Pablicosta
15-12-2003, 10:10
Firstly a note.
PLEASE DO NOT POST HERE. IF YOU HAVE A SUGGESTION POST IT IN THE NOMINATIONS THREAD-THIS IS JUST FOR EVIDENCING. THANK YOU.
And Secondly: The Nominations Thread (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2359371#2359371)
Now. The Evidencing.
Europa Britannia- Nominated By Konania
Scott had not the room to fully extend his weapon, the Melee rought heights not even he had known. The physical number of Greenskins defied belief, and they had simply forced the Brittanians as far back as they could go.
Scott was already Calf-deep within the freezing murky waters of the Beach, his uniform tunic a drk gray where the filthy water had dishounoured it so. Behind him the desperate splashing of men struggling to stay afloat whilst fightingScott had not the room to fully extend his weapon, the Melee rought heights not even he had known. The physical number of Greenskins defied belief, and they had simply forced the Brittanians as far back as they could go.
Scott was already Calf-deep within the freezing murky waters of the Beach, his uniform tunic a drk gray where the filthy water had dishounoured it so. Behind him the desperate splashing of men struggling to stay afloat whilst fighting at the same time all to apparent.
A loud scream of pain brought the total extinction of B Company 1st Platoon, their numbers cut to nothingness as the unstoppable tide of Orcs broke through the left flank now that there was no surviving Brittanians to defend. To his right F Company were being savaged, and though he strained he saw no surviving Command colours within the battling group, only a handful of youthful privates, whose lives were to be extinguished on this land of pure evil.
Now up to his knees within the water the General reeled as he fought one, two, three Orcs simultanously, his personnal entourage gone. His vision passed over the bloodied corpse of his Comm officer, pistol still in had, his gut totally eviscerated. With a grunt he sent his Saber through the skull of an aggressor, before booting it to the ground, and dispatching his accomplice.
Taking a breath brought to him via the lack of Greenskins able to advance due to their crushing size, he looked to the corpse littered ground. A hint of blue and red attracting his attention.
On the ground, still clutched by the severed arm of its holder, the Command Company Standard lay. Dirtied, bloodied and torn, but intact.
Bringing his shoe into contact with the forehead of another Orc, he stumbled forwards, on to the shore and retrieved it. His heart swelled with pride as he slowly swung the Banner upright.
For what seemed like an eternity the fighting stopped. Greenskins paused, the bright colours of the Banner registering on their blood crazed minds, and the beleagured Brittanians shocked by its reamergence.
And then the cries started.
"For Brittania!"
"For Freedom!"
"For All!"
Scott and the rememnants of 1st Attack Wave, Warfleet Alpha ploughed into the Orcs anew, storming from the water to meet their savage foes in glorious battle.
Left and right Orcs fell, gutted, eveciserated, Decaptiated.
But gradually the Brittanians dwindled, no amount of inspiration changing the fact they were outnumbered twenty to one.
Scott was forced to the ground beneath five of the foul Orcs even as he fractured the skull of one and gutted another, his cries of inspiration contuing until a crude Battleaxe crushed his skull against the watery rocks of the bay.
Eventually the last of the Brittanians fell.
Landing Point No. 35 was lost
Roania-Nominated By Roania :lol:
The man ran through the empty halls of the Palace. "I got it... it was so easy!" He was clutching a priceless statue under his arm, and his dagger was by his side. "No guards except those dolts at the door."
He slowed, realising something. "That is odd... and where am I?" He slid open a door, and walked into a room to calm his feelings. All of a sudden, the walls revolved around him, and he was somewhere else.
"Hmmm?" He looked around. It was pitch black. All of a sudden, a candle flicked into life, followed by another, and another. The room was lit with a warm red glow... no, the room *was* red. He knelt, and peered at the floor. Blood. Buckets of it. He turned, and saw an icon of Mary holding the divine child. A chill ran down his spine. "Is anyone... here?"
There was the sound of footsteps. A shadowy figure walked into the room, and stood at the top of the stairs. "Hello, worm."
"What? Who are you? I warn you, I'm armed!" He put the statue down, and drew his dagger.
"Of course you are... wouldn't do to face you without you being armed, would it?" The man swished a cape behind him, and drew a rapier. "On your guard then. Give me your best." He leapt down to the floor lightly. "Hmm?" The unknown man lightly stabbed towards the thief's manhood.
The thief blocked, and charged. His dagger slashed forward, slicing through the air. The man walked into the light, blocking the blow and revealing his face.
Prince Alexander smirked. The thief backpedaled. "Fucik! You're the fuclking prince!" The man snarled. "This will be a great victory. I'll have my revenge!"
"Your... revenge?" Alexander darted forward, slicing at the thief's cheek. "I've never met you before... though you are right about the victory part."
"You killed my father!" The thief's rage increased, and he shot a fist towards Alexander. Alexander blocked with his left hand, slamming it into the man's elbow. There was a crunching noise.
"Ah. And now, I will kill you, as well. Like father, like son." Alexander bowed, and then began his attack. Too late, the thief realised something about the Prince's weapon. It had a serrated edge. He tried to block the blow, but it went cleanly through his damaged elbow. Blood spirted out, but the elbow hadn't been severed... the blow had been to cause pain, not to incapitate.
"FucIk you!" The thief slashed forward, landing a blow... or so he thought as the Prince tripped him up. He fell down, and looked into Alexander's eyes.
The Prince stared down at him, holding his gaze. Not a glimmer of humanity looked out from his eyes. They were cold as stone. And somehow, they were drawing at him. "You fear me, no? Good." The Prince drunk in his victim's fear, a nectar sweeter than the finest wine. Then he kicked the thief into the air, stabbing upwards into the man's left eye, blinding it.
"Just... kill me." The thief attempted to attack again, but was stopped as the Prince slashed at the thief's manhood. "AAH!" And again at the man's chest, drawing a scarlet line across it. The thief was dying, and he wanted to get the most enjoyment out of him before then.
Alexander stabbed into the man's abdomen, rubbing the blade back and forth within. Blood and guts spilled out, darkening the room even further and soaking the Prince in red. "Tsk. And this was a new cloak, too." Growing bored, the Prince sliced upwards. The thief stiffened, and departed this world.
Alexander rubbed his sword into the cape, cleansing it, then he crossed himself and turned to the icon. "Ave Maria... so shall all enemies of order perish."
He picked up the statue, walked into a side room, and changed into another set of clothes. Then he walked upstairs and returned to his wife, whistling happily.
PLEASE DO NOT POST HERE. IF YOU HAVE A SUGGESTION POST IT IN THE NOMINATIONS THREAD-THIS IS JUST FOR EVIDENCING. THANK YOU.
And Secondly: The Nominations Thread (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2359371#2359371)
Now. The Evidencing.
Europa Britannia- Nominated By Konania
Scott had not the room to fully extend his weapon, the Melee rought heights not even he had known. The physical number of Greenskins defied belief, and they had simply forced the Brittanians as far back as they could go.
Scott was already Calf-deep within the freezing murky waters of the Beach, his uniform tunic a drk gray where the filthy water had dishounoured it so. Behind him the desperate splashing of men struggling to stay afloat whilst fightingScott had not the room to fully extend his weapon, the Melee rought heights not even he had known. The physical number of Greenskins defied belief, and they had simply forced the Brittanians as far back as they could go.
Scott was already Calf-deep within the freezing murky waters of the Beach, his uniform tunic a drk gray where the filthy water had dishounoured it so. Behind him the desperate splashing of men struggling to stay afloat whilst fighting at the same time all to apparent.
A loud scream of pain brought the total extinction of B Company 1st Platoon, their numbers cut to nothingness as the unstoppable tide of Orcs broke through the left flank now that there was no surviving Brittanians to defend. To his right F Company were being savaged, and though he strained he saw no surviving Command colours within the battling group, only a handful of youthful privates, whose lives were to be extinguished on this land of pure evil.
Now up to his knees within the water the General reeled as he fought one, two, three Orcs simultanously, his personnal entourage gone. His vision passed over the bloodied corpse of his Comm officer, pistol still in had, his gut totally eviscerated. With a grunt he sent his Saber through the skull of an aggressor, before booting it to the ground, and dispatching his accomplice.
Taking a breath brought to him via the lack of Greenskins able to advance due to their crushing size, he looked to the corpse littered ground. A hint of blue and red attracting his attention.
On the ground, still clutched by the severed arm of its holder, the Command Company Standard lay. Dirtied, bloodied and torn, but intact.
Bringing his shoe into contact with the forehead of another Orc, he stumbled forwards, on to the shore and retrieved it. His heart swelled with pride as he slowly swung the Banner upright.
For what seemed like an eternity the fighting stopped. Greenskins paused, the bright colours of the Banner registering on their blood crazed minds, and the beleagured Brittanians shocked by its reamergence.
And then the cries started.
"For Brittania!"
"For Freedom!"
"For All!"
Scott and the rememnants of 1st Attack Wave, Warfleet Alpha ploughed into the Orcs anew, storming from the water to meet their savage foes in glorious battle.
Left and right Orcs fell, gutted, eveciserated, Decaptiated.
But gradually the Brittanians dwindled, no amount of inspiration changing the fact they were outnumbered twenty to one.
Scott was forced to the ground beneath five of the foul Orcs even as he fractured the skull of one and gutted another, his cries of inspiration contuing until a crude Battleaxe crushed his skull against the watery rocks of the bay.
Eventually the last of the Brittanians fell.
Landing Point No. 35 was lost
Roania-Nominated By Roania :lol:
The man ran through the empty halls of the Palace. "I got it... it was so easy!" He was clutching a priceless statue under his arm, and his dagger was by his side. "No guards except those dolts at the door."
He slowed, realising something. "That is odd... and where am I?" He slid open a door, and walked into a room to calm his feelings. All of a sudden, the walls revolved around him, and he was somewhere else.
"Hmmm?" He looked around. It was pitch black. All of a sudden, a candle flicked into life, followed by another, and another. The room was lit with a warm red glow... no, the room *was* red. He knelt, and peered at the floor. Blood. Buckets of it. He turned, and saw an icon of Mary holding the divine child. A chill ran down his spine. "Is anyone... here?"
There was the sound of footsteps. A shadowy figure walked into the room, and stood at the top of the stairs. "Hello, worm."
"What? Who are you? I warn you, I'm armed!" He put the statue down, and drew his dagger.
"Of course you are... wouldn't do to face you without you being armed, would it?" The man swished a cape behind him, and drew a rapier. "On your guard then. Give me your best." He leapt down to the floor lightly. "Hmm?" The unknown man lightly stabbed towards the thief's manhood.
The thief blocked, and charged. His dagger slashed forward, slicing through the air. The man walked into the light, blocking the blow and revealing his face.
Prince Alexander smirked. The thief backpedaled. "Fucik! You're the fuclking prince!" The man snarled. "This will be a great victory. I'll have my revenge!"
"Your... revenge?" Alexander darted forward, slicing at the thief's cheek. "I've never met you before... though you are right about the victory part."
"You killed my father!" The thief's rage increased, and he shot a fist towards Alexander. Alexander blocked with his left hand, slamming it into the man's elbow. There was a crunching noise.
"Ah. And now, I will kill you, as well. Like father, like son." Alexander bowed, and then began his attack. Too late, the thief realised something about the Prince's weapon. It had a serrated edge. He tried to block the blow, but it went cleanly through his damaged elbow. Blood spirted out, but the elbow hadn't been severed... the blow had been to cause pain, not to incapitate.
"FucIk you!" The thief slashed forward, landing a blow... or so he thought as the Prince tripped him up. He fell down, and looked into Alexander's eyes.
The Prince stared down at him, holding his gaze. Not a glimmer of humanity looked out from his eyes. They were cold as stone. And somehow, they were drawing at him. "You fear me, no? Good." The Prince drunk in his victim's fear, a nectar sweeter than the finest wine. Then he kicked the thief into the air, stabbing upwards into the man's left eye, blinding it.
"Just... kill me." The thief attempted to attack again, but was stopped as the Prince slashed at the thief's manhood. "AAH!" And again at the man's chest, drawing a scarlet line across it. The thief was dying, and he wanted to get the most enjoyment out of him before then.
Alexander stabbed into the man's abdomen, rubbing the blade back and forth within. Blood and guts spilled out, darkening the room even further and soaking the Prince in red. "Tsk. And this was a new cloak, too." Growing bored, the Prince sliced upwards. The thief stiffened, and departed this world.
Alexander rubbed his sword into the cape, cleansing it, then he crossed himself and turned to the icon. "Ave Maria... so shall all enemies of order perish."
He picked up the statue, walked into a side room, and changed into another set of clothes. Then he walked upstairs and returned to his wife, whistling happily.