The band of 3 sheep traversed the thick forest, filled with dark, towering trees and thorny bushes. If they could make it safely to the Astral River, they would be safe, having successfully crossed the border into Alexandria.

Flies, fleas, and mosquitoes proved to be the hardest challenge. The thin coat of freshly sheared wool proved no match for insects, who were able to bite with ease.

Blaaamaaa sighs.

"Can we like, take a breaaaaaaaahhhhhk?"

Blahgus mutters something under his breath and begins to walk faster out of spite.

Blehhh scoffs. These sheep. Always fighting with each other.

Blahgus suddenly screams. "Look out!"

The sheep all duck in a synchronised manner, barely doging the gray shape of matter that had been flung at their heads 100 kiloblahhs a baahour.

"Holy bahhh! That was close!"

Blahgus concurs.

"Luckily, thanks to MY greatness, we dodged the matter."

Blaaamaaa interjects.

"Uh guys?"

"MY greatness let us dodge that, all me, no thanks to Blaaamaaa or you Baro-Baro."

"GUYS!"

"whuh?- BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!"

A sort of ape-like creature with pointed ears emerges from the trees. It kind of looked like... an elf...

"Blaaamaaa, didn't you say the ear-apes are only in the land past the big water stream?"

"I did! This one must be defective."

Blahgus the Blahless suddenly starts running to the ear-ape at full-speed.

"NO BLAHGUS DON'T CHARGE!"

"Nah don't worry, I'm gonna get the ear-ape and knock her o-"

Suffice to say, Blahgus did not in fact knock her out.

The hot scorching sun beat down on the freshly trimmed wool of the sheep. They had to stay perfectly still, perfectly silent. Watching the ape make his rounds around the farm, they bode their time, waiting.

"Blahdamn, it's so blahhhhhhhhh in here"

"Blaaamaaa shut the blaaaaahhh up"

"Both of you, blsshshhhhh!"

Blehhh had to admit, Blaaamaaa was right. It was around 110 degrees blahrenheit and 43 degrees cumulus, easily the hottest day of blahmer.

"Oh, bloook! The ape is mooooooving!"

"Blaaamaaa why are you bleating like a blahhhhcking cow."

"Sorry."

The ape got onto his tall brown sheep and rode off towards the city.

"Now's our chance! Blah blah blah!"

Blahgus the Blahless charged the thin wooden fence at full speed.

CRASH!

The fence easily broke under the might of the blahless Blahgus.

"Let's blah!"

Despite the heat, they ran at full speed, past the horses, cows, chickens, and even the rabbits. Their goal? The luscious depths of the forest, where the trees provided the perfect cover to fully escape.

They hopped over one last fence, barreling towards the forest at full speed. Freedom. Liberty. Equality.

The era of the sheep had begun.

This story is set in the perspective of a straggler from Hartfield, currently in Vasara | This is the first piece of a Vasara subplot |

The Refugee

I stare at the wet soil in front of me, as crowds move past. The scent of fresh rain intermixed with smoke adorns Vasara Station. What it had come to.

The only remotely developed city in all of Eosara, and all because of what? A political feud? A feud that killed hundreds of people? It disgusts m-

"Move!"

I look up, my train of thought abruptly held to a standstill as I made my way to the entry booth.

"Identification."

I fumble in my pocket, reaching a shuddering hand containing an ID card to the inspections officer.

"Tal Mangrove, 19, Hartfield... Good news, son. You're eligible for special entry into Vasara. Now, you just have to..."

My anger suddenly dissipates. I was safe. Oh my Felis, I was safe! After all my work, and pain trying to make it to Vasara, I had finally - OH MY FELIS! I'm free!

"MANGROVE!"

I get pulled out of my thoughts.

"Whuh?"

"Why are you standing still? Collect your ID card and exit from Gate 3!"

"Oh, uh, yes, sorry"

I hear the officer muttering under his breath as my dirtied boots clack on the tiles of the train station.

As I take my place in the long line outside the gate, I notice a small boy in front of me trying to (and miserably failing to) inconspicuously stare at me. I tap his shoulder.

"Hey, what's your name?"

He looks at me with wide eyes.

"George."

Who would name a child such a shitty name like "George"? Not a normal name like Oog or Garggaattaaggraargaann, they just HAD to choose the worst name in Dorian history.

"Hi George! My name's Tal!"

No adult seems to have any interest in our conversation.

"Where are your parents?"

With an almost proud look, he says,

"I ran away."

He ran away?? Is it because they named him George?

Clearly the parents must've been really bad at parenting. And still, naming him George...

By his look I can tell prying further would probably be a bad idea.

We leave the gate, entering a wide courtyard. Trees surround the square, with paved roads in all four directions in the yard. A fountain in the middle splashes children playing, while tall men in suits walk with pipes. A crow caws, rejoining its murder as they soar away into the sky.

I had just began walking to the address on the slip of paper they had given me, when I suddenly stop. George wasn't walking with me. He was waiting in the courtyard - no slip, nothing. I quickly jog back to where he was.

"Where is your paper?"

"I don't know! Everyone else has one but I don't!"

I open my mouth to speak, but close it again.

No. Do not say what I think you're about to say.

NO.

Ah, fuck it.

"Do you want to stay with me?" I blurt out.

He looks taken aback, but also... relieved.

"Uh... yes, yes, if it is fine and if there's room and-"

I hold back a smile as I interrupt his tangent.

"Yes, there's room. Let's go!"

IJORHKUDNLKJH I CANT WRITE NATURAL DIALOGUE

This passage is from the perspective of a journalist for the Vasara Times. As opposed to delivering news on TV, news is given through booths where journalists perform live.

I sweat. This was my first time giving a live speech, and they chose me for this? One of the most partisan events in Vasaran history? I can almost hear my colleagues holding back laughter as they vote to put me on this.

Wisca finishes her report on the continued progress farms had achieved, with new acres of land being developed. As she walks down the steps, the director waves a red flag to me. The signal to start.

I enter onto the small stage, with a small crowd whispering urgently in front of me.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to Vasara Daily, the number one news outlet in all of Vasara! I'm Lytre, here to cover the two main candidates up for election!"

Scattered applause can be heard in the crowd.

"This is an exciting time for elections. For the first time in Vasaran history, the mayoral role has some executive powers, ever since the military mayor position established. But now that the former mayor Stop E. Minecraft has abdicated, there haven't been any elections."

I pause for a few seconds.

"Now, you may be asking, who even are these candidates?"

"Well, there are two candidates with their own respective blocs."

"Firstly is Pierre-Joseph Astyr. He is a mutualist and was a close associate of Stop E. Minecraft before his untimely leave. Among other goals, Astyr plans to reduce the power of the mayor and liberalise regulations on worker cooperatives."

Jeering and booing can be heard from the back of the spectators.

"And next..."

I swallow the bitter taste from my mouth.

"Next is Fela Rhine."

"Her goals are to modernise Vasara under the power of a strong executive and steady hand to lead development. Rhine does not identify with a specific ideology, but seems to have leadership styles similar to Leninism or Marxism."

Cheering erupts from the crowd. Rhine had managed to commander the popular support of almost all of Vasara, especially during these troubling times.

The red flag is waved again as I leave the stage.

Content warning: Heavy swearing

 

This passage is from the perspective of a Vasara United fan.

I angrily storm out of the stadium. Fuckin' pathetic really. Miney Winey and Kirk never stood a fuckin' chance. Oh my Felis, our team was so Wuhmdamn bad. In the distance I can hear a fellow Vasara fan screaming.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel you bro.

I angrily guzzle down half a litre of "coffee", aka commie hot fuckin' water with a singular bean in the entire god damn drink.

Holy shit, we suck.

I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!

Me too, man. Me too.

Next to me, a kid is sobbing uncontrollably. I would feel bad for him, but holy FUCK is he loud as hell.

Anyways.

Time to go watch a play or something.

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

(Useful stats: Excluding this sentence, this post has the word 'fuck' 10 times in it, 'shit' only one time, and uses religion's name in vain 5 times)

Don't worry - this is probably the only post in a while to use swearing a lot. Maybe light words might be dropped in the future accidentally but I'll try not to let that happen 😄

 

This passage is from the perspective of a Vasaran child (approximately 7-9 years old)

Dad calls from the pantry to the other rooms of the house.

"Dinner's ready!"

I sigh. More morsels of rice and a tiny serving of veggies.

"yayy.... I love dinner..."

Dad notices my attitude.

"Tabis, be grateful for what we have!"

I shrug him off with an unenthusiastic thanks. As my two brothers and I sit down on the table, we give a brief Amen to Lord Felis before eating. I quickly notice a different taste - there was pepper in it.

"Dad? We have pepper now?"

Dad grins.

"It took a while to save up for this!"

I smile, savouring every last bite of the small dish. Sure, compared to the Khaness of Tutum it's not much, but it's good enough.

As I eat, my mind begins to wander. Wandering to a world without rations or famine. A world where I could eat as much as I want, where I could stuff my face with chocolate fudge and candy. Where I could rock up to school once a week on my personal train.

Not one where I had to eat rice every day and was forced to go to the devil's lair 6 hours a day, 5 days a week.

After I finish my dinner and put it in the washing basin, I lie on my bed, staring at the roof of my small dirty bedroom. Dreaming. Hoping.

Believing.

This passage is from the perspective of a volunteer.

Rows and rows of green sprouts lay upon sprawling beds of soil. Gardeners shoo away sheep attempting to eat the crop. Our work was hard, even harder with what little food was left, but we were invigorated. Determined to finish this project, and restore food security.

No amount of work could stop the slowly dwindling rations in the city. Stores once plentiful with rice and grain were left barren. The joy of our victory against Atas had begun to fade,

Yet, we continued to work. Continued to plant crops and grain. Almost everyone had a small home garden by now, including me, helping contribute to a future prosperity.

As I sit on the deck of the Planting House (the main hub for volunteers to coordinate in our district), I smoke a cigarette. It took an arm and a leg to obtain it during these times.

One of the other volunteers, Alexis I think, came up to me.

"Hello."

"Howdy"

"It's a beautiful sunset, don't you think?"

I nod, staring out into the vibrant sky.

"What odds do you place on Vasara winning?"

I chuckle. Football seemed like such a far-away dream.

"100%?"

The sun makes its way back down, with only the tip remaining above the surface. As the bleating of sheep subsides, and crickets begin chirping, I feel a sense of calm.

Serenity.

This passage is from the perspective of a hiker looking down upon the city

Crowds swirl in the centre of Vasara. The victory over Atas had instilled confidence in the commune's people, even while undergoing harsh rations. The air of the city is filled with celebrations and trumpets.

There had been talk of constructing a giant stadium in Vasara. Of course, it would never happen - there was just simply not enough money - but nonetheless, even the possibility got the populace stirred up.

Vasara's newspapers had covered this historic occasion, and why wouldn't they? It was a proud day for the city.

A piece of newspaper flutters into the wind on the hill.

The newspaper clipping in question

Further out, near the outskirts of the commune, large green rectangles lay with wide strips of road alongside their 4 sides. Soon, these would be farming programs. Directives had continued, with volunteers almost doubling for the food effort. It would take a while to harvest, but it was well worth it.

Rice had been planted in many of these fields, as well as wheat and barley. Fruits and vegetables were being encouraged to be grown by citizens, with newspapers involved in the effort to make it a "next big thing".

As the hiker watches the sun slowly set into the horizon, the crowds begin to go home, and the volunteers start packing up and heading back to the city, it seems that the problems of the world, whether famine or the Republic on the brink of civil war, were distant.

For now Vasara had achieved victory.

Volunteers swarm the outskirts of Vasara, planting seeds in the fertile soil. Stop E.M directs them, hoping to reap the seeds we sowed, eventually, one day.

A metal phoenix hangs from the gates. Renewal. Sprouting from the darkness of ashes.

Maybe these are the seedlings of change we've been waiting for. Enduring the hardships of today for the Vasarans of tomorrow.

The rationing was harsh, but it was needed to maintain a steady food supply - for now.

(OORP: This is just a very short introduction to the farmbuilding, more will come)