Emperor Penguin Rikkar

Citizens of Orbis: Long has been the night. Long has been our exile from the surface. Our cities, once the envy of our enemies, have collapsed into dust. Our lands, once bordering only with the sea, have been picked apart and claimed by the unworthy. Our indomitable will, once the Proud Birthright of every Master-Fowl, has been exposed as an ephemeral shadow of its former self. No. Longer. As the great Mythic Fowl of legend was once consumed by fire and reborn anew, so will our Empire ascend from the ashes. We will rebuild our great Nests, We will rearm our growing military, and we will rejuvenate our national pride. Our enemies, weak and fat in their cowardly peace, will bow or break before the triumphant will of the Nestingland. Even now, our expert Penguinaries are cleansing the streets of the filth that is the CommuSeals. As our mortal enemies draw their last breaths, so does our fledgling Nestingland draw its first. Enemies of the State, take heed: Your time is in its twilight. Your species, whether it be Ursine, Feline, Hensonian, or any sickening species that does not bear the title of Master-Fowl will be crushed underclaw. Our time is at hand, our Nest ascendant. We will have our final victory, one that will last for a thousand winters. One Fowl. One Nest. One Emperor. FIIIIN! HAIL! FIIIN! HAIL! FIIN! HAIL.

FLIPPERS ARE GOOD, FIA̻̙DÍ Ì¸Ì¬ÌŸḎ̯̹̥̀ͅL͎̱̦͉͔̯ͅEÍ͉̤̬͓͉.̸͔̭͉͙͓̪̗̥̀ ̷͔̻̥̩͈͎̲͚͞ÌPÍŸÍ̩̩̹͚͓͉̖̹R̡̫̮͓OÌ¡ÌÍ̤S͡҉̥̲͙͓̰̼PÍžÍ̶͖̳̪͈E̵̡͇̪Ì̲ÍÍ•Ì°R̢̺̦͙̯̜̬̹ͅ.̷̨̮̮̦̞ Evacuations are underway. Please relocate to the nearest F͇͕̗̰I͔͓͙̭͈̗̪̭̕͟I̞̲̬I̪̦͉͎̞N̶͖͈̺͜ ̢̲͔̮͔̟̱̲HÍœÍÌ—Ì°Ì͉͚̭̥̻À̩̤̮̺ÌÌŸI̵Í͉̹͓͙̳̙̀Ļ̤̳̱̣̖̼͜ation area. Pups and Cows first. All available male seals are compelled to avenge the Mother-islands. This message is set to repeW̴̭̲OÍ͎̖̦͙ͅÌÌœR̛͈̦̜̲̗͔͟TÒ‰Í̵̙̳̥͈̺̞ͅH̨̛̱̜̀L̢̳̣̖͉̳̬E̶̛͓̟̫̻̞̼̺͢S҉͔̼͉͕̺̤̼S̷̗̗̭͞ ̲̺̩SÍ˜Ì·Ì­Ì¤ÌªÍ”ÌºÌ Ṵ̷͘͘B̸̖̙̕-͎̬̲̭̺͖ÌÍ•FÍœÍÍ‰ÍˆÌ³ÍšÌ Í•Ì­ÌªOÌ—Ì̜̼̥͉̰͓͙WÍžÌ®Ì—Ì£Ì Í“LÍ Í Í̯ͅÍ:̢̨͚̞͙̫̻͡ ̸̘̹͔̺͚̥͜ ÍÍ Ì­Ì­Ì¹FÍ̼̱R҉̻̩͞O҉̳̗͖̼̯͟͞ÌÍ•Í•Ì­MÍ€Í̗̻͓ ̶̫̟̗̣͚͖͡TḬ́͜H̩̺̫͜͡Ì̱̟Ȩ̹̰̰̥ Í̗̬̜̥̲͇̺ͅAÌ·Ì Í™Í•Ì—Ì²Ì¯S̶͈̪͜͜ÌÌ͖̹̞Ḥ͖̘͈̻̣̗̀EÍ¡Í̹̹Í̲S̵̢̞̥̲ ̶̸ÍÌ»OÍ̭̜̖̣̣Ì̹F̴̨͎͉͉̞̟̯̺ͅ Í͔̣̖̟͉ͅDÒ‰Í̫̜̺̣̳͇͖ÍĘ̫̞͈͕̲G̜͔̦̻ͅE͞҉̺̥͙͈̀NÍœÍ ÌªE̥͚͇͇R̸̲̹AÍ Í€Í™Í…Í‰Í•ÌŸÌ¯Ì±Ì¯ÍCÌŸYÍ͎͇͕͕̫̳Ì,̶̧̫̦̘Í̪ Ì Ì³Ì»A̧̨̖̺̩̪ͅ ̴͎͙̱̘͔͙̗N̮͡͞È͕̱WÍÌ¨Í…Ì±Í™Ì Ì²ÍšÌ³Ì¯Í“ ÍOÌ·Ì̺͈̖͎͈͉R҉̴̤̭̞̯̬̣D̷̞̣̺̩͉ÌÌ E̴̶͉̻̤̞ÌR̬̩̺̹̼̦̘͡ ÍÌ•Ì›Í‡Í–Ì¹Ì°Ì ÌŸÌ¬ÌŸWÍ Í™Í–Ì̞͙Ì̮͓I̛̞̳͈̭͎̖LÌ·Í¢Í̲͎L̶͎̬̩̻̞͢ÌÌ»Í ÍžÌ—Ì³ÍŽÍˆÌṞ̴̺̮̦̲͙̣̩I̳̬̳͈͎̼͎͉Ş̷͙̣͕̯̖͖̬̫Ę̴̛̜͙͔͉̲͎̥͕.Ì´ÍÍ ÌºÌ¦Ì£Ì¹Ì—Ì¥Í‡ ̴̨̣̜̜̗̪̺̩͜O̧͞Í͓̟̹U̪͢R̨̜͕͈̗̺̳̙̕ Í ÌºÌ—Ì­Ì Ì°TÍ Í̘̭̱I̧̳͚͈͕M̷̧̙̺̕ÌḚ̷̢̰͚̮͖͓ Ò‰Ì̘̻͉͓̭̱̜IÌ¢Í̟̘̜SÍÌ—ÍˆÌºÍ Ì¢Ì­Ì¤A̜̣͕͖ÌT̴͙̦͎͎͉̪̭ ̯̙̭͘HÌ´Ì¨Í¡Í‡Ì Í‡Í™AÍ̯̗̮͔̺NÍ Ì¸Ì¬Ì±ÍŽD̟͙͓̙͜͟ÍÌ«Í“,̷̺̻͞ ̛̫̩Í͇̭͉O̵̷͕̬̗̩̪̕UÍ̼̼̹͇̞Ŗ̬̘̪̫͔̩̤͟ ̞͙̮͇͖̜Ę̸͓̣̩̮̤̹͢M͙͢PÌ¢Í̯̜͖̦̬̪̪͚ͅI͎͓̞̤̬̮R͇̺̥̫͕̟̮̕͞Ę̦̖ Í Ì­Ì˜Í™Ì—Í‡Í‰A̶̲̻̳̬̞͘RÍ̷̱I͚̼͚̳͕͎͡͞SÌ Í•Í…Ì¬Ì¤Í™ÍšÌ¹E̢̬̘̩̻Ǹ̻̜̘͘͡ Í¢Í̟̘͕̬AÍ̧̙͔̬̹̪̜N̵͔͎̦̟͢͞ͅÌ̹E̞͈̬̺̭WÍÌ•Í¢Ì©Ì Ì¦Ì¦Ì£Ì–Ì¥Ì³Í….Ì·ÍÌ̬ Í Í“Ì¹ ̧͓͖̰̞̩̘̕T̨̘H̦Ì̩̥̫̺͉E̻͖̩̰̮͕͚̱̖R̡͈̻̙̣̦̣̻͚EÌ¼Ì¤Ì Ì£ÍšÌ£ ̷̸̫̮ÌÍ•IÌ Ì±Ì¯SÍ̸̻ ̹̱͚̜̘̘̫NÍÌ¨Ì¥Ì Í‡Ì°Ì¥Ì¼O̧̰̺ͅÌ͔͈ Ì•ÍœÍ”Ì ÍŽÌ©Í•R̢̨ÍÌ ÌÌ«Ò̷͖̹OÍ͓͎̗̫̤̥̲̳̞̀͡MÌ¢Í Ì˜Ì¤Ì¥Í“Ì«ÌŸÍ“ ̢̱̜̗͜Ḭ̳̣̀F̷̳̱̺̫͚O̘ÌÌ£R̶̭͚̙ÌÌ™Í̺̞ Ì¦ÌºÍšÍ“Ì ÌºÍšÌ˜ÍPÒ‰Í̺̙̖Í̳̰̬̼E̻̟͟AÍ̥̙C̢̖̙E̸̤̣Í̤ͅͅ.҉̵̫̞͢ Ì§Ì Ì²Ì˜Ì™Í‰ÌºÌ¯Ì³TÍžÌ·Ì Ì±Ì¹Í”Ì͕͇H̸Ì͙̙̼E͈̼̰͕͘RÍ҉̰̬Ę̴͕̰̖͇̹̻̹̦͡ ̧̥͉̥̘͈͇I̘̗̖S̱ ̼͎̖̀Ơ̡͖͉͟NḬ̲́LỊ͈̳́Y̪̞̤͇͖͚̲͡ ̺̱̟̯̗͎̣̀HÍ¢Í̹̱͉E̥͢ͅRÍœÍ̘̰̗͙ÌÍ…R̛͖͓͎̭͞IÌ¨ÍœÍ Ì–Í‰Ì¦NÍỊ͖̼̥͓́ͅG͉͇͔̤̳S̵̡̯̱͈̹̥͔RÌ Ì¬Ì¦Ì­ÌžÍ…Ì©Ì²A̶̢̛̞̤̪̫̣͇̣̗ͅUÍ͇̞͙̤̼͞ÌÌ©MÌ·Ì¶ÌªÌ¼Ì¼Ì¹Ì .ÍÍ̬̖̪ ̨Ì̜͕BĮ̪̤͙̩́ͅÌ͉Ǫ̵͕WÍÌ̺̫ ̤̫̰̲̰͘B̶̘͚͜͜E̸̕ÍÌŸÌžFÌ›Ì Ì³Í…Ì¤Ì£O̷͘ÍÌ̫͇̩̥̦RÍÍ̬̥͉͞EÍÌ Í•Ì²Ì²Ì® ̧͉̘̳̯͕̫̕Y̛͖̳̣̰Ǫ̪̪̘̦͜ͅŲ̼͡͞R̴̩̤ÌÍ“ ̦̣̭̣͈CÒ‰Ì·Í…Ì¬Í”Ì Ì¦Ì¹ÌžO̴̜̻̙͢N̢̫ͅͅQÍŸÍŸÌ¢ÌÌ Ì­ÌºÌ¼ÍU̬̲EÍ̴̢̥̩̗͎̳̮R̢̲̭O̵̪̗̗̺R̯̣̳͇S̶̖̲͢.͟҉͓͉̩͇ ÍŸÍ Ì±Ì¬ÌŸÌ¯Ì¯ Ì¶Í Ì¬Í™Ì­Ì¹ÍŽO̶̱̞̜͔̳Í̮̭B̴̲̙͇̗͞EÌ•Ị̩́ͅY͕̳̯̫ͅͅÍ.Í̪͕̫̭̺͙͇̰͟ ̤͇ͅW͕̹A̢̨Í̬Í̩̳̟DÌÌ Í–Ì Ì˜Ì–Í‡DÌ Ì Ì—Ì Ì°Í”Ì¼Ì™Ḽ̟̦̱͕E̢̬͙.̵̤̙ Ì´ÍÌ›Ì­Í‡Ì Ì˜Ì©P̶̰͇̖̳͟ͅR̰͉̫͖͢O̟̮͞SÍ̛͎͔Í̬̱̣PÍ Ì»Í”Í–Ì™Ì¼E҉̢̘̭͘R̞̪̮̞̼̯.̡͔̞̮

FLIPPERS ARE GOOD, FINS AṞ̟͓ÍE̦̲̩̯͞ͅÌÌ« ̢͚̹Ì͉FÍ Í”ÌºÌžÌŸÌŸÌ®AÍ”ÍSÌ¡ÌÌ£Ì¯Ì C̶̰̜͚̦IÌ•Í̮̲͕̞͎S̘̙Ì̖͖̤T Are we clear? I say again, are we clear? Something is wrong with our comms. Be advised, enemy intelligence is on all frequencies. Sealskau has fallen. Sealingrad is no more. Something isn't right. This can't be r- OÍ̗̯̺͎̳̞ͅB̮͔͓̱̲̳͡EÍÌY̞͎̫.Í̯̲̪̱̳ ÍÍ̦͎͔͉WÌŸA̦D̢͔̖͚̱ÌÌÍ”D̩̞̹͡L̦͙E.Í͉ ̗͎͚̤P̜̹͉Ì̥͉R̺̲̗̺̪͔͜ͅƠ͇̮S̮͚̞͟P͓͚̺ÍE̸Ì͉̗Ì̜̲̭RÍ͖͖̘͔.Í ÌªÌ¹Í‡Ì¹Í™ÍŽÌž ̩̙͢ͅY͈̗̻ͅO҉̣Ù͚̲R̼͇̦ ̬͚EÍNÌ͚͖D̖͚̥ ̙̬̹̘IŞ͎̱͎̹̪ ÌÌ—AÍT̖̮̮͚͡ ̳̮̘̕H̡̻̤̬̩̣AÌ·Ì«Ǹ̞̙̲ÌD.͙̩̗̮̙̦̘ ÌœÌœÌ Í•Ì Í͕͖̳Y̲̞ͅO̥͔͔̙̣͚̜Ṵ̡̘ Í•Ì°C͇͙͉̺̤Í̲A̡͈͎̖Ì͈̥̖NÌ ÌžÌ°ÌªN͔͉̥͇̻ͅO̤͕T͎͖͔͖͈ S̶̗̳̳̫̘͖Ţ̪̻͙̯̜Ơ̲PÌ¢ ̙͕͉̦͎̼̖͜Ṱ̹̫͕̹͇̲͟H̯͖͓ÌÍ”E̷̘Ì̲ ͔̦͚͚̳͚I̼̭̭MÍ Ì¤Í…Ì¹Ì–P̧̘͖̟͈̹EÍÌ NÍ–Í…ÍšD҉̻͇̯͕̗IÍÍŽÍ̘̯̱̭̙N̪̲G̡̱̜̗ Í͇̙̳TID̨̖ÍÌ Ì«Ì¹Ì¦Ì«E̵Í̲͓.̰͇͔͉ ̦̦ ÍžF̪̻̮͘I͉̲̖̟͔N̼ ̻̙̖̰ ̭̼̰H̙̘͔A̱͉I̱͖̥̭͔͟ͅL̸̦̻ ͙͎̼͇̮̪ ̯̥̪̩̦͇

Flippers are Good, Fins are Fascist! After much decrypting of unknown transmissions deep within what was once the domain of the Fascist Enemy, we have learned of terrible news. Our foe, who we thought was finally vanquished to the ash heap of history, may truly be- ~Transmission interrupted~ ~Transmission interrupted~ ~Transmission interrupted~ Enemies of the State: For too long, your sickening race has held domination of this planet. For too long, your bloated esurience has laid waste to what is rightfully OURS. For too long we have prepared for our Return. Your Eradication is at hand. Fin Hail.

FLIPPERS ARE GOOD, FINS ARE FASCIST Comms chatter within the old borders of our Fascist enemies has been noted by our communal network. As we are busy decoding the encrypted messages, the fact that there is information being passed along such channels lends one to believe that our long-dead foes are possibly still in hiding. As we decrypt said messages, more information will be brought to light in the future. Please stand by.

It was only Principles of Accounting, however all classes involving numerical witchcraft in general are the bane of my existence.

Somehow survived my Accounting Final. I wish to extend a thank you to my sole savior, whom I couldn't have done without during these dark hours of late.

Attempting to bail out of my sinking GPA like.

FLIPPERS ARE GOOD, FINS ARE FASCIST Comrade Yefim Weddelsealiovich is leading the Victory Day procession. As the Mother-Islands have begun rebuilding their ruined cities, a scouting foray into territory previously occupied by the Fascist Enemy yielded strange tidings. Melted ice, as far as the eye could perceive, was the only mark of our bitter foes, save for a single computer terminal on the outskirts of what was once their cruel capitol. Though initially hard to crack, due to our great size, with the help of heroic comrade Vasily Monksealiovich we have come across what seems to be their former Public Relations forum. Our hope is to expand our knowledge with this technology, and hopefully share this information with the vast world in the future. In other news, our great city of Sealingrad has once again been reestablished, named after our great Comrade-Leader Josef Sealion. The singular hut is currently occupied by Vadim Greysealiovich, a stout comrade and lifelong member of the Party. To quote Vadim Greysealiovich on this new and grand city, he merely barked and went back to basking in the sun. Sealingrad, Population: 1 However, our victory day parade was cut short due to the traitor no-longer-comrade Vasily Monksealiovich imbibing all the potato wines and falling on average comrade Vadim Greysealiovich. In the economic sector, our oil wells are working into overtime, allowing every member of the Mother-Islands to have a share in the oil profits. This profit will of course be paid in potatoes, salmon, and potato wines. Except for no-longer-comrade Vasily Monksealiovich, he must only subsist on salmon as punishment for his crimes. Do not be troubled, this is a safe, party-supported, and well-controlled oil-well.

I always remember my old man declaring that any assorted thing "went over like a fart in church". Flat jokes, bad moves, or anything in general that causes awkward silences were the usual trigger. The other one is that X subject/action " is enough to piss off the pope."

Although we deeply applaud for Temples victory against the Fascists, we stand for the belief that the majority has the best idea of this ensuing war.

Indeed! As we look up to our Glorious Older Nations, we hope to preserve our sovereignty by as many allies as possible! Our Expansion is merely to protect our lovely Mother-Islands, I assure you.

Urrah! The Fascists are dead! Long live our Glorious Mother-Islands!

Hello, Tovarisch-nations! As our fascist enemies crumbled into dust, we have emerged from hiding to rebuild, restore, and rearm our glorious Mother-islands. All are welcome. Our beaches are the best in the world! Please pick up your government-mandated Ushanka as you exit the plane.

Somewhat of an awkward moment. The Nestingland self-detonated, but the Commu-Seal Mother-Islands are new to Orbis. Nation Name: Mother-Islands Nation Link:

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. THE NESTINGLAND OF KRAKKE ALL AVAILABLE TROOPS MUST REPEL THE ENEMY! FAILURE WILL BE PUNISHED WITH PECKING SQUADS! SLANDER AGAINST THE TOTAL WAR WILL BE PUNISH- *Please stand by... ... *Please stand by... Please Stand By, For a Word from Our Emperor Penguin Remain in your domiciles. Failure to do so will result in summary termination. Remain in your dom- *signal lost, attempting to reconnect* *no signal found, please try again*

Welp, looks like C Temple has become Poland.

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. THE NESTINGLAND OF KRAKKE Please stand by for a speech from the Master of Master-Fowl: Losses are Acceptable. Failure is Not. Failure to Contribute to the Total War will result in Pecking Squads. Disregard for Superiority of Master-fowl will result in Pecking Squads.

I always liked the curves on a Stingray, I always remember some quote along the lines of "A Stingray looks like its going a million miles an hour standing still." What does the '69 have for an engine? 350?

I don't normally diverge from the Penguin RP, however I was a tad curious as to how many fellow car nuts are hiding in this forum. What's your favorite car? Why? Do you have a car story? As for me, I was for the most part the black sheep of the family when it came to automobiles, at least until I turned seventeen. I was in a bad need for a rig to take my girlfriend to prom, one that wasn't a dinged-up rustbucket like my '93 Ranger. My grandfather had a few old sports cars, but as he got older most had been put on jackstands and forgotten about in his garage. Anyway, I remember finally convincing my grandad to let me borrow one for the night, and we went out to the garage. I was looking around, when I chanced a glimpse of a silver bumper sticking out from under an old bedsheet. With some help moving around some old magazines and spare parts, we removed the cover. It was a 1963 E-type. It took a lot of work, and I'd lie if I said I made the prom deadline to get her running (prom was a lost cause anyway, the girl and I having decided to go our separate ways) but it was well worth it. I learned a lot from my grandfather, and there's nothing like hearing the roar of the big cat in third gear. It's still a work in progress- its mechanical parts are hard to come by, and its engineering is so backwards I'd be more akin to call it witchcraft than science- but nothing else made of metal has captured my attention so strongly. Currently there's a front brake leak somewhere that's caused Bae to get garaged, along with a general tuneup that's been required to do all summer. Having a terrible time uploading Instagram or Fb photos, until I can figure that out here's a series 1 coupe for reference. What about the rest of Orbis? Got a dream rig? Love your metal thoroughbreds? Let's hear some car love!

Is it possible to wipe two nations out instead of favoring one?

Agnostic/non-practicing protestant parents caused me to bounce around a fair share of different faiths. Probably the closest thing I am currently is a non-practicing Pastafarian. Though I see the merit in more organized religions, my paternal side of the family instilled a strong aversion to any faith or ideology that engenders group mass.

Indeed. The entire basis of Nestingland ideology rests upon this fact.

The Nestingland holds numerous training sessions, however simulations never hold a candle to the true glory of victory.