NationStates Jolt Archive

There are some things man may do to man, depending on the laws of the land. Then there are the things which are commonly accepted, no matter the land, that man may not do against man. It is for these things that we propose to create the bestials: so that we may achieve results equivocal to that which a man would give, but without breaking those written and unwritten rules of etiquette.
~ Excerpt from "Proposal #3829" as presented to the Timorian Conclave

bestial (bes-chuhl, bees-):
1. of, pertaining to, or having the form of a beast;
2. without reason or intelligence; brutal; inhuman;
3. beastlike in gratifying one's sensual desires; carnal; debased.

Conception

The Empire of Timor required laborers. Its technological advancement and territorial expansion had outstretched its ability to build and maintain the required equipment and facilities. Emperor Darzan commissioned a panel of Conclave members to find a solution to this problem. After much debate, they did just that. There were many positions that needed filling, most of them falling somewhere between hazardous and suicidal. As those in the labor force willing to take on such risk-filled jobs were depleted, few others stepped forward to replace them. Those in the service industries were also dwindling. The construction yards had drained the major cities of every kind of menial laborer seeking a chance at something greater. The Conclave devised a simple, elegant solution to both problems. Instead of seeking out new workers to fuel their technological revolution, why not turn to technology itself? Why not use the sciences that saved lives every day to instead create new life? Why not create life designed to be hardier than man so as to be more suited to hazardous conditions? Why not create life designed to be sturdier than man so as to finish more quickly? Why not create life that could be expended at will with little to no international repercussions?

So it was that the infamous Proposal #3829 was created. Forty seven of Timor's top scientists were given the charge of designing a life form or forms that would meet the expectations of the Conclave. It took them only a year to produce the first of a new breed. The bestials, or "furries" as they came to be called, were nothing short of a modern miracle. It was as if the ever elusive Tomorrow promised by film and tale since man first envisioned the future had finally come about. Canids were the base of choice, and thousands of human-wolf hybrids were churned out over the course of five years. They were designed with several specific traits that limited their capacities, and when biological means failed to produce the desired effects, electronic means were implemented. They were given enough intelligence to understand and perform orders up to a moderate complexity, but their creative centers were blocked. They were made male but sterile. They were given increased muscle mass and bone density, but their pack instincts were heightened and an impulse to submit when facing a human implanted. Almost every psychological and physiological contingency against the possibility that they might become free thinking and independant was taken.

Lupines quickly became a mainstay of the labor force, working behind the scenes in any job that humans found distasteful, from waste processing and removal to janitorial service. Those humans who had no other skills were not displaced, but no new employees were hired save in managerial positions. This, of course, brought detractors to bear upon the project, however their protests were ignored. There were numerous social policies allowing the destitute and lower class income families to attain higher education for nearly nothing. Over all, the bestials were hailed as the achievement of the century.

As their popularity grew, so did the demand for more useful, versatile models. Thus were born the servitors. Foxes were implemented first. Their intelligence factor was increased, and their countermeasures strengthened. Domestic and semi-domestic feline species were added some few years afterwards. Their programming was much more difficult, however demand for them was so great that there was little choice if the industry was to continue to flourish. And so it progressed, adding new breeds by the year, new specialized models, new customizable features.

After five decades, 90% of any service based industry was powered by the muscle, sinew, and blood of bestials. The human to bestial ratio grew lower by the month. After a century, barely half the population of the nation was human. As the bestial population increased, the Timorians became less and less active, pursuing more intellectual purposes. The humans rose higher and higher upon the backs of their creations, and their creations became restless. ..

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Of some two hundred million bestials within timor, nearly half of them (43.765%) work towards only one goal: giving every man and/or woman who comes to them the time of their life. Yes, prostitution is the oldest profession on the planet, however these numbers show a greater ratio than any in the history of humanity. Half of an entire species devoted to the sexual gratification of mankind? That seems to say something, at least to me. I'm not quite sure what it says just yet, but rest assured, I'm quite certain every man, woman, and child in Timor will eventually know.
~ Excerpt from "Anual Report #3675-4A" by Robert Julian

Even heaven gets boring after the first few hundred visits...
~ Excerpt from "The Long Walk" by Alexis Flamefur

Unrest in Eden

A bestial servant in every household, a bestial servant in every place of business, a bestial servant in every position of menial or undesirable labor: bestials had become the back bone of the work force. They were construction workers and sewer cleaners and garbage collectors. But they were also butlers, waitresses, clerks, and escorts. Some few even attained stardom through film and television. Bestials were everywhere, and most Timorians never noticed them for longer than it took to give an order.

Surprisingly, the discontent did not start within the general labor force, as one might expect. That sector was comprised of species designed to derive satisfaction from a hard job well done and from the praise of their overseers. Instead, the initial mutterings began within the pleasure industry. The "pleasure" models, so named for their intended primary function, were almost universally used only in the capacity for which they were designed. Some small percentage existed outside of brothels, working as "personal assistants" or under a similar title, though they served the same purpose. It was among those brothel slaves that the first whispers were heard. Could there be more to life than this? They were designed to recieve the utmost pleasure from sexual gratification, but even heaven becomes dull after a time. Those who ceased to perform were "retired". That is to say, euthenized. It was so much cheaper to purchase a new slave than to reason with a disobedient one. As such, many continued to fake their performance rather than be taken on the long walk.

It was these few who had tired of their work but were not yet tired of their lives that thought of more than simply doing as they had since shortly after their birth. They had been programmed with a selection of words that they were capable of speaking, updated by their owner via customization software depending on the situation. As such, the initial phrases used to express the growing unease within them were sometimes cryptic. Eventually two became commonly recognized among the community and were even used as a sort of passcode on ocassion. "I would like to see the bird fly" and "I want to wander where the wind blows". These two images have been seen throughout human history as meaning only one thing: freedom.

There were, of course, human factions who deplored the enslavement of bestials, as there were those who deplored their very existance. Among the former, as is usually the case with such special interest groups, there was a radical faction called the Bestial Liberation Front. They had freed hundreds of bestials since their conception. The problem the BLF came across was that the bestials they freed seemed not to care and only wanted to return to their work. Even after their restrictor chips were removed, most wanted only to continue their lives as they had been. They had been programmed at a nearly genetic level, and it was nigh impossible for them to understand anything other than existance as a subject. It was on one of their rare brothel raids that they discovered something new...

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I think if they had known what would have come of our rescue, they might have left us there to rot.
~ Excerpt from "The Long Walk" by Alexis Flamefur

If we had known what would happen after we rescued those whores... we would have left them there to rot...
~ Anonymous BLF member

Emergence

The BLF was startled to find their newly-freed brothel slaves eager to stretch their legs and minds. Among the nearly three dozen bestials, three stood out above the rest: Alexis Flamefur the vixen, Silas Maximus the wolf, and Elegant Passion the mink. The first words spoken to them were by Alexis, who asked only, "Are we free?" Their affirmative answer was taken in stride. They had expected celebration and cheers. It was later, as the idea and ideology seeped in, that they were able to look back with joy. Five years later, thirty-six brothels had been lain waste, and nearly five hundred bestials ran free through the underground networks of the BLF. Alexis, Silas, and Elegant were the bestial leaders and representatives. Their faces appeared on wanted posters nationwide alongside other BLF leaders. Behind closed doors, however, some began to praise them.

It was not until the BLF attacked one of the major cloning stations that the government became serious about hunting them. A few lost whores was one thing; national production was quite another. Over the course of another five years, BLF operatives were systematically hunted and eliminated, safe houses destroyed, and freed bestials euthenized. The BLF simply dug in its heels and fought back. Every raid was met with armed and fierce resistance. And even as their numbers dwindled, they were swelled once more by the introduction of new blood. As more of the nation's youth rallied to the cause and more bestials were freed, it became nearly impossible to halt the growing tide of discontent. Whispers filtered through cracked doors and cage bars. Notes flitted by on crumpled paper. Silent paws slipped through the night, tossing their shackles aside.

The Emperor finally called a halt to hostilities, giving the BLF national recognition as a legitimate organization. He offered them a place on his board of advisors to help create and change policy on bestials. They refused. He offered them safe haven and escort out of Timor. They refused. He offered them a small preserve on which to keep their "free" bestials with the stipulation that they cease their raids and that bestials who became too old to provide service would be allowed to retire there. The BLF accepted.

They were not fooled by this attempt at placation, however. They knew the Emperor would not give up that easily. It would only be a matter of time before he moved to snuff them out once and for all. In the mean time, they used this respite to their advantage. To the public, they presented the facts and lobbied for equality. Their raids ceased. They became a legitimate authority indeed. In the night, however, chains were loosed and locks broken. It is estimated that their covert tactics freed more bestials than their overt ones. It was not to last, though. Seven months, twelve days, seven hours, and fifty-one minutes after the truce was called, Emperor Darzan unleashed hell upon the eden he had created...

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It was like a fire that never stopped burning... It was like a light from heaven descending to smite the earth... It was like... I was like hell had risen from its depths to claim the world. I thought it was Armageddon.
~ Anonymous citizen

The only consolation I take from this... this atrocity... is the fact that now our eyes are truly open. We understand now the depths to which our glorious emperor is willing to sink and the lengths to which he is willing to go to hide the truth. We offered peace; he has given us war. War he shall have.
~ Silas Maximus

Conflict on Earth

Heaven and Hell warred for some few minutes within the heart of the Timorian capitol. When the light faded and the dust settled, all that was left of the glorious garden that Emperor Darzan had given the bestials was a mile-deep crater. Thus was war declared. It was joined shortly thereafter in the streets of the capitol. The BLF had managed to free hundreds of thousands of slaves due to both their public campaigns and their clandestine activities and had recruited hundreds of members. Of those numbers, ninety seven bestials and thirty four humans were slain by the devastation unleashed upon New Eden. Ten minutes after the blinding flare had dissipated, every single free bestial took up arms against their Timorian overlords. Not against the people, as one might expect, nor even against the military that attempted to hold them at bay and subdue them, no. It was their creators and controllers at whom their wrath was directed. Four hundred seventy two thousand five hundred fourty three bestials stormed the Imperial Palace that day.

However, the esteemed Emperor was long gone. He fled the Palace long before unleashing his carefully calculated devastation. The newly christened Bestial Liberation Army then proceeded to claim every cloning center within the city, freed every bestial within the city, and forced the cloning engineers and doctors to remove every single restrictor chip, including those within the bestials contained inside the cloning facilities' gestation tubes. In place of the normal memory engrams that destined these genetic creations for a lifetime of willing slavery, they were given the combined engrams of Alexis, Silas, and Elegant. Two days after the revolution began, there were born the first truly free bestials, unfettered by the restrictions of man.

As the BLA consolidated their hold on the capitol, however, Emperor Darzan was busy organizing his retaliation. Timorian troops stormed the city five days after is occupation. They were met with fierce resistance and unwavering determination. The BLA had nearly doubled in numbers over the course of those four days, both human and bestial. It also had gained access to the central garrison's armory. Timorian forces were held at bay. For two months the conflict raged unabated. Then, miraculously, the Emperor seemed to see reason. A cease fire was declared and the capitol city of Timor became its own independant nation of Vulpes Vixenis, named by the Emperor himself. This pitiful attempt at placation was not enough for the creations he himself had commissioned.

Timorian forces fought a desperate, losing battle against the BLA as it marched towards the Emperor. The Timorian army lost more troops from desertion than from enemy fire. The conflict led to its eventual conclusion three months and fourteen days after its initial onset. Darzan the Despised, as he came to be known, was captured, tried, and hanged in public from his statue in front of the Imperial Palace. Timor ended. Vulpes Vixenis began. This was not, however, the end of the bestials troubles...

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OOC: Hope you don't mind me saying 'nice job' I saw this thread a few months back. Quite interesting (especially in contrast to the spate poorly drafted 'furry hate' threads from a lot of II nations a few months back). Keep it up!

OOC: I mirror the statement made by the above. I'll definitely keep an eye on this well-crafted work.

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We can be free only as much as we free ourselves. What has been done to us cannot be undone. Thus we look to the next generation, hoping to instill in them the burning flame we have carried, so long and so far, and pray that they will hold it dear and cherish it and keep it alight for when it is once more needed.
~ Elegant Passion

If you can't leave anything behind when you take that last, long walk, if you don't have anyone to carry on a legacy you worked damn hard to build, if you can't show any proof that your life meant something to someone... then what did you really do with your life?
~ Excerpt from "The Long Walk" by Alexis Flamefur

Continuation

They had been designed as slaves. Imperfect though the programming had been, there were several undeniable facts that bestials now had to contend with. Paramount on the list was their inability to breed. 98% of bestials were completely and irrevocably infertile. The final two percent had been used as specialized breeding stock among the late Emperor's favored few, and only a handful of those survived the slaughter preceding their masters' exodus. It had been one of the main control measures used against them, and it proved just as effective now as upon their initial conception. Once again, their fate fell to the humans who had controlled their lives from birth. Or so it seemed.

The second highest priority among their list of concerns was their dietary requirements. Vast and varied between the numerous species, it was uncertain how they could all be met. The former Timor had few agricultural products, focusing mainly on exports of the technological kind and trading for its other needs. Now the basis for the new nation's economy, both internal and international, were in jeopardy of immediate collapse unless drastic measures were taken to ensure its survival. Aside from those within the pleasure industry, creativity had been curtailed with the bestial population as another control measure, and thus only half were capable of grasping the skills and information necessary to continue the work that had previously kept the country financially stable.

Thirdly, they were concerned with the security of themselves as both a nation and a people. As with any newly risen rebel nation, they were without identity on the global stage. They were without the resources and training that would be required to defend themselves against a determined onslaught. They were without a true governing body to represent them and give them direction. They were without law and without guidance. Reports came in from outlying cities of looting and vandals. Reports came from within the capitol itself of riots and violence. If left uncontrolled, Vulpes Vixenis would no doubt quite quickly tear itself apart or be absorbed by a greater nation.

All three concerns were swiftly laid to rest by a simple, ingenious plan. Alexis Flamefur, Silas Maximus, and Elegant Passion were cloned, their genetic models reincoded, and deprogrammed engrams implanted. It was against vehement personal protest that the three were chosen, and only after enormous pressure from all concerned that they eventually gave in. Elegant most of all wished nothing more than to fade into the annals of history, having achieved more than she had ever thought possible. Alexis was at a loss to explain why anyone would ever think her capable of governing a nation or wish to follow her in the first place. Silas simply thought it completely reprehensible to force on another living being the responsibilities and duties he himself could not perform.

The three became six, half infertile, half capable of bearing offspring, half newly crowned monarchs, half newly appointed regents. As humans fled from every part of the country, government was set into place and a constitution instituted. As renegade Timorian factions were dealt with one by one, a national military was created. As food supplies began to run low and tempers began to flare, economic safeguards were implemented and enacted. The last act of the cloning facilities before destruction was the duplication and cleansing of every surviving bestial that wished to reproduce. Thus, as the human population dwindled, the bestial population nearly doubled.

Half of the "old bloods", as they were called, returned to the professions they knew best, upholding the infrastructure as best they could. The other half, those from the pleasure industry, and the "new bloods" quickly set about learning the crafts and trades that had made Timor famous throughout the world and had earned its daily bread. Only the kindness of a few sympathetic nations gave them the time they needed and the supplies they required. It was some twenty long years before the nation became reasonably stable. Economically and politically, it would be much longer before true stability came about, but it was enough for Alexis, Silas, and Elegant that the nation would survive to face whatever challenges arose.

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When I wake up in the morning, I sometimes wonder if it has all just been a beautiful, wondrous dream...
~ Elegant Passion

Pull their whiskers, gouge their eyes!
Cut their tails off for the flies!
Make those beasts walk on all fours,
And march them through the charnel house doors!
~ Timorian Rejuvenation Army marching cadence

New Dawn

Two decades of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice put the nation of Vulpes Vixenis on the verge of achieving stability similar to that of its predecessor. There were still many problems that required addressing, many obstacles yet to overcome, but the triumvirate monarchy was well pleased with the progress that had thus far been accomplished. National infrastructure was reasonably sound, the new bloods were reproducing, and humans had begun to return to the nation, ex-patriots that had fled during the revolution.

Unfortunately, the old blood population was declining swiftly. Yet another failsafe built into their original design was a time limit on their biological processes. It ensured recurring purchases from those buyers who did not heap physical abuse upon their slaves. The lifespan set for those destined for heavy labor was five years. Those in other service industries had been destined for fifteen years of life. Those within the pleasure industry were allowed a grand total of thirty years. The last were also designed with a dramatically reduced metabolism to ensure that they retained their youthfulness throughout their lifetime.

After twenty years, over half of the old blood population was deceased, and the other half was slowly dying off. The new bloods were steadily replacing the losses, but at a much slower rate. It was at this critical juncture, when the old at last failing and the new had yet to get their paws under them, that the late Emperor's ultimate failsafe came into effect. Emperor Darzan had been a man of great intellect and even greater paranoia. In this case, his fears had been wholely justified. For just such an emergency, he had created a well hidden cloning facility buried miles beneath the western mountain range. A clone of himself had been readied for growth and a constantly updated set of engrams kept on record. Upon his death, the clone had been activated, grown, and educated via computerized tutors. Now, the cloned Emperor was ready to retake his throne.

His first step was to build an army. With the vast cloning facility at his disposal, this was done in short order, and soon he had hundreds of "super soldiers" at his command. His second step was to activate the sleeper agents his predecessor had planted throughout the Timorian population. This gave him a network of informants through which he received intelligence on governmental and military affairs. His third task was much more simple. With specialized task force units from his personal army and some few of the sleeper agents, he began a campaign of terrorist attacks that swiftly disrupted daily life within the stabilizing nation. A cover group, calling itself the Timorian Rejuvenation Army, took credit for these acts. Cells were routed and members interrogated, but none gave any information other than what was publicly known.

It was on the twenty first anniversary of the Emperor's death that the new Emperor revealed himself. His army boiled up from the depths through the Imperial Palace via secret tunnels and executed or imprisoned every bestial found within its walls. It was by sheer luck that the new blood Regents escaped the massacre. Chance had them called away to last minute negotiations with a neighboring nation. Emperor Darzan's coup was so swift and so thorough that it took three days before it was realized that something was amiss. By that time, he was prepared to move. The Timorian Rejuvenation forces flooded from the palace, seized every bestial they came across within the city, gathered as much supplies as they could carry, and then seemed to dissipate into the night. There were a great many troops that remained within the palace, mostly guarding the captives stowed there. The vast majority of the army, however, had simply vanished. At least, it appeared so. In reality, they had split into a multitude of small, mobile units capable of making surgical strikes at myriad points. They spread throughout the countryside like a plague, insidious, invisible, and deadly.

Thus as Vulpes Vixenis was beginning to rise, it was taken to its knees. The monarchs were slain. The Emperor had returned. Fear ruled the day, terror claimed the night. It seemed to many as though the bad old days would soon pick up where they had left off. Some few fled in the hopes of finding a better life elsewhere. For most, however, flight was not an option. Those few old bloods remaining had direct recollection of the days preceding the revolution. The new bloods carried the memories of their predecessors. Those newly born into this world knew the tales as well as those who told them. They had won their rights to freedom by means of war. This was something entirely different. This was blood spilt for the sole purpose of spilling blood. This was killing for the sake of watching the victim die. This was destruction and carnage and chaos. This was calculated, deliberate vengeance on a grand scale. There would be no easy victory in this. There would be no sudden end to the violence after one battle or another. Every last Timorian agent would have to be removed. Every last Timorian soldier would have to be slain. Every last bestial would have to fight or die.

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We fight and die. They fight and die. So much blood's been shed, it's surprising we aren't wading through it... And still we fight on. Because they won't stop until every last one of us is dead. So we can't stop until every last one of them is.
~ Sgt Rabine Corlis, Vulpine Marine Force

Napalm sticks like glue,
Sticks to the bitches and the kittens too.
Gramma sittin on the porch.
Make that beastie a screaming torch.
~ Timorian Rejuvenation Army marching cadence

Final Solution

The Second Revolution, as it came to be called, was everything modern war has come to be known for. Guerrilla tactics ruled the battlefield. Cities were laid waste by suicide bombings and tactical missile strikes. Forests became slaughter houses, fields became mass cemeteries. For ten years the war raged. Ten long years of never ending battle and unceasing violence. The bestial forces gained experience with every engagement, developing into battle hardened veterans capable of defeating twice their numbers in Timorian troops. Stratagems evolved, tactics changed. As time wore on, it became clear that the Vulpine forces had the tactical advantage, and they pressed hard. The balance of power that had held for most of the war began to shift against the Timorians.

It was at that point that the Emperor let loose a plague of biological and chemical weapons. Gasses that dissolved the lungs whilst the victim was still alive. Bacteria that ate the skin and dried up the blood. Poisons that drove one mad. The new Monarchs found themselves at a point they had seen coming since the beginning of the Second Revolution. They were at a crossroads. Down one path, there lay the decimation of bestials due to taking the moral high ground and following international sanctions. The second path led to victory at the price of every human being in the nation and possible global repercussions. Hundreds of thousands of bestials died by the day while they made the decision that no others could.

Eventually, they saw no other possibility. A virus, genetically crafted to target only human beings, was unleashed. It was designed with a lifespan of three days. Vulpine scientists had calculated it would take at least that long to reach the nation's borders. Any less and it may be able to affect the entirety of the target area. Any longer and it may bleed over into other nations or mutate beyond its initial parameters, creating a plague of biblical proportions. So, over the course of three days, the virus spread and performed its function. No warning was given to the civilians that had remained within the country. No warning was given to those who had joined with the Vulpine forces to fight against the Timorians. No warning was given to the neighboring nations. No one was told.

In less than a week, every human being within Vulpes Vixenis was dead. The cleanup was long and dirty. International repercussions were harsh. Vulpes Vixenis was forced to withdraw from the World Assembly and was placed under economic sanctions for five years. That time was used wisely in rebuilding the nation and hunting out the remaining buried facilities used by the cloned Emperor. It took another twenty years for the nation to achieve the stability that had been achieved prior to the Second Revolution. The last of the old bloods died during that time. Several national memorials were created to immortalize those lost in the revolutions. The main memorial, located in the central courtyard of the Monarchical Palace, was designed by Silas Maximus himself. It pictured a male and female bestial of each species that had been created with the names of those lost listed below their respective statue. Humans were also included in the memorial and those Timorians, both good and wicked, who had died during the revolutions were also given space among the remembered.

Fifty years later, we arrive at the present day. The nation of Vulpes Vixenis is stronger than ever before. Our citizens enjoy vast social freedom. Our armies are armed and outfitted with the latest in weaponry and equipment. Our international relations are peaceful. Our markets overflow with imported goods, and our exports keep the national infrastructure more than solvent. We have risen above every crisis that has come our way, and continue towards a brighter future than our original predecessors could ever have envisioned. Though there are challenges yet to be faced and forces who work against us, we will rise to face them and overcome. It is our nature. It is our birthright. Bestial and human, we shall overcome.

Professor Devlin rubbed his eyes as he brought up the lights and shut down the holoprojector. He hated the abridged, propagandized film, but it was not he had no choice in the matter. The school board had voted to show it, so he had to show it. His tail flicked in annoyance as he scanned over his students. Just because he did not like the film did not mean he did not mind his students falling asleep during its showing. Luckily, he maintained a jar full of small rubber balls on his desk for just such an occasion.

"Malak! Celine! Dorien! Kafa! Selis!" Each name was punctuated by a well aimed ball striking a vulnerable body part. They each jerked awake, rubbing the afflicted feature. "I hope everyone was taking notes and paying close attention because we have a quiz."

His evil grin was met with a collective groan. "Break out your pads, everyone, and get to work. You've got fifteen minutes, starting.... now!"

It was nearly the end of the period and the school day. It was completely unfair of him to give them a quiz on a film he did not even want to show. It was even less fair when he announced afterwards that the quiz would go ungraded. Mathias Devlin was known for his impish nature and notoriously devilish sense of humor, however. They took it in stride.

"Okay, now, tomorrow we'll be-" He was interrupted by the ringing of the final bell. "Reading"TheLongWalk"sodon'tforgettobringyourbooks!" he finished in a rush as the students stampeded out.

He gave a long suffering sigh as he slumped in his seat. Cubs these days... None of them took history as seriously as they should. The aged fox rubbed the underside of his muzzle, sighing once more. Then again, none of them had been around when it was being made. That was a good thing, he figured. Fifty years of relative peace. Fifty years of simply living. Fifty long years... He was one of the last of the new bloods, one of the last who recalled what had come before. Well, that was why he had become a teacher, after all. To ensure that nothing was lost or forgotten.

With a groan, he pulled himself from his seat, grabbed his briefcase, and headed for the door. Tomorrow he would ensure that they began to understand exactly what the costs had been for their current freedoms.