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+----- Thread: Return to Gable (/thread-800.html)
Return to Gable - Ayzek - 10-27-2018
The plains of eastern Gable had potential. Despite centuries of human expansion up the Amano river, much of the northern Kasimnini valley remained a savanna dotted by settlements and broken only in places by rivers and highways. Its population was modest and only in 1575 did it come to discover the wonders of modern technology. While the radio was modestly common, only the largest villages had even a communal television, much less a car. Still, as the southern farmlands slowly encroached on the forest, communication came with it.
Only in 1575, a year after the Lanlanians had withdrawn from Gable, did some of the more remote settlements even hear word they'd been there--or that there'd been a war in eastern hills. That the eastern hills even belonged to the same state. That they were now free citizens of a democracy who elected their leader rather than subjects of some faraway king. The Holy Lanlanian Emperor?
Information spread much more quickly afterwards, of course. The free election of President Ulrik Thorssen. The flow of Lanlanian money. The construction of the Dashinogi-Tatanisa Highway. The defeat of the last rebel holdout. The free election of President Ulrik Thorssen. The discover of petroleum. The flow of Lanlanian money. The free election of President Ulrik Thorssen. The construction of Gable's first skyscraper. The spark of civil war in the country to the north. The expansion of the national highway. The free election of President Ulrik Thorssen.
By 1582, as televisions spread through the countryside, the peoples of the plains and hills had noticed that something was wrong. Where was their Lanlanian money? Where were their bridges? Their national highway? Their Internet? Their car? Their free vote for President Ulrik Thorssen?
Eastern Gable
19 Treizen 1586
Kofi Nze lived in a small village a few days north of Kasimano. While the immediate few kilometers north of the city were fields of privately-owned farmland, Kofi's village was located well away from civilization. Only a dirt road, that coincidentally crossed the national highway between Kasimano and Badiano connected it to the rest of the country. His village was one of the luckier ones too--there were others deeper into the savanna, barely visible from aircraft and just as connected to other settlements.
His village had no specific name, despite being visited once in the last decade by a cadre of suits claiming to be from the nation's census bureau. The Brigidnan man had promised great change would follow the census--power and phone lines would be propped up and roads would be built, the village and the lands around it would be developed, polling stations would be set up. None of it happened, of course. Kofi's neighbor had traded a chicken for the village's first radio back in '78, and the village chief had trade his mule for the first television only last year.
The television changed their lives. While they'd heard of skyscrapers, aircraft, and democracy from the radio, they didn't quite understand it until they saw it on television. The evening news had blown their minds with the first flyover the of Amarane and it happened again when they saw a jumbo jet taking off--it'd been the talk of the town for days. But they began to ask questions when the subject turned to politics.
At first, they'd been simply mesmerized by democracy--the courtrooms, the parliament, President Ulrik Thorssen. The citizens of the inner cities gleefully celebrating the exercise of their rights, and celebrating how it was available to everyone.
But not them.
"That census guy didn't come again this year," said Kofi's cousin, Mobuto. The village had many questions for this census man but no idea how to reach him. They'd thought he'd come every so often, if for no other reason than to collect their vote.
"Maybe they forgot about us?" said his other cousin, Mosi.
"Again," Mobuto replied sharply.
It was early morning and the entire village was gathered outside the chief's house again, where he'd set up the analog television. They did this every so often and especially following elections.
"Quiet kids, they're about to announce the results."
The village chief turned the volume knob and the television did what it could, "and the winner of our 6th national presidential elections is..." the young woman checked the papers in her hands again, which'd been given to her moments earlier by a man offscreen. "Ulrik Thorssen!"
A solemn atmosphere fell over the village as the chief lowered the volume. It was a large difference from the cheers and celebration the first two victories had brought. While the older adults began to whisper to one another, the kids ran off to play and the young adults disappeared into the huts.
"You know," Mobuto said to Kofi and Mosi, "I heard the craziest thing on the radio last night. They said it doesn't have to be like this. We have more power than we think."
"Listening to the Free People's Radio again?" Mosi asked with a sneaker.
"Hey!" Mobuto shot back. "What they say makes sense. Much more sense than the CTV makes."
"They're rebels, Mobby." Mosi sighed. "Let's just grab our guns and go. I wanna catch something before the sun gets too high."
RE: Return to Gable - Arkiania - 10-29-2018
National Party of Gable
Background
The National Party of Gable came in the wake of the civil-unrest that spread throughout the cities and the country sides. The party is commanded by the ruthless shadowy figure, known for her ruthlessness against supporters of the government and Lanlanians, however her favor with her inner-circle is slipping because of her ruthless tactics and her resistance to an alliance with the Moderate Rebels. What they lack in advanced weaponry and access to newer armor, they compensate with their knowledge of the region, expertise from ex-government forces members and an extensive network of embedded fighters and civilian collaborators in nearly every village. In 1595 at the height of their power, and they are on verge of a major offensive against government forces on the western coast.
RE: Return to Gable - Ayzek - 11-03-2018
Kasimano, Gable
16 Alvan 1588
"We demand equality!" shouted the Kayne Buhari. Buhari was an elder man, dressed in the traditional agbada of the southern Kihvan peninsula. He was from a village not far from Kofi's and also Kofi's grandfather-in-law. It was partially that relationship that led Kofi to join the congregation of men from the Kasimnini valley on a march on Kasimano. They'd gotten the idea from a similar stunt held in the capital by villagers in the west a few months earlier. They were really only mirroring the movement by the westerners. They had no civil rights organization to coordinate them.
"We have watched you southerners enjoy your wonders for too long!" Buhari continued. The younger villagers weren't completely lost when they arrived in Kasimano--they did occasionally visit for business--and so they'd led their elders to the city hall. A small crowd of onlookers and officers had gathered, watching the old man speak in a distinct tongue. "Where are the roads in the villages? Where is their electricity? It is not acceptable that only you towndwellers get phones, and cars, and running water!
"We demand our voice be heard! You have not ever collected our votes! This is not acceptable!"
There was a language barrier between the villagers and the onlookers. While many in the larger settlements learned Lanlanian, their second language was largely based on their ethnicity. The Zebani of the northern valley spoke a different tongue than the largely Banu population of Kasimano. The rural populations did learn Gableese Pidgin Lanlanian for the sake of trade with the cities, but only merchants and traders of the cities learned it in return.
"Oke, papa-papa," an officer said, approaching the elder from the line of officers barring the way to city hall, "that's tilrakt." Buhari could only make out parts of it. "I gö-no först you. I think it's time you leave."
The officer was likely Banu and spoke clear Lanlanian. He gestured for the elder and his party--almost 20 men of various ages--to leave the way they'd come. The rest of the officers stood back, all of them holding onto their firearms tucked away at their side. The village men were armed too--they needed to be, out in the wilderness.
"Are you refusing to listen?" Buhari questioned, almost incredulously.
"This is-no the place," the officer answered. "We gö-no listen to you."
"Then who can?"
"Find nägon."
RE: Return to Gable - Ayzek - 11-16-2018
Early in Quartyr, the government of Maharsa had struck hard at the rebel forces in its southern countryside. Maharsa, under the leadership of President Dakarai Babette, had been waging a war against revolutionaries for over a decade and was on the verge of total victory. While the insurgents had once pushed the government halfway up the country, they had been pushed to the plains of the Kasimnini valley--from where Babette intended to finally push them out.
Gable's forces at the border had been trading fire with the rebels since mid-1588, and the skirmishes only escalated in the months following Maharsa's offensive. By Fein, the government was received reports of Maharsan rebels striking as far south as the farmlands around Ganeisa, where they massacred a Nzane village. The massacre mobilized not only the government, but the Nzane people themselves, who took up arms to defend themselves. They were largely coordinated under the National Party of Gable's paramilitary wing.
The firefights between Gableese villagers and Maharsan rebels drew the media to the countryside, and its impoverished condition finally received public attention. But it was arguably too late.
In Septum, the government ordered more men to the north. The bulk of the troops were sent to reinforce the border itself, though others were deployed to the central valley and highlands to combat Maharsan rebels that had were already inside.
The people were not pleased to have a sudden influx of city-slickers, largely Fuugo and Bano troops with the occasional ethnic Lanlanian mixed in.
RE: Return to Gable - Ayzek - 11-25-2018
Northern Gable
24 Nueva 1588
Liam Lundholm was a conscript, like much of the Gableese military. He'd been dragged into the military shortly after secondary school and received a few months of training before being deployed north. The deployment had been quite sudden and came as a surprise. He and many of his peers had expected that more senior personnel would be deployed first, but here they were.
He considered himself somewhat lucky, nonetheless, to be deployed into the Kasimnini valley rather than the border itself. He'd heard of how chaotic the border had become since Mahara began it's final push. The veteran Maharsan revolutionaries easily toyed with the untempered Gableese troops and penetrated the border with impunity. Of course, the media and the nation weren't told that and it was instead built on rumors passed through the Logistics Corp.
"How much further?" Liam questioned, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them. He was a driver in the Logistics Corp. He and his team had been tasked with convoying supplies to an army camp near the border. Their armed escort made them nervous. It meant that the rumors of convoys coming under attack had some truth to them.
"It's about another three dozen kilometers," his navigator answered, studying the man on the dashboard in front of him. "We're on the last stretch." The Fuugo man was not much older than Liam.
"Thank God," Laim replied. "My ass hurts from sitting all morning."
His navigator chuckled. "We'll have a good break while they unload the trucks."
The radio between them suddenly crackled alive. "Charlie 1. All units halt, we've spotted a possible up ahead."
Fuck. "Shit," Liam cursed, easing his foot onto the break.
"Of course it's when we're so close to camp," said his navigator. He quickly shoved the map into the map compartment and checked his PDW, bringing it up to the open window. The trucks were cheap and the men didn't trust them to to stop shrapnel, much less arms fire.
The ground around the highway had been leveled at some point, leaving a few meters of clearing to either side before the savanna returned. Liam, his own PDW at the ready, couldn't see any movement. "Bravo 3," Liam called into the radio, "no movement detected."
"Bravo 4. I don't see anything out there either."
"Charlie 2, all clear in the back."
"Bravo 5. I'm seeing movement to your 3, Bravo 3."
"Fuck," Laim's navigator muttered. He lifted his rifle out the window and focused, struggling to see anything off in the shrubbery.
"They're at ou--" the radio cut out for Liam and his vision turned black. As his consciousness faded, he heard gunfire popping in the distance and the panicked shouts of his navigator.
When the Gableese Army sent out a patrol to search for their missing supplies, they discovered that the convoy had been wiped out and looted. The bodies scattered to each side of the road weren't Maharsan.