Difference between revisions of "Averencia"

Revision as of 17:27, 24 October 2005

Nations

Averencia is a modest and accepting region. It is home mostly to republics or dictatorships, though other government types are certainly not forbidden. The one common denominator seems to be an emphasis on a strong military.

Ericrea

The Autocratic Republic of Ericrea is a small, safe, environmentally stunning nation, remarkable for its compulsory military service. Its hard-nosed, hard-working, intelligent population of several million have good civil rights, enjoy the freedom to spend their money however they like, and have a modest amount of political freedom.

Nyja Lagid

The Republic of Nyja Lagid is a huge, environmentally stunning nation, remarkable for its punitive income tax rates. A National Academy regulates grammar and usage, Nyja Lagid's educational system is the envy of many and regarded as a pinnacle of educational achievement, and criminals are executed and their property seized. Crime -- especially youth-related -- is totally unknown, thanks to the all-pervasive police force and progressive social policies in education and welfare. Nyja Lagid's national animal is the Snake, which frolics freely in the nation's many lush forests, and its currency is the Lagidian Credit.

Partron

The Anti-Democracy of Partron (pronounced par-tohn) is a massive, safe nation, remarkable for its strenght in the sciences and millitary. Its hard-nosed, hard-working, cynical population is ruled with an iron fist by the corrupt, dictatorship government, the Council of 13. Large corporations tend to be above the law, and use their financial clout to gain ever-increasing government benefits at the expense of the poor and unemployed. The nation has a huge standing army, with every able citizen serving a minimum of 3 years.

SG-617

The Colony of SG-617 is a colony of Partron. Established so Partron has a center for trade and diplomacy, it has flurshed so far. Following many of the same rules as Partron, its immigration office is handled by Sheriff Spine Snapper, and Deputy Brain Smasher. They are most friendly, indeed.

Njosnavelin

The Empire of Njosnavelin is a large, environmentally stunning nation, renowned for its compulsory military service. Its hard-nosed, cynical population is ruled by a mostly-benevolent dictator, who grants the populace the freedom to live their own lives but watches carefully for anyone to slip up.

The Jilos

The Community of The Jilos is a huge, economically powerful nation, remarkable for its complete absence of social welfare. Its hard-nosed population has some civil rights, but not too many, enjoy the freedom to spend their money however they like, to a point, and take part in free and open elections, although not too often.

History

Introduction

Following are the farciful roleplaying stories created by our member nations. They are transferred here from our regional messageboard. Only member nations (or non-members with special permission) are allowed to contribute.

The Evil Baron Peabody

The Republic of Ericrea - Ericrea's penchant for biotechnology has shown its ugly side, and now we must ask for aid from our fellow nations. A scientist, now known as the evil Baron Peabody, has created hordes of minion peas to do his bidding! They are flooding the streets of Ericrea in swarms, and our conventional projectile weapons are useless against them. We desperately seek the aid of the other Averencian nations!

The Republic of Ericrea - They have attacked us at our weakest points: they quickly took the butter farms and added slipperiness to their already powerful attributes. The Ericrean people remain strong, but I don't know if any of us can take seeing the sight of another innocent being engulfed in green death...

The Holy Empire of Partron -We will be sending our elite troops to assist. Take note, however, that Partron has a zero tolerance for foreign refugees. Any attempts to cross our borders shall be quickly ended by our trained marksmen. Inform your people of this warning.

The transport choppers will arrive in 2 days. We request that you evacuate any "infected" city. Our troopers have been order to kill anything that moves, no matter the target. If they feel the need, artillery support will be leant. Your city and any foolish civilians remaining could be smashed asunder, but I hope you can understand the cost per threat ratio here.

Peas burn. That is all that is needed. Revenge will be swift, decisive, and brutal. We will give no quarter, nor ask for any. We fight for Partron, and our enemies shall fall before our might!

Any maps and information that can be provided will reduce collateral damage. We suggest you oblige. For Partron, for glory!

The Republic of Ericrea - I am sending you all the logistics and information possible, and I hope you can make good use of them. Ericrea has a very apt satellite network, which should be useful.

As you know, due to compulsory service, all Ericreans above age 18 have been trained in the use of military firearms. Even though our infrastructure and chain of command have been ravaged by the "Green Death," I am sure we will be able to lend you a good deal of support. I have allowed my men to take orders from your officers. We are ready to learn from your experience.

What sort of ordinance do you suggest be used? These peas are not easily killed!

The Holy Empire of Partron - Well, we will start off with a bombardment of napalm rounds, cooking the peas beyond recognition. After the fires are out, we shall send in the infantry to mop up with hand held flamers. We plan to use your depleted forces as scouts and recon, for they are not equipped for combat, and know the terrain. Once the enemy is located, we shall fall upon them like locust. We suggest you assign your medics to pour combat units. Their knowledge of terrain and medical skills will be useful. We request you send all non essential aircraft within 100 miles of the combat zone to sector 6. We need all the room to land forces, and evacuate the wounded.

If worst comes to worst, we will fall back. We will send in our Phoenix bombers from our +INFORMATION CLASSIFIED+ facilities. They will bombard the entire zone. The will be dropping +INFORMATION CLASSIFIED+. This is a last resort, leaving the area barren. We hope it does not resort to this.

The Republic of Ericrea - Nor we. Perhaps requesting your aid was not the best decision, as your... "thorough"... strategies may leave us worse off than the peas would.

Your napalms strikes will end up damaging something to Ericrea, be it a city or part of our beautiful landscape. This is indeed a difficult position I am put into.

We have evacuated most of the pea-infested areas, though the number of areas that can be classified as such continually dwindles, and they are safe for bombardment, though the Ericrean people implore you to devise a less destructive method of cleansing, perhaps not instead of your current plan, but to complement it, and reduce the amount of Ericrean property collaterally damaged.

The Holy Empire of Partron - Well, our strategies are sound. If you wish our help, you need to recognize the threat. What is the point of a city if your people have been slaughter by peas? Cities can rebuilt, lives cannot.

Containing the peas is in the best interest of Partron, and the entire world. Concerning yourself over some pieces of concrete is selfish when looking at the large picture. Imagine if the infestation spread? Imagine the carnage. We await your decision.

The Republic of Ericrea - *The President, unshaven and unkempt, paces back and forth as his advisors eagerly await his decision. He pauses, places his hand thoughtfully over his mouth, and turns his eyes wearily towards them.* "Do it. Call in the Partronians. And may God have mercy on our souls." "Sir, Ericrea downplays religion." "Oh, right. Uh... good luck, I guess..."

The Holy Empire of Partron - *Major Ivan drank another cup of recaf as he stared at the maps on his desk. The maps show the area around the Partron-Ericrea border, along with the locations of the infected cities. His current position is marked by a blood red star.

Tired of all the sitting, he decides to get up and inspect his units. He grabs his black trench coat and heads to the door.

He leaves the main compound and heads towards his artillery batteries. His men are sitting around their howitzers, playing cards, smoking, and drinking. It has been days since they set up, waiting for Ericrea's decision.

As the Major rounded the last cannon, Millers, his Staff Srgt, ran towards him with a clipboard. This can't be good, thought Ivan.

Millers saluted sharply, and Ivan simply dismissed it. "As you were. What is the hurry about?" Millers, still panting from his jog replied, "Sir, orders from command. We are good to go. Coordinates are attached here." Before Millers finished, Ivan snatched the clipboard away. We walked over to the bulky intercom unit, and turned it on.

"Morning boys. Get of your ass and on your feat. Ericrea finally got their collective heads together, and want our help. Prepare the guns. Coordinates are, 123, 12, 3, 508. Load Napalm rounds. May God have mercy on our enemy, 'cause we sure won't. Give them hell boys, Fire For Effect!" The moment he finished, the first cannons went off, sending 500lbs of fiery death towards the infested cities. Who would have thought that Ericrea would want to be shelled, thought Ivan. Oh well, makes no difference to me.

Ivan walked over to the edge of camp, and took out his mono-scope. The first rounds were hitting, and he could see the towering explosions. "God, I love my job."*

The Republic of Ericrea - *Deep in the jungles of Ericrea, an elite Ericrean Army commando team treks silently toward their objective. Suddenly they find themselves in front of a large clearing: their objective. The squad leader orders his men through hand signals to take up their positions along the perimeter. Sitting at a camp fire, surrounded by pea minions, is the evil Baron Peabody. The squad leader took a breath, remembered his family, and shouted, "Now!"

His men lob incindiary grenades borrowed from the Partronians, as well as improvised napalm bombs. The pea minions that don't instantly go up in smoke form a protective barrier around the evil Baron Peabody. It is then that the squad leader decides to employ the secret weapon Ericrean scientists were working on since the beginning of the invasion.

"Mount, Fork-onets!" he commands. All his commandos retrieve the spined melee weapons that closely resemble their silverware counterparts and snap them into place on the barrels of their rifles. "Charge!" the squad leader shouts, and the soldiers swarm the encampment. They hack and slash at the cloud of peas around the evil Baron Peabody until he stands alone, surrounded by the green mush that was once his grand army. A coward, he surrenders immediately. Finally, it is over.

"We have him! Call off the Partronian strikes! For the love of God, call them off!" the squad leader yells into his radio. He only hopes there is something of Ericrea left un-naped.*

The Holy Empire of Partron - * Captain Hailey had been in a lot of scruffs, but this one tops it all. Deep in the burnt out remains of an Ericrean city, whose name is no longer important, hunting down peas. The "liberation" of the San Juan nation years earlier was bad. The rebels used frag weapons in great abundance. The good Captain lost his arm in that battle, but thanks to Partron's mastery of the sciences, a replacement limb was soon manufactured. That was bad. This is hell.

The sound of a Thunderbolt Attack Plane flying overhead caused Hailey to return to hell. He had to stay focused, these damn peas could be anywhere. Looking around, he determined that he and his squad where in an old school. Burnt out papers lined the floor, with an old chalk board hanging on the wall.

It was dark, but he didn't care. He liked the dark. He liked fighting dirty. He liked stabbing a sentry in the back, and watching him bleed out. But, peas are different. They don't need to see.

"IR scopes on," is all he says through the squads vox net. Faint red glows appeared in the darkness, revealing the position of his men, but only a trained soldier might even notice.

'Thats better. I can see,' thought the good captain. What’s that, movement? "Squad, I have movement, on the other side of the door. I'm going to check it out. Cover me."

He walked quietly towards the door. 'I don't know if the enemy can hear, but I don't want to find out the hard way.' As he was about to turn the handle, his vox chimed in with a message, "Now hear this, return to the evacuation point, I repeat, return to the evac point."

Hailey let out a sigh, "Damn, we were having so much fun. Lets check out this door first, though." Hailey kicked the door in, expecting enemy, to only realize fractions of a second before he lit the room ablaze that there were none. The movement was survivors. Children, to be specific.

"We got kids men, grab them and head out. Ignore previous orders, do not head to evac zones. I'm calling in a dust off." Captain Hailey changed channels on his vox unit, "Airborne, this is squad sigma 12. We need dust off, now!. 12 marines, and 21 children. Sector 55-6A."

After a brief moment of static, a reply cam through, "Captain, you know the rules, no refugees."

"I don't give a frack about rules, soldier. Get me dust off, NOW!"

"Captain, my hands are tied."

"What’s your name?"

"Corporal Malagar, sir."

"Well corporal, If I don't get dust off, me and my squad here will pay a visit to you, and give you a grenade enema, am I clear?" "Um, well, yes sir. The VTOL's are inbound."

Hailey turned to his squad, "Lets get these kids out of here."*

The Republic of Ericrea - *The Ericrean President stands at a podium, making a televised speech to his entire nation. "...Throughout this ordeal, we Ericreans have remained strong. Loved ones were lost and possessions destroyed, yes, but there is one thing that no vegetable could ever destroy: our resolve. We will rebuild. We as a people are young yet, and as such have great resilience. Every Ericrean will do their part to rebuild, and in no time at all it will seem as his this horror had never happened..."

After his speech, the President was flown in his presidential jet to the nation's secret military facility, Area 34. There he was brought face to face with the mastermind of the pea invasion, the evil Baron Peabody. Chained to a wall and behind protective glass, the evil Baron Peabody struggled at his fetters as he saw the President approach. "You bastard! You should be dead!" the mad scientist spat.

"Have we figured out what made him do this?" asked the President.

"No, sir," his Minister of Defense advised him. Then the head scientist at Area 34 chimed in, "Our tests and interrogations are ongoing, Mr. President, but so far he has revealed nothing of his motives... we suspect he may be a rabid vegan..."

"Right, right," the President replied, "Now what about HOW?"

The scientist fielded this one again: "No, sir, Mr. President. We suspect he fused the genomes of peas with that of some sort of vicious animal -- absurd sounding, I know -- but we don't know how. We may be able to figure out the animal, but that would be of little use."

"And him? What's wrong with him?" asked the President, pointing at the evil Baron Peabody.

His Defense Minister replied, "He's more pea than man now, sir. Everyday his mind degrades a little further. Luckily, despite his aggressiveness towards you, he seems to have lost all hope. There may have been a telepathic connection between himself and the peas, but it's gone now. They're just peas again... a little meaty-flavored, but just peas."

"So they're edible? Good, that should aid in the recovery effort, if anyone can stomach it." The President turned to his advisors. "I trust you will be able to explain this is... in terms the public can understand?"

"Of course, sir. All the gaps will be filled or erased, and the populous should be quite content with the explanation."

"Good." The President began walking toward the elevator, followed by his bodyguards. Once in, he turned to his staff and said, "Veritas Vos Liberabit, ladies and gentlemen. I want us to know everything about this, and I never want anything like it to happen again." He pushed the button on the elevator for the ground floor.

"Sir!" the Defense Minister called after him, "what of the evil Baron Peabody?"

With a dark smile he explained, "In the final hours of his exploit, he crossed over into Partronian territory. Hand him over to them, with our thanks. They may do with him as they wish."*

H.A.M.

The Community of Jilos - You should send some people to the party. Meet the Jilos, have some drinks, and a samurai sandwhich, join the UN, endorse the Jilos, and inspect the [toxic waste] pump station!

The Republic of Ericrea - Ericrea shall send some envoys to your picnic, and we shall have some drinks, but there is no guarantee they will try the samurai sandwiches...

The Anti-Democracy of Partron - We have met our part of the deal, Jilos, we expect you to meet yours.

These Samurai Sandwiches are very delightful. We shall begin reverse engineering them immediately.

The Anti-Democracy of Partron - *+Research Log, Doctor Bill+ These samurai sandwiches are most interesting. They are most delicous, but there are draw backs. Their heavy armor, and sharp katanas, make devouring the meals hazardous. We belive that by cracking their genetic code, it may be possible to reproduce the sandwich, and remove the hazards. We have gone about this in several ways.

-Trial 1- We began by taking Mostang Huni, our local samurai, and getting a blood sample. We extracted some genetic material from 200 diffrent sandwiches, with varying amounts of ham, cheese, turkey, ham, etc.

These samples are being genetically combined in our labs, and results should arrive soon.

-Trial 2- With a sample of the samurai sandwich, we have put its genetic material into an embryo, and had it implanted in sheep. We hope the embryo will grow, and be born as normal, healthy sandwiches. These clones will put us closer to unlocking the secret.

-Trial 3- Several civilian chefs have "volunteered," and are currently sampling these meals. They shall use their culinary expertise to determine the origin of the flavors.

-Summary- We are very close to unlocking the secret of the sandwiches. Results can be at your desks within the month, assuming all goes well. In my own, professional opinion, this research will make Partron better, stronger, faster than ever before. We have the technology.

The Community of The Jilos - Hmm, remove the heavy armor and sharp katanas? Ridiculous! Removing the sharp katanas would cause the tomato-lettuce structure of the sandwhich to collapse, resulting in a large sandwhich failure that would make it no longer eatable. But, if Partron wants to waste 20 billion in a deadend project, so be it.

However, The Pump Station has been constructed, and is open to inspection by any nation that wishes it. There will also be a power-point presentation about the Pump Station along with a gourmet meal prepared by Alejandro.

Detailed blue prints, schematics, and employment records will be made available, when we the Jilos actually get our hands on them. Sim McStills left them in his car..................

The Anti-Democracy of Partron - *Research results have..... varied levels of results. The cloning operation was mildly successful, although exact clones were not made. We did, however, get sandwiches which grow wool, so we shave them, and eat them.

The chef theory failed, due to someone forgetting to unlock the doors to the builidng. Thousands of chefs perished, as they could not escape. Their failure shall be remembered.

The genetic engineering of the sandwich and the samurai have produced... something intresting. We do have a sandwich, but all similarities end there. It has legs, arms, and even a head, made out of meats, condiments, and bread. Its eyes are made of olives. It has a suit of samurai armor, and a katana, permanently fused with its body.

It gets even more intresting. It is growing. It started as a small finger sandwich, but is now as large as 3 submarine sandwiches. It may also be self-aware. It is very perceptive, and responds to changes in light and noise. It has tried, on several occasions, to interact with the scientists.

He have dumbed it H.A.M., Heavily Armored Meal. We do not know when it will stop growing, or if it will remain passive, but we have it contained. Clean-up is ready at a moments notice. We don't know what we did, but we hope it will lead to development of our own sandwiches.

~Doctor Bill*

The Community of The Jilos - The Jilos do not know if we like the sound of this H.A.M.

But the issue at hand is the Pump Station, which is ready for operation and does not have a name.

The Republic of Ericrea - Ericrea cannot help but wonder if these two occurences are not entirely conincidental...

The Anti-Democracy of Partron - *+Begin Transmission+ Help! the H.A....... gone craz..... Need... elp.... (Static continues for several moments) It has grown to large! it is agres..... kill it..... Use project Atlas........ DIE HUMAN! No, don.... arghhh...........hhhhgyh........

+End Transmission+ +Have A Nice Day+*