Setulan
06-01-2009, 22:44
OOC-Hey all, I've finally decided to branch out of FT and try some MT. This is just the background for my nation's foundation, and a Factbook will be incoming once I get some responses. For now, no moving against my government militarily; I'm still trying to get both feet on the ground. If you are interestd in an RP with me, send me a TG and I'll be happy to oblige :)
IC-
Maxellian walked through the streets, rifle cradled in his arms, his bodyguard easily keeping step with their eyes ever outward, looking for signs of danger. Of those, there were plenty; intermittant gunfire still rolled through the city as pockets of resistance were smoked out by the victorious Republicans, and the occasional chatter of a machinegun or deep, hollow boom! of a tank's gun shattered the calm of the rising sun. He looked up, squinting at the new day. For the world and the country, he thought. He stopped at an intersection and watched as a column of tanks and APCs rolled by, troops hanging off of them. He still marveled at how far he had come-his cause had not always had the benefit of tanks. Or even uniforms, for that matter.
The Setulan Civil War had started five years, six months and twelve days prior to this day when the residing President, James Manning, seized control over the congress and instituted martial law. The second thing President Manning did was order the arrest of officers and politicians deemed unpatriotic. It was at that point that Rustov Maxellian had fled to the mountains of his home with forty friends and started their struggle.
It had not been easy, and the fighting had been bloody and bitter. Their movement gained momentum, the tactics of the Republicans changing from guerilla raids and assasinations to full-scale war by the third year.
Two years later, on this very day, Republican forces had broken through the last loyalist troops guarding Veto (not the capitol, but the home city of Manning) and stormed through the streets, killing loyalist soldiers left and right...for such was the fate of those who supported tyranny.
The APC's rolled by unhindered and Maxellian continued walking. He passed the rubble of blown out houses as fighters screamed by, the drone of an ACU-130 gunship buzzing overhead. He walked past the mangled, burning wreckage of what was once a luxury automobile. He finally walked up the steps of the Veto parliment building. The guards outside saluted him, and he returned it, marching steadily until he reached his destination outside of an unmarked door.
"Open it," he ordered curtly. The guards obliged, and he stepped inside.
Manning sat there, disheveled in a good suit, and gave Maxellian the beady eye.
"You bastard."
"Mr. President," Maxellian replied politely. He pulled out his sidearm and Manning sat back with a hiss.
"What, now you kill me?"
"No." With a quick flick, Maxellian withdrew the clip from the weapon and racked the slide, causing the bullet to hop out. He caught it deftly before laying the pistol and the bullet on the table.
"You kill yourself." With that, he left the room.
An aide was waiting.
"Sir, we have the tape room set up."
"Excellent."
A recording was made, and the following was sent out to the countries of the world. Maxellian sits at a desk, hands clasped in front of him, his uniform dusty. His grey eyes look directly into the lense of the camera.
"Nations of the world, I am Rustov Maxellian. I can only apolgize for my apperance; I know too well that a national leader in uniform does not inspire confidence." A wry smile. "However, it was imperative that I get this video out as soon as I could. My nation, the Republic of Setulan, has just undergone a terrible conflict, a Civil War of epic proportions. The people of my country are in need of aide, aide that we cannot provide at this time. For now, we have set up a temporary government with myself as the head; I assure you, I shall step down the moment elections can be held. But my people can not wait that long. I beg of you, send whatever aide you can spare so that my people will not suffer unduly. The Republic will be indebted to you. Thank you, and good day."
IC-
Maxellian walked through the streets, rifle cradled in his arms, his bodyguard easily keeping step with their eyes ever outward, looking for signs of danger. Of those, there were plenty; intermittant gunfire still rolled through the city as pockets of resistance were smoked out by the victorious Republicans, and the occasional chatter of a machinegun or deep, hollow boom! of a tank's gun shattered the calm of the rising sun. He looked up, squinting at the new day. For the world and the country, he thought. He stopped at an intersection and watched as a column of tanks and APCs rolled by, troops hanging off of them. He still marveled at how far he had come-his cause had not always had the benefit of tanks. Or even uniforms, for that matter.
The Setulan Civil War had started five years, six months and twelve days prior to this day when the residing President, James Manning, seized control over the congress and instituted martial law. The second thing President Manning did was order the arrest of officers and politicians deemed unpatriotic. It was at that point that Rustov Maxellian had fled to the mountains of his home with forty friends and started their struggle.
It had not been easy, and the fighting had been bloody and bitter. Their movement gained momentum, the tactics of the Republicans changing from guerilla raids and assasinations to full-scale war by the third year.
Two years later, on this very day, Republican forces had broken through the last loyalist troops guarding Veto (not the capitol, but the home city of Manning) and stormed through the streets, killing loyalist soldiers left and right...for such was the fate of those who supported tyranny.
The APC's rolled by unhindered and Maxellian continued walking. He passed the rubble of blown out houses as fighters screamed by, the drone of an ACU-130 gunship buzzing overhead. He walked past the mangled, burning wreckage of what was once a luxury automobile. He finally walked up the steps of the Veto parliment building. The guards outside saluted him, and he returned it, marching steadily until he reached his destination outside of an unmarked door.
"Open it," he ordered curtly. The guards obliged, and he stepped inside.
Manning sat there, disheveled in a good suit, and gave Maxellian the beady eye.
"You bastard."
"Mr. President," Maxellian replied politely. He pulled out his sidearm and Manning sat back with a hiss.
"What, now you kill me?"
"No." With a quick flick, Maxellian withdrew the clip from the weapon and racked the slide, causing the bullet to hop out. He caught it deftly before laying the pistol and the bullet on the table.
"You kill yourself." With that, he left the room.
An aide was waiting.
"Sir, we have the tape room set up."
"Excellent."
A recording was made, and the following was sent out to the countries of the world. Maxellian sits at a desk, hands clasped in front of him, his uniform dusty. His grey eyes look directly into the lense of the camera.
"Nations of the world, I am Rustov Maxellian. I can only apolgize for my apperance; I know too well that a national leader in uniform does not inspire confidence." A wry smile. "However, it was imperative that I get this video out as soon as I could. My nation, the Republic of Setulan, has just undergone a terrible conflict, a Civil War of epic proportions. The people of my country are in need of aide, aide that we cannot provide at this time. For now, we have set up a temporary government with myself as the head; I assure you, I shall step down the moment elections can be held. But my people can not wait that long. I beg of you, send whatever aide you can spare so that my people will not suffer unduly. The Republic will be indebted to you. Thank you, and good day."