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| The Whaladyan Civil War | |||
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| Topic Started: Oct 18 2014, 08:29 PM (1,256 Views) | |||
| Whal | Oct 18 2014, 08:29 PM Post #1 | ||
"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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Dayr-az-Zawr, Al Whaladya... Posted Image A constantly shifting and bouncing sea of human beings trickled out in between the many stone and clay buildings of the Whaladyan capital city. Flooding the usually crowded city streets with their various colorful banners and national flags, the burgeoning crowd of white dishdasha-wearing males mixed seamlessly with the black burqas of the women present, creating an equally impressive and devastating blockage of the traffic's daily commute. The crowd continued their sojourn, weaving in and out of every possible location in every direction, until they converged at the Al-Kazoul inter-city parkway, which served as the terminus for the endless tide of people. The procession created a flat horizon even as the thousands of citizens walked slowly and somberly down the parkway, yet a small green spec could be seen in the distance - bobbing up and down as it was carried dutifully by members of the crowd. A large wooden box, hidden by a draped green flag with golden traditional markings, was handled gingerly by every individual who was blessed with carrying it. Marching off to either side of the crowd, a small but competent contingent of Royal Palace Guards kept a hawk's gaze at the box; any change in motion or aggressive action directed at it surely would draw their unwanted attention. No matter, the crowd treated the box with the utmost respect and care and even went out of their way to kiss or rub it. The crowd looked devastated. Some were crying, everyone appeared shaken. The unthinkable had happened to them, to their country. Faraz al-Whaladya, the first Emir and founder of the nation, had passed. His body laid lifeless within the box - a coffin. For the weary and shocked crowd who so carefully carried his body through the streets of the capital, the Emir's death came as a punch to the gut. Many had realized the lack of public appearances made by the Emirate's confident leader, yet very few could fathom that the nation's strongman had actually so recently and unexpectedly ceased to exist. Indeed, many had believed that the Emir would have lasted for ages. Cancer, it seemed, was even something the infamous dictator-king of Al Whaladya couldn't overcome. When they read the horrible news in their daily copy of the Al Whaladyan National Post or saw first hand the procession of fellow lamenting citizens, many Whaladyans were taken completely aback. Few would truly grasp that their lives were about to change for the worse. Off the streets and behind the scenes, Faraz al-Whaladya's death was the catalyst for a power struggle which had been brewing since the country's conception. For those in the know - military leaders, high-level bureaucrats, the GFID, and the Royal Family - the Emir's passing was the final climax for the culmination of months of planning and scheming by a varied host of individuals each jockeying to fill the vacuum caused from the leader's passing. As the dust settled, the struggle had already begun. Isolated and bitterly curtailed under the watchful gaze of his elder brother, Omar al-Whaladya, the Defense Minister, had eyed the position of Emir even as the crown was bestowed upon Faraz I - his very blood. Respecting his brother's hereditary right, Omar had never acted overtly, but this had not stopped him from amassing all the support and sway needed to perhaps one day lead a takeover. As his brother's health floundered, the tactfully malicious Omar gathered all the authority rightfully bestowed to the Emir and acted in his stead. This left the Defense Minister with an ample opportunity to capture the support of much of the military and practically all of the GFID and Palace Guard. Only two obstacles stood in his way. First, the natural line of succession officially fell to Muhammad I, the Emir's eldest son and Omar's nephew. Whilst only a young boy of 20, Muhammad had proven himself to be a apt tactician in military matters and was a determined industrialist. No doubt, should the young crown-prince gain the support of the people, Omar's only chance to rule exclusively would be shattered. Capturing and forcing Muhamamad to rule as a puppet was suggested and rejected by Omar and his supporters; the only way to secure the rule for himself would be to eliminate his brother's male heirs. Even as Faraz I was being transported to his final resting place, Omar had ordered a special assassination attempt to eliminate his nephew. The second obstacle was disposing of any political rivals, and there were plenty. Despite the general ineptitude and uselessness of the Emirate's political parties against the sheer brute force of the Emir and his military, the usually divided political realm had slowly been organizing together under the powerful and charismatic leadership of the Prime Minister, Ali Hassam. Already claiming the legitimate authority to govern the country under the triple Whaladyan-Semitistani-Aghaban agreement, Hassam openly challenged the Monarchy and began organizing the necessary resources to implement a change towards democracy. As Omar planned an assassination attempt against his own nephew, an arrest order was placed for Hassam and anyone identifying with his movement (self-identified as the "Khovars" named after the city square were several protesters were already arrested.) As the sun set over Dayr-az-Zawr, the gears towards civil war were already turning. OOC: **Edit** Thank you for whoever moved this :) . Edited by Whal, Oct 20 2014, 08:07 AM.
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| BenC | Oct 18 2014, 09:54 PM Post #2 | ||
Member
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released by the Executive Office of Sultan Sharyan, Sultan of the United Sultanate of the United Libyan Arab Republic. |
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| Whal | Nov 3 2014, 03:01 PM Post #3 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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Imperial Palace, Al Shauf... Prince Muhammad looked out the window of his palace suite into the lavish garden below. The slight noise of the trickling fountain below began to induce a small bout of tears on the young royal's face as he remembered the too recent passing of his father. Muhammad's teary eyes soon erupted into a fierce and guttural sobbing episode. How could his father have passed so soon? And how had he not attended the ceremony? Suddenly, the prince's fit was interrupted by a slight knock at his door. "Go away," Muhammad cried, whipping his nose. "Leave me be!" "My prince, you must let me in! I need to talk to you immediately!" Came the reply from a familiar voice. Muhammad recognized the voice as soon as it uttered the first word - Mehmet Benghazi. The Emirate's foreign minister and the Prince's tutor in diplomacy, Benghazi was a trusted friend and had filled an invaluable position in the life of the Crown Prince. Without further hesitation, Muhammad walked towards the door and cracked it ever so slightly. "What is it, Benghazi?" Mehment Benghazi didn't waste any time pushing his way through, brushing past the Prince, and then locking the door behind him. Having only returned from the hospital a few days prior, the still recovering Benghazi still showed scars from the ministry bombing which had claimed the life of the Russian Ambassador and nearly half of the ministry staff (Benghazi included). He walked with a slight limp and still clung to his cane even as he sat on the Prince's bed. "You are in incredible danger, my Prince," he said somberly. "How quickly can you pack some essentials? We need to leave now!" Muhammad looked puzzled. "Leave? Why?" he inquired. "This is nonsense, i need to be coronated tomorrow." "There wont be a coronation, my Prince," Benghazi said, a slight sweat appearing on his brow. "Your uncle means to murder you and seize power for himself. You must be evacuated as soon as possible." "I-I don't believe you Benghazi," Muhammad said in disbelief, his knees getting weak. "That doesn't make sense." Benghazi chuckled, "Oh yes it does! Omar's always been a bastard and a power-hungry one at that. He won't risk the people rallying behind you; especially not now that Hassam has declared his own intentions of representing them. They both will seek your demise as a precursor to fighting one another. You're a threat, my Prince." "W-where will I go?" Muhammad asked, fresh tears appearing out of the corners of his eyes. "The Libyan Arab Republic, to Porcu, anywhere!" Benghazi exclaimed. "You simply cannot stay here!" It was at exactly that moment that a commotion was heard downstairs. Sounds of doors busting open, shouts, and then gunshots were heard from the first floor parlor. Almost instantly, the unmistakable sound of boots running up the stairs and then more gunshots echoed through the Prince's room. Benghazi acted without hesitation. He pushed the Prince into his private chambers and grabbed the two doors. Before he shut them he put his hand to his lips emulating a shushing motion. The two men starred at one another and Muhammad saw that in his eyes he had said his final goodbye. He slammed the doors and locked them from the outside. Muhammad fought the urge to pound the doors down and rescue his old friend, but he found himself too weak to act - he simply listened. "Ah, foreign minister," another familiar voice said. "Where is Muhammad? I know you've come to warn him. It is too late." Benghazi's tone was uncharacteristically unafraid. "Usama, why am i not surprised you've sided with Omar. You always were a snake." "Quiet, enough of your prattling," Usama al-Whaladya barked. "Tell me where he is and i might not kill you." "Have you checked your wife's burqa?" Benghazi taunted boldly. A shot rang out, followed by a thud, and then the exasperated groans of Benghazi. Sounds of men running around the outside room and shuffling through drawers were clear to Muhammad from his hiding place behind the door. "You'll never find him, you traitors!" Benghazi gasped between the pain. "He's halfway to Porcu by now." "Oh, we'll find him. Even if we need to strangle him in a Porcuian hotel, we'll get him," Usama said blankly. He loaded another magazine into his pistol and cocked it. "Now, where were we?" Without hesitation he fired a round into Benghazi's head, splattering blood and brain fragments onto the white carpet. "Tear this place apart!" he commanded. "He's still here, but send out a shoot on sight order just in case." Muhammad clenched his fists. It was all true! His uncles were trying to kill him to seize power for themselves. He had to escape, but too where? He couldn't turn to the Prime Minister or the Khovars as they'd likely imprison him or perhaps even kill him. He could make a break for the Libyans, but they had sympathizers who were loyal to his uncle and they could easily be swayed to kill him. Porcu seemed like an obvious choice, but they were the hardest to reach. Muhammad's only choice would be to find a secure way to contact the Porcuian embassy, but first he had to escape the palace. Without wasting any more of his time, the young prince dove from his second story window and landed squarely on-top of a nearby military jeep. With all the force he could muster he flung himself into the cabin, started the engine, and pealed out of the courtyard. The embassy was only a few miles away. In the meantime, the prince took out his second cell phone (the one he had bought begrudgingly when he had traveled to Porcu) and sent a simple text message to the embassy's fax line. "Help me. Heir to Whaladyan throne in danger from own family and police. Need political asylum. Help me." Edited by Whal, Nov 3 2014, 03:01 PM.
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| Porcu | Nov 5 2014, 09:31 PM Post #4 | ||
"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."
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Posted Image The Porcuian embassy to the Emirate of Al Whaladya was located off-centre of the downtown area and the more heavily populated districts of the city in a well cultivated area, relatively away from prying eyes and curious passerbyes. Having overseen the construction, opening, and establishment of the Porcuian ambassadorial mission some years ago, Marcus Postumia Albinus had ruled over that small piece of sovereign territory like a king. Not a tyrant by any means, to be sure, but Ambassador Postumia Albinus had done everything in his power to continually extend his tenure. The Ambassador had even gone so far as to learn Arabic - without any pleasure or real desire. He was also fortunate to have a high ranking liberal parliamentarian as a younger brother. The recent death of the Whaladyan Emir had been initially greeted by silence by the Republic, though a staff member within the Commission of Foreign Affairs had been wise enough to suggest that a message be forwarded to the Emir's family by the Porcuian embassy. Grudgingly, Ambassador Postumia Albinus complied - the expense for the gift was enough to make the middle-aged and strong-jawed ambassador wince. Likewise, intelligence reports and stirrings related to a possible coup or general outbreak of violence following the death of the Emir were also initially greeted by a shrug. There were those within the Directorate-General and the SSR who foresaw a terrible scenario unfolding, but the political reality within Ariminae was that the President and Parliament were too preoccupied. It therefore came as a surprise to Ambassador Postumia Albinus to receive a terse memo, which was in fact little more than a forwarded fax that had just been received by embassy staff. The Ambassador picked up his office telephone and dialed for the Chief of Embassy Communications. "Salve, Gaius Cornelius?" "Sir?" "What the hell am I looking at? Julia just handed me a...Well, it looks like nothing more than a random fax you received." "That's correct, Sir. We just received that and I thought that I deserved your attention." Ambassador Postumia Albinus sat back in his chair, setting the memo down on his desk. "It says that you couldn't verify the call, so we have no idea who sent this. Yet, you really thought this deserved my attention?" "Sir, I understand that..." "Do your job, Cornelius Elva. Properly." the Ambassador interrupted, quickly hanging up the phone. And yet, the Ambassador remained seated, his eyes scanning the short sentences of the fax repeatedly. He finally stood and walked over to the corner of the building that housed the monitoring and security systems of the Embassy and the surrounding area. "Anything of interest?" the Ambassador asked, specifically regarding activity within the city centre. The security attendants shook their heads. All quiet. Suddenly, the Ambassador's eyes caught something on one of the small screens, whose feed came from a traffic camera which sat across the street from the Imperial Palace. With a grin and a tone more smug than curious, the Ambassador said, "Oh, yeah? What's that?" "Perhaps, that oaf Gaius Cornelius was onto something." |
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| Whal | Nov 10 2014, 06:32 PM Post #5 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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Posted Image It took a mere 2 days after the passing of Faraz I for the country in which he built to descend into chaos. The power struggle between Defense Minister Omar al-Whaladya and Prime Minister Ali Hassam had laid dormant, hidden under the woodwork, whilst the Emir was alive, but his death allowed both men to mobilize the necessary forces needed to back a claim to leadership of the country. Plagued by crippling poverty, rising unemployment, virtual government bankruptcy, and deep sectarian divisions, the country for which they prepared to do battle over was a failed state in every sense of the moniker. However, like a phoenix from ashes, both men saw a future for their country and ardently yearned for possession of the reigns. It was Omar who made the first moves towards securing the Whaladyan throne, and therefore beginning the resultant civil war. Whilst his assassination attempt against Muhammad I was a failure, Omar and his supporters had successfully removed the young Prince from the public eye and therefore eliminated that obstacle, albeit temporarily. Further exemplifying his cunning and deceitfulness, Omar then blamed the plot on Hassam and parliament in a bid to squash the bodies' access to public support and legislative power. Then, using the absence of his nephew Muhammad as an excuse, Omar secured stewardship over the one next in line for the throne - the Emir's youngest son, Ashour. Ruling as a steward, Omar used his new power to disband parliament and label anyone identifying with Hassam or the Khovar movement as a traitor. Sunni Muslims, former National State Party members, much of the military, the GFID, and over 58% of the population sided with Omar's new government. Despite the disbanding of Parliament, Hassam and others who identified as "Khovars" weren't as powerless as the new government labeled them to be. Many in Al Whaladya had yearned for a chance at greater political representation and saw the Emir's passing as a necessary catalyst for democracy. Harnessing the support of parliament before its disbanding, Prime Minister Hassam secured the nomination for leadership over the emerging movement and formed the Whaladyan Democratic Front. Dedicated to abolishing the oppressive apparatus of the monarchy and proceeding with the agreement made between the Emirate and the Federation of Semitistan, the WDF balanced support from Shia Muslims, socialists, communists, anarchists, university students, and hundreds of thousands of disgruntled Whaladyan citizens. What began in the halls of parliament soon spread to the university campuses throughout the Emirate. In mere hours after the announcement of the forming of Omar's government and the demonstrations at Khovar Square, hundreds of students began organizing protests of their own in dozens of Whaladyan cities. Facing instances of mass arrests, beatings, and some recorded deaths, these small student protests soon spread to the streets in the forms of massive unorganized riots. It was from the confusion and turmoil of the rioting in places such as Ar Raqqah, Aleppo, As Sulaymaniyah, and notably Dayr-az-Zawr that the WDF began recruiting large swaths of the protestors into the movement. When Omar's government resorted to installing marshal law and "shoot-on-sight" orders, the movement shifted from large scale rioting to organized resistance. With a secret leadership based in Al Hasakah, the WDF began funneling the necessary orders, arms, and supplies to its supporters among the population. As the situation became more mature, the WDF began claiming territory in dozens of cities throughout the north of the country and in the Kurdish territories in the east. Omar's government reacted as quickly as possible to the mobilization of the rebels, but years of military strain/spending and bureaucratic ineptitude had placed serious restrictions upon the speed and effectiveness of state forces. Nevertheless, government forces managed to quell serious threats to state control in Aleppo, Dayr-az-Zawr, and As Suwar by quickly deploying armor and airpower on the still undersupplied WDF rebels. As the dust settled around these urban battlefields, the Whaladyan National Army had forced the WDF into a loose confederation of strongholds across the Euphrates River. After a week into the war, the government held control of over 2/3's of Al Whaladya proper, yet their hold in the Kurdish territory was floundering. The Kurdish War had left virtually the entire ethnic Kurdish population disillusioned with the Whaladyan Monarchy, and even without the Taliban, thousands of Kurds flocked to the message of the WDF. Swelled by these fresh recruits and abundance of weaponry, the rebels managed to wrestle control of much of the separate territory from the WNA; relegating them into a small pocket around the stronghold of Rawanduz. With reinforcements nowhere in sight, the government was faced with the decision of whether or not to send an expedition east to save the city. The decision was finally decided upon after the rebel forces began their first disorganized assaults upon the city. The defenders had managed to hold out without too many casualties, however their food sources would indeed give out before long. Two armies, one under the command of General Armand Hallal and the other under General Tahir al-Quarashi were sent east with a combined force of 100,000 men. Their mission was two pronged; rescue the beleaguered forces stuck in Rawanduz and achieve the long-term goal which eluded the former Emir - connect the two halves of Al Whaladya. --- Porcuian Embassy, outside Dayr-az-Zawr.. Muhammad pressed his foot down hard on the gas. He had been driving non-stop for almost three days, careful never to stay in one place for two long. His eyes widened as he finally came within spitting distance of the only safe place for him in his own country - the Porcuian embassy. The young prince stopped the car only a few feet away from the main gate. The two guards watched nervously as he slowly exited the vehicle. Likely, they had been watching the news about the enfolding carnage and were wary of such events finding their way to the embassy gates. Perhaps they had arrived? "Stay where you are!" a guard commanded in Porcuian Greek through a megaphone. "We're fetching a translator!" Muhammad looked puzzled. Did they not receive his text? He needed to get into that embassy! The GFID could show up at any moment and kill him right in front of them. Conscious of but unafraid of their raised weapons, Muhammad approached the gate. The guards tightened their grip, but never moved their trigger fingers. "My name is Muhammad al-Whaladya," Muhammad said slowly, gripping the bars. "Son of Faraz I and Crown Prince of the Emirate of Al Whaladya. I need asylum. I need to speak to the President of the Republic immediately." |
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| Yoloys | Nov 10 2014, 08:07 PM Post #6 | ||
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Posted Image "Once aboard the vessle, can all passengers please show some sort of documentation proving or stating Yoloysese heritage," instructed the somewhat cold metallic voice behind the various loudspeakers. A cluster of ethnic Yoloysese huddled amongst personal belongings; hoping to escape the collapse of a once proud Arab nation. The sound of gunshots peppered the almost deathly atmosphere. It's just past noon, the port of Latakia was physically overcrowded with displaced Yoloysese nationals. Many had arrived by foot from places as far as Damascus and Aleppo. Weeks previously, many of the now fleeing civilians (a vast majority of whom adhered to the Greek Orthodox Church and Dainaism) would have been busy enjoying the riches of a middle-class existence, to have notice the resentment and anger brewing amongst the ostracised Shi'a majority who viewed the "colonists" - as they were commonly referred to by native born population of Whaladya - as being nothing more than thieves and hoarders. For it was the Yoloysese minority - and not the Shi'a majority - who were given high income occupations and benefits. Now that the tables have been turned, the "colonists" had no choice but to return back to the safety of their homeland; the island nation of Yoloys. If they chose to remain longer, death was inevitable at the hands of the anti-royalists. A half-dilapidated cargo ship awaited the sizeable 15, 000 or so fleeing ethnic Yoloysese. Without waiting for further instructions, the refugees, boarded the ship mournfully whilst glancing at the last remnants of "home". Edited by Yoloys, Nov 15 2014, 08:21 AM.
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| BenC | Nov 11 2014, 08:24 AM Post #7 | ||
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The Libyans living in the Emirate were advised to leave the country to prevent them from getting caught in the cross fire between the two sides of the civil war that was about to break out. Many of the expats fledded from their homes taking with them as much of their belongings with them to keep them from being looted by the two sides to the Embassy and Consulates all around the country. The Republic was hopping that the Government would honor the agreement between the two countries and allow same passage for the Libyans. The expats would have to wait at the compounds until word came from the government. As this was going on Sharyan was talking with his brother and son about the possible options that could be took by the Republic to prevent this from igniting the region into an all out warzone between religions. One option was to get the two sides to compromise which Sharyan knew wasn't possible because Omar and Hassan won't talk face to face every as the two hated each other with a passion. The second option was to contact each leader individual and get them to resolve the crisis peacefully along with finding where the Crown Prince was so he could be sworn in as the new Emir. (OOC: The Libyans don't know that it was Omar who was behind the attempted assassination or that is at Muhammad the Porcu Embassy Whal. So you could decide how you want to play this out between the two countries.) They hope that with Muhammad at the head they could get the two sides to peacefully resolve their issues and form a new government. |
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| NRE | Nov 12 2014, 09:26 PM Post #8 | ||
Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman
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Saint Petersburg, Russia.... Al-Whaladya had remained on Russia radar even after the very messy and complicated mission during the Kurdish uprising. Though the Russians had succeeded in taking their target, Colonel Perov (who was now once again rotting in one of Russia's infamous prisons), they had failed in many other respects. Sergei Krylov was never found, despite Russia's best efforts to locate him after the incident. They'd also lost Ambassador Sergei Kovalchuk in a highly unfortunate attack on the Whaladyan Foreign Ministry and to make that matter worse, the contents of the Ambassador's briefcase had pointed to Russian treachery. Needless to say, despite Russia's best efforts through all the back channels they had available to them, no one in the previous Whaladyan government would speak to them. This was not necessarily a bad thing as the country did not have much strategic value to Russia, political, economically, or militarily. However, Russia's affairs in the Middle East were weak and more pressingly, Al-Whaladya or at least the Kurdish section, still held many keys to the mystery surrounding Colonel Perov's benefactors. So for that reason, the KSB made Al-Whaladya a target for surveillance and the current events prompted a government meeting. Posted Image The meeting was one the first classified meetings of the new government, one of the first for the new Prime Minister to attend. Though the Emperor had declassified much of Russia's secrets to Nikolai Dushkin, the Prime Minister had not had the chance to sit in one such a meeting. With Ivan seated promonently at the head of the table, Dushkin sat proudly to his right followed by the other democratically elected members of the Emperor's Imperial Council of Ministers. Director Beria of the KSB, was then recognized to begin the meeting. "Your majesty" he began with a nod to the Emperor, "as per your request we've continued to monitor Al-Whaladya since the Perov incident. Up until a week or so ago we've had little success gathering any intelligence on the Krylov question or that of Perov's associates while in the country. However, the situation in the country has recently changed with the death of the Emir. Fighting between warring factions within the government has ensued and we've even come across communique from foreign sources that believe the crown Prince's life was threatened. We have not had the ability to collaborate these reports however and cannot pin-point the Prince's whereabouts at this time. However, the unrest has softened the borders as the military is being used more for internal control. It is possible we could insert agents into the country, for reconnaissance and fact-gathering missions if necessary." "That seems agreeable" Ivan responded. "There are many questions that remain from the Perov incident, questions that can only be answered by individuals believed to be in Kurdistan. If we can get agents into that region then I believe we should push forward though with discretion of course." "Of course" said Beria, "however your majesty, might I also suggest that we at least consider some form of intervention. The opportunity to help out could help us repair damaged relations and at least get the Whaladyans talking to us. Having a partner in the Middle East would be agreeable I should think. "Your majesty with all due respect to the Director, I don't believe that is an advisable course of action" Dushkin replied. "We cannot know for certain what side truly has the best interest of the people at heart in Al-Whaladya and furthermore we have little right in determining the winner of this internal battle. The best we can do is offer whatever humanitarian relief we can to the people suffering this war and hope that such kindness is not forgotten by the next regime." Ivan was not entirely surprised by the Prime Minister's remarks. His party and that of the coalition they took part in were known pacifists and worst, more republican at heart that aristocratic. The Emperor was at least thankful that the Prime Minister's choice was to stay out of the politics of the situation, rather than side with the more democratic faction. "I believe the caution must be exercised here" Ivan replied finally. "Prime Minister Dushkin you have a point in that we have too little information as of now to weigh into the situation to the extent that you Suggest Director Beria. Still, improving relations would be preferable and if it must take a direct approach I would not take that option of the table yet. Let us first get as much information as possible and then choose a course of action afterwards." Everyone at the meeting, whether they completely agreed or not, decided that Emperor's words were the best compromise they were going to get and simply nodded in agreement.... |
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| Porcu | Nov 21 2014, 11:18 AM Post #9 | ||
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."
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Approaching the main entrance from behind the two guards Muhammad al-Whaladya could make out the tall, well dressed figure of the Ambassador. With a loud command that mimicked a grunt the Ambassador ordered the two guards to relax their stance. The Ambassador continued to move nearer to the closed gate, despite the protests of his security staff, and was soon face to face with Muhammad. "It seems that you've gotten yourself caught in quite a nasty fight." Ambassador Marcus Postumia Albinus said in Arabic. His heavy accent notwithstanding, the Ambassador's Arabic certainly made communication much easier. "Please let me in." Muhammad repeated, his eyes now wandering down either side of the boulevard that ran across one side of the embassy complex. "Any identification?" the Ambassador asked. "None on my person. I was forced to flee for my life. Please. I'd be happy to verify my identity." "Yes..." the Ambassador replied slowly, his voice dropping as he considered whether or not to open the gate. It was a long minute. Muhammad stood still, his hands tightly gripping the thick metal bars of the embassy gate. He let out a deep breath, having not noticed he had been holding his breath the entire time, when he understood the two guards were moving to open a small entrance way beside the large main gate. The Crown Prince of Al-Whaladya thanked the gentlemen before joining the Ambassador on the steps of the Embassy. While Muhammad's Greek was excellent, his grasp of Latin was marginal and though he did not understand all of what was being said inside the busy embassy he did realize confusion when he saw it. Ambassador Postumia Albinus was suddenly flanked by several aides at the same time as he was escorting the Crown Prince to his office. It took a bit of time to properly see to each assistant's concerns and materials, in addition to properly verifying the Crown Prince's identity, but eventually the Ambassador and the Crown Prince were alone. Ambassador Postumia Albinus would have wanted to provide his guest with little more than a bottle of water, but he did not fail to grasp the potential opportunities that lay with the present situation and circumstances. Muhammad was therefore treated to the best the embassy staff could put together in a span of ten minutes. While slightly uncomfortable, as the Ambassador neither ate nor drank, Muhammad was famished and immensely thankful for what was provided. "So..." the Ambassador began. "It seems that the Emirate has spiraled into a chaotic little civil war. I'd very much like to hear what you experienced, if you wouldn't mind." "Certainly..." Muhammad began. A loud telephone ring punctured the conversation. Visibly annoyed, Ambassador Postumia Albinus simply stared at the telephone for several seconds. Muhammad could see him weighing the consequences of not answering. After a few more seconds the Ambassador picked up the telephone and began to snarl at the poor soul on the other line. "Oh..." the Ambassador went completely pale. "Domine...I...No, no, no...Things are a mess here and I..." The Ambassador's eyes shifted to Muhammad. "Yes, he's with me now...Yes, right away." The handset was returned to its place atop the dialing pad slowly, the Ambassador's hand remaining there for a moment. The Ambassador then proceeded to open his notebook computer and to open a secure video transmission, eyeing the young, handsome Son of Faraz I sitting opposite him occasionally during the whole process. Eventually, the Ambassador repositioned his computer to the edge of the desk and motioned for Muhammad to move his chair around the opposite end of the desk. Several minutes passed before a face unfamiliar to Muhammad appeared on the other end. "Postumia Albinus, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that you would avoid informing the Consilium." "Domine, I was merely in the process of corroborating the young Prince's story. The embassy is being flooded with intelligence and we're having a difficult time digesting it all at the moment." Ambassador Postumia Albinus replied, his tone unnaturally gentle. The figure, seen clearly and crisply in the computer screen, had a soft nature as far as Muhammad could tell. The figure seemed to have the qualities of a loving uncle. "Your Majesty," the figure said in classical Greek, addressing Muhammad directly, "I am Marcus Aurelius Cotta, Consul of the Republic of Porcu. It is a pleasure to meet you, though I think we will both be in agreement that the circumstances are less than ideal." |
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| Yoloys | Dec 21 2014, 12:23 PM Post #10 | ||
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Sergeant
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| Ghaselja | Dec 21 2014, 12:43 PM Post #11 | ||
Resident nomad and cat aficionado
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| Whal | Jan 5 2015, 11:21 AM Post #12 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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The clamor for peace from the international community did little to dissuade both sides from further aggression and continued abuses of civilians and the wounded. On the government's side, the street fights in cities such as Aleppo and Dayr-az-Zawr were brutal as they were frequent. Nests of insurgents who were previously snuffed out with aggressive GFID raids soon reared their heads again in different parts of the city with more fury and hatred than before. On the otherside of the Emirate, the government's push eastwards to unite the two halves of the country continued unabated by light resistance from roving bands of independent fighters. Very soon, government forces would reach the besieged city of Rawanduz and complete their mission of expanding Whaladyan control into formerly held Hallistarian territory. For the Khovars, the war was not going as well as they had hoped, but this was not to say it was proceeding terribly. The insurrection still commanded authority in much of the countryside and clung to various strongholds throughout several cities in the north of the country. Meanwhile, in Kurdistan insurgent forces still roamed the countryside with impunity and threatened Whaladyan supremacy there. Using the conflict as a reassurance of power, the recently defeated Kurdish Taliban encouraged Kurds to take up arms with the rebels in a bid to weaken Whaladyan power in their homeland. It was believed that soon a true Kurdish uprising would return strong enough to expel all Whaladyans from the territory. --- Porcuian Embassy, outside Dayr-az-Zawr... Muhammad looked up at the screen with a mixture of emotions. He was obviously both shaken and enraged from the affair at the palace, but also strangely calm having escaped unscathed. The fear that the embassy could be attacked at any moment and that his person could once again be in danger also set the Crown Prince on edge, yet the relaxed and authoritative figure of the Consul put him at ease. Furthermore, Muhammad also felt rather embarrassed that he had been forced to meet the Consul in his nightwear, but his hasted escape from the clutches of the GFID negated any chance of his wardrobe assisting in his appearance here. He tried his best to look strong and confident even though he wore only a slightly dirtied silk robe. "Domine," Muhammad began humbly, the bizarre foreign word leaving his lips awkwardly as it always had. "It is a honor to make your acquaintance, although I too am regretful of the circumstances. Allow me to thank you personally for the assistance and gratuity of your embassy staff in granting me entrance and tending to my needs." Cotta nodded respectfully, acknowledging the Crown Princes' statement. "It is regrettable that my country, my home, has descended into turmoil," Muhammad began, "However, this conflict is not what it appears to be on the surface. While both sides will have you believe that this struggle was a spontaneous outcome of the plotting of the other, I can assure you that this war was a long time coming. Not only were both sides preparing for the inevitability of my father's passing, they both expected me to join him one way or another thus opening a pathway for their own rise. Nevertheless, it would seem that my uncle had the shorter patience of the two.." "Are you saying that the Defense Minister orchestrated an attempt on your life, your Majesty?" Cotta replied sternly, wrestling with some thoughts. Muhammad's face sunk. "Yes, Mr. Consul, that is the truth," he responded somberly, "I am certain as i saw it with my own eyes. I only escaped because of the bravery of Foreign Minister Benghazi who sacrificed his own life so that i could escape. So, as you can see, political asylum for myself is a rather serious desire. The Republic has always been a kind patron and partner to my country and to my father. Will you help us now, Mr. Consul?" |
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| Porcu | Jan 9 2015, 11:17 AM Post #13 | ||
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."
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The stern faced Consul nodded slowly as the young Crown Prince spoke. Although physically separated by some distance and speaking to each other through a computer screen, there was nonetheless a bond formed between the two. Ambassador Postumius Albinus turned slightly towards the screen and grinned when Muhammad mentioned the help of the embassy and its staff. This annoyed the junior Consul slightly, but nothing more. Aurelius Cotta breathed deeply before responding when the Crown Prince finished. "Yes, the Republic will assist you." he began. "However, events transpiring in the Emirate are very disturbing and appear increasingly volatile. I hope you will understand if Ariminae takes its time assessing the situation from afar...Postumius Albinus, what options are available for extracting the young Prince?" The Ambassador stood quietly, thinking, for a few moments. "Considering the unfolding of events thus far, I would not trust trying the road systems or the ports. While predictable, an extraction by air would be best." Muhammad frowned. "I'm afraid we would be discovered. I do not know who has control over the main airport, but I can be sure that very careful discretion is being exercised by whichever security is present." "Surely, diplomatic immunity and protocols would be enough to secure the passage of any cargo we wish." the Ambassador replied quickly. "We're caught in a civil war, Postumius Albinus. The rules have changed." the Consul replied. "I would suggest an escape by sea, if it is agreeable to His Majesty. The logistics can be sorted out in short order. Furthermore, we can coordinate efforts with the embassy so as to draw attention away from our actual plans. A diversion, if you will." "Well?" Postumius Albinus said, looking down at the Crown Prince. |
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| BenC | Jan 9 2015, 02:06 PM Post #14 | ||
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Sultan Sharyan was meeting with the National Defense Council to discuss the events that were happening in the Emirate between the governmental forces, Khovars, and the Kurdistan rebels which had cause great chaos both in the country with the population along with region peace that Faraz and Sharyan were trying to create before the former had pass. Additionally the conflict had caused the Crown Prince Muhammad to disappear from the country after what the government had called attempted assassination by the rebels which had many in the government asking what had happened during this failed assassination attempted and where was the Crown Prince at the moment. This had made the main Republic leadership start to wonder that either the prince had died or that the Omar was really was behind the attempt and had made Prince Muhammad flee to one of the foreign country embassy or was in hiding with the rebels. As the the meetings of the government were going on there were protests going on all across the country both pro-Omar government, pro-Khovars, and pro-Muhammad which had been clashing in the streets and alleys of the Republic which had caused the Republic Guard to send out soldiers to observer the protesters and provide security to prevent any of the sides from clashing. Additionally the Defense Minister had also order some of the governmental militias to patrol in the rural sections of the country to keep the order in the towns of the Republic. Additionally the Foreign Ministry had been sending messages to the Emirate asking them to allow some of the Republic Guard to enter the country to remove the expats of the Republic along with any other country expats who's government could remove them to safety. Dayr-az-Zawr Libyan Embassy The Embassy was pack with displace expats from the Republic along with some of the countries who knew of the Republic protection of any refugees who were seeking asylum from war and conflict and the Republic Intel. Officers were watching civil war that was taking place so they could report back to the government after they had found a way to communicate with them. The communication system had been down since the beginning of the civil war because of RPG hitting the communication array during a attack by the rebels on the compound so the officers were trying to get their reports to the Sultan along with some very important and shocking information about the Crown Prince Muhammad. The information was that the Defense Minister Omar was behind the fail attempt on the prince's life and that the Whaladyan Foreign Minister Benghazi was kill when the forces loyal to Omar attack the prince's residence the night that Muhammad had flee. The officers had tracked down where Crown Prince Muhammad by asking their sources in the capital to the Pocruian Embassy and was trying to get their help to get out of the country to safety. This information could change the plans that the Sultan and Republic had when dealing with the Whaladyan Civil war which could lead them to support Crown Prince Muhammad and the Khovars in regaining control over the government and country along with stopping Omar's plans. |
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| Ghaselja | Jan 9 2015, 10:50 PM Post #15 | ||
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Resident nomad and cat aficionado
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| Gaedic Republic | Jan 10 2015, 02:47 PM Post #16 | ||
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National Office Of Defense The Gaedic Military Council has agreed to send 3,000 peacekeeping and aid soldiers to Al Whaladay for aid distribution and food supply. UPDATE SUSPENDED ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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| Whal | Jan 19 2015, 10:39 AM Post #17 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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Weeks passed and still the civil war continued unabated by both the pressures exerted by foreign powers and the growing death toll on both sides. In Al Whaladya proper, the Khovars continued to wage sporadic but futile assaults on government positions within the sprawling metropolitan centers of the north and northeast. In the south, government forces operated with impunity and continued their round ups and arrests of Khovar sympathizers. The GFID conducted raids almost hourly and often their victims were never heard from again. In Dayr-az-Zawr, street fighting had died down with the arrival of several armored brigades from the Whaladyan 3rd Army - forcing the Khovars to abandon several of their strongest positions, notably the International Airport. In the east, the twin armies under Generals Hallal and al-Quarashi had traversed the unclaimed lands separating the two halves of the country - uniting the Emirate for the first time in its history and effectively crushing any hopes the Khovar movement had at creating an independent base in Kurdistan. However, both armies suffered greatly capturing and holding the large swaths of territory seized and had depleted their numbers greatly from 100,000 to approximately 65,000. No matter these loses however, the government forces continued their drive towards the seiged city of Rawanduz where they promptly initiated assaults against the WDF forces orchestrating the siege. With superior numbers, complete dominance of the air, and the assistance of heavy armor and artillery support, the government recaptured the initiative and pushed the rebels back several miles from the city - leaving several thousands dead and millions of dollars of damage in their wake. As the rebels retreated to their closest stronghold in As Sulaymaniyah, they began noticing the cracks in their defenses; the Kurdish volunteers began deserting in droves and joining a newly constructed Kurdish liberation movement. The Peshmerga, or Kurdish Peoples Army, was reformed once again and declared war against all Whaladyan forces. The war thus began a new phase with conflict between three armies. ----- Porcuian Embassy, Dayr-az-Zawr.. Muhammad wasted little time in making his decision. While the thought of abandoning is country, the land given to him by his birthright, was almost unfathomable, it was nonetheless a necessary one. He would return one day and he would return with the support of the Republic of Porcu. While he recognized that fighting both Omar's and Hassam's forces in the field would be damaging for the Republic's image, the Crown Prince was certain they would find a way to re install him some day. After all, he was their best hope for a pro-western, modern, and most importantly pro-Porcuian Al Whaladya. Muhammad could relinquish his pride and ask for assistance under these conditions. "An evacuation by sea is possible, I imagine," he stated confidently, "If and only If the Republic can secure safe passage through either the Republic of Salik or Transcaucasia. I would recommend we steer clear of the Confederacy as they are no friend of either of our people. Truthfully, we could also attempt to make the long journey through no man's land and reach the Emirate's ports in the Caspian Sea. However, Mr. Consul, there is only one thing that concerns me and I must reconcile it before I leave my country. I shall ask you frankly and as a friend. Do you intend to re install me as Al Whaladya's true leader?" |
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| Ghaselja | Jan 19 2015, 11:06 AM Post #18 | ||
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Resident nomad and cat aficionado
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| Porcu | Jan 20 2015, 10:11 PM Post #19 | ||
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."
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Porcuian Embassy, Dayr-az-Zawr The Consul's stern face opened up slightly at the question posed to him by the young Crown Prince. "Yes," Aurelius Cotta said, "but the specifics of such will have to be worked out. Porcuian financial assistance did not reap the benefits we thought it would; it certainly did not dampen the deep ethnic and religious tensions within Al Whaladya. Reforms will have to be imposed, Your Excellency, but I believe you are the best person to do so." Ambassador Postumius Albinus crooked his mouth in a frown - it seems he would have to work to get any recognition from Ariminae. It also appeared that he would have to simply find a way to survive within the capital for the foreseeable future. The Porcuian Consul continued. "Passage through the Republic of Salik is possible. I will have some paperwork prepared for you and, in the meantime, please allow the embassy staff to alter your appearance." With that Consul Aurelius Cotta signed off, leaving both the Ambassador and the Crown Prince staring at a black screen. Signing deeply, yet placing a firm hand on the young man's shoulder, Ambassador Postumius Albinus motioned for them to prepare well, so as to have everything in order. |
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| Whal | Jan 28 2015, 12:30 PM Post #20 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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Porcuian Embassy.. Muhammad nodded lightly and allowed the ambassador to lead him on. Although he didn't show it overtly, the young crown prince was heralding a booming smile on the inside - he had been correct in his assumption that his ascendancy would be protected. The road ahead might be rocky, and he might have to wait for a while inside Porcuian custody, but one day he'd return and return a reformer for western ideals. Al Whaladya would be a great regional power. As the two men walked briskly through the doorway out from the conference room, they were chaperoned by some embassy guards to an adjacent room as to prepare for the cosmetic transformation. Muhammad remained stoic throughout, even as the embassy staff removed his signature goatee and shortened his hair to a more "Mediterranean" look. Lastly, and much to the young royal's delight, the Porcuians gave him a fresh well-fitting suit to change into. Muhammad's flat lips turned into a viable smile as he gazed in the mirror. No one would recognize him unless they knew him personally. "Looking quite dapper, your Majesty," Ambassador Postumius Albinus stated flatly, but with enough sincerity to elicit a smile from the Whaladyan. "Yes, indeed. I do believe I could pass for a Porcuian!" Muhammad proclaimed with a slight chuckle. Before the Ambassador could say anything however, their brief conversation was interrupted by a low humming noise to which Postumius Albinus recognized immediately as the embassy's alarm. Not soon after the room was bombarded with security personnel who begged for the ambassador's presence in the security office. Without skipping a beat, he obliged them. "What's the matter?" Postumius Albinus asked concernedly, his eyes squinting to make out the scene portrayed on a fuzzy security camera overlooking the front gate. The guard on duty did not stutter. "The GFID is here, sir. They're looking for expats of particular importance. What should we do?" Both the ambassador and the crown prince starred blankly at the scene. Behind the closed gates stood two armored vehicles and approximately 12 or so armed GFID commandos and an agent clad in a black suit. The suited man stood straight, yet even without sound the onlookers could sense the tension in the air. The two Porcuian guards outside looked on terrified, but held their weapons closely and professionally on target. ----- Al Shauf, Imperial Residence... Omar al-Whaladya looked silently out the window of the crown prince's former room with a stern look. As he gazed at the distant skyline of the capital, he took careful consideration of all the plumes of smoke which billowed up from the carnage below. While not sad by any degree, the self proclaimed leader was nonetheless apprehensive of the growing turmoil for it was bringing some very dangerous outside attention. Omar turned around just as a Whaladyan Air force MiG-29 swooped down on the city and released its ordinance on the unlucky insurgents below. The resulting shock wave from the jet and the following explosion were deafening, and masked the question which had emulated from the lips of the GFID director, Usama al-Whaladya, who had just entered the room. "Yes cousin, you were saying?" Omar replied, twirling his finger in his ear after the sound had returned. Usama's stoic face repeated once more, "I said, there is no trace of Muhammad anywhere in the area. The boy must have fled to a more secure location." "I still can't believe you let Benghazi stop you from finishing the job," Omar hissed, clenching his fists. "You know what you have cost us?" "Yes, Omar, I am aware, but-" "But nothing!" Omar growled, slamming a fist down hard on an adjacent table. "You know nothing! Not only have your jeopardized the legitimacy of the entire operation, but you've allowed a leak which has tipped off the Libyans." "They know nothing." "Perhaps, but even a rumor it is all they'll need to turn the populace against us. Then the Khovars will be the least of our worries." "It will not come to that. I have the army, the Palace Guard, the entire GFID and police scouring the country for him. We will find him its only a matter of time." Omar approached his cousin and poked his finger hard into his chest. "Yes, you will. Otherwise, you shall take his place in the ground so help me God. The last thing we need is more fuel for those fucking ICON 'do-gooders' to throw at us. You've heard they plan to place an oil embargo on us?" "Yes, I have," Usama replied, "And I've planned for it. The oil fields in Kurdistan should keep us refilled for years when we wrestle them from the Front and the Peshmerga. We now have Rawanduz and the supply lines from our conquered territories to supply the Army there. What are your orders?" "Press the attack," Omar snarled angrily. "We have the west and we shall have Kurdistan. Tell Hallal and al-Quarashi to take their armies north and crush the rebels. Should you face any stiff resistance, I give you permission to use Nova 6. Gas the bastards should you need to." "What of the ceasefire proposed by the Capetonians, Libyans and Porcuians?" "Fuck them. Tell them their expats will remain where they are, guarded by the Army. Am I clear, cousin?" "Crystal," Usama replied, and with that he left Omar to his thoughts. |
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| Porcu | Feb 6 2015, 12:14 PM Post #21 | ||
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."
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Porcuian Embassy, Dayr-az-Zawr "Should I handle this, Domine?" a young woman of average height and medium build asked the Ambassador. Turning slightly, Ambassador Postumius Albinus nodded without a word. He slowly turned his attention back to the security camera footage and watched as the Deputy Ambassador made her way to the front gate. Meanwhile, Muhammad stood further back in the security office, unsure of what to do. Deputy Ambassador Alypia Valeria Cammenius strode confidently towards the heavy metallic gates of the embassy behind which stood the Whaladyan commandos. The presence of the Deputy Ambassador calmed the two security guards, who stood firmly with their weapons at the ready. "Good day." Valeria Cammenius said in beautifully accented Arabic. "I am Alypia Valeria Cammenius, Deputy Ambassador to the Emirate on behalf of the Republic. Please identify yourselves and your purpose; how may I be of assistance?" |
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| Whal | Mar 1 2015, 05:49 PM Post #22 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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The apparent tension from the very unstable situation appeared to cool slightly at the Deputy Ambassador's presence, at least from the Porcuian side. As the two gate guards relaxed the grip on their weapons, the commandos opposite them continued to hold theirs firmly fixed on target. "Good day." Valeria Cammenius said in beautifully accented Arabic. "I am Alypia Valeria Cammenius, Deputy Ambassador to the Emirate on behalf of the Republic. Please identify yourselves and your purpose; how may I be of assistance?" The black suit clad Whaladyan agent smiled slightly, perhaps in response to the foreigner's eloquent usage of the difficult Whaladyan accented Arabic. Still a sign of friendliness nonetheless, the agent's smile struck a cord with the professional, yet still on-guard diplomat. "Apologies, Madame," the man responded slowly. "Ganesh al-Bhurkazi, Ministry of Defense. The GFID is conducting a routine operation in the area for enemy infiltrators who may be disguised as civilians. We request the immediate admittance to your compound, please." |
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| NRE | Mar 26 2015, 01:23 PM Post #23 | ||
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman
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| Porcu | Mar 29 2015, 03:07 AM Post #24 | ||
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."
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Valeria Cammenius did not take long to respond. "The Republic is happy to cooperate with the Ministry of Defense on this matter. However, before allowing admittance into the complex I am required to ask for supplementary material in the form of the names of those whom you are searching for and/or some sort of picture or visual identification. Provided these I will be able to immediately cross-check your list with ours of the personnel of the Embassy - you will be provided admittance in order to verify the results." |
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| Whal | Mar 31 2015, 03:17 PM Post #25 | ||
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
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At present moment, the conflict was proceeding positively for government forces all across the board. Omar's forces had virtually centralized his power within Al Whaladya Proper with repeated military victories in the south and center of the country with only sporadic WDF resistance in the very north. Meanwhile, in the recently occupied territory which connected the two halves of the country, the Whaladyan Army was working rapidly in tandem with the GFID to eradicate subversives among the population and install the regime's definition of law and order - that was, the rapid detention and summary execution of anyone vocally opposed to Whaladyan authority. Mostly a population of Shiite Arabs and Sunni Kurds, the newly incorporated citizens of the Emirate's new territories were soon coming to understand the realities of life under their new masters. While docile and mostly subservient now, resistance was brewing anywhere and everywhere that Whaladyan ears were absent. In Whaladyan Kurdistan, the regime's glorious rescue of the besieged city of Rawanduz had effectively scattered the WDF's fighting forces in all of the southern Kurdish plane. Relegated now to the center of the province, the Khovars increasingly relied on drafted Kurdish volunteers and tribal mercenaries to supplement their loses for which, thanks to the initial seizure of funds in the Whaladyan National Bank, their treasury was equipped to fund and supply. Unluckily, however, for the WDF, nationalist sentiments by Kurds long suppressed by both sides soon erupted into full scale dissension and desertion across the WDF's forces in Kurdistan. The nationalist Kurdish Independence Movement, the largest and most equipped of the factions to emerge, quickly consolidated its forces around its traditional military arm, the Peshmerga, and seized much of the WDF's territory in the center and northwest of the province. Not the only Kurdish separatist movement however, the KIM was opposed by the radical Islamist Kurdish Taliban and its supporters in the northeast who emerged shortly after the degradation of WDF control there. Both Kurdish groups soon declared open war on both Whaladyan factions and each other, greatly complicating the situation in Kurdistan and weakening WDF power substantially. As the international community's proposals for a ceasefire were tenuously debated by Whaladyan belligerents, the confirmed arrival of yet two more factions in the conflict shattered the arrangement entirely; prompting new offensives and atrocities by all sides across the contested zones. The regime retained the most authority thus far, with the Khovars at a rapidly declining second, yet the tumultuous atmosphere which arrived with renewed Kurdish uprisings would drastically impact the balance of power in the weeks to come. ---- Porcuian Embassy, Dayr-az-Zawr... The black suit clad agent suddenly shifted his genial demeanor into that of apprehension and annoyance. Wasting no time, he nodded tersely and walked a few feet away from the Porcuian to speak in private with some of the military personnel behind him. "This is agreeable to us," Agent al-Bhurkazi finally replied, stepping up to the Deputy Ambassador. "However, I must request that I be allowed to accompany you into the grounds to prevent any 'tampering' of any kind. I mean no offense madam, but military protocol demands that an agent from my government be allowed to survey the situation. You can never be too careful when dealing with insurgents as vicious as the Khovars." Al-Bhurkazi smiled rather politely, but his teeth hid what the Deputy Ambassador could only surmise as devilish intentions. Before she could respond however, the agent quickly outstretched his hand with a list of names, photos, and places of address. The GFID was aware of their mostly falsified nature and held no qualms about rounding up random "enemies of the state" if it meant their true prize was located. The Prince may very well be inside the compound and his most certain disguise would not hide him forever. |
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11:40 AM Jul 13