Portugal, a calm little country on the edge of Europe.
Inhabited by decent, churchgoing people
Ruled by the iron fist of one man
Antonio "Wormtongue" Salazar
Or so he would have himself believe. Yes, before falling asleep he likes to ensure himself that hes cool, hes a bad guy, the peasents fear him. In actuality his rule is a clay one. Portugal is a backwater and Salazar has done nothing to change that. For all his life everyone around him have been encouraging him to do nothing. The quiet desperation thats been eating away at his soul finally reaches boiling point. The man trashes away in the night, he howls like a wolf, flushes his medication and loses consciousness. In his dreams he sees eerie visions: camels galloping through his bedroom, a one eyed prostitute telling him to go to the river, blood on his hands, Irish monks chanting the name "Polybus" over and over again. A Trampoline. Eggs stolen from a crows nest. The omlett, the taste, taste!
When he finally wakes up three days have past and no one has even noticed his absence. But the man is reborn. When beforehand he had thought: "Ola, amigo" when seeing someone, now his first reaction is:"I will break you. How can I break you?" He no longer fears any man, woman or child. He has lost hearing in one ear. Salazar lusts for power and glory and most of all change, indeed he'd rather die a painful death than go on living the same.
He even grows his hair long and buys a guitar.
FEAR ME!
The first place to capture his notice is Africa. Long had Portugal ruled these vast stretches of land, but only now did Salazar notice that they were rather worthless. No resources, no strategic value, only some godforsaken land and men. Large black men... who had nothing to do - these guys could be used more efficently! And so the colonies are reorganized.
VIVA LA AFRICA!
Angola and Mozambique both get their own goverments, their own armies, though they will still be serving Salazar of course.
In Portugal a shitstorm ensues.
People walking about, being pissed off.
His reforms are attack on all sides. "Why were the colonies freed? We had them for so long. Britain has colonies, Belgium has colonies, why dont we have colonies anymore?"
Salazar tries to explain that he freed nothing. These are apartheid goverments after all, the same portuguese colonists are running the new states, which are allied and firmly tied to Portugal, puppets really, just more efficent - but to no avail.
No!!!!!!
An idiotic smirk engulfs this mans face when he hears the long explanation. It is obvious he does not understand. Before Salazar can finish the cretin interrupts him with a torrent of gibberish: liberals this, socialists that, traditions and culture, his grandpa and Vasco da Gama... - none of it makes any sense.
Thats when Salazar realizes theyre all like that, either complete idiots or utterly indefferent in their selfishness, and in the end it makes no difference. They know that whenever something is reformed they can start whining, protesting, showing up late to work, demanding free coffe.
For now nothing can be done about it. A large shipment of coffe is ordered from Brazil, fairs are held, kitchen appliances handed out to those who write the best poems on how Angola and Zimbabque arent that bad.
This is going to take some time...
Inhabited by decent, churchgoing people
Ruled by the iron fist of one man
Antonio "Wormtongue" Salazar
Or so he would have himself believe. Yes, before falling asleep he likes to ensure himself that hes cool, hes a bad guy, the peasents fear him. In actuality his rule is a clay one. Portugal is a backwater and Salazar has done nothing to change that. For all his life everyone around him have been encouraging him to do nothing. The quiet desperation thats been eating away at his soul finally reaches boiling point. The man trashes away in the night, he howls like a wolf, flushes his medication and loses consciousness. In his dreams he sees eerie visions: camels galloping through his bedroom, a one eyed prostitute telling him to go to the river, blood on his hands, Irish monks chanting the name "Polybus" over and over again. A Trampoline. Eggs stolen from a crows nest. The omlett, the taste, taste!
When he finally wakes up three days have past and no one has even noticed his absence. But the man is reborn. When beforehand he had thought: "Ola, amigo" when seeing someone, now his first reaction is:"I will break you. How can I break you?" He no longer fears any man, woman or child. He has lost hearing in one ear. Salazar lusts for power and glory and most of all change, indeed he'd rather die a painful death than go on living the same.
He even grows his hair long and buys a guitar.
FEAR ME!
The first place to capture his notice is Africa. Long had Portugal ruled these vast stretches of land, but only now did Salazar notice that they were rather worthless. No resources, no strategic value, only some godforsaken land and men. Large black men... who had nothing to do - these guys could be used more efficently! And so the colonies are reorganized.
VIVA LA AFRICA!
Angola and Mozambique both get their own goverments, their own armies, though they will still be serving Salazar of course.
In Portugal a shitstorm ensues.
People walking about, being pissed off.
His reforms are attack on all sides. "Why were the colonies freed? We had them for so long. Britain has colonies, Belgium has colonies, why dont we have colonies anymore?"
Salazar tries to explain that he freed nothing. These are apartheid goverments after all, the same portuguese colonists are running the new states, which are allied and firmly tied to Portugal, puppets really, just more efficent - but to no avail.
No!!!!!!
An idiotic smirk engulfs this mans face when he hears the long explanation. It is obvious he does not understand. Before Salazar can finish the cretin interrupts him with a torrent of gibberish: liberals this, socialists that, traditions and culture, his grandpa and Vasco da Gama... - none of it makes any sense.
Thats when Salazar realizes theyre all like that, either complete idiots or utterly indefferent in their selfishness, and in the end it makes no difference. They know that whenever something is reformed they can start whining, protesting, showing up late to work, demanding free coffe.
For now nothing can be done about it. A large shipment of coffe is ordered from Brazil, fairs are held, kitchen appliances handed out to those who write the best poems on how Angola and Zimbabque arent that bad.
This is going to take some time...
