Post by KyferLegs (Diria) on Jun 17, 2024 1:20:54 GMT -5
Rein, a significant port city in Etaroh and on the Emsgan Basin, was a sizeable fiscal hub and was considered one of the most modern cities in Diria, with the affluent neighborhoods having electricity and advanced plumbing. Its most noteworthy fault was its location, just 15 or 20 miles from the Veraki border. Nevertheless, over 30 years, Rein's populace had grown used to Diria's hated neighbor. Furthermore, in ways, it was closer to Veraki's aesthetic and lifestyle than the rising independent Dirian culture in cities like Solis, softening extreme apprehensions. Yet, Dirian ideals were still strong, and its multiculturalism was ever more so.
Regardless, it was one of the first cities to fall from the invasion. Rein received negligible damage compared to other cities, as the Veraki Army occupied it with little opposition. There were some exchanges with artillery and a few bombings from Veraki planes, yet the Dirian Army and local constabularies still tried to fight. However, when the worst was to happen in the north, most evacuated and slipped out before being encircled or scattered; others surrendered once the Veraki's committed to capturing the city. The palladian and razionalismo architecture intermixed with the domes and mosque's radiant tans, yellows, and vivid colors employed by local Dirian architecture trends gave the occupying Verakis a bizarre parallel of home mingled with a concoction of something unique. Despite their teachings of degeneration and the dreadful way of Dirian life, it was odd to be in a country regarded as their nemesis and see it so alike; some people even regaled them as liberators, giving food and wine and some locals marveling at the uniformed Verakis. Regardless, that didn't prevent or at least end their contempt of the land they considered unnatural and the degeneration of the species and ideologies that had tainted a city so close to home.
The locals, at least those inclined to Verak, hoped the new authorities would understand the city's needs, but the occupiers quickly proved any hope of benevolence mistaken. The first few days of the occupation were despairing, with Veraki occupiers arranging their headquarters and garrisons, with subsequent announcements of the new statutes and laws the citizens of Rein would have to follow, that and the rights of the populace of Rein, with nearly half of the city being undesirables and the rest human but ignorant to Veraki ideology. Despite the damage Rein escaped from combat, the city had received deathly blows as dread was ushered over Rein, and the occupation challenged its former identity. The familiar blue, orange, and national banners disappeared, replaced by the Veraki standard, only solidified that everything had changed for the worse.
However, considering what was transpiring in other cities, like Eyerce, which gave the Veraki army an armed resistance that, despite its weaknesses, fought. Instead, Rein remained muted in terms of such an organization. Unity and struggle were at an all-time low as Verak's executions and general brutality pressured the population into submission. Others were rounded up, mainly from non-human families, and those deemed undesirables suddenly vanished or were seen rarely as servants and pets of Veraki leaders; even the collaborators occasionally shaved and tattooed with profanities, regardless of gender or age, were mocked for their weakness by the occupiers. By the end of the week, power and water, or at least that provided externally, were cut by the Dirian Government or saboteurs. The most valuable buildings that had these means, amply occupied by Veraki's forces, became prominent targets, contrasted against unlit and unalive buildings, as the Veraki brutality escalated, knowing the locals could challenge the suppression or standards of Veraki's occupation. The brilliance and love of the ancient bricked streets and tightly packed alleyways also faded from the local imagination. Most understood that their most threatening nightmare had come true, and the consensus was desperately wanting to flee, yet backed against the lakes, only a few had the materials to mount such daring getaways. Veraki, meanwhile, functioned with little mercy as one would to a fly and acted with paranoia.
Despite the fear they imposed, the city still grew opposing, particularly under night's immense influence. Friends and collaborators were suddenly few and between as the Verakis realized or compelled the people to despise them, and the common Veraki soldier marveled in frustration at the size and width of the city and its apparent disdain for them as they cleared buildings and looted or pillaged what they deemed fit, forcing the locals to be servants of their satisfaction. Those citizens fortunate enough to be allowed to leave their houses didn't dare to look at their occupiers, banners, and symbols, either from fear they'd be next against the red-stained wall or disgust that something so wicked could even exist. The rabble and hostility were something the Verakis had expected; this was a foreign land, but most stayed ignorant of what was transpiring gradually in the unlit streets of Rein, and the others soon sieged or taken beyond, even if it was in its infancy.
Rein, Diria, had not yet been lost, and their war was still ongoing. The Sovereign Union, despite its strength, its armies, and old and new foes, spread its way into the fledgling republic and entered still proud and potent, but the question not asked was how they'd face the test of time. Against sabotage wells, destroyed power junctions, ravaged railways, and burning fields. Dirians around the nation were afraid, and their usual streets that were bustling during the days were now empty, as most locals were still horrified by the war or desperately tending to their survival. It became a rationing effort, and the occupation pushed others not fortunate enough to take stock of what they owned before the war started. Meanwhile, those predominantly similar to the Veraki ideological blessing meandered for their basic needs contrasted against the unwelcoming locked doors and closed windows.
No, Rein and much of Diria, despite its losses, still hung on, as under Veraki, Galran, or Sultanate curfews and occupation, the pervasive influence of night gave way to hushed voices and notes traveling between the marching boots of the Sovereign Union. Graffiti, despite the apparent punishments, became bolder and more pronounced. Unexpectedly, individuals deemed undesirables vanished before being removed, most likely ushered to safe houses by locals. In the cellars or draped darkened rooms obscured by curtains or other buildings, individuals of many creeds gathered: soldiers and constabularies scattered, doctors and nurses from the local hospitals, desperate factory workers, disgruntled farmers, all planned, while others hid stashes of weaponry, food, and old flags to unearth later or spare as memories of a life before the war, and as instruments of their longevity. Soloists, or groups, observed their occupiers' movements, broke the occupation's rules, drew maps, communicated stories, and sang songs in hushed tones. It wasn't unified, and locally, these irregular happenings did not catch the undivided eyes of the new occupying authorities. However, how long until the pot simmered over and the incoherent rabel linked together?
Today was not the time for loud outcries and demonstrations, nor would it be the next week, and it could likely be months or years till the occupations were over. Yet, in Dirian cities, towns, and sands, the corridors and dunes gave an aurora of resentment and hushed bitterness at the Sovereign Union's presence. Existing disunited beneath the jackboot of the foe, the boogeyman, or the bastard, the denizens of Diria observed, patient and stoic as one could for now. Fear of the occupiers, their executions, and the pervasive brutality of the SU allowed them to keep order, yet with every injustice, wrath advances. Time, wounds, and shock grow less fresh and subside. The suppression and silence imposed on Diria now has begun to falter. As the days, weeks, and months pass, Diria's nightlife grows more unrestrained and vociferous. Something has started brewing as the clues of opposition spread like unheard and unnoticed wildfire. In the locations of executions, offenses, and injustices pioneered by the enemies of Diria, citizens sketch pamphlets and graffiti on the sides of blood-stained walls and in once-busy communities, and ultimately, under the ignorant occupier's boot, the locals recognized they weren't alone. Something was happening, and many understood what it symbolized: A resistance was emerging, and its fledging messages circulated, pulling together more of those whose wrath had exceeded their fear: "The axe forgets, but the tree remembers." It was not yet Diria's moment, but it and its people had not yet forgotten.
Regardless, it was one of the first cities to fall from the invasion. Rein received negligible damage compared to other cities, as the Veraki Army occupied it with little opposition. There were some exchanges with artillery and a few bombings from Veraki planes, yet the Dirian Army and local constabularies still tried to fight. However, when the worst was to happen in the north, most evacuated and slipped out before being encircled or scattered; others surrendered once the Veraki's committed to capturing the city. The palladian and razionalismo architecture intermixed with the domes and mosque's radiant tans, yellows, and vivid colors employed by local Dirian architecture trends gave the occupying Verakis a bizarre parallel of home mingled with a concoction of something unique. Despite their teachings of degeneration and the dreadful way of Dirian life, it was odd to be in a country regarded as their nemesis and see it so alike; some people even regaled them as liberators, giving food and wine and some locals marveling at the uniformed Verakis. Regardless, that didn't prevent or at least end their contempt of the land they considered unnatural and the degeneration of the species and ideologies that had tainted a city so close to home.
The locals, at least those inclined to Verak, hoped the new authorities would understand the city's needs, but the occupiers quickly proved any hope of benevolence mistaken. The first few days of the occupation were despairing, with Veraki occupiers arranging their headquarters and garrisons, with subsequent announcements of the new statutes and laws the citizens of Rein would have to follow, that and the rights of the populace of Rein, with nearly half of the city being undesirables and the rest human but ignorant to Veraki ideology. Despite the damage Rein escaped from combat, the city had received deathly blows as dread was ushered over Rein, and the occupation challenged its former identity. The familiar blue, orange, and national banners disappeared, replaced by the Veraki standard, only solidified that everything had changed for the worse.
However, considering what was transpiring in other cities, like Eyerce, which gave the Veraki army an armed resistance that, despite its weaknesses, fought. Instead, Rein remained muted in terms of such an organization. Unity and struggle were at an all-time low as Verak's executions and general brutality pressured the population into submission. Others were rounded up, mainly from non-human families, and those deemed undesirables suddenly vanished or were seen rarely as servants and pets of Veraki leaders; even the collaborators occasionally shaved and tattooed with profanities, regardless of gender or age, were mocked for their weakness by the occupiers. By the end of the week, power and water, or at least that provided externally, were cut by the Dirian Government or saboteurs. The most valuable buildings that had these means, amply occupied by Veraki's forces, became prominent targets, contrasted against unlit and unalive buildings, as the Veraki brutality escalated, knowing the locals could challenge the suppression or standards of Veraki's occupation. The brilliance and love of the ancient bricked streets and tightly packed alleyways also faded from the local imagination. Most understood that their most threatening nightmare had come true, and the consensus was desperately wanting to flee, yet backed against the lakes, only a few had the materials to mount such daring getaways. Veraki, meanwhile, functioned with little mercy as one would to a fly and acted with paranoia.
Despite the fear they imposed, the city still grew opposing, particularly under night's immense influence. Friends and collaborators were suddenly few and between as the Verakis realized or compelled the people to despise them, and the common Veraki soldier marveled in frustration at the size and width of the city and its apparent disdain for them as they cleared buildings and looted or pillaged what they deemed fit, forcing the locals to be servants of their satisfaction. Those citizens fortunate enough to be allowed to leave their houses didn't dare to look at their occupiers, banners, and symbols, either from fear they'd be next against the red-stained wall or disgust that something so wicked could even exist. The rabble and hostility were something the Verakis had expected; this was a foreign land, but most stayed ignorant of what was transpiring gradually in the unlit streets of Rein, and the others soon sieged or taken beyond, even if it was in its infancy.
Rein, Diria, had not yet been lost, and their war was still ongoing. The Sovereign Union, despite its strength, its armies, and old and new foes, spread its way into the fledgling republic and entered still proud and potent, but the question not asked was how they'd face the test of time. Against sabotage wells, destroyed power junctions, ravaged railways, and burning fields. Dirians around the nation were afraid, and their usual streets that were bustling during the days were now empty, as most locals were still horrified by the war or desperately tending to their survival. It became a rationing effort, and the occupation pushed others not fortunate enough to take stock of what they owned before the war started. Meanwhile, those predominantly similar to the Veraki ideological blessing meandered for their basic needs contrasted against the unwelcoming locked doors and closed windows.
No, Rein and much of Diria, despite its losses, still hung on, as under Veraki, Galran, or Sultanate curfews and occupation, the pervasive influence of night gave way to hushed voices and notes traveling between the marching boots of the Sovereign Union. Graffiti, despite the apparent punishments, became bolder and more pronounced. Unexpectedly, individuals deemed undesirables vanished before being removed, most likely ushered to safe houses by locals. In the cellars or draped darkened rooms obscured by curtains or other buildings, individuals of many creeds gathered: soldiers and constabularies scattered, doctors and nurses from the local hospitals, desperate factory workers, disgruntled farmers, all planned, while others hid stashes of weaponry, food, and old flags to unearth later or spare as memories of a life before the war, and as instruments of their longevity. Soloists, or groups, observed their occupiers' movements, broke the occupation's rules, drew maps, communicated stories, and sang songs in hushed tones. It wasn't unified, and locally, these irregular happenings did not catch the undivided eyes of the new occupying authorities. However, how long until the pot simmered over and the incoherent rabel linked together?
Today was not the time for loud outcries and demonstrations, nor would it be the next week, and it could likely be months or years till the occupations were over. Yet, in Dirian cities, towns, and sands, the corridors and dunes gave an aurora of resentment and hushed bitterness at the Sovereign Union's presence. Existing disunited beneath the jackboot of the foe, the boogeyman, or the bastard, the denizens of Diria observed, patient and stoic as one could for now. Fear of the occupiers, their executions, and the pervasive brutality of the SU allowed them to keep order, yet with every injustice, wrath advances. Time, wounds, and shock grow less fresh and subside. The suppression and silence imposed on Diria now has begun to falter. As the days, weeks, and months pass, Diria's nightlife grows more unrestrained and vociferous. Something has started brewing as the clues of opposition spread like unheard and unnoticed wildfire. In the locations of executions, offenses, and injustices pioneered by the enemies of Diria, citizens sketch pamphlets and graffiti on the sides of blood-stained walls and in once-busy communities, and ultimately, under the ignorant occupier's boot, the locals recognized they weren't alone. Something was happening, and many understood what it symbolized: A resistance was emerging, and its fledging messages circulated, pulling together more of those whose wrath had exceeded their fear: "The axe forgets, but the tree remembers." It was not yet Diria's moment, but it and its people had not yet forgotten.