Algonquia
23-01-2005, 03:18
Joachim Arminas refastened his seat belt. For nineteen years, he had been a member of a government-in-exile, formed when a rebellion in his home nation of Portugal erupted and forced the old government out. For nineteen years, the real government of Portugal had been running as smoothly as it had for the past several hundred, with one catch: they weren’t in Portugal, they were in Switzerland. Yet, for nineteen years, a Portuguese Parliament came and sat down to meetings, even if they were in Zurich. For all those years, Portuguese officials had been conducting foreign affairs with any government that still recognized it. Now, however, it seemed that the rebels already had all the support of the general population. Still, he had served as Secretary of Labor-in-exile for eighteen years before becoming vice president. At least, he thought, the president would back down soon after years of holding out, and everything could go back to normal, and he could return to his villa. However, the 81 year-old died of a heart attack and was buried in Zurich, not even in his homeland. Now, Arminas had to take the embarrassment of surrender.
Robert Nighthorse sat down in his limousine. The son of immigrants was at first a loyalist when the revolution started. After a year, he realized that the new democracy was the true choice, and that the exiled regime was just a bunch of old authoritarian dinosaurs. The English-educated lawyer, fluent in half a dozen languages, was elected to the new Congress and led the fight against the remaining loyalists. Eventually, the centrist managed to run for president and won by a landslide. Although the government-in-exile had existed for nineteen years, no one ever thought they would give up. This was it, the time when the de facto democracy became the technical government.
Arminas stepped out of the airplane, hoping to see a crowd of journalists and photographers. Instead, he only encountered a dozen guards lining a well-used off-red carpet leading to a car. He thought to himself “I return to make history, and this is what I get?”
Nighthorse waited outside the door to the main building of the City Library. Why on Earth did he agree to this location? Oh well, when his aide received the message, he opened the door, and Nighthorse entered the hall. There, at the other end, stood Arminas, just the short, puffy-looking man he had expected. Well, no time for staring. He sat down at the table and took out the paper.
When it was over, Arminas couldn’t believe what he had done. Portugal officially ceased to exist. Instead, it was Algonquia, a nation populated with “natives” and children of refugees from various wars. It was a truly democratic endeavour, and he himself suddenly became confident in this Nighthorse character. If this was history, so be it.
OOC: This was the first "real" RP of my nation, besides a few short posts. That explains the length.
Robert Nighthorse sat down in his limousine. The son of immigrants was at first a loyalist when the revolution started. After a year, he realized that the new democracy was the true choice, and that the exiled regime was just a bunch of old authoritarian dinosaurs. The English-educated lawyer, fluent in half a dozen languages, was elected to the new Congress and led the fight against the remaining loyalists. Eventually, the centrist managed to run for president and won by a landslide. Although the government-in-exile had existed for nineteen years, no one ever thought they would give up. This was it, the time when the de facto democracy became the technical government.
Arminas stepped out of the airplane, hoping to see a crowd of journalists and photographers. Instead, he only encountered a dozen guards lining a well-used off-red carpet leading to a car. He thought to himself “I return to make history, and this is what I get?”
Nighthorse waited outside the door to the main building of the City Library. Why on Earth did he agree to this location? Oh well, when his aide received the message, he opened the door, and Nighthorse entered the hall. There, at the other end, stood Arminas, just the short, puffy-looking man he had expected. Well, no time for staring. He sat down at the table and took out the paper.
When it was over, Arminas couldn’t believe what he had done. Portugal officially ceased to exist. Instead, it was Algonquia, a nation populated with “natives” and children of refugees from various wars. It was a truly democratic endeavour, and he himself suddenly became confident in this Nighthorse character. If this was history, so be it.
OOC: This was the first "real" RP of my nation, besides a few short posts. That explains the length.