Rebellion in the Tropics (Retconned)

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Tue Apr 07, 2020 10:47 pm

The year is 1874 A.D.

The tropical island of Darianna in the Alcazar Sea, inhabited by the Floren people since ancient times, was first colonized by the Kingdom of Maldonia in the 1500s. The Maldonians enslaved the Florens and brought over enslaved black people from Buranda to work alongside them in gold mines and logging camps and in the fields of sugar and tobacco plantations. The island produced vast wealth for the Maldonian empire but horrific suffering for the slaves.

The Maldonians were ejected in 1799, during a war between Maldonia and the Confederation of Atlantian Dominions. Atlantian Marines landed and captured the capital city and then the rest of the island with the help of a massive slave revolt. Darianna was ceded to the Atlantian Dominions in 1800 and has remained a part of the Confederation’s small colonial empire since then. It still exports gold, mahogany, sugar, and tobacco, but now the labor is Indentured instead of enslaved; this distinction means little for the brown and black people who are still working long hours in awful conditions to enrich a different set of white masters.

Unrest has been on the rise in recent years. A new generation of leaders took up the rallying cries of their predecessors and began uniting the peoples at the bottom of the economic and racial hierarchies. A charismatic leader named Solomon Cristag emerged as the most prominent leader, and the one who had the most success in directing bandit attacks against the Atlantians. Solomon’s group grew in number and armament as he rallied people to the banner of “Queen” Juniper, a girl descended from the ancient Floren rulers kept as a powerless figurehead under house arrest in the capital. He demanded that when Juniper came of age she be restored to her rightful place as ruler of the island.

When Juniper’s eighteenth birthday passed with no change, Solomon issued the call to war. His disciples rose up in the Valdoro region, where many gold mines are located. The handful of Atlantian soldiers, police, and militia posted outside the major cities proved unable to stop the uprising and soon Solomon Cristag was leading hundreds of rebellious islanders into the city of Tayacoba. At the same time, another massive uprising of the island’s lowest classes in the Costera has surrounded the city of Saundersville.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Tue Apr 07, 2020 10:48 pm

Vernonville

From a casual glance around the capital city, it would be difficult for an observer to guess that the island of Darianna was engulfed in a war. Business seemed to be carrying on as usual; wagons and carts moved cargoes onto clipper ships and steamers bound for mainland Atlantia or foreign ports. The flags of many nations flew from the masts of these vessels. Darianna exported many things: loggers sent out quantities of mahogany as they cleared swathes of tropical forest for plantations that produced sugar (and its byproducts such as molasses and rum) and tobacco, or pastures that allowed cattle herds to graze until they were turned into beef and hides. Gold mined in the foothills of the Cordillera Mountains was exported as well, though almost all of this went back to the Atlantian Dominions to fill the Confederation’s coffers.

In the Governor’s Mansion, Shay Dunn seemed more interested in his bottle than in the island he was supposed to be running. Despite the loss of an entire city to Solomon Cristag and his rebels, Governor Dunn continued to dismiss them as any kind of real threat. Colonel Charles Shafer was unsurprised to see the Governor so dismissive. The man was barely competent and he’d been given the position as a way of getting him and his predilection for extramarital affairs away from Cumberland and the national press. He had issued a decree mobilizing the militia and placing them under Regular Army control, but otherwise he seemed content to let Shafer and the other Army men handle actually putting down the insurrection.

Outside Saundersville

Macombi stood in the circle around the fire, chanting in the Floren language with his brothers as the shaman Eddie Tomlo recited ancient incantations. Tomlo was one of the right-hand men of Solomon Cristag, and the leading figure in the secret revival of the ancient Floren religion that had spread among the Indentured laborers. Macombi had been converted while he was laying on his sickbed, poisoned by many days laboring in darkness mining gold in Valdoro. He had rejected the false God of the Atlantian Dominion Church that he’d been raised in and embraced the beliefs of his ancestors, and his devotion had cured him of his ailment. Now he watched in reverence as Tomlo incited the men to murder the Atlantians holed up in the city before them in the name of Juniper, the rightful Queen of the island.

“The spirits have fortified you brothers,” Tomlo was saying. “They make you invincible! Invulnerable to the Atlantians’ bullets!” He was moving around the bonfire and his face painted in the markings of a shaman. As he traveled around the circle he marked the warriors with paint of their own.

“Solomon, the champion of the queen, he bestows this honor on you,” Tomlo announced. “He names you the Queen’s Panthers. Swift and deadly, you will free this island once and for all!”

Macombi felt a rush of adrenaline as Tomlo marked him with the paint. He was a panther, a swift and deadly hunter. He would hunt down every last white man on Darianna and kill them, with his bare hands if necessary. Their churches and plantations would burn.

Saundersville

Tyler York walked the ramparts of the old walls of Saundersville, gripping his Tilbury musket in sweaty hands. The weapon was an old model, a muzzle-loader from the town armories that he’d been given when he’d joined the scratch militia force that was now helping to defend the city. Tyler had fired guns a few times, but never at another person before this. He wasn’t just sweating from the heat - he was terrified by the fact that he was now partly responsible for keeping the mob of howling savages camped outside the city from breaking in and murdering and raping every white person in Saundersville. He could see the last traces of smoke from where the Florens had doused their bonfires from the night before, when they celebrated their triumphs with haunting, whooping chants and songs.

Saundersville was a smaller port city whose biggest advantage was its proximity to the mountains, and thus to veins of gold that it could mine and then send to whoever owned the island. As the mines near the city began to yield less and less, the city’s value instead became its place on the coast road connecting Vernonville with Newport. Now, it was the last bastion of Atlantian governance in the Costera region. Major Jeremy Grant, the Regular Army officer commanding the town's garrison of two hundred soldiers, had managed to pull in all the supplies he could from the nearby countryside before the rebels had arrived and cut the town off by land. But Saundersville was swollen with refugees, and it couldn't feed everyone forever.

“Sure hope the Army gets here soon,” Tyler said to Howard Marius, another militiaman standing on the walls keeping watch.

“Yeah,” Howard echoed. “Me too.”

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Wed Apr 08, 2020 1:52 pm

Vernonville

In the Vernonville barracks, Colonel Charles Shafer considered his options. He could send three companies, 300 men, from the city’s Regular Army garrison to form the core of the force that would march to retake Tayacoba. That would leave two companies in Vernonville to defend the city. He wanted to commit more of his men, but Governor Dunn insisted that he leave behind enough men to calm the nerves of the city’s wealthy elites. Colonel Shafer would have to use the militia under William Peronee, who had been breveted to the rank of Major in the National Guard by the Governor. These were mostly the sons of middling families and until now their service had been nothing but monthly meetings for drill and the occasional lynching of a Floren accused of some crime.

The rawness of the militia would, Shafer hoped, be balanced out by the artillery he had on hand. Four 12-pounder bronze gun-howitzers, commonly called “Naveens” after a Maldonian prince, and two 10-pounder iron rifled cannons would accompany the men. That should be enough firepower to compensate for the limited number of soldiers he could dispatch. The guns were handled by a combination of Regular Army artillerymen under Lieutenant Robin McConnell and sailors from the William Mason and Ethan Carter, two Navy ships docked in Vernonville’s harbor.

Lieutenant Colonel James West was currently sending messengers to any foreign warships berthed in Vernonville, asking them to contribute marines or sailors to bulk up the expeditions’ numbers. The guns of those warships would also be helpful in supplementing the fire of the two Atlantian vessels, which Shafer intended to have anchor off Tayacoba and bombard the rebel positions when the army approached. All these preparations took time, and Colonel Shafer was fending off constant, insisting messages from Governor Dunn that he get moving immediately. Shafer had served in the west, fighting against the indigenous tribes. He knew that without thorough preparation, a single upset in the field could derail the entire plan.

On the Coast Road

While Colonel Shafer worked to prepare for his march on Tayacoba, his counterpart on the other side of the island was moving. Colonel Phineas Trumbull had served on Darianna for many years, longer than Shafer, and he believed himself to be something of an expert on the Florens and the other inhabitants of the island.

“Once they get a glimpse of some proper Army bayonets, most of them will run home and pretend they never had anything to do with this,” he predicted to Paul Larkin, the mayor of Wrightsville. “And the ones who stay and fight will be a simple matter to put down.”

To accomplish this “simple matter,” he had ordered his second-in-command to march from Newport with whatever Regular Army troops and militia could be immediately gathered. Lieutenant Colonel Cuthbert Meigs had departed with two hundred soldiers from the 17th Regiment of Infantry, almost the entire garrison of the town, and 150 militiamen under Samuel Jones, a leading member of the plantation gentry. The 350 men, along with three 12-pounder Naveens commanded by Lieutenant Philip Aurora, marched along the Coast Road towards the beleaguered city of Saundersville. Lieutenant Colonel Meigs, whose men called him “Cuffy” when he was not in earshot, had been given a command on Darianna, a cushy and quiet posting, thanks to the political clout of his friends in Cumberland. He saw no fault in his colonel’s decision to move quickly, especially when it put him in a position to reap the glory in relieving Saundersville.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Thu Apr 09, 2020 10:03 am

Outside Vernonville

Casa Madrugada was a small villa that occupied a bit of land outside the capital city of Darianna. It looked very similar to the other villas that dotted the landscape, except that this one was not the home of a plantation owner or cattle baron. Instead, this was the “palace” of Queen Juniper, a young woman who could trace her lineage back through generations of captive figureheads to the ancient rulers of Darianna. For centuries the Queen of the Florens had been a captive animal for the Maldonians, and then the Atlantians, to gawk at. She was at least given a gilded cage: Casa Madrugada was luxurious, and she had a small coterie of ladies-in-waiting and maidservants for company. But her world ended at the walls which surrounded the house. She spent her days reading, sewing, and doing other simple crafts with her ladies.

In recent weeks, something clearly had changed. More soldiers had arrived and encamped outside the villa. The guards at the main gate had doubled. Of course no one told her what was going on, but she had ways of finding out. One of her maids, Leah, brought her whispered news from the market and from her church meetings. She told Juniper of the rebellion in Valdoro and Costera, and of Solomon Cristag’s declared intention to restore her to the ancient throne of a free Darianna. The young Queen was torn. She yearned to see her people free from servitude, but a failed rebellion would only cause more death and suffering. All she could do was give Leah a small bracelet of beads to pass it along to Solomon as a sign of her favor, and pray for his success.

On the Coast Road

The sound of musketry on the outskirts of the village of Sabana Grande startled Sebastian Primeau back to his senses. He'd fallen into a sort of daydream while he marched along the road, bored by the uneventful slog down the island's south coast as they marched towards Saundersville. But now officers were conversing in quick and terse exchanges, and it seemed battle was upon them. A rider galloped up to the mounted officer who commanded Sebastian and his comrades.

"Bring your men up quick, the rebels are fortified in the town and Colonel Meigs aims to drive 'em out."

The pace quickened as the militia moved forward towards the sound of gunfire. Different sounds dueled for dominance: the distinctly different crack of old muzzle-loading muskets against the shaper sounds of the Regulars' trapdoor breechloaders, sometimes drowned out by the booming of a cannon. Sebastian felt his heart racing as his company got closer and closer to the front. Suddenly there was a shout from the left and then a blood-curdling scream. The enemy wasn't just in front - they were all around them, running out from between the sugarcane with machetes, pickaxes, and clubs. The militia dissolved into a chaotic melee as Sebastian and the other men tried to fight off their ambushers. The company's captain was pulled from his horse and butchered. Someone yelled "retreat!" and Sebastian Primeau and the other militiamen stampeded back down the road, trying desperately to put some distance between themselves and the savage enemy.

At the front of the column, "Colonel Cuffy" was trying to order his men forward. The rebels in the town itself had fallen back in the face of Lieutenant Aurora's cannons. But then he saw and heard the real ambush spring on his flanks. He shouted for Aurora to turn the cannons and use canister on the charging Florens, but it was too late. The Regulars saw their escape route being cut off and began to run. Meigs was exhorting the soldiers to stand and fight when a sharpshooter's bullet caught him in the throat. A mob of uniformed men raced for safety away from the town, abandoning weapons, supply wagons, and the cannons to the enemy.

by **Voxija** » Fri Apr 10, 2020 8:02 am

Saundersville - Ames Ariztabal

Ames Ariztabal read papers in the guest bedroom of the house he was staying at, trying to ignore the sound of gunshots and forget the fact that he was in a city under siege. Ariztabal knew he shouldn't have offered to discuss his business proposition in Saundersville; he should've chosen the capital of this stinking island. But no matter. What's done is done, and Ariztabal was now in a besieged city.

Ames Ariztabal was the owner and founder of Ariztabal Railworks. Born into a wealthy middle-class family, Ariztabal had become one of the wealthiest men in Voxija. Ariztabal had made it a point to expand his business into foreign countries such as ~~Mexico~~, ~~the Ottoman Empire~~, ~~Brazil~~, Honduragua, Khemed, and even Shakobi, even if it meant all rail travel was controlled by his foreign company instead of companies from those countries. Eh, it was a breach of national sovereignty, but what could you do? It was business.

Ames Ariztabal himself had volunteered to have his company build a railroad, or at least part of a railroad in Darianna. He had traveled to Saundersville to discuss such a possibly with the colonial government. But now he was stuck in a war.

Ariztabal had heard some talk about the war. Apparently, the savages on the island of Darianna had decided to take back the island for themselves. Well, good for them, good for them. But can't they be a little more civilized about it, and not put cities where innocent foreign businessmen were staying under siege? And Ames Ariztabal's business here, in his mind, depended on Atlantian Dominions continuing to have power here. So, if push came to shove, although no civilized country would force foreign civilians to fight, the businessmen supported the Atlantians.

If Ames Ariztabal had stayed in Voxija, he would have supported the rebels, from a safe distance of course. Ariztabal considered himself a man of liberal mind, and even if he was a complete conservative, the revolutionaries reminded Ariztabal, who had a love of old smelly history books, of Voxija's own revolution against ~~Spain~~ Maldonia. Ah, the Voxijans were surely brave and virtuous back then. Not like these painted savages shooting at Ariztabal!

Ariztabal reached into his suitcase and pulled out a piece of parchment. With a sigh, the Voxijan wrote: Last Will and Testament...

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Fri Apr 10, 2020 1:03 pm

Drubenville

The survivors of the late Lieutenant Colonel Cuthbert Meigs’s command stumbled into Drubenville in a state of shock and disbelief. Or rather, groups of men arrived in town throughout the day as the various pieces of the command that had turned and run from the ambush at Sabana Grande finally reached the town, which was the nearest settlement along the coast road in the direction of Newport. The town was slowly emptying of civilians as anyone and everyone who could flee for the safety of the larger towns further east packed up as many belongings as they could and began the journey out of town.

As evening descended on Drubenville, the remaining officers took stock. It soon became clear that Samuel Jones, breveted to the rank of Major of the National Guard at the start of the expedition, was the highest ranking survivor. Lieutenant Colonel Meigs was dead, as were all but one Captain, and the commander of the three-gun artillery battery had perished trying to save his cannons, which instead had all been captured by the rebels. Nobody knew if they’d been spiked beforehand or if they were still usable. In all, one hundred and fifty men were unaccounted for, either dead or deserted, mostly from the Regulars.

The remaining militia were starting to desert and return to protect their homes. Major Jones, egged on by the other militia officers, ordered the entire remaining force to depart Drubenville tomorrow morning and fall back all the way to Newport. The retreat would leave the countryside vulnerable to raids, with only a few scratch parties of militia to protect plantations from the torch. But all the brave or stubborn men who might have urged a forward defense from Drubenville had paid the price for bravery or stubbornness at Sabana Grande. Dispirited militiamen took out their frustrations on the town, looting abandoned buildings and consuming whatever alcohol they could find.

Sabana Grande

While the Atlantians drank in fear and sorrow at Drubenville, the Florens at Sabana Grande drank in celebration. They had defeated Atlantian soldiers - not members of the militia but real Army soldiers, with artillery! Dozens of bodies laid sprawled on the road and in the field outside the town. Any living Atlantians too wounded to escape had been mercilessly slaughtered with clubs or machetes; the rebel leaders reminded their men to save bullets for future fighting. The corpses were stripped of anything valuable, including clothing, and then piled up beside the road.

As the sun began to sink towards the horizon, great bonfires were lit in celebration. Macombi danced with his fellow Panthers, chanting thanks to Uzywa, the divine protector of warriors. A fresh, bloody handprint adorned his bare chest. From atop an overturned barrel, the shaman Eddie Tomlo praised the work of his fighters.

"Uzywa has granted us victory! My brothers, we have been gifted with guns to truly destroy these invaders!" Tomlo said, holding a rifle over his head. "We will send messengers to tell of our glorious victory. Once the people hear of this more will surely join our army!"

When Eddie jumped down from the barrel he was met by Heilani, a half-black Floren woman who had been one of his oldest disciples. She served as his right hand and most trusted advisor.

“I have counted our dead Tomlo, and forty were killed in the battle.” They had also captured two hundred rifles and muskets, enough to arm a sizable number of the remaining warriors, and the three cannons. One was spiked and useless; Tomlo ordered it pushed over the cliffs into the sea. The other two were still usable, although none of his warriors were artillerists. Still, it could serve as a way of intimidating the besieged Atlantians in Saundersville.

“You have done well, but now you must relax and enjoy our victory,” Tomlo told Heilani. Instead, she requested permission to take whatever warriors she could back to Saundersville, with the captured cannons, right away. The shaman agreed.

Saundersville

Voxija wrote:Ames Ariztabal read papers in the guest bedroom of the house he was staying at, trying to ignore the sound of gunshots and forget the fact that he was in a city under siege. Ariztabal knew he shouldn't have offered to discuss his business proposition in Stauntonville; he should've chosen the capital of this stinking island. But no matter. What's done is done, and Ariztabal was now in a besieged city.

Ames Ariztabal was the owner and founder of Ariztabal Railworks. Born into a wealthy middle-class family, Ariztabal had become one of the wealthiest men in Voxija. Ariztabal had made it a point to expand his business into foreign countries such as Honduragua, Khemed, and even Shakobi, even if it meant all rail travel was controlled by his foreign company instead of companies from those countries. Eh, it was a breach of national sovereignty, but what could you do? It was business.

Ames Ariztabal himself had volunteered to have his company build a railroad, or at least part of a railroad in Darianna. He had traveled to Stauntonville to discuss such a possibly with the colonial government. But now he was stuck in a war.

Ariztabal had heard some talk about the war. Apparently, the savages on the island of Darianna had decided to take back the island for themselves. Well, good for them, good for them. But can't they be a little more civilized about it, and not put cities where innocent foreign businessmen were staying under siege? And Ames Ariztabal's business here, in his mind, depended on Atlantian Dominions continuing to have power here. So, if push came to shove, although no civilized country would force foreign civilians to fight, the businessmen supported the Atlantians.

If Ames Ariztabal had stayed in Voxija, he would have supported the rebels, from a safe distance of course. Ariztabal considered himself a man of liberal mind, and even if he was a complete conservative, the revolutionaries reminded Ariztabal, who had a love of old smelly history books, of Voxija's own revolution against Maldonia. Ah, the Voxijans were surely brave and virtuous back then. Not like these painted savages shooting at Ariztabal!

Ariztabal reached into his suitcase and pulled out a piece of parchment. With a sigh, the Voxijan wrote: Last Will and Testament...

There was a knock at the door of Ames Ariztabal’s guest room, and a voice through the wood identified the person on the other side as Cordelia Harris. Cordelia was the older daughter of Lucretia Harris, the lady of the house where the Voxijan was staying. Lucretia had been the wife of John Harris, the owner of a sawmill outside Saundersville, but she had been widowed several years earlier when John perished at sea during a trip back to the Atlantian mainland. His partners had taken John’s stake in the mill, leaving Lucretia to make ends meet by opening her townhome to lodgers like Ariztabal. Lucretia Harris was a fairly young widow, but her dark skin meant that she was far less desirable to potential suitors or lodgers. Thankfully enough foreigners or colored Atlantians passed through Saundersville and needed lodging to pay the bills.

“Mister Ariztabal?” Cordelia said, waiting for his permission to open the door and enter. She was a lovely young woman of twenty years, wearing an emerald green day dress that contrasted with her dark skin. “Missus Harris says dinner is ready downstairs.”

Dinner was soup, followed by fish and roasted vegetables, and a pudding for desert. The food had been prepared by Lucretia and her younger daughter Sarah and was served by Mason Lotop, the family’s Floren butler. Lucretia, her daughters, and her lodgers - currently just Ariztabal - took the meal in the dining room on the first floor. Sarah tried very hard not to glance over to Mason whenever the rebellion came up in conversation, which it did despite Lucretia Harris's efforts to keep things focused on more mundane and cheerier affairs.

"It will be lovely to have a railroad on the island," Lucretia said. "It always takes so long to travel to the capital."

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Sat Apr 11, 2020 1:12 pm

Vernonville

A message had come summoning Colonel Charles Shafer to the governor's estate. Shafer had dreaded the journey, sure that it would simply be another one-sided conversation where Governor Shay Dunn impressed upon him the necessity of beginning his advance towards Tayacoba immediately and dismissed the colonel’s protestations as an overabundance of caution. The governor, no doubt egged on by men like John Kabrini and Justin Klark, remained unconvinced that the Floren rebels posed a serious threat. Part of the issue was that rebels had only captured one major town, Tayacoba, whose lesser importance was evident in the fact that it had not had its Maldonian name changed by the Atlantians after their conquest of the island.

At the governor’s mansion, however, he received entirely different news. Reinforcements were coming from the mainland. The message had just arrived at the trans-oceanic telegraph station in the capital, direct from Cumberland. Apparently some of Kabrini and Klark’s partners in the Atlantian Dominions were more unnerved by the news and had gotten the Senate to authorize measures to put down the uprising. There was little in the way of Regular Army troops to spare, since the majority of the Confederation’s troops were engaged in operations against indijans in the west or watching the Honduraguan border for bandits. Yet the Senate had voted to authorize the Confederation government to request the use of Dominion National Guard units, which would be at least a step above the Darianna militia.

It would take time for the Dominions to mobilize their Reservists and arrange for transport to Darianna. In the meantime, President Fairfield had also issued a statement officially requesting foreign assistance from those nations who maintained friendly relations with the Confederation of Atlantian Dominions, asking them to send any troops they could spare on short notice to help suppress the rebellion. Justin Klark predicted that such a move would torpedo Fairfield’s chances of being renominated for the Presidency, but the sugar baron admitted he was glad that it had been done.

“The sooner we can get back to business as usual, the better,” he said.

To All Friends of the Confederation of Atlantian Dominions,

By now you have likely heard the news of the unfortunate situation on the island of Darianna. There has been an uprising of the native people, still half-savage despite all efforts by Christian civilization to uplift them. This rebellion, which has undoubtedly been stirred up by anarchists who have duped the simple native people into doing their ghastly bidding, threatens to undermine important arteries of trade between the Confederation and its friends in the International Community.

In the interests of civilization and commerce, and with the powers vested in me as chief executive, I request that any friendly nation who is capable of quickly sending soldiers to Darianna do so at once. With your support, we will soon disperse this treasonous mob and restore order. I have also instructed the Senate to prepare a bill authorizing reimbursement for expenses incurred by friendly nations which are related to the campaign.

Thank you, and God bless the Atlantian Dominions.

Signed,
Hiram Fairfield, President

by **Voxija** » Sat Apr 11, 2020 4:23 pm

Saundersville

Ames Ariztabal enjoyed his dinner with his hosts. The businessman admired how polite Cordelia was—referring to Lucretia Harris, her own mother as "Missus Harris". These ladies really were beautiful, if a bit too dark for Ariztabal's tastes, but Ariztabal had his own wife and a five-year-old son at home. Yes, home... Ariztabal wondered if he would live to ever see beautiful Voxija again.

Although Lucretia Harris tried to talk about more mundane things, Ames Ariztabal kept turning the conversation over to the war. Ariztabal knew he shouldn't, but it was all he had on his mind at the time. When the subject did turn to war, Ariztabal felt acutely aware of the Floren butler Lotop. Mason seemed like a faithful servant, but in the giant brown history books of the War for Independence, many members of the Underground Army worked as servants for the Maldonians they fought against, and acted as spies.

Thankfully, a comment by Lucretia helped drive away those gloomy thoughts. "It would be lovely to have a railroad on the island. It always takes to long to travel to the capital."

"I know how that feels like," said Ames Ariztabal. "I have a sister who lives in Zelikanxoa, a city on the other side of Voxija from Xirroni, the capital, where I live. Before the railroad, taking a trip to visit her would take a very long time, time I could be using to deal with business problems or manage my possessions. Now that there's a railroad—not to boast, but a railroad my company built—the trip only takes a matter of hours. The railroad—truly a revolutionary new technology."

Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock on the door. Ariztabal froze. It was wartime, who knew what could be behind that door?

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Sat Apr 11, 2020 7:47 pm

Saundersville

Voxija wrote:"I know how that feels like," said Ames Ariztabal. "I have a sister who lives in Zelikanxoa, a city on the other side of Voxija from Xirroni, the capital, where I live. Before the railroad, taking a trip to visit her would take a very long time, time I could be using to deal with business problems or manage my possessions. Now that there's a railroad—not to boast, but a railroad my company built—the trip only takes a matter of hours. The railroad—truly a revolutionary new technology."

Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock on the door. Ariztabal froze. It was wartime, who knew what could be behind that door?

“Your cities have such different names,” Lucretia was saying in the moments before the knock on the door. Everyone fell silent when they heard the knock on the door, but Lucretia recovered her composure quickly and sent Cordelia to see who it was.

“When you talk to some of the Maldonians who are still here, they sometimes use the old name for Saundersville,” Lucretia continued, filling the tense silence while her daughter walked out of the room to open the door. “Daquia, I think it was. Something like that.”

When Cordelia Harris answered the door, she was confronted by a high-ranking delegation that included Major Jeremy Grant, commander of the city’s defense, and Mayor Saul Andrews. Cordelia showed the important men to the parlor and quickly went to fetch her mother and Ames Ariztabal, who they asked for by name. Lucretia and Ames went to the parlor while Mason Lotop went to brew a pot of tea for the guests.

“The rebels want us to send an emissary out to meet with them tomorrow morning,” Major Grant said when they’d all gathered in the parlor. “Apparently they have some news they’d like to share with us. I don’t think it’s that they’re planning to pick up and leave.”

“Mister Ariztabal,” Mayor Andrews picked up. “We’re here to ask if you would be willing to serve as the emissary. We thought that a man of your background, that is…”

“Gentlemen,” Lucretia Harris interjected. “I hope you’re not here to recruit my only lodger as a sacrificial lamb.”

“Not at all,” Major Grant replied hastily. “The rebels have promised safe passage for whoever we send.”

“But, as a foreigner,” the Mayor said, with a clarification that was likely not as helpful as he thought. “We thought that you would be better received by the rebels, as an impartial intermediary. You don’t have to do any sort of negotiating. Just hear whatever it is that these rebels have to say and then return and tell us what it is.”

by **Voxija** » Sun Apr 12, 2020 9:52 am

Saundersville

Ames Ariztabal paused, thinking the request over. All thoughts of his no civilized nation would send a foreigner into battle notion had fled from his mind. Ariztabal figured that he was asked to do this duty because of his skin, although the Mayor and the Major (this was a funny language!) had avoided saying that in words.

Ames Ariztabal feared real danger. He hoped the rebels weren't lying when they promised safe passage for an impartial emissary. Ariztabal did not even know whether he was impartial enough, but he felt deciding if you were that sort of thing was a bit too egotistical.

Ariztabal sat up from the couch he was sitting on. The businessman had decided what role he was going to take. "I will act as your intermediary. I will hear what the rebels have to say, and I will tell you what they said."

Immediately Ariztabal plunged into doubts. But it was said, and Ames Ariztabal believed a good man should always keep his word.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Sun Apr 12, 2020 10:56 am

Saundersville

Voxija wrote:Ames Ariztabal paused, thinking the request over. All thoughts of his no civilized nation would send a foreigner into battle notion had fled from his mind. Ariztabal figured that he was asked to do this duty because of his skin, although the Mayor and the Major (this was a funny language!) had avoided saying that in words.

Ames Ariztabal feared real danger. He hoped the rebels weren't lying when they promised safe passage for an impartial emissary. Ariztabal did not even know whether he was impartial enough, but he felt deciding if you were that sort of thing was a bit too egotistical.

Ariztabal sat up from the couch he was sitting on. The businessman had decided what role he was going to take. "I will act as your intermediary. I will hear what the rebels have to say, and I will tell you what they said."

Immediately Ariztabal plunged into doubts. But it was said, and Ames Ariztabal believed a good man should always keep his word.

As the sun rose, a nervous detachment of Atlantian soldiers was waiting at the gate for Ames Ariztabal. Captain Henry Praeger, the commander of one of the two companies of Regular Army soldiers in the town, shook Ariztabal’s hand and thanked him for agreeing to perform this act of service for the town.

“Along with whatever it is they want to tell you, try and remember what you see out there,” Praeger said just before the gate was opened. “Whatever you can tell us about their numbers, weapons, anything else that seems important, it’ll be a great help to us.”

Once the gate was opened, Ariztabal would walk out alone. Waiting for him were a handful of Floren rebels. Four men, shirtless with blood-red handprints painted on their chests and tattoos adorning their arms and legs, stood in two ranks behind a mid-aged woman whose skin was a shade darker. She was not as dark-skinned as the Harrises, but she was also obviously not a pure-blooded Floren. She carried no weapon, while the men behind her carried a mixture of guns and melee weapons like machetes and clubs. The woman regarded Ariztabal coolly and beckoned for him to approach her.

“I am Heilani,” she said. “I will take you to Eddie Tomlo. Follow me, and stay close.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked back towards the collection of tents and other ad-hoc shelters that comprised the rebel camp. The four warriors walked behind Ariztabal and Heilani. As the group walked through the camp, the Voxijan could see warriors who were returning from the battle at Sabana Grande. Florens were passing out rifles and muskets captured from the soldiers and militia to their comrades. A few men were wearing pieces of clothing taken from the bodies of the slain, such as Regular Army sack coats and campaign hats. The group wound its way through the mass of rebels until they reached a tent that seemed unremarkable, except for the spear plunged into the ground in front of the entrance with what appeared to be an officer’s hat impaled on the blade.

Heilani and Ariztabal went in by themselves, with the “honor guard” waiting outside. Sitting inside the tent, seated behind a small table, was the shaman Eddie Tomlo. The spiritual leader was dressed in a simple pair of trousers and a shirt which was unbuttoned, showing off a muscular chest and stomach marked by many tattoos. He was smiling like a cat with a canary in its mouth, though the smile wavered slightly under confusion when he saw who Heilani was ushering into the tent.

"They found someone wit' a bit of color to come talk to me, eh?" Tomlo laughed, and gestured to the simple stool chair across the table. "Go on sit down, and tell me who I'm speakin' to."

by **Voxija** » Sun Apr 12, 2020 4:05 pm

The Rebel Camp

Ames Ariztabal was scared by the painted rebel soldiers in their camp. Anyone would be scared among half-civilized rebel soldiers that might shoot them as soon as look at them. Ariztabal's heart thumped like his little son Mikkel jumping on the bed back at home. Ah, that was a good thought, but Ariztabal was still scared. Yet, no matter how scared he was, the businessman put on a straight face. He could not appear scared.

Ames Ariztabal walked into the tent. Ariztabal appraised the rebel leader. He looked like a soldier, although Ariztabal supposed these painted savages had yet to learn modesty. Eddie Tomlo said, "They found someone wit' a bit of color to come talk to me, eh?" Ariztabal sat down on the small stool.

"I am Ames Ariztabal, a Voxijan, a foreigner to this land," said the businessman. Ames pondered whether he should mention his position as one of the richest people in Voxija. These rebels might not trust rich people.

Ariztabal grew a bit more comfortable, although he was still kind of scared. He said, "The army said you wanted to share some news with them, so they sent me as an emissary, an intermediary. What is the news you want us to hear?"

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Sun Apr 12, 2020 5:57 pm

Outside Saundersville

Voxija wrote:"I am Ames Ariztabal, a Voxijan, a foreigner to this land," said the businessman. Ames pondered whether he should mention his position as one of the richest people in Voxija. These rebels might not trust rich people.

Ariztabal grew a bit more comfortable, although he was still kind of scared. He said, "The army said you wanted to share some news with them, so they sent me as an emissary, an intermediary. What is the news you want us to hear?"

Eddie Tomlo’s smiled shrank a little bit. “A foreigner, eh? Come here to help the Atlantians squeeze a few more drops of blood out of my people. You here to invest in a plantation, mistah Ariztabal? Or maybe you want to invest in one of the gold mines.” Eddie shivered theatrically. “Awful dark down in them mines, Ames. Awful dark. But you don’t ever see that, eh? Just the shiny stuff they send up.” The shaman waved a hand. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. Ain’t gonna be no more plantations or mines left on Darianna when we’re through. Bad time to come!” Tomlo laughed briefly, then he reached down to a small burlap sack sitting on the ground next to his chair and hoisted it onto the table. “I do got a message for the soldiers back in there, yeah.”

Tomlo reached into the sack and pulled out a pair of epaulets, the rank insignia worn by officers on their shoulders. Each epaulet consisted of a pair of embroidered leaves surrounded by gold braid. These were the epaulets of a lieutenant colonel, though it was unlikely that Ariztabal knew Atlantian military rank insignia very well, or at all. One of them was darkened with dried blood. After that, Tomlo pulled out a small brass token with the words CUTHBERT MEIGS and an address stamped onto the metal.

“Yesterday me and my boys, we met up with some of their friends, and it didn’t go so well for them, eh?” Tomlo showed Ariztabal the identification pin. “This here, belonged to the big man in charge. We shot ‘im out of his saddle, you see.” Tomlo was grinning with excitement as he put the three items back in the sack and pushed it across the table to Ariztabal. “You go on take ‘em back to show the big man in charge behind those walls, and you tell him ain’t no help coming!”

by **Voxija** » Mon Apr 13, 2020 6:25 am

Outside Saundersville

Ames Ariztabal took the sack with fear. The businessman was really quaking in his boots now. Ariztabal considered it lucky that Tomlo didn't just take his scalp right there and then.

Heilani and Ariztabal walked out on the tent. The four Floren warriors followed them as they walked through the rebel camp. Ariztabal felt the cold glances of the rebel soldiers on his shoulders. These rebels seemed much less of gentlemen than the Underground Army in Voxijan history, although this was a more modern time than the War for Independence.

Ames Ariztabal reached the gate. Heilani and the four Florens took a step back. The gate opened, and Ariztabal walked through, ready to present his information to Captain Henry Praeger.

"I met with Tomlo," choked out the businessman. "He told me—there was a large battle yesterday—and his forces beat you. Here's the evidence." Ariztabal held up the sack with great grief.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Wed Apr 15, 2020 6:24 am

Outside Saundersville

Voxija wrote:Ames Ariztabal took the sack with fear. The businessman was really quaking in his boots now. Ariztabal considered it lucky that Tomlo didn't just take his scalp right there and then.

Heilani and Ariztabal walked out on the tent. The four Floren warriors followed them as they walked through the rebel camp. Ariztabal felt the cold glances of the rebel soldiers on his shoulders. These rebels seemed much less of gentlemen than the Underground Army in Voxijan history, although this was a more modern time than the War for Independence.

Ames Ariztabal reached the gate. Heilani and the four Florens took a step back. The gate opened, and Ariztabal walked through, ready to present his information to Captain Henry Praeger.

"I met with Tomlo," choked out the businessman. "He told me—there was a large battle yesterday—and his forces beat you. Here's the evidence." Ariztabal held up the sack with great grief.

When Ariztabal passed back through the gate, he was met not only be Captain Praeger, but also by Major Grant. The two officers seemed to be almost vibrating with energy, eager to find out what it was that their enemy had wanted to pass along but also worried about what Eddie Tomlo’s piece of “news” might be. Their worst fears seemed to be realized by the Voxijan’s pronouncement. With an unsteady hand, Captain Praeger took the sack from Ariztabal and peered inside. Then he slowly pulled out the bloodstained epaulet and presented it to Major Grant.

“Damnation.” Grant took the epaulet and turned it over in his hand, running a finger over the dried blood. “Damnation.” He handed the epaulet back to Praeger and then took the identification pin.

“He was the lieutenant colonel of the Seventeenth Regiment,” Grant explained to Ariztabal. “He was in Newport, or at least he was last time I checked. Two companies of Regulars. If that’s been wiped out…”

There was a shout from the ramparts for the officers to come quickly and see something. Grant and Praeger scowled and hurried up a nearby staircase onto the path atop the wall, where a sentry was pointing out towards the Floren camp. Out in front of the collection of tents and shelters, Floren warriors were pushing two bronze cannons into position behind hastily piled-up ramparts of dirt. Grant swore again.

“Probably taken from Meigs’s troops,” he guessed. “But they can’t know how to use them.”

“They only need to land a few shots to break down the gate,” Captain Praeger said. “They’re thick as flies out there, sir. If they get through, they’ll swarm us.”

Grant turned to Ariztabal, who had followed the officers up the stairs onto the ramparts. “What did things look like in that camp of theirs?”

by **Voxija** » Wed Apr 15, 2020 7:10 am

Outside Saundersville

Ames Ariztabal quickly said, "In the camp, the rebels have a selection of improvised weapons such as machetes, and also some proper guns, rifles and muskets, that they probably took from your soldiers in the battle." Ariztabal wiped a tear from his eye, because real men cry.

The businessman continued, "There were about a hundred rebels in that camp, frightening men. There might be more in the forest or in other camps. Just waiting for you. They don't like Atlantians at all, which makes some sort of sense."

Ames Ariztabal glanced at the cannons. He gulped.

"Don't underestimate these rebel warriors. The Maldonians underestimated the Voxijans, and look at my country now. All I'm saying is, prepare for the worst."

Ames Ariztabal hoped this information was helpful. All he wanted was safety, perhaps holed up in a fort, but especially back home in Voxija.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Wed Apr 15, 2020 1:22 pm

Outside Saundersville

Voxija wrote:Ames Ariztabal quickly said, "In the camp, the rebels have a selection of improvised weapons such as machetes, and also some proper guns, rifles and muskets, that they probably took from your soldiers in the battle." Ariztabal wiped a tear from his eye, because real men cry.

The businessman continued, "There were about a hundred rebels in that camp, frightening men. There might be more in the forest or in other camps. Just waiting for you. They don't like Atlantians at all, which makes some sort of sense."

Ames Ariztabal glanced at the cannons. He gulped.

"Don't underestimate these rebel warriors. The Maldonians underestimated the Voxijans, and look at my country now. All I'm saying is, prepare for the worst."

Ames Ariztabal hoped this information was helpful. All he wanted was safety, perhaps holed up in a fort, but especially back home in Voxija.

Major Jeremy Grant laughed. “No, I suppose they don’t like us very much, do they?” The report from Ames Ariztabal. The businessman’s report was barebones. Surely there couldn’t be only a hundred men out there? Was he simply miscounting, or had the Florens tried to hide their strength from him knowing that he’d likely be interrogated about what he saw? Or worse, was he deliberately misrepresenting their strength? Ariztabal didn’t seem like one of those radical types who went around bemoaning the plight of the poor savages, but that didn’t mean he was automatically trustworthy. Yet it would be useless to go down the rabbit whole of conspiratorial thinking now.

“Thank you, Mister Ariztabal,” was what Major Grant said out loud. “You’ve performed a service for us, and I know it was dangerous. We’ll do what we can to give the Florens a nice hot welcome, and God willing there’s a relief effort on its way by sea from the capital.” He’d sent out a small packet ship yesterday with an update and a request for seaborne aid. No doubt somewhere out along the coastline was another packet ship heading towards Vernonville with news of the defeat of Lieutenant Colonel Meigs. But how long would it take for the Governor to put together a relief force?

“You can go back to Mrs. Harris’s,” the officer told Ariztabal. “Thank you, again.”

Back at Lucretia Harris’s townhome, the matronly black woman was pleased to see her lodger return safely. She ushered Ariztabal inside and told him to sit down in the parlor while she had Mason prepare some tea to calm his nerves.

“I’m sure those people did their best to scare you,” Lucretia said when she returned and sat down across from Ariztabal. “I thought it was disgraceful, those men coming here and sending you off to do their work for them.”

Sarah Harris, the younger daughter, popped into the parlor with an eager expression on her face. “What did the savages look like? Are they going to attack?”

“Sarah Harris,” her mother chastised. “That’s no way to speak to a guest.” The girl was only two years younger than her sister but the gap in maturity was larger. She flushed in embarrassment and apologized, though she did not leave the room. She looked to Ariztabal expectantly, hoping he would still answer her questions.

Charlestown

The Senate had authorized President Fairfield to call for a levying of the National Guard regiments of the Dominions, in order to raise a force to send to Darianna and put down the Floren uprising. That was the easy part. Actually raising and sending the force was more difficult. Each Dominion maintained a separate National Guard force, which were used mainly for suppressing riots in the cities or unrest among the Indentured laborers in the mines or fields. These Reservists, as they were commonly called, were mostly civilians who held other jobs. They would meet regularly, under the command of professional officers, and practice marching, maneuvering, and marksmanship. Then they would drink and socialize. The National Guard in Dominions like Delmarva or Missama was mostly a vehicle for awarding prestigious but largely undemanding positions to political allies or cronies. It served a slightly more serious role in Lemoyne or Abrasoka, where Reservists helped the Regular Army guard against bandit or indijan attack, but for that same reason those Dominions could not spare any sizable detachment of National Guardsmen to send to Darianna.

Thus, it was the National Guard establishments from the Dominion of Missama that would answer the President’s call. The Governor of Missama had put out the call for Reservists to mobilize and report to their designated muster points to draw arms, uniforms, and other equipment. Officers were summoned to Charlestown, the capital of the Dominion and its main port, to plan the embarking and transportation of several thousand Reservists and their equipment across the Alcazar Sea. A Regular Army officer, General Henry Tilney, was called from his administrative position to take command of the Darianna Relief Expedition. He would arrive aboard one of the first troopships - really just merchant vessels leased from their Owners by the Confederation government - to dock in Charlestown harbor, awaiting its new cargo of soldiers and war supplies.

by **Voxija** » Thu Apr 16, 2020 10:07 am

Saundersville

Ames Ariztabal was not going to answer Sarah Harris's questions. He didn't want to scare a girl so young. Ariztabal hoped this chapter in his life's story would end soon, with a ship from Atlantia or, Sarka willing, Voxija ready to whisk the businessman to safety.

Ames Ariztabal looked around the parlor. He knew Mason was in the kitchen making tea. He hoped the Floren was out of earshot. Ariztabal didn't know whether he, as a guest would be allowed to give the butler orders, but it wouldn't do to discuss whether Mason was a spy in front of Mason. Ariztabal was suspicious.

Ariztabal addressed Lucretia. "After Mason brings us the tea, may he go out of earshot? There are things I want to discuss not in front of the Floren." Ames Ariztabal knew that Lucretia figured he'd want to discuss.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Fri Apr 17, 2020 7:17 am

Saundersville

Voxija wrote:Ames Ariztabal was not going to answer Sarah Harris's questions. He didn't want to scare a girl so young. Ariztabal hoped this chapter in his life's story would end soon, with a ship from Atlantia or, Sarka willing, Voxija ready to whisk the businessman to safety.

Ames Ariztabal looked around the parlor. He knew Mason was in the kitchen making tea. He hoped the Floren was out of earshot. Ariztabal didn't know whether he, as a guest would be allowed to give the butler orders, but it wouldn't do to discuss whether Mason was a spy in front of Mason. Ariztabal was suspicious.

Ariztabal addressed Lucretia. "After Mason brings us the tea, may he go out of earshot? There are things I want to discuss not in front of the Floren." Ames Ariztabal knew that Lucretia figured he'd want to discuss.

Lucretia shooed Sarah out of the parlor with instructions to go help her sister with the chores. The young woman frowned, sullen, and left the room to go upstairs and wonder for herself what the savages who were massed outside the walls were like. She knew that they were Florens like Mason Lotop, but he was so nice! She couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone, especially not her or her family who’d treated him so well all these years.

Back down in the parlor, Lucretia sighed. The girl was always looking out towards the horizon, imagining some new adventure or scheme to travel the world. She said as much to Ames Ariztabal before he made his request. Lucretia was disheartened that Ariztabal would be suspicious of her servant, but she understood his concern. No doubt those Army men had gotten him all worried about spies or saboteurs in their conversation this morning. She said nothing in response, only nodding. When Mason walked in with the tea, Lucretia smiled and acted as if nothing was amiss.

“Thank you Mason,” she said when he set down the tray with the teapot and cups. “That will be all.” Mason gave a short quick bow from the waist and withdrew.

“His quarters are downstairs,” Lucretia explained after a moment. “You may speak freely, Mister Ariztabal. Though if you’re worried about Mason, I assure you he’s no threat. He’s served this family for years, since before my husband passed away. And he’s a Christian besides - I’m sure that makes him just as much of a target for those rebels as all of us.”

by **Voxija** » Sat Apr 18, 2020 4:51 pm

Saundersville

"Thank you," said Ames Ariztabal. Although the businessman still suspected Mason Lotop a bit, Ariztabal knew his hosts were good judges of character.

Ariztabal enjoyed his tea. Tea was not really a Voxijan drink, even though the island country traded with Pagon a lot. Although his hosts had a lively conversation, Ariztabal was too emotional to talk. He was filled with conflicting voices and dissenting opinions and muddled politics. Thankfully, the tea soothed Ariztabal's soul.

Damn it, Ariztabal realized. They gave me a fright back there. They being the rebels, of course. The businessman grew ashamed of himself for being frightened. The scariest thing Ariztabal had been faced with in his life was the threat of debtor's prison, and that was early in his career. The rebel camp was peanuts compared to debtor's prison. Ariztabal was a grown man, for Sarka's sake.

When tea ended, Ames Ariztabal asked if he could go up to the guest room. He needed some time to reflect. He would rather be in Voxija, but at least the guest room's bookshelves were filled with intriguing Atlantian literature. There Ariztabal could collect his thoughts.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Mon Apr 20, 2020 9:53 am

Saundersville

Voxija wrote:"Thank you," said Ames Ariztabal. Although the businessman still suspected Mason Lotop a bit, Ariztabal knew his hosts were good judges of character.

Ariztabal enjoyed his tea. Tea was not really a Voxijan drink, even though the island country traded with Pagon a lot. Although his hosts had a lively conversation, Ariztabal was too emotional to talk. He was filled with conflicting voices and dissenting opinions and muddled politics. Thankfully, the tea soothed Ariztabal's soul.

Damn it, Ariztabal realized. They gave me a fright back there. They being the rebels, of course. The businessman grew ashamed of himself for being frightened. The scariest thing Ariztabal had been faced with in his life was the threat of debtor's prison, and that was early in his career. The rebel camp was peanuts compared to debtor's prison. Ariztabal was a grown man, for Sarka's sake.

When tea ended, Ames Ariztabal asked if he could go up to the guest room. He needed some time to reflect. He would rather be in Voxija, but at least the guest room's bookshelves were filled with intriguing Atlantian literature. There Ariztabal could collect his thoughts.

Lucretia smiled and told Ariztabal that Cordelia would come let him know when meals were ready. She could see that the man was rattled, and she assumed that his concern about Mason Lotop was just his mind being over-active after such a shocking experience. The shelves had a mixture of books, some nonfiction like A Short History of the Maldonian War and some fiction including several of Juliette Houston’s well-liked novels about aristocratic society in 18th century Telvira. Cordelia Harris came and knocked on Ariztabal’s door when lunch and dinner were ready, and the family tried once again to keep the conversation on more mundane topics.

Meanwhile, throughout the city, the Atlantians were preparing for the rebel attack that they thought was sure to come in the morning. The Regular Army troops were stationed in companies at key points on the walls, and the city’s handful of mobile cannons were positioned near gates to blast canister fire into the expected hordes of charging Florens. Every able-bodied Atlantian man was conscripted into the militia, though there weren’t enough rifles in the armory for all of them. Those who didn’t receive a weapon were instead put to work as runners, doctor’s assistants, or other support duties. Men were posted on the walls throughout the night in rotating shifts to keep watch for any effort to scale the walls under the cover of darkness.

Outside the city, the rebel bonfires had been lit once more. Prayers and dances had been offered to the spirits and gods for protection in the coming battle. Macombi listened intently to Eddie Tomlo as he outlined the plan of attack: tomorrow, with the rising sun at their backs, the Florens would use their cannons to batter down the gates of Saundersville. Then the rebel army would charge in and slaughter the Atlantian soldiers and any other white person they saw. Not even Christian Florens were to be spared, Tomlo declared, for they had forsaken the gods of their ancestors and were as good as dead already. When the sun set tomorrow, Tomlo declared, it would set over the second liberated city of the new Darianna.

Near Drubenville

The small party of militia emerged from the towering sugarcane that lined the dirt road, onto a tableau of destruction. They’d assembled at first light, not daring to risk traveling by darkness for fear of ambush. Some said that the Florens were like cats, and they could see in the dark just as clearly as a man could see at midday. Daylight didn’t make them invulnerable, but it did make them feel safer. They’d all seen the fires burning on the horizon in the night, from the direction of John Billing’s sugar plantation. They’d hoped that the rebels had just burned outbuildings, but now it was obvious they’d launch a full-scale assault on the plantation. Union Hall, the elegant Billing family home at the center, was a smoldering ruin. Bodies were laying strewn across the lawn. Most of them were white, but there were some Floren among the dead - workers who had refused to join the revolt, or Christian converts who had been judged just as wretched as the white people. There was no sign of John Billing or his family. The militia buried the bodies, the whites each in their own grave and the Florens in one large pit, and then hurried back to spread the news.

At the Young House, another plantation home not too far from Union Hall, Isaac Young was directing a frantic evacuation. Isaac was in his mid-fifties, and he’d been the Owner of this plantation for thirty years. It pained him to just pack up and abandon it, but he wasn’t going to share John Billing’s fate. He and his family were going to head for the safety of Newport, where the Army could protect him from those howling Floren savages. Hopefully he would return to an intact house and unburned fields, but he suspected he’d have to rebuild this place from the ground up once this rebellion had been put down. He took a moment to curse the incompetence of the Army, who’d bungled the thing at Sabana Grande and then ran with their tail between their legs all the way back to Newport and left the countryside totally vulnerable.

“Mister Young, the wagon’s all loaded up.” That was James Faulk, his chief overseer. He’d been supervising the Florens loading various possessions into the wagons for travel to Newport. Isaac Young couldn’t take the entire house with him, but he could take all his most valuable possessions and his records. He wished he could have fit the lovely Marusan blue furniture in the parlor onto the wagon, but there just hadn’t been room. Such a shame.

“Thanks Jimmy. Can you fetch Mary and the kids?” Faulk nodded and walked past Isaac into the house, then up the stairs to the bedroom where Mary Young was keeping their three daughters occupied with games while the move was going on. A few minutes later the four Atlantians were coming out the front door. Isaac and Faulk each took the reins of one wagon, while the women rode in the back. A few other white employees and their families accompanied the Youngs on their own horses. The Florens on the plantation were left to fend for themselves.

by **Telvira** » Mon Apr 20, 2020 2:22 pm

[retconned]

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Tue Apr 21, 2020 4:16 pm

Outside Saundersville

Macombi felt his heart pounding in his chest as the sun began to rise. He was crouched in the tall grass with the rest of the Panthers, clutching a rifle that he had learned to shoot only a few days before. In front of him was the beginning of the cleared ground before the walls of Saundersville. He could see the shapes of Atlantian militiamen pacing back and forth on the ramparts. He thought through the plan one more time: the cannons would bring down the gatehouse, and that would be the signal for Macombi and the others to rush forward and over the threshold. The rest of the rebels would be behind them.

“We need only to get into the city,” Eddie Tomlo had said during the bonfire last night. “Once their walls no longer protect them, we will cut them to pieces.”

There was shouting and whooping as the rebels pushed their captured cannons forward. Rifle and musket fire began to crack through the air as the militiamen and soldiers on the walls began firing on the guns, trying to kill their crews before they could fire. Yet the rebels had spent the night assembling large gabions, woven baskets filled with earth that they could roll into position to cover the crews. The Florens were no skilled gunners, but there was enough knowledge among some of the more educated rebels to operate the guns at a rudimentary level. Floren gunners packed captured power and shells into the muzzles and rammed them down. It took time, and a score of men were picked off by Army sharpshooters from the walls, but Saundersville had no guns mounted along its walls. All the Atlantians could do was harass them with rifle fire.

Finally, one gun came to life, belching thunder and smoke. The shell slammed into the wall just to the right of the gatehouse and detonated with a loud bang. Macombi ducked down to avoid any flying debris, but he felt his heart somehow race even faster. They had done it! The second cannon fired moments later, and this one struck true. The gatehouse buckled under the impact and for a second Macombi thought it would collapse entirely. A man lost his balance and fell from the walls, screaming in the brief moment before he hit the ground and fell silent.

Macombi heard the other warriors shouting that it was time to move, and he rose with them and began running towards the breach in the wall. Bullets flew around him, striking down Florens to his left and right. With a shout, Macombi charged into the smoke-shrouded hole in the walls of Saundersville...

Vernonville

The packet ship from Saundersville had arrived yesterday evening, bearing the news of the disastrous defeat of Lieutenant Colonel Meigs and the dire straits of the city’s garrison. When the report had reached Governor Dunn, he had immediately decided that the expedition which Colonel Shafer was putting together to attack Tayacoba would instead go to the relief of Saundersville. It was a sound decision, but handing down instructions was far easier than carrying them out. Now Lieutenant Colonel James West had to oversee the movement of the Regular Army troops and militia, not to mention the artillery and all the supplies, from their barracks and warehouses on the edge of the city to the docks for loading onto ships.

Thankfully, there was plenty of shipping available. John Kabrini and Justin Klark, two of the wealthiest sugar barons on the island, had generously offered up ships which they Owned to serve as transport for the soldiers. Colonel Shafer was certain that they’d be billing the government for their expenses, which would be heavily inflated, once the rebellion was put down. But for now, they got to bask in the appreciation of the Governor and act like virtuous citizens. The two Navy ships in the harbor, the steam frigates William Mason and Ethan Carter, would carry soldiers and also provide their own contributions in the form of their gunfire, which would be invaluable to driving the rebels away from Saundersville.

As the ships cast off and began their journey, Captain Moore, aboard the Carter, told Lieutenant Colonel West that the relief force would arrive the next morning.

by **Atlantian Dominions** » Fri Apr 24, 2020 3:23 pm

Saundersville

“Hurry up men, they’re about to reach the market!”

Tyler York puffed and panted as he ran along the cobblestone streets of Saundersville, racing with his fellow militiamen down one of the main roads towards the large, open market square. He’d been standing on the eastern side of the walls when the attack had begun, listening to the booming of the cannons and the terrifying sound of masonry crumbling. Then word had come: the rebels had blasted a hole in the walls and the Florens were pouring into the city. The order had come down from Major Grant to pull every available man off the walls elsewhere to plug the breach. The Florens were running amok, spreading out from the point where they’d broken through the walls like blood pouring from a wound.

The market square was normally packed with stalls and vendors, but they’d all fled for the safety of homes with doors that locked. Now the Army was setting up to make a stand here. As Tyler York and his comrades came to a stop, gasping to catch their breath, he saw a line of beleaguered-looking soldiers in Regular Army uniforms forming a line. The militia officers shouted for their men to fall in with the troops and load their weapons. Tyler felt his hands shaking as he went through the motions. First, tear the top off the cartridge and pour the black powder and the bullet into the barrel. Next, draw the ramrod and ram down the charge. Tyler put the ramrod back in its place, then pulled out a percussion cap and held it ready. He could hear shouting echoing from the roads across the square.

“Prime!”

Tyler heard cursing next to him. Howard Marius was reaching for a percussion cap. “Dropped it,” he explained between curses. Even among all the danger, Tyler couldn’t help but laugh.

“Make ready!”

Tyler and Howard put their caps onto the locks and pulled the hammers back to half-cock. The Regular Army troops were readying their breech-loading rifles. The thin line of khaki-wearing soldiers and plainclothes militia held their weapons at the ready position. Across the square, the first Florens could be seen running their way, machetes and clubs held high. Tyler felt his palms dampen with sweat, and his heart was racing.

“Take aim!”

A forest of musket barrels lowered in rough synchronization to level at the Florens, who seemed totally undeterred. Tyler pointed his weapon at a fierce-looking warrior carrying an already-bloodied weapon.

“Fire!”

A storm of sound filled the market square. The barrels of the weapons were enveloped in a cloud of smoke. Tyler York heard shouts of pain on the other side of the cloud. He had no idea whether he’d hit his target; he was too busy going through the motions of reloading. The Army soldiers and their breech-loaders could reload in a fraction of the time, and the grand sound of the volley was replaced by the cacophony of individual riflemen firing and reloading as fast as they could. The smoke was clearing as Tyler leveled his weapon for a second shot...into the mob of Floren warriors who were now much, much closer. Tyler pulled the trigger and fired, but he’d barely started to reload when the Florens collided with the thin Atlantian line.

He tried to bring the musket up to swing like a club, but he found himself being clubbed instead and driven to the ground. Someone was yelling for a retreat, but Tyler York’s whole world was taken up by the towering warrior standing over him, carrying a rough-hewn wooden club.

“I am Macombi,” the Floren declared as he raised the weapon. “Know my name before you die.”

***

A few blocks away from the market square, the next line of defense was being set up. The courthouse square was the next chokepoint in the city, and it was where Major Grant had positioned the bulk of his Regulars and the artillery pieces. He’d felt sick to his stomach ordering Captain Praeger and his men to the market with the militia, but he’d needed to buy time. As the first panic-stricken men came running down the streets into the square, he hoped that the captain had gotten out alive. But either way, he’d done his duty.

From the windows of Lucretia Harris’s townhome, one could see the dome of the courthouse rising above the roofs of the nearby houses and offices. Soldiers had been rushing down the street past the townhome all morning, and horse teams had passed by dragging two bronze cannons towards the courthouse square. Lucretia Harris has locked and barred the door, and now she sat with her children in the upstairs master bedroom, praying that the Army would quickly defeat the rebel invaders.

by **Telvira** » Sun Apr 26, 2020 12:01 pm

[retconned]

Rebellion in the Tropics (Retconned)

Rebellion in the Tropics (Retconned)

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