NationStates Jolt Archive


Taming the Frontier (MT Intro)

MariVelasca
10-01-2007, 11:38
OOC: Well, this is the culmination of the Socialist vs Capitalist movements in Mari Velasca. It shall remain on the National level; no Military intervention. However, Political intervention is welcome. In case you haven't don't notice in the post, the Notheastern frontier is a disputed territory, where the last of the Militant Socialist groups have found a foothold. They cast themselves as Clans, claiming traditional and spiritual history in the area, which they use as a platform for their Politics. They seek the destruction of the Libertarian Capitalism in the Nation and the overthrow of President Odurus Urungus and his Government.

This is really just a way for me to get on the International stage, however you're welcome to aid mari Velasca through Political means, or you can aid the Outlanders through Monetary means. Which will be done "Under the table." I don't want to sound all snobbish, but I just don't want this to turn into a huge fiasco where Nations dogpile into a massive orgy of bloodshed. So please, no international Military intervention. I want to go in gradually.

IC:

The Northeastern Frontier

It was a cold, stormy night on the Frontier, which seemed to add to the dangerous aura that permiated from the region. Lawlessness and death was an accepted way of life here, as the Velascan Army couldn't quite get wrangle the support needed in the area to tame the traditional clans of the area. The Government used to be afraid of public backlash if they simply marched into the territory and applied martial law, they were still Velascan Citizens after all.

Lights peirced the dark just beyond line of sight of a tiny village just beyond the border of the "Settled lands," the Valley, as it was called. A series of checkpoints and many a patrol seperated the two territories, as the old Clans, led by avenging warlords staged small raids into the settled lands. The Government could do nothing, it was a Local affair, but the local officials were far too corrupt to do anything about it.

That stance had officially changed just a few hours ago. President Odorus Urungus had finally taken a stand, and five officials at the local level were arrested for conspiracy against their Lord and Master, President Odorus Urungus himself. A single Platoon was ordered to send a message to one particular Clan, known as the Outlanders, they strived to be the biggest pain in the side of the Civilized valleyfolk. Ambushing oil exploration groups that were unlucky enough to not have private security escort.

A lowboy flatbed semi, three 5-ton trucks and two armed landrovers struggled up the blacktop road leading to the village. They didn't even know it's name, it didn't matter. They knew where it was, they knew the target, or at least - they saw it in recon. photos. It was a simple mission, pure scare tactics. Sort of like throwing a rock through a window.

Except this rock was a bulldozer. The huge engine roared to life, the smell of diesel sickened the air, and the labrous clamouring of metal slats from the catapillar tread offended the ears as it rolled off the lowboy. A single platoon, 3rd platoon of the 370th Infantry, to be exact, was sent to do the dirty work. Their mission was even more simple than the guy driving the dozer - protect the dozer itself - destroy any opposition. Second and Third Squads assembled to the left and right, covering the flanks of the bulldozer as it lumbered up the hill. First squad followed suit in the two landrovers, the 50. Calibre machine guns trained to the horizon, the gunners squatting low enough to just be a helmet for target. Fourth squad remained with the trucks, as reserves in case things went downhill. Not to mention, if you left a vehicle alone in the Frontier, you could probably find it on Ebay Motors a few days later.

PV2 Payton could taste the dirty rain water, no doubt chalk full of sulphur, which was rather common for Velascan rain. It had that corrosive quality to it. He clutched his M8, "Lacy" at the low-ready.

"It's always raining..." He said to his Squad Leader, SGT Lief. It's not like silence was required, with the bohemoth dozer making the ground tremble. So much for surprise.

"What do you mean?" Lief was hardly worried about the young Soldier's mumbling, he was more conserned for the windows of tiny homes that begun to light up, about 50 yards ahead now. Everyone in the Frontier had a gun. Although they were notoriously bad shots.

"Everything bad happens at night, and when it's raining..." he mused, "it was a cold, stormy night...OooOoOo..."

"You know what? How about you look straight ahead and cut the shit."

"Allright, Sergeant."

They were now moving into the village itself, the road was full of holes, and what didn't have a hole was cracked. One of the Landrovers moved ahead slowly, while the two squads moved along the road side, bounding overwatch. Each fireteam covering the other, each battle buddy watching the other's back. A harsh voice crackled over a bullhorn, but it was garbled by the heavy rain. It said something of terrorism, crimes against Odorus Urungus, the Valley...the usual.

The reply was even more drowned. Drowned by the rain, the roar of the diesel engine, the crumbling of the road under the weight of the dozer. The Operator raised the blade waist high, and the whole thing shimmied as it leered towards the target house. The old wooden facade stood no chance against the mighty machine, but the thunder of rifle fire rattled from the uneffected half house. The response was swift. Both 50. Calibre machine guns opened up on the general direction of fire, and the Operator kicked the throttle up, gutting the house as it crushed it to sunder. The burst of fire was short and sweet. The house was pushed off its foundation, that old man who so stubbornly stood against the small Velascan force was no more. Whomever had the audacity to fire upon them was but a stain.

LT2 Pratt radio'd from his Landrover to Fourth Platoon, which was observing the mission from the assembly point.

"Shadow Dragon 4 - Shadow Dragon 1 - Objective complete, over."

"Shadow Dragon 1 - Shadow Dragon 4 - We see some movement - possible enemy counter attack - over."

Suddenly the dozer, which by now was pulling from the rubble, exploded. Searing flame lit up the night sky, casting shadows on the billowing black pillar of smoke that followed. Fire erupted from all around, Second and Third squads returned fire as best they could, firing into the area where the last muzzle flash was seen, covering their retreat back into darkness, fighting the way they had came. The two Landrovers were much less descriminate. The 50. Calibres poured rounds into the closest buildings, a few of them catching fire from the tracer rounds. They covered the retreat of the two squads, which double timed it back to the assembly area, and got their asses out as quickly as they could.

----

Mari Velasca National News Report

Martial law declaired in the Northeast Frontier!

In response to growing corruption issues along the Frontier, President Odorus Urungus has declaired a state of emergency in the region. General Ballsac the "Jaws of Death" in turn, declared Martial Law, citing that the local authorities had no real control over the area. The first of the Police Action involved the routing out of Joseph Hanson, the leader of the Outlander Clan, the most dangerous Clan of the Frontier. The move, in which his House was literally bulldozed with him in it, resulted in the loss of 1 Velascan Soldier, and 14 enemy combatants. 6 Civilians were also confirmed dead after fires erupted in the village, after the attack.

This action has spurred outrage in the Frontier, particularly amongst the three Traditionalist clans in the Region. Security has been stepped up along the borderlands, Checkpoints will be fully enforced, use of Lethal Force is authorized.

The Outlanders, proclaiming Joseph Hanson as a martyr, has vowed to avenge his death. A statement was released from the second-in-command, Ellen Roberts, "The Valley will pay for its transgressions on our land. They spoiled our people, they've fowled out soil, and we will fight to reclaim our heritage! We will fight you on these mountains! In the hills! In the valleys and plains! We'll drive the selfish and cowardly Government and its corrupted followers to the seas! Jospeh be blessed!"

President Odorus Urungus didn't have much to say on the issue, aside from a brief comment, "it is our duty to bring stability to our Nation. They have been the ones to transgress upon us Civilized people. For years we've tolerated them in blocking progress and even overlooked their violence. However, we take a stand now. For the good of tomorrow. Beyond Gwar, Nothing!"
MariVelasca
10-01-2007, 22:26
[Bump]
MariVelasca
13-01-2007, 04:46
[Bump for bites]
Siap
13-01-2007, 06:48
President Odorus Urungus,

We believe that your actions are wholly justified. For too long good men have stood by idly and let the wills of their nation be manipulated by the will of those who refuse to submit and those who refuse to contribute to the betterment of society. Evil prevails when good men do nothing.

Society has always been based upon inclusion. Anarchy cannot be tolerated. Several years ago, my own nation suffered a brutal terrorist attack that resulted in the deaths of hundreds--innocent victims who like all good citizens of the world contributed to their community. The enemy was so wrapped up in their beliefs and their so-called "morals" to even care about the destruction they were causing.

Once again, I commit my party's full support to your government's activities, and if I could, I would be fighting along side your troops in this battle for stability and community.

~Quinn Colin Larkin
Chairman and founder,
World Centrist Authority Party

OOC: The WCAP is a political party based in Siap. The head of the party is a Siapian soldier who is in the process of retiring and performs work as a mercenary. The WCAP was formed when Quinn received a large grant from several Siapian corporations for his role in helping suppress the communist uprising in Constantinalia. Ever since then, his party offers military and political aid to countries fighting left wing insurgents and basically any group trying to rise up against a leftist government, all the while trying to get his party members legally elected or appointed leaders of a nation.
MariVelasca
13-01-2007, 11:56
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE

Quinn Larken,

On behalf of Myself, My Staff, the People of Mari Velasca, and all other interested parties - thank you for your open and honest support of our endeavours to make the long disputed frontier of Velasca, a vibrant, docile land once more. We believe in the same goals as you, a continuity and fluidity of economy, culture and people. No deserving individual shall be left behind. To this end, we extend an arm of brotherhood and peace. Both to your Party, and your Nation of influence.

Odorus Urungus,
Most Supreme President of Mari Velasca


----

One could tell a person from the Frontier between a common Velascan citizen; his clothes were dirty, often musty. His hair unkept, if not shaved clean. His demeanor was often biligerent, with great disregard to the social norms in most every way. He would be regarded with some spite, but tolerated in the free society of Velasca. Even as the security along the borderlands escelated, there were plenty of holes in the net to exploit. A single van had done so. Packed with six individuals, each marked with the Outlander Clan tattoo on their neck (a broken barcode, nonetheless) had spent the wee morning hours dodging tank columns that thundered down the roads, attempting to elude scrutiny, even though their van was an older model - with a nervous knocking of a piston. Something a self-respecting Velascan wouldn't dare drive. Their leader, Sharon Liapold, along with her most trusted comrads. They had formed a strong bond through many years of protests and common espionage, but nothing this great. Which is why she needed them. Anyone else, even in the Clan, would think their mission was radical.

They had driven seven hours into the "Valley," into the City of Megrah, a bustling place with clean streets, tidy family-owned shops, and a huge corporate sector where skyscrapers stood tall. "Into the wealthy heart we'll rob them of their future as they robbed us of ours," she repeated Ellen Robert's poetic orders to her comrads, who sat uncomfortably in the windowless rear of the van. They made do with blankets on the floor. There was no radio, no noise besides the road, that infernal mechanical knock, and Sharon, whom pumped them up for the mission ahead. The tension was too high for any of them to sleep, their eyes were cracked red.

"We're going to take what they need most, their future, their children, just as they took our father. We'll bring them a new offer to the negotiation table...their insufferable greed, or their next generation!"

The brakes squeeled as the van pulled up to the emergency entrance of the Megrah Tech. Health Center. Each brandishing some fiendish weapon or another, AK-47s and a Shotgun or two, with Sharon weilding dual .45s, and a harness of explosives. They scrambled from the van. It was 3:37am.

Martha Sutherland was in her fourth year of Medical School, for Nursing. It was yet another dead morning as an intern, I mean sure, there was your usual broken nose from one drunken brawl or another. Products of parties she had missed out on for a weekend of no-pay drudgery, the halls of the hospital were ghostly quiet, except for the gentle whir of automated wax machines, with their curteous, synthetic "Excuse me" as they lumbered past. Indeed, she wondered if there was going to be a job for her after her degree. At the rate of things, she'd be replaced by the very machine that waxed the floor. The machines are out to get me, she mused. However, with no new calls or emergencies, she was able to sneak up to the fifth floor on her lunch break - pediatrics. She adored the newborn babies that slept so peacefully in their mangers. She almost knew all of their names. She watched them through a large window, that ecompassed almost the entire wall. The very window thousands of new parents watched their own babies. Lucky. She heard the mono tone -ding- of the elevator down the hall, and looked at her watch. 3:45. Another five minutes and she'd ahve to be back at her station. Maybe it was Dr. Albert, her mentor. He knew exactly where to find her. She hurried down the hall, towards the corner that rounded to the elevators.

"Dr. Albert?" the young woman called cheerfully.

But as she made her way round that corner, six individuals blocked her path. She stared down the barrel of a .45, her muscles tightened so much she couldn't move, she just shook. Her eyes followed the barrel, up a steady arm, and directly into bright green eyes of a dark haired woman. Whom stared right back.

"You!" That woman finally said, "Pediatrics...which way?!"

The children! She couldn't let them know. "G...go left...to the left!"

The woman looked above her, despite her quick effort, a sign pointed the correct way. Martha's life was ended as a booming thunder interrupted the serene quiet of the hospital. Nerve wrecking, really. "You see this, my friends? They're so corrupted, they'll even lie to your face when the answer is right before your eyes. I put her out of her misery! Let's go, quickly!"

Police had already been called, Security, however brace, were not dumb enough to attempt to face down six armed-to-the-teeth assailants. Sirenes wailed throughout the City, as dozens of patrol cars zeroed in on the Hospital. Followed shortly thereafter by T.A.T.S., Tactical Anti-Terror Squad. Police quickly set up a parameter, going so far as to evacuate all non-essential employees.

Sharon strolled casually along the rows of mangers, each with blue or pink blankets, designating boy and girl. Her fingers tossled along the clear plastic walls that kept them safe, and blind. Her vest was heavy with high-yield explosives, neslted atop that vest was a heavier one, this one with little pockets, each filled with screws, bolts, and other odds and ends to add to the lethality. These fragle little bodies wouldn't stand a chance if negotiations didn't go well. She'd set them free. Jerad Fisher, one of her younger comrads came to her, holding a cell phone.

"Sharon, we got'em on the line...want t' talk to'em?"

"Thank you, deary," she said politely as she took the phone from him, "Yes...this is Sharon Liapold. I am of the wronged and vilified Outlander Clan...I wish to speak to the President himself!"

4:24am, President Odorus Urungus was still asleep in his luxurious bed. His phone rang - the red one, nothing big. He also had a blue and green one. After a few spits and a generous round of cursing, he grabbed the reciever.

"What do you want?!"

The fellow on the other end, one of many nameless staff, spoke shakely, "Mr. President, the Hospital of Megah, specifically...the pediatric floor...has been taken over by advocates of the Outlander Clan. They demand that Government control of the Frontier be abondaned, and a Socialist state be recognized. She also demands that all captured Outlanders be released...and...that we pay one billion in restitution, for the execution of their leader..."

He sighed, it didn't require much thought, in fact, he was miffed over the fact he was woke up for such a trivial matter. For in Velascan Law, there was no debate - no negoatiations to Terrorists. "Tell them no such thing will happen...no...no...tell them nothing. Storm that damned building and ensure every last one of them are killed, drug through the streets, and strung up by their achilles at the square. Damn them for disturbing my sleep!"

Urungus hung up, and only lost five minutes of sleep. Maybe he'd sleep in for a good twenty to make up for it...anyhow, he knew the outcome of his decision, he knew it would work to his favor...


20 minutes later and still no answer. Sharon was on the line with some blubbering, bleeding heart know-it-all that tried to connect with her on every level short of phone sex. He tried his damndest to get them to lay down their arms and surrender peacefully, assuring her that all their demands would be kept. Bullshit. She knew better, she replied with a cool, calm "f- you." She wouldn't be happy untill she was talking to the President himself.

-ding-, the elevator at the very end of the hallway chimed. Everyone's heart jumped at the same time. Three of the six took up positions in front of the elevator, taking aim. A tense moment washed over them before the door drew open. Nothing. In another instant, another elevator shunted open, then a third. All nothing. Their hearts raced, they didn't know whether or not to shoot, or run, or both. The unmistakable sound of shattering glass echoed through the hall, followed by the report of gunfire. They were going through the windows! They all spilled into the hallway, joining another two comrads, who were firing away into the exploded window. The others fired as well, rounds pouring into the dark sky. AK-47s, and Shotguns embattled the air with frightening disorganization. Finally they stopped - nothing still! The frantic cry of babies could be heard, but barely, through the ringing of their ears.

During all of this, a team of four T.A.T.S. Agents had crawled down the laundry chute, from the fourth floor. The stage had been set, the pieces were in place...checkmate. They had quietly assembled at the midpoint of the hall, taking aim with their MP5s. Their querie was still trying to gather their bearing, yelling at one another for being so stupid. With the drop of the squad leader's hand, the Agents opened fire, careful, controlled bursts ripped through the five terrorists, one even had a chance to fight, but squandered it trying to flee. A precious few seconds later, silence, except for the infernal cries of many babies. They knew there was one more left, from the survaillence videos. Direct comm. confirmed it - a lone female in pediatrics. Armed - suspected Bomb. The four man team made its way down the hall, just short of that all too revealing plate glass window. One agent passed off his MP5, opting instead for his pistol. He lowcrawled the rest of the way, to the open door.

Sharon happily smiled as she picked up an infant, holding him in her arm, she patted his back as she doddled a bit..."Shhh....hush little babies...everything will be all right..." she was demented. "I'm going to set you free...I'm going to take you to a better place...you don't have to fear your parents no more..." She cradled that child in her arm, hand occupied by the hand-held electric ignitor. She saw the lone agent spring up, his pistol brandished at her. "Put the baby down and drop your weapons! Now, lady!"

She replied with a kind smile..."Dear Sir...I have no weapons...I only have keys to the gates of dawn..." she placed a kiss on the baby's forehead, Tony Shepard, was his name...but that would only matter at the memorial, as she pushed the little button.


---

6:00am, Mari Velasca National New Report

Valiant struggle to save infant lives at the embattled and besieged Megra Tech. Health Center fails with the deaths of twenty-five infants, a Civilian, and one T.A.T.S. Agent. The siege started early this morning was six individuals armed with AK-47s and shotguns charged into the Health Center, killing an Intern, and taking over the pediatric floor of the center. The attempt at negotiation failed as their demands far exceeded capabilities of local Government officials. On a final attempt of saving innocent lives, President Odorus Urungus tried desperately to talk the leader of the terrorist group down, but after only a few minutes, she declared that the children would die. In an attempt to avoid this, T.A.T.S. agents were sent in to incapacitate the offenders, a brief firefight insued, ending the lives of five terrorists. Finally, in a desperate last stand, a lone female, whom has been identified as Sharon Liapold, blew herself up, along with twenty-five infants, and a T.A.T.S. Agent, Thomas Cassedy.

"Amidst the turmoil and sorrow, we will find solidarity. Not only is this the worst terrorist attack on our lands, but it is also the lowest form. Against our children! Those of you that doubted the necessity of reclaiming the disputed terratories now come to see the true face of those that live there. Barbarous individuals that show no mercy to our livelyhoods!" - President Odorus Urungus

A surge of Velascan Soldiers is to be expected, from the 2,000 that were dispatched to the Region after the declaration of Martial Law, to over 10,000, with more to be expected, as a build up of men and equipment begins. General Ballsac "the Jaws of Death" expects to send Soldiers across the borderlands within just a few days. There are also rumors of missile strikes from attack helicopters, attacking key villages that harbor Outlander clan members.

This brings the total confirmed death toll to 48, all sides of the dispute included.

OOC: I tell you, that President of mine is one big stinker. The only thing Y'all got is the news report - not even the Outlanders know any different, as they didn't have contact throughout the mission. If anyone was around long enough to know whom inspired me to perform this attack, you'll get nominated for a cookie.

HINT: He shot'em instead of blowin' 'em up.
Azazia
13-01-2007, 19:25
“I have more important things to be dealing with, Howard.” A short statured man, wearing wire-framed glasses constructed of black titanium walked anxiously down a narrow hallway painted in a garish pastel yellow, and spotted occasionally with white trim around doorways and windows. The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom had just returned from a campaign trip to the western cities of the Home Islands and had no time for anything but sleep.

On the return flight to the capital, he had received a phone call from Howard Robertson, his Chief of Staff about some distant and small capitalist state threatened by socialists. He had passed the concern off in blasé fashion, given the frequency of such internal conflicts. Throughout the flight, however, the Chief of Staff persisted in his office, collecting data and maps and forming a cogent—if not admittedly rushed—presentation for the Prime Minister’s review upon his return.

And now Lord Salisbury was simply too tired to deal with it.

“Prime Minister,” Robertson pleaded, “I think we ought to look at the opportunity to at least offer intervention—it could be quite valuable in opening that area of the world up as an export market.”

With a resigned sigh, Salisbury suddenly stopped in the hall, the unnoticing Robertson practically walking into the Prime Minister’s shoulder. “Howard, hand it over.” He thrust out his arm and quietly took the briefing folder from his Chief of Staff, reviewing the abstract and the satellite maps. “North Africa?”

“Indeed, sir. And as you can see, well endowed with petroleum and gas reserves that Oceanian companies would be quite interested in obtaining exploitation rights to.” Robertson and the Prime Minister both knew that, for the time being, the United Kingdom was a massive economy that still required hydrocarbons at relatively low cost until more renewable energy sources could be secured. If the preliminary intelligence in the brief was correct, it was possible that the United Kingdom could offer its support to these capitalists.

Several hours later, a commercial charter aircraft rumbled down a taxiway outside the Oceanian capital before its engines pushed the private aircraft quickly into the night sky above the United Kingdom. It would be a long flight for those onboard, consisting of undersecretaries and ministers of state from the Ministry of Defence, of Foreign Affairs, and the Admiralty—which maintained a seat on the Cabinet separate from the MoD. Ahead of the flight, an electronic signal sent to a similarly low-level contact in the Velascan government, requesting a private meeting between concerned colleagues at a private airfield or other out-of-the-way locale where business could be done without being under the scrutinizing glow of journalistic flash bulbs.