent! Now, as I look through the catalogue, you two go back and prepare."

His brothers left, and Mausoleum smiled, chuckling evilly. It's all falling together.

Central Northwestern Principalities - the Stuffy Bureaucratic Domain of Moratorium

Moratorium's twenty seven Principalities (by far the largest of them all) were relatively peaceful, sunshiney, and pleasant, unless, of course, you happened to have the incredibly bad luck of having to deal with the government in one way or another, in which case you would spend the rest of your life being bounced from one ministry to the next, filling out forms and numerous other bureaucratic nonsense.

As a matter of fact, the only reason whatsoever that anything ran at all with any efficiency was because, outside of the government, the place was relatively self-governing. Ironically, perhaps the most oppressive regional government in the Mauve Principalities happened to create the most personal freedom.

The great deal of these twenty seven provinces were filled with quiet forests (except for the wolves), wide meadows (except for the bandits), trickling rivers and streams winding lazily through the country (except for the river pirates), and safe roads (except for the occasional rider in black, armed with a magical rune sword from some faraway Principality). A land of shifting yellow grass and pastoral farms. Almost like something idyllic from the Lord of the Rings or some similar fantasy novel.

As his horse and carriage clip-clopped through the familiar valleys and hills of his domain, something came crashing in from the side window, to lie quite broken near Moratorium's side.

It was an envelope, addressed to him, and presumably there was a letter within. Moratorium opened it and read it, oddly legible despite the strange black, spidery scrawl.


Your Highness:

Most urgent news - the Disruption Field has been breached and emissaries from Fantasia's domain are making contact with the outside world. Sustained contact for greater than one week is being made.

Your servant,
Moravic Butler,
Butler

OMIGAWD! HUUUUGE NUMBER OF CLONEPOSTS! Curse this forum lag!

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In Mausoleum's ... Mausoleum

Mausoleum was kneeling on the floor, scratching glowing green markings that rose up and flickered, like hologrammes, in the grey dust. At a flick of a hand the little symbols moved about, a green carpet stretching across the floor, moving across the map of the Principalities.

"And that'll be that," said Mausoleum as he got back up, dusting his hands off, "Got the plan?"

"Uh... ya. Okay," said Bob, scratching a head of rank, brown hair.

"Wait just one moment," ventured Moratorium, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "So the gist of your plan is thus: pool our forces, send all resources to your Principalities anud then all attack at once with an immense swarm of undead?"

"Yeah. Basically."

Moratorium tapped a few numbers into his calculator, frowned, his thin black moustache quivering, and said with great gravity and all seriousness:

"It's brilliant. I'll go back immediately."

"But, uh... wait," said Bob.

"What?" retorted Mausoleum.

"What am I supposed to do. I've got ... uh... like one Principality."

"I need you to be demogogue."

"What?"

Mausoleum sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one pale, bony finger.

"I need you to make stupid people act good. Now since there's nothing stupider than an undead, you'll be a brilliant commander and general rabble rouser. I need you to command my armies. Now are you in this conspiracy or out?"

"Uh..." and thence passed an interminable period of time while Bob thought, "Ya. Okay."

Mausoleum clapped his hands together, spraying a little puff of dust about.

"Excellent! Now, as I look through the catalogue, you two go back and prepare."

His brothers left, and Mausoleum smiled, chuckling evilly. It's all falling together.

Central Northwestern Principalities - the Stuffy Bureaucratic Domain of Moratorium

Moratorium's twenty seven Principalities (by far the largest of them all) were relatively peaceful, sunshiney, and pleasant, unless, of course, you happened to have the incredibly bad luck of having to deal with the government in one way or another, in which case you would spend the rest of your life being bounced from one ministry to the next, filling out forms and numerous other bureaucratic nonsense.

As a matter of fact, the only reason whatsoever that anything ran at all with any efficiency was because, outside of the government, the place was relatively self-governing. Ironically, perhaps the most oppressive regional government in the Mauve Principalities happened to create the most personal freedom.

The great deal of these twenty seven provinces were filled with quiet forests (except for the wolves), wide meadows (except for the bandits), trickling rivers and streams winding lazily through the country (except for the river pirates), and safe roads (except for the occasional rider in black, armed with a magical rune sword from some faraway Principality). A land of shifting yellow grass and pastoral farms. Almost like something idyllic from the Lord of the Rings or some similar fantasy novel.

As his horse and carriage clip-clopped through the familiar valleys and hills of his domain, something came crashing in from the side window, to lie quite broken near Moratorium's side.

It was an envelope, addressed to him, and presumably there was a letter within. Moratorium opened it and read it, oddly legible despite the strange black, spidery scrawl.


Your Highness:

Most urgent news - the Disruption Field has been breached and emissaries from Fantasia's domain are making contact with the outside world. Sustained contact for greater than one week is being made.

Your servant,
Moravic Butler,
Butler

((That is some serious multiposting.))

[quote=A Polite Moonlight-Coloured Letter]

Dear Leaders of Cyberutopia:

I would be most honoured to engage in mutual relations with you, so long as you promise to keep outside politics from interfering much with the Principalities.

The reason for this is because the Principalities occupy a locus in the convoluted web of time and fate, making perilous even the smallest pushes in one way or another.

My sister, Paranoia, musters even now a grand and mighty army, and, deep in the dream field created by her life-support crystal, my sister Delerium conjures up a demented nightmare of conquest and power. Anything at this moment could cause an unbalance, and I fear the worst might come to the time-line, which I see with my one blind eye, should their forces ever come out into the world outside the Disruption Field.

That having been said, what kind of exchange of knowledge do you have in mind? Though you can consider my principality to be the most sane, it is not the most advanced. For that, you must look to the confederation that my youngest sisters, Neurotica and Eureka!, built at the Periphery to the North. They have founded their alliance upon the basis of scientific research.

But perhaps that is not the kind of knowledge you seek?

With regards,
Governess Lunacy

Communique to Governess Lunacy[/code:1:26102c8b0f]

Ah, most esteemed Governess, we are not the lapdogs of corruption some make us out to be. Never would we think of mutilating the politics of the Principalities. To toy with such a delicate balance would be catastrophic to all, most of all you. Knowledge of conquering machinations does not interest us, but what truely intriuqes us is the deepest workings of the chaos that makes up your homeland. Now that you mention an anomaly in the timeline, we are very interested in the Principalities. I would also like to ask a personal question, if that is all right, on how you get your letters such an agreeable shade.

Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs

A Mechanically Typed Memo from Eureka! wrote:


Dr. Kivorkikan:

This fascinates me. Just what kind of 'mechanical monstrosity' are we talking about? And does it have large pincers? What is its power source? I do not want to be supplied with the plans for building gigantic evil automatons only to discover that we do not have the ability to power it and thus must bring it to life with - ugh - magic.

Regards,
Eureka! the Learned,
Of the Seven Principalities,
Northern Region



My Dear Eureka!,

We would never even consider magic, our nation free from THAT particular brand of chaos. Nay, our machines run on the precise, efficient, and orderly mechanics of Science, powered by an acid acting upon an ultradense metal known merely as "RX-4337". plans are easily provided, of course, the cell containing the chemical mixture is perfectly safe. As for large pincers, that is a delightful suggestion! We designed these "monstrosities" to be very modular, and capable in several fields. Standard plans come with blades, whirlygigs, and mechanical "wings"(eventually, sadly, this was put on hold after a lab accident). Hopefully, a picture can be given in our next correspondence.

Regards,

Your friend in Science,
Dr. Kevorkikan

OOC: I completely forgot how to post pictures.....

((URL here))

((URL here))

Both Sagatia and Croup Merchant Brokers assume that the lack of contact is due to an oversight, or technical issue, and not simply due to, oh so typical, teen overenthusiasm, that shall soon be remedied and some sort of recompense forthcoming ... otherwise we shall consider our free advice to have been abused and ignore the Mauve principalities forthwith

We shal, further, feel no compunction with regard to the process of publically 'badmouthing' the Mauve Principalities.

We look forward to hearing from you.

OOC: I'm sorry! It was just so laggy....

((That is some serious multiposting.))

[code:1:40145fd5a9]Ah, most esteemed Governess, we are not the lapdogs of corruption some make us out to be. Never would we think of mutilating the politics of the Principalities. To toy with such a delicate balance would be catastrophic to all, most of all you. Knowledge of conquering machinations does not interest us, but what truely intriuqes us is the deepest workings of the chaos that makes up your homeland. Now that you mention an anomaly in the timeline, we are very interested in the Principalities. I would also like to ask a personal question, if that is all right, on how you get your letters such an agreeable shade.

Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs[/code:1:40145fd5a9]



To the Honourable Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs:

I would be most honoured to explain the Principalities, for I have made it my life's duty to study the Principalities and the chaotic effects therein, via psychic probing. Please, inquire.

As for my letters... they are dyed with the light of the full moon after being made from the wood of a tree that grows at the top of the highest mountain in my principalities, a tree in a forest which only appears at midnight every full moon. After the pulp has been mashed and ground in complete darkness for a lunar cycle, the paper is flattened and left to dry in the course of a full moon, starting from dusk to dawn. Then the magical essence of the lunar cycle is captured therein, imbuing the paper with certain novel magical properties.

Sincerely,
Governess Lunacy

My Dear Eureka!,

We would never even consider magic, our nation free from THAT particular brand of chaos. Nay, our machines run on the precise, efficient, and orderly mechanics of Science, powered by an acid acting upon an ultradense metal known merely as "RX-4337". plans are easily provided, of course, the cell containing the chemical mixture is perfectly safe. As for large pincers, that is a delightful suggestion! We designed these "monstrosities" to be very modular, and capable in several fields. Standard plans come with blades, whirlygigs, and mechanical "wings"(eventually, sadly, this was put on hold after a lab accident). Hopefully, a picture can be given in our next correspondence.

Regards,

Your friend in Science,
Dr. Kevorkikan


[code:1:40145fd5a9]Dr. Kevorkikan:

Done! Have two gross ( 288 ) sent over immediately! In return, we shall send you an equal number in stasis field generators, carried within cargo blimps. Unfortunately, my -dear, dear sister- Fantasia has created a monopoly on such blimps, as it is only these magical golden contraptions which can penetrate the Disruption Field with any degree of predictability. Myself and Neurotica are working on a new kind of blimp, but it has not shown much success to date.

But enough of such matters! Your mechanical monstrosities seem like delightful creatures, and I look forward to continued correspondence between our two nations.

Regards,

Eureka!
Of the Northern Confederacy[/code:1:40145fd5a9]

Bumpies! ^_^

Communique to Governess Lunacy

I suppose I should ask about the beginning. Has it been discovered how the Principalities were formed? And how has such a chaotic place found the unification required to evaded detection for so long? As for the letters, I don't suppose I shall be creating them anytime soon. :wink:

OOC: That's Lunacy, Cyberutopia. Fantasia has the golden magical blimps and the tower sitting atop a tree growing sideways from a cliff.



Dear Mr. Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs:

You addressed it to my sister, I am afraid. Fortunately the mailwings, by their nature, know where letters are meant to go.

The beginning of the World within the Disruption field is largely shrouded in mystery, even to my timesight, but the glimpses that I have seen and the research done by archaeologists and magi over the centuries conclude that the Disruption field was created by a ... wrinkle in the fabric of time and space. It is a world that exists not parallel to another universe and our own, but rather one that straddles the abyss between them. Moreover it is, in fact, believed to be a production of the very magic that holds the place together.

From what we can presume, certain intangible magics or advanced technologies, or both (at a certain point they are difficult to tell apart from one another), create this stable wrinkle straddling two universes - this one, one primarily of technology and science, and the other, primarily of magic and religion. As a result of this effect, the Disruption Field forms around the area in a rough circle, though the perimeter has a tendency to flow and shift in a liquidlike manner.

By its very nature of being partly out of the universe (and a chaotic field of supernatural/astronomical-phenomenal nature to boot), the Disruption field only appears every now and then in certain strange places such as Tunguska, Stonehenge, and the Bermuda Triangle. The only ingress during such appearances can be made via stasis field generators (hence the presence of certain alien artefacts scattered about the Principalities) or upon large floods of German beer.

The Principalities were only colonised because a group of mediaeval Europeans and a plane full of American tourists (and their pets) happened to ride in on a flood of German beer about a thousand years ago. They found themselves in a purple world of storms, swamps, pastoral green lands, plentiful livestock, and hobbits. They ate the hobbits and the live stock now roam free-range, and are known now as the tenderest livestock in any universe.

I hope this has cleared up some things for you,

With regards,
Governess Lunacy

Communique to Governess Lunacy and Not Fantasia

A most interesting world the universes have created for themselves. Our scientists will be befuddled for centuries by the Principalities, I'm sure. :wink: Come to think of it, we do have some excess German beer lying around...

Ms. Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs

*bump! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!*

I do plan on continuing..tomorrow...aka Tue. I will be posting then.

Communique to Governess Lunacy and Not Fantasia

A most interesting world the universes have created for themselves. Our scientists will be befuddled for centuries by the Principalities, I'm sure. :wink: Come to think of it, we do have some excess German beer lying around...

Ms. Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs

Poor Wolly Motford. When he finally awoke (with a loud, embarrassing “Zzzsnrrrrk!” that left everyone else at the meeting table staring at him in outrage,) his chair, balanced to a hairbreadth under his leaning, somnolent, somewhat pudgy form, overbalanced with a CRASH! Leaving Wolly chin-first on the formica, again.

His colleagues in the Subdivision of Basket Production Licenses, Fees, and Permits (the smallest and least important subdivision of the Division of Pastoral Crafts, Department of Economic Activity,) looked daggers at him. Wolly was always interrupting important meetings by waking up just as someone was making a beautifully nuanced point, somewhere around the third hour or so. (Rarely sooner, unless it was one of the exceedingly infrequent morning meetings. After lunch, Wolly was usually good for at least two hours of solid Zzzs.)

As Acting Third Assistant Intern for Application Design, Wolly was probably the least important Marginally Empowered Bureaucrat in the entire Effrenati Bureaucracy. But he’d been Acting Third Assistant Intern for longer than any other Marginally Empowered Bureaucrat in the whole Department, so they still had to keep notifying him of meetings.

With a deprecating grin, Wolly righted his chair and planted his well-rounded backside firmly in the seat. Looking around with a simulated intent interest, he let his thoughts slide back to the dream….

Such a VIVID dream… Yet another in the series of extraordinarily vivid, detailed and absorbing dreams about a place where people rode around in golden blimps, strange (and sometimes frightening) creatures were at the command of magic-working royalty, and everyone was (apparently) divinely mad. Wolly loved it there. Every dream got just a little more vivid, a little more real-seeming. Each time, he remembered more of the details, the things people said to each other.

And lately, his dreams had begun to change…. slowly, excitingly, even a little frighteningly. In the first few dreams, it had been like watching TV. He was at some distance, outside of The Place…. (about two or three dreams along, he’d caught the name… they called it “Mauve,” or “Maeve” something like that, Princedoms or Principessas?)

But the last few dreams, he’d started to feel more and more like he was actually *there*… at first, hovering disembodied above everything, looking down. Then, gradually, descending a little lower with each dream. And then, yesterday—during the Annual Fourth Quarter Subdivision Budget Review meeting—he’d actually SEEN himself! Hands! Legs! When he moved, THEY moved!

And when he’d floated (he couldn’t actually *walk*) in front of a huge mirror in one of the hallways, he’d seen—HIMSELF! Dim, shadowy, semi-transparent, but he knew it was HIM!

Except, it wasn’t him. His normal pudgy, balding, plump, perspiring middle-aged body had somehow transmuted into the rippling muscles, lush waving ebony hair, and piercingly brooding eyes of a much younger (and TALLER!) man. A man handsomer than Wolly (who’d had rather thin, limp, dishwater brown hair all his life until it started falling out in his thirties,) had ever been. The kind of man women swooned over in movies.

He’d been wearing something vaguely medieval and doublet like, with a richly embroidered crest on the (broad, muscular) chest, and a very businesslike-looking dagger in a jeweled scabbard, too. But still, he’d been semi-transparent.

“Wolly…. WOLLY!”

With a start, he looked up the table, to where Grooth Plenmeller, the Provisional Intern for Withy Supply, was regarding him exasperatedly.

“Oh. Ummm… yes, of course, Grooth,” he said at random. “I think you’re absolutely right.”

Next to Wolly, Milva Lookinghorse, the Bureaucrat for Pastoral Land Review, tittered snottily. Grooth sighed patiently. “Wolly, I was asking if your Office could turn out a new revision of Forms 11-B-9.3a through 11-C-16 by the end of March, so we can collect the production statistics on the Margal Delta harvest prior to the Election.”

There was one of those “you know why this so important” undertones to Grooth’s voice, and Wolly hastily racked his mind to make the connection. Of course! Grooth’s SIG, the Hootervites (Motto/Philosophy: “Farm living is the life for me!”) was campaigning heavily on the issue of pastoral land preservation. And the Hootervites were key to the coalition that allowed Wolly’s own SIG, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Effrenata (Motto/Philosophy: “If you’re enjoying it, it’s probably a sin!”) to retain its tenuous foothold in the Marginally Empowered Bureaucracy. (Wolly, in fact, *was* the foothold. At 327 members, most of them senior citizens, the ELCE could never muster more than a single seat in the Special Interest Group Meeting, and old Rengmar Virdsjen had to scramble like crazy to find a coalition desperate enough to barter one low-level MEB for that single vote.)

He nodded importantly. “Certainly, Grooth! I’ll get my people right on it. We’ll send round some drafts for approval next week.”

After that, the meeting sputtered along for a few minutes more. No one could think of anything else to discuss, but on the other hand, no one wanted to go back to their cubicles until it was too late to start any projects that afternoon, either. Finally, Jor Martivan diffidently suggested adjournment.

The others, rather reluctantly, shuffled their papers into piles and broke into earnest-looking post-meeting discussion dyads and triads, but Wolly, with an uncharacteristic display of diligence, hastily stuffed his papers in his pouch and made for the door, eager to get back to his cubicle.

If he was lucky, and no one phoned him (hardly anyone ever did, anyway,) he could maybe get in just one more substantial nap this afternoon….


(OOC: For background on Effrenata, see here: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=113835&highlight=)

OOC: Effrenata, I am keeping an eye on you.

Communique to Governess Lunacy and Not Fantasia

A most interesting world the universes have created for themselves. Our scientists will be befuddled for centuries by the Principalities, I'm sure. Come to think of it, we do have some excess German beer lying around...

Ms. Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs


Ms. Råyven Black, Head of International Affairs:

Would you like to send an ambassador to visit the principalities on a mission of observation? I am sure that a blimp could be arranged for your diplomats. However, I caution you that, as my sister Fantasia has a monopoly on golden blimp production, I cannot make any guarantees. Unless, of course, you have your own stasis field technology.

With Kindest Regards
Governess Lunacy