Arian
No more ghostbusting!!
Orders sent.
A Brave New World Part 2
- Thread starter EQandcivfanatic
- Start date
Milarqui
Deity
EQ, I've sent you a newspaper strip cartoon. See if you like it.
@Milarqui. Not bad, the Danish words were a nice touch.
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
Ivan threw his two gloves down onto the table in the barracks before taking a seat beside his mate, whom he knew through gymnasium and basic training. Beside the scorching ninety-degree weather outside – a normal trait of the temperate region of Manchuria – Ivan’s face was a pale white. He looked like he had just seen a ghost or a ghoul, or something out of a Wollstonecraft novel. Worried, Ilya asked him what was the matter.
“Oy, Ilya, menya drug. Let me tell you that I’ve just seen the French reinforcements – the frontline infantry, for the push.” Immediately, Ilya’s face adopted an expression of understanding.
“Scary men, I’ve heard,” said Ilya solemnly.
“More than that – it’s part of what they look like and part of what they exude. On occasion I saw one betray a glance of humanity, or share a laugh with his comrades, but ever present is an air of steeliness. I mean real human steel, real men of steel – not like what that Georgian politician calls himself”
“Well, they’re on our side,” said Ilya neutrally, “Listen, you need a stiff glass of vodka is what you need.”
“And anyway,” Ilya continued, pouring a glass of vodka for the two of them, “I wouldn’t give them too much in the way of envy… you couldn’t pay me enough to live in France. Unless, of course, I was an inner party member.”
“You’ve got that much right,” said Ivan, a little more perkily, “Here’s to the motherland, where I can speak my mind.”
“Hear hear.”
Ivan threw back the glass at the same time of Ilya; the latter scowled but the former coughed and sputtered. “Good god, what was this fermented from?”
“It’s a local production, you can’t make vodka off of this land… but with the supply lines shot for anything but French armaments, this is the best we can get.”
“Ehhh, I’m getting tired of fighting these Chinks. I don’t even care about the communism, I just want to go home.”
“What kind of talk is that, Ivan?” interrupted another, third voice. It was both more subdued and more calm than either of the first two voices, but had a latent venom present in it. It gave Ilya the impression of a cyanide tablet ground into a honeyed bread. “That sounds seditious.”
“Seditious to whom, Yuri, the Russian crown or the French crown?” said Ilya slyly.
Yuri bit his lower lip a tad and moved his gaze to Ilya, whereupon his eyes narrowed. He was a very harsh looking man, with a goatee and a pout that seemed to announce a general disapproval of people.
“Why, the Russian crown, of course. Anyone who doesn’t want to help stamp out the Red menace approves of their radical agenda.”
“Maybe, or they don’t care to support a reactionary hiccough. That’s why we live in Russia and not America.”
Yuri scowled at Ilya and lingered for a brief moment before turning around and walking away, briskly.
“See,” said Ilya, “That’s the kind of person who runs France. A selfish man with no compassion whose only real desire is to watch the world go up in flames, unless he can control it. A true powermonger.”
“Maybe,” said Ivan as he started on a second glass of vodka, “Either way, it makes no difference to an Average Anatoli like me.”
For the remainder of the break they drank in silence, but an air of agreement hung in the air.
“Oy, Ilya, menya drug. Let me tell you that I’ve just seen the French reinforcements – the frontline infantry, for the push.” Immediately, Ilya’s face adopted an expression of understanding.
“Scary men, I’ve heard,” said Ilya solemnly.
“More than that – it’s part of what they look like and part of what they exude. On occasion I saw one betray a glance of humanity, or share a laugh with his comrades, but ever present is an air of steeliness. I mean real human steel, real men of steel – not like what that Georgian politician calls himself”
“Well, they’re on our side,” said Ilya neutrally, “Listen, you need a stiff glass of vodka is what you need.”
“And anyway,” Ilya continued, pouring a glass of vodka for the two of them, “I wouldn’t give them too much in the way of envy… you couldn’t pay me enough to live in France. Unless, of course, I was an inner party member.”
“You’ve got that much right,” said Ivan, a little more perkily, “Here’s to the motherland, where I can speak my mind.”
“Hear hear.”
Ivan threw back the glass at the same time of Ilya; the latter scowled but the former coughed and sputtered. “Good god, what was this fermented from?”
“It’s a local production, you can’t make vodka off of this land… but with the supply lines shot for anything but French armaments, this is the best we can get.”
“Ehhh, I’m getting tired of fighting these Chinks. I don’t even care about the communism, I just want to go home.”
“What kind of talk is that, Ivan?” interrupted another, third voice. It was both more subdued and more calm than either of the first two voices, but had a latent venom present in it. It gave Ilya the impression of a cyanide tablet ground into a honeyed bread. “That sounds seditious.”
“Seditious to whom, Yuri, the Russian crown or the French crown?” said Ilya slyly.
Yuri bit his lower lip a tad and moved his gaze to Ilya, whereupon his eyes narrowed. He was a very harsh looking man, with a goatee and a pout that seemed to announce a general disapproval of people.
“Why, the Russian crown, of course. Anyone who doesn’t want to help stamp out the Red menace approves of their radical agenda.”
“Maybe, or they don’t care to support a reactionary hiccough. That’s why we live in Russia and not America.”
Yuri scowled at Ilya and lingered for a brief moment before turning around and walking away, briskly.
“See,” said Ilya, “That’s the kind of person who runs France. A selfish man with no compassion whose only real desire is to watch the world go up in flames, unless he can control it. A true powermonger.”
“Maybe,” said Ivan as he started on a second glass of vodka, “Either way, it makes no difference to an Average Anatoli like me.”
For the remainder of the break they drank in silence, but an air of agreement hung in the air.
Circuit
Writing Letters
Love it, Crezth! 
I feel like it's partial, but I can't tell where. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
I feel like it's partial, but I can't tell where. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
Condor_green
King
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2008
- Messages
- 661
Orders sent.
Anonymous2U
Deadly Serious
OCC: @ Condor
I hope your orders included the money you owe us this turn.
I hope your orders included the money you owe us this turn.
Circuit
Writing Letters
I'm sick. I'll do my best to get my orders in. If they're not on time, you'll know why.
Condor_green
King
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2008
- Messages
- 661
Yeah I added the money.
5 Ic right?
5 Ic right?
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
...and Georgian military power was forever cemented in history.
This'd be the 24 hour warning
Circuit
Writing Letters
Orders sent.
My 300th post!
My 300th post!
Anonymous2U
Deadly Serious
That is correct.
SoldierChild
Anarchist
orders will be sent tomorrow afternoon (aka today afternoon its not tomorrow till i wake up)
A lot of ou are certainly throwing caution to the wind, wiht the update a mere 8 hours away.
Circuit
Writing Letters
"Caution" as in, "Better get your orders in quick," or caution as in "From what I've seen of your orders, you're all daredevils"?
Milarqui
Deity
I'd say the first of them.
Maybe a little of both, but more of the first one.
SoldierChild
Anarchist
well orders are in, its not tomorrow yet for me but i guess it has to be
Similar threads
