NationStates Jolt Archive

THIS MAY CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS CURSING, SEXUAL INFERENCES, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Undisclosed Location (Secret IC):
Isac von Riventropp--well Alecs Bornokov now--sat in his car on Highway 187. His large sedan was pulled off to the side of the vacant road. His lights were off, and no light permiated about spare the small glowing embers at the end of his cancer stick. He thought back, remembering to the day he nearly killed one of the most prominant liberals in the world: Sergei of The Island of Rose. He only missed because the whore of a woman Diane. If she hadn't of bumped into him he- His thoughts were interupted when a man tapped on his drivers window. Alecs slowly rolled down the window. The man simply put a passport, proper forms of identification, a birth certificate, and a security number (Much like an SS#) card. "You leave for Camel Eaters in three hours. I suggest you go to the airport and sleep there. No telling who could find you out here." Before Alecs could speak, the man had walked back to his car, and pulled onto the highway, travelling in the opposite direction.

Alecs knew who he was he realised as he pulled onto the highway. It was the head of The Phineas Priesthood. Few people actually knew about the Pastor's secret life. But never-the-less, no one would find out...

Moscau International Airport:
Alecs pulled into the parking tower. He parked and exited his car. He watched as the security guard locked the floor of the tower, waiting for another car. The area was quite, spare the sounds of jets taking off and what not. He made his way to the terminal after passing the extensive security checkpoints. He finally made his way to the gate. It was for a private jet, but the jet was rented out to other, unknown bidders, so he had to wait for it to arrive. He laid down across some of the chairs and fell asleep. Soon, his dreaming mind was full of thoughts of the past, and flashbacks consisting of him pulling the trigger, watching his one recorded miss ever occur...

Alecs was awoken by the shaking of a flight attendant, "Herr Bornokov. Herr Bornokov. Please wake up Herr, it's time to depart." "Ah, eh. Thank you ma'm." He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he boarded the plane.

He took a seat near the rear of the plane. He buckled himself in and waited for take-off as they taxied onto the tarmac. The seat-belt light flicked on as they pulled onto position. The jets roared as they soared down the runway. A jerk shook the aircraft as they left the ground. Soon enough, Alecs was on his laptop, reading Camel Eater's news. On the front page of one of the sites was the article: 'Veritas Clan To Recieve Foreign Diplomat: Will Haydenism Spread?' Alecs slowly pondered this, realising that the citizens of Camel Eaters would only know too soon what he really was...

Three Hours Later; Entering Camel Eaters Airspace:
"You are now entering Camel Eaters airspace. Please supply correct Squwack code." The automated voice echoed over the pilots ears. "Squwack code 0090789AlphaCharlie." announced the pilot. This time, a human responding, "Flight 239 Beta from Moscau International Airport. Please descend to 20,000 feet and turn to a heading of 097 degrees for final approach." The pilots did as instructed...

The seatbelt light flicked on, again, after Alecs had buckled-up. They made their descent, and soon touched down onto the tarmac. The jet taxied into the gate and he soon was into the terminal. He made his way through customs, and out of the final security check-point. He made his way outside the main airport concourse and waited. He had been told to wait for a black sedan that was there to pick him up. He did so...

OOC: This is where you pick-up CE.

As Alecks got into the van a voice echoed up front.

"You know we usually don't pick people up. Our roads are designed as such. So wee man you'll be in The Shores soon. Hehe. The women down there aren't whores like in other nations. So be weary of their brothers."

The voice had a distintcly Irish hue though southern was infused within it. The ride was short and uneventful, the van stopped at yet another airport this time then men in the van piled out and gestured towards a rather small plane.

"Manny this is your ride to The Shores."

As Alecs road in the van, he listened to the driver jabber to him. They eventually made it to the small airport. As the van pulled away, Alecs quickly shot him a bird, smirking lightly. He piled into the airplane and was taken to The Shores...

Once he arrived at The Shores. He found out it was a small town known as Gulf Shores. Once he left the small airport, he was given a piece of paper and taxi fare. He told the driver to take him to Shores Crystal Hotel. The ride was uneventful, the driver was a lunatic though. As they drove through town, he noticed several prostitutes and pondered, Maybe they were wrong, and chuckled to himself.

Once he arrived at the Crystal Hotel, he was greeted by a young man wearing a suit and was escorted to the Grand Hall. On the door was a sign stating Do Not Disturb. He guessed behind the doors were members of the Veritas clan, considering they owned the four star hotel, and he was right...

Seven men were inside. Of the seven one was ancient and bent at the waist. Coughing violently the other men were tending to him with shouts of dismay at his sickness.

"Father Ver be silent your lungs will hold another day. Mayhap a year. Damn those tobacco men."

The man who'd been saying this turned swiftly and glared at Alecs with an almost accusing hint in his features.

"What whore-son are you to disturb the Father and his men at a time of great vexation?"

The other young men nodded in unison taking up similar cries.

"Whore-son."

"Vulture!"

"Be gone with you impure man!"

"Be silent all of you." The old man had spoken rising he straightened his withering back with an audible pop. Rolling his neck he stepped foward.

"Old Luirgan knows a demon when he smells one. What business can we attend for you?"

OOC: Note, from now on, Italics is for Alecs only.

Alecs glared at the men calling him such vile names...

"And you would be the Veritas family I'm guessing. No wonder the O'Briens beat you out of politics. I suppose you speak to them like this too?"

The Veritas griped, "You stupid whore! How da-" He was interupted by the elderly man, "Silence!"

"Who are you stranger?" one of the more polite family members requested.

"Comrade Bornokov, Alecs Bonorkov. I was requested by the Veritas family to come here and introduce them into National Communism. Would you like me to start now, or are you going to continue shouting vulgarities at me?"

The men snickered amongst themselves at Alec's name. The old man nodded and motioned for Alec and the rest to come out of the room. As they walked down the hall Alec would proabaly have noticed the flickering cheap lights and wall strips that glowed a dead orange neon.

"Through here is the Clan Veritas." The old man wobbled in the door swining open before him. Sullen bagpipes were groaning loudly from somewhere within the room and a rather tiny chidlren's table was distinctively silent except for a young babe pounding on the table.

All in all close to two thousand people were crowded into the hall. All waiting to hear Alec speak. "Nice." Alec said as he took to the podium with mild clapping.

Alec slowly began to speak,"Hello Comrades! I notice only White Celtic men and women are here! Good, wonderful. Now, as many of you know, The Armed Union has created its own political system known as National Communism, I know, I know, you say 'Communism! Garbage!' I say nay. We are a mixture of the teachings of Georg Hegel and Adam Smith. Adolf Hitler and Mussolini. We mix these idealogies of racial purity and abolishment of classes in order to unite the White, Celtic, Nordic races into one! We preach Reformed Protestantism. We preach that without God, you all are doomed. Without racial purity, you are damned to hell with your ni--er lovers! We preach that homosexuality is a sin, and that the qu-ers that are of that horrible sin should be stoned. We deman that abolishment of the corruptable capitalist ideaologies! We deman a revolution take place in under-developed nations! If we don't secure our beliefs now, in ten years, our teachings will be gone. The evil Zionist will have destroyed it all, and turned your fine, Celtic grand-children, into a mongal race! A mixed union of sp-cs, ch-nks, ni--ers, and k-kes! If you do not act now, and demand a revolution in Camel Eaters, the capitalist societ will bring you down, and will corrupt you and your loved ones. Follow National Communism now, and you will see the light.

To prove to you all exactly how determined I am, a team of 'Priests' has been established in the economic sector of <insert-city-name-here>. I have ordered them to set up explosives in a key O'Brien commercial complex: The Irlandian Building. A set of cameras has been set up to film the happenings."

With that, the lights dimmed, and a long screen rolled down behind Comrade Bornokov. He stepped aside and awaited.

The Irelandian Building:
Four Phineas Priests stepped into the buildings basement. It was fairly empty due to the lack of clan conflict over the past week or so. They easily slipped into the security guard shack. One of the Priests quickly subdued the man by severing his femoral arteries between his legs. The guard collapsed and passed before releasing a single scream.

One of the revolutionaries ran out to outside of the basement. He climbed into the large eighteen wheeler and pulled it into the basement. An undisclosed individual had supplied them with plans for the building which gave a detail description of the best place for the several tons of ammonium nitrate.

The man parked the truck by a collumn: the central support collumn. It was rough;y three inches off the center of the building. One of the other men pushed up the back of the semi, and lit the short fuse. They quickly ran out of the building and into their '80s Mustang. They floored the small sports-car and drove to the outskirts of town. They had placed the cameras already...

The Meeting Hall:
A grainy image appeared on the large screen. It was a view of The Irelandian Building. Several seconds passed as the entire hall became quite. Suddenly, the room was fillied with massive roars as the building on the screen erupted into a torrent of debri, fire, and steel. The camera was quickly destroyed...

45th & Amsterdamn:
The street was filled with debri. Fires were raging across the streets into several other buildings in the commercial complex. What remained of the framework of the building was in shambles. Mangled body parts covered small regions of the kill zone. Gore was mostly located near the middle of the kill zone, roughly the 104 to 115 floors, well, what remains of them. The building was no longer standing. Casualties unknown...

Back At The Meeting Hall:
The screen elevated back into the ceiling and the lights brightened, "You see comrades. I am determined to topple this capitalist hog pen..."

OOC: Decide CE and post casualties.

During the speech the Veritas clan was silent and sullen. Uncaring as they rolled their eyes and mumbled about the stupidity of the man in front of them. That all changed when the image appeared on the screen. The room buzzed for a moment as men and women alike leaned forward and raised their eyebrows.

Then the priests appeared on screen. Cheering erupted from the crowd as the O'Brien man was killed by one of the priests. Clapping grew stronger and then.......the explosion. The room roared men sprang to their feet and hollered shaking fist in the air and the women swooned under the gaze of the Phineas Priest.......

Camel Eaters Web Alert!
At 12:37 today the Irelandian Hotel exploded in one of the greatest acts of terrorism enacted upon our nation in the last twenty years. As of yet we do not have any word as to what group is responsible fore the deaths of over 200 people that were residing within. A service will be held tonight for the victims of the attack. Dia dhuit one and all. May war be avoided in the wake.

In other news the Veritas Clan has become more secretive in their actions of late. Almost no representatives have shown up at any Great Moots to discuss the future of their sept. King Linfield has taken this as a sign of weakness and is currently holding a Moot to decide whether or not to strip them of military privelige.

4/10/05; Camel Eater's News Report!
Clan hostility has broken out in Birmingham. Verita's clan members have suddenly taken weapons--automatic weapons at that--and have proceeding in making several substanial attacks as of late. Yesterday, Judge Al Boshor, a Palestinian and adimently capitalist Judge was gunned down outside his home along with his wife and two children.

4/14/05; Camel Eater's News Report!
The Dalcassian Sept has called a Moot of the O'Brien clan to discuss a way to handle the Veritas' hostility. The Moot was abushed by the infamous Keely boys. Fragmentation grenades succeeding in killing Karl O'Brien and Harold O'Brien, two of the top members of the O'Brien clan. This however, does not seem to be the end of their attacks. As of 10AM this morning, the St. Matthew's Catholic Cathedral in Montgomery was set fire two and desicrated. St. Matthew's was a well known O'Brien hot spot. After the attack, the Dalcassian Sept refused to comment to us.

* * *
Comrade Bornokov sat in an office in the newly fortified Veritas mansion. Before him were news reports and what not. The Veritas Clan had officially adopted National Communism (Aka: Haydenism; Aka: Third Position) and were begining to commit acts of revolution. In the past month, 30 capitalist party members had been killed, sixteen buildings bombed, and over 300 people injured. Their influence was growing. Rural men and women had began to assist them and have been seen taking to the streets, creating riots and mobs. They had also helped bring the city of Birmingham under total Veritas control...

The Bastards of Alister were on the move. Working to stop the flow of O'Brien blood they'd moved silently through the White Supremacist underground. Contacts in Guntersville and Huntsville had all pointed them towards The Shores. And that's where they were going to go.........

John O'Brien had once been a small unnoticed man. Everyone in the clan looked over him and didn't even consider him for a position. But he'd proved them wrong with his negotiations with the Knowles and Anglosh clans. He'd gotten a wife, whom he loved dearly and six children from the deal. Now he was holding his grandson. Hard to believe he was only thirty-two. He glanced at his son for a moment. Mac Dara was a big strong boy who he'd married off to the Anglosh clan. John never regretted that decision and neither had his son.

"Mac my boy it looks like theres an opening in our clan. The Patriarch is dead and the Bastards of Alister are under my control. It's time to bring our family back in style."

As the Veritas got wind of the Alister arival, they foritfied the already city size fortress of Gulf Shores. Mobile rocket artillery was in place. It was stolen or bought off the black market. The city was totally udner Veritas control.

Soon enough, the McAlister bastards arrived. The Veritas clan watched as the guerilla fighters penetrated their city. The Veritas clan had positioned their control as much of a battlefield. They ruled from a central complex, the rest of the city was in ruin. As the McAlisters drew near, fire fell from the sky. Thermobaric rocketry bombarded the city, taking out McAlisters left and right. Rural militias came from the cracks in the civilization and fought in close-quarter urban warfare conditions. Some of the elderly were even fighting, using M1 Garands with bayonets to kill of the McAlister brothers. Constantly, over the intercom system installed around the city, a message played: "McAlisters! Don't risk your lives or the lives of your comrades! Go home now and watch your children learn! Don't bring your own destruction! This is the road of no return!" The constant playing if propaganda was taking its toll somehow, everyday, atleast fifteen McAlisters surrendered to the Veritas and joined the ranks of the militias...

"The call to Grand Moot must be answered by all clans! We've known this since our birth. Felt it in our bones pulling us to our bloodright with each passing day. Every thirteen years we assemble the five Tribes and begin the Grand Moot. So now we call the Veritas clan to Moot. If you are still a Celt deep down there in your blood and bones then you will arrive in short order. The Moot shall be held in Miami. That is final!"

The King stepped down from the podium and every clan across the nation nodded its head and got up. They felt the call of the horn and began the journey to Miami to the Grand Moot to the one thing that bound each of them for generations........

The Veritas clan arrived at Miami in short accordance. They were assigned to an outdoor meeting area. Comrade Bornokov informed Father Veritas of the possibility of assassignations, thus, they ostracised themselves from the swarming clans, congregating farther away. Accompanying the Veritas were the clans of MacDoland, McClous, and McCoy. They all sat, protected by what was commonly known as The Celtic People's Army.

The Comrades sat, awaiting the initiation of The Grand Moot...

Men, women, and children of every clan, sept,and tribe gathered round to watch something. Something that involved fists and blood. Something most Celts were good at.

John approached Alecs his sword plainly showing as was the sign of respect among the people. He nodded and clasped Alecs' arm firmly though not warmly. His face hid a mask of anger at the O'Briens who died by this man's orders.

"Well then Mr. Boronokov or should I say Comrade...." saying this he snarled a bit his face growing flush, "let's go to the Inner Moot. Only Patriarchs and a few select men or women allowed at the table. Come on."

Alecs quickly ripped his arm away, "I'am a Comrade to my White brothers of the Veritas, McCoy, McClous, and MacDoland clans. If you bring me to the 'Inner Moot', you have to bring all of us. Otherwise, you can keep your bourgeis inner circle."

This caused for silence among the waring clans. No one had ever opposed the call to the Inner Moot. It was strange. It struck hard in alot of clansmen. It showed that Comrade Bornokov truely did believe what he was saying. He believe he needed no special attention simply because he 'seemed to order the clans'...

While the gesture was strange it was not the first time communism had reared it's head at a Moot. Not that many people looked. They just knew that not answering the call to an Inner Moot always ended in someone dead.

John nodded and bellowed to his fellow O'Briens. "The Veritas won't attend Inner Moot! We could strip them of all privilege! Hehe." He walked off laughing at their stupidity sword dangling in the sunlight.

A call went up. It was a normal call the Grand Moot was to begin in a few hours. A massive stadium was built in almost no time. Clans piled into it the Veritas at the end.

"You see anyone can say something at a Grand Moot." This explanation may be older than anyone who attended that day. But it still held true..........

Farther off a group of men sat down on the grass talking quickly in a strange mix of Arabic, Irish, and English. They were planning how to handle the Veritas clan's new right hand man.

Bornokov knew the fact that the last time someone had refused to enter the Inner Moot, the person had been killed in his bed while he slept, thus, he knew he had to take a stand, "O'Brien! If I can speak all I can, then I can speak this! The O'Briens exploit you fellow Comrades! How do you say? They take control of you using tempting oration! They twist their words into a hypnotising trance. You don't have to listen to them! Now, Comrades, I know they are, as I stand here before you, planning on killing me off for my 'crime against the Moot'. But what would that make me hmm? A martyr. My words will be far more powerful when I'm dead, than when I'm alive... As they always are..."

The entire O'Brien clan stared at him for a moment shaking their heads they swung words like swords knocking men down with verbal blow after verbal blow killing them quickly and without mercy. Each defeated opponent went to report to their own clan that they'd failed miserably at acquiring that new bit of land in Dalcassian territory.

Mac Dara had, had enough of this fool. Walking quickly into the middle of the stadium he shouted loudly. "My clan, my father, myself have all been insulted by this new comrade of the Veritas! I call for him to come down and fight me. Bare handed. But if he is too cowardly to take on a man.....then he can continue to crush tiny Pictish clans on the outskirts of his lands!"

The crowd was roaring with a fervor. They'd get to see a fight....

Comrade Bornokov heard the challenge. He knew he had to fight. He also knew if he lost, the revolutionaries would storm the stadium and detonate the explosive charges strapted to their bodies, thus ending the conflict and throwing the capitalist society into disarray. "I accept your challenge Mac Dara."

As Bornokov walked down to the center of the standium, he removed the top shirt of his suit. Also as he walked, a young boy no older than ten walked around passing out a picture...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v521/Fascist_Confederacy/capyr.jpg