Tasangot District, Central Licana - 9 months ago
Kennith Gorman sat in a tense position in the chair, looking rapidly from the old TV, to the clock, back to the TV, and again to the clock. The TV news continued to ramble on about whatever story they decided was important for the hour, something about a vehicle recall. This was the kind of thing that Kennith would normally pay attention to, but he had too much on his mind right now.
Several months ago, a group of nearby farmers had had their land taken from them and forcibly sold to the government. Kennith personally knew every single one of them and he considered most of them to be friends. They were subsistence farmers, owning fairly small amounts of land and only making enough to survive on. These people and their families had farmed for their entire lives; this was their livelihood, the only way they knew how to live. The government had just taken this away from them.
People tried to resist. Only god knows how many angry letters and phone calls flooded the local representative’s office, trying to get him to correct this wrongdoing. When these were ignored, a handful of families tried to stay in their homes, despite the government’s call of eminent domain. When they were forcibly removed by the local police, the public rallies started. Those petered out a couple of weeks ago, with no apparent effects on the government.
For all of his faults, no one could say that Kennith wasn’t a good neighbor. He participated in the letter campaign, helped those that had been evicted out of his own pocket, went to all of the meetings and even attended a couple of the public rallies. Though he would never openly brag about it, he was even in the background of one the local news station’s TV broadcasts covering the rally.
However, about a week ago, Kennith received a call from his best friend, Mark Hopkins. He was one of the many that lost their land, one of the most vocal too. Now, he was claiming that he had a way to show the government, definitively, that the people would not stand for this. He asked if he could organize a meeting at Kennith’s home. This was different from his normal rhetoric; the way he was keeping details scarce was unnerving. Mark was always a very open man, so this was very unlike him. Still, Kennith was a good neighbor and Mark was a good friend, so Kennith told him that he would be happy to host his meeting.
They had decided that today would be when everyone would get together. Ever since that call, public resistance against the eminent domain had practically come to a complete halt. For some reason, Kennith was slowly growing more nervous and paranoid as the day approached. It had reached the point that he hadn’t left the house all day, even after he and his wife had finished preparing for their guests. Hell, he hadn’t left his seat near the front door for the past couple hours, spending most of that time checking the clock every ten seconds.
There was a commotion outside; the burbling of engines, the slamming of doors and later the rambling of a small group. Kennith got up from his seat and walked over to the door, taking a deep sigh as he stood. He opened the door slowly and was greeted by a crisp, cool breeze of air. The warm glow of the lights at his back swept over the background and illuminated the approaching group. Most of the people walking toward him were very familiar, people he had known almost all of his life.
A large, slightly overweight man broke from the mob in front of him, walking slowly up the stairs to his patio. The man was very unkempt, his jet black hair contorted in several wild angles and his appearance very greasy, almost as if he hadn't had a decent shower in days. There were prominent bags under his eyes, indicating that the man hadn't had a good night's sleep in about as long. Despite the man's poor hygiene, these were very familiar features to Kennith. A smile crossed his face as he saw Mark, his old friend, again.
"Kennith, my friend, how have things been?" Mark placed a large hand firmly on Kennith's shoulder as he spoke, putting a strong emphasis on the word "how". His breath brought with it a strong stench of alcohol that burned at Kennith's nose. Great, he's been drinking.
"All things considered, I don't think I can complain." Kennith responded. He really didn't have a right to complain about anything to them, at least he still had his home. For now. "Come on, everyone get inside, we've got a helluva feast ready."
"Great, I'm starving." Mark replied lazily. Kennith smiled lightly and motioned toward the still open door into his living room, moving out of the way to make room for the rest of the group to get by. He already knew the group was sizable, but didn't quite realize just how large it truly was as he watched everyone in the mob outside walk into his house one at a time. Definitely not going to have enough seats for everyone. Kennith chuckled at the thought. Most of these people don't have a home anymore, they're probably thankful to have a roof over their head for the moment.
Kennith followed the last person into his house, the stuffy warmth of it's interior providing a stark contrast to the outside air. The group in front of him began to disperse around the house, a good portion heading right for the kitchen. They way things looked, it was like the start of a decently sized party. Unfortunately, he knew the occasion was much more serious than that.
Kennith walked forward, moving toward the kitchen. Before he even hit the open doorways, the sweet aromas of freshly prepared foods tingled at his nose. The ravenous group were already tearing away at the food before them, savouring their first good meal in what was likely a long time. Kennith walked up to one of the counters lined with various items of food. He only took a small amount, leaving most of what was left for the less fortunate people that now crowded his home.
All of the chairs in the room were occupied long before he had even entered the room, so he opted to stand with a nearby group of four. They spoke at length of various things from past exploits to sports to favourite pastimes. No one dare spoke about the recent events that had plagued them for fear of breaking the warm and friendly atmosphere that so many of them had lost all those months ago, even though you could tell it was all on their minds.
It wasn't long before the conversation in the group died down, though. The group began to disperse, and Kennith decided to take his leave. Almost as soon as Kennith cleared the doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Kennith spun around, coming almost face to face with Mark.
"Damn, you're a bit jumpy today." Mark chuckled after stating his plain observation. Kennith was less amused by Mark's antics, especially during such a serious occasion. "You really shouldn't go sneaking up on people, especially in their own home." He tried to give his words a more playful inflection in order to hide his annoyance, though Mark's expression indicated that he had failed in that.
There was a slight movement behind Mark that caught Kennith's attention. He had been completely unaware that there was a person hovering behind Mark the entire time. As far as he could recall, Kennith had never seen this man before in his life. This stranger was an older man, around mid-forties, maybe fifties, though well in shape for his age. He wore an unchanging and serious expression that could have caused his face to be mistaken for a stone bust. The only colour on his head was provided by his jet black hair, providing a stark contrast with his marble-like complexion. His attire was much less impressive than his face. He wore a loose-fitting navy blue hooded sweatshirt. A pair of long, tan, and equally loose-fitting cargo pants covered his legs.
The stranger cleared his throat. "I assume that this meeting will be occurring somewhere more discreet than your living room?" He spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
"Uh...yeah, we've got a storm cellar out back. It'll be a bit cramped, but it'll work."
"That will be fine. We should start soon." The stranger stated simply in his gravelly monotone.
"Here." Kennith tossed him the key to the cellar. "That'll unlock it, we'll start gettin' everyone down there now." The stranger nodded in acknowledgement and departed.
Kennith turned to Mark, but before he could utter a single syllable, Mark cut him off. "You remember all the people supposed to be down there, right?" Kennith paused for a bit as he ran down the list of names he had memorized. It wasn't difficult, most of them were the heads of the local families. He figured that he had all of them, and anyone that he had forgotten would be picked up by Mark.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do." He finally responded back.
"Good, let's go round them up."
With that, they split up, Kennith searching out and informing the required people that it was time to head to the meeting spot. He found seven of them, but couldn't find anyone else throughout the house. Mark must of gotten the others. He thought to himself as he did a quick sweep of the house to make sure. After Kennith was sure that everyone who needed to be there was in the storm cellar, and decided to head outside.
Kennith had snuck out of the house through the back door and was moving toward a large wooden door that seemed to jut out of the middle of the dirt. He opened the door the old storm cellar and was immediately welcomed by a flow of stagnant, stale air that filled his nostrils with the scent of mold while the air tasted rotten and unnatural in his mouth.
It had been quite some time since he had used this place. It was only really used to store wine anymore, as well as some canned goods that had expiration dates that probably extended into infinity. That, coupled with the weather being too mild for it to ever really be necessary, meant that their storm cellar was locked up and vacant for years at a time. The accumulation of dust and grime that greeted him as he walked into the cellar showed every day of its neglect. Even the wood looked rotten and rickety. I'll have to fix this place up, god forbid if this had to protect us from a serious storm.
Inside of the storm cellar, there was a group of fifteen people all crowded, shoulder to shoulder, around a table with various maps and other miscellaneous items on it. There were no seats, so everyone simply stood around the table looking down on it.
"Ah, Kennith, good to see you could join us." Mark playfully jabbed at his lateness while motioning for Kennith to join the group centered around the table. All eyes were on him. He seriously wished he wasn't the last to arrive. "Our friend here was just about to lay out the plan." Mark gestured to the stranger he was with earlier, who was standing almost right next to the table, in the center of the group.
The stranger simply nodded in affirmation whilst he looked over a map on the table. Kennith recognized this as a map of the local area, with some crude hand-drawn sketches added onto it to represent the airbase currently under construction. The man scanned it intently for a handful of lingering seconds before clearing his throat and looking up into the group around him.
"Right, let us get to business, shall we?" The man spoke in that same gravelly tone he had in the house, which reverberated throughout the cramped storm cellar. Another voice spoke from the crowd in response. "Uh, pardon me for bein' so bold, mister, but who are you?" A man from the crowd, Kennith struggled for a name to place on him. Daniel, I think. He hadn't really dealt with Gabe, but from what he knew, he was an honest and hardworking man. One of the people who lost their land, as well.
The stranger simply sighed at the interruption. "I am here to provide you with the means to show the government that they are not allowed to simply take what they wish." The stranger's words seemed to ripple through the crowd, spreading hushed whispers, a handful of nods in approval, and a more than a few interesting looks. Kennith always knew that this wasn't exactly going to be a peaceful protest, but had to wonder what exactly this stranger was planning.
"That's nice to know, but you didn't answer his question. Who are you?" Kennith spoke up, trying to pry an answer out of the man. The stranger gripped his temples, obviously annoyed by the impromptu interrogation.
"If you must know, my name is Gabriel. I am an affiliate with the Licanan Liberation Front." There were a handful of confused murmurs around the room as the man spoke. Kennith had no idea what that organization was, but it didn’t exactly sound innocuous.
“Look, I don’t know about everyone else here…” Another voice spoke out. “...but I don’t want to get involved with something dangerous. I just want my land back.”
"And how are you going to get it back?" The LLF member snapped back at the latest comment. "Are you going to rally the farmers, get everyone's signature, walk down the to local government office, and give them another petition to throw away?" He paused after his rather loud outburst, looking down at the ground in what appeared to be frustration. "The government does not care about you! If they did, you would not be homeless. If they did, we would not be meeting here!" The stranger continued, his voice rising with every word. Silence reigned over the room. For some time, no one dared to speak. Some even nodded their heads in approval of the man's words, but most simply looked deep in thought.
"Yeah, but if we push the gubment, I knows tha'll push back." A deeply accented voice rose from the crowd and shattered the reign of silence over them. "Yeah, if we go after them, we'll all get killed, or thrown into jail." Another voice was thrown out over the newfound murmuring from the crowd.
"Yes, it is likely that you will not get your land back..." The LLF revolutionary stated simply. The crowd instantly quieted. "...but the government has stomped on your rights and civil liberties! And you know that they will not stop with you!" His voice reverberated throughout the small cellar, giving it an all-encompassing presence. "What will stop them from taking away the land of your brothers! Or your sisters, or cousins! What will stop them from taking the land of your children! If we stand and fight now, we may not get your land back, we may even all be killed. However, we will make them think long and damn well hard about taking anything from a good citizen of The Republic ever again!"
There were cheers and claps from all around. The few that maintained their composure at the end of the electrified speech didn't bother to speak out again, Kennith included. The crowd was with him now, and Kennith had to admit, the man had made a good argument. If the government believes it can get away with anything, it will try to. Sometimes, the government has to be shown that it is not above the people. Despite this thought, Kennith could felt a cool chill run down his spine as the seeds of doubt crept into his mind. What if getting involved in this wasn't such a good idea after all? He could almost see himself, lying in a field, surrounded by the bodies of his friends, in a pool of blood. His family left fatherless and associates of suspected terrorists. Will it be worth it?
The stranger urged everyone to settle down, and went back to the map that set upon the table in the center of the crowd. It was a basic, moderately-detailed topographical map. It looked to be a section of the government map of the entire district, cropped to show only the local area blown up and enhanced to maintain the original quality.
"Alright, so this is the base they are building for the dirty imperialists..." The stranger motioned toward the various sketching on the map as he spoke. "...The basic form of the base and the layout of the structures are taken from observation of it's current constructions, inside sources, and some guesswork. As such, there are some things that may be subject to change. If there is a new development that will require a change in the following plan, I will set up a new meeting to address that. Do not, under any circumstances attempt to contact me or my associates." The stranger paused, and received nods of understanding from most of the group. Those who made no noticeable response to his demand remained silent, and were assumed by the stranger to understand and accept this demand.
"The entire area around the base's perimeter is very smooth and flat, as is true with most of the area. However, there is a decently sized hill that extends just within the perimeter. It creates a sort of smooth ridge around about two hundred and fifty meters from the base facilities." The stranger ran his hand across the lines on the topographical map that indicated where this "ridge" was. "This is where we will attack, it provides good coverage of the entire area, and some decent protection from any sort of return fire. We will be in a good range to fire on the base with rifles."
"On the subject of weaponry, do not bring your own rifles. My associates and I will be able to provide enough weapons and ammunition for all of you, that way you can all use the share ammo if someone get's a bit too trigger happy. We will be able to store them in various places that we'll decide in a meeting next week, just before the first shipment is to come in. In addition to the rifles, I will also be able to get a hold of some heavier weaponry, but I will need a few people to volunteer their vehicles for that..." Several hands shot up into the air at this statement. "...Trucks would be preferred." The stranger continued. Two hands were lowered, still leaving a respectable amount in the air. The stranger picked out four men who still had their hands up, and continued on with his plan.
"We will use the heavy weaponry to make a quick, decisive strike. At this point, we use rifle fire to suppress the base security and kill any dirty imperialists or corrupt government officials that are present, while our heavy weapons target the structures and large groups. The basic idea is to kill the foreigners and cause as much damage to their precious base as possible.
“I have decided that the most opportune time to attack will be on the opening ceremony of the base. I'm willing to bet that they'll send some government officials or military personnel there, and striking then will not only kill some foreigners, but will strike at their pride and make them suspect of the government. If we are lucky, they will wish to take their business elsewhere and leave Licanan lands where they belong, with Licanans. That is, of course, if everyone is in agreeance that this is the best time to strike at them?" There were nods all around, no one spoke out in protest of the stranger's idea.
“Now, if this plan seems nondescript, that is intentional. Due to the long time until the attack, and the early phase of construction that the base is in, things are likely to change as we get more information. I will call more meetings as new information arises." He stood, looking up and scanning the group. "That is all, unless there are any questions?" Everyone held their peace, either satisfied with the man's plan or too afraid to bring up any criticism.
With that, the meeting was adjourned. The people that had made up the crowd began to flow down the bottleneck that lead out of the storm cellar and up to the firm ground above. As the last one to join the group, Kennith was the first to make it out of the cellar. Instead of immediately heading back into the house, he stood out of the way and to the left of the cellar entrance.
He watched as people, one by one, popped up from the hole in the ground that was the entrance to the storm cellar. He watched as they left, Daniel, the stranger, the man with the heavily accented voice, everyone else. Then, the man he was waiting for appeared, Mark. Kennith approached Mark, tapping him on his shoulder. Mark casually looked over his shoulder at him, with an inquisitive expression across his face.
"Alright, so I know that you know that guy. How the hell do you know someone like that?" Kennith harshly whispered into Mark's ear, leading Mark away from the group and closer to his house.
"Met 'em two months ago, was real sympathetic to our situation. When asked if I'd like to do something about it...what else was I going to say?"
"Damn! What were you thinking, man? This guy's got everyone whipped up and ready for a battle they can't win."
"Listen Ken, we've been friends for a long time. I would ask you to put yourself in my shoes, and ask if you'd have done the same thing. The reason I don't is because I know you would have."
He was right. Kennith wasn't going to bother hiding it from himself, he would have done the same thing in that situation. The fact that he was just learning this now was what annoyed him most, though he would have never admitted it. Defeated, Kennith simply stared at his friend for a short period before hesitantly nodding in agreement. Mark put a hand on his gently shoulder.
"Listen, I can tell you're nervous, but this'll work out the best for everyone. I know it." Mark's words emanated with confidence. Kennith wanted to believe that, he wanted to believe that this would make things better, but all he seemed to be able to see was his lifeless body lying amongst his equally lifeless friends while he left his family and stained their name forever. It didn't matter, though. Even if he wanted to, and he wasn't sure if he did or not, he couldn't back out now, not anymore.
"Alright." He nearly whispered the word.
"Alright, now try to get some sleep, and rest easy. We'll all need to keep a level head on us in the coming months."
Tasangot District, Central Licana - 9 months ago to Present Day
Time passed on from that day as if it were life as usual. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. They had decided four houses to store weapons in, fairly distant from each other, and the families that owned them had no real connection to each other. The rifles were mostly black market Questerian FGRs, a sturdy, accurate battle rifle. Perfect for the planned attack.
The stranger was now going by the name Daniel, though it was widely assumed that this wasn't his real name, only something to go by that wasn't "mister". He called upon Kennith a couple more times for various meetings, though there was likely other meetings that he was not invited to. None were anywhere near as large as their first, mostly only containing a group of around five people.
In the time since their first meeting, Daniel had informed everyone that what they were building was some form of airbase. He had also managed to procure a handful of mortars that a local militia armourer happened to "misplace." Most of them were light 82mm devices, but a handful were heavier 120mm mortars. The plan was modified to account for these factors. The mortars would be set up approximately one kilometer behind the hill, the 82mm would concentrate their fire on the crowd and buildings with HE-Frag rounds, while the few 120mm mortars would make use of capped, time-delayed explosive rounds to crater the runway and punch through hangers. He still hadn't revealed what he needed those trucks for and they had remained in an undisclosed location for the duration of the nine months before the attack, much to the dismay of the owners of those vehicles. He had also informed that, in addition to the initial group, there was another sizable group of farmers willing to help with the cause, as well as a platoon of LLF freedom fighters. Their numbers were now enough that they easily enough to overwhelm any security force they had planned for, and probably one much larger than that.
There were a couple of instances of vandalization and light attacks against the base, mostly by drunk locals, and never by anyone in the meetings with Daniel. Most of these attacks were repelled with minor to no damage occurring to the base facilities, and the attackers arrested. Though there was one case in which a rifle-wielding attacker was shot dead in front of the base. After that, the occurrences of these incidents waned until they stopped entirely.
There was word that the Congressional Representative from the local district would be in attendance. This only served to stir up the group. They wanted his blood to spill for allowing such a travesty against their civil rights to go unchallenged. They would soon get the chance to try to do so.
Daniel had called a sudden meeting shortly after this news spread. The foreigners that this airbase would belong to were requesting that the pace of construction be increased so that the base would be operational by the end of the month. Their plan had to be moved forward to account for this change of schedule. The date of the attack was now so close, and it showed on everyone involved. They were anxious for it to begin, and now they were getting what they wanted, whether it was for the best or not.
The date of their reckoning fast approached. Their plan was ready, everything had fallen into place beautifully. In the weeks before the opening ceremonies, security patrols were stepped up, likely out of fear that another band of drunk farmers would try to cause trouble at the event. That would be the least of their problems, as they would soon find out.
With everything in place, the revolutionaries waited. Months turned into weeks, and the weeks into days as their time of sweet revenge rapidly approached.
