The People's War

[Zimmerwald]

OOC: The first few posts in this thread are for introductions to characters only.  I got impatient waiting for the map, and decided that terrain was not necessary for the opening posts of this RP.  It will be necessary when you all send in your legions to try to end the People's War, but not yet.

IC: The Union of Gallipoli-China, December 5, 2006.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programing to bring you this urgent message," purred the perfectly groomed announcer on the National Broadcaster of Gallipoli-China's nightly news program.

"It is with great pleasure that I announce that our long national nightmare is over.  The contest between the Center Party and the National Party over twelve fractious seats in the Parliament has been decided in favor of the Nationalists.  They now officially control a majority, and have embraced the opportunity to advance the agenda they've been pushing for the past twenty years.  Mr. Nauss Euryl, the Party's leader, and the man who will take over as Prime Minister, had this to say."

Friends, we now have the opportunity to spread our influence, the influence of our country, of our race, throughout the world.  My party, as promised in the campaign will use this power to protect you from enemies both foreign and domestic.  Lower races, Communists, liberals of all stripes threaten the security of this country, and I will not let them destroy what we have worked so hard to build.  I will do everything in my power to make sure this doesn't happen.

"It is unclear what exactly the Prime Minister means by this announcement, but the nation holds its breath to await the beginning of the first Nationalist government."

[Zimmerwald]

"I told you blaming our troubles on those upstart Commies would work," muttered Machus (MAKK-us) Dion, Euryl's right hand man.  Dion had been appointed Minister for Internal Affairs after the election had been decided, and had served as the campaign strategist before that.  It had been his idea to base their campaign not only on promises of national greatness, but by smearing their opponants visciously.

In another time, another place, he might have ruled himself, but he was content to manage police and prisons for the Union.  The Internal Affairs Ministry had always been powerful.  Now it would be more so.

"And?  We won.  It's not like there'll be more elections to worry about."

"Of course, Prime Minister.  Once everything's set in motion, it won't matter what the people think or not."

As Machus put it, things were "being set in motion."  The Parliament wouldn't be called into session for another few weeks, and the government was making the most of the opportunity.  Citizens in the capitol, PIUC (yes, the terminology's remaining the same), remarked at the massive amounts of yellow tape, and at the black vans surrounding the Parliament building, but nobody thought to ask any questions.  Probably just refurbishment.

[Zimmerwald]

If you want to bring down a building, go for the foundations.  Bringing down the Parliament building was precisely what Euryl and Machus wanted to avoid, so the foundations were scrupulously left alone.  However, explosives were embedded in the walls, and gasoline left to soak into the carpet.

One day before Parliament was to convene, the vans left, the tape was removed, and Parliament House shone gleaming in the sun, the mirrored dome flashing like a beacon to all in the vicinity.

In ranks of three, Parliament strode into the building, and each of the two hundred members took their seats in the rotunda.  A few Nationalist deputies were conspicuously absent, but nobody minded.  There was no tension in the air; Parliament was an old boys’ club in the truest sense of the word.  Before the meeting was called to order, there was much backslapping, handshaking, and various pleasantries being exchanged between people who officially couldn’t stand each other.

The Speaker’s gavel tapped.

And then a much louder bang was heard.

“There it is.”

“It looked like it was going to be late.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be.”

“Have you captured Luxembourg?”

“Yes, everything’s gone as planned.  He’ll be executed tomorrow after the remaining Parliament members finish preparing their final Act.”

“We’d better go cast our votes, eh?”

“Indeed.”

[Zimmerwald]

Yesterday, this nation was hit by a terrible tragedy.  Your representatives were killed by the vile Communists.  Their leader has been arrested and found guilty of this crime.  He will be hung at ground zero this time tomorrow.

The members of Parliament who escaped this brutal crime have given me the power to do away with this menace once and for all.  For you, my people, I will accept that power.  For you I will use it.  Good day.

In the small town of Corfu, a stronghold of the Social Democratic Party of Gallipoli-China, the leadership was gathering.  This was too much; defeat at the polls, purges, killing of Deputies.  The Party would not stand for this, and neither, the leadership hoped, would the people.

They were demoralized by news of Comrade Luxembourg’s capture; he had founded the Party thirty years ago.  He had come within a hair’s breadth of leading the government.  He was their most capable speaker and organizer.  But he was gone.  It was up to these young, mediocre nonentities to lead the resistance to a megalomaniacal regime.

And still, they came.  Both High and Low Gallipoli, Chinese, and a smattering of relatively recent immigrants.

[Zimmerwald]

OOC: yes, you've seen these names before, and I doubt you'll care.

IC: "Where have you been, Viktor?" asked a young woman, who was absently flipping through the pages a well-thumbed manuscript.  "We've been waiting for twenty minutes."

"I've been dodging patrols, Lin.  Somebody's suspicious.  I heard planes."

"You and your planes," sneered a tall man lounging with his chair tilted back.

"Yes, me and my planes, Feng.  I bother with security."

"Come on, you two.  Don't begin like this."  Aram looked up from the newscast he was streaming.  "We're here to combat the Fascists, and we'd better damn well do it."

"How?" asked Lin.  "The population doesn't support us; we came in third in the election."

"And whose fault is that?" asked Feng.  Lin, who had been in charge of advertising, and whose department had been stymied by lack of funds, glowered him, but said nothing.

"We'll have to wait 'till the next election," murmured Viktor gloomily.

"That won't happen," said Feng, acting seriously for the first time.  Aram agreed.

"You've seen the PM's speeches.  He's 'cracking down,' and that means us.  This new War Powers Act, it gives him almost unlimited power."

"And how can we go about resisting it, Aram!?  There's no way to do so without killing thousands of people."

"Class traitors, the lot of them."

"What do you know about it, Lin."

"Have you read Comrade Luxembourg's latest manuscript?  It shows exactly how to go about a People's War.  Why the bastards had to arrest him before it got published..."

"Don't you still have your presses?  Publish it yourself."

"But-"

"Do it.  Now-"  Aram broke off.  He had been about to give instructions to the small Party leadership, but had been distracted by a sound outside.  He abbreviated.  "You know what you're best at.  Now get out of here.  Now!"

It wasn't a moment too soon.  Two minutes later, Special Ops entered the now deserted warehouse, to find the birds had flown the coop.

Euryl took to the television again, this time delivering something completely different; more fear. 

The head may have been cut off, but the body lives.  Our intelligence shows that the traitor Communists have taken refuge in Corfu.  Until they are found, the entire city can be considered traitors to the security of the nation.  All citizens will be questioned.  All failing to tell what they know will be shot.  If the traitors are not found, the city will be bombed.

Posted on: January 06, 2007, 06:52:43 PMPlanes roared over Corfu.  Wave after wave of them pounded the city.  The leadership had not been caught, and the traitors were paying the price.  Buildings fell.  Children screamed.  Nobody thought to fight back.

On the outskirts of the city, not far from the burning hell that the Nationalists had created, the leadership watched.  Feng thought about how they could use the bombing to rally people.  Viktor mourned.  Aram paced, his mind not on the city at all, but on their contact.  They had searched for a supplier who would arm their people; they couldn't fight the Army without it, though Viktor had hopes that the army would "take strike action" as he put it: that they would refuse to fire on the people.  None of the others thought so, and so this meeting was arranged.

Lin was nowhere to be seen.  She was engaged in Istanbul, trying serruptitiously to find a printer who would publish the manuscript.

OOC: anyone who wants to RP the "contact" may.  I imagine him/her to be foreign, and more interested in making money than in aiding a revolution.

[Zimmerwald]

"Disgusting," spat Feng as Crofts' sppech ran to its patriotic conclusion.  "Fucking Fascists, all of them."

"I hear Euryl's planning to propose alliance to the Inglo-Scotians," remarked Aram, still pacing.

"Where?"

"Oh, in the ether."

Viktor looked at his watch.  "Where is she?  She was supposed to be here half an hour ago.  Do you think he was caught?"

"Oh no.  It would take more than Euryl's clumsy buffoons to capture her," chuckled Feng.

[Xyrael]

Zyanya observed the hillock from a distance, her keen eye noticing a man she recognized. Aram, she smiled weakly. The Light surely graced this man, he was a very fortunate one.  She rose slowly, watching Aram notice her. He waved her over, and she obliged, striding quickly to the hide out.

She knew what he wanted, and she wanted to get right to the point. "I assume you called me here for help? How many more units do you need?" She looked past the ferns and noticed others, and looked them over. Smiling, she prayed the light would be with them all.

[Zimmerwald]

OOC: I will, I've just been reading the other RPs.

IC: "It's good to see you again, Zyanya.  As for armaments, we can use as many as are at your disposal.  There are a billion people on our little islands, and we're going to need them all," began Aram.

Feng interrupted.  "But not all at once.  At the moment, we can begin by arming the people of Corfu; they're being bombed and butchered, and need to defend themselves.  If we can do that, if we can mobilize them to support us in an insurrection, nothing will be able to prevent a revolutionary takeover even of that reactionary government."

A sigh floated on the breeze.  Viktor hadn't come out; he loathed arms dealers, even those that worked for his cause.  But the sigh wasn't the only thing on the breeze.  An old, battered car from the 1970s (read 1930s RL), had pulled up behind the hillock, and a man with a stunted back removed the panel that shielded a secret compartment from view.  Out climbed Lin, looking much worse for the wear.

"Well, I finally managed to find a publishing house that will risk the bombs.  It's probably futile but the-" she stopped as she noticed the Xyraelite.  "Hello, Zyana."  She turned on the two men.  "Is it wise to be out here where we can be seen?"

"...said the woman who came brazenly in a car," muttered Feng.

"She's right," interjected Aram.  "Comrade Zyanya, join us in our...shelter."  He said the word distastefully.  Aram was a High Gallipoli, son of a banker.  He sometimes reflected on the spleandor that could have been his, and had found solace in those times in thinking about the Light.  No riches could compare to the justice he had devoted his life to; at least, that's what he told himself.

They stepped behind the screen of trailing weeds and tangled bushes, to discuss the possibilities for beginning the People's War.

[Zimmerwald]

Rami and Osman were twin brothers.  They had earned their daily scrounging the grimy streets of Corfu for unwitting tourists, to pick their pockets.  The city might be dirty, but it was historic; it had been the scene of a battle long ago, in medieval times, when the Gallipoli had repelled the invading Valideens.  The old fortress still stood, though it was crumbling.  Over the years, various politicians had promised to fund a restoration of the old building, but it never seemed to get done.  In any case, it was enough to supply Rami and Osman with a steady stream of income.

But that was not the case today.  Today, the city was in flames; any tourists that may have been here had long since gone when Rami, Osman, and the whole city were labelled traitors.  They did a good business out of robbing the throngs who took refuge in the subways, but the streets were no longer safe.  They had become a place of terror.

They appeared dirty, blackened by smoke.  They reeked of burning flesh.  The drones of the planes grew louder by the hour as more and more bombs were dropped on Corfu.  It was rumored that the government would be sending in the army soon to occupy the city.

[Xyrael]

Zyanya walked with the Aram into the shelter. She rather enjoyed watching the people bicker amongst themselves, keeping to herself as they did so. But she grew impatient rapidly, and drew out a sheet of paper. "So, I can order for you Kalashnikov's and RPG's, and I can probably fetch you some better gear from my superiors. How many people are you looking to arm at... 'Corfu'?"

Zyanya knew of the beliefs of the current Gallipoli-Chinese government, and she knew of the intent of Aram and his fellows. She could not really care less about the politics of the game, she had been sent here as a trial to prove her worth. She had failed the Light, and she would not do it again. Her fingers slid over a single blue tattoo on the back of her neck, and she flicked her deep brown hair before looking back at the men. She waited for the answer to her question.

[Zimmerwald]

Everyone looked at Viktor.  Corfu was his home city; he had made it his personal task to transform it into the Party-supporting enclave that it was.  He didn't say anything.  He didn't want to help what he thought would be a murderous enterprise.  But it was his relatives they were bombing.  Did he want to leave them defenseless?  He put aside his ethical dilemmas for a moment.  If he wasn't careful he'd go back on his pills again after five years.

"It's not a large city," he answered tonelessly.  "Not on the level of Tekirdag or Istanbul anyway.  There's more than two million people certainly, though probably less that will be willing to fight initially."

"So we're looking at about twenty-thousand people?" prompted Lin.

"Something like that.  But it's more complex than just the number.  Once resistance starts in Corfu, it will grow, make no mistake about that.  But it's part of a large island, easily surrounded, easily invaded unless the defenders are equipped for a siege.  They'll do well with Kalishikovs and RPGs, especially in the environment Euryl's created, but the main problem will be supplies and food.

"Also, once those are brought in, and the people see that they are being helped, more will turn to the resistance.  It's just a question of Euryl's actions.  If he's blockaded the island, which I haven't heard, it'll be hard to get supplies in.  If he hasn't, we can smuggle them in."

[Xyrael]

Zyanya nodded, displeased with Viktor's distrust of her. If only he knew her, she didn't like not being liked. She was far from home, however, and she could not expect people so distant to understand her culture.

"I will arrange for twenty-five thousand AK-47 and a plethora of RPG. Once the revolution is over, I will not feel responsible to continue supplying the populace with ammunition, once they run out the might as well toss the weaponry, or give it to your government. I will also get you some Beryl assault rifles, a crate load. Use them as you wish." She could tell Viktor had a distaste for war by his reaction to this statement. "My main concern is the people, to be honest. If the government blockades 'Corfu' not only will I struggle to deliver weaponry, but food will become harder to get there. I will see what I can do about acquiring blockade runners and submarines in case they take such actions."

She continued to ponder, she knew her people had no food to spare. Perhaps she could broker a deal for the Gallipoli-Chinese while they focused their efforts on war.

[Zimmerwald]

"If only it had been anywhere but Corfu," muttered Feng.  He knew that on the mainland, for instance, food was no problem.  But Corfu had been industrialized long ago, and the food producing areas on its island had been cannibalized to build housing, or stripped of their resources to feed the factories.  In a clearer tone, he addressed Zyanya.  "We can arrange for food from eastern areas, if you can provide blockade runners."

"Where are you going to get it, Feng?" asked Lin, ever the skeptic.

"From our donors.  You know we have dues-paying members in China.  Well, from now on, they can pay their dues in rice instead on yuans."

"If you say so."  Lin distrusted the scheme, but it was outlandish, and while Feng was wrong about the mundane, his brain flitted between pipe dreams and somehow made them a reality.

Aram turned toward Zyanya.  He was embarrased by his colleagues' behavior.  Viktor should know not to act like that, no matter what he thought of war, and Feng and Lin were bickering like a couple of children.  He tried to make her understand his apology for their conduct without using words.

[Xyrael]

She knew the foods would be difficult to procure at best once the government began to crack down on the group, she had run into this problem before. Besides, she was stubborn, she'd have her way even if the Gallipoli-Chinese weren't expecting it.

Zyanya smiled at Aram, knowing the people in the hill had nothing but good intentions. "I'll leave you boys to your own devices," she grinned giddily. Pulling out a small transmitter with a simple light and a peice of paper with coordinates, she handed them to Aram. "I will go see what I can do about your necessities. We'll discuss payment later, when I know you boys can repay the favor."

Zyanya slowly made her way out of the small hideaway. She had to admit she had doubts about war they planned, but she always enjoyed being wrong.

[Zimmerwald]

Watching as Zyanya disappeared from view, Aram didn't see Viktor wheel on him from behind.

"Payment?  You never mentioned payment."

"What did you think, that she'd be working for free?  She's not a government rep, you know."

"But-"

"You know nothing about it.  She's here for her own reasons, and it happens that her interests and ours coincide."  Viktor lapsed into silence.  "In any case, she's reliable, and there will be rebellion in Corfu."

<some time later>
The city streets were eerily silent, save for the crackling of a few persistant flames.  The bombing had stopped, but that was only to allow the soldiers to move in.  Strangely, the port had not been blocked; the government seemed to think that the city would offer little resistance after a week of bombing.  They were wrong.

Osman signalled to his brother across the street.  Both were perched on top of buildings, waiting for the army that must eventually come.  Each clutched an RPG to his chest as on the horizon, the army appeared.  Rami gulped in fear and watched his brother.  It had always been like that; Osman was the daredevil, Rami the one who only did something after his brother proved that he could.  It was like that now.  As the tanks creeped closer, Osman sighted down the barrel.  He knew they were not close enough, and he couldn't afford to give away the position; other fighters were concealed below.