NationStates Jolt Archive

The Grand High Council of the Illuminati has decided, with a heavy majority upon the side of the Banking Guild, that it would be in the best interests of Our Lord Agh Shankkakur, to declare a religious jihad against that most vile of all things - sanity.

Our Reasons are as follows:

In the ninth Scripture, tenth verse, book twelve, the Lord Agh Shankkakur said:

"Beware the bearer of truth and true images, for he is allied with the malign forces of God, the most Holy, and enemy of all that is my dominion."

In the fifth scripture, eighty-ninth verse, book eight, the Lord Agh Shankkakur said:

"Thou shalt not suffer a sane man to live, for his arguments stand upon reason, and the sooner that he is killed, the sooner we may triumph."

In the twenty fourth scripture, fourth verse, book one, the Lord Agh Shankkakur said:

"Thou shalt take within thyself the blood of a thousand children, and this shall be my Hatred, and thou shalt revel in it, and let not the Tyrant, upon his dire Throne of Logic, pervert your to your revelry."

The process by which we have decided to purge the world of all the tyrannies of logic and reason, has yet to be planned out by His Omnipotency, the Unnamed One, the Beast whose Number is Six Hundred Sixty Six, our Leader and Only Son of Satan.

~With Regards,
The Grand High Council of the Illuminati,
With the Backing of the Grand Satanic Church,
Agh Shankkakur

"Generally, don't we lock people who declare war on sanity in little padded rooms?" Sub-Director Allens asked. "I'll wager five."

"Bah. Yeah, but normally they aren't a movement." SD Phaellan took a swig. "I'll see your five, and raise you another five." He scooted more chips into the pot and glanced back at his cards.

"It's not important." Director Kerrik stated, glancing at his poker hand. "It's not like we haven't done odd things before. Remember the War on Water?" There was mumbling and Kerrik grinned. "I'll see ten, and raise by another ten."

"I'm out!" Stated SD Lyons. "Too rich for me. So, you think this will fizzle?"

"Of course." Kerrik stated, glancing back at his royal flush. "Anyone wanna try me?"

In the background, the song "Damien" played, but the card games continued.

sanity is crap,long live its destruction!

sanity is crap,long live its destruction!

OOC: Tag with intent to post.

Norman Baker walked around, back and forth in the dark-marbled office high atop his mighty Citadel to Evil, a six hundred storey-tall corporate office tower, twisted, gargoyled Novogothic designs mixing with onyx black panes of glass and steel. He was relaxing to the sound of a Requiem Mass (Dies Irae), when the computer atop the black marble slab of his desk bubbled and screamed in pain.

Up its ribbed, veined tendrils pulsed small spheres of flesh, to the top where they coalesced into a faintly glowing rectangular panel with the words 'new email' scrolling across its radioactive green surface. The screen had a little trouble maintaining cohesion, the flesh coming apart in places, and Norman rummaged in one of the desk drawers, found an electric taser (among other instruments of pain and torture) and promptly shocked the recalcitrant machine in the closest analogue to an anus that it had. Freezing with pain, the computer solidified and Norman looked through his messages.

Blip!

The gaunt, wizened face of Grand Illuminatus Wiczek came on the screen. He began without apropos:

"Lord Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I beseech your unholy greatness with a resolution that the Grand Council has recently passed - a movement to purge the world of Sanity, as mandated by the Satanic Church. Their request had significant financial backings, as you can see, and we were quite forced to take the bill into vote.

"It passed nearly unanimously (with a dissenting minority consisting of those Illuminati of the Banking Guild who are affiliated with the Alien investors. Anyhow, as the motion has come to pass, it befalls you, Oh Unholy Lord, to execute it. We give you free reign with 45% of the national finances to wage this War on Sanity however you please. Thank you, Oh Lord of all Evil and Son of Agh Shankkakur."

Norman paused... scratching his chin.

Oh my...

He crooned to the little D6 on his desk, a little bioengineered clone female, a living sex doll, and it gave a tinny giggle as he ran a finger over its tiny (but amazingly accurate), firm breasts.

"There there, D6. It looks like I'm going to be busy for quite a while now. You won't be seeing me as much."

Though the D6 could not understand his speech (after all, its bioengineered brain was only slightly larger than a small bean), it had limited tele-empathic powers, and it cooed sympathetically.

"It's all-right. You can have sex with the computer in the meanwhile. That ought to keep you entertained. In fact!-"

He switched off the emails and turned on the sex simulator on the biocomputer, linking it to a scan of the little female clone on his desk. It formed a delicate orange-red tentacle and extended.

"Why don't you start right now?"

Norman sat back, took a small syringe of heroin from the pouch at his belt, and watched the fetisch scene play forth in miniature upon his desk. There would be plenty of time for work later - now was the time for entertainment.

OOC:Learn more about my nation here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=126064&highlight=)

Professor Snoodgrass flicked on the telescreen and naturally it showed the face of the Antichrist, staring ceaseless down at him. These telescreens (especially the two-way ones) were damnably expensive, and almost all they did was show the giant face and the words "Big Baker is Watching YOU!". Quite annoying sometimes, especially when one was trying to watch a movie or see a news report, as Baker's face would never totally fade away. He briefly pondered getting one of those newfangled subliminal psychic tvs (two way, of course), but they were awfully expensive. He'd have to wait till the after-holiday sales to buy one.

He flicked idly through the channels till he'd gotten to a news channel and it showed a speech by the Antichrist himself. He'd seemed to have gotten into a fit somehow and most of the intelligible words that came out of his mouth seemed to be:

"JIHAAAAAAAAAAAAD! JIIIIIIHAAAAAAAD!!!!"

"Oh deary me..."

"SHADDUP DR. SNOODGRASS!" screamed the Antichrist on the television. "YOU DON'T KNOW THE HALF OF IT!"

Dr. Snoodgrass sipped at his lemonade and blinked.