On a cold night in Čachtice...

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On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sun Apr 12, 2009 2:19 am

(This thread will be a historical RP, which will hopefully clear up some things about Deltarian history. All of this stuff happened in pre-game times.)

8:30 PM, December 5, 1952

It was a rainy winter night in Deltaria's largest city. The man stood at the streetcar stop on Trigunska, under the Bystrica Street bridge. The last streetcars to Královska would stop here soon, and he watched the tracks carefully, looking for the streetcar and praying that he hadn't missed it. A light appeared in the distance, and the streetcar screeched to a stop. He got on, handed a fifty-telar coin to the driver, and sat down.

"Where are you going?"

"The Lodenice Hotel, at Královska and Bystrica near the station."

"You sound familiar. Do I know you?"

"I'm Ivan. Ivan Smolenak."

"I think I remember you."

The doors closed, and the streetcar turned onto Bystrica Street. The wheels clanked as it passed over the old cast-iron bridge over the Čachtice River. At Václav Street, the driver pulled the emergency brake. The streetcar quickly came to a stop, screeching loudly as it did.

"Why are we stopped?"

"You don't know what that noise is?"

"What noise?"

"That low rumbling sound. It's a tank. A whole column of them. If you know what's good for you, you need to get out of here right now."
"The FSB finally caught him for talking shit about replacing Putin with this "Saiser" character. I'm guessing they're up to his seventh toenail by now."
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby GreekIdiot » Sun Apr 12, 2009 9:49 am

OOC: You again...a bit late, aren't you? :P
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sun Apr 12, 2009 12:57 pm

OOC: Indeed.

Also, apologies for stealing your style.
"The FSB finally caught him for talking shit about replacing Putin with this "Saiser" character. I'm guessing they're up to his seventh toenail by now."
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sun Apr 12, 2009 2:44 pm

12:00 PM, June 21, 1954
Václav Street, Čachtice


In the aftermath of the Revolution, the city was just beginning to be restored. Piles of bricks stood on the sidewalks, waiting to be formed into structures. Concrete trucks were driving around everywhere, delivering their cargo to whatever parts of the city needed it, which was nearly the entire city. Sparks flew near the middle of the street as railroad workers welded the streetcar tracks back together. Over the river, you could see steel and concrete towers, steadily growing taller and taller as the bridges that had been blown up during the war were rebuilt. Cranes pulled overturned streetcars that had been used as barricades off of the street.

The bus (streetcar service had not yet been restored) that he was in this time looked much different from most other buses he had ridden on. Most noticeably, it was covered with reinforced sheets of steel. The bus was pockmarked with bullet holes and shell holes. The hastily-built running boards that soldiers with machine-guns had stood on during the war had not yet been removed. Crates, all of them empty, labeled "FOOD", "AMMUNITION", "RIFLES", and other similar things still stood in the back of the bus, their contents having either been used during the war or looted during the Revolution.

"This is Wenceslas Square. Last stop on this route. Take the #37 bus northbound on the other side of the square for continuation along Deltársky. All passengers please disembark, this is the last stop."

All of the passengers got off. There was a very large crowd in the Square at the time.

And at that point, he decided to do what he thought was best for Deltaria, and said these words:

"For too long we have lived through the Czarist tyranny and the anarchy of the Revolution. This must end. Therefore, I, Iván Smolenak, proclaim the Republic of Deltaria. I will be taking the position of provisional President. There will be free and fair elections for a new President and a Rada with full legislative powers, redistribution of the land to the peasants that deserve it, employment for all of you soldiers, and reforms to restore Deltaria to its former glory among the nations of the world."

There was much applause and cheering. Thus the young soldier from Banska Bystrica started along the road from complete insignificance to being one of the most powerful people in Deltaria. He was going along that road without a map or any idea what to do, hoping that smiling and using populist rhetoric would guide him along that road.
"The FSB finally caught him for talking shit about replacing Putin with this "Saiser" character. I'm guessing they're up to his seventh toenail by now."
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sun Apr 12, 2009 2:51 pm

2:39 AM, February 5, 1953
Trista Mostenire, Kingdom of Ushalande


Private Nicolae Ionescu let out a huge yawn. It was his last day of sentry duty along the border with Darali, and he wanted to be done with it as quick as he could. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a loud bugle. He looked around, saw nothing but blackness, mumbled to himself, felt for his rifle, and went back into his state of being half-awake, half-asleep. Then he heard the loud Slavic war-cry: "Ura!"

As he saw his comrades being raked with machine-gun fire, and the forts that everyone in Ushalande believed to be invincible torn to pieces by the artillery, there was only one thing he could do: retreat. He turned around and ran as fast as he could. As he looked to his sides and behind him, he saw the rest of the unit was doing the same thing. The "Hundred-Mile Retreat" was beginning.
"The FSB finally caught him for talking shit about replacing Putin with this "Saiser" character. I'm guessing they're up to his seventh toenail by now."
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sun Apr 12, 2009 3:23 pm

2:00 PM, February 3, 1953
Royal Palace, Viarnassus (Taramul Sperantelor), Ushalande


The Ushalandian foreign minister had received yet another telegram from Cachtice, this time demanding the cession of several areas in Ushalande, including the city of Viarnassus and several areas where the Ushalandian border fortifications were situated, and threatening war if the ultimatum was not complied with. In the months preceding, the Ushalandians had received several ultimatums from Darali, and complied with all of them, fearing invasion. This one, however, was completely intolerable - accepting it would mean the cession of Ushalande's capital and largest city, and the loss of the border fortifications that were its main defensive line against an invasion. The vote in the Crown Council was unanimous: it would not be accepted. The reply was telephoned to Cachtice:

"The Crown Council of Ushalande has unanimously rejected the outrageous Daralian demands. We will not abandon our major cities or important strategic interests such as the border fortification system. Please communicate our reply to your government."

"Very well. If you want war, we shall give you war."
"The FSB finally caught him for talking shit about replacing Putin with this "Saiser" character. I'm guessing they're up to his seventh toenail by now."
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Mon Apr 13, 2009 12:34 am

July 10, 1953
Chamber of Deputies, Sfîntu Gheorghe, Ushalande


The room where the Ushalandian Chamber of Deputies was meeting still bore the signs of war. The walls were pockmarked with shell holes, and bomb craters could be seen on the ceiling. This had been preserved so every member of the chamber would remember "the miracle of Sfîntu Gheorghe". Marshal Ion Petrescu, who claimed complete responsibility for it and had recently been promoted from General, strode confidently to the platform and began speaking.

"In these troubled times, our nation needs strong leadership. It was not long ago that the barbarian Daralian hordes occupied this great city. A similar catastrophe can be prevented if we have strong, competent military leaders who are not unduly restrained by civilians with no knowledge of military strategy. Therefore, I ask this chamber to appoint myself as the Premier of the Kingdom of Ushalande, with full emergency powers for the duration of this war."

The vote was unanimous. Nobody had the political courage to object to a great war hero such as Marshal Petrescu. As he left, he mumbled: "You can't say I didn't warn you."
"The FSB finally caught him for talking shit about replacing Putin with this "Saiser" character. I'm guessing they're up to his seventh toenail by now."
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby GreekIdiot » Mon Apr 13, 2009 6:27 am

Sam wrote:Also, apologies for stealing your style.


Woah man it ain't my style. I don't own anything. It's just an awesome style, generally.
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sat Nov 14, 2009 3:16 pm

Wenceslas Square, Čachtice
June 14, 1954


From the stationmaster's office in Václav Station, Marko squinted his eyes and peered through the scope on his captured Ushalandian .303 Georgescu at the street below. Tens of thousands of soldiers were gathered for a military parade to commemorate Darali's victory in the War, and Marko and the other Okhranka men were there to shoot anyone that acted up.

"Present arms!"

The soldiers all saluted, as they had been drilled to do. At that moment, one of the soldiers took out his Hradčany automatic and began firing at the Czar. The soldiers' rigid square kept, as it did at Lodenice where they had been encircled, but the generals that were present on the stand fled. All of the shots aimed at the Czar missed.

BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG

Marko pulled the bolt. The cartridge fell to the ground, and so did the Czar. The other snipers were shooting soldiers at random; Marko knew his targets. Czar Iván - dead, shot in the forehead. Czarina Stefania - dead, shot in the neck. General Černosek - dead, shot in the forehead. Premier Havliček - dead, shot in the heart. General Pavlovič - dead, shot in the mouth.

"Slava!"

The soldier who had raised his rifle at the Czar fell. His last words reverberated through the entire formation. It was mutiny. Most of the soldiers were peasants, and they followed tradition rigidly. Invoking the ancient Deltarian tradition of "looting everything in sight" that must be followed after every mutiny, they broke into the Czar's palace and every other nearby building, stole anything movable, set what wasn't on fire, and shot anyone unfortunate enough to still be inside. It was the start of a revolution. Marko was one of the first casualties of the Revolution, shot with a Hradčany automatic by the soldiers and finished off by a bayonet through the heart. He and the other snipers were strung up on a lamppost, with their Okhranka cards pinned to them as proof of their guilt. Their .303s found their way to one of the many arms bazaars that began to spring up all over Deltaria.
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Re: On a cold night in Čachtice...

Postby Sam » Sun Dec 06, 2009 2:22 pm

Viarnassus, Deltaria
July 27, 1954


Anyone who looked at Deltaria before the War would never have predicted that Oldřich Pardubický, scion of one of Darali's oldest noble families, would be the man who was in the central square of Viarnassus right now. He looked like the quintessential revolutionary: ammunition belt slung across his shoulder, rifle in one hand, raised fist in the other, almost impossible to hear over the fanatical cheering of the crowd if it was not for the conveniently placed microphone. He was in the middle of another of his fiery speeches.

"How many times have you labored as a slave in the fields, working endless days and nights to feed your bourgeois masters while you dine on scraps? How many times have you worked in the factory, toiling so your capitalist overlords can become richer while you can't afford to pay for your family? How many times have you killed another man, not for the pursuit of freedom, but to win an imperialist war so the Czar has more proletarians to exploit? No more! Comrades, join me and we will lead Deltaria to the socialist revolution! We will establish a free Deltaria, without any divisions of class, without any divisions of nationality, where everyone will be equal. We will give the land to the people. We will string up the factory managers and the nobles from every lamppost we can find. But we must fight to win our rights."

The crowd cheered wildly.

"Death to the bourgeois! Death to the Trigunian occupiers! Death to the reactionary Smolenak! Long live Free Deltaria!"

He opened up a crate of rifles and ammunition which had been standing next to him, and his comrades distributed them to the crowd. It was just in time.

"This is an illegal demonstration. Disperse immediately."

Twenty-five "Smolenak tanks", pickup trucks with converted anti-aircraft autocannons in the back and men with rifles inside the truck, pulled up and surrounded the demonstrators. The artillery fired high-explosive shells into the crowd, the passengers fired their rifles, and in one minute there were several hundred casualties among the demonstrators. There were only about a hundred people in the trucks and tens of thousands of demonstrators, but the attackers had much better firepower. The demonstrators fired their rifles, some of them sniping at the crews of the trucks, but rifles were no match for artillery. They were pushed back into the center of the square. They fought to the last man, and were destroyed to the last man. Pardubický's body was never found, and presumed to be obliterated by a shell, but his successors in the Communist Party leadership proclaimed he was still alive and in hiding. It did not matter. In the villages, Smolenak's supporters attacked Communists in a similar manner but with smaller numbers. By the end of the week, the Communist Party had been completely destroyed, with the exception of the underground in Cachtice and Sfantul Gheorghe.
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