Revolution on the Island of Parakos (IC)(Atlas RP)

[Parakos]

Parakos Revolution!

After a long 3 years abroad, being educated in military practice and being drowned by ideology, the young Kero Vicucci returns to his home country to find it ripe with the cry for revolution. People protest in the capital square against the racial profiling of family living placements. Thousands upon thousands of beggars and children run among the city streets as families are moved into cramped apartment homes and cottages to work in the new factories. Slums make up almost as much space as the original buildings of the cultured capital city of Richgate's living districts. All of this is promised to be undone by the current president Omar Rodriguez and his administration, but time doesn't wait for a fresh and eager man like Vicucci. The time for revolution is now.

Kero Vicucci, general of the Republic of Parakos's Army de Nationale, establishes the first ever Revolutionary Political Party. He propagates the crying masses with images of a corrupt government, and promises freedom to work and live where and how one chooses. A right that Parakosi have sought for generations. Secret militias sprout all along the countryside and train in the dense jungles for the inevitable revolution. Kero, realizing a mob of untrained farmers and vagabonds won't be enough to rise to power, enacts a political enforcement policy among the ranks of the state military. It starts with the lower ranks, and soon enough his political presence among officers and keen charismatic desception tactics attracts the attention of those who would support him. As well as oppose him.

In time, the attention of his efforts reaches his second cousin, second-lieutenant Juan Vicucci. Loyal to the state he informs the president of the upcoming troubles ahead. The government allows this to go on in "secret" for some time before publicly announcing Kero as a criminal, charged with crimes of plotting against the state, and stripping him of his rank.

Imprisoned, Kero's most loyal party members launch their first act as future leaders of the nation. The party publicly declares war against the state and any not loyal to the revolutionary party.

The state officially un-recognizes the threats by the RPP, and deems the disturbance quelled. Even as people crowd onto the streets and demand Kero's release, they simply step up the police presence around the slums of the city. Not until a full blown riot causing the injury of many policeman and woman, and the death of a few dozen civilians does the president heed the warning of Juan Vicucci. And stations soldiers around the city to keep the civilians living in the slums from entering on city property. This obvious segregation of class erupts a violent response from the RPP. Organized terrorist attacks on government buildings and public railways ensue. Causing the state of the small island nation to enact marshal law.

The inner city, now under lockdown, is estimated to hold some ten-thousand militant revolutionary militia. And the ongoing riots and civil unrest is a testament to how out of control the people have really become. Revolutionary militia along the countryside form regiments and small armies, that raid and burn villages not loyal to their cause.

The state openly declares war on the rebels, inadvertently bringing recognition to their movement region-wide. The rebels believe they can win support of the army if they can free Kero Vicucci from Richgate Federal Prison

Combat statistics

The Parakos military has approximately forty-nine thousand active personnel, including a small but capable airforce, 3 missile-class battleships, and dozen support destroyers and a single submarine.

The Revolutionary army has ten thousand armed and hungry soldiers trapped in the capital city of Richgate. Scattered in every part a slightly more concentrated number in the eastern most part of the city. And ten thousand actively raiding revolutionary militia on the country side and jungles. Early sacking of military museums and raiding ammo depots has given them a enough artillery to make up a single division of anti-air artillery and outdated howitzers.

Richgate, the capital, is under military lockdown and receives daily ballistic missile targets as well as an almost constant supply of artillery fire in an attempt to kill the rebels. Sniper teams patrol the partially completed apartment skyscrapers, which are nothing more than steel girders and scaffoldings, and target anyone trying to leave or enter the city.

Rebels enter daily firefights with the military and use guerrilla tactics and booby traps to stay effective. Civilians are regularly killed or injured by missiles, or being unlucky enough to be captured as a revolutionary sympathizer, or a loyalist sympathizer. Mass executions are a common sight for media on both sides.

[Parakos]

(Taken)

[Stasnov]

Tag (will replace with post)

[Astronea]

Parakosi territorial waters, Parakos

"3-1, 2-1, on approach, 1 click."

"Continue path."

"Roger, slow ascension."

"Copy, clear scope, proceed."

"2-1 copies, arriving on-deck, feet wet."

In a calm bay around the Parakosi coast, the imposing silhouette of a naval blockade far behind, a small submersible gradually began to break to the surface of the water, tiny and insignificant. Painted a matte black, the small cylindrcal vehicle cut its way through the water and meandered along to the coastline, its small electric diesel engine cutting out as it came to a full stop just before the beach. From the body of the craft, several hatches opened up, and men dressed in combat gear slowly slid out from the cramped compartments they were stowed in and began to wade towards land, towing the craft with them. After reaching dry land, the men, four in total, dragged the craft into a bush of mangroves. There, they buried the craft with handshovels in the undergrowth and covered the spot in vegetation. This all took place without a word, as if the men had carefully rehearsed every action. And they had.
The team leader knelt beside the buried SDV and keyed into the radio once more.

"3-1, 2-1, feet dry, proceeding to RV Red."

"2-1, 3-1, copy, assume blackout protocol, be ready to receive next transmission at 0800. Out."

The man, clad in DPM fatigues and wearing an olive green Protec helmet, reached up to the headgear and slowly lowered his night optical device over his eyes. His vision was now illuminated by the goggles in a fuzzy green fish-lens. To his left was Halghn, his second-in command, affixing a suppressor to his TPS TSK battle rifle. On his right were the two other members of his team, Artval and Theowulf. They were set to meet with a local resistance cell in the next few hours, further inland from the beach, in Ichizmo forest. Juld wasn't much a fan of revolutionaries, too much idealistic ferver, but they were an enemy of a soon-to-be enemy of the empire, and for the time being, or at least until the guerrillas ceased to be of use to the Asymmetric Warfare Detachment operators, they were considered friends.
Juld signalled Halghn, who motioned to Artval and Theowulf, and so began the trek into the long night, carrying backpacks full of supplies. The operators were acting as glorified peace-envoys on behalf of the Astronean president, bringing with them the message of support for the revolutionary struggle in the form of ammunition and plastic explosives. How well their offering would be received had yet to be seen.

---

Presidential palace, Feldrum, Astronea

The secretary panted slightly as he paced through the opulent halls of the palace, flanked on either side by heavily armed presidential security. He tried not to make eye contact with the soldiers as he was practically frog marched down the brightly lit corridor towards the office of the President, the sound of footsteps against the marble floor sending a crescendo through the hallway. The large polished oak doors ahead slowly opened to receive him inch by inch as he drew closer and closer, until he found himself standing before the most powerful man in Astronea.

"Yes?"

The older man sat at his desk arched an eyebrow as he peered at the young attache, looking up at him from series of documents strewn across his desk.

"Your esteemed excellency, I am here to bring you word regarding the developments in Parakos." He stammered as he spoke.

"I gathered. What developments?"

"Well, Your excellency, Sir, Spekter has made contact and is in-country, and the task force from the 4th Command Fleet has set sail, the Directorate expects the Iontach to be within range of the islands in four days."

"Good. Then the speech will be ready for delivery?"

"Yes, Sir, it is going according to the timeline."

The President nodded slowly, scratching his salt and pepper beared. His cold blue eyes stared off to the left of the room for a moment before snapping back to his attache.

"Call the Speaker. Bring forward the National Assembly. I will address Parliament regarding Parakos. It is time to make our support of the revolutionaries public."

The young man nodded and immediately stepped out of the office as the President waved him away. The developing unrest in the isle of Parakos had been watched by the hawkish leader for some time. With the recent blows to Astronean global influence, His excellency had been eager to seize any opportunity to maintain a foothold on the world stage. There were imperialist machinations at play far beyond the attache's comprehension. For example, he did not know that an advance pair of submarines had dispatched to Parakos some weeks ago and had been surveying the situation. Nor was he aware of the intelligence operatives on the ground who had been closely monitoring the political situation in the weeks leading up to the outbreak of war. And he most certainly was not aware of the details of the offer of support the President was planning to extend to the revolutionaries, but one did not need to look far to see that military intervention was inevitable. The President had made several public statements regarding the possibility of a peacekeeping contingent in Parakos, expeditionary and naval forces had rapidly mobilized to a high state of readiness.

The people of Parakos were hungry for change. And with the possibility of a warm water port, bountiful natural resources and a greatful military junta, President Urswin intended to cultivate the conditions to provide.

"The continued unwillingness of the Parakosi government to listen to the lamenting of its people, and its flat out refusal to negotiate, is telling of one thing, and one thing only: the ruling class of Parakos, are unable to reason. They lack it, as a basic quality, besides empathy. They hear the cries of their populace, see the suffering they are causing, but they are indifferent. So long as they refuse to stand down, the suffering will continue. But mark my words, my fellow statesmen, fellow Astroneans, we are not ignorant to the plight of the Parakosi people. As I speak, our Navy is assembling a task force, and if in three days, once our force is in position, the Parakosi government refuses to withdraw its artillery and naval blockade from Richgate, we will offer an ultimatum to those who stand in the way of liberty. And our judgement will be final."

[Parakos]

Coffee House Royale, Richgate,Parakos

The pungent smell of Parakosi java filled both levels of the yellow-brick building. It's open doors pouring the strong fragrance in between the stucco pillars as if the establishment was trying to attract a mate.

"Leave the kettle here." exclaimed the disheveled Juanisimo Rios to a lightly dressed mullato waitress with a tight boot to match her uptight attitude.

"There's no reason for you to have to keep walking that chocolate back and forth like that.

This elicited a slight frown from the waitress, who had told the revolutionary soldato to refrain from such harassment, on numerous occasions. But she did as was asked and left the silvery pot on the center of the palm-wood table, and went back about serving the other revolutinaries and loyalists that frequented the place.

The capital was a strange place, thought Juanisimo, in no other part of the world can two parties technically at war share a cup of coffee at night, exchanging gossip and news, and then go back to their outposts during the day to exchange rifle fire in the ruined side of the elegant tropical metropolis. Making shaky friendships was all that the trapped revolutionary militia could do with the borders closed off by snipers and military patrols.

Suddenly, a brutish cheer filled the hearts of his fellow soldatos. "Viva la revolution!". He could hear his men downstairs making a ruckus with their heavy leather boots and the butts of their AK47's. Something was up and raced downstairs with his bolt-action hunting rifle on his side...

Federale Penitentiary, Cocono district, Richgate, Parakos

Just south of the capital was a large and heavy-set concrete wall with barbed wire surrounding an entire village of shanty town and makeshift shacks along it's heavily defended perimeter. This was the place for hardened criminals and rapists, and apparently the home to Parakos's future leader. Soldiers armed to the teeth constantly surveyed the surrounding forests and villages for any sign of revolutionary soldatos, and in an attempt to discourage them, they regularly beat former general Kero Vicucci and dropped photographs of the eventual fate of their little revolt all around known patrol areas of the underarmed militia groups.

Kero knew his fate would be sealed unless he escape this rugged prison soon. The large castle-like doors were almost always open to allow families and friends of inmates to come and go as they pleased. Most families ended up living in the prison town anyhow to avoid life without a man to raise their plentiful children.

Ichizmo forest, just north of Buenitas volcano, Parakos countryside

The revolutionary militia excersized daily and practiced marksmanship in their freetime. Shooting plastic bottles and trees with their limited ammo. The jungle encampment was the largest and one of many all around the island. And was a direct threat to the illusion of safety that the government had provided it's people.

"Load up pendejos! It's time to show the scum what it means to be free men!" shouted commander Konsanthos as he waved his hand with every soldier who piled in the beat-up pick-up truck.

Jose Konsanthos was a ruffian who liked to vent his anger at worst, and a killer at best. His jungle green outfit and oily bandana that covered his face gave him a sense of invincibility and direct power over his soldiers. Something he would need if they ever encountered any military in one of their raids.

Two by two the trucks lept up from their slumber and roared forward into the thicket of palm trees until they met a winding road near a river. The trip only took some thirty-minutes until a dimly-lit village came into their sites. If the roads were paved and the terrain no so wild it would have only taken ten. But that's why the military prefers it's lightly armored jeeps and tiny tanks. And Konsanthos would take advantage of that, in time.

"Alright here's the deal soldatos.", he said with a toothy-grin and head tilted out the open back window to his men piled in the back of the vehicle, "Montelos village supplied the horses we needed for the attack on that military depot a few months back. But my intel told me that they have been attempting to warn the government of our movements and the estimated location of our camp."

Just as he said the word 'government' the green-clad soldatos gripped their rifles and gritted their teeth. The nearly obese man stationed on the mounted RPK began to bang the machine gun on the roof of the paint peeling cab, but was hushed just as soon as Konsanthos began to address the men again.

"We are going to roll right through the village and slaughter everyone of them, no perimeters will be made and no time will be wasted."

Konsanthos knew his intel was right about the village folks treachery, as he made up the information himself. And he was always right. The lack of food in the camp and fading alcohol supply pushed him to turn on the revolution-sympathizing village. They would understand their sacrifice if they only knew how barely kept the militia was. He told himself this as the trucks abruptly halted and the mud and dirt was filled with the rubber thuds of boots.

[Tenburg]

Richgate

Sean McLaughlin took a deep drag on his cigarette as the building rumbled once more, dust that had a moment ago finally settled now once again being stirred up and irritating his eyes like pollen. "Fuck." He peeked out the long-shattered window to see the billowing smoke, marking where the newest shell had landed, in the distance between two buildings. The sky was already almost black with smoke and dust, and this didn't help it much. He got his head back down as he heard another shell screaming in, fly overhead and smash something else behind him.

It had been a long time since he had been in a situation like this. His time in the Tennish Guard was seemingly a lifetime ago. And while it wasn't uncommon for former members of Tennish special forces to seek work as private contractors, work had been a tad dry up to this point, save for the usual help on various border skirmishes. A revolution? That was another thing entirely. Good chance for money, and maybe a few more perks if you ended up helping out the winning side.

BOOM

Another explosion rocked the gutted building, this one sending an old lamp flying off a nearby desk, and smacking his comrade, Pat Connelly, square on the head.

"Shit," Connelly grumbled, offering a one-finger salute to a chuckling McLaughlin as he dusted himself off. "More likely to kill us before we actually shoot somebody."

"Still better than jerkin' 'round with militias in Bakwanga."

"Aye. We'll be a lot more likely to make ourselves useful if we can make it out of this bastardin' place."

A missile came screaming in, its signature hiss giving it away, to land somewhere close by.

"Or at least find some of these boys to link up with."

Connelly nodded as he looked out the window nearest him. A new fire raged a block and a half away, where the missile landed. The black smoke rolled down the street and through the buildings, blackening an already-dark scene.

[Grozav Inima]

Commie die!!!! XD
post later maybe

[Valdiu]

Presidential Office
21 Prevale High, Valdiu

President Sterling was sitting behind his massive oak desk, in the middle of his daily hourly session of twiddling his thumbs as filler action while waiting for someone to burst through his door with a sudden and game-changing piece of information when someone burst through his door with a sudden and game-changing piece of information.

"Sir! The Parakosi are revolting!" said the young and frazzled aide.
"Ain't that the truth!" laughed Sterling heartily.
"You know it, sir!" laughed the aide, who left the room.