Eternity RPC Board
Halvadag, Lanlania, HLE
Thursday, 12 Zechyr 1585
"This is unacceptable!" Sulkholm bellowed. "How dare you lay a hand on me! I will have your jobs for this!" The Prime Minister fumed in his armchair, glaring down the Imperial Marshals and the Secret Security Service officers that were ripping apart his office. They'd zip-tied his arms together after he'd made one too many attempts to stop them, and one of their agents had the specific job of pushing him back into his seat whenever he shot up.
The array of officers had arrived late in the evening, a little before midnight. Sulkholm had just changed into his sleepwear and joined his wife in bed when a knock on their door and the whispers of a sympathizing Executive Security officer warned him that Crown agents had arrived to detain him. He'd managed to shoot off a few emails and even attempted to escape before the Marshals and SSS pushed through his security detail and stopped him.
A short stand off, an argument, and a light scuffle later, Sulkholm could do nothing as the agents poured through his documents. His desk and file cabinets were ravaged while his computers were hacked, copied, and dismantled. His phones, and the phones of all his aids and guards, were seized. Restoring the Prime Minister's Residence would take weeks. Sulkholm had no doubts the scene was repeated at all his residences.
Sulkholm smiled when the radio on an officer's belt, silent since their arrival, sputtered alive. "We've got trouble out here," came over the radio. "A n angry crowd is approaching the residence on foot and in vehicles. No visible weapons. The media is with them. Over."
With barely a glance, the officer pulled his radio up and answered, "Don't let them through the road block. Once we've finished seizing material, we're airlifting back to headquarters. Buy us ten. Be prepared to move. Over."
"Roger."
Sulkholm's smile vanished. He doubted his Golden Guard would make it in time.
The radio was silent for a few moments, before it again cracked and burst alive. "Holy!"—the distinct crackling of automatic weapons fire came through over the radio, as well as the shrieks and cries of a frantic crowd—"We are taking rifle fire. Repeat, we are taking rifle fire from multiple positions. Cannot identify the source. The crowd has split: elements continue to advance on our position while others have scattered. Awaiting guidance. Over."
The devious smirk returned.
"Do not return fire," the officer ordered. "Launch tear gas and withdraw to the residence. Draw them in so we can surround and finish them. Over." The officer glanced to another, who nodded and quickly pulled out a large cell phone and made a call.
"Firing tear gas and reducing perimeter. Over."
Again, Sulkholm fell crestfallen.
By morning's light, he'd have been moved to a secure Marshals facility and his Golden Guard reduced to less than half its size—many killed or arrested at the Prime Minister's residence, others dealt with at home by Duchy Sheriff and City Police in a series of raids across the Imperial capital and its surroundings. Still, the Empire's darkest day was only beginning.
Thursday, 12 Zechyr 1585
"This is unacceptable!" Sulkholm bellowed. "How dare you lay a hand on me! I will have your jobs for this!" The Prime Minister fumed in his armchair, glaring down the Imperial Marshals and the Secret Security Service officers that were ripping apart his office. They'd zip-tied his arms together after he'd made one too many attempts to stop them, and one of their agents had the specific job of pushing him back into his seat whenever he shot up.
The array of officers had arrived late in the evening, a little before midnight. Sulkholm had just changed into his sleepwear and joined his wife in bed when a knock on their door and the whispers of a sympathizing Executive Security officer warned him that Crown agents had arrived to detain him. He'd managed to shoot off a few emails and even attempted to escape before the Marshals and SSS pushed through his security detail and stopped him.
A short stand off, an argument, and a light scuffle later, Sulkholm could do nothing as the agents poured through his documents. His desk and file cabinets were ravaged while his computers were hacked, copied, and dismantled. His phones, and the phones of all his aids and guards, were seized. Restoring the Prime Minister's Residence would take weeks. Sulkholm had no doubts the scene was repeated at all his residences.
Sulkholm smiled when the radio on an officer's belt, silent since their arrival, sputtered alive. "We've got trouble out here," came over the radio. "A n angry crowd is approaching the residence on foot and in vehicles. No visible weapons. The media is with them. Over."
With barely a glance, the officer pulled his radio up and answered, "Don't let them through the road block. Once we've finished seizing material, we're airlifting back to headquarters. Buy us ten. Be prepared to move. Over."
"Roger."
Sulkholm's smile vanished. He doubted his Golden Guard would make it in time.
The radio was silent for a few moments, before it again cracked and burst alive. "Holy!"—the distinct crackling of automatic weapons fire came through over the radio, as well as the shrieks and cries of a frantic crowd—"We are taking rifle fire. Repeat, we are taking rifle fire from multiple positions. Cannot identify the source. The crowd has split: elements continue to advance on our position while others have scattered. Awaiting guidance. Over."
The devious smirk returned.
"Do not return fire," the officer ordered. "Launch tear gas and withdraw to the residence. Draw them in so we can surround and finish them. Over." The officer glanced to another, who nodded and quickly pulled out a large cell phone and made a call.
"Firing tear gas and reducing perimeter. Over."
Again, Sulkholm fell crestfallen.
By morning's light, he'd have been moved to a secure Marshals facility and his Golden Guard reduced to less than half its size—many killed or arrested at the Prime Minister's residence, others dealt with at home by Duchy Sheriff and City Police in a series of raids across the Imperial capital and its surroundings. Still, the Empire's darkest day was only beginning.
Role Play States | ||
 | Holy Lanlanian Empire Holy Emperor: Feryn I Prime Minister: Klaus Lofgren | The Holy Lanlanian Empire is a multi-ethnic state based in western Brigidna with territories all across the globe. It is a relic of an older age, an absolute monarchy hidden under a functioning democracy. The empire has historically been the world's leading power, though has long been in decline and was recently overtaken by the Republic of Nyland. Nonetheless, the empire is not an opponent to take lightly. |
 | Ishnalli Empire Empress: Lanryu-il Chancellor: IDEK | The greatest country in the world. It's YUUUUGGGEEEE. |
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