Kyzl-Arabia
06-09-2005, 09:19
Al'Gorlon Province
The Sultanate of Kyzl-Arabia
It's red amber glowing in the dark room, the cigarette grew hotter as its owner drew deeply. Smoke whispered up and around his face; eventually making its way out of the window to the busy marketplace outside. Horns, cars, motocycles, and people all became what would commonly be known as noise pollution. And the air pollution wasnt too much better either; with these lands spewing tons upon tons of smoke and carbon monoxide into the atmosphere. And regardless of its effect on the environment; people here cared very, if not extremely little. Kyzl-Arabia was a Desert among Deserts, and the city of Junto was but a half-concreted version of that. Poverty was not a secret here, and most of those who lived in this poorly built city resided in one of the many apartment complexes -- cracked and damaged from the decades of warfare this country had endured. And none of those who held power were interested, or able to make a difference. Sure, the living style was terrible. Quality was a word not known to individuals such as these... since battle was an all too common event. All too common.
"What is the problem?" snarled the man, sitting in his chair. "Did you not follow the instructions accordingly?"
One of the trio stepped forward, "Master, Sir, we have no troubles. The last shipment has arrived and already been distributed. We are ready at your command."
The man stood to his feet and muttered something in Arabic. He drew a last breath from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground, and stamping it on it. Turning himself to the window, he watched the city below, completely unknowing of which was to come.
"You have your orders," he commented under his breath. "We will strike tonight, when the celebrations begin. They will be unsuspecting, and they will not be ready."
He saluted, with hand upon heart; "For the greater of Al'Gorlon!"
"For the Independance!" chimed in the trio, also saluting.
Later, that night...
If the city had been loud earlier, it must have been a tripe-load louder now. Celebrations had struck the city, and unlike it had normally been the market stalls opened late, people wandered the streets either looking for something to buy, or to dance... whatever. It was the Sultan's birthday, and the people were required to celebrate loudly. At one point, a chime of whistles could be heard as individuals ran through the streets. Sure, they were happy; but it was enforced more than one could normally believe. Troops, soldiers, "secret police" were everywhere through-out the crowd. High on drugs and ecstacy; the people were relatively easy to control. And besides, it made such times actually enjoyable. Too bad it would only come at the cost of so many lives, of those who refused this compulsory madness.
In the meantime, a force had been readied and the attack had been planned for months. Wandering silently through the shadows, forms appeared then disappeared, only to reappear again at a later point. These were no ordinary party individuals, these were silent killers of the night. And tonight, there would certainly be bloodshed. For high above a man was watching. The man from earlier with enormous power, enormous influence, and a lack of care to suit. He smiled to himself -- Al'Gorlon would certainly have made their statement very soon. It would not promise their independance, but it would promise a victory to come. The Sultan would follow with his troops of Kyzl-Arabia, and would be defeated; to the Glory of Allah.
Down below, one form in particular took up his line. He had picked out a target -- a policeman rolling his tobacco with skill like no other. His job was easy tonight, no trouble; or so he thought. The rattle of gunfire broke the spirit of the night, and it was only seconds before others had done the same. Policemen, soldiers, fanatics of the national government would all fall dead. Citizens, children, mothers, fathers -- they would all fall victim to the cause they would have normally fought against. Unfortunate losses, one might say. Besides, the independance movement of Al'Gorlon was much more important than these infidels. And when the sun breaks the horizon by morning... all that was left of the city would be the occasion put-put of a rifle here, the screams of women being raped there, and the odd man or woman running for their lives down the streets of Junto.
The Sultanate of Kyzl-Arabia
It's red amber glowing in the dark room, the cigarette grew hotter as its owner drew deeply. Smoke whispered up and around his face; eventually making its way out of the window to the busy marketplace outside. Horns, cars, motocycles, and people all became what would commonly be known as noise pollution. And the air pollution wasnt too much better either; with these lands spewing tons upon tons of smoke and carbon monoxide into the atmosphere. And regardless of its effect on the environment; people here cared very, if not extremely little. Kyzl-Arabia was a Desert among Deserts, and the city of Junto was but a half-concreted version of that. Poverty was not a secret here, and most of those who lived in this poorly built city resided in one of the many apartment complexes -- cracked and damaged from the decades of warfare this country had endured. And none of those who held power were interested, or able to make a difference. Sure, the living style was terrible. Quality was a word not known to individuals such as these... since battle was an all too common event. All too common.
"What is the problem?" snarled the man, sitting in his chair. "Did you not follow the instructions accordingly?"
One of the trio stepped forward, "Master, Sir, we have no troubles. The last shipment has arrived and already been distributed. We are ready at your command."
The man stood to his feet and muttered something in Arabic. He drew a last breath from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground, and stamping it on it. Turning himself to the window, he watched the city below, completely unknowing of which was to come.
"You have your orders," he commented under his breath. "We will strike tonight, when the celebrations begin. They will be unsuspecting, and they will not be ready."
He saluted, with hand upon heart; "For the greater of Al'Gorlon!"
"For the Independance!" chimed in the trio, also saluting.
Later, that night...
If the city had been loud earlier, it must have been a tripe-load louder now. Celebrations had struck the city, and unlike it had normally been the market stalls opened late, people wandered the streets either looking for something to buy, or to dance... whatever. It was the Sultan's birthday, and the people were required to celebrate loudly. At one point, a chime of whistles could be heard as individuals ran through the streets. Sure, they were happy; but it was enforced more than one could normally believe. Troops, soldiers, "secret police" were everywhere through-out the crowd. High on drugs and ecstacy; the people were relatively easy to control. And besides, it made such times actually enjoyable. Too bad it would only come at the cost of so many lives, of those who refused this compulsory madness.
In the meantime, a force had been readied and the attack had been planned for months. Wandering silently through the shadows, forms appeared then disappeared, only to reappear again at a later point. These were no ordinary party individuals, these were silent killers of the night. And tonight, there would certainly be bloodshed. For high above a man was watching. The man from earlier with enormous power, enormous influence, and a lack of care to suit. He smiled to himself -- Al'Gorlon would certainly have made their statement very soon. It would not promise their independance, but it would promise a victory to come. The Sultan would follow with his troops of Kyzl-Arabia, and would be defeated; to the Glory of Allah.
Down below, one form in particular took up his line. He had picked out a target -- a policeman rolling his tobacco with skill like no other. His job was easy tonight, no trouble; or so he thought. The rattle of gunfire broke the spirit of the night, and it was only seconds before others had done the same. Policemen, soldiers, fanatics of the national government would all fall dead. Citizens, children, mothers, fathers -- they would all fall victim to the cause they would have normally fought against. Unfortunate losses, one might say. Besides, the independance movement of Al'Gorlon was much more important than these infidels. And when the sun breaks the horizon by morning... all that was left of the city would be the occasion put-put of a rifle here, the screams of women being raped there, and the odd man or woman running for their lives down the streets of Junto.