[OOC NOTICE:
CLOSED RP - THUS DO NOT POST BEFORE YOU HAVE BEEN CLEARED TO DO SO BY OP.
See OOC Thread for more info.]
CLOSED RP - THUS DO NOT POST BEFORE YOU HAVE BEEN CLEARED TO DO SO BY OP.
See OOC Thread for more info.]
The Royal Temple;
City of Arendnes;
Sector AA;
West Ysterfontein Island.
"Your Holiness…" Jakobus, the Queen's first advisor started speaking, ensuring that his gaze remained firmly fixed at the Queen's feet, as her face was too holy to look upon. His voice was trembling; his knees were trembling; his very heart was trembling. He had feared this day. The day on which he must speak bluntly and honestly with his Queen. The day that the beloved island tropical paradise he knew as home, was about to be flooded in blood. The prophesied end-times had finally arrived.
"I fear for the future…"
Jakobus was answered only with silence.
"I fear that your All Mighty, All Holy Crown, can no longer maintain unity within the nation alone…"
Again, silence.
"Not only has the Equinian vermin taken complete control over the entire city of Pilgrimsrust, and its surroundings, our own subjects have forgotten their faith in Your Absoluteness, and have amassed their own armies, threatening war and violence…"
Silence.
"My Queen; My Hope; My Dreams… The Crown needs help. Foreign Help."
Silence.
"I am aware that the Port Emberians have started establishing themselves here in order to help, but could the Queen not ask for more? Ask to crush our foes, in your name?"
Silence.
"... And I know the Queen does not want to hear this… But the Queen needs a husband... A Heir.. We appear so weak.. So unst.."
"SILENCE!", The Queen erupted, her rare voice being both a blessing and a terrible threat to demonstrating Her terrible wrath. "You have corrupted me for far too long Jakobus! You are the reason for my Crown's downfall! You…"
Jakobus fell down onto the floor, wrought with every emotion possible, his Queen's wrath tearing his very being apart. He realised that she now had become completely delusional, completely.. insane? Furthermore, he knew that the Queen would have him beheaded by the end of this conversation. At least death would spare him from his Queen's further wrath, and from further witnessing the utter destruction of his nation, his people.
However, the Queen was not afforded the opportunity to finalise her sentence of wrath and anger, as a violent blast erupted, tearing every occupant within the Holy Throne Room apart into a mere splatter of organic material.
Minutes later, after the thick, nearly poisonous cloud of disintegrated concrete settled somewhat, a few stragglers of the remaining Royal Guard climbed over the rubble, dodging the raging fires as they did so, attempting to hold their breath as the combined smoke and concrete dust had the potential to tear lungs apart. Once inside, the few Guards observed a orgy of blood splatter and pools, torn off limbs and the stench of death. It was immediately clear to them that their Immortal Queen was Immortal no more.
Minutes later, one of the Royal Guards stood upon the top porch of the Royal Temple steps, his face, clothes and body badly burned from the blast and the consequent raging fire. He fell to his knees, and despite his very soul being crushed, he shouted as loud as he possibly could, the words which no one ever thought would be mouthed,
"The Queen is Dead! The Queen is Dead!"
3 Days After the Queen's Death.
HeadQuarters of the Ysterfontein Socialist Movement;
City of Eensaamfontein;
Sector CA;
East Ysterfontein Island.
Pieter Draad, the elected leader of the Ysterfontein Socialist Movement, sat within a building just opposite the Movement's designated HeadQuarters, slowly nursing a warm beer. This building was a large, single room building constructed from tin plates, and it was extremely hot and humid inside, despite the fact that the sun was slowly setting upon the horizon. The room's only lightsource came from a few old light bulbs which were duct taped against the walls, complemented with a few strings of decorative christmas lights, as there were no windows.
Despite the poverty stricken atmosphere, the room's mood was jolly, as a small battery operated radio blared a random collection of foreign 90's rock from an old worn cassette. The people inside the darkened room were sitting at old round wooden tables, in various states of damage and rot, seated upon wooden bar stools, which were in a sorry state themselves. These groups were all drinking beer, whilst playing poker, or chatting about everything and nothing, whilst a separate group were throwing knives into the sink wall, against a bullseye roughly painted against the rusted wall segment. The various small streams of sunlight flooding through this area was testament that this was a regular activity.
This was the best local pub that the city of Eensaamfontein had to offer.
But today, the pub was not open to the public, and filled instead with the leader group of the Ysterfontein Socialist Movement. The Leadership were gathered here today, awaiting the arrival of their foreigner friends of the ISVC, to whom they had pleaded for help in their noble fight to bring forth peace, stability, and equality to their nation.
Pieter's comrades were very cautious about asking foreigners for assistance, as the nation of Ysterfontein has always been abused by foreigner scum, time and time again. But Pieter knew that they could not possibly succeed in their aims alone, especially in the face of their brothers who have formed their own movement known as the Ysterfontein Nationalist Front - who everyone knew were just brainwashed puppets of the Queen - as dead as she might be, the Equinian miner scum, and now the evil Port Emberians, who were sin incarnate. Pieter knew that they needed help, and fast.
Luckily for Pieter, he was born with the talent of convincing others to see things his way, and thus, here he was, waiting for his saviours.
Sholana had definitely toned down her look to blend in with the locals, at first passive glance, from her usual attire. She had worn the most basic, nondescript clothing on the plane ride over, using a Kenegan passport and name. When checking in at the hostel, she had changed into even more worn, working class attire from her small carry on duffel that held everything she would need that could pass through a screen. She had retained work boots, slid on some cargo shorts and ditched the mini skirt; thrown on a faded tank top that could be tan, cream, or beige, depending on how the light hit it, and a khaki, button down shirt over that which was stained and worn.
Much as she hated to, she had cut down her magnificent afro into a very short, manageable style for this mission. No jewelry, and little makeup. There were times when she wanted to make an impression, but this was not one of them. Quite the opposite. It worked very much in her favor that the local Ysterfonteinians had a cocoa tint to their skin, much like Cardwithians, and Wishtonians in general.
She walked into the pub, ignoring some stares, and marveled at the poor design for such tropical heat. A Cardwithian joint of similar nature would be much more open, ventilated and of more breathable materials. It spoke to the fact that these people might make things much harder for themselves then they needed to. On the other hand, this might just be all the building material they could afford and spare. That definitely spoke to another message.
She motioned to the barkeep, and when she had his attention, simply said,
“Beer.”
Code for I’ll take whatever the local swill is that you pass off as a brewed, malted ale or lager and is popular here.
The barkeep focused hard to identify all the facial features of the lass standing in front of his counter, and frowned deeply when he realised that she was definitely a new addition to the patrons. The man glanced over to the establishment's front - and only - door, and realised that the Door Keeper was missing again. His gaze returned to the lass at the bar, and replied in a soft manner, "Lass, tonight we are not open to the public…"
Sholana smiled at the barkeep, realizing his trepidation at the lax security. She gave a quick shifting glance around. Then spoke softly.
"It's fine. Relax. I'm here to see Pieter. He's expecting me. Jasmine is my name. Now beer me, please." She pointed down at the pitted, heavily scratched bar top to where the beer bottle should be. In front of her.
The barman paused for a few moments, clearly hesitant at first, but gave in after getting the feeling down his spine that everything was okay. He grabbed a beer bottle from below the counter and placed it atop the counter, in front of the lass. The bottle was of the brown tinted type, and contained no label. It was hard to see due to the brown tint, but the contents were a soft, clear yellow. Pineapple beer - the staple choice of any quality homebrewer from around these parts. Once the bottle was placed down, the barman quickly went to work at opening the metal cap, using a long hunters knife for the task. The cap made a refreshing pop sound once it was separated from the bottle. The barman responded finally,
"That's $5 - NSD. Pieter is seated there..", he pointed to a man seated alone at the one poker table, situated within one of the corners.
Jasmine aka Sholana, dug into a cargo pocket, and pulled out a small wad of mixed local currency and NSD. Knowing how much things were going to hell here, she had been sure to stock up mostly on the latter. The local currency would only be good to pay out official capacity functions, and that didn't include police and political bribes.
She slapped what might have been 7 or 8 NSD on the bar, grabbed up the bottle and sidled gracefully over to the table indicated. She took a sip of the beer on the journey over, and immediately worked on keeping her face from wincing. She had not expected the sweet, acidic taste of pineapple.
She managed to keep it steely as she sat down once more. She looked her contact in the face.
"I'm here about a boat."
Pieter placed his own beer down upon the table, startled by the sudden arrival and voice of another person at his table. When he focused his gaze upon her, and processed the words emanating from her mouth, he smiled broadly.
"I can show you the way to the nearest boat, yet I can tell you that a boat is only fun to own if you can share it with your friends."
He paused a few moments, making sure that the girl could process his words, as this was their prearranged code phrases, which was to ensure that the pair knew that they were indeed who they said they were. He continued,
Mrs Jasmine, it is an absolute pleasure to be graced by your presence."
Sholana made another attempt at the beer as Pieter was talking. If she was going to be here for a bit, she needed to get used to their beverages of choice. As she was prepared for the taste now, it really wasn't so bad on the second sip.
"Thank you so much for that. Actually, it's Miss Jasmine. No ring for me. It's been an interesting trip so far."
"Ah yes, of course, my apologies Miss Jasmine. I have no doubt of that, as I am well aware that our seemingly paradisiacal country is in fact, where the devil roams."
Pieter's smile widened before he continued, "Welcome to the Jungle Jasmine."
Sholana's eyebrows converged together just a bit.
"I've walked many similar paths through many similar jungles, Mr. Draad. That's why I'm here, after all. Maybe you should get into what you're expecting from my people?"
"Of course… Allow me to be quite blunt with you, and tell you that we have not the means to wage our revolution. Our nation rots around us, and we need to rip it from the clutches of those vile traitors who have doomed us. Unfortunately, we are simple men and women. We are miners, hunters, fishermen, herbalists, prostitutes… We are not trained warriors. We need to learn the way of the rifle. We need to be armed. I know we bring almost nothing to the table, nothing but the most stubborn resolve imaginable. I have a feeling that even you will consider us a lost cause… But I had to ask. The very ideal of a free, equal society depends on it."
Sholana sighed. She took a big swig of the pineapple beer.
"Mearrgghh! That really is an acquired taste. Karl's beard!" She slammed the bottle down and it started to fizz over.
"Okay... Listen, Pieter...
It's obvious that you aren't immediately prepared for this struggle. It could literally drag on for years and be very costly. You all need to be ready for that. But there's no way to really emotionally prepare. Somehow, your people need to tap into that stubborn resolve you mentioned... And be smart, because careless mistakes will destroy you, no matter how stubborn your resolve.
What's not smart? This bush league security...I had all your lookouts pegged the moment I walked into town. Your buddy tending bar seemed pretty shocked to see me." She pointed to the bar keeper, then focused back on him.
"You are a prime target, Pieter. So are your lieutenants. Everything changed once Her Highness got offed. I don't know if your people did it... Don't care. Congrats on shedding another useless, predatory monarch, in any case.
Point is that you are at a new level, and still acting like this is a child's birthday party. You have to be more on guard.
It's a fight for your lives. Someone took that fight to the imperialists, now someone needs to keep up that fight, and bring it to the fascists, too. Not sit around and wait for them to come back at you! And they will...Believe me, they will, and it won't be pretty. Heads will roll. Just make sure it's their heads that do the rolling. You need to be ready for all that, then... Yes, we can help."
To punctuate that she was done speaking for the moment, she again forced herself to drink, glutton for punishment that she was. The bottle was slippery from being coated by its contents and she almost dropped it, losing the tough effect of her mini lecture.
Pieter nodded slowly as he too took a deep sip from his warm beer, pausing before his response, as he slowly processed what his new friend was telling him. What she had said made total sense, and she highlighted points which were obvious in retrospect, yet it did not occur naturally to him before. He was no soldier after all, and this was made painfully clear. Perhaps he was in over his head, perhaps he was doomed to failure and misery. Yet, despite this all, he knew he could not back down now. His nation needed him. His people needed him.
He finally regained his composure as he replied,
"Thank you for your tough wisdom. I will take it to heart, I will. And I am forever indebted to you for your acceptance of my plea. May I ask, how exactly will you provide help?"
Sholana shrugged.
"You can ask, but let’s get some things straight if we're going to make this work at all. I will need some things from you, Pieter. First...
I need a guy, who you trust, that can get me things fast. If he can't get me something, he knows another guy that can. Again, someone you know and trust. This is super important.
Second, we need to know the location of every arsenal on the three islands. Whether they're still in governmental control, or taken by one of the militias, we need to know where they are and who might have control over them.
Lastly, and this is also very important...We will have a neutral flagged cargo boat here soon, like in a couple days. It will have an airtight manifest. The rest of my people are on it, along with supplies we will need, and you will need. We need a dock that your people control. We will need trucks, drivers, and lots of strong hands at the ready for when it arrives. A lot of trucks. There at the ready, and ready to take off fast loaded with our people and supplies. We need warehouses, depots, caves...someplace safe for my teams and their gear. Can you do this for me, Pieter?"
Pieter's smile returned as he nodded enthusiastically, seeing an opportunity to redeem himself, to prove to himself to any possible observer, that he was the right man to lead his nation into a bright future.
"Firstly, I have just the guy for you. I will introduce you soon.
Secondly, we have the locations mapped for the arsenal's on Central Island and East Island. I don't have the answer for West Island yet, but I will put some people to task immediately.
Lastly, I can help you with all your listed requirements there. The Movement has ample safe locations on both Central Island, and especially here on East Island. Since we control the entire East Island, the docks here in the city would be ideal for landing I presume. As for hands, we have tons. As for trucks - also not a problem. We captured an abandoned coal mine just outside the city, who left behind many, many trucks."
Pieter took yet another sip from his beer, nearly finishing it. "Comrade, I feel that I must warn you however… Whilst the Equinians are the main thorne in our sides, and the Nationalists the most prone to violence, there is one threat it seems some wish to ignore… The Port Emberians. They are announcing publicly that they are here only to help end the violence and misery - yet I know them. And I know of their utmost hate for the noble tenants of communism and socialism. They have killed thousands in their quest to stamp out these ideals, all across the world. And they have a very powerful navy, with control over Ysterfonteinian waters. I admit to you - I fear what they might do to us, and to your people if their navy catches them."
Jasmine smiled.
“Yeah, we know all about the Port Emberians. They’ve been making a lot of noise. You have to realize, Pieter, we have eyes and ears all over the world. Many nations and parties are a part of the Congress. Many more contribute all kinds of skilled personnel to our forces. It’s why we don’t lose…” But they also had to pick their battles carefully..
“As for them stopping our boat, sure...anything’s possible. That’s why I mentioned the airtight manifest. They would need to make an international incident out of stopping our vessel and digging through our cargo other than a cursory search. It’s our assessment that the Port Emberians are not ready to do that and provoke an outcry. But again...they are the progeny of pirates. They ultimately want to plunder as pirates do, so...we can’t rule it out. We put political pressure on them to release the boat and crew, and in the meantime, we have another on the way, or aircraft...We won’t give up that easily. It will set us back, but no revolution is ever so smooth.
Also, that’s why we need to move fast when the boat…if the boat is able to dock. Satellites and drones are a big concern. We want as few eyes on our unloading operation as possible, and the more time spent dallying around the docks, the greater the chance of discovery by air, or sea, or land, for that matter if they have spies on your island. We’ll stick with East Island for now, as you have a tight lock here. We can spread our operation later, once we have more of your people trained up and more of ours in the area.”
She finished her beer too, almost immune to the pungent pineapple now.
“This is what we do, Pieter. We take that seed of revolution, and we grow it. Steadily - with care...dirt and water...cadre and arms. Your plant grows and takes all the sun with the highest branches, and dominates with the strongest roots that suck up the water; the others wither and die, choked off and malnourished. It’s time to pour the water on there…”
Pieter nodded, impressed with the radiated strength and confidence of the woman seated at his table, and thus slightly impressed with himself for choosing to reach out to this organisation for help.
"Of course Jasmine, I meant no disrespect or doubt of your organisation's abilities, I share only the potential threats which I observe. Then, I will ensure that everything you have requested will be in place when the time comes."
“No, no...You were right to tell me. That’s some very good threat assessment on your part.” She tapped her finger to her temple. “I would be mad if you withheld such things from me, more than telling me what we already know. We have to trust each other, Pieter, in order to make this work. We’re the outsiders. You’re the insider with a lot of the info that we need in order to help you succeed. Ultimately, we need to put you in your proper place from which to lead your people....all the Ysterfonteinians. ”
A soft glint formed within Pieter's eyes as the images of a united, equal Ysterfontein flashed through his mind. "Well then Comrade Jasmine - that is something which I can drink to."
Pieter gestured towards the barkeep that it was time to break open the casks.
[RP Credit: This segment was Co-RP'd with The Cardwith Islands.]
3 Days After the Queen's Death.
HeadQuarters of the Ysterfontein Nationalist Front;
City of Crow's Peak;
Sector AF;
West Ysterfontein Island.
Jaco Retief, the leader of the Ysterfontein Nationalist Front, was seated on a color faded, half broken chair, with a piece of sharp plastic shard gently stabbing into his leg. Jaco however, was way too distracted to feel the pain, or even notice the feeling of a small trickle of blood flowing down his leg on the inside of his camouflage cargo pants.
He was seated underneath a large tree, which generated a shadow that granted some welcome reprieve against the relentless tropical sun, although it did not provide any sanctuary against the unforgiving humidity. Jaco was surrounded by a group of twelve men, all dressed the same as their leader, but seated with their buttocks on the bright green grass patch, as there were simply not enough chairs to go by for all.
The building to the group's left, which acted as the Front's HeadQuarters, was bustling with activity, with men and women entering and leaving constantly, all hurried, and all carrying expressions of stress and worry upon their tired faces. This myriad of moving humans were all silent however, as they knew that their leader and his leader group were conducting a Krygsraad - A war conference - only 20 meters away, and that was not to be disturbed by distracting noises.
"So, Gentleman… The Queen is dead." These words physically hurt Jaco as he said it, still reeling from this torturing truth. The response coming from the men seated around him was predictable - some shed tears, some cursed under their breaths, some remained silent and just shook their heads in disbelief. They all knew of this fact beforehand, yet the pain was still very real and very physical.
"Do we disband now, Jaco? Do we go home now?", one of the seated men asked, effectively breaking the morbid, semi-silence. The man looked straight towards Jaco's eyes, yet all the man saw was a reflection of himself in Jaco's sunglasses.
"Excuse me?", came the response, spoken in an icy monotone.
"Well…" The man's tone sounded a lot more reserved, obviously fearing the potential wrath of Jaco, as he took the hint of the icy tone, "The Queen - May the Spirits Guide Her Evermore - is no longer here to guide us in her physical form. Yes, I know we formed this Front to combat the poor influence of her corrupt lackeys, but we all agreed that we do so in Her Holy Name. We wish to reform these great people, under a proud, united and strong Front, free from corruption, and free from those vile foreign scum. But we were to do it in the name of the Holy Queen. For the Holy Queen. How can we continue now without Her rallying cry?"
The remainder of the group nodded and agreed in silence, as they turned to Jaco for his reply.
Jaso sighed softly as he continued to light up a cigarette, keeping the tension in the air high, and maintaining all stares from the group upon him, making it clear that he was in control, and that everyone could wait for him. Period.
After an uncomfortable silence, Jaco finally responded, "Is our nation still overrun by foreign vermin?"
No one responded verbally, but all nodded in agreement.
"Is our nation still divided, with brother and sisters killing one another?"
Another wave of nods followed.
"Are our people still dying from hunger, poverty, disease and crime?"
This round of nods were augmented with soft murmurs of agreement.
"Are our people still living and dying at the behest of foreigners, who have deemed us as lesser beings?"
The reserved nods and murmurs have given way to loud, angry shouts.
Jason held out his palms towards his gathering, which instantly calmed them down, and allowed silence to befall the group once more,
"We are all religious men here. We all know what Mana is, do we not? We all know that every living thing possesses Mana, and we all know that even upon death Mana remains. We all know the importance of remembering and honouring the Mana of our ancestors, and they will provide guidance in return. So, you ask a rotten question, brother!" Jaco looked straight at the man who had posed the question, "Such a question could easily be considered to be Vullis (sinful, unholy, forbidden)! The Holy Mother might be gone in Her physical form yes, but Her Mana remains! And since that fact is still true, and since our jungles are still covered by foreign filth, we cannot, will not and shall not 'go home'. Our sacred task of ridding the unbalance is not yet complete brothers. We cannot 'go home', whilst we have no home to go home to!"
The group sprang to their feet, cheering loudly, freshly motivated, freshly enraged.
They all knew that the path ahead would be difficult, but they also knew that it was their sacred duty.
