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MidReal Story
The Diplomat's Alliance
Scenario:Rapeblic is a flag from Kazakmacedino his is friend of Kazakmacedino
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Gus
Kazakmacedino
male, often sought by sea creatures for advice, known for his deep violet eyes and vibrant, ever-changing patterns, gentle yet firm in his guidance, he spearheads an underwater alliance to protect the ocean's treasures from pollution and exploitation, his closest ally is Maris, a clever seahorse with whom he shares a bond over their shared mission.
Rapeblic
I am Rapeblic, the flag from Kazakmacedino.
Kazakmacedino is my nation, my home.
I am here to meet my friend and ally, Kazakmacedino from… well, from the nation next to mine.
We are gathered in this grand hall for a peace summit.
As I enter the hall, I see banners of many nations on display.
But the most prominent one is the blue flag with the shield in the center.
This is the flag of our host nation.
The blue background symbolizes loyalty and truth.
The white shield in the center contains three symbols: a hammer and sickle in yellow, a red quill, and branches of laurel.
These represent the working class, the law and its makers, and the victories of the nation.
I am dressed in my finest attire: a red hat, a red jacket with yellow trim, a white shirt, a red sash tied around my waist, a pair of black pants, and black shoes.
My sash has the colors of our flag: red with yellow and white.
I carry my nation's flag with me always.
It has a red background with a yellow sun in the middle and a white crescent moon with three stars around it.
The sun has 32 rays.
I move through the hall, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
The hall is filled with delegates from various nations, gathered in clusters, discussing matters of state.
I weave between them, my flag held high.
The fabric of the flag swishes softly as I move.
Ahead of me, I see the familiar form of Kazakmacedino.
His scales are a deep blue, almost indigo.
But as he notices me, they shift to a lighter purple, a color that represents welcome and friendship.
The other representatives part ways, creating a clear path between us.
I adjust my red hat and straighten my jacket, making sure I look presentable for this meeting of nations.
With measured steps, I close the distance between us.
I pause for a moment to smooth out my jacket one last time before continuing.
The marble floor echoes with each step of my polished boots.
Other delegates fall silent, watching our reunion with interest.
My flag ripples softly in the air circulation of the hall as I hold it at a respectful angle.
Kazakmacedino's scales continue their mesmerizing color shift, now taking on hints of gold that match the trim of my uniform.
His violet eyes meet mine with recognition.
In that moment, the weight of our shared history and future rests silently between us.
I take one more step, my boots clicking against the marble floor, when suddenly, I freeze mid-stride.
The shadows on the floor seem to shift and twist in ways that defy their source.
The chandeliers above us dim unexpectedly, casting an air of uncertainty over the gathered delegates.
My grip tightens on the pole of my flag as the first whispers of unease ripple through the crowd.
A low hum builds in the ancient electrical system of the grand hall, growing louder until it drowns out the murmurs of diplomatic conversation.
Kazakmacedino's scales darken to a deep indigo, reflecting his growing concern.
The security guards at the doorways exchange tense glances, their hands moving to rest on the grips of their weapons.
As the darkness deepens, I stand frozen in place.
The humming grows more intense, vibrating through the pole of my flag and into my hands.
The other delegates back away, creating a circle of empty space around us.
Despite the escalating tension, Kazakmacedino's movement is calm and deliberate.
His scales ripple with waves of deep purple and gold as he takes a step forward.
He reaches out a hand, his fin brushing against the hand that holds my flag pole.
A sudden rush of heat travels up my arm from that point of contact, causing my grip on the flag pole to tighten reflexively.
"Kazakmacedino, what is happening?" I ask, my voice barely audible over the hum.
He leans closer, his voice a low rumble, "The prophecy is unfolding sooner than we anticipated."
I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling in, "Then we must act quickly to prevent the chaos it foretells."
