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Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

ai boiz i did the pust. chk eet uut ;) ;) ;)

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Gyumri, Armenia

“So what happened to this guy? He looks pretty fucked up.”

Four policemen crowded over the body of a dead teenager. His white shirt was riddled with three bullet holes and stained with blood. A pained, shocked expression and wide open eyes had frozen on his face. The rest of his body was splayed out, spread-eagled, on the sidewalk. A pool of blood, now dry, had formed beneath the corpse. It was obvious that he had been shot just an hour or two ago. Behind him, the brick wall bore several more bullet holes. In the streets, a junior policeman had picked up a dozen shells and dropped them on top of a hood of his car. One of the other officers had just finished calling an ambulance to pick the body up, and was now smoking a cigarette while leaning against the vehicle. One hand rested on the service revolver in his leather holster attached to his duty belt as he eyed a curious passersby on the other side of the street. The rest of the police were busy checking the dead body.

“He looks Russian, that’s for sure,” an older officer said as he gently tilted the head and gestured to the back of it. “See? Russians have that flat part on the back of their heads.”

“Yep, it’s from when they got dropped on their heads of children. Probably explains why most of them are fucking retards,” chimed in the policeman smoking next to the patrol car. The man took a deep drag from the cigarette, exhaled through his nose, and flicked the butt into a nearby gutter. Adjusting his belt, he came back over to the body.

“Actually, I want a cigarette as well,” admitted the third cop. He bent down and patted the body with the back of his hand, careful not to get his palm bloodied. “Does this guy have any on him?”

“Go ahead, and I might want to get one off of you as well,” his friend replied.

The third officer rolled the body over and found his prize: a slightly crushed pack of cheap cigarettes in the teenager’s back pocket. He extracted them and began distributing them out to the patrolmen. “Hey kid!” he said to the junior officer, duly counting the shells on the hood on the patrol car. “Want a cigarette?”

With a chuckle, he added: “Are you even old enough to smoke?”

The junior officer froze, unsure of what the right answer is. After hesitating a moment, he stuttered: “Should we be taking those? I mean, it’s evidence, right? What happens if they figure out we’re tampering with the investigation?”

The older officer, who had previously remained silent during the exchange, laughed without looking up from his notepad. “Nobody is going to care about a pack of smokes. Don’t worry about it, I know that training teaches you this stuff. Half of that doesn’t fly in the real world.”

The junior officer, cowed into submission by his superiors, reluctantly accepted a cigarette. He fumbled with an offered lighter, taking several tries to get the cigarette burning. Obviously suppressing a cough, he went back to work sorting the spent shells into a cardboard box marked for evidence. “There are an awful lot of rounds that were fired,” he remarked, looking at them. “Someone didn’t like him.”

“Well this is a Russian kid, probably no older than twenty,” the older officer said, finishing up his notes. “Remember that robbery last week? A group of kids speaking Russian broke into a drugstore and stole a bunch of junk. They didn’t hurt the owner but they for sure vandalized his livelihood. Davit, you responded to that one, right?”

Davit, the chainsmoker, nodded and adjusted his rather loose duty belt again. “Bunch of kids threw some rocks at the windows and knocked everything down. Stole a couple hundred dram and some painkillers or something. The damages report wasn’t pretty, but we arrested at least one of the kids.”

“I’ve seen some shit like this before. If I were a betting man, I’d say it’s a retaliation for the attack,” the oldest officer sagely concluded. “It’s also most definitely racially motivated. Russian kids knocking down an Armenian store? What with this atmosphere, I guarantee you it was someone from that community. I can call up some people once we get back to the station, including our dear shopkeeper friend.”

Davit threw his cigarette into the same gutter, just as his friend cracked a joke: “Maybe it was Davit, since he’s a big fan of Russians.”

Although Davit appeared mildly frustrated by the comment, his posture never shifted. Eventually, the older officer called for them to settle down and finish collecting the evidence. A camera was brought out to take pictures for later, since most day-to-day crime was handled by the patrolmen instead of rarer specialized detectives. One picture of the body, one of the street, and one of the wall were snapped. Davit and the junior officer soon left to get the photos developed and drop the evidence off at the station, while the oldest patrolman stayed behind with his partner to wait for the ambulance. A corpse didn’t warrant too much expediency on the part of the medical services in Gyumri. It took another hour for the ambulance to arrive, driving up to the curb lazily with no lights or sirens. Both of the officers helped the ambulance driver with the body, finally closing the doors on the back of the van and watching it drive off to the morgue. The night had gotten darker, and the crime scene was now lit by the orange flow of a streetlamp. It would be another hour before the city services arrived to hose down the blood.

The pair returned to the station, wordlessly driving through the emptied streets with only sighs to break the silence. The patrol car turned the corner onto the station’s street, before the older officer suggested a stop: “Alex, do you want coffee? We can stop by and get a cup at the coffeehouse before we file the report.”

His partner nodded, and the car drove past the station. Nearby was an all-day coffeehouse popular with the Gyumri police. Alex and the older officer, whose name was Tigran, pulled up by the curb and walked in to a small table in the corner. Two simple, black coffees were ordered alongside pastries. They chatted for a little bit about their families and what they were going to do once they got home. Tigran lived only with his wife in a modest apartment, his four children had since gone to university. Alex wanted to marry his girlfriend, and had plans to propose the next month. Unfortunately, he was worried how the long work hours would affect them and was hesitating until he could transfer to a department with a more regular schedule. He was thinking about taking a stint doing clerical work for the force, instead of patrolling. Armenian police forces operated on a points-system for personnel: he had racked up enough points for performance and time-in-service to transfer, but not yet enough to promote. Tigran advised that he talk to his girlfriend, and figure out what they were both good with.

“A lot of this stress in your personal life isn’t really worth it,” Tigran added as he finished the coffee. He slid a few dram under the cup for the waiter. “Me and my wife have gotten along fine.”

Tigran and Alex returned to the station a few minutes later. Tigran, as the senior patrolman on shift that evening, opened the door to his office and hung his hat and jacket on the coatrack. Armenian police uniforms were dark blue, with light blue shirts bearing token insignia for department and rank. An orange band encircled his service cap, matching the identically-colored stripe down his pants. With his jacket put away, he signed and untucked his shirt before sitting down on a well-worn wooden chair. At his desk, a typewriter sat and several copied forms were prepared for him. Under his desk, in a drawer marked “forms”, was a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. The rest of the office was bare, with only a window behind him and no other decoration. Not even a rug adorned the floor, and it was lit by a sole lightbulb. Like most of the Gyumri police office, it was strictly utilitarian. Tigran often thought about buying a carpet or some paintings, something just to liven up the place. His sister wove carpets in Hrazdan, maybe he could ask about one next time they met. It would be an excellent gift, after all.

The problem about the murder was not the crime itself, but the implications. Tigran had seen plenty of murders, but racial ones had been rare. He was born just after the Great War, and had only heard stories of the time where Armenians killed Turks just for being Turkish and vice versa. The last few years had been troubling to him: thousands of migrants, fleeing the collapsing Russian Empire, had swarmed across the then-loosely-guarded border. Many settled in Gyumri, establishing huge ghettoes. Most worked blue-collar jobs in the factories or as part of the Armenian construction boom, and these jobs were notorious for low pay and highly dangerous conditions. Tigran felt bad for the Russians, who were forced to become more and more insular as Armenians denied them services. A then-popular law was passed in the late 1950s that made it legal for landlords to offer different prices based on different people. The public explanation was that this was supposed to enable more leeway in terms of poorer people haggling for a better price. In practice, most landlords raised rent prices on Russians. Curiously enough, Tigran had noticed less ethnic Armenian homeless in Gyumri as well: perhaps the law was working, but just only for the natives.

The implications on this murder were clear. Tit for tat attacks were going to continue unless the Gyumri police made it clear that the killer was going to be arrested. There was a simmering attitude in the department to “let it go” and sweep such a comparatively minor crime under the rug, but Tigran knew better. Even though he personally didn’t care for the Russian teen, a burglar who had destroyed a fellow Armenian citizen’s drugstore, he knew that things could get worse. The last thing he wanted in Gyumri was a race riot. Another thing that concerned the senior patrolman was the apparent usage of automatic weapons. There were simply too many shells for it to have been a hunting rifle or civilian weapon. Davit, a member of the military reserves in addition to the police force, had left a note on Tigran’s desk with an analysis of the shells: they were 9mm military casings used in a standard-issue handgun or submachinegun. Someone was running around with a submachinegun, shooting down Russians. The potential for this to become disastrous was obvious: most police were armed with chunky six-shooter, break-action revolvers. Shotguns and semi-automatic rifles were kept in the armory, but only for extreme situations.

He figured that there must be something else going on. Tigran finished the incident report, stowed his bottle of vodka after a final swig, and reached for his telephone. A folder with a list of numbers laid next to it, and he fingered through the sheets until he found one of the more-frequently-used ones: the Military Police at the Gyumri base. Usually, they would call when they found a drunk soldier belligerent in the streets, and Tigran knew most of the duty personnel well by now. He rang the number, and waited for someone to pick up. A familiar voice came over the speaker: “Army Military Police, Gyumri. This is Sergeant Kavalian, how may I help you?”

“Ivan, how are you?” Tigran asked cordially. Sergeant Ivan Kavalian was a frequent duty NCO, after his last divorce left him with not much else to do. He was a good man, willing to take one for the team so his other friends could go home to their much more faithful wives.

“I’m pretty alright,” Sergeant Kavalian answered. “I just bought a new book, actually. Pretty interesting. I’ve been reading it tonight.”

“Excellent, excellent. Maybe you can tell me about it later. Right now, I have a question for you. Are you aware of any missing weapons?”

“Missing weapons?” exclaimed Sergeant Kavalian.

“Well, we’ve got a murder and my reservist told me he thinks it was committed with a submachinegun.”

“Well, truth be told, last month a truck went missing transporting some equipment to a field training exercise,” Sergeant Kavalian said after a slight pause. “It was reported up to us and we went looking, but couldn’t find anything. The two truck drivers went AWOL as well, probably drove off with the truck. We have warrants out for them but we have been scouring the nearby area for a while now.”

“Why didn’t we hear about this, Ivan?” Tigran said, a hint of frustration in his usually-calm voice. “These weapons are starting to turn up in Gyumri. This was a revenge killing near a Russian ghetto, this is not good for our security situation.”

“This was being handled as an internal issue. AWOL soldiers are our area of responsibility,” Sergeant Kavalian replied matter-of-factly.

“This is no longer an internal issue. I want everything you have on this case, since I know more is going to come out of it.”

“Can I send a runner to your office tomorrow with the files? The night shift is bare-bones, like usual.”

“That’s fine, but we’re going to start looking for this guy. I’ll expect your runner tomorrow. Goodnight, Sergeant.”

Tigran hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. A quick thought about another shot of vodka was silenced by the rational need to drive home and not crash his car. The senior patrolman sighed deeply, then ran a hand through his greying hair. Without another word, he stood up from his creaking chair and tucked his shirt into his pants. The light was clicked off with a yank on its chain, right as Tigran thought again about putting a painting up. As he left the office, he said goodnight to another officer working on some last-minute paperwork. Tigran’s week was not close to being finished.

Armenian-Georgian Border

Military funerals at remote outposts were not the festivities of heroes. Caskets had been fabricated from wood in a storeroom, crosses and names painted atop them in simple white paint. They were buried in a line in an area atop a small hill near the border station. A chest-high chickenwire fence surrounded the makeshift cemetery, already populated with two other soldiers who died in a vehicle crash six months ago. Until real gravestones could be carved and sent in with the next supply shipment, a soldier’s grave would have to do: their rifle, stuck into the ground with a bayonet, with two boots at the base of it. A helmet sat on the buttstock, while each soldier’s dog tags hung from the triggerwell. In white paint on the front of the helmet was their last name. In front of the graves stood the base platoon commander, flanked by his senior NCO. Those who were available came out for the funeral. It was the largest one to be conducted at the small post. A bugler stood at attention nearby.

Upon receipt of the order, the personnel stood still as the bugler played the national anthem. The sole musician, a regular soldier who happened to be able to bugle, reminded Corporal Yaglian of himself. Yaglian was a pianist, playing regularly in his barracks with a piano he had bought from a widow in the nearby town. He carted it back on the back of his jeep alongside cigarettes and alcohol, earning a talking-to from his platoon commander. Ultimately, a case of beer kept Yaglian in good standing with his superior. He hadn’t been called out for any funerals or ceremonies, but his music was usually well appreciated in the desolate outpost. The bugler played his lonely, mournful tone until it finished, and he dropped his instrument to his side. The platoon commander looked to his left, nodded at the sergeant who commanded the twenty-one-gun salute, and pulled a list from his pocket. He read the first name:

“Sergeant George Hazerian.”

The seven riflemen fired their shots, three apiece. Yaglian flinched each time, while the senior personnel stood stoically still. The platoon commander read the next names: Corporal David Petrosian. Private First Class Ivan Sarkisian. Private Igor Rahmonov. Private Leon Abadjian. Each time, the riflemen fired their three shots. They were aimed over the border, perhaps intentionally by the platoon commander.

The next team, a team just like Yaglian’s, was read out. Corporal Abraham Hovanesian. Private Petyr Jamgochian. Private Ilya Kargarian. Private Ilholm Bagruntian. The final shots were fired and the riflemen stood back at attention. The platoon commander wrapped up his final remarks, short and simply, before dismissing the attendees. The soldiers bowed their heads again before turning back to the patrol base. It was getting late, and the next shift was due to return soon. Once the vehicles were gassed up and given a quick check, it was time to go out again. Yaglian’s section was staying at this patrol base for another few days until they could make the long trip back to their home installation. They had been offered food, beds, and time to rest while their own vehicles were repaired. One sustained damage from the sniper attack and needed to be patched up. The other had nearly ruined its suspension driving quickly over the barely-defined mountain paths. Yaglian’s platoon commander had already been notified on the event, and was expecting them back in the next few days.

There was talk of retaliation amongst the troops. Since the attack, the platoon commander had spent a lot of time in his office on the phone: the troops were beginning to speculate that he was discussing plans with the company commander located a few kilometers to the rear. Perhaps he was requesting assets for use: an airbase nearby staffed with attack planes was well-known by Georgian militias by now. Whatever the situation was, the soldiers were on edge. Every patrol was nervously watched by the others, as they drove their patrol shifts across the border. Only two more attacks had happened in the days since, both of them minor sniper incidents that ended with superior firepower driving the militias back into the mountains. Nothing compared to the death of an entire patrol, at least not yet.

For now, the soldiers didn’t know much more than that. Yaglian ate in the mess tent and heard only snippets of new developments. He talked little to the other platoon besides this, and often just read a borrowed book while he slept on the floor under a field blanket, using his rucksack as a pillow. The days were long and filled with nothing besides waiting. Most of the section just napped the time away, eager to get some sort of rest if they weren’t patrolling for hours every day. After three days, Yaglian’s vehicle was repaired and his section was to return to their home station with the next outgoing patrol. They met with the vehicle, inspecting the green-painted scrap metal used to patch the bullet holes. After they deemed the job good enough, they grabbed their rifles and gear and piled into the sturdy jeeps. Saying goodbye to their comrades, they left the next morning at six, departing across the bumpy roads. The sun peaked up from behind the notoriously tough Caucasian mountains as the four-car convoy drove through dirt roads. The rough terrain continued to be an enemy: one of the vehicles popped a tire and required a change.

Yaglian’s section was reunited with a patrol from their home station: Second Section, led by Corporal Melkonian, was there to take them home. Corporal Melkonian was a conscript that filled in for his wounded section leader after a jeep crash left him with a broken neck. The stereotypical uncaring draftee, Melkonian refused to cut his hair or shave and often wore a large chain outside of a uniform that was buttoned too low for regulation. This was not the man Yaglian necessarily trusted to take him back to the home patrol base, but it was the man he had. And evidently, Corporal Melkonian was a fierce fighter. It’s probably the only reason he was allowed to do what he did. His section, also mostly comprised of conscripts, was just as motley. They did the job, however, and that was what counted those days. There was simply too much to do to care about disciplining men who didn’t shave. Yaglian’s section leader had a few words with Corporal Melkonian at the rendezvous point, shared a cigarette with him, and ordered a mount-up. Another patrol completed uneventfully for both sides. The section of stragglers joined Melkonian and his men on the road back home, and back to the mission at hand.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

<Snipped quote by Pepperm1nts>

...Yeah. That's what it is.....That. And nothing more.

@Byrd Man

He's gonna be AWOL for a while. He's taking a trip to Charlottesville for "business reasons"...

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Yerevan, Armenia

A road, lined with lush, green maple trees entering their early summer livelihood, followed the calm Hrazdan River. The two-lane residential road was quiet, unlike downtown Yerevan’s infamous traffic, with only a single car or two rolling past. Alongside the road were a multitude of new buildings, mostly modest apartments with street-level cafes and corner stores. This was the 4th Block neighborhood, one of the pricier regions of the city and a nice place to get away from the increasingly-dense urban center. The buildings of 4th Block sat below a series of gently rolling hills to the northwest, hills with construction sites set up for more apartments. The effects of a post-independence rise in birth rates could be seen in the sprawl of Yerevan: a new generation of youths who knew nothing of the Great War were reaching adulthood, graduating from universities, and buying their own homes in new neighborhoods. Many of these adults could never fathom what life under a crumbling Ottoman Empire was like. The country to their west seemed a far cry from the once-mighty Sultanate that stretched to Arabia and Egypt.

The campaign office of Hasmik Assanian occupied a four-story brick building sitting by a park that overlooked a bend in the Hrazdan. The squat, nondescript building featured only a banner to denote the presence of the top Armenian presidential candidate: Assanian 1960: Security! Peace! Prosperity! A single policeman, wearing a blue uniform with his cap sitting crookedly on his head, read a newspaper in the guard shack next to the gate. Outside, some staffers were smoking cigarettes and talking about a car accident that had happened on the National Highway the other night: a drunk driver had hit a truck, crushing his car underneath it and stopping traffic for almost three hours as it was towed away. One of them flicked his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk, but caught the ire of the policeman. “Put that in the damn ashtray,” he commanded. “We pay too much money to keep these streets clean without you flicking your trash everywhere. I could fine you for littering, you know.”

The staffer apologized, picked up his cigarette, and tossed it away in the ashtray just steps away from him. As the policeman nodded and went back to his paper, the staffers agreed to get back to work before their boss noticed their absence. These particular staffers worked in the outreach section of the campaign and, with a month to go before the election, were due that afternoon to head out and prepare an event in Freedom Square. Hasmik Assanian was busy preparing for that very same event in what amounted to his second apartment on the top floor of the campaign office. Inside a modest dressing room, he adjusted his characteristic purple tie underneath a navy blue suit jacket. His jacket featured an Armenian flag lapel pin, his cufflinks bore the regimental insignia of his former Armenian Army cavalry unit. He had played his relationship with former president and personal mentor Mikael Serovian greatly during the election, including his veteran status.

Once the suit was adjusted to Assanian’s liking, the slim man combed his hair to his liking: enough to cover up the steady recession of his hairline, but not too much to make it look like he was combing over while worrying about balding. He checked the silver watch on his wrist, a present from an old friend, and picked up his briefcase to head to the waiting car. His transportation chief had prepared a small convoy for him consisting of one vehicle for him and one for a small cadre of supporting staff. A white police car, marked in blue livery, was parked beside the guard shack. The two policemen conversed, making small talk as they waited. Assanian walked out the door, flanked by an aid, towards his vehicle. Catching the attention of the police escort, Assanian called out: “How are you doing today, my friend?”

The policeman immediately stood a little straighter out of respect, one hand moving to level off his slouching pistol belt. He was a slightly overweight beat cop, the beginning of a beer belly filling out his light blue uniform shirt. On his face, a thick and greying mustache betrayed his true age. “Good morning!” he greeted. “I’m doing alright, I can’t complain too much.”

“Is carting me around a good detail or a bad one?” Assanian joked, smiling at both of the policemen. With election day soon, he was working up the personal charm.

“Well it’s a pretty calm way to spend a Friday, if I do say so myself,” the driver proclaimed. He relaxed his stance a bit, put at ease by the humor. Assanian laughed, told him to drive safely, and clambered into the door of the grey sedan parked next to the black-and-white painted curb.

The door shut, and Assanian found his aid had already withdrawn papers from his briefcase about the Freedom Square rally. Freedom Square was located in central Yerevan, with the Presidential Palace at the north end. Holding a rally there was a political kick in the guts to the incumbent running for reelection. At this point, President Vadratian was becoming wildly unpopular: his brand of hardliner nationalism was failing to produce results and the recent uptick in internal tensions pointed to deeper underlying problems. The solutions from Vadratian seemed to be more of the same, propaganda and thinly veiled attempts to marginalize the Russian minorities. His rhetoric had gotten fiery to the point of aggression, and had made mistakes in the reelection campaign that ultimately lead to his falling-out with the Armenian people. The polling graphs showed a slight downward trend before dropping off dramatically in the last few months, while Assanian had come out of relative obscurity to become his party’s representative.

The Armenian Liberal Democratic Party was one of the heavy-hitter leftist organizations in the Parliament. They focused on combating Vadratian’s Independence Party and what they believed to be short-sighted policies. While many of the extreme ones did not go through, laws such as the infamous selective-rent policy did. The selective-rent policy enabled landlords to choose who received a better rate on property based on factors other than bank information: this amounted to a kindly-worded enablement of racial bias. A Russian could be charged more for rent than an Armenian with the same history of debt. It was blatantly unfair but, at the time, Armenians wanted Russians out of their neighborhoods. The refugees from the fracturing of Czarist Russia were thought to bring crime and drugs around. To be fair, huge problems existed with the Russian population and crime: the Russian Mafia had been popping up here and there with murders and robberies, not to mention the myriad of other mostly-monetary crimes like counterfeiting and laundering.

Among the Russians who could jump through the absurdly convoluted hoops to become Armenian citizens, Assanian was hugely popular. He promised to review and address legislature enacted by Vadratian and the Independence Party. To the average Armenian, his promise did not sound like he was trying to take away their jobs and homes and give them to immigrants like Vadratian countered. It was simply a “review”, and it might just help settle tensions. A little bit of guilt never hurt either: all Assanian had to do was remind the Armenian people that not long ago, they were suffering under a majority that wanted nothing to do with them. The subtle comparison of Vadratian to the Sultan made the president furious, but was effective. Talk about how the Russians might have been wronged was spreadi/ng, particularly amongst the older Armenians. Younger voters still had sizeable hardliner holdouts, mostly as a result of the Artsakh War.

Veterans of the Artsakh War and many people in the Artsakh itself were opponents of liberal attempts to ease the burden on the Russians. They were still frustrated by the stalemate result of the conflict and what they saw as unnecessary damage to Stepanakert. They argued that the government was giving in and became too soft, leading to a Turkish-encouraged Azerbaijani invasion. Forces fought the Azerbaijanis to a standstill and pushed them back to the borders of the Artsakh just as the Persians swooped in from the south. The Azeris, left decimated by the Persian armies, reluctantly agreed to become vassals for the Shah’s empire. The residents of the Artsakh, still reeling from the war, did not think that the surprise Persian attack was an absolution of Yerevan’s responsibility. They called for tougher measures against foreign threats, and they got President Vadratian to deliver. The next foreign threat happened to be migrants, not a standing army. While militia camps to the north of Armenia were swiftly eliminated, the refugees swamping northern cities could not be so easily taken care of.

Yerevan quickly became denser as Assanian crossed the Hrazdan and drove downtown. Buildings rose higher and higher, advertisements colorfully lit up the street. Government-sponsored propaganda featured Armenians working or enjoying life with positive, confident slogans. Some of the buildings that the cars passed bore murals of the revolution. On one, a Fedayeen with a small Armenian flag wrapped around the handguard of his bolt-action rifle charged defiantly from a trench as bullets tore up the ground beside him. Behind the brave militiaman were his comrades clambering over the trench walls to join him. Another one featured a burning Ottoman light tank with the writing: David: Killer of Goliath!. Assanian pulled through to a traffic circle, took a right, and headed to Freedom Square. The beige stone walls of the Presidential Palace came into view as the square appeared behind the surrounding buildings. Freedom Square, from the sky, was a stone square that was patterned like an Armenian rug. To the south was the government residence and its surrounding gardens and, to the north, a statue of a Fedayeen victoriously raising his rifle to the sky faced it.

Already, a podium had been set up directly in front of the Presidential Palace. A crowd of people had already gathered in place, awaiting their candidate’s speech. The lead police car turned on its light, alerting people to move out of the road. The driver cleared the way to the podium, stopping just shy of the bollards that kept cars off of Freedom Square’s pedestrian terrace. He stepped out of the police car and blew his whistle, motioning for the crowd to clear a path. Assanian quickly followed, going where the policeman motioned. Assanian clutched a leather briefcase in his hand: inside, his speech was tucked neatly into a divider. He wordlessly climbed the steps up to the podium, flanked by two Armenian flags, and spoke briefly with a staffer who had just set up the speaker equipment. Assanian’s podium consisted of four microphones for the four main Armenian radio media groups, alongside a speaker to reach out to Freedom Square. Directly in front of the podium was the press pool, while the general public waited behind it.

Assanian straightened his suit, unfazed by the crowd in front of him. After all, he had done this plenty of times before. This speech was just another one about his campaign promises, and how he was going to make life better for the Armenian people, and how he was going to secure the future of the Armenian state. He extolled the virtue of the country and its people, how they worked hard and never quit and how every other country looked at the Armenians as symbols of resilience and dedication. He brought the history of his people into the speech, imagining what the ancient Hayk would say if he looked upon the modern Armenian state. He ended with a condemnation of the present politics of hate perpetuated by Vadratian, and how he would work to change that so Armenia could continue its role as a role model for others. The country was small, but the Armenians knew what they could do. All and all, it was quick and sweet, nothing new in the playbook. The crowd loved it, cheering at all the right moments and clapping as it ended. Camera flash bulbs lit the podium and the candidate, surely to be printed in the next day’s paper.

Assanian left as easily as he entered, climbing back into his car. His aide offered to take his jacket once the candidate had settled into the leather back seat. “That was a good speech, I think they liked it,” he complimented almost robotically, making small talk like he was on a date.

“We’ll see what happens next month, shall we?” Assanian sighed, leaning back into the seat. “Let’s go, we still have some work at the office to do.”

Armenian-Georgian Border

Two small jeeps kicked up dust as they drove through the winding border roads separating Armenia from its neighbor. Painted olive-green and bearing the logo of the Armenian Border Service on their side doors, the lead vehicle maintained a swiveling machine gun while the one in the rear sat four in its bed. Their mission was the same as every day’s mission: drive along the border and look for Georgians crossing into Armenia. Refugees used the rugged terrain to move through cracks in the Border Service’s monitoring. Mounted patrols such as these augmented static watchtowers, hoping to try and keep the influx of northerners out of the country. Sometimes they were successful in turning back the ones brave enough to attempt a crossing during daylight. Other times, they found themselves skirmishing with bandits trying to exploit the situation. These bandits, funded by the meth trade into Armenia, had been getting bolder in recent years.

The patrol had been driving for four hours, long enough for them to reach the designated turnaround point. In theory, two patrols from opposite bases would drive towards each other for four hours, interface, and head back to their home stations. The rationale for this was to build confidence in each patrol’s area of responsibility and to check in on the others to see if there were any problems. This patrol in particular seemed to be a little early, since their partners were evidently still moving through the mountains. A radio call using the lead vehicle’s manpack yielded no reply: typical in the rugged terrain. The patrol decided to wait. The contingency plan was to call again if the other patrol had still not come by in another hour, and then head out to look for them. The order was given to dismount and keep watch: the troops aboard the vehicles got out and went to find cover. In this case, since this was the usual meeting spot, some areas had been reinforced with dug foxholes and sandbags. Like most days of waiting, the soldiers occupied their positions.

Corporal Joseph Yaglian had been a team leader in the Border Service for just under six months. The tall, lanky twenty-one-year-old wore his gear loose on his body and had lazily rolled up his battledress sleeves in the heat. His young face was unshaven, and hair far longer than regulations allowed brushed up against the collar on his faded jacket. After stopping to wick the sweat out of his soaked patrol cover, he went to his comrades to check on them. Yaglian’s fireteam consisted of himself, two riflemen, and a machinegunner operating a clumsily large weapon. They were all younger than him and local to the area, mostly conscripts posted to the Border Service for their language skills. Yaglian himself was from Yerevan, a volunteer who had naturally received a promotion before the conscripts. The Border Service had historically been smaller and less-well-managed than the Army, dedicated solely to guarding the Georgian and Azeri borders. However, with the recent uptick in border-security-related issues, the service was expanding. This led to quicker promotions for younger and less experienced guardsmen as they tried to fill more slots.

“Hey man, we’re all good,” the machinegunner mumbled through his cigarette as Yaglian crouched next to him. He was a stout, strong man from north Armenia named Gagarian, who spoke Russian and Georgian alongside Armenian. Just a Private, Gagarian had proved himself in combat actions three times over his seven months in service.

Beside Gagarian was the seventeen-year-old Lingorian, who held his binoculars steady against a sandbag to scan for movement in the Georgian mountains. Lingorian himself looked no older than fourteen, dressed in a flowy uniform that looked like he was wearing his father’s clothes to work. He had just gotten to the unit to replace another conscript who was injured in a car crash during a similar patrol. As the youngest, he was often burdened with the most equipment by those who didn’t want to carry it. In his pack was an assortment of binoculars, rifle grenades, flares, and other extra pieces of equipment. Although young, he worked hard to earn the respect of the others: something that Yaglian admired, even if he did make fun of the kid. The other rifleman, Gaznian, was almost as old as Yaglian but nowhere near as experienced. He was the only non-conscript, joining the Border Service after his parents died of hypothermia during the particularly difficult winter of 1958. He sent a portion of his paycheck to his little sister, now living in Hrazdan.

“Good to hear,” Yaglian answered simply. He withdrew his own cigarette from a breast pocket and lit it up. Doctrine said not to smoke on patrol, for fear of the red glow being spotted from afar, but nobody listened to doctrine anyways. “We’re just gonna wait for these late fucks and then go home. Easy day, right? Not seeing anything?”

“Not yet. Lingorian would’ve squealed by now,” he said, elbowing the Private next to him sharply in the ribs. A grimace came across Lingorian’s face, but aside from a small grunt he didn’t say much more.

“Okay, that’s good news. I’ll come by in a few minutes,” Yaglian replied as he puffed on his cigarette again. Quickly flicking what would come off into a nearby pile of rocks, he went back to his section leader to report. Yaglian’s section leader nodded, and went wordlessly back to the map spread across the hood on the jeep. He mumbled calculations under his breath, taking measurements of kilometers and speed and trying to figure out where the other patrol could be. This continued on for the next hour, until it was time to go looking.

“Hey, lead truck!” the section leader called out as he put his carbine beside the passenger’s seat in the rear open truck. “Hey, go call the other patrol on your radio and let me know if you get a reply. These idiots are fucking late again.”

A radio call was sent out. Again, no response came back through the airwaves. As per their orders, the section leader gave the call to mount up and move out to go find the others. Yaglian recalled his team and put them in the back of the truck. He talked to his section leader about where they were going, and hopped over the side as the engine rumbled to life. The lead vehicle spun its wheels for a second, kicking up gravel before speeding off. Yaglian’s jeep followed. They drove for two hours, getting more worried as they continued. Wordlessly, they followed the trail until the sun began to set. Every fifteen minutes, the lead vehicle would send out a radio transmission to no avail. The search was hopeless until the jeeps rounded a bend in the road and the headlights picked up something in front of them. The two trucks drove into range before the first slammed on the brakes. The team leader in the passenger seat leapt out and waved his hands at the section leader: “Hey, it’s them!”

A chorus of cursing and orders to take positions followed from the section leader: one of the trucks had been hit with explosive or something of the sort while the other was empty in the back. Blood covered the windshield of the lead vehicle, and two bodies were slumped over the dashboard. A third body was laying, arms spread wide, across the spare tire in the back. The truck’s machinegun was angled downwards, a short belt hanging from its receiver. Around them, bodies from the other truck were laying around. These men had been killed in combat, with the exception of one who, based on the blood trail, seemed to have crawled behind the second truck only to die there. Yaglian emplaced his men and ran to his section leader, who was surveying the damage. “What’s going on?” he asked, an intonation of fear in his voice.

“Looks like a rocket attack stopped the first truck. Look at the rest of them, bullet holes everywhere. Fuckin’ bandits did this. We were probably too far away to hear the damn fight, too,” the section leader lamented as he checked the dog tags on the dead patrol’s other NCO. He was just about to order a mount-up when a rifle shot cracked them and sent the patrol bounding to cover. “Sniper! Sniper! Sniper!” the section leader called out.

Immediately, fire from the Armenians leapt out into the dusk. Yaglian’s machinegunner had seen the muzzle flash of the bandit and was showering rounds at the area while the two other rifleman tried to do the same. The other machinegunner, far more experienced than Gagarian, rattled off bursts while Gagarian went quiet. This so called “talking guns” method enabled a suppression of the enemy position. The sniper was apparently frightened, and only got off a few more inaccurate shots. Each one was answered by more gunfire from the border guardsmen. Yaglian fired off his carbine from behind the hood of his vehicle, rhythmically and precisely. In between bursts of gunfire, he sounded off to check on his team. So far, no casualties. It had been a trap, but the troops were left wondering why there had only been one sniper. Yaglian’s section leader wasn’t going to stick around to find out, and ordered the dead tossed in the back of the other jeep. Nobody was leaving bodies or weapons there, lest the bandits get a propaganda victory out of the deal.

Only three more attempts came from the bandit sniper, each time answered by overwhelming fire on the Armenian side. It was nighttime by the time the bodies were loaded up and trucks were on the move, and the shots were getting wilder and wilder. As fast as they could, the trucks moved back to the other patrol’s home base. Someone needed to know what happened, and the bandits were going to pay soon. As the patrol left from the ambush site, Gaznian shot a rifle grenade at the disabled Armenian jeep to deny its recovery. This time, the fuel tank exploded, and the whole vehicle was consumed by fire. The fire lit the mountainside, flickering against the escaping border guardsmen. They still had a while left to drive before they got to the next base, but they were determined to do it quickly. Something had to happen soon.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

<Snipped quote by Shyri>

also forgot mombassa

@Vilageidiotx

And the Artsakh.

Monte Melkonian cries everytime.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Also, I just realized the map doesn't include Nagorno Karabakh as a province REEEEEEEEEEEEE

(Not that it matters, nobody's gonna look that close)

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Name: The Republic of Armenia (Armenian: Հայաստանի Հանրապետություն, Hayastani Hanrapetut'yun)

Head of State: President Hasmik Assanian

Location (in purple):

Regional Map:

World Map:

History:

The Ottoman Empire hoped for an early cessation to hostilities during the Great War. What they received instead was a brutal slog, fought for over a decade. As with most wars, the issue came down to exhaustion. Trench warfare whittled down the materiel of the Ottoman military, killed its most experienced soldiers, and forced domestic production into feeding the war machine. The Ottoman oil fields were slowly stripped from the empire as the British-backed Arabs continued their marches to independence. Resources that the Ottomans depended upon for fighting in the Middle East were no longer flowing into the factories in significant numbers. Millions of casualties reduced a generation of Turkish men to alarmingly low levels. The empire that had been built for hundreds of years was crumbling before the Sultan’s eyes. Exhaustion crept upwards as it became apparent that all the Ottomans could do now was stop their losses before they became too great.

The end of the war came as the Ottomans realized that their integrity was worth more than their empire. Long-held Turkish-ethnic policies guided the decision to pull away from the Middle East and the Caucasus and hold the line in the Anatolian homeland. The Ottoman troops were chased, practically, by the rebels of once-oppressed minorities. The war had only worsened existing ethnic tensions, infuriating minority groups. A large group of these Ottoman subjects were Armenian, and often faced the worst treatment. Labeled saboteurs, separatists, and conspirators, Armenians were many times blamed for problems at home. While the Ottoman government never had the dedicated resources available for a full-scale genocide, incidents of abuse and massacre were not uncommon. The Armenians established multiple militias, called the Fedayeen, for home defense against these abuses. While the morality of Fedayeen actions are debated, they are recognized in Armenian culture as heroes.

The Fedayeen coalesced into an organized revolutionary front after the Independence Council was established in Yerevan. The Independence Council, made up of the leaders of the largest regional Fedayeen groups, drafted their determination for a state of the Armenian people. They established the vision of an ethnic republic, created for the sustainment of Armenians. With that, they elected the leader of the newly-birthed Armenian Separatist Federation: Mikael Serovian. An experienced veteran of the Ottoman military’s ethnically divided Armenian Regiments, Serovian organized the Fedayeen into an ASF central structure and set about the task of clearing Ottoman troops from Armenian lands. From the east to the west, over the course of three years, the Armenian militias engaged in brutal combat with a rapidly-disintegrating Ottoman military. Serovian himself lived to see the end of the war, narrowly escaping death twice as his command camp was hit with artillery.

Part of the 1929 peace treaty included provisions for ethnic territories carved out of the Ottoman Empire. Armenia received its wish, and was granted its lands extending from the eastern Artsakh forests to the western reaches of Erzincan. Several other neighboring populations received ethnic states as well, forming new neighbors for the country. With the immediate victory of independence over, the Armenian Separatist Front was transitioned to the Armed Forces of Armenia and the Fedayeen were reorganized again into a regular military component. The professionalization of the Armenian military was accomplished over the next years with foreign assistance. Civilian ministries were set up for reconstruction, headed by the Provisional Governor: Serovian. Serovian, the ASF commander-turned-civil politician, was responsible for building the government structure until elections were first held in July of 1930. After Serovian’s victory, he became the first President of the Republic of Armenia.

President Serovian, a steely-eyed and dedicated leader who never married, was seen as the father of the republic. He spent two terms, a total of ten years, in office handling reconstruction measures. Foreign relations were expanded with the country’s closest ally: Persia, arguing the case for the reception of billions of dollars of foreign aid in exchange for a state to keep the Ottomans from making a return. Serovian spent the money on roads, railroads, ports, and various other facilities that were lacking from Ottoman occupation. A consistent fixture of Armenia’s statehood has been a to strong military forces despite a small population: a vanguard against reoccupation by a foreign power. Yerevan, over the next few decades, became a bustling city with ever-taller buildings in an effort to show the world Armenia’s success. Propaganda extolled the virtues of the Armenian work effort and a dedication to claw their way back from the being trapped beneath the Ottoman heel. While Serovian’s solid tenure as President provided a base for years to come, he had a fair part to play in wasteful spending and the establishment of Armenia’s foreign debt.

In the twenty years since Serovian stepped down from power in 1940, Armenia grew to become a solid state amidst a region so-often fraught with conflict. The Ottoman Empire began their own campaign of reconstruction after the war, fueling Armenia’s own militarism and nationalism that continues to penetrate its culture. In 1946, the Armenian military was put to the test again as the free state of Azerbaijan began mobilizing against the Artsakh: a dispute over territory and ethnic ownership that had boiled over after years of debate. A year of conflict ensued as the black forests of the Artsakh were turned into warzones against an invading Azeri military. The conflict produced heavy casualties on both sides and was stopped only by the intervention of the Persian imperial forces, who later occupied and annexed Azerbaijan. The war effected some degree of cynicism and concern amongst the general public, who worried that a war with the Ottomans would not go as well. Political factions amongst the Armenian parliament bickered until the next election, where a new President was elected. This President would serve until 1960.

Armenia’s second crisis came in the wake of the 1952 assassination of Russia’s tsar. The Russian state, earlier too busy to deal with Armenia, fell apart and collapsed into dozens of small states. These states, particularly in the Caucasus, were often failing to provide basic security or services to their people. Criminals, militias, drug traffickers, and pirates all based out of the former Russian states. These posed a significant border threat to Armenia: militias would attack the border, pirates would attack shipping, and methamphetamine was poised to eclipse hashish as the top-selling drug in the country. Russian refugees streamed across the border, crowding into towns and ghettos and forming Russian communities in cities. The President, a hardliner by the name of Joseph Vadratian, had become popular after the Artsakh War. He declared that Russian refugees must earn their place, and instituted policies that encouraged the employment of Russian workers in jobs like construction, mining, agriculture, factories, and other laborious occupations. These workers were paid very little and often mistreated, causing resentment amongst the Russian communities and a divide between them and the Armenians. Criminals, most infamously in Sevan, exploited that, and the Russian Mafia became a powerful figure in Armenian crime.

The Armenia of 1960 is resurgent, proud, and building what seems to be a prosperous future. Forty years of independence has treated the Armenian people better than they could have imagined. A new generation knows only the Armenian state, and the tales of Ottoman occupation are quickly becoming bedtime stories. However, external conflict with the Ottomans or Armenia’s failing neighbors looms over the relatively young state. A demographic crisis with attached crime and societal issues is just beginning, just as the hardliners find their way out of office and the political scene of Armenia is due for a shakeup. It is May, and an election is approaching next month between an increasingly unpopular Vadratian and his more liberal opponent: Hasmik Assanian. Armenia, the leader of the post-Ottoman resurgence, faces tough times ahead.

Roleplay Information:

Post Catalog:

1: Presidential candidate Hasmik Assanian prepares for a campaign rally on internal issues as election day draws nearer. A patrol of Armenian border guards comes under attack by Georgian militants and are found by Corporal Yaglian.
2: A Russian teenager is found murdered with an automatic weapon by the Gyumri police department. Corporal Yaglian witnesses the funeral of the fallen patrol as rumors of a revenge attack circulate.
3: Jon Korkarian prepares for final examinations at the Hrazdan University of Industry. Assanian prepares his cabinet as election day nears. Captain Sarkisian prepares to head underway with a shipment of gold from Trabzon.
4: A Mafiya hit squad takes out an informant in Sevan after a cash stockpile was disclosed to the police. Yaglian is briefed of a long-awaited retaliation raid across the Georgian border. Tigran investigates the Gyumri murders further and tracks down a missing soldier connected to an arms deal.
5: The Armenian election culminates with Assanian taking the majority vote, and he prepares for the new office. A logger is killed in an accident the Artsakh, leaving a widow, Mary Kandarian, in his wake.
6: Border Service troops attack a bandit encampment inside Patara Darbazi, Georgia, sustaining casualties and paving the way for a future response from the Georgian Mountain Wolves.
7: Captain Sarkisian's ship arrives in Odessa at the end of their route. President Hasmik Assanian is inaugurated in Yerevan. Jon Korkarian starts his summer work at a tank factory in Hrazdan.
8: Police in Gyumri make progress in their investigation, but are called out to a suspected arson in the Russian ghetto of the city.
9: Mary prepares to bury her husband in accordance with Armenian funeral rites. President Assanian meets with Director Moysisian to be briefed on the Georgia Plan.
10: Mikael and Hagop handle a laundromat owner who disrespected them. Assanian meets with the Council to get guidance on the Georgia Plan.
11: Jon evaluates a landship at the mechanized proving grounds in Hrazdan, and discovers firsthand the life of a tanker.
12: Assanian, Idratian, and Prime Minister Antabian plan the Georgia Plan's route through Parliament. Captain Sarkisian's ship comes under attack off the coast of Sochi.
13: Mary seeks assistance from the town of Aygestan as her savings wear thin in the wake of Gor's death.
14: Jon meets Farah in a bar in downtown Hrazdan. Natalia and Anton parachute into Sochi to search for Sarkisian's crew. Assanian's Georgia Plan goes through its final vote in parliament.
15: Yaglian's company prepares to move into Georgia on the eve of the invasion. A nighttime movement into patrol bases establishes the first Armenian presence in the southern part of the country.
16: Mikael and Hagop travel to Baku in Persian-occupied Azerbaijan to pay a visit to their gunsmith and acquire weapons for the Mafiya.
17: Yaglian's unit begins to patrol their sector as Armenian troops suppress a newly-formed insurgency. Natalia and Anton relay their information to the Armenian Navy's rescue party. Hovik Idratian visits the rural countryside in Nakhichevan.
18: Jon is activated to serve in a military investigation of defective manufacturing that is causing casualties in the Georgian War. The NSS move to secure the Breadwinner as the Armenian Navy pushes towards rescuing hostages from the Sochi pirates.

Character Catalog:

Politicians:

- Hasmik Assanian: An Armenian politician and veteran of the military service, belonging to the Armenian Liberal Democratic Party. A notably moderate liberal candidate, he maintains that Armenian unity and nationalism is compatible with immigration and seeks to solve the country's internal issues related to this. At the same time, his focus increasingly turns to foreign affairs as Turkish threats emerge on the horizon. Introduction.

- Joseph Vadratian: The former president, serving five years and building a reputation of being tough on immigrants, foreign threats, and other perceived dangers to the Armenian state. After losing a tense election, he still holds major clout in the government opposition party. Introduction.

- Hovik Idratian: The Vice-President of Armenia, hailing from Western Armenia. A known reformist famous in his hometown for advocating for their often-forgotten provinces, he is a skilled politician and a well-liked figure by the poorer base. Introduction.

- Mikael Serovian: The first President of Armenia and a heroic Fedayeen commander. He is one of the last surviving members of the Council, the original leaders of the revolution. Currently, he spends his life studying knowledge and offering guidance to Armenian politicians. Introduction.

- Serzh Antabian: The Prime Minister of Armenia. A longtime veteran of the Armenian Liberal Democratic Party, he enjoys considerable sway in the Armenian Parliament. He is a valuable asset to the Assanian administration, tasked with ensuring legislation passes through his branch of government. Introduction.

- Armen Tsaghzian: The leader of the Independence Party, the primary opposition party in parliament. Once renowned as a defender of traditional conservative politics, he has been rattled by a series of political scandals and defections inside his own party. Introduction.

- Philip Babovian: The leader of the Armenian Liberal Democratic Party. He made his name as the apprentice of Serzh Antabian, he followed in the now-Prime Minister's footsteps to become head of the parliament's majority party. Introduction.

Military/Police:

- George Yaglian: A volunteer border guardsman originating from Yerevan, Yaglian is a knowledgeable, if sometimes unprofessional, frontiersman. Known for his taste in music and his sharp tongue, Yaglian leads a team of soldiers as the situation on the Georgian border deteriorates. Introduction.

- Tigran Korkarian: Korkarian is one of the older police officers in the Gyumri police department and a veteran of the police throughout Armenia's modern incarnation as a country. He works to deal with security in Russian neighborhoods as ghettos emerge around the city and ethnic crime rises in Armenia. Widely considered to be something of a sage, Tigran uses his wisdom as he dives deeper into the emerging crisis. Introduction.

- Aram Ozanian: A veteran of the Artsakh War, Aram Ozanian was a platoon sergeant responsible for the failed defense of Khojaly. After the loss of his platoon, Ozanian was demoted and reassigned to the northern border where he took command of a section. He seems the border skirmishing as a way to redeem himself after the war. Introduction.

- Marko Moysisian: The Director of the National Security Service. A hawkish, questionably-moral intelligence operative with a relatively unknown past, he runs the the NSS with efficiency even if what he does it not totally known by the government. He is the architect of the Georgia Plan and Armenia's style of foreign intervention. Introduction.

- Natalia Dadeshvili: A female NSS operative based out of the Armenian Poti base specializing in fieldwork. She is skilled in reconnaissance and intelligence gathering and was deployed to Sochi to hunt for Captain Sarkisian and his crew after their capture by pirates. Introduction.

- Anton Kapanian: Natalia's partner operative at the NSS base in Poti. Drawn from the ranks of military marksmen, he is tasked out for reconnaissance and sometimes high-risk assassinations in foreign countries. Introduction.

- Victor Maghakian: The founder of Armenia's naval infantry force: an Armenian-American originally from Chicago, he took ideals from the United States back to Armenia following the civil war there. He is a ruthless proponent of action and intervention and a diehard defender of his branch despite parliamentary inquiries to the contrary. Introduction.

- Harry Kizirian: A senior NCO in the Armenian naval infantry. Known for being a supporter of Colonel Maghakian and his marine force. Another Armenian-American who came to Armenia to support the fledgling naval infantry force projection. Introduction.

Industry:

- Joseph Sarkisian: A ship captain running the Trabzon-Sevastopol commerce route, usually transporting Armenian gold to Europe. A veteran seaman, he has seen through the expansion of Armenian maritime presence and routinely tackles piracy in the Black Sea. Introduction.

- Andrei Bagruntsian: A manager in the Hrazdan-based Tsaghkadzor Heavy Industry Plant. He is Jon Korkarian's boss and head of the military equipment refit program for the Armenian military. He is known at the factory for his sense of humor and shrewd deal-making skills that often lead to new contracts for his department. Introduction.

- Nikol Calrissian. The owner of Aygestan's logging camp. Once the manager of Gor Kandarian's logging team, his profit-motivated refusal to cover his workers' injuries led to the widows' calls for action. Introduction.

Crime:

- Hagop Malkhasian: A low-level gangster in the Sevan Mafiya, often tasked with "dirty work" that involves drug smuggling and murder. Good friends with Mikael Kataev, a Russian immigrant. He is routinely under the influence of something, and uses it to get through the questionably-moral activities of the Mafiya. Introduction.

- Mikael Kataev: One of the Russian members of the Sevan Mafiya, used as a translator and enforcer in Russian neighborhoods. Roommates with an good friends with Hagop Malkhasian, he experiences life and crime in Armenia as an ethnically Russian immigrant. Introduction.

- Ashraf Herati: An infamous Afghan gunsmith working out of Baku in Persian Azerbaijan. He produces weapons that the Sevan Mafiya smuggles into the country. Introduction.

- Muhammad Zahir: Ashraf Herati's assistant and protege. He directly coordinates the trafficking and smuggling of weapons to Armenia and accompanies Mikael Kataev and Hagop Malkhasian on their trips to the border. Introduction.

People:

- Jon Korkarian: Something of an average student studying at the Hrazdan University of Industry. Like most of his peers, he enjoys the campus lifestyle of drinking instead of studying. Despite this, he is being groomed as the manager of a new generation of business ties with close Armenian allies, such as Persia. Introduction.

- Mary Kandarian: The widow of a logger killed in an accident. Frustrated at what happened to her husband and fearing for the well-being of her family, Mary begins a movement to push for increased workers' rights under the Assanian presidency. Introduction.

- Thomas Deradoorian: The pastor of the Aygestan Armenian Apostolic church. In the wake of Gor Kandarian's death, he provided religious support to Mary on her journey to Yerevan and foray into politics. Introduction.

- Mike Sinanian: An Armenian-American from Los Angeles who made his way back to Armenia after the Second American Civil War. He started his own business in Hrazdan, a bar, from imported American luxury goods like beer and cigarettes. One of Jon's friends in the city. Introduction.

- Farah Kalantari: A Persian student studying industry in Armenia. One of the first women to become educated in a field like management in her home country, she becomes involved with Jon as their paths cross at school in Hrazdan. Introduction.

- Vasif Shahbuzi: The mayor of a small town on the outskirts of Nakhichevan in the south of Armenia. He is an advocate for rural politics and his small but dedicated constituency. Introduction.

Country Information:

Administrative Information:

Provinces of Armenia

Armenia has thirty-five provinces (Armenian: մարզեր, marzer) located inside its borders. Thirteen are located in West Armenia, the historical homeland of Armenians living in Anatolia. Fourteen more are located in the more dense East Armenia, the traditional Caucasian territories spanning from the Georgian to the Persian border. East of this, the Artsakh region is divided into eight separate provinces for administrative purposes. However, these regions are rather informal and the provinces form the basis of official Armenian administration.

Each province maintains its own local government and ministers responsible for internal affairs. Elections determine these local government leaders, and national elections are heavily based in local electoral mechanisms. These provinces are sized and determined according to local population and culture, and censuses are reported every ten years to provide data for administration. Each province is further subdivided into municipalities (Armenian: համայնքներ, hamaynkner) or small municipal communities consisting of a town and its surrounding land. Traditional Armenian life has been based in villages and towns, so the government structure of the hamaynk reflects that. These communities maintain their own police forces, fire departments, town governments, and other administrative features that are managed by the province. They practice a form of direct democracy at town hall meetings for local issues, while larger provincial and national elections are handled with representative voting managed by the municipality.

Armenian Provincial Map

Demographics of Armenia

National Ethnic Demographics

Armenia was founded as an ethnic-Armenian state, formed around Armenian communities in the former Ottoman Empire. As such, there has historically been a limited amount of diversity. This, coupled with Armenian society's conservatism towards foreign immigration, has resulted in a large overall percentage of citizens being of Armenian descent. Ethnic groups are prominent in certain parts of the country, however: Azerbaijanis make up a significant portion of Nakhchivan and the Artsakh's communities, while Georgians occupy the northern border. Recent years have brought an influx of Russians into the Armenian state, forming immigrant communities in major cities: these are mostly ghettos of working-class immigrants. Token populations of smaller ethnic groups include Yazidis, mostly descendants of refugees from Ottoman persecution who live in West Armenia. Kurdish tribes can still be found in the southwest, particularly around Lake Van. Greek seafarers and merchants reside along the coast, along with Assyrian populations.

National Ethnic Diversity, 1960 Census



Ethnic Group --- Percentage

Armenian --- 81.8%
Russian --- 5.3%
Azerbaijani --- 4.9%
Assyrian --- 2.1%
Georgian --- 1.5%
Yazidi --- 1.2%
Greek --- 1.0%
Kurdish --- 0.9%
Persian --- 0.7%
Jewish --- 0.3%
Other --- 0.3%

National Religious Demographics

Religion in Armenia follows very closely to ethnicity: there are very few Armenians who belong to sects of Christianity other than the Armenian Church, and even fewer still who are non-Christian. However, populations of Catholics and Evangelicals makes up large minorities in the Armenian state. The influx of Russian migrants has brought many followers of Russian Orthodoxy to Armenia, mostly concentrated to their neighborhoods in the northern cities. Due to the large Azerbaijani presence still in the Artsakh, particularly in larger cities like Stepanakert and Shushi that have a history of religious and ethnic mixing, there is a significant Shia Islam minority. Jews exist in extremely small numbers, even behind identified non-believers, never having immigrated to Armenia in the first place. It is important to note that due to the pressures of conservative Armenian society, many identify as belonging to the Armenian Apostolic Church despite falling more in line with agnosticism.

National Religious Diversity, 1960 Census



Religious Group --- Percentage

Armenian Apostolic --- 83.5%
Russian Orthodox --- 4.5%
Other Christian --- 4.9%
Shia Islam --- 5.0%
Other --- 1.0%
Irreligious --- 0.8%
Judaism --- 0.3%

Political Information:

National Assembly of Armenia:

The National Assembly of Armenia (also known as the Parliament) is a unicameral body with 101 seats, as outlined in the Armenian Constitution. Elections are held every five years coinciding with the Presidential election. Elections are outlined much in the same way as executive elections, and seats are allocated based on region. The Parliament is responsible for the introduction and passing of legislature, as long as it passes through the Presidency as well. Most decisions are voted on by simple majority, but some higher-profile issues and drastic decisions need to have two-third majorities in order to pass. The Parliament building is located in Yerevan.

Party leaders from both the ruling and opposition party are also important figures in Armenian politics. A party leader from each party is elected from serving members of Parliament, who works alongside the most-senior member of each party. They lead and manage the parties on debate and legislation, approving or denying policy along with talking to the Prime Minister to advise them on the political situation of Parliament.

Parliamentary Electoral Diagram, June 1960



Purple: Liberal Democratic Party (43)
Teal: Independence Party (35)
Blue: Revolutionary Party (11)
Orange: Enforcement Party (10)
Red: Communist Party (2)

Parties:

- Armenian Liberal Democratic Party: The most powerful of the leftist parties in Armenian parliament, having gained a large support among the immigrant population and those sympathetic to their plight. Often focusing on socialist or socially progressive policies. While foreign policy has taken a back seat to internal issues, the ALDP still focuses on Armenian nationalism and self-determination against the threat of Turkey. Hasmik Assanian was the presidential candidate for 1960.

- Independence Party: A more rightist, ultranationalist party focusing on Armenian national spirit that came into power following a demographic crisis that emerged after the death of the Russian tsar in 1952. A general atmosphere of fear and uncertainty, especially after military defeats in the Artsakh, was capitalized on during election season. President Joseph Vadratian was elected in 1955 to heavy-handedly deal with the problem, but ended up exacerbating issues and causing a general frustration amongst his voting base. By 1960, the Independence Party had become unpopular and were rapidly losing power.

- Revolutionary Party: Similar to the Independence Party, the Revolutionary Party is a nationalist party that focuses solely on preserving the politics of the ASF Council and the original constitutional intent. They oppose actions that they feel are not written explicitly into the country's founding documents and try to keep legislation close to what they feel the Council would approve.

- Foreign Enforcement Party: The Enforcement Party's solution to Armenia's issues is to focus on foreign affairs and the external causes, and heavily advocate policy that involves sending Armenians across the borders to foreign countries to "take the fight away from the Fatherland." While heavy-handed foreign policy responses are generally a minority opinion, they maintain a respectable number of swing seats in the Parliament.

- Armenian Communist Party: A minority Communist element that has found traction in limited areas, mostly those with heavy disenfranchised populations of Russians. While a struggling underdog in Armenian politics, they are seen as a serious threat by politicians fearing its spread and the Communists oftentimes face thinly-veiled attempts to subdue their power.

Executive Government of Armenia:

The Presidency is the head of the executive branch of the Armenian government. Elected every five years and serving without a two-term limit to minimize corruption and political complacency, the President is the Armenian head of state. They act as the commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces of Armenia, as well as the decider on domestic and foreign policy. They maintain a cabinet of specialists who head each of the Armenian government's ministries on specific issues, who advise him on policy and offer input for the passing of legislation. This legislation is voted on by Parliament and approved by the President, who manages the execution of new laws and policy. At any time, the President is subject to review and vote by other members of the government and by the Armenian people, checked by the Constitution that was written by the founders of the state.

Leadership in the executive branch also consists of a Prime Minister, who is selected from the governing party. They identify and select members of the executive cabinet to be sent for a final appointment by the President, and appoint other minor postings in the government. In keeping with a semi-presidential system of government, the Prime Minister works closely with the President and his administration. They chair the cabinet and offer political advice to the President, coordinating the executive branch with the Parliament. The Vice-President also works alongside the President, but he focuses more on the administration and management of government in a bureaucratic sense, whereas the Prime Minister is more responsible with government in a political sense. The Vice-President is also a representative of the President who speaks for the office when the President is otherwise occupied, making the Vice-President a popular figure in more rural areas such as West Armenia or the Artsakh.

Ministries and Ministers of the Armenian Government:

Ministry of Foreign Affairs - Minister Nikol Mooradian
Ministry of Internal Affairs - Minister Jordan Terosian
Ministry of Finance - Minister Andrei Karsian
Ministry of Justice - Minister John Antonian
Ministry of Agriculture - Minister Moses Proshian
Ministry of Health - Minister Mikael Mikaelian
Ministry of Education - Minister Drake Pashinian
Ministry of War - Minister Yegishe Eminian
Ministry of Development - Minister Alex Petrosian
Ministry of Infrastructure - Minister Mark Sisakian
Ministry of Energy - Minister Gagik Oshakanian

Election Information:

Armenian political elections at the national and marz (province) level are two-run systems that require a candidate to have the majority vote (above 50%) to win, even if there are more than two candidates. If no candidates have a majority vote in the first round, the top two candidates are chosen for a run-off election later. Voting is handled by the hamaynkner (equivalent to counties or townships.) These votes are counted locally and passed up to the marzer, where they are passed up to the national level. Accusations of fraudulent voting are handled at the local level where presumably the local authorities personally know the situation better. These accusations are handled quickly with the police resources at hand and votes are set back in order. However, these events rarely occur on wide scales or cause large controversies over the legitimacy of candidates.

Foreign Relations Information:

Armenian Foreign Policy:

It is the stated goal of Armenian foreign policy to protect and safeguard its status as a sovereign state. Its foreign policy attempts to balance this with a need for external assistance with reconstruction and free trade. Foreign policy shifts between two schools of thought: Russo-centric and Turk-centric. While Russo-centric foreign policy has only emerged in the last decade as a response to the collapse of the Russian Empire, it has been a priority in several administrations. Turk-centric foreign policy, while important before, is becoming less important as Armenian politicians realize that the Ottomans still occupy the title of "sick man of Europe" and cannot mount as much of an existential threat anymore. While the threat posed by the Ottomans is seen as outdated, the regular military is focused on a conventional fight with the Turks while paramilitary services like the Border Service are involved with more guerrilla-style operations in Georgia. Armenia, however, maintains positive relations with several regional states.

Armenian-Ottoman Relations:

The official policy of Armenia recognizes the current state of Turkey, but not the territories of the Ottoman Empire as is claimed in Istanbul. Aside from that, there are no embassies in either country and the border exists as a heavily fortified demarcation line known as the Orange Line (named after the color on the Armenian flag.) This is a stretch of no-man's-land lined with trenches, artillery, prepositioned armored units, and military forces who constantly patrol for Turkish aggression. There is no trade, cooperation, or any sort of international dialogue between the two countries. While a peace treaty was signed that ceded territory to the former Ottoman states, their relations were never normalized. Many in Armenia still believe the Turks to be a mortal enemy of sorts, an existential threat that is poised to return if they become strong enough. Conspiracies surrounding Turkish proxy parties are prominent in Armenian government, particularly in regards to ethnically Turkish militias Persian Azerbaijan or Sunni Muslim bandits in Georgia.

Since the 1929 treaty, there have been at least three major skirmishes along the Orange Line.

Armenian-Persian Relations:

Armenian-Georgian Relations:

Armenian-Assyrian Relations:

Armenian-Ukrainian Relations:

Armenian-Greek Relations:

Armenian-Russian Relations:

Economic Information:

- Mostly just memes and shit

Military Information:

Military Categorization System:

The Armenian military utilizes a category system in order to determine the training, equipment, and personnel that a specific type of unit receives. The five categories are laid out by parliamentary vote and budgeted accordingly in an annual military spending review. Specific caps and authorizations are given to the service leaders, who in turn make their own decisions about which units to classify and where they go. While this is not an all-encompassing procedure and the categories differ depending on service, the armed forces have been standardized and professionalized to a point where the classification is a good indicator of unit readiness, experience, and status.

Categories:

- Category A (Armenian: Կատեգորիա Ա, Kategoria Ayn): The most elite regular units in the Armenian military. These men are usually volunteer and career military personnel, or at least volunteers for a selection course to a number of noted units. Comparatively, they receive much more money and training time and their facilities are generally better. On the tactical and operational level, many of the junior and company grade officers are graduates of foreign military academies like West Point or the Academia General Militar. Equipment for these units varies based on mission set, but advanced weaponry like automatic assault rifles and infrared night-vision searchlights or personal protective gear like ballistic nylon body armor and the wide-spread adoption of camouflaged fatigues are prioritized to this category. Category A units are usually based to prepare for a conflict with the Ottoman Turks.

- Category B (Armenian: Կատեգորիա Բ, Kategoria Ben): The vast majority of regular Army units. Category B troops consist mostly of conscripts with a more limited leadership of career or volunteer personnel. They usually serve two year National Service tours, contributing to a lower retention rate and a lower overall professionalism and readiness status. While they lack in elite capabilities, Category B units are more prepared for conventional en masse attacks with combined arms assets such as tanks or air support. These troops are equipped with "standard issue" semi-automatic rifles and carbines, along with rudimentary steel helmets and unarmored load-bearing harnesses. Despite their shortcomings, training standards are adhered to and produce qualified soldiers. Also included within this category are Border Service troops and related laterally-organized military organizations.

- Category G (Armenian: Կատեգորիա Գ, Kategoria Gim): The reserve component of the Armenian military. Category G soldiers are inactive conscripts who have finished their two year term of service and maintain readiness as part of their six year service in the reserve component. These soldiers maintain equipment in their personal residences and train during bi-annual blocks for two weeks at a time. They are on call to be mobilized in the event of conflict or crisis (including civil crises like natural disasters.) Their equipment receives a limited priority unless in case of mobilization, resulting in a widespread adoption of surplus gear. Members of Category G may also become reservists due to medical, religious, educational, or qualified personal reasons. Aside from this, they are regular civilians and focus on their own personal jobs.

- Category D (Armenian: Կատեգորիա Դ, Kategoria Da): These are not formal members of the military, but instead exist as a special "fedayi" organizations. Local, decentralized civil defense groups are formed in most Armenian towns and marzer and do not train to the same standards as Army personnel. Many of these self defense groups consist of older civilians outside of National Service age range and draw upon patriotic Armenian fedayi tradition. These units are never called up for national service and instead are regulated through the Fedayi Management Administration, a civilian service tasked with participant census and arms control measures. In the event of invasion or other dire national emergency, Category D units are expected to form irregular partisan cells to assist the Armenian government in resisting and repelling an adversary.

- Category H (Armenian: Կատեգորիա Հ, Kategoria Ho): Irregular or undefined military forces not described by any other category. Category H units are not budgeted or funded directly by parliament, but instead belong to their parent commands. These units are highly irregular and specialized, oftentimes belonging to the National Security Service to carry out intelligence or covert actions in foreign countries. There is not much released to the public about Category H units' operations, giving their operations a certain veil of secrecy and deniability. Equipping and training of these units varies wildly, but they are generally highly proficient at their assigned tasks. These personnel, especially NSS operators, are not considered military and thus exist in a separate regulatory and legal role from the conventional military categories with considerably leeway and flexibility.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

<Snipped quote by TheEvanCat>

Good to go f@m

@Dinh AaronMk

who u caln fat-m? im not fat im big boned

Edit: I finally got around to MSpainting the map. Based off of the latest official version Aaron posted. The territorial claim is still United Armenia, or where we lived before the Turks killed everyone.

Robotech: The Macross War (Space Opera, Mecha RP)

I think I could try rolling in something like this. Does it make a difference if I'm not familiar with any sort of lore?

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

@Dinh AaronMk Repasta link: roleplayerguild.com/posts/4473275