Lestari

"Mexico will be willing to turn the territory over to Pa[color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif]rá[/font][/color], in order to aide your nation in its continuous growth," Torregrosa answered; her pen never left her notes even as she spoke, but Isabel for her part allowed the slightest of upturnings at the corners of her lips, the vaguest expression of gladness. "I would also like to offer Mexican assistance to aide in humanitarian efforts and construction efforts. We have several construction companies and non-profit health organizations working in Venezuela. We can inform them of volunteer opportunities to help alleviate the stresses of moving populations to decent places to live." Isabel opened her mouth to speak, but no breath had escaped her before a Mexican staff member entered the room abruptly. "Miss Secretary, do you and your guest have a moment?" he inquired. "You have five seconds, Guerrero." Isabel's eyes to the staffer alit with renewed interest--after all, it seemed this news would involve both the secretary and herself. [I]I'm pretty sure I have a good inkling of what it is,[/I] she decided silently--the poll which, she understood, Mexico had been holding in territories, amongst which lay the very provinces in question, in order to determine their fate and the fate of their peoples. She forced herself to practice patience--patience, that most difficult of virtues, one which still escaped her all too often--forced herself to silently await the answer Guerrero would give. And it seemed like hours before he did at last. "The results of the referendum were verified today." Isabel's mouth flattened and her lips drew taut in anticipation of the answer to follow. "Fifty four per cent of voters voted in favour of incorporating into Par[color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif]á."[/font][/color] [color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif]The premier relaxed back in her seat as Guerrero retreated back from the room, and the door clicked shut. "That is wondrous news, Miss Vieira," the Mexican secretary said, turning back to Isabel, who at last allowed a real smile--however small and fleeting--to make itself at home unto her thin, cold lips as she nodded. "Most wondrous. I cannot overstate my gratitude to Mexico for making this possible and for representing the will of the population of the old provinces, Secretary Torregrosa...nor the good this will do for my country. And I'd be more than honoured to accept the offer of Mexican assistance. [/font][/color]It is a welcome gesture of possible friendship in the..." Isabel hesitated, feeling she was straying into pessimistic territory, before proceeding. "...uncertain circumstances of the South American continent today."

[color=rgb(34,34,34)][font='Helvetica Neue',Arial,Verdana,sans-serif][size=4] To say the grandeur of it all was overwhelming to Alex would have been a massive understatement.[/size][/font][/color] [color=rgb(34,34,34)][font='Helvetica Neue',Arial,Verdana,sans-serif][size=4] As an officer who led only the most Spartan and austere of lifestyles--for what other sort of lifestyle was appropriate of an officer?--to be thrust into the pomp and circumstance of Imperial Tianxia was almost intimidating. Certainly she was taken aback by the sheer volume of spectators who had turned out to watch the violence unfold. [I]That'll be one hell of a distraction,[/I] the captain mused simply as she glanced about the vast breadth of the arena, lined all around with more people than the entire goddamn population of [color=rgb(40,40,40)][font=helvetica,arial,sans-serif]Pará (by her own estimations, of course). Well, for all the showiness and the irksome fanfare of the whole thing, the Chinese knew how to get riled up for a glorious orgy of violence, she'd give 'em that. [I]Jackasses back home woulda sat there applauding politely after each arrival. Or decried this 'inelegant sport'.[/I] Man, it still made her chuckle. 'Inelegant sport'. As though there was supposed to be any elegance to this sort of thing in the first place. She had a damn good policy on what kind of people 'elegance' was for, a policy people, for whatever reason, got their panties all in a twist over whenever she expressed it aloud. Something to do with homophobia or intolerance or some !@#$ like that. Hell if Alex knew. She tried to occupy her memory with more important things than the !@#$%*ing of others.[/font][/color][/size][/font][/color] [color=rgb(34,34,34)][font='Helvetica Neue',Arial,Verdana,sans-serif][size=4] Which was proven when, about half a second later, she stopped thinking completely about people's !@#$%*ing and about the relationship between elegance and the sexual orientation of people who thought too much about it, in favour of taking note of the other combatants entering the arena. A motley, varied assortment, to be sure, from just about every damn corner of the map from Brasil (she noted first and foremost with pride) to a bunch of other places that Alex'd be damned if she could identify. She recognised the Cyrantian flag, draped over one of the fighters like some kinda cloak, and then she greatly impressed herself by identifying (probably correctly) the Timurid emblem adorning the weathered shield of what looked to be an equally weathered fighter. Everyone else, however, coulda been from the $%&@in' moon for all Alex could tell or give a damn. All they had in common was that they'd apparently all decided to raid the wardrobe of some hero outta some fantasy video game or some !@#$. One dude was even over there decked out in gleaming blood red armour and his hair all flutterin' in the wind like he'd just stepped out of Dungeons and Dragons. In other words, amidst the throng of mostly Asiatic combatants adorned in the finest and most decorative of battle armour, the 6'6 behemoth Brazilian, decked out in drastically simpler attire, stood out like a sore thumb. This did not escape her attention. Alex ran a large hand through the bristles of her hair, and decided, not unexpectedly, that she didn't give a !@#$. After all, what mattered was not how showy their armour was, or how fluttery their hair was. What mattered was their martial skill--and martial skill was the devotion of Alex's life and profession.[/size][/font][/color] Alex began to suspect she'd be forced to endure there for an eternity surrounded by other living things, a torment even the vindictive captain of the First Company Marines wouldn't have wished upon her worst enemy. But she persevered, and the pay off came at last when the combatants were ushered from the arena and into a little private room... where Alex felt even more constricted and suffocated by the fighters, packed like sardines into the small space. Didn't help that apparently half the combatants had decided to invite their wives or their kids or whatever into the room with them, which didn't make it any easier for Alex to comfortably fit her own considerable bulk into the all too limited space. She scowled as the lot of them set about to babbling amongst themselves about all assorted inanities and !@#$%^&*, before shouldering her way up through the group towards the centre, where lay a small board. Where, if Alex's understanding of the situation proved to be trustworthy (which happened...sometimes...), lots would be drawn and thusly the matches would be made. The captain's brow furrowed. She glanced around the room, trying to figure out which fighters she hoped to be slated against and which fighters would provide only disappointment, before she grew bored with this distraction and looked back to the board to await the results.

This was not something Captain Alejandra Valverde could possibly forgive herself for passing up. She'd figured that though the invitation was to global heads of states, Isabel wouldn't be too keen on it--pre-occupied as she was with the affairs of her country, and frowning upon this kind of 'inelegant sport' (Alex scoffed; her aunt sure as hell wouldn't've have thought of it that way just a few years ago). But as for herself, this wasn't something Alex could let herself skip in good conscience. A contest of martial skill between the most powerful men and women in the world? [i]$%&@ yeah, count me in![/i] It was like Christmas had come early. Except without the drunkenness, exaggerated profanity, and inebriated, half-coordinated violence that, y'know, normally came with Christmas. [i]Though,[/i] she mused with a wry smirk distorting her squarish features as the plane that bore her to the Empire passed over the vast ocean that separated South America from the domain of Tianxia. [i]That depends entirely on just how much alcohol they'll have there waiting for me.[/i] After all, how inconsiderate would it be for the Empire to let her go the whole span of the contest sober? It would be like denying a sick patient his medicine, or having Scooby Doo solve a case only to deny him his Scooby Snacks. Or, now that she thought of it, like denying an alcoholic their alcohol. That seemed rather a more apt analogy. The [size=4]Paráense marine glanced away from the small window that offered a humble portal into the world of cloud-streaked skies and azure oceans without--turned her attentions to the other things that occupied her contemplations, which was absolutely nothing. The tiny little jet was devoid of any life but for the pilot and its sole passenger, the captain, and as for herself, Alex was saved from immense, overwhelming boredom only by anticipation for the glorious tournament that awaited her at her destination. That, and the Walkman, clutched in her long, inked fingers, and the headphones, snaking up from the device to implant themselves firmly in either ear, where they sat comfortably blasting their array of furious sonic violence directly into her eardrums at unhealthily loud volumes. After all, as a wise philosopher of ancient times had (probably, at some point) said unto his students from his deathbed just before he passed into blissful nirvana and at last escaped the endless cycle of reincarnation and suffering, music ain't no good to listen to unless there's at least a fifty per cent chance that you're going to drive yourself deaf listening to it.[/size] [size=4]Hell, wasn't like she really needed anything but that. 'Company'? 'Company' would just irritate the $%&@ outta her all the way to the tournament--after all, she was headed there to test her 'martial skill' (which she figured meant something along the lines of 'ability to beat the !@#$ out of people'), not her patience and ability to deal with other living things, which was a vastly less useful skill. [/size]Izzie had suggested (more than a little sardonically, though that as usual had gone right over Alex's head) that she bring a book to occupy her mind on the long journey, which had elicited from Alex only a hearty laugh and verbal concerns that her aunt may've been going senile a bit early. She'd pondered bringing along some of the First Company's files and whatnot and do some logistical work on the way, before realising how moronic a suggestion that was. Suggesting that Captain Alex Valverde try her hand at logistics was like proposing to an alligator that it have a go at tennis...in that both would end invariably in an angry, vicious beast of murder losing its temper and going on a bloody, gore-ridden rampage. Yeah, she'd stick with the music and the promise of glory and combat to come, thanks. Not that glory and combat to come weren't takin' their sweet $%&@in' time. [i]How long have I been on this goddamn flying tub anyway?[/i] she scowled, well aware that it had been some hours but none too content to let too much time pass without finding something to be pissed off about. Logic, that much-maligned little voice in the back of her head that so often sought to kill her fun, whispered that it would be only another hour, perhaps two, before she would find herself embroiled amidst the violence she so apprehensively anticipated...but everything else told her that another hour was still too long to wait.

i love you guys

[quote name='Evangeline Anovilis' timestamp='1351075849' post='3044812'] Shammy, Kankou, Melech [/quote]

"The world's suddenly stepped into madness. Or at least, South America has." It had been much time since Premier Isabel Vieira had spoken, one on one and alone, to her niece--they were both, all too often, pre-occupied with their own enterprises; Alex with the running of her company and her affairs as a significant officer in the Paráense, Isabel, of course, with the running of a nation. To the both of them the concept of vacation and respite from work was so utterly foreign as to be unthinkable, and yet they now found themselves trailing about amidst the flourishing greenery of the little garden Isabel liked to maintain in the yards behind the Capital Building in Amazônia--not as premier and captain, not even as aunt and niece, but as friends and equals as they preferred to do. And for her part any other time, the premier took great pleasure in solitary strolls through the garden, enjoying the rare quietude and tranquility it offered amidst the chaos of politics. Today, there was no such peace--and not only because she was now in the company of her less-than-couth niece. "They've gone !@#$@#$ insane is what's happened," Alex replied irascibly. "Whoever's in charge in Colombia, that is. Attacking the goddamn Athenian Federation? Are they $%&@in' trying to tear this whole damn continent apart? The Athenians'll bring in their legion of allies, it'll turn into one big cluster$%&@, and what the hell're we gonna do about it?" "I don't know." Isabel minced no words with her uncertainty, and her unease with the whole situation could not have been clearer than it was to her niece. "By principle, we should support Colombia in driving off foreign forces holding onto what should be sovereign South American territory, but practically speaking, they have thrown themselves into a pit of fire. As you've said, they have a legion of allies who will tear Colombia to pieces and it'll be, as you so very accurately put it, one big cluster$%&@. And," Isabel hastened to add. "Let's not forget we can't even be sure who the hell is calling the shots in Colombia anymore. The international release was written by someone named 'Lupe de Santa Anna'...Interim President. What happened to Ignacio de Ardanza?" "Sounds like a coup to me," Alex noted gruffly. And then, after the third time her hand rose to her mouth and found nothing, she at last blurted in exasperation, "Oh for $%&@'s sake, just let me smoke, will you? And don't give me the crap about how you don't like people smoking in the garden," she added as Isabel opened her mouth in a scowl to reply. "I know you do it too." The premier scowled. "I...tried to quit." Alex smirked in triumph as a hand withdrew a beaten pack from the pocket of her pants, before the long inked fingers picked out a single filter and placed it between her lips. "Tried and clearly failed, if the sheer volume of packs I've seen you run through this week is any indication." With a strike of a match that was then unceremoniously flung to the side (and then quickly retrieved upon a second baleful glare from the premier) the cigarette was lit, and Alex took a healthy drag of it before retrieving it and exhaling a thick stream of suffocating black smoke. "If you had to deal with all the !@#$ I have to think about, you'd've smoked yourself to an early grave by now, regardless of how good a job you're doing at that already," Isabel retorted, her own irritation growing. "First Colombia takes it upon itself to embroil the continent in a war with Athens and all the superpowers it can call in to aid it, and then Georgia of all goddamn things decides to launch an invasion of Brasil. Georgia," she underscored. "Invading Brazil. What casus belli could they possibly conjure up for that?" "Inconsequential. The question is, what are we going to do about it? ...er, is that not the question, Izzie?" Alex added with a raised eyebrow at the warning glance of her aunt, who felt the captain growing perhaps a bit too presumptuous, before Isabel answered. "Now what exactly can we do? As a staunch opponent of foreign incursions into South America for any reason, there should be no question about going immediately to Brazil's aid. But as someone who holds the lives of ten million civilians that would become immediately uncertain upon any such action, I hesitate." "Well, god knows we could use a bit of a population culling," Alex muttered. Isabel raised an eyebrow to her, prompting the captain to shrug. "Joke?" When it became evident Isabel didn't entirely agree with this humour, she returned to the subject at hand with scowl renewed. "I don't think militarily the situation is as bleak as you're makin' it out to be. Hell, speakin' for ourselves, enlistments are still pourin' in, we have two battleships fresh off the production lines and more planned to follow. And that don't come close to what the Brazilians and the Colombians have to offer. They're no pushovers by any means." "I don't know enough about what Georgia could throw at Brazil to estimate how that front will fare, but it's not my primary concern. Even alone, against the Federation, the Colombians will be hard-pressed to secure victory, and that doesn't even take into account the inevitability that Athens will bring in its allies to curbstomp Colombia for good. War surrounds us on both sides--and if Georgia's unprovoked invasion of Brazil is any indication, we cannot be certain we remain unthreatened amidst this tempest no matter what course of action we take. Even if we take none." But Alex seemed to be pondering other things altogether. A brief silence came over the garden before at last she noted, almost absent-mindedly, "My understanding was that Georgia and Brazil were on just about equal footing. I don't see why we couldn't go to our fellow Brazilians' defence." Isabel halted in her tracks, grabbing her niece's burly arm in her own powerful clutch and forcing her to a stop as well. "You are hungry for war." It was not a question and it was not an accusation--a statement of what both knew to be fact. But the glare of the premier's eyes as they bore into Alex, alit with fire and force renewed, made it clear her sentiments on that reality. "Do you see this as a game, Alejandra?" The captain did not pull her arm away. Her own eyes, one forest green and the other mottled brown, met Isabel's glare with a shamed gaze--the briefest flash of vulnerability before she caught herself and they hardened once more, her teeth grinding down in discomfort. "I have tasted battle only once since... since the civil war." "Tasted war?" Isabel threw back at her with an expression of rage overtaking her angular features. "You mean that spat between the Lunar Republic we once served and the old Commonwealth? That was not war, kid. Pray you never know war as it truly is." "I do. I know it just as well as you do. Did I not lose my own father in the very war I know you're getting at here?" Alex's eyes darkened considerably and took on a sadistic streak. "Were you not the one who pulled that trigger?" The accusation worked just as Alex knew it would. Isabel seemed to veritably shrink and stiffen--from a surly seven foot figure of Herculean authority to a tiny, fearful, mortal being consumed with guilt and remorse. Yet she failed to deny it. "I did," she confessed, quialling at last under Alex's harsh glare. "Your father...and my own brother. Don't think I would forget that." Her eyes turned back, with steel and resolve anew, and met the anger in her niece's. "But my hand was forced, and it was he who forced it. I have never forgiven him for it just as I have never forgiven myself for it." A moment passed in which Isabel regained the stature she had lost before the furious accusation had thrown her back into a world of remorse she sought always to escape, and in silence the two regarded one another--with anger, with guilt, with obduracy and unbending will. And then at last, Alex relented. "If I didn't know that, I wouldn't be here," she grunted, turning her eyes away. "If I didn't believe he deserved it. Brother or father, what he became in the end was a menace that needed to be crushed." "Then why is it you want so badly to throw yourself into the hell those of us who have crossed it wish never again to see?" the premier demanded furiously. "It doesn't matter," the captain insisted as she turned to continue walking, and the premier bit her lip and followed. "We have, like you said, a hell of a lot more on our minds than that." How was Alex supposed to explain it to someone so irrevocably damaged by war? How could she put it into words that her aunt could possibly understand--that she, a soldier who had tasted the thrills of combat only once, who had waged war only once, who had lost herself in the comforting chaos of death and destruction, sought to do so again?

[quote name='Tidy Bowl Man' timestamp='1350787893' post='3043534'] Please don't assume that dotcom speaks for the community as a whole. Take into the consideration that Triyun and others on this very thread have engaged you in a civil discourse. Dotcom who barely posts icly represents only himself with his opinion. I'm sure other people could echo it, but you do a disservice to those who took the time to come up with counter-arguments to your first claim that somehow the old members of this community are being driven off with burning torches and pitchforks. [/quote] [quote name='PresidentDavid' timestamp='1350778632' post='3043474'] I rest my case. [/quote] I speak as someone who used to be in the same boat and used to feel exactly the same way. But I've matured a bit and I think I know better than to fall back to just 'this community sucks, everyone here is antisocial and drives people off', and I have no desire to engage in civil discourse over what just isn't my problem. Lynneth is not a victim here. Lynneth, whom I generally have a lot of respect for as a good RPer and person, has done what is essentially the definition of taking his ball and going home, and then deleting the map just to be a dick about it. People, as TBM said, are not being driven off from CNRP with burning torches and pitchforks. CNRP is not the insular, narcissistic, antisocial community you are so determined to perceive it to be. It has its ass holes just like any other community, but anyone who gives up and leaves because of that fact is the one at fault, not the victim.

[quote name='Fizzydog' timestamp='1350759901' post='3043403'] This "community" is made up of the kind of people who like to pretend they run nations. They're not the most sociable types. [/quote] If you and PresidentDavid are so disgusted with CNRP, the door's right over there. Otherwise, quit !@#$%*ing about how everybody here is an antisocial dickwad.

I wish you would both just go away forever.

It had been nearly two years since the Republic of Pará had declared independence, during which a provisional government headed by Premier Isabel Vieira, former independence faction leader, had guided the nation in setting up the proper institutions for elections. That time has come at last. Today, at the capital city of Amazônia, three candidates for the Premiership, the highest post in the Paráense government, have convened before a live crowd of countless citizens eager to hear the opinions of the three candidates, of various backgrounds, ideologies, and opinions, in the first Paráense Premier Debates. Introducing the candidates, one does not fail to note first and foremost the incumbent Premier [b]Isabel Vieira[/b], who stands with a wide grin running across her strong, chiseled features and a hand outstretched in an enthusiastic gesture to the crowds cheering at her entrance. Already a significantly popular figure in Pará even before independence as a result of her role in the Holy American Civil War, Vieira has both attracted, polarised, and repulsed citizens with what some describe as her "honest, down-to-earth, informal way of speaking" and fiery, passionate invective--others provide a less kind analysis of her "crude, disrespectful inelegance" and "coarseness unfitting of the representative of a nation". The towering ex-soldier is described as socially extremely liberal and an advocate of strong federal government, a staunch atheist and opponent to the influence of religion, personal and institutional, on government. Second to step onto the debate stage is [b]Cristian da Silva[/b], Regional Minister of Finances in Pará during both the Holy American Empire and afterwards in the administration of the Lunar Republic. Displaying a soft-spoken, dignified persona, da Silva stands with his hands clasped behind his back, permitting a quiet little smile to cross his aging features as he bows lightly to the applause of the crowd. Da Silva has become well-known as the spearhead of the conservative faction in Pará operating in opposition to Premier Vieira's highly liberal policies, and as such has gained considerable momentum in the southern provinces where conservatism is strongest. He has made clear his intent to minimalise federal influence on economy and on regional and local governments, to pursue a capitalist model of government on which to base the Paráense economy, and has also underlined his Catholic faith as one of the driving factors in his pursuit of the Premiership. Last to approach his podium is Dr. [b]José Salvadores[/b], a professor of international politics and political theory at Pará's first state university. Clearly an intellectual even in the very way he carries himself as he crosses the debate floor and shakes hands with the other two candidates, Dr. Salvadores turns to the audience and places a hand over his heart before extending it out to the crowd. As a self-described communist, Salvadores' base of support is arguably much smaller than those of the wildly popular Vieira and da Silva's regional conservative base, but Salvadores claims highly dedicated support from a wide spectrum of voters--from far-left liberals and socialists to Marxist communists. Salvadores has stated that most important to his platform is to pursue a socialist economy for the Republic as the first step to a more Communist system, and the elimination of economic inequality and closing the gap between the wealthy and the poor in Pará. Moderating is journalist and executive editor of Paráense Journais Denis Nascimento, who takes his place at the moderator's desk before the three candidates, and prefaces the debate with a comment directed to television audiences around Pará and the world. "Good afternoon, citizens of Pará and of the world. My name is Denis Nascimento of the Paráense Journais, and it is my honour to welcome you to the first national Paráense Premier Debates!" Ardent cheers erupt as Nascimento pauses with a smile to allow the enthusiasm of the audience to say all that needed to be said. "Indeed, I suppose I need not elabourate the importance of this debate and of the upcoming election on the future of our nation. Tonight will see one hundred and twenty minutes in which the candidates will address a wide spectrum of questions from citizens of Pará and of nations abroad, as well as discuss the issues that face our nation today and what lies ahead for our growing country." Nascimento turned back to the three candidates. "Let's cut to the meat of the matter, shall we? The first question that I feel needs to be asked, and one which many voters have sent in, is quite simple--and, I feel, fitting to get things started: what do [i]you[/i] believe you have to offer Pará and its people?" [b]Vieira[/b]: What have I to offer the people of Pará? Only my love for Pará, for South America, for the people of South America and for humanity as a whole. I have dedicated my life to serving the advancement and freedom of all people, whether it was playing a proud role in the overthrow of an oppressive, destructive tyranny or seeking to guide a newly independent nation to an age of liberty and prosperity, into an age where our nation can be an example of peace and cooperation. So if you ask me what I have to offer as Premier, I could underscore experience, in military and political affairs, I could underline successful policies and the great progress our nation has seen in the past two years, but I feel that the most important thing I have to offer is my ardent love for my country, for the beautiful land of South America, and for this beautiful planet of ours--which we all, regardless of country, class, or creed, share and must learn to share peacefully. And I truly feel I can make Pará an example of that. [b]Nascimento [/b](as cheers die away): I see. Mr. da Silva? How do you answer the question? [b]da Silva[/b]: I stand before the people of Pará as I stand before the judgment of God himself--as an honest, hard-working patriot. For forty years I have faithfully served the people of Pará as I have served a-- [b]Vieira[/b] (interjecting): An oppressive dictatorship. An uproar erupts at the premier's interruption, and Nascimento's attempts to quiet the crowd fail. Through the din, da Silva's reply can barely be heard. [b]da Silva[/b] (quietly): I believe you also served that government, Premier Vieira. [b]Vieira[/b]: But I was there to fight for freedom when we the people rose up against oppression at last. Where were you? Ah yes, back in your office in the capital, still faithfully serving your government even as the people of Pará rose up against it in the name of liberty. To spin this as loyalty to your people is hypocrisy and misinformation of the most despicable kind. [b]Nascimento[/b]: Please! Each candidate is to be permitted the full duration of their time to speak uninterrupted. (slowly the clamour fades away) Please continue, Mr. da Silva. [b]da Silva[/b]: Thank you, Mr. Nascimento. As I was saying, I have faithfully served the people of Pará for forty years now--my dedication [i]and [/i]my loyalty (glances purposefully to Vieira) should not be in question as I have done nothing but that which I felt was best for the people of Pará. Furthermore I offer my considerable experience and knowledge of economy, of financial policies on the federal, regional, and local level, which both my colleagues with me here today cannot match--talk of love for one's country is all well and fine, but do we want a lover, or a leader? (A smattering of laughter echoes through the hall.) I bring both dedication and the knowledge needed to advance Pará as a nation. Knowledge that this country needs. Knowledge that this country wants. And I stand before you, as a dedicated family man, as a man of god, and as a man who has that knowledge. [b]Nascimento[/b]: Well-put, Mr. da Silva. And yourself, Dr. Salvadores? What do you feel you can offer the people of Pará? [b]Salvadores[/b]: Well, Mr. Nascimento, what can I say that hasn't already been said? Patriotism? I think all of us three here bear more love for our country than we can possibly put into words, or we would not be here. Experience and knowledge? Each of us three can claim them in spades and claim them honestly. But let us not forget that there is more to a man than patriotism and knowledge. When you ask if you would have a man be your premier, you must also ask another question: would you have him be your friend? I will bring to the capital building that same spirit of friendship and brotherhood that one seeks in one's friends--for I believe I more than anyone present can bring Pará together not only as a nation, not only as a people, but as brothers. Because brotherhood is immortal: economic policies may fail, patriotism and nationalism may fade and falter, but brotherhood and love for one's brother never dies. [b]Nascimento[/b]: Thank you Dr. Salvadores. Interesting answer all around that reveal much of your [the candidates] respective beliefs and goals--but we will move now to specifically address those issues now. ((Basically, post questions and/or issues, whether as a citizen of Pará or as a journalist of foreign press, to pose to one or all of the candidates to answer. A poll may be added at some point, too.))

[quote name='Markus Wilding' timestamp='1349814416' post='3039073'] For instance, she'd be the dominatrix dictator of the whole world. [/quote] And I would be wholly okay with this.

[b]Classified[/b] "I understand there are some recent developments for me to hear about, General." "These days? Always." The aging general shook his head with a bit of a marvelling smile as the premier took a seat at his desk. Outside, the pitter patter of the dwindling autumn rains on the windows, growing weaker and weaker day by day, signalled the ponderous coming of winter. "It seems ever since we began galvanisation programs, enlistment rates have never failed to skyrocket. Our active reserves now number twenty thousand...we're not exactly ready to take on Tianxia, but it's a considerable boost since..." "An increase of seven thousand active troops, if I recall correctly, in the past four months," Isabel finished, placing her elbow on the polished wooden surface of the general's desk and resting her chin on her knuckles, allowing a measure of satisfaction to show through on an otherwise tired, worn-out countenance. She knew she needed a vacation--no, not a vacation, just some rest. [i]Hell, what was the last time I just sat down and [b]didn't[/b] talk business?[/i] She almost wished she could simply sit there and let herself doze off to the all-too calming rhythm of soft rains--but she forced herself to speak on. There was more that needed to be discussed--there was no time for dozing off. "Certainly, by no means have we reached the level of more powerful nations even in our own continent, but with this kind of progress, and with the hopes that our purchase of new lands from Mexico will go through, I don't foresee anything but greater improvements to economy, military, and standard of living. After all, Director Caspera has reported marked growth in our business sector and financial departments, and I have seen with my own eyes the vast leaps in quality of life. We won't see the end of overpopulation and unemployment rates until discussions with Mexico, but if all should go well, Pará will arise more prosperous than ever before--more prosperous than in the heyday of the Empire." A grand statement, a sweeping, bold declaration, delivered in a weary variation of the premier's throaty rasp. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm here so you can tell me the status of our fighting forces. What of production? Armoured vehicles, armaments?" "Continuing smoothly. In fact, we've fulfilled the quota set out at the reorganisation conference--our aircraft is outfitted and ready for combat, our tanks and SAM systems have completed production, and our brown water navy has already begun training operations." "And blue-water navy?" "Still in the latter stages of the planning phase. The plan is that by the end of the month we will be able to begin production of three Stockholm-class corvettes and two Iowa-class battleships and they should hopefully be laid down by the end of the year, should the deal with Mexico go through." "Excellent news, General." The premier heaved her towering frame from the chair at Vara's desk, sighing the slightest and barest of sighs as she came to her feet. The weariness of her voice and the deepening of the lines of her face that Vara felt was almost aging by the minute did not escape his hawkish eye. "Perhaps you should head home, Isabel," the general suggested tentatively, knowing only too well the responce he would receive. "Get some rest. You need it." "No, there's no time," Isabel replied just a fraction of a second out of time, rolling her head around her neck and, with a slight crack, feeling just a bit of tension leaving her body before she turned back to the doorway to depart. "I have a meeting to attend with Mexico very soon and much to discuss with my cabinet. No time for dozing off now."

"On behalf of the nation and the people of Pará, I would like to extend formal and diplomatic recognition of the Confederacy. May your people find prosperity and happiness in their newfound sovereignty, and may your nation flourish in peace and progress." - Premier Isabel Vieira

You have no idea what quantum physics is, do you.

"Please take a seat," Torregrosa said to Isabel as she herself slid into one of the chairs at the conference table. The premier had hardly registered the words before an aide appeared, just about out of nowhere, to pull up another seat for her. "Thanks," she directed to the aide as she took the seat, turning to Torregrosa, who offered her a drink--an offer she declined with a polite shake of the head and a terse, "No thanks, I'm alright." And with that, she watched in a brief silence as the Mexican Secretary For South America rifled through her notes. It was but a couple of seconds before the discussion of the topic at hand truly began. "From my understanding," Torregrosa began. "[color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif]Pará is having a population boom as well as a large amount of growth. Unfortunately, I am not extremely versed on the specific issues currently facing your nation. Because of this, I would like to know: what is the current situation in Pará?"[/font][/color] [color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif][I]That seems a rather apt description of the situation at its most basic.[/I] Nevertheless, that alone did not make it the crisis that it had been these past few months. "Well, [/font][/color][color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif]Pará has always been a densely populated area despite the ever-conspicuous presence of the Amazon overtaking much of our land--largely because it was a haven for refugees back in the Holy American Civil War. One of few areas we...the rebels managed to secure and keep safe. Needless to say, such a densely forested region, with little land for cities to be built free of the suffocating reach of the Amazon, was never made for such high concentrations of population, but it never reached the point it did after [/font][/color][color=#282828][font=helvetica, arial, sans-serif]Pará achieved its independence. Our infrastructure has made great strides in that time, but it still simply cannot keep up with the huge boom in population we have seen these past several months. It's hit us hard--unemployment has become a reality for too many of our people, poverty is becoming disturbingly common, and our economy can't keep up. We're taking many steps to try to mitigate the effects on economy and employment, but the fact is we won't be able to control the root of the problem unless we have room for more infrastructure to support our population."[/font][/color]

but why do we shot web

It hardly needed to be said--at least, not for those who had known her longest--that Isabel Vieira was not at her base a creature of patience. Au contraire--she was by her very nature an impulsive woman, prone very much to acting on her whims and reacting without necessarily putting the appropriate amount of thought into it. Self-control was a virtue that, for most of her life, Isabel had not been graced with. It'd taken an almost comical amount of restraint and determination to sculpt the image of control and politeness she knew she, as the leader of an independent nation and representative of a sovereign people, simply needed to have--and still, sometimes, she lost it. Still, sometimes, she reverted to the brazen, angry, and all-too-often rude persona she'd been possessed of in years long since past, and fortunately such glimpses into her actual nature as a person only emerged when she was well and alone, with nobody to realise Isabel Vieira was not quite the polite, mild-mannered premier she showed herself to be to the public. What was the relevance of this? Well, for one, had thirty year old Isabel Vieira found herself faced with a kindly old curator taking the time to tour her around the palace, the towering officer would've told gramps to run along back to his nursing home, she had business needed doin' and looking at old paintings wasn't part of it (she hadn't exactly been the most cultured sort at the time). Yeah, there was a reason she hadn't exactly been in any position of political power at that time. But fortunately she was not thirty year old Isabel Vieira anymore. She was twenty years past that impatient, irascible...well, !@#hole, so even as her anticipation for the meeting ran high and her anxiety to get things started bit at her nerves, Isabel simply went along with it when the elderly curator--Luis, as he introduced himself--offered to escort her along a tour of sorts through the National Palace. Even enjoyed it, as it served to calm her mind and assuage her concerns of the meeting ahead, and she listened with respectful attention (and growing interest) to the details of the rooms and the paintings. By the time Luis terminated the tour at the doorway to the conference room, Isabel graciously accepted the offer of a further tour of the city itself. But at that point, the gears shifted back to business. Beyond the door into the conference room sat Secretary Rita Torregrosa; as Isabel entered the room, the Secretary stood, notes and folders on hand, and approached. "Hello Premier Vieira," Torregrosa said by way of greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you." "The pleasure is entirely mine," Isabel replied, extending a hand to Torregrosa in greeting. "Thank you very much for agreeing to this meeting. It's my hope that it will represent the will of the people of old Pará and Maranhão and provide much-needed room for Pará's population to spread out a bit."

Kankou, Shammy, Zoot.

[quote name='Voodoo Nova' timestamp='1348535909' post='3033783'] Both groups don't want to compromise and both groups say their argument using the same style of rhetoric. In other words: Get off your !@#$@#$ high horse. [/quote] Entirely not true. The vast majority of the preplanning crowd were very much in favour of compromise. The anti preplanning crowd may have missed this while they were busy screaming '$%&@ PREPLANNING' every five seconds.

In this case I endorse the idea of 'IC actions require IC reactions'. It's probably far-fetched to suppose that in CNRP people would RP actual consequences of a nuclear strike, or react as harshly as most nations would in the event of a nuclear strike against a drastically weaker nation, but I do not feel that an OOC rule does anything but detract from roleplay and prevent any opportunity for IC reactions in the first place.

Goddammit Isaac.

A reply in quick order was sent by Isabel Vieira herself, congratulating the couple in advance on their marriage, and elabourating that she would certainly be present, albeit on her own, on the day of the event.

You pretty much just said everything I'm too much of a lazy ass to type out myself.

[quote name='Zarfef' timestamp='1348188302' post='3032503'] Nuclear weapons are overused in this RP, to the point that they no longer provide any RP value. They're like missile spams with Michael Bay warheads. All explosions, no plot. [/quote] That's an IC problem. There needs to be more significant IC consequences in reaction to the use of nuclear weapons.

As long as it is understood the IC consequences of just launching a nuke at another nation for no reason (or at least, the drastic IC consequences that [I]should[/I] be there) and using nuclear weapons in general then I have no issue with doing away with this rule. !@#$, I didn't even know we had an RP restriction on who you can and can't nuke.