[IC] alpine republic

[Dinh AaronMk]

<Snipped quote by Dinh AaronMk>

@Yam I Am

based development through national plan of 10,000,000 national plans time

[TheEvanCat]

THE MOUNTAINEER

A LONE MAN IN WHITE stuck his crampon into the thick ice walls of a mountain that towered high above the Alpine Republic. He swung a pick with a harsh grunt into the sparking-white cliff, grunting with exertion. With a labored lift of the head, he could see the ledge was a mere few feet above him. His tired legs, exhausted from hours of climbing, were renewed with energy. He continued his climb, the ice chipping and crunching underneath his tools as he struggled upwards.

Finally, he swung his leg above the lip of the cliff and swung the rest of his body up behind it. He found himself laying face down on flat ground. He leapt up, jumping into the air, and offered a cheer to the empty mountain range. It echoed below and beyond him, and he took a minute to observe the Alpine Republic's fantasy-world landscape. With warmth in his heart, he smiled to himself. He thought of the stories of paradise that had been told to him in his Alaskan youth. From his pocket, the man in white withdrew a picture of Sarah Palin that he kissed dearly. The prize was almost in sight.

He trudged forward as the wind began to pick up. Snow and ice cut at him despite his cold weather gear. He walked for an hour until he found a cave nestled at the peak of the mountain, whereupon he stopped and rested. Inside was a treasure too great for a mortal man. The man in white sighed; he would have prayed, or knelt, or hoped to a higher power, or played the stations of the cross against his chest if religion wasn't a decrepit institution. Instead, his self will and the invisible hand pushed him forward.

It was exactly what he he was looking for. An aura of light surrounded the pillar of ice. Perched atop it, frozen to an immaculately sculpted base, was a golden AR-15 rifle. The man in white approached it, the Angel Moroni singing to him angelically. His cold fingers were warmed by the scene, heat radiating from the barrel as if it had just shot down three protesters in the far North. The man in white felt his feet life off the ground as an otherworldly power took control of his mortal body. He grabbed the AR-15: it came unglued from the ice effortlessly.

Holding the ancient weapon in his hand, the man in white charged the handle and loaded a round into its breech. He looked towards the mouth of the cave, towards the snow-blind and windswept landscape ahead of him.

"With this weapon," he declared, hoisting the rifle high into the air, "I shall bring libertarian glory to the Alpine Republic!"

[USSR]

<Snipped quote by USSR>

@Yam I Am

[Jeddaven]

<Snipped quote by Yam I Am>

@USSR

Idk seems like you do

The Obama Prism is presently approaching Moscow at the speed of 666mph.

[Yam I Am]

@Andreyich Tito wanted to sign his end of the agreement but he didn't have the official parchment. He did however have a copy of his favorite album laying around his house, so he signed it and sent it instead.

[Jeddaven]

@Yam I Am@USSR@TheEvanCat@Dinh AaronMk the alpine republic fandom is dying

[Dinh AaronMk]

cum

[Yam I Am]

@Yam I Am@USSR@TheEvanCat@Dinh AaronMk the alpine republic fandom is dying

@Jeddaven

[Jeddaven]

cum

@Dinh AaronMk

yea

[Keyguyperson]

@Yam I Am@USSR@TheEvanCat@Dinh AaronMk the alpine republic fandom is dying

@Jeddaven

no u

[Jeddaven]

<Snipped quote by Jeddaven>

no u

@Keyguyperson

Yes

[TheEvanCat]

THE BANKER

A BESPECTACLED MAN typed furiously at a computer, the flashing white screen of Twitter flashing information at him at light speed. Dozens of bite-sized messages, poorly worded and never edited. After all, who had time to include a source for their information when the message was so small? He bit his lip, scrolling down the screen furiously. Images both tame and extreme passed through his screen. A man ranting about immigrants. An anthropomorphic horse (with feminine characteristics) having intercourse with another anthropomorphic creature by means of an engorged sexual apparatus. Memetic imagery of Leonardo DeCaprio as the "Wolf of Wall Street" accompanying an inspirational quote. He ignored them all. He needed answers.

Then, he found it. A large JPEG of a monkey took up the entirety of his widescreen curved monitor. The Tweet, though short, advertised great riches. He clicked further. It was a link. Through time and cyberspace, he journeyed through the blue-tinted text and ended up on a website with only one goal: the achieve wealth. Dozens, no, hundreds of monkey JPEGs filled the screen. Each one had a price tag attached. Some of them wore hats, some of them wore glasses. Many of them were silly and wacky. The Banker did not care about the value of these monkeys: he knew what he had to do.

Within seconds, he found one that he liked. The brown-furred monkey... no, it was an ape... spoke to The Banker's innermost desires. He wore a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and, curiously, a yellow tie. The Banker liked yellow: it both felt similar to gold and similarly removed himself from the "binary" red versus blue politics of the conservatives and liberals. Truly, they were the sheep. A cool set of Oakley sunglasses were perched atop the ape's nose, his mouth curled into a sneer.

The Banker clicked buy. Within microseconds, the cryptocurrency in his wallet tunneled through cyberspace to reach this exchange. By the time his brain registered the decision that his fingers had made, The Banker had exchanged digital cash for digital goods. Not that he planned to keep this: the ape was far more valuable to him dead than alive. This did not stop him from making it his Twitter profile picture.

So The Banker flaunted this ape. He joined their society. He posted on their Discord. He was on top of the world. The line always went up. Others joined his society. They all wanted apes. They all wanted to be in the club. The Banker held onto his blue-suited ape and bought more. Not just apes, but other creatures as well. Cats (an internet classic) were in high demand. Dogs were passe by now, not cute enough. Niche animals. He even made his own: whatever covered the Ethereum's gas.

As The Banker ingrained himself into the community, the reigns of his power extended across cyberspace. He was king of several domains. He bought out several other societies, their JPEGs were simply inferior. He enjoyed the spoils of his riches: the old office chair that he enjoyed was now replaced by a Gamer chair so he could trade in luxury.

Yet one day, he received a DM on his Twitter account. He flaunted the blue-suited ape, of course; everyone knew he was wealthy. In the messages, there was a profile picture of a bearded man in a flannel shirt posing happily with a golden AR-15. The Mountaineer was his only name. He asked him The Banker question:

"Dear sir, I see you are a fellow entrepreneur. The Alpine Republic needs help: it has sunk too deep into the swamp. We could use wealthy industry magnates like yourself to help fight the liberal elite. You give the bitcoin, I give the guns. It's an investment you cannot refuse."

The Banker sat and thought deeply, his fingers stroking his neckbeard. With a coy smile, he typed back in agreement. Then, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew, he minimized the window and pulled up his FOREX exchange: it was time to short Alpine Dollars.

[Jeddaven]

THE BANKER

A BESPECTACLED MAN typed furiously at a computer, the flashing white screen of Twitter flashing information at him at light speed. Dozens of bite-sized messages, poorly worded and never edited. After all, who had time to include a source for their information when the message was so small? He bit his lip, scrolling down the screen furiously. Images both tame and extreme passed through his screen. A man ranting about immigrants. An anthropomorphic horse (with feminine characteristics) having intercourse with another anthropomorphic creature by means of an engorged sexual apparatus. Memetic imagery of Leonardo DeCaprio as the "Wolf of Wall Street" accompanying an inspirational quote. He ignored them all. He needed answers.

Then, he found it. A large JPEG of a monkey took up the entirety of his widescreen curved monitor. The Tweet, though short, advertised great riches. He clicked further. It was a link. Through time and cyberspace, he journeyed through the blue-tinted text and ended up on a website with only one goal: the achieve wealth. Dozens, no, hundreds of monkey JPEGs filled the screen. Each one had a price tag attached. Some of them wore hats, some of them wore glasses. Many of them were silly and wacky. The Banker did not care about the value of these monkeys: he knew what he had to do.

Within seconds, he found one that he liked. The brown-furred monkey... no, it was an ape... spoke to The Banker's innermost desires. He wore a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and, curiously, a yellow tie. The Banker liked yellow: it both felt similar to gold and similarly removed himself from the "binary" red versus blue politics of the conservatives and liberals. Truly, they were the sheep. A cool set of Oakley sunglasses were perched atop the ape's nose, his mouth curled into a sneer.

The Banker clicked buy. Within microseconds, the cryptocurrency in his wallet tunneled through cyberspace to reach this exchange. By the time his brain registered the decision that his fingers had made, The Banker had exchanged digital cash for digital goods. Not that he planned to keep this: the ape was far more valuable to him dead than alive. This did not stop him from making it his Twitter profile picture.

So The Banker flaunted this ape. He joined their society. He posted on their Discord. He was on top of the world. The line always went up. Others joined his society. They all wanted apes. They all wanted to be in the club. The Banker held onto his blue-suited ape and bought more. Not just apes, but other creatures as well. Cats (an internet classic) were in high demand. Dogs were passe by now, not cute enough. Niche animals. He even made his own: whatever covered the Ethereum's gas.

As The Banker ingrained himself into the community, the reigns of his power extended across cyberspace. He was king of several domains. He bought out several other societies, their JPEGs were simply inferior. He enjoyed the spoils of his riches: the old office chair that he enjoyed was now replaced by a Gamer chair so he could trade in luxury.

Yet one day, he received a DM on his Twitter account. He flaunted the blue-suited ape, of course; everyone knew he was wealthy. In the messages, there was a profile picture of a bearded man in a flannel shirt posing happily with a golden AR-15. The Mountaineer was his only name. He asked him The Banker question:

"Dear sir, I see you are a fellow entrepreneur. The Alpine Republic needs help: it has sunk too deep into the swamp. We could use wealthy industry magnates like yourself to help fight the liberal elite. You give the bitcoin, I give the guns. It's an investment you cannot refuse."

The Banker sat and thought deeply, his fingers stroking his neckbeard. With a coy smile, he typed back in agreement. Then, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew, he minimized the window and pulled up his FOREX exchange: it was time to short Alpine Dollars.

@TheEvanCat

The Banker received a message from Obama Prism:

By xxxCumcoinxxx

Sincerely,
Baraccolini

[gorgenmast]

Nation: Freedomville
Location: on the one that looks like a boot, sorry my map is broke :c
https://ibb.co/sbBFyDQ

[gorgenmast]

Freedomville peoples was happy and full of joy bc they was freedom and were freedom and could vote and go shopping and watch Netflix(TM).

One day evil man said “I will be of voted for president for Freedomville so that I will be in charge and charge rules so Freedomville doesn’t have Freedom know more and I will be king and make all the rules and then people will have to do whatever I want.” He laugtered evilly.

[Yam I Am]

All hail gorgenmast

[gorgenmast]

Presididnt of Freedomville was nice man and very nice. He sat in big office with big desk with the metal balls on a string that hit each other and then the other metal ball on the other side goes up when the ball hits it (sory idk what they are called :/ )

Suddenly man in suit come it. It one of Persdent's helpers.

"What's the dillyo, mungbean?" Predsident of Freedomville asks. "Can't you see I'm playing with my balls?"

"Mister president sir, it's going to be election time. What do we do?"

"Run some ads for Pete's sake!" He statemented

-----

TV SCREENS ACROSS FREEDOMVILLE

Ad comes on with nice music:

"Freedom," A sonorous, Morgan Freeman-y voice said over a shot of a sunrise over Freedomville. " It's what makes Freedomville, well... Freedomville. But Freedom isn't free. It takes a lot of hard work, a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to have Freedom."

Televisions across Freedombille transitioned to a shot of Freedomville steel mill workers clad in high-vis vests and hardhats oversaw molten metal being poured into a giant vat, casting their faces and the interior of the foundry in warm, orange light. Another shot of a Freedomville firefighter atop a ladder retrieving a tabby from the branches of a tree, followed by a shot of the President of Freeddomville in a huddle with a handful of baseball cap wearing farmers beside a giant tractor in a soybean field.

"And nobody works harder for that freedom than our president, President of Freedomville. So remember, a vote for President of Freedomville is a vote for more freedom. And that's what makes Freedomville, well, Free.

As the music wound down, a sunset cityscape of the Freedomville capital transitioned into a shot of the Freedomville flag fluttering in slow motion over the voice of the Presdidn't himself.

"I'm President of Freedomville and I approve this message!"

[gorgenmast]

THE FATFUCK

A SLOVENLY-DRESSED MAN sat alone at a diner booth in a grease-stained tanktop that had once been a 3XL Six Flags over Freedomville T-shirt until the sleeves had been cut off. A spittle of saliva-diluted mayonnaise trickled down from the corner of his mouth and disappeared into the neckbeard-shaded folds of his multiple chins as he sunk his disgusting teeth into the sesame seed bun of a greaseball diner burger.

"Good eatin'," the fatfuck said to nobody in particular through gluttonous mastication. More likely a subconscious reaction he had absentmindedly voiced as his conscious mind was entirely focused on consuming and enjoying his burger.

"Yep, that's some good eatin'."

[Jeddaven]

THE FATFUCK

A SLOVENLY-DRESSED MAN sat alone at a diner booth in a grease-stained tanktop that had once been a 3XL Six Flags over Freedomville T-shirt until the sleeves had been cut off. A spittle of saliva-diluted mayonnaise trickled down from the corner of his mouth and disappeared into the neckbeard-shaded folds of his multiple chins as he sunk his disgusting teeth into the sesame seed bun of a greaseball diner burger.

"Good eatin'," the fatfuck said to nobody in particular through gluttonous mastication. More likely a subconscious reaction he had absentmindedly voiced as his conscious mind was entirely focused on consuming and enjoying his burger.

"Yep, that's some good eatin'."

@gorgenmast

TODAY'S NEWS

The burgers from the Fatfuck's favourite have been recalled for containing approximately 90% Cobalt-60 by mass.

[PerfectThought]

#1 alpine republic fan