Iron Republic Journal
"What... what did that place do to you?"
A compilation of all the "Today in the Iron Republic..." stories for documentation purposes.
Day One
– 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? I can't tell; they're all the same gray color. Everyone is gray here, the factories are gray, the beggars are gray, even the docks are gray. And by gray I mean screaming. The boy is screaming. The snowman is screaming. I am screaming –
Day Two
– the rain is finally here! Oh, how it beats down, relentless and choking, on my coat, my hat, my skin, my face. I can barely say a word without catching a mouthful of the stuff. This is not like the rain of the Surface, nor that of London. This the purest form of precipitation, this... is rain. And it hurts. As I take shelter under a tarp, I ask a man if it has 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!"
Day Four
– the elephants have arrived! Good lord, the elephants are here. They are huge, ferocious, and they are utterly without mercy. And they hunger. In my desperation to escape, I rushed back to the docks, only to find that the bastards are amphibious. And they murdered a boat. Risking a glance at the streets, I noticed a rather bohemian lady chopping up unfortunate bystanders with an ax. While on fire. Jack-of-Smiles would be proud.
Day Five
– it is truly a new era for us all! A star has risen from below the ground, melting and burning, and I have just found out that water can melt. It doesn't make much sense. Anyway, fiery, melted water now covers every centimetre of the Republic's territory. Good thing my boots shrank this morning; otherwise I 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. I am 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 my head. Anyway, the dragon is right there and ready, so I can have a drink at my leisure.
By Observator42
Day [REDACTED]
This option has been retired.
– the Iron Republic is Aestival! Ah, the sunlight, how I 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 I've been in the Iron Republic long enough that I know that even the slightest courtesy is a luxury out here. This place reminds me 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!
