So... I'll be playing Stellaris the day it comes out. I have an AAR idea and we'll see how it goes. Until then, I'll post the "back story" to the faction I'll be playing. Hope you guys enjoy.
Comrade Joseph Stalin sat in his private train car as it cut through the late Russian night south towards Tsaritsyn. The Civil War was going well, but not well enough. Comrade Lenin had elected to send Stalin to the city on the Volga, secure it for the the Russian workers. Dedicated to the effort, he worked by gaslight going over the reports they had about the war in the region. Tsaritsyn, he didn't like that name, had to be secured to insure the safe transport of food. There was a growing crisis in the Red controlled regions of the nation. A simple bread crisis had lead to the toppling of Tsar, he would be damned if it would lead to the end of the Soviet. Dipping a pen in ink he jotted down thoughts, and suggestions on how to better organise the war effort. it wouldn't be long, he was sure, until Comrade Lenin saw the wisdom of placing him at the head of the effort in the South. Not just securing an important city. He would be second at that time, only to Lenin himself. Perhaps Trotsky. As it were, he was already the third most powerful man in Russia, something that was unimaginable just a few years before. He allowed himself a small smile.
He had other stacks of papers. Hidden from everyone but himself. Other notes, thoughts, lists of names. People to bribe, people to threaten, people to... remove. Once he was named the second most powerful man in Russia, there was just one more step to take. Trotsky would have to be dealt with. He was the greatest threat to his plans for Russia. His name was already on paper. His ultimate fate not yet decided. Exile was likely. But he had been in exile before. They all had. And they had all come back.
"Dead men don't come back." He said reading the list of Bolshevik party leaders who may be useful in the near future.
When suddenly he leached forward, had he not braced himself his head would have smacked into the hard wooden table. He could hear the horrible sound of metal on metal as sparks broth small bursts of light to the surrounding country side. Clenching a fist and pounding it on the table Stalin rose marching towards the front of the car. he would have the conductors head if he could find someone else to get the train where it needed to go. He took out his hand gun and glanced out the door window.
Nothing.
He pushed the door open slowly, moving out gun at the ready before slipping into the next car. Red Army soldiers were there some had been hurt in their fall, others where helping the.
"What's happened?" Stalin asked to no one in particular. Before anyone could answer the door at the far end of the car opened. Another man, a train worker, stood there. He looked up seeing Stalin he stood erect as if he were in the military.
"Comrade Stalin. The rail line ahead of us has been destroyed. No sign of-" A loud crack broke him off, part of his neck blew away and he stumbled forward. Windows started to explode as the car was attacked. Stalin could see the small bright explosions of rifle fire, and the blinking eye of at least one machine gun. Stalin fell to the floor under the protection of armoured wall. Most of the Red Army along with him had followed suit, or he had followed them. Others hadn't managed to fall soon enough, they were on the ground now, choking, sputtering, never to get up again. Standing, with his back to the armour Stalin readied his gun. There shouldn't be any Whites here. nothing said anything about raids in this region, it was the exact reason Lenin had ordered it. Only a handful of people would have know where and when the transport train would be moving.
Someone had told the Whites. "Damned traitors are every where." Stalin said pointing his gun out the window, leaning ever so slightly. He took aim at one blinking light and fired.
It stopped.
"damned traitors." He repeated. If he could find who did this, his name, his wife's name, his children, parents. They would all be placed on on of his papers. The Red Army soldiers with him started to rally. Knocking out what little glass was left, their rifles barked back at their attackers. Slowly the deadly fireflies in the night went out, too slowly. The man next to him jutted back, the back of his head missing spraying red over Stalin's face, throwing chunks of brain on the walls. Seconds later a flash brighter than the sun blinded the Georgian communist. A force of fire knocked him back.
When again he was able to see, able to think, he knew he was face down on the earth. Feel the grass between his fingers. He could hear... something... it was muffled, only coming in through one ear. He could feel something hot on his back... blood, and it was burned, but that wasn't all. He rolled back, his leg was broken, what was left of the car was burning, the attackers must have placed explosives under the line. He could see figures, black in front of the fire. They checked the men laying around the train, now and again a single crack would be heard as the found survivors. One man walked up, crossing the fire light towards him. Stalin went to raise his gun.
It was gone.
The other man raised his.
"Coward." Stalin spat.
"Comrade." The other man said softly before pulling the trigger.
Prologue:
May, 1918
May, 1918
Comrade Joseph Stalin sat in his private train car as it cut through the late Russian night south towards Tsaritsyn. The Civil War was going well, but not well enough. Comrade Lenin had elected to send Stalin to the city on the Volga, secure it for the the Russian workers. Dedicated to the effort, he worked by gaslight going over the reports they had about the war in the region. Tsaritsyn, he didn't like that name, had to be secured to insure the safe transport of food. There was a growing crisis in the Red controlled regions of the nation. A simple bread crisis had lead to the toppling of Tsar, he would be damned if it would lead to the end of the Soviet. Dipping a pen in ink he jotted down thoughts, and suggestions on how to better organise the war effort. it wouldn't be long, he was sure, until Comrade Lenin saw the wisdom of placing him at the head of the effort in the South. Not just securing an important city. He would be second at that time, only to Lenin himself. Perhaps Trotsky. As it were, he was already the third most powerful man in Russia, something that was unimaginable just a few years before. He allowed himself a small smile.
He had other stacks of papers. Hidden from everyone but himself. Other notes, thoughts, lists of names. People to bribe, people to threaten, people to... remove. Once he was named the second most powerful man in Russia, there was just one more step to take. Trotsky would have to be dealt with. He was the greatest threat to his plans for Russia. His name was already on paper. His ultimate fate not yet decided. Exile was likely. But he had been in exile before. They all had. And they had all come back.
"Dead men don't come back." He said reading the list of Bolshevik party leaders who may be useful in the near future.
When suddenly he leached forward, had he not braced himself his head would have smacked into the hard wooden table. He could hear the horrible sound of metal on metal as sparks broth small bursts of light to the surrounding country side. Clenching a fist and pounding it on the table Stalin rose marching towards the front of the car. he would have the conductors head if he could find someone else to get the train where it needed to go. He took out his hand gun and glanced out the door window.
Nothing.
He pushed the door open slowly, moving out gun at the ready before slipping into the next car. Red Army soldiers were there some had been hurt in their fall, others where helping the.
"What's happened?" Stalin asked to no one in particular. Before anyone could answer the door at the far end of the car opened. Another man, a train worker, stood there. He looked up seeing Stalin he stood erect as if he were in the military.
"Comrade Stalin. The rail line ahead of us has been destroyed. No sign of-" A loud crack broke him off, part of his neck blew away and he stumbled forward. Windows started to explode as the car was attacked. Stalin could see the small bright explosions of rifle fire, and the blinking eye of at least one machine gun. Stalin fell to the floor under the protection of armoured wall. Most of the Red Army along with him had followed suit, or he had followed them. Others hadn't managed to fall soon enough, they were on the ground now, choking, sputtering, never to get up again. Standing, with his back to the armour Stalin readied his gun. There shouldn't be any Whites here. nothing said anything about raids in this region, it was the exact reason Lenin had ordered it. Only a handful of people would have know where and when the transport train would be moving.
Someone had told the Whites. "Damned traitors are every where." Stalin said pointing his gun out the window, leaning ever so slightly. He took aim at one blinking light and fired.
It stopped.
"damned traitors." He repeated. If he could find who did this, his name, his wife's name, his children, parents. They would all be placed on on of his papers. The Red Army soldiers with him started to rally. Knocking out what little glass was left, their rifles barked back at their attackers. Slowly the deadly fireflies in the night went out, too slowly. The man next to him jutted back, the back of his head missing spraying red over Stalin's face, throwing chunks of brain on the walls. Seconds later a flash brighter than the sun blinded the Georgian communist. A force of fire knocked him back.
When again he was able to see, able to think, he knew he was face down on the earth. Feel the grass between his fingers. He could hear... something... it was muffled, only coming in through one ear. He could feel something hot on his back... blood, and it was burned, but that wasn't all. He rolled back, his leg was broken, what was left of the car was burning, the attackers must have placed explosives under the line. He could see figures, black in front of the fire. They checked the men laying around the train, now and again a single crack would be heard as the found survivors. One man walked up, crossing the fire light towards him. Stalin went to raise his gun.
It was gone.
The other man raised his.
"Coward." Stalin spat.
"Comrade." The other man said softly before pulling the trigger.
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