The Iron Republic

"I saw it! Ask anyone! ...except her. Don't ask her." The following page is not properly cited as per our revamped content policy. Therefore, the article may contain information from speculative or non-canon sources. You can find out more about our citation policy here.

"Hell's client-state. Be wary. Their laws are not the laws of Man or Nature."

"Factory-engines roar like false lions. Blood thunders in the dock-pipes. Crimson lightning skitters across the deck, leaps to the rail, coils there like a cat. The city is reflected in glassy-calm harbour water: the citizens there have the heads of dogs and serpents."

"Hell has brought freedom to the Iron Republic: freedom from all laws, even those of nature."

The Iron Republic is a chaotic colony of Hell.

Who Needs Gravity?

The devils decided to experiment a bit, leaving the Republic permanently free of tyrants... and laws. All laws and tyrants. Including those humans previously thought were impossible to repeal, such as gravity. Visitors often stay until numbers stop working, or they will at least be subjected to constantly shifting norms. The laws change every day, with no rhyme or reason (except possibly protesters advocating a change to something more convenient, which is known to work on occasion). Due to the obvious lawlessness, the Republic is often considered a haven for anarchists and freedom fighters alike. As for the residents, they're often sent to work in the factories, where accidents are frequent and often result in liquefaction.

Today in the Iron Republic...

The following writing is not canon. Reload to possibly view another day!

<choose uncached> <option>...a boy and his mother built a snowman out of factory ashes. Or did the snowman build them? Would that make him or them an ash-man? You can't tell; they're all the same gray colour. Everyone is gray here, the factories are gray, the beggars are gray, even the docks are gray. And by gray you mean screaming. The boy is screaming. The snowman is screaming. You are screaming. You curse the Mountain for her unwarranted vitality. In return, a large piece of diamond hits you on the head. Is she...smirking? You pocket the gem before Mr Stones finds it; he could be anywhere right now. Like over there! No, that's just a man with spoons for hands. Do the Masters ever leave London? Best not to find out the hard way.</option> <option>...the rain is finally here! Oh how it beats down, relentless and choking, on your coat, your hat, your skin, your face; you can barely say a word without catching a mouthful of the stuff. This is not like the rain of the surface, nor that of Fallen London. This the purest form of precipitation; this... is rain. And it hurts. As you take shelter under a tarp, you ask a man if it ever rained small, domestic animals. He laughs, his face the shape of an inbred donkey. "That was last week's rain, newcomer - next week we're getting weasels and bats!"</option> <option>...the Iron Republic is Aestival! Ah, the sunlight, how you have missed it! The surface-plants! The beaches! The fact that this is not Aestival! It is Mangrove College! Everything is dark, rotted, and shabby, but you've been in the Iron Republic long enough that you know that even the slightest courtesy is a luxury out here. This place reminds you of Pigmote Isle, strangely enough. You would be there...if the Iron Republic wasn't Watchmaker's Hill. Why is it always the d___ Hill? What is this, the Castle? The Horizon? Since when does everything converge at this point? Then suddenly, the Iron Republic is...the Iron Republic! Again! For the first time since your arrival here you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Well, you would, if it wasn't for that damnable violinist! Curse those street performers, especially those with Irish fiddles!</option> <option>...the elephants have arrived! Good lord, the elephants are here. They are huge, ferocious, and they are utterly without mercy. And they hunger. In your desperation to escape, you rush back to the docks, only to find that the bastards are amphibious. And they murdered a boat. Risking a glance at the streets, you notice a rather bohemian lady chopping up unfortunate bystanders with an ax. While on fire. Jack-of-Smiles would be proud.</option> <option>...it is truly a new era for us all! A star rises from below the ground, melting and burning, and you just found out that water can melt. It doesn't make a ton of sense; anyway, fiery, melted water now covers every centimetre of the Republic's territory. Good thing that your boots shrank this morning; otherwise you would have suffered the same fate as those who decided to go out with their soles covered today. They evaporated instantly, and are now gradually precipitating as very sad and green snowflakes. You are absolutely sure they will be fine though; as people say: "There's nothing that coffee from the House of Milks can't fix." Oh, they don't say that; that's actually a Market of Hungers promotion screaming inside your head. Anyway, the dragon is right there and ready, so you can have a drink at your leisure.

By Observator42 </option> </choose>