Suran watered the flowers of his garden. His garden was filled with very pretty parashoot Plowers, known as vessina flowers as their official and name in cermieria. He knew the municipal party will probably not win the election as he hoped. He dreaded this being chairman of electoral affairs. However he could hope that at least the party would double its seats in the national council. Then a shot rang out from a flintlock pistol, and soon he collapsed onto the flower garden. The blood that dripped from his head staining the beautiful array with crimson as the attacker fleed.
Corva looked out from her balcony onto the other high-rises of Port Nyfa. The town was the most developed place in all of the dominion, and most likely the entire continent for that matter. It was all sustained of the capitalist ways of the country she had no doubts. She wasn’t exactly into the whole capitalism supreme thing though, she was simply an accelerationist who wanted to lean into the future. Her conservative mate from the budgeting committee was here to celebrate the recent changes which caused the country to begin leaning back to a free market. He was “the capitalist.” As members of the budgeting advisory committee they were here to celebrate their victory. “To capitalism” Her mate said as he leaned out his glass. “To capit-…” she failed to say as a sniper bullet punctured her head. Her body limply collapsed onto the floor spilling wine and blood as her mate looked on in horror.
Darvan was quickly sprinting down the steps of the high rise. Unfortunately this was a high rise so it wasn’t exactly an easy task for him to achieve. Nevertheless he slowly managed to get to the bottom, quickly regretting that he didn’t take an elevator. He looked around. There had to be an exit somewhere. After seeing those two shot he was sure he was next. All for trying to spread the caesian dream he thought. He then slipped down the stairs spilling paperwork about party funding and finances all over the place. “Are you ok” a maid humbly said to the man on the floor. “Yes, tha-” the maid lunged a knife when she saw no one looking, and then proceeded to slowly walk away.
Dan was a liberal national council me-
“pew pew” said the gun as the attacker walked away from Dan’s corpse
Sirion was a proud Skirjisoni holy man. He was not bound to any order, but he claimed he was so faithful he spoke to the spirits themselves, and could easily confirm their existence to even the most staunch of atheists. From the very beginning he was extremely criticized by his opponents for being a fraud-filled man but his supported adored him and many believed every word that came out of his mouth. Some said he could even convince his followers to drink poison, however he denied this. One day he ordered a sandwich from a shop unknowing it was from a ulitarian unionist store. He began to cough really hard and got really dizzy. A physician near him tried to help him and prepared to take him to the doctor, however the poison had already set in and he collapsed dead.
“Nationalism is not dead, nationalism shall live! Despite the work of the heinous stralaians and their horrid puppet state in Yggdrasil we cannot be silenced, as we are the future of not only the empire, but the world! While the heinous reds and the democrats who defiled us will eventually be rooted out be the glorious nationalists who shall reclaim the nation at home, it is our job to reclaim the country here. The election must be won lest the evils of the ulitarians and the superatist nature of the cermierians come to light. So lets go win that el-.” A man with a pipe at that moment swings for his head killing him instantly from behind the crowd quickly swarms and beats the attacker to death but the damage is already done.
The revolution was soon Elvis thought. Ulitarianism, cermierian’s form of revolutionary though in order to save the starving and working classes from the starvation of capitalism was imminent. It was clear to see. The strikes in the cities. The riots against the dezau. How long before it happened. A month? A week? Even a day? His milita had been preparing for a long time. With the election drawing soon hell, the country might revert to Ulitarianism without a revolution. But their will be violence, plenty of violence he thought to himself. Thus his milita was ready for the day when the capitalists, nationalists, and cermierian independence movement supporters would be slaughtered under the power of Oiron Ulita’s glorious words, and caesia would be saved. He would not live out that day. A women grabbed his neck and choked him out ever so slowly. His small brigade shot dead by her allies. By noon, they were all dead.
She thought she had done it right. All evidence was cleaned she thought. Their entire group was dead. She forgot one. And he brought an army. Oh boy did he have plans for what was to come. A group of Ulitarian rebels raided a shack filled with her and her friends. They tied her up. She was tortured. Brutalized. Mauled. Now came the final act. Her body was tied to a metal train track. She could not move. She tried to slowly wiggle out. She prayed to the spirits hopping that they would have mercy on her and allow her to escape. Allas the world was not as kind as she could have hoped. For when the sounds of rails and steam began coming down the lane, she knew at that moment that it was all over for her.
“By the order of the dezau, disband or be fired upon at once. This is your last warning.” The dezau’s guards stood firm in front of the large mob. The bore machine guns and combat gear. For days the dezau’s daughter has been begging for the dezau and the crowd to talk out their differences, all to little effect. The dezau remained to stubborn and thus nothing could really change. The guards cocked their weapons, aimed, and fired. At an instant lay a field of the dead as guns rampaged across the crowd. But the death merely aggravated the crowd into an almighty charge. At an instant in what could be mistaken for a ballistikovian bayonet charge hundreds swarmed the men. They had heavy firepower, but it could not hold back the crowd. The crowd beat the guards with stones and trash cans before proceeding to enter the building. As the violence ranged on local law enforcement and the guards fired on the crowds constantly in an effort to stop them from entering but it was a failed effort. The mob stormed straight into the dezau’s bedroom and dragged him outside. They then poured gasoline and him and all it took was one arsonist to set him ablaze. He burned to death yelling out against the crowd to no avail. This aggravated the local law enforcement enough to give no mercy. They ruthlessly slaughtered the rioters. When they were finally cornered and surrendered, what happened next was a horrid massecure of people of all ideologies and beliefs alike. Fortunately the two dezau’s daughters managed to escape from their rooms through the sewer system of the city. The dezau’s wife was found crushed by a bunch of rubble in the chaos.
No matter what side of the political spectrum people were on, blood spilled.
Total body count: 657 people dead as a direct result of political violence or the riot at the palace. Many more injured.