NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC> I'm opening up a little undirected RP. My nation is going to open relations with the others in the region. This is for Menots folks primarily, though out of regioners can feel free to buzz my HQ!
IC begins-

The summer season is upon Menotomy. The region is blessed with the comfort of warmth and sun, at least where it is not being poured on by summer storms. In a remote part of the interior of the region lies a dense urban nationstate, just newly fallen under the sway of it's corperate dictators. This nation, calling itself the Holy Empire of the Eschaton, is guided by the wealthy overlords from the heights of the capitol's skyscrapers.
A few days later telegraph lines begin to hum, sending messages to neighboring nations.
To the Dominion of Bombia comes word from this new nation. Also to the Dominion of Little Ossipee a telegram. The Commonwealth of Olindo, as well, is contacted, and The People's Republic of Marklund.
Each bears the same message:
"In hopes of better relations and the growth of our mutual interests we are opening the doors for negotiations. Our ambassadors are ready to call upon your capitols, and should this not be manageable, please inform us if you wish to send your own representatives here. They will be greeted with courtesy and treated well. We hope this is beginning of a profitable relationship. <signed by the twenty three Chief Executive Officers of the Eschaton>"
The door is open. The Eschaton has arrived.

OOC> Okay, so noone's getting involved. Well, to heck with ya'll, I'll just keep posting until someone jumps in as well!
IC begins...

Near the Eschatonic border of Funkington, a tiny slice of land that seperates two vastly different countries, arrives a convoy of trucks bearing a number of badges identifying themselves as endorsed by Deter Wolfgang, CEO of Immeniton Corp. and one of the Twenty-Three. Fitted with yellow safety helmets and wicking jackets, the men are accompanied by a number of company surveyers, and ride with a large amount of technical supplies, including soil analysis devices, gieger counters, and a large number of chainsaws. There are also prefab facilities, suggesting this group of men will be staying on site for a while.
The trucks roll over a narrow rainforest path, cut out originally by the biologists that came here to catalogue insect species (before their funding was cut to pay for the renovation of a burger chain). There are few delays. The vehicles were designed with this terrain in mind. Soon they are at the designated site, a clearing marked by a rocky outcropping. The workers and surveyers pile out, unloading equiptment quickly and efficiently. Quality, as the many posters in Immeniton's highrise HQ declare, is a way of life for their employees. These men are not the underpaid saps who labor in the mines to the south. No, they are well paid and trusted. They are searching for the source of Wolfgang's power, the substance that made him rich and, therefore, powerful: uranium.
Amid the eerily quiet bustle of the camp's set up one vehicle peels off from the rest. It is a jeep, manned by four men whose grey, unmarked utility jackets bulge from the kevlar vests beneath. They bear assault rifles by their seats, and semi-automatic pistols on their hips. The armed men roll in their rugged vehicle, deeper into the forests and... across the border into lawless Funkington.
The Eschaton's agents head for the nearest urban center.