NATION

PASSWORD

Chaos In Kubrikon! (Open, MT)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
User avatar
Kubrikon
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 3
Founded: Dec 19, 2010
Ex-Nation

Chaos In Kubrikon! (Open, MT)

Postby Kubrikon » Wed Dec 22, 2010 1:10 am

The peculiar, circular nature of things had until now remained unproven to the former lords of the land now known as Kubrikon.

Seventeen months ago, Colonel Bertrand Wu was heir to the Stanleyan Kingdom, the small empire built from the remnants of Kubrik tribes by the sheer willpower of his father, King Lombardo, and the mercenary forces coerced into doing his bidding for the better half of a century.

The empire born fifty-seven years ago was twice the size of the lands Bertrand would come to rule, and natural riches were abundant in all forms. Soon after his crowning, however, Lombardo found his poorly-paid lieutenants hungry for land of their own, and within a decade the grand kingdom had splintered into seven embittered foes, locked in what seemed like a permanent stalemate. Lombardo retained the largest territory, however, and he enjoyed a relatively stable rule playing the other warlords against each other while the royal family grew richer, thanks in part to a timely discovery of platinum ore laced into the homeland's Ten Fingers mountain range. It was only once he had exhausted his supply of the precious metals and mining leases that he began to feel his power slipping. While he had grown fat and weak, raising his pampered sons to be men of elegance and pomp, a charismatic young Kubrik born at the base of Ten Fingers had united the weaker tribes into a living hurricane.

The tribals called him Li'an-Tus, or Hand Of The Mountain in their native tongue, a name he would later take on as his nickname, but Bertrand knew him better as Josiah Lourd, a former schoolmate turned rival after the slaughter of his younger sisters by King Lombardo's royal police force. It took him only seventeen months to gather followers among the rival tribes, winning the hearts of the six hungry warlords. In those seventeen months, Josiah had become the voice of the Kubrik peoples, the chosen leader for a magnificent new nation that would be born, presumably, from the ashes of the old. This meant, of course, that Lombardo and his children would have to die.

It began sometime in the summer - too long ago to recall exactly - with a demonstration just outside the palace gates. Lombardo's security detail dispatched team to collect the names of the protesters, to investigate possible family ties to the rival tribes - or so they claimed. Bertrand remembered only the sound of gunfire in the foyer as the agents blasted open the palace doors, opened the gates, and vanished into the crowd of angry rabble, who were now clearly not simply students with too much free time on their hands.

Young men and women stormed the palace with hammers and torches, meeting little resistance as the security teams seemed to disappear all together. Royal bodyguards hurried Bertrand and his brother May through the King's express tunnel to a waiting escort, but Lombardo seemed determined to face this uprising head-on. The imagined last stand of his King - his father - clutching a rifle, staring down a mob of hooded assassins as they marched into his bedroom had haunted Bertrand for weeks. He wept for his father's soul, disgraced as his body remained unburied, tossed in the royal meat locker for storage.

He cursed whenever he heard Josiah's name on the national radio, and the countless sheep that professed unabashed love for the traitorous dog. Whenever the Public Relations Minister broadcast his updates on the trials and executions of Lombardo's trusted elite, he remembered the day his brother was snatched by a night patrol while they traveled between safe houses. May was young, rebellious... he had no tact, and rumor was he spat in Lourd's face when offered a reduced sentence in exchange for information. They would have provided a yearly stipend nearly half of what he received as a Princely allowance, but would have been exiled from his homeland forever. Instead, he was marched up to Ten Fingers, back through the palace gates, and hanged in the courtyard. He, too, would adorn the royal meat locker, until President Lourd devised a proper way to "dispose of garbage".

As the weeks turned into months, Bertrand's safe houses and bodyguards dwindled, until at last he was alone, sleeping in an abandoned bomb shelter seven miles south of his former home. Buried under dry grass and sand, Bertrand survived off of expired canned goods and bottled water, using a crude periscope to check for patrols while waiting patiently by his satellite phone. Before locking himself away, he had received word from the remnants of the royal police that a final push to retake the palace was to begin today. There were rumors of outsiders assisting the royal forces, presumably acting on active warrants for Lourd's arrest following several cases of investment fraud (his primary method of fundraising for the coup), though the possibility of interference on the new Allied States' behalf was just as likely. Even if the Allied States fell, and Bertrand retained the crown, he would be indebted to the leaders of the defense forces for the rest of his rule, and perhaps be little more than a glorified puppet. All the crown prince of Kubrikon could do now was wait, and hope these new warlords would be easier to deal with than the old ones.




OOC:

Today is WEDNESDAY.

The Kubrik Royal Palace is positioned at the base of the Ten Fingers mountain range, in a temperate mid-winter climate. The average temperature range is approx. 38-45 degrees Farenheit/3-7 Celsius; there are scattered showers expected throughout the day. There is a large township of roughly 800,000 one mile to the south of the palace gates, mostly comprised of small apartment buildings, with a single twenty-story hotel in the heart of the business district.

There are approximately 8,000 members of the Allied States militia patrolling the township in white vans marked with the Kubrikon flag, and another 4,000 guarding the palace, armed with crude six-shot revolvers and repeating rifles - family heirlooms. 9,000 uniformed royal police have encircled the town with unmarked trucks and all-terrain vehicles, armed with submachine guns, one hundred mortars, and twelve school buses repurposed as personnel carriers.

Royal intelligence places the coup leader, Josiah Lourd, inside the palace, drafting a new constitution with his advisors. Crown prince Colonel Bertrand Wu, missing since the initial uprising, is believed to be in hiding just outside the Ten Fingers township, awaiting news from the head of the police force.

The Royal Police of the former Stanleyan Empire have requested aid from neighboring states to bring stability to the region by re-establishing a proper line of succession through Prince Bertrand. The newly-formed Allied States of Kubrikon, on the other hand, are appealing to the West Pacific's anti-monarchists to rally and defend the burgeoning republic from the return of the oppressive Stanleyan regime.
Last edited by Kubrikon on Wed Dec 22, 2010 1:48 am, edited 3 times in total.

User avatar
Stanleyan
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 2
Founded: Dec 22, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Stanleyan » Wed Dec 22, 2010 2:11 pm

The remnants of the Stanleyan royal infantry amassed at the north end of the Ten Fingers township, formed up in a phalanx that seemed to stretch across the entire width of the territory. Three thousand men stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to march, while another six thousand encircled the town in pickup trucks. The car engines roared almost in unison, joined by the pop of mortar fire as they began shelling the town around noon, hoping to draw the Kubrikon rebels out of the town. Two hours had passed, and despite extensive damage to the outlying tenements, no enemy response had been received - the rebels would not leave the safety of the town square without a sizable show of force.

And so it came to be that Captain Ernest Kimball of the royal infantry led the first great march through Ten Fingers, walking at the head of a column three men wide, ten men deep. The mortar fire ceased as the royal guard entered the town, silently taking up rooftop positions, seizing wells and markets, on their way to the hotel believed to be the rebel command center. On Kimball's orders, the truckers took to the streets and unloaded their respective cargo; within minutes the convoy had multiplied as royal calvary riding motorcycles joined the hunt. With little resistance on the outskirts, the Stanleyan militia had little trouble surrounding Hotel Bethesda, and Captain Kimball happily phoned his beloved crown prince with the news that Ten Fingers would be theirs in a matter of minutes.


Elsewhere, Bertrand Wu had been preparing for his own advance. By the time Kimball's update reached him, the former colonel-turned-prince had re-established contact with members of his personal guard, now disguised as palace security. It wouldn't be long, Bertrand wagered, before Josiah learned of the Stanleyan invasion and attempted to trick the rabble into fighting his battle for him. Rather than sit back and watch the royal guard fall victim to an angry mob, he would cut the snake's head off now and have his operatives silence the rebel opposition.

At 2:10 UST, the palace lights went out, followed by the phone and internet connections. In the ensuing confusion, the infiltrators locked down the facility, trapping Josiah and his warlords in the home of the man they put to death. Even as they struggled to make sense of the chaos, ten of the most highly trained operators in the region were sweeping through the halls, making short work of the rebel fighters, warming up for the finale: the execution of the usurper.
Last edited by Stanleyan on Thu Dec 23, 2010 2:48 am, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Kubrikon
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 3
Founded: Dec 19, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Kubrikon » Thu Dec 23, 2010 3:43 am

The palace's kingly chambers were silent in the dim glow of auxiliary lights, as Josiah's advisors argued amongst themselves about how to proceed.

"They are killing our people! We must run now if we are to survive!" exclaimed Zahir Petravich, unofficial trade commissioner.

"There is nowhere to run to, you fool! We must fight to preserve our revolution's intengrity!" insisted the newly-appointed minister of defense, Lawrence Cobol.

The department of public relations head, Amelia Sirach, agreed for once. "He is right, unfortunately. Running now would only confirm the Stanleyan claims that our fight was unjust, or somehow not in our country's best interest. We must defend our convictions here and now."

Zahir remained unconvinced, as the council's aides erected a barricade in front of the chamber doors, and Cobol himself began to pray, ceremonial sword and revolver crossed over his chest. "These men are assassins. What are we to fight them with? Prayers and platitudes?"

"Courage and heart, Petravich. As you have neither, I suggest you use Lombardo's escape hatch and get word to President Lourd; if the Stanleyans take the palace, they will know he is not here. Miss Sirach -"

"Oh, no. Don't even think of suggesting I go with him. This means just as much to me as it does to you."

Rising from his prayer, Lawrence couldn't help but grin at the feisty young tribal, flashing a mouthful of polished silver-plated teeth. Professionalism be damned; he might be in love.

"I was merely going to suggest you arm yourself, Madam," he explained, handing over his service revolver. "Your gaze may soften even the hardest man, but I doubt it'll be enough to kill a man."

"You'd be surprised," she answered, taking the pistol and spinning the cylinder. "These eyes could guide a bullet through a Stanleyan heart at a hundred paces."

Cobol unsheathed his saber, praying her boast was no exaggeration, and solidified his stance. The aides were moving furniture across the room when the backup lights went out, and a crash at the door knocked the barricade apart. He didn't know if Zahir had managed to slink through the escape tunnel in time, or if the first man in had spotted him in the dark - he heard only the roar of his gun in Amelia's hands, and the staccato delivery of Stanleyan-accented English grunted between the hitmen as the aides tumbled to the floor dead.

Charging through the shadows, he swung his blade and hit a wall of flesh, ripping into one of the assailants as his sidearm discharged once, twice, a third time into the carpet with the familiar clack of a suppressor doing its job. Amelia got off another pair of shots before he heard her groan and smash into a conference table. Glass shattered somewhere to his left, and he felt the hot sting of a bullet graze his elbow, then the cold wetness of a stab wound in his side.

Cobol flipped and jerked his saber through the darkness, slicing and hacking at invisible foes until at last one of them managed to wrestle his weapon away. Bare-handed, he found an assassin's groin with a probing fist. Dragged to the ground, drenched in the life hemorrhaging from his attackers, he felt a sting in his right eye, followed by the most intense pain he'd ever felt in his life. A white-hot burning sensation ripped through his face as a killer's knife found his retina. Flailing, he found his arms pinned under the bodies of the ones he had slain - it was only when the emergency lights returned that he realized only one assassin remained of the ten.

He knew in his heart Amelia was dead, but before Cobol lost consciousness he learned that, fortunately, Zahir was not - limping over to the bloody melee, the trade commissioner leveled a captured sidearm and put a bullet in the assassin's back. If Josiah Lourd learned anything today, it would be that even the most cowardly of his followers could be a lion when necessary.
Last edited by Kubrikon on Thu Dec 23, 2010 3:44 am, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Stanleyan
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 2
Founded: Dec 22, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Stanleyan » Thu Dec 23, 2010 3:49 am

Stupefied after a full week of celebrations, dumbed down by hashish and delirious on brandy, the Kubrikon rebels had no response for the surgical precision demonstrated by the royal forces. By the time the patrols began to mobilize again, Captain Kimball had taken footholds in every major district. 2:00 to 4:00 UST were a blur to the Captain, sitting atop a red pickup parked outside Hotel Bethesda, as the screeching of tires and pit-pat of repeating rifles began, and was promptly silenced at every block by the rapid spit of submachine guns. Caught off-guard, many of the patrol teams were captured unarmed, fumbling for car keys. The bulk of the occupying force, however, remained in the hotel, and that was Kimball's next goal.

Megaphone in hand, he stood, one foot on the pickup's roof, and blared his ultimatum:

"Kubrikon dissenters! Your chain of command has been broken! The crown prince is willing to offer amnesty to those of your who surrender unconditionally! Exit the building immediately, leaving behind all weapons and personal belongings! You have shamed our peoples enough; let us end this without any more bloodshed!"

Content with his offer, Kimball joined his men in dismantling a barricade at the hotel entrance, preparing a checkpoint for the inevitable arrival of the surrendering cowards. He had already dispatched a team to unearth Prince Bertrand and transport him to the hotel to personally accept the rebels' surrender - he imagined a promotion would be in order once the country was running smoothly again. Perhaps he could even secure a position on the new advisory council.

User avatar
Ten Fingers Mountain
Civilian
 
Posts: 1
Founded: Dec 22, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Ten Fingers Mountain » Thu Dec 23, 2010 4:06 am

Many hours had passed since the palace went silent, and the sun had begun to set upon the base of Ten Fingers Mountain. The traders and caravans that usually surrounded the palace, and had dispersed at the onset of violence, returned once the gunfire had ceased. Freed servants, once slaves of King Lombardo, returned to learn the fate of their liberators. They found bloody corpses strewn about the halls, bullet casings, shrapnel buried in the reinforced walls - and two heroes that had survived it all.

Four men carried Lawrence Cobol out into the courtyard to clean his wounds in the royal fountain. A group of medical students doing missionary work in the mountains were brought down to disinfect and bandage his eye, set his broken bones, and nurse him back to consciousness. Zahir, though bruised and bloodied himself, refused to leave the soldier's side as the Oppressed Peoples of Ten Fingers Mountain filled Cobol with their spirit. The palace courtyard became a campground, which Petravich soon organized into a command center to rally the Kubrikon forces.

Beyond the palace, the silent streets of the Ten Fingers township came alive at nightfall. While the Kubrikon patrol system had crumbled at the feet of the Stanleyan army, the civilian militias had merely chosen to bide their time. As the skies grew dark, their number multiplied, and soon the secure rooftop positions that Stanleyan vanguard had dug into were no more. One by one, they fell to the darkness, entire fire teams swallowed up in silence, until all that remained were Kimball's own men standing guard at the hotel, oblivious to their imminent demise.

User avatar
Kubrikon
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 3
Founded: Dec 19, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Kubrikon » Thu Dec 23, 2010 4:31 am

With the coming of night, it seemed the Stanleyan forces were determined to wait out a response from Hotel Bethesda. The chill of the Kubrikon winter was too much for their thin uniforms, but Captain Kimball was a stubborn commander; Josiah knew this, for he had watched the man for some time. Before his rise as a rebel commander, President Lourd had received regular updates on prominent officers through his ally in the military, former Colonel Lawrence Cobol. Kimball was dependable, but not particularly clever. He had exhausted his every trick, meaning this was little more than a matter of watching the Stanleyan troops starve and/or freeze to death waiting for a surrender that would not come. Josiah, however, had other plans.

Spirited away from the palace mere hours before the attempted assassination, President Lourd established a forward position in Hotel Bethesda for two reasons: it was the tallest building in Kubrikon, offering him a perfect vantage point to observe the Stanleyan advance, and it housed the nation's only T3 internet connection. With help from dissenting Stanleyan engineers, Lourd was able to intercept and record conversations between Kimball and Bertrand Wu since the plan first took shape weeks ago.

Their plans exposed, Josiah recruited the natives of Ten Fingers Mountain, signing a pact with the highland tribes that would grant them full autonomy in exchange for military aid in pushing back the historical oppressors of the Kubrikon territories. Kimball's effortless push into the town was in fact the cornerstone of President Lourd's final plan to eliminate the royal family - even now, as the rebel forces shed their combat gear for borrowed hotel employee uniforms, Prince Bertrand was on his way to the center of town.

The snipers Kimball believed to be checking the streets were now prisoners of the Oppressed Peoples, giving the President's plainclothes army free reign to wander the streets in disguise. There was no turning back: soon, the cold would break the remaining Stanleyans' spirits, and by the time Bertrand reached Hotel Bethesda, he would find the entirety of his army in the custody of the Allied States of Kubrikon.


Return to International Incidents

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Almeric, Champlania, Delatia, Great Britain and Irelandia, Guavalandia, The Eshurium Empire, Tyrantio Land, Winarka

Advertisement

Remove ads