NationStates Jolt Archive

Princess Sarilis, heir to the throne of Clangerland, supposedly the third most powerful creature in the Commonwealth, had had a terrible day. Technically, she only had to do real work a few days a month, but the though made the prospect of presiding over another ridiculous vote no easier to take.
If only the Clangers could get round to normalising international relations sooner. That way, she could adopt the lifestyle of the heirs of old - jetting across the globe and being ice to dignitaries. A cozy ambassadorship would be a great way to avoid that dreadful Parliament.

Whether in consensus or disagreement, she mused, the Parliament is one of the few places in the nation which is absolutely intolerable (unless you happen to be a career politician, but there's no helping some clangers). Every party was broadly to the left, and agreed on almost everything. This could make for the most boring legislature ever conceived.
Disagreement was rare, but when it came, it was over one issue alone, and would consist of the irrational flinging of partisan polemic and the most nonsensically biased gutter-press style rants (OOC - for a similar experience, see the General Forum).

The subject was the extent of Clangerland's international relations. The camp of internationalists had recently come on top in the elections, and started leading the nation out of isolation. Backed up steadily by the royals, and all of the other Houses (the legislature of Clangerland is quadricameral - four chambers, one each for the major races: Clanger, Soupdragon, Elves and Humans), the internationalists had began to start talking to other nations again.
This was to the intense ire (and it seemed to the princess, pointless, nationalistic, pompous, irredeemably dense and uncontrollable fury) of the isolationist camp. They seemed willing to rant for days about the rather illusionary benefits of isolation, while the more sensible majority looks to Sarilis to keep the peace. After the week of mind-numbing displays of ignorance, a vote was finally held, and unsurprisingly the internationalists had won.

The Princess slumped into her throne, thoroughly exhausted, and ever so slightly wondering how the populace would feel about the divine right of Kings. She then decided these were thoughts best suited for slumping into the beanbag chair with, so it was fetched forthwith.

'This is it', she thought.
'This is the lowest level Clangerland politics can sink to.'
Of course, it wouldn't be much of a story if she wasn't wrong.


OOC - Disaster coming soon. But today only you get a special deal - two entire disasters for the price of one!
On the subject, if anyone wants to be considered for the role of Clanger-hating foreign power, I'm accepting applications by telegram until Wednesday. You will be judged on spelling, grammar and the reasons for your irrational phobia.

Starblaydi Archeologists discover Soupdragon bones
From Archeology Wow! Starblaydia's leading Indiana Jones-wannabe magazine

Eons ago, the Soupdragon reined supreme under Starblaydian soil, eating underground plants growing in the subterranean caves.

Artist's Impression
http://www.clangers.co.uk/img/drgvff.jpg



[ooc: tag]

OOC - Any readers may begin to see my predicament regarding an enemy. Look at the picture, and try and imaging anyone intensely hating that kind of thing. Nice pic, BTW.
Ok, so I've set the scene for a political crisis, now I can set the scene for the massive socio-economic crisis.

It's tougher than you might think engaging with the international community. It's even harder trying to convince them not to sell you any junk.
Ever since the announcement of his intent to start talking to the wider international community again, King Littian II and his Household had been swept off their little feet trying to weather the storm of ambassadors/sales reps.

*whistling noises*, said the King, grumpily.
("I don't care how good a deal you say it is, we do not need any orbital defence lasers!"), the exasperated monarch whistled into the phone.
("And no battleships either. Yes, we're prepared to take that risk. If we did buy anything, are you prepared to help us test it?") he said slyly.

After a few more minutes of this, he gave up. No, he could live without a new nuclear plant. Clangers aren't interested in fighter jets (far too big, usually). And his people could definitely do without the influx of fast food.
Times like this, the King wished for a cushy job, like presiding over Parliament, instead of being cooped up in his throne room taking cold calls.
Times like this, the Littian also wished he had a better secretary. He’s all for inter-racial relations, but he had reached the conclusion that a human secretary was a bit too greedy for the post in the current climate. All Littian could hear from the outside was
“Hello. What’s in it for me? Brilliant, I’ll put you straight through.”

The King pulled out his phone cord, and wondered if there was a more diplomatic way to avoid this. There was the huge pile of reports for the week which he needed to check. He could get someone else to do it, of course, and the world would not stop turning if they went unread, but better to be seen doing reports rather than running away.
He tried to get some work done, but soon the King’s ire was aroused again. The useless secretary popped his head in and dared to say;
“Message, sir.”

It is a very rare occurrence for a Clanger to get mad, and it’s a very disconcerting thing to see.

*whistling noises*, he yelled.
(“When I unplug the phone, smash the intercom and lock the door, I don’t want to be disturbed! Especially not by any more of those ridiculous salesmen! And how did you get a key to the Throne Room?”)

“Everyone knows you leave a spare key under the plastic plant sire. And this is a message from Princess Sarilis. Apparently it’s urgent”.

And, after dodging the phone that had been flung, the unfortunate secretary placed the message as close to the King as he dared, and fled.
Littian could no longer concentrate. He had seen the dark side of international relations, and it wasn’t pretty. At least the last lot had the decency to try and understand the language. But it was obvious that none of them knew anything about Clangerland.
‘We have always been peaceful’, the King thought. ‘You can’t understand us if you don’t know this. Armed conflict is alien to us, as much as we are alien to Earth. Historically we have only ever had one war, and for the most part we were too nervous to do anything. We’ve only ever had one enemy, and even then their only problem was the fact we were the nearest nation to them.’
The documents in front of the King reinforced this. A standing army of 100,000 for border patrols. If they were to find anyone, they would give them citizenship papers and a bowl of hot soup. The Clangerland International Field Medics Corps numbered 800,000 Clangers, a sure indication of what Clangerland priorities are.
A nation with an 8:1 ratio of healers to fighters is not the best place to try and flog off ICBMs.
But even more annoying in its own way was the attempt to import masses of food into Clangerland. That was beyond the lack of regard for our non-violence, it was a direct insult to generations of Clangers and Soupdragons who toiled to create the system whereby their nation became totally agriculturally self sufficient. 40% of the Government’s budget goes into being able to make sure that every citizen of Clangerland will never go hungry. The massive Soupwells are, and always have been one of our proudest achievements and part of our ancient and lasting cultural heritage.
Not only do they employ over 100 million Soupdragons overall, but they allow Clangerland to supply international Food Aid of around 600,000 litres of Soup a week. The Soup itself, by the way, is a strange concoction involving massive underground lakes, alien enzymes, vigilant care and attention as well as a few secret ingredients known only to the master chefs and anyone who cares enough to ask in writing.
The Soup was a symbol that Clangers could make it on their own in this alien environment surrounded by a potentially hostile humanity. More importantly, without it most of Clangerland would starve to death within a month. This fact makes it incredibly concerning to note that one of the myriad of reports on Littian’s desk says it is disappearing. Fast.
But amazingly, that isn’t the biggest problem he would have to face that day.

Meanwhile, not so far away...
Clangerland underground capital Soupwell, Government district.

You could usually tell when you had entered the Government district because it was easily the busiest and most crowded part of the capital. Also, all the tunnels in this area had been created significantly higher than other areas, both for the effect and because it held one of the highest concentrations of the larger races of Clangerland. The Government district was one of the very few places in the commonwealth where only every second creature was a Clanger, usually predominant everywhere you went.

But not so now. There was something very odd about the area today.
Lady Pallosa, Leader of the majority party in the Clangermir, head of the House of Clangers, first among representatives of the people, thought she had taken a wrong turn. All the architecture and decor was right, and the pubs fit in (the government district is also notable for having the highest level of alcohol/square meter in the nation).
But where were all the representatives?

Proceedings had finished up 10 minutes previously, and not a second too soon. But usually you could find throngs of politicians of all sorts milling about, usually having a drink. A few minutes later, and still pretty much alone, she turned purposefully back to the House. The disappearance of nearly every opposition politician was not an occurrence to be taken lightly.
Granted it hadn't been a usual session, but nothing had ever got in the way of her and the other representatives of her district meeting up for a quick Merlot and the end of a hard day. And it wasn't just Clangers. Where there should be Soupdragons, Humans and Elves there were precious few.

From a side passage ran a clearly nervous Soupdragon, and an equally shaky elf. Pallosa recognised them at once as the majority leaders in their respective Houses, Felatas Sharptail, Earl of Grin and Lord Aegnoril nos Laiquendi. Their exaltation made her even more worried than she already was.

"Where is everybody?" The elf exclaimed.

*whistling noises*
("No idea. But it isn't everyone. Quite a few of our lot were back there.")

The dragon grumbled -
("So, we're missing ourselves one opposition. You don’t suppose they might all be sulking somewhere?")

"Maybe your dragons, but elves aren't prone to sulking. I get the terrible feeling that there's more to this than bruised egos. Either way, it's not something we should be keeping to ourselves"

*whistling noises*
("You're right.") sighed Pallosa. She hated it when she was forced into a decision like this, but there was really only one option. ("Let's get to my office, we can get direct to the King from there")

*rumbles*
("You get a direct line to the King? I'm lucky if I can order out.")

And with that they started to run. And when they got to the Office of the Head of the Clangermir, they stopped. Because they found that nearly every friendly politician had already got there. The three pushed through the crowd; jittery, nervous, and as they got to the front, increasingly scared. And what they found there more than justified the fear.

And so begins the Revolution. Although, in the style of the Clangers, a piece of paper under a door is probably the most timid start to a Revolution imaginable.

Just a reminder - all this will amount to nothing unless I can find a volunteer nation who can sponsor the chaos.

Please, everyone, have a look here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=152296&highlight=) and see if you can help.

[ooc:tag. quite a pleasant read. we can't volunteer for the post of evil clanger haters because they're too damned cute : p]

Tag- for later reading

#tag# - but we love you too darn much. Wanna buy a battleship?

OOC - [ooc:tag. quite a pleasant read. we can't volunteer for the post of evil clanger haters because they're too damned cute : p]

#tag# - but we love you too darn much. Wanna buy a battleship?

Good to know. But if anyone was beginning to want to invade Clangerland, you might be scaring them off. I would never have considered it hard to find an enemy, but here we are.
If only TPA was still about. He hated me for no reason.
Good times.

Apologies to those who may have noticed that in three posts, nothing has actually hapened yet. I'm working on it.