Kriegorgrad
16-08-2005, 18:56
“What?!” Cried Mustapha, his face aflame with rage, things were looking so bright, with the Greater Prussian Empire – once a fascist menace in the eyes of the Kriegos public – an omnipresent “big brother”, oddly reminiscent of Nikolai Fedorenkov and his place in Kriegos society. With the vast resources of the Empire, the skies were the limit, previously relaxing in the Ministry of Love, all the problems of the world seemed so far away, however, things were never as simple as they seemed.
“I’m sorry sir! But I’ve heard that our move in joining the Prussians has been frowned upon, greatly.” The young man cringed at the furious temper of the oligarch, while physically as imposing as a kitten, he possessed a zealous rage that, when roused, roared as loud as any beast of the jungles spoken of in the pre-revolution story books.
“Well…things aren’t going as I planned, called the other oligarchs, we need to discuss.”
“As you bid sir.”
-----
“I told you this was a bad idea from the start, we’ve set against fighting the Prussians for too long to suddenly join them!” Cried Heatherstone, one of the less influential oligarchs and with the appearance of a badger, slicked back hair slowly retreating before the encroaching army of baldness, flying the banner of impending senility.
“By Fedor man, the Halladis did it!” It was odd, although Fedor was merely a puppet to the oligarchs, they still used his name as if it were the equivalent of using God’s name in vain. An odd prospect, a master speak of servant as if he were his infinite superior. Broad faced Henry Foster only watched, usually ready to support anything against Mustapha’s followers, he was unusually silent today.
“Aye, but we weren’t fucking obliterated by Prussian star ships? Now were we! The Halladis need the economic support, we, do not!” The rise and fall of phlegm in Heatherstone’s throat didn’t impede the raw zeal with which he spoke, the sure confidence that had helped guide Kriegorgrad for as long as Fedor had taken up the mantle of “leadership”. The oligarchs were in a state of chaos, curses and cries thrown about like ragdolls, men acting in raw panic until the clear tone of Mustapha pierced the mayhem. They fell silent, as if a mighty and potent figure was about to speak some prophetic wisdom, not the weedy Mustapha expressing his more that audible point.
“Now, our allies are going to abandon us if we do not leave the shelter of the Prussian hand, Hogsweat, Praetonia, Camewot and even the Grand Republic – all allies who haven’t done us wrong in the past…with the possible exclusion of Hogsweat.” A brief series of chuckles erupted from the stressed oligarchs, the amount of content humour could inject into a conversation was amazing, even if it came from the snapping, dark red lipped maw of Mustapha Krin. Slicking back his dark hair, the diminutively sized, if not voiced, oligarch continued. “We must resign from the Greater Prussian Empire if we are to keep our allies.”
Uproar. That was the only word for it, men bellowed in anger, fires of hate and rage roused anew by the words of Mustapha, through all the chaos and yelling, a single voice calmed the chaos, it died slowly but surely, men winding down from their fear induced heights. All eyes lay on Henry Foster, the main, and some say only opposition to Mustapha’s will, his dark hazel eyes stared back at the retina that probed his being, searching for a flaw.
”We, as a nation, must stand united. Kriegorgrad has been gifted with kind allies and we cannot turn our backs on them! It was a mistake to ever join with the Prussians, powerful and mighty they may be, we cannot handle the diplomatic stress at this time.”
Silence fell over the men surrounding the table as two Ordos Fedor clunked in, armour shifting and the noises that followed such equipment burdened men being the only noise to bounce off the marble walls. The two mighty warriors brought with them ink and paper, for the oligarchs to write a message of not only resignation, but also apology.
{::Establishing Uplink::}
{::Finding Broadband Channel::}
{::Open Channel Procured::}
Type of Communiqué: Announcement
To: Any whom it may concern
From: The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov
Subject: Resignation and regret
------------
”To all of our loyal allies, Hogsweat, Praetonia, the Grand Republic and others – you know who you are – we are sorry. We are sorry for turning our collective back on you, we are sorry for giving our noble comrades the cold shoulder. But for most of all, we are sorry for joining the enemy, Kriegorgrad was foolish and ambitious, lusting after power that it need not lust for. The reason why? Not because Kriegorgrad hasn’t a lust for strength, no, but because we only realised the camaraderie afforded to us by our former – and now current – allies is far stronger than any imperialist empire. It is in unity do we find our strength, as the old proverb goes: ‘united we stand, divided we fall’.
Kriegorgrad was blind to the massive potential of its brothers in arms, in the region of Haven, on the planet of Terra, orbitting all the millions of stars that dot the endless gloom of space. It is to you that, our comrades, that we are most indebted, it is because of you that Kriegorgrad will be glad to announce its resignation from the Greater Prussian Empire. Kriegorgrad was foolish to think of moving ahead by such a bold yet immoral means.
Once more, I apologise for the rudeness and audacity of the Collective Oligarchy. Never again shall we make such a bold and foolish move, we can only hope that we can start mending the burnt bridges that are the result of this unfortunate sequence of events.“
Yours Sincerely,
The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov
&
The People of Kriegorgrad
{::Closing Uplink::}
“I’m sorry sir! But I’ve heard that our move in joining the Prussians has been frowned upon, greatly.” The young man cringed at the furious temper of the oligarch, while physically as imposing as a kitten, he possessed a zealous rage that, when roused, roared as loud as any beast of the jungles spoken of in the pre-revolution story books.
“Well…things aren’t going as I planned, called the other oligarchs, we need to discuss.”
“As you bid sir.”
-----
“I told you this was a bad idea from the start, we’ve set against fighting the Prussians for too long to suddenly join them!” Cried Heatherstone, one of the less influential oligarchs and with the appearance of a badger, slicked back hair slowly retreating before the encroaching army of baldness, flying the banner of impending senility.
“By Fedor man, the Halladis did it!” It was odd, although Fedor was merely a puppet to the oligarchs, they still used his name as if it were the equivalent of using God’s name in vain. An odd prospect, a master speak of servant as if he were his infinite superior. Broad faced Henry Foster only watched, usually ready to support anything against Mustapha’s followers, he was unusually silent today.
“Aye, but we weren’t fucking obliterated by Prussian star ships? Now were we! The Halladis need the economic support, we, do not!” The rise and fall of phlegm in Heatherstone’s throat didn’t impede the raw zeal with which he spoke, the sure confidence that had helped guide Kriegorgrad for as long as Fedor had taken up the mantle of “leadership”. The oligarchs were in a state of chaos, curses and cries thrown about like ragdolls, men acting in raw panic until the clear tone of Mustapha pierced the mayhem. They fell silent, as if a mighty and potent figure was about to speak some prophetic wisdom, not the weedy Mustapha expressing his more that audible point.
“Now, our allies are going to abandon us if we do not leave the shelter of the Prussian hand, Hogsweat, Praetonia, Camewot and even the Grand Republic – all allies who haven’t done us wrong in the past…with the possible exclusion of Hogsweat.” A brief series of chuckles erupted from the stressed oligarchs, the amount of content humour could inject into a conversation was amazing, even if it came from the snapping, dark red lipped maw of Mustapha Krin. Slicking back his dark hair, the diminutively sized, if not voiced, oligarch continued. “We must resign from the Greater Prussian Empire if we are to keep our allies.”
Uproar. That was the only word for it, men bellowed in anger, fires of hate and rage roused anew by the words of Mustapha, through all the chaos and yelling, a single voice calmed the chaos, it died slowly but surely, men winding down from their fear induced heights. All eyes lay on Henry Foster, the main, and some say only opposition to Mustapha’s will, his dark hazel eyes stared back at the retina that probed his being, searching for a flaw.
”We, as a nation, must stand united. Kriegorgrad has been gifted with kind allies and we cannot turn our backs on them! It was a mistake to ever join with the Prussians, powerful and mighty they may be, we cannot handle the diplomatic stress at this time.”
Silence fell over the men surrounding the table as two Ordos Fedor clunked in, armour shifting and the noises that followed such equipment burdened men being the only noise to bounce off the marble walls. The two mighty warriors brought with them ink and paper, for the oligarchs to write a message of not only resignation, but also apology.
{::Establishing Uplink::}
{::Finding Broadband Channel::}
{::Open Channel Procured::}
Type of Communiqué: Announcement
To: Any whom it may concern
From: The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov
Subject: Resignation and regret
------------
”To all of our loyal allies, Hogsweat, Praetonia, the Grand Republic and others – you know who you are – we are sorry. We are sorry for turning our collective back on you, we are sorry for giving our noble comrades the cold shoulder. But for most of all, we are sorry for joining the enemy, Kriegorgrad was foolish and ambitious, lusting after power that it need not lust for. The reason why? Not because Kriegorgrad hasn’t a lust for strength, no, but because we only realised the camaraderie afforded to us by our former – and now current – allies is far stronger than any imperialist empire. It is in unity do we find our strength, as the old proverb goes: ‘united we stand, divided we fall’.
Kriegorgrad was blind to the massive potential of its brothers in arms, in the region of Haven, on the planet of Terra, orbitting all the millions of stars that dot the endless gloom of space. It is to you that, our comrades, that we are most indebted, it is because of you that Kriegorgrad will be glad to announce its resignation from the Greater Prussian Empire. Kriegorgrad was foolish to think of moving ahead by such a bold yet immoral means.
Once more, I apologise for the rudeness and audacity of the Collective Oligarchy. Never again shall we make such a bold and foolish move, we can only hope that we can start mending the burnt bridges that are the result of this unfortunate sequence of events.“
Yours Sincerely,
The Oligarch of Kriegorgrad, Comrade Leader Nikolai Fedorenkov
&
The People of Kriegorgrad
{::Closing Uplink::}