NationStates Jolt Archive

Grumblings of war have been heard issuing from the Department of War's Dodecahedron Building deep within the territory of the Dominion of Psi V.

"Buncha hippies, is what they is," mumbles Cletus, the Minister for Inordinate Ordinance. "All that inhospitable wasteland, just goin' to waste! They could strip-mine it for uranium. Or stage Spoo Monkey concerts. Or..."

"Yes, yes," murmurs Evizer, the Assistant Plenipotentiary Vizer of Evil. "We've been over all this. There's literally dozens of reasons to invade the Republic of Strohsland, none of which I will mention because they are so very, very plentiful. Dozens. That we should invade is not the question, how is."

For a moment, all sit quietly, enjoying a glass of liquefied Techno-Kitty Ale. Finally, a tall, severe-looking woman speaks, her one eye glittering menace.

"Gentlemen," she purrs. "What we need is a pretext. A reason to invade that anyone can get behind. Something that appears apparent, but is in fact needlessly complex until the exposition or denouement begins."

Blank stares greet her from around the table. Cletus finally breaks the uncomfortable silence. "What?"

Natasha du Mal sighs, then holds up a piece of paper. "The Republic of Strohsland holds its annual royal Techno-Kitty festival and ball every year. Dignitaries, officials... opportunities for... misunderstandings abound. Especially with the nubile Princess of Strohsland in attendance."

Silence.

Natasha sighs again. "Ok, the plan is that we'll kidnap the princess and frame someone for something bad, ok?"

After a few moments of discussion, the cabal agrees, and du Mal excuses herself from the rest of the meeting, citing planning demands. As she walks, she ignores the rain streaming down, drenching her as she chews her lip in thought.

Revenge, she thinks. Bloody revenge. No man refuses my advances, no one! And Strohsland will pay for it's leader's exceptionally good taste and bad luck. Oh, they will pay...

Not even the harsh tang of the lamppost she inadvertently walks into can take the look of cruel joy from her face. Just you wait... you're about to feel the full fury of a woman scored... I mean, scorned.

The clouds, pregnant with thunder and foreshadowing, rumble back.

:eek:

The Republic of Strohsland is wild with activity. With only A few days left until the annual royal Techno-Kitty festival and ball, the last minute preparations are being executed.

This years ball will be held high atop a rocky plateau far out of reach from the biker-gangs, (as to not repeat what happened last year, during the beer shortage.) This year's festivities will include a Spoo Monkey show, A mime, the flogging of the notorius thief James "Sticky" Pattersnatch, and a speach on Techno-Kitties by the princess Loqueesha.

Protesters are already gathering in downtown Strohs. "No more mimes!!!" some of them cry out. "Spoo Monkeys suck!" call others. Still others declare "Techno-Kitties are NEAT-O!!!" Dozens of Street Vendors have made camp there, and it doesn't look like the protesters are going anywhere for awhile.

Ambassador Plunkett from the Nation of Psi V will be the guest of honor this year, and will be recieving the coveted Dr. Strohs Award for Excellence in Techno-Kitty research.

Unfortunately, the Spoo Monkeys canceled at the last moment due to another break-up. The government of Strohsland is scrambling to fill their slot.

The government of the Republic of Strohsland has reluctantly invited the popular foreign band, The Palendromes, to play for the annual Techno-Kitty Ball. The Palendromes recently reached the top of the charts with their hit "Go Hang a Salami, I'm a Lasagna Hog." Strohsland insider, Bob Kafak, is reporting that there will be lighters at every table, at the request of the band, in order to light up the ballroom when they perform their first single, "Race Car." Everything else should go forth as planned.

“And so to streamline the alcohol-delivery system, we’ve laid pipelines to carry beer directly to strategic distribution points, rather than rely on kegs or barrels. It’s an on-demand service paradigm, for income and outgo,” the Strohs rep explained to the Psi V delegate breathlessly.

Cletus eyed the pipes, an impressed look on his grizzled face. “So… beer goes in the red pipes?” he finally asked.

“Right.”

“What about the other ones, the ones in blue?” he pointed.

“That’s the outgo. You know, the… waste runoff.”

“Like, from the johns?”

“Er, yeah.” The exec blushed, not used to not using euphemisms.

“Hmm.” Cletus appeared to think for a moment, a more difficult feat than some might imagine. “Hey… so, what were to happen iffen somebody switched up these here pipes?”

“Oh, there’s no chance of that,” the exec assured him. “They’re different colors. It’s foolproof. Why, I suppose you’d have waste going to the drink lines and good beer going down the sewers if it did happen, but someone would have to deliberately do that. And who would want to waste our fine domestic brew?”

“Who, indeed,” Cletus said quietly, disliking that part of the plan himself. “Why don’t y’all show me where the Princess is gonna be settin’ next?”

…

“Excellent,” mutters Evizer, reading Cletus’s report. “Their setup is wide open to our machinations. And with those meddlesome Spoo Monkeys out of the way, our puppet band is now in place and ready to provide the signal. The torch, as it were, that will set the whole machine in motion…”

He reaches for the dictaphone and buzzes his secretary. “Have an invitation sent to one Jean-Paul Warthog in Strohsland. I would like to discuss security issues with the upcoming Festival.”

“Warthog?” comes the stuttered reply. “But sir, he and his Notorious Gang are the prime suspects in the beer shortage incident last year! Such a dangerous criminal-“

“Is exactly what I require, yes. Arrange the meeting, then fire yourself for your impudence.”

Smirking, Evizer allows himself a moment of gloating before placing another call. The voice on the other end is crisp, businesslike. “Yes?”

“All is going according to plan, Natasha. Security, the diversions, the tainted food, even the patsies. All will dance to your tune soon enough.”

After a moment’s silence, Natasha du Mal responds, sounding a little fatigued. “You’ve been gloating again, haven’t you, Evizer?”

“Well… maybe a little bit…” he half-apologizes.

“Well and good in its proper time and place, but kindly maintain your focus.” She hangsup on him without another word.

Vindictive woman, Evizer muses. One failed relationship and she’s ready to topple two governments for it? Absurd. Oh, that reminds me… Evizer reaches for the phone and dialed home, his voice mutating from its regular oiliness to a low wheedle.

“Hi, honey… no, I’m not at a bar… yes, I’ll pick up some lettuce on the way home…”

The guests file in to the huge mountain top palace. Sipping on cocktails, everyone is at ease, without a motorcycle in sight. Princess Loqueesha mingles with as many people as she can before everyone finds their seats.

"Welcome Ambassador Plunkett...and I'm sorry, you are?" greets the princess.
"Natasha, pleased to meet you," purrs the women in the fancy dress.
"You look awefully nervous, Ambassador. Anxious to recieve the award, tonight, are you?" Plunkett quickly finishes off his drink. "Yes, your grace. That is it, alright. I'm definitely not nervous about anything strange happening tonight, if that's what your asking.....We'd better sit down."

The Palendromes give the show of their life. "Ra-o-ramalama Roar" brings the people to the dance floor. The princess nods to the caterers to go ahead and tap the beer lines. They make the preparations while the band finishes up.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you the winner of the Dr. Strohs Award..." A horrible smell starts to fill the room. The people begin to gag. Princess Loqueesha covers her mouth and runs to the closest door as the rest of the room begins to wretch.

Safe from the smell for a moment, the princess takes a huge breath and opens the window in the smallest room in the palace. "Who are you?!?" she gasps.

People of the Bountiful Palace of Doom, rejoice!

The time has come for change. The time has come for bright revolution!

Long has the blighted land of Psi V languished under the rule of an uncaring tyrant. We live, my friends, under a rigid dictatorship that clings blindly to power, where desparation corrupts a kind and generous people. This is the legacy of the Dominion of Psi V.

This is no government at all - no! Instead, we labor under an arbitrary rule that selfishly denies its citizens all manner of freedom in a futile attempt to preserve the mythical "individual freedom". A truly free society cares for all of its citizens, as parents care for their children. Not just the powerful and prestigious, not simply the productive and moral, but all members great and small. We shun the destitute, the homeless, the underskilled and undereducated. We punish the lawbreakers without a thought of how to reform them. We give our citizens every way imaginable to destroy themselves, to sink or swim without regard for their less-tangible qualities. The GNP does not measure love, compassion, or selflessness, and that is the character of a truly great nation. That is what we long for, and have been balked - until now.

A strong government can heal all ills. The time has come for a united, beneficial rule of representatives of the people's will: one that can serve the needs of everyone, one that can ensure equality of outcome, one that can represent the will of all without the social cost rampant individualism has brought us.

You have but to look at the dire issues of our nation to see why: it reads as a litany of abuse. Our children are forced to compete, rather than cooperate, within a school system that awards merit rather than effort. Natives of our land are oppressed, denied the reparations for the crimes of our forefathers against them. Legalized drugs run rampant as people freely numb themselves to the horror of their existance, and any depressed individual may simply take his own life, inflicting tragedy on his loved ones. The overweaning military forces plunder what little monies are raised for our laughable national coffers. The poor are allowed to remain so; simply not working can ensure a miserable life under current rule. Godlessness reigns as the government refuses to acknowledge any supreme power in its official capacity. Social welfare and consciousness is the worst in our region by virtue of not existing at all. Business and production is king, sneering at the finer elements of a human soul such as love and sensitivity. And how are these crimes answered?

"Self-reliance" is our patronizing credo. "Triumph of the Will", is what I say! Propoganda, nothing more!

Only when all share in the bounty of all can we truly be free. From each according to his ability, to each according to his need is a formula for universal happiness. And we will create it, here and now. Fear not, gentle allies! No longer will a vainglorious despot rule our wounded land! Today we found a new nation, the People's Republic of Psi V! Today, we claim our future!

Natasha du Mal, President, the People's Republic of Psi V

:mp5:

News Brief:

Riots have turned into gun fights in downtown Strohsland. The giant Dr. Strohs statue has been toppled. Police are outnumbered and have barricaded themselves in the Ministry of Pepsicola building. Mysteriously there has been no looting and no sign of biker gangs.

Thus far it is believed that all those at the annual Techno-Kitty ball are oblivious to the situation below, since the Ministry of Communication building has been taken over by rioters.

Story Developing.

Tonight in Strosland, riots ripped through the strets, while most of the populous drank fetid beer at the famed Techno-Kitty ball.
Also in foreign news, the Country of Psi-V has seemingly turned communist, with some type of social revolution.
-click-

"Mister president, we must prepare for a possible uprising of pinko bastards in our country. We cannot allow this to take hold in our country!"

"For once, I agree with you."
The president of Poon-Gri-La, chewing on a cigar looking at this months issue of "Guns and Nukes" replied to his Police Minister, Matthew Gunguy.
"Minister Gunguy, mobilize the secret police and begin rounding up any dissident cells that we are aware of....make examples of them all.

"Exellent choice, Mister President....."

“Allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth, and taste…” sneers the gun-wielding thug. Somewhere in the background noise, the revving of deep-thoated engines began to filter in.

Despite herself, Princess Loqueesha couldn’t help but snicker. “Coulda fooled me. What, are you trying to bring the Seventies screaming back into the present?”

Frederick Goshin (“call me ‘Go’”) glanced at his outfit, momentarily ashamed. True, his ‘covert ops’ black-and-neon-yellow zoot suit was a touch garish, but he’d spent so much money on the gun and getting all the-

“Never mind that!” he snapped, brandishing the gun. “We’re from the Strohsland Internal Liberation Front, and you are now our prisoner!”

Princess Loqueesha’s brow furrowed for a moment. “SILF?”

Go’s burly partner, Rin, winced visibly. “Yeah, we’re none too happy with it either, but what’re ya gonna do?”

No-show, the last of the trio, nodded unhappily. “I wanted something that, you know, spelled out something cool, but…”

“Enough!” Go snapped. “Irregardless of name, you’re now our prisoner, Princess!” He glared at his less-deft partners, daring them to challenge his use of ‘irregardless’. “Come along quietly and we won’t kill you right away.”

Princess Loqueesha seemed to think about this a moment, then nodded. “Ok. Looks like the beer’s gonna suck this year anyway.”

Go blinked slowly at the unexpected ease of the hostage-taking, then gestured towards the back door. “Let’s go, Your Majesty.” The three made their way to an unmarked white van idling behind the podium and began to drive away.

“So, why am I being kidnapped again?” Princess Loqueesha asked innocently.

“Well, the main reason’s so that we’ve got a bargaining chip in case the revolutions go sour. But also, we need a way to get Strohsland to attack Psi V, so’s we’ve got a pretext for the whole-” No-show began to narrate until he was cut off by Go’s neck-punch.

“Knock it off, brain trust! She don’t need to know that we’re staging a fake war to cover for revolution in both countries! She don’t need to know that we’ve organized the whole thing, from tainted beer to the motorcycle gangs covering our escape. So stop with all the exposition, ok?” Go snarled.

“But, you just-”

“Zip it, I said!”

Princess Loqueesha rode in silence, thinking on what she’d learned, wondering if she should risk using the Forbidden Martial Art and make good her escape now, or stay on and try to learn more.

My patriotic duty is clear, she decided. Learn now, escape later. After all, the FMA is not to be used lightly, and I may learn more of interest…

Across the seat from her, Rin grinned uneasily at her. “So, is this your first kidnapping, or what?”

Princess Loqueesha fought to keep from rolling her eyes. This is gonna be a long day.

…

PSIV-Newswire:

Chaos has broken out in Strohsland as, for the second straight year, motorcycle gangs have raided the festivities. Hundreds, perhaps thousands are trapped by roving thugs. Unconfirmed reports speculate that contaminated beer is responsible for the complete breakdown of security at the plateau. Among the missing are several Psi V dignitaries and Strohsland’s own beloved Princess Loqueesha.

…

Strohsland-Newsfeed Advance:

Reports are now coming in that the Hegemony of Psi V is responsible not only for the unprovoked assault on the Techno-Kitty Plateau, but for the kidnapping of Princess Loqueesha. Riots are already breaking out in the Hegemony as a group calling itself SILF has denounced the government and pronounced a coup d’etat under Vice Minister du Mal and the Assistant Plenipotentiary Vizer of Evil, Evizer. No word as yet as to the fate of the dignitaries on the Techno-Kitty Plateau or Psi V’s possibly former tyrant.

…

PoonGriLa Spectator:

All is well. Do not be alarmed. Psi V and Strohsland will settle their differences without major violence or communism, and if not… well, we’ve got a good orbital weapons platform just sitting there…

Little Chantar and Heywood sat and looked on as the townspeople distroyed their own city with riots. Their gaze on the carnage was broken only once by the approach of a shadowy figure above them. He walked towards the crowds, but turned to offer the two some advice.

"You boys better go home...It's not safe here."

Chantar's jaw dropped. "What is it?" asked Heywood. "I think that was...no...it couldn't have been...could it?" replied Chantar.
..................

The mysterious stranger arrived at the scene of the riots and attempted to stop the violence before him. He wasn't able to get anyone's attention, however. So he decided to speak to them in a language that he knew they would understand....HIS FISTS. Within 20 minutes he had single handedly paused the riots. By this time however, he realized that he was surrounded by an angry mob. It is this time that the mystery of this man would be revealed. He mysteriously threw aside the mysterious hood that was covering his mysterious head. "My people, I have returned not only to kick you all in the sack...but there are even more dire circumstances that I must inform you of...Listen to ME!!!...."

......................

"I knew it!!!" cried Chantar. "But I thought he was dead...hmmm?"

The Ministry of Offense in Poon-Gri-La buzzed with activity, finally the grand army of the nation would be tested.

"Sir, we have run simulation after simulation, there is no possible way we can lose this fight!"
"Exellent...inform the Secretary Gunguy to continue operation "Kill the Commies", I will call the President personally."
General Castro strode across the gigantic conference room, chuckling to himself, "If Psi V moves in any way towards Strosland, then we will strike....."
Upon reaching the video-link with the President, there was a minor problem--the techies there were playing Pong on the viewing screen. After the dissidents had been dragged out and executed, General Castro placed his call to the President.
"Mr. President, all of our plans are going extremely well. All forward airfields have been resupplied and our Army is moving into position as we speak. If Psi V goes makes the mistake of letting her guard down for even a moment, we will reclaim the Taintland, lost to our people so long ago. The people of that area will once again be part of the home nation."
"Very well, General. When the time comes to move, I will allow you to unleash the hounds of ......well, you know what I mean. Good job."
As the view screen went blank, the "President" smiled, and thought of that far away princess that would soon be his.

“Went off without a hitch, Evizer,” Cletus reported breathlessly. “That thar puppet band The Palendromes went into that prolonged solo that signaled the waste ‘accident’. Security was down an’ retchin’ like a freshman at an all-night kegger in no time ‘tall. Princess bagged, gangs roughin’ up the guests somethin’ awful, chaos on earth. Shore is a purty sight from here, boss-man.”

“Excellent,” Evizer said evenly. Our little ‘package’ should be on her way, then, setting in chain a beautiful… er, chain of events. As planned. Our once-proud tyrant is prisoner, Natasha owns the media, and we control the public trough, meaning we control the public. And soon, a war. Our war.”

Cletus waited for his superior to trail off before he spoke again. “Yeah, good. All right. Jean-Paul’s and his gang o' biker outlaws won’t stand up much longer, though,” Cletus said, a little nervously. “They all got some kinda superweapon down there, some dude with a toothpick in his mouth and a score to settle. A man who's stared in the face of adversity and come away purified, kinda like. A man unbeaten by the best an uncaring world can throw at him. A hero, if you will.” Cletus spat. "Or some shit."

“A… hero… how quaint. Fear not, Cletus, this was not completely unanticipated, yes? You have means."

No answer.

Evizer sighed. "To wit, you have lots of guns, and men to shoot those guns. Are you catching my solution to this hero problem here, Cletus?”

“Uh. Yessir. Thanks for faxing me the diagram with all the pictures and stuff too, that helped.”

Evizer wondered briefly if Cletus was being sarcastic, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. The man hadn’t risen to his position by being snide. “Think nothing of it." He almost hung up, then something jogged his memory. One more detail "Oh, and of course, keep a close eye on the Spoo Monkeys, won’t you?”

“Er…” Cletus stammered. “Yeah. ’Bout that. We-all may a’ lost track of-” Cletus winced at the sound of something fragile and expensive breaking on the other end of the phone.

“Imbecile! Find them and neutralize them! They are our scapegoats, you fool! Allow no harm to come to them, but they must not be allowed to interfere in our plans!” A pause, then Evizer resumed, sounding slightly saner. “Very well. And what is the situation in the Taintland?”

“Castro’s madder’n a sack fulla technokitties ‘bout our boys rollin’ round there. They's pretty far up, too. Tried callin’ em back a ways but they’re all holed up.”

Evizer considered. He and Natasha had wondered why the former despot has seen fit to occupy the contested strip at all, much less move nearly 10,000 troops into the region. And to have the whole occupation force overseen by a… what was it? “Committee of the Concerned?” Unlike the former despot to tolerate dissent in any form, and here he gave dissidents command of an enthusiastic, albeit poorly-trained, brigade.

He shrugged mentally. “Leave them for now. They can more than blunt any offensive Poon-Gri-La can mount. I’m sure the Tyrant wouldn’t have put them there unless they were up to the task. Inform Strohsland that we are ‘protecting’ Princess Loqueesha until the hostilities die down – and then make sure hostilities do not die down. Understand?”

“Yessir.” Cletus hung up.

Some days it really pays to wake up evil, Evizer thought to himself. The Princess for me, victory over Poon-Gri-La and Strohsland, and Natasha gets… whatever it is she wants out of all this.

…

Natasha grunted, sending the throwing knife directly into the bowels of the oversized boy-band poster, joining its mates. Satisfied, she retrieved her daggers and began throwing them again, the blades vibrating where they stuck into the grinning visages of the Spoo Monkeys.

Revenge, she thought. Sweet, bloody revenge.

*Thunk*

You will pay, my love. Oh, yes, you will pay.

*Thunk*

No one breaks up with me. Spurn me, will you? Deny me your sweet sweet embrace, will you?

*Thunk*

First I’ll break your country. Then the furniture you humped instead of me. And then, my love… Then I will break you…

*Thunk*

:headbang: