EDIT: Sorry mods ... I meant this to go in the open forum .... :unsure:

JOURNAL LOG 10 - THE FUNK

Well it has been a interesting week for me and GOLD and now that the excitement is over I can now resume my wanderings around the landscape of Planet Bob. It is fun dropping in on people (relatively) unannounced, using up their guest toiletries, eating their food and flirting with their spouses and friends. And you can always anticipate being exposed to something new and exciting ...... or for that matter ..... strange.

I'm visiting the nation called The Funk. I must admit I'm a little apprehensive about this visit ......

The nation bio is elaborated ....

Have I mentioned that I have a little problem with bass? Bass is fine when it is used in moderation, particularly in connection with treble. It is a ying and yang sort of thing....... too much bass..... trouble..... too much treble ....trouble. Too much Bass too much volume ..... psychotic episode. Now in my humble abode in my native Vijar, in the capital of Slanderskree, I had a neighbour who had two teenage sons. The teenage sons played 'music' in a shed in the backyard..... loudly. In fact I'm lead to believe that they were even composing 'music' in the aforementioned shed..... in which I also believe the boys lived in. These lads hadn't been taught the musical innovation of treble. The bass from their music was so 'thumping' that my humble abode's window rattled and I often started thinking that the pounding in my chest was a faulty heart. The boys didn't appreciate my lack of appreciation for their 'music'. In fact they didn't appreciate that cricket bats and electronic musical instruments do not mix very well either. I wonder where they are now?

Ah, back on track. The nation of The Funk obviously understands the unbelievable effectiveness of excess Bass has as a border protection initiative. I could feel it before I heard it. Fortunately I possessed some equally effective hearing protection in a pair of live rabbits gaffer taped over my ears. Share a carrot and watch out for the droppings down your neck. I also medicated myself to a near point of stupor.

I approached the border crossing and saw some guards gesticulating to me. I waved back. They pointed their guns..... I stopped waving. The conversation was somewhat pointless.... I couldn't hear them afterall. It went something like ....

Guard 1 - "State your name and business."

W_A_R - "?"

Guard 1 - "I said - state your name and business!"

W_A_R - "??!"

Guard 2 - "HE SAID - STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS HERE IN THE FUNK!"

W_A_R - "???!!"

"I SAID IF YOU DON'T TAKE THOSE FUNKING RABBITS OFF YOUR EARS I'LL INSERT THEM INTO YOUR BOTTOM USING THE MUZZLE OF MY AUTOMATIC WEAPON!"

W_A_R - "Pardon? freaking rabbits? Not on my head I hope! I bought two females!"

Let me assure you that what happened next was rather uncalled for, and the rabbits never properly recovered, but after several washes, they did make a fine stew. I have since acquired some hearing protection kindly provided by the border guards..... military issue headphones. I'm a little concerned that they actually monitor my movements with them, and could turn up that dreaded BASS volume ... frying my brains, but I have some faith in Papafunk not to let that happen.

Papafunk..... that is a strange name for a nation ruler! It sounds like something that is washed off one's grandfather in the nursing home.... it has rather disturbing
images that I'd prefer not to crowd my already taxed mind.

So I'm on my way to the capital, Graham Town. What is it with all these people here. All scruffy musicial types; tattooed, pierced, unwashed, hairy, smelly, and seemingly drugged..... and that's just the females! All contributing to the cacophany of noise. Hasn't anyone heard of classical or jazz? There is not much wildlife in the country side .... or if there is, it is either hiding in a quiet place (if there is such a thing) or are stone cold deaf.

Note to Papafunk - Tight leather or denim trousers will cause permanent damage to male and female genitalia....... I don't care if it is a national dress......it may explain your falling population rates .......

Anyway, I'll let you know how I get on; I'm looking for a replacement ponicycle, bred specifically in The Funk....... They have very little ears. Now I understand why.

Keep safe and well my GOLDen family..... as will I.

Love W_A_R

JOURNAL LOG 11 - GRAHAM TOWN

What sort of name is Graham Town for a capital city of a nation dedicated to deafening loud music? It's just a bit......limp. You'd think it would have a name with an 'edge' or something more marketable...... rather than Graham.

Now I was rather nerdy studious in my research and I gooogled 'rock legend graham' to get a spark of inspiration........ ha! If I want inspiration I'll consume it from the neck of a bottle of single malt scotch. I even made it 'music legend graham' ..... phafff! It confirms my suspicions ......... Graham Town was named after Papafunk's father, and he 'aint no funky papa!

So I made my way to the capital, uncomfortable in my knowledge that my hearing surely could not be futher deteriorated without physically strapping me to a concrete slab and playing Celine Dion and Crackwhore Whitney through my noggin 24/7.

Then suddenly I noticed something strange and eerie....... {insert mysterious music riff here} ..... the cacophany of sound had ceased. Animals started to reappear ...... I was able to remove my hearing protection and I heard the gentle sound of Irish folk music and spiritual songs emanating from over a small rise. I hurried to the ridge and looked down into Graham Town...... it looked like a ..... well the town exuded all the character of its name..... no black t-shirted death metal satan worshipers..... no wide-eyed ecstasy fueled house freaks.... no mofo 'cap in your arse' rappers...... just 'delightful' 1950's style families dressed in their sunday best, enjoying music for the religious masses.....

I think The Funk is a front for a very dangerous religious right movement .... nothing could terrify me more, except perhaps a repeat of that bunny enema and having to listen to the sisters of satan..... Whitney, Celine and Mariah ... in harmony.......! Is it just me, or does everyone think Mariah is a very sad individual ..... a slightly more 'talented' and perhaps less 'responsibility diminished' version of Anna-nicole Smith.

I rushed to confront Papafunk with my awful discovery and to insist he make amends to all those in GOLD that viewed him as a 'musical demi-god'. Alas, it appears that he has disappeared from his nation ..... not in a 'choking on his own vomit' rock god manner, but in an 'I'm sprung, run away!' avoidance of the truth manner. It just goes to show...... you can't judge the quality of the music by the standard of the graphics on the CD Cover...

SO I have left The Funk and have passed through the borders without incident, in possession of a set of excellent headphones/ear protection........ I have yet to think about my next destination .... but I hope it is lives up to its name........

Keep safe and well my GOLDen family..... as will I.

Love W_A_R


Carrot Cake Ratings

Border Security - 5 out of 5 - my ears are still ringing.
Musical Taste - 1 /5 - find some middle ground dammit!
Animal Protection - 0 / 5 - particularly rabbits.
Cusine - 3 / 5 - if pizza and beer is all there is.
Hidden Religious Zealotry - 5 / 5 - Praise the Lord........
Commitment to GOLD - 5 / 5.

The hell is this doing in AP?

Note my edit to my first post my good person .....

EDIT: did you enjoy it ......?

EDIT 2: my post ..... not the edit.....

Your edit happened the minute before I posted. I'm not that fast of a reader.

Moved to "Character RP".

We don't really have a general RP forum any more, but keep it up ;)

JOURNAL LOG 12 - WHAT MONKEYS?

Is that the time already? The last month or so has sped past in a blink of the eye, which makes me want to reassess what the people of Vijar may have seasoned my provisions with. No..... trust is an important thing and I am sure my people care for me and wish me well. I'm pretty certain that the green stuff in my coffee looking suspiciously like rat poison, is rat poison, but had been placed in by back pack to keep my provisions safe from vermin.

Speaking of vermin, I am very concerned about the number of apes and monkeys populating the woods, forests and roadsides that I am travelling along. They have a peculiar habit of staring at me, then flinging stuff at me. When it first happened I thought that the spider monkey in question was making an attempt to communicate with me and was proffering a token of welcome. I am now far more cautious and am pleased that the laundry powder I have can remove the stains caused by being spattered with monkey excreta. I am also aware that the smell of excreta varied from species to species, dietary factors notwithstanding.

For those who have yet to gather, I am travelling in the Evil Monkey Empire, ruled by GOLD JSC member EMATO. I first thought that the nation was called the Evil Money Empire, and I had idly mused that money can indeed be the root of all evil I now am convinced that this applies equally, if not more so, to monkeys and apes. Wonder no longer why the forests and gardens, landscape and scenery of the Empire is so lush and green...... it is well fertilised.

As is my custom these days, I prepare for going through customs upon entering a new nation....... or as it so often seems, before a new nation enters me. My privates feel like someone tattooed 'general admittance' across my buttocks. Upon my arrival at the border crossing, a couple of well armed chimpanzees beckoned me to sit in a chair. Once I was seated (which frankly was a relief) they began to groom me in a quite agressive manner, tugging at my hair and appearing to argue with each other. My already tattered clothes (don't buy 'the League' brand merchandise - it cannot cope with the strains of travel and falls apart) began to further deteriorate, and my earlier relief quickly turned to alarm!

I yelled at them to stop, pleading to whatever simian intelligence they has lurking beneath their protruding brows. This is where I learned a valuable lesson. A lesson that could have been very useful 30 minutes prior to my arrival to the border. Chimpanzees are apes. They resent being called monkeys. They are not at all enamoured with the knowledge that their country of residence has a monkey reference...... they would favour a change to Evil Simian Empire...... I also learned that the grip of a chimpanzee is very strong and this is due to the fact they have large powerful fingers....... large powerful fingers that sadly are yet to be as dextrous as a human's digits..... something else they seem to be slightly miffed at. Having Monkey crap throw at me after my ordeal was really, a very very minor matter compared to what a chimpanzee can do to you. I was also forced to sign a statement urging the humans of the world to release all apes from captivity, wherever they be, and that they be returned to the ....Evil Mon. Simian Empire. A statement I gladly signed to ease the pain.

For your reference, the Evil Simian Empire is a top 10 GOLD nation and their bio is as follows -

I have yet to catch sight of any people of the human form...... It is as if they have disappeared somewhere..... I will hopefully find someone soon to ask for directions to the nation's capital 'Chimpanzonia' ...... I wish I knew that before I got to the border as well......

For the time being ..... do not feed the apes or monkeys....

Keep safe and well my GOLDen family..... as will I.

Love W_A_R

JOURNAL LOG 13 - CHIMPANZONIA

I unfortunately have discovered the real meaning of 'monkey grip'. After experiencing it, one yearns for the pleasant and entertaining sensations contained within the squirrel variety. I also now understand how the knot 'monkey's fist' came about. Very descriptive. Have I mentioned that certain parts of my anatomy have a rather 'weathered' look. I think a date is in order for some pampering including some gentle and tender rehabilitation.

As I was travelling to Chimpanzonia I started to see the non-simian citizens of the Evil Simian Empire. They uniformly have a haunted and gaunt look that could only be attributed to the years of dodging 'you know what'. One would have thought that the monk(oops) simians would have tired of throwing it, but it appears to be a national pastime and entertains them endlessly. I asked a citizen what happens if they stood still and she said it just gives the younger simians a chance to test their arm. Empire Fact - Those who doubt the scientific validity of evolution should visit here and come up with a reason why the citizens have lost their ability to smell. Oh.... hang on.......they stink alright, but their olfactory senses have dulled to a point where they no longer notice their 'presence'.

The native exportable resources of the Empire are wine and water. The quality of the wine is due to the fertile soils. The vitners tell me that the grape growers have a hell of a time protecting their vines, and that most simians are card carrying members of SAA..... Simian Alcoholics Anonymous. Apparently intoxicated monkeys and apes turn very violent initially, then start to mellow after several hours on the slops..... hugging each other and telling each other ..."I love you ....really I do..." This may also explain the high incidence of teenage simian pregnancy. Another lesser known product made in the Empire is soap.......... various grades and all very effective. It is not exported because the domestic market consumes the entire production, for obvious reasons.

Upon entering Chimpanzonia, I set about trying to find where the official residence of EMATO was located. Silly me. The walled fortress on the hill devoid of trees and vegetation should have been my initial guess. Every now and then a ball of flame swept down the flanks of the hill, presumably to ensure the hill remained bare. I guess it is done to ensure that the simians cannot gain a hold on the land near the residence. Upon arrival at the gates I was sent through an anti-chamber. It was here that I was stripped naked, then scrubbed and disinfected vigorously by some very unattractive and burly women. Nevertheless, it was refreshing to be clean and rid of the simian gifts.

Unfortunately EMATO was away on GOLD Security Council business, but his household staff were very accommodating and offered me food and lodging for the evening. The wine was excellent and the meal sensational. Try as I might, I could not determine the origin of the meat; it was tender and flavoursome. Everytime I asked a staff member they simply smiled and enquired if I was enjoying the meal. Most disconcerting!

The next morning I was offered clean clothing and a special cape / cloak which is an effective monkey poop repellent. My travel out of the city and to the border was pretty uneventful, but I will never forget the intent stares that the forest residents gave me. Those journeying to the Empire should mail order for one of these capes beforehand. It is a relief to no longer worry about the next projectile and I look forward to my next destination.

Keep safe and well my GOLDen family..... as will I.

Love W_A_R

Carrot Cake Rating

Wine Quality - 5 out of 5 - excellent
Friendliness of Forest Fiends - 0/5 - nasty buggers
Border Security - 5 / 5 - I'll never look at an ape the same way again (and if I do it will be through a rifle sight).
Soap - 5 /5 - Splendid stuff.
Cusine - 4 / 5 - I think I have worked out what the 'native' dish is!
Tourism - 2 / 5 - Outstanding lush scenery with a not so hidden drawback.
Commitment to GOLD - 5 / 5.

It's Prince Eddie Island I'm off to see,
with Mach, his subjects and menagerie;
I believe it's friendly and keen to please,
including the vermin, leeches and fleas.

JOURNAL LOG 14 - PRINCE EDDIE ISLAND

To get to my next destination, one must cross by boat. So essentially Prince Eddie Island has a natural border; a sea. "AH!" I thought to myself. "No Border Crossing in the traditional sense..... I may just be able to relax...."

You know those moments, don't you? The times where you say, do or think something and instantly regret the words, action or thoughts that came spilling out like Dolly Parton in a defective brassiere. You quite frankly want to see it all scooped up and stuffed back in as quickly as possible before fate gets an eyeful........but fate is like the papparazzi ..... ever watchful for the slightest opportunity. I am one of fate's celebrities...... it stalks me constantly.

I gained passage on a slightly decrepit, but nevertheless seaworthy vessel by the name of Summerside's Siren. Now Summerside is the capital city of Prince Eddie Island and its name offered me visions of a place where a man could put his feet up for a bit and work on his tan. Lately I have felt that I need some time out from the hustle and bustle of the demanding guru and sage career that I have fallen in to. Could Summerside provide me with the respite my troubled mind and aching body cried out for? The ruler of Price Eddie Island, Machiabelly is revered by many as a man who can provide succor to those in need; and succor is what I yearned for. However, for those knowledgeable in the Greek classics, the Sirens were the mythological women who's temptations and singing would lure many an unwary sailor to the rocks, and consequently to their doom. I am sure that one could understand the mixed messages I was getting upon boarding the ship.

The Captain, an affable rotund fellow with an unfortunate habit of spitting consonants, greeted me with an enthusiasm that left me wondering whether the sea crossing had started in a heavy chop. Once again during my journeys was I grateful for my trusty towel.......(yes hitchhikers of the galaxy, a towel is indeed the number one possession of experienced travellers). I took up possession of the vantage point near the bow; a gentle but fresh breeze ruffled my shirt and filled my senses with the heady aroma of salt, rotting seaweed and fish. It was a good time to review the background on Prince Eddie Island.

I smiled. I was looking forward to this visit. Machiabelly was reputedly an excellent host and surely his nation would reflect his bonhomie. I suddenly was aware of a smell other than those wafting in from the sea...... burly arms encircled my waist and the haunting voice of Celine Dion invaded my consciousness! "Arrrrr.....this ship not be the Titanic, but for a few pieces of eight extra I can offer ye 'the special' of the vessel!" The back of my neck was splattered by the heavy voice of the Captain. "Call me Francine" he whispered huskily. My heart dropped quicker than lcdt's guts. So much for an uneventful crossing. I was going to need my wits about me to slip from this sticky situation.

Keep safe and well my GOLDen family..... as will I.

Love W_A_R

<clap> <clap> <clap>
excellent RP.I enjoyed every single log. :)


I dont know if your travels are limited just to GOLD,but if not I would like to offer you busness class plane ticket to state of Diskoteque for a 5 days visit(all inclusive).Our tourist department as well as our community would be honoured to have great traveller such as you as guest.
Of course,you would travel incognito,and thererfore it would prevent any attempt to set-up things to get false impressions.

cheers!
vidra99

Welcome to my home W-A-R...mind the bomb craters. Diskord and I threw some ordinance at each other for fun, and two tech raiders dropped by to make things interesting.

All is at peace now though.

Lobster season is upon us, so help yourself.

its awesome to know that now the entirety of CN can enjoy these marvels of literature. i still love 'em.

ooc: Do you do any nations requested?

ic: Well written reports, I will use them as examples to help get our own reporters "up to speed" on modern writeing style.

JOURNAL LOG 15 – SUMMERSIDE SIREN

I shuddered. It was not in pleasure, I assure you……really. Having Captain Francine’s arms around me, his overly moist breath seasoned with rotted bait assailing my olfactory senses, his overt desire to use me as a cabin boy during the crossing….. all these made me dry retch. There was no way that my tender bits were being boarded by any seaman!

“I see ye not be ‘aving ye sea legs yet matey….. I can be fixin’ that quick smart!” splattered the Captain.

Twisting from his grasp (the splattered saliva and sputum becoming a surprisingly convenient lubricant), I fronted the old seadog, who looked like he had grown a sea leg of his own. I mentioned that regardless how entertaining I found his offer, I would gladly pay extra to see a pain free crossing. I also mentioned that I was suffering from a bad dose of barnacles which may react badly with any other crustaceans that may have inhabited his person. He backed off muttering under his breath about Captain’s fancies and bottles of rum. I feared for his crew.

The ship set sail out of the docks. As I watched the wharves slip away I saw that a number of dock workers and sailors were crossing themselves. Great….. more trouble ahead it seemed.

A pod of dolphins appeared on the starboard bow. They dipped and dived, jumping across the bow wave of the Summerside Siren. They at least seemed happy to join the ship at sea. A rather dishevelled man, large stomach piling over his waistband and shuffling up a very tatty formerly white T-shirt, waddled to the side. He leant over and produced a technicolor yawn that, given the duration, should have dislocated his jaw.

I idly mused that such a performance required its own intermission. The stench of it left me gagging once more. As I bent over the side myself, looking to the stern, I glimpsed a grey white object burst to the surface of the water ..... then another and another. I ran down the deck to get a closer look....... dolphins! They all were no longer moving and had rolled to their sides ..... other sea-life (or by now sea-dead) floated on the surface amid a scum spreading out from the ship. The source of the bilious stuff continued to purge himself.

The man finally stopped, stood up wiping his arm across his mouth and nose...... and then belched. He looked at me and approached. "I'm Fitzwhistle .... ships cook" he said spraying me with what appeared to be partially digested carrot and corn. The 'spray and say' problem wasn't just isolated to the Captain then. He thrust a meaty paw at me, which I took with reluctance. I was sure I could hear my knuckles pop.

"It seems we be havin' fresh seafood for dinner" he grinned, gesturing with his spare hand to the presumably now toxic marine creatures being collected in nets by several crew members. "I make sure you will get th' best" This did not bode well.........


Keep safe and well those about to be CONned..... as will I.

Love W_A_R

Carrot Cake Journals ftw.

JOURNAL LOG 16 – THE CROSSING

I swore to myself that I would just have to forego my usual dose of Omega 3 fatty acids and decline any offer of seafood during my time on the Summerside Siren. Fitzwhistle and his press-ganged kitchen hands showed signs of exceptionally poor hygiene; one and all. I choke back an involuntary rise of vomit. Perhaps a fast was in order.

I watched as they stowed the ‘fresh’ harvest of ocean fare into salt and ice below decks. The hold hatch was thrown open and a new, vile pungency was added to the already horrendous atmosphere surrounding the ship. I cursed myself. How did I not notice the stench when boarding? The men took furtive glances at me during their labours. The type of glances that makes you check the tightness of one’s belt and the closeness of a sidearm. Damn I was going to be relieved when this voyage was over!


“Hello good thir!” chirped a voice from behind me, making me momentarily jump and clutch my belt. I turned and saw an adolescent male smiling at me. His teeth were showing all the signs of having been successfully brushed with a brick. “Don’t let that lot thcare you thir; they might look like a rough bunch but they have heartsth thofter than their handsth!” This information didn’t cheer me one iota. I asked the young man his name. “Thompkinsth, thir; Thimon Thompkinsth. Cabin Boy and general runabout. I’m here to let you know that your cabin ith ready”.

I regarded Simon with thome thympathy …. Pardon …. ‘some sympathy’. I assumed that he would be the subject of the Captain’s attention tonight. He led me to my overnight lodgings. Swinging the door open I saw movement within. I once again reached for my weapons. “Don’t worry thir. They be the ratsth. Thorry but we all get to thare thleeping arrangementsth on thith vethel!”. He smiled crookedly and left me to make myself comfortable.

The cabin was small, as to be expected for what would be a relatively short journey in a non-passenger ship. A bunk (currently occupied by three largish rats that didn’t show any signs of wishing to move); a chest of drawers (showing distinct scars of gnawing); a well worn leather chair; a wardrobe and space for luggage. Apparently the ablution facilities were shared; another thing not to look forward to. A smallish porthole, stained with ‘who knows what’ (my guess was vomit), offered me glimpses of the ocean. I guessed that sleeping wasn’t going to be an activity I’d be enjoying then.

I took care to stow my simple belongings and came to an arrangement with the rats. They got to keep occupancy of the bunk while I sat in the chair. I tossed them some of my dried foodstuff in the hope that they would keep to the bargain. They fell upon it greedily, scuffling between themselves over the scraps.

An hour or so later the Cabin Boy knocked on my door and announced that the evening meal was to be ready in ten minutes. I asked him to inform the Captain that I was feeling poorly, that I had no appetite and that I would remain in my cabin to recuperate. Simon nodded knowingly and asked if he could provide any other help for the evening. I declined respectfully hoping this wouldn't mean the lad would suffer at the hands of Captain Francine or any of the other crew. Simon appeared slighted at the refusal. I reminded myself that many people took pride in their work regardless of how demeaning it might be. I closed and bolted the cabin door once he left.

Around midnight I was jolted awake by thumping across the deck and shouting voices. I must have dozed off. Not for the first time I wondered what the hell was going on!

Keep safe and well those about to be CONned..... as will I.

Love W_A_R