[Backstory] Points
[Backstory] Points
The blackhawk rumbled, shaking those inside as it touched down on the killcruiser's helipad. Before the engine even began winding down, Soro had leapt clear of his seat and out the side of the transport chopper, followed by his usual detail of marines.
The crew of the GCS Sol's Descent was assembled on deck, in neat ranks, and they all snapped to as their Admiral looked around, taking all the faces in.
The Arkenower docklands moved on around them, heedless of the killcruiser dwarfing the wharves and other shipping. The tub was normally anchored here anyway. But the ship itself was silent. Everyone who hadn't been hiding under rocks for the last few weeks had at least some idea of what was happening.
Soro snapped his fingers, and Bob, his hockey-masked, jumpsuit wearing adjudant appeared at his side.
"The usual plan C sir? Or... Plan Q?"
He whispered the last part conspiritorially.
Soro looked around at Bob, meeting the piercing blue eyes behind the hockey mask.
"Plan Q Bob. We're here."
"Right on sir!"
Bob quickly removed his ever-present briefcase from his back, and knelt, opening it. It could store almost anything, from weapons to wolverines. Once there actually had been a wolverine in there, Soro wasn't sure how that had happened...
Bob reached an arm into its depths and, after groping around for a few seconds, produced a large novelty Admiral's hat with a dramatic flourish.
"Here you go sir!"
He placed it upon Soro's crown, tilting it at a rakish angle.
Somone from the assembled crew and marines applauded.
Next Bob reached again into the depths of the briefcase and retrieved a large feather, which rustled cheerily in the seabreeze.
A collective 'oooooooo...' rose from the crowd.
This was pinned to the side of the hat, and Soro thanked Bob with a nod, and then saluted the crowd heartily. The deck exploded into cheering and not a little laughter.
"Now men, I -- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"
He suddenly roared. And started striding towards the assembled ranks.
'This is an INFORMAL SHIP! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!"
Soro grabbed a young ensign by the shoulders and shuffled him a little to the left. Then breathed deeply and and his shoulders relaxed.
"There. See? A flaw in the formation, an informal ship."
The rest of the crew stood rooted to the spot, except for the single ensign who was struggling not to break into giggling fits.
Soro returned to his position up the front. He coughed, and Bob retreived a chair from the briefcase, which Soro stood with one leg upon.
He thought this made him look rather dashing.
"Now men, I know you know that I know that you know that Novataina knows she's in a bit of trouble as of late."
He paused to let those significant opening words sink in.
"This war that is coming promises to be one of the tougher scraps in Novatainian history. We are up against some of the oldest and most traditionally powerful nations known to Micras. I'd like to say that they fight with the skill and prowess of eight year old schoolgirls, but unfortunately that would be largely incorrect. This will be quite a biff, let there be no mistake.
But before you dishearten, let me remind you of three points;
A.) You are Novatainian's, God's answer to perfection. You are all great people, and I would drink guiness and start a pub brawl with each and every one of you without hesitation. I doubt I can pay you men higher complement, so I'll move on to point two.
B.) The SUN is BRIGHT. Don't look at it guys, it seriously can damage your eyes. Not cool if you don't want to end up blind at forty.
C.) We have allies. Some of the best. Tokidoki, Beaugium, Passas, Craitland. All fine nations, and they will stand true with us until the last.
Men. I don't know how this war will end. But however it does, be assured that you make me proud that I can stand here and address you, wearing this shiny hat with its large feather. Thank you."
Soro stepped off the chair to racious applause.
The crew of the GCS Sol's Descent was assembled on deck, in neat ranks, and they all snapped to as their Admiral looked around, taking all the faces in.
The Arkenower docklands moved on around them, heedless of the killcruiser dwarfing the wharves and other shipping. The tub was normally anchored here anyway. But the ship itself was silent. Everyone who hadn't been hiding under rocks for the last few weeks had at least some idea of what was happening.
Soro snapped his fingers, and Bob, his hockey-masked, jumpsuit wearing adjudant appeared at his side.
"The usual plan C sir? Or... Plan Q?"
He whispered the last part conspiritorially.
Soro looked around at Bob, meeting the piercing blue eyes behind the hockey mask.
"Plan Q Bob. We're here."
"Right on sir!"
Bob quickly removed his ever-present briefcase from his back, and knelt, opening it. It could store almost anything, from weapons to wolverines. Once there actually had been a wolverine in there, Soro wasn't sure how that had happened...
Bob reached an arm into its depths and, after groping around for a few seconds, produced a large novelty Admiral's hat with a dramatic flourish.
"Here you go sir!"
He placed it upon Soro's crown, tilting it at a rakish angle.
Somone from the assembled crew and marines applauded.
Next Bob reached again into the depths of the briefcase and retrieved a large feather, which rustled cheerily in the seabreeze.
A collective 'oooooooo...' rose from the crowd.
This was pinned to the side of the hat, and Soro thanked Bob with a nod, and then saluted the crowd heartily. The deck exploded into cheering and not a little laughter.
"Now men, I -- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"
He suddenly roared. And started striding towards the assembled ranks.
'This is an INFORMAL SHIP! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!"
Soro grabbed a young ensign by the shoulders and shuffled him a little to the left. Then breathed deeply and and his shoulders relaxed.
"There. See? A flaw in the formation, an informal ship."
The rest of the crew stood rooted to the spot, except for the single ensign who was struggling not to break into giggling fits.
Soro returned to his position up the front. He coughed, and Bob retreived a chair from the briefcase, which Soro stood with one leg upon.
He thought this made him look rather dashing.
"Now men, I know you know that I know that you know that Novataina knows she's in a bit of trouble as of late."
He paused to let those significant opening words sink in.
"This war that is coming promises to be one of the tougher scraps in Novatainian history. We are up against some of the oldest and most traditionally powerful nations known to Micras. I'd like to say that they fight with the skill and prowess of eight year old schoolgirls, but unfortunately that would be largely incorrect. This will be quite a biff, let there be no mistake.
But before you dishearten, let me remind you of three points;
A.) You are Novatainian's, God's answer to perfection. You are all great people, and I would drink guiness and start a pub brawl with each and every one of you without hesitation. I doubt I can pay you men higher complement, so I'll move on to point two.
B.) The SUN is BRIGHT. Don't look at it guys, it seriously can damage your eyes. Not cool if you don't want to end up blind at forty.
C.) We have allies. Some of the best. Tokidoki, Beaugium, Passas, Craitland. All fine nations, and they will stand true with us until the last.
Men. I don't know how this war will end. But however it does, be assured that you make me proud that I can stand here and address you, wearing this shiny hat with its large feather. Thank you."
Soro stepped off the chair to racious applause.
"I fought the law, and the law won..."Why is it me who always has to tell them to stop whining like kids?
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Beautiful, Soro. I laughed, I cried ... it moved me.
Andreas
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander
"He showed up three or four years ago and accidentally took over the micronational world by being way more competent and enthusiastic than everyone else. Now he sort of rules us all, but it's a benevolent sort of thing, as far as we know."
~Scott Alexander