NationStates Jolt Archive


Heroes of Salvador

Iansisle
08-08-2004, 07:33
((NB: This thread is the third counterpart to the ‘Twilight for the House of Laughlin’ and ‘A Glorious Enterprise’ threads. Whereas ‘Twilight’ describes the Revolution as specific to Weshield and ‘Enterprise’ specific to Shadoran, ‘Salvador’ describes it referring to Wyclyfe. This thread should be considered AFTER the Shadoranite and Weshieldian revolutions, but not necessarily after the subsequent events in those threads.

Oh, and in case any of you wonder, I have every intenton of replying in the various threads in which I’m already involved. It’s been a busy couple days and I’ve spent most of my effort on this, as I’ve been meaning to get it up for some time now. Sorry for the delay!

Oh, and in case anyone wonders about the vague references to ‘Salvador,’ ‘King James, or ‘Sir Thomas Gurney’: The Battle of Salvador was the center piece of the (in Iansislean style) New Tiamat Crisis. The Tarriff Government, eager to smite what it saw as communist aggression, offered military protection to the Kingdom of Victoria and Salvador against Beth Gellert. Long story short, Iansislean hubris combined with poor technology to lead to 3,000+ dead Shieldians and two Beth Gellens lost to enemy action. HIMS King James I was the Iansislean flagship and was sunk with a little less than 700 men, including Commodore Sir Thomas Gurney. Gurney was later elevated to some sort of martyr-hero, even if was more than a little mad , an anti-communist fanatic, and a very poor example for children everywhere.))

Wyclyfe, the Kingdom of Wyclyfe

The door to the pub slammed open and one Lord Sean Galadason, second son of the Duke of Eastmorn threw himself in. The lanky youth took a few seconds to scramble behind the deserted bar and sat there panting. At last catching his breath, Lord Sean had time to examine his surroundings more carefully.

He was in the Blotted Parchment, the local patriotic nonsense pub. The walls were still dotted with the red and white of St Patrick’s Cross and the colors of various famous units, like the IV Rifles and II Light Dragoons. Behind the bar hung a large painting depicting the Battle of Salvador (or at least the artist’s version of it); King James steamed valiantly away from the island, firing her main battery at what seemed to be distant ships of the line while shells dug into the ocean around her.

But Lord Sean didn’t have time to criticize the decor. He’d hardly been there a minute when the door burst open again. He rolled back around the bar and fired at the shadowy figure just coming through the door. Lord Sean worked the bolt action with the skill born of years of hunting on his father’s private game reserve, but swore as the magazine came up dry. He hadn’t been keeping track of how many shots he had left. Retreating back behind the bar, Lord Sean worked feverishly to eject the spent magazine and insert another one. He’d done it thousands of times, but it was different here, where gunfire rang outside and someone who wanted to kill him was only a handful of yards away. He dropped the magazine, swore again, and reached to pick it up.

He was stopped by someone who pressed a blade against his throat. Lord Sean followed the rating’s cutlass back to its hilt, and then to the face above, which had perched above it a green, white, and red cockade.

“A Gull Flagger,” Lord Sean whispered, his eyes narrowing in distaste.

“And you’re a Royalist,” replied the other man, studying Lord Sean’s white cockade. “Your gun, please,” he added, extending his free hand. Lord Sean handed it over, regretfully.

“Go ahead and kill me,” said Lord Sean, trying to hold a brave voice but failing miserably. “I fear not death, and will gladly die in service of King and country.”

“Not today, I don’t think,” smiled the other, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and removing the blade. “Perhaps another time.” The Gull Flagger tipped his hat to Lord Sean, tuned, and opened the door to the pub. Almost at once, his body was torn apart by rounds from at least three rifles. The bloody pile of flesh and bone that had once been a man fell wetly onto the floor while Lord Sean looked on in horror. Outside, he could see shadowy shapes advancing on the door.

Quickly, Lord Sean drew his revolver and cocked it. He didn’t know who these new ones were, but they weren’t royalists. For a few seconds, he lay on the dusty floor, not even noticing he was right next to a chunk of what used to be the Gull Flagger’s brain, and waited with his heart pounding his temples.

Nothing seemed to happen. No one tried to walk in the door for those long moments and Lord Sean started to wonder if perhaps they had gone away. Then a hand appeared briefly. Lord Sean fired at it and missed. The report didn’t let him hear the clink clink of a grenade rolling across the room. He saw it stop right in front of him and had just enough time to realize what it was.

------

The Gull Flag barricade on Edward Street raised a ragged cheer as the Super Colt flew overhead, raking the attacking formation with 20mm cannon fire. One or two of the Radicals were torn asunder, but most crawled into cover and started to regroup. The Colt banked high over the city and started to come about for another pass when suddenly a rocket exploded out of one of the buildings. It followed the Colt through an evasive maneuver, then slammed into the aeroflyer.

The Colt exploded spectacularly, raining part of the eastern city with metal and fire. Before the Gull Flaggers could even conceptualize what was happening, the Radicals were on them again.

It was never a fair fight: the Radicals held every advantage, from firepower to manpower to technology to training. Bit by bit, the Gull Flaggers were killed or forced back until the last few threw down their weapons and surrendered at the city’s edge. Those who surrendered were allowed to return to the United Kingdom without exception, providing they wasted not time in doing so.

Back at the Blotted Parchment, Comrade Marhanson stepped gingerly over Lord Sean’s corpse. It was hard to avoid, given that they boy was splattered all over the floor and walls.

“Poor boy,” whispered Marhanson, picking up the tattered cocked hat which lay near what may have once been a face. He held it in his hand for several seconds, before gently setting it on a nearby chair. “But what must be done, must be done.”

Behind him, one or two of his faithful along with that Old Guard man stepped into the room. Marhanson deliberately avoided their eyes; his own ended up on the giant poster of King James and the flanking portraits of Sir Thomas Gurney and Sir John Northrupt.

“Take them down,” he ordered, his voice much steadier than he had expected it to be. “Take them all down and cast them into the street.”
Beth Gellert
08-08-2004, 08:34
[The usual three letters replaced by rather more, in the efficient communist style, and, further to them, a good weight of props for being willing and able to tie together all of these spiffy stories and their follow-ups and to keep them moving. For now I must get back to bed after being woken by newly airport...ed family. Uhm. You didn't really need to know that.]
Iansisle
09-08-2004, 01:18
((And to think, I've never considered 'airport' a verb. :) Learn something new every day, that's my motto. Many thanks at the 'good weight of props,' too!

Oh, and even more thanks re: the flag. Wish I could take credit for it, but Free Outer Eugenia designed and drew it from a vague list of things I'd like.

--a poorly disguised bump))
Lunatic Retard Robots
09-08-2004, 01:58
OCC: Is the province in question landlocked? If not, I think one of my Whiskeys may pay it a visit...
Iansisle
09-08-2004, 05:01
Well, it's not landlocked, but you'd have to force the straits to get to it. Wyclyfe's number 4 on this map:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v294/DrIquan/shield.jpg
Agrigento
09-08-2004, 05:29
Once again he was alone...

By choice this time however, as he lounged in a chair that was remarkably older than him. He worried of course for his son, coming to his senses far too late to stop him. Why had he asked that stupid thing of him? What does revenge matter? It doesn't bring back the dead...

Roberto was in shock then, and looking back he regretted everything that transpired that day. He had let his emotions control him, and jeopardized the life of his son, the only person left who he really cared about.

The old ghosts were haunting him again, with one more recently added to its number, and a second threatening the same. He carried far too many of them to add another, especially one so young. Thousands of thoughts ran through his head at once in chaotic symphony, How could I let my son join that sad chorus? My beloved wife, how she would like to be with Michael again...but it isn't his time, dammit. My crewmates, comrades and old friends, he doesn't belong with them.

It was time to do the only thing he knew he could do, and count on the only other person besides his son he could count on. How ironic: the only favor that Roberto ever asked of anyone, would naturally be one of the biggest favors one could ever ask.

He grabbed the phone that had sat silent next to him for the last few hours. The number was written on a yellowed piece of paper on the table next to that, also lying dormant for about half the day. The other half had been spent digging it out of the veritable jungle of files that comprised the ancient house's cellar. The wine bottle in his lap was from that cellar as well.

Roberto dialed, slowly, letting the sound of each digit resonate through the empty villa.

The static sounded on the other end, indicating that the line was secure. Silence, and then a voice, melodious in virtue and cold in content. "President Corleone's Private Line, Mr. DiPartenza?"

Of course they had already traced him. The phone companies worked for the government as much as themselves.

"Yes, I would like to speak to Mario, if it is possible."

ooc: Glorified Tag...
Magnus Valerius
09-08-2004, 06:38
OOC:

Tag!

The Crown Empire is already tied to Twilight for the House of Laughlin, but maybe a self-governing member of The Valerian Dominion could be mixed in this mess; it'll also help set that nation up for a RP I'm going to do sometime in the future.
Iansisle
09-08-2004, 07:54
From the Ianapalis Star-Tribune:

Wyclyfe to Support Weshield and the United Kingdom!

WYCLYFE, Wyclyfe -- In an enthusiastic show of support for his neighboring states, Comrade Marhanson, Coordinator for the Socialist Democracy of Wyclyfe, declared that he would demand the Kingdom of Thortraia accede to Weshieldian and Shieldian demands.

“The Socialist Democracy has suffered as greatly as the Republic or the United Kingdom in the atrocities of those whom Thortraia’s autocrat hides and wishes greatly for all held prisoner by that same dictator,” said Marhanson at a recent press conference in Wyclyfe.

Premier Interim Bradsworth of His Majesty’s Government and President Andrews of the Republic thanked Marhanson for his support.

Thortraia currently holds some two hundred and sixty members of the Tarriff government and higher bureaucracy and another four hundred and fifty of their family members hostage and harbors some thirty men whom the United Kingdom would like to try for crimes against humanity in the final days of the Gull Flag Revolution.

“Terrorist states like Thortraia should not be allowed to get away with such blatantly illegal acts,” said Bradsworth yesterday. “But they can so long as brave, honest men and countries let them. I say the day has come for a line to be drawn in the sand; Clancy has pushed us this far - let him push us no further.”

Four days remain before the United Kingdom and Republic’s original ultimatum expires. Still, however, the Kingdom of Thortraia has made no public reply and indeed seems to be thumbing its nose at convention and common decency.

“No one wants war,” Bradsworth said, “but Thortraia must be careful in this game of chicken it is playing. I refuse to blink, and I don’t believe that President Andrews or Comrade Marhanson would back down from such a righteous task.”
Lunatic Retard Robots
09-08-2004, 20:39
Well, it's not landlocked, but you'd have to force the straits to get to it. Wyclyfe's number 4 on this map:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v294/DrIquan/shield.jpg

OCC: Oh. Well...I certainly won't be trying that.