NationStates Jolt Archive


Conservatives Massacred in Farmina

Farmina
09-07-2005, 03:43
In caves north-east of Aston, death continued to pursue the Conservatives. “Blast these infernal Moralists,” muttered Gregory Vanstone, “They have us by the balls and by God they aren’t letting go.”
Peter Greel looked over at the high ranking Conservative, shocked at his poor language, and at a time when they were so close to being with God, “Cursing won’t help us Mr Vanstone.”
“I doubt anything will,” said Vanstone, an inherent pessimist.

Greel looked away. The plan was to reach the town of Kraft tomorrow. He only hoped there would be enough room for the hundred of so in the band of refugees: men, women and children all doomed to share fates. Through out the warren of caves in the rock face, Greel had seen many things: fear, hatred, injured and the dead; but he had not seen hoped. How would the wandering bands escape the wrath of the entire Farminan military?

“Scouting party,” yelled someone off to Greel’s left, “There is a military scouting party coming right this way.”
Vanstone’s eyes flicked over to Greel, before flicking over to the caves entrance, “Take up defensive positions.”
Imperial Guard, better known as White Guard due to their once white uniforms, grabbed their weapons with great speed and raced to the temporary cover that had been prepared. Armed conservatives also raced forward, but they took longer, inexperienced and unprofessional.

Then there was silence, Greel and Vanstone, both had their hands on their pistols, ready but unwilling to form a second line of defense. It was altogether unnecessary. After several minutes silence, there was a sudden volley of shots, and a series of surprised screams, more shots, and more screams. Within ten seconds the deathly silence was returned.

Greel quickly moved to the front of the cave, as he was younger, lighter and faster than Vanstone, “Have we got wounded?”
One of the White Guard looked up at him, “Not here, but I heard a scream further up.”
“Have it dealt with, and make sure those scum are dead, we need their bodies,” said Greel, as though calm and relaxed.

Greel paced back to Vanstone, “We seem to have wounded, but they could be dead.”
“Bah,” said Vanstone, “We will have to move at first light.”
“I suggest we go earlier,” said Greel, “We move as soon as darkness hits.”
“Your mad,” said Vanstone, “We have been walking all day, we can’t walk through the night as well.”
“The military may be right on top of us,” said Greel, “If we move during the day, the military will catch up to us, and not only that, in the open and the light. If we stay here we will surely be butchered.”
Vanstone was clearly drenched, being so large, after walking all day, under the harsh Farminan sun was no doubt the cause, “Blah, I hate it when others are right. Have this place booby trapped, with the bodies as bait. I’m going to give a stirring speech.”
“As you wish,” said Peter Greel, as humbly as he could.

“Mr Greel,” said a White Guard, with the insignia of a sergeant on his arm, “The soldiers had this.”
Greel knew exactly what it was, “Long wave radio. Give me that, and go and booby trap these caves, we need to slow the military down.”
The sergeant handed over the radio and began barking out orders.

Greel picked up the rectangular box shaped device and proceeded outside, into the harsh desert. He tweaked the radio for a few moments before beginning, “There has been a massacre at Aston. There are survivors, Conservatives fleeing the military. We are currently at Honeycomb Rock. Can anyone here me?”
Greel listened, he could hear static, but there were other voices, ever so faint. He repeated his message, again he heard the radio pick up transmissions; then just static. Greel knew what this meant, a jamming device. “We have to go know,” he yelled up into the unorganized rabble of the caves, as White Guard cleared it of Conservatives and filled it with traps.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Glad you could make it so quickly, Emperor,” sniped Chief Justice Richard Frost.
“Well I am a very busy man,” responded Tobias Grey, “And if you don’t make your point quickly I shall leave again.”

Tobias Grey flicked his eyes across the panel of five Grand Court judges, Richard Frost sitting dead centre, under the official copy of the Farminan Constitution. Each of the judges was in their long black silk gowns, contrasted to Tobias Grey’s white suit, with black shirt and red tie.

“Events have come to our attention and the decision we have reached is unanimous,” began the Chief Justice.

“Get on with it,” snarled Tobias Grey.

“We granted you the powers of the Emperor for the period of the true Emperor’s incapacity. Now it has come to our attention that the Emperor is more than capable of all getting all the way to Dumpsterdam while being drugged and your prisoner,” continued Richard Frost.

“Is this going somewhere?” asked the acting Emperor.

“If there is no Emperor, there can be no acting Emperor. But this is not our most disturbing conclusion, we have reason to believe you orchestrated entrapment that resulted in the Conservative Block being labeled insurgent falsely. If this is true, then the events at Aston amount to mass murder with the blood entirely at your feet,” said Frost.

“And your conclusion?” asked Tobias Grey.

“You must abdicate your power to the court, we shall decide a course of action from there,” said Richard Frost, “You need to sign the form in front of you.”

“As you wish,” smiled Grey, dangerously politely, pulling out his pen and squiggling on the page.

A guard picked up the document and brought it up the bench, where the judges examined it in turn. “This is too easy,” muttered the judge on the far left.

“Correct,” said Grey, still smiling, but now a smile that had a haunting nature to it, “Since I have resigned, as Emperor, I shall appoint myself President, and this court is now permanently in recess.”

“You can’t,” warned the Chief Judge.

“Hear that,” said Grey, refering to a faint and distant noise, “That is the sound of gunfire, Moralist enforcers are storming this building, with an arrest warrant, for the five judges of the Grand Court.”

“Seize him,” yelled Richard Frost, furious and fearful in the same expression.

One of the Grand Court guards leveled his rifle at the self appointed president. The other guard however, was of a different loyalty, opening fire on the first guard.

“Traitor,” hissed one of the judges, the others were to pale with fear to react.

It was then that the Moralist opened fire; more raced in adding the blaze of fires. The judges crumpled one by one; the court, the constitution itself, riddled with bullets and covered blood.

OOC: This occurs minutes before Tobias Grey declares Farmina a Democratic Republic. Also I realize the post isn’t a great one.
Derscon
09-07-2005, 04:04
OOC: Hmm...

Tag.
Doomingsland
09-07-2005, 15:28
tag, post coming ASAP
Farmina
10-07-2005, 10:23
I'm in the mood for a bump.
Canad a
10-07-2005, 10:43
The Canadian Intelligence Community was quite aware of the actions that Farminian Officials were taken within their own country, making arrest of citizens who were members of right wing parties.

The Director of the Canadian National Intelligence Agency created the Farmina Intiative, which created a clandestine operation within Farmina borders to gain more information on Farmina.

The Director looked over reports, video captures, photographs what was currently going on, they were shooting Conservatives from right, left and centre. Most of the shootings came from the left.

The Director froze for a moment to think this through. Maybe they were left wing, it made sense. However, how far left? The first guess that popped to his mind, Anarchist.

He picked up the phone, "Get me a hold of Red Dawn."

Red Dawn, code-name for a Canadian Intelligence Operative within Farmina borders who led a small armed intelligence team armed with supressed MP5s.

One of the men passed him over the phone.

"Dawn."

"It is the Director. I want you to capture one of their people, interrogate him, then execute him. Understood?"

"Alright."

"Good."

"Over."
Alexonium
10-07-2005, 11:55
Alexonium requests that you allow the conservatives to leave the country with their posessions and resettle in Alexonium. Even thought they are conservatives, they are still humans, and retain the same intrinsic value as anyone else. Perhaps this token of goodwill would convince them that the other side of the spectrum is not so bad after all.

Jon Harraldsen
Interior minister
Farmina
10-07-2005, 12:07
Alexonium requests that you allow the conservatives to leave the country with their posessions and resettle in Alexonium. Even thought they are conservatives, they are still humans, and retain the same intrinsic value as anyone else. Perhaps this token of goodwill would convince them that the other side of the spectrum is not so bad after all.

Jon Harraldsen
Interior minister

The Conservative Block declared a state of war against Farmina's democracy. Now they are paying the price.

Daniel Rickhart
Chancellor for Foriegn Affairs
Independent Hitmen
10-07-2005, 12:12
-tag promises to be good reading :)-
Farmina
10-07-2005, 12:23
A speech made by Tobias Grey, as refered to in the first post:
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=430196
Canad a
10-07-2005, 22:48
OOC: Is there any high-ranking officials that my Spook team could kidnap for a little entertainment?
Farmina
11-07-2005, 02:50
OOC: Is there any high-ranking officials that my Spook team could kidnap for a little entertainment?

It would be rather difficult; most of the high ranking people who know anything are in relatively secret bunkers, with Tobias Grey the only one anywhere known. So unless you want to try and storm a bunker...
Canad a
11-07-2005, 03:57
OOC: Hmm...
Doomingsland
11-07-2005, 15:35
OOC:Finally got around to posting...

IC:

Unknown Location, Doomingsland

Reclining in a high-backed chair, Colonel Decius Prius Decimus took a puff of his cigar. In front of him was a nice oak desk, neatly adorned with a laptop computer, a picture of the emperor, and a crucifix. His office was most luxurious, looking more like a library with its wood-paneled walls, dimly lit lights, high book cases, and tall windows that were directly behind him. The curtains had been drawn; it was raining.

He wore a dark suit, and the light reflected against his chair enough to cover his face in shadow. Suddenly, the buzzer on his desk rang,

"Sir, a Lieutenant Caius is here to see you." came the voice of his secretary over the intercom.

"Send him in." he replied gruffly.

In front of him, the massive oak doors leading into the office were thrown open. A tall, muscular-looking man swagered in through the door. He had on regular camo fatigues. He hadn't thought it nessessary to dress up for a simple visit to the boss's office.

The man was clean shaven, the light glinting off of his bald, shiny head. He had a neutral gaze going for him, his piercing grey eyes affixed on the colonel. Normally men would be unsettled by this, but the colonel had worked with the man for quite some time.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" came the man's rough voice, evidence of his many years of hard service to the Empire.

"That's right, Gaius. Take a seat," replied the colonel in a pleasent tone, motioning for the lieutenant to take a seat in one of the two chairs that sat facing his desk directly in front.

Gaius swaggered over, plopping down in front of the colonel.

"You are farmiliar with the Farmina situation?" asked Decius patiently, recieving only a nod in reply, "Good. Cuz' that's where you and your men are headed."

Gaius looked unmoved, his same neutral stare adorning his face. Decius continued,

"We recieved this transmission an hour ago,"

He tapped a button his his keyboard, and the speakers began to play a garbled message,

There has been a massacre at Aston. There are survivors, Conservatives fleeing the military. We are currently at Honeycomb Rock. Can anyone here me?

The colonel once again looked up at the Legionary, who had the same look on his face,

"We attempted to respond, but their transmission was jammed. You leave in an hour."

"For the Glory of the Empire, then." replied Gaius, standing, saluting, and heading out the door.
Farmina
12-07-2005, 02:22
Three hours. Greel had left Honeycomb Rock three hours ago and hadn’t stopped to rest since. Quietly he thought to himself, “I can't feel my feet.”
To his left, Gregory Vanstone looked ready to keel over and die. “Blast,” muttered the former Chancellor, “Mr Greel, I think I should have joined the Socialist Block.”
Greel laughed quietly at the comment, but it had only been nine months ago when Emperor Justinian, who the Conservatives were so loyally dedicated ordered more than half a million Socialists executed. What had happened in Aston made the events of the Carnival of Bloody Fields look like casual entertainment.

“A Liberal perhaps sir,” joked Greel, putting forward another leg in the darkness, “Nothing bad ever happens to the Liberals.”
“Nothing good ever happens to the Liberals,” pointed out Vanstone in a more somber tone, “When did the Liberals last have any influence.”
“Well we won’t have to put up with the Liberals criticizing us any more,” said Greel trying to give events an ironic spin.
“They might say we died too quickly,” added Vanstone, the master of the negative comment.

In all truth, the end of the Conservative Block would leave James Palmer and the Liberals isolated. The Conservatives and the Liberals were the only two blocks truly dedicated to a right wing economic agenda. Now the Moralists, with the help of the leftist Laborites would be able to force through dangerously moderate proposals they wanted.

“Sirs,” began a face emerging from the darkness, “Sergeant Blik, 3rd White Guard. Some of the women and children are beginning to slow, not to mention a couple of men. They need a break.”
“Blast,” muttered Vanstone, “I was hoping we could keep going, Kraft should only be another 5 hours.”
Greel doubted that Vanstone could go for five hours, but Greel was surprised Vanstone was still walking at all.
“We shall rest for half an hour,” said Vanstone, “But then we move.”
Greel sat down there and then. He wasn’t sure if the pursuers had made camp for the night or not, but no doubt there was the occasional patrol heading into the desert.
“Do you think we can make it to Kraft by sunrise?” asked Vanstone, throwing a small rock he had found into the east.
“I reckon we can make the distance,” said Greel, but added for the first time, “The problem is I don’t think we are heading in the right direction.”
Doomingsland
14-07-2005, 17:42
Amidst the scorching desert sun, the MV-68A's turbofan engines began to warm up, the men of Delta Team, 3rd Hunter-Killers, VI Legion, prepared for war. Farmina would act as a testing ground for the Angel of Death Infantry Suit (AODIS). The men were equiped to handle a variaty of different situations, armed with weapons such as shoulder mounted kinetic energy missiles to sniper rifles to the new M-31A1 assault rifle.

Lieutenant Caius stood around his men, who, by now, were using their packs as pillows, resting right on the tarmack. This was only a four man team, but it was enough for the operation they were carrying out. They weren't exactly attempting to annihilate the Socialist army. Other than Caius, there were three others. Their sniper, Sergeant Galerius, was a genuine, grade-A psycopath. Having, at one point, spent a whole year behind enemy lines after being left behind, it was a wounder he still served the Empire as well as he still did. After he'd gotten home, it was noticed that he'd changed. He was far more aggressive and swift in his kills. And kill he did, with ruthless effeciency, and he enjoyed it.

The unit's automatic rifleman, Sergeant Marius, was but a simple soldier. He did his part for his country as best he could (which, according to most men that watched him in action, was pretty damn good), and was mostly indifferent to his enemies, unless they'd somehow fucked directly with his homeland. In that case, he was just plain sadistic.

Finally, the demolitions specialist, Sergeant Crassus, was the unit's resident wise-ass. He seemed to have a joke for virtualy every occasion, from cleaning the guns, to cleaning out a trench of hostile guerrillas. He more or less always managed to get on Galerius' nerves, and served as the team's comic relief. Of course, in a less militaristic country, he would most likely have been considered one of those bomb-making maniacs...

The ramp door of their transport dropped down, and the loadmaster motioned for the men to board the aircraft. They did so one at a time, each finding his own little area to lounge around in for the long trip to Farmina. The other men may have been getting shut-eye, but that couldn't be said of Lieutenant Caius. Only he was aware of the important details of the mission. From what intel said, the Socialist Army was breathing down the necks of the conservative remnants. His unit was probably one of the best trained in the world and their equipment was second to none, but if they were unfortunate enough to have the commies catch up, they'd most assuredly be killed to the last man. For that is how Legionaries fight: to the death. Besides, they didn't officialy exist, so it'd be best for them to stay anonymous the entire mission.

The door began to slide shut and the crooning of hydrolics outside of the aircraft became apparent as the engines tilted downward and applied thrust, pushing the aircraft skyward. They had several hours before touch down...
Farmina
15-07-2005, 04:44
“It seems they have eluded us,” informatively chirped Colonel Karn.
“I am glad you realized that,” said General Peters, “We seem to be chasing a hundred groups.”
“We are succeeding,” said Karn more optimistically, “General Stevenson has formed a ring of steel around the south of Aston and is wiping out everything is sight. Conservatives in the North are being driven back to towards our forces in Aston, or at least what is left of it. In the East our forces continue to pursue these rebels into the desert.”
“But yet still the fat man eludes us,” noted the General, moving his finger along the map, “We have scouts sweeping along here and still no sight of his wretched band.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of an electronic message. Karn picked it up and read it quickly. “It seems that something has been spotted at the Rock,” locating the site on the map with his finger, “We lost contact indicating that something can shoot back. Satellites are being re-aimed as we speak.”

“Good,” noted the General, “I doubt the Conservatives will march by night as well as day, especially if the fat man is there. Get me a map of the caves, we shall flush them out by morning.”

“As you wish,” said the Colonel, who bowed politely before barking order after order.