Ceyol
14-10-2006, 21:48
fifteen years ago
Ceyolia had been crumbling in upon itself. It was never an extremely strong state to begin with, albeit there were an abundance of resources. The formal title of the nation was the Duchy of Ceyolia, ruled absolutely by the Romanokovski family, recalling a claim to royalty that had long since vanished.
The Romanokovski family was a strong and wealthy family. And they had built a famous empire upon vice within the former Republic of Siap. It has been said by many that if that family knew how to do anything it knew how to get an honest week's pay for an honest day's work.
Conversely, if there was anything that family didn't know how to do, it was lead a nation. Which was a shame, because for the last five years, Commandante Pettrovich Slosovoski ruled for them, building a strong military and revolutionizing an economy that was originally agrarian into a modernized manufacturing economy that was beginning to dabble with information technology.
Unfortunately, Papagori Illiani Romanokovski began his decent into madness here. And his children looked to extend their claws deeper into the nations economy. Papagori had the Commandante executed on charges of treason that he had hallucinated. Soon his children forced themselves into power, using the riches they had accumulated behind the scenes to control every single aspect of Ceyolian life. One son who had control of the police would enact a prohibition on alcohol, and use that as an excuse to fine anyone in possesion of alcohol, or send them to forced labor camps. The other who controlled distilleries used this as an opportunity to crush his competition and sell his goods, have them seized, and then resell them. It was a sick, disgusting circus.
Paul Kesson sat on the roof of the building office building facing the hospital. Siap was in the throes of anarchy, but a new power was accumulating power in Esmund. The Nine Families, they called themselves, but those who were protected by them called them "The Immortal Nine". Those who knew how to read between the lines knew that these families were descendants of the original ten kings that established Siap. And those who also knew what questions to ask (and how to dodge a bullet) knew that a certain family was missing. Many wild-eyed conspiracy theorists drew lines between an attempted coup in Siap, the mercenary war, the anarchism...
To Kesson these weren't important. To him, the only important thing was that someone in Esmund wanted Papagori Illiani Romanokovski dead. And he had a gun in his mouth a couple of days ago. The words "made", "new era", "community" and "unfinished business" flew past him. To him, the important thing was not having a gun in his mouth again.
The white van carrying the heart pulled up to the back door of the hospital. Time to move. Kesson thought. In his last couple days staking out Papagori, it had become evident that the man was no longer human. He was a massive pile of flesh and fat, decomposing slowly, despite all of his desires to remain immortal. And for some reason, people still feared him.
The heart had belonged to a young woman. Her name was Cici Chalmers. And she was a communist. Her parents did not know that she was involved in the underground movement against the Romanokovski family. And they felt proud when they received the letter saying that she had been selected from many to perform a great service for her country. Instead of doing great works, as they expected, she like every other healthy body and matching blood type that opposed The Family. She was imprisoned, tortured, her organs removed, in all probability without any anesthesia, and the organs themselves were preserved for the inevitable next time the corpulent blob of an absolutist ruler rejected a transplant.
Papagori was on the operating table. Kesson had eliminated the trusted family surgeon and was standing in his place. The blob on the operating table was slowly rising and falling, slowly. "Breathing" if it could be called that. The first incisions were made. The ribcage opened, and the faulty heart sat there. Disgusting. He took his hands to make an incision with the scalpel, but quickly drew it into his hand and drove it clear into the heart. Everyone stopped. Kesson looked at the heart, with the enormous hole in the center, farting out globs of blood as it slowed. He then quickly drew his scalpel across Papagori's Aorta, then quickly pierced both of his lungs and then rammed the scalpel through his left eye, leaving it there. The bodyguards came. Kesson drew a beretta and fired it into the face of the guard. He ducked behind the fat body, and slowly advanced through the hall.
A mad charge ensued when Kesson's gun ran out of ammunition, and he and the stretcher went through a window. On the ground, several of his ribs were broken, as were his legs, his collar bone. I'm dead. End of my story. But then he felt himself being dragged away. He looked and saw that it wa not a guard, but rather a civilian. A crowd of people had gathered around the corpse. There was no way this could be covered up. A guard walked up and pointed his gun at Kesson's head. The man dragging him said, "And if you do that you will still have a job tomorrow?" The guard looked at Kesson, put his gun on the ground and helped carry Kesson.
The Revolution began.
Present
The problem with the popular uprising that had followed the death of Papagori was that it was not organized. Granted, the majority of the Romanokovski family was killed immediately afterwards (except Mira, who was killed approxamitely a year later, and her son who escaped). Although, there were over 100,000 soldiers from The Dominion in Ceyolia. The revolutionaries raided the armories and had attempted to evict the foreign forces. Over the last fifteen years, the fighting had been sporadic, but it tended in a general diretion.
"What is the news from the front, corporal?"
"Sir! The Dominion has just advanced into Stevensberg."
"Damnit! Another port! Whats the butchers bill?"
"Five, sir."
"Five dead?"
"No. Five escaped. Apparently the entire unit was encircled. All the rest were captured or killed."
"One thousand men dead! Damn! Damn! Shit! Damn!"
General Matthias screamed with the rage of a child who had his teddy bear stolen. He kicked over the table that had charts on it, and then threw a chair against the wall."
"Hey shitface!"
Matthias had earned this nickname because his bulbous nose was always bright red, and once after losing a decisive battle, he delivered the report completely roaring drunk. Matthias said there was no other way he could deliver it.
"Shitface. Sit yourself down. I know how we can end this."
General Tomassino was in charge of the army reconaissance division. "Listen. I have a solution." Tomassino had three court marshalls against his name for narcotics trafficking. But each time his sentence was either reduced or completely eliminated, as he was one of the few competent generals. "One of my contacts..."
"You and your contacts! Last time your contacts gave us any information, we ended up driving an army of men off of a poppy farm and not an important weapons depot."
"Thats a hell of a lot better than sending a thousand men to their death with notheing to show for it..."
"Gentlemen!" Secretary Kirk screamed. "No fighting. You are like children! Let the man speak."
"One of my contacts claims to have connections to The Dominion. He does not promise that we can take all of our land back. After the purges and the war I doubt we have the population to hold all of the land anyway, but he does promise peace.
"You should tell oyur contact to..."
"Matthias! Silent! What does your contact want in return?"
"All he asks is that we send him to negotiate. He claims to want peace as much as we do."
"What choice do we have?"
"His name is Art Romano, and he owns a small shipping company. Consolidated Freight, you heard of it?" Anyway..."
Encoded Message to Count JWolf
My name is Artemis Romanokovski, although I am more commonly called Art Romano.
I am the grandson of Papagori Illiani Romanokovski, a man I am told you have done business with.
I have been told that you are primarily responsible for my families dominance over Ceyolia.
Much has changed, and there is much to tell, but my primary reason for writing this is that I wish to bring peace to this land.
I would like to meet with you in person. Contact me if this is possible.
_Artemis Romanokovski
Ceyolia had been crumbling in upon itself. It was never an extremely strong state to begin with, albeit there were an abundance of resources. The formal title of the nation was the Duchy of Ceyolia, ruled absolutely by the Romanokovski family, recalling a claim to royalty that had long since vanished.
The Romanokovski family was a strong and wealthy family. And they had built a famous empire upon vice within the former Republic of Siap. It has been said by many that if that family knew how to do anything it knew how to get an honest week's pay for an honest day's work.
Conversely, if there was anything that family didn't know how to do, it was lead a nation. Which was a shame, because for the last five years, Commandante Pettrovich Slosovoski ruled for them, building a strong military and revolutionizing an economy that was originally agrarian into a modernized manufacturing economy that was beginning to dabble with information technology.
Unfortunately, Papagori Illiani Romanokovski began his decent into madness here. And his children looked to extend their claws deeper into the nations economy. Papagori had the Commandante executed on charges of treason that he had hallucinated. Soon his children forced themselves into power, using the riches they had accumulated behind the scenes to control every single aspect of Ceyolian life. One son who had control of the police would enact a prohibition on alcohol, and use that as an excuse to fine anyone in possesion of alcohol, or send them to forced labor camps. The other who controlled distilleries used this as an opportunity to crush his competition and sell his goods, have them seized, and then resell them. It was a sick, disgusting circus.
Paul Kesson sat on the roof of the building office building facing the hospital. Siap was in the throes of anarchy, but a new power was accumulating power in Esmund. The Nine Families, they called themselves, but those who were protected by them called them "The Immortal Nine". Those who knew how to read between the lines knew that these families were descendants of the original ten kings that established Siap. And those who also knew what questions to ask (and how to dodge a bullet) knew that a certain family was missing. Many wild-eyed conspiracy theorists drew lines between an attempted coup in Siap, the mercenary war, the anarchism...
To Kesson these weren't important. To him, the only important thing was that someone in Esmund wanted Papagori Illiani Romanokovski dead. And he had a gun in his mouth a couple of days ago. The words "made", "new era", "community" and "unfinished business" flew past him. To him, the important thing was not having a gun in his mouth again.
The white van carrying the heart pulled up to the back door of the hospital. Time to move. Kesson thought. In his last couple days staking out Papagori, it had become evident that the man was no longer human. He was a massive pile of flesh and fat, decomposing slowly, despite all of his desires to remain immortal. And for some reason, people still feared him.
The heart had belonged to a young woman. Her name was Cici Chalmers. And she was a communist. Her parents did not know that she was involved in the underground movement against the Romanokovski family. And they felt proud when they received the letter saying that she had been selected from many to perform a great service for her country. Instead of doing great works, as they expected, she like every other healthy body and matching blood type that opposed The Family. She was imprisoned, tortured, her organs removed, in all probability without any anesthesia, and the organs themselves were preserved for the inevitable next time the corpulent blob of an absolutist ruler rejected a transplant.
Papagori was on the operating table. Kesson had eliminated the trusted family surgeon and was standing in his place. The blob on the operating table was slowly rising and falling, slowly. "Breathing" if it could be called that. The first incisions were made. The ribcage opened, and the faulty heart sat there. Disgusting. He took his hands to make an incision with the scalpel, but quickly drew it into his hand and drove it clear into the heart. Everyone stopped. Kesson looked at the heart, with the enormous hole in the center, farting out globs of blood as it slowed. He then quickly drew his scalpel across Papagori's Aorta, then quickly pierced both of his lungs and then rammed the scalpel through his left eye, leaving it there. The bodyguards came. Kesson drew a beretta and fired it into the face of the guard. He ducked behind the fat body, and slowly advanced through the hall.
A mad charge ensued when Kesson's gun ran out of ammunition, and he and the stretcher went through a window. On the ground, several of his ribs were broken, as were his legs, his collar bone. I'm dead. End of my story. But then he felt himself being dragged away. He looked and saw that it wa not a guard, but rather a civilian. A crowd of people had gathered around the corpse. There was no way this could be covered up. A guard walked up and pointed his gun at Kesson's head. The man dragging him said, "And if you do that you will still have a job tomorrow?" The guard looked at Kesson, put his gun on the ground and helped carry Kesson.
The Revolution began.
Present
The problem with the popular uprising that had followed the death of Papagori was that it was not organized. Granted, the majority of the Romanokovski family was killed immediately afterwards (except Mira, who was killed approxamitely a year later, and her son who escaped). Although, there were over 100,000 soldiers from The Dominion in Ceyolia. The revolutionaries raided the armories and had attempted to evict the foreign forces. Over the last fifteen years, the fighting had been sporadic, but it tended in a general diretion.
"What is the news from the front, corporal?"
"Sir! The Dominion has just advanced into Stevensberg."
"Damnit! Another port! Whats the butchers bill?"
"Five, sir."
"Five dead?"
"No. Five escaped. Apparently the entire unit was encircled. All the rest were captured or killed."
"One thousand men dead! Damn! Damn! Shit! Damn!"
General Matthias screamed with the rage of a child who had his teddy bear stolen. He kicked over the table that had charts on it, and then threw a chair against the wall."
"Hey shitface!"
Matthias had earned this nickname because his bulbous nose was always bright red, and once after losing a decisive battle, he delivered the report completely roaring drunk. Matthias said there was no other way he could deliver it.
"Shitface. Sit yourself down. I know how we can end this."
General Tomassino was in charge of the army reconaissance division. "Listen. I have a solution." Tomassino had three court marshalls against his name for narcotics trafficking. But each time his sentence was either reduced or completely eliminated, as he was one of the few competent generals. "One of my contacts..."
"You and your contacts! Last time your contacts gave us any information, we ended up driving an army of men off of a poppy farm and not an important weapons depot."
"Thats a hell of a lot better than sending a thousand men to their death with notheing to show for it..."
"Gentlemen!" Secretary Kirk screamed. "No fighting. You are like children! Let the man speak."
"One of my contacts claims to have connections to The Dominion. He does not promise that we can take all of our land back. After the purges and the war I doubt we have the population to hold all of the land anyway, but he does promise peace.
"You should tell oyur contact to..."
"Matthias! Silent! What does your contact want in return?"
"All he asks is that we send him to negotiate. He claims to want peace as much as we do."
"What choice do we have?"
"His name is Art Romano, and he owns a small shipping company. Consolidated Freight, you heard of it?" Anyway..."
Encoded Message to Count JWolf
My name is Artemis Romanokovski, although I am more commonly called Art Romano.
I am the grandson of Papagori Illiani Romanokovski, a man I am told you have done business with.
I have been told that you are primarily responsible for my families dominance over Ceyolia.
Much has changed, and there is much to tell, but my primary reason for writing this is that I wish to bring peace to this land.
I would like to meet with you in person. Contact me if this is possible.
_Artemis Romanokovski