Tolvan
21-10-2007, 07:27
OOC: This is a semi-open RP, feel free to post official statements and what not but any troop deployments or other armed actions require approval from me or Alacea.
Haladi Refugee Camp, Baridan Island, Tolvanic Mauritan Islands
October 21st, 2007
0515 hours
Captain Muhammad Yassim was thirty-three and was head of the Haladi Camp Police’s Ninth Precinct. He’d joined the force after spending four years in the Tolvanic Army as an MP. This made him an especially unpopular man in the overcrowded camp of nearly one million mostly Arab Muslims who were granted refugee status to flee the various wars of their homelands. Despite being given respite the refugees were not fond of the Tolvanic government and were even less fond of the Camp Police who were tasked with policing the sprawling settlement.
No doubt he would be even less popular after today when the City Administration publicly announced a 10% increase in the cost of electricity and the trimming of the weekly bean rations from three kilos per person to two and a half.
But to Yassim even that was generous, after all most of these refugees had never and would never contribute anything productive to Tolvanic society. Though he was an Arab and a nominal Muslim he much preferred life outside the Camp and was looking forward to his interview next month with the Voi Police Department for a spot on their vaunted SWAT Team.
Haladi Refugee Camp Administration Building
October 21st, 2007
0730 hours
Morgan Reynolds sat his desk reading emails and signing papers, the way most of his days started. Reynolds was the Haladi Special Refugee District Administrator, a job that sounded far more important than it actually was, and a graduate of the University of Christdown’s International Development Program. He was also one of the rarest of all things in Tolvan, a liberal. Reynolds owed his job to two simple reasons one that no one else really wanted it and two that his uncle happened to be Commerce Minister Roger Burke himself. In most nations cries of nepotism would be raised if the twenty-eight year old nephew of a powerful politician was given such a job, but in Tolvan nobody really cared about the refugee camp or its inhabitants and such cared even less who ran the place. Besides, he was qualified enough and enemies of Roger Burke rarely fared very well in the long run.
He wasn’t happy about the proposed ration cuts and price increases, but his arguments to members of Parliament, the Prime Minster, and even his uncle had fallen on deaf ears, he only hoped that this wasn’t the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
Haladi Refugee Camp, Q Block, Building 049
October 23rd, 2007
1345 hours
Captain Yassim climbed out of his Land Stalker dressed in full combat gear, the Camp Police never ventured into the slums without it anymore. Yassim was accompanied by eleven of his men and two more SUVs. Their mission was simple but still very dangerous, to remove several banners announcing protest rallies against the latest rounds of cuts to the Camp’s supplies. Yassim knew the banners were the work a shadowy group known as al-Qus, who extolled a radical and violent version of Islam and whose leaders had urged armed revolt before.
Fifteen minutes later the banners had been taken down with no signs of trouble just as Yassim was opening his door to get back in the truck a shot rang out and one of his men fell to the ground clutching his thigh.
“Sniper, left side high,” he screamed as he brought his MP-6 up to his shoulder and fired a half dozen rounds in the most likely sniper nest he saw. He doubted the 9mm rounds would have effect at this range but it was better than nothing.
Suddenly the building and alleys all around them came alive with gunfire. Yassim watched helplessly as six of his men were down within seconds. Yassim was brave man and a good soldier but he wasn’t suicidal.
He dove into the truck and yelled into his radio, “Everybody mount the fuck up and get out of here.”
The small convoy had made it almost out of the Block when the distinctive smoke trail of an RPG appeared from a nearby rooftop. Yassim didn’t even have time to yell before the rear SUV and two more of his men were vaporized. Yassim leaned out the window and emptied an entire magazine into the building where the rocket had been fired from. One of his men in the other surviving SUV fired a CS gas grenade into a nearby crown of bystanders and fired into the running mass cutting down several.
Fortunately the rest of the way out was less eventful and Yassim’s patrol, now minus one SUV and eight men pulled into the gates of the Ninth Precinct just ten minutes of the very angry, and very well armed, mob.
***********************************************
In the twenty four hours that followed the attack, now know as the Battle of Block Q, angry mobs of protestors, led by well armed bands of al-Qus militiamen, attacked patrols all over the city and besieged all fifteen precincts of the Camp Police. By the end of the day the Camp Police had lost nearly sixty percent of its manpower to casualties and desertions and was no longer capable of defended its own precincts, let alone policing the Camp. The Camp Police withdrew from the city at 0430 hours on October 25th, as the demoralized officers left the city they could only watch as columns of National Guard units rolled towards the city to establish a cordon and await orders from the Prime Minister.
Haladi Refugee Camp, Baridan Island, Tolvanic Mauritan Islands
October 21st, 2007
0515 hours
Captain Muhammad Yassim was thirty-three and was head of the Haladi Camp Police’s Ninth Precinct. He’d joined the force after spending four years in the Tolvanic Army as an MP. This made him an especially unpopular man in the overcrowded camp of nearly one million mostly Arab Muslims who were granted refugee status to flee the various wars of their homelands. Despite being given respite the refugees were not fond of the Tolvanic government and were even less fond of the Camp Police who were tasked with policing the sprawling settlement.
No doubt he would be even less popular after today when the City Administration publicly announced a 10% increase in the cost of electricity and the trimming of the weekly bean rations from three kilos per person to two and a half.
But to Yassim even that was generous, after all most of these refugees had never and would never contribute anything productive to Tolvanic society. Though he was an Arab and a nominal Muslim he much preferred life outside the Camp and was looking forward to his interview next month with the Voi Police Department for a spot on their vaunted SWAT Team.
Haladi Refugee Camp Administration Building
October 21st, 2007
0730 hours
Morgan Reynolds sat his desk reading emails and signing papers, the way most of his days started. Reynolds was the Haladi Special Refugee District Administrator, a job that sounded far more important than it actually was, and a graduate of the University of Christdown’s International Development Program. He was also one of the rarest of all things in Tolvan, a liberal. Reynolds owed his job to two simple reasons one that no one else really wanted it and two that his uncle happened to be Commerce Minister Roger Burke himself. In most nations cries of nepotism would be raised if the twenty-eight year old nephew of a powerful politician was given such a job, but in Tolvan nobody really cared about the refugee camp or its inhabitants and such cared even less who ran the place. Besides, he was qualified enough and enemies of Roger Burke rarely fared very well in the long run.
He wasn’t happy about the proposed ration cuts and price increases, but his arguments to members of Parliament, the Prime Minster, and even his uncle had fallen on deaf ears, he only hoped that this wasn’t the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
Haladi Refugee Camp, Q Block, Building 049
October 23rd, 2007
1345 hours
Captain Yassim climbed out of his Land Stalker dressed in full combat gear, the Camp Police never ventured into the slums without it anymore. Yassim was accompanied by eleven of his men and two more SUVs. Their mission was simple but still very dangerous, to remove several banners announcing protest rallies against the latest rounds of cuts to the Camp’s supplies. Yassim knew the banners were the work a shadowy group known as al-Qus, who extolled a radical and violent version of Islam and whose leaders had urged armed revolt before.
Fifteen minutes later the banners had been taken down with no signs of trouble just as Yassim was opening his door to get back in the truck a shot rang out and one of his men fell to the ground clutching his thigh.
“Sniper, left side high,” he screamed as he brought his MP-6 up to his shoulder and fired a half dozen rounds in the most likely sniper nest he saw. He doubted the 9mm rounds would have effect at this range but it was better than nothing.
Suddenly the building and alleys all around them came alive with gunfire. Yassim watched helplessly as six of his men were down within seconds. Yassim was brave man and a good soldier but he wasn’t suicidal.
He dove into the truck and yelled into his radio, “Everybody mount the fuck up and get out of here.”
The small convoy had made it almost out of the Block when the distinctive smoke trail of an RPG appeared from a nearby rooftop. Yassim didn’t even have time to yell before the rear SUV and two more of his men were vaporized. Yassim leaned out the window and emptied an entire magazine into the building where the rocket had been fired from. One of his men in the other surviving SUV fired a CS gas grenade into a nearby crown of bystanders and fired into the running mass cutting down several.
Fortunately the rest of the way out was less eventful and Yassim’s patrol, now minus one SUV and eight men pulled into the gates of the Ninth Precinct just ten minutes of the very angry, and very well armed, mob.
***********************************************
In the twenty four hours that followed the attack, now know as the Battle of Block Q, angry mobs of protestors, led by well armed bands of al-Qus militiamen, attacked patrols all over the city and besieged all fifteen precincts of the Camp Police. By the end of the day the Camp Police had lost nearly sixty percent of its manpower to casualties and desertions and was no longer capable of defended its own precincts, let alone policing the Camp. The Camp Police withdrew from the city at 0430 hours on October 25th, as the demoralized officers left the city they could only watch as columns of National Guard units rolled towards the city to establish a cordon and await orders from the Prime Minister.