Dark Elf Warriors
12-09-2004, 20:33
Dawn was gliding gently into the land, and the farmers, bakers, and other people whose day began early were already preparing for their labours. As roosters began to crow, and the first stirrings of motion came forth from the countryside, a figure carrying a bundle slipped into the clocktower at the center of the Square, swiftly making its way up to the top.
From there, the black-clad shadow waited, somehow unbothered by the chiming of six o'clock. When the curtains were pulled in the highest room in City Hall, which pulled double duty as a Chamber of Commerce and Military Headquarters, the figure swiftly and silently unwrapped the bundle it carried.
Within the building stood Ri'ad p'at Ad'ri, formerly Captain of the Guard, now suddenly thrust into the position of Emperor. A tall, stunning man, his features were even sharper and more painfully beautiful than most elves. He stretched his lanky frame, coming fully awake as tendons popped, and toned muscles flexed.
The recent months had been tumultuous, and he had been riding the crest of that tumult with uneasy determination. The Republic's corruption and abuses had long been resented, but none had dared to question the authority of their ruling party's political and economic juggernaut. Not until a small rural province, with only a single developed city, had seceded in the face of unbearable tax burdens and ridiculously insufficient payment for their crops.
Suddenly, Ri'ad was no longer an idealist sent to one of the outlying backwater realms to keep him out of his superiors' collective hair. He was at the center of a burgeoning revolution. As immigration soared, and numerous nearby small farms and villages began to flock to the banner of the town of Es'ai, the population he was reponsible for increased five fold, then five fold again. All told, there were millions upon millions in what was now a rapidly expanding nation.
The Republic, thus far, had been too enmeshed in bureacracy and debate to take military action. Police brutality, quashings of demonstrations, and use of the newly developed Mustard Gas was the furthest they had gone. Yet the tighter they squeezed, the more farms and villages slipped through their fingers.
Today, they had decided to make a last-ditch attempt to head off civil war, as nearly half their territory was now disputed, or firmly in the Es'ai camp.
That black figure on the clock tower watched Ri'ad approach the window, and waited for an opportunity. The iron cross of a looking-glass scope was trained on the so-called Emperor's chest. Ri'ad stepped out onto the balcony, and leaned his hands against the wooden railing. He had developed a routine of greeting the morning by having a look at his city, before the hustle and bustle of the day began, when it was as peaceful as he wished all things could be. Routine, ironically, is one of the most dangerous things in the world.
The crosshairs centered on the scar of a decade-old dagger wound upon his chest, above his heart, and the safety of the weapon was snapped off. Within the next fraction of a second, several things happened.
The assassin squeezed the trigger, igniting the gunpowder within the bullet's shell, and beginning its propulsion towards the target. The rising sun caught the lens of the weapon's scope, with an unmistakable flare of light, catching Ri'ad's eye. His pupils contracted fractionally as he reacted to what was happening before his conscious mind even recognised the situation. Nerves fired, synapses came alight, and adrenal glands recieved the signal to crank up production to maximum. The bullet exited the rifle's barrel, splitting the air and breaking the sound barrier twice as it crossed the half-kilometre between its starting point, and the target with mind-boggling speed. Ri'ad's muscle fibers tensed and contracted, his body moved with liquid speed and swiftness, faster than any human man, as his torso twisted to the left. The bullet reached its destination fractions of a second after being propelled from its home, grazing the fair skin of Ri'adi's chest before plunging into the floor of the room behind him.
:sniper:
Time seemed to speed back up again, as the elf dove back into the room, catching the doorframe with his hand, and hauling himself to cover. The town came alive with cries of warning, and the Civil Defence bells were rung. Guardsmen and Constables in various states of disrobement filled the streets, seeking the attackers.
Its mission a botch, the shadow atop the clock tower cursed with disgust, in a sexless baritone voice. The rifle was trained now on the soldiers in the street... a quick squeeze of the trigger, and a chest exploded in a plume of red. Another squeeze, and a Constable's neck was nearly torn in twain by the force of the shot.
Screams of horror replaced the outraged cries of moments ago, and citizens fled the streets in a panic, running from the unseen enemy. Well-trained as they were, not even the Guard were sure what to do with an attacker they couldn't see or detect. Forming up back to back, they unfortunately succeeded only in making themselves better targets for the vengeful sniper.
:confused:
An armored member of the Elite Guard burst into Ri'ad's room a moment after the shooting began, to find his leige nowhere in sight. A quick search lead to the balcony, where he arrived just in time to witness a burst of colourful, shimmering magick blossom on the deck, and streak towards the city's clock tower.
Landing upon the roof of the tower, barechested and unarmed, Ri'ad crouched on all fours. A very surprised figure spun around to deal with the unexpected threat, as its once-advantageous situation very apruptly changed from hunting to defending. Snarling with anger and outrage, he cut a fiercely predatorial figure in the dawn's light. The stylized black tribal tattoos, denoting his devotion to the Silver Dragon, his home, his family, and his corps, covering his arms and back, only added to this ferocious effect.
:mad:
They moved at the same moment, attacking in a duet of mutual hatred. The sniper, foolishly dependant on its weapon, tried to get the barrel around in time to fire at the elf. The gun never made it halfway around the arc it needed to make, before the dark elf was upon his prey. A half-second of brutality later, the dark-clad assassin was on the roof with a broken arm, and a snapped neck.
Kneeling, Ri'ad pulled off the hood from his fallen opponent. A plain woman with a ruddy complexion, and rounded ears lay beneath the cloth. He perked an arched brow, intrigued in spite of his anger.
"A human," he mused "Then it has begun."
The Council of the Republic had finally made their move, and it was precisely the sort of cowardice and treachery he would have expected. They were not the only ones who could analyse a routine, after all.
It was time to repay the favor of aggression, he knew. Blood had been shed, and the bloodshed would not stop until only one banner flew over the Continent of the Republic.
:mp5:
From there, the black-clad shadow waited, somehow unbothered by the chiming of six o'clock. When the curtains were pulled in the highest room in City Hall, which pulled double duty as a Chamber of Commerce and Military Headquarters, the figure swiftly and silently unwrapped the bundle it carried.
Within the building stood Ri'ad p'at Ad'ri, formerly Captain of the Guard, now suddenly thrust into the position of Emperor. A tall, stunning man, his features were even sharper and more painfully beautiful than most elves. He stretched his lanky frame, coming fully awake as tendons popped, and toned muscles flexed.
The recent months had been tumultuous, and he had been riding the crest of that tumult with uneasy determination. The Republic's corruption and abuses had long been resented, but none had dared to question the authority of their ruling party's political and economic juggernaut. Not until a small rural province, with only a single developed city, had seceded in the face of unbearable tax burdens and ridiculously insufficient payment for their crops.
Suddenly, Ri'ad was no longer an idealist sent to one of the outlying backwater realms to keep him out of his superiors' collective hair. He was at the center of a burgeoning revolution. As immigration soared, and numerous nearby small farms and villages began to flock to the banner of the town of Es'ai, the population he was reponsible for increased five fold, then five fold again. All told, there were millions upon millions in what was now a rapidly expanding nation.
The Republic, thus far, had been too enmeshed in bureacracy and debate to take military action. Police brutality, quashings of demonstrations, and use of the newly developed Mustard Gas was the furthest they had gone. Yet the tighter they squeezed, the more farms and villages slipped through their fingers.
Today, they had decided to make a last-ditch attempt to head off civil war, as nearly half their territory was now disputed, or firmly in the Es'ai camp.
That black figure on the clock tower watched Ri'ad approach the window, and waited for an opportunity. The iron cross of a looking-glass scope was trained on the so-called Emperor's chest. Ri'ad stepped out onto the balcony, and leaned his hands against the wooden railing. He had developed a routine of greeting the morning by having a look at his city, before the hustle and bustle of the day began, when it was as peaceful as he wished all things could be. Routine, ironically, is one of the most dangerous things in the world.
The crosshairs centered on the scar of a decade-old dagger wound upon his chest, above his heart, and the safety of the weapon was snapped off. Within the next fraction of a second, several things happened.
The assassin squeezed the trigger, igniting the gunpowder within the bullet's shell, and beginning its propulsion towards the target. The rising sun caught the lens of the weapon's scope, with an unmistakable flare of light, catching Ri'ad's eye. His pupils contracted fractionally as he reacted to what was happening before his conscious mind even recognised the situation. Nerves fired, synapses came alight, and adrenal glands recieved the signal to crank up production to maximum. The bullet exited the rifle's barrel, splitting the air and breaking the sound barrier twice as it crossed the half-kilometre between its starting point, and the target with mind-boggling speed. Ri'ad's muscle fibers tensed and contracted, his body moved with liquid speed and swiftness, faster than any human man, as his torso twisted to the left. The bullet reached its destination fractions of a second after being propelled from its home, grazing the fair skin of Ri'adi's chest before plunging into the floor of the room behind him.
:sniper:
Time seemed to speed back up again, as the elf dove back into the room, catching the doorframe with his hand, and hauling himself to cover. The town came alive with cries of warning, and the Civil Defence bells were rung. Guardsmen and Constables in various states of disrobement filled the streets, seeking the attackers.
Its mission a botch, the shadow atop the clock tower cursed with disgust, in a sexless baritone voice. The rifle was trained now on the soldiers in the street... a quick squeeze of the trigger, and a chest exploded in a plume of red. Another squeeze, and a Constable's neck was nearly torn in twain by the force of the shot.
Screams of horror replaced the outraged cries of moments ago, and citizens fled the streets in a panic, running from the unseen enemy. Well-trained as they were, not even the Guard were sure what to do with an attacker they couldn't see or detect. Forming up back to back, they unfortunately succeeded only in making themselves better targets for the vengeful sniper.
:confused:
An armored member of the Elite Guard burst into Ri'ad's room a moment after the shooting began, to find his leige nowhere in sight. A quick search lead to the balcony, where he arrived just in time to witness a burst of colourful, shimmering magick blossom on the deck, and streak towards the city's clock tower.
Landing upon the roof of the tower, barechested and unarmed, Ri'ad crouched on all fours. A very surprised figure spun around to deal with the unexpected threat, as its once-advantageous situation very apruptly changed from hunting to defending. Snarling with anger and outrage, he cut a fiercely predatorial figure in the dawn's light. The stylized black tribal tattoos, denoting his devotion to the Silver Dragon, his home, his family, and his corps, covering his arms and back, only added to this ferocious effect.
:mad:
They moved at the same moment, attacking in a duet of mutual hatred. The sniper, foolishly dependant on its weapon, tried to get the barrel around in time to fire at the elf. The gun never made it halfway around the arc it needed to make, before the dark elf was upon his prey. A half-second of brutality later, the dark-clad assassin was on the roof with a broken arm, and a snapped neck.
Kneeling, Ri'ad pulled off the hood from his fallen opponent. A plain woman with a ruddy complexion, and rounded ears lay beneath the cloth. He perked an arched brow, intrigued in spite of his anger.
"A human," he mused "Then it has begun."
The Council of the Republic had finally made their move, and it was precisely the sort of cowardice and treachery he would have expected. They were not the only ones who could analyse a routine, after all.
It was time to repay the favor of aggression, he knew. Blood had been shed, and the bloodshed would not stop until only one banner flew over the Continent of the Republic.
:mp5: