Daranen
16-05-2009, 06:01
OOC: The following thread is the beginning of the rule of The Family over the humble nation of Daranen. With its roots in the Mafia and other similar organizations around the RL world, the Family considers itself the lawful government of Daranen but I don't mind if other nations wish to challenge this as long as no invasions or assassinations are conducted. For your information, the Monarchy has survived the turmoil but their condition shall be revealed in later posts. Please respond as you wish but remember that I shall not shirk away from ignoring you if you do something outlandish like attempt assassinations, etc --- this is because I want The Family to gain credibility and specific (possible) events to sow the seeds for future RPs.
No one had expected it. Those who tried to fight against it were swallowed up and lost forever in the darkness of death while others sat around and decided to accept it. Everyone who sat in their homes watched their televisions as a young and handsome man walked to the podium in what once was the offices of the interim administration. A group of equally emotionless and heavily armed man surrounded him while silence reigned amongst the crowd before him. People knew Sergei Ivanovic only as the most ruthless boss that Daranen's organized crime circuit had ever seen. Those people who crossed him were purged from every facet of Daranese society and forgotten as mere undesirables. What the people heard at this speech would change the history of this nation forevermore.......
"The climax of our play," Sergei uttered while taking a sip from his glass of sherry in the skybox from which he watched the final trial. He had originally been that young don's apprentice who rose through the ranks with a psychopatic aura around him to become the don himself and, well, those who witnessed it usually ended up dead. Next to Sergei was a grim looking man who was wearing some sort of fancy suit. He had slicked back hair and looked like he was Daranen's version of Lavrenty Beria, though the two men had no similar facial features. Here was Dimitri Petrovic, the head of Ivanovic's personal bodyguard and his chief confidant within "The Family," as the government liked to call itself. Trivyin (The foremost newspaper of Daranen, it meant victory in the native tongue)had already declared that "The Family," became the government and that all citizens could expect great things from it despite the obvious fact that "The Family," was technically nothing more than a mere organized crime family.
"Confession is good for their souls," Petrovic said smugly while watching the judge viciously scream at one of the victims of Sergei Ivanovic's latest purges --- grinning in delight because he knew that the man was going to be shot no matter what happened. That was the way of things. Sergei nodded his head and uttered something before drinking his sherry again. Sergei knew Petrovic from his days as the rising star in the Daranese Mafia and the two were like schoolboys with an intense friendship that was soaked in blood. As the trial continued, Sergei sighed and then walked out of the room, Petrovic following like the obedient servant that he had always been, like Iago to Othello in the darker moments of that immortal play.
"The spider weaves its web in the den of the traitors," Sergei said happily while he walked down the halls of the Palace of Justice with his confidant, having missed the passing of the death penalty upon that man back there, a man that he couldn't care less about anyways. A group of passing soldiers salute Sergei like he is a general, though all he is....he's just a Mafia boss, the boss of bosses, the mastermind. He sadistically destroys everyone in his path without remorse and regret. As they exited the building to feel the warmth of the sun shining upon them, a limosuine pulled up at the front. They got inside and it drove deep within the capital, not caring for the citizens who lived their daily lives all around them. They had largely accepted Family rule by then, some of them knowing what was in store for those who refused.
Sergei had appropriated an old mansion once owned by a wealthy nobleman to become his own home from which he could easily rule over millions of Daranese citizens as he had tens of fellow comrades in the Daranese Mafia. He was a married man, having married supermodel Natasha Eliasovic sometime ago and having a son, Vasily, and a daughter named Svetlana. While Vasily showed himself as the boy who idolized his father with furious passion, Svetlana was often seen writing and riding her horse around the field which laid about the mansion. Svetlana was the first to see Sergei as he returned home that afternoon and she greeted him happily. Her mind had not been exposed to the brutal side of her father --- the man who says, "I love you," was all she knew.
"My little doorkeeper's at work again, I see," Sergei said before chuckling, walking through the front entrance while Petrovic and Svetlana steadily followed. Svetlana was wearing a spring dress that was recommended by Natasha's best friend, Olega Illyinov who had married one of Sergei's best known friends, one of the people in his inner circle. Vasily was hanging around with friends while Natasha walked down the wide staircase with Olega following her like she was a high school kiss-ass. The truth was that Olega and Natasha had been close friends for years and their families were supporters of the Ivanovics ever since Sergei's Great Terror began, when he liquidated the Daranese Mafia of his enemies and brought it under his control.
"I see that my beloved husband has returned home from his purging," Natasha said demurely while giving her husband a tender embrace along with one for Svetlana, who had always been quite close to her mother over the years. Sergei simply quipped about the necessity of purges before walking with Natasha into the oblivion of privacy --- Svetlana's eyes tracing Petrovic as he walked into his own abyss of dungeons and death. More people were going to die today but to a child like Svetlana, a fourteen year old equestrian, knowledge had yet to take hold.
The chances of successful diplomacy with foreign nations were often seen as hardly appealing in the eyes of Gregori Vilinovic who had been appointed as the Foreign Affairs Representative by Ivanovic after his consolidation of power was successful. Gregori Vilinovic was a stout and slim man who always seemed to act like a gentleman, a Cassio in a Mafia man's suit. Vilinovic was sitting at his desk whille his secretary sorted out papers. He had been one of the administrators of the Vilinovics prior to his unexpected appointment to this particular post but he didn't mind his new line of work, no, he felt it pretty befitting. "It seems we've recieved orders to open relations with the world," the secretary called, "but I wonder if our status will ruin things for us."
"Of course it will," was Gregori's response to the hard working woman that he hired from a long list of prospective secretaries. What made Elena Sergeiovic special was her determination, her resolve and her absolute loyalty to The Family --- the reason being its quashing of the corruption that had plagued the area in which she lived, she idolized Sergei for his liquidation of corrupt and wicked scum, the cockroaches as they were called. Well, really, she had a score to settle with them, those men who had ordered people out of their homes and those girls......
Gregori dictated some generic letter of diplomacy to Elena while Sergei Ivanovic held a meeting with Yuri Lussdren, a rugged sort of man who was appointed as the head of the Armed Forces with only Sergei above him. Lussdren had been a high ranking general of the Monarchy before it collapsed, a local warlord who fought the Opportunists as they were labelled, the man who controversially joined The Family when its forces captured the capital. He still wore his medals with pride and considered his Monarchy-era awards to still be valid.
"We cannot sit idly by and think that no one will attack us," Lussdren stated while overlooking a massive map of Daranen with his stoic eyes, "but I'm not saying that it is probable that we will be --- it is only a possibility that we could be attacked. No matter what happens, boss, the entire Armed Forces will fight to the last man to defend our nation."
"Good," Sergei said while casting his finger over areas of the map that he had known since childhood. His home town, the places where he carried out whackings and purges, the birthplace of his beloved wife, and so on. Sergei Ivanovic looked like Bale, sat like Chekhov, and lived like Stalin. He was a bloodsoaked enigma of a man. As the day turned into night, Sergei retired to the bosom of his wife in a bout of feverish passion, while his children did what they wanted under the hawkish eyes of Petrovic, a man whose very name seemed synonymous with death. "Hell is other people, specifically Petrovic."
No one had expected it. Those who tried to fight against it were swallowed up and lost forever in the darkness of death while others sat around and decided to accept it. Everyone who sat in their homes watched their televisions as a young and handsome man walked to the podium in what once was the offices of the interim administration. A group of equally emotionless and heavily armed man surrounded him while silence reigned amongst the crowd before him. People knew Sergei Ivanovic only as the most ruthless boss that Daranen's organized crime circuit had ever seen. Those people who crossed him were purged from every facet of Daranese society and forgotten as mere undesirables. What the people heard at this speech would change the history of this nation forevermore.......
"The climax of our play," Sergei uttered while taking a sip from his glass of sherry in the skybox from which he watched the final trial. He had originally been that young don's apprentice who rose through the ranks with a psychopatic aura around him to become the don himself and, well, those who witnessed it usually ended up dead. Next to Sergei was a grim looking man who was wearing some sort of fancy suit. He had slicked back hair and looked like he was Daranen's version of Lavrenty Beria, though the two men had no similar facial features. Here was Dimitri Petrovic, the head of Ivanovic's personal bodyguard and his chief confidant within "The Family," as the government liked to call itself. Trivyin (The foremost newspaper of Daranen, it meant victory in the native tongue)had already declared that "The Family," became the government and that all citizens could expect great things from it despite the obvious fact that "The Family," was technically nothing more than a mere organized crime family.
"Confession is good for their souls," Petrovic said smugly while watching the judge viciously scream at one of the victims of Sergei Ivanovic's latest purges --- grinning in delight because he knew that the man was going to be shot no matter what happened. That was the way of things. Sergei nodded his head and uttered something before drinking his sherry again. Sergei knew Petrovic from his days as the rising star in the Daranese Mafia and the two were like schoolboys with an intense friendship that was soaked in blood. As the trial continued, Sergei sighed and then walked out of the room, Petrovic following like the obedient servant that he had always been, like Iago to Othello in the darker moments of that immortal play.
"The spider weaves its web in the den of the traitors," Sergei said happily while he walked down the halls of the Palace of Justice with his confidant, having missed the passing of the death penalty upon that man back there, a man that he couldn't care less about anyways. A group of passing soldiers salute Sergei like he is a general, though all he is....he's just a Mafia boss, the boss of bosses, the mastermind. He sadistically destroys everyone in his path without remorse and regret. As they exited the building to feel the warmth of the sun shining upon them, a limosuine pulled up at the front. They got inside and it drove deep within the capital, not caring for the citizens who lived their daily lives all around them. They had largely accepted Family rule by then, some of them knowing what was in store for those who refused.
Sergei had appropriated an old mansion once owned by a wealthy nobleman to become his own home from which he could easily rule over millions of Daranese citizens as he had tens of fellow comrades in the Daranese Mafia. He was a married man, having married supermodel Natasha Eliasovic sometime ago and having a son, Vasily, and a daughter named Svetlana. While Vasily showed himself as the boy who idolized his father with furious passion, Svetlana was often seen writing and riding her horse around the field which laid about the mansion. Svetlana was the first to see Sergei as he returned home that afternoon and she greeted him happily. Her mind had not been exposed to the brutal side of her father --- the man who says, "I love you," was all she knew.
"My little doorkeeper's at work again, I see," Sergei said before chuckling, walking through the front entrance while Petrovic and Svetlana steadily followed. Svetlana was wearing a spring dress that was recommended by Natasha's best friend, Olega Illyinov who had married one of Sergei's best known friends, one of the people in his inner circle. Vasily was hanging around with friends while Natasha walked down the wide staircase with Olega following her like she was a high school kiss-ass. The truth was that Olega and Natasha had been close friends for years and their families were supporters of the Ivanovics ever since Sergei's Great Terror began, when he liquidated the Daranese Mafia of his enemies and brought it under his control.
"I see that my beloved husband has returned home from his purging," Natasha said demurely while giving her husband a tender embrace along with one for Svetlana, who had always been quite close to her mother over the years. Sergei simply quipped about the necessity of purges before walking with Natasha into the oblivion of privacy --- Svetlana's eyes tracing Petrovic as he walked into his own abyss of dungeons and death. More people were going to die today but to a child like Svetlana, a fourteen year old equestrian, knowledge had yet to take hold.
The chances of successful diplomacy with foreign nations were often seen as hardly appealing in the eyes of Gregori Vilinovic who had been appointed as the Foreign Affairs Representative by Ivanovic after his consolidation of power was successful. Gregori Vilinovic was a stout and slim man who always seemed to act like a gentleman, a Cassio in a Mafia man's suit. Vilinovic was sitting at his desk whille his secretary sorted out papers. He had been one of the administrators of the Vilinovics prior to his unexpected appointment to this particular post but he didn't mind his new line of work, no, he felt it pretty befitting. "It seems we've recieved orders to open relations with the world," the secretary called, "but I wonder if our status will ruin things for us."
"Of course it will," was Gregori's response to the hard working woman that he hired from a long list of prospective secretaries. What made Elena Sergeiovic special was her determination, her resolve and her absolute loyalty to The Family --- the reason being its quashing of the corruption that had plagued the area in which she lived, she idolized Sergei for his liquidation of corrupt and wicked scum, the cockroaches as they were called. Well, really, she had a score to settle with them, those men who had ordered people out of their homes and those girls......
Gregori dictated some generic letter of diplomacy to Elena while Sergei Ivanovic held a meeting with Yuri Lussdren, a rugged sort of man who was appointed as the head of the Armed Forces with only Sergei above him. Lussdren had been a high ranking general of the Monarchy before it collapsed, a local warlord who fought the Opportunists as they were labelled, the man who controversially joined The Family when its forces captured the capital. He still wore his medals with pride and considered his Monarchy-era awards to still be valid.
"We cannot sit idly by and think that no one will attack us," Lussdren stated while overlooking a massive map of Daranen with his stoic eyes, "but I'm not saying that it is probable that we will be --- it is only a possibility that we could be attacked. No matter what happens, boss, the entire Armed Forces will fight to the last man to defend our nation."
"Good," Sergei said while casting his finger over areas of the map that he had known since childhood. His home town, the places where he carried out whackings and purges, the birthplace of his beloved wife, and so on. Sergei Ivanovic looked like Bale, sat like Chekhov, and lived like Stalin. He was a bloodsoaked enigma of a man. As the day turned into night, Sergei retired to the bosom of his wife in a bout of feverish passion, while his children did what they wanted under the hawkish eyes of Petrovic, a man whose very name seemed synonymous with death. "Hell is other people, specifically Petrovic."