![enter image description here](https://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/belkern__197532.jpg "enter image title here")

**The People's Republic of Belkern**

A massive aircraft resembling a Lockheed C-5 Galaxy descended upon the runway. Belkern, being a very insular nation, was not often one for visitations to other countries. However, the leadership had decided this particular outing would be worth their time, and with their arrival came the usual unusual spectacles heralding the arrival of Belkern on foreign soil. 

As the rear ramp brought itself slack against the ground, a procession of uniformed men were revealed to be waiting in formation within. They immediately began marching in lock step, each waving above them the hideous flag of their nation as they disembarked. Behind the stream of banner bearers followed a band, who played the [anthem](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CqktrVbyVk) enthusiastically. Belzerk von Trapt, Lord Chancellor of Belkern, was amidst the last group to depart from the aircraft's innards. Among his retinue were his armed guards, as well as several of his military officials. His sanctioned canine handlers gripped the leashes to his three pets: two Tamaskan dogs, and one wolf. Given the visual similarities between Tamaskan dogs and wolves, it was hard to discern which was which.

Belzerk himself wore a ludicrously long cape which sagged along the ground behind him and bore the design of the Belkernese flag. Beneath his cloak was a grey uniform befitting a military commander of the last century, its collar high and its innards red. He brought his band to a pause with a gesture. As his cohorts saluted at him, he saluted back. This set off a chain reaction of saluting as the officials saluted each other, then turned and saluted their other colleagues. Even Belzerk's prized canines, as well trained as they were, issued a few salutes of their own, raising their paws. After a frenzied moment of saluting, Belzerk turned away and surveyed his surroundings with his one steely grey eye (his other was obfuscated by an eye-patch which was also painted in the style of the flag).

Trapt motioned towards his assigned escorts with a brief, insouciant swipe of his gloved hand. "Take me to your leader and delay not a moment more, lest the greatness of our kind cause your inferior people any more distress than necessary." He commanded, his disinterest and disdain abundant. 

Trapt slicked his jet black hair back as his overly large procession was led towards their destination. As they observed the environs of this unfamiliar nation around them, some seemed sickened, others scowled sourly. One general even looked down to his raised boot with disgust every other moment, as if each step he took deeper into this alien land was like treading in another mound of dog droppings.