NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is more of a bg story for the main character Peter Kellen, Prince of Soi-Disant, so if you could just limit posts to Tags and out of character comments that would be swell.

IC: A crisp wind blew into the alley where three men were huddled together talking in hushed voices. A single light filled the alley with a dim light, giving off an eerie glow. Peter walked into the alley, his footsteps echoing through the alley causing the three men to turn with a start.

“Who’s there?” one of the men asked in a thick Bavarian accent.

Peter stepped into the light, revealing his face to the three men. “Who I am is of no importance, but who you are, now that may be a bit more intriguing.” Peter said.

The little color in the three men’s faces suddenly disappeared, their faces frozen in fear. One of the men slowly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pistol, his hand shaking as he pointed it at Peter.

“One more step and, and I will shoot you,” his voice quivering as he spoke.

A sinister smile spread across Peter’s face as he took a step forward. “You will not shoot, your hand quivers like a female’s.” Peter took another step forward so that he was only inches away from the barrel of the gun. “Here I have given you a target so that not even you could not miss. Go ahead and shoot if you really intend to shoot.”

The man looked at the two other men, his hair matted to his forehead from the sweat that now ran down his face like tears. Peter stared at the man in the eyes, daring him to shoot. Suddenly a shot rang through the alley and Peter fell back onto the cold pavement. The man looked at what he had done, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. He turned to the other two men whose gaze was fixed on the motionless body of Peter.

“My friends, we must leave at once,” the man with the gun said, his eyes darting from one direction to the other. The other two men slowly began walking backwards, before turning and running deeper into the darkness of the alley. The shooter turned just in time to see Peter swing his long sword at his neck and then everything went black.

The man’s head now rolled until it hit one of the buildings. “Son of a bitch, that is what you get for shooting me,” Peter said while pulling his shirt off, looking at the Kevlar vest that had stopped the bullet.

Somewhere down the alley, the sounds of several footsteps began to come closer. As the footsteps drew closer Peter saw the blood red uniforms of the Red Knights, Peter’s elite personnel guard, dragging the other two men. When one of them saw the headless body of their comrade he began crying, his sobs filling the alley with noise.

“Unless you want to end up like your friend you will be quiet, do you understand?” Peter ordered.

The man’s sobbing quickly stopped and the guards violently threw the two men onto the ground into the blood of their comrade. “Do you know who I am?” Peter asked while kneeling on his knee to face the two men. The men shook their heads yes and Peter began to speak again. “Well since we do not have to go through introductions, we can get straight to the point. Now, what I need to know from you is who the leader of the rebellion is.”

The men lay on the ground, shaking, yet not speaking. “Not going to talk? Well, I have ways of making whores like you talk.” Peter motioned the guards with his hand and the guards pulled two dull knives from their belts and grabbed the two men’s hair, placing their knives against the scalps of the men. The sinister smile returned to Peter’s face as he continued, “The blades of these knives have been ground until they will barely cut through a loaf of bread. However unless you start talking, these two men will begin cutting through your scalps until you either talk or they run out of scalp. And let me say that it will be extremely slow and painful, not even I could bear to stand such agony.”

The two men still said nothing. “Fine we will do it your way,” Peter said nodding to the guards who begin cutting through the scalps of the two men. Their screams fill the alley, until two other guards place a strip of duct tape on each of their mouths. Peter stared at the scene, his gaze never leaving the faces of the two men. The pain they were in was evident from the looks in their eyes and Peter motioned for the guards to stop. He pulled the tape off of one of the men and asked, “So are you ready to talk yet?”

“Yes, yes, I will tell you whatever you need to know,” the man said, blood and tears running down his face.

“Good,” Peter said, “Now tell me, who is the leader of the rebellion, and where is he located?”

“His name if Victor Andropov, and he, and many other of his supporters are staying in a town called Victoriaburg,” the man said, his voice quivering as he speaks.

“Thank you,” Peter said his back now turned to the two men, “For your cooperation your deaths shall come quickly.” Peter begins to walk out of the alley as two guards pull out their long swords and behead the two men, letting their heads roll next to their friend’s.

A black BMW was waiting for Peter when he emerged from the dark alley. Peter walked to the car; his driver already had the door open for him.

“Take me to Victoriaburg,” Peter ordered as he sat in the car. The driver nodded and shut the door. Immediately after the door had closed Peter called the commander of the Red Knights, Nicholas Ranoe. The phone rang twice before the gruff voice of Ranoe answered.

“Hello?” Ranoe said.

“Hello, old friend, I hope I did not wake you,” Peter said.

“Oh no sire, I was just reading,” Ranoe answered, his voice having more enthusiasm.

“Good, I need two battalions to meet me at Victoriaburg,” Peter said, his tone cold.

“I see, I will send two battalions from Oslan right away,” replied Ranoe. He dared not go against Peter fore Peter’s ruthlessness was famous throughout the country. Some even say that he killed a blind man for looking at him wrong. “May I ask why sire?”

“I have gotten information from a source that says Victoriaburg is a rebel stronghold. So I am going to retake the town.” Peter said this as if he did it regularly; his voice had no emotion in it what so ever.

“I understand sire, do you require any armor?” Ranoe asked, though he already knew the answer.

“No, I will have more than enough men to take the city. But have our bombers on stand by in case I find that the town is completely overrun by the rebels.” Peter answered.

“Yes sire, I will do as you ask.” Ranoe said.

Peter hung up on him and stared out the tinted windows of his car. The sun was just beginning to rise, turning the sky a mixture of grey and gold. Peter laid his head on the backrest and closed his eyes. It was a long journey to Victoriaburg and he need to rest.

Background on the city of Victoriaburg:

Established in 1914, this city of Victoriaburg us home to over four thousand people. Victoriaburg is located in the Tartarus Valley in the Adrianople Mountains. Since its founding Victoriaburg has held a slight sentiment to the monarchy in place. This is mainly due to the fact that the first settlers of the city were driven out of their homes by Emperor Richard Kellen I in 1913 during the Unification of Soi-Disant, which Emperor Richard, then leader of the Behran Tribe, began a campaign to unite all the tribes of Soi-Disant under his rule. This was mostly achieved militarily, but some tribes entered peacefully.

The city’s buildings are mostly original buildings which were built using the Victorian style of architecture. The largest building is City Hall, but a large Cathedral on the west side of town is among one of the largest in the nation.
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The news of the two battalions of Red Knights traveled quickly to Victor Andropov. He quickly had the bells of the cathedral ringing, signaling his supporters that a meeting was to be called.

Almost fifteen minutes later almost three hundred rebels crowded into the cathedral, no one knew why the meeting was called, and a loud murmur echoed throughout the halls of the cathedral. Victor stood proudly in front of the mass of rebels; his usually strong demeanor now gave way to the slight look of fear. But Victor knew who would be coming for him, and that without the help of his supporters, the rebellion would be ended in Victoriaburg.

“My comrades,” Victor started, breaking out in a cold sweat, “I have received news of two battalions of Red Knights are headed to Victoriaburg.” The crowd began talking between themselves, a few gasps could be heard and a few women began crying. “But fear not my friends; I am confident that if we make a stand, they will not overtake us.” He paused for a second, allowing his supporters to take in what he had just said before he started speaking again. “We need to gather our arms and make our stand here. We will not allow these fool hardy idiots to crush my dreams, our dreams of an equal Soi-Disant. This is where…”

Victor was interrupted as the cathedral doors flew open. The bright morning sun cast the shadow of a single silhouette. “Very touching speech my friend, but I am afraid you are already defeated,” Peter said as he slowly walked into the cathedral, his face now visible to the entire cathedral.

Victor turned to his supporters and began talking, “It seems that the man who has caused us so much grief has entered our church comrades. He has come into our house, the house of the God of Purity, and upon doing so, has tarnished the pureness of this place with his impurity.”

Peter continued to walk past the rows of benches, looking straight ahead at Victor. He slowly opened his long coat, revealing a colt revolver and his long sword, which was resting in its leather sheath. “If there is anything impure about this place, Victor, it is you and your ‘people’,” Peter said, his words cold and harsh. Suddenly several men ran through the doors, pointing spreading out through the church, their weapons scanning the crowd for any sudden movements. “As you can see, I am not alone. At this very moment the rest of my men are searching through every house in this shit whole you call a town. I just thank you for bringing most of your supporters together like this. It really saves a lot of time when we don’t have to go through every building.” Peter was now standing just below Victor, who was now considerably frightened. “Don’t look so worried, Victor. You will not be dieing today. However, the same can’t be said for the people of this town.”

Several gunshots could be heard from inside the town. “Ah, it seems as if the process has already started. A little ahead of schedule, but as I always say, it’s better to be early than late.” With that Peter punched Victor in the stomach, causing him to double over. Peter waved his hand, and two of the soldiers shut and locked the doors of the cathedral from the outside. While inside the soldiers began firing into the helpless crowd. Their screams of pain and anguish filled the halls, but only fell on deaf ears. Peter grabbed Victor’s hair and pulled it so that he would be forced to watch the carnage. “Do you see what you have cost these people? Do you!?” Peter yelled. “If it were not for you these people would still be alive, but because of your selfish beliefs, they will all die.”

Victor closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the carnage any longer. “No, you will not get off that easily.” Peter drew his knife and quickly sliced off Victor’s eyelids. His cries mixing with the cries of the rebels.

Soon all of the rebels in the cathedral, except for Victor, were either dead or dieing. A few screams and groans could be heard, but these were silenced as the soldiers made their way through the cathedral, shooting anyone who was still alive. Tears mixed with the blood that now ran down Victor’s face.

“You are nothing but a sniveling fool. And now because of your foolishness, all of these people are dead. It is all because of you! Do you understand that?” Peter violently let go of Victor’s hair, letting him fall to the floor, his sobs being echoed through the stone halls of the cathedral. “You are not worth the dignity a death by my hand gives.” Peter motioned for the soldiers to take Victor away, where he would be taken to the Halls of the Silenced, where many say Peter sent his older brother to become next in line for the crown.

“Burn the town, I want the entire place leveled,” Peter ordered one of his soldiers as he walked out the doors of the cathedral.

Peter’s footsteps echoed throughout the dimly lit Halls of the Silenced. The rough stone walls had small trickles of water running down them, as well as the occasional patch of mold and moss. Small eight by ten cells lined the walkway from the days the Hall was known as Euril Penitentiary, a high security prison, built to house political and extremely dangerous criminals. Now however, the cell doors were rusting away, and the remains of the last prisoners still sat in the cells, scattered across the floor.

The tales of the horrors that took place in Euril Penitentiary were often used as fairy tales to get children to behave, but Peter knew that most of the tales were true. One such story is that of Tras O’Neal, an immigrant who had attempted to overthrow Peter’s grandfather, Richard Kellen I. O’Neal had attempted to assassinate Peter’s grandfather, but was caught and thrown into the already one hundred year old Euril Penitentiary. Once inside, the tales of O’Neal’s actions stunned the local populace. It was said that he stabbed a guard in the throat with a homemade knife, and began to cut him into small pieces, which he eventually began eating because of the poor care the prisoners received. Another time O’Neal was said to have skinned a fellow inmate who tried to cut in front of him in the lunch line. O’Neal was eventually beheaded, but there are tales of his, as well as many of the other famous inmate’s restless souls, haunting the prison, killing any who stepped in their way.

Peter however, was not fearful of the spirits, instead calling them to aid him in the torturing of the new prisoners of the Hall of the Silenced. O’Neal, however, Peter had never seen.

Peter started down a spiraling stairwell that led to the underground levels of the penitentiary when the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up and the air suddenly became cold enough to freeze the blood which ran through his veins. Not once had any of the other spirits dared to try and intimidate him, and he knew who he was dealing with immediately.

“Mr. O’Neal, I was wondering when we were going to meet,” Peter said, stopping halfway down the stairs. “Well, are you going to say something, or are you going to stay hidden and try to rip me apart like you have done with so many of my guards?”

Suddenly O’Neal appeared in front of Peter. His mouth sewn shut, part of his scalp was missing, revealing a cracked portion of his skull. His uniform was tattered and blood soaked, large pieces of skin were missing from his arm, probably from the birds, picking at his dead corpse after being beheaded. He did not say anything, but his eyes told Peter everything he needed to know.

“So you have a grudge against me and my family so you?” Peter said, mocking the spirit. “I have some news for you Tras O’Neal, you cannot kill me, you won’t kill me. However, if you were to assist me, I will not have to send you into the abyss.”

Peter looked into O’Neal’s eyes again, listening to what they were saying to him. Peter began smiling, and O’Neal vanished from sight. Knowing where he went, Peter turned around, and slowly began making his way up the stairs. It seemed his torture of the prisoners would have to wait, he wanted to be the first to hear the screams of his father and the whore who took the place of his mother as Tras O’Neal ripped them apart.

As Peter neared his father’s chambers, he heard the blood curdling screams of the Empress, and then nothing. He smiled as he walked around the corner to his father’s bedroom. The walls were stained with the blood and entrails of the guards posted outside the door. He carefully stepped over various body parts, before reaching the large mahogany doors.

As he opened them he saw the head of the Empress fly through window. As Peter stepped into the room O’Neal stopped ripping the arms off of the torso of the woman.

“Do not mind me, I am just here for the show,” Peter said. O’Neal returned to his deeds, and Peter looked around the room, noticing his father huddled in a corner. Smiling, Peter walked to his father slowly, his eyes showing a fire that had never been seen before. “Hello Father,” Peter said.

His father stared at Peter, then at O’Neal before replying. “You, you sent him here, didn’t you?”

Peter crouched in front of his father so that he was face to face with him. “Yes father, I did send him here. I sent him to kill you and that whore for killing my mother.”

“You, think I killed your mother?” His father asked, his eyes growing wider, his voice shaky. “Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. But your mother brought it upon herself. She was nothing more than a whore who would sleep with any man who would sleep with her.”

Peter’s rage boiled over as he listened to his father’s words. He clutched his fist so that his nails dug into his palms. “No,” Peter yelled, “my mother was not a whore. She cared for no one but you and me. She would have done anything for you, for the good of her people, and what did she receive for her loyalty? She received a dagger to the throat. But now I will have her revenge. O’Neal!” The spirit dropped the now limbless torso of the Empress and dashed to Peter’s side. Peter stood up, and began walking out of the room. “Kill him now.” O’Neal grabbed the Emperor’s head, and twisted it, the screams of his father flooding the room, until suddenly, everything was quiet.

Peter quickly walked to his room, knowing that in a few hours, he would have to address the citizens of Soi-Disant, and tell them the news of his father’s death. He also knew that soon, he would be the one ruling Soi-Disant.


OOC: Well, that is the end of this story. I hope you all liked it.
Any comments on my writing, or the story are welcome.

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