Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
This forum is used with the NationStates web-game designed and run by Max Barry. While not officially affiliated, this serves as the regional forum for the regions: Middle East, African Continent, American Continent, Asian Continent, and European Continent.

You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and can "read only".

In order to get the most out of these forums, please become a member and read this guide - http://z3.invisionfree.com/nationstates/index.php?showtopic=3060


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
The Breaking of Order
Topic Started: Dec 22 2008, 06:46 PM (376 Views)
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
OOC: Taking some liberties here. Serpentine is going to be my capital, and it’s going to be located near Addis Ababa, but in a valley-area near the Blue Nile. I’m also going to eventually cover the fact that Ulgania is a former colony, and now a bastion for Eastern Europeans that have been disaffected by Europe. I’ll cover some other things more thoroughly later.

Also, I could use someone for RPing general subterfuge in the country. I have the communists wreaking havoc, but, say, if RD threatened invasion it might force a regime change. Nikolai will eventually be the country's leader though

IC:

A boy of about fourteen ran down the cobblestone street in Lower Serpentine. The valley the city lay in was close to Serpentine Proper, and isolated from the concentrations of wealth, but it was where a great deal of trade occurred considering the river that ran through it. The boy had a package in his hand that he had received at the top of the valley, at a gated area that officially separated the two areas. Nearing the river, the boy made eastward towards one of the docks with a steamer about to depart. His task at this moment was to deliver a package downriver. Pushing through an increasing number of people as he made his way closer, he heard the whistle on the boat blast, and from there a small roaring sound as the steam engines inside it began moving.

Finally cutting through the crowd, he had started to fear that he was late, and that the ship was departing before he could get the package to it. However, he was surprised to see a band of men wearing like clothing and an assortment of guns drawn running around the dock, and some on the boat. The people around the boy seemed panicked, but the boy had no idea what to make of the situation.

A man trying to get out of the dock area stopped in front of the boy.

“What’s your name?” he asked, trying to keep his composure.

“My name is Sebastian, sir,” the boy replied.

“Sebastian, my name is Nikolai. Please, take my advice and get out of here, now,” he said.

“But I have nowhere to go, and I was supposed to deliver this package from the top of the valley. If I don’t get a receipt for it I won’t be able to afford food for the night,” Sebastian said, quivering a little.

“Son, you need to get out of here. You’ll be dead if you stay!” Nikolai yelled as several gunshots on board the boat, followed by more screaming resounded behind them. “If you have nothing else then come with me!” he said, grabbing Sebastian by the arm as the remaining bystanders made their way out of the area.

Sebastian was near the point of being frightened. This white man whom he had never met before was taking to him what could very well be his death, but was apparently better than staying at the dock.

“Do you have any idea who those people were, Sebastian,” he asked, as they quickly walked through a slum connected to a train station. Seeing that the boy was shaking his head, Nikolai continued. “They were communists,” he said. “They seek to make everybody equal, no matter how much blood spills, no many how many skulls are cracked, and no matter how many people’s lives they ruin. They probably identified that boat as one that would be delivering food to the interior, but the politics of this place still sicken me.”

The two walked in silence for a while, until they reached the valley. Here, Sebastian saw a long row of buildings dug in to the valley wall itself, which in this part of the city was virtually a 90 degree angle, shooting a cliff was directly up to the top of the city. Here, Nikolai took Sebastian into one of these buildings. It was a very inconspicuous building, but in it many things seemed to be moving at once. They quickly walked by machine after machine, some of which seemed to be making linens, others making what looked like long rods, but were really rifle barrels. Sebastian didn’t no the true purpose of these rods, but was able to gleam that whatever happened in here was very mysterious, and most likely not something the outside world should know about.

“Here, come in here Sebastian,” Nikolai said. Entering what looked like an office with a couch and a lofted bed next to a desk with large stacks of papers and also some trinkets that made Sebastian very curious, the man motioned for the boy to sit down. “Here’s what I’ll do for you. You give me that package, and I’ll give you enough food for the next couple of days. It’s very dangerous out there right now, so you shouldn’t be out. No one should.”

“But why were you out there?” the boy asked.

Nikolai paused before answering, leaning back in the chair of his desk. “I had business to attend to. Important business that is, more so than delivering a package. However, the area was supposed to be safe. Um, here, let’s take a look at this package,” he said, motioning to take the box on his desk.

Sebastian jumped up and grabbed the package. “Food first, then you can have it,” he said.

“Fair enough m’boy. When was the last time you ate, anyway?” he asked, unwrapping a half loaf of bread and getting out a link of sausage that had actually been left untouched from a previous meal he had taken in his office.

“It’s been two days, sir,” he said between mouthfuls of meat and bread.

“My word, that is tragic. Where do you reside? Don’t you have a family?”

“No sir. My parents were arrested before I could remember, and my brother took care of me until last year.”

“And what happened to him? How old was he?”

“About twenty, I think. He was taken by the Repoo… um…” he stammered.

“My... the Republican Guard? Was that it?” he asked.

“Yes sir, those people. He did nothing wrong, but they insisted on taking him somewhere far away,” he said. “Since then, I’ve had to wander, look for shelter where I could find it.”

Nikolai knew the Republican Guard was a very dangerous force. Hardly an organized army like the real military, but instead a dangerous paramilitary force that went on raids into the countryside, sometimes into the wild lands beyond Ulgania’s border itself. A terrible group, but one that had to be dealt with. It was groups like this that made other factions, like the communists feel as though it was necessary to make their stance violently known. Sometimes Nikolai wondered if it wouldn’t be better for them to just take power.

After a time, Sebastian spoke up again. “Mr. Nikolai, what is it that those people out there were doing?” he asked.

“That is a very interesting question, but one that should wait for a time. This package still needs opening. Are you content with your food?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” the boy replied.

“Good. Let’s see what we have,” he said, picking up the package and noting how heavy it was. How long was this boy carrying it? he asked himself.

Taking off the packaging, and removing a good amount of straw, he had to wait a moment to take in what he saw.

Holding it up, he asked Sebastian hastily, “Boy, do you know what this is?”

Taken aback, the boy hardly stammered out, “It’s… it’s a glove sir,”

“Not just any glove,” Nikolai said, quieter and calmer now, “but the Golden Glove of Ulgania. You see boy, most countries have some kind of tangible thing that they make symbolic, give it their country’s title, and use it as something to rally around, something that they can say legitimizes their ways; something to be proud of. Here is our symbol, the Glove!”

The Glove was, in fact, a glove intended for medieval knights but made of pure gold where ever possible. The lining inside the glove was even lined with gold. There were many engravings on it, but it was said to be part of a suit of gold. Whether that was myth or not, no one knew, but this was easily the most cherished item the government could hold on to.

“Boy, Sebastian, who gave you this package?” Nikolai asked.

“Um, I think it was a man by the name of Yuri. He offered to give me food if I took this package from a locker in the Central Train Station down to the wharf.”

“Central? That’s communist property. Damn it, Sebastian, thank god you were late!” Nikolai said in a rush. “Everything was a trap,” he started to explain when he saw Sebastian’s confused look. “This man, Yuri, must be a communist. Considering the circumstances, they must have been trying to get the Glove out of the city before doing anything else. The idea must have been to get a non-suspicious person, such as yourself, down to the docks so you could deliver the package to the boat. Then, the communists would hijack the boat, and make off with the glove that they would have assumed was on board before the boat departed. But no, not everything went as planned thankfully. However, what happens now is going to be a very dangerous proposition. I, nay, we need to act carefully. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were followed…”

Almost on cue, a curt knock on the office door brought Nikolai and Sebastian back to reality. “Yes, come in,” Nikolai called.

“Sir, there are a few people hear to see you. They won’t give their names, but I’m pretty sure they’re communists,” the man said.

“And what makes you say that Drake?” Nikolai said with an indifferent tone.

“Their mustaches are way too thick and their clothes way too common,” Drake said with a laugh as he entered the door. “Would you like me to see them in here?” he asked.

“No, I’ll give them an audience in the lobby. I can’t have them seeing too much. Now Drake, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Drake. You two are going to get to know each other for the next couple of minutes while I talk with the communists. You two should trust each other, and Sebastian, I want you to tell him everything that happened between you getting that package and now. I feel something big will be happening soon, and we’re going to have to have the right people knowing what is what.”

“Of course sir, I understand. The men are waiting in the lobby. Sebastian, let us find somewhere a little more private,” Drake said as Nikolai left.

“Take the box with you Sebastian. I don’t want it to leave your site, and as long as communists are around I don’t want them in your site. You hear me?”

“Yes sir,” he said. Looking wearily at Drake, he looked to Nikolai again.

“Don’t worry boy, Drake is a very honorable man; probably more so than I am. I wouldn’t worry about anything for now.”

As the three split, Drake took Sebastian to a room on the second floor that they could watch the street in relative privacy from, while Nikolai went to the lobby. In the lobby were three men, all of which were rather portly. Two puffed away on cigars while the third paces back and forth impatiently.

I guess Drake was right. There’s something about these socialites that always bother me, and I think it’s the fact that they always insist on dressing common, no matter how much money they’ve stolen or earned. What a joke, he thought to himself.

“Gentlemen, I am Nikolai, how may I help you,” he said in a cheery, business-like tone as he entered the lobby.

The man who was pacing greeted him first with a rough handshake. “Nikolai, I am Fyodor, and these are my colleagues Razumihin and Luzhin,” he said, not looking at either but giving enough time for each man to nod in recognition of their names. “We come looking for something we believe is ours, something that should have been delivered to us. We were told that you may be able to help us,” he said.

“I am very sorry Fyodor, but many people come in and out of my establishment. You are going to have to be much more specific.”

“You know exactly what I mean you cadaverous-leech,” Fyodor said in a suddenly gruff voice. “Give us back the glove, or we will see too it that it is picked out of the ashes of this place.”

“You sir, should probably leave. I only do business with people who are honest, and you are only betraying my trust and my mood with these words. I highly suggest you take your business elsewhere. If you believe I have something that isn’t mine, then I believe you should take it up with the authorities.”

Nikolai turned to leave the lobby after that comment, but a clicking sound behind him made his throat seize. Turning again, he saw that the three men each had revolvers pointed at him. Putting a hand in his jacket to grab his own, the three men grew more threatening. “I can assure you, gentlemen, that if you were to shoot me, you would be dead in ten minutes. Your legs would be shot out before you left this building, and your last agonizing minutes would be spent as my men dragged your lecherous bodies to the sewer access under us. Then think of it, I would be dead, you would never be seen again, and whatever it is you’re looking for would be lost forever.” Drawn by Nikolai’s raised voice, several workers came into the lobby, all with an assortment of weapons made right there in the workshops beyond the lobby. Noting their presence, he continued to say, “Leave now, lest you hold your lives so invaluable.”

“You will regret this you fool,” Fyodor said. “You and your establishment will be destroyed! You have my word as a communist and a man of honor.”

“Your honor reeks of vodka. Leave, and never return.”

The three men reluctantly left, making oaths against Nikolai's family and threatening to return. Upon their departure, he sought out Drake and Sebastian, while telling everyone to return to work.

"Drake, do you still have any contacts in the municipal offices at the top of the valley?" Nikolai asked.

"Yes, I do, but it will take a day or two to collect any information. I assume you want me to find out how this thing came into the communists' possession without attracting attention?" Drake asked with a chuckle.

"That's right.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
OOC notes: Mogadishu is going to be my capital after this RP is over. I covered this in a different topic, but power in my country (wealth and political) is held by people of Eastern European heritage. So even though they represent 20% of the population, they control about 65% of the wealth. That will change though after this RP, as well.

IC

A day after the incident with the Fyodor and the other communists, Nikolai and Sebastian were both in the office. Nikolai was reading a two day old paper shipped over from Mogadishu.

The Times of Mogadishu

Rioting Continues as Insurrectionists Fuel Unrest

Serpentine and Addis Ababa, the Two Cities of the Interior in Ulgania, as well as Mogadishu, the country’s commercial center have been on fire for the past several days both literally and figuratively. Communists have been staging raids on larger banks and industrial areas, which has put increasing strain on the fragile infrastructure of the country. Also, Islamic insurrectionists have insisted that the ‘remnants of colonialism, those of non-native or non-Arabic blood’ should be expelled from Ulgania, and the country become several emirates under a Caliph, something that has not been seen for centuries.

It is still true that white, Eastern Europeans still hold the majority of wealth, but it is not true that it is all being divulged and kept away. In the slow, new, and burgeoning process of industrializing, workers get their fair wage, making the communists irrelevant.


There was more there, but Nikolai couldn’t care more for the ramblings of some biased staff writer who was making his living on the good graces of the current government.

“Sebastian, be weary of everything you read in the papers,” Nikolai said. “You’ll regret it if you aren’t.”

“Why is that sir?” the boy asked.

“It’s simple. The people involved in writing a lot of these stories are told to write it to make sure someone looks good, someone looks bad, and someone victimized. They usually know exactly who the victims are, but get confused when they have to point fingers at those who are doing the victimizing, and those who are rushing to the aid of the victims.”

“Who’s helping the victims then?” Sebastian asked.

“That’s the thing, boy. Right now, nobody is. Come on, I want to show you something,” Nikolai said, getting up from his chair. The two went down a similar hall that Drake took Sebastian to the above floor on, but this time they took a staircase down to a sublevel. They came into a large, dark room. Flipping a large switch, several bulky lights started to come on a few at a time until they flooded the entire room with light. In it were hundreds, if not thousands of rifles. “Sebastian, I have a dream of someday being the one who can help the victims,” Nikolai said, walking into the room. “I’m afraid though. I’ve always been afraid. I never thought I would get a chance like this though, a chance to actually change Ulgania. Sebastian, my boy, you were that chance. The Glove… as utterly ridiculous of a national symbol as it is still represents Ulgania. We can change this place Sebastian.”

“Why are you showing all of this to me though? What use am I…” he started to ask.

Grabbing the boy by the soldiers Nikolai said, “You’re the best thing I could have asked for. Sebastian, I have a job for you that only you can do. I’m meeting a man, someone from the Indus region. He’s to be in Mogadishu in three days. I want you to come with me. A lot of my enemies know who I, and many of my people are. I already have a lot of contacts in the area, but I can’t be too close to them. It’s not great work, but if you come with me and do a good job, I can see to it that you have a permanent home with us.”

Upon agreeing, they made preparations to leave, and meet a gunrunner that could make Nikolai and Drake’s visions a reality.
Edited by Ulgania, Dec 24 2008, 04:01 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Rhadamanthus
Member Avatar
Legitimist

Gondar, Ethiopia, Empire of the Romans

Posted Image

The city of Gondar had been a capital of independent Ethiopia before this region had been absorbed into the œcumenical empire centuries previously. It had continued to be an important and thriving city, and remained the civil capital of Roman Ethiopia. It lay on the banks of what was called locally Lake Tana, which was the source of the Blue Nile. The Blue Nile was one of the source rivers of the great Nile River, along with the White Nile which drew its waters further south, from waters hidden deep within the Mountains of the Moon.

Gondar had grown and developed over the years, nurtured by the Ethiopian sovereigns and then afterwards by the Romans. It was one of the largest and most prosperous cities in Roman Ethiopia, boasting many churches, and inhabited by, in addition to the locals, colonies of Greeks, Arabs, Egyptians, Jews, and other nations. The famous castle of the Ethiopian King of Kings Fasilides (whose throne name was ዓለም ሰገድ, "To whom the world bows"), which had been preserved and even carefully developed, was built in a unique architectural style, combining Arab, Indian, and Baroque influences with the native Ethiopian architecture.

Posted Image

It was that old castle where most of the Roman government offices were located, including the Ethiopian branch of the Imperial Foreign Office. The Foreign Office in Gondar was charged with diplomatic endeavors concerning southern Arabia and eastern Africa. Like all branches of the Foreign Office, it was supported by a branch of the less well-known Bureau of Barbarians, a branch of the Roman government that had emerged in medieval times to handle covert operations and intelligence gathering.

At this time, the Foreign Office was concerned with events in Ulgania. Ulgania, the empire's neighbor to the south and southeast was a former Eastern European colony, inhabited by a ruling class of Slavs and other Europeans and a larger native population of Ethiopians and Cushites. One of the chief tasks of the Ethiopian branch had always been to make certain that friendly government existed in Serpentine. Lately that had been growing more difficult, as Marxist revolutionaries begun to make their presence known, harnessing economic anxiety and anti-colonial rage to form a poisonous cocktail that threatened to destroy civilization as it existed in Ulgania.

And naturally, those troubles would not be contained by man's borders. Discontent continued to spread into Roman Ethiopia as well and into the empire's trade colony of Punt, situated on the Horn of Africa. The Emperor's government in Ethiopia could not ignore this potential crisis any longer.

Sitting at his desk in the foreign office, Michael Argyrus read through the briefs on this situation. It seemed that his job would be complicated and might involve both open and covert operations in order to influence Ulgania's future in the direction that Constantinople required. He asked his aide to call a conference with a number of Ethiopian and Slavic operatives; hopefully they could gain access to the varied levels of Ulganian society.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
At the head of the Ulganian government, Avdotya Romanovna presided over a country that never seemed to be able to reconcile with itself. Her own Slavic people had called the region home for over two centuries and were in no position to just leave, but they stuck to an old system, one that took advantage of native populations and forced them to submit to Slavic rule. She herself knew of the injustices it created, and wished for a change.

There were many though who benefited greatly from the arrangement. Many of the heads of the national government, as well as several sub-national governments throughout the country, such as Interior Minister Zossimov Punich were among those who abused the system. He found his way to his spot in the government with his family’s fortune; ill-got assets that came at the expense of many thousands of poor farmers’ backs. He hailed from a class of incredibly rich land owners who, while extremely unpopular among the native population are still responsible for Ulgania’s ability to feed itself, and even have a surplus in case of years of harder weather.

It was the type of person like Zossimov Punich that stood to be the greatest threat the country faced. He represents, in many people’s eyes a status quo of a bygone colonial era. He represents to them a group that only knows how to operate in a system that embraces inequality and the subjugation of a massive labor force. Because of this, Avdotya Romanovna has to deal with revolutionaries of all types.

One group in particular is a group of skillfully organized people who call themselves the communists, after a Marxist group that previously had been formed in Russia tried to bring the slowly industrializing country to its knees. The Marxists though were influential, but misplaced. They cried for the equality and uprising of a class of people yet to be considered a force in Ulgania, so to make up for it, they cry for complete racially equality, and people listen.

It was not the mislabeled Marxists that Avdotya feared though, but the social movements that were occurring in response to much of the instability being thrown around the country. The theft of the Golden Glove of Ulgania had been successfully kept under wraps, but the matter of who actually stole had yet to be solved. According to Minister Punich’s sources, there was a man who was managing to lead an organization that was growing to be very large, but still extremely under wraps, and was waiting for the right time. Avdotya feared that this man, Nikolai Alexyevitch would be able to find his time sooner than later.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Menhad
Member Avatar
ET2(IDW)
OOC: Being the only communist so far. I figured. Well Uh. What I mean is uh.

Can I support the Communist?!?!?
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
OOC: I don't see why not. They're more of a fringe group now, but if you were able to manipulate it... awesome

I could just be the fact htat tis the season but manipulation is suddenly very funny
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
A.Q.
Member Avatar
Beautiful Snowflake
 *  *  *  *  *  *
OOC: Apologies for this tome.

Nikolai and Sebastian stepped off the squealing train at Mogadishu station, bags in hand, looking for their contact, supposedly a big Arab with dark glasses with a sign. He wasn't hard to spot.

The Arab easily topped two meters tall, built like an elephant, broad-shouldered and with hands the size of dustpans. He held a wooden sign with bad Russian scrawled across it, "Nikolay Alexyuhvitch."

The pair approached this giant and Nikolai asked, "You are Omar's man?"
The hulk nodded grotesquely.
"Do you have a name?"
This time the hulk shook his head.
"Well, alright, then."
NoName reached out and seized the bags, turned and set off down the street with a deliberate pace that forced Nikolai and Sebastian to jog to keep up with his massive strides.

Presently they arrived at a crumbling old Colonial fort, wrought-iron gate barring their path. Noname dropped the bags with a thud and fumbled in his pocket for an old, worn key. With the utmost care, the giant attempted to unlock the gate, but accidentally ripped the entire gate from the hinges with a shriek of twisted metal.

"Woops."
"DAMN IT ALL ABDUL, THAT"S TWICE THIS WEEK..."
A much smaller, Indian-looking man dashed out of the front door of the fort.
"Ah, Friends! You have arrived! How wonderful!" He said, forgetting all about Abdul and the gate.
"Come in, then, Came in!"

The fort's interior was lit by oil lamps, throwing harsh shadows over the narrow corridors, till the company reached a handsome parlor, with rich cushions on the floor arranged around a hookah.

"So you are the famous Nikolai Alexyevitch, eh? You were the one interested in my wares?"

"Um, yes. I don't think any other Alexyevitch has ever been in this dirth before. Pardon me, but I'm just not accustomed to business deals in this manner"

"Ah, come Mr. Alexyavitch, you must know that men of our... professions must learn to work in unpleasant environments, yes?"

"It is becoming more apparent. Pardon my manors though. This is Sebastian; he has been accompanying me of late, and has proven quite valuable." Nikolai indicated towards his compatriot, and Omar shook Sebastian's hand vigorously.

"Indeed? Well, hello to you as well, sir, I hope that you find yourself a bit more comfortable than your partner. But to business, perhaps? It is late and I'd hate to keep you gentlemen from your repose for too long."

"Yes, that would probably be best. Mr. Omar, because we are here, you can probably tell that I wish to strengthen myself. However much it costs should not be an issue, and I am indeed looking for all that I can get my hands on at this time."

Omar ibn Omar grinned his yellow teeth broadly.
"Excellent, excellent. I'm afraid that I only have 500 rifles in stock at this moment, but they are Qalaa'i-made, Qasr rifles. Bolt-action, very accurate and powerful. I'd be willing to part with them for... say, 50 gil each. How does that sound?"

"500 is, admittedly rather light, but I am a man in need. 50 gil per rifle, that will come to 25000 gil, and I'm sure there will be shipping and ammunition fees."

The men haggled over the details of the purchase for a few more minutes, until a compromise was reached.

"Ah, wonderful. This will go well with my plans, however I hope we can do business again soon Omar. A gunrunner such as yourself can probably make an assumption or two as to why I would be approaching you. The sooner we meet again, the better"

Omar grinned still more broadly, and Sebastian suddenly noticed that the man didn't seem to blink often enough.

"Good evening, then, gentlemen. Sleep well, for we are all wanted men now, yes?"

"Agreed. It has been a long day. Salaam Alaykum."

On the walk back home, Nikolai and Sebastian agreed that Omar was a thoroughly suspicious character, but it was Nikolai that pointed out that Ex-Qalaa'i arms dealers don't come in many other varieties.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Menhad
Member Avatar
ET2(IDW)
Grigori Mstislav stepped of the the old ship, he had just completed a voyage from a small port in India and he was eager to back on dry land. The ship was old, and she rolled terribly in storms, but he was glad that his luggage had made the trip safely from The U.E.S.S. He would need it for the task ahead.

Grigori Mstislav was a government agent trained in the art of revolution, trained to sow chaos and discord amongst the enemy, trained to organize and arm the revolutionaries. His studies included several historic revolutions, administration, logistics and public speaking. He was the highest scoring student in his class, and it was no wonder he was sent to this nice little hell hole.

The first thing he noticed was the smell, clearly the rulers of this land didn't care for their people, which almost made him as sick as the smell did. But he couldn't forget his mission, the overthrowing of the elites and the promotion of communism. His luggage contained his clothes, his gun, his ammo, and gold, plenty of it.

He walked down the wharf where he met his contact, several other men grabbed the heavy luggage and they immediately headed off.

Grigori Mstislav would make sure that communism reached the ears of the Ulganian people, and that the communist revolutionaries succeeded.
Edited by Menhad, Dec 25 2008, 11:42 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
Daring another glance at the ragged looking vessel Grigori Mstislav had departed from, Hamil Petroika thought back on his father’s days of whaling, and returning home with whisky and cured meat. He wanted to be able to say that this vessel was the same sort that his father vividly described to him whimsically and through enough whisky to make a horse collapse, but he could never be sure. Whalers rarely came to Ulgania, and even few would come to Mogadishu’s port.

Hamil saw the man he had been given a likeness of through communications. In a land of so many white men, they were imbued in the culture of Ulgania more deeply than those from their homeland, making travelers more likely to stick out more.

“Mr. Mstislav, it is very good to finally meet you, my name is Petroika, Hamil Petroika. We have heard marvelous things about you, and have high hopes for our future goals now.”

Grigori knew he would be meeting an Arabian-looking fellow, but he had not realized that his contact would have a European last name. The fact startled him slightly, but in a land such as this, men like this, most likely bastard children would probably exist on society’s fringe, just where Grigori would be starting his tasks.

---
OOC: planned on having more on this but I’m mildly pissed at the world, and with pretty good reason right now. I’ll get the other planned part of the post up later tonight or tomorrow.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
The plume of smoke from a distant train passing by in the early-morning chill of the sparsely populated inland region of Ulgania offered a brief respite to the monotony of the desert. A small tent city, about 50 miles east of Serpentine had started to spring up, growing daily. Currently it held about three hundred and fifty people, with more due to arrive soon. People were arriving as discretely as possible, traveling on abandoned routes used by Arabian traders for centuries. The onset of a burgeoning raid system had made the Arabian trade routes, which had already been on the decline, all but obsolete economically. Being all but abandoned, they made for the perfect secret routes for Nikolai’s people. The hope, for these people was to reach 1,200 soldiers, and twice as many rifles.

Nikolai had more plans up his sleeves, but they would have to wait for his own little workshop to finish its operations, and for his contacts to get back to him on recruiting figures.

OOC: Menhad, you can start some low key Marxist activities almost however you'd like, I don't really want to hold that back, but what I do plan to accomplish before setting my sites on that is a general coup d'état against the government, get Nikolai in charge, then start throwing these issues at him.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Menhad
Member Avatar
ET2(IDW)
OOC: Before you can say Marx your Uncle I'm on it!
Also I planned on having Grigori Mstislav kinda like the Joker from The Dark Knight, he just wants to see the world burn. Just think, the Joker with a Russian accent.

IC:

Grigori Mstislav had departed from his contact after he was set up in a little house just outside some slums. The gold he brought was given to Hamil Petroika, and all Grigori Mstislav was left with was his gun, some ammo, his clothes, a good amount to Ulganian money and a couple of other useful items.

Almost at once he walked off into the slum, and looked up at the nicer section of town. He felt sick. And again almost at once a small child at about the age of eight walked up to him, clearly he hadn't eaten in days, his clothes rags, and his face covered in dirt.

"Do you have any food I can have?"

"No."

"Please, I haven't eaten since last Friday."

"Alright, fine, I will give you some money if you let me ask you a few questions."

"Ok."

"Do you have any brothers?"

"Yes, he is 17 and he looks after me."

"What about parents?"

"My father was taken away and my mother died giving birth."

"Any other family?"

"I have some cousins, they all are older than me."

"Fine, tell you brother and your cousins to come to my house, where I can offer them food in exchange for work. And here, go by your self some food."

At once the child ran off to the nearest store, Grigori Mstislav watched, then the child ran home.

Hour later

Grigori Mstislav finally heard a knock at the door, and when he answered he was meet by a small mob of boys.

"Come in come in!"

"Thank you sir."

When they walked in they stood in awe at the table in front of them. It was covered in meats and breads, even some fruits.

"Help your selves, but do be civil."

They quickly devoured their food, and spread them selves across the living room.

"You said you had work for us sir?"

"I do, but it is very dangerous and you may die, I suggest those who do not want to take the risk leave now."

Most of the boys left, but four stayed.

"Good, I only need a few any way. Any way here is a little secret you boys need to know, innocence can be destroyed meaning that there is no innocence. I can not give you back your innocence, but I can give you justice. Up there, in the rich neighborhoods, a child your age would be in school, but you are here trying to get food for your brothers and sisters. I offer you justice."

"So what the job?"

"I need you four to bring packages to four different areas, they are heavy, so you need to help each other. One goes to the city hall, one goes to the school, another goes to a certain jewelry store and the final one goes to the Governor mansion."

"What is in the packages?"

"You will find out once you have returned. Here is a map."

Two hours later

"What was in the pakages?"

"Explosives."

"Why do you want to wage war against the rich? They have the soldiers, the police, and the law. They always win.

"Because, I believe in justice."

Four loud blast shook the city, debris rained down on the poor and they laughed at the suffering of the rich, because the rich had made them suffer for a long time.



Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
A.Q.
Member Avatar
Beautiful Snowflake
 *  *  *  *  *  *
Nikolai was awoken a few mornings later to the sound of exuberant whoops and hollers from his men. He poked his head out from his tent to see a caravan of maybe 15 carriages, their attendants dressed in Arab garb, handing out rifles and shotguns from dozens of secret compartments in the frame of each carriage.

He became aware of a large obstruction in his sunlight, and turned to be eclipsed by Abdul, the monstrous Arab.

"Abdul?!? What on Earth are you doing here?"

The famously verbose Abdul, instead of responding, presented Nikolai with a long case, made of rich wenge wood and fitted with brass.

Nikolai stared at the case, looked at Abdul, who nodded, and tore open the case.

Inside he found a note tied to the most well-crafted Qasr rifle he'd ever seen, made of equally rich wenge, and cushioned in rich golden velvet.

The note read:
Quote:
 

My dear Nikolai,
A friend of mine sent these weapons, and this rifle for you especially, with best regards and prayers for the success of your mission.
Cordially,
Omar bin Omar.

Nikolai inspected the rifle again. This time he noticed, engraved into the stock in gold filigree, the monogram, From MSQ
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
The surprise was unexpected, but not entirely unpleasant to Nikolai. Abdul had proved to be a very fine asset to the man who dreamed of ruling Ulgania, and a man who may have been the linchpin.

“Abdul, while we may not share the same faiths, I am sure those that look down from the heavens have blessed these, you, and Omar. Let this day be remembered as the day an Al Qalaa’i empowered a country!” Nikolai said, inspecting the rifle and standing to embrace the Arab.

“Now there is still much to be done. Many of these goods have to be moved, men armed, and reasonably trained,” Drake, Nikolai’s trusted friend said. “Sir, we need to be sure that these weapons are put to good use.”

“Our people are ready my friend, we needn’t worry.”

“I do not doubt their hearts. We have plenty to give these arms too, but squandering them? If a man cannot shoot straight what good is he?” Drake asked fervently as the two, plus Abdul, as well as Sebastian walked about the encampment.

“Where would I be without you Drake?” Nikolai stated. “As far as modern education and philosophy has brought me in the way of running a country, it still takes a military man to show the light. Professional revolutionaries like us need to stick together,” he said jauntily.

“Of course we do, Nikolai. I can keep order, but it takes you to establish a new one. Let’s get some of these weapons into the city.”

Sebastian came up to the two of them with a telegram. “Hey Nikolai, I was sent this from Mogadishu. Don’t know why it was for me, but I think you should read it.”

To Whom it May Concern,

Recent bombings in Mogadishu have us very concerned. We won’t say who we are, or if we know the details, but if they are connected to your group then we will move faster than you could ever believe to make sure you mean nothing.

Yours, etc…


“What the hell was that about? Is it the government?” Drake said with a raised voice.

“It alludes to nothing. I’m willing to bet that since it’s in no way official it’s probably the communists. They have numbers, and organization, but I believe we have the upper-hand now,” Nikolai said.

“Right,” said Drake. “We should get to Serpentine. I’m sure my contacts in Mogadishu have been able to uncover at least something in the way of knowing who was responsible for that attack.”

“Let’s hope so. We start our plans in two days. Serpentine will be worth nothing very soon, and Mogadishu everything. If that place is to burn in our victory than we have nothing.”
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
A.Q.
Member Avatar
Beautiful Snowflake
 *  *  *  *  *  *
Soon after as Nikolai arrived in Mogadishu, Omar managed to get the next shipment in.

A large wooden crate arrived at Nikolai's door, no postmark, but with the word "OMAR" scrawled across the lid.

The attached letter, in a sealed brown envelope, was in the Qalaa'is now-familiar messy-Cyrillic scrawl.

Quote:
 
Nikolai, I managed to get a hold of some more supplies from an old army friend or two. 2,500 rifles, medical supplies (including morphine), rations, TNT, everything you may need there in Mogadishu. I am sending these by ship, with a few good men who know how to bribe customs officers. I have 15 artillery pieces in Tanzania that I can get across the border as well, if you need them. Our mutual friend sent you a care package of his own, though, in the attached crate.

Peace Be with You,
Omar bin Omar


Nikolai opened up the crate and found a month's supply of world-famous Qalaa'i coffee and chocolate, and a gramophone, with several records of Tchaikovsky.

Edited by A.Q., Jan 6 2009, 08:44 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
Nikolai’s men had been busy for quite some time. Time spent in Mogadishu had been invaluable. Everything he and his organization had done had been more effective in Serpentine, but there had been victories in Mogadishu. A key one was influence over the docks. Communists had once monopolized them, but Nikolai wrested control over them just in time for their plans to be set into motion.

However, something had indeed come up. A new communist had come to the city, and was acting as a larger threat to the establishment, as well as Nikolai’s goals than he would care to deal with. This occurred when the same communists that had threatened Nikolai in his workshop over two weeks earlier showed up in Mogadishu, looking around in the man’s headquarters, asking questions that really should not have been asked given the situation.

“Sir, they’re becoming a problem. And apparently they have enough men in the city to topple us before we can act. If we get into a fight we won’t be able to take the country!” Drake said to Nikolai as the two made their way to the Mogadishu headquarters from the docks.

“I know that. I know very well. Any idea what they’re going on about?” Nikolai asked.

“The glove sir, they want it, or fair payment for it.”

“It’s they’re damn fault for losing track of it. They gambled with the wealth of the nation and they came up short. It’s their own fault.”

“Still, they are not backing down. They act irrational and demand repayment.”

“I know, and I have a plan. We are to meet Sebastian at the headquarters. He will do.”

“Sir… the boy? Are you joshing me?”

Stopping in his tracks, Nikolai said, “Drake, my friend I know this is hard to stomach, but the boy is expendable. He never really had that much of a purpose here, and I only took him in for pity and protection. You must realize though that we cannot afford a liability that great for the greater good,” he stammered. The boy had grown on the both of them. Nikolai had even started looking at him as a son.

“This is not right, sir,” Drake said forebodingly.

“I know it is not right! I know we should not act like this! I would give anything to keep him with us, but it is his life or the entire country right now,” Nikolai shouted, and then trying to keep his composure he continued. “There is a chance that they may not even kill him. There is always that chance. They promised him work before coming to us.”

“He knows too much of what we do. We should just kill those communist bastards before they become a bigger problem. If they keep him alive they will torture him until he tells them everything that there is to tell about what we do. That is completely unacceptable at this stage!”

“We will see how this unfolds then. All I can say is that Sebastian is not worth Ulgania.”

As the two reached headquarters with a fervent stride, they were welcomed as warmly as a paramilitary headquarters could. The two had barely eaten that day, so they took a piece of cheese and bread each and made their way to deal with the communists.

A man who they had started to hear about, and saw as more of a hooligan than anything else appeared before them. It had been considered that his group had been behind the terrorist attacks in the city, but they did not realize the company he kept was directly in line with the communists. Grigori Mstislav, a Soviet, and several more familiar faces, those being Fyodor, Razumihin and Luzhin appeared before them.

“Quite a surprise to see us again so soon Nikolai?” Fyodor asked. “You look worried. Last time you greeted us you thought we were the scum of the Earth,” he said with a laugh.

“And who is to say I still do not? Yes I remember you though, but this character, I have only heard tell of this one. What is your name?” he asked raising a revolver toward him.

“That answer should be obvious given your situation. If you have heard of me then why do you even ask? The gun adds a nice touch though. I really hope you know how to use that,” he said with a slight chuckle.

“His name is Grigori you fools. He has become your bane in this city. And with his help, we wish to reacquiesce two things which were once ours,” Fyodor said.

“The Glove and the boy. Give them to us,” Luzhin said flatly.

“Now now gentlemen,” Grigori said, “quibbling over all of this won’t help anyone. Ever think that they might want something in return?”

“And what can you possibly offer us?” Drake said.

Grigori opened his coat, showing several sticks of TNT strapped to himself. Apparently this had come to a surprise to the other communists who flinched backwards. “I think we can offer them their lives,” he said.

“You come on my property, threaten my people, and insult them none the less. You can have the boy, but I demand that you get off these grounds before we see to it that you are buried here,” Nikolai said. Looking over his shoulder he saw Sebastian looking around a corner on the scene. “Boy, come here.”

Sebastian, hardly fifteen came forward. He looked sadly up at Nikolai, knowing his fate had been virtually sealed. He envisioned being tortured at the hands of Grigori, his merciless complexion bearing into his soul.

“I am sorry Sebastian. Truly I am. I told you before though I am not an honorable man, and I am sorry,” he said, hardly looking at Sebastian.

“How touching,” Grigori said. “Now come over here boy.”

As Sebastian came closer, Grigori lifted a revolver, and blasted him in the head twice. Drake and Nikolai screamed as the boy fell dead, and the other communists screamed at Grigori.

“Get out of here you fools, before you never leave,” Nikolai growled.

“You have nothing to threaten me with,” Grigori said. “Now give the Glove and we leave.”

“You seem to be very willing to expend people,” Nikolai said. “So I am willing to bet that doing this…” he said, raising the revolver and disposing of Luzhin and Razumihin, “…would not even get a reaction from you. Maybe your friend Fyodor here, but not you. You seem as though you are from a higher order, one that does not fret with the unnecessary. However, you came and now have all that I am capable of giving you. The Glove, sure, it is in my possession, but it is not here. It is a trifle to me. As much of a symbol as it is, it has no worth to me, nor my order. Get out of here before you cause anymore havoc and mayhem. There is nothing I can threaten you with nor give you.”

“That seems fair. I must say you can be quite convincing when you need to be. I am very sure we will be meeting again,” Grigori said as he made his way out.

“Have him followed. Make sure anyone else he may have come into contact with while he was here is questioned. Make sure every room, hall, corner of this place that he was in is searched. If anyone else outside here has made contact with him, I want to know. This is to be our city, not his. We cannot kill him, not yet. He is not from Ulgania. I doubt he can even speak Arabic, but I do believe that he is more than capable of being a problem,” Nikolai said as he, Drake, and several others in their group made their way out. “And make sure none of them are in the strike group. Our plans are remaining the same. We set out at noon, and the country will be ours by nightfall.”
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ulgania
Member Avatar
A better Zarathustra has never rode a horse
With the recruiting numbers between Drake and Nikolai in Mogadishu looking strong, and the key points in the country looking adequate they set out. Nikolai marched in the front of a line, with 500 men behind him with rifles. They marched straight into Mogadishu, at times to much fanfare. The people had been awaiting this strike against the state, and many were thankful for it. Many more joined the line, swelling its numbers to several thousand. Instead of heading for the city center, the first target was an armory. Nikolai’s armed men spread out, and after a brief siege and fire fight with loyalists, Nikolai took it, and Drake saw to the distribution of arms. By mid-afternoon over five thousand men were marching on the City Square, and had surrounding the government offices.

Marching directly into the offices though, Nikolai waited for fierce loyalist resistance, but all anyone found was a bloodbath. Every worker that had not fled had taken a gun to their head. While Nikolai stood and basked for a moment, Drake saw to it that every revolver and rifle was taken.

While Mogadishu had been taken with hardly a shot fired, there had been preparation for artillery sent in from Tanzania to fire on the city, and another two thousand men to rush the city if necessary. Thankfully, Nikolai’s new capital was taken unscathed, but Serpentine was a different story.

The current Ulganian government, and its garrison stationed in Serpentine was putting up fierce resistance in the attack. Eight thousand men had been recruited for the attack on the nation’s capital, but only about half were armed. The plan to raid the armory had not gone as well, resulting in a massive explosion that had ripped through the entire structure. Nikolai’s forces did, however manage to get a hold of several 19th century artillery pieces, and 18th century cannons. All of which were operable, but only in a limited fashion. The government had twelve thousand troops ready to defend the city, and was doing so confidently.

Nikolai’s forces had the element of surprise initially though. They smashed into the city, overwhelming two of the larger strongholds used to defend it at a moment’s notice. Artillery from the city’s outskirts lead to more strongholds falling, but counterattacks were coming swiftly, and Avdotya Romanovna was waging several effective attacks personally.

There was a problem with Romanovna’s attacks though, and this fault had almost instantly given the revolutionary forces an instant advantage by mid-afternoon. She had all of her soldiers march forward with several native Ethiopians and Cushites, while Slavic soldiers, often more heavily armed and trained marched behind them. Forcing white soldiers to gain an advantage galvanized many civilians around the city to take up whatever arms they could against the Romanovna government, and her forces. By nightfall, the capital building was the only stronghold remaining, and was being peppered by light artillery and whatever fragments of concrete and rock that the tens of thousands of civilians that teemed around the building, happy to see it fall could throw.

The commander on the ground, Alexander Rurikid was beginning to worry about the civilians, and ordered flares to be fired to end the artillery strikes. The flares, to the civilians of Ethiopians and Cushites, and even Slavic people who were angry and the government took the flares as a signal to attack. Alexander was astounded at the pure anger of the people at the government, and the swiftness that they, men and women that he didn’t even consider to be a factor in the fight, fly into action and storm the building. Avdotya Romanovna was on the top floor, and eventually took her own life as she saw her last few guards become overwhelmed by the mob of people she allowed to be created.

By midnight, other major cities had fallen. With communication lines difficult and slow, word did not come to Nikolai of the fall of the rest of the country until for another two days. While Serpentine burned though, and his soldiers under orders to give humanitarian aid (thankfully, most of which received from Tanzania) while people moved toward Addis Ababa, as well to Mogadishu.

Very soon, Nikolai Alexyevitch had taken up residence and offices in the main government building in Mogadishu. He officially had control of the country, and the first thing he would see to was a humanitarian mission to wherever the country needed, and a boost in domestic trade. The country was capable of controlling a lot of money, a lot more that Romanovna’s government was able to control. Hundreds of educated Ulganians were stepping up and promoting themselves as being fully capable of taking up needed government positions. Even more available were bureaucrats from the old government who were, indeed, competent civil servants.

“We need people like them. They know how to run a government. We are only so confident Drake. We’re going to need then to administrate and stabilize the country. We can work on things like education and infrastructure though. Getting our soldiers fed and paid is a priority, too,” Nikolai said.

“I agree sir. On another note, we have managed to seize several hundred million rupees worth of fortunes from the previous government. We’re only seizing that which was taken through corruption. It’s been happening for years, so we have quite a boost,” Drake said, handing a messenger bag filled with ledgers and a large notebook to Nikolai.

News like this was giving the country hope. Nikolai hoped to stabilize things within a week. Given the massive communist activity in Mogadishu, he had been clandestinely sending people out to locate any strongholds and to report back.

OOC: Meh... felt like I sucked at writing this post. But there it is, a successful revolution.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Enjoy forums? Start your own community for free.
Learn More · Register for Free
« Previous Topic · International Relations · Next Topic »
Add Reply