aladdin_sane

The American Spring: An Alternate Present RP

So many revisionists...might be nice to have some actual Marxists ;p

DnD/ESO esque party adventure anyone?

Interested...very interested.

Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition Homebrew World

This still open?

Delbrook Academy High School

Looks intriguing. I'll start work on a character sheet.

Blood & Iron [Modern Nation Geopolitical RP]

Emirate of Alijabel Almuqaddas

Ishtar, Summer 1911

Ishtar is an semi-autonomous city state within the Emirate of Alijabel Almuqaddas; in the grand scheme of things the walled port city is an oddity to be certain as where the Emirate as a whole is rather regressive the city of Ishtar is quite progressive not only in the way that it caters to human vices, but also because the city is the home to a plethora of foreigners who found themselves stuck there for some reason or another. Some just can't afford passage home, while others are criminals fleeing prosecution. It has been said that the stench of desperation pours from every crevasse.



Saqr Noor casually sipped his glass of water as he attempted to eavesdrop on some of the bar's foreign patrons; despite residing in such secular city Saqr was born outside its gilded walls and therefore still saw alcohol as haram; though in all honesty liquor made his job as a informant easier as it had a way of loosening even the tightest lips. He worked for the richest man in the Emirate of Alijabel Almuqaddas, the self-proclaimed Shah of Ishtar, the one and the only Shawqi Salim. Truth be told everyone in Ishtar worked for Shawqi Salim in some capacity, but the self-titled Shah was nothing more than an obese gangster who was only able to keep this racket going by publicly swearing fidelity to the Emira the moment she assumed the throne and being her lapdog ever since. Despite the promises of a maintaining a secular safe-haven that the Shah liked to loudly proclaim, he has had Almutasalliqin political refugees arrested and indefinitely jailed to appease the Emira.

Saqr adjusted his glasses releasing that he was lost in thought, he verbally chastised himself as he quickly noticed that his potential marks had already left the establishment. Excluding the staff of the bar and himself only it seemed only three other people remained out this late. One was a regular, an obscenely muscular Zellonian who would be doing one of two things either staring straight ahead dead drunk or vigorously banging his mug on the table laughing at nothing. Odd to say the least, but nonetheless even though Saqr was fluent in six different languages nothing would be gained from attempting to communicate with this dullard as the brute seemed lost in his own little world.

The other patrons were two young pale-skinned people of undetermined nationality, one male and one female though it was hard to tell them apart as they both had long hair. They had this eerie vibe about them and that put the informant on edge; well that and the fact they seemed to have also been people watching this evening, Saqr felt their blue eyes bore into him a few too many times for his liking. He thought they might have even exchanged a greeting. The funny thing was that the pair were oddly familiar like they were important somehow, the gawky informant thought the might have been in the pape...Saqr almost dropped his glass of water. The pair were not famous, they were internationally infamous. They kidnapped that rich kid in Acheona, killed him before negotiating a ransom and were on the run ever since; fugitives from justice. Saqr shuttered repressing the urge to vomit, he was a coward at heart and he knew that he didn't want to be the next one on their hit list. This realization was definitely his queue to leave, throwing some coins on the table the craven man hastily made his way to the door when he noticed that the duo of degenerates had already left. He swiped some sweat from his brow as he began the walk back to his home relieved that the threat of danger was lifted.

Saqr soon found himself walking the deserted streets alone, but before he could pick up the pace he noticed the foreign women from the bar blocking his path with her arms crossed and then he felt something metallic pressed against his back.

"Going somewhere in a hurry chap", a voice leered from behind him.

Saqr was frozen in sheer terror, his life flashing before his eyes.

"Ugh, now look what you've done you made this poor man soil himself in fright. You've could have killed him", the female delinquent said with a tone of disgust apparent in her voice. She uncrossed her arms and ran her hands through her hair in exasperation.

"But, Sis..." the voice behind Saqr began to retort before being cut off.

"The plan was just to politely confront this gentleman here all proper like and get some information out of him since he knows our language and all, but apparently you have learned nothing this past year. This is Thuria all over again."

The young man angrily stomped his foot on the ground. "Don't start with that Thuria nonsense again Sis. Go ahead and mention Thuria one more time and I swear you'll live to regret it you fuc..."

"Ummm...how exactly can one such as I be of service to you exalted foreigners. I beg you, spare me! I throw myself at you feet and beg you please spare my life!" Saqr said breaking up the spat before kowtowing profusely.

Blood & Iron [Modern Nation Geopolitical RP]

Emirate of Alijabel Almuqaddas

Almutasalliqin Embassy, Acheona. Spring 1911

Last Remaining Photo of Hishaam Zamani circa 1911

The grizzled old man roamed the ornate halls the official embassy in Acheona, his pace slow yet determined. Even after all these years Hishaam Zamani never stopped being impressed with the pale-skinned people and their penchant to indulge in extravagant excess; what was concerned a luxury back home was common place here. When he was young he naively assumed that it was a trick used to shock and awe him, but after seeing a plethora he began to believe that exuberance was less of a facade and more a fact of life. Of course he realized that diplomacy was about fifty percent pomp and circumstance, but he learned to overcome his internalized prejudices. He chuckled as ruminated on a joke originally told to him by a strange disheveled man years ago in long forgotten hookah lounge in his homeland.

The joke went something like this. A djinn comes across a Almutasalliqin farmer and is coerced into granting the man a wish on the condition that whatever befalls the farmer will befall his neighbors twice-fold. Without hesitation the Almutasalliqin farmer wished for one of his eyes to be gouged out.

Zamani reflected that man's lisp coupled with his odd sniffing really elevated the joke. The diplomat mused on whatever happened to the strange fellow, from what Zamani could recall he was a student of some sorts that was impressed into national service. Or that is what the man claimed anyways. Zamani was never one to believe in the supernatural, but there was something off putting about the man; could be that he was in fact a djinn? Zamani shook his sweat beaded head attempting to clear those irrational thoughts from his head.

He focused instead on the recent dealings with the Achean King. From what the diplomat could gather King Bernhart was a king beholden to nobody and those self-imposed limits on his power were merely a ruse concocted to quell the plebiscite. The difference between King Bernhart and his impetuous niece was that Bernhart was a great man who would proverbially knell down to make himself appear equal to his subjects, while Emira Fathiyya lacked any such tact and would quash anyone that she perceived as more popular than her.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that at one point he could have been Emir instead of that degenerate. Once Fathiyya ascended the throne over the still fresh corpse of his brother there was a chance for him to united the tribes against her, but out of principle he did nothing. The aged diplomat was not a kin-slayer like her, the fact that his family was her last living blood relations was a testament to his usefulness rather than a sign of appreciation for his inaction.

He sighed, but continued his slow walk to the kitchen leaning on his cane for support. His late wife always disapproved of his dependence on Fuso tea, but since she was perpetually frazzled it's calming properties never took ahold of her.

On days like this he missed her incessant nagging. 'Hishaam' she would chide, 'when are going to learn to clean up after yourself, I swear if I have to clean another one of your dirty teacups...'

"Did you meet the pale-folks King Grandpa?" A small timid voice cut short the elder man's musings.

"Oh, I met him alright and he personally informed me how much it displeases him when little boys make him aware of his paleness. He is so sensitive about his white skin the he gobbles up anyone who even utters anything negative about it." Hishaam said with mock urgency and a mischievous grin plastered across his aged visage.

"Really?" the boy said softly before retorting "Grandpa, you must be joking as surely a King doesn't eat people."

"You are too clever for me boy, of course I was joking. Though I would probably address him as King Bernhart Van Siegmund just to be on the safe side. Also I hope you were not going around calling the nice people of this country 'pale-folks' They don't call you a 'dark-folk' do they?"

"No sir", the boy said shuffling his feet.

Hishaam patted his grandson's head. "Just be more mindful, that is all. If you are ever going to be a diplomat like your grandpa you must put your prejudices aside...or someone might gobble you up."

"Grandpa!"

"Alright, Alright. Let me compose a letter to the Emira informing her of the progress here in Acheona. Then we can have tea and you can tell me everything the tutor taught you today." Hishaam turned to continue his walk to the kitchen, but was stopped by a tug of his tunic.

"Grandpa, does King Bern...Bernhart actually like the Emira or is he just afraid of her like everyone else seems to be. Does she have any friends Grandpa? I couldn't imagine living life without any friends. Is that why you go to different countries are you trying to find her a friend?"

Hishaam let out a hearty laugh.

Blood & Iron [Modern Nation Geopolitical RP]

Does everyone understand that your orders don't take effect until you post IC?

@Theodorable

Did you get my orders?

Blood & Iron [Modern Nation Geopolitical RP]

Sorry about the wait, on mobile will format post in a bit.

Blood & Iron [Modern Nation Geopolitical RP]

Xyliatos, Emirate of Alijabel Almuqaddas

Emira Fathiyya sat alone on her grizzled throne soothed by the darkness that enveloped the room; when she was in these bleak moods only the fool hearty would dare disturb her. She brought a beautifully engraved pipe to her lips and gently inhaled the freshly rolled Hashish packed inside; a tingling calmness washed over her body. There were some in her lands that spoke against such vices, but the opinion of some stuffy fundamentalists mattered not as if the dare raise any objections to her behavior she would have them killed...no tortured then killed. Those zealots seemed to never learn as she was not only Emira, but Protector of the Faith; they would do well to remember the fate of the four hundred religious functionaries that protested her ascension to the throne.

Her lips curled into a slight smile, her hand begin to shake, her pulse began to race, but the young queen managed to suppress her bubbling emotions as she remembered the reason for her foul disposition in the first place. Mustafa that whelp had managed to woo her easily impressed advisers with his talk of building a united front against the colonial powers, bah he was delusional if he bought into his own spiel about cultural unity and what not. This was an alliance of necessity that was all; if circumstances were more favorable to Alijabel Almuqaddas Fathiyya would have never gave her seal of approval to this farce.

The queen pursued her lips trying to remember which industrialized nation she sent her diplomats too, but the hash was fogging her mind. No matter all those pale skinned foreigners were the same anyways filthy dirty animals with no social graces, worshiping dead gods in guttural tongues. Yet they held the Emira's fascination, they were so intriguing.

"Wahidat Jamila", the Emira beckoned in a seductive tone and a frail, red haired, dirty, young woman entered the throne room.

Fathiyya leered at her favorite possession, a few months a small group of pale skinned foreigners were caught by the mutaween peddling their heathen religion to the masses; all of these missionaries were stoned to death for their insolence save this fine specimen, despite her misguided religious views this exotic beast was rather stunning and Fathiyya had a penchant for surrounding herself with women much to the chagrin and embarrassment of those that wished her to settle with a foreign Royal. Nevertheless, the Emira spared this woman from death and mold her into an obedient subservient.

At first this beautiful creature shunned Fathiyya's advances; spitting, kicking, screaming, crying, cursing her new Mistress with her foreign words, and so on. The pathetic thing even tried to escape, but each attempt was even more fruitless than the last. Fathiyya was pleased that she was able to break the pale skinned animal and even domestic it to a certain extent.

Wahidat Jamila looked expectantly at her mistress, a stranger in a strange land stripped of everything even her name as her current name was bestowed upon her by the degenerate that currently lorded over her; she hoped beyond hope that her captor just wanted to monologue to her in that strange language that Wahidat was just starting to pickup, but the look of lust in the vile woman's eyes told her otherwise. She thought her deceased family and her homeland. Oh, how she missed the snow. It never snowed here, even this mountain was devoid of snow; this mountain was as sick as the people that inhabited it apparently. She thought of saying a prayer, but she learned the hard way that the Gods do not listen to the weak. Wahidat internally sighed as she felt a bejeweled hand stroke her thick red hair. If this heathen had any mercy she would've have killed her along with her family, but alas it seemed like her captor still wanted
to degrade her further.

Blood & Iron [Modern Nation Geopolitical RP]

@Theodorable

Emirate of Alijabel Almuqaddas

Capital

Xyliatos

Cities

Lihyakhwah
Jabakaka
Ridadis
Ghabarut
Al Haraj
Findikoyun
Espinkum
Shiramleh
Boraldasht
Tel Hahuk
Al Badariya
Hermonayem
El Sasta
Jeddawadmi
Qaturah
Al-Qubarut
Az-Zaydiqbanah
Hareraj
Sayyilkhad

People

Ya'qoob Malik
Baahir Yasin
Kaalim Khalifa
Tufail Hariri
Mutammam Akbar