NationStates Jolt Archive

The Great Destroyer Belzamon has awoken from his eternal slumber, he wakes to find himself disgusted by what he sees around him as he stares at the massive metal buildings of DeadPeace. As the Great Despoiler finds himself in a uncontrollable rage he destroys the great city of DeadPeace and all in it and creates a new semi-demonic race incorporating super natural, but also modern abilitys. Belzamon strives to make the world a corrupt, Kill or Be killed state with only one ruler the great Father of Lies, The Teller of deceit and misfortune.

Unite to the Great banner of Belzamon and Be IMMORTAL!

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The nation of Joseph Seal is appalled by BelZamon's announcement, and condemns it's goals.

The nation also warns the leader of BelZamon that any agressive moves toward other countries will be seen as an act of war.

-Arfus Sealous: Emperor of Joseph Seal

The two Ordos Fedor, clad in their VEPR (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v63/Chlevenkov/ARSBSOLDIERII.jpg) battle armour, shifted uncomfortably inside their suits in the semi-darkness of the spartan hall. The hyperactivity of the rulers behind the dark wood doors they guarded never bode well, the red and black colour scheme of the VEPR system, coloured in such a manner as to befit the Ordos Fedor, shifting between crimson in black in the dark light as the two shifting men pondered what could have stirred the oligarchs up so. It had nothing to do with capitalism, that was for certain, as the very suits of the Ordos Fedor, the oligarchs’ own guardians, were gifts from the capitalistic state of Soviet Bloc and while the Collective Oligarchy of Kriegorgrad did condemn the materialistic entrepreneur of nations akin to Soviet Bloc on occasion, it never truly gave them such a buzz.

The oligarchs chattered to one another, entombed within the dark walls of the Ministry of Fear, the nerve centre of foreign relations, the building itself was an odd piece of work, gleaming white pyramid on the outside, a stark contrast to the dull surrounding architecture, and dark walls and dim corridors on the inside. Of course, the lighting did nothing to darken the oligarchs' mood, they snickered at one another in open amusement, even the rivalry between Henry and Mustapha had all but subsided for the time being. The lanky, pale form of Mustapha led the cheer.

"Immortality? How preposterous! Must be another nutcase cult!" Cried the small man, his weedy and rather high voice proved annoying to his broad featured counterpart Henry but it seemed that the dark skinned man didn't have the motivation to verbally assault Mustapha today.

"Why, I must concur: immortality? It is something out of a pre-Fedor child's tale!"

"Indeed!" Mustapha squawked in approval.

Then, one of the lesser known oligarchs, an equally wiry man to Mustapha, albeit with skin darker than the milky white of Henry's rival, spoke but one word slowly.

"Communique?"

To: “Great Destroyer” Belzamon
From: The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov
Subject: Silly Cultists

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”Lies. Immortality is not possible, simple, science disallows it, and the very fact you claim to give immortality tells all that you are nothing more than a mad man with beliefs beyond his ken. There is no true reason for us to not to dispatch the Proletarian Guardsmen to subjugate your insane cutlist regime.

We suggest you tread lightly.“

Yours Sincerely,


The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v227/Kriegorgrad/seal.jpg

The Lord Emperor is Disgusted by 'Science' this unconventional weapon as sorts is no match for the dark energy of BelZamon.

He heeds your warnings but his pursuit of his dark goals shall not be hindered.

Prince Molyneux read over the reports of the day in his massive office on the top floor of a large business skyscraper. His desk overlooked a large city through a series of windows; its lights twinkling in the dead of night.

His sheriff, D’Arcy Montalban, sat in an antique wooden chair, reading over various security reports. His sword was slung over his back, and his two Desert Eagles sat safely in the holsters beneath his long leather coat; he apparently never removed them from his person. This old black leather coat coupled with his scruffy long hair and his rough-skinned, stubble-covered face made him a contrast from his well-dressed, well-groomed Prince.

Molyneux stopped his normal routine as he held up a sheet of paper, reading its contents as carefully as he could. Montalban looked up at his Prince curiously.

"What is the matter, sire?" Montalban asked in a gruff voice.

"Oh... someone called 'the Great Destroyer Belzamon' has just made an 'odd' declaration to the world," Molyneux said thoughtfully. "Very brash, very foolish. He promises to take over the world and create an immortal, 'semi-demonic race incorporating super natural, but also modern abilitys'. I am not quite sure what to make of it. Fortunately nobody seems to believe his claims thus far."

"Is this so-called 'Destroyer' Kindred?" Montalban asked.

"I do not think so," Molyneux said. "But this letter is not very specific. We should keep an eye on them regardless; apparently the fool has no idea how humans are likely to react to such an announcement. Apparently 'discretion' isn't a word in his vocabulary. Even worse, the crazed fool believes he can actually defeat their modern nuclear weaponry..."

"Want me to keep an eye on them?" Montalban stood up, dusting down his worn coat.

"Just have one of your deputies or ghouls do it for now," Molyneux shrugged, putting the letter to one side and continuing his work. "No reason to go over the top over someone who is liable to achieve Final Death in a short period of time."

"As you wish, sire," Montalban bowed his head and stomped loudly out of the room.

Molyneux sat back in his chair thoughtfully, pondering what this 'Destroyer' might be.

IC:

The sound of sandals clicking on the marble floor of the main office of the Unreformed Catholic Church of the Imperial Guilder Empire. With a shout and heavy series of knocks a lithe well muscled man ran in carrying several holographic data slates rushed into a large well made expensive looking office.

The man rushed up to a figure who sat reclined in a chair behind a heavy desk inlaid with golden guilt depicting religious scenes. The man was breathing hard... but still attempted to talk:

Your eminence... I bear news... reports of a Demon entering this world have been heard from the cloisters and the Templar report a city was inexplicably destroyed earlier.

Delange sat there looking some what surprised as if someone had just told him they knew he had two Mistresses (with children) despite his vows.

Are they very sure that it wasn't a secular attack?

Replied the Cardinal in cold deliberate tones. The messenger nodded his head vigorously in reply... Delange appeared to consider this for a minute. He then seemed decide slowly saying:

In that case be gone but tell Cicero that we will be filling for Crusade with the Holy Father in the Imperial Empire (OOC: Belem). We shall crush this spawn of Satan as we crushed Satan’s lesser minions the non-cooperative Jews and those followers of that Alan Sun God.

The Messenger quickly escaped the Cardinals clutches to stay would to be invite his own possible death... as he left several Monks and Nuns hustled in with data slates and some bottles of various medical drugs.

The Empire was going to war... again.

Consul Simms walked slowly through the Upper Chambers of the Government House. Surrounded by a train of aides he pushed through the mohogany doors marked with a steel gladius and a silver scroll. Praetor Orford greeted him gravely, handing him the communique.
"They seem to be sure of themselves," the consul looked up at an aide. Send a message to this... Seal. Tell him that we will vote on our support of them in this matter first thing tomorrow. I don't expect this "Father of Lies" to try anything, but if he should the Republic will not stand by."
The aide ran off and the consul followed the praetor into a small office, his troupe of hangers on waiting impatiently in the Deptartment of External Affairs' outer areas.
"Shall we ready the Arcani sir?" referring to the elite of the Republican Guard.
"We should..." Simms looked around and smiled, "I guess you had better make up a wish list. You might be getting a slight increase in your budget." With that he turned and left the Praetor's office.

ooc: tag since my name was mentioned above will read later after I get back from a 4th of July party

Embrace The Light Of Darkness! It Is The Only Way Forward!

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---PRESS RELEASE----REPUBLIC OF MARRIC---
---------------------------------------------

Today, both houses of the Republic of Marric have voted to supply what help they could to any nations aggrieved by BelZamon. Should a nation pre-emtively attack said faction, it would be brought before the People and Government to decide actions taken by the Republican Guard.

When this news was broken to the country, the only, indeed the inevitable, response was complete and utter chaos. The government tried to contain the news of this supposed immortal demi-god which had suddenly come into existence on the surface of the planet, but by the time a suitable 'spin' had been found, it was far too late. The ever-present mass media had taken the story and hyped it to the extreme, causing the entire population to come apart in panic at the power of this creature.

Rioting soon broke out in the capital, and soon every major city in the country was ablaze with rioters; thousands were killed in the initial rioting, and tens of thousands more when the rioters met hastily assembled military and National Guardsmen units that had been bought forward into the affected cities by a decree of Martial Law by the President. As the cities burned, and the citizens of the country either fled in panic or died under the massed weapons of the military, the government itself began to turn in on itself; blame was created and apportioned, and soon there was a mass of resignations and a proposed impeachment.

Into this political vacuum stepped the military, using the Martial Law it had, ironically, been voted to be given, and effectively taking over the country; the Joint Chiefs took control and devised a last, desperate plan to defeat this madman. A crack but ad-hoc team of special forces operatives and scientists, led by an old but effective, and wise-cracking ex-Colonel of the Special Forces. This team would take the fight to the lair of the deadly demi-god before it was too late...


With a yawn, President Xavier Martin rubbed his eyes, and flicked a button on the controller, turning off the dvd player and the incredibly cheesy B-Movie that it was playing. He took a sip of coffee from his Presidential Mug, filled with his unique blend of extra-strong and sweet coffee, before diving into the pile of folders on his desk. He picked up the top one: A report on trade status' between the Republic and The Merchant Guilds. Interesting, but hardly interesting. The one below it, however, was even less exciting. Yet another new country had arisen, this time with a supposed 'Invincible' demi-god at its head. Frankly uninpressed by the report, and the country, Xavier flipped open the front page of the report, picked up a pen and wrote at the foot of the page,

'Ignore this. Xavier'

Then, looking for something more exciting, picked up the Trade Status report and opened the first page, and attempted to become even vaguely excitied by the status report on wheat farming ratios...