The East PacificBoard

As their patience had grew thinner and thinner, the various student's of Class 2-1 were rewarded with the ringing of the bell, signifying their allowance to head home after a days worth of "cruel and tortuous" learning. The teacher, Zako Gelleinis, watched as his reason for waking up each and every morning and staying up so late at night left one by one out of the room, until only he was left at his desk. He began to take out some papers to grade when he noticed a pair of shoes out of the corner of his eye, and upon looking up, noticed they were attached to his favorite student, Areti Barzani, who was standing patiently at the side of his desk.

"Hello my most studious Refur(Fox), what brings you to my humble desk"? He noticed her holding a paper flyer, and a familiar look on her face, one that almost screamed for attention to a dilmema she was facing. "Please sit."

She complied, and slowly slid over the paper towards him. "I found it near my neighborhood on the way to school, I wanted to show it to you, Mr. Galleinis". As he took hold and gazed upon the paper...he could understand her dilemma. Typed in red caps and placed at the top was a declaration in Deltan calling for "The removal of the foreign agents" from Deltan soil. It was clearly a provocative piece meant to rouse up tensions instead of actually achieving its goal, but it seems to nonetheless shaken Areti. As he set down the paper, he looked towards her and thought of a response.

"What concerns you my dear", Zako said casually, "about this I mean". He watched as Areti struggled to find the pieces for a question. This was not the first time she had come towards him with a question, as she was more curious and more learned then any of his other students, and in a job that usually drains the life out of someone, this girl was his respite and his reason for not abandoning this school.

"Will we ever...become, what they want us to be? By them I mean-", she was cut off by Zako's quick response. "The Deltans"? He gazed on as she sat in her seat, fidgeting from the numerous thoughts likely racing in her head. Zako was saddened to have this conversation, but he knew it had to be done. First though, he decided, he would ease her worries. "Areti...I thought you were smarter then this". The girl in question looked up, in shock and suprise at the apparent sly comment thrown her way, and continued to look on in confusion as her teacher held the paper towards her.

"Look. Notice the usage of the Natin script for a instead of our álpha, the weak grammar, and the misspellings. Also the cross, which looks nothing like the ones they use in Omonia, Aroviu nor Atrocha, not to mention that its used in the only Deltan nation without a Christian majority". Zako saw slowly as her confusion turned to surprise at the connecting of the dots in her head as both she and her teacher realized the paper was nothing short of some foreign print out. It wouldn't be too extraordinary, tourists who came to Aversaria, especially from the more 'aggressive' nations, loved to cause trouble, and no doubt this was done by some kid who wanted to watch fights happen for fun. He leaned a little back into his seat as she looked more assured, but he nonetheless had to drill it into her his lesson for this event.

"Areti...what's your ancestry like"? She looked taken aback but nonetheless answered him. "Uhm...on my dads side we are Ágioi and a small bit of Aromanese, and my moms is a mix of Sarradonian and Khamonite". Zako leaned forward a bit as he responded. "Then why are you here? Why aren't you in Arvorenia or Aroviu? Why haven't you made Ailyah to Chaldea? Why aren't you in Usnistan right now"? While the questions were no doubt confrontational, he looked on in pride as she understood his intent and responded in turn.

"Because...this is my home". Zako smiled a wide grin and so did Areti. "Exactly Refur...there's a reason why our constitution lists 'A nation for the Aversarians', and not 'For the Deltans'. Me personally, I'm glad since I'm mostly Sjalvolki, and id rather not be thrown back into the sea from whence we came". As Areti giggled at this response, Zako moved to place the paper in his shredder near him, but then handed his student a paper from within his desk. "But I can understand the need to find ones place in this nation...after all, I'm sure your mothers side grew tired of Nea Iorusalem and Bayt and came here, and perhaps you could find your own place in this nation".

The paper he handed her was filled with promotional images, links to websites, and other info, but eye-catching of all was the title placed at the top of the paper, which read "Fertile Lands Program: Expanding the Aautokrata and providing land for settlement". Areti took the paper and placed it in her backpack before standing up and looking down at her teacher, giving a short nod before leaving his class. As Zako was left alone, he gazed at his own copy of the paper he gave to her...and soon he began to dream.

In the heart of Bastonous, amidst the ancient streets steeped in history and tradition, Modernity and Progress, Metal and Stone, lived a boy named Adonis. His days were filled with the hustle and bustle of modern life and its needs, but his nights belonged to his gateway towards the world outside of the apartment he and his family lived in: The Internet. Adonis thought he was a typical Aversarian teenager, with a passion for gaming and discussion that often kept him up into the late hours of the night. On one such night, as the clock struck 2am, and the glow of his computer screen illuminated his room, Adonis suddenly became aware of a profound silence enveloping the city outside his window. He noticed it as the volume of his videos began to reach a low point, and thus allowed the screaming nothing of silence to grab ahold of him.

He paused everything and took off his headphones. Again, nothing. He ventured to the balcony, peering out into the night. The usual sounds of traffic and chatter were conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie tranquility that seemed to hang in the air like a cloud of deafness. It was then that Adonis remembered—the approaching holiday of All Saints Days, possibly among the most festive and largest holidays of the Aversarian nation, was coming soon. He had forgotten amidst the seemingly endless days of classes, work, sleep and repeat, but it nonetheless ventured forward, with or without his knowledge. No doubt, he thought, that his parents were working to find a way to celebrate, especially considering how Adoinis had finally gotten into the university he, and most importanly, they wanted for him, thus answering their prayers of sleepless nights.

As he veered back towards the silence, he thought back to the reason, and remembered that when the city fell silent, it was in remembrance of the departed souls who had died and reentered the cycle of rebirth, not being able to see the festival once again before departure. It was a time to honor the memory of loved ones, to reflect on mortality, purity, other religious stuff, and to pay homage to the divine gifts they had received. Adonis' heart tugged. He remembered how he knew that...from his Giagiá(Grandmother). The same one who seemed to spend her last remaining days last year praying for his entry into his university, only to depart before she could see his letter of acceptance.

It was her that made him sit through the countless temple teachings, it was her who seemed to be on watch for any immoral act he may do in her eyes, it was her who seemed to argue the most at Adonis' decision to become a member of the Kamíatelestía purists, calling it atheism in a purist blanket. All of this entered his mind sure...but he also remembered how she spent every couple of days helping out around the city. She was abused by others for her selfless nature but did it anyway, she didn't receive any award for any of this, but she did it. The neighborhood loved her, and he remembers how many showed to her funeral. He remembered the earliest days, as after the boring and seemingly useless temple teachings, she would cook up a dinner like no other for him, something to look forward to as the monks droned on. All of this he remembered, the good, the bad, the in between, and more.

He went out of his room and into the living room of his families apartment. In the corner lay the altar, for the ancestors, the saints, and the Purest, with each section becoming bigger and more decorated as they went up in holiness. He walked up and gazed at the photo of his grandmother sitting on the ancestor portion. So small and insignificant compared to the others, no doubt what she would have wanted in her last days, to be seen not as some photo, but remembered by her deeds. As he gazed at her, he slowly looked up at the image of the Purest that lay looking down at those who stood at the altar. There it stood, that body of a large red cloak with gold trimmings, with countless patterns etched across it, with a hand of darkness and a face to match looking out, seemingly hoping to reach whoever chose to stand before them.

Adonis remembers being a kid and feeling comforted by the Purest, that whenever things seemed scary or dark, a statue of that figure in his room seemed to make it all go away. He remembers showing his friends from overseas a picture of the Purest online, and being genuinely surprised when they said they were scared of it. He wondered at the time why a figure of darkness wrapped in a cloak of blood red would be scary to anyone. He smiled at the humor of that situation, understanding the image's reaction to those who didn't grow up staring at it as a God, or at least a representation of a higher truth, incarnate in a mortal perception of what is supposedly unknowable.

He knew that being of the school of Atheistic Purism, he was supposed to believe that the Purest is a philosophical truth, rejecting any divinity to the movement, but he couldn't bring himself to view the Purest of the other schools in the same light. How could he, a kid of the central rites school, believing in a God that represented all that was good, simply become some abstract concept of truth, immaterial as he is to the people of other or no faiths.

He stared on, and on, and on, and on...until he stared no longer. He picked up an incense stick from the jar near to him, unwrapping it and lighting its tip as he set in in the altar section for his ancestors. He knew that as someone of the school of no rites, he was supposed to know better then to honor a dead ancestor that couldn't receive him. And yet, he did, and he bowed his head down and clasped his hands as he stood before the altar.

He stood there, in silence, as the city joined him in the orchestra of no sounds nor instruments. Soon nothing but his thoughts were left, and soon they left as well. How long would he stand there before soon enough in the future, his own blood would take his place. Would he be honored as well? Should he be?

...he remembered the quote of the Patro Canon his grandmother loved to read him as he worried of the coming of the night. "Και είδες το σκοτάδι. Περπάτησες στη σκιά του. Εκεί στο τίποτα θα βρεις κάτι. Από τα βάθη του τίποτα δεν θα μείνει η αλήθεια. Και έτσι η αλήθεια έγινε αθάνατη, κι εσύ". And thou hast seen the darkness. Thou hast walked in its shade. There in the nothing shall you find something. From the depths of nothing shall truth remain. And so truth hath become deathless, and so hast thou.

[nation]Krozlnd[/ion]

As their patience had grew thinner and thinner, the various student's of Class 2-1 were rewarded with the ringing of the bell, signifying their allowance to head home after a days worth of "cruel and tortuous" learning. The teacher, Zako Gelleinis, watched as his reason for waking up each and every morning and staying up so late at night left one by one out of the room, until only he was left at his desk. He began to take out some papers to grade when he noticed a pair of shoes out of the corner of his eye, and upon looking up, noticed they were attached to his favorite student, Areti Barzani, who was standing patiently at the side of his desk.

"Hello my most studious Refur(Fox), what brings you to my humble desk"? He noticed her holding a paper flyer, and a familiar look on her face, one that almost screamed for attention to a dilmema she was facing. "Please sit."

She complied, and slowly slid over the paper towards him. "I found it near my neighborhood on the way to school, I wanted to show it to you, Mr. Galleinis". As he took hold and gazed upon the paper...he could understand her dilemma. Typed in red caps and placed at the top was a declaration in Deltan calling for "The removal of the foreign agents" from Deltan soil. It was clearly a provocative piece meant to rouse up tensions instead of actually achieving its goal, but it seems to nonetheless shaken Areti. As he set down the paper, he looked towards her and thought of a response.

"What concerns you my dear", Zako said casually, "about this I mean". He watched as Areti struggled to find the pieces for a question. This was not the first time she had come towards him with a question, as she was more curious and more learned then any of his other students, and in a job that usually drains the life out of someone, this girl was his respite and his reason for not abandoning this school.

"Will we ever...become, what they want us to be? By them I mean-", she was cut off by Zako's quick response. "The Deltans"? He gazed on as she sat in her seat, fidgeting from the numerous thoughts likely racing in her head. Zako was saddened to have this conversation, but he knew it had to be done. First though, he decided, he would ease her worries. "Areti...I thought you were smarter then this". The girl in question looked up, in shock and suprise at the apparent sly comment thrown her way, and continued to look on in confusion as her teacher held the paper towards her.

"Look. Notice the usage of the Natin script for a instead of our álpha, the weak grammar, and the misspellings. Also the cross, which looks nothing like the ones they use in Omonia, Aroviu nor Atrocha, not to mention that its used in the only Deltan nation without a Christian majority". Zako saw slowly as her confusion turned to surprise at the connecting of the dots in her head as both she and her teacher realized the paper was nothing short of some foreign print out. It wouldn't be too extraordinary, tourists who came to Aversaria, especially from the more 'aggressive' nations, loved to cause trouble, and no doubt this was done by some kid who wanted to watch fights happen for fun. He leaned a little back into his seat as she looked more assured, but he nonetheless had to drill it into her his lesson for this event.

"Areti...what's your ancestry like"? She looked taken aback but nonetheless answered him. "Uhm...on my dads side we are Ágioi and a small bit of Aromanese, and my moms is a mix of Sarradonian and Khamonite". Zako leaned forward a bit as he responded. "Then why are you here? Why aren't you in Arvorenia or Aroviu? Why haven't you made Ailyah to Chaldea? Why aren't you in Usnistan right now"? While the questions were no doubt confrontational, he looked on in pride as she understood his intent and responded in turn.

"Because...this is my home". Zako smiled a wide grin and so did Areti. "Exactly Refur...there's a reason why our constitution lists 'A nation for the Aversarians', and not 'For the Deltans'. Me personally, I'm glad since I'm mostly Sjalvolki, and id rather not be thrown back into the sea from whence we came". As Areti giggled at this response, Zako moved to place the paper in his shredder near him, but then handed his student a paper from within his desk. "But I can understand the need to find ones place in this nation...after all, I'm sure your mothers side grew tired of Nea Iorusalem and Bayt and came here, and perhaps you could find your own place in this nation".

The paper he handed her was filled with promotional images, links to websites, and other info, but eye-catching of all was the title placed at the top of the paper, which read "Fertile Lands Program: Expanding the Aautokrata and providing land for settlement". Areti took the paper and placed it in her backpack before standing up and looking down at her teacher, giving a short nod before leaving his class. As Zako was left alone, he gazed at his own copy of the paper he gave to her...and soon he began to dream.

In the heart of Bastonous, amidst the ancient streets steeped in history and tradition, Modernity and Progress, Metal and Stone, lived a boy named Adonis. His days were filled with the hustle and bustle of modern life and its needs, but his nights belonged to his gateway towards the world outside of the apartment he and his family lived in: The Internet. Adonis thought he was a typical Aversarian teenager, with a passion for gaming and discussion that often kept him up into the late hours of the night. On one such night, as the clock struck 2am, and the glow of his computer screen illuminated his room, Adonis suddenly became aware of a profound silence enveloping the city outside his window. He noticed it as the volume of his videos began to reach a low point, and thus allowed the screaming nothing of silence to grab ahold of him.

He paused everything and took off his headphones. Again, nothing. He ventured to the balcony, peering out into the night. The usual sounds of traffic and chatter were conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie tranquility that seemed to hang in the air like a cloud of deafness. It was then that Adonis remembered—the approaching holiday of All Saints Days, possibly among the most festive and largest holidays of the Aversarian nation, was coming soon. He had forgotten amidst the seemingly endless days of classes, work, sleep and repeat, but it nonetheless ventured forward, with or without his knowledge. No doubt, he thought, that his parents were working to find a way to celebrate, especially considering how Adoinis had finally gotten into the university he, and most importanly, they wanted for him, thus answering their prayers of sleepless nights.

As he veered back towards the silence, he thought back to the reason, and remembered that when the city fell silent, it was in remembrance of the departed souls who had died and reentered the cycle of rebirth, not being able to see the festival once again before departure. It was a time to honor the memory of loved ones, to reflect on mortality, purity, other religious stuff, and to pay homage to the divine gifts they had received. Adonis' heart tugged. He remembered how he knew that...from his Giagiá(Grandmother). The same one who seemed to spend her last remaining days last year praying for his entry into his university, only to depart before she could see his letter of acceptance.

It was her that made him sit through the countless temple teachings, it was her who seemed to be on watch for any immoral act he may do in her eyes, it was her who seemed to argue the most at Adonis' decision to become a member of the Kamíatelestía purists, calling it atheism in a purist blanket. All of this entered his mind sure...but he also remembered how she spent every couple of days helping out around the city. She was abused by others for her selfless nature but did it anyway, she didn't receive any award for any of this, but she did it. The neighborhood loved her, and he remembers how many showed to her funeral. He remembered the earliest days, as after the boring and seemingly useless temple teachings, she would cook up a dinner like no other for him, something to look forward to as the monks droned on. All of this he remembered, the good, the bad, the in between, and more.

He went out of his room and into the living room of his families apartment. In the corner lay the altar, for the ancestors, the saints, and the Purest, with each section becoming bigger and more decorated as they went up in holiness. He walked up and gazed at the photo of his grandmother sitting on the ancestor portion. So small and insignificant compared to the others, no doubt what she would have wanted in her last days, to be seen not as some photo, but remembered by her deeds. As he gazed at her, he slowly looked up at the image of the Purest that lay looking down at those who stood at the altar. There it stood, that body of a large red cloak with gold trimmings, with countless patterns etched across it, with a hand of darkness and a face to match looking out, seemingly hoping to reach whoever chose to stand before them.

Adonis remembers being a kid and feeling comforted by the Purest, that whenever things seemed scary or dark, a statue of that figure in his room seemed to make it all go away. He remembers showing his friends from overseas a picture of the Purest online, and being genuinely surprised when they said they were scared of it. He wondered at the time why a figure of darkness wrapped in a cloak of blood red would be scary to anyone. He smiled at the humor of that situation, understanding the image's reaction to those who didn't grow up staring at it as a God, or at least a representation of a higher truth, incarnate in a mortal perception of what is supposedly unknowable.

He knew that being of the school of Atheistic Purism, he was supposed to believe that the Purest is a philosophical truth, rejecting any divinity to the movement, but he couldn't bring himself to view the Purest of the other schools in the same light. How could he, a kid of the central rites school, believing in a God that represented all that was good, simply become some abstract concept of truth, immaterial as he is to the people of other or no faiths.

He stared on, and on, and on, and on...until he stared no longer. He picked up an incense stick from the jar near to him, unwrapping it and lighting its tip as he set in in the altar section for his ancestors. He knew that as someone of the school of no rites, he was supposed to know better then to honor a dead ancestor that couldn't receive him. And yet, he did, and he bowed his head down and clasped his hands as he stood before the altar.

He stood there, in silence, as the city joined him in the orchestra of no sounds nor instruments. Soon nothing but his thoughts were left, and soon they left as well. How long would he stand there before soon enough in the future, his own blood would take his place. Would he be honored as well? Should he be?

...he remembered the quote of the Patro Canon his grandmother loved to read him as he worried of the coming of the night. "Και είδες το σκοτάδι. Περπάτησες στη σκιά του. Εκεί στο τίποτα θα βρεις κάτι. Από τα βάθη του τίποτα δεν θα μείνει η αλήθεια. Και έτσι η αλήθεια έγινε αθάνατη, κι εσύ". And thou hast seen the darkness. Thou hast walked in its shade. There in the nothing shall you find something. From the depths of nothing shall truth remain. And so truth hath become deathless, and so hast thou.

Krozlnd
Ci arvannea
Texara
Empre of dabiristan
Atroha
Arvoenia
Nova valona
Illiriciu