Regndropi's Story

"And it looks like both of our delegates have assumed their positions at the podium!" Tom announced, "the moderator will now step forward and formally commence the debates."

It was at that moment that a cloaked man rose from the throngs of northerners. Those around him looked up at the gaunt figure as if they were only now aware that he had been among them at all. He walked slowly through the crowds, up the stairs to the stage, his knees audibly cracking with each step. He stood between the two podiums, wrinkled hands drawing back a linen hood to reveal an old man with hair as clean and white as fresh snow. Any true-blooded northerner would know who this man was: the Seer of the North, the Frozen Wanderer, Regndropi.

"Kveðjur, vinir," he hailed both of the candidates, bowing slightly at the waist, "Olafson. Brice-Drengr." He turned slowly to the crowds behind and held up his hands. He was as salty and ancient as an old sea turtle, but did not, even for a moment, give an impression of frailty. Every movement, albeit slow, was direct and firm. Despite his smallish stature and physique, he stood with shoulder squared and chest barreled.

"Hail, Northerners!" his oiled-leather voice carried through the marketplace well. The crowds offered a hearty 'Hail!' in return. Glasses clinked. Meaty hands slapped wooden tables.

"I am your humble word-keeper today, the vörsluaðili of these debates! Before I turn and ask my questions of these men behind me, I speak to you, men and women of the north. I beg you keep an open mind these next few hours, to rid yourselves of bias and prejudice, to hear the words and philosophies of your native sons with tempered ears and placid hearts." He lowered his hands. "Lokið... enough of this. My voice grows weary."

He turned back to the two candidates. "You two know how this works. I will present a question. You will each have a turn to answer without interruption in the order in which you arrived. Olafson shall respond first, followed by Brice-Drengr. Once you've both answered, there will be a chance to openly-debate one another and challenge each other's views. There is no speaking order or set time-limit on this. You can go back and forth debating to your hearts' content. When I deem the topic exhausted or appropriately answered, I will stop the argument and move on to the next question." He held up a finger. "But of course, you two are not the only ones here tonight that must be examined. Your nation has demanded you take secretaries, aðstoðarfólk, assistants who are both your aids, advisers, running-mates, organizers and councilmen. They will have power if elected, and as such, must be questioned to see what they will do with such power. I will periodically ask questions of your secretaries as well." His sparkling grey eyes narrowed. "Now then. Let's begin."

Drawing a deep breath, Regndropi proceeded with the first question.

"For generations," he began, "the northern cities and tribes have been, for the most part, isolated from the rest of Aslund. Trade comes and goes and the Patronus help where they are needed, but the people of the north have always been self-sufficient and independent." His frazzled brows wrinkled. "So I ask you, men of the north, is this isolationism and solitude good? Should the north take a more active role in assisting the rest of Terra? Or are we better off proceeding as we have been, strong unto ourselves?"

Sigurd took his seat in his appropriate chair, pulling his the chair to his left for his secretary, much to the chagrin of the person already sitting there. Sigurd begun opening his mouth to answer before noticing that his rival had indeed made his way into the square.

Late, but he'd turned it his way, Sigurd would have to figure out how to do that, he'd need a few gallons of that lucky whiskey.

The warrior knew of the frozen wanderer, he had been in stories that had amazed the younger Sigurd and driven him to push himself towards the path he was on now. Sigurd moved to enter the discussion again, but something caught his eye in the tarps. There was a pair of eyes watching there, there were lots of guards and warriors here, so a sniper or assassin would have to try a little harder to remain concealed.

Sigurd winked at the pair of eyes, it had given him an idea too. Sigurd would wait for Brice to make the first speech.

Franklin gave a glance to Sigurd, noticing he had no intention of moving, and shrugged. He gave a nod to Nina before standing and patting his chest for a second to smooth his appearance. He looked to the Seer and lowered his head slightly, showing the great legend the respect he had earned from all of Windcrest. When he picked up his head, Brice looked out over the crowd, letting his eyes go out of focus over the mass of bodies.

"Windcrest's and the rest of North Aslund's Isolationism has been a grace to this land. It has kept us strong, and prideful. United are the people of the North in our accomplishments against the nature of the very land we choose to inhabit. And thus I can not deny the proof that our solitude has been a factor in our prosperity...."

He paused, letting his hands slip behind his back and placed the back of his left into the palm of his right.

"But the question is not whether or not our being Isolationist is a good thing, but rather, can we even consider ourselves Isolationist any more. Do we not have the refugees of the southern lands amongst us? Did we not recently endure the unprovoked attacks of the sociopaths that tend to gravitate to the south? True it may be that we have dealt with these incidents, showing the strength of our people, but can the families of those considered casualties say the same? Is not one Northern loss too much? I do not propose that we break our solidarity, but rather, we prepare ourselves for when the rest of the world breaks it for us."

"Mmh," Regndropi nodded as Brice finished, his voice a murmuring grumble. He looked quickly to Sigurd, his sharp eyes as hard and cold as midwinter ice.

"Olafson!" his voice boomed, "since you've seen fit to go out of turn, perhaps you'd now like to tell us what you think of my question?"

Sigurd stood up, clearing his throat with a booming cough and removing his helmet, throwing it with a loud clang onto the table in front of him. He'd made his point that he would chose the time to talk, and not the other way around, his stubbornness was leagues ahead of that of the most stalwart of goats.

Sarangerel had called him a goat once, that had been an apt name.

"You think we want to get involved in the chaos of the other towns? No. We've stood as a people strong against the tide of invaders, monsters and soldiers for how long now?" Sigurd raised his broad shoulders in a questioning shrug.

"Not just that, but we are far from cowards who stand by when others suffer! How many people have we allowed to live here since the founding?" Another a shrug and the Sigurd's voice only got louder and more aggressive. The spite of the man known as Franklin Brice trying to trick him with those... political words.

"I wouldn't be the man I am today if we were truly isolationist. It is a far cry to accept those people trying to escape those troubles than going to go find those troubles in the other cities, it's why most of you are here! To escape the chaos." Sigurd's veins pulsed as he felt the urge to break something.

"We are like... A ROCK! We have weathered the elements time and time again and it only makes us stronger. A VERY STRONG ROCK." Sigurd finished, clearing his throat again and sitting back down his chair and thumping his fists against the table.

It was better than calling the town a goat.

"You tell him Olafson!" a child's voice called out from his hiding place overhead.

The lad's words drew a few laughs from those gathered before one of the more responsible among the Le'thorian Knights rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the child.

"Get him down from there, before he gets himself hurt," he said.

As a couple of the Knights moved towards the entrance to retrieve the child from the building top, the lad's face disappeared from view with a groan as he began his climb back down towards the street outside, and likely into the hands of an escort back to the orphanage.

Meanwhile back inside Olaf frowned thoughtfully at Franklin's response. Some of it held merit, but he couldn't rightly make sense of his declarations of Isolationism. Others were exchanging perplexed looks as well. Windcrest may be self-sufficient and independent, but their 'isolation' was a matter of circumstance. The rest of the world didn't pay them much mind up here, but they themselves were far from isolationists as was well proven by the large quantity races, and cultural ethnic groups from all across Terra that made their home in the north - especially in Windcrest. There was even an Aschen Admiral seated beside him that spoke further of their openess to outsiders.

And when the TNG had formed, they had thrown their lot in with the national government rather than choosing to remain independent as the Shintenchi nations had. Relations between northern Aslund and the TNG weren't exactly stellar, but that had little to do with isiolationism and more to do with the rest of Terra not really giving a right care about anything that goes on up here.

No, they were a proud lot, but they weren't isolationists, nor had they ever been. Anyone who made their home in Windcrest was absorbed and adopted into the culture just the same as those native born. If anything, he would go so far as to say that it was the southerners who sought to exclude the north, rather than the north who sought to isolate itself from the rest of the TNG.

He grunted gruffly.

Redngropi made no expression that would give the impression he favored either response. He was carefully reserved and guarded. Once both candidates had made their statements and seeing how neither interjected to directly counter the other's argument, he continued with the next question.

"My next question concerns not only the North," he began, "but Terra as a whole. This planet has experienced continuing immigration and expansion from foreign populaces. Long has Terra held its arms open wide towards those from other planets, galaxies and nations. The TNG's immigration policy is lax and simple. Getting in and out of the planet is incredibly easy compared to other intergalactic factions. This mindset is a curious contradiction from Terra's foreign policy, a doctrine that increasingly favors isolationism and independence from foreign powers. Given the great struggle that this planet has seen in the past in her bouts with the Aschen, the Taiyou, the Belkans and the Cybrans, the politicians of this world seem to be constantly drawing inward, refusing foreign aid and alien presence on her soil as often as they can." He looked between them cautiously. "So my question is this: Why is Terra's immigration policy such a contrast from its foreign policy, and do you agree with it as it stands now? Should things be changed?"

"I've publicly stated on multiple occasions that I believe in Xeno-equality, that is to treat anyone from any other planet with respect and fairness, with few exceptions for those that have earned a reason to be treated otherwise." Brice stated, pausing for a moment to allow the point to be made. Their was a certain and very specific group that he was addressing in the second half of his statement, however it was up to the people to interpret just who that was.

"It might be a bit hypocritical, I admit, but we do not live in a perfect, happy-go-lucky universe, and there are exceptions to every rule. But I haven't yet addressed foreign policy, and I'll get to that right now;"

Another pause as he looked out over the crowd. He wondered just what kind of opinion was forming about him, not only as a politician, but as a man from Windcrest. He knew better than anyone that many of his views challenged the deep rooted tradition he was raised in, and he had no doubt that made him an easy target.

"I believe that before we begin to do things like sending aid to other planets, establishing diplomatic relationships, or other such endeavors, the TNG as a whole needs to be strengthened, centralized, and focused. As of this moment there are several issues on a domestic scale that must be given priority as is our responsibility to the citizens that we represent."

Nina stood from her seat, coming to stand next to Franklin as he finished speaking. She looked out over the crowd, clearing her throat before leaning over to Franklin. "I just need to say a few words." She told him, bringing her full attention back to the crowd.

"I am an immigrant to Terra, I originally came here with the Invictus and like many of my comrades I've decided to make this place my home because I feel it has potential to get better." Nina said, "That brings me to the point I'm trying to make. Where I am from originally, Serbia, we didn't have that potential."

"We have a saying in Serbia that I think will help you all understand why we need a more unified Terra with stronger foreign policy." Nina paused, glancing down at her feet. When she lifted her head she spoke with what might be seen as disappointment. "A Serb's worst enemy is his fellow Serb. Backstabbing and blood feuds over minor ethnic differences or the archaic notion of a family's honor has destroyed my people time and time again. It's left us vulnerable to invaders and the corrupt." Nina said to the people of the north.

"My family left Yugoslavia, Serbia, because we were watching our people implode. It wasn't home. Terra won't be home for any of us if we allow it to happen here. I personally don't want to see the future generations raised around constant hate and violence towards their own." She said, puasing yet again.

"You, the people of the north who are not unlike my own people in many ways, set an example for the rest of the planet. Show them that together we can not be moved, but broken into smaller, lighter pieces we can be scattered. I have faith that you'll vote for the right man."

Nagala slowly leaned over to Amund, and scowled slightly.

"This is a frakking joke." She whispered before she moved to bring her attention back to Brice, scribbling a few errant notes in Anquietas before she turned back to Amund.

"Exceptions to equality' is not wise foreign policy. it's liable to get the government discredited and pave the road to another war." She added, scribbling a few more notes down.

"Personally I think this entire campaign has been a charade." She added. Staring emerald green daggers up at Franklin, subtly daring him to add another quip about the Empire.

Amund let out a rumbling chuckle at Nagala's ire.

"Might be that it is. We never have had much of a need for the TNG up here in the north," he replied back. "I never had a taste for politics myself, but the TNG says we need to hold elections, so we hold elections."

"I don't expect that one will be winning over many of the natives though," he added.