NationStates Jolt Archive

"In the capital, meanwhile, the protests continued. People marched down the same streets, day in and day out, bearing signs and billboards, screaming out those two magical words; "Quit Marerius!" Young and old, rich and poor, black and white, from all different backrounds, united against a common foe. They laughed as they walked, seeming to share a joke between them. Hereditary enemies walked alongside those that they had sworn to kill. They were set on a single path, one which would carve the future of their nation.

They faced a mighty task. The police, with plexiglass shields and batons of steel, with dangerous dogs and water hoses, blocked their path. As each one of the valiant protestors moved forward, they were beaten down in a show of brutality unparalleled across the world. As they fell to the pavement, blood streaming fom their faces and limbs, they were unafraid. They continued to shout those two words; "Quit Marerius! Quit Marerius!" But still, the police continued their fight.

The protests worsened. In their first real acknowledgement of the events in Marerius, the Grand Democratic Dutchy sent former military major general and diplomat Arman Adro to Diherad to sort it out himself.

- Dimora Alvedire, The Bloodless Revolution

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The Flight To Diherad, Yaforite Marerius
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The skies rumbled past him and Arman Adro ignored them. He stared out of the window, gazing at shapeless clouds that soulfully marched past. He was alone on the plane, alone except for another man, Dimora Alvedire, the current, well, it was "former", now, governor of Yaforite Marerius. The former general found little solace from staring out of the window at clouds, but the other man in the tight private jet irritated him. There was nothing else to do, except listen to the other man prattle on about Yaforite Marerius, and that was a prospect that Arman Adro did not relish.

"It's a real hellhole down there, you'll see." the other man began. Arman Adro silently groaned. There was something about the other man's nasal voice that irritated him to his core. "It's a real hellhole, I mean it." repeated the other man, as if Arman had not heard. The former general inclined his head towards the other man, feigning interest, hoping that it would just shut him up. Instead, it only encouraged him.

"There are tons of protestors, with signs, shouting slogans, you know. I hate it. And the mines. What if one of those crazies got his hands on an AK? Then what? What would we have? Say he got a C4. Then what? The government wouldn't have no mines!" The fomer governor spit for emphasis. Arman turned his head to stare out of the window again, trying, inside of himself, to forget about the other man's use of double negatives. If anthing could bore into his head, it was bad grammar.

"And the stupid government in Ajer. Idiots. Only sending you, some fool! If only they saw what I saw!" This was an interesting point. Arman immediately began to manouver the conversation this wa, hoping that something could be taken out of it, something useful that he could use during his governorship. "What do you mean?" he asked, in a voice of polite inquisitiveness, to seem that he was slightl interested, but not overly. That would encourage the man even more.

"Troops! That's what I mean!" The other man took a long swig from his glass of...whatever it was. Arman hoped that it was not alchohol. That was illegal in Yafor 2, and, supposedly, illegal in its colonies as well. "There's no way that we can handle these type of protestors without troops. You watch the news, don't you? See police brutality? We can't stop that. We can't airlift injured civilians. We need mone and men and it's all going to that godforsaken shithole Generia!" The former governor was roaring with anger now, frothing at the mouth, and making Arman decidedl uncomfortable.

"Yes, that is true. But look at Marerius, it's a backwater!" Arman didn't feel all that passionate about this, but he thought he should argue his, and the government's, case. "No one cares about this place! I would be surprised if there was even one foreign news outlet in this country!" The other man continued to protest, but Arman ignored him. He was thankful when the plan touched down for landing.

But he was wrong. It was a terrible place to be and his position was an excuse to get rid of him. No one had wanted the job and Arman was about to learn why.

New Governors Calls For End to Violence In Vain

DIHERAD, YAFORITE MARERIUS – The streets were filled with protestors. But these were not protestors of the previous mold, peaceful, with slogans of peace and prosperity. No, these were men with sticks, stones, and clubs, carrying effigies of Arman Adro, taking fire, and burning the effigies in anger. These protestors seemed to be going out of their way to aggravate the policemen, who needed little aggravating. The bloody scenes of previous days were repeated, but this time, they were bloodier. Close to 530 people were taken to the hospitals of Diherad and early reports say that close to four dozen people have been killed in the violence. And all of this in lieu of the fact that the new governor, Arman Adro, has recently called for peace, and a peaceful transition of power to an autonomous native government. What happened?

It all began close to three days ago, when news of the Yaforite government replacing the ineffective previous governor with a former military general and diplomat, Arman Adro, who reputedly had “international connections”. According to general store owner Sallag Limawil, “It seemed like the perfect scam. A colonialist government that had previously shown no interest in us appointing a new governor, and one with an international reputation as well! We had no doubt that this former general was bringing troops with him and that would be the end of free speech in Marerius.”

Most of the common people do not believe that there actually is a war in Generia, no matter what the leaflets say. Most of the people believe that it is a lie to disguise that fact that the Yaforite government, as Mr. Limawil says, “Don’t give a bottle of shaving cream about us.” It is this, more than the occupation that irritates the people. A local barber, who refused to give his name, stated, “If I was in charge, hey, if any of us were in charge, we’d have people in Marerius, bargainers, y’know, the whole shing-bang. Instead, we got some rabid policemen. Can you blame us for being angry? They just don’t care!”

Of course, this is not the only reason for their anger. Police activity in Marerius has been a far cry from the excessive standard of discipline that is the trademark of Yaforite Law and Order. A country that prides itself on human rights, the government in Ajer has been, according to inside sources, “thoroughly embarrassed by the situation in Marerius” and “is doing all it can to rectify the situation”. Senior police officials as well as spokesmen of the SRACH, the reputed “secret service” and “special agents” of Yafor 2 have been unwilling to tread upon the subject during interviews and always deny any involvement with the “crazed actions of a few policemen in a far-away land”.

It certainly is not “crazed actions of a few policemen in a far-away land”. Reports from the area, scarce as they are, indicate policemen “beating and torturing young children” according to one bystander. Other reports indicate “humiliation”, “bodily harm”, and “ignorance of cries to stop”. These are not the few exaggerations of several partisan natives. No, this is a trend, confirmed by several foreign news agencies that are currently residing in Diherad, including such esteemed agencies as the IYNS and YJBC.

Arman Adro seemed set to change that when he assumed the podium to speak for the first time, to a crowd that was certainly anything but sympathetic to him. “It is not my choice to be here. In fact, if I had had a choice, I would be on the other side of the world. But Rudiv [Sodo, Elected Duke of Yafor 2] told me that he needed me here.” He began. “I’m not much of a speaker, but I’ll give it a shot.” He confessed. “The Yaforite government doesn’t want to be here. As far as it is concerned, you are an unfortunate leftover of the previous regime, the Empire, which conquered you. My job is to get out of here with as much dignity as I can.”

His calls have gone in vain. The latest wave of violence has been nothing like the first. According to the IYNS, this has been incited by the “protestors” themselves. Several reports tell a story of men throwing stones at the windows of the Police Headquarters in Diherad. They tell of policemen firing at the crowd with loaded semi-automatics only to defend themselves, of men in the crowd tackling and beating policemen, and of men in the crowd even drawing this own weapons and firing back. More importantly, it seems that the day began as a normal protest but was egged on by a group of bearded men with rifles. Is this the beginning of an insurgency? Is the smallest of the Yaforite colonies left over from the Empire becoming the most trouble of them all?

- Excerpt from The Ajerite Sun.

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Diherad, Yaforite Marerius
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Arman Adro’s face was painted in anger. His body was covered with sweat and his face was flecked with the same. His tight T-shirt seemed fit to burst and only barely failed to show his bulging muscles, acquired as a result of his long association with the military (capped, of course, by various honors of the highest sort, as well as the highest rank in the military itself). His fists were clenched together and they hovered in the air only slightly before he released them, showing his vicious tempers once more. He was not in the weight room, nor at a boxing match, or anything of the sort. He was in a conference.

”Insane! Insane” he muttered, except that it was loud enough for the entire room to hear. His left hand strayed dangerously near the penknife to his left, one which he was neither entitled to nor allowed to carry. His right hang was slowly ripping apart a three inch thick wad of paper. It was the day’s newspaper, the Times of Marerius. On the cover, or what was left of the cover, was a vast picture of policemen bearing riot shields and batons. What had been on the other side were protestors, with sticks and stones. The title itself condemned the country to violence. “Policemen begin new series of strikes” it proclaimed.

”Who the hell authorized this?” he asked, his voice now rising over the acceptable level of what most called “bellowing”. ”What…what…” he struggled to find the correct words, his face beginning to turn red. ”Who authorized this?” he asked again, seemingly unable, or unwilling, to say more. Arman Adro had had a reputation in the military and in the Foreign Ministry as being a temperamental man, one easily moved in and out of anger. The other men in this conference room must have thought that they were witnessing another one of his famous fits. It was nothing of the sort.

One of the men huddled silently in a corner ventured a guess. ”They did it on their own, sir.” The other man’s voice was hushed, nay, frightened, perhaps in hope that it would calm Arman. Instead it only aggravated him. ”Is there anyone here with any sense at all? I came here expecting people who were stupid, yes, but not like this! You people are beyond incompetent! No wonder they want a new government.” He finally finished crumpling up the sheet of paper and hurled it out of the open window, which was smashed shut following this tirade. Arman Adro shook his head in pure rage.

”Look at this, look at it!” he reached onto the table and drew out a small piece of paper. ”Let me read it out for you, since it is unlikely that any of you know how to read! ‘Dear Arman, Sorry about this but we can’t give you that many troops. We’re all out, you see? Take an honorary force of 150…not too big, not too small. Davrain’ This is what we get – one hundred and fifty troops. You, there, you are supposed to be a psychoanalyst. Why did these policemen go on the offensive against orders.?” the man managed a timid squeak. Arman laughed, an unkind, cold, laugh.

”Any of you, all of you, how many policemen are loyal to me?” The man began to look at each other. ”About a half.” one said. ”Good. Now get those men out. Arm them. And make them stop this.” The man stared at him. ”You’re talking about open war between the police!” It wasn’t a question. Arman nodded. Everyone stared, but then recalled something that Arman had mentioned in his speech. “To win the war, you must take the risk.”

OOC: To really understand the thread, please read this post very carefully. It contains all sorts of views. Note: most in Marerius agree that violence is not the answer. Some, however, do not.

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The Streets of Diherad, Yaforite Marerius
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Kudra Ankahad was a man who believed in freedom. He believed that each man had a right to decide in what way his life was to be lived and he was a man who would do anything to ensure that right for his brothers and children. He would go through physical and mental torment, through sun and shine, through good times and bad to give his children what he never had. It was what he was doing, every breath he took, he breathed for freedom. Every breath, for someone else. It was for someone else that he had, was, and would, protest till he would get that right.

Today the sun rose mightily in the sky for the first time in weeks. Kudra smiled, a small, malicious smile. The sun fortold of good things. It would be successful, he thought. The streets were generally empty, long open boulevards, roads that should have been bustling with traffic. It was all because of the Yaforites, he thought, all because of those oppressive creatures. Today would be a good day. Today would be a day where they would succeed.

What had happened yesterday only improved his mood. He had been protesting yesterday, of course. He did very little that wasn't protesting these days. The day before yesterday, he had been beaten, thrown into the street by policemen. These policemen had not only been Yaforite, he was thunderstruck to find out. Indeed, the great majority of these crazed people had been full-blooded people of Marerius. Kudra shookd his head angrily. If there was anything he hated more than a Yaforite, it was a traitor who claimed to be of Marerius. They were more likely of hell.

But yesterday it had all changed. He had seen the same policemen, seen then stare down from behind their riot shields and move forward, attacking innocent protestors. Then something angelic had happened. These policemen had been stopped. And not by any protestor. No, they had been stopped by other policemen, most of whom were full-blooded Yaforite at that. There had been pitched battles between policemen, the oppressives, and policemen, the protectors. Protestors had cheered in the streets. They had someone protecting them.

Kudra knew not who had enacted this new policy of protect the rights of protestors. Most likely it was most likely the new governor, Arman Adro. Kudra had been one of the true lovers of freedom who had seen the new governor's speech on television. He had seen the other man preach about "peace" and "a peaceful transition of power" and had honestly believed the other man. It had only taken his staunchest powers of self-belief to remember that this man was a Yaforite, an oppressor and destroyer! This man, Arman Adro, could have been from Marerius, the way he talked.

As Kudra walked down the recently-tarred streets of Diherad, accompanied by a variety of people he felt like something was going to happen. As it did. As they reached the entryway to the governatorial compound where they often protested, they pulled back. Then something happened. All his life, Kudra had denounced violence. All his life he had believed that peace was the only was to succeed. But, somehow, he found himself blindly agree with what happened.

The crowd suddenly dispersed to reveal a ground of masked men. Masked men who carried guns and grenades. "Quit Marerius!" these men shouted as they threw themselves at the hulking guards on the outside of the compound, their submachineguns blaring as Yaforite soldiers fell to the turf, driven by the impact (thought not dead - their jackets protected them against that). What Kudra did next, he never knew why he did so. He just felt that it was the right thing to do.

"Over here!" he shouted, as one of the masked men tossed him a gun. Grinning from ear to ear, he roared to the skies, bullets spewing from his weapon. He never saw the riot policeman who buried three bullets in the back of his head.