NationStates Jolt Archive

The commune of Guasipati, the Anarchan county of Venezuela

Caine was mystified, sort of. As member of the collective in charge of maintaining and protecting the townships armoury, he was technically obliged to make sure the guns didn't disappear. As it were, a good four hundred Lee-Enfield carbines, M1931 submachine guns and Bren guns were missing from the racks, along with at least a truckload of rounds. Caine'd be concerned, if this weren't so common - Either the 44th regiment came by, grabbed them and cocked up informing his quartermaster of it; or else... Well, the insurrection brigade had been planning to "stir shit up", as it were; and if that was the case deniability was good. Real good.


Kurupukari, near the Anarchan Guyana-Roycelandian Guyanese border

The bitter-looking little man crept quietly through a patch of thicket, and faced two gun barrels as he came through; quickly he spoke his password. "Mescalito". The other five men in the clearing grinned, and the pointmen lowered their guns. "You're our man, sure enough. Are your cells ready to accept and hide the weapons?". The little man nodded his assent, and switched to halting english. "Yes. Roiks are everywhere, and our village has been waiting for far too long. They promise us new hospital for months, like the one they build in Orealla; but still we have no clinics or clean water. We would leave, but this.." He paused. "Our home. See, amigo? We're not leaving, but we're not submitting to imperial rule either. Give the signals, and we can move the arms into our caches.".

Several other places across the nighttime border, small bands of peasants and miners transported guns and ammunition, using their daytime employment as Anarchan-Guyanese relief workers as cover for their conspicous task. Also, printing materials and cassette recorders were shipped in for pro-anarchan agitators to disseminate their secessionist ideas.

While Hindustan knows next to nothing about the less-than-reputable goings on in Guyana, it is highly doubtful that Parliament would approve. After all, Hindustan is not very upset with Roycelandia, seeing the nation as a considerable improvement over the British empire, and that violent nationalist movements rarely impress Mumbai...

[Official Ottoman Tag]

The Imperial Communications Ministry will respond shortly (Ie, TAG! :-P)

[tag]

A Small Village somewhere in Roycelandian Guyana

Why the Villagers were ill was no mystery- there was a dead cow in the well.

Fixing it was a problem, however.

"Look, we can get the cow out of the well and disinfect the water, no problems, but we just don't have the medicine to treat the inhabitants" explained the Sergeant of the Imperial Guard as he held his nose to avoid the unmistakable aroma of Dead Cow In Well.

"They're not going to like that at all..." said the Aid Worker looking at the back of his LandRover and wondering why he'd accepted an assignment here instead of somewhere less pestilent- like Southern Algeria.

Even so, the fact remained that there simply wasn't enough medicine to go around, and word was that unscrupulous soldiers were starting to sell it to desperate Guyanans anyway...

(Royce, Hope you don't mind if I make a couple of assumptions, just so I have an excuse to RP a bit in this ;) )


Latitude: 2 Degrees 15 Minutes (North)
Longitude: 59 Degrees 10 Minutes (West)

Haidar Askari, dressed in camo fatigues, tossed a crate of ammunition on the back of an open-topped Land Rover defender. His name, literally meaning 'Lion Soldier' described his personality well. Ever since he had been medically discharged from his Airborne unit on account of having aggression control issues, he had hired out his services to those that needed his special skills.

Due to some long forgotten trade agreement signed more than half a century previously, this isolated spot in the middle of the southern Guyanan rainforest was the property of an Elias Corporation, one of the nation's only interests in this otherwise quiet corner of the Roycelandian Empire.

The Marudi Mountain gold mine, employing mostly indigenous personnel, was just one of hundreds of similar facilities throught the world owned by the Arabian General Trading & Commodities Company. The firm itself could trace its roots even to before Ottoman rule when Arab merchants ventured to west and southern Africa and to the Orient in search of precious metals, diamonds, spices and even slaves. Since the emergence of the hydrocarbon economies at the end of the nineteenth century, the company's importance had waned considerably but it was nevertheless highly profitable.

Having its interests dotted across the world, often in remote places in some harsh and unstable regions, meant that AGTCC made security its priority. At Marudi Mountain this fell to a collection of mercenaries, many from Belize based agencies, including Haidar.

With a carbine version of the Muhannad rifle slung around his shoulder, he mounted the driver's seat as his comrade, a Panamian called Luis, rode shotgun, in more ways than one. The diesel engine jerked to life and the dark green chasis moved off down an asphalt road that led from the facility's security office. Passing depots full of mining equipment and teams of workers, they turned off onto a dirt track so that they could inspect the outer perimiter. To them Guyana's political future was irrelevant, because no matter what, they would keep this compound secure.

OOC: No, go ahead, UE, I don't mind... the Roycelandian Government really has more important things to worry about that the trading compound of the company from an allied nation deep in the jungles of Guyana... ;-)

NA, it's over to you...

OOC>> All OOC remarks from now on, my own included, will be in the Americas subforum on invisionfree. That is, HERE (http://s9.invisionfree.com/NS_Modern_World/index.php?showforum=5) for those of you who don't come there often. Just for the sake of not cluttering up our RPs!

Some crowded street in Georgetown

An angry young agitator yelled words at passersby. Most ignored him, some ridiculed him, but a gathering of younger people had stopped to listen. "...But that's not ENOUGH, I say. The Anarchan Guyanese have it all, short work hours, all worker benefits, universal health care..". "Wot, a commie are you?" a woman interrupted him. "Go off and join them, if they're so great.". The young man paused. "I will. But not before I take all of you, and this land, with me.". Other places in Georgetown, and in other large cities like Corriverton and New Amsterdam, other agitators were spreading the word: Ditch the Empire, a paradise awaits.".

Small villages across Roycelandian Guyana

Disgruntled workers and unemployed, or those with Anarchist sympathies who had elected to stay with their families in Roycelandian Guyana; bided their time; preparing arms caches and cell tactics for eventual conflict. The consensus was clear, however. No shots fired until they had to - If revolts worked once, they might just work again.

In villages close to the Anarchan border, the separatists stepped up operations. Anarchans already employed as Guyanese relief workers surreptously slipped flyers, printing materials and the like(deniable parts, no weapons or ammo any longer); and even had a few Anarchan guyanese act as agitators, trying to drum up support for insurrection in the villages closes to Neo-Anarchos.

A degree of discontent was expected and planned for by the Roycelandians, so the anti-Imperialist propaganda wasn't high on the watch-list.

The thing to remember was that a lot of Guyanans WANTED to be part of Roycelandia, and there was a general feeling that anyone who wanted to live the Anarchic lifestyle was free to do so... on the OTHER side of the border.

[tag]