NationStates Jolt Archive

"Been searching for some answers
To the questions i should know
There's an angel up above me
And another down below"

Two men stood in Saint Matthias Cemetary, a very beautiful cemetary in Witzgall, just north of the capitol. They stand beneath the Black Angel, a mysterious statue with a gloomy past. The angel, pure black in color, is a reminder of the death of an old Fuhrer and the oppresion he cast upon the nation.

The two men begin to speak to one another, keeping in mind the statue that lies above them, and the dead man who lies beneath them.

"I do not have the certainty that many of the others do. Are you sure we can trust him with such a task?" asks one man as he leans his back against the monument's base, a large granite "box".
"I have the utmost respect for him and his so-called Apostles...he can surely do the deed." replies the other, rubbing his chin.
"I trust your decision, yet I am still worried."

The two men look up at the statue, remembering the story behind it. The angel stares down at the ground, with a wing outspread and the other down. The wing that is out points to the east. The wing points to a mauseleum, where the first Fuhrer lies. The angel is staring down at the pits of hell, with a sad look on her cherebic face and a single tear on the corner of her eye. This symoblizes the heartbreak of Witzgall's past, and the death in it's legacy.

"Think of him as a prophet. He is a medium between us and them." says the man, staring at the ground.
"A prophet?"
"Yes. He speaks to the dead, and we speak to him."
"Doesn't a prophet...well, prophesize?"

The man laughs at his acquantance's response to the word prophet.

"Some do. The word prophet actually means someone sent by God to act as a medium between him and us. You are not thinking of this definition."
"Hm...that is a new one."

"They offer me the world
But I don't exactly know
If these visions here they come to me
To stay or finally go."

The being clad in the traditional dark-grey, hooded robe of the Franciscans nodded, then chuckled. "Prophet, huh?", he thought. "These prophets seem to pop up conveniently whenever there is a political end to be pursued, to bolster the courage of the people."

The being stood hidden under the drooping, green branches of the willow tree, not 70 feet from the two men. He pushed back the hood from his head, revealing the bleached white gleam of bone, and the eyes that glowed with an unearthly blue followed the two as they made their way towards him, not knowing what lie in wait for them. The being chuckled again..................

The two men walked away from the Black Angel and its saddening presence. They walked towards the willow tree, each lighting a cigar as they approached it.

"So, what does this prophet call himself?" asks one as he lights his cigar and puts it to his mouth.
"Feurica*...it means something in ancient Phorian, supposedly. I'm not sure what, however..."
"Feurica, eh? And you say this man foretold the conflict with Truitt?"
"Indeed. He told me a week before it happened. I did not believe him, being that the nation of Truitt is good allies with the Empire..."
"So what must we see him about?"

The two men stopped dead in their tracks, as the odd-looking man stood before them. He looked like dead himself. His eyes pierced into theirs. One of the men reached for his SiG 1911 in his side holster, which he always kept with him as a "just in case" security precaution...

The hooded being spoke, " So, you would plot against the Shadow Lord, would you? Your prophet is nothing against the forces of the Lord of Shadows. One slim movement of his finger would destroy your nation, and all in it."

As if on cue, the deep shadows stirred amongst the gravestones in the cemetary, and the two men could but scream wordlessly as the wraiths glided towards them.....................

OOC: what are you getting into, Xeraph? Who is the "Shadow Lord"

OOC: what are you getting into, Xeraph? Who is the "Shadow Lord"

OOC>>>>I was thinking that that Shadow Lord is the spirit of the dead Fuhrer, albeit twisted from being dead. Or something like that. If it's too out there, then I can fix it..........

OOC: Nah, that works. I was confused. This RP is supposed to be about a plot to overthrow the dictatorship of Witzgall and its empire, so that works.

OOC: Nah, that works. I was confused. This RP is supposed to be about a plot to overthrow the dictatorship of Witzgall and its empire, so that works.

OOC>ok, cool. I'll try to not make it too spooky. I like things I can kill with swords and automatic weapons, not exorcisms.

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OOC: mind if I join?

OOC: mind if I join?

No......the more the merrier...

OOC: If you don't like this or don't want me to join just tell me and I'll delete it.

IC: The two men could do nothing but stare wordlessly at one another and the beings which now surrounded them. Barely able to stand no thought crossed their minds, least that of fleeing. The beings passed them, each presenting a sight to the men which bore resemblence to their darkest fears. Within moments they were once more alone in the would be shadow of the statue.

After regaining the ability of coherent thought it entered the minds of the men the impact this new figure would have on their political agenda. Would it hinder or help them. Only time would tell.

"Hello". A voice from behind. It belonged to a man well known in the nation for being a government spy, though this was merely speculation. Had he been there the whole time?. Had he witnessed the wraiths?. As yet the men were unsure, though neither could comfort themselves any longer in the thought that escape could be made without notice after this point.

" So, Inspector...what killed them?"

" Beats the hell outta me, your Grace. No animal could do that." He pointed at what was left of the two men, and barely suppressed a shudder. It was as if they had been turned inside out. Skin removed, but the organs intact. Muscles and ligaments twisted horribly, but the men seemed as if they were just laying on their backs, taking a nap.

" It's gotta have something to do with this Fuhrer re-incarnation rumor I've been hearing about. Weird things have been happening lately. Hooded men, goblins, ghosts...weird shit, y'know what I mean?", piped in the man who found the bodies, a Clem Higgins.

" So, you think it's supernatural?"

Clem looked spooked for a moment, then with a sly smile, he winked and said," Ya never know what goes on out towards these Woods, yer Grace. Been strange tales about them over the years.........."

OOC: If you don't like this or don't want me to join just tell me and I'll delete it.

IC: The two men could do nothing but stare wordlessly at one another and the beings which now surrounded them. Barely able to stand no thought crossed their minds, least that of fleeing. The beings passed them, each presenting a sight to the men which bore resemblence to their darkest fears. Within moments they were once more alone in the would be shadow of the statue.

After regaining the ability of coherent thought it entered the minds of the men the impact this new figure would have on their political agenda. Would it hinder or help them. Only time would tell.

"Hello". A voice from behind. It belonged to a man well known in the nation for being a government spy, though this was merely speculation. Had he been there the whole time?. Had he witnessed the wraiths?. As yet the men were unsure, though neither could comfort themselves any longer in the thought that escape could be made without notice after this point.

OOC<> No, it was very good. Keep it coming.

The Inspector pondered over this thought. He himself had never been one to believe in the supernatural but the situation in question, coupled with recent happenings, was nagging at his mind. He permitted himself a further examination of the bodies.

"Well Clem, it's lucky you found them. By the morning who knows......" He trailed off, Clem was nowhere to be seen. This was often Clems way.

"Your Grace," He began once more after a moments silence, "I think my boys can handle it from here. It's probably just a routine murder. Somebody wanting to send a message." Though these are the words he spoke his face told a much longer story of intrigue and suspicion, which was picked up well by the recipient of the comment.

"Very well. But I wish to be informed of any other events and any interesting findings in this investigation."

"Yes Sir, I will make sure of it myself" replied the Inspector.

The Inspector was over worked, and under paid. He was working on two cases involving the plot to overthrow the Witzgall government, actually just a couple of disgruntled hillbillies throwing drunken threats around, but now this murder threw a wrench into the works. Ghost? Wraiths? Spooks? This was the 22nd century. He thought that this kind of shit was ancient history. But the bodies were there. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to find a conection between the plot and the murders, but he felt in his bones that there was one.

" Lord Baal, your command has been carried out. The men are dead, sacrificed to you."

" Good, good", said the figure, barely discernable in the depths of the shadows. " Youv'e done well. But we've just begun. In order for The Goddess to inhabit this land, the government must become ours. We must control the destiny of this ancient land. The Goddess, once she manifests, will be able to eventually control the entire planet....if She can ground herself in her ancient empire............Acheron."

Whilst plots for world domination at the hands of a Goddess were being developed in the ancient palaces of the pre-modern era a much more modest plot was being hatched in the cellar of a bar at a poker table.

The 5 men sat around the table, speaking freely of their plans for the overthrowing of the nation, completely at contrasts with the secrecy and suspicion at the heart of the game they were enjoying.

"The plan is foolproof I tell you." Remarked one member, light skinned in appearence and clearly not used to either daylight or hygiene.

"Well with the deaths of two of our external operatives we can only assume there is suspicion of our plot." spoke another, possibly the leader. He was older than the others, and bore the wide girth of wealth, or, as he himself put it, "experience".

"The only real solution right now is to lie low and see how shit unfolds." This one was young, perhaps not out of his teens, but already showing signs of age dipicting the harshness of his life and also his deication to the cause.

They continued through the night sometimes speaking of matters important to the cause and at others speaking merely of the problems of ordinary life.

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bump...............c'mon...somebody pick up on this

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