Suria the First
29-05-2006, 01:53
OOC: Hello one and all. I discovered this site a few days ago through the ‘flame warriors’ site. They seem to enjoy pointing fingers at this board and laughing at new discoveries of flamers. Well, I followed their fingers over here and discovered an amazing site. Anyway, I find this site generally amusing, simply brilliant, and astoundingly creative. I am happy to introduce a nation I created five years ago for the story of a character I made on the ‘Umbagollah’ site. You will find in this thread certain elements of seriousness, but I do have moments of facetiousness laced throughout this thread. I wouldn’t be surprised if the story of my nation degenerates into a completely ridiculous story of surreal beauty, but I hope it remains somewhat interesting if not entertaining. Anyway, here I go. Without further ado, I give to you ‘Suria the First’…because someone already took the name ‘Suria’ and then disappeared, forever not allowing others to take the nation’s title.
IC:
The Council Chambers
Suria the First
Graywind (Capital)
8:00 P. M.
Around a small oak table in a large decorous room, four men sit on wooden chairs and wait to begin the first council meeting of the newly formed government of the newly founded land of Suria the First. A small crystal chandelier hangs from the white ceiling casting a beautiful glow throughout the room. On three walls, several paintings hang of varying sizes and themes. One painting is a stately picture of Herdwal Folkingharder, a famous philosopher noted for his democratic socialist ideas. His ideas form the fabric of Suria’s government and political philosophy. On the opposite wall, three large windows open up the room to the world outside and moonlight streams through the glass like a pearl river, splashing lightly upon the wooden floor.
Each man flips through several papers, intensely scrutinizing the contents of each page. The man sitting at the head of the table, Ryling Hardentot, is tall and his face is quite long. A thick black beard mostly covers it. At the top of his prominent nose, sits two piercing black eyes vibrant with energy and resolve. He wears a black suit and a black bowler hat rests on top of his head. The man sitting to his right, Olgord Rutterhop is a short, portly man. There is no hair on his head except for the bushy, brown handlebar mustache that hangs beneath his large nose like a limp caterpillar. He wears a gray suit and has a rose pinned on his left breast pocket. The man sitting to his right, Jostin Madgrane, carries the appearance of a stork with his beak-like nose, his beady, green eyes, and hooked neck. He is as skinny as a stick, wearing brown slacks that barely reach his ankles and a white dress shirt. His brown jacket rests over the back of his chair. To his right, Denlar Noster, a man with glasses hanging off the tip of his nose, fumbles through his papers. He is the oldest man in the bunch. Hair as white as snow speckles his head. He wears a black suit.
Ryling Hardentot slides his papers to the side and crosses his hands before him.
“I believe now, three days after our formal formation, is the time to discuss how we shall associate with the rest of the world. First we need to let the world know that we are to be considered a sovereign nation. Other nations have always respected us and never expanded into the lands our people occupied for generations. With almost ten million people in our civilization, we need to establish our borders and be recognized as a nation of people. Hopefully, extending trade relations with other countries will help boost our struggling economy. Our people can only be taxed so much, especially after being used to centuries of no taxes.”
Denlar raises his head from his paper and speaks.
“As Democratic Socialists, we need to be careful with who we shall set up trade negotiations. We don’t want those damn capitalists to corrupt our nation. Capitalism is a plague that must not spread into our borders.”
Ryling says, “I don’t think our people would allow such trade relations anyway due to their fierce patriotism. If I even look at a capitalist, my people will surely break into my home and throw me off the tallest building. They elected me as Prime Commander because of their faith that I will protect the freedoms they enjoy and respect the legacy of our great father, Herdwal Folkingharder. This, I shall do.”
“Well then we ought to consider building a military,” says Olgord.
“We shall not have a military,” Ryling says simply.
The three advisors look at Ryling in bewilderment.
Ryling continues, “The tradition of our fathers was born from peace. We were never a war-like people for we always have had peaceful neighbors. I don’t intend to change this tradition. War breeds crime as violence is the lifeblood of both evils. There is no crime in our nation so why should we introduce violence to our people by building a military that nobody would enlist in anyways. Disarmament of the world shall begin with us.”
“You can’t be serious,” Olgord retorts, “Pacifism is a one way ticket to slavery or destruction!”
“I am serious…”
Olgord interrupts, “What will we do if someone invades! Stand around and try to negotiate them to death!! What about rouge nations and terrorist organizations!! You can’t possibly allow our people to be jeopardized due to lack of force!”
Ryling says calmly, “I am sure other nations that we trade with will come to our aid in the event a nation engages in hostile activities toward us. In regards to rogue nations and terrorists, we have not to worry about any danger for our nation has done nothing to provoke their anger. They are more occupied with destroying capitalist nations anyways and they probably don’t even know our nation exists.”
“Besides,” Denlar says, looking at Olgord over the brim of his glasses, “what do we have of value? Our only main resources are timber and cotton. The only reason a nation could possibly have for attacking us is if they want a good view of the ocean.”
Everyone but Olgord chuckles.
Jostin says quietly, “Our people believe that defending the nation from enemy forces is their responsibility. Every last person in our nation would die before they allow an enemy to occupy the land their ancestors cultivated for thousands of years.”
Ryling smiles and says, “Can you imagine an army of three million angry home makers swinging kitchen knives and rollers in the air to chase off soldiers. Our children would use their stuff animals as grenades and the infants would probably be specialists in toxic warfare. You see, Olgord, our land attracts tourists. There is nothing here to conquer except for an occasional swimming pool or turkey farm.”
Olgord remains quiet for a long time and finally says, “This is a great risk.”
Ryling says, “I understand it is a risk to be the first pure pacifist nation in hopes that the world will follow suit and disarm, but it is a risk worth taking, a risk my people expect me to take. Is this issue settled?”
The three advisors remain silent. Olgord fidgets with a corner of his paper. Ryling shuffles through his papers to see what is next on the agenda.
“Turkey!” Ryling says, holding a finger triumphantly in the air.
“Apparently the local populace has been complaining that our national animal seems to enjoy a little too much protection,” Jostin begins, “These birds seem to be overtaking our nation. Many people say we should simply thin the population and hunt them. Shall we legalize turkey hunting?”
“Well, if the majority of the population believe it’s a good idea…” Ryling says, “then I see no harm. Our people are quite responsible hunters. They have managed to ensure that the whale population near our coast remained constant for hundreds of years.”
“The polls say eighty percent of the population want to have Turkey for dinner,” Denlar says.
“Then we’ll allow it,” Ryling says.
IC:
The Council Chambers
Suria the First
Graywind (Capital)
8:00 P. M.
Around a small oak table in a large decorous room, four men sit on wooden chairs and wait to begin the first council meeting of the newly formed government of the newly founded land of Suria the First. A small crystal chandelier hangs from the white ceiling casting a beautiful glow throughout the room. On three walls, several paintings hang of varying sizes and themes. One painting is a stately picture of Herdwal Folkingharder, a famous philosopher noted for his democratic socialist ideas. His ideas form the fabric of Suria’s government and political philosophy. On the opposite wall, three large windows open up the room to the world outside and moonlight streams through the glass like a pearl river, splashing lightly upon the wooden floor.
Each man flips through several papers, intensely scrutinizing the contents of each page. The man sitting at the head of the table, Ryling Hardentot, is tall and his face is quite long. A thick black beard mostly covers it. At the top of his prominent nose, sits two piercing black eyes vibrant with energy and resolve. He wears a black suit and a black bowler hat rests on top of his head. The man sitting to his right, Olgord Rutterhop is a short, portly man. There is no hair on his head except for the bushy, brown handlebar mustache that hangs beneath his large nose like a limp caterpillar. He wears a gray suit and has a rose pinned on his left breast pocket. The man sitting to his right, Jostin Madgrane, carries the appearance of a stork with his beak-like nose, his beady, green eyes, and hooked neck. He is as skinny as a stick, wearing brown slacks that barely reach his ankles and a white dress shirt. His brown jacket rests over the back of his chair. To his right, Denlar Noster, a man with glasses hanging off the tip of his nose, fumbles through his papers. He is the oldest man in the bunch. Hair as white as snow speckles his head. He wears a black suit.
Ryling Hardentot slides his papers to the side and crosses his hands before him.
“I believe now, three days after our formal formation, is the time to discuss how we shall associate with the rest of the world. First we need to let the world know that we are to be considered a sovereign nation. Other nations have always respected us and never expanded into the lands our people occupied for generations. With almost ten million people in our civilization, we need to establish our borders and be recognized as a nation of people. Hopefully, extending trade relations with other countries will help boost our struggling economy. Our people can only be taxed so much, especially after being used to centuries of no taxes.”
Denlar raises his head from his paper and speaks.
“As Democratic Socialists, we need to be careful with who we shall set up trade negotiations. We don’t want those damn capitalists to corrupt our nation. Capitalism is a plague that must not spread into our borders.”
Ryling says, “I don’t think our people would allow such trade relations anyway due to their fierce patriotism. If I even look at a capitalist, my people will surely break into my home and throw me off the tallest building. They elected me as Prime Commander because of their faith that I will protect the freedoms they enjoy and respect the legacy of our great father, Herdwal Folkingharder. This, I shall do.”
“Well then we ought to consider building a military,” says Olgord.
“We shall not have a military,” Ryling says simply.
The three advisors look at Ryling in bewilderment.
Ryling continues, “The tradition of our fathers was born from peace. We were never a war-like people for we always have had peaceful neighbors. I don’t intend to change this tradition. War breeds crime as violence is the lifeblood of both evils. There is no crime in our nation so why should we introduce violence to our people by building a military that nobody would enlist in anyways. Disarmament of the world shall begin with us.”
“You can’t be serious,” Olgord retorts, “Pacifism is a one way ticket to slavery or destruction!”
“I am serious…”
Olgord interrupts, “What will we do if someone invades! Stand around and try to negotiate them to death!! What about rouge nations and terrorist organizations!! You can’t possibly allow our people to be jeopardized due to lack of force!”
Ryling says calmly, “I am sure other nations that we trade with will come to our aid in the event a nation engages in hostile activities toward us. In regards to rogue nations and terrorists, we have not to worry about any danger for our nation has done nothing to provoke their anger. They are more occupied with destroying capitalist nations anyways and they probably don’t even know our nation exists.”
“Besides,” Denlar says, looking at Olgord over the brim of his glasses, “what do we have of value? Our only main resources are timber and cotton. The only reason a nation could possibly have for attacking us is if they want a good view of the ocean.”
Everyone but Olgord chuckles.
Jostin says quietly, “Our people believe that defending the nation from enemy forces is their responsibility. Every last person in our nation would die before they allow an enemy to occupy the land their ancestors cultivated for thousands of years.”
Ryling smiles and says, “Can you imagine an army of three million angry home makers swinging kitchen knives and rollers in the air to chase off soldiers. Our children would use their stuff animals as grenades and the infants would probably be specialists in toxic warfare. You see, Olgord, our land attracts tourists. There is nothing here to conquer except for an occasional swimming pool or turkey farm.”
Olgord remains quiet for a long time and finally says, “This is a great risk.”
Ryling says, “I understand it is a risk to be the first pure pacifist nation in hopes that the world will follow suit and disarm, but it is a risk worth taking, a risk my people expect me to take. Is this issue settled?”
The three advisors remain silent. Olgord fidgets with a corner of his paper. Ryling shuffles through his papers to see what is next on the agenda.
“Turkey!” Ryling says, holding a finger triumphantly in the air.
“Apparently the local populace has been complaining that our national animal seems to enjoy a little too much protection,” Jostin begins, “These birds seem to be overtaking our nation. Many people say we should simply thin the population and hunt them. Shall we legalize turkey hunting?”
“Well, if the majority of the population believe it’s a good idea…” Ryling says, “then I see no harm. Our people are quite responsible hunters. They have managed to ensure that the whale population near our coast remained constant for hundreds of years.”
“The polls say eighty percent of the population want to have Turkey for dinner,” Denlar says.
“Then we’ll allow it,” Ryling says.