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More information on Brandouneia: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=425881

Background:
Created in 1980 in the thick backwoods of Saronia's jungles, the Jungle Revolution Front is a guerilla group in Brandouneia (formerly Saronia). The JRF was created in response to the oppressive regime of King Feld Saron IX, the former dictator of Saronia who led a corrupt, kleptocratic government that regularly practiced genocide on the Orthenish people who resided in the jungle (who make up the JRF). The JRF began it initial attacks on Saron's government in early 1981, and destroyed nearly 40% of the royal palace and several other government facilities in the capital of Pluta by mid-1981. The following year, King Feld requested assistance from the American government (in which he held great influence do to the regular exportation of weapons-grade nuclear material and oil from Saronia to America) and American troops were placed in and around the capital. Though skilled as they were, the JRF could no longer attack the capital directly, and switched to systematically rousing border stations for the Saronian army in the jungles.

The JRF gained a much need boost in revenue and arms in 1984, when Brandoun Bajo III began actively funding and supplying the JRF in order to fight the American influence in Saronia. Brandoun III even visited the JRF for a short time. Which the continual support of Brandoun, in 1999 the JRF finally ousted King Feld's government and executed King Feld himself. The US Army left, and the JRF had control of the government. However, Saronia was in extreme disrepair, and now that Feld's regime was gone, other ethnicities and peoples that were also oppresed by Feld vied for control of the government. The JRF now had to fight another civil war to keep power in the hands of the Orthenish.

In late 2002, the JRF "won" the civil war, but at a terrible cost. Biological and Chemical weaponry were heavily used in the war, and the loss of life, property, and environment was substancial. The JRF had depleted it's funds fighting the war (Brandoun pulled funding after Americans left) and could not support the extensive recovery of Saronia's infrastructure. Anarchy ruled Saronia, and many of Orthenish and people from other ethnicities fled the country, further weaking the already collapsed economy. However, Brandoun III again intervened, and offered to buy Saronia from the JRF for his own purposes (creating Brandouneia). The JRF was now split into 2 factions: The elder leaders of the JRF who wanted to cut their losses now and take the money, and the younger JRF soldiers who refused to give up the country they fought and died for. In the end, the elders won out, and Saronia became Brandouneia. However, the remaining JRF (composed of the young soldiers) would not go quietly into the night.

The JRF, now led by Brandoun IV, planned to assinate Brandoun III, however the American immigrants Brandoun brought with him to Brandouneia got to him before the JRF, and killed Brandoun III in his sleep. With Brandoun III out of power, the JRF hoped that the new leaders would consider the Orthenish people as part of Brandouneia. The leaders, however, did not. Instead they split Brandouneia into 4 separate states and ignored the JRF's plea for a unified government.

Furious at this, Brandoun IV (now calling himself Che Brandoun) executed the heads of the government, and took over as dictator. The JRF, again, believed that now their needs would be answered with one of their own as unquestioned leader of the country. Again, the JRF was mistaken. Che Brandoun was interested only in power, and when the JRF refused to swear loyalty to him, he had his now extensive police force crush them.

The JRF is now in pieces, and now the remaining members have either fled or are deep in hiding. However, the JRF refuses to give up the fight, and again are planning a coup of Che Brandoun's regime. However, with Brandouneia's police force cracking down on dissenters more than ever and with the creation of a compulsory military, their small window of opportunity might be gone.

OOC: Narrative. Comments welcomed.

At the Brandouneian border, deep within a jungle sultry and fetid even at night, Carmen Marrous sat deathly still hunched over in the thick brush and vines by a dusty gravel road. On the other side of the road was a towering wall of stone and steel, lined with barb-wire, cameras, floodlights, and patrolled by iron-visage soldiers in black uniforms labeled with a large red B. Wearing nothing but a tank top and underwear, sweat poured down Carmen’s face and soaked her clothing in the sweltering heat. The sickly sweet smells of the jungle mix with her own body odor to make a pungent aroma while the clicking and buzzing of the jungle flooded her ears. Despite these sensory attacks, Carmen did not stir nor move an inch, even while insects and parasites crawled on her and venomous snakes slithered by her. She had a mission to accomplish; a mission that would ensure the survival or death of the Jungle Revolution Front.

Directly in front of her, 2 guards leaned on a black jeep and chattered vociferously. Though their backs were to Carmen, if she moved they would’ve surely taken their assault rifles off their shoulders and quickly sprayed a round of bullets into the brush with deadly accuracy, whether they knew if a person was their or not. These guards weren’t part of the newly formed Brandouneian. The Brandouneian soldiers were undisciplined and untrained; these guards were not. They were part of the Brandouneian Police Force. Strictly disciplined, no-nonsense killers, the Brandouneian police were the elite in Brandouneia, enforcing political conformity and the will of Che Brandoun viciously and sadistically. Though they looked like unprofessional rookies slacking off on the job from where Carmen was standing, she knew better. They would turn into an elite execution force at the slightest alarm. So Carmen sat still, determined to see any faltering in their defenses (if any existed). She would stay until dawn, and then report back to the JRF’s headquarters with her findings. And then they would strike, surging through that single hole in the guards’ defenses like water at a dam. And they would end their exile from their homeland, and reclaim Brandouneia from the dictator they once called their own. But that came later. Now, she waited.

“Crap! This Camel Spider bite is annoying the mess outta me,” one of the guards swore while scratching his arm. “Where’d that happen,” the other replied. “Here at the camp! Just on the other side of the wall. I thought we exterminated all these little buggers when we set up shop, but now they’re back! They’re like cochroaches, but with fangs.” “Well stop scratching it. That’ll only make it worse.” “What I want to know is where it came from. I’m not sleeping out in this damned wilderness if they can’t offer some friggin’ pest control.” “Well, did you kill it?” “Yeah.” “Then stop complaining. It probably got through some crack in the wall from this side.” Bingo. A bell went off in Carmen’s head. There was a hole in the wall wide enough for a hand-sized Camel Spider to crawl through. Which meant there was a hole in the wall large enough for a hand-sized grenade. “There’s a crack in the wall?” the bitten guard started again, “Why hasn’t anyone done anything about it?” “Because it’s Brandouneia. Building supplies are going to take weeks to get this far out into the jungle. Most it stays concentrated at the capital, and little else exists elsewhere unless someone got it on the black market. Someone knows about the hole, it just hasn’t gotten taken care of yet.” “It’s a pretty big security flaw, though. Where is it?” “In the fourth section of the wall, a little left of the door going through. We stuffed some dirt in it. No harm, no foul.”

Carmen logged the flaw in her head. She had overestimated these goons. If they had any brains, their tongues wouldn’t be flapping about such a flaw so loud. Then a series of beeps resonated. Carmen almost moved to check herself for the beep, but then noticed that it was from the black jeep’s radio. One of the guards reached over to the receiver and nodded as he listened. “Shift’s over,” the guard said to the other. “Already?” the other responded, “Well, no complaints here.” Both of the guards hopped in the jeep and drove away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. With no guards around and a vital piece of information found, Carmen relaxed substantially. Within minutes, she had drifted into deep sleep, despite the stifling heat.

When she woke, still in here hunched position, the screeching of birds, the howling of monkeys, and a blinding ray of sunlight greeted her. Already it felt like 100 degrees in the jungle, and Carmen had a strong urge stretch and let out a satisfying yawn. However she suppressed the urge and looked around slightly. There were no guards on the road or on the wall, and no jeeps in sight. Confident that no one was present, Carmen rose slowly, shifted slightly, and crept from here nest in the brush deeper into the jungle. She was followed by a bullet, which slashed like a white-hot blade across her right arm. Instantly, Carmen took off as bullets pounded around her and zipped through the brush. She didn’t know who had seen her, and at this point she didn’t care. She pulled her radio from her belt, and contacted the JRF HQ. She didn’t bother for an answer she immediately began talking. “There’s a hole in the wall at the fourth section large enough for a gre…” She was abruptly cut off as a bullet bit into her left calf and she dropped to the floor. As she struggled to get up, a guard came behind her, and swung the butt of the rifle into her head. She slowly sank into darkness.