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The Fall of Velorya; The Elaboration
Topic Started: Feb 24 2008, 12:39 AM (332 Views)
Noriega
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Resident Hobbit
OOC: This is in Alternate Universes only because it is now a ways into the past and because I moderate this place. Since it is here, you don't have to accept it as canon for the overall site; however, I would appreciate it if you did. I'm also retconning out "The Time of Troubles". None of that ever happened according to this RP, so i will play with my old Northern lands as well as NeoDacia, Sarawakh, and the Andaman Islands. Since this is all in the past and Velorya no longer exists, hopefully this will not be a problem. Furthermore, for convenience's sake, the nation is still Genesian. The Origenists are Lochinverian, a Menhadien variant of Colognianism.

IC:

SUMMARY

Velorya rose from the historically overlooked jungles of Southeast Asia to become one of the most powerful nations in history. Founded by an exiled society of self-described "Roman Purists", Velorya was always a nation of colonialism and ethno-centrism. Velorya began to aggressively conquer vast swaths of Asia, eventually encompassing a majority of Asia's east coast. Silently, even as it became known as a peacekeeper in the region, Velorya proceeded with a campaign of ethnic cleansing that killed millions of native Asians, even as the white colonialists thrived.

Velorya joined the Genesian Catholic upsurgeance, become an important member of the Pope's Holy League. It was a blessing and a curse. Velorya lost its unblemished image as the Holy League began a campaign of religious intolerance and violence. However, Velorya thrived as an enforcer of the world's largest mafia. Over decades, Velorya made many enemies crusading for the League, but always had the threat of Catholic Europe to keep foes at bay.

However, within Velorya, tensions were mounting. Ethnic asians as well as religious dissidents were mobilizing to meet the threat of the Veloryan establishment. The genocide machine that Velorya had become was initially impervious to this revolutionary activity, and nothing was seen on the outside. It would take the arrogance of the Emperor Galerius, the violent enmity of the Eastern Empire, and the machinations of a former soldier and astronaut named Augustine Benedict Jordanus to finally fracture the nation.

During a demonstration of the Asian Union's new super weapon, the Veloryan-designed ice ship AUPKV Greater Sakha, Dynastian commandos and Veloryan terrorists attacked the Emperor, God King Sakha, and the Raja of Sarawakh. Even as sailors attempted to fight back, the invaders captured the engine room and bridge. A message from Jordanus, using the codename "Origen", was broadcast from the bridge. Seconds later the ship exploded in a massive nuclear fireball. Emperor Galerius Quintilianus was killed. Only the Raja and Rani of Sarawakh, along with a few Veloryan sailors, survived. They had escaped minutes before detonation.

The impact hit hard. Velorya was immediately thrown into chaos as rebels attacked various positions throughout Velorya, killing thousands. Galerius's confidant and tenative successor, Werner von Epstein, was killed shortly after the maritime disaster by an RPG attack on his motorcade. Rebels swarmed the city of Taipei, forcing the military out. Soon, whole provinces were falling into chaos. Even foreign soldiers seemed to have little effect against the highly organized Origenists. Several nations including the Sultanate of Paradise, moved to help Origen.

Ultimately, the First Veloryan Civil War ended just as Velorya was about to be destroyed by the Origenists. Origen himself had mysteriously disappeared. Galerius's cousin Salvatius had been made Emperor. And Origen's lieutenant, Arius was captured unexpectedly at Fuzhou. In return for his ransom, all hostilities ceased. The rebels maintained their power in the outlying provinces, but were now once again subject to Veloryan authority as a term of the Surigao Peace Accords.

However, peace cannot last forever. Emperor Salvatius has been replaced by the bumbling incompetent, Marcus Marcellus. NeoDacia, a prize long desired by the Veloryans, has recently been vacated by the Dynastians. Adrian, Emperor Galerius's son, lives in semi-exile on the island of Palawan with his wife, Helen, his mother, Atalanta, and his sister, Marguerite. Arius, Origen's successor, is waiting in the wings. Velorya will fall. As soon as I get done writing all of this. Which could be years. Whatever.
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Noriega
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Made you guys a map. Blue is Velorya. Gray is not. I know it's a bit sloppy, but it was a minute and a half of work.

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Noriega
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Chapter I: Arius

Sandakan, Sabah Province

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It was hot.

Not just hot, oppressively humid. It was little different than being in deep fryer. The heat wasn't just in the air, it was an integral part of the air. The heat pervaded everything, found everything, owned everything. It was inescapable and there was no relief.

The townspeople were too hot to notice or care about the foreigner in their midst. In truth, he was no foreigner, as Sabah, along with the rest of former Sarawakh, had recently been consumed by the Veloryan expansion machine. The newest addition to the fold, Sarawakh had gone peacefully when Velorya came knocking. During the nation's golden age, its Rajas had formed a strong bond of friendship with Velorya. When the plague destroyed them and the natives took over, Velorya intervened on behalf of the "Good, Christian Sarawakh". White Sarawakh. But the former British colonials all lived on the mainland or in Bandar Seri and Kuching. Sabah was added as an avarice-fueled afterthought.

The locals cared, he would give them that, but they were beyond trying to do something about it. The Malays and Suluk and other characters were too used to oppression to stand up. The Inquisition wasn't here yet, but it would come eventually. The authority in Velorya proper tended to ignore the backwaters of the Empire. For their part, the power-hungry legions were now eyeing Borneo. They could care less about Sandakan. But the man cared. He was the only one that cared, sometimes. Or so he would say.

He wasn't much by way of appearances. He wasn't particularly tall or muscular. He wasn't fat or bald or grotesque in any way either. He had neat auburn hair that he cropped close and a neat moustache that he trimmed meticulously. He wore a simple collared linen shirt and linen trousers with hard leather docksiders on his feet. A wide-brimmed hat shielded his face from the blinding sun. His face was mellow and pleasant to look upon, and his sea-green eyes were intelligent. But Arius the man didn't really live up to any sort of legend.

And so it was that he could walk the streets in Velorya. None of these people knew him. The police did not know him. The Legionaries might, but the nearest base was on Pulau Timbang, an island in Sandakan bay. And they weren't looking for him. Arius had slipped out of the public's attention; they all had. Ten years had made a mockery of their achievements. The economy was booming now, new territory was being added rapidly, and Velorya was a feared name the world 'round. This was no climate for a revolution.

At least, no climate for revolution on the mainland. But the peripheral islands: Formosa, Luzon, Sumatra, Aceh, Sarawakh, Sabah; were filled to the very brim with native peoples who wanted nothing more than freedom. Freedom from the oppressive machine of the Inquisition and the Culling and everything else. These men and women, millions of them, were living on borrowed time. Eventually, them and theirs would be eliminated off the face of the Earth for good by the Veloryans.

But he was going to stop it. He was going to end it all. Not for their own sake. No, the natives were too dumb to fight of their own design, and so they were beneath him too. But he would gain much more than he could ever hope for elsewhere by championing these simpletons. Recognition.

If it doesn't seem like a very altruistic notion, that's because it isn't. But Arius wasn't in it for these idiots. He was white himself, he didn't care too much what happened to the broken-down Malays. But he did have a chip on his shoulder. The injustice of it all was not lost on Arius. He was in the shadow.

In the shadow of his mentor, Origen. Perpetually in the shadow. He couldn't escape them: the comparisons he always knew would come. The history books would always label him Origen's disgraces lieutenant. When Arius had fought the entire war. Origen died. Origen was dead for all of it. Granted, Arius had killed him. But there was so much injustice in the way all the credit went to the old man with the famous name. Arius would be vindicated.

He looked out over the bay at Pulau Timbang. It was going to start here. God willing, it would start again here.
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