|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2013 6:21 am
  One young commander strode through the streets of the Imperial capitol, Zegfried, flanked by his Balmung Brigade, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of the ornate sword sheathed in his scabbard. Young lord Maximilian Crow had just recently returned from an inspection to the regent's treasured mining town of Guyldia, where he had borne witness to the discovery of another commanding officer's corpse, which he suspected had been the work of the Guild of Faltiera's Children. The evidence of such being the swift, almost painless death of a knife wound straight into the neck and up through the jugular into the brain; an almost instant death Max had seen used by Children in many previous cases. As for the Orphans, many times the victims' bodies bore evidence of torture for pleasure or pressing for information or even disappeared entirely (to be used in some sort of grotesque ritual by their witch was the general consensus). The news upset him with its implications; the assassins were growing more willful and dangerous by the day. Truthfully, the commander sympathized with the Children's motivations somewhat, as most if not all of their targets were Imperials who were less than hospitable to civilians. But he was still firmly against their methods. Assassinations were the wrong way to go. Without a doubt, he was certain of this belief.
The skilled Crow was determined that the best way to change the system was to rise to the top of the social ladder and alter this corrupted government from the inside out, and hopefully find an option for peace as well. He had already gone from a mere noncombatant vassal from the Crow lineage to a commander of his own Brigade, so their was real progress, if not at the speed he wished to proceed. Still Max was well informed about how the gears of this twisted society worked and kept his admittedly idealistic nature as hidden as he possibly could, not wanting to draw any more odd looks from the other military personnel than he already had. It was hardest around his brief meeting with his general and the sovereign (his distaste of whom had to be beaten down to the point where Maximilian Crow appeared to be practically emotionless), and the inclination to say something he shouldn't was very strongly suppressed.
He could only sigh though;sooner or later, one of them would come calling for a report of some kind from him personally. The murder of a captain, especially one overseeing actions of recruitment, was a pretty big deal.
"My Lord? Are you alright? The events at Guyldia must have been troubling for you..." Max jerked his head to the side to find that his second in command was trying to get his attention, a genuine spark of concern lighting his eyes, and the sight almost made him want to laugh. Originally, his squad hadn't respected him in the least, possibly even looked down upon him. Unbeknownst to the Crow however, he possessed an aura, a strange magnetism and strength of character that had changed the opinion of those who worked under him, giving his soldiers nearly undying loyalty. The sheer charisma was something that so many other commanders and generals woefully lacked, controlling their underlings with power, fear, or authority.
"Ah, yes, I'm fine. If you'll excuse me, I feel a break coming on. Would you mind going to the Command Center to give a relay that I've returned? If the generals or anyone else wish to speak to me, they'll call." The deputy commander saluted instantly and ran off into the city, and the remaining soldiers were dismissed to return back to the barracks until Max needed them once more. The commander himself found himself entering a bustling pastry shop and practically sinking into a booth with his hands clasped in front of his face, wondering if he should actually order something. His bright wine red eyes stared out the window, unaware of the other patrons' eyes fixed on his military garb.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2013 10:19 am
αηηαℓєιɢн cσℓє 
Why he was in her family shop, she had no idea but she hoped that it wouldn't cause any trouble or make her lose any of her precious customers. She knew not to disrespect the male, but by the looks of it, maybe he was just trying to get away from everything? He seemed distant and she watched him for a few, trying to figure out what he was doing in the shop. Soldiers rarely stopped by, and if they did, they were gone as soon as they had arrived. The girl shrugged it off the best she could, wandering back into the main kitchen to check on the pie that she had been working on. The kitchen was a mess, something that wasn't entirely new, as it had the girl's apron covered too.
This wasn't laying low, no way, but she had to run the sales until her father and her brother returned from visiting their leader. Just as she was carrying a tray of biscuits and cookies out, she tripped over her dog, letting out a squeal as she fell, the tray falling to the ground and spilling the contents while she desperately tried to clean them up. Those wouldn't be sold, which meant she'd have to find a way to make them useful, maybe feed them to the hens at home? But where to put them until then? Busily cleaning up the floor, she was silent, her face a bright red. By now, the customers and the soldier probably knew that she had fallen, though she hoped that they would realize that she was okay. Looking to the dog in slight irritation, she grabbed him by the rope that they used as a collar, carrying the tray and kneeling as she lead him out back, making him lay outside the back door.
The icing had smeared all over the floor, and onto her dress but she didn't mind making a mess on herself. It was all part of the job though she couldn't let the shop look dirty. With this in mind she grabbed a bucket and filled it up before making her way out to the shop and cleaning up her mess, struggling to scrub up the icing that now coated the floor. The most the water covered rag was doing was smearing it more though it was getting closer and closer to being clean, or as clean as it would go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Radioactive Snowflake Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2013 6:19 pm
At first Maximilian's thoughts were stuck on the mining town, and the murder that had recently occurred there. Originally, Guyldia was primarily located in Rengualian territory and the residents there had not taken particularly well to Imperials entering the lands and mining their resources against their will. Guyldia was a high-risk area, and considered number one on the Empire's list of places where uprisings were most probable, and the commander had patrolled those areas enough himself to know that this was true. But still, even with all of the danger and action he knew to associated with that place, Maximillian was still more than surprised to learn of the assassination of an Imperial captain, while he was still within the city to be in such close contact. Thankfully he hadn't been making an enemy of himself to the Children of Faltiera, but Max still had to watch his back carefully when it came to the Orphans, who were generally a lot less picky about their choices in targets.
Of course, depending on what his higher ups had to say about it, he might have to make some decisions that might end up pissing off the Children as well. And Max certainly didn't want to end up like the late Captain Freidian, the poor sod.
However, the Crow torn from his contemplations when one of the cafe's workers seemed to stumble, dropping food all over the floor and staining it, causing the soldier to raise his head from where it was resting on his open palm. Maximilian dragged himself off of the booth and The girl dragged off her dog somewhere before coming back and scrubbing at the floor almost ineffectually, with an air that suggested that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. "Young Lady? If there are other duties you need to attend to, I can handle this. Seeing as how I haven't exactly ordered anything, I'd be a bit of a nuisance otherwise, wouldn't I" He offered an attempt at a smile, starting to realize just how much of a stir he was attracting just by being there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Apr 07, 2013 1:32 pm
αηηαℓєιɢн cσℓє
But she had been told to never set her duties upon anyone else, though if she didn't, the sales would be even more behind. With a sigh, she picked herself up from the floor, bashfully looking up to Maximilian. "If you're really sure that you want to help.. I can at least offer a few cookies for free since you're willing to help out." Annaleigh offered, feeling as if it were wrong to let someone handle one of her duties without at least offering some sort of payment in return. She was aware of the way she was being stared at, and she smiled at his attempts to help, offering the stained damp rag over to him. She could take over again after she switched the ovens and before he had the chance to really do anything, she dropped the rag in his hands and ran back into the kitchen.
She was immediately busy with switching food from oven to counter, her eyes on some burnt biscuits. They weren't too bad, and she knew of a few families who would love to have them, despite the fact that they were burnt. Not everyone was so lucky to have their family business going, even the Cole family was struggling to keep everything afloat. They paid their ruler with almost everything they had, barely bringing home enough for them. Several other shops had already been closed down and Annaleigh did her best to help keep the families alive and well fed by taking them anything that couldn't be sold.
Once she was done switching everything over, she grabbed a tray and some of the cookies that were waiting to be put on display, soon making her way out to the kind soldier. It was rare to have such men come into the shop, even more rare to have them be so kind and polite. Holding the tray carefully, she looked at Maximilian before looking to the table where he previously had been sitting. "If you want, sir, I can place these cookies at your table.. Would you like anything to drink with them?" She questioned, aware that she hadn't given him the chance to deny her offer of the cookies. If he didn't want them, maybe some of his men would.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Radioactive Snowflake Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 08, 2013 9:04 pm
  Light filtered down from the sky, convalescing into a single point as the all too distant glow of sunlight barely reached the underground lair, and the illumination was only enough to bathe the winged statue in the subterranean land. The obsidian stone, carved in the likeness of a winged woman, was position with features that were intentionally vague and her arms were spread outward in a welcoming embrace. Her eyes were pearls and glimmered with a weakened rainbow even in the dull light, a tribute to what the followers believed of Lady Faltiera. Kneeling beneath the statue was a woman dressed in a black dress, her hands and legs clad in ebony-black armor, and her pale blonde locks just barely peeking out from beneath an elaborate hood. The figure's face was hidden behind a ceremonial mask, blank and featureless in a triangular shape, and somewhat muting the chanted prayer that ensued from accursed lips. In one hand was clasped a red-stained dagger, newly drenched from the sacrifice of the cave bear lying at the feet of the black statue, and the droplets tapped a nearly soundless staccato across the slick, stone floor. In her other hand was a scarf of midnight blue drifting in the air, an article of clothing said to be a symbol of Faltiera herself. The Priestess of Darkness filled the hallowed halls with the haunting echo of her words, quiet though they were, and her dark heart beat faster in her chest.
O' Great Lady of Obsidian,
Hear now the humble plea of thy most devoted follower
Speaketh to me the name of thy desire
Who dost be silenced for our glorious future?
For my Lady, we shall rain blood
All shall Love thee and despair
Until the end of times cometh...
The Shaman continued this way for quite some time, maybe even hours into the day and none in the Lair of the Orphan Guild dared to disrupt her concentration or risk evoking the wrath of their deity. Even though Fae Tsunade was their Shaman and healer, dealt the hand of keeping to the sidelines and communicating with the Lady of Obsidian, her sight chilled the bones down the their very marrow. Her distaste of humanity extended to man, woman and child alike, and towards those marked to be her enemies, this woman could display cruelty and depravity that could be rivaled by little if any living mortals. Fae was a child born from the very fires of death and destruction, destined to be the Orphan's speaker for Faltiera and carved a hole into her own stomach in order to do so, proving her loyalty drove even beyond the bounds of self-preservation. She had not only been to hell and back, but danced in it, reveled in it. If Faltiera willed it, Fae would murder anybody for any price, even if it were her own blood relatives or a lifelong friend; she had effectively sold her soul. It did not matter whether or not the Lady was a benevolent or wicked being, when the girl strove for her blessing while carrying the belief of Her as a vengeful goddess, Faltiera abides by her wishes and filled Fae with a corrupted power. Tainted by her own will, this Shaman waits in the darkness, eager for the day in which her beloved deity wipes the world free of filth and sin.
Eventually, the chants and wicked prayers finally ceased, and Fae rose to her feet in cold silence, placing the scarf and bloody dagger to the ground by the feet of the statue and her sacrifice. The kill and artifacts would remain there for a day or so before she performed the cleansing ritual to wipe away the traces, just to let the fermenting stench of the offering reach the Lady so far away in the spirit plane. The Shaman stood stiffly and removed the mask from her face, traces of carmine light still glinting in her normally dead, yellow eyes from the prayer. Soon, they would receive another trial, she could feel the Lady's judgement growing closer day by day.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 8:50 am
 A legend will never die.
Faris stopped his steps as a commotion could be heard coming from outside his work room. The morning light casting him into a dim silhouette, his eyes seem to glare though the darkness shadowing him as a small messenger boy was push through the door, evidently becoming the unfortunate elected to bearing the bad news to the intimidating ruler.
"S-Sirr" The boy stammered in his speech, having just been taken from his laundry duties and thrown before the Sovereign with a scroll in his hands; it was a little unsettling to say the least. "A-a Message has arrived for you My Lord." The boy never rose from his fallen place on the ground the letter held high above his head that was smashed against the ground trying to make himself as small as possible, not even daring a glance at the tall man.
Next thing the boy knew Faris had him up in the air his large gloved hand clenched around the boys tattered shirt. The fear that was leaking out of boy's eyes was almost palpable. The scroll the boy had brought lay forgotten in his dangling hand, until with his other hand Faris ripped the message from the shell shocked boy. Bring the boy uncomfortably close, he spoke very simply as if to engrain the lesson into the boy. "Listen boy, it is not wise to enter my work room without announcing your presence, and never enter unless I allow it. Next time I will take your ear for not heeding my warning" Faris then dropped the boy unceremoniously to the ground, and rolled open the missive, Ignoring the boy's slow backing movements. Faris scanned over the message quickly, when he finished the shadows around Faris appeared to become visibly darker. "Boy you may leave, tell the cowards to frightened to face me outside the door that they are to gather my Generals, and Thanes of this area here tomorrow, this is to be done quickly, I expect all to be present and accounted for before breaking their fast on the morrow.
The boy bowed and scurried away as fast as he could on his knees when Faris waived him away. Looking over the letter again, he grew even angrier, not only did his trap for those pathetic assassins end up with more of his pawns being killed then theirs, but it had failed to draw out their leader . Even still, it was the death of Captain Friedian that rose his ire the greatest, he had plans for that particular twisted individual, and now those plans were for not. Balling up the infuriating report and threw it in the fire taking pleasure in watching it burn, taking a mental note to make the report's author rewrite the report for the records and another one so he may watch it burn again.
Faris walked over to his chess bored and move the a black pawn to capture a white pawn, only to leave one of the black castle's open for a white bishop to take. "This game is far from over, and when I am finished you will see all your players fall before you are defeated. " Faris saying this out loud to some invisible opponent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 9:24 am
§ Ensign Darkhart § purity is only seeked by the ones who tasted sin  Darkness. That was all needed to envelop Ensign to hide. He had no need to do so, but he felt more secure that way. He felt more secure. More himself. He was merely waiting however. Waiting for the prayers of the nearby shaman to cease its' plea to the Godess, Faltiera. Should the moment be disturbed, of course there would be punishment for such a crime. Ensign couldn't accept that. Not one bit. Since he had come to his knowledge of the truth, he continued to grow and improve himself as to who he used to be. The emptiness that once resided in his body was now filled. He did however, feel some part missing, but he continued to to seek what he needed within the sanctuary of the Orphans. This was after all, the place of truth. The rest meant about as much as the expression he kept under the scarf covering his face and left eye... Nothing.
Ensign began to smell the emanating stench of the sacrifice as it had sat there for some time. It didn't bother him at all. In fact, he rather felt pleased, believing that it was more than a worthy sacrifice to the Great Lady. Not once had he doubted the masked lady that stood in prayer not far off. When he had heard of the experience and blessing she had received in that once standing shrine of her hometown, he had grown a great respect for the lady. Others may call her names he wouldn't dare repeat, even in his mind, however he believed her to be one of the few who really received Faltieras' blessing and acceptance. Anything less than what she received would be merely a minor taste of her power. One could feel the power she contained the moment she unmasked herself and one were to look into her eyes.
However, this was not about Fae. This was about the integrity of the sacrifice. Ensign wouldn't dare let this moment be disturbed. Not by Orphans, and neither by any other sinful being on this unclean land. That was why he was here. To wait until the first phase of the sacrifice was completed. As the woman stood up, Ensign relaxed a little. Only now had he realized that, little by little, he had tensed up. He stood out of the darker part of the room, and presented himself to the woman. "Is there more use of me needed?" he asked. He hadn't been asked to do any tasks up until today and he began to feel as though he was once again unworthy of assisting in any of the guilds tasks. He desired to prove himself in any way that the Lady of Obsidian wanted. Fae was the closest to the Godess after all and as such, he had expected possibly some task revealed to her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 4:52 pm
 "Go ahead, be fooled by this innocent face
Just don't blame me when your blood colors the pavement beneath your feet"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alena Rose Dupree
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alena wondered around the Imperial City with her fingers laced behind her back and her mouth set in a pout. She wore a thick coat to protect her from the cold as her boots crunched on the snow beneath her feet. "I can't believe we ran out of cheesecake." She looked around the city with a deep frown, she hated coming to this place. She left her dual blade back at the liar so she could wonder around the city undetected.
She moved through the crowd with ease before spotting a small bakery not too far away. Her eyes lit up as she moved closer to the bakery, she was finally going to get her hands on some cheesecake. She slipped inside the crowded shop and easily weaved through the crowd and reached the counter. "Excuse me," she singsonged, "I'd like ten cheesecakes to go!"
She frowned a bit when no one came to her aid, her eyes scanning the area for someone to help when her eyes her eyes caught on to a person that made her skin boil. She clenched her fists at her side and narrowed her eyes, all thought of cheesecake gone from her mind. She knew the man that stood in front of a girl offering him a tray off cookies. She didn't know him personally but the uniform her wore made her boil. It's a soldier...what scum. She closed her eyes before fleeing from the shop, she needed to cut something to keep her from doing something that would anger her leader.
She was swift as she fled the city and very cautious as she made her way toward the liar. She made sure to speed up as she got closer to their underground hideout, double checking for pursuers before making her way through the secret passageway.
She moved towards her room and grabbed her dual blades from her bed before moving to the training grounds. She released a cave bear from it's cage and she got ready for battle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed May 29, 2013 12:10 pm
  The Children of Faltiera were lucky indeed to have come across such a well-hidden and moderately comfortable shelter to live in. Either that, or they were indeed the recipients of a Blessing from Faltiera as many of the followers believed to be true. Fenrir himself had thought as much, seeing as how the underground church bore the remnants of long broken statues and carvings that appeared to represent the Lady of Obsidian herself, or as she was known before the Children came into existence, the Lady of Nightingale. Buried under the thick blanket of fallen snow and strong stone structure, the much warmer air lay preserved and recycled enough to support the life of thin trees and long trailing fingers of vines and ferny growth. It was in fact, a small refuge of verdant green hidden well beneath a literal wasteland of white and gray.
Here quiet springs bubbled up water that gushed warmth coming from deep within the embrace of earth itself, and the yawning mass of the church's size allowed many of Faltiera's chosen Children to live within its many halls and separating rooms. There were other secret locations of course, where other groups Children kept their seclusion from the Empire and worked to further the Lady's will, but none of them rivaled the size and effectiveness of the hidden church. In fact, the population living within this hideout was not just those of the assassin personage, but the family of those fighters of the shadows as well. For it would never be safe for the family members of the Children to live in ordinary towns anywhere in the vicinity of Mneurian as long as the accursed Empire held sway.
However, it wasn't the Imperial soldiers that Fenrir was overly concerned with for the moment, but the Orphan cousins that still had yet to respond to their assassination of Captain Friedian. Although the two factions rarely, if ever, had chances to come to blows, the dark ones could definitely interfere with plans in more subtle ways. He certainly didn't relish another meeting with the Orphan's Shaman; any interaction with her only solidified his relief for having someone like Luna in that position instead. With such a person invoking the connection with the Lady, the Orphans could easily be moved to target those within the Empire that had not earned Her ire.
If it were the other Guild in Guyldia instead of his that day, not just the late Captain would have been targeted for disposal. Another commander had been there as well. And this one, Fenrir owed some vestige of a favor to for sparing his comrades. At this point, he couldn't accept contracts that would endanger that man's life, Imperial or no, yet the Orphans would not care less. A sobering thought.
Fenrir sighed and slumped down in a booth overgrown with vines and beds of moss in what used to be a rather spacious confessional, finally allowing himself to drift off to rest.
OOC: Yeah, Max did save a couple of assassins before, so Fen's not going to be killing him anytime soon.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri May 31, 2013 10:40 pm
If someone told Maximillian that he would be working to clean up a mess someone else made instead of relaxing in a cafe as was his intention, he would not have believed them right off the bat. And yet, here he was, wiping the floors of the very place he was supposed to be relaxing at. He had exchanged a meaningful nod to the girl as she handed him her instrument of cleaning (which many men would have shouted at her for making them touch something filthy), and got straight to work. The commander didn't mind the distraction as it gave him a good reason to stave off many of the suspicious stares, and truthfully, the food in return didn't sound like such a bad deal. The man almost had to hold back a chuckle at the very idea of it. If his family saw him now, they may just feel the sudden inclination to disown him, though Max found it very hard to care. His parents were always like that; tied down to their time-honored traditions and beliefs, hardly diverging from they perceived as their chosen path in life, regardless of outside interferences. The simple act he was doing now would undoubtedly translate to pure blasphemy to them. As if a descendant of the Crow family would ever deign to speak to common folk, or go so far as to touch something they touched!
...Ludicrous.
It was during his fevered contemplations that the young commander then realized that he hadn't actually made any headway with the job he'd volunteered for at all, and the mess looked almost as bad as when he had started. Max had to chastise himself for thinking he could do a better job at cleaning than someone who probably had to do this more times in a week than he had in his whole life. Clearly, this was the wrong way to go. Wait... What was he thinking? A rag this worn down wouldn't be much use regardless of who used it.
Through this logic, Max placed the dirty rag on the corner of his table and pulled a handkerchief from his coat instead to finish the work he'd started. It was marked with the Crow family seal and was beautifully embroidered by the house craftsman. Even more important, it soaked up the stains like a sponge.
It wasn't long before the server returned, her hands full with a pan of freshly made cookies that smelled absolutely delicious, and Max was suddenly very relieved that he had made the effort. "It looks wonderful. Thank you, young miss, but I couldn't possibly ask you to give me any more free food..." Curiously, the young man sampled one of the creations and was pleasantly surprised. Even better than they smelled.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Radioactive Snowflake Captain
|
Posted: Sat Jun 01, 2013 12:08 pm
αηηαℓєιɢн cσℓє
It was then that she realized she had a customer and she was getting ready to take her order, ten cheesecakes to go. Seemed like a lot. Were they celebrating some sort of occasion? Unsure of what to think, Annaleigh smiled to her, just about to give a price for the said order when she took off. Staring at the fading form of the girl, she looked around to her confused patrons, giving them a kind smile. "Maybe she forgot her payment? Maybe she's late?" She murmured, more to herself than anything else. Now that she didn't have much to worry about, she grabbed a bucket of water and a new rag, hoping that her father wouldn't mind. Walking out and to the front of the counter, she kneeled beside Maximilian, smiling kindly. "Thank you for your help, sir, but I can handle it now. Go enjoy your cookies, they're on the house." Annaleigh spoke, hoping that the man wouldn't mind. Hopefully he wouldn't think that she was being rude, the last thing she needed was to anger one of the soldiers, though he did seem kind. But she had learned from both of her parents that they weren't always as kind as they seemed.
Already, the family business was a bit behind on payments though once they got the money to the ruler, everything would be fine again. But the last thing Annaleigh wanted to do was get on the bad side of the soldiers, lest their leader come down on her family. Dipping the new rag into the bucket, she did her best to clean up the tiny bit that was left, surprised that his handkerchief had done so well. What was it made out of? Maybe they would be able to afford it? Eyeing the piece of cloth, she pondered if her father would ever buy some. But then again, how to get him to buy some without explaining her mistake?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 05, 2013 9:16 am
"Go ahead, be fooled by this innocent face
Just don't blame me when your blood colors the pavement beneath your feet"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alena Rose Dupree
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alena dropped her blades to the floor with a whine. The sound of metal hitting concrete echoed around her. "I really want cheesecake." She hadn't even been training for thirty minutes. She grabbed her blades from the floor and went to throw them back into her room. She tossed them on her bed before grabbing her coat and throwing it on. That soldier isn't going to stop me this time. She made sure no one was around before leaving the hideout, Fenrir didn't like when she left too often because if anyone were to follow her back their location would become known.
She was out of the shelter in a matter of minutes and it took her about a half hour to reach the town. There seemed to be more soldiers then when she visited earlier and she cringed inside. She moved fast through the crowd to try to find that bakery and then just leave with her cheesecakes. She was just a few feet from the bakery when she felt someone grab onto her bicep and pulled her back. "Where are you going in such a hurry little lady?" Alena turned to see a solider and it took all her will power to keep from grabbing the knife hidden inside of her boot and stabbing him straight through the jugular. She needed to put on her innocent act, she needed to get back without drawing any attention.
"I'm sorry sir, I'm running really late for a birthday party and I forgot to get the cake." The soldier was about to ask more questions when another came up behind in and pulled his arm off of her. "I'm sorry about that miss, go ahead on with your business." She thanked him before bowing and rushing off into the bakery. That scum touched me. She entered the shop and the first thing she noticed was the same soldier from earlier, he had just moved. She took a deep breath before putting on a smile and heading towards the counter. Stay calm, the cheesecake is worth it.
"Hello, can I have an order of ten cheesecakes. I want two to be chocolate, two to be strawberry, two to be raspberry, two to be blueberry, and then the last two regular."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 05, 2013 12:42 pm
A legend will never die.
Early the next morning in a large map room at a long table sat 13 Thanes and 13 General, all were grumbling about having had to leave in the middle of the night or early morning before breaking their fast to arrive as the Sovereign had dictated. Bursting though the doors with a loud boom, Sovereign Faris Lyn Aaliyah, silenced their grumbling with his intense presence. "I'm sorry did I wake you from your beauty sleep?" Said Faris his question hinting at anger, "I was under the impression that I was dealing with my finest Men, not a group of spoiled wh*res. If you are what I consider my best and brightest it is no wonder that you are all being slaughtered by a bunch of ragtag rebells and their marry group of hit men. Perhaps I should do away with the lot of you and save myself some trouble"
The grouped seemed to have changed their tune rather quickly sitting up straight in their seats all eyes peel on the intimidating man before them. His implied threat was loud and clear, all there knew the only way their Sovereign ever did away with anyone was on the wrong side of a butchers block. "Thats better, now…" Faris turned to a tired looking soldier who entered the room the required 10 paces behind him. "Tell them what you had told me in your report yesterday."
Peter Drogon, wearily approached the table filled with some of the most powerful people in this region. He was a little shaky having spent the whole of yesterday and night rewriting his report twice as was directed to him by one of the Sovereign's many messengers. He was exhausted having ridden hard to get the news to Faris in the first place. Now he hoped he didn't do anything stupid to get himself killed. Straightening his back Peter addressed the assembly.
Coughing he cleared his parched throat to speak, "Two days ago at 3:17 before sun's first light Captain Friedian in charge of managing the Mining Town of Guyldia, was found dead washed ashore on the river Tornac." Silent gasps from around the table, whispers of accidents, suicide, murder, began to rise amongst the speculating group. Faris hushed them with a wave of his hand then looked to Peter, "Continue soldier." Peter nodded and swallow this thick saliva before continuing.
"I was the first to discover the body and had sent the man patrolling with me to fetch Commander Maximilian Crow, whom had been there from the main head quarters to inspecting the mines. Commander Crow had told me to deliver my report quickly and left Captain Friedian's second, in command of mining operations until he is either promoted or an adequate replacement can be found." Faris narrowed his eyes at the reminder of what he had read in the report. How was it that if these would be assassins that were attacking the leaders of his organization, would leave Crow to escape the night with his life? It was something that needed further investigating.
"Their were no visual signs of a struggle only a small puncture hole at the base of his neck." Peter finished up with what little they could get from interrogating the towns folk, and soldiers who had been patrolling the night before. Hearing the report again made Faris as angry as the first time, his Captain had been killed without even lifting a finger, it was infuriating. Faris walked over and grab the report and threw it in the fire and watched it burn again as Peter began to whine uncontrollably at having to see this hard work destroyed.
"Gaurds!" Faris call for the two soldier that had been standing outside the door. They came in quickly giving a sharp salute waiting instructions. "Take this solder to the torture chamber, this ordeal in Guyldia has driven him mad, he is to be tortured until he is sane once more. With a wave of his hand the hollering and struggling soldier was dragged out of the room. Turning back to his visibly pail under links, he spoke, "Take heed the words of the mad soldier, and prepare strategies to take down these rebel before you end up like Captain Friedian. Without another word Faris exited the room to leave the pathetic beings to squabble about their unfortunate circumstance.
Just outside the room a young man came up to him an saluted, Faris noted that the boy didn't visibly tremble beneath him like most and thought the boy may have potential in coming years. "Speak boy." The boy nodded "Sir, a now known rebel from the town of Guyldia has been found and captured and brought to the torture chambers for your question." Faris smiled that was the best news he had heard in the last 24 hours. "Good lad, I would like you to send a summons to Maximilian Crow, I have some questions involving Captain Friedian's death for him.
Once the boy had run off, Faris made his decent to the lower chambers of this dungeon passing by one of his dungeon guards dealing the assigned torture to the insane solder he just sent them. Continued on, he listened to the sweet sound of pain filled cries, when he reached the last chamber at the very bottom of the dungeon, in the very last room. Opening the door slowly, the only light coming from the torch Faris had taken from the wall, now shown on a man strung up, dangling from some chains in the center of the room his feet also chain to the floor to constrict his movements completely.
"So a rebel hu" Faris address the man walking over to furnace using his torch to relight some dim coals added a bucket of more coal to get it really hot. "So whats your name rebel?" Faris ask unrolling a cloth full of all sorts of bloody, blunt, instruments of torture, the red from the grown fires creating a demonic light in the room. When the rebel said nothing, Faris spun quickly and punched the man in the rib a audible crunch could be heard before the man screamed into a gag. "Oh I see you couldn't speak, how unfortunate for you." Faris smiled before pulling the gag out of the man's mouth. "So we can do this the hard way." The rebel glared though his pain causing the smile on Faris's face to grow even bigger, "Or the really hard way…" With that Faris took a sledge hammer to his other rib so hard blood actually seeped out of the skin and dripped down the blunt object. This time the rebel's scream could be heard clearly, and it sounded something like a Nilnil. "Awe so your name is Nilnil, is it? Good to meet you Nilnil we are going to spend a lot of time getting to know each other." The promise brought true fear to the rebels eyes as he took in the truth the monster before him just spoke. The happiness that Faris portrayed was both horrid and pure, for this was true happiness… at least for one such as Faris.
Hours would go by in a similar increasingly horrid fashion. When Faris left the room he was glowing in his happiness, and covered in blood, a scene he often like to portray to the residents of his castle so they would remember that he was not a kind man. The rebel he left in the chamber prayed for death from some god of death, but who ever he prayed to it would not help because he had just sent in his most favored healer to keep the man from dying, and he would.
Faris in his happiness walked right back to the room he had left his Generals and Thanes to debate while he was gone, still covered in the blood of his victim, he was a sight to behold. "Good news men we have the location of the next rebel target, gather your troops and ready them for an ambush." Faris then furrowed at them, "They had better not fail as badly as last time, or at least one of you will be seeing the sharpened end of the executioners axe.
Your dismissed."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jun 08, 2013 9:50 pm
 --To the rhythm of a time bomb ticking away
And the blare of the sirens combing the streets
Chased down like dogs we run from
Your grasp until the sun comes up--
Another Imperial dead. Another step closer to the Sovereign.
The eighteen year old leader of the Empire's largest and most successful existing rebel uprising sat in a tree overlooking one of Rengaul's decrepit parks, now barely recognizable under a newly laid snowdrift that passerby were forced to wallow in. Well, the Imperials were. Although both countries existed within the snowy land of Mneurian, Rengaulians occupied the northernmost habitable lands and were far more adept at surviving in cold climates than any other division in the continent. Here, in the home playing field, the covert rebellion was given some extra bonuses to their methods. And Van had every intention to make full use of what he possessed.
Thankfully, the true identity of the leader of this particular rebel faction remained a mystery to the Imperials, though from those bastards' actions, they at least suspected the Vandualca family to be involved to some degree. Besides, even if the Sovereign knew it was him, it hardly mattered. The boy named Kirge Vandualca that the soldiers remembered him as looked nothing like the person he was today. Hell, he'd seen the pictures and he didn't even recognize that kid anymore. Seemed like a completely different person altogether.
Still, his first priority was keeping his mother and little Sirina safe from harm during his uprising. Van actually had to 'remove' several scouts who attempted to get near his mother and sister personally, and the result of the confrontation was definitely not pretty to see. Although, he never risked revealing his face, the young man was not shy about stringing up the gruesome remains of such search parties up where another Imperial could find them later. The least they could do was leave the noncombatants out of it; those dregs should ******* know better.
But Van was not an assassin. He wasn't the type to sneak through dark places when the light of the moon was veiled or perform inhuman feats to sever a man's head from his neck. What he did was rally supporters through the passion of his hatred and form complex information networks throughout Rengual with his extensive knowledge of his home country, able to act and move on a moment's notice. Van captured supply caravans and used the cash flow to fund his followers and hire real assassins to take down more important targets. Speaking of which...the lightness of his coin purse told the young man that the Children of Faltiera had been a great success. He'd even paid a little extra to have the assassin deliver the captain's fine sword to him. The irony of murdering those soldiers with their own captain's sword was too tempting to pass up.
She'd killed the man quickly and almost painlessly, so Van had heard, so was the Childrens' way. Not the path the rebel himself would have taken, but he honestly didn't give a **** about it now that Friedian was dead. Good riddance. Though one of his lower-class hadn't reported in and it was starting to get a little concerning, maybe it was time to head back to home base. Van needed to know where the pieces fell.
--I won't crawl on my knees for you
I won't believe the lies that hide the truth
I won't sweat one more drop for you!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
