NationStates Jolt Archive

Freudotopia has just celebrated a historic moment. Finally, our population has surpassed two billion! Congratulations are in order, I believe, and an enormous party will be held at my palace in Freudotopia. Any foreign dignitary may attend. Everyone will get drunk and have their kidneys removed for DNA Wait, what? I mean flown home. Yeah, flown home. Why would we want to clone foreign leaders? I never said that.

Anyway, to business. Any nation that I have any semblance of good relations with may attend this ding dang of a hoedown. Make your own fun, do as much damage to my palace as you want. I’m planning on building another one anyway.

Huzzah!

–Saul Hudson the Illuminator, Emperor of Freudotopia

BMG would be happy to send a representative, although we think that our kidneys are fairly safe, since they are generaly incompatable with most humans.

I'd like to come to that party - need to relax a bit, keeping the nation under the iron fist makes my fingers hurt. If you clone me, you will get overthrown by him, btw, so I wouldn't recommend.

Colonel Tamujid, The Minister of Everything

The Grand Minister of concremo would like to know answers to the following;
-Is there a limit to guards?
-Can they be (heavily) armed?
-Is there a restriction on weapons?

"I need a break. Could I come?"-The Great Leader Li.

The Sacred Emperor sends word that not only will he attend in person, but he will become so intoxicated as to be unable of coherent speech, and will detonate plastic explosives in all your bathrooms.

Cheerio.

The Grand Minister of concremo would like to know answers to the following;
-Is there a limit to guards?
-Can they be (heavily) armed?
-Is there a restriction on weapons?

No, yes, and no.

--Saul Hudson

All of you may attend. I look forward to meeting you. Bring anything you think will add amusement to my party.

--Saul Hudson

OOC: You can all RP your arrivals at the Imperial Palace, Phantasmo, Freudotopia as soon as you like.

I, Ianus will attend this "hoedown", but if you clone me, my other me will reign holy fire over your land. Your country will be left in ruins and you, the leader of Freudtopia will be burned in effigy. Just kidding... for now...

There better be magaritas or else your doom will be sealed. (With glad press and seal mind you that other stuff is just too comlicated to put doom in, it gets all sticky, and well, you'll find out)

The Premier of Kyleralia would more than gladly attend. However, I do not feel very safe hanging with Concremo peoples with guns.

The Grand Minister of Concremo is unavailable, as he is currently in... annual re-education. However, his usually armed brother will be attending, and since he has no real role in anything, whether we get him back or not is trivial.

President Mackenzie Mason of the glorious nation of Logostan, will glady attend in person. Please give me a date and time. I look forward to being there. May it further our relations.

President Mackenzie Mason

Premier Kyle walks up to the palace holding a pack of canned beer. When entering the palace and hearing all the loud music, his body guards tear off their clothes and start dancing like a bunch of drunkies.

"Thirty seconds your lordship!"

"Wha?"

"Thirty seconds!"

"Dirty Mexicans?"

"THIRTY SECONDS!"

"Whatever you say."

Antonius drained yet another bottle of black Death Vodka and walked to the door of the small private jet soaring high over the city of Phantasmo, Freudotopia. He raised a cigarette to his lips, only to have it blow out of his hands, and begin hurtling to the ground below.

"Your lordship, we're coming over the palace!"

"My wife's a what-now?"

"Jump!"

Atonius turned to the open door, and hurled himself out over the city. His form tumbled head over heels towards the concrete jungle below. He grabbed the rip cord attached to the parachute on his back, and pulled. A dozen bottles of Vodka blew out of the pack, but no parachute.

"I knew I forgot something."

Antonius grabbed one of the bottles as he hurtled unchecked towards the roof of the palace below.

With a mighty crash, a man-shaped hole appeared in the roof over the grand ballroom of Emperor Saul Hudson's palace, as an object slammed into the floor. As the dust cleared, the onlookers watched as the mighty Emperor Antonius stood and dusted himself off, before raising an unscathed bottle of Black Death Vodka to his lips, and draining it. A concerned (and understandably perplexed) waiter walked over and eyed the dust covered form of the Generian emperor.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, and I'm not drunk either. Fix that. Bring me another one of these."

"Of course..."

The Great Leader Li made his entrance in a completely odd way. Similar to Antonius, he came in via air. However, he didn't use a parachute, or a dozen bottles of vodka to slow his descent. He used a Mary Poppins style umbrella invented by British intelligence services. Unfortunately, what he didn't know what the exact load bearing capacity of the umbrella was.

It turned out to be not as much as he expected. 2,000 pounds of lizardman fell through the glass ceiling of the ballroom and slammed face first into the floor.

The Great Leader got up, shook the dust off himself and pulled the umbrella's instruction manual out from his back pocket. 200 pounds? Oh fucking great...

A group of huge, black armored Imperial Guard Lizards walked in through the door, followed by 2 young women who were too busy licking each others faces to really care about what was going on in the room.

One of them was a brunette in black jeans, black tank top, black rimmed emo glasses and black beret, the other one was an asian, mostly human, except for her 13 ft. long tail tipped with a 36 in. long spike.

The latter stopped licking her partner's face for long enough to stare at the Great Leader.

"Dad, why the fuck did you use the umbrella to enter?"

The Great Leader turned to his daughter.

"Maia, I have no idea..."

The Grand Ministers Brother's claim to fame was him managing to conceal enough weapons to arm a small SWAT team and get them into a sleazy club. Whats more, he barely survived the night when he put a grenade down the toilet, and was still standing there and shouting at it (drunk of course) when it exploded. We are still looking into where he obtained the grenade.

He pulled up in his SUV, got out and took five steps towards the bar. the car was now parked in the middle of the ball room, and a faint groaning could be heard coming from underneath.

"YAHIIIIIIII!" screamed Colonel Tamujid, the Ultimate Ruler and the Minister of Everything in the Armed Republic of Madnestan. The reason for this ear-piercing scream was the distance between the falling dictator and the swimming pool of
the palace below him.

He had time to realize that the pilot of the helicopter had taken some tequila during the flight, and that even the slightest error in the calculation of where to drop the Colonel could cause immediate end to his career as a dictator.

Fortunately, the pilot had managed to keep the chopper stable enough, despite the disturbance in form of the bottle filled with delicious liquir, and The Warchif splashed in to the pool. He went all the way down, and the numerous bottles in his pockets almost commited a homicide. Still, beeing pretty good swimmer, Tamujid managed to get himself to surface.

Lieutenant Umjir, who landed just after him (on 2 guards standing few meters from the pool, unlucky bastards...) jumped up quickly, and hurried to help his Master. He pulled the dictator out from the water.

Ordinary man would've been gasping air, but Tamujid was far from "normal".
He skipped the "air-gasping" part, and went straight to the "thank godnes im still alive, lets take a snap for that"-part. He offered another bottle to his adjutant. Only three words came out from his mouth, that was busy in "gasping" alcohol.

"I need weed."

A muffled explosion from the bathroom flung Frederick (yes, that is his name) through the wall and next to the swimming pool. Without a word, he got up, took the Colonels weed right out of his mouth and walked away, scratching his arse with the pin of a grenade.

"Why in the hell did I have weed in my mouth?!", asked Tamujid. His adjutant was unable to answer, as he had wondered by himself, too. Colonel scratched his arse with his Desert Eagle, inspired by the acting of Concremonian, who somehow managed to do that with style. He took more marijuana from his pocket and started to wrap up his cigarette, eyes searching for some action somewhere.

Vladamir Restov, foreign minister of affiars, bumps into Tamujid as he jokingly slaps the weed out of Tamujid's mouth.

Maia got back to making out with Marie (ooc: I forget to mention her partner's name).

Meanwhile, the Great Leader and his guards were beginning to get hungry... Wild animals! That's what he needed. He dialed a megafarm company on his cellphone and told them to ship a large menagerie of animals over. Mostly pigs, chickens, cows, things like that. And maybe a few ostriches, rabbits, cats, dogs, geese and angry 800 pound gorillas....

"ASSHOLE!" Tamujid screamed, picking up his cigarette. He tried to punch the assasin, as he thought, in the face but managed only to break his tequila bottle.
Fortunately, it was already nearly emtpy, and he decided to ignore the criminal as more important things occured in form of a new bottle offered by his adjutant.

Frederick was missing, presumed drunk blind and reports indicated he had built a fort in the guests bedroom of the palace. Apparently, furniture, bricks and expensive paintings have been bashed and broken into shape, then glued together again to form a grotto for the Concremian, and he is hurling abuse and small rocks at the guests.

When he realised that there was no alcholol there, he launched a surprise raid on the people downstairs and made away with around 30 bottles of the finest. He got lost on his way back to the fort, and so had to build a new one in a different bedroom. A coalition of other guests have joined together to stop him and his dastardly booze raids.

Maia, already half naked on the ground, reached for her bottle of Jack Daniels.

It was missing. That bastard Frederick must have stolen it.

She pulled on her clothes, grabbed a bundle of C4 bricks from one of the guards and walked to Frederick's impromptu fort, dodging a couple of rocks from him.

She set the charges on the barricade, blowing it, and most of the doorframe off. She then retrieved her bottle of Jack and walked back downstairs.

"Im an airstrake, here I come!" Tamujid's buzz was good, and he was totally high. High enough actually to imagine himself to be an aeroplane. His target was the Concremian, who's well aimed SAM (an empty bottle) smashed in to his forehead and dropped him before he was able to reach his target. He fell on the floor, but managed to concetrate his mental power to on last action! "MEDIIIiiic...." he cried rolling down the stairs.

It was a good thing that frederick had taken to the practice of sleeping on the ceiling, so he didnt get hurt. Actually, it was more of a bad thing as he has no real value, a price on his head by over 62 countries and was a danger to everyone within moderate firing range.

He clambered from the ruins, and pulling a full-length shotgun out of his... somewhere... he headed downstairs for a dip in the pool.

Halfway he changed his mind, and with a bout of serious depression tried to shoot himself. Luckily he is a marksman of the lowliest standards and missed, hitting the glass of an important-looking person. Oh dear, he though, this might just get worse.

Emperor Saul Hudson staggered onto the temporary podium in his back yard, and leaned toward the microphone. His gravelly, low tones were amplified so much that everyone within a four mile radius could hear him. His estate extended for four miles, so that was just great, as far as he saw it. His long cigarette trailing ash from his mouth, he spoke.

"I see everyone's enjoying themselves. Fuckin great. The harem's off the north hallway, the pool's out back, and the arcade is in the basement. Hey, I'm just a big kid inside, what can I say?"

Antonius finished vomiting all over one of the beautiful vixens he had borrowed from Saul Hudson’s harem, and walked off with another four clinging to him. He had drunk himself nearly blind and so did not see the pool opening up before him. With a load splash and much grumbling and grunting, Antonius heaved himself onto dry land, and raised a sealed bottle of vodka to his lips, biting off the top and draining the contents.

Frederick was last seen shouting "Motherfucker!" alot and crawling through air vents in without shoes or socks in his grubby vest. He is clutching his Beretta tightly and is talking about a set-up on the roof to the plant pot.

Well, the problem was, Antonius really was drinking himself blind. Maia couldn't really believe he found one of the Imperial Guards to be sexually attractive. She was about to vomit herself, but figured she couldn't afford to embarass herself like the old Emperor was doing. Oh well. She raised the bottle of Jack Daniels to her lips and downed half of it. Ah sweet partying.... She quickly went back to eating out Marie while one of the guards had a videocamera rolling.

The Great Leader meanwhile, had gone downstairs to the arcade and was busy playing with the machines. Not the games on the machines, the machines themselves. He was sitting in the middle of a pile of disassembled arcade machines putting something together.... Yes, his plans for world domination were going to work...

Alcohol helped make women hot. That was universal truth. But it was an unpleasant truth. The Imperial Guard that Antonius had vomited all over, walked to the pool, picked up Antonius by the neck and used his hair to wipe off the vomit on her armor. She then stole what was left of Antonius' vodka and downed it before walking off...

Then, the animals arrived. However, they were all 800 pound Gorillas. Someone had royally fucked up the order, and now, they came, rushing onto the estate, tearing up furniture, sodomizing members of Emperor Saul's harem, and climbing on the rooftops, pounding their chests. The young deliveryman staggered in, clearly high on something, as his eyes were bloodshoot and his speech slurred.

"S-sign here... f'r druuuugs..." He held out the clipboard in a limp wristed grip. His delivery vans were loaded with drugs of all kinds, as he was smuggling. But he got high off his own supply and now was giving the drugs away for free....

Most people would not have thought it wise, or even possible, to ride a Utahraptor into a crowded party.

Most people were not the Lord Commander of Ximea, the charmingly-nicknamed Teflon Don.

"Gentlemen!" he shouted, waving an unusually bulky submachine gun in one hand. "I come not for partying, but for wine. I missed the Bacchus Day festivities in my homeland and I require the assistance of this great nation to become profoundly intoxicated."

The Utahraptor snarled, and snapped at an elegantly-dressed woman, but attacked no one. It seemed to be domesticated, insofar as such a creature could be domesticated.

Saul Hudson walked dazedly up to the Teflon Don and stared up at him with a blank and distant look. "Sir, I will personally flay the skin off your bones if you do not move your moped to the temporary parking lot."

With that elegant statement, he spat on the ground, and continued in his slurred soliloquy. "Having said that, I invite you to visit the shooting range in the back yard."

"Ah, is this one of the famed 'Shooban-Shooting' sessions?"

"No, they're not worthy of ammo in my eyes. These are convicted murderers and rapists. We have quite a large selection of weapons for you to use. Also, from the shooting range, the wine shack is a short walk away. You'll be able to see it if you look to the left of the targets. Enjoy yourshelf, my friend."

The Teflon Don stared. That was a surprisingly lucid statement, but then again, Saul Hudson was known for unpredictability and lucidity. The Emperor turned and strode towards the pack of waiting concubines with a vague smile on his face.

A guest hurriedly signed for drugs.

There were now literally tons of heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, marijuana, amphetamines and all sorts of other drugs imaginable floating around.

Meanwhile, a Gorilla had broken into the Emperor's music room and had stolen one of his custom made guitars.

The Gorilla then began playing the riff from "Kissing the Shadows" by Children of Bodom, followed by a cover of "Welcome to the Jungle" by GnR, which featured better singing than what Axl Rose managed in that song.

A guest hurriedly signed for drugs.

There were now literally tons of heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, marijuana, amphetamines and all sorts of other drugs imaginable floating around.

Meanwhile, a Gorilla had broken into the Emperor's music room and had stolen one of his custom made guitars.

The Gorilla then began playing the riff from "Kissing the Shadows" by Children of Bodom, followed by a cover of "Welcome to the Jungle" by GnR, which featured better singing than what Axl Rose managed in that song.

OOC: Fuck yes.

IC:

Emperor Hudson climbed the stairs to his room, having heard the delightful strains of "Welcome to the Jungle." Booting the door open, he saw a large, hairy ape playing a mean guitar solo. Jabbing a button on his desk, he opened the glass case of his signature Les Paul, and grabbed it off its pedestal. Reaching into a bucket for a nice long cable, he plugged into his 100 watt Marshall, and prepared to rock. The gorilla looked at him quizically, and the Emperor immediately launched into "Paradise City."

OOC: I repeat, fuck yes.

While Hudson was jamming, a strange rumbling began to be heard, but nobody paid attention, probably because they were all too damn stoned. Suddenly, the back wall blew inwards under the combined fire of three Leopard 2 tanks, which drove in through the hole, followed by a cargo truck. Six workers jumped out of it, and began stacking crates of Scotch in a huge pile on the floor.
Meanwhile, Lucifer himself, clutching some Medoc and draining it at an alarming rate, yelled that the tanks were the new Party Empire. Hearing this, several ridiculously attractive women rose from the tank hatches, each toting some Corona.

Finished for now with the Scotch, the workers switched to a small case of plastic explosives. They tossed them to Lucifer, who, already drunk, muttered and pointed at the "Yellow Leprechauns" lining the walls. (It takes a LOT of alcohol to lose the ability to tell the difference between partygoers and yellow leprechauns.) Running with the explosives, Lucifer was caught on camera heading for the restrooms, where he shaped them into charges, put a ten-minute timer on each, and cackling, flushed them.

He he he.

tag cause im too lazy to post now

The Teflon Don had somehow managed to park his dinosaur and was on his way to the shooting range when he was accosted by a 799.5-lb. gorilla. It backhanded him into an expensive Ming vase...filled, inexplicably, with marbles. As the gorilla approached for a killing strike, it slipped and landed hard on its ass. The Don shook his head at this upstart gorilla and fired a buckshot grenade from the integral launcher on his submachine gun. The gorilla's face--nay, its entire skull--was quickly and efficiently converted into a fine red mist.

"Good God, man!" exclaimed a well-dressed British gentleman who was fond of starting conversations with the exclamation "Good God, man!". "You quite decapitated that beast!"

"Yeah," the Don said. "If it'd been an 800-lb. gorilla, I would have taken its skull as a trophy." Instead, he took out a ceremonial machete, sharp as the devil's tongue and forged from an alloy of tungsten and titanium. He skinned the headless beast and hung its body by its ankles from a chandelier. "You can have this if you want," he said, tossing the mostly-intact skin at the British man.

All that excitement had made him thirsty. He quickly tracked down a bottle of decent port wine--and a cheese log and some crackers--and continued toward the shooting range.

*TAG* Cause it's 11:30pm and I need something to read and laugh about. :D