Tokarev
17-04-2007, 17:18
Tokarev is a curious melange of tropics, plateaux, and mountains. One quarter of the nation is made up of the various cordilleras of the Sierra Cajeme in the west and the Sierra Labastida in the east. Broad in the north, Tokarev narrows rapidly towards a cape, where the two Sierra ranges merge in a tangle of peaks and valleys. In this central plateau, the Meseta, one fifteenth of the country's total area, one-third of the population resides.
Just south of the Meseta are the southern tropical areas, which are overwhelmingly indigenous. Temperatures are excessive, rainfall exiguous, and diseases such as malaria and yellow fever rampant. The violent tribe, the Cazayas, is dominant. They live in isolated strongholds among the steamy jungles and foetid swamps. They have been semiautonomous for decades, as the country has never had a government centralized enough to make any sort of push into the region.
The broad north of Tokarev is a polar opposite. It takes an effort of imagination to appreciate that the tropical rainforests of the Cazaya are in the same country as the barren wastes of the north. The Costa de Pedras is a series of rocky bays and cliffs, with almost no safe anchorages, save the delta of the Ria Fisterra. South of this coast is the great Abalar Desert. This sparsely populated region is bound by the two Sierra ranges. The eastern and western coasts of the country are mostly low grasslands and bayous.
General Andres Resendez Fuentes has controlled Tokarev for nearly twenty years. His strongman government keeps the Meseta in an iron fist. However, he has neither the technology nor the manpower to project his power over the far-flung wilderness. However, the rurales, a quasimilitary police force patrols the county side in their black humvees, where they exercise the ley fuga. They shoot anyone on sight that they believe might be trying to demean the authority of General Fuentes. Since coming to power, nearly 10,000 had been murdered by the rurales.
The rumblings of dissent began in the north, in the Abalar Desert. Here, the bandit captain Isidro Barradas has gathered together a motley guerilla force made up of the cattle and maize farmers that make up the majority of the population of northern Tokarev. He leads hit-and-run raids on rurale camps and government offices, and disappears into the mountains with his force. Barradas has no more than a handful of men, but he consisently outmaneuevers the rurales and small Army garrisons in northern Tokarev.
In the southern jungles, a Cazaya Indian leader known only as Comandante Leyva has begun consolidating his influence in the region. He has ended internecine strife among the Cazaya, uniting them against the common enemy of General Fuentes.
However, despite the great hatred for General Fuentes and his rurales, the population of Tokarev is too unevenly distributed to make for a general uprising. Over a third of the population live under the guns of Fuentes' army in the Meseta. Most of the rest live in the coastal population centers such as Puerta Vica and Escobar or are farmers on haciendas spread across the countryside. Between Comandanta Leyva and Isidro Barradas, they are only able to mobilize about 120,000 men against General Fuentes. The odds are against them.
General Fuentes' army is over one million men strong, while the rurales and the militia fielded by provincial jefes politicos to control their territories are nearly four million strong. However, most of Fuentes' power is tied down in various forts and garrisons controlling strategic areas, and he does not have the manpower to send a large expeditionary force out.
The Massacre of Viteca
"Fuck, man, this stuff is strong," Sanchez muttered as he took a hit.
"Prime Cazaya grass, man, it's hard to get." Lopez exlained.
The two lieutenants were sitting on an abandoned railroad track. They had wandered away from the camp so the Colonel wouldn't see them.
"He's such a dick." Sanchez grumbled as he passed the blunt.
They were part of a contingent sent from the Meseta to fortify Viteca, an important mining town. There had been riots and strikes here lately, and Fuentes was getting paranoid of the possibility of widespread revolt. Their orders were to kill all the adult men in Viteca, then turn it into a stronghold for further operations in the area.
"Man, I can't wait to kill some fuckin' Indians, man." Lopez jumped up and grabbed his gun and pantomimed stabbing with his bayonet.
"There aren't any fucking Indians this far north, jackass."
Another gunshot echoed through the night. The two thought nothing of it, the Colonel had already begun executing miners. Several hundred, by now. Suddenly, there was another shot. And another. Soon, off behind them they heard a heated exchange of fire, including the distinctive rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun.
"What the fuck is going on? Has the Colonel gone insane?"
A bullet whizzed past Lopez's ear.
"No, fuckhead, we're under attack!"
The words were barely out of Sanchez' mouth before he was hit in the chest and he went down.
"Fuck!"
Lopez dived behind a nearby bush, and began firing wildly off in the direction of the woods the shots had come from. He couldn't see anything, but he kept up a steady fire, until his rifle clicked. Out of ammo.
He sat still and listened. The gunshots were further away now, off in the distance. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't see the man come up behind him and jam a knife into the back of his neck. Lopez went down without a sound.
The rest of the Colonel's garrison had been caught with their pants down. Those not killed in the fighting were lined up along the same railroad tracks Sanchez and Lopez had been enjoying before their untimely deaths. It was a cold morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise in the distance. The soldados had been stripped of their clothing, and were standing naked, surrounded by their guards.
The guard were a strange assortment of Tokars and Cazaya Indians. Some armed with old rifles, others with stolen assault rifles and submachine guns. One burly fellow had a gigantic shotgun. They stood silently, watching the prisoners with barely disguised content.
Then, a retinue of mounted men rode up. One of them was a short, moustached man with a sunburnt face. He may have been diminutive in stature, but he projected about him the aura of power, of authority. Comandante Levya.
He barely gave a second glance towards the prisoners before he nodded at one of his adjutants. The adjutant raised his hand and shouted "FIRE!"
A few minutes later, they stopped firing. All the soldados were shot dead. Small skirmishes between the rebels and the army happened all the time, but this one was big. Over twelve-hundred soldados had been killed between the fighting and the mass executions. Furthermore, the Colonel happened to be General Fuentes' cousin. The massacre at Viteca would demand a response from the Meseta.
The War had begun.
-------------------------------------------------------
[OOC: Anyone can join this RP, but I'd appreciate it if any foreign intervention was kept relatively minimal. Furthermore, in the end, I am going to be aiming for a victory by Comandante Leyva and his forces. So this RP isn't to decide the outcome of the war, but it's just for fun. Keep that in mind, please.]
Just south of the Meseta are the southern tropical areas, which are overwhelmingly indigenous. Temperatures are excessive, rainfall exiguous, and diseases such as malaria and yellow fever rampant. The violent tribe, the Cazayas, is dominant. They live in isolated strongholds among the steamy jungles and foetid swamps. They have been semiautonomous for decades, as the country has never had a government centralized enough to make any sort of push into the region.
The broad north of Tokarev is a polar opposite. It takes an effort of imagination to appreciate that the tropical rainforests of the Cazaya are in the same country as the barren wastes of the north. The Costa de Pedras is a series of rocky bays and cliffs, with almost no safe anchorages, save the delta of the Ria Fisterra. South of this coast is the great Abalar Desert. This sparsely populated region is bound by the two Sierra ranges. The eastern and western coasts of the country are mostly low grasslands and bayous.
General Andres Resendez Fuentes has controlled Tokarev for nearly twenty years. His strongman government keeps the Meseta in an iron fist. However, he has neither the technology nor the manpower to project his power over the far-flung wilderness. However, the rurales, a quasimilitary police force patrols the county side in their black humvees, where they exercise the ley fuga. They shoot anyone on sight that they believe might be trying to demean the authority of General Fuentes. Since coming to power, nearly 10,000 had been murdered by the rurales.
The rumblings of dissent began in the north, in the Abalar Desert. Here, the bandit captain Isidro Barradas has gathered together a motley guerilla force made up of the cattle and maize farmers that make up the majority of the population of northern Tokarev. He leads hit-and-run raids on rurale camps and government offices, and disappears into the mountains with his force. Barradas has no more than a handful of men, but he consisently outmaneuevers the rurales and small Army garrisons in northern Tokarev.
In the southern jungles, a Cazaya Indian leader known only as Comandante Leyva has begun consolidating his influence in the region. He has ended internecine strife among the Cazaya, uniting them against the common enemy of General Fuentes.
However, despite the great hatred for General Fuentes and his rurales, the population of Tokarev is too unevenly distributed to make for a general uprising. Over a third of the population live under the guns of Fuentes' army in the Meseta. Most of the rest live in the coastal population centers such as Puerta Vica and Escobar or are farmers on haciendas spread across the countryside. Between Comandanta Leyva and Isidro Barradas, they are only able to mobilize about 120,000 men against General Fuentes. The odds are against them.
General Fuentes' army is over one million men strong, while the rurales and the militia fielded by provincial jefes politicos to control their territories are nearly four million strong. However, most of Fuentes' power is tied down in various forts and garrisons controlling strategic areas, and he does not have the manpower to send a large expeditionary force out.
The Massacre of Viteca
"Fuck, man, this stuff is strong," Sanchez muttered as he took a hit.
"Prime Cazaya grass, man, it's hard to get." Lopez exlained.
The two lieutenants were sitting on an abandoned railroad track. They had wandered away from the camp so the Colonel wouldn't see them.
"He's such a dick." Sanchez grumbled as he passed the blunt.
They were part of a contingent sent from the Meseta to fortify Viteca, an important mining town. There had been riots and strikes here lately, and Fuentes was getting paranoid of the possibility of widespread revolt. Their orders were to kill all the adult men in Viteca, then turn it into a stronghold for further operations in the area.
"Man, I can't wait to kill some fuckin' Indians, man." Lopez jumped up and grabbed his gun and pantomimed stabbing with his bayonet.
"There aren't any fucking Indians this far north, jackass."
Another gunshot echoed through the night. The two thought nothing of it, the Colonel had already begun executing miners. Several hundred, by now. Suddenly, there was another shot. And another. Soon, off behind them they heard a heated exchange of fire, including the distinctive rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun.
"What the fuck is going on? Has the Colonel gone insane?"
A bullet whizzed past Lopez's ear.
"No, fuckhead, we're under attack!"
The words were barely out of Sanchez' mouth before he was hit in the chest and he went down.
"Fuck!"
Lopez dived behind a nearby bush, and began firing wildly off in the direction of the woods the shots had come from. He couldn't see anything, but he kept up a steady fire, until his rifle clicked. Out of ammo.
He sat still and listened. The gunshots were further away now, off in the distance. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't see the man come up behind him and jam a knife into the back of his neck. Lopez went down without a sound.
The rest of the Colonel's garrison had been caught with their pants down. Those not killed in the fighting were lined up along the same railroad tracks Sanchez and Lopez had been enjoying before their untimely deaths. It was a cold morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise in the distance. The soldados had been stripped of their clothing, and were standing naked, surrounded by their guards.
The guard were a strange assortment of Tokars and Cazaya Indians. Some armed with old rifles, others with stolen assault rifles and submachine guns. One burly fellow had a gigantic shotgun. They stood silently, watching the prisoners with barely disguised content.
Then, a retinue of mounted men rode up. One of them was a short, moustached man with a sunburnt face. He may have been diminutive in stature, but he projected about him the aura of power, of authority. Comandante Levya.
He barely gave a second glance towards the prisoners before he nodded at one of his adjutants. The adjutant raised his hand and shouted "FIRE!"
A few minutes later, they stopped firing. All the soldados were shot dead. Small skirmishes between the rebels and the army happened all the time, but this one was big. Over twelve-hundred soldados had been killed between the fighting and the mass executions. Furthermore, the Colonel happened to be General Fuentes' cousin. The massacre at Viteca would demand a response from the Meseta.
The War had begun.
-------------------------------------------------------
[OOC: Anyone can join this RP, but I'd appreciate it if any foreign intervention was kept relatively minimal. Furthermore, in the end, I am going to be aiming for a victory by Comandante Leyva and his forces. So this RP isn't to decide the outcome of the war, but it's just for fun. Keep that in mind, please.]