The Flowers in April [CLOSED]

BorkWI

Am cat doing cat things. Nothing sus here.
Pronouns
They/Them
TNP Nation
Waupun_Island
**Warning: This post contains strong themes of sadness and loss. If this is something you do not wish to read, then please do not continue past this point. Thank you!**


April 6th, 2016


Dan sat on the grass in front of the family garden in the backyard of their house. It was just like any other family garden on the Isles of Farrun. It had a small selection of vegetables, with tomatoes and some herbs. All of those things didn't really catch his fancy, and truth-be-told he didn’t enjoy eating them. It was the medium sized selection of flowers that he really liked. Dan had always had an affinity towards flowers and beautiful plants since he could remember. Even at the young age of ten, he knew he wanted to be a botanist. He had the brains to be one as well! Anytime someone in the small village he lived in had an issue with their plants, they knew to ask Dan about it. He did well in school, even though his entire village was below the poverty line. His family however, wanted him to become a doctor, or a businessman on the mainland so that he could support them back home by making a lot of money. Botanists did get paid well, but his family didn’t see any potential in the field, as they thought it was a job just for wonneren. Dan’s older brother Marcus saw potential in him though. Marcus was seven years older than Dan, and was involved in one of the local gangs. Because of his gang affiliation, he was one of the few in the village with access to a reliable and cheap source of internet. A decent amount of families on the Isles of Farrun has access to the internet somewhere near them, but many either couldn’t afford a computer or their connection wasn’t good enough to really do anything with. Dan loved his older brother a lot because whenever he had extra money, Marcus would go out and buy some new seeds for Dan to plant including instructions on how to care for them if none could be found in his rather large botanist encyclopedia that he got for his birthday two years ago. Marcus never told him of his involvement with the gangs, but Dan just kinda knew why Marcus would sometimes come back home with large sums of cash. Dan’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his mother calling him in for dinner.

“Hey Danny! Stop being a wonneren and get your butt in here to eat!”

Dan sighed and yelled back, “Yes mamm!”

He got up and walked inside the back door of his house, closing and locking it on his way in. He walked over to the slightly cramped dinner table and sat down. He looked around for Marcus and didn’t see him. He then looked up at his mother and asked, “Hey mamm, where is Marcus?”

“He went to the protest in the capital [of Farrun]. I am a bit worried about him. He’s always reading that ‘General Critique of the Economy’ or something.”

“Actually, it’s the ‘Critique of the General Economy’, written by famous socialist Remy Picard.”

“Whatever it’s called, he seems to be obsessed with it. Can’t say I blame him though, as I have taken a peek at the book and I do agree with it a lot.”

“Sounds cool. I bet he’s safe. I know he is. Right mamm?”

“I hope so Danny, I hope so…”

Just then, the CRT TV that was in the living room switched to the Royal Zäiten news channel that was covering the protests in the capital. Dan and his family suddenly looked at the TV as Dan’s mother turned up the volume so that his grandmother could hear it. The newscaster spoke, “The organized protests in the capital today have suddenly turned violent as shots were fired from both sides. This new wave of violence comes after the Isles of Farrun have been experiencing the highest rates of poverty and unemployment since the end of the Great Recession in 1919. Many are losing their jobs, their homes, and in many cases, their hope. It is currently unknown who fired first, nor if any were injured or killed. But one thing is for certain, we are watching history unfold live. We will update you with any new information whenever we receive it. May Tet watch over us all.” The news station switched to a camera that was showing a broadcast from 20 minutes ago of rioters armed with mostly makeshift melee weapons and shields clash with heavily armed riot police. Those who were shooting seemed to have stopped, and the rioters were being pushed back slowly by the police.

After watching what had just occurred, Dan’s mind was racing with questions. But the most important, and loudest in his head was “What if Marcus is dead?” Dan started to tear up as he envisioned his most favorite person in the world lying dead on the street, as his lifeless corpse was trampled on by the mobs of rioters. Memories and visions of past times spent with Marcus suddenly flooded his mind--Joyous moments with his most favorite person in the whole-wide-world--Now all possibly gone in an instant. Dan felt completely helpless. He wiped the tears that started to cloud his eyes with his shirt and got up from the table. He ran over to his mother and hugged her tightly. Dan started sobbing as his mother tried to comfort him. Just then, the news station flashed the pictures and names of those who had perished in the riots as they had been dispersed for a few minutes at this point. Luckily all of them were people he’d never seen before. He started to hope that he made it out. But then his worst fears came true. Marcus’s picture and name flashed up on the screen. He had stopped sobbing for a couple of minutes to watch the TV screen. But now, his mind flashed all of those painful images of Marcus again. It cycled through all of the memories, good and bad, that Dan had of him. He suddenly started sobbing again, but this time uncontrollably. In between inaudible crying sentences, he screamed “I WANT MY BRUDDER BACK!!!” “I WANT HIM HERE, WITH ME NOW!!” “NO! YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME YET!!!” “I LOVE HIM TOO MUCH!!” “PLEASE! I JUST WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN!!" "JUST ONCE TET, PLEASE!!!”

This went on for a few minutes until his throat became too sore to yell. Everyone, even his mother, who was trying her hardest to be strong in this moment--to make sure that Dan knew that everything would be okay, had broken down into tears. They all knew that it wouldn’t be getting any easier as the Workers And National Kinsman party had just declared itself to be in open defiance of the monarchy.






OOC Notes:

“wonneren” is a slang term for someone that is a hippie.
Brudder = brother

Music for this post:
Rise - Skillet: https://youtu.be/b3jQ0tFqG_0
 
Last edited:
The Palais, Denburg, Faltsu.
April 7th, 2016
11:03am.


King Xel Den sat at a dark brown fancy-looking desk. He straightened his papers and looked directly at the camera. He inhaled and began the televised national address.

“Attention all great peoples of Faltsu. It is with great pain that I inform you that the Workers And National Kinsmen party on the Isles of Farrun have declared themselves to be in open defiance of the Monarchy, and the nation. As you all may know, the protests and riots organized by the Workers And National Kinsmen party and its followers turned violent as shots were fired from both sides. Luckily this was isolated to only one such protest-turned-riot in the small city of Dendervik. Tragically, however, five protesters lost their lives as a result of the unfortunate events that unfolded yesterday. Henry Lodomör, Harris Zimmermën, Raymond Jarrvis, Kent Wäsh, and finally Marcus Willson all tragically lost their lives exercising their right to protest. The people on the Isles of Farrun have been going through the worst economic distress since the end of the Great Recession in 1919. I have been trying my hardest to remedy this problem, and will hopefully make the Isles of Farrun be just as prosperous as the mainland for the first time in over 75 years. But I cannot be honest if I say that I am entirely removed from fault for these recent events. I tried my absolute hardest to help the Farrunese people democratically, but unfortunately it did not result in a favorable outcome. I am now left with no other option other than using the powers of the monarchy granted graciously by the people, to fix the problems that plague Farrun. As for why I did not do this from the start? I wanted you, the people, to have a voice in how the government works. Every single individual, from those who are just learning how to speak, to those who have to use three candles on their birthday cakes, can, and will have a voice. After all, it is because of you, the people, that I am able to sit here today and fix the problems that affect not just the Farrunese, but all people of Faltsu. Alas, just like every other governmental system, Democracy as we know it, is not perfect. One of its greatest shortcomings is time; and I am afraid we have run out of it. That is why I am announcing that a Royal Decree will be drafted up and signed off in one weeks time. This Royal Decree will include an economic stimulus package to the Farrunese people. The specifics of which I cannot say as of now, but it will include lower taxes, plans for better infrastructure, more funding to education, and access to lower interest loans. This will hopefully improve the economy, and life of the Farrunese to be on par with the mainland within the next few years. I will also send a small portion of the Royal Police to the Isles of Farrun to help maintain peace, and help with humanitarian work until the situation there is once again stable. I know that neither side wants any more tragedy, so I humbly ask you, the people, to please be peaceful if you continue to protest. The Royal Police will be there on guard to make sure things stay peaceful, but will not fire unless fired upon. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to listen to this important broadcast. This is all.”

The cameras cut and Xel sighed. He stretched as he stood and said, “Well… this is about to be a looong next couple of weeks.” to no one in particular.





OOC Notes:

Music for this post:
I Stand Alone - Godsmack: https://youtu.be/tczU6OWoUkI
 
  • Like
Reactions: Arc
Royal_Zaiten.png

This Op-Ed article was written by Paul Reventin on April 16th.

On April 14th, six military and cargo ships loaded with a variety of supplies made their way from mainland Faltsu to the port town of Narrac. It was a 608 nautical mile journey across the Mier vum Fuuss that took 27 hours in total. The supplies and people that arrived on the 16th included mostly humanitarian goods and workers. The Royal Police arrived a few days prior, on the 11th as the protests continued despite the passionate national address given on the 7th by King Xel. Protesters in Dendervik, the capital of the Isles, were seen carrying banners and signs that read “Ze wéineg, ze spéit!” “Mir sinn e Vollek, keng Zuel!” “Mir sinn midd!” “Mir wëllen Aarbecht!” It seems that thus far, the Farrunese people have heard His Majesty’s words, and none of the protests that have proceeded the national address have been violent.

I have spoken to one of the protesters who, when asked why they continue to protest after the national address, stated, “We wish only to be as equals to the mainland. While we support the monarchy more now, King Julien neglected us for years. When the cracks began to show in the economy, he did nothing. When we protested, he made us outlaws, and sent troops to quell the people who only wanted the peace of mind knowing that there will be food on the table. We support King Xel for what he is doing to help us now, but the fact that it took people losing their lives for change to be enacted makes us angry. We will still be as peaceful as possible, as we have seen that he cares about us. Despite this, we are angry at both a little at him, and a lot at the rest of the Faltsish government for putting their interests before that of their people who need it most.”

I spoke to another protester that was pulling a wheeled cooler behind her giving out free water to those marching. “Gangs run rampant.”, she said. “The infrastructure in the rural areas is deplorable at best. Crime is prevalent, there are little opportunities for work. People have had to close their businesses because no one is spending money on leisure goods. The only reason I am able to give out water here is because I work for a large corporation on the mainland that pays decent. The same position that I work here, pays almost twice as much on the mainland. It is the same story for many of us here that even have jobs; and that’s just not right.”

I have also spoken to a government representative who, when asked why nothing was done to help the Farrunese when their economy worsened, stated that, “Many bills were proposed, but none passed with a Parliamentary majority vote due to a large split on party lines as to how to handle the situation.”

This seems to be the main issue that the Farrunese are protesting against--that politics got in the way of a much-needed solution to their situation. And it is true. While bill after bill was shot down in Parliament, the people suffered for months and months. The protesters seem to support what is being done now to help them, they also want to bring attention to what got them into this mess in the first place; politics. While the Nei Monarchie party and Agraruniounspartei agree on a lot of legislation, both parties were split on how to tackle the economic issue at hand. The Nei Monarchie party wanted to lower taxes for the Farrunese, and not raise it for anyone else, adding to the national debt. On the contrary, the Agraruniounspartei wanted to also lower it for the Farrunese, but then raise taxes on the top 1% in Faltsu to make up for any tax revenue they’d be losing, thus not adding to the national debt. The Fräiheet-Republikanesch Partei disagreed with both, citing a more laissez-faire relief program that would focus more on the general public helping the Farrunese instead of the federal government taking the brunt of the weight. All three parties were split on how to tackle the economic crisis in the Isles of Farrun, which led to a Parliamentary gridlock, and nothing getting enough votes to pass. To quote His Majesty himself, “...Democracy as we know it, is not perfect. One of its greatest shortcomings is time; and I am afraid we have run out of it.” This event should be a lesson for any future issues that may plague us as a nation, and as a people. We mustn’t let petty politics get in the way of keeping the well-oiled cogs of human progress from turning.





OOC Notes:

“Mier vum Fuuss” is the body of water between mainland Faltsu and the Isles of Farrun. It means “Sea of the Fox” in Mercanti, and it is commonly called “Fox Sea” abroad.

Ze wéineg, ze spéit! - Too little, too late!
Mir sinn e Vollek, keng Zuel! - We are a people, not a number!
Mir sinn midd! - We are tired!
Mir wëllen Aarbecht! - We want work!

Music for this post:
I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger - Jos Slovick: https://youtu.be/fp7mdSMNQB0
 
Last edited:
  • Like
Reactions: Arc
Royal_Zaiten.png

This Op-Ed article was written by Paul Reventin on April 18th.


“...Democracy as we know it, is not perfect. One of its greatest shortcomings is time; and I am afraid we have run out of it.” These are the words that His Majesty Xel himself said in his televised national address on the 7th of this month. I know in my last article I ended off on this same quote, but these words fit the events of yesterday more than ever. For countless years, the small Farrunese minority has endured discrimnation just based on the colour of their skin. Their native homeland, the Isles of Farrun, have been under Faltsish control since our ancestors colonized them on June 2nd, 1788. Ever since then, the Farrunese peoples were treated as unequals--as second class citizens--within the Kingdom. During the Race Riots of the early 1920s, the Farrunese gained the right to vote, and access to government amenities. This led to an economic boom on the Isles that, for the first time ever, allowed the Farrunese to be economically equal to mainland Faltsu. This new-found wealth didn’t last forever, as by 1941, the Farrunese people were back to being not as economically prosperous as the mainland. The Isles of Farrun have historically always had an agrarian-based economy, which doesn’t lead to much growth. It was, and still is, the goal of many Farrunese families to send their children over to the mainland for a better education as what’s offered on the Isles is minimally adequate at best. Until 1981, all privately owned colleges and businesses reserved the right to refuse service to any Farrunese due to the terrible Race Laws passed in 1794. Public schools and colleges made any Farrunese applicants take impossibly difficult entrance exams that less than 15% passed. Since the laws passed in 1981 that repealed the Race Laws, over 15,000 Farrunese have immigrated to the mainland for schooling and work. This has hurt the Farrunese economy immensely, as workers for their mostly agrarian economy have left the Isles to never return. Over the years, all of these previous events have culminated into the “April Crisis”. The April Crisis includes the riots and protests of the last two weeks, and now, a bombing and attack on a police station in Dendervik that housed supplies and weapons for the Royal Police. The attack was claimed by the Workers and National Kinsmen party (WNK), but is believed to have been supported by some unknown outside force. The attack killed 25 and injured 57 police and civilians caught in the area of the attack.

I interviewed one Farrunese civilian that wished to remain anonymous, who said, “I don’t really agree with the violent approach, but they are my fellow Farrunese kin, so it’s really hard to take a stance against them.” They also stated that they were a WNK supporter and voter. Based on this information and other interviews, it seems to be just a radical minority within the WNK supported by an unknown external force that is behind these attacks. The question is however: Who is supporting these attacks? Well, there is really only one option; Rayvostoka.

Rayvostoka is a communist nation that is just south of Suavidci, and it is a part of their ideology to support the “world revolution of all workers.” This makes them the prime force that could be supporting the WNK in their hurtful endeavors against the Faltsish Monarchy. Most, if not all, of the other Aurorian nations support the Faltsish Monarchy, so it wouldn’t make sense for any of those nations to be behind it. While the Royal Government most likely already knows this, it is up to them to decide the fate for Faltsu when dealing with this event. The WNK is now in open rebellion against the Monarchy, and with a seemingly complicit Farrunese populus, it will be a difficult, but not an impossible fight to put down. We do not know at this time whether or not the unknown external force is actually Rayvostoka, nor do we know whether or not it is supported by the Rayvostokan government, but it is a very high possibility that Rayvostoka is the one behind the “unknown external force”. All we do know for certain is that we are seeing a monumental moment in Faltsish history being played out in real time.





OOC Notes:

Music for this post:
1000hp - Godsmack: https://youtu.be/6rL4em-Xv5o
 
Last edited:
ROxwKqm.png

This Publication was written by Comrade Velenkin Sernegov, April 20th

In the last two days, it has come to the attention of not only the Presidium but the Central Committee as well that an opinion article was published by the Faltish media outlet known as Royal Zäiten, making false and inaccurate claims in reference to the Glorious People's Republic. And while both the Presidium but the Central Committee have denied these claims made I have felt it necessary for me to address these as well.

Much of what the article detailed was an account of the current situation arising in the nation of Faltsu over the rising unrest on the island of Farrun. For most of the accounts, the writer speaks of the many injustices committed by the government of Faltsu against the people of Farrun leading into the modern day. He then moves on to more recent events with the large-scale protests and riots perpetrated by members of the Workers and National Kinsmen party (WNK) and claims that they were supported by some kind of external force. Now later on in the article, the writer claims that the People's Republic was involved in some way with these attacks, but as we all know this horribly inaccurate and seemingly just another attempt by the capitalists to pass blame.

As we have seen over the past several centuries, the Faltish have had no issue with oppressing and mistreating the native people of Farrun. So now after so much oppression, they dare to wonder why such incidents occur and why the native peoples of the island are so opposed to Faltish rule. And in a typical act of capitalist and imperialist rhetoric, they place the blame on foreign state with ideologies that differ from theirs, many of these people choose to point fingers at external threats because they realize that if they were forced to confront the hard truths they would be faced with an utterly homegrown movement caused by their own misdeeds.

So I must ask you as the readers, who is truly responsible for all of this violence?

The Rayvostokan's peacefully coexisting in an environment hostile to its existence or the Faltish who have oppressed the people of Farrun for centuries. Only you can decide
 
[LOCATION REDACTED] WNK HQ, The Isles of Farrun, Faltsu.
April 22nd, 2016
5:30pm.


“We attack here.” stated a WNK militia commander while pointing at a police station on a map of a seemingly rural part of the largest of the Farrunese Isles. “Intelligence reports that this location houses crucial medical and communication supplies for the Royal Police, and the professional army. A hit on this police station will both be low risk as its only police guarding it, and if successful, it will stall their invasion of our homeland for at least two weeks, if not more.” The militia commander looked around the briefing room to supporting nods from his comrades.

“I guess it’s settled then.” He paused. “We will need 30 men and three technicals for this mission. Get them here and ready to roll in two hours sharp. Godspeed men.” The other men in the briefing room saluted him and walked out in an orderly fashion. The militia commander leaned over the map with his head hung low. “Sending this small of an attack force is a huge risk, but it’s the only choice I’ve got. We’d be spread too thinly otherwise. If this mission did not succeed, the military may overrun the Isles of Farrun before we even have a chance to organize a decent supply of manpower and equipment. And that would spell the end of the revolution right then and there.” he thought to himself. Two hours later, the requested forces of the WNK militia arrived at HQ. They were briefed on the mission at hand and set off towards the target police station.



“Dispatch to 1K-81.” *

The Police Sergeant reached for his radio on his desk. He picked it up and responded. “Go for 1K-81.”

“We have reports of a large militia force headed your way consisting of three mounted pickup trucks escorting a larger military surplus Class-B vehicle. The Class-B vehicle was observed to be holding at least 25-30 armed militiamen.”

“How far away is the nearest backup?”

“Approximately 45 minutes away.”

His heart sank as he responded. “10-4 dispatch. Et wäert kaschten wat et wäert kaschten.” He stood up and swore under his breath as he walked out of his office and into the main upstairs room filled with about a dozen small cubicles. He looked around the room to find only six other officers stationed there. “Is this really all we’ve got? I know I’m at the tail end of a 12 hour shift but still… I don't remember this few officers clocking in.” he thought to himself.

“If I could have your attention please,” he stated loudly. “As you may have heard over the radio, there is a high chance that we will be in combat at any minute. As such, we need to make some preparations.” He paused as he looked around the room once more. His fellow officers were looking at him with attention. He studied their faces for a few seconds. Some faces were as tired as he was, others were bored with at least some energy left in them. None of them realized what was about to occur. “This location is strategically important to the Monarchy, and it must not fall. We may be outnumbered, but we have the strategic advantage in cover. We will use this to our advantage by dealing a decisive blow here and now. Using my expertise from being a retired MP sergeant, I have concluded that this is just a delay mission. It is similar to the ones that we do drills on when dealing with the local gangs. We will delay the enemy until backup arrives in approximately 45 minutes. If we give these filthy rebels a run for their money before backup arrives then that’ll just mean that we had all the fun.” He saw the other officers smile and nod at him as he continued his speech. “Now, everyone make sure that your pistols and long-guns are in working order, and that you grab as much ammo as possible. Make sure to also put on your vests and grab anything that you feel is necessary in order to fight. We will take up defensive positions along the second floor of this building and shoot out of the windows at the militia as they arrive. I will give the signal to attack. If you are injured, or otherwise unable to hold your position, safely retreat into friendly lines. Any questions?”

“No sir!” they all responded, mostly in unison.

As the minutes passed, the seven loyal defenders prepared for their last stand. They pushed over desks and made as much makeshift cover for themselves as possible. By the time they were done about 15 minutes later, it looked like a tornado went through the second floor of the building. But, it was all going accordingly as they now were prepared to defend the police station and its valuable contents. As if on cue, three mounted pickup trucks and a medium-sized Class-B cabover truck rolled up to the front entrance of the police station. The Class-B truck dismounted as around 20 armed militiamen jumped down from the rear troop-ferrying compartment of the vehicle. One of the militiamen, wearing an olive green dress uniform with a matching dress cap, picked up a megaphone and turned it on. “We are the 5th Mechanized Infantry Company of the WNK Militia, and we hereby offer you an opportunity to surrender to us. We will allow 60 seconds for you to send your most senior officer before we attack. If you do not comply, we will be forced to overrun this facility and kill anyone who tries to resist us with our superior firepower.” Seemingly confident with the speech he gave, the militiaman turned off the megaphone and set it in the bed of one of the trucks. Just then, one flashbang, followed by another, flew out of a second floor window going in opposite directions. They both landed on opposite sides of the opposing militia forces and exploded on impact, stunning most of the militiamen, who weren’t spaced out very well. Chaos erupted as bullets rained down from each of the five open windows on the second floor. About one third of the militia forces were gunned down as some blindly shot at the building, and others panicked and shot at each other for a handful of seconds. While organization broke down within the militia lines, one of the few unaffected militiamen got onto one of the mounted machine guns on the back of the pickup trucks and fired at one of the windows that the police were shooting from. They managed to kill an officer before being shot multiple times from another window and then subsequently stumbling backwards and falling from the truck. Another officer shooting from a different window was gunned down as the majority of the forces regained their senses and started to reorganize and direct their fire effectively. The militiaman that made the speech earlier shouted, “Throw tear gas! One canister for each floor. That’ll flush them out!” Two militiamen then nodded and grabbed a small wooden crate out the back of the large truck and set it on the ground in front of them. They opened it and grabbed two canisters of tear gas previously acquired from a raid on a different police station. Both canisters were primed and then tossed into both floors of the police station as they shouted, “Fir d'Revolutioun!”



The loud, yet slightly muffled voice of the militiaman making his speech could be heard through the open windows on the second floor of the building.

“He is sure a loud one isn’t he.” the police sergeant joked as chuckles came from the other officers. After a few seconds of much needed comedic relief, he cleared his throat and stated, “Alrighty, here’s the plan. I’ll give the signal to attack by throwing a flashbang down at the irregular blobs of militia. Wait one second, then throw a second flashbang going the opposite direction. I’ll throw mine to the left, and you will throw yours to the right.” he stated as he nodded to the officer to his left. “When you hear them go off, pop up from behind cover and start firing. They will only be stunned for a handful of seconds, so make your shots count. Let’s give these rebels a lesson in proper spacing, shall we?”

A few seconds later, the megaphone fell silent as both the sergeant and the officer to his left primed their flashbangs and threw them one after another according to plan. Six officers then popped up from behind cover and started laying down fire from their rifles. The sergeant stayed behind cover ready to pull away any officers that may get wounded from the firefight. The officer shooting out of the left-most window fell lifeless as a mounted machine gun on the back of a pickup truck came to life and riddled his body with high-caliber bullets. The officer stationed in the window next to him fired at the MG gunner and proceeded to repay the favor by unloading into him. That officer then fell to the ground as the effects of the flashbangs wore off on the militia and they started to be able to see where they were shooting. The four remaining officers stopped firing and dropped back down to cover with the sergeant pulling the dead across the room where they wouldn’t be in the way. They then heard the militia commander shout something about tear gas. This made the sergeant’s heart sink as he knew the danger posed by tear gas. Although not necessarily deadly, the gas was able to cause damage to a person’s eyes, nose, skin, and lungs as the powder coats everything it touches.

“It looks like they’re about to launch tear gas in here to flush us out. We need to prepare in order to not be affected as much by the gas. Firstly,” he paused “everyone needs to wrap dry cloth three layers thick around their nose and mouth. Make sure you have enough length, so that you can pull it over your eyes.” He pointed to one of the officers and ordered, “Go grab the med box.” The officer nodded and crawled over to an adjacent room and grabbed a medium-sized plastic tote with a medic symbol painted on it. He made his way back to the rest of the group and they opened the tote. Each of them grabbed a large white cloth and folded it so that it would be three layers thick. They then tied it around their face like a bandana with enough length for them to be able to pull it over their eyes. As if on cue, the tear gas canisters flew through a window on both the second and the first floor.

“It may hurt to breathe, and you may feel like dying, but you’ll be fine as long as you keep your face covered. This will only last for a few minutes.” the sergeant stated. He was lying of course, as it would take at least ten minutes for the powder to settle and/or clear the building. He then got an idea.

“Hey,” he stated. “This building has an air purifier in the HVAC system. Go to the aircon control panel and bump the temperature down to the lowest setting. That will purify the air as the filter will catch the fine powder that makes up tear gas.” One of the officers then crawled his way over to the aircon control panel and bumped the temperature down to the lowest setting. The HVAC system whirred to life as it began to slowly filter the fine tear gas particles from the air. It wouldn’t solve the problem completely, but it would at least help clear the tear gas faster. At this point, the effects of the tear gas were starting to be felt by the five loyal defenders. Their eyes, nose, lungs, and skin all started to burn as the fine particles settled into the pores of their skin, and got in their eyes. It felt as if they were breathing fire, and they let out some quiet cries of pain in between bad coughing fits that eventually led to them coughing up blood. This all lasted for about 15 minutes until the front door on the first floor of the building was slammed open by the militia. The gas had cleared enough to where it was safe for them to enter the building. About 15 militiamen stacked up and entered the building, clearing each room as they went. Meanwhile on the second floor, the five remaining defenders crawled their way in excruciating pain to the defensive positions decided before the attack. Loud voices and steps could be heard as the 15 militiamen made their way up the stairs. As soon as over half of them made it all the way up the stairs and stepped out in the open, the five officers slowly rose to a kneel behind cover and took aim. The sergeant pulled down his protective cloth below his mouth, now partially stained red due to him coughing up blood for the past 15 minutes and yelled, “Net ee Schrëtt zréck!” as he unloaded his pistol into the line of militiamen. Three fell as the other four officers slowly rose to their feet and staggered forward as they began to unload into the line of militiamen. The sight was terrifying to the line of young irregulars--the five remaining officers were covered in chemical burns and rashes on their exposed skin, their eyes were bloodshot, and their makeshift gas masks made of layered white cloth were partially stained blood-red. All order broke down as formations broke and the militiamen panicked at the sight of “zombies” staggering towards them. They hurried down the stairs, some tripping over the fallen corpses of their comrades on the way and being shot as they tried to retreat. A few militiamen found some courage as they turned and fired at the handful of charging men that were supposed to be incapacitated, and landed a few hits. One officer fell as he was hit multiple times in his vest and arm by panicked fire. Out of the 15 militiamen that entered, only five returned out of the building, fleeing in panic to find cover behind their vehicles. One of them shouted, “We’re fighting zombies in there man! We need to retreat!” to the commander.

“Nonsense! We still have the advantage in numbers. We will complete the mission!” the commander sternly ordered. The remaining militia forces (numbering ten in total) readied themselves behind cover.

Back inside the building, the four remaining defenders that were able to fight, took up positions back near the windows, their movements concealed by the heavy smoke caused by the kicked up tear gas particles, and the smoke from firing their guns so much. A shot rang out as the militia commander stumbled and fell over onto the ground. His lifeless corpse showed an expression of shock as the shot landed on his forehead. The remaining militiamen then gave the order to retreat as they had no more commanding officers left. The nine irregulars scrambled to their vehicles and sped off back to the WNK HQ, leaving their dead and wounded behind. The four police officers patched up the wounds of fifth and most recently injured officer. They then “entrenched” themselves in the second floor of the building and prepared for a possible counterattack. Fortunately, one never came and a backup force of over 50 Royal Police officers arrived 18 minutes later. Shocked at the state of the survivors, they rushed them to the nearest hospital, where they are currently recovering from both tear gas and GSW related injuries.

The five survivors are expected to make a full recovery, but the long-term effects from being exposed to tear gas that long are currently unknown. Each of the five surviving officers personally received a Gréng Schëld vun Éier medal for their heroic actions during the defense of a key strategic location. The families of the officers that passed during the battle each received monetary benefits from the government.





OOC Notes:

* The “K” in this line is said as “King”, so the actual radio transmission would’ve said “1 King 81”.
Et wäert kaschten wat et wäert kaschten - It will cost what it will cost.
Fir d'Revolutioun! - For the revolution!
Net ee Schrëtt zréck! - Not one step back!
Gréng Schëld vun Éier - Green Shield of Honor. This is the first time in the History of Faltsu that such a high award (the third highest military award) was given to a non-military combatant.

Music for this post:
Attack of the Dead Men - Sabaton:
https://youtu.be/-AFdwoyNT24
 
Back
Top