Hogsweatia
13-05-2006, 00:52
Hogsweatia, 30 years after the refounding
'STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!' the posters proclaimed. Posted all over Hogsweatia, the posters encouraging industrial workers to strike adorned walls, streets, cars, everything. Recent government legislation had forced the minimum wage down - there was some anger, but it was quickly vented and quashed, and then the government did the unthinkable and attempted to do two things. On the 1st of April, it dropped the minimum wage by 20% for state workers and 35% for private workers and sold off all nationalised industry. The Hogsweatian Steel Workers Union (HOSWU) and the Hogsweatian General Industry Union [HOGINU] immediately began to call upon its workers to strike. Some three hundred million are involved in Hogsweatia's coal, steel, iron, and quarrying industries, and on the first day the General Strike was announced eighty million members (around 95%) of the HOSWU's members did not turn up for work. In addition to the HOGINU's far larger numbers, almost 80% of Hogsweat's industrial workers joined General Strikes around the country. Coal production was brought to an immediate stop. The Government panicked. By the second day, the number had upped to 88%. By the third, 94.5%.
In a show of support, the railways (nearly noone owned a car) stopped too. The Hogsweatian Rail Union [HORU] declared a strike among its members, which was entirely successful. The Government, inexperienced, was still panicking. When protestors massed outside City Hall, waving placards, the President evacuated himself and his cabinet via helicopter. As more and more strikers joined the protest, riot police were sent in. Outnumbering the protestors nearly two to one, the dark blue clad riot police viciously attacked and beat down thousands of supporters. It was a black day for Hogsweatia as mounted police, water cannons, rubber bullets, and plastic shields clashed with baseball bats, hammers, handguns, and large rocks. Approximately 15,000 were left wounded and over a hundred dead. All Hogsweatian Unions praised the actions of the protestors and severely hounded the Government. The Government responded by the only method it knew of – force. The most loyal army units were mobilised and motorised forces cracked down on protesting workers outside Dalian Quarrying Ltd. The determined strikers were no match for compact assault rifles and armoured personnel carriers. They were arrested, and the ringleaders rounded up and arrested. On the fifth day, ringleaders of the protest outside City Hall were rounded up, and after being beaten and pushed against the statue of Josef Dorsal in the city centre, were machine gunned to death by soldiers of the 1st Presidential Brigade. Blood and bullet holes imprinted on the statue only furthered the vigour of the rebellion. By the sixth day, all the colleries across Hogsweatia were left desolate. The steel plants were empty and the quarries devoid of life. The Unions had aimed and found their mark – Hogsweat was on the verge of shutting down. The last act, on the seventh day, was to signify the beginning of the end of the almost westernised Hogsweatia.
Haskov and Son Ltd, Dorsalgrad Smeltery and Colliery
‘What are we going to do?’ the manager mused, looking out the window.
‘Riot police? I heard they deploye’ an official suggested.
‘No, you fucking idiot. Did you not hear what happened on Thursday? These arseholes fight back, John. No. Get the helicopter fuelled up, pack anything important, we’re getting out of here now.’
‘Of course.’ The officials left, and only Mr Haskov was still in the room, looking down from his office over the mining complex and down onto the massing crowd that was growing every second. Sighing, he flipped open his mobile phone, and demanded to know whether the helicopter was ready yet.
~
CRASH! The van cascaded against the doors of the Haskov and Sons Limited Smeltery and Colliery and they caved in, a mirror of the Hogsweatian government in a few days to come. The doors crippled and smashed, the crowd surged into the building, knocking aside and trampling anything that got in their way. At their front, Mikhail Feterov brandished his AKM, taken from a captured army patrol. Storming the building, the rebels reached the office of David Haskov and promptly replaced the flag outside the glassed window with a giant hammer and sickle. The revolution had started.
The Government wasn’t worried. It was outright scared. Arrest warrants were immediately given out and all army units were mobilised. Helicopters flew over Dorsalgrad and Dev Hogevra and APCs and armoured cars were positioned on every street. The following day, the government declared martial law and began its assault on the Haskov Smeltery and Colliery. It was surrounded with helicopters and APCs, riot police forming a solid wall of plastic shields around the main building. Units from the 1st Presidential Brigade were tasked with breaking through, which they did with great success. Smashing the barricaded doors down with a tank, the assaulting company found itself in a bad position when 7.62 fire rained down from the stairs and as soon as they broke through into the main office hall hundreds of rebels jumped them with makeshift weapons. Several Molotov cocktails forced the 1st Company to fall back, and as soon as they did autocannon fire peppered the main hallway, cutting down some rebels. They then tried to breach the door with an APC. Driving forwards, the M113 had some success when the light arms fire and molotovs bounced off it. Spearheading the assault, all seemed lost as the rebels began to lose ground to the better equipped and better trained soldiers – though fighting was close up and vicious, the rebels were not soldiers and sheer determination is sometimes not enough. The tables turned however, when a brave striker detonated an IED almost underneath the APC, turning it to flames. Further reinforcements were brought in and once again the soldiers were pushed out. The story was covered on news worldwide and one of the most famous pictures of the entire incident was an unknown striker victoriously planting the red flag on the roof of the office before being gunned down by a helicopter, which shadow can be seen on the shot.
While the Haskov Smeltery siege went on, Dev Hogevra erupted in a flame of red. Strikers filled the streets. The second division, a fifth of the Hogsweatian Defense Force’s ground forces were based in Dev Hogevra, and after a brief confrontation between the leader of the rebellion there and the local military leader the brigade joined the revolution, and hand in hand seized and promptly executed the Governor of Dev Hogevra. The Hammer and Sickle was raised above city hall and the red wave had spread. Army units all over the country were rebelling and had occupied airfields, grounding any air support for the government.
Dorsalgrad
‘This is RIDICULOUS.’ President Alfatzy shouted. ‘Where the HELL is the Army? The Airforce? The god damn NAVY?’ he slammed his fist on the planning table.
His highest advisor stepped forward, and the most calm way, told the President what was happening. ‘Half the Army has joined the revolution. They’ve grounded all eight airbases and half of Hogsweatia belongs to the rebels. The Navy has joined the revolution too – the Josef Dorsal has been launching sorties against our troops all day. Fighting is raging in Terratt – everything beyond here belongs to the rebels.’ He scratched a long line through the map of Hogsweatia.
‘Army units are either disbanding or joining the revolution as we speak. The only thing we have left is the Presidential Brigade and some remaining riot police.’
Alfatzy buried his face in his hands. He did not want to die. He did not want to be executed and declared a traitor.
‘Alexei. What can we do?’ he murmured.
‘Mister President.’ Alexei began. ‘We have two options. Sit here, and die. Or run and die. I suggest we do the former.’
Alfatzy nodded. ‘You have been a good friend to be Alexei. I trust you.’ He slid his hand inside his jacket pocket and coughed. ‘I will never forget this, you know. Even if I die tomorrow.’
Alexei looked confused. ‘Mister President, I’m not sure-‘
‘But I’d rather die trying than sit here and be led to the slaughter. You saw the feed from Hogevra.’ Alfatzy gulped. ‘Sorry, Alexei.’ In a flash, he whipped out the Tokarev and shot Alexei twice in the chest. The stunned look on his eyes lasted only until Alfatzy closed them and whispered ‘Goodbye.’ To his once faithful bodyguard
Explosions shook the outside of the city as Army tankers clashed with the rebel’s 2nd division. Commander Grumman watched from his night vision view as strobes of light flew around the dark night, illuminating the battle ahead for anyone unlucky enough not to have the night vision. Peering down the periscope of his Chieftain tank, Grumman sneered as the advancing rebel armour units came over the slag mound. Grabbing his microphone, Grumman snorted down the intercom.
‘Alpha, Bravo, Charlie squadrons on me. Loop around two fourty and keep quiet. Delta and Echo engage a staggered defensive line on your current positions. Let’s crack some commie tanks. Grumman out.’ He looked down to the driver. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Yessir.’ The driver replied, turning the tank around with its comrades following. Grumman felt a slight jolt as the turret traversed to face the rebel T72s which were looming over the slag mound ahead. Underneath and behind some light shrubbery and treelines and masked by the darkness, the rebel tanks wouldn’t even see what hit them until it was too late. The first salvo from the staggered defense line shot over, exploding long behind the T72s, knocking one or two out causing different hues of green to flare in the night vision view. The next found its mark, knocking out several tanks. The rebels, firing on the move, were mostly inaccurate although several hits were scored and marked – Grumman got the ‘Delta One Two down, over.’ Crackle on his radio, followed by a ‘Echo One One down, One Two assuming control.’
‘Grumman to attack formation, halt, repeat, halt.’ Slowly the tanks crunched the ground and came to a halt, the already traversed turrets recalibrating their aim towards the rebel armoured advance. Grumman breathed deep, then whispered through the mic ‘open fire.’
His tank rocked and recovered as the 120mm shell ignited and flew from the barrel, finding its mark and blowing the turret off a rebel tank. The rest of the three squadrons followed suit, ripping a hole in the rebel attack line. Scrap metal littered the battleground, dug deep in the saltlands between Dev Hogevra and Dorsalgrad.
‘Take that you commie bastards!’ Grumman screamed victoriously down the intercom, as a second combined wave of tank shells from all the squadrons ripped apart the desperately retreating rebel tanks. ‘Well done.’ He congratulated the forces down the intercom. ‘It’s not over yet. Those bastards will try again in daylight when they can actually see us. Withdraw back to Line Gregory, we’ll continue this another time.’ The engines of the Chieftains whirred and the tracks kicked up dirt as they withdrew from the smoking battlefield. For the first time, the revolution had been given a bloody nose, but it would not last for much longer. With almost ten times as many tanks, troops leaving the loyalist cause by the minute, and no air or naval support, the loyalist forces were doomed. It would only be a matter of time before the red flag flew once more in Dorsalgrad’s capital hill.
'STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!' the posters proclaimed. Posted all over Hogsweatia, the posters encouraging industrial workers to strike adorned walls, streets, cars, everything. Recent government legislation had forced the minimum wage down - there was some anger, but it was quickly vented and quashed, and then the government did the unthinkable and attempted to do two things. On the 1st of April, it dropped the minimum wage by 20% for state workers and 35% for private workers and sold off all nationalised industry. The Hogsweatian Steel Workers Union (HOSWU) and the Hogsweatian General Industry Union [HOGINU] immediately began to call upon its workers to strike. Some three hundred million are involved in Hogsweatia's coal, steel, iron, and quarrying industries, and on the first day the General Strike was announced eighty million members (around 95%) of the HOSWU's members did not turn up for work. In addition to the HOGINU's far larger numbers, almost 80% of Hogsweat's industrial workers joined General Strikes around the country. Coal production was brought to an immediate stop. The Government panicked. By the second day, the number had upped to 88%. By the third, 94.5%.
In a show of support, the railways (nearly noone owned a car) stopped too. The Hogsweatian Rail Union [HORU] declared a strike among its members, which was entirely successful. The Government, inexperienced, was still panicking. When protestors massed outside City Hall, waving placards, the President evacuated himself and his cabinet via helicopter. As more and more strikers joined the protest, riot police were sent in. Outnumbering the protestors nearly two to one, the dark blue clad riot police viciously attacked and beat down thousands of supporters. It was a black day for Hogsweatia as mounted police, water cannons, rubber bullets, and plastic shields clashed with baseball bats, hammers, handguns, and large rocks. Approximately 15,000 were left wounded and over a hundred dead. All Hogsweatian Unions praised the actions of the protestors and severely hounded the Government. The Government responded by the only method it knew of – force. The most loyal army units were mobilised and motorised forces cracked down on protesting workers outside Dalian Quarrying Ltd. The determined strikers were no match for compact assault rifles and armoured personnel carriers. They were arrested, and the ringleaders rounded up and arrested. On the fifth day, ringleaders of the protest outside City Hall were rounded up, and after being beaten and pushed against the statue of Josef Dorsal in the city centre, were machine gunned to death by soldiers of the 1st Presidential Brigade. Blood and bullet holes imprinted on the statue only furthered the vigour of the rebellion. By the sixth day, all the colleries across Hogsweatia were left desolate. The steel plants were empty and the quarries devoid of life. The Unions had aimed and found their mark – Hogsweat was on the verge of shutting down. The last act, on the seventh day, was to signify the beginning of the end of the almost westernised Hogsweatia.
Haskov and Son Ltd, Dorsalgrad Smeltery and Colliery
‘What are we going to do?’ the manager mused, looking out the window.
‘Riot police? I heard they deploye’ an official suggested.
‘No, you fucking idiot. Did you not hear what happened on Thursday? These arseholes fight back, John. No. Get the helicopter fuelled up, pack anything important, we’re getting out of here now.’
‘Of course.’ The officials left, and only Mr Haskov was still in the room, looking down from his office over the mining complex and down onto the massing crowd that was growing every second. Sighing, he flipped open his mobile phone, and demanded to know whether the helicopter was ready yet.
~
CRASH! The van cascaded against the doors of the Haskov and Sons Limited Smeltery and Colliery and they caved in, a mirror of the Hogsweatian government in a few days to come. The doors crippled and smashed, the crowd surged into the building, knocking aside and trampling anything that got in their way. At their front, Mikhail Feterov brandished his AKM, taken from a captured army patrol. Storming the building, the rebels reached the office of David Haskov and promptly replaced the flag outside the glassed window with a giant hammer and sickle. The revolution had started.
The Government wasn’t worried. It was outright scared. Arrest warrants were immediately given out and all army units were mobilised. Helicopters flew over Dorsalgrad and Dev Hogevra and APCs and armoured cars were positioned on every street. The following day, the government declared martial law and began its assault on the Haskov Smeltery and Colliery. It was surrounded with helicopters and APCs, riot police forming a solid wall of plastic shields around the main building. Units from the 1st Presidential Brigade were tasked with breaking through, which they did with great success. Smashing the barricaded doors down with a tank, the assaulting company found itself in a bad position when 7.62 fire rained down from the stairs and as soon as they broke through into the main office hall hundreds of rebels jumped them with makeshift weapons. Several Molotov cocktails forced the 1st Company to fall back, and as soon as they did autocannon fire peppered the main hallway, cutting down some rebels. They then tried to breach the door with an APC. Driving forwards, the M113 had some success when the light arms fire and molotovs bounced off it. Spearheading the assault, all seemed lost as the rebels began to lose ground to the better equipped and better trained soldiers – though fighting was close up and vicious, the rebels were not soldiers and sheer determination is sometimes not enough. The tables turned however, when a brave striker detonated an IED almost underneath the APC, turning it to flames. Further reinforcements were brought in and once again the soldiers were pushed out. The story was covered on news worldwide and one of the most famous pictures of the entire incident was an unknown striker victoriously planting the red flag on the roof of the office before being gunned down by a helicopter, which shadow can be seen on the shot.
While the Haskov Smeltery siege went on, Dev Hogevra erupted in a flame of red. Strikers filled the streets. The second division, a fifth of the Hogsweatian Defense Force’s ground forces were based in Dev Hogevra, and after a brief confrontation between the leader of the rebellion there and the local military leader the brigade joined the revolution, and hand in hand seized and promptly executed the Governor of Dev Hogevra. The Hammer and Sickle was raised above city hall and the red wave had spread. Army units all over the country were rebelling and had occupied airfields, grounding any air support for the government.
Dorsalgrad
‘This is RIDICULOUS.’ President Alfatzy shouted. ‘Where the HELL is the Army? The Airforce? The god damn NAVY?’ he slammed his fist on the planning table.
His highest advisor stepped forward, and the most calm way, told the President what was happening. ‘Half the Army has joined the revolution. They’ve grounded all eight airbases and half of Hogsweatia belongs to the rebels. The Navy has joined the revolution too – the Josef Dorsal has been launching sorties against our troops all day. Fighting is raging in Terratt – everything beyond here belongs to the rebels.’ He scratched a long line through the map of Hogsweatia.
‘Army units are either disbanding or joining the revolution as we speak. The only thing we have left is the Presidential Brigade and some remaining riot police.’
Alfatzy buried his face in his hands. He did not want to die. He did not want to be executed and declared a traitor.
‘Alexei. What can we do?’ he murmured.
‘Mister President.’ Alexei began. ‘We have two options. Sit here, and die. Or run and die. I suggest we do the former.’
Alfatzy nodded. ‘You have been a good friend to be Alexei. I trust you.’ He slid his hand inside his jacket pocket and coughed. ‘I will never forget this, you know. Even if I die tomorrow.’
Alexei looked confused. ‘Mister President, I’m not sure-‘
‘But I’d rather die trying than sit here and be led to the slaughter. You saw the feed from Hogevra.’ Alfatzy gulped. ‘Sorry, Alexei.’ In a flash, he whipped out the Tokarev and shot Alexei twice in the chest. The stunned look on his eyes lasted only until Alfatzy closed them and whispered ‘Goodbye.’ To his once faithful bodyguard
Explosions shook the outside of the city as Army tankers clashed with the rebel’s 2nd division. Commander Grumman watched from his night vision view as strobes of light flew around the dark night, illuminating the battle ahead for anyone unlucky enough not to have the night vision. Peering down the periscope of his Chieftain tank, Grumman sneered as the advancing rebel armour units came over the slag mound. Grabbing his microphone, Grumman snorted down the intercom.
‘Alpha, Bravo, Charlie squadrons on me. Loop around two fourty and keep quiet. Delta and Echo engage a staggered defensive line on your current positions. Let’s crack some commie tanks. Grumman out.’ He looked down to the driver. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Yessir.’ The driver replied, turning the tank around with its comrades following. Grumman felt a slight jolt as the turret traversed to face the rebel T72s which were looming over the slag mound ahead. Underneath and behind some light shrubbery and treelines and masked by the darkness, the rebel tanks wouldn’t even see what hit them until it was too late. The first salvo from the staggered defense line shot over, exploding long behind the T72s, knocking one or two out causing different hues of green to flare in the night vision view. The next found its mark, knocking out several tanks. The rebels, firing on the move, were mostly inaccurate although several hits were scored and marked – Grumman got the ‘Delta One Two down, over.’ Crackle on his radio, followed by a ‘Echo One One down, One Two assuming control.’
‘Grumman to attack formation, halt, repeat, halt.’ Slowly the tanks crunched the ground and came to a halt, the already traversed turrets recalibrating their aim towards the rebel armoured advance. Grumman breathed deep, then whispered through the mic ‘open fire.’
His tank rocked and recovered as the 120mm shell ignited and flew from the barrel, finding its mark and blowing the turret off a rebel tank. The rest of the three squadrons followed suit, ripping a hole in the rebel attack line. Scrap metal littered the battleground, dug deep in the saltlands between Dev Hogevra and Dorsalgrad.
‘Take that you commie bastards!’ Grumman screamed victoriously down the intercom, as a second combined wave of tank shells from all the squadrons ripped apart the desperately retreating rebel tanks. ‘Well done.’ He congratulated the forces down the intercom. ‘It’s not over yet. Those bastards will try again in daylight when they can actually see us. Withdraw back to Line Gregory, we’ll continue this another time.’ The engines of the Chieftains whirred and the tracks kicked up dirt as they withdrew from the smoking battlefield. For the first time, the revolution had been given a bloody nose, but it would not last for much longer. With almost ten times as many tanks, troops leaving the loyalist cause by the minute, and no air or naval support, the loyalist forces were doomed. It would only be a matter of time before the red flag flew once more in Dorsalgrad’s capital hill.