NationStates Jolt Archive

'<I haven't got a lighter, you little shit.>'

Corporal Adan Wran waved the urchin away with his right arm, catching the boy on the side of the head. The lad staggered, and almost lost his footing.

'<Go on,' he muttered, 'fuck off.>'

The boy shuffled back a few metres, before breaking into a loping run. He yelled a few choice insults at Wran in Amatrandi as he fled, his crippled leg forcing a limp. The Amatrandi were a dark-skinned race, living in their dusty land with the barest technology and supplies.
Amatrand was a flat, waterless waste. In 1329, it's armies had been defeated, it's kings excecuted and it's people conquered. For nearly seven hundred years, Amatrand had resented Ansurian rule. Recently, there had been talk among the deep desert tribes. A king was found, they said. A descendant of the last native lord of Amatrand, and the rightful king.
The Ansurian government brushed these claims aside with scepticism and with sarcasm. Some bugger comes out of the desert calling himself the king and you want to stick a crown on his head? You silly sandy sods, bugger off back to your goats and your stoned women and your dirt farms.
The town of Akkalan had been the focus of nineteen seperate revolts, and the Imperial Ansurian Army had kept a heavy presence in the city since the third. Every attempt had been a failure, the leaders beheaded and the followers hanged. Even now, Ansurian law in Amatrand was cruel and unforgiving. If a man steals, he is taken for a short drop and a sudden stop. If a man murders, then the closest suspect at the time dances the hemp fandango. If a man is believed a spy or a rebel, he is shot without trial. This in the year 2006.

There would be a reckoning.

OOC: Blah, blah, blah... Resistance movement. Blah, blah... Insurgents. Blah, blah... military crackdown with extreme prejudice coming right up. All you human rights guys get out your pens and papers. Spies and such are welcome, military intervention would be better delayed for now. All nations welcome, but preferably only three participants including myself.

Going offline right now, back at approx 5pm GMT tomorrow.

Dust swirled on the main street of Akkalan as the Ansurian enforcer patrol marched by. Each of the sixteen hard-eyed men was trained to physical perfection, armoured and armed with durable and valuable equipment, and could hit a target the size of a football at six hundred yards eight out of ten. They were men of the all-volunteer Imperial Ansurian Army, and they were the best trained infantry on the continent, yet they were only human.
From both sides of the street, armed men appeared. They fired from windows and street corners, from behind prepared positions and cover. They used Kalashnikovs, HK G3s and FN FALs, all of the weapons at least forty years old but still capable of tearing a hole in a man five inches wide. They fired hundreds of rounds into the Ansurians, recieving barely a shot in return. They fired until the sixteen marching men were no more than so much meat, and the order was yelled to cease fire.
Gunsmoke lay heavy in the air, still rolling from the forces which had expelled it from red-hot barrels. The wind picked up slightly, revealing the shattered bodies in the middle of the dusty road. The robed attackers sprinted from their hiding places, their rifles still trained on the twitching bodies. A flurry of shots greeted a man who attempted to stand, and he fell quietly to the floor to bleed slowly to death. The leaders of the gunmen shouted orders, and the group fell into a run away from the scene.
Corporal Aden Wran hugged his knees as he lay with his face in the sand. He let out a long, low groan, tapering into a gurgling scream. He had three bullets lodged in his body, had felt six pass through him, and felt the sting where he had been clipped by more. He spat scarlet blood, rolled onto his side, and wept beside the bodies of fifteen other men.

OOC: Next post will likely be the crackdown. All you guys get ready.

General Avier Jadeonar sat at his desk in his office, unconciously pulling the hair on the back of his head. He had just sustained the greatest single loss of life under his command in his entire career.

'<Three hundred and nineteen dead,>' said the Officer of the Day, '<one wounded. Every patrol was hit, sir.>'

'<Only one?>' asked the General, raising his head slightly.

'<Yes, sir,>' replied the officer, '<and he was badly wounded. The surgeon tells me he's concious, though he lost a lot of blood.>'

'<Take me to him,>' ordered the General.

-----

Corporal Aden Wran was sitting upright in his bed in the field hospital. Through a plastic window, he could see line upon line of coffins being loaded onto a squadron of C-130 Hercules cargo aircraft. It made a grim spectacle.
Five minutes ago, Wran had been told by the surgeon that General Jadeonar himself wanted to speak to him, and now an engine's snarling buzz told him that the old man was here. A few seconds passed, and the tall, grey-haired General entered the hospital. He glanced around, quickly spotting Wran and striding over. The General stared at him. At his wounds, bandages, and his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was barely a hiss.

'<Who did this to my men?>' he asked.

'<The Amartrandi,>' Wran replied. '<All of them.>'

-----

Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,

Twelve thousand and ninety six men of the Imperial Ansurian Army stood on the parade ground of MK-166, near the city of Akkalan. In the blistering sun, they stood as rigid as statues, as the sweat dripped down their faces and bared arms. General Jadeonar stood upon an unshaded platform at one end of the parade ground, dressed in full combat load and with his helmet, pack and rifle by his feet. In front of him was a single microphone, linked to a speaker system that spanned the entire ground.

'<As we march upon the enemy,>' said the General, '<I want you to think of the three hundred and nineteen men who died two days ago. I want you to think of the three hundred and nineteen fathers who lost a son, and of the three hundred and nineteen mothers who will grieve. I want you to think, of your fathers, who fought the Communists, and of your ancestors, who fought in this same land almost nine hundred years ago.
'<This cancer, which has claimed nearly ten thousand lives since it was first brought into our great Empire. I want you to hold these things in your mind, and I want you to kill every last man, woman and spawn of this curse of a nation...>'

Troan teroch jetiise a'den,

He fired again, catching the crippled boy high in the shoulder as he fled. The heavy 6.7mm slug shattered his shoulderblade, and the child fell squealing like a pig. He was the first to die, slowed by his limp, and his killer sang the soldier's mindless, keening song of death between his teeth as he thrust his bayonet.

Duraan vi at ara'nov.

The frame broke on the first kick, the dry wood splintering as the steel lock was forced through it. The Mandalorian fired three bursts with his rifle into the dark interior of the house, before charging through. A middle-aged woman and her daughter were huddled around the convulsing body of her husband, blood flowing from his mouth. Their cries of anguish and pain fell on deaf ears as the man scanned the rest of the room. Seeing no threat, the soldier aimed slowly, and shot once. Aimed again, and shot.

Vode an, ka'rta tor.

His skin was wrinkled, coloured a dark brown by his years. Three rounds hit the doctor in the chest, face, and lower abdomen. Screams echoed through the halls as nurses and patients fled from the Ansurian infantrymen. Shots and bursts cut them down, ripping into their backs and exposing their ribs to the dusty air. The bed-ridden were executed with mercy, a single shot to the head.

Kote.

OOC: Thus, revenge. The chant is Ka'rta Tor (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ka%27rta_Tor), (One Heart of Justice). Bear in mind that NSwiki is limited on it's bandwidth, so try again in ten minutes if the page doesn't load. There is an off-site link to an MP3 of the song at the bottom of that page.
The population of Akkalan was about 80,000, of which I expect the troops to kill maybe 30% at most. I am driving these people off my land, and will accept any refugee offers so long as I don't have to do anything or spend so much as a Credit.

OOC: I've decided that this thread will probably be better off in II, partially based upon experience and partially upon re-reading the thread. Thanks for reading this far :D