Gupta "Egypt" Hassan

GUPTA (EGYPT) HASSAN

When hope is non-existent,
Our instincts all scream "Run",
We never turn our backs or even bite our tongues

I Feel Like We're Summoning The Devil

[/color]:[/b] Gupta Mohammad Hassan
Nickname/Alias: Hassan
Gender: Male
Character Type: Country
Country or Country of Origin: Egypt
Canon or Original: Canon
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When I look into all of your stupid faces

I think how fun it will be to pound them into dust

[/color]:[/b] Green
Hair: Dark brown/nearly black
Height and Weight: 5'8" 145lbs
Other Distinguishing Features: He had a large black jackal, Amira, with him nearly perpetually, a gift and holdover from Ancient Egypt

Overall Appearance: Hassan doesn't really stand out. He's not very tall, and looks like the average Arab young man. His Gatraa (the headdress) comes on and off depending on the weather and how well he wants to blend. Often, it will depend on who he runs into. Allies are less likely to see him in it, but when he wants to stand out as himself, he'll don it, and sometimes even more traditional wear and occasionally what he would have worn when his mom was still around. Hi constant companion is his jackal, Amira. Solid black and much larger than the average jackal, she wears a gold collar but never a leash. She is typically well mannered, though often mimics Hassan's emotions.

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Man up or I'll beat you with my peace prize!

[/color]:[/b] Hot weather, history, religion (all demominations, he finds them fascinating), storytelling, puzzles and swimming
Dislikes: Being told what to do, fanatisim (of any sort), unstability, anyone poking fun at his mother, and cold weather
Strengths:
- Endurance: When things get tough, he keeps on walking. Hassan is nothing if not patient. He's got some major endurance and the mental resilience to wait things out. He doesn't mind waiting if there's sufficient benefit.
- Political Wisdom: After watching the politics or everything from the late classical period to the modern day, Hassan has developed a knack for politics, be it interpersonal or international - or both in a Hetalian's case.
- Observant: Hassan is incredibly observant. He picks up on and remembers details with the eyes of a hawk. Very little in coversation or the world around him escapes him, and while he might not act on the odd immediately, he'll keep it in mind.
Weaknesses:
- Wary: Hassan isn't the most trusting sort. It takes him a while to get along with people on more than a superficial level, and he tends to only take big risks when he is either pushed to the or had allies. He can be overly cautious, preferring people having a warped image of what "Egypt" is over mis-placing his trust and alliance.
- Aloof: Hassan likes to keep to himself, and quite often just a bit too much. He's not closed off to people knowing him in a superficial sense, but sometimes he has a hard time bonding even when he does allow people close.
- Anger: Despite his general calm, aloof and solitary nature, Hassan, mostly due to the Arab spring, is subject to bouts of anger and occasionally downright destructive behavior. He naturally holds grudges for a long time, and is slow to forgive those who impose their rule or themselves upon him.
Fears:
Death: Hassan's seen death and outlived enough nations to both respect, but deeply fear, it.
Losing his History - Where Hassan comes from, and indeed how he got to where he is is very important to him. Amira is the living symbol of that, and he is very much tied to and reverent of the past. To see ties to it severed or the past forgotten in any capacity is something he dreads.
Losing the Future - Hassan is worried about going the way of the other Arab countries, torn apart by civil war and terror.
Secrets: Sometimes he's much more bark than bite with Israel, he doesn't hate her that bad. He sometimes draws pictures of him killing those he's angry with, too, or some hieroglyphs expressing his displeasure. They became obsolete in around the 300's BCE, and he does have a mild, functional knowledge of the most "modern" form.
Any Quirks/Habits: Writing the occasional note in hieroglyphs, playing fetch with Amira or doing 'spot the differences' games.

Overall Personality: Hassan is one of the quieter countries, when removed from the other Arab nations, that is. He is rarely spontaneous, preferring to watch and wait and then action accumulated knowledge. Intent on survival, Hassan would much rather wait a few centuries than take any insanely high risks, though as of very recently - The Arab Spring - he's been a bit more outgoing and opinionated, instead of the country that tends to fade to the back, hedging his advantages until just the right time. Despite his generally rational and generally collected appearance, Hassan does indeed keep grudges. Those who invade personal space, land, or both, tend to piss him off, and fast, and keep him pissed off, the longer they're at it. After everyone from Rome to Byzantium to England trying to lord over him, he feels he's quite justified in his grudge-holding, though often he is content to make passive comments such as "like the others, I will watch you die". It takes a lot of stupidity, arrogance, or both, to get him to whip out the stick. But he will, as Italy has by all means found out. Stupidity is probably number one on his pet-peeve list, especially among nations, who he feels should know better. Ignoring obvious facts is another one.

For all his apparent aloofness, however, Hassan does have a friendly side, and once on his friendly side, most stay there for good. Blood is thicker than water and friends are like family. He is very loyal and will stay with friends until the end. Perhaps he's not the life of a party, but he will do to his friend's parties, however lame, and play the stupid party games and drink and have a good time because that's what good friends should do in his opinion. The same goes for true family, which supports his idea of living up to the past. One sure fire way to get sticks in the eye, anus or other bodily openings is to insult his mother or friends. He doesn't get so easily riled about himself, though again, as of very, very recently, that is changing and he is slowly losing the stability that characterized him, and it scares him. He isn't sure who to trust and where to turn, so instead he retreats, clinging to the past like a child might cling to hi mother's skirts....irony here intended.

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I'm the hero!

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The Early Years: 300 BCE - August 12, 30 BCE

"I don't know who you are, or how you got here" A woman held the four year old boy in her arms. He was naked, alone, but not crying. Instead, he clung to her thumb. "But you are to be Gupta Hassan."

This is Egypt's earliest memory, of a woman in fine linen robes, scooping him out of the desert sand. And so, he was born, an adopted son of a woman of impossible power. One of the first Hetalians, if not the very first, to walk the word as a true, honest, defined country. Ancient Egypt. This was his mother. But she was waning, and in her age, she took in a young boy who came from nowhere. Perhaps she knew, from his....becoming, that he was her incarnation of sorts.

Hassan, for his part, had no idea. The boy knew his mother, like him, was seemingly immune to the plights of humanity. He knew his mother was Egypt herself, but what was he? Thirty human years passed, but Hassan was only five years old when Ancient Greece came to the door. You see, Ancient Egypt herself answered to none of her bosses, she simply looked on and walked with her people, foreseeing, guiding where she could, and aiding her legacy without saying that which what she was. This is the motto that Hassan generally adopts around humans. He typically displays his power first, not his Hetalian status. Digression aside, Ancient Greece came in. The two women fought, as Hassan hid in a woven basket. He heard the shouts, that his mother was nothing more than a province, that the Pharaoh, something he revered, was a Greek!

"Oh my son," Ancient Egypt had told him that day. "To think, I knew her as a child. To think I was grown up as I saw her come from the land beyond the sea, like you came from the sand."

"But I won't grow up and hurt you, mama." Hassan had promised.

"I know, my dear...." But what she hadn't said was that she'd never see him live to grow up. She knew that at that instant. But she didn't tell Hassan. Instead, he played in her splendour and riches. Province of sorts or not Ancient Egypt had plenty of history and plenty of power. The young boy would pause time atop the pyramids, that were ancient even then, or in the streets of Alexandria then speed it around him, lost in it all. His mother taught him from that day on, very seriously. She taught him many languages, mathematics, and writing hieroglyphics as well as Ancient Greek which he uses to this day (though not in emails or anything, since it's not all that useful). But something else was curious. Whenever Ancient Greece, or his mother's lover, The Roman Empire, came over, or any country for that matter, Hassan was told to run and hide. He couldn't make contact with them, even as his mother became a frail old woman, living off the fact the Ptolemy's called themselves Pharaoh's alone.

This was when he had something of a growth spurt. He was tiny, weak, and spindly, but appeared about 10 at around 20 BCE. He would remain a ten-year-old for quite some time, but it worried him. He only grew older as his mother, who he basically worshipped, got weaker. He was Egypt struggling to maintain the Ancient ways (that was what mother called them) and as that happened, the young boy grew. It scared him. A lot.

Then came the most important date in his life.
August 12th, 30 BCE.
The day Cleopatra, final Pharaoh of Egypt, died.

He had been asleep, in a room next to his mothers in a fine, governor's palace - but he woke suddenly, gripped by a sudden cold wind on his face. He got up, and ran down the hall. Something was different now, he knew it in his heart. "Mother!? Mother! Mama Egypt!" He screamed as he run down the hall into her grand study.

There, he saw a pile of sand, and a papyrus scroll. The cold wind returned, throwing the sand a his face. He closed his eyes, and the sand blew past him. His mother was nowhere to be seen, but ink and quill were fallen on the floor. He walked to the papyrus scroll, and it read:

Gupta,
You are Egypt. I am the old Egypt. You read this as I feel my fate, as I slowly turn again to sand. Cleopatra is going to die, and as he heart stops, I turn to sand. You, Gupta, YOU ARE EGYPT. Take my power, take my legacy, and keep the lands alive. Guide the people, aid them. You are their leader, but you are also their slave. You are them. They are you blood. The old ways are gone.

I have hidden you from the others before so they they will not kill you. Now, though, you must stand. But you stand not alone. I am with you, in the Nile, the desert sands, the monuments, the temples...wherever your people take you, I shall still be there. It is time for your legacy. Live it my son, my heir. Live it. Be strong, be free, and let no one control you forever, but do not be foolish. We are mortal in our own way. One day, you too, may fall. But for now, breathe, live, make a mark on this world. Do all you can.

And remember, Gupta, you are my son. You are powerful. You are Egypt. I am it's past. Ancient. You are Egypt, and may the Gods always smile on you, my son. I, for my part, always shall.

Goodbye,
Your mother, the Ancient Egypt

Then, he understood. The sand that had blown past him, had been lost, was his mother. He collapsed and cried, then took the scroll and locked it in a safe place. He had this very same scroll, restored a few times, yes, but original, with him, today. To anyone else, it's just hieroglyphics. To him, it is Ancient Egypt's last will, last words, and last blessing to him. Now....he was a country. He decided from there not to call himself Gupta - instead, he went by Hassan, which was much more grown-up in his opinion.

A ten year old boy. This was Egypt now.

A Young Country: 30 BCE - 395 CE

"Egypt is dead! I rule now!" Rome stood powerful in an assembly of the earliest Hetalians. Greece, now old, sat nearby. Germania sulked. Persia stood to the side, watching on. A few other, weaker countries were there as well.

"No." Hassan could still hear his child-voice over Rome's deep boom. "Egypt did not die."

"And who are you, to know this?" Rome bent down and looked Hassan, who stood half-naked but defiant among the adults. "How do you know who we are, of what we speak, or what we are doing in Rome?"

"I am Egypt's son!" Hassan boomed, and he remembered all eyes on him. "I am Egypt, she died and I am her heir. I am the new Egypt. You, Rome, will not rule me forever!"

Their laughter stung. Every country there laughed, though Persia the least. He looked at him and said, "Greece herself thought that, too, but her son is under Rome's command, youngling. She died even before your mother did."

"I will kill him now. Look at his body! He is weak! His ribs show! He didn't inherit splendor, he inherited a dying land!" Rome shouted, then lunged. He didn't count on Hassan rolling out of the way, grabbing a stick, and shoving it in his eye, before drawing it out and slowing time down to make his escape from the grown-ups. And yes, in case you were wondering, he preserved and kept that stick. Because, just like his mother, he found symbolism in just about everything. A boy and a stick stabbed Rome in the eye. A stick was almost nothing, but it could break the back (or eye) of anyone, if it was timed right. And so, Hassan found his favoured weapon.

However, beyond that incident, during this time Hassan stayed mostly quiet. Rome wanted to dominate him, and so Hassan hid. A ten year old boy in the streets of various cities in Egypt never really caused a brow to be raised. He leanred with his people, and with that learnining and changing, came learning and changing to him.

He did not yet age much, but he was leaning away from his mother's religous, for a new and novel God called Jesus. He'd heard of the guy, of course, but not really paid attnetion to him until Alexandria became more and more Christian - and at around 200 CE, he converted, for the most part. Hassan was now a Christian, though he didn't leave the worship of the ancient Gods behind until almost 600 CE. He was, most the most part, growing up while not aging, living hiding from Rome and biding his time to be free again. He was a country, yes, a true one, but still a child, and his body reflected that.

It wasn't until 395 that something important happened. He met a young boy, with brown hair and blue eyes. "Persia sent me here." He said quietly. "He said you were the other youngling who had issues with Rome."

"Who are you?" Hassan asked the boy, who looked a mix between Persian and Roman.

"My name is Byzantium. But that's a mouthful. Call me Justinian."

"That's still a mouthful." Hassan laughed. "I'm Hassan. Egypt."

"You're a Christian?" Justinian asked him, cautiously.

"Yes." Hassan replied.

"Then you can be my friend. France and Germany don't like me much. They say I'm too Roman, but I'm not exactly Rome any more than you are Ancient Egypt." Justinian explained, as Hassan's eyebrows went up.

"Don't you know?" Byzantium replied. "Germania has children, too. Rome has two children as well, twin boys, but they're kinda loonie, if you ask me."

"You're Rome's child, but want to be my friend?"

"I am a country, too." The boy said with a smile. "I am part of Rome, but an Empire myself. Like you, Hassan. Play tag?"

Now, Hassan had a friend, a playmate, for the first time in his life. But it wouldn't stay that way forever. War was on the horizon, and a new time for Egypt, as the Classical times waned and died.

Byzantium and Egypt: 395 CE - 642 CE

The wane of the Classical world and the early middle ages. This was where Hassan saw the mortiality of a country at play. He'd seen it before, but he watched, as a young boy still, as Rome grew weaker. Germania grew strong, and so France and Germany remained in diapers, but Rome? Rome was grwoing weak. But it was not the Ialian brothers that grew stornger and bigger in his place - it was Byzantium. The two remained friends, but Byzantium was fast getting taller and bigger. Yet, Hassan persisted independantly. He often met the other Hetalians of the time, as long as Justinian was there. He saw Germany and France and the others just learning to walk and babble, while he and Justinian played tag. The boy wore Roman armour, but he was different than Rome. And, he was freeer than Egypt. In fact, Byzantium - the East Roman Empire, "owned" the country of Egypt. Yet Justinian let Hassan mostly alone.

What Hassan did not fully have, then, was a boss. He saw Justinian conquer more and more, rise in power, and talk with his bosses. Mother Egypt generally let her bosses to themselves, and Hassan, not wanting a Greek, Roman (or Byzantine) boss, didn't associate with them. But the country was grwoing power hungry. And with that lust, he began to grow. He felt no ill-will for his playmate - Justinian, after all, had had no say in dominating him, it was thrust upon him as much as countrydom had been thrust upon Hassan - but he wanted freedom.

And then, the chance came, in the form of yet another religion to come to rise.

Islam.

Hassan had human friends - he always had, and always would. They didn't know who he was, of course, other than a boy who acted much older than he was. Now about twelve, he ran into the Muslims. He was entranced by them...and thier desire to conquer them. Hassan didn't like the idea at first, but as he hung out near thier camps, he realized none of these Muslim men were from anywhere. They had no place. They could become Egypt, and if he was right, they could win him his freedom.

Hassan, for his own part, was not overly concerned about converting. No. But as the Muslim attacks of Egypt began in 695, he sat back and watched. This sort of riading would hurt. But it would free him of domination by his friend. Religion was just as much a tool as a sword or lance.

Islam and Freedom: 695 CE - 1095 CE

The Islamic "conquest" of Egypt broguth much chance for the Coptic Christian Hassan. Firstly, it brought Justinian to his "aid". Justinian told Hassan he would never let a heathen force take him, and fought visously. Hassan stood by, praying to the Gods his mother worshipped that the Muslims would win. The Caliph held fast, and Egypt dropped free of Byzantium. Hassan can still remember the woe of his friend as he hugged Hassan and told him he'd tried to keep the Muslim pigs away, but the Muslims were also at his door, now, and Justinian couldn't keep Egypt. Hassan pretnded to be torn, but now? Now he was fully in control. The Caliphate was his boss, and he was an independant country. He always had been, to assorted extents (or he wouldn't exist) but now? Now he was in his own power, and the boy-country grew into a fifteen year old, a tall, muscular one. With all the roches to export and prfits to be made, Hassan quickly became a powerhouse. Suddenly, Hassan was one of the most powerful countries in the world. He was a pinacle of science, philosphy and poetry. Suddenly, he was stronger than all the rest, and while still "young", he carried himself like his Mother, someone that no one but he had met. By this point, all the Ancient/Classical countires were dead, mere lendgends that the now-strong Hassan, and to a far lesser extent, Justinian, had met.

Hassan, furthermore, felt a pull to Islam. Both personally, and as more and more of his people converted. So, he joined the new country that was Syria, and became a Muslim Hetalian.

Justinian, needless to say, felt shocked and betrayed. The two teenage boys still traded, but far less, and Justinian was constantly muttering about how Hassan and Syria were heathens, and how Syria was always at his gates. Removed Geographically ad unwilling to attack Justinian, Hassan stayed out of that. nstead, he enjoyed becoming again one of the most rich, prized, and powerful nations. He knew that like his mother, he was being eyed as a prize. But he refused to crumble.

The Crusades and a Name: 1095 CE - 1272 CE

Religion. Hassan had been of three main religions, each corresponding to an era. But now, he was entrapped in Islam, and he was okay with that. In fact, as religious fevor heightened in Europe, so to did it heighten in the Arab lands. They ganed at Bryzantium, who had aged now to a middle aged man while Hassan now stood a strong, spry eighteen year old, with riches beyond imagining of most of the world. Suddenly, he had power and wealth Germany, England, Italy and even Byzantium lusted after. Hassan could suddenly relate to his mother. He lived in the last of her riches, but didn't fully understand until now. Everyone wanted what he had, be it grain or fine linens, or the fertile lands beside the nile.

However, he had a new ally. Syria. And while he took no part in the attacks against Byzantium, he did nothing to stop them, either. His desire was for his country to gain power, but to tromp through Syria was a long and dangerous task for humans at the best of times.

The First Crusade was the most successful for the Europeans, but it didn't yet reach Egypt. The second crusade wasn't very important to Hassan, either.

But the Third?

Yeah, things got interesting there. Firstly, just before the Third Crusade began, Syria came to Hassan with interesting news - they shared a boss, but yet neither country ruled the other. It was a rare, and delicate situation, never mind in a time of war, but there it was. They shared a boss called most commonly Saladin, Sultan of Egypt and Syria.

"Come, Hassan, you must meet him." Syria begged. "I know you don't like meeting bosses, but he's nice. And war's coming. Don't you want to meet this boss? He knows about me, so he knows you exist, too. Please?" Syria had persisted, and finally, won out. Hassan agreed to meet Saladin in Damascus.

"So you're Egypt." Hassan can still remembered Saladin looking him up and down. "You're a very quiet fellow. From what Syria tells me, most of the other counties are loud."

"I'm loud sometimes." Hassan had persisted. "But mother taught me being loud wasn't always as important as being present."

"You're not very present, either." Saladin had looked him in the eye. "Your country does very well for itself, step out onto the world stage, Hassan. The others, I'm sure, fear your ability to stand in the fact of time. You've seen more countries rise and fall than any other, you know. Don't be afraid to take up the stick you stabbed Rome in the eye with."

"You know about that?" Hassan asked, eyes wide.

"Syria told me." The sultan laughed. "Germania never let him live it down, so of course his children knew about it, and from there it spread. You may not have killed him, but that was gusty."

"Well...I guess I can be a bit more...known?" Hassan shrugged. Though the crusades, Hassan fought alongside Syria, alongside human soldiers. His religious fevor was boosted so much - particularly in the third Crusade, that this is when he took up a middle name. Muhammad. There was no going back for Egypt then, when it came to Islam, though he did tolerate other religions in his turf than any other Arab country did (or, for that matter, still does), mostly as a throwback to his own religiously varied roots. Personally, Hassan will still default back to his mother's Gods, or even Christianity in some situations, though not for long and not in the public eye.

For much of the middle ages, Hassan was left to himself, barring a couple invasion here and there, but he grew virtually unchallenged in the middle east. One notable mention, however, is the death of Justinian.

In 1453, Byzantium was a worn-out man. Hassan, by contrast, was still a strapping teen with plenty of poltical clout, known to everyone as a mysterious, elusive, but still dangerous, nation. His childhood friend, however? He was little more than a scattered land.

"Hassan." Justinian had croaked. He'd come to Hassan's great palace in Cairo, where the two had once played while hiding from various classical nations about the nasty prank involving elephants, Persia, underwear and Rome, one last time. "I can't believe this, but Constantinople is going to fall. It's May 29th, 1453...and I feel like..." Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Hassan, I..." He opened his mouth, but only blood came out. Hassan screamed. He knew his mother had dissolved into the sand, her ending somewhat peaceful (he hoped) but Constantinople fell in war. And Justinian, resultantly, was in great pain. "Help!" Hassan reached out and grabbed his friend as he collapsed.

"I...I couldn't..." Egypt as a people, after all, would never have come to Byzantium's aid, no matter how much Hassan pushed for it.

"I know..." Justinian managed to mumble, as he clutched his friend's back. Hassan held him up, and the mere force of doing so sent his hands into Justinian. The country was falling apart right then and there. Hassan lowered him to the ground, pulled his hands out of rotting flesh, and watched his friend twitch and convulse on the ground, until it was all over, and all that was left was a skeleton. The day Constantinople fell, Byzantium did too.

Hassan buried Byzantium in Constantinople, in a flower garden of the royal palace, and has yet to return to the spot, if it can even be found by now. The death shook his greatly, as it was the only one he fully witnessed, and he feels that most nations today aren't fully aware of their own mortality.

The Standalone Cousin - 1494 - 1918

The politics of power were clear to Hassan, but that didn't mean he always possessed them. His power waned in favor of the Western European nation, and one particular new Hetalian. The Ottoman Empire, Byzantium's "killer". Not that this new fellow had laid a hand himself on Byzantium - he was what came from a power vacuum, and he quickly pulled Syria and all of Byzantium's land under his control. Hassan ended up stuck under him, too - but much more free, thanks to Egypt's political autonomy under the Ottomans. Hassan tolerated it for a time, mostly in efforts of self-preservation, and he was right to keep to himself. Quite frankly, not a lot happened to Egypt during most of this time. He was autonomous, yes, but he kept to his desert, leaving the Ottoman Empire (a bully and by no means a friend to Hassan) alone; he couldn't best the counterpart's power.

At least, not for a while. In the late ninteenth century, the Ottoman empire was a world in decline. Syria was in no place to rebel, but Hassan? Hassan would have made his mother proud. This was where he piped up, and rebelled. He didn't suceed, but he didn't have to.

World War One happened, and shortly thereafter, England and France did the unthinkable. Well, somewhat. It was without question the Ottoman Empire was now dead, but what they did after still makes Hassan's blood broil. He fell under Arthur, which did not go over well. Hassan was livid, and still carries a grudge. Furthermore, Syria was divided, and a whole new slew of Hetalians entered the scene, from Jordan to Kuwait and all the others. Arabia had just gotten a whole lot more crowded, and Hassan was just glad he wasn't divided up! It put him in a better situation than most, though none too grand.


1948 - The Suez Canal & Israel

Fucking Israel! Hassan's biggest annoyance, pretty much to-date, was made into a legal entity in '48. Hassan, to this day, refuses to acknowledge she may have existed before this date, and typically only managed toleration. However, it wasn't always that way. Egypt, Israel's biggest land border and biggest military threat, was initially outright hostile. Once Hassan was independent in 1953, it didn't take him long to try to take back his Suez Canal.

War broke out - arranged in the back rooms by France and England - between Israel and Egypt. Hassan, for his part, rufsed to back down and eventually seized back the Suez Canal, and once he kicked Arthur and Francis out, he then made sure Israel wasn't going to be so much as sending a single little packet down the canal, banning it from being used by Israelis completely.

The result was decades of Hassan being moody, grumpy and hostile to a fair bit of the west, and instead, he looked over to Russia, while his jackal growled at Israel at every turn. There was no peace and Hassan couldn't fathom the idea. It wasn't religion that was the issue, it was Israel was now legally taking up land, and, like Palestine, Jordan, and all his cousins, he felt a constant need to turn Israel's head into mush. After all, Israel had the Sinai which Egypt had owned since the time of his mother!

The Battle for the Sinai

And Hassan was determined to take back that land. He allied with Syria, and the two made a push back at Israel - the October War of 1973. Losses were heavy, but the price was worth it. In fact, there came a very interesting turn. Hassan, tagging along with Anwar Sadat, Hassan made a foray into Israel....

And got the Sinai back, but with one interesting wrinkle.

Peace with Israel, in 1979.

"YOU DID WHAT, YOU ASSHOLE?!" Hassan distinctly remembers screaming at Sadat, "WE OUGHT TO KILL THAT...THAT SINAI STEALING...THING!"

"We can't, and you know it, not with America being...how it is." Sadat had said simply.

"You're still an asshole to me."

It took Hassan a long time to reason out peace with Israel was probably the right thing to do, and a long time for the other Arab nations to accept him again after it. Hassan, for his part, cannot shake his irritation at Israel, though he supposes Sadat made the logical derision he isn't afraid to let Israel know that without him, she would be a nation devoid of any geographically-close allies, or even people who didn't care.


2011: The Arab Spring

This was a revolution Hassan is immensely proud of. A mostly peaceful, popular uprising that spurred on the rest of the Arab world, and the most successful. Hassan was right in the mix with the rebels, getting in trouble, and arrested once. He broke again thanks to a little bit of Time-Warping, and the fact that Mubarak's officials knew what he was, and released him on fat he just couldn't be part of an uprising. But he was.

Proud as he was of the Arab Spring, it also put him in a spot where who, exactly, was his boss was tough to determine, and he didn't fully trust the Muslim Brotherhood that came to power, and sure enough, Morsi is one president that Hassan again refuses to associate with, as revolution and violence brew yet again.
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You've got it backwards! Backwards!

Hurry up and throw it! If you don't hurry up and throw it, you'll go "boom"!

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There had been a horrible miscommunication somewhere, and so Caleb sat in the lookout, doing anything but, well, looking out. Whoever organized this was going to get their ear chewed off, if this wasn't a prank or if they didn't come up apologizing. He would nap. He would do some handstands and walk about like that, he'd twirl his cane, Jeeves, while humming a marching tune, or he's sit in silence and mediate, as though he were going to hear whatever there was to see out. Beyond the confines of the square that was the lookout, Caleb couldn't see; there was nothing to bounce sound back at roughly the level he was at. Trying to echolocate straight down didn't work, so quite frankly there was nothing out there, and so he didn't even bother trying.

He tried to do some productive things, though, like organizing the chairs and the books on the table and the compass and other things he had yet to figure out how to use. The books were a write-off, pun intended, since zero braille had survived the flood, and no one had the means nor the reason to reproduce braille, so reading was out. But the compass, the compass he could work...he'd just need to smash the top open, so he could feel where the needle was, over see it. Or he could click it, if there was no glass. Surely someone could make him a compass, one without a glass top. Kids made them all the time, his brother used to do it! Surely someone remembered how.

It was round about then that he heard it, a sputtering sound and helicopter blades. He ran to the edge of the lookout post, sticking his head out as he zoned in on the sound. Straight ahead, then veering off slightly, very nearby, and it sounded like the 'copter was in trouble. It got closer, veered, and Caleb Forester put it together slowly. Wind ruffled his brown hair as his green eyes stared forwards, but his mind was following it, painting an image of sound of where the helicopter was going, before rock and metal collided to his right. He dashed to the right and began to click, getting nothing from that, but he had a decent idea of where to go.

The blind young man grabbed his cane and climbed out of the lookout post, running as fast as he dared along the cliff side, his cane out ahead of him so he didn't (hopefully) fly off a ledge. His sense of hearing did not betray him as the jungle descended back into silence, and he thought he had the correct spot. He stepped up to the ledge, and his toes went off the edge. He had to climb down, and that was terrifying beyond words.But someone had been in there, maybe many people. He couldn't afford to let his fears get to him.

And so, Caleb tied his cane to his belt and began to descend. It was painfully slow going, even just to the next ledge. He clicked about there, and there was nothing. He didn't know how far down he'd gone, since echolocating overly far up didn't work either, but he gauged around 15 feet. He went down the next ledge, and that was where he had luck. A downed helicopter. There was no heat, so he presumed it wasn't on fire, and so he crept closer. "Hello!?" He shouted, untying his cane form his belt and creeping up to it, running his hands over some twisted metal and then the main body of the helicopter, which, unknown to him, happened to be the window to the cockpit. "Hello?! Anyone in there?!" If Caleb knew he was banging on a window, if he could see in the window, he would have known the obvious - a man was in there, and very much alive. It was just getting him out that would be the "fun" bit.

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I Summon thee from far away lands, come forth!

You called?

[/color]:[/b] Dante
Timezone: Mountain

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