Eastern Western Alliance

CHAOS EMPIRE wrote:

what up you all

hey

Thick tension hung in the air of an alleyway situated deep within San Brooken's labyrinthine heart. The rebels, remnants of what once had been a strong resistance brutalized during the civil war, moved as phantoms. In total, there were about fifteen of them, each bearing defeat both in body and mind. Among them was their leader, Sebastián Torres, who towered over them, with gray eyes that seemed to cut right through one, a sharp jawline enveloped by a beard now grown wild in their exile, and an expression that had hardened with loss and betrayal. His right arm carried a deep gash, healed poorly-a grim reminder of a war he once had hoped to win.

The rebels huddled together in a dingy and ill-looked-after cellar beneath a disused textile factory on the outskirts of San Brooken. Everything was barely visible except the poor light from a lantern, which sputtered with minute flames. Crates, torn maps, crude weapons lay strewn on the floor beside remnants of rations hastily consumed.
Dripping water echoed through the chamber, muffled their hushed voices. They had sealed all points of entry, save for the thin, arced, mock floor-to-ceiling tunnel snaking its way up to a nearby storm drain. There were sentries with improvised weapons at their stations, wrapped taut by the anxieties of potential discovery.

The leader of the rebels was a Norkelian named Sebastián. Sebastián was a man filled with so much grief and anger. Once, he had been a celebrated revolutionary in Northern Norkelia, leading thousands in his quest to overthrow the monarchy and its suffocating grip. But the civil war had shattered this dream. His closest allies were now dead, executed, disappeared, or lost in the chaos of battle. Great firepower and brutal tactics in an iron fist had managed to crush the rebellion spearheaded by the dictatorship.
But Sebastián did not budge. For him, Isabella Ramirez embodied tyranny. Not only had she carried forth the monarchy, but she had also been tightening its noose on its subjects, drowning dissent in rivers of blood. Her rise to power as Regent upon the death of King Juan I only fomented more hatred. "She's a snake," Sebastián said, time and again, his voice always hushed into a growl. "Cut off the head, and the body will crumble."

Huddled around a rickety wooden table, Sebastián spoke to his comrades. Among them, the rebels included:
Lucía Fernandez had been a journalist whose family had been killed by regime forces. A sharp tongue and inquisitive mind made her a valuable tool in drafting propaganda and strategies. Her eyes flashed green with an inner wish for vengeance. Miguel Rocha was a hulking man, a scar running down his cheek, the former soldier who had defected to the rebels. He had seen firsthand the atrocities of this regime and played as the muscle and weapons expert in the group.

Adela Vargas, wiry and quick of wit, had served the resistance as a courier during the war. She knew the maze-like streets of San Brooken intimately and had ways of slipping past police patrols with an ease that bordered on uncanny.
Sebastián unrolled a crumpled map of the Imperial Justice Complex-the seat of power for both the Supreme Court and Monarch Council-on the table. "This is where we strike," he said, poking his finger into the map.
Lucía leaned forward. Her voice came low, but it was firm. "We have tried protests, and we've tried talking our way out. The only thing we get in return is death. When Isabella Ramirez falls, the regime will go into chaos. It's the only chance we have."

Miguel crossed his arms. His face turned grim. "You know what will happen if we fail. They'll wipe us out-what's left of us. Are you sure about this, Sebastián?"

Sebastián's eyes darkened. "This no longer has anything to do with survival. It is now about justice. For all those we have lost."

The rebels knew the risks associated with uttering the name Isabella, let alone hatching some plot for her assassination. The streets of San Brooken were rife with police and informants. Cameras on lamp posts dotted every corner, while drones made patrols of the skies.

Coded messages and hand-delivered notes flushed out the system to avoid intelligence services. They were on disposable phones, changing location every few days. Food and supplies came in from sympathetic civilians, but trust was a rare commodity; anyone could be a spy.

Lucía concocted a bold but risky plan whereby Adela, using a police uniform and ID stolen, was to penetrate the Imperial Justice Complex. Secondly, Miguel was to concoct a crude bomb out of scavenged materials. They were to install such a device during a session in the chamber of the council and then detonate it when Isabella Ramirez would be there.

Each one of these rebels had a story for their hate. Sebastián watched during the war as his family home was razed. Lucía penned articles exposing regime corruption that led to her parents' execution. Miguel had been ordered to gun down civilians during a protest—a command he had defied, leading to his defection.

They hated Isabella Ramirez viscerally, representing everything that was wrong with the empire: its authoritarianism, suppression of free thought, and utter disregard for human life. The civil war had been their chance to change that and they had failed. Now, desperation made them dangerous.

At the end of the meeting, Sebastián spoke up, his voice firm and laced with emotion. "This isn't about revenge. This is about giving people hope. The regime thinks we're done, but as long as we breathe, we fight. For every friend we lost, for every innocent life destroyed, we fight."

The rebels all dispersed in separate directions into the dark, knowing full well their actions would bring either the fire of a revolution or the utter snuffing out of the same. Their plan was heedless, but to them, they had nothing left to lose.

It was the dark alleys of San Brooken that obscured their view, heavy with the weight of the mission. The attempted assassination of Isabella Ramirez was not a plot but a desperate gambit for freedom from a city that had long forgotten what it was to be free.

Today, inside the news Imperial Justices Complex has been released! The monarch council was about to hold a discussion to try and halt the dissent in Liberia and other colonies.

As usual, the High Chancellor Vasiliy Varkov addressed the council. "We are at one of those junctures. Our colonies have immense significance in terms of the influence of the empire on the larger world; however, they also pose a set of challenges that necessitate our consideration. The situation in Syria, the economic stagnation in Liberia, and the logistics concerning the Suez Canal all require urgent attention."

The first to speak about Syria was the Minister of Internal Affairs, the infamous Tatiana Greenberg. "The situation is getting out of hand very fast," she started, while consulting a dossier. "Surveillance shows that the protests are orchestrated, with underground networks distributing propaganda against the regime. If we do not take some tough measures, it will turn into open rebellion." The second to speak was Markos Brenn, the Minister of External Affairs, and he interrupted, "I agree, all discretion needs to be followed; yet, we cannot really enforce a full clampdown. The State of Syria is so much near the Middle East that it is a strategic state. We have to answer the attacks with dialogue." The discussion turned to one of Syria's most pivotal policies regarding the ban on religion, which has also highly contributed to the turmoil. Moreover, General Viktor Novikov, the Minister of Defense, was similarly always-undiplomatic in sentiment. "The ban is non-negotiable. Religion undermines loyalty to the state. Allowing these practices to continue would weaken our grip." Elena Ivanov, the Propaganda/ Media Control Minister, disagrees with the other two. "We can put a positive spin on this. Lift the ban on a few conditions—state sanctioned religious practices—and use it as a PR tool to reflect benevolence. This would assuage the masses while control is still tightly in our grasp." Said Dr. Sofia Hernández, Minister of Environmental Control and Resources. "Protests lower productivity. We need reforms that will assure compliance without relinquishing our authority."

Varkov was in favour of reform. He had listened intently and synopsised the arguments and he decided it was time for some minor reforms. "We mustn't be seen as compromising," he said. "But at the same time, we need to keep our colonies both productive and obedient. I suggest a colonial council system—headed by Norkelian administrators—whereby these colonies can have a certain amount of control over their local affairs, in order to pacify dissidents, while we retain full control." Thus, an act was passed. This act is named the Colonial Reform Act.

The Minister of Finance Sergei Volkov spoke with General Novikov in regard to the cost of colony management, "If these reforms don't work the cost to maintain control could cripple us. We cannot afford to patrol these nations as well as our own. "The other replied "We will not fail. The colonies are under our perfect empire. Let them protest; we shall crush them with our military" However, Greenberg has a different approach. She was highly antitheistic in nature herself and spoke her skepticism to Ivanov. "Allowing religion-even on a controlled basis-creates a dangerous precedent. What happens when they ask for more?" Ivanov replied, "They can ask for what they want. We control the message." To the governments horror reports out of Syria indicate that demonstrations are still largely ongoing. In Damascus, individuals are loudly chanting slogans against the regime and demanding more freedoms. The move to repeal some of the religious ban was met with a mixed reaction, as some see the gesture as a victory, while others describe it as a cosmetic concession.

Northern Norkelia is about to leave the WA officially...

The Recreated North Korea,

We would like to pose a union between our two nations, of course both of our nations are heavily anonymous.