NationStates Jolt Archive

Three years.

Three years since the Republic was formed and seperated from Gholgoth. Three years of strife, backstabbing, sorrow and hell for the President.

And now came the most haggaring part of democracies. Elections.

President Catalina Vakko Coleman sat back and watched the senate debate among themselves the fate of the Republic. To be led by her for another three years or be led by the man beisde her. She glanced at him. Omar Pace, governer of the African State, was intently watching the proceedings, obviously bewildered by the amount of talking that was happening and the small amount that was actually being said. It was amazing to her as well. They, as officers in the military, were always distrustful of politicians, but Vakko was more mistrustful of Pace than any five Senators. He had gained much politcial sway with the Party of Brotherhood having a near majority in the Senate. He was more dangerous here than on a battlefield, now.

She could never prove it, but the Brotherhood wanted to turn Crimmond back into an Empire. Something that the Republic considered treason. She feared that if she lost power, things would be very bad for Crimmond, for a very long time.

Soon the votes were cast and the results displayed upon the casting of the final vote.

112 for Catalina Vakko Coleman.
15 for Larea dinAthos.
173 for Omar Pace.


The cybernmetically enchanced Larea dinAthos, who was still leader of the Senate, turned and bowed her naturally bald head at the winner in respect. Larea stood and shook hands with Pace, refusing to look anything but polite. "Good luck... Mister President."

Omar nodded at Catalina. "Luck is for those that are without the proper skills to achieve greatness, but thank you for the gesture."

--------

For two weeks, the Republic went into a period of seeming dormancy. Only sporadic contact with the outside world occured and most of it was all coming into Crimmond, with only a scant few important transmissions leaving the nation. As nations of Gholgoth would know, this meant that Crimmond was simply too busy with it's own issues to care what the rest of the world was doing.

Soon a flag of Crimmond was broadcast to the world, wafting on a pole. It was lowered with all the respect and ceremony one would excpect and was replaced with another flag... the flag of the Empire of Crimmond, but with a scorpion's tail in place of the compass rose. The camera pans to Omar Pace, who stands in the uniform of a Brotherhood General. "The Empire of Crimmond is dead. The Republic of Crimmond is dead. Now there is the Imperial Brotherhood. A new force that will unite us all. Peace Through Power, my Brothers and Sisters. We are the ones that pave the way to the future. For Crimmond and for the Brotherhood. Kane is our leader, but until his return... I am your ruler. Obey me and we will spread Peace, Unity and Brotherhood across three continents and make our enemies tremble in fear of our might."

There was no mention of Catalina Vakko-Coleman on any news channel in Crimmond, of where she was or what she though of all of these changes. That most likely meant that the Brotherhood had her secreted away somewhere, or had simply killed her.

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Catalina Vakko-Coleman

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General Omar Pace

In a private transmission to Dayne the Evenstar and Damien Dreadfire, Omar Pace sits in a dark room, looking a bit haggard by the recent events of political and military backstabbing and takeovers. It looks as if he hadn't slept in days and he probably hadn't. “Hello, Damien. Dayne. I'm doubtful you know who I am, exactly... so I shall tell you. I am Omar Pace and I was leader of the Brotherhood Ground Forces in North Africa, answering directly to Kane. After Kane vanished, we went into hiding as per contingency plans set up years ago. To bide our time. And then Crimmond came... and we sprang forth again. You know Crimmond as an ally that has turned it's back on you recently. I know Crimmond as an ally that turned it's back on more than just an ally. But on a cause greater than any one nation or alliance. A cause that was championed by Crimmond, the Brotherhood, by the Empire of Steel, by the GDODAD. The cause to prove that an Empire is inherently more stable than any democracy. And in it's failure, Crimmond suceeded. By a vote, legal and acceptable, the Republic just voluntarily became an Empire again. This time, we know our course."

He sighs. "You wonder how I will lead, I know. Am I a weakling? Am I insane? Am I a threat? Am I trustworthy? I will tell you what I am made of, now. I have dealt with more pain… I have dealt with more suffering… I have dealt with more anguish than any human being should have to bear. I’ve suffered at the hands of my family. I’ve suffered at the hands of the Brotherhood." He stands slowly, sighing again. "I’ve suffered in every conceivable manner… and I’m tired. I’m real tired. I’m sick and tired of hurting. I’m sick and tired of the agony… I’m sick and tired of the anguish. And if my life on Earth is going to be a living hell, then I invite the rest of the planet to join me there..."

Suddenly his mood changes from sullen to angry. “You know what? Fuck that! Fuck that! I’m not going any place for anybody. I've been the attack dog for too many men and women. I've served too many masters." He pulls off his long coat and the criss crossed scars on his arms and chest are revealed. He smiles a bit. "Some can forget such things, but I can't. You see… scars are souvenirs you never lose. The past is never far when you carry it on your skin. But what do you do… what do you do when all your memories are razorblades? When everything you can possibly remember hurts? What do you do? I wondered that for years. And then one day, I stopped wondering… and I started hurting people. I became a cruel and heartless bastard who had not one ounce of mercy." His mood shifts subtly to one of mixed anger and sadness. "Both of you, please try to understand, I’ve seen and done so much… I’ve hurt and beat and battered not just my enemies, but my Brothers, my family, those I used to love… And now? Now loving and caring are luxuries that I can no longer afford. All that matters is duty and honor. That is all I am left with. Almost... almost...

"I know who and what I am now. More importantly, I now know what I must do. I live a life without illusions… and unfortunately, it is illusions that are the one thing that comfort us all. But the lack of illusions has given me something else. Something powerful. Dayne... Damien... you had to go to some hag that lurks in shadows to hear your soulname. Mine came to me several nights ago as I claimed my place as ruler of Crimmond. I have embraced it as one of the few things in my personal life that steels me against the world that I see and despise everyday. I am Omar the Untouchable... a title that could mean powerful and above touch or sickening and beneath everyone else. I am both, at times.

"And despite what you both may think right now, I have been assured by the best doctors both inside and outside my nation that I am in possesion of all my mental faculties. I am a misanthrope, to be sure, but I am not insane. Nor do I wish harm on my fellow humans, unless they cross me. I may hate humanity and what it has become, but I have grown a heart. It is just blacker than most. I do not have a family to lighten it as you two have. I have no son or daughter or nephew or niece or cousin to look upon and be proud of. So I must call the Brotherhood my family and take pride in them, no matter how hollow that seems compared to pride in one's own blood. I yearn for that and hate it at the same time. Much like I look at Gholgoth...

"I am not a member of the Brotherhood of Nod any longer. Though I use their iconography and envoke the name of Kane to keep support among the masses... I will phase Kane out of my rule. To the Brotherhood, I will be the new Kane. To myself, I will be my own master after so long as a servent of others."

He sighs once more and looks at the camera. ”Gholgoth is my home now. I am tied to this place and the nations of Pantera and Automagfreek. Crimmond is no longer a Republic. It is what it should always be once more… an Empire that does not follow in the footsteps of nations, but instead leads nations to glory and victory and anything else we want! Therefore, I request that the Empire be admitted back into Gholgoth and that we retake our position as one of the founding members." He goes quiet for a moment. "If you do not accept that proposition, then what I say next is meaningless to you. If you do accept it, consider my next words with care, for I will not say them twice."

He takes a breath and steps to a table with a goblet and a knife on it. “Damien Dreadfire… Dayne the Evenstar…” He holds up the knife. "The time that we take alliance to the next level has arrived… to seal our fates together. You shunned Delta when he requested this. Coleman was too weak to even try. But I am niether of them and I will not accept any answer that is not yes. If you reject me in this… you reject the strongest ally you will ever have and will have made the strongest enemy you will have ever faced, save Melkor himself.”

Omar slices his hand open and watches the blood pour into a goblet that could be sealed. As the blood fills the the glass insert part way, the liquid is visable to the outside world through small 'windows' in the steel outer casing, cut to resemble ancient weapons of war. Omar looks into the camera as he wraps his hand in a red silk cloth and seals the goblet. “I call upon both of you to swear Blood Pact with myself and with the Imperial Brotherhood of Crimmond. If you accept, the goblet shall be transferred to your lands as quickly as possible. Peace Through Power... Brothers." He nods to someone off screen and the transmission ends.

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Omar the Untouchable

~From the desk of Lord Damien the Destroyer, Supreme Warlord of the Excessively Armed Empire of Automagfreek~

I must say, I do not fully know what to make of this, especially considering the twists and turns Crimmond has taken in recent times.

On one hand, the treachery seen by that **** Catalina Coleman is not something that has been forgotten. She drove a deep wedge between Crimmond and those of Gholgoth who were allied for so long, and despite what I say here today, there are still going to be divisions which only time and trust can heal.

But let me get to the point. Crimmond seems to be an unstable nation who obviously cannot control itself and has seen coup after coup after coup, and I personally have grown tired of it. I'm sure you know, Omar, that Gholgoth is about power and stability, something which Crimmond has been lacking as of late. If our regional brotherhood is truely something your nation wishes to be apart of, then I have no objection to allowing you to return. However, don't expect things to be exactly as they were before Coleman decided to PMS all over Crimmond's age old allies, because your nation has a lot of ties it needs to repair.

Then we come to the matter of Blood Pact, which I'm surprised you brought up. Just who exactly are you, 'Untouchable' one? I have never heard of you, and I'm willing to bet that the Evenstar knows nothing of you either. You see Omar, we do not bleed for just anyone. It takes a special kind of warrior to earn that level of trust, and sadly the last man I bled for has allowed himself and his nation to slip into obscurity.

But that is of no consequence, but there is something you need to realize Omar: the Blood Pact is FOREVER. When your flesh has melted away from your frame and your bones have turned to dust, the Pact will live on. This is not something you dive into without being aware that you are committing yourself to your Blood Brothers for all eternity, and there quite simply is no turning back. Ever.

Crimmond is too unstable and untrustworthy at this time to engage in Blood Pact, and you yourself are completely unknown to myself and Dayne, and until you earn our trust and respect you will not become our Brother. You have a long way to go before I commit myself and my Empire to you and your nation, and I'm sure the Lord Reaver feels the same.

Rejoice now, for Crimmond is returning home to Gholgoth. But be wary, for that is all you will get from me at this time.


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---Damien the Destroyer---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-

Omar:
When my brother Bastien and Damien first forged the brotherhood that is the Blood Pact, they did so to safeguard the future. When Damien and myself joined together to embrace Edmund Dantes, and by doing so to bring the Tersanctan nation into the Blood Pact, we did so to strengthen the Pact.

Bastien the Bronze, my noble brother, spoke the words,"Once seperate, we have been forged anew. The bonds of Blood and Fire are unbreakable, and our fates are now entwined."

You would do well to think on those words, and on the wisdom of brother Damien's message. Crimmond is a nation of uncertain loyalties and even more uncertain stability. Though I love it's people and will count your nation among my allies until the world is dust, there is no -permanence-.

Yourself? Unheralded. Your rule? Untested. Your legacy? Unknown.

Show us that you have earned your soulname, Untouchable. SHOW US. Until your name shines alongside that of Bastien the Bronze, The Warhound, Hartman, Dreadfire, and Edmund Dantes, you may save your hollow promises and your pleas for brotherhood, and put your pretty cup on a shelf somewhere.

-Evenstar

Dayne snapped shut the laptop, his reply sent, and looked toward the hearth. The fire was built high, but the old woman remained huddled in her old, moth-eaten robes, hood raised to obscure her features.

She had been there for days, refusing to speak to him or to be moved. It galled the young Lord Reaver. One of his personal bodyguard, his Rigante, had been stricken with seizures after trying to move her forcibly. She had barely moved, brushing the paper-thin skin of her hand against his face, and he had jerked wildly, falling to the floor.

Remorseless, the old woman still stared, silent and horrible, and Dayne felt his irritation rise at this 'Untouchable', by the Crimmond situation in general, and now, by this rotten old bitch.

Because when she began lurking, Gholgoth, Pantera, and usually, the world began changing.

Omar looked at the scar on his hand as he read the messages. One of the aides that had read them before giving them to Omar was visably pale... the nation was weak at the moment. The people were confused, uncoordinated in their efforts after that disasterous rule of President Catalina.

He looked back to the messages and re-read them several times, as if looking for something more. Something deeper. He found nothing but his aide starting to fidget. The man was a good Brotherhood soldier who had been with Omar for two years and knew what Omar had said to both of them. If he went to war, even a cold war, with Gholgoth... the Empire would become a shell of what it was as support of the Brotherhood washed away like a castle of sand.

Omar sat back and smilled in a way that made the aide take a step back. Then he started to laugh and stood up, walking to the small camera setup and switching it on. In moments, his image was being sent to AMF and Pantera. His face was hard and cold. "I laid my guts out for you two and you stepped on them even as you shook my hand. I demanded Blood Pact and you scoffed. I gave you a choice of Pact or to risk war... and you both chose to risk war." He paused and chuckled grimly. "Today is a day to be remembered forever for this moment. Do I take us to war or not? Do I sever all ties to my nation's past or mend them?"

"You did exactly what I would have done in your place. I don't even trust my own nation, at the moment. You should not either. I am glad to see that the past has not blinded you to reality." He held up his hand, the scar still fresh on it's palm.

"The doctrine teachs Peace Through Power. Peace, Unity and Brotherhood. The way of the Brotherhood is peace... and we shall have peace, my Brothers. And that goblet will have the blood of Freeks and Reavers in it one day soon. But not yet... not yet. There is much to be done before that day comes. Much idiocy to undo here in Crimmond and much bad blood to be cleansed between our nations. This is going to be a very interesting time for all of our nations." He smiled and the transmission ends. He knew that the use of the word 'brother' would irk them, which is why he continued to use it.

----------

Small celebrations take place all over Crimmond as the Brotherhood announces that Crimmond is once more part of Gholgoth. Ports begin to send messages to shipping companies in Gholgoth that they are open for trade. The military port in Gdansk signals the Panteran fleet that it is welcome to resuming docking at their facilities. The Suez Canal was reopened to Gholgothian ships of all varieties.

It was a start. The reconstruction of the Empire would take several years to complete. Several more to bring it up to where it would have been, had the Catalina not destroyed what had been built by her husband's father. The man wasdead a buried, which saddened Omar a bit. He would not live to see his nation grow stronger than ever, but he had the old man's blessing... he had nearly ordered Omar to take power and turn the nation around two and half years ago. Now there was nothing left of the past rulers, save for one human that Omar was having educated in his modfied doctrines of the Brotherhood and trained as a Brotherhood field commander.

Soon, Gholgoth and his enemies would get to meet him and watch him in battle... it would require a war somewhere, but NATO and Gholgoth were bound to attract some hostile little runts he could test his new man on.

The Panteran fleets stationed in Gdansk and along Crimmond's Baltic coast was commanded by the Lord Reaver's newest general, the Lord of the Marches, Jorai Brax, who was already making a name for himself in the docks and waysides of Crimmond. Though Nobly born, he was a fighter and a rascal, and this, of course, went well with the rough Germanic and Baltic sailors of Crimmond. His youth and cocksure manner went far in securing the loyalty of his own soldiers as well, and so the young Brax was quite popular wherever he went.

And he went to the Panteran Consulate in Gdansk and from there, choppered with permission directly to a face-to-face meeting with Omar. The usual pleasantries were observed, with the young Brax openly inspecting the new ruler of Crimmond. He did so with a smile, though, and after another deep bow, presented the Lord Reaver's message, crimson ink at it's top, bearing the shadowcat seal of the Lord Reaver.

To the Dictator of Crimmond, Omar the 'Untouchable':

You will present yourself to me and my Queen Reaver, at once, in the Seastone Palace, in my capital of Toke. Armed or unarmed, as you see fit.

Dayne the Evenstar

And, in far Pantera, the Evenstar sent another message to Dreadfire, this one just as short but without the purposefully authorative tone of the message he had sent to Omar.

Damien,
We will meet with this 'Untouchable'. Bring yourself to my home, brother. You or the boy, and together we will judge him.

-Evenstar

Post Script: Bring gifts. My children know you not, and, being the looming fuck you are, might be a little less frightened if you gave a few baubles.

And Dayne frowned despite his pleasure at an impending meeting with his brothers, for beside the flame-lit hearth, the old woman was obviously smirking her approval, her hateful gaze bright and crystal-blue within her hood.

Omar eyed the officer and made him wait an appropriate amount of time as he considered. "Tell the Lord Reaver I would be honored to join him within 48 hours, there are matters here in Crimmond that require my immediate attention, before I travel abroad. I will come unarmed, with one escort. One of my field commanders." He dismissed the Reaver and prepared to leave...

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Less than a day and a half later, the helicopter settled in for a landing at the Seastone Palace. Omar stepped out, wearing a bizzare combination of a medieval style great coat, heavy black pants and combat boots. His face was adorned with paint that made one eye seem like the Eye of Ra.

He turned and a looming figure stepped out behind him. He wore dark sunglasses, a goatee and his long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but the rest of him looked the aura of professionalism. There was something familiar about him...

The two strode into the castle and soon were led into whatever chambers the Lord Reaver was to meet them in. Omar bowed his head. "Lord Reaver, I am Omar the Untouchable. This is my best field commander, Chimola Amin, called The Butcher by his soldiers." The african name did not seem to fit the white man who bowed his head, seeming so very familiar.

"Greetings, Lord Reaver." The man voice was unmistakable... Damien Dreadfire's.

Omar's lips twitched into a barely there smirk.

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Chimola "The Butcher" Amin

Dayne was too well-schooled to show any suprise. Instead, he smirked and raised a hand. From the shadows behind the great, grey-green rock throne came his Queen, slightly plump and very beautiful. She carried a small tray that was laden with cups and a bottle, and she eyed the two Crim with open curiosity as her husband took his refreshment.

The wine was iced, for this summer in Pantera the weather was obscenely hot, and the Evenstar took his time sipping and crunching at a small piece of ice with his teeth. The action was childlike and did not fit the grim, looming persona of the Evenstar, with his broad features, wiry golden beard, and waist-length golden braids.

He offered his guests no refreshment or seating, but merely watched them for a few more moments. This slight was, of course, noticed by the Rigante that lay sprawled in various states of relaxation throughout the cavernous Great Hall and among it's many balconies. The rough, fanatical tribesmen snickered and conversed in the low, rumbling tones of their tribal tongue.

The Evenstar let his Rigante have their fun for a few long moments before raising a hand for silence, which was given only grudgingly, for to these men the Evenstar wasn't 'Lord Reaver' or a king, but merely first among equals. When the cavernous hall was once again silent, he spoke, his voice was deep and unimpressed,"Well? You've obviously sprung this... man on me for a reason. You would have done better to bring a goat into my Hall, if you were going for shock and awe."

Twisting his mouth to one side, the Evenstar leaned forward and seemed about to speak further, but had no chance. For the grand, gilded double doors of the Great Hall slammed open to admit the looming form of Damien Dreadfire.

Omar bowed his head again. "Lady Reaver. A pleasure to meet you." Amin bowed his head as well, but did not speak again.

Omar looked back to Dayne. "I'm not here to surprise you or awe you. I leave the parlor tricks to old hags and Earth spirits." Most likely meaning the old woman and Gar the Executioner.

He turned at the sound of the doors opening, as did Amin. Before he could say anything to the approaching warlord, Amin spoke. "Been a long time... Damien."

Omar eyed Amin. He obviously wasn't expecting his subbordinate to speak to Dreadfire so... personally.

Dreadfire threw open the doors with a scowl upon his face, for he did not want to be at this meeting. His anger towards Coleman and what she had done to Crimmond was still very much alive, and he directed his hatred towards Omar.

You have some nerve, 'Untouchable'.

He strode past the Lord Reaver and nodded to him in welcoming, then took his place at his old friend's side and gauged the two men standing before them. He seemed less than impressed with Amin.

I must say that it was most fortunate for your nation that we, the Vanguards of Gholgoth, did not simply annex it when that filthy whore Coleman decided to spit in our face. You certainly have a tall order in front of you 'Untouchable', and acting tough isn't going to get you anywhere. In Gholgoth and the Blood Pact, you have to earn your stripes. Simply wanting them isn't enough.

Damien mocked Omar's soulname every time he uttered it, for to him, it was sheer contempt to give oneself such a name.

I'm not going to lie, I don't trust you, nor do I respect you. Both you have to earn, for I do not give either out freely.

He advanced towards the two men menacingly, his head cocked to the side as he stopped next to Amin.

I don't expect you to kiss our asses or challenge us to a street fight. What we want to see is action....we want to see what Crimmond is made of. To be worthy of Blood Pact, one must prove that they are fit as a leader, and that their nation stands on strong foundations. Neither have I seen thus far.

He grew even more annoyed with Amin for seemingly no reason, his face tightening into a frown before delivering a crushing jab to his stomach, sending him sailing across the room.

Let's see if you and your 'best commander' are all you say you are.

He looked Omar up and down before returning to Dayne's side.

As I said before, I don't expect you to try and act tougher or better than us, because doing so would miss the point of Blood Pact entirely. The Pact is about brotherhood, and brothers are never anything more than equals.

So, I would suggest departing this palace and returning home. Show us that you are 'Untouchable'.....show us you are not a waste of time.

Omar looked at Amin as he flew backwards and rolled to his feet. He growled and started to charge back at the warlord.

"Enough!" Omar held up a hand, which stopped the man almost immediatly.

"Dreadfire, my commander is the blood of your blood." He gestured for Damien to look at the man closer, who pulled the hair out of his face. He looked exactly like Damien had, in his younger days, save for a few missing scars. "A cloned holdover from Delta's reign. Any flaws you see in him, you see in yourself."

Omar sighed, very softly. "I'm not sure what either of you want from me or this meaning. Surely you don't want me to kneel to you, but there is no way I can prove myself through talk. If that were the case, lawyers would run your nations instead of warriors.

"What you want from me requires war. And war is not something I can afford at this moment. Oh yes, I will fight if I must... but I won't go out in search of it just to prove to you that my forces can win a war. We are the Brotherhood. I am it's best general. Our record speaks for itself."

He glances at Iman as he returns to his side, then back at both of them. "So you invited... no... ordered me here for a ten minute conversation that tells none of us anything we didn't already know?" He shakes his head slowly. "With all due respect to you both, I was expecting something more to be said here. Something you would not say over a video link or in writing. Perhaps I was expecting too much from you both."

Dayne watched the exchange amusedly, moving only once to lift a hand, stilling the jeering Rigante, whose catcalls and laughter had followed Omar's command, robbing them of their entertainment.

Damien's face still looked angry, so Dayne leaned forward and interjected before the situation could deteriorate further. "Video links?" He mocked, waving a hand in derisive dismissal.

"Your record speaks for itself, does it? Your record is nothing. Your Brotherhood fights hard, I'll give you, but a sword needs a guiding hand, Omar. Use your fucking head. None in Crimmond have ever shown us they can -rule- much less rule well. And you?" Tossing his head sharply, flicking his braids back over his shoulder, the Lord Reaver rose from his seat.

"You think we would have sealed your pretty cup in the wall without seeing you? Smelling your fear and, maybe, tasting your blood? Coleman did little, but at the least he wasn't so rash as to... demand," he curled a lip at the word, "...Blood Pact."

"No, 'Untouchable'. We don't want you kneeling or sailing off to conquer, and the fact that those are the first things that come to your mind speaks ill of your character. Are those the only ways to win the day? The bent knee or the sword?"

Shaking his head and his tone thick with disgust, the Evenstar raised his right hand to reveal the pale line of a scar across his palm,"This mark is our lives, Crim. When the world rocks and alliances crumble, this is what holds us together. The soul of the Pact, and of Gholgoth itself, is right there, marking my flesh. Look at it, boy. Look long and fucking hard.

"And now tell me and my brother what qualifies you to stand with us."

Omar tilts his head. "You both have no idea why I demanded the Blood Pact. I knew you would say no. I expected nothing else. I did it so that all that happened would happen. So that you both would not take me as another flash in the pan."

He crosses his arms across his chest. "The failing of Crimmond's rulers is that they constantly backstab and try to murder each other. I am the only ruler, and that includes the late Catalina Vakko-Coleman, who did not use death or underhanded tactics to gain my position of power. The High Commander murdered his Emperor to take power. Lord Tian seized power after the Commnader went insane, probably caused by mind-altering drugs. He and his sister's rule was an embarassment, as was that supposedly undead Empress, Domino. Then Goor, who ruled for all of eight hours before being thrown to his death off a balcony. And then we come to Delta, Varchak and the High Commander's son and power-whore of a wife. Out of all of those men and women, I am the only one that took power through the proper channels of government. Yes, I killed Catalina... but that was after I took power and began to alter the nation's government back to it's proper form. She was too dangerous to try and brainwash. I could never trust her." He shook his head. "I am a unique ruler, in unique times...

"What qualifies me to stand side by side with you? The fact that you both took the time to speak to me in person, at the same time. Other than that? Nothing that you will accept as a qualification. I'm nothing to both of you, but at the same time... important enough to you that you stand there, listening to every word I say. In my mind, Crimmond is already in Blood Pact with the Freeks. Enough Freek and Crimm blood has been spilled on European soil to seal a hundred-thousand Pacts. I cannot say the same for the Reavers, though."

The atmosphere of the Great Hall had changed violently, though no one in the cavernous rooms had moved. The Lord Reaver's head tilted, and when he spoke, his voice was low,"You are here, Crim, because of the respect I have for your nation. We listened to what you said because we -want- you to be worthy to rule a powerful Crimmond into the future. Your presence here was tolerated on that respect and hope, but you have managed to piss even that away."

"Go now, boy, before you ruin your life. Hopefully you'll show more wisdom in your rule than you have here, otherwise your reign will be short indeed. Go home, and see if you can keep your nation from crumbling about your fucking ears, as it's bound to do."

And the rising Rigante signalled, as did the finality of the Lord Reaver's tone, the end of the meeting.

Amin growled. "You demand respect when you give none, you un-" The rest of that word was a gurgle as Omar's hand chopped the larger man's throat. To his credit, he didn't double over very much.

"I said 'enough', Chimola. I suggest you listen, this time." Omar looked back at Dayne. "You want something from me I cannot give you here and now. I will return here in one year... when I do, you will have what you demand. That and more."

He looked at his livid commander and bowed to Dayne, his queen and Damien. Amin followed suit, though his was much less sincere looking. The two turned and left, if there was nothing more to keep them there.

On the way back to the helicopter, Omar sighed. "Sometimes I pine for simpler days..." Amin didn't answer, rubbing his throat. "Oh well... I'll manage to master this chess game like all the others."